Page 155 of The Last Session

Dawne and Ramit filled the screen. They were sitting on stools, in front of a background of a tidy, blank living room.

“My name is Dawne.” Her makeup, so flashy in real life, looked perfect on-screen. “I was at the Center for Relational Healing and left about a week before the massacre.” She turned to look at Ramit.

“I’m Ramit.” He seemed much more uncomfortable, his eyes wide and darting. “I was also at the Center before the massacre.”

“It’s actually really ironic.” Dawne squeezed Ramit’s arm. “We wentto the Center to find love, but we found only hate. When Ramit and I reconnected in LA to process what we’d been through, we realized the answer was right in front of us.” A grin overtaking her face, she held up her left hand. “We each found our soulmate.” The camera panned in on the enormous diamond, glittering merrily in the studio lights.

I’d sent my parents an article (the least garish one) so they knew what had happened, but Mom didn’t ask about it beyond “Are you okay?” when picking me up from the station. Her lip curled with unconscious distaste: my suffering still made her acutely uncomfortable. Dad gave me a slightly longer hug than normal when I saw him at the house but didn’t bring it up.

That night—like every night—I hoped to dream about Catherine. But I woke without remembering anything. I took a long walk around the property on Saturday, taking pictures of the flowers springing up. The daffodils were so cheerful-looking.

Mom and Dad were surprised when I said I wanted to go to church with them on Sunday morning. We drove there in silence, my dress hanging on me because of the cave-induced weight loss I was still recovering from. The brick building came into view with the familiar sign out front:OUR SAVIOR CHURCH AND SCHOOL.

Decades later, my parents still went faithfully to the hybrid church/school that had so affected me. In college I’d finally refused to go—a bold move for me—so it had been many years since I’d been back. It looked exactly the same as I remembered. I glanced at the jungle gym on the way in; the rubber surface of the ground looked new. I pictured my younger self standing by the slide, posing for the class picture.

It smelled the same too. A mixture of cleaning products and sweaty children and mustiness. We passed the gym and several classrooms on the way in. Up the stairs, past the enormous picture of a blond, pretty Jesus standing over his flock.

I felt strangely calm. At least until I saw her, standing in a group of people talking in the narthex. My old best friend Melissa, jiggling a baby in her arms.

My chest tightened as she glanced at me, sensing my gaze. She looked shockingly like her mom two decades before. I remembered mylast message to her:Maybe ask your amazing husband how he took advantage of me on our eighth-grade trip while calling me horrible things (fat, ugly, etc). Unless you knew already?

But as if nothing had happened, she grinned. “Oh my gosh! Thea!” She hurried over and pulled me in for a half hug. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Meyer! Oh yes, this is my youngest, Luke.”

The surprise quickly melted away. Of course she wasn’t going to bring up my message. She and I had both been raised in an environment where people constantly pretended not to see the upsetting things going on around them. I thought suddenly of Mrs. Iona, our eighth-grade teacher, who had placidly ignored the daily bullying happening right under her nose.

I pasted a smile on my face as she chatted with my parents, who excused themselves to get their preferred seats. I scanned behind her for Adam. That old fear reared up, but as Melissa watched me, swaying with her baby, a wave of calm washed over me.

I’d gone through more than either of them could imagine. This was nothing.

“Is Adam here too?” I’d go right up to him, stare him in the face, and shake his hand, if only to let him know that I was here, that I existed.

“He’s on a boys’ trip this weekend.” She smiled less brightly, her lips pressed together. “Anyway, how are you? I haven’t seen you here in forever. What brings you back?”

“Oh, you know. Just wanted to get out of the city.”

She nodded sagely as Luke burbled at me. “I’ve heard it can be a lot.” She grinned. “Please tell me you’re staying for the reunion next weekend?”

“I’m thinking about it,” I lied.

“Great!” She seemed satisfied. “We can catch up more then.”

“Mommy!” A toddler ran up to Melissa and grabbed her leg, staring up at me.

“This is Catherine.” Melissa put a protective hand on her head.

The name startled me. “Catherine?”

“Say hi, honey,” Melissa directed.

“Hi,” she said shyly. While Luke had his mom’s blue eyes and wide mouth, Catherine’s dark curls and dimple were pure Adam.

“Hi there.” I smiled at her. Just a coincidence. Nothing more.

“Let’s go find Mrs. Becker.” Melissa took her hand. “We’ll chat more next weekend, okay?”

“Sounds good.” I squared my shoulders and went into the church.

Thirty minutes later, I studied Pastor John at the pulpit, expounding on Jesus’s miraculous return. The sickly-sweet scent from the Easter lilies filled the sanctuary.

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