Chapter 19

Long before Holly bought herself a watch that tracked her daily steps, she loved to walk. Sometimes she wonders if it’s built into her DNA. Even as a young child, she used to trek miles with her parents and grandparents. And ever since she moved into her fourth-floor rental unit in the condo building off Cliff Road, she often leaves her car in the garage and walks the one-and-a-half miles to and from work.

As she approaches the entrance to her building now, she sees the stooped form of an elderly man sitting on the bench under the front light.

“Papa!” she says, hurrying up to the door to greet him. “Is everything OK?”

“Everything is fine, Koala.”

“How did you get here?”

Walter rises stiffly from the seat. “How does anyone get anywhere these days? Uber.”

“Hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

“Ten minutes? Maybe fifteen. At my age, who keeps time?”

She kisses him on the cheek, inhaling the reassuringly familiar scent of his cologne, a mix of sage and mint. “Why didn’t you call first?”

“I took a chance.” He shrugs. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

Holly grins. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Come on in.” She links elbows with him and leads him through the door and up the elevator, forgoing the staircase this once.

As soon as they’re inside her condo, Holly puts on the kettle and steeps two cups of jasmine tea. She brings one over to him on the living room couch. “I can’t remember the last time you dropped in on me.”

“And I can’t remember what I had for lunch or breakfast.” He chuckles. “I don’t get out much since this macular degeneration set in. But I do miss being able to drive myself. Matter of fact, after your grandmother, it’s the thing I miss the very most about my eighties.” He laughs. “Ah, how youth is wasted on the young.”

“And yet you’re here now?”

“I can’t visit my own granddaughter? When did you become so suspicious?”

“Papa…”

“I had to pick up a prescription in town.” His blue eyes are paler than they used to be but just as penetrating. “I wanted to see you, all right? I’ve been concerned. After the way you lost your patient…”

Holly can’t stop herself from wrapping him in another hug. It occurs to her that his love is the only unconditional thing she has in her life.

“Is it that bad, Koala?” he asks with his rough face still pressed to her cheek.

“I don’t know,” she says, releasing him. “So much has happened in the past few days.”

“My Uber ride wasn’t cheap. Make it worth my while. Tell your papa.”

And she does. Holly describes how she reconnected with Aaron, despite her ongoing ambivalence about their relationship, and her subsequent confrontation with his son. She admits to her gnawing guilt over Elaine’s death, which is compounded by her relief that Elaine’s allegations will never see the light of day. And then Holly tells Walter about her mixed feelings over continuing psychedelic therapy with the remaining group members.

Walter studies her quizzically. “The others in this group? They want to continue with psychedelics?”

“They do, yes.”

He nods. “Losing a patient to suicide or an overdose… it happens to all psychiatrists, no?”

“To most. And I get it. If my client had been on some well-established antidepressant, of course, I wouldn’t stop that same medication on all the other patients it was helping.”

Walter reaches for his cup without commenting.

“But as we’ve discussed, Papa, I’m pushing the boundary of mainstream medicine and psychiatry. We know how effective psychedelics are, but there are so many doubters. A lot of people are watching, some of whom want us to fail. Especially since Simon went public. If that reporter from the Orange County Register ever found out about Elaine…” She whistles.

“Has anyone linked your patient’s death to psychedelics?”

“No.” She hesitates. “At least, not yet.”

“Not yet? I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure how long it can stay a secret. Too many people know about Elaine’s allegations.”

Walter tilts his head. “Who knows?”

“The whole group. Graham knows, too. He overheard us on Aaron’s car phone.”

Walter’s wordless sigh is enough to convey his understanding.

“I saw Elaine again today. In a vision.”

The creases around Walter’s eyes deepen. “A vision? On DMT?”

“Yes. Just before I left the office. I thought another trip might help… clarify things.”

“Did it?”

“No. But the hallucination, it was so vivid. Elaine was demanding to know why she overdosed.”

“Oh, Koala, you know these visions are merely projections of our own thoughts and emotions. They’re the embodiment of our musings and hopes. Self-fulfilling hallucinations, if you will. You can’t read too much into them.” He chuckles. “Not that I haven’t been guilty of doing the same myself too many times.”

“But in this case, they’re also a projection of my doubt and suspicions.”

“Suspicions?”

“What happened to Elaine doesn’t add up.”

“What doesn’t add up?”

“I’m trained to recognize the signs of suicidality. But the last time I saw her—the day before her death—Elaine didn’t show a flicker of intent.”

“But her overdose could have been accidental, no?”

“I suppose, but she was terrified of needles. I wonder if someone else might have been there.” Holly sighs. “Especially since I just found out that the rest of the group went to her home to confront her. To talk her out of posting her accusations. On the very day she died.”

“Maybe that was the straw that broke the camel’s back?”

“Yeah, maybe,” she mutters, but she is unconvinced. “There’s something else, too.”

“Tell me.”

“When I came to after vaping the DMT this afternoon, the door to my office was open.”

He frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“My office was locked. Everyone was gone for the day. And… Papa, I was careful to shut the door before I vaped.”

“Do you not have cleaners?”

“We do, yes. But they usually come later.”

Walter stares at her. “Holly, these growing suspicions of yours…”

She realizes that she must sound a little paranoid and wonders if it could be a lingering effect from the DMT. “You’re right. It was probably just the cleaners.”

They lapse into brief silence as they both sip their tea. “I had a second vision on that DMT trip,” she says.

“What else did you see?”

“Dad. I didn’t really see him. I felt him.”

Walter stares down into his cup. “Oh.”

“He told me it wasn’t my fault.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Elaine’s death.” She hesitates. “The car accident, too. It was just like those visions I had of Dad in Peru. But maybe it’s always just been wishful thinking? Like you said, self-fulfilling hallucinations. Projecting what I wanted to hear because I’ve never been able to remember what happened.”

Walter says nothing. He won’t even look at her. Her grandfather is never someone to shy away from difficult conversations or emotions. Except when it comes to the memory of his only son. Especially the circumstances of his death.