Spring 1982
"I guess it was really sort of my fault. It was, oh, 4, maybe 5 years ago. I had just gotten my driver's license."
"Okay, go on."
"Well, there were 4 of us in the car, me, John, Sara and Clay, going to McDonald's after school 'cause I had my dad's Continental. We were on the road, driving through town, when suddenly I just tromped on the brake as hard as I could."
"What next?"
"My mother is hysterical, at the hospital, my father telling me everyone else was dead, that I'd never walk again, and Mom going 'Why? Why?'"
"And you think you're crazy now? I don't. You sound emotionally fixated."
"And fixated, of course, means.....?"
"Wrapped up."
"What wrapped up? In a blanket?"
"You know, involved. Emotion centered on one particular subject."
"You're saying that you can only be involved with one thing at a time, right?"
"No! That's not what I'm talking about."
"Well, then, what are you talking about?"
"Jesus Christ, Todd, I hate talking to you."
Actually I really liked talking to Todd.
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