Free On Borrowed Time by David Rosenfelt Page B

definitely knew me.
    I hadn’t really thought about how honest to be with him, but in the moment I decided to lay it all out there. I mean, the guy was a shrink, so he was used to interacting with psychos. Besides, he obviously already had an idea what he was dealing with, from some previous meeting we apparently had.
    “I’ve got to be honest with you, Dr. Garber. I have no recollection of ever meeting you before. Or drinking your coffee. Or being in this building.”
    If he was shocked to hear this, his face didn’t show it. “I see,” was all he said. “That must be very disconcerting for you.”
    “I can think of stronger words,” I said, and he smiled. “Was I here?”
    He nodded. “Yes, you were. Three times. For one hour each time.”
    He said it with no particular affect, yet it felt like I was punched in the face. “Three times,” I repeated, because at the moment I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    “Why don’t you sit down?” He pointed to a chair I had probably been in three times before; it was probably my favorite chair, and I sat in it.
    I was a little nervous about what I was going to hear, so I opted for a pathetic attempt at small talk. There was a picture on Garber’s desk of him in the cockpit of a small plane, waving to the camera, so I said, “You fly?”
    He smiled. “It’s a passion of mine which I indulge far too often. But let’s focus on you. Please start at the beginning.” He then opened a notepad and held a pen at the ready, and took a few notes during our talk.
    “This is the beginning for me. So if you don’t mind, please tell me what we talked about when we met. Was I here as a patient?”
    “You were, and we talked about some things you were feeling.”
    I felt a quick flash of anger; my life was down the tubes and he was using bland shrink-talk on me. “Any chance you could be more specific? Did I talk about a woman named Jen?”
    “Yes. And I should tell you that I read your article in the magazine. I considered contacting you, but decided that if you wanted to talk, you would reach out.”
    “What did I say about her when I was here?”
    Garber paused for a few moments, as if measuring what he should say. It made me realize that as unique as this experience was for me, it was not an everyday occurrence for him either. “You were having fantasies about her, and it was frightening you.”
    “What kind of fantasies?” I asked, dreading the answer.
    “You were having moments, extended moments, when you believed that she was real.”
    “Was she real?”
    He shook his head sadly, as if in sympathy. “No, Richard, she was not real, or at least I saw no evidence that she was. You knew that then, and that’s what you told me. You were frightened by your fantasies about her.”
    His words were devastating to me, and I’m sure he could see it. “Why don’t you tell me everything?” he said. “Perhaps I can help you.”
    I wasn’t looking for help; it was too late for that. I was looking for truth. “I’m insane; is that what you’re saying?”
    He shook his head. “You’re not insane, Richard. You’re troubled, and you’re in pain, but there’s a way back from this. So let’s get started, shall we? How did you come to call me, if you have no recollection of having met me?”
    I told him about the cell phone bill, and then I told him all about Jennifer, starting at the beginning. I was able to give him an abbreviated version, since he had read the magazine piece, but I went on to talk at length about Allie and her missing sister. He listened without saying a word.
    When I finished, he asked me a few questions, mostly about how I was dealing with all this.
    “Look,” I said, “I’m sure this is standard procedure. The patient talks, and you listen, and you make observations. I’m sure that’s how it went in the three sessions that I don’t remember. But that’s not why I’m here, not today. I’m here for information.”
    He nodded.