Page 34 of The Spider & the Storm

“No,” I answered flatly.

“Okay,” she replied, just as friendly as before. “Can you tell me what about discussing your panic attacks made you shut down just now?”

I picked at my jeans. They were definitely dirty. Something dry and crusty was stuck to one of the thighs, but I couldn’t find it in me to be embarrassed about that.

“M-my mom took me to a doctor once,” I said. The words came out mumbled, but she seemed to understand as she nodded and encouraged me to go on. “He thought I was crazy.”

“And you’re afraid I’ll think you’re crazy too. Is that right?”

I shrugged.

Dr. Sibilia laid her clipboard and pen onto her lap before resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together.

“Charlie, I will never use that word in this office. Do you understand that? I will never think you are crazy.”

My eyes met hers with a challenge. “What about psychotic? Do you like that word?”

“Is that what he called you?”

My silence was response enough, and she shook her head.

“I can see now why your mother never wanted to take you to another doctor,” she said softly. “And she was right to protect you. But I want to protect you, too, Charlie, and I can promiseyou I will never make you feel bad for the way you are. You have my word.”

And then the most amazing thing happened.

I believed her.

I knew in that moment that I could trust her, and I nodded before telling her everything I could in the two hours we had. I told her about my panic attacks. I told her about the anxiety I had in social situations and the bad feelings I’d get in my gut that often turned out to be founded in truth.

And you know what?

Not only did she seem to believe me, but she never once called me crazy.

***

After our parents had died, their life insurance policies had covered what was left of their mortgage on the house while still leaving a sizable chunk for Luke and me to split. We each opened bank accounts to use the money as we saw fit—and I know you’re probably thinking that one or both of us blew it all on stupid stuff, but you’d be wrong. My money at this point had been left untouched, and contrary to what might be popular belief, Luke wasn’t a complete idiot. He realized before I did that whatever money we’d gotten from our parents wouldn’t last forever, so he made the very mature and very surprising decision to quit his job at the pizza place, skip his high school graduation, and go to work at Melanie’s dad’s auto repair shop.

He’d started in the office, pushing papers and organizing the files, while he went to trade school at night and moved on to fixing cars. And now, two years later, he was still enjoying thework he did there, even if Frank—Melanie’s dad—still wasn’t all that thrilled that his daughter was living with us instead of him.

Anyway, the money that Luke made at the shop was decent enough, but he pinched his pennies, ensuring he got the most out of every single one. It was because of this that we hardly ever got the chance to do frivolous things, like eat out unless it was a special occasion.

But I guessed Luke considered my first successful day of therapy to be a special occasion because after my appointment, we swung by Melanie’s job at the local drugstore to pick her up, and then we were off to Friendly’s for a rare dinner outside of the house.

I was in the middle of eating my cheeseburger when Luke kicked my shin underneath the table with his steel-toed boot.

“Hey!” I grunted and kicked back. “What the hell, dick? That hurt.”

“Did you just kick him?” Melanie asked, shoving against Luke's shoulder.

Luke ignored both of our protests and complaints and leaned over the table, gesturing for me to come closer. I rolled my eyes and sighed before bringing my face to his.

“What?” I hissed.

“There's a chick at that table over there—”

I followed his gaze and looked over my shoulder, but Luke just as quickly kicked my shin again.

“Will you cut it out?! Fucking hell, Luke,” I whined, reaching under the table and rubbing the spot that I knew would bruise by the end of the night.

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