Maggie loved her family in the way people love a country they’ve emigrated from, with fondness tempered by the firm knowledge that they would never go back. So the decision was made. They found a London penthouse within the week, toured it, and paid the first year’s rent in one fell swoop.
Daisy opened her new laptop and signed into the portal where she and Dr. Kawanja had their sessions.
“It’s good to see you, Daisy.” Her voice carried the same measured warmth she remembered. “How’s your week going so far?”
“It’s been quiet.”
“Is that a good thing?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been spacing out a lot. Same as before.”
“I think that’s natural. You’ve been through a lot.”
“I’ve been thinking about him a lot.” They were still locked in to the perpetual NDA, so they spoke around the edges.
“How often?”
“Every hour. Every minute.” Her mind never fully left him.
“Has the move brought some distraction?”
“Some.”
“Community, even a small one, is how we heal, Daisy. Having friends nearby is good for you. Have you and Maggie been getting along?”
“Oh, yes, Maggie’s not the issue. I am. I just…can’t seem to move past…” She shifted the pillow on her lap and the laptop wobbled. “If I could just know where he is.”
Dr. Kawanja’s expression didn’t shift. “Daisy, we’ve discussed this.”
“But I was there.” The frustration rose before she could temper it. “I know the island exists. I know what happened. I can’t pretend none of this is real when I lived through it and it’s all I can think about.”
“No one is asking you to pretend your experiences don’t exist. But there are boundaries to what we can discuss.”
“On the plane, you said we could talk about the Feast.”
“The Feast, yes. But that does not give me the right to share personal details about the other attendees.”
“But you know.”
“Daisy,” she said with firm warning.
“If I could just talk to him. If someone could just put me in touch with?—”
“Daisy, you know that’s not possible.”
Daisy swallowed back her frustrations, but her mind wouldn’t relent. “What about the Volkovs?”
Something flickered behind the doctor’s eyes, quick enough to miss if Daisy hadn’t been watching closely. “I would be very careful with that name, Daisy.”
Her chin wobbled as tears of frustration gathered in her eyes. “Sorry.”
Dr. Kawanja sighed. “We’re almost out of time. Until Wednesday?”
Daisy nodded. “Bye.” The screen went dark and she closed the laptop.
Her hands curled into fists and she pressed them hard against her closed eyes, fighting the sense of helplessness that surged inside of her. She was losing her mind and so far, therapy wasn’t helping.
Growling, she shoved the pillow and laptop aside and threw herself back on the bed. Maryanne was coming for dinner in a few hours and the kitchen was bare of anything resembling a meal. She needed to get up, to move and shop and cook and perform the ordinary rituals of a woman whose life was not quietly collapsing from the inside.
