Page 73 of Brain Damage

Have you ever heard of a game called Taboo?

We play it in Thinking Skills Group today. I sort of remember playing this many years ago. Each person gets a card, and that card has a word on it that you have to make the other players guess. Pretty simple, as long as you don’t have brain damage. Which, of course, we all do.

“It’s your turn, Charly,” Amy tells me.

She hands me the box of cards, and I select one with my right hand. The word at the top is “clown.” I suddenly feel a little bit confused about the rules of this game.

“You want the others to guess the word at the top,” Amy says to me when she notices my hesitation. “And you can’t use any of the five words at the bottom.”

“Okay,” I say.

I stare at the word “clown,” thinking about it for a minute.

“Charly?” Amy says. “Go ahead.”

Obviously, I’m taking too long.

“This kind of person wears a lot of white make-up on his face,” I say. “He also has a red nose and is in the circus. Also, the Joker and Ronald McDonald are this kind of person.”

“It’s a clown!” Helga cries out excitedly.

“That wasn’t very hard,” Dr. Vincent complains.

Amy sighs. “Charly, you weren’t supposed to use any of the words at the bottom, but you used all the words at the bottom.”

“I thought that was what I was supposed to do,” I say, frowning.

Amy just shakes her head. “Helga, why don’t you have a turn?”

Helga takes the box of cards and discards at least five of them before she settles on a card.

“Okay,” Helga says. “This is something that happens to women at some point in their lives, but it might not be a good thing.”

“A stroke,” Angela speaks up. She laughs at her own joke.

“Her period?” I guess.

“Oooh, I know,” Helga says. “When it happens, she has a big party and wears a white dress.”

“A wedding,” Dr. Vincent says quickly.

“Helga,” Amy says gently. “You used one of the words that was taboo.”

Helga frowns and throws the card down. “I don’t like this game,” she says. “It’s too hard.”

“I don’t like it either,” Dr. Vincent chimes in. “I’d rather try to figure out who shot Charly in the head.”

So would I.

“Dr. Vincent,” Amy says patiently. “I told you that we’re not going to talk about that. We don’t want to traumatize Charly.”

“It won’t traumatize me,” I say. “I want to know more than anyone else who shot me in the head.”

Plus it’s way easier than playing Taboo.

“Do you remember any more of your dream, Charly?” Dr. Vincent asks me.

I close my eyes. I can see the living room of my old apartment. I can feel my damp clothes sticking to my skin. I can hear that voice over my head: “You deserve this.”