Commitment
Emily is sitting in her car outside the white walled expanse of the Springhill Mental Health and Wellness Center. If she squints, it looks almost like the Rosewood Country Club. She half expects to see Spencer and Melissa playing a cutthroat tennis match.
She signs in at the front desk, a duffel bag stuffed with Alison’s clothes slung over her shoulder. Her mind is on Hanna and Caleb and Spencer, how brittle Spencer sounded on the phone. She feels completely awful for Spencer. But she can’t judge Hanna too harshly, considering the shape she was in last night. And, she admits silently, it would be hypocritical, given how tempted she was to kiss Alison when she found her in the church. Alison still has it, that old gravitational pull on Emily’s heart.
She’s so distracted that she doesn’t see Dr. Rollins until she literally bumps into him in the hallway leading to Ali’s room.
“Emily,” he says with a smile. A smile that feels a little strange, considering the circumstances. But everything about him seems strange, now that she’s seen the picture of him with Charlotte. “I’m afraid Alison is still asleep. This ordeal with Charlotte has left her mentally drained and emotionally exhausted. It’s no wonder she had a breakdown, really.”
“Of course,” Emily nods. “I’m sure this is all a shock for you, so soon after your honeymoon.” Although, he’s a psychiatrist, she thinks. Surely he should have recognized the signs. “I brought her some clothes,” she continues, motioning towards the bag.
“That’s very thoughtful,” he replies. “And I’m sure she’d appreciate it. But she has everything she needs here. I’ve seen to that.” He puts a hand on Emily’s shoulder, steering her back towards the door, and something in his voice makes her flesh crawl. “Alison is my wife. It’s my job to take care of her now.”
“I promised to come back and see her this morning,” Emily says. “She wanted me to be here.”
“This isn’t about what Alison wants,” he explains smoothly. “This is about what’s best for her.” He turns and stares at Emily with an expression on his face that seems almost amused underneath his mask of solemnity. “I understand, of course, that when it comes to Alison - you and I want the same thing, Emily.” His words hang in the air as Emily stares him down.
“All I want is for Alison to get better,” she responds.
“Exactly,” Elliott grins, like a shark flashing its teeth. “Whatever did you think I meant?”
Emily gives him a disgusted look, and walks back out to the lobby, where she ducks into the bathroom until she hears the nurse at the desk go on break. She sneaks behind the desk and looks up Elliott’s pager number from the posted staff list and dials it hurriedly from the receptionist line.
Then she darts quickly back down the hallway towards Alison’s room, flattening herself nervously against the wall as a nurse wearing a surgical mask comes out and walks quickly down the hall in the opposite direction. She pokes her head in the door to make sure the coast is clear, then rushes inside to find Alison wide awake and looking extremely happy to see her.
“Emily!” Alison says, standing up to give her a warm hug. A hug that lasts longer than their goodbye hug did last night, when Alison clutched her so tightly that it actually hurt to let her go.
“I saw Elliott,” Emily says, her arms still around Alison. “He didn’t want to let me see you. We might not have much time.”
“Right,” Alison says, giving Emily a final squeeze that pushes their bodies even closer together before she moves away. “So what did you bring me?”
“Some clothes,” Emily says, unzipping the bag. “And some questions. Do you know if your mom had a twin sister?”
Alison shakes her head, piling the clothes on the bed. “My mom? No. Although my grandma used to tell some pretty freaky stories about twins.” She sighs, considering the possibilities. “I’d like to say there’s no way she wouldn’t have told me something like that, but after finding out about Charlotte - I can’t be sure of anything anymore. Why?”
“We have a lot of new information,” Emily says, conscious of Alison’s delicate mental state. “We’re still trying to figure out how everything ties together. But whoever is behind this - they’re using masks. Rubber or plastic or whatever they use in the movies, they’re really lifelike.” She pulls the Hanna mask out from under a pair of jeans. “I don’t think you were hallucinating. I think someone wanted to make you think you were going crazy.”
Alison puts a hand against Emily’s cheek. “Of course I wasn’t hallucinating.”
“Wait,” Emily says, confused. “You knew someone was messing with you? Then why did you make me bring you here? Why did you sign yourself into a psych ward?”
But Alison isn’t interested in answering questions, she’s interested in lifting up her mattress and revealing the hidden visitor logs and stolen files. She grabs the entire stack and starts stuffing the materials into Emily’s bag.
“There’s more,” Emily finally continues. “We found a picture.” She pulls out the folded print of Charlotte and Rollins from a side pocket of the bag. “You might not like it.”
Alison unfolds the photograph, her face immobile. She traces Charlotte’s silhouette with the tip of her finger. “Thank you for showing me this.”
“That’s it?” Emily says, frustrated. “Ali, your husband was involved with your sister - his patient!”
“I know,” Alison replies calmly. “He’s in on it. He was the one pretending to be Wilden.”
“Alison!” Emily says, putting her hands on Ali’s shoulders and forcing her to meet her eyes. “This is not the time to keep us in the dark about your plan.”
“Em, if I’d told you that I wanted to commit myself, so that I could get access to these files and try to find out what my duplicitous creep of a husband is up to, you never would have let me go through with it.”
“You’re right,” Emily agrees, practically beside herself. “Because it’s a terrible plan! He can lock you up and throw away the key!”
“Better that than pushing me down every staircase in Pennsylvania,” Alison shrugs. “And this way, I might actually get some answers.”
“He could medicate you into a coma, Ali! We have to get you out of here!”
“Trust me,” Alison insists. “I’ve got it under control. I’m working with someone on the inside.”
“Who? Noel Kahn in a white lab coat, playing doctor? This is insane!”
“Noel is in Europe,” Ali smiles. “Playing electric guitar in some terrible krautrock band.” She takes Emily’s hand gently. “I’ll tell you everything when this is all over, I promise. For now - I need to find out who my sister was. And what Elliott’s endgame is. This is the only place I can do that. Please try and understand.”
Emily feels herself relenting. “I still don’t like it,” she says, grimly. She takes a deep breath before she continues. “What do you need me to do with the files?”
Alison beams. “Take them to Spencer. She needs to see what’s in there.”
“Spencer isn’t really at the top of her game right now,” Emily hedges. “There’s some drama going on with Hanna and Caleb.”
“A love triangle,” Alison muses. “Poor Spence.”
“It’s not even a triangle,” Emily grumbles. “Between Toby making puppy dog eyes at Spencer while he’s practically engaged to Yvonne, and Spencer dating Caleb, who’s kissing Hanna even though she’s about to marry Jordan, and Lucas like, getting shot trying to score a spot on her waiting list - when you throw in Aria hooking up with Ezra even though she hasn’t broken it off with Liam - our lives are in danger, and everyone’s tangled up in some giant love octagon.”
Alison smirks. “All that heterosexuality really grosses you out, doesn’t it?”
Emily tries to fight back a smile.
“Listen, Spencer is still Spencer. And if she’s working through a broken heart, she’ll be sleuthing twice as hard as usual,” Alison assures her. “Give her the files. She’ll know what to do.”
“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” Emily pleads. “You don’t have to go back to Rollins, we can get you an annulment, we can go to the police!”
“And tell them what?” Alison asks, sounding exasperated. “We don’t have enough evidence of anything yet. We need to see how this plays out.”
“I don’t want to leave you here.”
“I know.” Alison hesitates for a moment, as if she’s not certain whether to continue. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I know how worried you must have been. I saw it on your face in the church. And I thought, maybe, I saw something else, too. Something...I haven’t seen in a long time.” She locks eyes with Emily and slowly closes the distance between them.
“I was lying about the hallucinations, Emily. But I meant what I said about loving you.” She brushes her lips against Emily’s ear. “I want to kiss you right now, but I wouldn’t trust myself to stop.”
Emily swallows hard, feeling keyed up in all the old ways, as if Alison permanently burned the pathways of this specific kind of longing into her brain all those years ago, can still light them up like a runway without half trying. She steps back and takes a shaky breath. “Ali, we can’t.”
“We can’t right now,” Alison counters, her hand warm against Emily’s own. “But now isn’t forever.”
“Alison,” Emily says firmly. “We’re not fourteen anymore. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help you, okay? But please - don’t do this, don’t keep paying me in empty promises about the future. I’ve heard it before - we’re going to run away to Paris, we’re going to be a family! It’s never true! And it hurts me! Every time!”
Alison’s face is infuriatingly calm, as if she’s working from a place where she doesn’t need to deflect Emily’s words or absorb her anger. She takes a moment before she responds, “Are you happy?”
“Do I look happy?” Emily asks, incredulously.
“Not right now. But were you? Before you came back? When you were tending bar and making out with bicurious beach bunnies every night? Because I’ve never been as happy with anyone as I am when I’m with you.” She rests a hand on Emily’s chest, over her heart. “This thing between us, we’ve been running away from it for so long. I’m tired of running. I want to see where it can take us, if we give it a try.”
Emily picks up the bag, heavy with documents, and holds it close to her chest. “I want to believe you,” she tells Alison, sadly. “I always do.” She gives her a stiff one-armed hug and moves to the door. “I’ll come back tomorrow, let you know if we find anything.”
“Think about it,” Alison insists.
Emily looks at her, sees what looks like hopefulness and sincerity in her eyes. It makes her look younger, Emily thinks. That or her feelings are telescoping through time, looking at the Alison she fell in love with back when things were simple. “I will,” she promises. She takes another long look at Alison, then finally steels herself to walk out the door.
The air outside smells fresher than it did thirty minutes ago. The sun in streaming into her car as she tosses the bag of files onto the passenger seat, drums her fingers against the steering wheel as she tries to decompress.
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A shadow moves in front of a window inside the building. Dr. Rollins is peering at her through the blinds and scowling. He strides quickly towards the reception area.
“I’m restricting the visitation protocol for my wife,” he announces. “She isn’t to be disturbed, do you understand? Effective immediately. No visitors.”
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A nurse slips into Alison’s room with the medication cart. She rips the surgical mask off her face, struggling to disentangle it from her hair.
“That was a touching scene,” the nurse says, handing Alison a small cup of pills. “Did you mean any of it?”
Alison goes through the motions of taking the pills, just in case they’re being observed, palming them carefully as she pretends to put them in her mouth.
“I asked you to come here because I needed help, not advice about my love life.”
“Funny, I don’t actually remember you asking. It sounded more like an ultimatum to me.”
“Let’s not pretend you don’t owe me,” Alison sneers, her eyes flashing. “I risked my life to put you in touch with the right people.”
“Mmmm,” the nurse says, unimpressed. “Don’t get carried away by all your good deeds now, Mrs. Rollins. You wanted me out of the way.”
“My motives have nothing to do with it. I saved your life.”
“I know. And I’m here to make it even. I haven’t forgotten what you did for me. Or what you took away.”
“You don’t have to like me,” Alison says, coldly. “But you do have to see this through.”
“Speaking of seeing,” the nurse says, casually letting Alison slip the pills back into the pocket of her lab coat. “Emily caught a glimpse of me in the hallway.”
Alison’s mouth tightens. “Don’t let it happen again.”
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” The nurse pushes the pill cart towards the door to continue with her rounds. “That poor sweet girl. She would never trust you again.”