“She was a little girl you used to play with. Her family moved into the house at the end of our street two months before you were taken. You two were inseparable,” Mom said.
I couldn’t believe it. Amber was a part of my world.
* * *
“How did you sleep last night?” Dr. Marshall asked the next morning as we settled in for my session. She reached into her briefcase to extract her notepad.
“Good,” I lied, folding my legs under me.
She looked up from her briefcase. “Mia?” It wasn’t a question so much as a gentle scolding. We both knew I was lying. After three weeks of daily sessions she already knew me better than anyone else.
I picked at the skin on my thumb. All my cuticles were dry and cracking. Even though it hurt, I couldn’t resist picking at them. “I miss my dreams,” I admitted quietly.
“Your dreams about Mia?”
I nodded.
She scribbled on her notepad. “Are you remembering the dreams better now?”
I shrugged. It was too hard to explain. Mia had been a part of my life for so long. I never questioned how it was that I could see her. I should have. Dr. Marshall could spout out her clinical mumbo jumbo about brains protecting themselves, but how did I create something that didn’t even exist? That concept was still hard for me to grasp.
“Mia’s best friend is real. She was my friend before Judy—well, you know…” My voice trailed off.
She nodded.
I sighed, hating when I felt I was missing something crucial.
“That makes sense. Of course you would want to keep some familiarity in your means of escape. Giving her to Mia was almost like a gift.”
“She was a great friend to Mia,” I mushed, not caring if I sounded crazy.
“I bet she was. I’m glad she was there for you.”
I opened my mouth to argue that she wasn’t there for me, but that’s exactly what Amber was there for. It was hard to sort through all the mess. A familiar flutter of panic began to beat in my chest. I could feel my pulse begin to race and my palms became damp.
“How’s your friend Gunner doing?” she asked, changing the subject. Dr. Marshall was good at that. It was as if she instinctively knew how hard to push before retreating, and lately Gunner seemed to be her favorite go-to topic.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves and the rapid fluttering in my chest. I reached for my glass and took a drink. I wasn’t thirsty, but I needed a buffer as I switched gears.
Dr. Marshall waited patiently. She never pushed me to hurry. We both knew that I just needed a minute.
“He’s good,” I finally answered when my near panic attack was under control.
“Is he still introducing you to new things?” she asked, looking at the iPhone in my lap that Mom had given me the day Gunner and I had met. The iPhone was already loaded with over three hundred songs Jacob had sorted into what he called “playlists,” but I referred to them as cassettes, much to his amusement. Gunner and I had spent hours going through all the songs, picking our favorites. Gunner’s tastes were different from mine. He liked the louder songs that vibrated your body when they were turned up. I went for the softer ballads that told a story. We both agreed that neither of us liked pop music all that much. Gunner claimed it all sounded the same. For me, pop music was just too cheerful.
I couldn’t help the goofy smile that crossed my face as I continued to discuss Gunner. “Yesterday he made me try sushi,” I said, scrunching up my nose.
She eyed me inquisitively for a moment before asking her next question. “I’m taking it you didn’t like it?”
It was a logical question, but I had the distinct feeling she wanted to ask me something different. Call it intuition. Maybe in her eyes it was too soon for me to get close to a guy. “I almost threw up,” I answered honestly. “I didn’t believe him when he said people actually eat it. He’s a prankster, you know.”
She laughed. “Not only do we eat it, but we also pay good money for it.”
“Gross, you eat raw fish?”
“It’s an acquired taste.”
I shuddered. It would never be an acquired taste for me. “Clearly, but I’ll take a cheeseburger and fries any day.”