“I’m seeing a therapist, an old Greek woman, for anxiety and agoraphobia, except all she wants to talk about is my parents.”
“Is she helping?” Georgina asked.
“Yes, more than the Ativan. I could barely get from my apartment to the subway, and then I’d be claustrophobic in the train. Once I got to the office, I couldn’t leave even to go downstairs for coffee or lunch. And I’ve had bad stomach trouble too.”
“Can you eat?” Georgina asked him.
“Nothing but mint tea and Ensure.”
Georgina had to pull back on the reins on her heart. Without her, he had no legs—he’d come apart. She remembered once, years ago, when his parents came to visit. She had to walk him to work the second day after their arrival because he’d fallen down in the street the first day. His legs just crumpled under him. His parents undid him. The strength drained out of him when they were around.
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