Page 18 of The Last Session

“No.” She said it stonily.

“All right.” I took a beat. “Do you remember coming here?”

“I don’t remember anything.” Now she looked anguished, her eyes turning glassy with tears.

“That’s okay,” I said. “You were in a catatonic state.”

“They told me. I didn’t know that actually happened to people.”

I took a breath. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

She closed her eyes. “I’m not sure. It all feels blurry.”

“Okay.” Better not to push. Even though Catherine had to remembersomethingto make her not want anyone to visit her here.

We were quiet for a minute.

“Can you talk to me?” she asked in a small voice. “Like, I don’t know… maybe tell me about yourself?” Her eyes were still closed.

“Sure.” The request jolted me. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything.” She lifted a hand. “Where are you from?”

Casual dinner party convo. I hid a smile. “I’m from upstate New York. A town you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Are you Irish?” Her eyes opened into slits.

“Oh, the red hair?” I tucked a strand behind my ear. “Yeah, my mom’s side. What about you?”

“Dad’s side.” Her lips curled. “So it’s real. You don’t dye it.”

“Nope.” There were fewer of us than you’d think.

“Me either.” She studied me, her gaze so intense it felt like a touch. “We look alike.”

“Oh yeah?” My chest swelled. My thirteen-year-old self woulddie.

“How old are you?” she asked.

I paused at the unexpected question. You were only supposed to disclose personal information if you could make a case for it being beneficial for the patient.

But wasn’t this a clear example? Catherine was alone and afraid. She was trying to connect with me.

“Thirty-three,” I said evenly.

She blinked. “Me too. What’s your birthday?”

“Um…” Giving the exact date—even if it matched hers—felt like going too far.

“Late October?” she asked.

I didn’t answer, just stared at her dumbly, but her creased forehead smoothed out. She nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.

Why was she assuming that just because we looked similar and were the same age, we’d have the same birthday? I didn’t quite understand what was going on, but I was sure Diane wouldn’t find any of this professional. I cleared my throat, aware that other patients could be overhearing our conversation.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” I asked to change the subject.

“When will I see you again?”

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