Part 24 (1/2)

He kissed the top of my head, ever so gently; I marveled that anyone who had witnessed such brutality could be so gentle. Revenant, yes, but I also began to believe him more than that. I began to believe him to be a sort of angel.

”I love you,” he said as his feet lifted off the ground, and we floated back through time and s.p.a.ce, to Rancho la Curacion. He became light and warmth once more, and released me with a promise, unspoken but known to me as much as a breath is known to the lungs, deep down in my gut, that he would be by my side every free moment, even if I couldn't see him.

Then I was on the ceiling again, looking down at myself where I snored and drooled, and falling back into my own sleeping body, older than I'd ever felt, disgusted with what horrors the world unleashed on some children, and determined, with a ferocious conviction unlike anything I'd ever felt, to do something about it.

The next day after I'd worked out at the luxurious gym and had lunch in my room (grilled salmon Cesar salad and a Diet c.o.ke), I had a two-hour session with Dr. Bergant in my suite. As before, the fire burned brightly as a light snow fell outside. As before, she wore jeans and a sweater, with the same jewelry, and seemed very fas.h.i.+onably casual and fun. As before, she listened, and asked a lot of questions. This time, she got me to talk about my parents and my early life. I told her about the divorce, too, and it felt incredibly good to get al of my anger out in the open.

”My parents never divorced,” she told me as she munched on some of the peanut brittle she'd brought for us, along with hot chocolate, ”but they should have. Sometimes it's for the best.”

”I guess you're right.” I remembered my mom and dad fighting, and supposed it was a relief not to have to endure that anymore.

Eventually, the conversation turned back to Demetrio. I was still a bit shaken from the dream the night before, but reluctant to tell her about it.

”You know,” she said, out of the blue. ”Some of the girls who come here believe this place is haunted. How do you feel about that?”

I shrugged. ”I dunno. Why?”

”Because, I think they're right,” she said matter-of-fact. ”I've seen them.”

”Who?”

”The ghosts here. In fact, I've seen one in this very room.”

”Really?” I felt goose b.u.mps coming, and folded my arms over my chest.

”Before this was a hospital, it used to be an artist colony. A woman lived here, a painter. She was married to a man who was unfaithful to her, and used to flaunt it in her face.”

”That's sad,” I said.

”He used to bring his different girlfriends home for dinner, and expect her to cook for them.”

”What?”

”It's amazing what some men will do.” Dr. Bergant shook her head. ”But, yes, that's what her life was like. She put it with it for many years, but they say that one day, when he brought home her very own niece, she'd had enough, and went upstairs, to this very room, and hanged herself from that viga right there.” She pointed to the third viga from the outside wall; the one directly over my bed.

”Tragic,” I said.

”Does it scare you when I talk about ghosts?” she asked.

”Why are you asking me this?” I replied, suddenly suspicious of her.

She smiled. ”I'll be honest, Maria. Your mother mentioned that you had told your friends that you were seeing ghosts. You haven't mentioned that, so I was trying to let you know it's okay to talk about that sort of thing here.”

I sat with this information, unsure what to do with it.

”So, do you?” she asked.

”Do I what?”

”Do you see ghosts, like I do?”

I remembered what Demetrio had told me, about telling no one, and I shook my head. ”Sorry, but no.”

”You do understand that whatever we discuss here will remain strictly confidential,” she replied, as though she had read my mind.

”I know.”

”So let me ask you again. Do you see ghosts, Maria?”

I met her gaze, and felt its sincerity. She was a kind woman. She was trying to help me. Plus, everything else I'd told her, she had sympathized with.

”Yes,” I said, finally. ”Sometimes, I see ghosts.”

Dr. Bergant smiled. ”That's fine, Maria. I don't think you're unstable because of that. I believe there's a scientific explanation for the reasons some of us see these things sometimes. I'm glad you opened up about it.”

”Can I tell you something?” I asked her now, feeling a complete sense of relief at having told someone about the ghost thing.

”That's why I'm here.”

”I don't want you to think I'm out of my mind,” I said. ”Because I'm not.”

”I have already figured that part out, don't worry,” she said.

”The boy I told you about? Demetrio? He's - he's not exactly alive anymore.”

Dr. Bergant smiled. ”I figured as much.”

”How?” I asked.

”Well, after you told me his name, I thought to Google it. What an unusual name, I told myself. I was actually just hoping to do a background check on him, to make sure I wasn't encouraging you to become involved with an actual criminal, which is what your mother thinks. Anyway, sure enough, the name came up in a few news stories, but they were all about a boy who'd died in a car crash exactly where you had your crash. I put two and two together.”

”You don't think I'm insane?”

”Sweetie, no. If I hadn't had some of the same experiences, I probably would have, though. Which is why I want to spend the next part of our session talking about things you should and shouldn't say to people who might harm you. Ghosts, for instance. That's not something you should go around telling people. Especially not people like your mother.”

”I know.”

”It's not that you're denying Demetrio exists, okay? It's that you're protecting yourself.”

I used this opportunity to tell her about the disturbing dream I'd had the night before, and about how Demetrio said he couldn't see me anymore. She looked heartbroken, and shaken.

”Maria, do you believe in coincidences?” she asked me.

”No.” I s.h.i.+vered at the coincidental mention, once again, of coincidences.

”Me neither. I mean, I believe they happen, but I believe that they are a sort of divine intersection of things that were meant to meet.”

”Yes.”