A History of the Present Illness Read Online Free

liked the picture better before, but now Lenore smiled, and that was more important.
    â€œVery good. Will you tell me who everyone is?”
    Bopha pointed at each person and named them.
    Lenore’s lips disappeared into her mouth, then came back out red and shiny. “Aren’t you missing someone?”
    Bopha stared at the social worker. She had never met anyone so smart. Picking up the milk-chocolate-colored crayon, she drew the baby in her mother’s stomach.
    Lenore’s head moved from side to side, then up and down. “Okay,” she said. “But what about you? Where are you?”
    Bopha laughed. “I’m not my family. I’m just me!”
    The social worker wrote something down on her pad. “Your parents,” she said. “Do you think they’re happy?”
    Bopha laughed again. She hadn’t expected the clinic visit to be just playing and joking.
    Lenore’s mouth moved into a smile shape, not her great big
Hello, how are you?
smile, but a smaller smile that didn’t show in her eyes. “What’s funny?”
    Bopha swung her legs under the table. Such a simple question had to be a trick, but she couldn’t think of any answer except the truth. “Happy’s for little kids,” she said. “My parents are all grown up.”
    Lenore leaned forward on her chair. “Anyone can be happy, even adults.”
    Bopha tried to think of happy grown-ups, but she could think only of fake ones on TV and in books. And maybe Lenore last week; this week she seemed upset.
    Down the hall, a baby screamed. On the wall above the table, the clown clock tick-tocked, and when the second hand got to six, it looked like a long hair hanging from the clown’s nose.
    Bopha giggled.
    â€œDo you know why you’re here?” Lenore asked her.
    She nodded.
    â€œTell me?” Lenore said.
    Bopha rubbed her top teeth against her bottom lip. She wondered if the enormous stuffed giraffe in the corner of the room was the size of a real giraffe.
    â€œIt’s because you wet your bed, isn’t it?” Lenore asked.
    Bopha thought a kid could climb on the giraffe. Her brother, Heang, would like that a lot, though she’d definitely have to give him a boost up.
    Lenore put a hand on her arm. “Maybe we could talk about the last time it happened, about what was going on at home that night before you went to sleep?”
    Bopha’s nose itched, but she didn’t scratch it. Maybe she could bring Heang the next time she came and he could ride the giraffe the way people rode horses on TV.
    Lenore said, “Or maybe you already have an idea why you wet your bed?”
    Bopha peeked at Lenore’s face, which now seemed like a giant question mark, then looked down at her lap. She pulled a loose thread off her skirt, careful not to make the material bunch up. Probably she should tell about the water dreams, but they were all different, and anyway, she liked water, especially when she was helping her mother by washing the rice for dinner or taking baths with Neary when they got to use the soap that made big bubbles. Bopha looked at the clock again, but it still wasn’t time to go home.
    Finally, Lenore asked if she wanted to color some more. Bopha nodded, and the social worker passed her a clean sheet of paper.
    The next week, after they shook hands and Lenore led the way down the hall to the therapy room, Bopha opened the door for herself and headed toward the play area.
    â€œNo,” Lenore said. “Over here.”
    On the little table, a large shopping bag had replaced the paper and crayons.
    â€œIt’s a present,” Lenore said, her voice rising, as if she weren’t sure herself.
    The bag was big and white and shiny, with writing on the side. Bopha eyed the long plastic handles. Her mother could use a bag like that for marketing.
    â€œOpen it?” Lenore said.
    One at a time, Bopha pulled items from the bag and placed them