Sanity's Only Skin Deep

IV

  “Don’t ever do that again,” Sarah said to Molly that evening, bypassing a greeting altogether. It was late, but Sarah was still at the office. She spoke in a hushed voice that made her sound more menacing than she’d intended. “I was in a meeting with the most senior partner in my department—the one person who basically controls my future—when you decided we had to talk at that very moment.”

  “It was bad timing,” Molly said. “I’m sorry. I was just really worried and I wanted to figure out what’s going on.” She paused for a reaction from Sarah, but Sarah gave none. “Have you thought any more about what we talked about?”

  “Yes, in fact. I spoke to my therapist about it over the phone today, and it turns out that a small percentage of patients with my particular condition suffer from minor memory alterations, and I’m apparently in that minority. I was misremembering the distant past. It freaked me out a little that I could misremember something so vividly, but it’s apparently nothing to worry about. Totally normal for this to happen.”

  “You’re telling me your memories are changing and you’re OK with that? I mean, how do you even know your therapist is right about this?”

  “I knew you would ask me that, so I even reached out to Dawn Hamilton and Rachel Moore—two of the other women in my support group—and both of them have had the same memory issues.” Molly was silent on the other end. “There’s no point in turning this into an episode of ER, Moll. There’s no dramatic twist to be uncovered here.”

  “Sarah, something is messing with your mind. That’s not OK. What if you’re misremembering other, more important things and don’t know it?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. Always so melodramatic. “I’m not, Moll. The memory problems are minimal. And like I said, it’s part of my condition. So unless you’ve figured out a way to cure me, we should probably drop this.”

  “Shouldn’t you at least get a second opinion? You owe yourself—and your family—that much.”

  “Molly, I’m fine. Therapy and group sessions are really helping, and I am not changing my approach just because you’re overreacting. I appreciate your concern, but it’s time to let it go. I have to get back to work now. Bye.” Sarah hung up, turned off her cell phone, set her work phone to “do not disturb,” and shook her mouse to reanimate her monitor.