Capítulo 12: Some Titles Don't Make Sense
I'm a difficult person to read. My actions never match my thoughts, and my thoughts don't resemble the words in my mouth. I can't explain my head because I'll never create the right words to describe my situation. Whenever I look in the mirror, I find a face different from the one I'm trying to make.
But never. NEVER have I met a person harder to read than Julia White.
She wouldn't look at me as we trekked to her place. I had no choice but to watch my feet outwalk each other. The spirit I'd ignited in her with my previous actions? It died. With the way she hid her face underneath her dark hair, how she scanned the abandoned road ahead, I recognized avoidance.
Julia stopped. I squinted up to find myself in front of her doorway as she stuck her key in the lock.
"Um…Julia…"
What was I doing? Why was I going into the house of a therapist? I searched Tiny Person, finding a blank canvas.
Wait…You're being bribed.
No, not bribed. Hustled. Blackmailed. Strangled. This was not my first choice. Still, most dads weren't thrilled when their girls came home with strange dudes after walking through an abandoned alley. And I was considered a juvenile delinquent. I was oh-for-two. More like oh-for-two thousand.
She ignored me and opened the door, leaving me no choice but to trail behind her.
"Hey, Dad." Julia dropped a clutch bag on the floor. I hadn't noticed it in her hand.
I need to start paying attention. I can't even tell you what Julia's house looked like. Three facts I remembered: Julia White's house was clean, filled with books, and smelled like candles. I wish I had been paying attention. I would've seen the photo-frame on the wall with-
"Julia!" Dr. White's distant voice closed in when he stepped around the corner of an ocean-blue kitchen island. "I hope you're hungry. I've got a plate full of my home-made pancakes with your name on them."
"Ahem."
Julia sidestepped until nothing stood between me and the psychologist man.
Let me break the fourth wall, as my dear friend, Austin, has urged me not to. Remember that analogy I made about being stuck doing something you hate with someone you hate? This has nothing to do with that.
What are you afraid of? Think about seeing it, or feeling it, or whatever. Your pulse rises. The moment lasts a lifetime. You're filled with more fear than a kid sucked into a board game. You feel rocks travel down your throat. Your eyes are pulled open until they can't close again.
This moment? It keeps dragging on.
When I stared into Dr. White's eyes, I became the hero facing down a dragon.
Doctor White geared into crazy town. His face broke into a grin. "Well, would you look at that?" He extended his hand toward me. When I didn't take it, he patted me on the shoulder. "Long time, no see."
"Petrification" seems like the appropriate word to describe my physical state.
Dr. White pivoted for the other side of the kitchen island, reaching for three glass plates with Gandhi phrases on them. "I'd take it you're joining us for breakfast?" he asked.
"Apparently."
"Good. Grab a plate and stack 'em up. We've got plenty to go around."
His speech came straight from a Greaser in the eighties. Was he messing with me?
Before I could confirm any of this, he walked away. Julia went behind him, and I imitated. Once we had pancakes on our plates, we sat around a table. I didn't think today was a holiday, but I could've been mistaken. Why else would they sit at a table to enjoy a meal together like this? The only reason I'd ever done that was either to bribe my parents or celebrate a national holiday we couldn't wiggle out of.
You know, I just realized how many words I've repeated in this book. Imitated, swallowed, realization. You must be getting annoyed. Maybe common sense discovered your mind waves and told you to stop reading.
No? Okay.
My fork scraped against An eye for an eye makes the world blind. I glanced over, watched Julia swipe a heap of syrup against Hate the sin, love the sinner.
Dr. White sat across from us. This meant I couldn't look up from my plate. They say if you understand the features of a person's face, a connection will be made. Good or bad, a relationship is a relationship. I didn't want one.
He didn't feel the same way. "By the way, I'm sorry I had to scare your parents yesterday. I had to make sure you hadn't died on me or anything like that."
Julia choked and dropped her fork.
I drew a face with syrup. He had to be messing with me. Choking back a snort to myself, I reached for a glass of water and buried my mouth behind it. We'd see how long he could keep up this game.
Dr. White thought he would win?
Yeah right.
Julia swallowed down the mountain of pancake batter. "Ben was just telling me that he's coming back now."
Tiny Person: Swallow the rage, Ben. Swallow the uncontrollable, inhuman rage you feel right now. It won't help anything. Although, this quart of syrup would look so nice on Julia White's big head. No, happy thoughts. Isn't this some sort of therapy technique? Am I just making this up?
What am I doing again?
"Good," Dr. White said. "Austin's been on my case trying to get him back."
I decided to focus on the pancakes. One would almost taste like a waffle. The next would be soggy. I'd taste a crisp end covered with black charcoal, followed by a bite of ice. Reheated. I wondered where they got their syrup. It was so thick and sugary…I hated it.
I'd much rather have my chocolate-chip waffle triangles right now.
"Ben?"
"Huh?"
"Did we lose you?"
It was Dr. White.
I blurted, "Of course not."
"I think he was entranced by Mom's pancakes," Julia helped, or attempted to. "We all know her recipe's the best."
"Unfortunately…" Dr. White stabbed through three with his utensil. Frost cracked inside the middle one. "They can't be the best if we never get it right."
The phone chose that moment to ring, and Dr. White scampered off. I thought nothing of it and turned to Julia.
I'm going to do something dangerous. I'm going to let you inside my head.
Whenever I think of something nice to say, my broken person decides against it. If a rude comment, remark, or question journeys to my brain, my tiny person mails it off to my mouth as if it's won the lottery.
What I was thinking: There's a dad here. There's a kid. I know there's got to be a lady mixed up in here somehow. Should I ask? No, that would be rude.
What I actually said: "So, where's your mom?"
What I thought: Dope.
Suddenly, Julia was very interested in chewing her pancakes. In between bites, she muttered, "She left home."
How I wanted to push the subject! I'm sure that's what you want too. A million possibilities swarmed through my head, and the same is going on in yours. I'm sorry to tell you that Dr. White chose that moment to start talking.
"Mrs. Wood?" he spoke into the phone.
Mom.
Crap.
Julia's face looked how I imagined mine to be. The tomatoes for eyes and lineless forehead. But my face had to be worse, somehow.
"Ben?" Doctor White said. "He's right here."
Silence droned on. If I pushed the limitations of my hearing just enough, I could make out a scrambled woman's voice. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Dr. White was talking to a chipmunk.
Dr. White paced between the kitchen tiles. He froze with my heartbeat, eyes furrowed into mine. The chipmunk's voice rang higher. Dr. White met his hand to his mouth. Then…
Sometimes, weird things happen.
He scratched his short facial hair, straightened his glasses, and coughed. "No, you must be mistaken. Ben didn't run away."
My fork clanged on Gandhi's face. I hope my mouth wasn't full of food, because it fell wide open. I felt Julia tense through the vibrating table. This moment doesn't need any more emphasis.
"No," Dr. White said. "I invited him here for additional therapy."
The chipmunk spoke in slower sentiments.
He continued, "Of course, he must have forgotten to tell you. Actually, I might have mentioned it yesterday. Sure. Yup. Okay. Bye."
The phone beeped.
Then Dr. White spoke directly to me. I know because I was actually staring at his face. There had to be some pieces to stick together to make a clear picture out of all of this. How did this benefit him?
He put the phone back on its holder and sat back down at the table. "Your parents are on their way to pick you up."
He didn't say anything else. I stayed quiet. Julia played with her bracelet.
When my parents did come, Dr. White stuck to the tall tale.
I felt two armies in my chest yank me apart. One side told me to trust my instincts, hide in my bedroom, and read a book backward. The other demanded the possibility that therapy didn't seem so bad anymore.
I hated them both.
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