“What kind of licensed clinical therapist turns someone away who looks like that?” Sadha, my brother’s wife, pointed her finger directly at my face. “He looks like a zombie!”

“That’s why he came here.” Michael passed Sadha their swaddled newborn as he sat down at the kitchen table across from me. “He says it’s for the better.”

“It is,” I interjected. “I was wasting both of our time. Dr. Wright could tell I was overwhelmed, so she insisted that I come back when I’m more comfortable explaining myself.”

I was secretly surprised at how well I could explain the reason that I struggled so hard to understand just a few hours ago.

“Sam, I know some real professionals who can help you,” Sadha assured me. “My cousin lives in Long Island. You should go see him.”

“The help I found him is fine!” Michael seemed to get more agitated than I expected. I realized this was probably not the first time Sadha had suggested her cousin in Long Island.

“You don’t know anything about this woman, and yet you send your brother to her?” Just as Sadha and Michael were on the verge of a marital meltdown, their newborn baby began wailing.

“Take Alvin in the other room, Sadha. Please,” Michael said, holding his head in his hands. Sadha retreated with baby Alvin and left Michael and I alone, sitting at his cluttered kitchen table.

“Listen man, this is a lot of stress for you,” I started, but Michael puts his hand up.

“Shut up, Sam. You’re not getting me out of this. I’m going to help you, whether you like it or not,” he said.

“I’m just saying. If Sadha has a suggestion that will make our lives easier, then maybe we should take it.”

“You didn’t even give my suggestion a chance. How do you know the Wright Clinic isn’t the right clinic?”

I remain silent.

“Just give it a try. Go back there and if you still don’t feel comfortable, we’ll give Dinesh a try.”

“Dinesh?”

“Her cousin in Long Island.” Michael closed his eyes and massaged his temples. “I’m starting to think I’m getting insomnia like you, man.” I wanted to point out that he had no idea what he was talking about, but instead I sat there with a concerned expression.

“So, how did you find the Wright Clinic?” I said.

“Research,” Michael said bluntly.

“Research?”

“Yeah, I searched for someone who treats your symptoms and I found a hit.”

I could feel my blood pressure spike. “You searched for a treatment clinic by typing in my symptoms on Google?”

“Well, how else do you find a mental health clinic?”

“You seek professional help. You inquire. You don’t Google symptoms.”

“Dude, this isn’t the ‘90s. Google works. How would you have done it?”

“I would’ve searched for ‘reputable health clinics in New York’.”

“So you would’ve used Google!” Michael smiled. “See? You admitted it.”

“You know what? You’re right.” I throw up my hands and surrender.

“Just go back there. I told you I would pay for it all. Check it all out, really make sure it’s not the place for you, and if it isn’t, leave.” Michael said.

As if it were that simple.