The Boy Book (13 page)

“I don’t know why I lied,” I told Doctor Z on that afternoon.

She smiled in a condescending way. “You don’t?”

“Okay, I do.”

“Why did you?”

“I wanted to hurt his feelings.”

“And?”

“Because it almost seems like Jackson
wanted
me to be heartbroken and lovelorn, and now he thinks I’m not. So now he’s disappointed that I’m not carrying a torch for him.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s always known in the back of his mind that he could be with me again if he wanted, and the part of him that’s not a pod-robot would like to keep that as an option. Going out with me, I mean. Like some part of him is holding on to this connection we used to have.”

“Because he wrote you those notes?”

“Yeah. Which shows he still likes me. But on the other hand, it seems like he wants me to be perfectly okay and happy without him, because that would mean he didn’t do anything wrong. So maybe by pretending I had a boyfriend, I was really telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.” I sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Are you saying you lied to make him more interested? Or you lied to put him at ease?”

“God,” I snapped. “It was one tiny lie. Not a huge deal.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’m just trying to get at what’s behind it.”

“Like I told you, I lied to hurt his feelings.”

“Um-hum.”

“So, that’s what it is.”

Doctor Z put a piece of Nicorette gum in her mouth. “Ruby, we should talk over why you missed your session last Thursday.”

Doctor Z never changes the subject. She usually lets me drive the course of the conversation.

I shrugged. “I just didn’t feel like I needed to come.”

“You didn’t feel like you needed to come.”

“My friend Noel invited me for pizza. And I have practically no friends, so I really wanted to.”

“Um-hum.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Because it seems like you’re mad at me.”

“No.”

“And my parents will pay you for the session.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about your commitment to the therapeutic process.”

I took a deep breath. “Do you think I still need to be coming here?”

Doctor Z sighed. “I think you still have some issues to discuss, yes, but fundamentally, it’s up to you. And your parents.”

“It takes up a lot of time.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I feel like you’re saying I’m making bad choices. Like I shouldn’t be going for pizza with Noel, and I shouldn’t have lied to Jackson, or flirted with him, or sent him notes, and I shouldn’t be fooling around with Angelo. Like you think I’m ruining my life.”

“I didn’t say that, Ruby.”

“I know,” I said, fiddling with the hem of my skirt. “But that’s what it seems like you think.”

Doctor Z leaned forward in her chair and put on an earnest face. “I’m not here to judge you.”

“Yeah, but you’re making me feel bad.”

“Ruby,” she said. “You are the only one who can make yourself feel bad.”

“That’s not true.”

She was silent. We looked at each other for a while. Then I looked at the second hand of the clock going around in circles. “I don’t think we’ve talked about Angelo in a long time,” she finally offered.

“That’s because I don’t think you’ll approve!” I cried. “You’ll think I’m being slutty, or making bad choices, or using him, or getting used.”

“I’m not here to approve or disapprove,” Doctor Z said calmly.

“Right.” I was being sarcastic.

“I’m not. I’m here to help you figure out what you feel.”

“Well, I feel like you won’t approve of what’s going on with Angelo, and that’s why I’m not telling you about it.” I crossed my arms.

“Do you know what transference is, Ruby?” asked Doctor Z.

“No.”

“Transference is when a therapy patient begins to relate to the therapist as if she were someone else in the patient’s life. Feelings toward someone
else
are redirected at the therapist.”

“Ugh.”

“It’s a normal part of this process.”

“I hate it when you get all therapy-speaky on me.”

“Okay. I’m saying that it’s possible you might be angry at yourself, or angry at someone else in your life.”

“You just don’t want me to be angry at
you,
so you’re bringing up this transference thing. But it
is
you who’s pissing me off,” I said, “and it
is
you who’s making me feel bad.”

“It’s fine for you to be angry at me, if that’s what you genuinely are.”

“The hell it is,” I said.

We sat there for another five minutes, in silence. Then the hour was up.

“I don’t want to come back on Thursday,” I said as I stood up to leave. “I don’t think I want to come back at all.”

I drove home crying. Everything seemed so messed up. When I got to my room, I tried to organize my thoughts.

How I Feel: a list of possibilities

1. Proud of self for leaving therapy when it is a big waste of my time.

2. Pissed at self for leaving therapy when I am clearly a basket case in desperate need of professional help.

3. Proud of self for telling Doctor Z how I felt about her bad attitude.

4. Pissed at self for not even knowing what I’m really mad about.

5. Proud of self for going after Jackson, trying to get what I want.

6. Pissed at self for lying to him and being manipulative.

7. Pissed at self for trying to get another girl’s boyfriend.

8. Proud of self for being forward with Angelo (sometimes) and having excellent scamming adventures.

9. Pissed at self for using Angelo (but am I using him? Don’t know).

10. Pissed at self for indecisiveness and possible sluttiness in regard to liking two (if not
three)
boys (since am being honest, can’t deny feelings of attraction to Noel) at the same time.

11. Proud of self for making friends with Noel and making up with Nora.

12. Proud of self for choosing Canoe Island without regard to who else is doing it and whether they will eat lunch with me, which translates into

13. Proud of self for progress in therapy (no more panic attacks, and other personal growth–type things), which then downward spirals into

14. Pissed at self for ruining therapy, which is the only way I have stayed out of the asylum these past six months.

Then my mom banged on the door to tell me dinner was ready, and I told my parents I quit therapy, and they actually managed to keep their mouths shut while we ate, but later I could hear them arguing about it, after I went to bed.

My dad was saying maybe I’d come through a difficult time and was ready to move forward into self-sufficiency, which is, after all, the essential process of adolescence.

And my mother was saying, “Kevin. Be real. Ruby is neurotic and I don’t want her having those panic things again, plus she’s obviously got some sexual issues. I want her in therapy.”

Guess who won?

The next day after school, Mom told me she’d made an appointment for me the following week to see a psychotherapist in our zip code who takes our health insurance. “I want you to try it,” she said. “If you don’t like Doctor Z anymore, fine. But I want you to see how it is with this guy. Besides, he’s only eight blocks away, so you wouldn’t have to take the Honda, which I don’t mind telling you will make my life easier.”

“Mom, the point was that I quit.”

She waved her hands in exasperation. “Don’t be a quitter.”

“I’m not a quitter. I’m quitting
this.
”

“This is not a conversation we are having, Ruby. You have to go to therapy.”

“I haven’t had a panic thing in ages.”

“You have to work out your issues,” said my mother. “End of discussion.”

I left the house and slammed the door and went over to Meghan’s, where she told me how her shrink told her that her dream of being naked in front of everyone in her Precal class was a wish-fulfillment fantasy, which made Doctor Z seem pretty good by comparison.

When I got home late at night, there was a message on our machine from Jackson. “You should come to Kyle’s party,” he said. “Just in case you don’t have the address, I’m leaving it for you.”

But of course he knew I had the address already. It was in the school directory.

Boy-Speak: Introduction to a Foreign Language

What he says: I never felt this way before.

What is understood: He loves me!

What he means: Can we get to the nether regions now?

What he says: I’ll call you.

What is understood: He’ll call me.

What he means: I don’t want to see you again.

What he says: It’s not you, it’s me.

What is understood: He’s got some meaningful problem going on in his life that’s blocking him from being anyone’s boyfriend, even mine, though he likes me so much.

What he means: I like someone else.

What he says: We’re just really good friends.

What is understood: Nothing is going on between him and that other girl.

What he means: We have a flirtation, but I don’t want you to bug me.

What he says: I’m so messed up.

What is understood: He needs my support and help.

What he means: I want you to leave me alone.

—written by me, Cricket and Nora the Monday after Jackson broke up with me. Approximate date: April of sophomore year.

i
was seriously thinking about going to Kyle’s party.

Of course, I knew there would be all kinds of horrific situations there, but hey—they wouldn’t be much worse than what I encountered at school on any given day.

1. Guys who think I’m a slut and make catcalls at me.

2. Guys who think I’m a feminist hysteric and a bitch because I ripped up Cabbie’s pictures.

3. Girls who think I’m a slut trying to steal their boyfriends.