Chapter 15

Thursday, April 11

Holly wakes up feeling slightly disoriented. Technically, she is in her own bed, but she hasn’t lived in Aaron’s house for almost six months. And lying there with her old comforter wrapped around her, she can’t help second-guessing her decision to have slept over. But she didn’t want to be alone last night. And after dinner, where she and Aaron split a bottle of pinot noir, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to crawl into bed with him.

Holly doesn’t regret their sex. In fact, she initiated it. Physically, they have always been in sync. Ten years into their marriage, she still loves the way he kisses her. And in spite of their generational age gap—he’s the only lover she’s ever had who is more than three years older than her, let alone twenty—she has never felt as comfortable with anyone else in bed.

But good sex alone has never been enough. Their relationship was much easier when she was his resident, his protégée. Back then, he was fiercely protective and supportive of her. That ended when she began to make a name for herself at the university level. Whether overshadowed by her success or frustrated by his perception that her career took precedence over their relationship, Aaron hasn’t always been able to hide his professional jealousy, which sometimes manifests as pettiness or dismissiveness of her work with psychedelics. And for her part, Holly recognizes she has been too blinded by her own ambition to always be sympathetic to his.

Lying beside her husband now, his shoulders rising and falling with each light snore, she feels just as ambivalent as she had before climbing into bed with him. Only last week she had been looking for the right moment to raise the idea of formalizing their separation. She had even tentatively accepted a date with the cute Swiss architect who lives two floors below her in her condo building.

Holly eases out of bed, careful not to wake Aaron. She collects her clothes from the chair, changes, and then tiptoes out of the room. As she heads down the stairs, the scent of brewed coffee wafts up to her, and she wonders if Aaron got up before her and brewed a pot before going back to bed. Tempted as she is to grab a cup on the way out, she decides against it.

Holly is only a few feet from the front door when the last voice in the world she wants to hear calls out to her. “G’morning. Bet you could use a coffee, huh?”

Suppressing a sigh, she turns to see Aaron’s son Graham standing in the kitchen doorway and holding up a carafe, tilting it from side to side. “Oh, hi, Graham. I didn’t realize you were staying here.”

“I have my own place. But Dad lets me come and go as I please. Y’know,” he says with an ugly laugh, “kinda like you.”

Holly only smiles, refusing to rise to the bait.

Graham’s face and neck look fuller than the last time she saw him, and his shirt can’t hold back the bulge of his belly. He resembles his fraternal twin, Nate, even less than before. Nate is sweet, active, fit, and studious. Graham is none of those things. Lazy and directionless, his sense of entitlement knows no bounds. But the last thing Holly needs is to get into another altercation with Graham. “Your dad told me you started a new job,” she says.

“Yup. A start-up specializing in cutting-edge consumer surveillance products. Very Mission: Impossible-ish, y’know? Six-figure salary right out of the gate. This one is a can’t-lose proposition.”

Holly has serious doubts, but says, “That’s wonderful. Congrats.”

He shrugs. “Oh, and by the way, I was sorry to hear about your patient.”

A chill runs up the back of Holly’s neck. “My patient?”

“The one who OD’d. Must be tough losing someone that way.”

“Your dad told you about her?”

“Nah,” Graham says. “I was in the car when you called him. On speaker phone.”

Why the fuck wouldn’t Aaron have mentioned that?“I can’t really discuss it, Graham. I’m sure you understand.”

“Probably wasn’t your fault, right? And I bet if I was in your position, I wouldn’t want to talk about it, either.” He exhales noisily. “Something like that must really shake your belief in yourself, huh? Or do you just get used to it after a while?”

“I meant that it’s privileged information,” Holly says, biting down on her back teeth. “Patient-doctor confidentiality.”

“Even if she’s dead?”

“Even then.”

“That blows.” Graham shrugs. “I was super-curious to hear what she was accusing you of. Sounded major.”

“I think you might be taking what you overheard out of context.”

“Maybe.” Graham laughs again. “Or maybe I’m just touching a nerve? You seem kinda jumpy, Holly. Real stressed.”

Holly’s jaw aches from grinding. “Good to see you, Graham,” she says as she takes a step toward the door. “But I have to get to work.”

He raises the carafe again. “No coffee to go?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“Holly?” Aaron calls from upstairs. “Who are you talking to?”

She could scream. “Just down here with Graham,” she says.

Graham chuckles again as he deposits the pot on the nearest counter. “Would love to chat more, but duty calls. The new gig and all.” He brushes past her on his way out the door. “Tell Dad I’ll drop by later when you’re gone. I’m assuming you will be gone again? That’s usually how this works with you two, isn’t it?”

Graham disappears out the door without waiting for a response, which Holly wasn’t about to provide anyway.

Moments later, Aaron appears in a house robe and slippers. “Did I miss Graham?”

Lucky you. “He had to run to work.”

“Ah. Glad to hear he’s prioritizing appropriately.”

“Why didn’t you mention he was listening in on our phone call?”

“Our call?” Aaron frowns. “Oh! When you first called to tell me about the overdose?”

“Yes!” Holly takes a slow breath to keep her voice in check. “When I shared highly confidential client information with you. Only because you’re my colleague.”

“I was driving Graham to work. And you sounded so distraught. I didn’t want to make you wait.”

“No one else was supposed to hear that.”

Aaron taps his chest. “Honestly, I didn’t even think Graham was listening. He had his headphones on.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“No, of course.” He hangs his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Holly only nods, realizing there’s nothing to be done about it now.

“Graham’s a different person these days,” Aaron says. “Between the change in medications and the new job, I think he’s finally maturing. For real this time, Holly.”

She bites her tongue. Aaron has a huge blind spot when it comes to his son. He never accepted Graham’s diagnosis of a borderline personality disorder. Instead, he has always excused his son’s manipulative behavior as either the symptoms of a mood disorder or a reflection of his sensitive nature. But Holly is convinced that Graham does have serious personality issues. And his dad is Graham’s ultimate enabler, going so far as to insert himself into his son’s psychiatric care.

The moment Holly met Graham, she recognized him as a deeply wounded child. One who was still mourning his parents’ divorce while feeling trapped in the shadow of his far more gifted twin brother. She felt genuine pity for Graham. And despite the boy’s challenging nature and tendency to lash out, she tried, with varying degrees of success, to take the higher road: to show him nothing but love, support, and patience.

Until the trolling began.

Six years ago, a friend and colleague of hers called Holly to alert her that her scores on the most popular rate-your-therapist website had plummeted. Soon after, the negative and hurtful reviews began to pile up.

Like the two-star review which read: Dr. Danvers is nice enough, but she is distant and uninterested. She stared at the wall behind me the whole session.

Another one-star review followed. Me and the missus went to her for couples’ therapy. The doc tried to hit on me. We’re divorced now. Thanks for nothing, “Doctor” Danvers!

Hate to say it, because she’s smart and all, but the woman needs a shower.Two stars.

I urge you to look elsewhere to have your mental health treated. I’m no better after seeing her for five years.One star.

Then came the review that pushed Holly over the edge. It didn’t even have a star rating, only a text narrative. Wish I could give zero stars here. But nothing will bring Dad back. If his depression was cured, Dr. Danvers, how do you explain the shotgun blast?

Holly, who already had her suspicions, turned to a cyber investigator. He tracked the IP address of the troll to Graham’s high school. When she confronted Graham, the then fifteen-year-old not only denied any involvement but tried to frame his own brother. As always, Aaron attempted to smooth things over. The incident led to their first separation. Even after Aaron and Holly reconciled, her relationship with his son was permanently fractured.

She shakes off the unpleasant memory as Aaron steps closer. “I missed you, Holl,” he says. “Six months is too long to wait for a night like that.”

“Agreed.”

He kisses her cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well. I’ve being missing that comforter.”

“There’s an easy fix for that.”

“You don’t mind if I take it back to my place?”

His pinched smile betrays his annoyance. “Even easier than that.”

“Last night was lovely, Aaron. But it doesn’t change anything.”

He eyes her incredulously. “Do you have any idea how many married couples would kill for what we still have after ten years? That kind of connection and passion?”

Unshaven, his salt-and-pepper hair ruffled, and his housecoat worn, he looks a little haggard to her. Older, too. But Holly still finds Aaron attractive in that same nerdy intellectual way that originally caught her eye. She has always been a sucker for that look. “Passion has never been our problem,” she says.

He strokes her cheek lightly. “Graham’s doing better. He won’t be an issue for us.”

Not only will he always be an issue for us, he’s proof of your fallibility as a father and a therapist. But she sees no point in arguing. “It’s not only him.”

“We have other challenges. Of course. What couple doesn’t ten years into a marriage? But we always do better as a team. Take, for example, what you’ve gone through this past week. Hasn’t it helped to have me around?”

“You know it has, Aaron. And I hope I’ve been clear how appreciative I am.”

“You have,” he says. “OK, enough about that. How are you feeling?”

“Confused,” she admits.

He cups her chin. “It’s been a while.”

“I meant about Elaine.”

“Oh.” He takes his hand from her face. “You’re still not willing to give yourself a break?”

“More than willing. Believe me, if I could just switch off the guilt, I would.” Holly pauses. She still can’t fathom how Elaine could have injected herself. It doesn’t make sense. But she doesn’t have the energy to rehash it with him. “You did make an excellent point yesterday, though. About the other patients. The ones that psychedelic therapy has helped.”

“Me?” he asks in mock surprise. “What’s that old saying? Give an infinite number of monkeys a typewriter and eventually one of them will write a Shakespearean sonnet.”

“Well, Curious George, I think you might’ve typed one yesterday.” She chuckles. “I do have other clients. As a matter of fact, six of them alone in Elaine’s group. They’re all doing better on psychedelic therapy. All of them still sober or abstinent.”

“What becomes of that group now?”

Holly has been pondering that very question. After Elaine’s death, Holly canceled the group’s weekly ketamine infusion, but she didn’t call off the one-on-one sessions, which are scheduled for tomorrow. She wonders how many of them, if any, will show up. And will they still see themselves as a tribe after losing one of their own?