SOMEONE was rapping softly on Craig Pierce’s bedroom door.

“Yeah?” he said.

The door opened. Standing there was a woman in her forties carrying a binder, a purse slung over her shoulder. Short hair, glasses, plain black skirt and off-white blouse.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m a bit late today. I got held up with another client.”

“Come on in, Ms. Sinclair,” Craig said.

“Oh, how many times have I told you to call me Beverly?” she said, smiling, looking directly at his mauled, disfigured face.

Craig, standing by his dresser, broke off eye contact to examine the contents of a small shipping package.

“What do you have there?” Beverly Sinclair asked cheerfully.

“Oh, just some things I ordered,” he said. He picked up one of them, something shiny and metallic and small enough to put into the palm of his hand, closed his fingers over it, and sat down in the chair by the foot of his bed.

Beverly sat in the other chair, set her purse on the floor, rested the binder atop her knees and folded her hands together. “So,” she said, still smiling like someone doing a toothpaste commercial, “how are we doing today?”

“We are doing terrific,” Craig said. His mangled lips formed a twisted smile. “I suppose a lot of that has to do with what a good counselor you are.”

“Well, thank you for that,” she said, opening the binder. “But you’re the one who deserves the credit. You’re the one doing the work.”

Craig shrugged modestly.

She consulted a page of handwritten notes on a yellow pad inside the binder. “Last time I was here we talked about you getting over your fear about going out of the house.”

“Well, yes,” Craig said. “But it’s not so much my fear as it is other people’s fear. I mean, I do look kind of scary.”

“That’s their problem, though, isn’t it?” Beverly said. “People need to examine their own attitudes when it comes to dealing with others with disabilities or differences.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to get into a discussion about that when they’re running off screaming their heads off,” Craig countered.

She nodded understandingly. “Point taken. But you’ve been out and about more in the last week?”

“I have,” he said.

“Where have you gone?”

“I’ve done some driving. And walking. Mostly at night.”

“I think, as you regain your confidence, you’ll be going out more during daylight hours,” Beverly said encouragingly.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said.

“And how would you describe your state of mind, say, the last week or so? Are you coming to terms with your situation?”

“My situation?” Craig asked. “That’s such an interesting way to put it.”

“Well, you know, I like to put things in as respectful and gentle a way as possible,” she said.