by Ellen Smith
I apologize for not immediately addressing the situation. As you can imagine, the first priority for my wife and I yesterday was helping our daughter and son-in-law reach a safe location and settle in. Now that we have returned, we want to assure the public that they are, again, safe and sound and ask that you respect their privacy as they regroup and heal from this difficult time.
Additionally, I hope this serves as a reminder that, particularly in these times when information is easily accessible on the Internet, it’s important to stop and critically evaluate your sources before acting. In the coming weeks, I will be introducing legislation that will better protect victims of libel, cyber-bullying, and other forms of privacy invasion.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
MARA
When the van brought them back to the building complex the next morning, the large conference room looked completely different. The projector screen was dark and all the chairs had been moved to the side, making the room seem even bigger than it had the day before. Nayana was on her hands and knees, marking off sections of the linoleum floor with masking tape.
Mara nudged Will. “If we’re about to do a dorky trust-building exercise, I’m out,” she whispered.
Will snickered. It was good to see him laugh again.
Dr. Hendrix knelt on the floor with a tape measure and a diagram, measuring and remeasuring the lines Nayana had already taped. He was going to ruin the crease in his chinos. For some reason, that made Mara smile.
Will leaned in toward Mara. “What do you think? Are we going to play precision hopscotch?”
Mara started to respond when she heard two more people shuffle in behind them. It was Jason and his rehabilitation officer. Jason kept his eyes down and walked to the other side of the room. The rehabilitation officer—Mara thought his name might be John—gave them a quick, tight smile and nodded before following him.
Mara glanced back at her husband. Will had left again. Fallen away inside himself, back to a place only he could remember. A place he couldn’t help remembering.
Mara squeezed his hand. Will didn’t seem to notice.
“We’re ready,” Nayana announced, rising to her feet. She wore her roll of masking tape on her arm like a bracelet. “Since we’ve already gone over the simulation, today we’re going to reenact the event with the desired outcome. I know Jason has been preparing for this through his rehabilitation, and I’m sure all of us are ready to relive this moment the way we wish it had gone.”
Dr. Hendrix directed Will first. “If you’d just stand behind this tape line, please. Right, just there. This represents where the mailboxes will be. Jason, you can wait over by the window. This tape here marks the door to the Student Union. Mara? Your turn, dear. These lines mark where the hallway is. Perfect.”
Mara bristled a little at being called “dear,” but she turned her attention to Will instead. Even from her new position, ten feet away, she could see he was barely breathing.
Mara tried to think of a question that would distract them from starting the reenactment. Will needed more time. “So this tape is supposed to be the blueprint of the Student Union, basically. And I’m supposed to be standing in the hallway?”
“Yes, exactly,” Nayana said. Her soft-soled flats squeaked a little on the floor as she circled around them, pointing out each of the markings. “This is where Jason began in the simulation—right by the building entrance. This tape marks the mail room, where Will is standing. And as you mentioned, Mara, this is the hallway here.”
That meant in the actual building, there would have been a long wall between her and Will, and another blocking her view of Jason—at least until he came around the corner. But no matter how hard she tried, Mara couldn’t pretend that these were really walls instead of tape markings. She had a perfect view of both Jason and Will. There was nothing separating them.
Will was staring straight ahead still. This couldn’t be good for him. Mara had to say something.
“Is this completely necessary?” she asked. “Do you think we could watch the simulation again instead?”
Dr. Hendrix answered that. “We’ve found it’s most effective to have the participants actually go through the motions, if you’ll pardon the pun. In the next stage, we’ll have a virtual reality setup to help you reexperience the modified event. At the moment of the actual timeline rectification, your consciousness will be returning to this point in time. In order to really counteract any of the elements that might have encouraged Jason’s original actions, we want the modified actions to feel habitual. We’re going to reenact this event until it feels natural, and at the moment of timeline rectification, you’ll feel that it couldn’t possibly have gone any other way.”
So it was going to get even more realistic than this. Mara twisted the hem of her shirt. Will can’t take this. He looks like he’s about to pass out.
“The first time will be the hardest,” Traci said, walking toward them with a tissue and a bottle of water. Will shook his head and stared off in the distance. Focused. Breathing. Mara cringed in sympathy.
“Whenever we’re all ready, we’ll begin,” Nayana said.
Minutes ticked by, when everyone tried to look as if they weren’t watching Will. Mara gave the evil eye whenever anyone so much as glanced his way. Let him be. Give him time.
“While we’re waiting, please try to picture yourself back at that moment, just as you were in the Student Union. The more realistically we can execute the reenactment, the easier it will become with practice,” Nayana said softly.
Not you, Will. Mara wished she had telepathy. You do whatever it takes to get through this.
Maybe she did have a little ESP. Will finally breathed deeply and looked squarely over at Nayana. “I’m ready,” he said.
Nayana nodded and pushed a button on the computer. A countdown clock appeared on the screen.
“When the clock reaches twenty seconds, Mara, you’re going to walk in this direction, just as if you were walking down the hallway away from the café. Jason, you’ll proceed in this direction, as if you’re going to check your mailbox. See the taped X on the floor? That’s the location of your box. Stop when you reach it,” Dr. Hendrix said. “Will, remember what we discussed yesterday. When Jason approaches, do whatever feels most natural.”
Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Mara couldn’t help sneaking glances over at Jason as she slowly began to walk. In the real Student Union, she wouldn’t be able to see Jason from here. Will, either. She tried to imagine the tall cinderblock walls instead. They’d probably be lined with photographs or paintings from the art students, or have flyers for upcoming student events.
Jason was walking toward her. Mara felt a wave of nausea as he came closer. He was near enough that she could detect the peach fuzz on his chin, hear him clearing his throat. Jason looked anxious. Was he just playing the part, or was something wrong? Mara hesitated. Somehow, she couldn’t quite take another step closer. Footsteps—long, fast, strident ones. Mara turned in time to see Will half-running toward her, stepping straight over the taped lines until he was close enough to grab her arm. Will jerked her back, sending a ball of fire singing through her right side. Mara gasped.
“Are you . . . ?” Jason said, half a second before Will pulled Mara back again. She cried out, but Will didn’t seem to notice. Her husband loomed over Jason and pulled his arm back, like he was winding up to hit him.
“Stop right there! Stop!” Traci said, rushing in. Nayana flicked the countdown clock off, and Dr. Hendrix pulled Will away from Jason.
“Totally normal,” Dr. Hendrix said. “Totally, totally normal. Let’s take a break, shall we? A quick break?”
Traci and the rehabilitation officer had escorted Jason to the other side of the room. “Nayana, I think it’s best if we end the session for the day. This isn’t productive.”
“What do you think, Mara?” Nayana said. “Are you okay?”
It was too late. Mara knew everyone could
see the hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She gently squeezed her right arm, wishing she could wring the pain out.
So much for being strong.
“Are you okay?” Will sounded horrified.
“No, I’m not okay,” Mara snapped. Now her nose was running too. Her voice sounded thick and whiny. “Why’d you have to pull on me like that? What’s wrong with you?”
“Oh, God,” Will said, realization dawning on his face. “Mara, I’m so sorry. I just . . . I saw him and I felt . . .”
“I was fine,” Mara said. The tears rolled faster now. She didn’t even object when Traci pressed a tissue into her hand. “He wasn’t even going to do anything” Her shoulder throbbed in time with her anger.
“Okay, okay,” Traci said. “Okay. Come with me.”
“I’d like to set up another session with you,” Dr. Hendrix said to Will, so low only he and Mara seemed to hear. “It can be very triggering for a victim to be confronted with the assailant, even years later. That was my fault. This was a critical moment, and I didn’t prepare you enough for the experience.”
Traci led Mara to a chair while Dr. Hendrix walked with Will out into the hall. Mara blinked back tears enough to see Will flinch when Jason and his rehabilitation officer passed by. Mara, Traci, and Nayana were left alone in the room.
“You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?” Traci asked, trying to soothe her.
Mara didn’t bother to respond.
“Has Will ever reacted that way before? Ever hurt your shoulder?”
She must be crazy, Mara thought, but Traci’s brown eyes were wide and sincere. The picture of a non-threatening social worker.
“He didn’t mean to,” Mara said. “He was pulling me back because he was triggered. He wasn’t here. He thought it was happening again.”
“It was an extremely trying situation for him,” Nayana said. “Extremely trying. I should have rescheduled as soon as I saw Will was having trouble with the reenactment.”
“He said he was fine,” Mara said, blowing her nose. “But then, he always says that.”
Nayana nodded grimly. She knelt and began peeling up the tape with her hands. Traci patted Mara’s knee.
Mara looked over at Will, standing by the door with Dr. Hendrix. He looks so small, she thought. Usually, Will’s height made him seem to tower over everybody. Today, he seemed like he’d sunk within himself. Dr. Hendrix was talking to him earnestly.
“We’ll take the rest of today off, but unless you hear otherwise from me, assume we’ll be back here tomorrow,” Nayana said. “I’ll be checking in with Jason and coordinating with Dr. Hendrix to make sure we’re all on track.”
“And I’ll be in touch with you both later today,” Traci said. She gave Mara’s good arm a friendly squeeze. “Go back to the motel and relax. Put some heat on your arm and just regroup for a bit.”
“Thank you,” Mara managed to say. Ken reappeared out of nowhere—it was so creepy how he did that—and led her out into the hallway. She felt like a child leaving the principal’s office. Not that Mara ever had been sent to the office or gone to detention in school. Will never had, either. What had happened to him?
Jason did. Jason happened to us.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
WILL
Every bump the van hit on the way back to the motel gave Will with a fresh jolt of guilt. Mara wasn’t outwardly complaining about how he’d hurt her. She was comforting him, which made it a thousand times worse.
“You were triggered. You have PTSD. You were trying to protect me,” Mara said.
“I panicked,” Will said. “I shouldn’t have panicked.”
“Give it time,” Mara soothed. The van went over another bump, and a little more color drained out of her face.
Will looked over at Ken. In three days of following them around, Will couldn’t believe that their security guard was as impassive as he looked. Surely Ken was listening in. Judging them.
Why shouldn’t he be? Everyone else was.
“When we get back to the room, I’ll warm up one of your heating pads,” Will said, before he remembered that they didn’t have a microwave in the room. Or her heating pad.
“That’s okay,” Mara said. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to take a nap.”
“Right.” Will felt like an idiot.
The van pulled up behind the motel and Ken did his customary sweep before taking them inside. “Thanks,” Will said, just before the door swung closed. Ken surprised him by responding with a gruff, “You’re welcome.”
Will checked the lock and chain lock on the door after Ken left, all the same. He picked the phone up out of his cradle to be sure there was a dial tone. He half-expected Mara to tease him for being paranoid, but when he turned around, she was already arranging the pillows in one of the beds and gingerly lying down.
It’s just to keep the pressure off her shoulder. That’s why her back is toward me. All the same, Will felt her reproach long after her breathing slowed and she let out soft, low snores.
This is not who I am. Not really. Dr. Hendrix had said as much to him out in the hall after the simulation. “Right now, Jason is a trigger to you. Your brain is hard-wired to feel threatened when you see him or when he approaches you. I should have worked with you to resolve that before asking you to work with him this closely.”
It felt like excuses. Will’s dad always had excuses too. He was stressed at work. He was worried about money. He’d had a rough day. Even as a little boy, Will could recognize his father’s heavy-lidded “I’m sorry” expression. He’d come to hate the way his dad would press his hands together and earnestly explain that he had lost control, yes, but really, it wasn’t his fault.
When his dad had finally left, Will had secretly felt relieved. Over time, it turned to guilt. Maybe if Will hadn’t been such a difficult child. Maybe if he’d been better at sports, his dad would have been proud of him and wanted to stay. Maybe if Will had taken more responsibility for Chris and Becca, his parents would have had more time together. Maybe then they would have still been in love.
Excuses, all of them. Will’s dad had made his choices, and now Will was making his.
No more. He might only have a few weeks left in this life map—days, even—but he was putting a stop to this now. If he got another chance at a simulation, he was going to do it and he was going to do it right. No excuses. No guilt.
Will looked over at his sleeping wife, and for once, everything felt right. He could go through with the simulations. He could go through with the time wreck. He could go through with anything, just to make things right for her.
* * * * *
Will made it a point to be true to his word. For the next week, he and Mara and Jason went through the motions like line workers in a factory. Fair enough, Will supposed. They were assembling something. Assembling a new life map.
Will walked through Nayana’s carefully taped lines on the floor three times before Mara visibly relaxed. Five times before Jason didn’t seem tense, either. Ten times before Will himself felt his breathing was normal, heard himself talk through the script out of habit.
“Good,” Nayana said softly, after the fifteenth run-through. Dr. Hendrix smiled and nodded his approval. Even Traci, who had regarded Will suspiciously every day since he came through the door, seemed pleased.
“Let’s take a quick break,” Dr. Hendrix said. “The next segment of the simulation takes us a step farther: we’ll be using virtual reality to create a more realistic experience. I’d like to start by working with each participant individually before we attempt the experience as a group.”
The tips of Will’s ears burned. That’s because of me. Next to him, Mara squeezed his hand.
“Will,” Dr. Hendrix said. “You’ll be first.”
The rest of the group dispersed, just like Will’s students had at the sound of the bell. Thinking about his old life made Will feel briefly disconnected. Was he really here, simulat
ing a time wreck with his wife and the man who’d shot them? Shouldn’t he be back at school, teaching sixth-graders how to play their instruments and seventh-graders how to create a harmony? Will shook his head and focused on matching his strides to Dr. Hendrix’s as they walked out of the room and down the hall.
“How are you feeling, Will?” Dr. Hendrix asked. He led Will into a small conference room and shut the door behind them.
“I’m feeling pretty good,” Will said. He did a quick gut-check to be sure. No knots. No anger. No fear. “That went a lot better than I was expecting.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dr. Hendrix said. “You’ve been working very hard. This next step, though, makes things a bit more intense. We’ve taken the computer simulation we ran the first time and made it more realistic. Not terribly realistic, you understand. It looks like a Grade-B video game.” Dr. Hendrix smiled at him, as if they were connecting over something they had in common. Will hadn’t played video games since college.
“I’d like to talk you through your first experience with the virtual reality headset,” Dr. Hendrix said. He handed Will a large black-and-gray headset with dangling elastic straps. It smelled faintly of rubbing alcohol. Will wondered how many other people must have worn this headset before. What their life maps looked like now.
“This is going to fit over my glasses, right?” Will said. He strapped the headset on, relieved that it didn’t pinch the earpieces of his glasses after all. He held his breath and waited.
Nothing. Will saw only black.
“You’re tense,” Dr. Hendrix said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”