“Borrow a phone?”
“Oh, gosh, sorry, I never got to that part the last time.” The sessions are shorter than I wish they were and so much seems to be happening in between. “Remember how I told you I’d called the desk manager at WorkSpace, trying to find someone who knew when our appointment was? I apparently told him I was using someone else’s phone. And so I think I lost mine somehow when this bad thing happened.”
As I’m talking, I feel a trickle of sweat roll down the back of my neck and realize I’ve started to hyperventilate.
“I just wish I could figure it out,” I add. “And that things were better with Hugh, and that I could share some of this with my dad. To make everything worse, my friend Gabby has gone MIA on me. It’s like—”
“Ally,” Erling interrupts, leaning forward. “I want you to take a couple of deep breaths right now. Would you like me to go through the process again?”
“No, I remember . . .”
I do as she says, inhaling, holding, letting each breath out slowly. It definitely calms me down a little.
“Good,” Erling says, reading my expression. “I know it’s important for you to figure out the truth, Ally, but I’d like you to consider taking the rest of the day to relax. You mentioned once how much you enjoy going to the café near your home. Take some time alone there before dinner, have a cup of tea, bring a book with you if you want.”
“Right. I can do that.” Of course, I’m behind on my own book and the column, too, but those will have to wait.
“I also want you to put a temporary halt on any data gathering. I know information seems extremely valuable right now, but it’s clearly distressing you, and I’m afraid it might trigger another dissociative state. For the time being, I think you should stay offline.”
“Okay,” I say, silently swearing that this time I mean it. “I just wish it wasn’t so long until my next appointment.”
“Unfortunately, I’m fully booked tomorrow, but what if we plan to speak on Saturday? I don’t have office hours on weekends, but I could do a session with you over the phone or via Skype? Do you use Skype?”
“Yes, of course,” I tell her. “I’d really like to talk this weekend.” It’s a relief to know I won’t have to wait until Monday.
“Let’s say two P.M. Email me your Skype handle when you have a moment.”
She rises, signaling the session is over.
“Thanks,” I say, rising, too. “Then I only have to get through tomorrow.”
“One last thing, Ally,” she says as we walk toward the door. “You asked what you should do if the police in Millerstown want to see you again. If that happens, I think it’s important that you take an attorney with you.”
My heart lunges forward. “You think I need an attorney?”
“Simply as a safeguard, Ally. You don’t want to say anything you don’t mean to. We can talk about that more on Saturday.”
She walks me to the waiting room, says good-bye, and closes the door behind me. The next patient isn’t here yet and I have the space to myself. I lean against one of the walls, trying to catch my breath.
It will be all right, I promise myself. It’s going to get better. I’m going to get better.
But I don’t know if I really believe that.
22
I grab a cab home and as I’m turning my phone off silent, it rings in my hands. Gabby.
“I’d nearly given you up for dead,” I say. I don’t mean for it to come out bitchily, but I notice my frustration over not hearing from her leak into my voice.
“Well, I practically am,” she says, her voice froggy.
“Hey, what’s the matter?”
“I came down with the worst fucking cold. I think I must have picked it up from this guy who was in my row on the plane, hacking his brains out.”
“Oh gosh, that’s terrible, Gab.” I now feel more than a twinge of guilt for being dismayed by her radio silence. “Can I do anything?”
“No, no, I’m just sorry to be out of touch. I wanted to call you, but I haven’t been able to lift my head off the pillow.”
“Have you checked in with your doctor?”
“Yeah, and she said it’s probably viral so antibiotics won’t help. What’s happening with you? Tell me.”
“Still trying to figure things out,” I say, lowering my voice. “I hired a private eye, like you suggested—an ex-cop named Mulroney—and he’s turned up some interesting stuff.”
I hear her cough into a tissue, a mean, dry cough that must really hurt.
“Wow, what kind of stuff?” she asks.
I want to tell her everything, but it doesn’t seem fair when she’s so sick.
“Why don’t we talk in a day or two—once you’re better. Can I at least bring you food? I’m planning to run out for a cup of tea later.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want you anywhere near this thing. And I’m okay in the food department. Right now, I’m living on DayQuil and can’t bear the thought of anything else.”
“Okay, I’ll text you later to see how you are.”
“Sounds good. And please, let me know if anything happens with you, okay?”
“Will do.”
Poor Gabby. But I can’t help but wallow for a moment. I need her right now, especially since I haven’t been able to rely on Hugh as much as I hoped.
With my phone out, I notice I have two voice mails from when I was in session with Erling, one from Derek Kane, my point person at the company that sponsors the podcast. He asks simply that I give him a ring. The other’s from Sasha, who’s finally deigned to return my call from yesterday and a follow-up I made today. I’m sure she’s been sulking about my less-than-glowing feedback.
I start with Derek, since the sponsorship is coming up for renewal at the end of the year, and I want to be certain I’m keeping everybody happy.
“Hey, thanks for calling back,” he says. “You doin’ okay?”
Is he making small talk, I wonder, or has Sasha mentioned that I was under the weather?
“Yes, great, thanks.”
“Nice podcast this week. The company is planning to launch a new tagline any day now, and I’ll get it over to you once I have the green light.”
“How exciting.”
“By the way, I thought Sasha hit it out of the park on the show this week.”
How can he possibly think that?
“She worked really hard on the segment,” I say, as diplomatic as I can be.
“Would you consider having her do it regularly until she finishes up the internship? She sounded a bit more—I don’t know, a bit more of an expert than that gal you usually use.”
I take a few seconds, then choose my words carefully.
“It’s actually Casey’s job as my producer to do the last segment with me, so I’m afraid it wouldn’t be fair to bump her. And the chat at the end is meant to be a conversation with an ordinary person, not an expert.”
“Well, you know best. It was simply a thought.”
“I appreciate the input. And just so you know, Casey’s going on vacation in a few weeks and Sasha will have another chance to handle the segment.”