Not-Hanks are a common response to trauma, Lily . Somehow I don’t think so.
“Sometimes medication is used as part of a treatment plan—”
“No pills,” I say.
“It’s not my first choice either. I’d like to see how we do in our sessions first.”
I brush my fingers along the base of a trophy. “Nice trophy.”
“I’m into sailing. What do you like to do?”
I walk to the chair I think I’m supposed to sit in. I sit. There’s a couch too, but I don’t feel like laying down, like being a cliché. “Reading,” I say.
Dr. Pratchett smiles. “I gathered that. What else?”
I think for a minute, but not outside my small focus. “I don’t mind riding the bus here. Seattle is pretty.”
Dr. Pratchett sits in a matching leather chair facing the one I’m in. He crosses one leg over another and folds his clasped hands around his knee. I see argyle socks inside dress shoes. He doesn’t have a notebook or a pen.
“Aren’t you going to write anything down?”
“Not while we’re talking. I’ll make some notes after you leave.”
“So you can remember me if I come back next week?”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I think I’d remember you if I didn’t take a single note.”
“Okay.”
Dr. Pratchett leans back in his chair and the leather makes a soft scrunching sound. “What would you like to talk about, Lily?”
“Well, maybe you could point me to some good bookstores?”
“I can do that, certainly. I thought you might also want to tell me a little about yourself. You like to read and you like to ride the bus around the city—”
“I’ve only taken it from my aunt’s apartment to here. Once.”
“Well, that’s a very good start. What else do you like?”
I let my mind wander for just a minute back to before. It’s a narrow path of memories that feels okay. I see an orange fur ball in my lap and feel wet kisses on my cheek. “Animals,” I say. “I like animals.”
“Do you have a favorite?”
“Cats. I’ve always wanted one.”
“Do you think your Aunt Margie would allow you to have a cat?”
I go cold all over and start to shake.
“Lily, are you okay?”
Everything’s all caught up in my throat. I can’t talk. I hold out my hand, asking Dr. Pratchett to wait with any more questions. He nods, moves to the edge of his chair and waits with his face creased up, with his eyes not blinking.
I let my body shake for a while longer. I think about The Stand , only The Stand , not the fact that Mom and I were going to pick out a cat at the humane society right after school was done for the year—a reward for my good grades, a new addition to our family. Two plus one. Now just one.
“Has it been an hour yet?” I ask in a barely-there voice.
Dr. Pratchett frowns a little and looks at his watch. “Not quite. Can you tell me what just happened, Lily?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No reason to be sorry. Would you like to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “It’s not a good idea right now.”
“That’s just fine. We’ll take it slow. Do one thing for me?”
“I’ll try.”
Dr. Pratchett’s smile is warm, comforting. “Good. Before giving it any thought, toss out a single word you would use to describe how you’re feeling right now. Just one word. Right off the top of your head.”
“Tin.”
“Tin?”
“Hollow. A tin girl. Yes.”
“Can you tell me why?”
“There’s nothing left.”
“Nothing at all?”
I shake my head. He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t push either. If he knew I’d seen not-Hank in Seattle, he’d believe me. Normal people get scared when they think they’re going crazy. It’s when there’s nothing left inside that a person can not be afraid.
The clock on Dr. Pratchett’s desk says it’s time to go. I stand up.
He looks at me for a minute before he stands too. “Are you sure you’re okay to go by yourself?”
I make the corners of my mouth turn up, but then remember Margie’s expression when I tried before
“Sometimes medication is used as part of a treatment plan—”
“No pills,” I say.
“It’s not my first choice either. I’d like to see how we do in our sessions first.”
I brush my fingers along the base of a trophy. “Nice trophy.”
“I’m into sailing. What do you like to do?”
I walk to the chair I think I’m supposed to sit in. I sit. There’s a couch too, but I don’t feel like laying down, like being a cliché. “Reading,” I say.
Dr. Pratchett smiles. “I gathered that. What else?”
I think for a minute, but not outside my small focus. “I don’t mind riding the bus here. Seattle is pretty.”
Dr. Pratchett sits in a matching leather chair facing the one I’m in. He crosses one leg over another and folds his clasped hands around his knee. I see argyle socks inside dress shoes. He doesn’t have a notebook or a pen.
“Aren’t you going to write anything down?”
“Not while we’re talking. I’ll make some notes after you leave.”
“So you can remember me if I come back next week?”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I think I’d remember you if I didn’t take a single note.”
“Okay.”
Dr. Pratchett leans back in his chair and the leather makes a soft scrunching sound. “What would you like to talk about, Lily?”
“Well, maybe you could point me to some good bookstores?”
“I can do that, certainly. I thought you might also want to tell me a little about yourself. You like to read and you like to ride the bus around the city—”
“I’ve only taken it from my aunt’s apartment to here. Once.”
“Well, that’s a very good start. What else do you like?”
I let my mind wander for just a minute back to before. It’s a narrow path of memories that feels okay. I see an orange fur ball in my lap and feel wet kisses on my cheek. “Animals,” I say. “I like animals.”
“Do you have a favorite?”
“Cats. I’ve always wanted one.”
“Do you think your Aunt Margie would allow you to have a cat?”
I go cold all over and start to shake.
“Lily, are you okay?”
Everything’s all caught up in my throat. I can’t talk. I hold out my hand, asking Dr. Pratchett to wait with any more questions. He nods, moves to the edge of his chair and waits with his face creased up, with his eyes not blinking.
I let my body shake for a while longer. I think about The Stand , only The Stand , not the fact that Mom and I were going to pick out a cat at the humane society right after school was done for the year—a reward for my good grades, a new addition to our family. Two plus one. Now just one.
“Has it been an hour yet?” I ask in a barely-there voice.
Dr. Pratchett frowns a little and looks at his watch. “Not quite. Can you tell me what just happened, Lily?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No reason to be sorry. Would you like to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “It’s not a good idea right now.”
“That’s just fine. We’ll take it slow. Do one thing for me?”
“I’ll try.”
Dr. Pratchett’s smile is warm, comforting. “Good. Before giving it any thought, toss out a single word you would use to describe how you’re feeling right now. Just one word. Right off the top of your head.”
“Tin.”
“Tin?”
“Hollow. A tin girl. Yes.”
“Can you tell me why?”
“There’s nothing left.”
“Nothing at all?”
I shake my head. He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t push either. If he knew I’d seen not-Hank in Seattle, he’d believe me. Normal people get scared when they think they’re going crazy. It’s when there’s nothing left inside that a person can not be afraid.
The clock on Dr. Pratchett’s desk says it’s time to go. I stand up.
He looks at me for a minute before he stands too. “Are you sure you’re okay to go by yourself?”
I make the corners of my mouth turn up, but then remember Margie’s expression when I tried before
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