Page 43 of Under the Weatherman
As we returned from commercial, Lauren called over to Tom. “Load Greg’s package.”
I muffled a snort.
Tom queued up a video on a side screen while on air, Kent said, “Well, Sandra, looks like the new interstate access ramp will offer an easy in and out.”
I couldn’t hold back a muttered, “That’s what she said,” and the entire production staff turned to look at me.
How was anyone supposed to resist that?
Chapter Fourteen
Evan
“Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.”
Much Ado About Nothing
“Tell me about your parents.”
I shifted in my seat. This new therapist, Dr. Zimmerman, asked a lot of questions, but that was to be expected so early on.
“I don’t really want to talk about them.” I realized how defensive that sounded. “Not because I have any childhood trauma from them. Other than them abandoning me.”
“Oh?” She blinked rapidly, and I realized I was going to have to tread lightly.
“Not really. I mean, they moved after I graduated from college. That was just a joke. I swear I don’t have abandonment issues. The opposite really. My parents were pretty great.”
She tapped her stylus on the edge of the iPad. “That’s good context. We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”
I relaxed.
“So what you would like to talk about?”
I tensed again, unused to controlling the conversation. “My troubles were always more social. Friends, girlfriends, that sort of thing. I mean, I do okay with the few people I trust. But I’ve been lied to or misled, like a lot.”
She jotted something down. “Can you give me an example?”
I blew out a breath. “For starters, the summer before high school, one of the more popular guys on my block befriended me. I was always kind of an outsider, band dork, fat kid, no social skills to speak of. I had friends, but when this guy singled me out, I felt special. He insisted I go out for lacrosse with him and his buddies in the fall.”
“What happened?”
“I showed up for tryouts, but they didn’t.”
She winced. “That’s rotten. How did you respond to that?”
I recalled how mortified I’d been that first day, but then another memory surfaced. “When I told my dad I was going to try out for the team, he bought all this gear. He’d never pushed me toward sports, and he’d supported me in band or whatever science fair I’d signed up for, but it was like he suddenly had something we could bond over. I’d crossed into his domain. He spent weeks teaching me how to play. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to try out, but I was enjoying my dad’s attention, and I was hoping to make friends, so I went. I wasn’t even expecting to make the team.”
“But you did?” She smiled, like she was proud of this little dork who pulled through in the clutch.
“Yeah. Junior varsity.”
“What happened with the other boys?”
“They went out for football, like they’d probably always intended.”
“Did you ever confront them?”
I rubbed my palms on my thighs, uncomfortable talking about this, even though that incident was only the tip of a very deep iceberg. “Yeah. I got into a fight with him, but he just gaslit me, told me he’d only wanted to push me to join a team.” I waved it away. I’d worked that particular hurt out with Dr. Price last year. “It’s just one example.”
