"Good." Dr. Katz paused. "Do you still think about the girl? Do you still question her existence?"
That was a more difficult question to answer. I'd been back to Whittington every month for the first nine months. I'd wander the halls, calling for Lily, looking for anything that might indicate she'd been back. I'd go into the woods and call for her, but she never appeared. She wasn't there. I looked for any evidence that she'd existed, but couldn't find a thing. It made me feel like she had been a part of what my mind had done while I was there—just a beautiful part of my crazy. But how could that be? She'd expressed thoughts that weren't mine. She'd said things I wouldn't have even known. Hadn't she? I'd made love to her, learned her body. I ran my fingers through my hair, the memory of Lily doing the same that first night on the rock coming back to me. "I don't know," I said. "I don't think so, but . . . I have no proof other than the fact that I still miss her so damn much. Do you think she was a figment of my imagination?"
"I can't say, Ryan." She chewed on the end of her pen for a moment. "The fact that she just disappeared right at the moment you admitted to yourself who you really are indicates there was some connection . . ."
Sadness filled my chest. "I know. It does seem like too much of a coincidence."
"But maybe it is just that—a coincidence. Perhaps the girl, Lily, had some other reason to leave."
"Maybe." I sighed. "The thing is, if I really did create her—created a whole person, created feelings around that person—then it just adds to my insanity. It could indicate I do require several diagnoses."
"No one requires a diagnosis. A diagnosis of something doesn't change the disorder, it just makes it easier to treat. But if Lily was a symptom of your grief, she's gone now."
"I know," I said dismally. "But, God, she saved me. In so many ways . . ."
"And perhaps that was her role. Perhaps you created her to save you. Perhaps if you search your memory, you'll find that you'd done the same thing before. Perhaps not. The point, though, is that she did her job and then it was time for her to go. It was time for your mind to let go of her."
You know you don't need me anymore, right? But I did. I did need her.
"Wow, that sounds really crazy," I murmured.
Dr. Katz laughed softly again. "They say crazy people rarely question their own sanity."
"Who's they?"
"The crazy people," Dr. Katz deadpanned.
I laughed and she grinned. "And the other piece of good news is that dissociative disorders respond very well to therapy, specifically individual psychotherapy. I'm glad you found me."
"Yeah, me too."
She smiled momentarily and then her expression became serious. "It has been almost a year since you've been back in San Francisco, though. Are you going out with friends? Are you dating again, Ryan?"
"No," I said. "I haven't been interested. And truthfully, I've felt like I needed to focus on getting myself better again."
"Good choice. But don't cut yourself off from other people. You deserve happiness, Ryan. You deserve love. It might be time to make a few social plans, get out, test the waters."
I smiled. "Okay, I'll think about it."
"Good. Very good. You've made wonderful progress today. Our hour's up, but I'll see you next week."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ryan
Returning to work had been one of the easier transitions. The guys had welcomed me back with open arms. Of course, they had never completely understood the extent of what had been going on inside my head. They'd seen me fall apart, start taking pain pills. They'd seen me participate in the same behavior as Holden before he’d died: partying, meaningless sex, reckless driving. They'd even seen me refer to myself as Holden, but apparently they’d just thought it was me acting out as part of the grieving process. Or perhaps as an effect of the drugs and alcohol. They hadn't understood how deeply disturbed I'd been. Otherwise, I'd probably have been committed instead of flown by private helicopter to a remote, luxury lodge. They hadn't known, and that was good because they'd probably never trust me again if they had known the whole truth. Only Dr. Katz knew . . . Dr. Katz and Lily.
Of course, maybe Lily knew it because I knew it. "Jesus." I sighed, despair making my head ache.
"Ryan my man," Jameson, a team member said, entering my office. "How's it hanging?"
"Hey, Jameson. Not bad. What's up? How's the shoulder?"
Jameson rotated it as if in habit. "Better. A lot better. Hey, a bunch of us are going out tonight. Join us."
"Oh, nah, I gotta work in the morning."