“What is it you ‘can’t do’?”
“Algebra. Eating broccoli. Gardening. I don’t know.”
“The note says nothing to you.”
“It upsets me,” she said. “Because I cannot imagine writing it.”
He switched topics. “After the crash”—she noticed he wasn’t calling it “the accident” anymore—“you must have finished high school? Did you get your GED?”
“No.” Now her gaze met his. “I went back to Lakehaven High School. I graduated.”
He looked at her with frank surprise. “Why not attend another school?”
“I thought about starting over. But I only had a semester left…and I still had friends there. I thought they would help me through it. Some did. And my mom thought…if people saw how pathetic I was, maybe they’d feel sorry for me. And in turn feel sorry for her. She was losing friendships, her standing in the community. She wanted it back.”
Kevin cleared his throat, as if embarrassed. “But you wouldn’t have remembered your earlier course work.”
“I managed to wing it. Relearn what I had to know to keep going. And I think they mercy-passed me. Keeping me back for a year wasn’t an option for my mom. But I wasn’t really prepared for Saint Michael’s. They were kind to honor my admission still.”
He looked at her with new respect. “That must have been difficult as well from a social standpoint, not remembering many of your friends or your teachers.”
“It’s harder when you kill the boy next door and the whole school wishes you’d killed yourself instead.”
He looked up at me from his notes.
“Would you give me access to your medical records? I’d like to understand the extent of your injuries.”
“No,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to. I said I’d talk to you, not unlock my life. You’re not a doctor.”
For some reason she thought she saw a flash of frustration under the surface of his face. Then the neutral expression back in place. “Would you describe your injuries, then?”
“I was in a coma for four days. I had a broken arm and a fractured collarbone. I had a severe concussion and slight brain damage in the temporal lobes.”
“David’s injuries?”
For a moment she couldn’t speak. “Both his arms and legs were broken. His face was badly lacerated. Broken ribs. His back was broken, and a lung punctured. He died at the scene.”
“Why were his injuries so much more?”
“The car tumbled as it went off the road and a steep drop to the cliff’s edge began. He was on the side of the car that smashed into a rock face along the hill. The car bounced off it and came to rest. And…”
He waited.
Jane said, “David didn’t have on his seat belt.”
“Did he normally ride without it?”
“Who could stand that constant pinging? The suggestion was he undid it…” She stopped.
“To stop you from driving off the road and then off the cliff?”
“That,” she said, “was one popular theory, thanks to the suicide note.” She took a drink of water.
“What was your first memory on awakening?”
Jane got up and paced the floor again. “Is this OK? I don’t feel like sitting.”
Kevin nodded.
“I was in the hospital room. I don’t remember being afraid, just confused. I didn’t know I’d been in a coma. I didn’t recognize my mother, who was in the room with me. She said, ‘Oh, Jane,’ and started to cry because I was awake. I didn’t know it was my name. It was as though I’d just been born in the world.
“The doctors came in and checked me and asked me questions. What did I remember, where did it hurt? I panicked because I didn’t remember anything. Then they started testing me, asking me the year, my name, who was the president, where did I go to school. I watched this woman—my mother—I watched her heart break.”
“Did anyone suggest you lied about your amnesia?”
“Yes. Mrs. Hall. She thought I was faking it. To avoid responsibility. You know, someone is taunting me online that they remember what I don’t.” She explained about the Faceplace posting. “It’s my sore spot. I know they have to be lying, but it enrages me.”
“Are you lying about your amnesia?”
Her gaze met his.
He continued: “Because if you are, I would understand. It would be a defense mechanism. You can tell me, no one will know, our sessions are privileged.” He leaned forward. “If you were lying, I’d be impressed you’ve kept it up for two years. But what a heavy burden.”
The silence became uncomfortable. She finally said, “No, Kevin, I’m not lying about my amnesia.”
“All right.”
She wasn’t sure he believed her. “This person who threatened me online, who screws around with an amnesiac? Who wants to pretend that they know something I don’t remember, when there’s absolutely no way that they could?”
Kevin frowned. “First, it could be a harmless—in their eyes—prank or joke. Second, it could be someone who believes you do in fact remember and is trying to provoke you.”
“Why would anyone think I faked this for two years?”
“They think you know something from that night. And the amnesia is a cover-up. Do you know who is taunting you?”
“I have a suspicion.” Kamala, she thought.
“Who?”
“I’d rather have proof before I say.”
“It’s all confidential here.”
She shook her head. She didn’t trust him, quite yet.
He didn’t press her, but he made a note in his papers. “Do you miss David?” Kevin asked.
“No one has asked me that. I don’t think I’m allowed to miss him.” But she didn’t answer the question.
“All right. Before we meet again, will you work on that time line for me?”
“All right. What do I do about my harasser?”
“I would ignore them. If you try to engage them, you give them power, you give them your attention, you validate them. You want peace, you want forgiveness? Practice it.”
“Maybe I’ll tell them to go ahead and tell the world whatever it is that they know.” She stood and put on her backpack. “I think I’m done for the day.”
“Jane?”
“What?”
“Is there any chance, from anything anyone has said to you since, that someone else was involved?”
“What do you mean?”
He hesitated. “That another car ran you off the road, or veered into your lane and you swerved off to miss them, or was racing you, or…pursuing you. Do you ever feel like someone is after you? Or wants to hurt you?”
“Why would anyone want to hurt me or David? We were just high school students.”
“I’m sure no one wants to hurt you, Jane.”
“Do you think that’s what happened?” she asked him. Why would he ask her this?
Instead of answering her, Kevin looked at his notes. “Shall we meet in two more days?”
9