Page 135 - A Little Life: A Novel

provide of it, and wrote down the facts he would tell him without comment
or reaction.
And indeed, it was only years later—a little less than four years ago—

that Andy had directly mentioned his childhood. This had been during his
and Andy’s first big fight. They’d had skirmishes, of course, and
disagreements, and once or twice a year Andy would deliver a long lecture
to him (he saw Andy every six weeks—though more frequently these days
—and could always anticipate which appointment would be the Lecture
Appointment by the terseness with which Andy would greet him and
conduct his examination) that covered what Andy considered his perplexing

and infuriating unwillingness to take proper care of himself, his maddening
refusal to see a therapist, and his bizarre reluctance to take pain medication
that would probably improve his quality of life.
The fight had concerned what Andy had retroactively come to consider a
botched suicide attempt. This had been right before New Year’s, and he had
been cutting himself, and he had cut too close to a vein, and it had resulted

in a great, sloppy, bloody mess into which he had been forced to involve
Willem. In the examining room that night, Andy had refused to speak to
him, he was so angry, and had actually muttered to himself as he made his
stitches, each as neat and tiny as if he were embroidering them.
Even before Andy had opened his mouth at his next appointment, he had
known that he was furious. He had actually considered not coming in for
his checkup at all, except he knew if he didn’t, Andy would simply keep

calling him—or worse, calling Willem, or worse yet, Harold—until he
showed up.
“I should fucking have had you hospitalized,” were Andy’s first words to
him, followed by, “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“I think you’re overreacting,” he’d begun, but Andy ignored him.
“I happen to believe you weren’t trying to kill yourself, or I’d’ve had you

committed so fast your head would’ve spun,” he said. “It’s only because
statistically, anyone who cuts themselves as much as you do, and for as
many years as you have, is in less immediate danger of suicide than
someone who’s less consistently self-injurious.” (Andy was fond of
statistics. He sometimes suspected he made them up.) “But Jude, this is
crazy, and that was way too close. Either you start seeing a shrink
immediately or I’m going to commit you.”