Chapter 18

JJ, who is the last appointment of the day, sits uncharacteristically still in the chair across from Holly. Unlike previous visits, JJ is dressed plainly in jeans and a simple black top. Her bracelets are gone. And her mood is as subdued as her outfit. Usually, the animated socialite is painfully forthcoming on everything from her alcoholism to her multiple failed marriages. Normally, she laughs freely and often. She cries openly whenever she discusses the series of devastating miscarriages that crushed her dreams of motherhood. And JJ usually shows up to her appointments with food or other small gifts—candles, potpourri, and assorted bric-a-brac—for Holly and Tanya, despite Holly’s attempts to dissuade her.

Not only did JJ show up empty-handed today, but she has kept her eyes fixed to the floor and hardly uttered more than a few words since sitting down.

Unable to engage JJ on anything else, Holly finally raises the topic of Elaine. “I understand the whole group visited Elaine the day she died.”

JJ shoots forward in her seat. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?”

JJ shakes her head adamantly. “It wasn’t my idea to go!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just curious why you went as a group.”

JJ’s gaze falls to her lap. “It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“I mean… look what ended up happening.”

“I’m not following, JJ,” Holly says. “Are you suggesting Elaine’s overdose was somehow related to the group’s visit?”

“No, no.” JJ shifts in her chair. “But Elaine was beside herself. And us being there wasn’t helping one bit. Plus…”

Holly waits for her to finish the thought.

JJ shakes her head. “The optics are bad.”

“Bad how?”

“Just plain bad.”

“Why? Because it would look like you were all acting in your own self-interest? Pressuring Elaine into silence?”

“All of it!” JJ stares at Holly with eyes that border on frantic. “Just terrible.”

After the comment, JJ retreats back into near silence. She appears to be relieved as the session ends, and she hurries out of the office without so much as a goodbye.

As soon as JJ is gone, Holly leans back in her chair and stares at the ceiling fixture, barely conscious of the soft thrum of the central AC in the background. Aside from waving goodbye to Tanya, who tentatively pokes her head into the office to say she is going home, Holly barely moves a muscle in the next fifteen minutes. She realizes she should be documenting the group’s response to Elaine’s death or working on a chapter for her book, which her publisher wants to take to market as soon as possible, but she feels absolutely drained. Not so much from the long office day, but rather from the relentless swirl of recent events.

Holly is relieved that five of the six remaining group members are eager to resume their ketamine therapy. JJ was less committal, probably because she seems to have taken Elaine’s death so much harder than any of the others.

Elaine continues to weigh heavily on Holly’s mind, too. She can’t believe how many people are aware of Elaine’s accusations. It’s bad enough that Graham found out, but it bothers Holly even more that the whole tribe knows. She can’t believe they went to see Elaine en masse. Had they really thought they could talk her out of those allegations? Did their visit help push her to overdose? Or did one of them actually lend a hand?

Holly’s phone buzzes on her desk. She can tell from the distinct staccato pattern that Aaron is calling, but she doesn’t reach for it. She has already ignored two of his previous calls and only responded to his texts with a single, deliberately terse reply: Sorry, tied up for the day.

Her charged conversation with Graham aside, Holly regrets having slept with Aaron. It was the wrong message to send him when she is still so doubtful about their future.

“At least you’re consistent,” she mutters to herself, thinking of how screwed up her personal and professional lives are.

Holly’s eyes drift to the slot under her desk where her purse sits. Even though its clasp is closed, she can sense the DMT pen inside. She thinks again of the peace it brought her the last time she vaped. Holly knows how unprofessional it would be to vape in her own office but, unable to resist the temptation, she digs the pen out of the purse. Clutching it tightly in her palm, she heads over to the group therapy room. After closing the door behind her, she lowers herself onto the same chair where Elaine used to sit.

After putting on headphones, Holly chooses a classic folk-rock playlist from her phone and hits shuffle. Immediately, the melodic guitar riff of James Taylor’s intro to “Fire and Rain” fills her ears, and it’s impossible for Holly to overlook the irony of opening with a song about suicide.

After lowering her blindfold over her eyes, she brings the cool tip of the vape to her lips and inhales the acrid vapor, fighting off the cough and holding her breath for as long as she can. She exhales, and the stench stings her nostrils. She catches her breath and immediately takes another long drag.

Holly has barely exhaled again when a light show explodes behind her mask. The dazzling dance of colors is more beautiful than the northern lights and more intense than a mid-August meteor shower.

Holly is overcome by the oddest sensation. It’s like her skin is peeling away from her body. And yet, there is nothing distressing about it. On the contrary, the feeling is comforting. It’s as if her soul is being freed from the rest of her, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

She feels herself morphing into a form of pure light. She watches in awe as her spirit melds with the infinite luminescence enshrouding her. She no longer feels like a distinct entity, but rather a miniscule fragment of a much greater being.

A nearby cluster of lights suddenly coalesces into the shape of a face, which shatters her sense of tranquility the moment Holly recognizes it.

Elaine?She gasps.

Elaine’s disembodied face stares back, free of the anger and blame that burned in her eyes on their last encounter. Instead, she radiates profound sadness. Why? she whimpers. Sorrow and confusion tumble over her lips in a dark stream that cools the air around them.

Holly’s mind races with assumptions, all of them useless. Why what, Elaine?

Why am I here?

Holly looks around at an immense cedar forest, cool and green. Occasionally, shafts of sunlight penetrate the gloom. The earth is black and damp. I… I don’t know.

The face glows brighter. You do! You must.

I don’t!Holly feels guilt flutter in her heart. You overdosed, Elaine. But I don’t understand it. You told me you were done forever. No more opioids.

I was done.

But I saw you, Elaine. In the chair. The needle by your foot. Did somebody do this to you?

Needles terrify me.Elaine’s eyes are black pools. Something ripples in their depths.

A drifting sensation sweeps over Holly. As if she can feel herself dissolving. Tell me, Elaine. Please! What happened to you?

A rustling in the underbrush nearby makes Holly spin around. But all is quiet and still, save the dust motes in the sunbeams. When she turns back, Elaine is gone.

Holly’s terror deepens. She looks down at her hands to see her fingers disappearing into wisps of smoke, and struggles to keep herself whole, having no idea how to accomplish it.

Another voice from somewhere in the forest: Hollycopter.

The release is immediate, an outpouring of love. Daddy!

She cannot see her father, but she senses that he is there beside her. She feels his roots supporting her and his boughs shading her. She is filled with the certainty that he is the towering cedar to her left. He is light, soft, resinous, and durable; he is connected to every other tree in this forest in a vast network of vibrational energies.

It’s all right, Hollycopter. Everything will be OK.

No, Daddy. Nothing will ever be okay again. Elaine…

Her father’s voice comes from underground, through a thousand vibrating rootlets. It’s not your fault. Not Elaine’s death, and not mine.

She feels deep inside that this is true, that all is well, and she lies down on the damp black earth to look up between the branches to the blue sky beyond. As above, so below, she thinks, and wonders where the thought comes from.

Her teeth begin to chatter, and her arms and legs tremble violently, evaporating into curls and wisps of smoke that mix with the motes in the sunbeams. Unable to control her body, Holly decides to surrender, allowing the energy to dissipate of its own accord, flowing out into the forest around her.

Holly gathers her bearings. She feels the soft leather of the chair against her back and the cloth over her eyes. Over the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar, Holly hears a click. Then footsteps. She reaches up and yanks the mask away from her eyes, suddenly alert and sober.

She glances urgently around the room, but it appears the same as when she had first sat down.

Then she notices. The door is ajar.