There are about twenty minutes total while we’re watching Gilbert Grape that I actually forget what’s happening to me. Ryan has stepped out of the room and it’s just me and Katie and the movie. My mind can relax. My body is comfortable. I am not a wreck. But the movie ends and my parents come home and even though I don’t want her to leave, Katie jumps away like she’s finished babysitting and, no, she doesn’t need my dad to drive her home. She kisses me on the cheek, tells my mom how great I am, and breezes away. I should be mad, maybe, but really I can’t blame her. If I can’t stand my own presence, how can I expect anyone else to? I’m grateful for the short forgetfulness she gifted me with I’m grateful that there was one person left in the world who knew I had to step out of it for a while. Now here I am with my parents, and even though we’re in our den and I’m back on the couch, it’s like I’m stuck in the backseat on a long, long car ride, with my mom constantly scrutinizing me in the rearview mirror.
