John is Amy’s husband. The two met when Amy was a young professional in New York City and volunteered to help a blind runner train for the New York City marathon. John was a fellow runner and asked to join their training team. He was 10 years older than Amy, worked in finance, and was “as playful as a Labrador retriever” (58). Amy had spent her 20s on a string of bad dates. She always had a sense of “danger” around men and was afraid to “fall short” of some invisible set of standards or “fail to meet the ferocity of their desire” (62). However, with John, she felt instantly and completely safe. When he asked her to marry him, Amy felt that she “could rest” because she had finally achieved validation in the form of commitment from a kind and loving man.

John’s experience with psychedelic-assisted therapy became the impetus for Amy’s own treatment. She noticed that he was “markedly more open” (77), freely discussing things from his past that he had generally kept hidden before. Amy’s complete trust in her husband helped her to overcome her own misgivings about trying MDMA and helped her to feel safe enough to access her long-repressed memories. In the aftermath of her discovery, John remained Amy’s rock, giving her kind, compassionate support throughout her ordeal.

Gracie and Gigi are Amy’s daughters. As they neared their teenage years, they became “mirrors” for Amy, reminding her of herself at the age when her abuse happened. They are both smart and insightful, especially Gigi, who helped spark Amy’s journey of self-inquiry when she told her mother that she felt “disconnected” from her, as if she didn’t really know her. When Amy told her daughters about the recovered memories, Gigi immediately asked Amy if she had been raped. As Amy processed her trauma, her relationship with her daughters underwent a drastic transformation. Gracie noted that her mother was “so much more relaxed” (216); they were able to communicate more effectively, and Amy learned to trust her daughters more and let go of many her more conservative ideas. Embracing vulnerability instead of perfection allowed her to become closer to her daughters.

Claudia was one of Amy’s middle school classmates. She had a “turbulent” home life, and Amy once lent her a dress when she couldn’t afford one for a school dance. The memory of loaning Claudia the dress was always crystal clear in Amy’s memory, but once she recalled the abuse, it took on greater significance. She remembered seeing Claudia and Mr. Mason together a number of times and became convinced that Claudia was also being molested by their teacher. Throughout the text, Claudia is the symbol of Amy’s intense need for validation and corroboration. She believes that finding someone who can attest to her abuse, either through a similar experience or observing what happened to her, will make her story more believable to others and to herself. Claudia is the most likely candidate, and Amy is sure that she remembers her so clearly because of their shared experience. However, upon meeting with Claudia, Amy realizes that loaning Claudia the dress wasn’t an act of comradeship because of their shared abuse; it was an act of kindness that came from Amy’s “essential” self. The memory was so clear because it reminded Amy of who she was before and in spite of the abuse she experienced.

Bess Taylor was Amy’s volleyball coach in middle school. In Amy’s memory, Coach Taylor was an adult authority figure, and Amy becomes convinced that her coach must have noticed some sign of the abuse that Amy experienced. She knew that Coach Taylor cared about her, and she especially remembers her coach breaking down in tears when she presented Amy with an award for kindness and leadership. However, the more Amy recalls these memories, the angrier she becomes with the adults who failed to protect her. When Amy finally contacts Coach Taylor and explains what happened with Mr. Mason, Amy realizes that although her coach seemed like an adult authority figure at the time, the woman was just 21 years old then—fresh out of college and coping with the trauma of her own girlhood abuse. Coach Taylor was “overwhelmed” with the responsibility of coaching hundreds of students with little support from the school. From her own adult perspective, Amy realizes that Coach Taylor’s own abuse contributed to her unintentional act of obscuring the suffering that Amy was experiencing, emphasizing the “tangled mess of shame and silence that constitutes abuse” (147).