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I still think about how my mother grabbed my wrist in the hospital. Did she know then? Had she figured it out on her death bed? As my birthday got closer, did all the madness of her past make itself clear to her? Was she wanting to warn me? I still have that piece of paper Sandra gave me. I look at it sometimes, my name written over and over. Deep inside, she still carried that worry for me, even if she didn’t know why. She did love me. She loved both me and Phoebe.
I try not to think about it too much anymore, but sometimes,like today, when I’ve been at her grave, I remember Nina, sitting on my new balcony, sipping wine and talking about the Ouroboros, not long after my birthday.
“This whole thing is an Ouroboros,” she said.
“What’s that?” I’d asked.
“A symbol. A circular image of a snake eating its own tail. Where does the snake begin and where does it end? It’s an endless loop. A paradox.”
She was looking into the middle distance, thoughtful. “I see the Ouroboros when I think about what happened to you. That’s a paradox too. Don’t you see?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t had time to analyze it all, I’d been too busy with the police and separations and tears. “Explain.”
“Okay. So, let’s start with your mother. If Patricia hadn’t been plagued by time from the future leaking into her subconscious, then she wouldn’t have tried to smother Phoebe and then collapse and been put in the secure unit. With me so far?”
I nodded.
“And if she wasn’t in the secure unit, then you and Phoebe wouldn’t have gone into foster care,” she continues. “And therefore, Caroline’s family would never have come to adopt you, and so would never have had the car crash that crippled Caroline’s mother. And if Patricia hadn’t beaten her head against that mirror, not only would you and Will not have inherited this glitch in time, but, more important, Patricia wouldn’t have been in the same hospital ward that Caroline’s mother was in, and so Caroline would never have seen and come after you.” She took another sip of her wine.
“You would have grown up entirely differently, in a different time and place, with no exposure to the danger of Caroline because nothing would have happened to bring you together or to make her hate you. None of it would have happened.”
She lifted her wineglass and ran her finger around the wet circle underneath. “You see now? The events of the future couldn’t possibly have existed without Patricia being plagued by it in the past. It’s an Ouroboros. Where is the beginning and where is the end? Your life running in a circular loop, like the snake eating itself. And I can’t get my head around that,” she said. “Your poor mother. If only she’d known what it was.”
No, I try not to think about it too often. There are some things you can’t try to understand.
You’d go mad trying.
Epilogue
Just in time for my fourp.m.,I get back to work, where Alma, my new receptionist-cum-assistant, greets me with a cup of coffee and a smile. Our premises are small but cozy, and I have a sense of pride as I settle into my office. I’ve set up on my own.
Despite the apologies and incentives, there was no way I was going back to the firm. Fresh starts and brave choices, that’s what I’ve decided life should hold for me, and as it turns out, I haven’t been short of clients. It seems I’m pretty well respected and connected and word of mouth recommendations have kept me busy. My first client to sign on was Miranda Stockwell, and now she has joint custody of her children. Darcy sends plenty my way and this afternoon’s prospective new client is the colleague Dr. Morris had mentioned before. I guess not even psychiatrists can make marriages work every time.
Alma buzzes to let me know he’s here, and I tell her to send him through. I stand up to greet him, smiling. “Dr. Martin,” I say.
“Please, call me David.”
“And I’m Emma.” I find myself wishing I’d refreshed my lipstick, as I nod him toward a seat. He’s Scottish and handsome but there’s a slightly haunted look about him.
“And this is?” I look at the little boy beside him, maybe seven or eight years old.
“Adam. My stepson,” Dr. David Martin says. “We’re in a difficult situation. I want to divorce my wife, Adam’s mother, but Adam wants to stay with me.” The little boy hasn’t yet let go of his hand.
“Okay, that is unusual,” I say. “But not impossible.”
Adam glances at David, hopeful. There’s a story here, I think, curious. They appeal to me, these two, and I want to help them.
“His dad died in an accident a year ago. Adam was lucky to survive. It’s been difficult and my wife, she, well, she can be unstable. I want to know that if I divorce Louise, he won’t be left with her.”
“You don’t want to stay with your mum?”
“No.” The little boy shakes his head, adamant. “She’s changed.”
“Do you want to go and see Alma in reception? She’s got some toys and comics out there, and, if you tell her I sent you, there may even be some sweets. Okay?”
That seems to cheer him up and we wait until the door is closed before continuing.
“Do you think you can help us?” David says.
“Why don’t you tell me some more? Then I can see.”
Half an hour later, I’m looking out the window, watching them leave. David glances up and smiles and I feel a flutter in my stomach. He is handsome. And interesting. And from what he’s just told me we’ve both been through the emotional wringer. Everyone else is moving on. Maybe I should too. Unlike with Parker Stockwell, if Dr. David Martin asks me out for dinner, I think I’ll go.
After all, what could go wrong?