good look on you. Whatever you have to say, just say it.”
She blows out a breath. “I called the Academy. I made another attempt to find out more.”
“Oh.” My blood stops circulating. “I forgot about that.”
“It wasn’t helpful,” she says quickly. “It was merely infuriating.”
Something inside me relaxes, and I’m not even sure why. “Okay. Were they dicks?”
“You could say that.” She picks at a fingernail. “I went off script, Rick. And it didn’t even help.”
“What did you ask?”
She lifts her eyes to mine, and they are so sad. “I said you had PTSD, and we couldn’t discover the source of it.”
“That’s not, uh, inaccurate,” I point out.
“Right. But then I said that it might be sexual in nature.” She presses her hands together, as if trying not to fidget. “This guy was a stone wall. So then I implied that I was treating you for symptoms that a rape survivor might exhibit.”
I feel a nauseating rush inside my chest, and the question screaming through my brain is, Why would you say that?
Then again I’d asked Lenore to shake things up. “And what was their response?”
“He said…” She puts her head in her hands. “He said—that’s ridiculous. A man can’t be raped.”
“Oh,” I say slowly. It takes me a second to realize that this doesn’t have a thing to do with me. But Lenore is upset. Her eyes are red, and her lips are tight. “That’s a shit thing to say, right?”
“It’s a horrible thing to say. It negates a very real problem and perpetuates a societal stigma. I’ve treated men who have been assaulted, and they don’t need that kind of bullshit in their lives.”
“You’re right,” I say quickly. “It’s awful.”
“So bad.” She rubs her temples. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wheedle anything out of them. They said to call the hospital, which I will do. But the hospital won’t actually have any kind of incident report. Just treatment details.”
“Okay. It’s all right, Lenore. You tried. I’m sorry it was upsetting.”
She looks up at me, her expression sad. “I sit here all day asking my patients to deal with difficult truths, you know? It’s hard work to tell the truth. And some asshole at a military academy tells me that sexual assault doesn’t happen to men.”
“It’s outrageous,” I agree. “What a shittastic place. Good thing I don’t remember a single thing about it.” I give her a sly smile.
“Stop,” she says. “You’re not supposed to have to cheer your therapist up. I’m sorry. I’m just angry.”
“Me too, lady. But not today.”
She smiles. “No? Why?”
“Got nothing to be angry about. My girl is slowly coming around. I’m not free and clear yet, but I’m getting close.”
“I see.” Her smile reappears. “And what’s your big plan there?”
“Karaoke. It’s the secret to life.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Lenore giggles.
“Daphne thinks she has to always have her shit locked down. Like it would kill her to show any weakness. But her coworker invited us for karaoke tonight. She didn’t want to say yes, but I forced her hand.”
“Women love that,” Lenore deadpans.
“Yeah, yeah. She needs to be social with these people, though. She already admitted that. And karaoke has this way of making you realize you don’t have to be amazing all the time to have fun and be loved.”
“You went all guru there, didn’t you?” She waves a hand toward me. “It’s a good look on you. This poor girl doesn’t stand a chance. What are you going to sing?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Something devastating.”
“Looking forward to the video of this,” Lenore says. “Feel free to share.”
I spend the afternoon unpacking my first-floor bedroom. It’s satisfying to stack my winter clothes back inside my empty dresser drawers. I make my bed, too, with the mattress pad I’d stored away, and my clean sheets.
This house is a rift between my father and me, but I sure like having a place that’s all mine. I’d actually wondered if letting strangers rent this house for the summer would bother me.
But, nope. This room still feels like my sanctuary. The shelf over my bed is just waiting for me to stack the reference books there in a tidy row. I have framed maps on the walls of all the places I’ve been—the city in Germany where I lived for a few years. And the one in Japan.
And there’s a box of knickknacks that I save for last. It’s full of souvenirs from various trips I took over the years. There’s a carved set of dragons eating each others’ tails