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Holly is pleased to hear Reese volunteer such intimate details. She might be the most emotionally balanced member of the group, but when it comes to sharing feelings, Reese is the most tight-lipped, too. Aside from a passing mention of a mother with early onset dementia, Holly has not yet penetrated the web of past traumas that led Reese into addiction, but she knows better than to try to delve now in front of the others.
“I only saw one spirit,” Liisa murmurs. “My mother’s ghost.”
“When did she pass?” Holly asks.
“When I was four.”
JJ leans toward her, mouth agape. “Did you speak to her?”
Liisa nods.
“What did she say to you?” JJ’s voice squeaks with excitement.
Holly wants to tell JJ to back off, but Liisa is already answering. “She kept telling me it was OK.”
“What was?”
“My life.” Liisa’s voice thickens. “That I didn’t need to feel guilty. That I was doing as well as I could.”
“And you are, Liisa.” Holly nods encouragingly. “This is exactly the kind of response I was hoping you’d experience.”
Liisa’s face scrunches. “Hallucinations?”
“No.” Holly smiles. “Acceptance. We all live in heaven, hell, and purgatory. Often simultaneously. We’re all part of the human collective. And it’s not until we shed the shackles of our own egos that we connect to something much larger than ourselves. It’s in that place where we find unconditional love and acceptance.” More than anything, Holly wants her clients to experience the same kind of epiphany as she did on her ayahuasca retreat in Peru.
“Holy crap, Dr. D!” Simon bellows. “I lived through some serious love-ins when I first broke through in the seventies, but you make those hippie-dippies sound like a bunch of Young Republicans.”
Holly chuckles. “OK, maybe that was a tad enthusiastic? Maybe I’m projecting? As a part of my training, I’ve journeyed on psychedelics, too, and I’ve experienced the same release and feeling of connection some of you are describing. So, why don’t you tell us about your experience then, Simon?”
“I don’t know about acceptance,” he says. “But it was fucking brilliant. Magical. I danced with a sunflower and sang with crows.”
Holly nods encouragingly. “Peaceful, right?”
“Utterly.”
“Mine, too,” Salvador chimes in. “Exactly like the dreams I used to have when I was a child. All those brilliant shapes and colors.”
Holly recalls him telling her in a private session how he would sometimes escape the bullying he experienced as a teenager for being different—too eccentric, too effeminate—into a world of his own imagination. “Excellent, Salvador. Peace and acceptance, they go hand in hand. Now, what I’d love to hear—if any of you are willing to share—is how the experience affected your cravings.” She resists the urge to turn to Liisa, whose sobriety is most on her mind.
Baljit holds out her palm. “I haven’t even thought about going to a casino since I came to. Probably the longest stretch I can remember without feeling that itch.”
Reese nods vehemently. “Exactly! I haven’t felt tempted by the bottle in days, and I’ve been in mergers and acquisitions hell all week.”
“Me neither!” JJ says, beaming at Reese. Lately, the two of them have begun to arrive at the office together, and Holly assumes that their friendship has blossomed outside of therapy, though what a lawyer and an heiress have in common is anyone’s guess.
The others speak up almost at once, each eager to confirm that they, too, haven’t felt any urges to indulge their specific addictions since they underwent dual psychedelic therapy. Even Liisa nods enthusiastically, but Holly can’t tell if she’s only doing it for the sake of appearances.
Holly feels deeply satisfied as the clients file out of the room after the session. It’s as if they have collectively knocked down another wall in their path to sobriety.
Except Elaine.
Elaine hadn’t even called to say she wasn’t coming today. Usually, she was the first one there. She often showed up early to try to squeeze in any extra minutes for counseling, but of course Holly’s assistant and gatekeeper, Tanya, wouldn’t allow it. Tanya protects her time and schedule like a hawk.
As Holly carefully documents her detailed notes on their group session, quoting her clients as accurately as she can remember, she can’t shake the thought that Aaron is right. She does have to be proactive. Holly clicks open Elaine’s record, finds her mobile number, and dials, but it rings directly to voicemail.
Over the next hour, Holly tries the line two more times, without getting an answer. Finally, with the worry gnawing at her, and in spite of her better instincts, Holly copies Elaine’s address into her phone’s navigation app and heads down to her car.
Outside, it’s a mild and sunny spring day that could’ve fallen in almost any month of the relatively seasonless weather pattern of coastal Southern California. The short drive takes Holly from her office in the center of the business district, along the highway, and then up to a modest neighborhood on Ocean Vista Drive in the hills above the heart of Laguna Beach.
