“Okay,” I said. “Okay,” I repeated. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Dad said, stopping my head from spinning. “You probably should have started seeing a psychiatrist the moment you started dating Lynn. I tried to tell your mother. She said you were fine. But you’re not fine.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not fine.”
Dad took me across town, and on the way he didn’t say a word. We entered the office, and the psychiatrist was waiting by the door. He extended a hand as he appraised me up and down. “Mason?” he asked.
“Yes.” I shook his hand, finding his grip to be strong. Solid.
“Come on in,” he said. He stepped to the side. I saw him give my dad a look, and Dad gave him one back, but I couldn’t interpret it. The door closed and he motioned for me to take a seat. “Why don’t you tell me what brought you here?”
I jerked a thumb toward the door. “My dad brought me.”
He chuckled. “What events, Mason?” he asked. “What happened to make your parents worry about you?”
“I just needed to sort through some things in my head.”
“Are you done sorting?” He started to write as we talked.
“Not even close,” I murmured.
“Can you pinpoint a moment when you started to feel unsettled?”
“Yes.” I knew the exact moment.
“And that was when?”
“When I met Charlie.”
“Charlie’s a new friend of yours?”
“She’s a friend of Lynn’s. My girlfriend.”
“The Lynn?” he asked, his eyes growing wide. He quickly schooled his features, but I saw it. I saw it before he masked it.
“You know her?”
He smiled. “She works with your mother at the clinic? That Lynn?”
“Yes, that Lynn.”
“I’ve met her on several occasions. I’ve met some of her friends, too.”
“Have you met Charlie?” I asked.
He smiled again. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
“I have.”
“Why don’t you tell me about that meeting?”
“I hurt her,” I whispered. “She asked me to, and I did it.”
“Tell me more,” he said, no judgment in his voice at all.
So I did. I told him everything.
17