In the After

you.” I sat across a coffee table from him in an identical chair. I looked around the sparse room, taking in the bookshelves, a desk. I couldn’t help but glance at the door. Baby was sitting in the waiting room while I had my psyche-eval. I wondered if she’d be okay, if she needed anything.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“It’s just . . . Baby isn’t used to being without me.” I looked at him fully for the first time. He was average height, normal weight, though his flesh seemed to hang loosely on his frame, giving him a strange, sickly look, like he had only just recently lost a lot of weight. His head was shaved clean. At least he didn’t go the comb-over route. The thought made me smirk.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, the hint of a smile on his lips, as if he already understood the joke.

“Nothing, really . . . I’m just . . .” I struggled. “I’m just happy to be here in New Hope. I’m feeling really optimistic.”

He studied me and scribbled in his notebook, a fake smile still plastered on his doughy face. “It’s good to be positive, especially after everything you’ve been through. New Hope must seem like it’s too good to be true.”

I nodded, but offered no response. I’d decided that the less I say the better.

“And what do you find the hardest about being in New Hope?” he prompted.

“Excuse me?”

“I hear you had an incident yesterday; Baby cut herself. . . .”

“She didn’t cut herself,” I clarified, sounding sharper than I’d intended. I cleared my throat nervously. “I just . . . it’s very loud here. It takes some time to get used to.”

He tapped his pen against the notebook paper absently, the odd smile never leaving his face. “So you would say the noise disturbs you the most?” He fixed me in his intense gaze. His dark eyes seemed to bore into my thoughts. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, unable to find a comfortable position.

“I didn’t say I was disturbed by the noise,” I answered carefully. “It’s just different here. There are a lot of sounds that we aren’t used to anymore.” I tried to sit still but I kept rubbing my hands together. Dr. Reynolds seemed to be observing this, so I moved my hands to the arms of the chair, trying not to hold on too tightly.

“You said we.”

“Sorry?”

“Just now, you said ‘sounds that we aren’t used to.’ Why did you say we instead of I?”

“Oh. I mean Baby. I’m used to thinking of us together. We’re hardly ever apart.”

“I see.” The loose flesh around his chin jiggled when he spoke and I had the urge to laugh again, which I hid by coughing loudly. He glanced down at his notebook, making a few notes. “Let’s talk more about Baby. You see yourself as her . . . friend? Parental figure? Protector?”

I did see myself as those things to Baby, and so much more, but I didn’t want to seem like I was overbearing. “I guess . . . I see myself as more of a sister to her.”

“And what does Baby mean to you in terms of sisterhood?”

I looked down at my hands. I was starting to wonder why he wanted to talk about Baby so much. I swallowed, trying to appear composed.

“I think about her before I think about myself . . . like whenever the creatures were close by. I want her to be safe.” I was rubbing my hands together again and had to clench my fists in order to stop.

“Can she not protect herself?” His tone was steady, like every word carried a double meaning.

I hated how frail my voice sounded in comparison. “Oh no, she can. Baby is amazing. She knows how to be quiet and when to hide. She’s been my rock, really. I think she kept me sane out there. Not that I was insane, I mean who wouldn’t be a little crazy, stuck with only Floraes for company.” I was rambling and my forehead was sweaty. I wiped my face on my sleeve, which I regretted when Dr. Reynolds immediately made a note on his paper.

“Was it distressing, to learn your mother was alive all these years?” He looked at me thoughtfully. “While you were ‘stuck,’ I believe is how you put it.”

“It’s . . . surprising. I wish I’d known sooner.” I bit my lip, uncertain if I should have said more. After a moment, I added, “Even if I wasn’t with her, wasn’t in New Hope, it would have been a relief to know she was alive.”

He waited for me to continue and when I didn’t, he asked, “What word, if you could choose only one, would you use to describe your reunion with your mother?” His pen poised at the ready, eager to judge my response.

“Only one? But there are so many.” Confusing. Frightening. Surreal. I stare at the ground, trying to think. “I guess, I would choose . . . fortunate.” I cringed inwardly. I should have chosen grateful or overjoyed. “We’re just so lucky to be here,” I kept on. “I mean I am. I’m lucky to be in New Hope.”

Dr. Reynolds studied me. His unwavering smile would be reassuring on some people. On him it just gave me the creeps. “I think we’ve chatted long enough, Amy.”

“Did I pass?”

He froze, and for the first time since we began talking, his phony smile had faded. “This isn’t a test. What gave you the idea that it was?”

“I . . . um . . . I just assumed.”

He stood to shake my hand, his palm clammy. “Maybe we should have another chat one day soon.”

“I’d like that,” I lied.

He opened the door leading to the waiting room, and my mother looked up from where she sat with Baby, searching my face.

“How did it go?” she asked, and I shrugged.

“Just fine,” Dr. Reynolds said from the doorway. I realized my mother was asking him, not me. “I’d like to see the child now.”

“I’ll have to translate,” I told them. I didn’t like the way he was staring at Baby, like she was a lab specimen.

“That won’t be necessary.” Dr. Reynolds motioned for Baby to step inside his office.

“But she doesn’t speak,” I explained, concerned. “And she barely understands spoken language.” My voice was loud, bordering on frantic. Dr. Reynolds and my mother exchanged a look.

There was a silent understanding in that glance, and my mother said, “Don’t worry, Amy, everyone has to have their psyche-eval.”

Baby looked to me. I tried to be strong. Go with this man. He’ll make loud speak at you. Be good.

Baby smiled and disappeared with Dr. Reynolds into his office, the door closing with a loud thump.

We sat and waited for Baby in silence. I didn’t feel like talking. After a while, my mother got a call on her earpiece. After a quick conversation regarding a corrupted computer file, she grabbed her computer bag. “I’m going to run this down to Richard in the lab. . . . You’ll be all right for five minutes on your own, won’t you?”

I looked around the waiting area, taking in nothing more threatening than empty chairs and a bored secretary behind the front desk. “Yeah, Mom, I’m great.”

She hugged me before she left, a reassuring squeeze that actually did make me feel better. Flipping through an old nature magazine, I wondered if Dr. Reynolds was really as phony as I thought he was, or if I was just projecting.

The secretary stood suddenly, which startled me.

“I’m just going to run to the restroom, hon,” she said, looking at me like I was an absolute freak. “Do you need to use the facilities?”

“Um, no. I’m good. Thanks.” I sat back down and pretended to read the tattered magazine.

As soon as she left the room, though, I felt like I might need a bathroom, if just to splash some water on my face. I hurried out the door, but barely managed to see the secretary disappear around a corner. I attempted to follow her but every hallway looked the same; I followed one corridor that led to another identical one. When I tried to backtrack, I got turned around.

“Crap,” I whispered. I was completely lost.