“Dr. Ellis is the only therapist in town, so I didn’t really have a choice. I didn’t know I needed your permission to work through my grief. Sorry for not submitting the proper paperwork for your approval.”
“That’s not what I meant, I…” She winces apologetically. “You have to admit it’s weird, meeting here after… you know.”
Dr. Ellis appears in the doorway of the office. “Mr. Thane?”
“Yeah, just a second.” I stare at Marlowe for a long moment, and she stares at me.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I forgot that you were grieving Lou. I can be selfish sometimes. Self-absorbed. It’s a thing I’m working on, among many other worse things. I’m pretty much a total mess, so, you know… stay far away.” She laughs lightly, nervously, but her eyes are serious. It’s a very real warning.
I don’t know how to respond, so I say, “Okay.”
“Good. Well, have a nice… Have a… Bye.” She hurries out the door.
Despite the effects of the emotive potion, I’m tempted to either laugh out loud or run after her again.
“Mr. Thane,” urges Dr. Ellis.
“Coming.”
I follow the doctor into her office and seat myself in one of the overstuffed leather chairs. The armrests are wornalong the edges, and there are grooves where someone dug their fingernails in. For some reason those marks bother me. They’re the scars left by pain. Did Marlowe leave them? Is it possible she hurts that badly? Why does it pain me to think of her suffering so much?
My eyes are watering, and I brush the tears away hastily. But of course the doctor notices.
“It’s good to see you showing some emotion, Mr. Thane, especially after our last session.” She settles into her own chair.
“Nah, it’s not that, it’s—well, I drank some of this sadness and anger potion I made. Stupid, really. Shouldn’t have done it. I had to do the whole lunch rush while I was swerving back and forth between grief and rage like a drunk guy on a country road at night.”
I chuckle. The doctor doesn’t.
I clear my throat. “I’ll admit, it did feel good, letting those emotions out. I hadn’t cried since Lou passed, not until today. Maybe I needed to. So yeah, it seems I’ve processed everything pretty well already.” I grip the armrests of the chair and push myself to my feet. “Guess I don’t need to be here after all.”
“Sit down, Mr. Thane.” Dr. Ellis tilts her chin down and looks at me over the tops of her glasses. It’s the look of a teacher… no, a school principal.
I plop into the chair again.
“Tell me more about this potion you made for yourself,” she says.
“It wasn’t for me. It was forher. That girl with the black hair… I mean, thatwoman. She didn’t trust me to brew the right thing for her. She kept saying she wantedeverything exactly like Lou used to do it. Well, I’m not Lou, am I?”
The doctor watches me, not answering, and I realize that I raised my voice on the last question.
“Sorry,” I say. “I just… I’ll never be Lou. The most I can ever be is myself.”
“And you’re afraid that’s not enough.”
I realize I’m digging my own fingernails into the armrests, and I ease my grip. Slowly I inhale, then let out a long sigh.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I’m afraid it’s not going to be enough. It never is.”
6
The town council meeting has never dragged on so long. I sit in agonized suspense, waiting for the time slot they always reserve at the end, the opportunity for any questions the townspeople might have.
Rick Thane sits on the far right side of the room, and I keep sneaking glances at him. He looks like a grouchy, scruffy, broad-shouldered lumberjack dressed in plaid, waiting to ruin my life.
Tess and Ashala volunteered to come with me tonight, but I needed them to do a few chores, like stocking up on some extra supplies and canceling our weekend clients. We’re keeping the group on Thursday evening, but beyondthat, I can’t risk having visitors at the stables—not until the situation with Val is resolved.
My confession to Tess and Ashala went so well that I actually started to have hope, to think that maybe Crescent Cove could accept me, after all. But the second I walked into the town hall and saw the members of the admittance board, that hope drained from my body. I remember the face-to-face interviews, the panel examination, the questions they asked. I remember how alone I felt and how certain I was that they wouldn’t let me stay, that I was too innately evil.
