“It is,” Priya said slowly. “But then sometimes I look at Anika and I think—if I’d had that baby, I wouldn’t have had her. And . . .” Her voice drifted off.

“Does that make it easier, or harder?” Emily asked.

Priya looked up at her. “Both,” she said. “But truly, once I had Anika, once she got older, I stopped thinking about it as much.”

She picked up her coffee cup from the table in front of the couch and took a sip.

“Thank you for telling me,” Emily said.

“I do still think, sometimes, about how old that child would be now and whether—” There was a commotion outside in the waiting area, students coming in, saying hello, taking granola bars. Priya looked at her watch. “Maybe a conversation for another time?” she said. “We both have patients soon, and I should go, but please come talk to me whenever you need to. I think one of the hardest things was how taboo the subject seemed to be. How it seemed shameful to share my pain. So . . . come talk if you need to. You’re not alone.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, her eyes tearing up again.

She and Priya hugged, and then Emily locked her emotions away so she could talk to her first patient of the morning. Shower, Get Dressed, Eat Breakfast, Go to Work. Four down, five to go. And she’d see Ezra, and they’d talk and fix things and everything would be better. She could handle it. She could handle it all.

xxii

That fall, I went back to school with a renewed purpose. I wanted to be a therapist. I wanted to help people the way Dr. West was helping me. I thought maybe if I did, everything that happened would make sense. It would be like my mom said—things happen the way they’re supposed to, and I was supposed to help people. It felt good to think that way.

28

Tessa came into Emily’s office that afternoon.

“How’s it going?” Emily asked her.

Tessa closed her eyes briefly before opening them again. “How often do you think is too often to leave your kid with a babysitter?”

“Do you think you’re leaving Zoe with a babysitter too often?” Emily asked back.