“Abigail? Are you all right? Oh, my God, I’m so sorry! Talk to me!”
Abigail shook her head. Nope, no football for her, ever. Jogging, there’s a nice sport. “I think I’m OK. Charles, are YOU all right? Wait…are you Charles?”
Charles looked surprised, then down at his body, then back at Abigail. “Who else would I be? Oh. You mean. Holy Christ…I jumped through the window. At the hospital. The glass of the window tore into me. I could almost feel it. I. I was Agnes Spettigue, just before she died. I heard your voice, before I, she, hit the ground. ‘Tinkertoy’. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“Charlie?” Joyce! Her voice was back to her normal register. “Oh, Charlie, did you see all of that? I saw you as Agnes. You crashed through that window. I drove you to killing yourself. Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!”
Charles took Joyce up in his arms. “No. The person who drove Agnes to taking her life was a different person. He is not you, and you are no longer him. I’m very sorry that the person I once was let fear cause her to do a very foolish thing, but that’s not me. Not anymore. Whatever hold my former self had on me, I release. I’m Charles Baxter, your husband.”
Joyce looked up into Charles’ eyes. “Oh, Charlie. That’s all I wanted, to be your wife, one you could trust. I think I can be that person, now. I feel different, lighter, kind of.”
Abigail looked at the embraced couple. “I’m not even graduated, so take this without credentials. You found the event that formed a loop of rage and pain. The accidental poisoning death and the suicide caused a huge disruption in your spiritual journeys over a century ago. As I understand it, you have taken the first step of resolving this tragedy. You recognize it, in all its horror and magnitude. You must accept what happened with peace in your hearts, and forgiveness. Finally, once you both own what happened, you will have the authority to dismiss it into the past forever. Agnes’s death by suicide prevented resolution then, though both of you needed it. I think that’s why you both had to come back for another go round, why you were both so attracted to each other. You needed each other to heal your spiritual wounds. Does this sound right to you?”
Charles and Joyce looked into each other’s eyes. Whatever last doubt that might have lingered extinguished itself. Charles said, “Yes, it sounds very right. We owe so much to you and Dr. Grossman. Um, Dr. Grossman?”
There was a mumbling sound from the other side of the office, sounding like a meditative mantra. The sounds ran together, so the words were not easy to piece together at first. Dr. Grossman was still in his chair, eyes open, staring at the window.
Abigail walked up to him, the other two stayed behind with concern on their faces. “Doctor? Are you OK? It worked, your therapy worked. You’ll have to put in some safeguards in the future but…Doctor? What’s wrong?”
She saw that he did not see, or what he saw was not what was in the room. Unblinking, mumbling, he began to reach to the window.
“I’m a doctor I prevent harm Should have seen it coming Failed to save the mother Failed to save the wife I’m a doctor I prevent harm Should…”