She smiled. “Those aren’t the same thing,” she said. “Flushing is setting yourself free of negativity, and the lobotomy is denial.”
“Fine.”
“Didn’t you use that word
“Probably.”
“Remind me what you said.”
“He was acting like he’d had one. I told him that and he got mad.”
Doctor Z nodded. “So what’s the similarity between Noel’s lobotomy and the lobotomy you want to have?”
I just didn’t want to feel the things I felt. I wanted to go out with Gideon and dream about college and just ignore the badness so completely that it wouldn’t affect me.
Oh.
Could that be what Noel was doing too?
Ignoring some badness so completely he was lobotomized?
“This isn’t making me happy,” he had said. “I came back from New York and I thought you would make me happy but I’m not happy.”
“But is that really a girlfriend’s job?” I asked Doctor Z, out of context. “To make someone happy who’s unhappy to start with?”
She just went with my change of subject. “What do you think?”
I shifted in my seat. “I think maybe it’s impossible to cheer people up when they’re really sad. I think they just have to be sad and all you can do is hang out with them because you love them.”
Doctor Z nodded.
“But then again,” I said, “if they’re drooling Cheeto drool out their mouths and watching daytime television for days and days on end, forgetting to shower, you may stop wanting to hang around them.”
Doctor Z leaned forward. “Are we talking about Noel or your father?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I honestly don’t know.”
Dad wasn’t there when I came home from therapy on the bus.
He didn’t come back at dinnertime—not that there was dinner, really, but I did order pizza.
I got worried around ten o’clock and called his cell.
It rang on his desk. He didn’t have it with him.
At one in the morning, when he still wasn’t home, I called Mom’s cell, but she didn’t pick up. I hadn’t talked to her in the ten days since she left, but I’d been too mad to call more than twice.
In the morning, I called her again. No answer.
So I called Meghan.
“You’re calling early,” she chirped.
“My dad’s gone missing,” I told her. “And he took the car.”
“What?”
As soon as I heard the concern in her voice, it all spilled out. How Mom left in a huff for an extended vacation. Dad drooling on the couch and sleeping on the floor, depression over Grandma Suzette and more depression over Mom leaving.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Meghan said.
“You were busy with Finn,” I said. “And I was trying to pretend it wasn’t happening.”
“I’m coming over,” said Meghan.
When she saw the state of our houseboat, she cringed. Old pizza boxes, dog food spilled on the floor, empty cans of pop piled on top of the fridge. Kitchen sink stacked with dishes, garbage cans overflowing. “Denial isn’t working for you, sweetie,” she said. “I’m calling Nora and we’re going to clean this place up.”
“We have to find my dad first,” I said. “He might be dead.”
Meghan laughed. Until she realized I was serious. “Let’s check his e-mail.”
So we did. It was already downloaded and the program open on his computer. We didn’t have to enter a password or anything.
He had been reading his mail, apparently, despite appearances to the contrary. Nearly every message was open, and a few had reply marks next to them.
“There are notes from your mom here,” Meghan said.
“Really?” As far as I knew, Dad hadn’t heard from her since Halloween.
“Yeah.” Meghan opened the most recent one.
Kevin,
The coast is gorgeous.
