Page 66 of The Sound of Him

We go through the others then, him grinning the whole time as he repeats each one twice before always making a note in his journal after.

“So, were you saying thatNolan,” he signs the name sign as he says his name. “Bryce, Carter,andCaseyare your support system?”

I nod, then sign,Nolan,then,Bryce,again.

“EspeciallyNolanandBryce?”

I nod.

“When you want to make something more dramatic or emphasize something, like if you wanted to sayespeciallyNolan and Bryce? You can make your movements bigger. That shows emphasis. It amplifies. So if you’rereallysorry or you’rereallyhungry or youespeciallylike certain people or movies or something, you can sign like this.” He signs,Nolan,then,Bryce,again, this time letting his whole body sort of move with his hands, just shy of looking silly.

I show him I understand by signing both names just like he did, with big and broad movements. I like it. Like facial expressions, it's another way to change my tone or meaning, like I would be able to if I could use my voice.

This is way better than all the talking about feelings and techniques and stuff. Way better than whatever questions are on the packet that’s now covered by flashcards.

“So, you understand that the survivors are your support system? Especially Nolan and Bryce?” he asks. I nod. “And you’re going to let them be that support system for you? You won’t run from them or try to shut them out?”

I only hesitate for a second, mostly because I want to tell him they wouldn’t give me a choice even if I wanted to, but I don’t have the signs for that and don’t feel like writing. I just nod. It’s the same answer either way - yes, I’ll let them be there for me.

“Good. That makes me really happy.” He rests his elbow on the arm of his chair, legs crossing again. “Now, this packet is just another tool. Try to see it that way. Don’t let it overwhelm you. If it works for us, then that’s excellent. If it doesn’t, we try something else. No pressure. Okay?”

I look away from him, down to the coffee table again. The card with the wordsI DON’T KNOW/MAYBEand theNOLANname card lay atop the packet.

“I’ll be using the answers to understand you better. To understand your trauma better. And - if you want to go that route - to understand your mutism better.”

I was considering grabbing the packet to take a look, but that last bit of information has my hands curling around the fabric of my sweatpants instead.

“Just answer what you can, however you can, in whatever order you can. One word. Full sentences. Drawings. Anything goes. Any questions you don’t want to answer, leave blank. I promise I won’t ask you why you didn’t answer them. We’ll just skip them. Any questions you want help understanding or explaining, circle or put a star next to it and we can go over it together.”

It’s getting harder to focus on his words. I try to mentally repeat them, to commit them to memory. Or, at least, to memorize his overall point. Basically: answer whatever questions I want, however I want. Right?

It’s nice to have the freedom. It's nice not to have pressure on if or how I fill it out.

I’m starting to think he’s pretty nice, overall.

I’m starting to think that there’s a tiny bit of a chance that maybe this whole therapy thing can be sort of nice too.

“Here’s the thing, Matt. When the operatives rescued you, they handed you your life back. They handed you control of your story. I want to help you tell that story. Youdeserveto be able to tell your story. This packet is just a single tool we can use to do that. If it works, that’s great. If it doesn’t, that’s perfectly fine too. It doesn’t matterhowwe tell it. We’ll piece it together with answered questions and written words, with art and charts, with signs and cards and notebooks, withanythingwe can find. I haveso manyways to help you.”

He shakes his head, looking a little sad, before continuing, “I’m not going to lie, it’s going to come out jumbled and blurry and an absolute mess. That doesn’t matter, though, okay? It doesn’t matter in what order you tell me it, or if there are gaps, or if the edges are ragged. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. Do you understand that, Matt?”

This sounds nice, too.

I nod carefully.

Then, figuring I might as well, I lean over and carefully slide the flashcards off of the packet still on the coffee table. I take the packet with me as I sit back, drawing my socked feet up until my knees are bent, my heels on the edge of the couch cushion. I shoot a look at Dr. Singh, not sure if this is okay, but he’s smiling.

Of course he is. There are no tests here. No right or wrong. He's just happy that I’m doing okay enough to still be sitting here with him.

It’s so strange.

Sonice.

Really, really nice.

I rest the packet on my thighs, my bunny tucked against my chest and under my chin.

Then I catch sight of the very first thing the questionnaire asks for - my name - and everything nice seeps right out of me.