So now we’ve established that not only did I try to kill myself, but that I’m gay, too. That’s like having two cherries on your dog crap sundae. Or extra nuts.
And now, of course, it’s all Cat Poop wants to talk about. Today he asked me to tell him more about what Rankin and I did together. It was completely embarrassing talking about that. Then he asked me how I felt about having sex. I told him it felt great, but that the best thing for me was thinking that Rankin wanted to do those things with me. It wasn’t the sex, really. I mean, you can kind of do that on your own, right? But having this other person want to do it with you, that’s pretty special. It means he likes you. At least, it should.
I keep wondering what Rankin was thinking when he did those things with me. Had someone done those things to him? Is he really gay? Did he like me at all? I guess I won’t ever be able to answer those questions. I asked the doc, and he said that when people hurt us, the best thing to do isn’t to ask why they did it but to remind ourselves that it wasn’t our fault.
In other words, either he doesn’t know what Rankin’s deal is or won’t tell me.
Either way, I’m not sure I believe him. Maybe it was partly my fault. It’s not like I made Rankin stop. It’s not like I didn’t like what we did. It’s not like I didn’t want to do it. At least some part of me wanted to.
To change the subject, I asked if Martha was going to be okay. Martha hasn’t said anything since that night—not even “frex”—and I worry that she’s totally regressing, which is a term I learned from Cat Poop. Basically, it means that whatever good has happened to her might have been erased by what happened with Sadie. I love how shrinks have a special word for everything that can be wrong with you.
Cat Poop said he didn’t know. But there was something in his voice that made me think he didn’t believe she would be all right. I wanted to ask him more about it, because I figured it had something to do with why she’s here in the first place. But I knew he wouldn’t tell me anything, so I just said I hoped she would be okay.
I found out later, though. I asked Frank. Like I said, Frank can be kind of a jerk. But he likes to think he knows a lot, so when I saw him later on, I started talking about how awful what happened to Sadie was. “Martha was really upset about it,” I said, knowing he would want to tell me everything he knew about it.
“Yeah, well, who can blame her?” said Frank. “She probably thought it was happening again.”
“Thought what was happening?” I said.
He laughed again. “Oh, right. They don’t let you listen to the news in here. Kid’s dad shot her mother.”
“Martha’s dad?” I said.
“Blew her open with a shotgun,” said Frank. “Then killed himself. The kid saw the whole thing. When they found her, she was sitting between them on the kitchen floor, holding that damn stuffed rabbit. She’d been there two or three days. Aunt or something went over after she kept calling and getting no answer.”
“You’re kidding,” I said.
“It was all over the papers,” said Frank. “I forgot, they only let you look at the funny papers.” He laughed. “Funny papers—get it?”
I ignored him and walked away. All I could think about was Martha sitting in that kitchen. No wonder she flipped when she saw Sadie. Poor kid. And I thought I had problems. If we’re keeping score, I think Martha just pulled way ahead of the rest of us.