Page 93 of Rules

Others might be happier

I looked at her tapping the pen on the paper. Finally I wrote.

3. I might stop feeling so alone

The admission, even on paper, felt raw.

"Thank you," Dr. Salinger said, her voice gentler than before. "Now, if you were advising one of your deputies who showed you these lists, what would you tell them?"

I looked at my own handwriting, seeing it suddenly as if it belonged to someone else. What would I tell one of them if they came to me with these concerns?

"I would tell them what I tell them now, that their happiness matters," I said slowly. "That people's respect isn't based solely on how perfectly controlled they appear. That making yourself vulnerable isn't the same as being weak."

"And what if one of your deputies wanted a relationship with someone outside of societal acceptance? Would you question if they could still do their job?"

"No, not at all."

"Would you think they were less of a person?" She looked at me without blinking.

"Not at all." I answered her honestly.

"Are you being honest?"

"Yes."

"And what if it was your son or Clark who were in this relationship?"

"If they were happy that's enough for me." I said. "Where is this going?"

"Just this, Tobias, why is it so difficult to apply that same thinking to yourself?"

I had no immediate answer.

Dr. Salinger let the silence stretch for a moment before continuing. "Tobias, control is an illusion. We like to believe we can prevent bad things from happening if we just maintain enough vigilance, follow enough rules, and build enough walls. But life doesn't work that way."

"Some things can be prevented," I argued.

"Some, yes. But not all. And the cost of trying to control everything is often the sacrifice of the very connections that make life worth living." She gestured to my list. "Your fear of losing respect, of people thinking you can't do your job, these arekeeping you isolated when you could be supported. You could have someone share your life." She leaned forward in her chair. "Sheriff, Tobias, think about this, what better way is there to keep someone safe than to have them close?"

The clock on her desk showed we'd been talking for nearly an hour. I shifted, ready to conclude this session that had veered far deeper than I'd anticipated.

"I appreciate your insights, doctor."

"Of course." She made no move to stop me. "But before you go, I'd like to suggest an exercise."

"An exercise?" I repeated skeptically.

"Yes. The next time you're facing a decision where your desire for control conflicts with your capacity for connection, I want you to ask yourself: what would it cost me to choose differently this time?"

I stood, considering her words. "That's it?"

"That's it." She rose as well. "Just an honest accounting of what you might lose, and what you might gain simply by making a different choice."

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