“All right, Priya, let’s try this again. How old are you?” Avery, my new therapist, asked from her desk, where she had been inputting some notes onto the computer. She had small ringlets of brown hair extending out around her head like a curly halo. She wore a casual baby blue t-shirt, but had on a pair of perfect, pitch-black slacks that looked more comfortable than the ones Ms. Agarwal wore. Everything about her screamed casual and friendly, even her smile. She had a very soft smile, and in the time we’d known each other, it never reached her eyes or curled up too far. Big smiles usually creeped me out and screamed fake, so I was thankful for that.
I sighed. “I’m twenty-two.”
“But you also believe that you are disguised as a sixteen-year-old, correct?” Avery asked, clicking her pen.
I nodded. “Yes. I’m actually twenty-two, and I’ve been disguised as a high school student since I married Dimitri last year. I told you all of this yesterday!” My frustration was starting to seep into my voice.
“Yes, but I’m trying to understand better. Can you remind me again why you had to go undercover?” Avery looked down at her notepad and put the pen she was holding on the paper, ready to take notes.
I slouched as I let out a deep breath, feeling annoyed and defeated. If we had been in any other situation, I would never tell a soul about Dimitri’s and my mission.
But this was a unique situation, and I didn’t have the care or the concern to keep up our disguise now. I couldn’t tell if my apathy or my guard being down was because of the medication they had been giving me or because I had just lost my husband, and nothing seemed to matter anymore.
Maybe it was both.
“Dimitri was working on a highly classified project for the US government that was supposed to counterstrike the attacks of the Russian government. I don’t know much about it because it was confidential, but before we met, his project details leaked. The Russians started to hunt him down. So, the US government disguised him as a college student. He wasn’t supposed to, but while undercover, he started dating me. I only knew snippets about his life as an agent. But after we got married in secret, we told the government, and they disguised me as a high school student to keep the marriage and my identity a secret from the Russians. No one would think to look for me in a high school in Saratoga.” I leaned back against the couch, crossing my legs and arms as I waited for Avery to continue with her questioning.
She paused for a short while before clicking her pen and putting it and her notebook on her desk. She faced me and leaned back in her chair as well, crossing her legs without closing off her posture.
“Okay. How about you tell me how you and Dimitri met?” Avery said with that soft smile.
I looked at her for a short while as I tried to remember when and how Dimitri and I met, although I didn’t have to try too hard. I was all of a sudden surrounded by the smell of coffee. I could hear the sounds of the coffee shop—muted talking, cups hitting tables, the machines working to create drinks.
“We met four years ago, when I was a freshman in college. He was a barista at a local coffee shop. I thought he was cute, and when he asked for my name for the order, I made a joke about giving him my number instead of my name. He said he wouldn’t mind taking down both.” I smiled, remembering the experience as if it were happening for the first time.
“That’s very cute. Was Dimitri your first love?” Avery’s words pulled me out of my daze, especially her word choice. Was.
“Yes,” I said, looking down at my lap as I uncrossed my arms and fiddled with my hands. Looking at my nails, I noticed they had grown exceptionally long and brittle. My tan skin looked ashy and dry. I needed to use moisturizer.
“Can you tell me how you found Ms. Agarwal to be your cover mom?”
I paused again, trying to remember the answer to Avery’s question. Only this time, I was drawing a blank. “I don’t know. It must have been the US government who found her.”
“Do you believe she isn’t your mom? What about your sister?”
I shrugged. “They are my family, yes, but also no. They have become like family to me, to the point that I consider them like my mom and sister.”
“What about your real parents? Your real family?”
“I don’t… have one…” My answer seemed incomplete and didn’t make sense, even to me. It was as if there were a hole in my brain where the information used to be. My head began to hurt, a small spot behind my left eyebrow, as Avery’s questions probed deeper and deeper. She was starting to go into classified territory, a place I barely understood and barely asked about. I was just told to stay low, quiet, and not get involved in the projects, or else it would be me who endured the consequences.
Just like Dimitri.
Dimitri’s corpse popped into my head, an intrusive and vibrant memory that I couldn’t turn off.
I shook as a shiver ran up my spine.
“How long have you known your friend… Elli, is it?”
“My whole life,” I said matter-of-factly. Avery smiled a different, strange smile, almost like she had captured me in a trap and was refraining from saying “gotcha.”
“How old is Elli?”
“She’s sixteen.”
“So how is it possible that you’ve known her your whole life, Priya?”
I stared at Avery and blinked a few times, her words not registering in my head. I had to replay them a few times before I could respond.
“I don’t… I don’t understand,” I said, more so to myself than to her.
Elli was sixteen years old and had been my best friend since I was born. And yet, I was twenty-two. So how could we have been friends our whole lives? I remembered my entire life with her, and yet how could I have those memories?
“I’m saying,” Avery continued softly, as if speaking any louder would break me, “that you and Elli cannot be lifelong friends if you are twenty-two and she is sixteen.”
My eyes darted all over the room as I tried to piece together what Avery was saying, my brain rushing in different directions to create a solution to this problem. However, something was blocking my brain from creating the solution and finding the answer it needed. I felt agitated, and my body began to itch, as if ants were crawling on me.
My brain was about to explode.
“I think that’s enough for today’s session. You have a lot to process and think about.”
And just like that, Avery left me hanging on one of the biggest cliffhangers of my life.
I have to talk to Elli.
I walked out of Avery’s office and back to my hospital room in a daze. I was still trying to process everything Avery had said when I walked into my room and saw Elli sitting in the visitor’s chair on her phone. She was wearing a blue t-shirt and ripped black jeans, and her wavy, medium-length hair fell openly around her face, reaching just below her shoulders. I watched as she switched to using her phone with one hand so she could bite her nails, a terrible habit she’d had for as long as I had known her.
I’ve known her my whole life. How is it that I have two lives?
Elli looked up at me, immediately putting her phone down.
“Hey! Can we get some food? I’m starving and I hear the food here is edible,” she said as she stood up, stretching a little as she waited for my response.
I stared at her a little longer, taking in her image.
I remembered her as a child, when we were seven and in the same second grade class. I remembered when we were starting middle school together and she started to experiment with makeup. I remembered throughout the years when she was bullied, when she cried, when we laughed together and were angry at each other. I remembered how she had aged and changed, and yet remained my same best friend.
How?
“How long have we known each other, Elli?” I asked her bluntly. She paused mid-stretch and looked at me for a second before replying.
“We met when we were babies. Remember the stories our moms told us?” Elli’s voice was also soft, just like Avery’s. Maybe everyone thought I was fragile and would break if they talked to me like a normal person.
I remembered the stories Elli was talking about. I remembered hearing my mom and Elli’s were in the hospital together for their prenatal checkups and found out they were practically neighbors, living only a few minutes away from each other. They became fast friends, gave birth two months apart, and when my mom’s maternity leave was up, she asked Elli’s mom to help babysit me. Elli’s mom said yes, and Elli and I had been inseparable ever since.
But how could I believe these supposed stories from our childhood if mine were different from hers? Wasn’t this life supposed to be a disguise?
“Elli, I’m really confused. I don’t understand anything right now,” I said. My eyes traced the valleys and cracks in the linoleum tiles as I waited for her response. I heard her sneakers squeak on the floor, and when I looked up, she was standing in front of me. She had always been a few inches shorter than me, but at that moment, I felt so much smaller.
“Let’s get food. We can talk in the cafeteria. Plus, I know food will cheer you up. I know you,” Elli said, the last words a strong statement of trust and knowledge.
I nodded and followed her out of the room.
“That geometry test was hard as fuck, too, by the way,” Elli said as we walked down the halls. My lips picked up in a slight smile at her sailor’s mouth.
I felt bad that I hadn’t helped her when I was supposed to, or at least not to the extent that I could have. “How do you think you did?”
“I think I passed, and that’s all I care about. I’ll do better on the next test, especially with your genius brain to help me once you get out of this place.”
We both looked around at our surroundings. It was pretty nice, but it was still a hospital, so not exactly cozy or warm or even inviting. It was cold and busy. Despite being full of life in the form of patients and nurses, the atmosphere felt dead.
We entered the cafeteria, and after getting two turkey sandwiches, we sat down at a table in a less crowded section and ate.
Elli was right. I did feel better with food in my system, even if it wasn’t the most enjoyable.
“All right, babe. Tell me what’s on your mind.” Elli took a sip from her soda and looked at me expectantly.
I sighed as I dropped my half-eaten sandwich and wiped my hands.
“So today, Avery was asking me all these questions about Dimitri. How we met, how old we are. And then she asked about my identity, and somehow, my relationships came up. Like, with Ms. Agarwal, Jasmine, and you, and… it was so confusing. I have all these memories of you, but I also just… have another set of memories of another life—and I believed Dimitri. I know how it sounds, being undercover and all that, but I believed him. And now, I’m just not sure. Nothing makes sense, and every time I arrive at one conclusion, my brain rushes to another or questions something else. My brain is just constantly answering and questioning, answering and questioning.” I took a deep breath and covered my face with my hands for a few seconds as I tried to calm myself down.
“Can I be honest, Priya?” Elli asked.
I nodded.
“I have some ideas about this, too, and I’m not sure if you’ve thought of these. I think bringing up your memories is really good because it helps to see what’s real and what isn’t. Like, even a few months ago, when you first told me about Dimitri, I was wondering if that coffee shop story was real. Because, let’s be honest, babe, you are not that ballsy.” Elli shrugged and continued. “What else was going on that I didn’t know about?”
I took a deep breath before continuing. “I would hear the US government in my ears. They would track my movements, and kind of… narrate what was going on while they monitored my whereabouts. I also stay with Dimitri when Ms. Agarwal is away on her business trips or just go there while she’s at work.”
“Where does he live?”
“Well, he was placed in off-campus housing near SJSU.” I was referring to San Jose State University, which wasn’t too far from Ms. Agarwal’s house.
“Priya, where were you the night Dimitri died? Were you at his place?” Elli’s question surprised me. She should have known the answer to that.
“Yes.”
Elli stared at me. I could tell she was thinking carefully over her next words.
“Priya, you were found in front of your house, your mom’s house, that night. I called your mom and told her you were behaving strangely and going to find your boyfriend, Dimitri. But when she asked me where he lived, I didn’t have an answer, so I told her to check near your house. You were found under that lamppost right in front of your house. Not near SJSU.”
I blinked at Elli as I tried to comprehend what she was saying.
I distinctly remembered driving to Dimitri’s house that night, so how could that be?
“No. No, I remember driving to his place,” I said slowly as I processed Elli’s words.
“But… how can that be if he never… existed?” she asked, her words carefully enunciated and spaced out as she tried to tread carefully with them.
“He—of course he existed, Elli! I’m not crazy!” I said, a little too loudly. She was taken aback by my volume and looked around the room before answering me.
“I never said you were crazy, babe. I’m just saying he wasn’t… real.” Her voice was soft, but neither her tone nor the fact that she was only repeating herself softened the blow of her words.
“Just because you never met him, you’re telling me he isn’t real?” I asked incredulously.
“Priya, please. I’m telling you what the doctors are saying. When the paramedics found you that night, you were alone. Your mom found you with your hands pushing into your thigh as you tried to save someone who didn’t exist in the first place.” Elli’s words hit me like a car, and I felt myself being pulled in two opposite directions, one toward Dimitri and one toward Elli.
Who was I to believe?
“Priya. I love you; you know that. I would never say something to hurt you if I didn’t think you needed to hear it.” Elli’s words were full of love and compassion. I knew she was right. She had never done anything to hurt me. She was the most understanding person I knew, so if she didn’t understand and didn’t believe in Dimitri, who would?
All of a sudden, despite not completely understanding what was going on, a small voice in my head began to question everything, and for some reason, that voice seemed to be the only direction my brain went that didn’t get caught in a circle.
Why would the government disguise a married couple as a high schooler and a college student?
What could Dimitri have been working on that threatened the Russian government so much?
How did I have lifelong memories of my cover family and Elli if I had only been with them for a year?
Why hadn’t the government done a better job of extracting me from this mission now that Dimitri was––
“Are you okay?” Elli reached across the table and ghosted her hand over mine. I looked at it, seeing the contrast of her lighter, warm complexion against my tan, cool toned skin. My eyes followed her hand up her arm and settled on her face. She had hazel eyes, similar to Dimitri’s, and I wanted to cry.
How could a girl like me land a guy like him?
“I think… I’m starting to understand.” My voice was weak, not holding any sort of strong opinion or decision. I was unsure of what exactly to believe in and who to trust. I wasn’t even sure if I could believe myself.
But I had always trusted Elli. She knew me well, and I would even go so far as to say she knew me better than I knew myself.
So, if she was telling me that something was wrong—that something was wrong with me—then I believed her. Because if I couldn’t believe myself, then I had to at least believe Elli. Right?
“What are you thinking now?” Elli asked.
“I can’t believe myself right now, so I’m telling myself to believe you. I don’t know that I do believe you yet, but… I think I can trust you more than I can trust myself in terms of what—or who—is real,” I said, looking up at her. She was nodding.
“I’m real, babe. I always have been, always will be. If you are ever in doubt about what else is real, ask me.”
I sat in my psychiatrist’s office with my mom and sister. I sat in one of the sofa seats while Dr. Worblack sat in a desk chair, and my mom and sister sat on the loveseat. My sister, Jasmine, had come down from San Francisco for the family session with Dr. Worblack after my mom called her the previous day.
“Priya has schizophrenia,” Dr. Worblack said matter-of-factly.
“What—what does that mean? Will she be okay?” my mom asked.
“Schizophrenia is a mental illness characterized by disturbances in the person’s perception of reality. For example, Priya had visual and auditory hallucinations as well as delusions of persecution, and other symptoms. It’s too early to tell if she’ll be ‘okay.’ With most cases, successful lives are achievable, but it depends on what you define as success.”
“Well, will she be able to go to college? Have a job? How will this affect her ability to live independently?” Jasmine asked. My mother’s hand hovered over her mouth.
“That depends on how Priya’s illness progresses. This is the first big episode she’s had, and hopefully, it’s the last. At least for a while. Basically, imagine there’s a wall between Priya’s illness and her brain. The more episodes she has, the more the wall gets chipped away. As long as Priya takes her medication as prescribed, sees a therapist, and takes care of her mental health, the wall will stay strong, and there’s really no limit on what she can achieve. It’s true that the life she would have led without this illness will be a lot harder to live now, but it’s possible.”
We all sat in a triangle, as if Dr. Worblack wanted us all to feel included, and yet the adults were talking as if I weren’t around.
“What should we do to help her? How can we make sure she’s able to still live that life?” My mom was talking with her professional voice now. I imagined she spoke to her clients and coworkers like this when she needed to solve their marketing problems.
“For starters, she needs to cut back from strenuous activities. I know she’s graduating a year early from high school, but if she can take fewer AP classes—”
“That’s out of the question. She needs them in order to get into a good college.”
“Mom!” My sister gave her a look that told her, as respectfully as possible, to shut up.
“I understand that, Ms. Agarwal, but if Priya can’t handle the stress, then going to college will be out of the question, anyway.”
“Why don’t we ask Priya how she feels about all this? She knows better than us what she can and can’t handle,” Jasmine said, giving me a look to start talking. I simply stared at her for a few minutes before looking at my mom and psychiatrist.
My husband just died, and I was being fed this story that he was never real, which may or may not have been true. And these people are expecting me to make a decision about my mental health like this?
I felt annoyed but was too sluggish and tired to say all that I wanted to say. I honestly just wanted to leave this horrible facility and go home. But not my mom’s home… Dimitri’s home. I wanted to sleep in our bed. I wanted to have a fight with him about him wearing shoes in the house. I wanted to sit next to him on the couch and read: me a romance novel and him some boring non-fiction book about particles or whatever. Maybe Freud.
“Do you actually understand Freud?” I asked Dimitri as I lay on the couch with him, my head in his lap and his hand petting my head.
“Sometimes, but enough to get by,” he said without looking away from his book.
The memory played in my head, and the normalcy of it, the mundaneness of it, made me want to crawl into bed with a book and pretend he was there.
“At this point, I just want to go home.”
“Well, it is the end of your psychiatric hold. Your mom can decide to take you home now. However, if that’s the decision, I would like to discuss protocol for taking Priya home.” Dr. Worblack was talking to both my mom and me.
“What protocol? I want to take Priya home as soon as possible,” my mother said.
“I would advise you keep Priya at home, no locked or closed bedroom doors and no windows ajar. Watch her for a couple of days, maybe another week. I wouldn’t have her go back to school until the medication has been fully integrated into her system. We put her on three-hundred milligrams of Seroquel, and I’d like to see her every two weeks to check how she’s doing and see if we need to up the dosage. I would also advise that Priya take up some sort of sport. Studies have shown that exercise is very beneficial for those with a mental illness, even more so than everyone else.”
When Dr. Worblack had finished prescribing a new lifestyle for me, we all exited the office.
“How do you feel about everything?” Jasmine asked from the passenger seat of the car. The two of us were just sitting there with the windows rolled down, waiting for my mom to sign all the necessary paperwork for my release.
“I don’t know, didi. A part of me doesn’t even want to call you didi anymore because—are you really my older sister? Or are you just part of my disguise? But also, if Dimitri is… gone… then what’s the point of my disguise? Why hasn’t the government picked me up and taken me back to my old life?” I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair. It was oily and smooth, in desperate need of a wash.
“That’s a good sign, though, right? The fact that you’re questioning it means you don’t fully believe that this is all a disguise.”
I shrugged. “I mean, I guess?”
“Do you remember growing up together?”
Oddly enough, I did, so I nodded.
“If I were just part of your cover, would you have memories of us when we were younger? Also, who in their right mind would make us ten years apart as part of a disguise? That’s a pretty mean disguise to give someone. Like, why even put a sister in your life in the first place if I’m barely gonna be in the same generation as you?” she said, rolling her eyes.
I laughed.
“You’re gonna be okay, Priya. You’re a smart kid. You’ll get through this.”
I stared at her and nodded, taking a deep breath, and trying to imagine what life would be like now.
The driver’s door opened, and my mom slid into the seat.
“Hold this, Jasmine.” My mom handed my sister her purse before turning back to me.
“I’m going to be working from home all of next week. I’m also going to have Elli get you your assignments from class, and you’re going to catch up and do well on those AP tests, okay?” Even though my mom ended the statement as a question, I knew I had no choice in the matter.
“Okay.”