Chapter 16
"How did it go?" Kirk asks as we leave the office of Doctor James Giannetti, my new therapist. Kirk promised not to tell Steve or Curtis that I'd called Johan, but he told me to talk to the doctor about it. Besides that, he's watched me like a hawk for two days.
"I don't really know," I admit. All I really remember is a lot of questions that I couldn't answer. "He asked me about what happened. I told him and then he started trying to get me to explain why."
"Why what?"
"Why Johan did it. Why I let him. Why I deserve...why I thought I deserved it," I reply stiffly.
"And?" he asks expectantly, pausing at a stop sign.
"I don't know, I guess," I whisper, feeling like and idiot. The tears I'd held at bay during the session now catch in my throat then spill out, and I rub them away. "I don't know anything anymore," I sob, "I used to just play, get punished, then do it all over again. Now I don't even know what I'm thinking. One minute, I'm thrilled to be rid of him. The next minute I'm panicking because I'm afraid I'm falling apart without him. I'm just so fucking confused."
By now, Kirk has pulled to the side of the road and is hugging me, rubbing one hand along my back. "Its okay to be confused, Andy. Nothing about this situation is easy," he pauses to look at me, then reaches for his cell phone. "Here, call Cujo. I have like, 15 voicemail messages from him asking how you are."
I can't do that. Not when I'm broken like this. I can't ask him to deal with me. "Can't I just wait until we get to the rink?"
"He's going to have a nervous breakdown if he doesn't hear that you're okay."
But I'm not okay.
Kirk sighs loudly, "Give it to me. I'll call him." He dials the number, waits for a moment, then speaks. "Hey, Cujo, its Kirk. We're leaving the doctor's now. Yeah, he's fine. He wants to talk to you." He thrusts the phone at me, ignoring my glare, whispering, "Talk," and then he drops the cell phone in my lap.
I pick it up and shakily say hello.
"Are you alright? Was he nice to you? Is everything okay?" he asks.
I shrug, even though I know he can't see it, "It was weird, I guess. He wasn't mean; he just had a lot of questions." I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice even, relaxed.
"So you're okay?" he asks again.
"Yeah, fine," I lie, and Kirk eyes me curiously.
Curtis lets out a relieved breath, "Good. I was so worried for you. But...I should go, I need to leave for practice. Thanks for letting me know."
"See you there," I murmur, then hang up the phone before I start tearing up again. I lean my head against the cold glass and let the tears drip onto my sleeve.
"What was that all about? Why lie to him?" Kirk asks.
I shrug, "I don't want to burden him. I don't want him to get annoyed with me."
"You're kidding me, right?" he answers. "This is the guy who didn't move from the same place at our kitchen table from the time Steve took you to that meeting up until we heard the car pull up again. If he hadn't been crying, I would've thought he'd passed out there." He hesitates, glancing over at me, "He already worries about you. Whether or not you tell him this stuff, he's going to be scared for you. So just let it out."
"What if he gets sick of me?"
He rolls his eyes, "Jesus, this is all bullshit that Johan told you, isn't it?" he shakes his head. "Do me a favor, Andy. Try to remember all of the stuff he ever said to you," he pauses for effect. "Now repeat after me: That son of a bitch lied to me."
"But, Kirk..."
He holds up a hand, "Repeat it."
"That son of a bitch lied to me," I mumble, and it sounds weird and foreign in my ears, so I do it again, rolling the words around in my head and mouth. "He lied to me. That son of a bitch lied to me."
Kirk laughs a little at the way I say it again and again, "I should have listened when my mom told me to be a psychiatrist or something."
