He opens the door to Dr. Dawson. "Hi, Dr. Dawson."
"Hello, Sean. How are you doing?"
He shrugs, but Doc is looking at him, and now he gets why Dad jokes that Doc's eyes can make anybody spill his guts. "I…think I screwed up—I mean, messed up. I asked Dad if he was gonna kill himself, 'cause he still thinks it's his fault Mom's dead, and he got all…"
"I need to talk to your dad, Sean. Where he is?"
"In the game room—right through there."
He knows his Dad has been seeing a shrink—"therapist"—for years—but he doesn't know why Dad's shrink wants to talk to him.
Mom had explained that it didn't mean Dad was crazy; it just meant he'd seen a lot of bad stuff and sometimes it helped to talk about that bad stuff to someone who could help him.
Of course, he was only 11 then. Now, he understands more about PTSD, and that Dad has survivor's guilt because of being the only guy to come home from Fallujah.
He has a vague memory of meeting Dr. Dawson back then…his mom crying, and a tall building, and his dad hugging him like he'd never see him again.
He's also met Dr. Dawson more recently, since his Mom died. Dr. Dawson has even come over to the house a few times, when Dad has been so out of his head with grief, he and Jack were worried about him.
He kicks himself, looks at his dad, who's throwing darts and apparently going to try to eavesdrop.
"How are you doing, Sean?"
He shrugs. "I…I'm okay. Am…am I in trouble, Dr. Dawson?"
"Should you be?"
He bites his lip. "Well, I guess I screwed up…messed up…by asking Dad about…what I said."
"Do you think it's his fault your mom's dead?"
"No!" he half-shouts, then looks guiltily over at his dad, who's pretending to still be busy playing darts.
"Does your dad think it's his fault, though?"
He nods.
"So…are you helping him by harping on it?"
"No, but…a couple months ago, a cop killed himself, and I asked—at family dinner—I asked why so many cops kill themselves, and Uncle Jamie and Aunt Eddie and Grandpa gave all the nice, polite answers—but nobody…nobody told me why I shouldn't worry that Dad's gonna kill himself!"
Dr. Dawson sighs, and he thinks now he's blown it. He's said too much, and Dr. Dawson is gonna pass him off, tell him he's over-reacting. He really hopes his dad didn't hear him…
"Have you talked to your dad—told him that you're afraid he's going to kill himself?"
He shakes his head.
"You need to talk to him, Sean. Asking him directly if he is planning or even thinking about killing himself, will not push him in that direction. And you need to hear that from him, yourself. I can sit here and tell you for an hour straight all the reasons—within the limits of confidentiality—that I am not worried he'll kill himself, but you need to talk to your dad."
He nods, starts to get up, but Doc says, "Do you really want to help your dad?"
He slumps back on the couch. "Yeah."
"Look at me, Sean…please."
Now he feels like a little kid who's in trouble with his parents, but he looks up at his dad's shrink. Damn. Dad was right—Dawson's eyes are like reading his soul. He chews on his lower lip.
"Do you understand that the tone in which you asked your dad if he was going to kill himself—that tone triggered him?"
He nods. "Yeah, I guess I…screwed up."
"Just…be mindful of your tone. Have that kind of conversation sitting on the couch, looking at your dad—watching his body language. Don't snap at him, on that subject, when he can't see your face, or vice-versa. And if there is an incident that causes you to worry about his safety—you call your grandfather, or your uncle Jamie, or your aunt Erin, or me."
"I don't want Dad to kill himself because I screwed up," he whispers. "What can I do?"
"For starters, offer to help—if you think the kids at Jack's school have gotten your address and you're worried about what they might say to your father, then open any mail that comes from someone your dad doesn't know. Plan a basketball game with your uncle Jamie—in your backyard, with that epic hoop I hear you have. Go get ice cream when he gets home from work. Ask your great-grandfather to teach you how to cook, so maybe your dad can come home to a hot meal that isn't burnt."
"You know about that? Does Dad really tell you everything?"
"Not everything, but it came up in conversation."
He nods. "I…I've gotta get back to homework, Dr. Dawson; I have this huge paper…"
He bolts out of the room, stopping to hug his dad tightly before going back to his room and his homework.