About 30 minutes minutes after Kazimir left, Alfred arrived at Dr. Post's office. Without a word, he walked to the couch and dropped on it — one of the few couches left the shelter.
Dr. Post greeted him, half smiling, "Sure, I'll use the chair. How are you, Alfred?"
"Like always," he paused. "pretending." Alfred replied.
Dr. Post gave him a soft smile. "We've been here before, remember? I told you—it's okay to pretend sometimes."
Alfred gave a slow nod. "Pretending to know what's going on around me."
"There it is." She said. "Now tell me—has that changed?"
Alfred was quiet for a moment. His eyes were unfocused, as if he didn't rehearse this before.
"The holes are getting smaller," he said finally. "Like they're filling up on their own."
"So, you're recovering something?"
"Not 'recovering'," Alfred said."More like the spots filled on their own, like someone's been shoveling dirt into a yard hole while I wasn't looking"
He shifted slightly. "The memories are there. I just don't remember living them. I feel like I've been there—but I know I didn't. It didn't happen. I'm sure of that. But I can see it. I can feel it."
"You know how this goes — close your eyes, take a breath, and tell me, what would be an example of those memories?"
Alfred took a moment before responded, "When I look at the bathroom mirror and see the water sliding through the scar on my arm... I feel like it's foreign to me."
Dr. Post said, "You've had that scar since childhood. So… how different should it feel? Can you tell what's changed?"
"It's not the same," He replied. "I don't know. Somehow it felt different before,".
"Before what?".
"Before I got here. Before I faced it — whatever it was." He looked past her, somewhere distant. "Before I had these... Other memories. Before they smeared their way into my mind."
Dr. Post tilted her head slightly. "And since then, what sort of memories do you find yourself holding onto?"
Alfred took a second. "They don't feel whole. Not all of them."
Her voice softened. It became low and even. "Are there parts that feel real—like you were actually there—and others that feel... borrowed?"
Alfred stayed quiet for a few beats. "There are two memories. One of them is somewhat clear. The other... isn't."
"Is it getting clearer?"
"Which one?"(rv3: what a dumb question. I'll keep it, though.)
"The vague one,"
"No, it's not. Well, it is not complete. But it's not trying to be. It's just half a memory and it's content staying broken."
"It's not unfinished," she said after a pause, "just unwilling. An anomaly, maybe. Can you tell me what's in it?"
Alfred stayed silent for a moment, trying to piece it together.
"I don't know," he said eventually.
Dr. Post pressed him. "You don't know what exactly?"
"I don't know," he repeated, this time slower, as if searching for the answer inside the words. "I don't know."
She waited, then asked gently, "You don't know whether you can explain it… or if there's even something there to explain?"
Alfred paused again, gaze drifting. He seemed to chase a thought—but let it go.
"I don't know what it is to tell you," he said quietly. "Like I said… it's just there."
Dr. Post recognized his hesitation — the silent boundary patients gave when they aren't ready to go deeper.
"Fine," she said. "then let's move on to the other memory. The clear one,"
"It starts in a park. I was there with my sister, ilona, and my friend, Kazimir, and another kid. And then we got on our bikes and rode them alongside the highway, and.."
He hesitated for a moment before Dr. Post gently intervened, "If you need time, we can leave this to the next session."
Alfred continued, "And we had an accident. A car, moving fast towards us... It came out of nowhere. Kazimir panicked and lost control, causing all of us to fall, and after that, there is a..." he paused. "Just a gap, a white spot in the middle of the memory, I can't access. I don't see what's in it, but I can feel it. I can feel that that's when I got a scar and, that's when the kid died. I can see him, dead, being pushed in a hospital corridor."
Dr. Post asked gently, "That kid, you speak like he mattered to you. Any idea who he might be?"
"No, but I know for a fact that I know him, or, have known him."
"Well, Let's focus on what we do know. You said that Kazimir losing control is the leading factor of the accident, but it seems to me, you don't blame him. That's what most people would have done. So, why don't you?"
"I did, I blamed him, for a long time." Alfred said. "My sister s well. But after enough time has passed, we... stopped. Realized... We realized that we shared... the burden too. We were all in it together."
"And how did you feel about that?" She asked.
"He was smarter and more capable than us. He always has been. He realized very early what took us weeks. He knew that he was responsible for what happened. And he took the blame for it. He accepted the guilt. To relieve us from it. Actually, he still does, to this day."
"That's not quite how you felt, though — that's what happened. So let me ask again: How did it affect you, seeing him act mature and take responsibility?"
"I hated him," Alfred said. "I was jealous. I felt like he, at that moment, was... the person I wanted to be. Even though he was three years younger than me, I was... furious."
"Is that why you take care of him now?"
"Maybe,"
"Have you ever thought about telling him this? It might not change anything — but it might help both of you carry it a little easier."
"We've spoken about this before, many times. It's not an issue," He said. "plus, he's already carrying enough on his own."
"It sounds to me like your relationship with him is more than just friends. You and Egon are friends, but... you and Kazimir are more like brothers,"
"Well, he's my brother-in-law, so..." Alfred said lightly.(with a smile)
"That's funny," she responded. "But what I meant is that what might solve your problems is simply spending more time with him. Maybe it will help him too."
"You're right,"
"And you should open up to him,".
"The last thing he needs to hear about is all of my problems. He needs to see a strong man, with a solid smile. He needs to see a mature man that can protect him in his down times. A man that I pretend to be,"
"Well, it seems like you've got it figured out, and there's nothing left for this session," Dr. Post said, looking at her watch. "An hour and twenty minutes, that's a lot."
"Bye, Alina," Alfred said, getting up, heading to Kazimir's room for the chess night they had planned.