Page 32 of The Sound of Him

The sign for ‘thank you’ requires me to lift my hand to my-

“Now, the reason I wanted you to have a notebook-” and I missed my chance again. I grit my teeth, ignoring the way it forces my stupid tongue against the roof of my mouth. He’s still talking. “-ensure that you have everything you need to communicate with me during these sessions. For that reason, having a notebook is important, but it’s not the only tool you’ll have available to you while we work. I have plenty of others.”

I hurry to lift my hand to my chin, thanking him before I can lose my chance. He smiles as he returns it with, “You’re welcome, Matt. I don’t want to get too far into the different options I have for you today, since I promised to keep this short. Would it be alright if we used a combination of your notebook, a few cards, and body movements to communicate? We’ll be mostly handlingyesorno- ormaybeorI don’t know- questions today, if that helps you decide. You can give me a thumbs-up foryesor thumbs-down forno, and just tilt your hand side-to-side formaybeorI don’t know. Or you can write them down, if you’d rather. Or-” it’s only when he pauses midway through his sentence and I go to look at him to figure out why that I realize I’ve squeezed my eyes shut.

His smile is sad.

I look away.

“I’m sorry. Here I am, throwing a ton of options at you. How about this - I’m going to place these down.” I warily watch as he places three laminated cards down on the coffee table between us. They’re large, each about the size of his entire hand, and haveYES,NO, andI DON’T KNOW/MAYBEwritten on them respectively. “You can use the cards, the hand movements, oryour notebooks - or anything else that works. You don’t have to choose one right now, and you never have to stick with just one even after you choose. Use whatever feels easiest at the moment. I’ll adjust. Can you just tell me if that sounds okay?”

I start to nod, but then change my mind and reach for the card. I don’t want him to be upset after he went through the work of laying the cards out, even if he said I don’t have to use them. It was nice of him to even think about something like the cards. Nice of him to go to this much effort. I should show him I appreciate that. It’s only a matter of time until he’ll inevitably get frustrated with how difficult I am, and it’d probably be helpful to have some goodwill built up by then.

When I select theYEScard, he smiles again. It’s too happy to be just a normal smile. This smile must mean that I made the right choice.I hope I keep making the right choices…

“Excellent. Now, the largest goal of meeting today is to figure out your therapy plan. However, I can’t do that efficiently until I know how long you plan to stay at the safehouse. There’s no pressure, and I will not judge you on whatever choice you make, nor will I hold you to it if you change your mind. I’d just like to have an estimate of how much time we’ll have together so I can plan accordingly. My approach will be vastly different based on if I’m just triaging you the best I can before you leave, or if we’re going to have some real time to dig down deeper. Does that make sense?”

I’m so distracted by the idea of having to dig down deeper that I don’t even have to struggle to answer, my head nodding for me.

“Have you given your future plans any thought, Matt?”

I hadn’t, not really at least, but I think I know what question he’ll ask next - or at least the general idea of what he’s going to want to know - and I know my answer to that one, so I nod again.

“That’s great. It’s a scary thing to do, facing the future after what you’ve been through. Even just allowing passing thoughtstoward it is a big step, let alone making decisions.” I fight not to curl in on myself, the praise making me a little uncomfortable. He thankfully moves on too quickly for me to have to spend time considering why that is, when praise has almost always meant good things before. “Do you plan to leave soon? My definition of soon is within the next week.”

I would scoff, if I could.Within the next week?Not a chance.

There’s no hesitation when I tap theNOcard.

There’s no way I’m going to leave this place anytime soon. I know I’m too broken to ever be fixed, no matter how good this man is or how much time I spend with him, but I’d like things to get a little better at least. I’d like to feel real again before I have to go out in the world.

I have nowhere to go, anyway.

We lost our home, the only place I remember ever living in, when immigration came that day. It was the same day we lost papá. When I was allowed to see mamá once more, two days later when a lady with big round glasses brought me to visit just long enough for me to cry in her arms and for her to promise me I’d be with her again soon, I had no idea I was losing her too.

Someone else probably owns that home now.

Mamá is probably dead.

I have nowhere to go if I leave here.

Are we in the U.S. still?

Would they send me to Venezuela?

I try to think of the stories mamá and papá used to tell of their home. They always made sure I called it that -theirhome, not mine. I was American. They told me they worked hard for that. They came so far, never stopping, so that mamá wouldn’t have me until she reached U.S. soil.

I was American. They told me to never let anyone tell me otherwise.

Immigration had laughed when I’d tried.

I still don’t know who was right. Who to believe.

I guess it doesn’t really matter.

“Matt?”

That’s not my name.