Evan showed up with a scowl on his face and a $600 set of headphones that were blasting rap music loud enough to be heard over the sound machine in my office
Evan didn’t want to be in my office. He had made that abundantly clear to his family long before they’d even booked the appointment.
“He says he doesn’t want to come in for an appointment, Dr. Freedman,” Mr. Browne told me. “But we need some help communicating as a family. He’s kind of a bad kid — I mean, not really, but that’s what it looks like from the outside.”
“You’ll have to weigh the benefits and risks of forcing a visit,” I responded. “If he really doesn’t want to come in, you’ll have to figure out if the situation is dire enough to warrant forcing him to come down here and talk with me. Good things usually don’t come by force.”
But the situation was dire. The Brownes had become observant two years earlier and had suddenly picked up their family from a calm, upper-crust suburban life in Melbourne and transplanted themselves to Israel. Mr. Browne sold his substantial real estate holdings and moved next door to some other ex-pat Aussies in a beautiful new complex not far from the prime minister’s residence.
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