nukes movement in the eighties.â
âNo nukes?â
âNuclear weapons. I protested against them, too.â
âOh,â I say. People donât talk about countries firing nuclear weapons much anymore. Itâs just terrorists blowing shit up or people shooting up schools that freaks everybody out.
Dr. Greenberg picks at something in his beard with his enormous, old guy fingers. He probably gets a lot of food stuck in there.
âYou still playing the drums you got for your birthday?â he asks.
âYeah,â I say. âI am.â
âYou like practicing on them?â
âYeah, I enjoy it.â I could say that Iâm not sure if Iâm any good or that itâs been so long since Iâve really played, but the whole idea just feels too exhausting to even discuss.
âYour parents told me a girl came to see you yesterday while you were playing,â he says. Dr. Greenberg has explained to me that while our sessions are private, he talks to my parents about the âgeneral course of my treatment.â Whatever that means. So itâs no surprise to me that he knows about Caroline. Although I guess I was hoping he wouldnât bring her up.
Almost right after he mentions her, though, he gets up and walks to his desk, where he puts his hands on the bottom of his back and stretches. His belly sticks out a little.
âNow where did I put that thing?â he mutters, like he didnât just mention Caroline. He opens one desk drawer, then another.
âWhat are you doing?â I ask. I wonder again how much money my parents are spending on this guy. I mean, heâs nice. But still. Heâs been arrested more than once, and now heâs randomly digging through his desk drawers?
âIâm looking for Groovyâs brush,â he says, his eyes down, his hands opening and closing drawers. âOh, here it is.â
He walks over and hands me a plastic brush with a blue handle. I catch a faint whiff of the same Old Spice deodorant my dad uses.
âHe loves to be brushed,â he says, and then he settles back into his chair. âI mean, only if you want to.â
Groovy notices the brush in my hand and flips over, squirming in excitement. His tail even wags. Iâd have to be a pretty big asshole not to brush this dog right now.
So I do. I start tugging the brush through his soft, golden retriever hair. The teeth leave tiny, orderly lines in his fur.
âSo this young womanâ¦?â he says. I keep brushing. Groovy stays still.
âYeah,â I say.
âSheâs the older sister of the other young man who was kidnapped. Right?â
I nod. I keep brushing. I feel my face getting hot.
âOkay,â says Dr. Greenberg, and I think heâs wondering what to say to me. I must be pretty messed up if this world-famous therapist doesnât even know what to say next.
Thereâs a long pause, and then I just canât help it. âDid my mom seem worried?â I ask. âAbout me talking to Caroline?â
âIs it important to you that you not worry your parents?â he answers. Answering a question with a question. I hate that.
âYeah, I guess so,â I say. âI mean, I made them worry so much while I was ⦠gone.â I never know how to refer to the time that I was kidnapped. I hate saying the word kidnapped out loud because it makes me feel awful. But if I say my time with Marty, it makes it sound like I was there cutting school and having an okay time. I already know thatâs what some people think is the truth. That I was just there hanging out. I feel my heart start to pick up speed, but just then Groovy scooches over to me and rests his head on my thigh. I keep brushing him. Heâs starting to fall asleep.
Dr. Greenberg waits for a while and finally says, âMaybe your mother seemed a little anxious about it. I think considering how you and Caroline are connected, sheâs
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