“I know it’s going to sound like an excuse,” he said. “But I’ve been reading a lot about Lyme disease lately…and there’s this thing. A…a symptom of the disease…called Lyme Rage.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re right. It does sound like an excuse,” I said.
He cleared his throat and tried again.
“No, but people really do…they really do get it. Lyme Rage, I mean. And they just have no…it’s inexplicable.”
His eyes were pleading. He had a hand on my shoulder. He wanted to be let off the hook.
“There’s regular old rage, too,” I said. “You don’t have to be sick to be angry.”
His head dropped and his hands dropped into his lap.
“I know. I know it,” he said. But then he looked up and brightened. “But you should know I fixed it. I fixed it all…every bit of it. It’s all…even better than before. You’ll never believe!”