I watch those same cyclists cross along another path as I take in his words, a tiny smile touching my lips. No one has ever compared me to my sister quite like that before. I’ve always been the studious, responsible one. The trustworthy one. Cautious, calm, and levelheaded. My sister’s the firecracker. I’ve secretly envied her for that.
And I think back on the past summer, jam-packed with things I never thought I could do, and a whole lot of other things I never even considered doing. Kacey had been there with me for a lot of it, eagerly embarrassing herself along with me. “This summer was interesting,” I admit with a smile. I turn to look at the graying doctor and I ask him the one question he’d never answered before, hoping that he will now. “Why did you have me doing all those crazy things? What was it really about?”
He puckers his lips as if deciding what to say. “Would you believe me if I said it was purely for my own entertainment?”
“I might,” I answer truthfully, earning his chuckle. “I mean, I get the speed dating, but I don’t see how line dancing or prolific cussing has helped me. I’d think it would have the opposite effect. You know . . . extreme psychological scarring.”
Dr. Stayner looks skeptical. “How could line dancing possibly scar you?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Have you ever been to one of those places before? With my sister?”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, you’re being dramatic. It couldn’t have been that—”
“She had a microphone!” I exclaim. “She tried to hold an impromptu auction to sell me off for a date!” Thank God Storm was there to get her under control . . . My hand flies up as I remember the best part. “Oh! And then she spiked my drink.” Dr. Stayner starts chuckling as I shake my head. “I noticed right away, of course. Otherwise who knows what would have happened.” I settle back against the bench as I mutter more to myself, “I probably would have made out with a cowboy or a mechanical bull, or something. Had my ass branded, maybe . . .”
His head falls back with raucous laughter and after a few moments I can’t help but giggle along with him. “Oh, Livie,” he says, pulling his glasses off to wipe the tears from his eyes. “It was never about what I asked you to do. It was about your exuberance tackling each and every single task.” He turns to look at me with amazement in his eyes and a slight chuckle in his voice. “I was waiting for you to tell me to go to hell but you kept answering the phone, taking each and every one of those crazy requests I made, and delivering with excellence!”
I cock my head to the side as I regard him. “You knew they were crazy?”
“You didn’t?” He shakes his head at me, and then a sad smile transforms his face. “I learned a lot about you over the summer, Livie. Between the wild-goose chases and our talks. That’s what this summer was about. Information gathering.” He pauses to scratch his cheek. “You are one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Livie. You respond to human heartache so acutely. It’s like you absorb others’ pain. Despite your extreme shyness, you will do just about anything not to fail. You don’t like to fail tests and you most certainly don’t like to fail people. Especially those you care about and respect.” His hand goes to his heart and he bows his head. “I’m touched, truly.”
I dip my head as I blush.
“I also learned that while you are accepting and open-minded of others and their faults, you are exceptionally hard on yourself. I think doing something wrong would make you physically ill.” Dr. Stayner steeples his fingers in front of his face for a moment. “But my biggest discovery? The reason that I wanted to talk to you in person today . . .” He sighs. “You seem to be governed by a life plan. It’s ingrained in your daily routines; it’s almost like a religion for you. It has dictated the choices you have made so far and those you plan to make in the future. You don’t question it, you don’t test it. You just do it.” Running his finger along the rim of his cup, he goes on to say with an even, slow voice, “I think your parents helped create that plan and you are holding on to it for dear life as a way of holding on to them.” He pauses, and then his voice grows soft. “And I think it’s stifling your growth as your own person.”
I blink repeatedly, trying to process how this conversation turned so quickly from talk of mechanical bulls to my stifled growth. “What are you saying?” I ask, my voice a touch strained. Is this a diagnosis? Is Dr. Stayner diagnosing me?
“I’m saying, Livie . . .” He pauses, his mouth open to say something, a pensive expression on his face. “I’m saying that it’s time for you to find out who you really are.”