Never Lie (43)

Ethan carries the plates containing our turkey sandwiches to the kitchen table. I join him, but I’m still feeling wary after that outburst. The two of us eat our sandwiches, but we’re quieter than we usually are during meals. Obviously, there are some topics that Ethan feels he can’t talk about with me. But he’s wrong. I need him to see that he can tell me anything. Anything.

Although perhaps not at this very moment, when we’re trapped in an isolated house with no way out in the foreseeable future.

“How are we going to get out of here?” I blurt out.

“Good question.” Ethan glances out one of the picture windows. The blanket of white is still unblemished. “I would have thought Judy would try to send somebody for us by now.”

“What if she doesn’t realize we’re here?” I chew on a lump of the turkey sandwich. The microwave dried it out, and the mayonnaise doesn’t help that much. “Maybe she texted to tell us she wasn’t coming, and she just assumed we didn’t show either?”

He rakes a hand through his golden hair. “Yeah, that’s a possibility. But by Monday, people will start missing us. Your family, my coworkers… They’re going to figure out we’re gone.”

“Monday!” I burst out. “You mean we have to stay here another night?”

“Is it that big a deal?”

Last night, I got about three hours of sleep, broken up into chunks of thirty minutes. So no, I’m not excited to spend another night here.

And then Ethan makes it way worse when he adds: “After all, we’re going to be living here soon.”

I cough into my free hand. “Um, about that…”

His eyebrows fly up. “What?”

How can I tell him? How can I shoot down his dream house? But I can’t live here, can I? I’d have nightmares every night until I’d eventually be murdered in my sleep—strangled to death by a white cashmere sweater.

“There are so many other houses out there,” I say. “I just don’t want to jump at this one and miss out on something better.”

“Better? Tricia, we’ve been looking at houses for months. There’s nothing better. Everything out there is crap.”

He isn’t completely wrong. This is the nicest house we’ve seen so far, and the price is so reasonable. But I can’t live here. I just can’t.

“I’ll think about it,” I mumble.

“I just think it’s so perfect.” He shows off a row of his perfect, white teeth. Years of braces, I’m sure. But I can’t ask him, because that would be asking about his past, and apparently, I’m not allowed to do that. “I can just picture us growing old here and raising our children here. Can’t you?”

“Yes,” I lie. “I can.”





Chapter 31


Transcript of Recording



This is session #183 with PL, a 27-year-old female who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident, but has largely recovered.



“Dr. Hale, I hope this isn’t inappropriate, but I brought you a little present. Well, actually, a big present.”

“Oh. Oh my.”

“It was my mother’s idea. She always says happiness doesn’t result from what we get, but from what we give.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“So she commissioned this artist, and we used the photograph on the back of your book. I hope it’s not too big! She thought it would look great over your mantle.”

“Um. No, it’s… very nice.”

“Are you sure you like it? You don’t have to hang it up. You could just stash it in your basement or something.”

“No, I like it. I’ll hang it up.”

“We just wanted to do something for you. I was such a mess when I started seeing you. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think straight. You helped me so much.”

“What you went through was traumatic. You watched three of the people closest to you murdered right in front of you. It just proves how strong you are.”

“I feel strong now. I didn’t always. Thank you for that.”

“Yes. You’re welcome.”

“And I’m glad you could include it in your new book. I’m honored. I hope my story inspires other people.”

“Yes…”

“After all this time, I’m finally able to move on. I’m dating again. I’m sleeping well. I do still feel a touch of guilt that I get to continue living my life while the others can’t. Is that normal? Will it ever go away?”

“Mmm.”

“Dr. Hale?”

“Oh. Um, yes, I think… Yes, it’s a good idea. Uh-huh. So… you’re sleeping okay then?”

“Dr. Hale?”

“Yes?”

“I know it sounds weird me asking this, but are you okay?”

“Me? Yes, I’m fine.”

“You look… I’m sorry, but you just look a little pale. And you zoned out there for a minute. Usually you’re not like that. You always listen to everything I say.”

“I’m fine. Really. Just a little… I’m fine. I promise. And I love the painting. In fact, I’m going to hang it up on my mantle right after you leave.”