The Rest of Us Just Live Here
“Hey, Dr Luther.”
“It’s good to see you again, Michael.”
“Is it? Doesn’t that mean you failed last time, though?”
“Still concerned about failure, I see.”
“I know, I know. ‘Why does everything have to be something you win or lose?’”
“Do you know?”
“I thought I did.”
“…I should tell you up front that your mom’s been talking to me.”
“As a patient?”
“No, but don’t sound so shocked. She’s been talking to me as your mother. As your concerned mother. She told me things have been … challenging for you lately. It’s only fair that you know that. I won’t, of course, tell her anything that we discuss here, though. That’s between us.”
“Did she tell you she’s campaigning again?”
“She did. How do you feel about that?”
“It’s weird.”
“How so?”
“It’s like it doesn’t have anything to do with me this time. Like our lives have already separated and this is something that’s happening to her rather than to us. Plus, she’s being okay about it, actually.”
“That’s a generous thing for you to say.”
“It’s true. Mel’s been kept out of it except for at the concert. Did you see that?”
“I did.”
“That was so great. She was so great. She couldn’t have done that last time.”
“That’s good to hear. There was always a lot of strength in your sister. But we’re not talking about her, are we?”
“No. I guess we’re not.”
“Tell me what’s been happening, Michael. Tell me why you’ve come back to see me.”
“I thought my mom already told you.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“…I’ve been getting … stuck. In loops. Again. Like I can’t leave the house unless I lock the door a certain way but I don’t really know what that certain way is or how there are even supposed to be different ways to lock a front door. It happens a lot when I’m washing myself, too, if I don’t do it in just the right order. Or if I start to touch things and count them, I can just get … stuck there.”
“What do you think will happen if you don’t do these things?”
“I don’t know. Something awful. Something I won’t be able to handle. Everything will fall apart.”
“Everything?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it something to do with the spate of deaths at your school?”
“What do you know about those?”
“They’re not unknown. They’ve happened before. It’s one of the more terrible sociological phenomena.”
“Do you know what’s causing them?”
“‘Cause’? They were accidents and suicides, as far as I understand. Is there an underlying cause?”
“No. No, I guess not.”
“Unless you mean it’s something like the vampires or the soul-eating ghosts. Don’t look so surprised. We had armies of the undead when I was your age. It was pretty awful and scary, but it was confined, kept quiet, involving a fairly small group of people while the adult world looked on obliviously.”
“…I don’t know what to say about any of that.”
“Does this time around have anything to do with you?”
“I’m not an indie kid.”
“No.”
“But we were at the concert. And Henna and I hit those deer. And … other stuff.”
“That I probably wouldn’t believe? Even after what I’ve said?”