Peggy looked up when she heard a knock at the door and watched Riley saunter in wearing chinos and a polo shirt. She plopped in the chair opposite Peggy’s desk and grinned.
“Hey, kiddo. Got a haircut, huh?”
“Yep.” Riley smoothed her hand over the back of her head. “Too short?”
“Nah…your cute face can handle it. It looks darker though.”
“One day out on the lake, and it’ll turn blond again.”
Peggy turned away from her computer and took off her glasses. “It’s hard to believe summer classes are almost over. Would you consider teaching again?”
“Possibly. I sort of like being called professor.”
“Ha. I thought you would. Have you read the student reviews online?”
“Do I have any?”
“Several. It appears you’re a Generation X hit.”
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely. Check them out.” Peggy leaned back in her chair and smiled like a proud parent. Riley was the closest she’d ever come to having a child, and she was filled with satisfaction and admiration for the kid who had wandered into her abnormal-psychology class some twenty years ago.Peggy would never forget the first time she’d laid eyes on Riley. As was always the case the night before the fall semester began, Peggy had trouble falling asleep. She’d turned on the television, keeping the volume low so as not to disturb Barbara and the two chihuahuas who snored between them. Not that the little dogs needed their precious sleep. They didn’t have to wake up at six a.m. and rush off to work like she did.
Too tired to read, too wired to sleep, she’d channel-surfed and found the movie Fried Green Tomatoes. It was half over, but it didn’t matter; she’d seen it enough times that she could mindlessly follow the storyline until she dozed off. It was one of her favorites. And besides, what better women to lull one to sleep than Kathy Bates, Jessica Tandy, and especially the adorable Mary Stuart Masterson playing the part of Idgie.
That’s who popped into her head when Riley came strolling into her lecture hall the next morning. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Idgie, and Peggy couldn’t help but smile and stare. Riley’s shaggy sun-bleached hair, her tan, and her cute freckles suggested a summer spent outdoors, while her swagger hinted at a subtle androgyny that set off Peggy’s gaydar.
Riley smiled back. “Good morning, Professor,” she said as she took a front-row seat, withdrew a notebook and pen from her bag, and prepared for class. Her golden eyes twinkled with enthusiasm and a readiness to learn. Peggy liked her right away.
“Well, good morning to you! And you would be…?”
“Riley. Riley Dawson.”
Peggy eyed her roster and nodded. “Welcome, Riley.”
It wasn’t long before Riley impressed her in class. Her contributions and ability to grasp reading material were at a higher level than some of Peggy’s graduate students, and compared with the papers most students handed in—poorly written with poorly developed ideas—Riley’s were thought-provoking, always a pleasure to read.
It wasn’t until October that Riley stopped by her office one morning. They’d enjoyed a nice chat, and after that Riley made a point of poking her head in just to wave hello. She was always cheerful, always wore a smile, but Peggy sensed an underlying sadness. She couldn’t say what it was, but her clinical instincts told her something wasn’t right with Riley.
And then one day in November, Peggy spotted her off-campus at Bela’s on Main Street. It was a popular vegetarian café in Northampton. The place was small, always packed this time of day, and just as Peggy was about to ask for lunch to go, she noticed Riley eating at a table, the chair across from her empty. “Mind if I squeeze in and join you?”
Riley looked up from her sandwich. “Hi, Professor Spencer. Not at all.” She quickly closed an open book, making room for her at the tiny table.
“Peggy settled down and began to eat. “Do you live on-campus, Riley?”
“No. I rent a house. About a mile from here, right off Route 66.”
“That’s a bit of a walk, isn’t it?”
“I drive. My parents gave me a car for my high school graduation.”
“Nice! So where are you from?”
“Manhattan.”
“Ah, a city girl. I bet you’re looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving.”
Riley looked down at her food. “I’ll be staying here.”
“Oh. Your parents are driving up?”
“No,” was all she said.
Considering Riley had a new car and New York City was only three hours away, it struck Peggy as extremely odd that a young freshman, away from her parents for the first time, wouldn’t be driving home for the holiday. Riley seemed guarded, though, and Peggy didn’t pry. Still, she wondered what Riley was hiding. Maybe she was struggling with her sexuality. Or maybe it was her parents struggling with their daughter’s sexual orientation. It was a common enough scenario. Peggy had gone through it herself when she’d first come out.
Peggy had Riley in class only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She didn’t show up for class the Thursday before Thanksgiving, and that following Tuesday she was absent again. It wasn’t like her to miss class, and Peggy became concerned.
That night over dinner she brought the subject up with Barbara. “You know the student I told you about?”
“The baby dyke in your class. The one who reminds you of Idgie from Fried Green Tomatoes?”
Peggy gave a little laugh. “Yeah, her. At least I think she’s gay. She has nowhere to go for Thanksgiving…and she’s missed my last two classes. I can’t stop thinking that maybe she’s in crisis.”
“Has she said anything?”
“No. I’m just getting that vibe.”
The thing about a crisis was that people didn’t always know when they were in one. While terrorist attacks, accidents, mass shootings, earthquakes, and wildfires could certainly lead to crisis, they were emergencies. Crises were often insidious. They had a way of quietly creeping up, developing over time—the unhappy home, a loveless marriage, significant losses, financial ruin, chronic illness. Sometimes they came from broken dreams that became nightmares from which an individual was unequipped to escape. And sometimes young people, unable to transition to adulthood, found themselves in crisis. Whatever the case, Peggy decided that beneath her pleasant and easy-going exterior, Riley was definitely in crisis.
“So invite her to Thanksgiving dinner,” Barbara said.
“I was thinking that. Would you mind?”
“The more the merrier. It won’t be the first time we’ve had stragglers here on holidays.”
This was true. On more than one occasion Barbara had invited displaced interns from her pharmacy. Barbara was half Chinese, but Peggy suspected it was her Italian half that had a need to gather and overfeed people.
The next morning Peggy looked up Riley’s contact information and tried calling several times throughout the day, but she didn’t pick up, and neither did an answering machine. Peggy began to think the worst. She copied down Riley’s address and decided to pass by on the way home.
It was dusk by the time she got there and saw a cabin at the end of a long dirt driveway. A car was parked in front, and a light should have been on inside by now, but the place was dark. She saw the curtains move, glimpsed what looked like the face of a big dog, but then it disappeared.
Peggy climbed the two wooden steps to the door and knocked, expecting to hear barking, but the house was quiet. “Riley?” she called out and knocked again.
A lamp came on then, and after another minute the door opened. There stood Riley, looking nervous and disheveled. She squinted at Peggy. “Professor Spencer?”
“Sorry for barging in, but you’ve missed two classes and aren’t answering your phone. I’ve been worried.”
“Oh…”
“Are you sick or something?”
“Just a bad cold.”
She didn’t sound like she had a cold. She looked like she’d just come in from the woods. Her sneakers were untied, she was missing a sock, and her hair bristled with twigs and bits of debris. “Would it be all right if I came in?” Peggy asked. “Just for a minute?”
“Uh…sure.” Riley stepped to the side, brushing her hair with her fingers, and they both watched as a piece of an autumn leaf fluttered to the floor.
“Were you out hiking with your dog?”
“I don’t have a dog.”
Peggy wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d seen one. Some sort of tan or brownish shepherd mix. Maybe only for a split second, but its face and large pricked ears were distinct. Riley had to be lying, but she didn’t push the issue. Students were always sneaking their cats and dogs into no-pets-allowed apartments off campus. Still, it was odd that the dog wasn’t barking or whining or scratching at the door of whatever room in which Riley had locked it. The cabin was quiet except for a dribbling sound coming from somewhere. And then Peggy caught the aroma of coffee.
“Can I offer you something to drink? I was just making coffee.”
Peggy sensed that Riley was hoping she’d say no and leave, but she was here now and determined to get a better sense of this student who was fast becoming a paradox. “Coffee sounds wonderful…if I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all, Professor.”
“We’re not in the classroom, so please call me Peggy.” She smiled at Riley and Riley smiled back, but the corners of her mouth trembled a little. She was definitely hiding something.
“How do you take it?” Riley asked as she disappeared into what must have been the kitchen.
“Just milk,” Peggy called to her. With Riley out of sight she took inventory of the small living room. The coffee table was cluttered with books. Some were textbooks, others from the library, and she noted the titles: Animals in Mythology, Wildlife of the Northern Woods, Lycanthropy in the Dark Ages. Strange, she thought, and moseyed over to a stack of movies next to the television: An American Werewolf in London was there, along with Stephen King’s Silver Bullet. What an odd but fascinating kid. “You certainly have a wide range of interests,” she said above the noise of Riley gathering cups and spoons in the kitchen.
“I like to learn about everything,” Riley called back.
“I can see that.” Peggy wandered to the kitchen to find Riley filling a creamer with milk. She’d already set the table for two with placemats with plates, folded napkins, and spoons. Peggy leaned in the doorway and watched as Riley took doughnuts from a bakery box on the counter and arranged them nicely on another plate. She’d certainly been taught something about presentation. Peggy assumed she’d been well raised…in Manhattan…by parents who’d be having Thanksgiving without her.
“Have a seat, Professor Peggy.”
Peggy laughed to herself. Riley really was adorable, her hospitality charming. “Wow, all this?” She hung her coat on the back of the chair and sat down. “I really shouldn’t have that doughnut I’m about to eat.”
“Please, help yourself.”
Peggy decided to keep the conversation light and put Riley at ease. “This doughnut is delicious, and you make great coffee,” she said. “I’m sorry for interrupting your studies, but I really stopped by to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”
“At the college?”
“No, silly. At my house.”
Riley seemed stunned. “Won’t you be with your family?”
Peggy wasn’t in the habit of coming out to students, but her gut told her that Riley was trustworthy. And gay. Definitely gay. “Yes, with my partner, Barbara.”
“Your business partner?”
“No…we’re a couple. Barbara’s parents are in Palm Springs, mine are in North Carolina, so it’ll just be us, Barbara’s brother, and a couple of friends,” she said. “We’d really love it if you joined us.”
Riley was quiet for a moment. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll be fine here. Really.”
“No one should be alone on Thanksgiving. How about if I leave you with my number and directions to the house in case you change your mind.” No one had GPS in those days, and Peggy waited for Riley to bring her a pen and sheet of notebook paper.
Peggy talked as she wrote. “It’s about thirty-five miles from here, but once you get onto Route 23, it’s pretty much a straight run. She drew a little map below the written directions. You’ll pass through Otis, and when you see the Welcome to Monterey sign, check your odometer. The turn onto Tyringham Road will be exactly—”
“Monterey?”
“Yes. Do you know it?” Peggy stopped writing and glanced up to see Riley’s face pale.
“Is that near the Appalachian Trail?”
“Not far. There’s an entrance to the trail right on 23, a couple of miles past the house. Why, do you hike there?”
“I was born there.”
“No kidding, in Monterey?”
“On the Appalachian Trail.”
“On the trail?” This struck Peggy as funny, but it was a good thing she didn’t laugh, because Riley’s countenance was very serious. Who knew? Maybe Riley’s mother had been pregnant and out for a walk when she’d gone into labor.
“I’m a foundling,” Riley announced. “I was abandoned…on the trail.”
“Goodness!” Peggy didn’t know how to respond to this mystery-kid who tugged at her heartstrings the way no student ever had. “Do you know anyone in Monterey?”
“No. But I’d like to see it.”
Peggy nodded and got up. “It’s settled then. You’re coming to Monterey tomorrow for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Peggy didn’t stay long after that. Riley walked her out to the porch, where Peggy thanked her for her hospitality. “I hope you won’t change your mind.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Come early. Say two?”
Riley nodded, and Peggy sighed with satisfaction. She’d done well to follow her instincts and come today. She started down the steps, then turned back on second thought and opened her arms. “Can I have a hug?”
Riley hesitated at first, but then she melted into Peggy’s arms and held on, as if she’d been needing a hug for a very long time. When Riley finally let go, she quickly turned away, and Peggy saw her wipe her eyes.
“Just a thought,” Peggy said as she walked to her car. “I don’t think we’ll have time for a walk tomorrow with dinner and all. It gets dark so early these days. But if you want to bring a change of clothes and spend the night, we can take a walk on the Appalachian Trail Friday morning.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Peggy opened her car door. “And feel free to bring your dog. We have two.”
“But I don’t have a—”
“Whatever,” Peggy said, humoring her. She knew there was a darn dog in that house, albeit a very quiet and well-behaved one.
* * *
Riley arrived on Thanksgiving Day with fresh apple cider and two pies from a local farm stand. “I figured you’d have a pumpkin pie, so I got an apple and a pecan,” she said.
“You figured right. I told you not to worry about bringing anything, but thank you so much.” Peggy felt bad. Those farm stands were expensive, but it seemed against Riley’s upbringing to show up empty-handed. She’d been taught good etiquette. And she apparently had plenty of money. But she didn’t have a dog.
Puzzled, Peggy started second-guessing herself. Maybe it was Riley who had peeked out the window that day. It had happened so fast, really—the curtains moving, the split-second image of a furry face, then nothing. A glare on the glass might have distorted her face and given the illusion of an animal. But with pointy ears? She searched to explain the dog she swore she’d seen, but her own dogs, the two chihuahuas, distracted her. From the moment Riley walked in, Felix and Brandi were glued to her, oddly fascinated by the newcomer’s scent. They stood up against her legs, sniffing, jumping in her lap when she sat to smell her some more. Peggy threatened to lock them in the other room if they didn’t stop pestering her, but Riley stopped her. “Leave them. I love dogs. I haven’t had one since I was little.” And so Peggy let them have their way with her.
Thanksgiving dinner went well. A botanist friend of Barbara’s had joined them, along with one of Peggy’s colleagues and his wife. And Barbara’s kid brother Tom was there with Peter, his “dick du jour,” as they jokingly referred to his ever-changing boyfriends. Both were doing post-graduate work in molecular biology. Unfortunately, Tom’s own molecules were prone to wanderlust, and Peter would probably be out of the picture by Christmas.
And then there was Riley. She was polite, gracious, the perfect guest, and considering she was at a table with people ten to twenty years her senior, she held her own. Peggy suspected all that voracious reading she did served her well in conversation.
“Who the hell leaves their kid all alone on a holiday?” Barbara said when Peggy came in the kitchen to whip cream for the pies warming in the oven. “She’s such a great girl.”
“Isn’t she?” Peggy gave her dark ponytail a soft tug and hugged her from behind. “Thanks for letting her spend the night.”
Barbara stood on her toes, reaching for dessert plates in the cabinet, and handed Peggy a stack. “She’s adorable. And you’re right,” she whispered, “definitely a little dyke. But I’m furious with her parents, and I don’t even know them. What’s the deal with them?”
“I don’t know. I’ll find out more tomorrow.”
Peggy wasn’t sure if Riley would change her mind about staying. It was after nine and raining when the others left, and Riley suddenly appeared a little antsy. It seemed part of her was anxious to get home—maybe to walk the dog she didn’t have—but she stayed. No doubt the promise of a walk on the Appalachian Trail tomorrow, an overdue visit to her birthplace, kept her there.
By morning the sky was clear, but November’s cold rain had left behind a damp chill, and Barbara opted out of a walk. Peggy, too, would have preferred to spend the afternoon curled up reading by the woodstove, but she didn’t want to disappoint Riley.
“I really appreciate you having me,” Riley said as they finished a pancake breakfast. “I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.”
Barbara rested a hand on Riley’s shoulder as she made her way around the table, topping off everyone’s coffee. “You couldn’t if you tried. You’re awesome. And welcome here anytime.”
It was almost noon by the time they were dressed and in the car. “We can make it a short hike since the weather isn’t great,” Peggy suggested. “At least this way you’ll know where the entrance is and how to get there on your own in case you want to do more exploring.”
Riley nodded as they turned out of the driveway onto Tyringham Road, and at the white church on the corner turned onto 23. After a couple of miles Peggy slowed down and pointed to two posts at the roadside. A hand-painted wooden slat that hung between them had an arrow pointing south and said Georgia. One below it pointed north and said Maine. “This is it.” Peggy turned into the small dirt parking lot. “Route twenty-three interrupts the trail, and it’s somehow incongruous to see hikers with backpacks crossing this busy road to get from one side of the trail to the other.” Peggy handed Riley an extra pair of gloves stuffed between the car seats and smiled at her. “Shall we?”
Riley looked all around when they got out to access the narrow trail that cut through the dense woods. “So this is Monterey?”
“Well, we’re actually on the Great Barrington border right now. If you continue driving another mile, you’ll reach Butternut. That’s our big ski area. And if you go another few miles, you’ll hit the town of Great Barrington. It’s our closest big town, sort of like Northampton—full of restaurants, music venues, the movie theater and grocery store. In fact, now that my private practice is growing, Barbara wants me to move my office out of the house and rent office space there.”
Riley didn’t respond. She was quiet now, seeming lost in thought as they wandered farther into the wooded interior. Her jacket was open, and she seemed impervious to the cold, but Peggy wasn’t. It would be December next week, and winter was in the air. She followed, letting Riley take the lead and move at her own pace.
“I’ve wondered about this place all my life,” Riley said after a while.
Peggy couldn’t imagine what Riley must be feeling. What kind of mother would abandon a newborn baby out here? Why not drop her off at a hospital, a store, a laundromat—someplace safe where she’d quickly be found? It was a wonder she’d survived. “Do you know much about your birth?”
Riley shook her head. “Only that I was born in May…out here in the woods somewhere…and that I…I had a tail.”
Peggy stopped walking. “A tail?”
“I don’t have it now. It was cut off before my parents adopted me.”
Riley kept walking while Peggy stood there, shocked, for a moment. Was that even possible? Were human babies ever born with tails? It sounded ludicrous, although she remembered a friend who’d had a pilonidal cyst removed from his tailbone—some kind of growth containing skin and hair—and laughed about having a tail. She’d do some research, ask around the science department when she was back on campus.
Peggy broke into a jog to catch up and, when she reached Riley, saw her crying. A big log lay right there, a tree that had been felled just off the path. “Hey, kiddo…do you want to sit for a minute?”
“No. I’m okay.”
But Riley wasn’t okay. Peggy grabbed the arm of her jacket and tugged on it, forcing Riley to turn and look at her. “Come on. I need a break. Sit with me for a minute.”
Hm, so her suspicions had been correct. Riley was in crisis—depressed, lost, a foundling unable to find her way.
The cold air always made Peggy’s nose run, and she was glad she’d stuck a packet of tissues in her pocket. She pulled two out and handed Riley one.
Riley quickly dabbed her eyes and looked away, obviously embarrassed by her tears. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s stupid that I’m crying.”
Peggy put an arm around Riley and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not stupid. And you have nothing to be sorry for. This is a tremendous moment for you. I’m glad I could be part of it in some small way.”
“A huge way, Professor Peggy.”
Professor Peggy…Peggy smiled and rubbed Riley’s back. “I kind of had a feeling you might be struggling with something.”
Riley started to sob but quickly composed herself. “I don’t really know who I am or where I’m going.”
“You’re only eighteen, Riley. Still a kid. I didn’t know where I was going at your age either. It takes time to figure ourselves out.”
“I guess. It’s just that I…I get lonely sometimes.”
“But you’re so sociable, always upbeat, and a great conversationalist. I’d think someone like you would make friends easily.”
“I’m not allowed. My father says I shouldn’t.”
Peggy pondered that remark for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Well, you know that Barbara and I are a couple…and I was wondering if maybe you were struggling with your—”
“Sexuality? I’m gay, too, if that’s what you were wondering.”
Her straightforwardness surprised Peggy. “Well, to be honest, I was, but…do your parents know and disapprove?”
“They don’t know I’m gay.”
“Then can you tell me why you couldn’t go home?”
“They don’t want me home because I’m…I’m not normal in other ways.”
“What other ways?”
“I can’t say. It’s a secret I have to keep.” An orange leaf that been hanging onto an otherwise bare tree fluttered down to join the others on the ground. It landed between Riley’s shoes, and she picked it up, nervously tearing it to bits and pieces as she spoke. “Something awful happens to me, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
“You know,” Peggy said, “sometimes the best way to lift the burden of a secret is to share it. I won’t judge you, and just so you know, absolutely nothing would make me like you any less. Nothing at all.”
Riley was silent and then finally said, “Someone else is living inside me.”
“Someone else? You mean like…another person?” Split personality, dissociative identity disorder, was fairly rare, and always seen in response to severe physical and emotional trauma in childhood. “Can you tell me more about this other person inside you?”
Riley’s knee began bouncing up and down, and she seemed to be fighting the impulse to bolt. “It’s not a person…it’s an animal. Something like a wolf…more like a coyote, maybe.”
A chill ran up Peggy’s spine. Clinical lycanthropy? That would be a case of delusional misidentification syndrome. And although it might have been considered a common supernatural affliction in the Middle Ages, it too was extremely rare these days, always associated with other primary psychotic conditions such as schizophrenia and drug intoxication. Nothing about Riley’s behavior or thought process suggested a psychosis. Nonetheless, Peggy softly patted the pocket of her jacket just to make sure her car keys were at the ready, in case she had to make a run for her life.
Riley sniffled, but then the sniffling sounded more like sniffing, and when Peggy looked over, she saw Riley’s nose twitching, her nostrils flaring.
“You’re afraid of me,” Riley said.
Peggy’s heart pounded. “No, I’m not,” she lied.
“Yes, you are. I can smell it.” For the first time since she’d started to cry, she looked over and locked eyes with Peggy. “Please don’t be afraid. Everyone’s afraid of me. That’s why I can’t ever go home again.” Riley’s face looked pained. “I would never hurt you. I’m not the kind of vicious werewolf you see in the movies.”
Werewolf? Peggy’s thoughts reeled, her mind flashing to the dog she’d seen in Riley’s window. It couldn’t be. No way. And then she remembered the werewolf movies she’d seen in Riley’s cottage, the reference books on mythology and wildlife. The internet hadn’t yet made it into the homes of every American family, especially up here in the country, and she suspected Riley had been conducting her own research via Blockbuster and the college library.
Peggy took a deep breath, trying to put things in perspective. Maybe Riley’s delusional thinking had to do with being born in the woods to an unknown mother. That would fuck anybody up, wouldn’t it? And this tail thing! God, if it were true, maybe that’s what had her all worked up about thinking she must be part animal. “Is that why you registered for my course in abnormal psychology—to diagnose yourself?”
Riley nodded. “If I can’t find a way to help myself, there’s not much point in living.”
“Have you thought of taking your own life?”
“Yep.” Riley forced a snort of laughter. “Like every single day.”
“Every day? Have you thought of how you might do it? Do you have a plan?”
“No…no plans…it’s just that knowing I have to live my whole life alone gets to me.”
Peggy didn’t know what to say, what to think. None of this was jiving. It didn’t make any sense. Maybe she could put her hypnosis training to work. She’d become certified in hypnotherapy two years ago, just before she’d been granted tenure. She’d successfully used hypnosis on several clients since then, mostly for smoking cessation. But maybe…just maybe…
Peggy stood and pulled her hood up. Between the heebie-jeebies and the cold air, she was shivering. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Back to the house.”
“You still want me in your house?”
Peggy made a face and held an arm out. “I’m sorry I lied to you about being afraid. You did scare the shit of me for a minute, but I’m okay now. And I have an idea.” She draped her arm around Riley’s shoulders as they headed back, carefully navigating the uneven terrain. “I want to try something that might be helpful…if you’ll agree to it,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to hypnotize you.”
Riley was the one who looked scared now. “That’s not a good idea. I don’t want to lose consciousness. I don’t know what might happen if I—”
“You won’t lose consciousness. You know how you said you’re not like the werewolves in movies? Well, hypnosis isn’t like it is in the movies either. People under hypnosis are conscious….aware and in full control…they’re just in a super-relaxed state. We put ourselves into hypnotic states all the time. We just don’t realize it.”
Peggy let go of her as they approached the parking lot and got in the car. “Have you ever been so lost in a daydream that when you come out of it, you realize you were oblivious to what others were saying, what was going on around you? Or have you ever been so totally absorbed in a good book or writing a school paper that you totally lost track of time? That’s a self-induced hypnotic state. People do it while they’re driving, too. Haven’t you ever been listening to music in the car or thinking about something, and the next thing you know you’re almost home and have no memory of having traveled the last few miles?”
“Yeah, I have,” Riley said with sudden interest.
“Well, that’s self-induced hypnosis. And that’s exactly how it would be…except that I’d be the one putting you in that relaxed state.”
Peggy asked a few questions on the way back. Having been adopted, she couldn’t know whether mental illness ran in her family, although the mother who had abandoned her in the woods certainly had issues. She asked about Riley’s own psychiatric history, about any drug use, child abuse. Nothing. Riley insisted that she’d been a happy, well-adjusted kid until the summer before last when the change had first come upon her. She even told Peggy about her first sexual encounter with a girl named Fiona, and how she’d shape-shifted that very same day.
“I can record or, better yet, videotape our session so that you can watch and listen to what you’ve said when we’re done,” Peggy offered.
“No! No camera. Nothing that anyone can ever use as proof that—”
“Okay, okay. No recorder. No camera. Just you and me. I promise.”
Peggy made hot chocolate when they got back and gave Riley a while to relax and warm up before coaxing her onto the couch in her office toward the back of the house. They began their session, and it wasn’t long before Riley drifted into a hypnotic state.
“May I speak to the wolf?” Peggy asked when Riley was fully under. She expected a yes or a no, but what she got instead was a growl…a series of startling yips and whines…and then…
Peggy stared in disbelief as hairs sprouted, quickly covering Riley’s face. And when her nose began to elongate, turning her face into the animal Peggy had seen peeking out at her through the curtains, she quietly stood and backed up a few feet. Fur covered the backs of Riley’s hands, but her fingers remained human, as did the rest of her. Lying there in jeans and a flannel shirt, she looked like a Looney Tunes character, like Wile E. Coyote wearing oversized clothes.
Peggy turned and tiptoed to the door. She needed Barbara to see this. Felix and Brandi were frantically sniffing along the bottom edge now, and when she opened it, she pushed them back with a foot and whispered a shout to Barbara. “Barb? Barb!”
“What?” Barbara yelled from somewhere in the house.
“Shh! Come here. Quick.”
“All right, all right. What’s going—”
“Shh!”
Peggy pulled her in and shut the door before the dogs could squirm through, then squeezed her hand and pointed to the couch.
“I don’t get it. Is this Thanksgiving or Halloween? What, are you two pranking me?”
“It’s not a prank. It’s Riley. I swear. She’s under hypnosis,” Peggy whispered. In the time it took for her to call Barbara in the room, Riley had partially transformed. Lying there was what looked like a dog asleep on its back, its paws limp at the wrist. Her chest looked suddenly narrow and deformed, deep and barrel-shaped now, and the buttons of her flannel shirt were bulging, ready to pop. But her pants were baggy. It seemed her legs had shrunk and all but disappeared into her pant legs.
“You’re fucking joking me, right? Where’d you get the mask?” Barbara asked.
“It’s not a mask,” Peggy hissed through clenched teeth. She shook Barbara’s arm. “Listen to me. While we were out on the trail, she confided that she’d been born with a tail and worried that she might be a werewolf. So I hypnotized her…and she…she turned…”
“Into that? No fucking way. It looks like some kind of malformed coyote.”
“Shh!” Peggy pressed her fingers to Barbara’s lips. “I want you to be quiet and stay right here as my witness.”
“I’m not staying in here.” Barbara made a move for the door, but Peggy grabbed her arm with two hands and stilled her. “Listen to me. Focus!”
“What the fuck, Peg?” Barbara said, her face a mixture of horror and disbelief. “What the fuck’s happening?”
“I need you here while I try to turn her back.” Hopefully she would turn back. Peggy didn’t want to think about what she’d do with Riley if she stayed this way. “Don’t make a sound…don’t move…and please don’t leave me.”
She nodded, but when Riley growled, Barbara let out a gasp and reached for the doorknob.
Peggy held up a hand, signaling for Barbara to keep still, and walked back over to Riley, whose arms were twitching and jerking like a dreaming dog’s. There were a few whines and whimpers, but no intelligible words. Peggy saw no point in asking any further questions. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. “Okay, Riley…very slowly now…I want you to come out of trance…you’re becoming aware of how relaxed and comfortable you feel…becoming aware of my voice…very slowly now…”
Before their eyes her pointy ears shortened, the hair retracting first from her hands, then her face, and then her fantastical snout receded. Peggy glanced back at Barbara, who still had one hand on the doorknob, the other covering her open mouth. Her eyes, which favored the Asian side of the family, were wider than Peggy had ever seen them.
Peggy spoke in a soft, soothing voice. “Take your time, Riley…no rush…I’m going to start counting back from five now…and when I do, you’re going to come back to the room…fully awake…feeling calm…feeling safe…” The calm-and-safe suggestion was important. What if Riley was a fear-biter? What if she could change at will? The last thing they needed was for her to awake in a panic, decide she’d been wrong to trust Peggy, and proceed to rip them both to shreds.
The chihuahuas started scratching at the door, and she motioned for Barbara to go out and quiet them. She had promised Riley that it would be just the two them, and she felt bad for letting Barbara see her favorite student in this very private and vulnerable state—this impossible state that gave new meaning to the term teacher’s pet.
“You’re back in the room, Riley…five…four…three…your eyes are open now…two…one…”
* * *
The snap of Riley’s fingers in her face startled Peggy from her reminiscence.
“Hey! Where’d you go, Peg? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
Peggy looked at Riley sitting across from her. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought, thinking about our…early days together. Having you back on campus is strange for me, too.”
“A little self-induced hypnosis, huh?”
“Apparently.” Peggy laughed and shook her head. “What were you saying?”
“Lunch. You feel like running across to the Mexican place before I head to the office?”
“You know what?” Peggy glanced at her watch. “Good idea. I’m starving. I have another class in forty-five minutes. And two long and boring committee meetings after that.”
“Then let’s go. I don’t have much time either. I have a client at three thirty.”
“Speaking of clients,” Peggy said as she grabbed her bag from the desk drawer and they headed out.” I know your schedule’s tight, but can you squeeze in a new one?”
“Possibly. Who is it?”
“It’s a family. The Barrett family. They moved into the area a few months ago. The guidance counselor at the daughter’s new school called in a report back in June,” Peggy said as they left Lily Hall and walked across campus toward Main Street. “The father’s in an anger-management group through social services. I spoke to the man who runs it, and he described the guy as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Riley pulled at her polo shirt. “Not a wolf in human clothing?”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Traffic was heavy, and they waited on the corner for the light to change. “Anyway, the family has insurance, and the mother wanted a private therapist. Sounds like an NVS case,” Peggy said. That stood for Narcissistic Victim Syndrome. “I did an intake last night. I’ll be seeing Edy, the girl, on Monday. I’d like you to see the mother, Fiona. Have Miriam schedule an appointment when you get to the office.”
Riley’s mouth dropped open. “Fiona? Wow…I haven’t heard that name in years. It was the name of—”
“Your first love. I know. She’s all you used to talk about. This is Fiona Barrett.” The light turned, and Peggy had to take Riley by the arm and pull her along to Mama Iguana’s. Peggy opened the door when they reached the place and held it for Riley. “Come on. I’ll fill you in on the case while we eat.”