After a team skate and then lunch, I called my sister’s therapy practice and spoke to the receptionist to see if I could snag a few minutes of Tiffany’s time. I was told she had exactly twenty-six minutes until her next appointment arrived, so I hightailed it over there, and now here I am.
“There’s my favorite sister,” I say, rounding the corner to enter Tiffany’s office as the receptionist waves me in. Apparently, I now only have fourteen minutes left.
She rolls her eyes as she looks up from her laptop. “I’m your only sister, jackass.”
Tiffany stands, teetering in her high heels, and gives me a one-armed hug. Then I plop myself down onto the chair in front of her desk.
I refuse to sit on the couch in her office. Doing so, I’ve learned in the past, is an open invitation for her to psyc
