Page 100 of The Last Session

“Deal.” So Karen, at least, still had some sense of agency. I followed her. “During that group meeting, you said something about needing to figure out if you felt ‘the right way’ about me? What did that mean?”

Instead of answering, Karen gave me a long look. “You have children, Thea?”

“No.” It always felt strange when people asked me that, although there were plenty of people younger than my thirty-three years who did.

“Me either. But it’s strange, because for my whole life I’ve felt like a mother.” She shrugged. “When my sister had kids, I assumed that would fulfill it. But no. I love Grace and her brothers very much, butthey don’t feel like my children. There was even this point where I thought about adopting in my forties. But Art and I decided against it. It was weird, this feeling, like… what do they call it? Phantom limb? Like I already had kids, but I didn’t know who they were. When I came here and met Catherine… well.” She smiled, sticking her hands into her cargo pants. “I felt it immediately. This sense that Catherine was my daughter.”

“And when you met Steven, you felt like he was your husband?” I broke in.

Karen scratched her chin. “He annoyed me, in a really personal way, even though he didn’t do a thing to me. I don’t think our marriage was a happy one.”

“Okay. But you felt motherly towards Catherine.”

“Yes. Straightaway.” She glanced at me. “I feel the same way about you.”

Her words made me uncomfortable. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I had felt a warmth, even a protectiveness, from Karen this weekend.

But it was just her, right? Wouldn’t anyone feel this way towards an older woman with twinkling eyes and a kind smile?

“Why did you have to pretend to be new here?” I asked.

“I needed to be able to interact with you intimately. So I could know.” She leaned in, eager to explain. “You didn’t hang out much with Grace or Steven, right?”

“Right,” I conceded. A new question arose. “By the way, your session—were you just making all that up?”

“Not at all.” She sounded firm. “I’ve broken my pattern, but it’s not hard to tap back into it. It will always exist inside of me.”

We arrived at the courtyard, and Karen walked us confidently up flights of stairs and down halls until we reached Catherine’s door. She knocked. “Hon? It’s me, Karen. Thea’s here with me. She wants to talk to you.”

After a second, the door opened. Catherine waited, her face blank.

“Okay.” Karen nodded at me. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Back inside Catherine’s room, I had more time to process what I was seeing. It was messy in here: piles of clothes on the floor, sheets hanging off the bed. The table, scattered with books, held a full plate of untouched food: eggs, toast, yogurt topped with berries.

“Not hungry?” I sat at the table and touched the nearest book:TheChalice and the Blade, a vintage paperback with a rounded goddess statue on the front.

“No.” She plopped across from me, looking much the way she had in the yoga tent: drained, deflated.

“So…” I wondered how to begin. This was my one chance to convince her; I had to do so delicately.

“You should go, Thea.” Her gaze flicked up to mine. “You shouldn’t be involved in all this.”

“Why is that?” I leaned forward. “You told me we were connected in a past life when we were back in the hospital. You don’t believe it now?”

“I…” Her mouth hung open. She shut it abruptly. “It’s complicated. But just trust me.”

“Okay. But Catherine.” I opened my palms. “I have to be honest. I’m a little concerned about you.”

“Oh yeah?” She stared down at the table.

“Yeah. You seem a little… off. You’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks, and that can be really destabilizing.”

She chuckled weakly, shaking her head.

“Howareyou feeling?” I pushed.

“Fucking great.” She rolled her eyes; that felt more like the Catherine I remembered from the hospital.

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