Page 84 of Keeping Score

The double-edged sword was that—so did Linda.

“How are you?” she asked, trying to open the conversation.

I should let her. I should just talk. It’s why I came to therapy after all. But blabbering about my problems felt too vulnerable. Even though by law my pathetic feelings would never leave the privacy of this room, it still felt too embarrassing to share. Too personal.

“I’m fine,” I told her, bobbing my head in a nod.

“You’re fine?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes,” I lied. “I’m good.”

If she really wanted to know, she’d keep asking, and eventually I’d give in and tell her. But it would be too pathetic of me to just lay it all out there after a simple How are you?

“I know that you’re not,” she tsked, as if my refusal amused her. “And do you want to know why?”

“I am fine,” I countered, “but for curiosity’s sake, I’ll bite. Why?”

“Because I know for a fact the receptionist told you the joke of the day, and you didn’t so much as crack a smile when you walked in here.”

“Maybe it wasn’t funny.”

In fact, I had been so zoned out checking in that I hadn’t heard a word the secretary said.

“It was funny, and I know if you were fine you would’ve thought so too. Especially since you laugh at everything,” she said easily.

I liked that about her. She knew how to break the ice with easy banter. It made me feel at ease. Comfortable. Linda was older, but she never made the sessions feel stuffy or dated. She was relatable. She could meet me at my level. It’s probably why she was my longest-standing relationship to date.

“I do not laugh at everything.” I fought the urge to smile.

“You do,” she said in a sing-song voice, seeing the start of it forming on my lips.

“Most people aren’t smart enough to make me laugh,” I countered, just for the thrill of arguing.

“Hey,” she protested. “I’ve been known to get a laugh from you on occasion.”

“You have a doctorate,” I told her, scanning over to her plaque on the wall for emphasis.

She snorted.

“Glad to know my credentials are approved by you.”

Linda was good. She made therapy comfortable. Breathable. It was like talking to a friend rather than someone I was paying an inordinate amount of money to fix my brain.

If that were even possible.

“So, what brings you here today, after all this time?”

“Oh, Linda,” I groaned. “Where do I even begin?”

“And then he just… proposed!”

Linda blinked, as if waiting for the punchline.

“Did you hear me?” I repeated. “Brody proposed to me! Just sprung it out of nowhere.”

She shifted in her seat, choosing her words carefully.

“Are you telling me the two of you never talked about it?” she asked carefully.