Rosenberg about the talk with her mother. “You sound pleased,” he said, steepling his fingers together and peering at her through them. “I guess I am. I mean, all we usually do is yell at each other. Or, rather, she yells and I tune her out.” “It’s not an uncommon pattern for parents and teenagers.” “So if you’re making progress with Mom, how’s it going with my father?” “I haven’t seen him as frequently. He’s been bogged down in his business.” Lacey felt a twinge of disappointment. “But he tells me he’s visited you while you’ve been here,” the doctor added. “Oh, yes. Of course, never when Mom might pop in. I hate being juggled between the two of them like a bouncing tennis ball. It wears a person out.” “Is that how you feel? Like a tennis ball?” “Sometimes. It’s better that they’re divorced, you know. Our house was like living in a pressure chamber all the time.” “And now? How is it now at your home?” “All right, I guess. More peaceful.”
