Why didn’t my father understand me? I would say.

This isn’t about him understanding you, he would reply. It’s about you understanding you.

My parents were still staring at me. I pressed the pillow deep into my stomach. Breath came in and out of my body slowly. I was a seashell, if you held your ear up to me you’d hear the ocean.

“I’m sorry,” I said to my father. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Of course I’ve never cheated on your mother,” he said.

I looked at my mom, who had always been a mystery to me, her mind so very far away. She blinked rapidly, as though trying not to cry, or maybe it was because she could only stand to look at me for those few moments in between each blink, each reprieve.

“Mom, I’m so sorry,” I said.

“We only want to help you,” she said, looking shrunken and wounded to me.

They wanted to help me, and I did need help. More than that, I wanted it. But I thought of their rubber bands, their thought tracking, their flow charts—the help I needed wasn’t the kind they could give.

What I needed was Freud.

“Thank you for that,” I said. “Sincerely. I’m going to think about it and—can we talk about it more later?”

“We would really feel more comfortable if we figured something out now,” my mother said, but I stood. “Could you please—just sit back down and we’ll talk it through—”

“I promise to think about it,” I said, nodding as though it were final.

She nodded in reply, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, then stood to hug me. My father pressed his hands to his knees as if to stand as well, but—

“It’s okay,” I said, and meant it. I put my palm up in farewell. “I’ll talk to you soon. I’ll let myself out.”

At the door, I stopped: the key. I could go back into the living room and give it to my parents; the thought repelled me. I could toss it, over and over, until finally it landed on the doorframe. Or I could leave it on the floor, as if some minor earthquake had taken place. (Hadn’t it?) Instead I went to the kitchen and left it in the middle of the counter for my parents to find. A reminder: I was here. And then I left, twisting the doorknob lock and closing the door.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8