“He’s the boss,” he says.
“I hope you will,” I say. “And not just because he’s your boss, but because he cares about you.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I guess because you still seem upset, and I don’t feel like you need to be.”
“Can I ask something super personal?” he asks. “Nothing to do with your sex life, I promise.”
“Sure,” I say.
“What are emotions like for you?”
“Oh.” That’s a stunningly hard question. I would have much rather he asked about my sex life. Sex makes sense. Emotions never have. “I guess they’re more physical than mental.”
“How’s that?”
“Like I feel things—my heart speeds up or slows down. My stomach flips around sometimes. I’d jump if I saw dog nipples on my phone, too.”
He laughs weakly.
“But I don’t always connect what I’m feeling to the emotion in a moment. Like there’s a wall up between the sensation and the words. The thoughts. I don’t know. And in terms of complex emotions like anything beyond good or bad or scared or upset, I process it a lot in my notes. Song lyrics sometimes resonate if I hear the right song at the right time. Is any of this helpful?”
“You said I seem upset, and I guess I’d say it’s more complex than that.”
“Anything complex makes me upset,” I say. “I’m getting better, though. My therapist does a lot of training with me to get me closer to pairing what I’m physically feeling with a word.”
“Does having a word for it help it make sense?”
I grin because that’s always been the crux of it. “Not really.”
“I didn’t think it would. I have all the words right there ready to be slapped on an emotion like fucking water bottle stickers, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t get the lid open.”
“Because of all the stickers?” I ask.
He laughs. “Maybe.”
“I don’t know why that makes sense, but it kind of does.”
He sighs and scoots back on the bed, lying on his side.
“What’s in the water bottle?” I ask.
“Understanding. Inner peace? I don’t fucking know.”
“What do you do when you can’t figure it out?”
“Depends,” he says. “Code. Walk the dog. Take a nap.”
I frown and look over my shoulder at him. “That’s it?”
He holds my gaze. “More or less.”
“I feel like you’re leaving out something crucial.”
19
EVAN
