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“That’s good,” says Dr. Davis. “A very healthy outlook.”
“It was still somber, though. Maybe a little unsettling, I guess. I shouldn’t have made it exactly like it used to be. I can wake up in the morning and see all of my old furniture, see all of my old appliances, all of my old toiletries and grocery brands, and it’s almost like I never left. I could almost pretend that year was a dream, for a while. That’s probably not healthy.”
Davis grins.
“You know otherwise. You’re not deluding yourself. That’s what matters.”
I pour myself a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the coffee table in front of me.
“Do you think it’s weird I went back there instead of finding a new home?” I ask.
Not that she would ever call it weird, but she must know what I mean.
“I think it’s completely understandable, Kate. Reclaiming your old life was the goal. This is a tangible part of it, one that’s a good starting point for what comes next.”
I nod, taking a deep breath.
The conversation had to get here eventually. The last few sessions, I put it off. Dr. Davis let me. But, there’s no sense delaying any longer.
“Going back to work,” I say, finishing her thought.
“How do you feel about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why’s that, Kate?”
I lean back into the soft couch cushions and stare up at the ceiling.
“It’s a lot of things, all at once. Excitement. Terror. Pride. Resentment.”
Dr. Davis nods.
“That’s a lot to unpack. Take me through it.”
Sipping my water helps settle the tremor in my stomach.
“When I was with Ingram, I told him how what I really wanted was to be a reporter again. I wanted to clear my name, salvage my reputation and keep doing what I love. So, it’s great to be diving back in, even if it isn’t the same. You know what I mean?”
She nods.
“And the terror?”
I could probably spend an entire session on that.
“When I first started my career, people treated me like a dilettante — like I was walking around in Daddy’s shoes and they were way too big for my feet. It pissed me off, but I accepted it. I spent years proving myself, but the whole time, I always knew where I stood. Now, I have no idea what people are going to think of me. Will they pity me or hate me? Will they trust me, or despise me? Will they see past what I went through, or am I always going to be reporting from a ‘certain perspective?’ It’s so much uncertainty. I just want to report. My history shouldn’t be a factor.”
“You overcame people’s doubts once before, Kate. You can do it again,” Dr. Davis says. “Your story is far from over.”
“Thanks. But what if people won’t forgive me for lying to them? What if they don’t accept that it was all made up? Millions of people tuned in to Kate Atwood Live. They ate it up. They have a right to be pissed. And that’s to say nothing of the fallout from the Masters.”
“True. That’s only temporary, though. The world is still reeling. More of the Masters’ accomplices keep getting arrested every day, so it’s still in the news. But that won’t go on forever.”
“Yes, it will. The congressional hearings for testimony of the survivors are nearly finished, but the lawsuits are going to take decades. There will be news about the Masters for the foreseeable future.”
“Not on the front pages,” Dr. Davis argues. “The world will move on. Some new story always takes people’s interests.”
Is that supposed to make me feel better? I want people to remember what happened, to know how easily they were taken advantage of and lied to. Others could go through what I did if we fail to learn from the past.
