We Are All Completely Fine Read Free Page B

“Greta, do you have some thoughts on this?”
    Harrison watched her without making it obvious that he was watching. She was not a beautiful girl—there was something slightly asymmetrical about her features—but she was striking.
    “It doesn’t matter to me,” she said.
    “Martin,” Jan said. “How are you feeling about this feedback?”
    “I don’t appreciate the hostility,” Martin said. “What about Stan and his mask? Are you going to ask him to get rid of his wheelchair?”
    “What does that have to do with anything?” Stan said.
    Barbara said, “Do you feel like you need the glasses?”
    Stan made a derisive sound in the back of his throat.
    “I don’t appreciate the bullying,” Martin said. “From him.”
    “Me?” Harrison said.
    Barbara smiled thinly at him. “You do seem a bit angry.”
    “I’m not angry.” Everyone was looking at him, even Greta. “I’m not!” he said. What the fuck had happened? They were just talking about Martin’s glasses, and now they were turning on him. “Is this about the swearing? I apologize for that.”
    “It’s not about the swearing,” Barbara said. “You seem annoyed that you’re in here. With us crazy people.”
    “That’s not accurate,” Harrison said. “Jan says we’ve all experienced trauma. I’ll take her at her word.”
    “You don’t have to take her word,” Stan said. “Not about me.”
    “What’s yours, then?” Martin said to Harrison. “Your trauma. You haven’t said.”
    “He’s Jameson Squared,” Greta said.
    Shit, Harrison thought. A fan.
    “Who?” Stan asked.
    “Jameson Jameson,” she said. “From the kids’ books. The boy who kills monsters.”
    Barbara looked surprised. She’d heard of him. Martin was more stunned. “I thought those were fiction,” he said.
    “They are,” Harrison said.
    Greta said, “Except they’re based on a real kid who survived Dunnsmouth. Harrison Harrison.”
    They stared at him.
    “Fiction,” he said. “Completely made up.” Then: “Almost entirely.”
    Greta was the first to flee the room when the time was up. Harrison followed her, but by the time he got outside she was gone, into the night. She couldn’t have gone far, he thought.
    The transit van was waiting for Stan. The loading door hung open, and the young driver was working the controls to bring the lift down. The man glanced up as Harrison approached, and Harrison gave him the bro nod again. The driver turned back to the controls.
    Harrison walked toward his car, then stopped and turned back. “Excuse me,” he said.
    The driver looked over his shoulder.
    “I gave you the bro nod,” Harrison said.
    “The what?” The lift clunked down, and the driver stepped back from the lever.
    “Twice now,” Harrison said. “You’re supposed to nod back.”
    “What the hell are you talking about?” the kid asked.
    “The rules,” Harrison said. “Cowboys tip their hats at each other. Detectives tap their fedoras. But since we’re hatless these days, all we’ve got is the nod, and returning it isn’t optional.”
    “Are you—?”
    “Say ‘crazy’ and I will beat you to death with Stan’s wheelchair.”
    The kid blanched.
    “I’m kidding.” Harrison showed his teeth. “You’ve got four inches and a hundred pounds on me, nobody’s that crazy. Now let’s practice. Ready?”
    Harrison demonstrated. “Tilt the head back, keeping eye contact, but not in a challenging way. Then back level. See? Now you.”
    The kid stared at him. Then his head tipped back, ever so slightly.
    “We’ll work on it,” Harrison said. He clapped the driver on the shoulder, making him flinch. “But I think we’ve made excellent progress.”
    He noticed Martin standing in the light by the house door. He’d been watching the whole exchange through his black glasses, perhaps even recording it, despite what he’d promised the doctor. Harrison threw him a bro nod, and Martin nodded back.
    “See?” Harrison said. “Martin gets