“No. Not him. No. He didn’t push me or hurt me or anything, if that’s what you’re going to ask.”
“And you’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then I’d ask him.”
Fiona nodded.
“Do you remember having a conversation with him?”
“No. It’s more like I hear him calling me. I’m not sure that isn’t wishful thinking. It’s all very dreamlike. Doesn’t seem so real, you know?”
“I’d check with him.”
“Yeah.”
“Is there a reason you haven’t done that already?”
Fiona felt a spike of heat in her face and hoped Katherine wouldn’t see it. But the woman didn’t miss much.
“Are these the emotions you were referring to?” Katherine asked.
“It’s complicated,” Fiona said.
“The point being that there can easily be two elements to the memory loss: physical and emotional. If you can get past the emotional, the physical may repair faster.”
“What if I don’t want to know?”
“Can memory loss protect us? Absolutely. Discounting the physical, organic element to such loss, we believe that’s a major factor: obscuring the memory of the original incident, the painful, physical trauma. It’s too much to face at first. The body has to heal, has to put distance between itself and the accident, before the brain allows us to relive it. But it does come back. It will.”
“And if it’s too much to face? What then?”
“I get the feeling, Fiona, that you know much more than you’re sharing. It’s okay to share your fears. Your suspicions. That’s what I’m here for. Please don’t prejudge yourself. Don’t think you can shock me or that I’ll judge you in any way for what you’re thinking. It doesn’t work like that. I’m here to help. I’m equipped to deal with whatever you may throw at me. I want to help you. Please.”
Fiona stared back through fearful eyes.
“The man involved. Tell me about him.”
“No, thank you.”
“You said he’s a friend. More than a friend?”
“Yes, but just recently.”
“The night—”
“No. But recent.”
“And you’re afraid to ask him if he came by, if he called for you. I can see that. You don’t want to sound needy. You don’t want to sound injured or damaged.”
“It isn’t that.”
“Then it’s . . . ?” Katherine viewed her compassionately.
“Complicated,” she said. “I explained that.”
“He’s married? Something like that?”
“No. I mean, yes, but no . . . not like that.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m good.”
“To the contrary, you wouldn’t be here if you were good. I could suggest we meet again soon. That you contact your friend and see if anything he tells you helps at all. I can prescribe a sleep medication if you—”
“No, thank you.”
“As you wish.”
Fiona glanced at her wristwatch.
“I have plenty of time,” Katherine said. “But I’m a student of body language and I can tell when a patient wants out.”
“It shows?”
“You could have gotten most of this off the Internet, maybe did, for all I know. That leads me to believe you came here wanting more than the Wikipedia version of memory loss. You’ve suggested there could very well be an emotional component, and yet are reluctant to discuss what that may involve. You were pushed or hit, and you have memory of a man calling your name, and I must say you display some of the indications of an abused or battered woman, including your steadfast refusal that this friend of yours could ever do such a thing to you. That’s textbook, Fiona.”
“I know that.”
“Because?”
“Because I know that,” she said.
“From experience,” Katherine said. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”
Fiona stared angrily. “You’re wrong,” she said.
“Okay, I’m wrong.”
“It’s complicated.”
“That doesn’t forgive anything. Nor does it usually explain it.”
“No, I don’t imagine so. You probably get that a lot.”
“My work is to untangle the complicated. To simplify. To help you to simplify, actually. Your brain can tie a knot across your memory, Fiona. We work together to untie that knot and the memory may very well return much quicker.”
“And if I don’t want the memory?”
“Will you block it forever? No. I would doubt that.”
“No, I didn’t think so.”
“Do you want my help?”
“I thought I did. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“You have to want it.”
Fiona set her jaw.
“Fear is so elusive,” Katherine said. “It’s a bit of a magician. It can make itself appear much larger than it actually is. It’s our unwillingness to look at it, to confront it, that allows this inflated presence. Most of the time, when we face our fears we let the air out and realize there wasn’t much to it after all.”