“Emma, your leaving home to search for Tyler at the clinic in California, the symbolic place of his origin, is extreme, but it is still part of the mourning process. As is your anxiety, your disbelief, even your self-recrimination. As you said, you were the one who suggested the picnic, which resulted in the drive and accident. You said that had you not gone on that drive the tragedy never would have happened. This is survivor’s guilt. Essentially all of these symptoms have converged to form your yearning, and at the same time, deceive you into believing Tyler is alive. It’s a protective mechanism.”
“Wait!” Emma held up her hands. “I don’t understand.”
“I know it’s difficult to absorb what I’ve identified.”
“No. Not that. I thought you believed that Tyler was alive, that the phone call, the information I obtained from Polly Larenski-who admitted she sold Tyler’s files, admitted someone somewhere has Tyler-all pointed to the fact that there is some sort of plan, plot or conspiracy going on.”
“No, Emma, I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
“I thought with you being from L.A., that you had contacts with police, authorities, that you were going to help me follow up on Polly’s information. It was all very real. I did not hallucinate any of that.”
“Emma, I understand-” he cleared his throat “-but I also agree with the earlier observation by Dr. Kendrix that you were hearing and searching out what you needed to hear to counter your disbelief. You need to be assured that Tyler did not suffer in the fire while you lay a few feet away unable to go to him.”
“No!” She clenched her hands into fists. “You are my only hope.”
Pierce said nothing as a long awkward silence passed.
“Emma. I understand that you believe deeply that what you’ve experienced is reality, that it has in fact happened. I promised at the last session that once I had your test results, I would explain how I would help you confront what is real. And that’s what I’ve done.”
All the blood drained from Emma’s face as he reached for a pad.
“I’m going to give you a strong prescription and I want you to follow it.”
As his pen scraped across the pad, Emma shut her eyes.
Her faint light of hope had gone out.
Pierce tore the page from his pad. It was the sound of betrayal as Emma felt the last measure of hope being ripped from her heart.
Pierce was like all the others.
He didn’t believe her.
No one believed her.
She sat motionless in the chair as Pierce went around his desk and opened his office door to where Emma’s aunt Marsha and uncle Ned had been waiting.
“She’ll need this prescription.” Pierce gave it to Emma’s aunt. “You can get it filled at the hospital pharmacy on your way out. Emma-” Pierce put his hand on her shoulder “-I’ll see you Friday at the same time?”
She said nothing.
“We’ll have her here,” Uncle Ned said.
“Thank you, Doctor,” said Aunt Marsha.
No one spoke in the car. Emma sat with Aunt Marsha in the back. Uncle Ned drove and fiddled with the radio, finding a classical music station. He kept the sound low.
Emma loved them. Their devotion to her was unyielding, never giving way to their own pain. She could not have survived this far without them. They were halfway across town, stopped at a red light, when Emma made a decision.
“Can you please take me to the cemetery?”
Uncle Ned looked in the rearview mirror where he found Aunt Marsha’s face and the answer.
“Of course, dear,” Emma’s aunt said.
When they reached the entrance to the Sun View Park Cemetery, Emma asked her uncle to stop.
“I’d like to go the rest of the way alone. I’ll walk home later.”
“But, dear?” Aunt Marsha was worried.
“I need some time alone out here, a long time.”
“We can wait, or come back,” Uncle Ned said.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll walk home. I just need to be alone, to think.”
The anxiety in her aunt’s eyes was clear.
“Don’t worry, Aunt Marsha.”
“Try telling the rain not to fall.”
Both women released a laugh.
“What happened is nobody’s fault,” her aunt said.
“I know.”
“We love you, Emma,” her aunt said.
They drove off, leaving Emma alone to walk along the high prairie that disappeared into the mountains. She made her way around the headstones to the gravesite that was marked by a white wooden cross and a mound of dark earth.
The stone wasn’t ready yet.
The small plate affixed to the cross read Joseph Lane and Tyler Lane.
Emma sat on the grass.
No one else was in the cemetery.
Birds twittered.
Am I wrong? Is everyone else right? Have I lost you forever?
She was so tired. She didn’t know what to do.
I want to be with you. I need to be with you.
A breeze rolled down from the Rockies and lifted her hair, tugging her down a river of memories as moments of their lives together rained upon her like falling stars.
I feel your hand, Joe. I really do. I feel that shirt, that stupid faded denim shirt, softened by a thousand washings. I feel your skin. I smell you. I taste your cheek on my lips.
Oh, Tyler, Mommy sees you laughing in the sun.
I see you, Mom and Dad.
I see the fires that took you all.
I see you together.
Don’t leave me here.
Can you hear me?
Please, take me with you.
I want to be with you… I can’t bear to be alone.
I can’t be without you. I can’t. I can’t live without you.
I can’t fight anymore.
Was I wrong about it all?
Was the phone call really about Dr. Durbin’s letter? Was Polly Larenski crazy with grief, too? Was she not in her right mind when she called me and said Tyler was alive?
Help me!
Joe, help me! Tell me what to do. Tell me what is real because I don’t know anymore. Send me a sign, show me the way, please. It hurts so much.
Time slipped away as Emma struggled with half-dreamed fears, listening and searching. But no one spoke to her and no signs emerged.
Reality descended upon her with the sinking sun.
She was alone.
Defeated.
She had come to another decision.
As she walked home from the cemetery, the truth emerged at every turn and every corner where she was met by the ghosts of her happiness.
There was the Wagon Wheel Diner where she first saw Joe. And there was the Branding Bar where she met
