Page 26 of Sweet Nightmare

Three feels uneven.

I turn it once more.

Four.

Better.

I don’t know why some numbers feel wrong while others don’t. They just do.

The same way crooked paintings bother me. The same way I can’t fall asleep if my books aren’t arranged properly.

The same way I spent an entire appointment counting flamingos instead of discussing feelings.

Thirty-two.

There are thirty-two of them.

I counted twice, just to make sure.

Mom always says not everything has to be perfect.

I know that.

I just wish someone would explain it to my brain.

“Mr. and Mrs. Volpe, there are treatments,” Dr. Nudo says carefully.

Mom lowers her eyes.

“My brother, Enzo, received a similar diagnosis,” she says softly. “But he found happiness. He found love. Maybe…”

Her voice trails off.

“My other children laugh. They cry. They get excited. Artemis just…” She pauses, swallowing hard. “She watches. Sometimes, she feels so far away.”

Dad reaches for her hand.

“She’s not your brother, baby.”

Then he looks at Dr. Nudo.

“We don’t want to change who she is. We just want to know if there’s anything we can do to make her life easier.”

He turns toward Mom, offering her the gentle smile he always saves for her.

“To us, she’s perfect. She’s brilliant, kind, and beautiful.”

He pauses.

“She’s just a little difficult to reach sometimes.”

His tattooed hand squeezes Mom’s.

“We’re scared there’s something in her mind that might keep her from being…” He searches for the right word. “…happy. That’s all we want for our girl. To know she’ll be happy.”

Happy.

The word echoes inside my head.