Forgetting Can Be a Big Mistake by Colin Kelly

Curt's life takes a turn that he never expected, and he realizes that it's because he forgot something that didn't seem important at the time. He also discovers that others have forgotten things that are important and that turns out to both help him and hurt him.

Mature or distressing themes. This story deals with abuse.

Chapter 43 — Doctor Hillyer Part 1

Tom and I woke up the next morning in each other’s arms. I opened my eyes and grinned.

“So, how’s my plan, Curt?”

“Wonderful. Brilliant. Amazing. And best of all, perfect. I love you, Tom.”

Tom smiled. “I love you, Curt.”

We kissed, and Tom reached around and began massaging my back. It felt great, mostly because it was Tom massaging me. I reached down between us and began massaging him.

“Now, that’s the kind of massage I like!” he said.

I began to smell bacon frying from the kitchen downstairs. I rolled over, pulling my left arm up and under my head. My cast sure wasn’t soft, but it also wasn’t totally uncomfortable.

“Your mom is cooking bacon. I think it’s time to get up.”

“I am up already,” Tom said. He grabbed my right hand and pulled it under the covers to demonstrate that what he said was true.

After a couple minutes I heard someone walking down the hall. Mrs. W looked into Tom’s room and saw us together in bed, with the covers over Tom’s middle seriously tented.

“Time for you guys to get up and clean up. Then come down for breakfast.”

“Okay, Mom. We’ll be down in about fifteen minutes,” Tom replied.

“Alright,” she responded, then we heard her walk down the hall then down the stairs.

“I’m going to tell her and Dad that we’re going to be sleeping together. I don’t think it’ll be much of a surprise, but it’s best to get it out in the open.”

“What do you think she thought about seeing us in bed and you in an apparent state of, uh… excitement?” I asked.

“Well, she didn’t say anything about it, did she?”

“No, but what about when we go downstairs?”

“Maybe, maybe not. In either case, I’m going to tell her we’re gay, we’re boyfriends, and we’re going to be sleeping together until you have to move back to your mom’s house.”

“I hope your dad’s there,” I replied. “He seems to accept us and what we’ve been doing together.”

“I agree, Curt. But it doesn’t make any difference to me whether he’s there or not, I’m going to tell Mom what I have to tell her. She had five brothers. And, on top of that, she already knows about us. Remember that we had a conversation with her about us sleeping together and experimenting?”

“We had that conversation with your dad, not your mom. I remember in the conversation we had with your mom we talked about being brothers.”

“She said she knew we were more than brothers. That’s her way of telling us that she knew we were having sex.”

“They called it experimenting, Tom. We also told them that we aren’t gay. Now you’re going to tell her we are gay?”

“I don’t remember if we told my dad that we’re not gay, or if we told both of them. Again, why does that make any difference?”

“It’s like we just changed our minds. I think you should skip the ‘we’re gay’ part and tell them the rest.”

“So, I don’t tell them that we’re gay, but I tell them that we’re boyfriends?”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot about the ‘boyfriends’ part of what you’re going to tell them,” I replied. “Okay, just say we’ve decided that we’re going to sleep together from now on. Don’t tie it to being gay or boyfriends. And don’t tie it to my moving back to my mom’s house. That way we’re not giving them a reason to hurry me out of your house.”

“What if they ask us if we’re gay?”

“Tom, we don’t know if we’re gay. So just say we’re best friends with benefits. They can figure out the ‘benefits’ part themselves. If they ask what the ‘benefits’ are, tell them that we’re teenagers and experimenting is part of growing up. That should work. Your mom won’t want any more details and your dad already knows what we’re going to be doing.”

“I’m going to go with your suggestion, but I’m not sure they won’t want more intimate details. For example, they might want to know it we’re using condoms in order to stay safe. What do I say then?”

“Tell them we haven’t, but we’ll buy them the next time we’re at the drugstore.”

“That’s a good idea. You realize that I’m old enough to buy condoms, and you’re not? Ah, the joys of being sixteen.” Tom laughed. “Okay, are you ready to run the gauntlet?”

“I guess,” I replied. “Besides, I’m hungry. So let’s eat before you make your big pronouncement.”

“That’s a plan, Curt, in fact that’s an excellent plan. I’m hungry too.”

When we got downstairs Mr. Williams had left for his office to meet a client, and Mrs. W had already eaten her breakfast.

“What would you boys like? The bacon’s ready, and I can scramble some eggs for you. There are bagels you can toast or eat plain, and there’s OJ in the refrigerator.”

Tom and I both decided scrambled eggs would be fine. I got the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured a glass for each of us. I toasted a sesame bagel and topped it with butter and peanut butter. Tom had a plain bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jam. As we finished our breakfasts Tom decided to make his big announcement.


“Yes, Tom?”

“Curt and I will be sleeping together in my bedroom from now on.”


That was it. ‘Alright.’ I almost started to laugh, but choked it back at the last second.

“Are you okay, Curt?” Mrs. W asked.

“Yes, thanks. I just tried to breathe in some bagel. That doesn’t work very well.” I coughed a few times, then grinned to show that I was okay. I saw that she had a grin too.

I looked at Tom and he just shrugged his shoulders. His big pronouncement turned out to be a big dud.

We finished breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen, then headed upstairs. I flopped on Tom’s bed and he pulled his desk chair over so he sat across from me.

“Well, that was fun,” he said.

“I almost started laughing when I heard her say Alright. Just ‘alright’ and nothing more. That was so funny! I kept from laughing by pretending to choke on a piece of my bagel.”

“That was clever, Curt, very good acting. You should join the theater group at school. I thought you really did choke on your bagel, of course, caused by what Mom said.”

“You know,” I said, “I think she’ll talk to your dad when he gets home. Maybe they’ll have something to say to you, or to us, later. You think?”

“No, I don’t think,” Tom said. “They both’ve seen us sleeping together several times, including once when we were naked. They must have talked about it already and decided that it’s our decision.”

“Yeah, you’re right. In fact, your dad told me to wait until the trial was over before we started messing around. In other words, no sex till then. Now that the trial is over it’s up to us and they’re okay with it.”

“Curt, the trial might not be over. Think about it. The vote of the Judicial Panel has to be announced, then the Judge has to sentence Don. That might require a sentencing hearing. Don might appeal if the verdict or sentence go against him. So there could be a new trial. Those are some of the ways that could make the trial not over.”

“But my testimony is finished. I won’t be called for the sentencing hearing or an appeal hearing, and even if they did call me if there’s a new trial, Don’s lawyer wouldn’t be allowed to go on a fishing expedition about whether I’m gay or straight or bi or just confused.”

“Okay, that makes sense. Except for the gay-straight-bi-confused part. Which are you, Curt?”

“I’m me, just me.” I tapped the left side of my chest where my heart’s located several times. “I’m normal. I don’t give a shit whether I’m gay or straight or bi or all or any combination of the above. Except I do know I’m not confused. What I know is that I’m in love with you, Thomas Williams, and for me that’s completely normal.”

“Curt, you can sure figure out this stuff and make sense of it. What I know is that I love you too, totally and completely.” Tom got up and pulled me off the bed and into a hug and kissed me. Then he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me to arm’s length and looked at me. His smile was brilliant, and I could see the love in his eyes. I pushed in and grabbed him in a hug as tight as I could with my left arm in a cast. Our bodies were pressed close together and that felt wonderful. I laid my head on his left shoulder and nibbled on his earlobe. Then I pushed my tongue into his ear and he burst out laughing and pulled out of my arms. “That tickles!” he hollered. We flopped down on his bed and laid there next to each other, holding hands, and laughing.

Mr. Williams stepped into the room.

“Hey, guys, get a room!” he said, then turned and walked out, chuckling.

“We have a room!” Tom shouted after him.

“Two, in fact,” I called out.

We continued to lie across Tom’s bed, holding hands, and thinking. I knew what I was thinking. It was how Tom and I had met in middle school and became friends, then best friends, and now boyfriends. I dozed, and I guess he did too.

I woke when I heard a car alarm in the distance. I stretched, then looked over at Tom. He was still napping, so I decided that I wouldn’t disturb him. I carefully pulled my right hand from his left and got up. I had to pee, so I went into the bathroom. I did my business and cleaned up, then returned to the bedroom. I heard Tom snoring softly, so I went downstairs.

When I got to the kitchen sat down and watched Mrs. W fix sandwiches for lunch.

“I’m going to grill cheese sandwiches in the Panini press,” she said. “I can put ham or salami on yours if you’d like.”

“A slice of ham, please,” I said.

“Is Tom still napping?”

“Yes. And he’s snoring, too. But it’s just a soft snore, not a loud one.”

“And he claims he never snores.” She grinned.

“How’s the person who’s snoring ever going to find out unless someone tells them?” I asked.

“I suppose that person could record himself, but that seems like a lot of work.”

“Yeah, I agree. Still, it’s fun to kid him about his snoring.”

She turned and looked at me. “You two love each other, don’t you.”

“Yes, we do, Mrs. W. I look at Tom and get shivers down my spine. He’s so handsome. He’s beautiful. I love him, totally and completely.”

“And I know that he loves you too, Curt.”

“I get all emotional when I think about how lucky I am. Then I think about the chain of events that took me and Tom from just being best friends to us being boyfriends.” I realized what I’d just said, and decided to explain myself. “By boyfriends I mean best friends who are in love with each other.”

She walked over and hugged me. “I couldn’t wish for a better partner for Tom than you, Curt.”

“Thanks. I couldn’t wish for a better partner for me than your son.”

She took a deep breath. “Don’t take this wrong, but I hope it lasts. You two are very young, and there can be many things that could happen to intrude on the closeness you have now. For example, either or both of you could meet new friends, you could go to different colleges, one of you could move away from here, there are many things that could impact the relationship you’re having now. I sincerely hope that doesn’t happen, but I know it’s possible and is something you have to be prepared for.”

“I’ve never thought about what might happen. I think it’s something Tom and I need to talk about and figure out how to continue our relationship if something does happen to separate us or, like you said, intrude on the closeness we have.”

“You’re a very intelligent boy, Curt. I see in you someone who knows what he wants and figures out how to get it and keep it. I think you can see a path for your life. That’s something uncommon for a fifteen year old. You’re going to go far and do well, and I hope you and Tom are walking down that path together.”

We hugged again. “Thanks, Mrs. W. Now all Tom and I have to do is figure out how to make that happen.”

We heard Tom coming downstairs. As he walked into the kitchen he yawned and almost walked into the wall. Mrs. W and I started laughing.

“What?” Tom asked, grinning.

“It’s a private joke,” I told him. “You had to be here to see it.”

“Whatever,” he responded. “What’s for lunch?”

“I’m going to grill cheese sandwiches in the Panini press. You can have it just with cheese, or with ham or salami or both of those.”

“I’ll have mine plain, with double cheese, please.”

Tom turned to me. “How long you been up?”

“I don’t know, fifteen or twenty minutes maybe.”

Tom yawned again.

“Looks like you got up too early,” Mrs. W told him.

“Yeah, maybe. But I heard from my stomach that it’s time for lunch.” Tom grinned. “So what kind of grilled cheese sandwich did you say you’re having, Curt?”

“I didn’t say, but I’m having mine with a slice of ham.”

Mrs. W served our sandwiches. Tom got a couple cans of ginger ale and Mrs. W got a glass of iced tea. We ate without saying anything, concentrating on our sandwiches which were excellent. Finally, Mrs. W broke the silence.

“What are you two going to do this afternoon?”

“I have my counseling appointment at four-thirty,” I said. “So whatever I do, I’ll have to be back no later than four o’clock.”

Mrs. W checked the clock on the oven. “That doesn’t give you much time, Curt. It’s already almost one thirty.”

“What would you like to do, Tom?” I asked.

“You want to play some baseball? We could go to school and you could hit some flies and I could catch them.”

“I’m not sure I’d hit consistently enough to make it work for you,” I told Tom. I told him the truth. With my broken arm I couldn’t toss up then hit a ball worth a damn. “How about playing some catch with a baseball and gloves? Of course, I don’t have a glove so you’d have to loan me one.”

“Meh… that sounds boring, don’t ya think? How about a vid game? I just got Far Cry 3. We can play it on my PC.”

“Let’s do it!” I exclaimed.

We went upstairs to Tom’s room and he connected up his controllers and loaded the game. We had fun, blasted some baddies, and encountered some weird wildlife that would attack us and we had to kill them too. We got killed a lot, sometimes by the wildlife, but that’s to be expected when playing a new game. Right? Right?

Mr. Williams came in and watched us play the game.

“This looks pretty violent,” he said.

“It’s not bad,” Tom responded. “We mostly kill weird wild animals. Actually, it’s sort of fun.”

“Curt, I wanted to remind you that we need to leave in about an hour.”

“Okay. I’ll get ready now. How should I dress?”

“Casual is fine. Dress like you were going to school. I’m going downstairs to my office now. We’ll leave at four.”

I pressed the Pause button on my controller, and Tom saved and exited the game. “We can play when you get back,” he said.

I put on a clean pair of khakis and a large gray polo shirt and my Rockport’s. I realized that I had no idea what this counselor would want to talk to me about. I sat down at my laptop and Googled ‘counselor’ and discovered that there were more kinds of counselors than I ever knew. I figured the links that would apply to me were under ‘abused adolescents’ and ‘adolescent counseling’.

One website had a list of what might be discussed in a counseling session. I went through the list and wrote down what I thought would apply to me.

Anger or hostility. I sure had anger toward both Don and my mom when all this happened. Especially toward my mom when she wouldn’t believe me about Don attacking me. I wanted to hear what the counselor had to say about that. I was hostile toward Don at the beginning, but I didn’t think I had hostility any more. I didn’t even care if he ended up going to jail or got parole. I just wanted him out of my life permanently. Let him move to Los Angeles and stay there.

Inability to trust. That fit my relationship with my mom to a T. She didn’t trust me because she wouldn’t believe me about what Don did to me. I still didn’t trust her enough to want to move back to her house. Of course, I had a different reason to stay with the Williams, that was Tom. I decided I’d tell the counselor we slept together and were having sex. I wondered how he’d react to that. Probably okay. These counselors must see a lot of gay kids all the time.

Perfectionism. That one seemed sort of weird to me. I wondered if this term was included on the list because it could be a problem. I did have a goal to be perfect in school. I had a straight-A average since first grade and I wanted to keep it so I could get into Stanford or Berkeley on a scholarship. I’d ask the counselor about that.

Control of life. That definitely fit me. My goal was always to be in control of my life, and after Don attacked me this is something that’s even more important for me.

Keeps feelings internalized. The definition of this was ‘seems fine’. I guess that really meant ‘not fine’. I sure never keep my feelings internalized. I let everyone know exactly how I feel about things. This sounded like something from psychology and the counselor might want to talk about it so I’m ready.

These were the only things that I thought applied to me. The others included stuff like fear, guilt, low self-esteem, anxiety, nightmares, depression, and poor social skills. None of these applied to me. But that’s only my opinion, so I printed the entire list and took it to Tom.

“Would you do me a favor, Tom? Here’s a list of terms that the counselor might think applies to me. Would you read each of them and say how you think it could apply to me or not apply to me?”

“Oh, I love these sorts of lists,” he said. “Let’s get started.”

He went through the list. Nightmares is the first one he said should be added to my detailed list.

“But I’m not having any nightmares,” I protested.

“But you did, Curt, at the beginning. Remember, I came in to your bedroom and slept with you because I heard you shouting and screaming in your sleep. I held you and you fell asleep.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, Tom. And about the nightmares, I guess I did have them but I’m not having them anymore. I suppose the counselor would find that important. I think not having them anymore is a good thing.” I wrote ‘nightmares’ on my notepad.

“I agree,” Tom said. “Next is anxiety. I think you did have anxiety at the beginning, especially about Don moving back in with your mom, and also because you though your mom might force you to move back in with her. And remember that scene when we were walking down the street across from the Courthouse in Martinez and Don wanted to talk to you? You freaked, and had a panic attack.”

“I forgot about that. I guess I suppressed it. That is something I want to talk to the counselor about.” I wrote ‘panic attacks’ on my notepad.

“Any others,” I asked.

He agreed that the others that weren’t on my list didn’t apply to me. I went back to my desk and added details about my nightmares and panic attacks to the list and printed two copies, one for me and one for the counselor.

Mr. Williams stepped in my bedroom. “Curt, it’s time to leave for your appointment with Dr. Hillyer.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

It took about twenty five minutes to get to Dr. Hillyer’s office in Clayton. His office was in a modern two-story building. We walked in and I stepped up to the receptionist’s window.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“My name is Curtis Fischer. I have a four thirty appointment with Doctor Hillyer.”

“I see this is your first visit to our office. I’ll need your medical card and a picture identification card.”

I was still on Mom’s medical plan, so I handed her the card and my Los Arcos student ID card. She handed me a clipboard with a pen and a bunch of papers I had to fill out.

“If you don’t know the answers to any of the questions, please put a question mark at the left of the question number. Please don’t write anything else in that box. I’ll make copies of your medical and identification cards and return them to you when you turn in the clipboard.”

I sat down next to Mr. Williams and started filling in paperwork. The first sheet asked for my nickname, my address and telephone number, and that sort of stuff. It needed a signature of a parent or guardian. I handed the clipboard to Mr. Williams.

“You have to sign here as my guardian.”

He signed his name and handed the clipboard to me. The next sheet asked for my medical history including the number of surgeries I’d had. I didn’t know how to answer that question.

“Mr. Williams, it’s asking for my surgeries. Would that include what they did to set my arm after Don broke it?”

“No, Curt. A surgery, at least in legal parlance, is where there is an incision performed by a surgeon in a hospital setting. If you had your tonsils or appendix removed those would be surgeries. Setting a broken arm isn’t a surgery. If you’d had a compound fracture, that’s where a bone penetrates the skin and is exposed on the outside, then the repair would have been a surgery.”

“My medical card has access to my medical records. They could get anything they want to know from United Health instead of making me fill out a bunch of forms.”

“Curt, patient confidentiality laws don’t allow that sort of medical lookup. It’s an excellent idea, and something that should be in place. Maybe someday it will happen.”

I went back to the burdensome task of filling in the forms. The next one that I couldn’t answer asked me to list all prescription medications that I’d taken and check the ones I took currently. I don’t take any prescription medications, but when I went to the hospital and had my arm set they gave me a prescription pain pill. I couldn’t remember the name. So I put a question mark next to that question number.

The next form asked for the name and phone number of each of my doctors. How am I supposed to know this information? I couldn’t even remember the name of the family physician my mom took me to see for my annual physical exam when I went to elementary school. I put a question mark here as well.

The next form listed most of the same things I found on the internet, and a lot of others, with a checkbox for ‘yes’ and one for ‘no’ if it applied to me or not. I wrote ‘See attached’ and included the copy of the list I’d printed.

The last form needed my and Mr. William’s signatures, and we had to initial a bunch of statements that basically said that if I died or got hurt or got sick while under Dr. Hillyer’s care it wasn’t his fault, and if he gave me a prescription it was my responsibility to follow the instructions and take it when I should, and if there were any adverse reactions is wasn’t Dr. Hillyer’s fault.

I laughed when I handed Mr. Williams the form. “I thought lawyers covered their butts, but it’s nothing like the disclaimers on this form,” I said.

I returned the clipboard and forms to the receptionist. She asked me to wait while she looked at my responses.

“You don’t know the names of your family doctor?” she asked.

“No, I went to him for my physical exam when I started elementary school. I went to a doctor one time to get my measles, chicken pox, and whooping cough booster shot so I could register for high school. It was someone at Valley Medical Center. Oh, yeah, I can put one doctor’s name and location. That’s Doctor John Leonard at Valley Medical Center. He set my broken arm. I held up my arm. And Doctor Lane McIntosh was the attending physician at Valley Medical Center who took care of the other injuries I got when my stepfather attacked me.”

“What we would like to have is your regular doctor, the doctor you see for routine medical exams and conditions.”

“There isn’t one, not since I started middle school.”

“You’ve had surgeries? You put a question mark by that question.”

“I had my tonsils out when I was maybe six years old. I have no idea who the surgeon was or the name of the hospital whereit was done.”

Next she asked, “Do you take any prescription medications at the present time?”


“Any other prescriptions?”

“I got a bottle of pain pills after they set my broken arm. I don’t know the name of the medicine.”

“When was that?”

“It was in July, Friday the thirteenth. How’s that for a great day to get beaten up by my stepfather!”

“Did you take all of the pills you received?”

“No. I probably took maybe half of them, about ten pills.”

“Who prescribed them?”

“I’m not sure. Probably Doctor Leonard or Doctor McIntosh at Valley Medical Center.”

“Did you or someone else go to a pharmacy to fill this prescription?”

“No, they gave my mom the bottle of pain pills when I checked out of the hospital.”

She looked through the rest of the forms then handed me my medical card and school ID card. She smiled. “Thank you. Doctor Hillyer will be with you in a few minutes.”

I sat down. Mr. Williams asked, “What took so long?”

“She wanted more information about where I put question marks. Like who my family doctor is, what prescription medicines do I use, what surgeries have I had. She seemed the most interested in the pain pills I got when they set my broken arm.”

“They want to know if you take any prescription drugs for recreational use.”

“I’ve never taken any drug, prescription or otherwise, for recreational use. I’ll never take any drug for recreational use. I don’t believe in taking drugs to get high. That includes smoking marijuana or snorting cocaine.”

“Good for you, Curt.”

“Will you be going in with me to see Doctor Hillyer?”

“No. These sessions are private, between you and your doctor.”

“So he can’t report anything I say to anyone else?”

“The answer is no with one exception. If you tell him you’ve been physically or sexually abused by anyone, he’s obligated by state law to report it to Child Protective Services.”

“What if I was being bullied by someone at school, and I told him about that and who it was. Would he be obligated to report that?”

“As long as the abuse was physical or sexual, yes. If it was name calling, no. That would be a problem the school would have to handle, if the person being bullied reported it to the office. Have you ever been bullied at school, Curt?”

“Nope, never. Maybe I’m lucky, maybe they think I’m big and strong enough to convince bullies I’m someone to be avoided. Tom’s never been bullied either, as far as I know.”

“You’re probably right. He’s like you, big and strong enough to convince bullies he’s someone to avoid. Bullies usually pick on someone smaller and weaker.”

A nurse came into the waiting room. She saw me and smiled. “Curtis Fischer?”


“I’ll take you to Doctor Hillyer’s office.”

I expected Doctor Hillyer to be an old guy with gray hair and a short gray beard. Instead he turned out to be young, maybe in his late twenty’s. That really surprised me.

“Curt, please sit down.”

“Thanks. No couch for me to lie on?” I grinned.

He smiled. “No, that’s old school. I don’t subscribe to old school ways. So, tell me why you’re here. I want to hear it in your words, not the reason the person who scheduled your appointment gave us.”

“Actually, Mr. William’s reason is the same as mine. My stepfather attacked me and broke my arm and bruised my face and chest and shoulder. My mom wouldn’t believe that he did this to me.” I held up my left arm, and hoped the size of my cast would impress him. “Mr. Williams is my attorney. He became my temporary guardian and I moved in with his family. His son and I are and have been best friends for years.”

“So, my reason to be here is to figure out if I can get over how my mom basically said I was lying when I said Don, my so-called stepfather, beat the shit out of me. He was charged, went to trial, and we’re waiting for the verdict. If he gets probation he said he will move to Los Angeles. I have to decide whether to move back in with my mom, or have Mr. Williams extend the guardianship so I can stay with his family. I’d rather stay with his family because Tom, his son, and I have become more than best friends. We’re boyfriends now. His folks know and are okay with it. My mom doesn’t know and I’m certain she wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“Are you and Tom sexually active?”


“Anything beyond oral?”


“So, tell me what happened between you and your mother.”

So I did. I described everything that happened in detail, starting with the incident with old man Vanvelick through Don’s trial and my relationship with Tom.

By the time I’d finished I’d gone over the one hour session time by almost fifteen minutes. The clock on his desk read five forty-five.

“This has been an excellent session, Curt,” Doctor Hillyer told me. Most teens I counsel are very reticent to tell me things. You certainly don’t seem reticent at all. What I’d like to do is see you tomorrow for another session. It will be more intensive, I’ll be asking you a lot of questions and I expect that you’ll be as open with your answers as you were today. Is that alright? Can you be here by ten o’clock?”

“I think I can get a ride, but I’ll have to confirm it with Mr. Williams. He’s here. Can I ask him now?”

“Yes, let’s do that now. I’d also like to meet him.” He picked up his phone and asked his nurse to have Mr. Williams join us.

I introduced Mr. Williams to Doctor Hillyer. Mr. Williams told us that he had a client meeting at ten, so he phoned Mrs. Williams. She said that she would be able to drive me to my ten o’clock session and pick me up at eleven.

I felt good about my session with Doctor Hillyer. I’d done almost all of the talking, telling my story from Friday the thirteenth of July through today, Monday the thirtieth of July. He told me that tomorrow we’d have a question and answer session that would be more intensive. That’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted to dig into my relationship with my mother, and find out if it made sense for me to move back in with her, or not.


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