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Chapter One
Dr. Elodie McCarthy breathed in the sweet, warm summer breeze as she strode down the path outside the Biological Sciences building at the University of Calgary towards the parking lot.
She didn’t get out often during the day and was enjoying the perfect cerulean blue of the sky overhead, the sun warming her skin that was still chilled after hours spent in the air-conditioned building where she worked. This escape was refreshing. She needed to take breaks more often.
Elodie looked down at her watch and calculated she had a bit of extra time before her appointment, so she took a left instead of a right down the path to take the long way to where her car was parked.
The campus was mostly empty for the summer term, but in a few months it would be buzzing with life again with the return of undergrad students hanging out in the Engineering quad, setting up tables to advertise their clubs and societies, making new friends (and new more-than-just-friends), and enjoying the newfound freedom that came with being a university student.
It was one of Elodie’s favorite times of year, but this year she wouldn’t be teaching her usual Intro to Bio course to the first years. She was on a one-year sabbatical until the winter term and was already knee-deep in a research project along with some of her PhD students.
They were a week away from their second field study in Silverstone National Park, where they were studying the regrowth patterns of the trees several years after fires ripped through a remote section of the forest. Elodie was putting in extra time setting up different components of the study, such as finishing up some literature review and adjusting their data sheets and protocol.
Today she was taking a quick break from work to visit the office of another doctor, Dr. Sheila Abner, who Elodie’s friend Julia assured her was the best in the business when it came to talk therapy.
Elodie was skeptical about the idea of revealing her innermost thoughts to a perfect stranger, but the scientist in her wasn’t going to rule out the efficacy of the process until she put it to a real test.
For the moment she just enjoyed walking through the peaceful surroundings of the campus with its nicely manicured lawns and gardens, the Olympic oval that had hosted the 1988 Winter Games, and the more modern MacKimmie Complex, where many of the administrative offices were located.
Just as she was about to turn off the main path, she spotted a figure in the distance that made her swivel left, then break right off the path to the lawn and the safety of a shaded area behind a hot dog truck. Luckily the woman appeared to be deep in conversation with the other person she was walking with and hadn’t noticed Elodie.
It was a childish move, but avoiding running into Lisa Wallace (and her shock of red curly hair that was unmistakable from a mile away) wasn’t a choice, it was a protective instinct.
Lisa worked in the university’s advancement office, and she had Elodie had dated for a brief stint that winter, a choice Elodie attributed to lack of Vitamin D and need for company. Lisa had seemed totally normal and cool for the first few months they’d dated, then Elodie started to experience her over-the-top jealousy and intense mood swings. After Elodie broke things off (with mediation support from the university’s HR office—confidential, thank goodness) the last thing she needed was for her boss to know she’d foolishly decided to date a colleague. On more than one occasion Elodie had found Lisa sitting outside of her house, and when she confronted her, Lisa claimed she was just there to take advantage of Elodie’s Wi-Fi signal since her internet was down at home.
Elodie steered clear of the advancement office these days. She’d learned her lesson about dating anyone from work.
Her peaceful walk had suddenly become a near miss, so Elodie beelined it down the grass path to the parking lot, where she hopped into her car and made her way to the therapist’s office just a short drive away from the university.
The doctor was ready for her when Elodie stepped into the waiting room, a small but cozy space with two beige couches and a few single chairs, a coffee table with a spread of lifestyle and popular science magazines, and a television on the wall showing a local news channel on mute.
The doctor waved at Elodie from inside her office. She wore white linen pants, a pale-blue button up, and a series of silver bangles on her wrist that matched the color of her stylish bob. “Elodie McCarthy?” she asked.
“That’s me,” Elodie responded, pulling the door shut behind her.
“I’m Doctor Abner. Please, come in and have a seat.”
Elodie followed Dr. Abner into her bright and modern office, noting the collection of plants on the windowsill along with her framed degrees from the University of Toronto and McGill University on the wall behind her desk. She perched at the edge of a leather club chair and awaited further instructions.
“Why don’t you start by telling me what brought you here today?” asked Dr. Abner. She gave Elodie a small but encouraging grin, likely honed over the years to show that she was friendly and approachable, someone you could feel comfortable spilling to.
Elodie shifted in her seat. She knew what she was about to say sounded ridiculous. “Well. I’ve been thinking a lot about dying.”
Dr. Abner nodded, then made a quick note in her notebook and waited. Elodie wasn’t sure what else to say. “Is this something that’s been happening for a long time, or is this a new experience for you?”
Elodie considered. “I’ve always been…conscious of my mortality. But lately it’s been kind of all-consuming.”
“Tell me more about that. Being conscious of your mortality.”
Elodie looked at her fingernails, close-cropped, her nail beds in serious need of some lotion. “I’ve had WebMD bookmarked on my internet browser since grade three. I have a mental catalog of almost every known carcinogen known to humankind. And you know those parents? Like, the parents of newborns who get up twenty times during the night to see if their baby is still breathing?”
Dr. Abner nodded.
“Well, I’m just like that. But for myself. I’m terrified of dying.”
“Have you experienced anything in the past that might have triggered this? A near-death experience of some sort?”
“No. I’ve done everything possible to avoid a situation that might lead to that.”
“Unexpected death of a loved one?”
Elodie shook her head. “I’ve been very lucky.”
The woman took another note in her notebook, then looked up and adjusted her glasses. “Tell me a bit more about you, Elodie. What’s your family situation? What do you do for your profession?”
“Well,” said Elodie. “I’m the second of four daughters. I grew up in Keystone Ridge, where my parents run a vacation lodge. I’m a biology professor at the University of Calgary…and that’s about it, I guess.”
Dr. Abner nodded again. What was she thinking? That Elodie perfectly fit the profile of an out-of-control thanatophobic? “How would you describe your outlook on life, Elodie? What I mean by that is, are you generally satisfied with your life, your relationships, your profession?”
“Very much so,” said Elodie. “And I think that’s part of the problem. Life is really, really good.” And it was. Elodie knew she was lucky to spend her days working with eager young biology students and PhD candidates, immersing herself in her work on mycorrhizal networks, or, as she explained it to her family, ‘trees talking to each other.’
When she wasn’t working, she spent time hiking, paddling, skiing in the mountains outside of the city, or with her family. Her relationship with her family was always solid. She loved her parents and her three sisters, who were all very different from each other, but they spent time together whenever possible. Elodie also cherished her role as an aunt to her eight-year-old niece Sam.
Save for the fact that she’d been passed over for a promotion a couple of times in the past two years—which seriously irked her—she absolutely loved her life and her work. She was thrilled to be on a year-long sabbatical, during which she was going back-and-forth with her small team between the university and the field sites in Silverstone (three hours Northwest of Calgary) to study forest fire regrowth.
“How about a romantic relationship? Do you have a partner?”
Elodie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from her mouth. Dr. Abner raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. I just think—I know that one of the reasons I’m happy, I mean, aside from the death stuff, is that I’m not in a relationship. Too much drama.”
And drama didn’t even feel like a strong enough term to describe her past two relationships. Maybe dumpster fire, or perhaps hot mess express. Most recently it was Lisa, and before Lisa there was Lavender, the deep-sea kayaking guide who’d not-so-subtly inquired about Elodie’s interest in marriage on only their third date.
She obviously attracted needy, unpredictable women with completely unrealistic expectations, and the distraction and chaos those relationships created was partly to blame for the loss of focus at work that had cost her the promotion she so desired.
But there was another opening coming up soon—Dr. Kemi Ojo was set to retire in the next year or so—and she was laser-focused on making sure the third time would be the charm.
“Sometimes we can get fixated on things not because of the reality of their presence in our lives—for example, you’re young, healthy, with no real threat of death in the future—but oftentimes our fears are associated with things outside of our control, or that we are afraid are looming.”
Elodie nodded. “Yes.”
“There are ways to work on exerting control on your thoughts. Have you ever heard of cognitive behavioral therapy? We can try a few exercises together today, if you’d like.”
She’d heard of CBT. But the idea of talking herself through situations in an attempt to uncover the rationality of what was going on seemed redundant. She was the most rational person she knew. “I have,” she said, dubiously, and was about to ask about other options…but then she glanced over at Dr. Abner’s desk, where she saw a pack of spearmint gum next to the computer, and felt the strong urge to swat it right off the desk into the garbage can and save Dr. Abner from chewing on something that contained plastics, a potential cancer risk.
Elodie cleared her throat. “All right,” she said. “Sign me up.”
End of Excerpt
