“Anger and resentment.”
“How many hours do you normally sleep at night?”
“Three or four.”Fuck, I really wish I hadn’t said that. But there’s no time to think.
“Do you have insomnia?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you sleep at all when you do?”
“No.”
“How often does that happen?”
“It’s more recent, I think. It’s happened about once a month in the last year or so.”
“Do you dream?”
“Yes.”
“Nightmares?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Like four times a week.”
“What are they about?”
“I don’t remember. I forget about them as soon as I wake up.”
“Do you wake upfromthe nightmares?”
“Yes.”
“And can you fall back asleep after?”
“Not usually.”
“When can you?”
“When I sleep next to Vinny.”
“How often do you talk about hockey?”
“Every day,” I tell her, confused now. “I work for a hockey team.”
“No, I know, but you work in public relations. How often do you discuss the actual game?”
That gives me pause, and I really don’t want to answer that truthfully.
So I lie.
Everyone lies, right?
Vinny said he loved me, and then he didn’t speak to me again for years.