I shake my head. I don’t want to drag Beth into this. I don’t even want Caroline saying her name.
“We know what happened,” she continues. “Russell told us your story and it’s awful, Mallory. I am so sorry it happened. I know you’re carrying a lot of guilt, a lot of grief. But if you don’t address these feelings—if you just keep tamping them down—” She gestures around the room to my artwork. “They’re like steam under pressure, Mallory. They’re going to look for cracks and find a way to escape.”
“What about all the other pictures? The woman being strangled?”
“An abstract concept made literal,” Caroline says. “Maybe grief, or addiction. The stranglehold that drugs put on your body.”
“And the woman getting dragged through the forest?”
“Perhaps there’s someone who pulled you out of danger? A sponsor or mentor? Like Russell?”
“Then why is he burying me?”
“He’s not burying you, Mallory. He’s freeing you. Excavating you from a mountain of heroin and bringing you back to society. And look at you now!”
Caroline turns the dip card so I can see the results. All five tabs—the indicators for THC, opioids, cocaine, amphetamines, and meth—they’ve all come up negative.
“Twenty months sober,” Ted says. “That’s amazing.”
“We’re really proud of you,” Caroline says. “But it’s clear you have a lot more work to do, isn’t that right?”
And I don’t know what to say.
I agree there are some very puzzling parallels between Anya’s drawings and my own personal history.
And yes, I have struggled with lapses and false memories and all the other psychological fallout of drug addiction.
But I have twelve more drawings back at my cottage that stink of death and there’s only one person responsible.
“Anya drew these. Not me.”
“Anya is an imaginary friend. Teddy knows she’s made up. He understands she doesn’t really exist.”
“Teddy is scared and confused and he’s repeating everything you’re teaching him. I know you guys went to great schools and you think you have the whole world figured out. But you’re wrong about these pictures, you’re wrong about this house, and you’re wrong about Teddy. There is some seriously weird shit happening right under your nose and you’re living in denial!”
By this point I’m yelling, I can’t help myself, but Ted and Caroline are unshaken. I realize that they’ve stopped listening to me, that they’re ready to move on.
“I think we should just agree to disagree,” Caroline tells me. “Maybe she’s a ghost or maybe she’s just guilt. It doesn’t matter, Mallory. The key takeaway is that you left our son unattended for four hours, and I don’t trust you to watch him anymore.”
Ted agrees that “a change needs to happen” and Caroline says it’s good to think of this moment as a crossroads, an opportunity to improve things for everyone.
And they both sound so positive, so supportive and encouraging, it takes me a moment to realize I’m being fired.
20
I’m back in my cottage for ten minutes when my phone rings.
It’s Russell. Calling from a tiny motel on Route 66, somewhere in the desert between Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon. It’s a bad connection, and the line crackles and pops.
“Quinn! What happened?”
“I think I lost the job.”
“No, you definitely lost the job! Caroline texted me pictures of your crazy ape-shit art project. What the hell is going on over there?”
“There’s something in this house, Russell. Some kind of presence. First she went after Teddy and now she’s coming after me.”
“Presence?” Most days, Russell is a font of limitless energy and enthusiasm—but suddenly he sounds tired and just a tiny bit disappointed. “You mean like a ghost?”
“I’m not using. Caroline tested me.”
“I know.”
“This is something else. This is—”
We’re interrupted by a hiss of static, and for a moment I’m worried I’ve lost him. Then his voice comes back.
“You should get to a meeting. What time is it there? Six thirty? Friday night? Try Holy Redeemer. They start at seven, I think.”
“I don’t need a meeting.”
“Are there friends you can call? Someone you can stay with? I don’t want you alone tonight.” And I guess he can tell from my silence there’s no one here to help me. “All right, listen. I’m coming home.”