“Who is going to make dinner when you get distracted making sure the garage is closed right? Who is going to help you check the windows? Who is going to find the twelfth fork when it’s fallen under the china cabinet to keep you from counting into infinity? Do you have any idea how much work it is living with you? And maybe somehow this all ties back to the divorce, but you won’t talk to me about it. If I don’t know what’s wrong, how am I supposed to do anything to fix it? I want to spend my time learning how to design rockets instead of spending entire evenings trying to rescue you from your routines. Counting to four a thousand times doesn’t make the stove burners more sufficiently turned off!” I’m starting to sound a little unhinged. I definitely feel it.

“I . . .” She struggles to find words. She sits down on my bed and stares at the floor. A thick silence hangs between us.

Finally, she looks up at me, her expression confused and wounded. “You never invite anyone over because of me?” She taps her thumb across her other fingers. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four.

My heart pounds deafeningly in my ears as a feeling almost like panic rises at the sight of her counting. “Just tell me how to fix this,” I beg her.

Tears well in her eyes. “It’s not your job to fix anything, honey.”

“Then at least tell me how this happened! What happened with you and Dad? What piece of the puzzle am I not seeing?” I just want to know why she’s like this.

“I don’t know if I can talk about it.” She looks scared and small in a way I’ve never seen her. Could whatever happened between my parents really have been so big she can’t think about it, even now?

“I need you to try.” I need this more than I’ve ever needed anything from her.

She’s shaking now. She stands up and paces the room, and I can see an internal battle waging.

“Please,” I say more softly.

“Okay,” she finally says, not sounding at all certain. “Okay,” she says again, seemingly more for herself than for me. “Maybe it’s time we talked about some hard things you don’t remember. Maybe it’ll be easier if I show you.”

My heart pounds with fear, because suddenly we are in completely uncharted waters and I have no idea what she’s going to say next.

“Come to my office,” she says.