Page 21 of Firefly Effect

“Psychology and philosophy share the same roots, I suppose. What the human condition is versus how and why the human mind functions the ways it does.” I shrug. “I studied both, but psychology was the clear career path for me.”

Evie moves on from the painting and approaches the bookshelf that wraps the side and back walls behind my desk. This time, I follow her, staying several feet behind. She looks over the books, stopping every now and then to pull something from the shelf and examine it.

I just watch her, intrigued by her shifting focus as she moves around my office. I almost forgot that she’s here for a free consultation, but none of that matters. This is her time. Her session. And if she wants to spend it familiarizing herself with my office, then so be it.

“Certified sex therapist? That’s a thing?”

I almost choke. There’s a reason I keep that certification on the back of my bookshelf. “Uh, yeah. That’s a thing.” My urge to change the subject takes control. “Um, so you didn’t mention what brought you back here today.”

She raises one shoulder and continues past the bookshelf, around my desk, her focus centered on the single photo of Lucy and me that sits there before her eyes flit to mine. “I had a bad day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And I truly am. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Evie shakes her head, her eyes leaving mine. “Not particularly.” She continues her path around my desk and over to the long window that overlooks the road parallel to the Tuckasegee River. “I would normally call J.D. on days like this. I tried.”

A pang hits my chest. Is that guilt I feel for replacing the one man she trusted? Or jealousy for not being the one she trusts? “You can talk to me, Evie. I know I’m not Jenkins Wright, but I’m here for you in the same way.”

Doubt casts a clear shadow on her expression, moving like a dark cloud, as she walks over to the couch. “What made you want to study psychology?” she asks as she sits in a careful motion.

I reach the front of my desk and lean against it, crossing my ankles in front of me. “As a child, I always had an insatiable thirst for knowledge that only grew stronger as I aged. Books and nature were all I had to satisfy my palate until I was old enough to be on my own. At eighteen, I spent every waking minute in the library at Duke University. One of the professors there took notice of me, and we got to talking. He took me under his wing.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Just like that?”

I cock my head. “There’s a bit more to the story, but we don’t need to get into the details now. This is your time, Evie. What do you want to talk about?”

She folds her arms across her chest. “What makes you think we’re not already talking about it?”

Chuckling, I realize I might have underestimated the woman. “You’d like to know more about the professor who mentored me and helped me become who I am today?”

Her eyes sparkle as she nods. “Very much.”

Accepting that response, I sort through the many answers I could possibly give before I walk to my bookshelf to pull out the short story that changed my life. After I hand it to her, I walk back to my desk and wait.

She reads the title aloud. “Waterfall Effect.” Her brow creases as she turns to the back of the book to read the description only to find none there. “What is this?”

“An allegory.” I give her a small smile. “Written by Dr. Phillip Rohls, a philosophy professor, also known as my mentor. ‘Waterfall effect’ refers to a philosophical approach to memory and how simply existing in nature affects our memory over time. The way we bend and alter our past experiences based on our surroundings. The way we hold onto some things and forget others.”

I point to the book she’s flipping through. “That was the book my mentor found me reading in the library when he first approached me. I had no idea he was the author until we started diving into the meaning behind the work. Apparently, one of Dr. Rohls’s patients had gone through trauma that resulted in a form of amnesia. She was a victim in a string of mysterious murders in Balsam Grove, not too far from here—the only victim lucky enough to make it out alive.”

“I heard about that,” Evie says, her eyes wide with what looks like fear. “That poor girl. They say the person who did it found victims all over the Appalachians. What he did to them was…” She trails off, shuddering.

I nod, remembering it too. “It changed her forever. Well, Dr. Rohls dedicated his allegory after her. In fact,” I add, surprised at myself for wanting to tell her this next bit, “I’m writing a little something of my own.”

Evie relaxes into the back of the couch, a smile tilting her lips. “Tell me more.”

My own smile widens in response. “I think I’ve already overshared. Should we turn the tables back around to you?”

“Not yet,” she says. “I have one more question.”

I raise my eyebrows in anticipation.

“Why do you have so many certifications that have nothing to do with your practice?” she finally asks.

Tilting my head, I try to search her eyes, but the twelve feet of distance between us makes it hard. “I use them all in some way or another.”

Her eyes narrow, but a small smile still plays on her lips. “Certified sex therapist? Explain that one.”

“Okay.” I chuckle. “A couple of years ago, I had a longtime patient I’d been seeing for her commitment issues. When she finally met the right person, she couldn’t live up to his expectations in bed. I was only able to explore so much with her and ended up losing her as a client. That was when I took up the additional studies, so that would never happen again.”

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