Page 135 of The Last Session

“Hi.” I do the math: Moon must’ve looked for me at some point, failed to find me, and left and got Sol.

Inside, Talia’s waiting with a bottle of cold water. I grab it and drink it all the way down.

“What were you doing out here?” she asks, her brow furrowed. She doesn’t understand yet. She’s only been here a few weeks.

“Cath wanted to go back to the scene of her death, to see if it helped with her regressions.” Moon turns in the front seat to smile at me. “But she went a little further away than she should’ve, so we had to rescue her. Right?”

I nod.

The blood is so vivid against the dirt. The vermillion comes from her nostrils, her mouth, little rivulets like those in the cave.

I stand over her, studying her. She’s wearing one of Moon’s linen dresses. Sage green. Her neck, left arm, and right leg are all bent at unnatural angles.

I was in the lobby, processing retreat applications, when I heard the barking, then the scream. I appear to be the first one to hurry out front, to see this. I look up. Moon is peering over the ledge, standing on the tall tower where she and I used to sit and watch the sun set. When there were clouds, the sky would light up in reds and oranges and pinks.

Next to Moon, Talia’s dog Dionysus is also looking down, little freaked-out yips coming from his tiny throat. Moon sees me but doesn’t say anything. She picks him up and coos, trying to soothe him.

“This is your chance, love.” Clint’s eyes are wide with frustration. “Do you want to come with me, or not?”

If only it were that easy. I can picture it clearly: sitting in the SUV while Grace disappears inside, only to reappear with Moon and Sol. Their fond smiles.Silly Cath.It’s not up to me. I’m not going anywhere.

I haven’t been off the property in what—three years? Four? Sometimes I envision sitting on a plane, gazing out the window. My old apartment feels too distant to remember, but sometimes there are flashes: a claw-footed tub. A walk-in closet with rows of chic, neutral-toned clothes. That sleek Italian espresso machine I bought but never once used.

“Cath?” he urges. Oh, Clint. The Aussie. Our latest member. Grace met him at a bar in Truth or Consequences, where she was attempting some casual recruiting. He was living in New York but had come to New Mexico to go cave diving at Blue Hole in Santa Rosa. He told me the sheriff’s office put a locked gate over the hole’s entrance because so many cave divers would go in, get lost, and die. But if you go through the official channels, they give you a key. Afterwards he came to T or C for the hot springs. Clint’s a wanderer, so it wasn’t hard to get him to come check out the castle. And he’d seenStargirl, so he took my celebrity presence as a good sign. We really put on a show for him, since Talia had just died.

We called it an accident. But we all know Moon pushed her off the tower. Steven, previously quiet, is now basically silent. Talia wanted him to leave with her. I don’t remember how I found out. But everyone knows everything here. Talia couldn’t have expected Moon to just let that happen. Steven, in a strange way, belongs to her.

Joe came into my room, drunk and rambling, the night after they buried Talia. I can’t believe he used to work in some high-powered tech job; he’s such a little boy. Trading his profession to be a low-level videographer and photographer, recording every amazing thing Moon and Sol do. He started crying, asking me what to do. I kept my mouth shut. I don’t trust anyone, but him specifically—he hasn’t been sleeping with Moon in a while, but he still does whatever she wants. It could’ve been another test.

Clint, though, seemed like a possible savior. I had to be careful, not revealing too much too quickly. He’d always wanted to live on an artist commune, so I kept up the charade, showing him my sculptures. I’ve been too exhausted to make any for a long time, but I still have the three from years ago: one of my head, one of my mother’s, and one of Sebastian’s. I made a sculpture of my father, too, but threw it off the tower so it would shatter below.

But Clint’s smart; he started to see it after only a month or so. How we all smile on cue, but it doesn’t reach our eyes. How Moon and Sol control literally everything we do. He also thought the cave was creepy, especially after Moon sent Dionysus’s stiff body into the hole. The poor dog was old, yes, but Talia’s death devastated him. A week later, he died in his sleep. Moon was heartbroken, crying for days.

We had a funeral down there, where Moon howled over Dionysus’s body and then tossed it into “the portal.” She thought he was now in some other world, energetic and free.

“Are you listening to me?” Clint snapped a finger in front of my face. I do this—drift off—more and more. It’s not unpleasant, actually.

“I want to come with you.” I’m sprawled on his bed as he packs. “But I already told you the only way I can do it.”

“I’m not going to steal a fuckingcar.”

I bought the car.But if I say it and it somehow gets back to Moon, she’ll be furious.

“Then I’m not leaving,” I say instead.

“Why?” He stops, staring down at me. He’s handsome, with broad shoulders and that deep cleft in his chin. I slept with him, not out of attraction but as a way of making him feel more committed to me. Like that worked.

“They won’t let me.” I’ve already explained this to him.

“Catherine, you have agency.”

I’ve explained this too. It’s clear he doesn’t want to really take it in. So I force myself to smile. “It’s fine, Clint. It’s time for you to go. It’s okay.”

“But…” He touches the back of his head, agitated. “Fuck. Here.” He opens a book on the table, tears out a scrap, and scribblessomething down. “Here’s my cell phone. My email. I want you to contact me if you need anything. All right?”

“Sure.” I don’t have a phone—I lost my cell service and then the phone itself years ago. But if it makes him feel better.

“That ceremony with Grace—that’s tomorrow?” he asks.

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