In my dreams, my mother spoke in Paige’s voice. “Ari, my Ari. Promise me you won’t forget about me.”
Transcript
Session #7
“I want to apologize for the last session. I was out of line.”
“Thank you for the apology, but I want you to feel free to be yourself in this room.”
“Even if the real me is probably a manipulative psychopath?”
“That’s a very strong word. It gets thrown around a lot in the media but I’d caution you not to label yourself without cause. Even if you do it to yourself, it has a mental impact.”
“Wow, you sound like you really care.”
“I do. You’re an extraordinary individual.”
“Well . . . you’ve surprised me.”
“Despite all you’ve achieved, you have a very low opinion of yourself. You’ve told me some of what your father said to you in childhood. I think it’s time we discussed the issue more in-depth—perhaps you could start by telling me a bit more about your parents’ relationship.”
“What do you want to know?”
“For one, did your parents ever have strong disagreements?”
[Extended laughter]
29
Dr. Tawera managed to squeeze me in at around ten the next morning.
With my head pounding from a sleepless night and the furry taste of medication lingering in my throat, I wasn’t in the mood for bad news, but that’s what she gave me. “You keep this up and I’ll have to put you back in a cast.” She pursed her full lips, her dark brown eyes pinning me to the spot.
“It’s been an unusual couple of days.” It came out hard, cold.
“Be that as it may, Aarav,” she said with her usual crispness, “unless you want to ruin your healing, or end up less mobile than you are now, you’ll take it far easier than you have been to date.” When she turned, I saw the thick strands of silver in the black hair she’d pulled back into a bun. “Give it two days before you start any significant movement.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, but nodded. She was right. She had the degrees, and the experience, and she’d gotten me this far. I might have sociopathic tendencies, but I didn’t think I knew everything. “Thanks.” I took the prescription she held out.
“Be careful with these pain meds. Conforming to your request to stay away from anything addictive, they’re not opioids, but they’re still not great for your stomach lining.”
“Okay.”
“And ditch the cane, dashing as it looks. You need to go back to the crutches.”
Fuck.
I was still in the same bad mood when I got out of my sedan in the Cul-de-Sac—on my crutches, which I’d thrown in the back of the car because I’d suspected this might be the outcome. I’d filled the prescription and was about to reach inside the car to get the meds when I heard my name in a familiar female voice.
Diana was waving at me from out front of her property, where she was pulling weeds from the large planters she kept at the start of their gently sloping drive. Juvenile nīkau palms thrived in those planters, but native flora or not, Diana’s landscaping had always been a little too “clean” for this environment.
She didn’t have the masses of bush out front that covered every other property. Her tree ferns and subtropical plants were neat and controlled—and not at all allowed in the large area that was her dormant rose garden. Visible from the street, those roses were her pride and joy, and she was happy for people from the neighborhood to go up and have a look when the flowers were in bloom.
“Coffee?” she called out.
Leaving the meds in the car, I made my way across the road. Taking my pain to a sympathetic listener.
“Paul will be disappointed you’ve ditched his cane,” she said after kissing me on the cheek. “He was chuffed to see you using it. Was telling me all about it yesterday.”
“Apparently I was trying to run before I could walk,” I said, mimicking Dr. Tawera’s stern tone and unforgiving manner.
“Oh, ouch.” She gave me a gentle hug, her perfume soft and floral. “Come on in. I’ve got just the treat to lift your bad mood.”
I groaned. “I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it.”
Laughing, she touched me on the hand. “I have children, remember? And I’ve known you forever.” She led me up the drive and to the very back of the house, careful to keep things at a pace I could manage. Once we were inside her sprawling kitchen, she