Edward Adrift

all.”
    “It doesn’t?”
    “No. Do you want to know why?”
    “Yes.”
    “Because it means Dr. Buckley and you were successful in your work together. This might surprise you, Edward, but I’ve read your notes dating to the first time you came here, in 2000. I’ve read every word. And the entire time, Dr. Buckley was imparting life skills to you. She was helping you find a way within yourself to live well and to live safely in a world that doesn’t always move the way you move. What you did out on the road simply proves that her approach worked. She didn’t try to change you. Instead, she helped you find the best way to live that works for you.”
    I’m listening to what Dr. Bryan Thomsen is saying, and I’m regretting ever saying anything bad about him. All this time, I thought that he didn’t know me or care to know me, and it turns out that the opposite was true.
    “So here is what I propose,” Dr. Bryan Thomsen says. “I propose that we go forward with you not expecting me to be Dr. Buckley, because I’m not and will never be, and I will go forward respecting what you need. If you want to keep coming every week, great. I will see you then. If you want to check in a few times a year, fine. If you want to move to Spain and do this on Skype, we can make that happen.”
    “I’m not moving to Spain,” I say.
    “Wherever,” he says. “The point is, it’s your life to live, and you have the skills to live it in the way you choose. When you talk to your mother, Edward, that’s what I suggest you tell her.”

    I’m pretty smart sometimes.
    Because my bills are paid by my lawyer, Jay L. Lamb, and because I don’t sign up for things that cause me to be put on mailing lists, I have only two pieces of mail waiting for me at the post office.
    The first, postmarked December 14, is from the human resources department at the
Billings Herald-Gleaner
. I’m both flummoxed and excited. Although Mr. Withers called me personally and said there would be no returning to my job, this letter at least holds out the possibility that someone at the
Herald-Gleaner
has considered my request. There is only one way to find out, as they say, and that’s to open the letter. (And “they,” whoever they are, are wrong when they say that. For example, I could just call the
Herald-Gleaner
directly and ask someone in human resources to tell me my status. I’ll grant you that’s not an efficient way of finding out, as this letter is here in my hand, but at least it’s plausible. That means there is more than one way of finding out.)
    I tear off the corner of the envelope, stick my index finger inside, and rip open one end.
    December 14, 2011
    Mr. Edward Stanton:
    Thank you for your interest in the Herald-Gleaner. At this time, we have no job openings that fit your stated areas of interest, but we will keep your information on file and will contact you in the future if you’re a good match for an available position.
    We wish you the best in your endeavors.
    Sincerely,
    The Billings Herald-Gleaner
    If there is such a thing as being flummoxed to the power of ten, that’s what I am. Mr. Withers told me on December 9 that I could not have my job back. He stated this with clarity. I had come to accept this state of affairs, even though it hurt me badly to see my job gone forever.
    So what is the point of this letter? To tell me five days after Mr. Withers’s direct phone call telling me I could not work at the
Herald-Gleaner
that, in fact, I cannot work at the
Herald-Gleaner
. That seems redundant and cruel.
    I realize I was involuntarily separated. Must I also be involuntarily mocked?
    This letter has real potential to derail what has been an outstanding day so far.
    I open the other letter.
    December 18, 2011
    Dear Edward,
    I’m sorry we haven’t checked in on you. As you can probably imagine, it’s been a difficult time around here since we brought Kyle home.
    I want to thank you for whatever you did to get him to talk. I never in a million years would have wished to hear what he told us, but I also cannot imagine the horror his life might have been if we’d never found out the truth. He is going to get all the help he needs to get past this, and we’re going to get all the help we need as a family. And you, as a member of our family, helped us reach this point. We love you. You will always be one of us.
    I can tell you that Kyle is doing well. We just started seeing a counselor—together as a family, and also