Debbie always told me my mother gave birth to me in prison and when I’d questioned why she’d been in prison, to begin with, she gave few answers and fell back into the same old “she doesn’t want to be found” excuse.
“But if I was born in another country, maybe we were separated upon our arrival—”
“Stella, we have your birth certificate and your mother’s birth certificate. Our guy spoke to everyone in that village. If you had a twin, we’d know it.”
I bit my lip. This was the same spiel Debbie gave me when I’d asked her about my birth mother. The Institute sent doctors to small villages in the Dominican Republic all the time, not for mental health purposes, but to provide vaccines and clothing items. I knew because they’d enlisted the help of our church from time to time, and I’d spent a lot of time collecting and sorting through clothing items and boxes of crayons and coloring books they took over there. Sometimes, I’d write little notes and stuff them into the pockets of the jeans we were sending, a way to let someone know they weren’t alone, that even though I’d been gone from the island for the entirety of my life and didn’t remember it, I still felt connected to them.
“Stella?”
“Yeah.” I blinked. “Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He spoke calmly, his blue eyes compassionate. “Has anything else happened since I last saw you? Any new adventures or clubs you’ve joined?”
“No.” I thought about The Swords, but there was no way I’d bring them up here. Besides, I hadn’t passed their requirements yet.
“Any boys?”
“No.”
He took a breath. “Girls?”
“No.”
He let out the breath. I thought of the driver. Stella trusted her enough to tell her things, maybe I should too. I needed to tell someone all of this, or else it would drive me crazy. My mind went to Karen, then Aisha. If I wasn’t on speaking terms with Aisha, I wondered how my relationship with Karen was holding up. We’d always had a tumultuous one, to say the least. I looked up at Neil, who was watching me closely, waiting.
“Have you ever forgotten chunks of your life?” I asked.
“No. Have you?”
“No.”
This was useless. Lying to your therapist was like lying in your diary. Neil knew I was lying, too. I could tell by the way he just stared at me, waiting for me to retract my statements, but I wasn’t Stella, the good girl who actually admitted her real feelings. I was Eva, the one who guarded my heart and held my thoughts closely. After all, Karen taught me that those were the things people could turn and use against you. If you give them your heart, you might as well lie down and wave your white flag. It’s over after that.
“Listen,” Neil spoke again. I looked at him. “Grab your medication on your way home. I want to see you back here next week.”
I nodded and said goodbye as I picked up my backpack and walked out of the office. In the elevator, I stared at the four. If it stopped there, I’d get out and go see Debbie. Otherwise, I’d go home. If it didn’t, I’d chalk it up to destiny and go about my day, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. The elevator stopped at floor four. My heart quickened as the doors opened before me. I braced myself to get out, but when they opened fully, I saw Adam Astor standing on the other side. He frowned when he saw me, seemingly as surprised as I was. He stepped in and I couldn’t find it in me to step out. Destiny? Maybe. Chickenshit? Definitely.
“Fancy meeting you here.” He waited until we were outside of the building to say that.
“I was thinking the same about you.” I stopped walking between the valet and the town car that was waiting for me. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m doing an internship here.” He pointed a thumb in the direction behind him. “I was just dropping off some paperwork for Dr. T.”
“Here.” My voice was flat as I looked between him and the building behind him. I didn’t know why this turn of events made my skin crawl, but there I was. “You’re a psych major?”
“Pre-med. Future neurologist, I hope.”
“So you’re not interning with the psych department?” I said. “Why were you on the fourth floor?”
“That’s where your father’s office is.” Adam frowned. “I thought that was why you were here.”
“No. My therapist works here.”
“Oh.” He eyed me a little closer as if he’d missed something the first few times we’d interacted.
I’d never been one to hide my need for therapy. Maybe it was because I’d been seeing one for as long as I could remember. Karen always hid it and it irked me. I hated when people made excuses for mental health, as if one-hundred-percent of people weren’t completely unraveling on their own. My eyes drifted to the car waiting for me; I caught the driver’s eye through the rearview and put a hand up to let her know I’d be there soon.