“I want him to go away.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s weak. I hate weak.”

I folded my hands. “Then you must love me. I feel no pain, ergo I can have no weaknesses.”

“That’s not the same thing,” D.D. said immediately.

I waited.

“I mean, just because you can’t feel pain doesn’t mean you’re strong. Maybe that’s its own kind of weakness. You have nothing to overcome. No basis for empathy.”

I waited.

D.D. blew out an exasperated breath. “Oh, bite me. You’re trying to get me to say that Melvin is actually good. Pain has its usefulness, builds character, blah, blah, blah. You’re using reverse psychology to do it, too. Is there nothing you shrinks won’t do?”

“I like to think that in addition to being painless, I am heartless,” I deadpanned. “But truthfully, does Melvin have value?”

The detective pursed her lips. “He’s trying to protect me from further injury. I get that.”

“Can you respect that?”

“Fine.”

“Can you curse him less, maybe even offer him a moment or two of appreciation?”

“I don’t know; will he send me flowers?”

“Better, he’ll whisper softly in your ear, versus screaming in your shoulder.”

“My left arm still aches.”

“Your left humerus is still broken.”

“But I don’t feel as . . .” D.D. paused, clearly looking for the right words. “I don’t feel as feral. Like I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind.”

“You feel more in control.”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“As an advocate of the Family Systems model, I would say that’s because you have acknowledged the piece of yourself that you were uncomfortable with, the Exile, resulting in your true Self being once more centered and in control.”

D.D. gave me a look. “I’m going to say deep breathing is useful, and maybe talking to Melvin isn’t so bad. Acknowledge, accept, advance. Okay. If it worked for a bunch of über-athletes, why not me?”

I smiled, unclasped my hands. “It’s okay to nurture yourself, D.D. I imagine for a woman with your job and family, you often feel your attention is demanded elsewhere. But it’s all right to accept your own needs. You know, ice your own damn shoulder, instead of waiting for someone else to buy you flowers.”

D.D. finally laughed. She rose to standing just as her cell phone rang. She glanced at the number, then shot me a quick look.

“I need to take this; do you mind?”

She indicated the outer office. I nodded my permission. She was already talking as she passed through the doorway. I busied myself moving around a stack of files, shuffling more ubiquitous paperwork, but of course, I eavesdropped. I was born without pain, not without curiosity.