Where Nerves End

do you need it?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “A few times a week. Usually when I cant sleep.” I paused before quickly adding, “When the pain keeps me up at night, I mean.”
“I see.” He glanced at my form, then blew out a breath. “And youve been doing this for how long?”
“Im not addicted to them,” I said through my teeth.
Michael put up a hand, and his voice was gentle as he said, “I wasnt making any accusations. Im more concerned about what kind of burden longterm use of a narcotic puts on your liver.”
“On…my liver?” I cocked my head.
He nodded, scribbling a few notes on the form. “Kidneys too.”
“Youre not going to tell me to stop taking them, are you?”
Michael held my gaze, narrowing his eyes just slightly, and I suddenly understood the receptionists comment about car batteries and waterboarding. Michael hadnt said a word, but I was certain he saw right through me, right to the “fuck you” that was ready to light up in red neon letters the second he told me I shouldnt take anything.
After a moment, he folded his hands on top of the form. “Im not going to tell you that you cant or shouldnt take them. What Im hoping to do is remove your reason for having them at all.”
Oh, God, please.
I swallowed. “And if you cant do that?”
He smiled. “Then Im not doing my job.” He held my gaze for a moment. “Tell me, how exactly did you injure your shoulder?”
My face burned a little. Hell if I knew why. Wasnt like I hadnt told this story to a million people before, usually with embellishments to make sure everyone laughed uproariously at my stupidity, so why did it make me self-conscious now?
I cleared my throat. “I suppose „showing off like an idiot isnt a conclusive enough answer?”
Michael laughed. “Not really, but its certainly an intriguing one.” He inclined his head. “Go on.”
“I was mountain biking,” I said. “Decided to show off for someone, took a single-track trail way faster than I should have, lost control, and faceplanted.” I gestured at my shoulder. “Landed on my face and my shoulder.”
Michael grimaced. “How is your neck?”
“My neck was fine,” I said. “Scraped the shit out of my face, but the helmet protected my head. My shoulder took the brunt of it.”
“Better that than a head or neck injury.”
“No kidding. Or swallowing my teeth.”
He shuddered. “Indeed. Fortunately, I think we can manage the injury you do have.” His eyes narrowed again like he was reading something in my expression.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Youre carrying a lot of stress,” he said.
I laughed dryly. “Am I getting that gray already?”
“No,” he said, a grin flickering across his lips, “but the tension isnt just in the area where youre experiencing pain. You get headaches when youre tense, dont you?”
“Doesnt everyone?”
“Some more than others.” He gestured between his eyebrows. “But Im guessing yours radiate from here?”
This guy was good.
“Sometimes, yeah,” I said. “But, you know how it is. Stress about money, shit like that.”
He groaned.“Oh, believe me, I know that feeling very well.”
“Really? I figured youd be raking it in here.”
Michael shrugged. “Im not a cardiologist or neurologist.”
“So youre a peasant just like the rest of us?”
“Basically. Anyway, you get that heavy ache that presses into your forehead and makes your eyes hurt, right?”
Shit. He was really good.
I nodded.
“I figured. Next time that happens? Press the sides of your thumbs right here.” He demonstrated, putting his thumbs together above the bridge of his nose. “Press in, and then pull them across like so.” He pulled his thumbs apart, slowly drawing them along the arches of his eyebrows. Then he lowered his hands. “Do it three or four times, and it should diffuse some of the tension.”
Uhhuh. I’m sure it will.
“Good to know,” I said.
He continued through my history, asking questions about everything from my health to my family to my job. I gave him vague answers about my financial issues, my somewhat recent breakup, the loss of my business partner, and he didnt press for details. Strangely, his line of questioning didnt prompt a “none of your goddamned business” reaction like it probably would have if I was talking to my doctor or dentist. I suppose it helped that he just made notes and didnt make any comments about “damn, if it werent for bad luck, you wouldnt have any luck at all.” I was willing to