Page 42 of Actions and Reactions
How long have they been here?
“What time is it?”
“It’s seven a.m.,” Dr. Denise tells me helpfully, then she opens the door for my parents. “Right, how about we start easy?” She sits in the armchair where Mom was, the one Vinny had sat on and held my hand so sweetly.
Not thinking about that now.
“I don’t mind tough questions,” I tell her honestly. Hard work pays off, and I’ve never been one to back away from a challenge.
“All right, then. What happened yesterday evening that made you punch a concrete wall twice, breaking seven bones in your hand and risking permanent nerve damage?”
Okay, maybe I’m not quite prepared for such a tough question.
I take a deep breath and a long moment to think about how I want to answer this. I don’t want her to think Vinny was being a bad person or... insensitiveto me, because I don’t think that.
“Especially considering your history,” she adds after a minute. I look up, confused.
“What do you mean, my history?”
“Well, Mr. Jankowski and your parents advised us of your clinical history when they arrived last night, and it says here they repaired your ACL, MCL, they patched up your medial meniscus, and your femur which was broken in two places, but you have some irreparable damage on your femoral nerve and your knee, of course.”
My mouth dries up and I have to swallow hard before even attempting to speak.
“Ye-yeah, that’s right.” God, I fucking hate that I stutter.
“So, knowing what it means to have such injuries, why did you risk it? Why did you punch the wall and not... kick a chair, punch a pillow?”
“I... I don’t know.” And isn’t it a bitch that I actually don’t know? “I didn’t even think about it,” I admit. “I just had to move, to... feel something.”
“All right.” She makes a note of that in her chart and then looks back up at me. “So what happened?”
I give her the cold hard facts, the logical point of view. And then I admit to my anger, and petty or not, my jealousy.
She writes down notes all the while, maintaining eye contact with me in some moments, but she nods along and I think she’s seeing the rational side of things.
I appreciate her even more.
“Got it.” She nods once more. “How do you feel about a lightning round of questions?”
“Lightning round?” I go rigid all over at the thought, and the pain in my hand reminds me I can’t really move it.
“That’s right. I’ll ask questions quickly and I want you to answer with your gut, just the first thing that pops into your brain, yes?”
“Okay.” I think I can do that. I flex my fingers—just on my left hand—and put it beside my hip carefully.
“Ready?” Her smile is kinder this time, not the serene, almost detached one she had before.
“Let’s do it.” I try to smile back.
“When was the last time you thought about the accident?”
“Today.” Woke up thinking about it, actually.
“Do you think about it every day?”
“I try not to.”
“What do you feel when you think about the accident?”
