“You’re allowed to have liked girls before we ever met,” Silvia assured him.
“Really? Okay, well in that case, we were trying to impress these girls, so we were dancing for them. In our swimsuits, which backfired, because I started to get turned on by the way they were looking at me. And at least one of them noticed because—”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Mindy said, covering her ears. “I’d rather the play be a total failure, I don’t care.”
“Anyway,” Omar said, pulling her hands away from her ears. “After I jumped in the pool before they could see more, I remember watching Diego, who actually got to dance with one of the girls. And he was great.”
“As in competent?” Mindy asked, seeming genuinely interested.
“Hey, he got her phone number, so he must have been doing something right.”
Mindy slowly scanned the room until she saw Whitney, who cried out gleefully when Galen made a playing card appear out of thin air. “You’ve just given me the best idea!” Mindy said, turning toward them again. “Can he sing?”
“Diego?” Omar scrunched up his face. “I don’t know. Maybe? We used to rock out together, but heavy metal is the kind of music you shout along to, you know?”
“No,” Mindy said. “Fortunately I do not. But you have been very helpful!”
She kissed him on the cheek before running over to Whitney.
“She knows we’re still dating, right?” Omar asked, sounding concerned.
“I’ll be sure to remind her,” Silvia said, taking his arm affectionately as they rejoined the party.
CHAPTER 10
March 3rd, 1993
Ricky barely managed to hold his tongue as Dr. Sharma shut the door to her office, giving them privacy before she rejoined him at the pairs of couches and chairs that were arranged around a low table. His therapist remained silent as she sat across from him, perhaps giving Ricky the opportunity to speak, because he’d barely said a word all session. Instead he had sat there and listened to his mother rattle off a list of his crimes. She had only paused to peer at him, as if expecting Ricky to defend himself. But he hadn’t. What would be the point when he’d already been tried and sentenced?
“Well, well…” Dr. Sharma said at last. She was a lean woman with dusky skin and long graying hair, her mannerisms always under precise control. “It seems we have much to discuss.”
Ricky opened his mouth. Then he shut it again and shook his head.
“You have a voice in this room,” Dr. Sharma said, “and my strictest confidence. I’m here to listen.”
Ricky shrugged. “You’ve already heard it all. I’m running around with a bad kid and doing drugs.”
Dr. Sharma raised a delicate eyebrow before leaning back slightly. “As you know, my aim is to impart crucial skills that you’ll be able to employ for the rest of your life. Today I would like to focus on point of view. I’ve already gotten your mother’s. But I don’t have yours.”
“Diego isn’t a bad person,” Ricky spluttered. “And I don’t like drugs. So this whole thing is stupid!”
Dr. Sharma tilted her head. “Okay. Let’s pretend that your parents gave you a puppy as a gift, with the understanding that the dog would be your responsibility. You soon fall in love with it, and everything is fine until it starts digging a hole beneath the backyard fence, so it can run off. What would you do?”
“Ground it for a month,” Ricky grumped, already seeing through the analogy.
“As you wish,” Dr. Sharma responded, not seeming bothered by his attitude. “You scold the puppy and don’t allow it any treats for a month. And yet, when given the chance, the puppy digs another hole and runs off again. Really imagine that you love this dog. What breed is it, by the way?”
“A Saint Bernard,” Ricky said instantly. He’d never met one in person, but they looked so big and cuddly, and he loved how in cartoons they wore a little barrel around their neck.
“So what would you do,” Dr. Sharma continued, “if the puppy escaped and returned with mud-caked fur that was full of burrs?”
“I guess we’d have to improve the fence. Or train the puppy so that it didn’t…” Ricky narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Actually, I’d probably recognize that even a dog has needs that are important to it, or else it wouldn’t keep running away. So I would try to work with my puppy—who I’m naming Barkley, by the way—to figure out what makes him happiest.”
Dr. Sharma nodded. “That will take time. What if he escapes again before then and something worse happens?”
Ricky tensed. “Like what?”
“Suppose he gets hit by a car?”
“Barkley!” Ricky cried out, before remembering who the dog was supposed to represent. “That would be bad, but what if I kept him indoors and Barkley got so depressed that he stopped eating? What if he got so sad that he drank from his own whisky barrel, when normally, he’s not into that sort of thing at all?”
“That is indeed a risk,” Dr. Sharma said. “Raising a puppy sounds like hard work. You would probably lose sleep trying to figure out the best plan of action. And imagine if Barkley began to resent you for wanting to keep him safe.”
Ricky swallowed, her point striking home, even though he’d done his best to parry and dodge.
“That gives you some idea of your mother’s perspective,” Dr. Sharma continued. “Tell me yours.”
Ricky took a deep breath. “I’m trying to follow the rules. I’ve made mistakes, but that’s all they were. I didn’t want to get high. For real! I honestly didn’t know that the cookies had weed in them. Not at first. I hate that my mom ate one. It must have freaked her out. At least I had someone there who knew what was going on. Diego was so nice about it too.” He remembered how it felt to be held in his arms and wished they still had that freedom. “I really like him.”
“Good!” Dr. Sharma said encouragingly, although for a different reason. “You’re not trying to upset your parents. And you’re right, mistakes happen. But we still have to accept the consequences of those mistakes, and allow other people to have their legitimate reactions. Your mother wants to keep you safe. Because she loves you. Hold on to that perspective going forth.”
Ricky nodded. “I will.”
“Excellent. Now then, let’s talk about Jeremiah.”
That surprised him. Ricky thought she’d want to hear more about Diego, not the guy he’d dated back in Colorado.
“Were you very compatible?” Dr. Sharma asked.
“Yeah!” Ricky said. “We liked the same video games, watched the same TV shows, and we always had fun when we were together. Even if there was nothing to do. We’d just talk and laugh about stuff. I don’t think I was ever bored around him.”
“That sounds lovely,” Dr. Sharma said. “He must have seemed like your soulmate.”
“At the time, yeah,” Ricky said. “I honestly thought we’d get married someday.”
“If you could travel back in time to when you first met him, what would you tell yourself?”