Always Watching

said a few words to Daniel before drifting off. Daniel stood by the grave for a while, his head bowed, then turned and walked down the path toward the parking lot. I made my way down to Heather’s plot with my bouquet. I placed the white roses on her grave, remembering her sweet smile and sad blue eyes when she’d look sideways at me through the veil of her hair.
    I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you.
    Behind me, a man’s voice said, “What are you doing here?”
    I spun around. It was Daniel.
    “I just wanted to pay my respects. Sorry if I’ve intruded.” I brushed away tears and turned to go.
    “Wait,” Daniel said.
    I turned back, my body tense.
    His eyes met mine, and this time there was no anger in them, just a tired sadness.
    “I owe you an apology.”
    My shoulders relaxed, and I loosened the grip on my shoulder bag. “You don’t owe me—”
    “No, I do. The things I said to you in the parking lot.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t fair. It’s just seeing all her stuff in that box, our wedding photo…” He stared down at the flowers on the grave, swallowed a few times. “She tried to kill herself when she was living with me—and even before that. I’m not going to sue the hospital. It’s my fault anyway. I should’ve brought her back to the center sooner.”
    “I don’t know if that would have helped, Daniel. They seemed to upset her.”
    “She was doing great there—it’s when we left that she fell apart.”
    “That may be so, but it seemed like Heather felt they were harassing her to come back. And they didn’t appear to respect her boundaries or wishes.”
    “They weren’t harassing us—they just wanted to make sure we were okay.”
    “Do you think it was just that? Or were they hoping you’d come back for another reason? Heather mentioned donating money.”
    “But we wanted to donate. Is that why you came here today?” His voice sounded tight, defensive.
    “No, it’s not. I apologize if I’ve upset you. I just wanted to pay my respects. Heather was a special woman. I’m sorry I couldn’t help her.”
    Daniel took a breath and let it out in a sigh.
    “You tried. You were the only doctor at the hospital who helped her at all. She liked you a lot.”
    The only one  …
    An image of dark water, the smell of sand and earth, something familiar about the words. I focused in, grabbed at it. I was at the river with Aaron, cold rocks digging into my knees. You’re the only one, he whispered.
    I was looking at Daniel, but my mind was elsewhere.
    “You have to help me, or I won’t be able to heal her.” Aaron’s naked, and I’m kneeling before him. He takes my hand and puts it on his penis, then grabs the back of my head, pushing my face toward him. I say, “I don’t know how.…”
    “Dr. Lavoie? Are you okay?”
    Daniel was staring at me. He looked worried.
    I tried to think of something to say, but my head was spinning. It all made horrific sense now. Were there other victims? What about the women he took for private meditations, those long walks with other girls in the commune? He’d said something about being able to “heal her.” Who was he talking about?
    Daniel. Focus on Daniel.
    “Sorry, I was just thinking how much I liked Heather too.”
    We held gazes for a moment. Our grief binding us.
    Then he bowed his head again, covering his face with his hands while his body shook with the effort of holding in his sorrow.
    I stood beside him, my hand on his shoulder.
    *   *   *
    I don’t know how I made it home. I only remember getting undressed and climbing in the shower. The water beat on my head as I stared down at my body, wondering at the secrets it still held. What else did Aaron do to me ? I stayed in the shower, scrubbing my skin over and over, until the water turned cold.
    Sitting on my couch later, I tried to calm down and consider the facts. If Aaron had abused me, then it would explain why I’d been so uncomfortable around him, and it also probably explained my claustrophobia. But why did the memory finally surface now ? Was it real? It had felt real, but now, without any other supporting evidence, a time line, a sense of when it started or ended, and the memory already fading, I wasn’t so sure. It was possible that being immersed in memories of the commune for the last three weeks, then dealing with the strong emotions that Heather’s death had triggered, distorted my true memories. Like a dream that had no meaning and was simply