Page 75 of What Boys Learn

I said, “I don’t think I did so well. Something went wrong.”

Curtis capped his pen and left the desk, taking the armchair opposite mine. “If you mean that you encountered some stressful memories, that’s normal. We navigated them together, Abby.”

“But I don’t remember the navigating. Most people who get hypnotized have at least a vague recollection, so I’ve read—”

“Yes,” he interrupted, firmly. “Most people. But then there are the other ten percent.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees, fingers steepled. “I’m going to speak to you not as therapist to client, but as peer to peer. Psychology is a science. But it’s also an art—”

“I missed something, Curtis,” I interrupted, panic rising. “I feel like I was swallowed by the darkness and I missed something.”

“You didn’t miss anything.” His tone sharpened. “If you keep saying that, you’ll come to believe it. You were not unconscious, Abby. We were engaged in a dialogue.”

“But I don’t remember.”

He looked disappointed. “I recorded the session. I’ll transcribe it. You can request a copy.”

I decided to take him at his word. “Yes, I’d like that copy.”

“I’ll get it to you in a few days.” His expression softened. “I’m a lousy typist, remember? But I insist on doing the therapy notes myself. It helps me review and find new ways into the problem.”

“Problem,” I repeated back, hoping he’d explain.

“And anyway, it’s better for you to have a little time to process first, before you read the transcript.”

I didn’t know how I could be expected to process what I couldn’t remember. “You said there was a problem?” I asked again.

“Your guilt around the experience. That night with your brother, near the forest preserve. And the man named Grant. Driving down the road. Picking up the girl. The accident.”

I remembered underwear and shoes, so I knew a girl had been in Grant’s back seat, but I hadn’t seen her. I found it hard to believe I’d tell Curtis about her, or the accident. I’d promised Benjamin that a person wouldn’t do something or say something against his own will under hypnosis, but somehow, I had.

I said, “Most of the night was a blackout for me.”

Curtis was studying me intensely.

I said, “Ewan could have helped Grant. At least he could have tried.”

“But you feel guilty, too.”

“I don’t think so.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

I said, “Maybe this was a mistake.” As soon as I said it, I heard Izzy’s voice.Well, this was a mistake.

“I thought we were going to work on cigarette cravings,” I said.

Curtis’s expression didn’t change. I could fill in what he was thinking:Your mind went where it needed to go. But I didn’t believe that. There was no part of me that wanted to think about Ewan and Grant again. No part of me that wanted to tell Curtis about that night.

“I’m not sure what I should tell Benjamin about this process,” I said. “That was the whole point of this. I guess I could tell him it was fine. Strange, but fine.”

“Tell him a lie, in other words, from your perspective?”

“Not exactly.”

“But it’s obvious. You didn’t feel in control of the hypnosis. You claim not to remember everything we talked about. You seem tired, disappointed, anxious. Those aren’t strong endorsements.”

“Maybe I’m just one of those people who can’t, who doesn’t—”

“Nonsense,” he said, with uncharacteristic harshness. “You accepted hypnosis easily. You were almosttoosuggestible. To me, that suggests PTSD or dissociation. Maybe you’re just regretting the potential consequences of what you shared.”