Overnight Sensation(93)

“Look on the bright side,” he says with a smile. “You won’t have to take time out of your week for this now.”

I give him a weak smile. I like Dr. Mulvey. Everyone does. It’s just that none of us look forward to these appointments. Talking about yourself is the worst. And it’s not like I can lie. Doc has all our files, so he knows my whole life story.

“Tell me about this meeting you’re having on Tuesday.”

Ugh. “You probably know as much as I do about it,” I say. “There’s a girl who got a transplant liver, and another one who got…” I was doing pretty well delivering this message until the last part. “Eyes,” I say as my throat closes up. And for a second, I feel nauseated again. But I take another gulp of shitty coffee and swallow hard.

Dr. Mulvey misses nothing. “So you’re really looking forward to this meeting, then?”

I actually laugh, but it sounds a little manic.

“Lots of people struggle with the idea of organ donation. There’s an uncanniness to it. I could read you some excerpts from Freud.”

“That’s okay,” I say quickly. “I just have to get through it.”

“True,” he agrees. “Although it might help you to know that ‘eye transplant’ is a misnomer.”

I blink. “It is?”

“Yep.” He nods. “The cornea is currently the only part of the eye that can be transplanted. It’s a very small bit of the inner eye. Not the part you see when you look at someone’s face.”

“Oh,” I say slowly. Well, fuck. “It would have been pretty helpful if someone explained that to me before.”

He watches me with a kind of quiet patience they must teach at shrink school. “I can only imagine how gruesome your dreams have been lately.”

“Jesus. Get out of my head.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “That’s the same thing I’d ask of you, though. What would have happened if you told someone how troubled you felt? Maybe a friend—or your soon to be ex-girlfriend—could have talked you through it.”

My stomach drops, because I can actually picture Heidi sitting on the sofa with me, googling eye transplants and explaining about corneas. Not that I gave her the chance.

“You can get through this meeting,” Dr. Mulvey promises. “And while I don’t expect you’ll enjoy it, you might actually feel better afterwards.”

“You mean… Like maybe there was a purpose to her death? I don’t think my mind works that way. ‘Everything happens for a reason’ sounds like bullshit to me.”

The doctor smiles again. “Preach. But there’s a middle place between believing that your girlfriend’s death was fated and feeling torn up about it all the time.”

“I’m not,” I say automatically. “Not all the time,” I add, because Dr. Mulvey has a finely tuned bullshit sensor.

“Really? Yet you’re not ready to be with another girl who loves you?”

Christ. The man doesn’t hold back. “It didn’t quite get that far with Heidi.”

“Didn’t it?” He leans back in his chair. “How convenient. If she’s not The One, then you don’t have to do the difficult work of forgiving yourself.”

“You are in a mood. Jesus.”

He grins evilly. “I like you, Jason. You’ve been sitting across from me for a year, telling me how great everything is. The whole team likes you, too, because you’re upbeat a lot of the time. You’re a fun guy. Always quick with a joke.”

“I am,” I agree, hoping that counts for something.

He shakes his head. “Because you’re so fatalistic. The man who’s met death can often laugh at a joke. You live in the moment, because you expect to be in pain again at any second.”

“Harsh.” But, shit, that sounds more accurate than I wish it did.

“It’s not,” he insists. “There are worse coping mechanisms.”

“Then are we done here?” He seems to have me all figured out already.

“Not a chance. Tell me why you broke up with your girlfriend on Hudson Street after she almost fell in front of a taxi.”

“Because…” I try not to sound defensive, but the guy is starting to piss me off. “It wasn’t serious with her.”

“No? She doesn’t love you?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Because you don’t love her? Or you don’t think you could?”

Of course I could. If I were somebody else. “I wasn’t feeling like a very good boyfriend, and I didn’t see the point of dragging it out.”

“Why did you think you weren’t a good boyfriend? Did you cheat?”

“No way! And don’t be dense on purpose.” My anger is as bright as the sun. “I was in a funk, and nobody likes that.”

“So you took that decision out of her hands.”

“Yep! I guess I am a shitty boyfriend. See?”

I wouldn’t think shrinks are supposed to roll their eyes at their patients. But Dr. Mulvey does it anyway. “Nice try, son. Your coping mechanism is to keep everything light and easy.”

“Exactly,” I agree.

“It’s a smart strategy.”