SSSD Epilogue

TWO YEARS LATER

Raindrops run down the windows and palm trees shake in the storm outside.

Ro’s only an intern, but her new office is clean and cool, unlike the muggy typhoon ravaging the town. Her phone rings and she checks the caller, scowling. She takes a deep breath and swivels her chair away from her monitors to take the call.

“Hello,” she says.

“It’s Dr. Martins.” Ro’s therapist.

“Hi.”

“I’m just checking in. How are you?”

“About the same. Not too bad. Gummies help,” Ro adds wryly.

“Any nightmares lately?”

“No.”

There’s a pause and Ro winces. Maybe she should’ve lied.

“How much are you using?”

“Just a twenty-five,” Ro lies.

“Bullshit. Have you stalked anyone lately?”

Ro turns back to her computer and tabs over to Facebook. She doesn’t have to scroll far to see pictures of Alison and Signe in Norway with their little snowy cabin. Signe’s teaching these days, and Alison works from home, doing translations and helping edit scholarly papers.

“No,” Ro replies.

“OK, let’s just go over this one more time. This is about changing the way that we think, Ro. Why are you so intent on keeping up with the people who made it out of Antarctica?”

Ro scowls bitterly. “So I can be sure that they’re human.”

“It’s been two years.”

“I know.”

“And?”

Ro hesitates for a moment. “Julie never posts anything. I don’t know what’s going on with her. I don’t trust her.” It’s clear from social media that Marit’s doing a lot of partying and Linda constantly comments on stuff about Covid and climate change. Her profile picture in her N95 mask is actually very cute. Ro sighs.

“Didn’t your friend say that was OK?” Dr. Martins asks.

“Alison doesn’t know everything,” Ro snaps.

“Look, Ro. Trauma isn’t rational. You’re safe now, but you don’t feel safe. That’s not unusual. It just means that we have more to process. I think one step toward that would be cutting down on stalking these people.”

“Hey, look, I just stalk Alison out of regular jealousy. That’s not trauma,” Ro grumbles, spinning her chair and kicking her feet. “In her fucking cozy cabin with her amazing Norwegian wife.”

“You aren’t stalking Marit?”

“No. I am not. It was just a crush.”

“Are you seeing anyone now?”

“None of your business!”

“OK, Ro. I want to see you this week.”

Ro rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

“Ro, you’re safe. Things worked out OK. You’re OK. You know that. We can get you to where you feel it too,” Dr. Martins promises.

“OK. Thank you.”

“Be safe.”

Ro puts the phone down. She grips the arms of her chair, then turns to her computer and grabs the keyboard. She stops herself before she can type Julie’s name in. She’s searched so many times that it auto-fills straightaway these days.

Her phone dings. A Tinder match. Ro laughs and leans back in her chair. How many times has Alison assured her that Julie’s cool? Ro can only stalk her on Facebook from Florida, but Alison’s there in Norway, which is tiny. Signe and Alison aren’t like going out for beers with the others on a regular basis, but it’s easy for them to see each other.

It hurts a little that Ro’s the only one still in therapy, but she knows she’s not the only one still struggling with it. Even the best therapist can’t fully understand what happened in Antarctica or what it was like to experience it.

But it’s not the experience that haunts Ro, it’s the knowledge that has come with it. She rolls over to the window and peers up at the gray sky. The world wasn’t very comfortable to begin with, but it’s less comfortable now. No amount of weed gummies can change that, although they do help.

She catches herself smiling as she picks up her phone. At least it looks like she has a date tonight.