“What issues?” I demanded, frowning.
“Specifically, what most people call ‘daddy issues’,” Stevens said. “Tell me, Detective Sugarbaker, how was your relationship to your father?”
“I didn’t have one,” I said flatly. “He left when I was nine and I never saw him again. So I can’t have Daddy issues when I never really had much of a father, right? I mean, I barely even remember him at all.” Which was true. The memories of my father were blurred and obscured—hardly there at all, really.
“Let me get this straight,” Stevens said frowning. “Your father abandoned you at age nine to the care of an alcoholic mother—basically leaving you at the most vulnerable time in your life to an unreliable caretaker. And you don’t think you have issues?”
“I know I don’t. I managed just fine.” I lifted my chin. “Look at me—I have a career, a life…”
“Any long term relationships?” Stevens asked quietly.
“Well…” I shifted uncomfortably on Salt’s lap. “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. I can get by just fine on my own.”
“It probably means you don’t trust men and feel like you have to take care of yourself,” Stevens said bluntly. “Which is also why it’s difficult for you to form any kind of lasting relationship with a man.”
“I have Salt—he’s a man,” I protested. “We’ve been together the last three and a half years—what’s that if not a lasting relationship?”
“That is a partnership,” Stevens emphasized. “Not a sexual, committed, loving relationship.”
“It may not be sexual,” Salt said, frowning. “But it is very committed and loving. I care for Andi deeply. I will not allow anyone to harm her.”
“Thank you, Salt.” I smiled at him and he gave me one of his rare smiles back. Sometimes I thought I was the only one who ever got to see him smile at all. Which was fine with me.
“All right, you don’t want to admit your issues—I can see that.” Professor Stevens sighed. “Just don’t be surprised if some troubling emotions surface when you’ve been role playing for a while.”
“I can deal with whatever happens,” I said evenly. “I’m an adult and I take responsibility for myself.”
“You are now.” He shook his head. “Let’s see how you are after some time at the Institute.”
“Leave Andi be,” Salt rumbled warningly. “Do not give her needless fears.”
“They’re not needless or unwarranted, Detective Salt,” Stevens said. “But let us turn our attention to you for a while. What kind of relationship did you have with your father?”
Salt frowned. “My father? He was very stern—very what I think you call ‘strict.’”
“And?” Stevens prodded. “Was he loving towards you? Towards your mother and siblings?”
Salt’s face grew dark. “He liked his vodka,” he said shortly.
I thought of the way he’d told me his father had beaten him with a belt earlier. Had he been abusive? Maybe an alcoholic like my mom? But my mom had never been a mean drunk—she’d just been neglectful. I couldn’t count the times I’d gone to school in dirty clothes before I learned how to work the washer and dryer myself. And we both would have starved if I hadn’t learned to cook.
“That’s all you have to say? You can’t tell me anything else?” Stevens frowned. “What about your mother? Were you close to her?”
Salt nodded. “She was wonderful. She loved us very much, me and my sisters.”
“So you had sisters,” Stevens probed. “How did you feel about them?”
Salt frowned. “They had to be protected. My father was not often around but when he was…” He shook his head. “Anyway, I was the oldest. I had to keep them safe.” He suddenly looked sad—an expression that centered more in his eyes than anywhere else. “I was not always successful. But I did try.”