Page 16 of Letters From A Stalker

“A song came on, and my nervous system decided we were under attack.” She delivers the answer lightly, though her fingers tighten around the bottle until the plastic crackles beneath them.

“The song was ‘In the Air Tonight.’”

Her gaze lifts sharply. “You really did read the forms.”

“I usually find it helpful to know why someone is coming before they arrive.”

“My last therapist asked me to repeat half the intake during every appointment.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He called it establishing context.”

“I call it poor preparation.”

That earns me another brief smile.

Little ember.

The name returns with more certainty this time, attaching itself to the spark in her expression as though it has always belonged there. I shouldn’t be naming her anything, especially not in my own head.

“Your intake says the song was closely associated with your father,” I continue. “It also says he died by suicide five years ago, on your birthday.”

The humor disappears from her face. She lowers the bottle into her lap and rubs her thumb along the edge of the cap without opening it.

“That’s the shorter version.”

“I’m assuming the longer version is what brought the panic attack.”

“Among other things.”

“Did the song take you back to the day he died?”

She thinks about the question rather than answering immediately. Her eyes drift toward the windows behind me, where a low gray sky hangs over Minneapolis and turns the neighboring buildings into muted sheets of steel.

“Not at first,” she says. “At first, I was in his car.”

“How old were you?”

“I’m not sure. Seven, maybe eight.”

“What do you remember?”

“The drums.” Her mouth softens with the beginning of a smile before she catches it. “He used to wait for that part and then start hitting the steering wheel like he was performing at Wembley instead of driving through traffic. He was terrible at it.”

“You smiled when you said that.”

The softness vanishes from her expression. “No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“You seem very sure of yourself for someone who met me just five minutes ago.”

“I’m sure about what I saw. I’m not pretending I know what it means yet.”

“That’s a very convenient distinction.”

“It helps prevent reckless conclusions.”