Better to Trust

by Frimmer, Heather

  The officer looked at Grant. “Is that true, Dr. Kaplan?”

  “Yes, sir.” Grant nodded.

  The officer sighed. “Well, Ma’am, I certainly couldn’t live with that on my head.” He motioned for Grant to get back in the car. “Dr. Kaplan, consider yourself warned. You’re free to go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE

  Alison

  September 25, 2019

  THE SPEECH THERAPY ROOM was much brighter today, sunlight streaming through the windows and reflecting off the desks. For the first time she could remember, Alison was excited to be here. She smiled when she saw her therapist, Paul, at his regular seat waiting for her.

  “Well, you’re in a good mood,” he said, “Did you wake up on the right side of the bed?”

  “Yes, I did.” Alison took her seat across from him. Since Michael had moved out last week, she felt so much lighter, as if she’d finished a long training session with the heavy barbells, finally leaving the weight of them behind on the rack. Today, unlike every other day she’d come here, she was ready to face the challenge. Bring it on, Paul, she thought.

  “I thought we’d start with some flashcards.” Paul tapped the cards into a neat pile.

  “Alright.” She hated the flashcards. Looking at pictures of fruits and vehicles and animals seemed like a complete waste of time.

  Paul held up a cartoon picture of a vacuum cleaner. “What is this?” he asked.

  Alison knew exactly what the damn thing was, but shuttling the word “vacuum” from her brain to her mouth was a different story.

  “A va ... um. Vaaaaa.”

  “Very good,” he said. “A vacuum cleaner. And do you use this to cook dinner or clean the floor?”

  “Clean floor,” she said with a smile.

  “Excellent.” He held up another card showing a turtle with a dark green shell. “Who’s this guy?”

  “Toot … tootle.” It wasn’t quite right but she knew it was close.

  “Turtle. Can you say turt-le?” He separated the word into two distinct syllables.

  “Turt-le,” she repeated slowly.

  “You’re doing great. One more and we’ll quit while we’re ahead, huh?” This card featured a piece of pizza covered with round slices of pepperoni.

  Her mouth watered. “Peeee … Peeeezaa.” she said.

  “Wonderful. And do you have pizza for dinner or put it in your mailbox?” Paul said with a wink.

  “For … dinner.” All the long hours here may not have been a waste after all.

  “Wonderful work, Alison.” Paul swept the cards into his desk drawer. “Now we’re going to do some conversational therapy. Just think of it as having a little chat.”

  This part was the worst. They’d tried it before and it never worked. Paul would ask a question which Alison knew the answer to, but her response stalled before it even turned over.

  “Don’t make faces,” he said. “You can do this. Just pretend we’re two friends talking over a cup of coffee. I’ll start easy. So, where do you live?”

  “In New … In New …” She grunted with frustration.

  “Okay, do you live in Newton or in Brookline?”

  “New … Newton,” she said.

  “What a lovely town. So leafy and green. And do you have any children?”

  “No … none.” Alison shifted, waiting for the usual stomach cramping that accompanied this painful question, but nothing clenched. Her body remained quiet even as her mind raced. Had she made peace with being childless? Was this question not so loaded anymore?

  “Very good. And are you married or single?” Paul continued, unaware of Alison’s distraction. She shifted again, pulling her thoughts back to the conversation. He thought he was asking an easy one.

  “I’m … married.” It was easier to keep it simple. Alison was still married, but not in the same way she was just a week ago. She’d taken the first step to extricate herself from the marriage, but she was hardly single yet. Becca’s face came to her mind, and Alison’s thoughts floated back to Paul’s previous question. Did Becca want children? She couldn’t remember ever discussing it. Alison wasn’t sure she could picture having children with Becca, not because she couldn’t imagine two moms, but more because of the inherent complications and responsibilities. From deep inside her, the word “no” came to the surface and Alison’s breath caught with the realization.

  “I’m really impressed with your progress, Alison,” Paul said and Alison snapped back to the moment. Questions of parenting would have to wait. “Usually improvements come gradually over time, but sometimes recovery comes in fits and starts. You should be very proud of yourself and all your hard work.”

  Alison smiled back, her mind still swirling. She was proud of committing herself to her recovery, proud of the improvements she’d made, and most of all, proud she’d decided to prioritize her own happiness for once. She pushed her thoughts aside. One step at a time.

  The doorbell rang and Rhea crossed the room to answer it.

  “Mr. Jacobs, you don’t have to ring the bell,” she said, opening the door.

  “Someone’s made it clear I no longer live here.” Michael stepped past Rhea. “I figured I’d announce myself.” Alison wasn’t surprised he’d chosen to play the passive aggressive card. It was one of his favorites.

  “Welcome home,” Rhea said, returning to the kitchen.

  When Becca had dropped her back at home the day she’d told Michael she wanted a divorce, the alarm clock was missing from his nightstand and he had emptied most of the clothes from his closet. She didn’t seek him out in the guest room, and when they spoke the next day, it was only about the details of where he would be staying. It was a relief not to have to face him again, to have some time to process all that had happened.

  Now, the house seemed so quiet without the sound of Michael talking to clients, the beeping of the microwave, the sound of the shower running. Accustomed to having someone else around all the time, she felt uncomfortable on her own. Becca had been coming over almost every night for a few hours to keep her company.

  “I’m just here to pick up a few things,” he said.

  “How is the hotel?” Alison asked. When Michael had booked a room at the Extended Stay America in Waltham, Alison found the choice a bit odd. It wasn’t like they had child custody or visitation schedules to worry about, so a hotel closer to work would have made more sense.

  “Well, you’ve certainly made progress in just a week.” he said.

  “My speech?” His exit had done more for her recovery than all the hours of therapy combined: her walking was more coordinated, the drooling nearly gone, and her speech much more fluid. Though it didn’t make biological sense, when Michael walked out the door, Alison made a major breakthrough in her recovery. She couldn’t help smiling while thinking about it.

  “Amazing,” he said. “We’ve been working toward this for so long.”

  “Thanks.”

  Something changed in his face, his smile suddenly fading. “Was it a miracle recovery or where you bullshitting the whole time? Playing the martyr to garner sympathy? I wouldn’t think you were capable of such a disgusting charade.”

  “Not … charade,” she said firmly. Even though their relationship had seen better days, she was shocked he would accuse her of such a thing.

  “Then what was it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “May … maybe stress.”

  “The old ball and chain were too heavy for you?” Michael said.

  Alison stiffened. “No, too much … too much thinking.”

  “Oh, so dumping your husband with no warning whatsoever helped you regain your faculties?” he yelled. Alison was sure Rhea could hear every word from the other room. “The guy who’s been by your side through this whole fiasco? How nice for you.”

  “That’s not fair,” Alison said, taking a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “Not about you.” It was no coincidence that she’d made all these improvements right after Micha
el left, but she didn’t want him to think he’d been holding her back. There was no need to be cruel.

  “Now you’re trying to spare my feelings? You didn’t seem to be thinking about them when you threw me out.”

  “Maybe … hhh … hard, but it’s right,” she said, looking at the floor.

  “Maybe for you.”

  “For both,” she said. “Not happy.”

  “Funny, I never knew I wasn’t happy.”

  She hobbled to the bedroom, hoping he’d take the hint and follow her. The situation was complicated enough already without worrying about Rhea overhearing their argument.

  “Not that simple,” she said, closing the bedroom door. She’d been trying to be reasonable, but now she couldn’t hide the venom in her voice.

  “Our whole marriage was a sham? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “We were young.” Alison paused to gather her words.” We haven’t … ggg … grown together.”

  “I’m just a stupid numbers guy who doesn’t use big words. Is that it?” He went to the closet and started collecting the few things left hanging, throwing shirts, shoes, and belts into a pile on the bed.

  “That’s not it.”

  “Then what are you saying? I need to stop crying over spilt milk and get over you?” His use of a stupid cliché at this moment made her even more confident in her decision.

  “Spent too long hiding,” she said.

  “Hiding what?”

  “Everything.”

  “Would you care to give me an example?”

  “I’m … I’m with Becca, okay?” She hadn’t planned to bring Becca into the conversation. It felt strange to say it out loud, but maybe telling him about Becca would make this whole thing easier, less about what was wrong with him and more about her.

  Michael paced back and forth in front of the closet, his eyes wide with shock. Alison wasn’t sure of what to say to calm him down, how to make the wild look in his eyes go away. She’d never seen him so worked up.

  “Are you serious?” he asked.

  Alison nodded.

  Michael sat down on the bed with a groan. “Okay, let’s slow down a minute here. This is all moving too fast. Maybe this is just a passing phase.”

  “Not a phase.”

  When he stood and tried to hug her, she held her cane out in front of her. “Alison, I think we can fix this. I’m not ready to give up.”

  She sighed. Seeing the pathetic look on his face, she felt the urge to apologize. She couldn’t think of anything else to say to him. “I’m sorry.”

  “So, you just go sailing off into the sunset with your new girlfriend? Where does that leave me?”

  Michael wanted her to change her mind, to tell him she’d made a mistake and they should give their marriage one more chance. Images flashed through Alison’s mind—the happiness that had filled her on their wedding day, the security she’d felt when they moved into this house, the predictability of their weekend routines—but they quickly dissolved. The time for second chances had passed. Alison needed more than this now. She needed to stand on her own two feet, as unsteady as they may be, and figure out what would bring her passion and joy.

  Michael grabbed a shoe and hurled it at the floor. “You’re breaking up our family, just like your blasted brother-in-law. He’s the one with the addiction, you know. It’s common knowledge now.” He turned and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. She sat down on the bed and picked up one of the belts, sliding the smooth leather between her fingers. Michael’s anger was making him lash out at anyone and everyone. Though she felt badly for hurting him, he needed to hear the truth so he would give up on saving their marriage and start to rebuild his life.

  Rhea’s voice from the kitchen snapped Alison back to reality. Alison made her way to the kitchen table where she found a bowl of her favorite comfort food, the neon orange macaroni and cheese from the box. She looked at Rhea, wondering if she’d heard the whole conversation. Her mouth was smiling but her eyes weren’t. As Alison sat down and chewed a bite of pasta, she felt comforted by the familiar, salty taste, a constant in her life when everything else was shifting and uncertain. Rhea looked at her and said nothing, the awkward silence stretching on.

  The day Michael left, Rhea had noticed Michael’s toothbrush and deodorant missing from the bathroom counter. She’d asked if he was on business trip and whether she should work longer hours while he was away. Alison shook her head, somehow communicating that he was never coming back.

  “How could he walk out at a time like this?” Rhea had said, her tone angry. “What kind of man leaves his wife when she’s struggling?”

  “No,” Alison said. “Not his idea. Mine.”

  Rhea went quiet. Alison had never felt so much judgment in simple silence.

  “It was nice of Mr. Jacobs to come by,” Rhea said now.

  “Yeah,” Alison said.

  “He’s a good man.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “He’s still in love. There’s no mistaking the way he looks at you. Maybe you should give him another chance.”

  Alison took a sip of water, not sure how to respond. She and Rhea had grown quite close in the past few months, but with this comment, Rhea had overstepped her bounds. Alison decided to let it slide.

  “Good,” Alison said, taking another bite of macaroni. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Rhea said, without meeting her eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO

  Sadie

  March 16, 2019

  “WHERE DID YOUR PARENTS GO for dinner tonight?” Emma asked, sprawled on her bed.

  “That Italian place in Cleveland Circle, the same one they always go to,” Sadie said, flipping through the latest People Magazine on the trundle bed. She loved looking through this magazine when she was at Emma’s house, especially the real people stories at the end, the ones about normal people whose lives have gone awfully wrong in some way or another.

  Emma scrolled through her Instagram feed. “Is it good?”

  “A little stuffy,” Sadie said. “My dad likes it because they fawn all over him. They keep his wine glass full.” Sadie didn’t like the idea of her father driving home after these birthday dinners, but she certainly couldn’t bring that up with him.

  “Better to be here instead.”

  “Totally. And at least they didn’t ask me to babysit the twins.” Sadie used to watch Vik and Meera’s kids, but lately she’d done everything she could to avoid it. A few months ago, Risha, the girl with the angel face, had disappeared during a game of hide and seek. Sadie had called her name over and over and searched every corner of the house, starting to panic when there was no reply. The boy was of no use, sitting on the couch playing video games the entire time. When Sadie picked up the phone to call the police, Risha materialized as if nothing had happened, asking if she could have some ice cream, the little brat. Sadie would pay them to avoid going through that again.

  “How’d you get out of it?”

  “I told them I raised my rates.” Sadie played with the hem of the pink bed skirt, the same one Emma’d had since she was eight.

  “Uh excuse me, what is this?” Emma held up her phone, showing the shot Piper had taken of the guy on the train when they’d gone to Boston last month.

  “How’d you find that?”

  “It was on Piper’s Insta feed. Train hottie? Who is this guy?”

  “He was sitting across from us. Piper flirted with him.”

  “He looks ancient,” Emma said. “And what’s with the chest hair? It’s like a forest.”

  “I don’t know. Why were you looking at Piper’s stuff anyway?” Sadie had slept on this trundle bed for years, but suddenly it felt much less comfortable than usual. Several inches lower than Emma’s bed, if made her feel small, like Emma was more important than her, on higher ground.

  “I don’t know,” Emma said. “I want to make sure you’re okay. Something’s not right about that girl.”

>   “I’m fine. You don’t need to take care of me.”

  “Why are you getting mad?”

  “I’m not mad.” Sadie didn’t want to get into a fight with Emma.

  “What were you doing in Boston anyway?”

  “I don’t know. Hanging out.”

  “Hanging out where?”

  “Why do you have to stick your nose in it?” Sadie said. “I have a new friend, okay? People are allowed to make new friends. It’s not such a big deal.” She closed the magazine and tossed it on the ground.

  Emma scrunched her eyes together like she might cry. Sadie couldn’t stomach her good girl act right now. She grabbed her toiletry kit and went to the bathroom.

  Gathering her hair into a ponytail, she secured it with a hair tie and squeezed soap into her hand. She rubbed her hands together and covered her face with the thick foam. When she looked in the mirror, her face was completely hidden, all imperfections concealed behind a coating of white. She waited a moment before splashing warm water on her face, watching the bubbles circle down the drain.

  When she returned to the bedroom, Emma was watching a video on her phone with her earbuds. Sadie was relieved they wouldn’t have to continue their conversation. Emma had no right to choose her friends. She lay down on the trundle and pulled the covers up over her shoulders. Knowing Emma, everything would be back to normal in the morning.

  As she started to drift, she felt Emma touch the back of her neck.

  “What?” Sadie played dumb but she knew exactly what was going on. She’d forgotten to take her hair out of the ponytail and Emma had seen the tattoo. It was bound to happen at some point—they always wore their hair up for competitions—but Sadie had been avoiding the confrontation for as long as possible.

  “When did you get this?” Emma asked, removing her earbuds.

  “I don’t know. A while ago.” Sadie couldn’t bring herself to turn over and face her friend.

  “And you didn’t show me?”

  There was a soft knock on the door. “Girls,” Mrs. Wright said. “It’s time to turn off the light. Early practice tomorrow.”