Chapter 1: The Doctor

"What is it you want to get out of these sessions, Evan?" Dr. Hugo Black removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Carefully replacing the spectacles he looked over at his young patient.

"I don't know Doc. I've been coming here for the past two years and, well, I just feel there is something unfinished, missing... something that just isn't right." Evan Hill didn't quite squirm in his chair but his folded hands seemed to want to move with a mind of their own. He wasn't nervous, or at least he didn't feel nervous; he had been coming to Dr. Black since his father died two years earlier. Dr. Black was a grief counselor as well as psychologist and their weekly sessions had been a source of comfort during the troubled times following the death. But that was in the past. For a seventeen-year old boy two years constituted an immense amount of time, not quite a lifetime but close. His grieving was done, over, the tears come and gone. Life was supposed to go on now, get better, but for some reason it hadn't and he wanted the magic pill that would fix it.

"Well let's talk about this, try to discover what it is you seem to be missing." Dr. Black steepled his fingers in front of his face and sighed to himself. He had a pretty good idea what was troubling the boy but was conflicted on how to clinically and ethically proceed.

"First I think we can both agree that grief over your father's death isn't what's bothering you. You were over that fairly quickly that first year."

"Wait, I loved my--" Evan protested. The Doctor quickly cut him off by raising his hands.

"Of course you did, Evan, I never meant to infer you didn't. But let's be honest: You weren't that close to your father and the grief you felt was appropriate and healthy for a person your age. We've talk about this, of course it hurt, and still might a bit, but that isn't what's bothering you now, is it?"

"No," Evan sighed. Carefully stretching his arms out in front of him, he slowly placed them on his knees thinking carefully about what he wanted to say. What the doctor had said was true; he had never been extremely close to his father. Grant Hill had been a very successful salesman. He earned a good living and provided well for his family but it required a considerable amount of time on the road. It wasn't unusual for him to be gone Monday through Friday back for two days and out again the next Monday. Given the time he spent at home he was more of a stranger to his son than a real father and his personality didn't help either. Some would have called him a bit of a cold fish. He was aloof, reserved and even somewhat autocratic. His father, yes; never his friend. When he died there was shock and loss but it wasn't as if a huge part of his life had been ripped out. His mother had suggested they both go to the grief counselor and it had helped but it wasn't the loss of his father that bothered him now.

"No," he said again, "I don't know what the problem is but it's not Dad's death. I know something's wrong but I just can't figure it out and I keep lashing out at people even when I know it's wrong."

"Lashing out? Who do you 'lash out' at and how do you do it?" The doctor fell easily into the role of detective; this is what he loved about his job.

Of course there was the helping people, the money, prestige. Yes, there was all that but what he really loved was the chase, the hunt for the elusive reason. Once the reason was found then it was usually fairly simple to cure the problem, or at least treat the symptoms, but finding the cause: Ah that was the real mystery. He often thought he could have, or maybe should have been a real detective instead of a psychologist, but then cops didn't make didilie-squat and anyway he never got shot at so this was actually much better.

"Lash out? Well I guess I mean just that. I get angry, you know, mad. I yell sometimes and, I don't know, blow up at them. Who? My mom mostly I guess, sometimes the kids at school, but mostly my mom."

"Okay." The doctor sat back, relaxing the conversation a little, letting the boy continue with just a little prompting, "Does your action come as a response to any particular stimuli of is it random? What I mean is there one particular thing that seems to set you off or does it just seem to happen at odd times?"

"I don't know. Random, I guess, I can't think of any one thing I was doing when I get mad."

"Well then let's look at a couple of the situations. When did this happen last? Try to think of everything that happened before the incident and then for a little while after."

"Okay. Actually the last time it happened was just last week." He looked a bit sheepish, his cheeks coloring slightly as he thought about what happened.

Evan took the stairs two at a time as he rushed to get ready. He was already late for his soccer game and needed his uniform jersey. Now where is that damn thing? He knew he put it in the laundry after the last game, he remembered exactly where it had been. That had been days ago; where could it be now?

"Mom! Have you seen my uniform shirt? I put it in the laundry last week and can't find it. Mom? Where are you?"

He ran into the family room and to no surprise found his mother sitting in front of the TV watching some insipid game show. Cheri Hill's mouth was slack, eyes staring at the screen; it was obvious she hadn't heard him.

"Mom? Hello there. Earth to Mom." He waved his hand in front of her face. She blinked and twisted her head to look up at him. A little smile played at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh hi Evan. Did you say something? I guess I didn't hear you."

"I asked if you had seen my uniform jersey. I put it in the laundry last week and I can't find it. Do you know where it is?" he asked patiently.

"Uniform? Laundry? I don't know, I just don't know." She struggled to get out of the chair. She wore the faded blue housecoat that she normally wore, ratty and dirty, with slippers that should have been thrown away years ago and probably whatever nightgown she had on from the night before.

Evan started to get a little pissed. It was one in the afternoon, sure it was true his mom didn't work, she didn't need to, the life insurance money and investments were enough to take care of her for a good long while, but damn it, people didn't just lay around all day; that just wasn't right. She shuffled out of the family room heading toward the laundry. Evan followed her.

The laundry room was a mess. Dirty clothes lay in baskets all over the floor, there didn't seem to be anything clean in sight. Cheri started to root around in some of the baskets finally pulling a crumpled yellow ball of material from the bottom of one.

"Here it is, hon. I guess I didn't get to it yet, I'm sorry."

"Oh mom! It's game day! I needed this for my game!" He threw it into a sink and turned the water on. "I can't believe you didn't do it! What the hell have you been doing besides staring at the goddamn TV? Do we have any clean clothes? Damn it, do I have to do everything around here? Christ, how about you clean yourself up for once and get some of this laundry done!"

He sprinkled a little detergent on the wet shirt and began to hand wash it under the faucet. He didn't even bother to see what effect his words had on his mother. Wringing the water out of the shirt he pushed past her and ran out of the house thinking he could hold the shirt out the car window and maybe it would be sort of dry by the time he got to the field.

Later as he was coming home he regretted his harsh words and language. While he had been hurt by his father's death, his mother had been devastated. It was like something had been ripped out of the fabric of her being. She walked around in a daze barely conscious of what was taking place around her. She had always been the model housewife. Her house was always so clean it sparkled, meals were fabulous and on schedule, laundry always done. Mending, shopping, everything that defined a happy home was taken care of. Now it was just the opposite. Nothing was ever on time; meals could be anything from frozen TV trays to hamburger carryout. Laundry, well laundry got done mostly when Evan did it and not before. She sat a lot and watched TV and very little else.