“You don’t believe anyone.”

“Hunh.”

“They’re telling you a lot,” I said. “Over and over.”

“Hunh.”

“Maybe that’s making you worried. Everyone talking so much.”

He stood, snapped small hands upward in a boxer’s stance. Kicked the bed hard. Did it again. Five more times.

Threw himself to the floor and pummeled the carpet with both fists.

Jumped to his feet again and watched me.

I did nothing.

“I’m gonna draw.”

“Okay.”

“By myself.”

“You want me to leave.”

“Yeah.”

“Would you mind if I stayed a little bit longer?”

Silence.

“Chad, how about I just sit here and don’t talk while you draw.”

“Unh-uh.”

“Okay, then I’ll tell Mommy we’re finished for today.”

Scuttling on his knees to a box in the corner, he grabbed a red marker, dove down belly-first, flipped the tablet open, and commenced drawing circles. Large, red page-filling circles that he began filling in laboriously.

Big red bubbles.

“Bye, Chad. Nice meeting you.”

“Unh. No!”

“No?”

“You draw, too,” he ordered, without looking up. “We’ll draw fast.” Ripping his circle drawing out of the tablet, he tore out the following blank page and thrust it at me.

“Draw!”

“What color should I use?”

“Black.” He punched air. “We’re going fast. I’m gonna win.”

Ten minutes later, he’d announced victory fourteen times before announcing, “This time you go.”

I left him, found Gretchen in her living room, exactly where we’d left her.

“So?”

“He’s a great kid.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that. What’s going on in his head?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I don’t believe this,” she said. “Jesus, it’s not like I’m going to be around forever, I need meat and potatoes—put out! Why the hell else would I pay you?”

“He’s going through what any kid would go through.”

“Meaning?”

“Anger, fear. I’m not going to tell you anything dramatic right now because there’s nothing dramatic to tell.”

“Thought you were the master shrink.”

“One thing to be aware of,” I said. “Everyone’s been telling him he didn’t give you the illness. That’s better than not dealing with it but sometimes too much repetition can make kids anxious.”

“He said that?”

“I deduced it.” I smiled. “Being a master shrink.”

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t bug him about it. I told him once, maybe twice to make sure it sank in, ’cause that’s what the books say. Who’s everyone?”

“Who else has talked to him?”

“Just Bunny,” she said. “Oh, shit, I told Bunny to tell him, what, she overdid it? Typical. Only reason I included her was so he’d get a consistent message. And because one day she’ll be his … she’ll be the one to …” Burying her face in her hands, she moaned, “Oh, God.” Looking up: “Would you just please goddamn hold me!”