John knows Anna’s likes and dislikes and her daily habits. He knows she starts her morning with coffee and brews tea in the afternoon. He knows she tears up a little when a book really moves her but not at a movie. He knows she is desperate to be a mother and will be wonderful with Clara. He knows she is a little afraid all the time, but she works hard not to show it. He knows how she feels, how she tastes, how she sounds, how she touches. But he has no idea how she really thinks.
He runs into Joe and Barbara as he is winding down toward home. They make an unusual couple. Joe is lean and handsome with no hair. Barbara is nearly a head taller. She looks like a Valkyrie, a gorgeous warrior, with dark eyes and short reddish hair, stylishly cut to highlight high cheekbones.
“John, you're back!" Barbara is surprised to see him. "Thinking of becoming a year rounder?"
"Hey Barbara, Joe. Yeah we are both back. Are you here to stay?"
Joe wraps his arm around Barbara’s waist, "We are giving it a try this year, while Isabella is young enough. We each commute into Charleston two days a week."
"Can I ask what you do?"
"Sure, we are both therapists," Joe says and John laughs out loud.
"We get that a lot," Barbara says.
"No sorry, I'm not laughing at the fact that you are therapists. I'm laughing because,” he hesitates. “Well, can I get personal?"
"Come on man, we’re shrinks!" Joe laughs, patting John on the back.
"My next order of business today is finding me a shrink," John confesses.
"John, come on in. Let's make some coffee," Barbara says taking John’s arm. “We can help.”
At the table, John relishes the hot fully caffeinated coffee. “Anna is pregnant and the smell of coffee isn’t working for her."
"Pregnant, really! How wonderful?" Joe states and asks at the same time. It is an interesting talent. "Listen John, we can help find you a therapist if you'd like to share anything about your situation. We know everyone local and it will save you the random guesswork from picking up a phone book."
"He'd probably Google," Barbara comments.
"Figure of speech. John, we like you and Anna and we'd like to get to know you better, so if this is too personal, forget it. Go Google," Joe says.
"No, this is a big help. I have no idea what I'm doing. In a nutshell?" John notices Isabella watching cartoons close by. Barbara asks her to go get dressed. She scampers up the stairs and John is free to talk.
"Almost two years ago, my wife committed suicide violently. Because of the brutality, the police initially suspected murder and I was taken into custody. I was out in a day but it left a mark. I walked out on the funeral and ran away for a year and a half. I left my baby girl with my brother and his wife. I have been working to get my life back on track. I just saw my family for the first time. Things are good. My daughter, Clara, is coming to stay in a few weeks. Anna and I got married and have a baby on the way, but we are living in separate houses for other reasons. Anna can share her own issues sometime. Holy shit, I just heard all that with my own ears and it sounded insane."
Joe and Barbara try to compose themselves and maintain a professional detachment. They fail.
"Jesus Christ." Joe says.
"Fuck,” Barbara says, laying her hand on his. “I am so sorry for what you have been through John.”
John shrugs with a smile. That really did sound insane, and it is almost funny hearing it all strung together like that.
“Male or female therapist?” Barbara asks.
"Either," John says.
"Lane Steinberg,” Joe and Barbara say in unison. Joe writes down the number and Barbara recommends an obstetrician for good measure. They send John home with a full cup of coffee and plans for dinner later in the week.
Anna catches John as he is walking into his yard, "Running with coffee now?”
He explains meeting up with Barbara and Joe.
"Really? I like them so much. It will be lovely to have them here with us. I bet Isabella is close in age to Clara.
"Oh, play dates. Is that a thing? Play dates?” John asks twisting up his face, unsure. He has a lot to learn about being a dad.
"Sure it is," Anna says.
"Anna, oh my god," horror coats his face.
"What John?" Anna asks with a hand rising to her face in fear.
"My car," he says looking at his two-seater. "I think I need a mom car."
She laughs, “You scared the shit out of me John. Damn it!”
"I'm not buying a fucking minivan," he says.
She laughs harder. "Oh god," she slaps a hand over her mouth, horrified. "Pemberley is dying and I am laughing."
"You have to laugh Anna.” He puts an arm around her and pulls her to his side. “You have to live your life. You know that’s what she wants."
"Easier said than done," she changes the subject. "What's for breakfast?"
John makes omelets and washes some fresh berries; Anna doesn't eat much and goes home to bake muffins with the leftover berries. She asks John to make her an appointment with the obstetrician. John schedules Anna's appointment in a cancellation they have the following Monday. Then he calls Dr. Lane Steinberg and leaves a message. He calls the leasing company; they haven’t picked up his car yet. He decides to go car shopping in Charleston later so he does some research on acceptable mom cars. He calls an Acura dealership to see what they have on the lot. After some preliminary negotiations, he schedules a time to stop in later.
John breaks to make coffee and sees Anna walking to the ocean in a suit. The ocean is fairly deserted, just a few runners and dog walkers. School has started so the weekdays are mostly quiet, but weekends are still crowded. He opens his glass door and calls to her, but she doesn’t answer. What the hell is she doing? He walks out onto the deck watching her, not wanting to crowd her.
She drops a towel in the sand and walks into the ocean. His heart rate picks up as he watches her. She is too far away for him to see her once she enters the water and starts to swim. He takes the walkway into the sand, fighting the panic, and takes a seat by her towel. She swims out far, maybe too far. After twenty minutes, she comes out breathless, squeezing ocean water from her hair.
"I'm not going to drown myself, god damn it," Anna says, laughing.
"Are you fucking kidding me Anna? Is this how it’s going to be?" He tries to control his anger, but he is furious.
"What are you talking about?" She is indignant. "I can't take a bloody swim without you thinking I'm going to drown myself and you freaking out is on me?" She storms off toward 517.
He struggles to get his head together before following her up her walkway. He refuses to talk to her back. He lets himself into 517 and walks to her bedroom. The door is closed. On some deeper level where rational thought remains, he knows that she is inciting this purposefully so he does not knock. He hears the shower run and sits patiently on her sofa. When his phone rings, the newly added contact for 'Lane Steinberg' shows as the caller. He lets himself out the front door and sits on the step where he first saw Anna sitting in the sun.
"Hello Dr. Steinberg."
"Hi John, please call me Lane. Thanks for calling." She waits for him to speak, not prompting him with a question.
"My neighbors Joe and Barbara... I don't know their last names..."
"I know Joe and Barbara. The Redmonds. They are wonderful people. Wonderful therapists."
"They recommended I call you."
"I take it you told them a bit about your situation?" she asks.
"I did. They thought we would be a good fit."
"Well, that is good enough for me. What is your schedule like? How often would you like to come in?" Lane asks.
"Middle of the day is good for me. Twice a week sound good?" he asks.
"Middle of the day is fairly open.”
They agree on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 11:00. After ending the call, John sets the days and times as ongoing appointments in his calendar. Repetition? His calendar asks. He choos
es one year. He takes a moment to imagine all that will change in that year. The baby will be born. His connection to Clara will be solid. Pemberley will most likely die. Anna will have a mother. Will they be sharing a house? Will Anna fall victim to post-partum depression? Will John be suffering flashbacks? He silently thanks his neighbors for providing the foundation for support both he and Anna desperately need and goes back inside to deal with Anna. She is making tea, picking at a muffin.
He sits at her dining room table and gathers his thoughts. She waits, silently challenging him. He speaks purposefully and without anger. "Anna, we never swim alone on an empty beach. It’s not safe. These are not just rules for children."
“You are one to talk,” she says and then adds quickly, “I’m sorry, that isn’t fair. Different circumstance. I’m just being mean.”
He decides to leave it there, but realizes the challenges facing them are probably greater than he thought.
She moves into his lap, burying herself in his neck. "I am sorry John. I am truly sorry. I don’t feel like myself."
Her confession is a relief and drains the frustration out of him.
Anna undresses him right there and then herself. He sits watching her, knowing this isn’t about making love, this is about self-medicating. This is her six shots of bourbon, her twelve-mile run on a quiet beach, her kick at some asshole’s head. He wishes he could help her but knows he can't. If those who loved you could fix you, he would be in much better shape than he is. She climbs onto him, braces her legs on the ground and leans back with eyes closed. She isn't truly with him, but he plays his part.
After lunch at Hymen's Seafood in Charleston, Jane pulls John aside walking down Meeting Street to their car. Conrad and Anna walk ahead arm in arm.
"She looks tired, but that is completely normal. She will sleep a lot. She will eat irregularly, and she will be very, very emotional. These things are all normal. Nothing to worry about." She pulls two books from her bag. Advice for Pregnant Dads and What To Expect When You Are Expecting. "You could both use a refresher."
John kisses her cheek in thanks.
"John, she is going to be sad. Depressed even. Her best friend is dying. Let her grieve. If you try to stop her, it will only get worse."
She isn't Sarah is the unsaid statement hanging between them. Sadness doesn't equate with suicide. After they say their goodbyes, John and Anna walk the city, retracing their earlier summer walk through the markets, around Rainbow Row, by the beautiful homes on Broad Street and finally up King Street. Anna stops in to buy more honey, avoiding the raw honey. John remembers the magic of that first day here. That was the day he started really feeling things again. It was like he was dipped in Novocain, and it started wearing off walking these streets holding Anna’s hand. How was that only three months ago? He laughs out loud.
"What is so funny?" She asks.
"Us. First we honeymoon, then get pregnant, then the wedding. Now we live like we’re divorced. We are all over the damn place."
"Eventually, I think we’ll have time for an actual marriage," she says and lays her lips on his.
He tells her about his appointment with Dr. Lane Steinberg. Anna is pleased for John but seems a little defeated, too. "I should probably do the same, but I don’t feel like it right now."
"When you are ready, you will." He doesn't want to push and changes the subject. "Let's get something for Joe and Barbara. They really helped me out this morning."
They go back to the markets, near where Anna's car is parked, and pick up an ocean blue and green ceramic platter. I'll fill it with croissants," Anna says, looking happier.
Back at the car, John opens the passenger door, letting Anna in, to drive them to the car dealership. "John, it occurs to me that you have literally never let me drive."
"I most certainly have."
"When?"
"After a short bender at Dock of the Bay."
"Does that count? You were utterly obliterated that day." Anna shakes her head, remembering.
"Okay, guilty as charged. I'm a bit of a control freak behind the wheel. Are you surprised?"
"You drive, my darling. I do rather enjoy being chauffeured around by you." Anna sits back in her seat, proving her point.
At the dealership, John buys a loaded black Acura MDX. "Is this a mom car?" he asks. "It feels cool."
"It suits you to a tee. Very cool. Now we need to go buy a car seat for Clara. Shall we buy one for your car and one for mine?"
With two dozen consultation texts from Stephanie, they spend $1200 in Target. They buy two car seats, bed rails, bedroom décor, new bedding, toys, books, crafts, diapers, wipes and potty seats. This preparation for Clara gives them both a lift. Anna takes a walk through the maternity department and picks out a few tops.
"Oh my god, we are an old married couple. This is fun as shit." He says as they eat chewy pretzels in the Target Cafe, before loading four carts of purchases into their two cars.
Tuesday comes quickly and John finds himself in Dr. Steinberg's waiting room. Her office is outside of Charleston about twenty minutes away. He waits just moments before she invites him in, taking his hand and holding it warmly between her two.
"John, this is a big step. I congratulate you for coming in. You should be very pleased with yourself." Lane Steinberg is a tall woman with short dark curls framing a strong, attractive face. He guesses her age to be in the mid-fifties. John sits in one of the overstuffed taupe chairs with a high comfortable back and generous arm rests. The requisite tissue box is close at hand. This makes him smile.
"Smiling is good," she comments.
"I have scenes from The Prince of Tides running through my head. It just feels wrong."
"Oh, that one. Wasn't it really just an homage to Barbara Streisand’s well-toned calves?”
John is immediately in love with Dr. Lane as he comes to think of her. John leaves his appointment with most of the initial groundwork laid. She recommends a physician who John agrees to visit to fill a low dose prescription for Xanax. He wants to avoid taking a daily medication, if possible. She is pleased with his exercise routine and recommends that he steer clear of alcohol for the early stages of this process.
"I haven't had a drink since August 15th, my birthday. That was the day I found out about the baby," he tells her.
"Are you an alcoholic, John?"
He tries to answer honestly. "I don't know. I drink hard when I need an escape. But I do okay without it."
“We can pursue that. For now, exercise, eat right, take a Xanax when you feel you need it. Try the breathing first, then don't hesitate to take a pill."
When Anna and John sit down to dinner, John serves the same pasta he has made for days in a row. Anna can’t get enough of it. "Are you getting sick of making me this pasta?" Anna asks.
"No way. I could eat this every night. But eat a little salmon too." He pushes the platter her way, not really paying attention.
"You would make an outstanding Jewish mother. Pemberley would be so proud." Anna eats quietly. “John, are you okay?” she asks when he picks up his continually vibrating phone and reads a message. He doesn’t usually read messages at the table.
“Sure, fine. All good,” he smiles.
“That was a bit of a bullshitty smile John.”
From the email, John gathers his parents have enjoyed these last days, playing private investigator in Atlanta. They sat outside Anna’s mother’s house. It is small and neat, with well-tended gardens. She has had no visitors and drives a Ford. They followed her on two evening walks. She goes exactly four miles at a brisk pace. She seems to live a quiet life. No red flags. She does not appear to be a drug dealer. Conrad closes his email with John, tell her. She would want to know.
John weighs Conrad’s words for a long time and he decides to tell Anna after dinner. They have had a good afternoon. She is in a good place. With Barbara and Joe coming tomorrow night, she will have the ear of two caring professionals.
They do the dishes
together. "Can we talk?" he asks.
"God, that is such a horrid conversation opener. It starts my heart racing. Is it something horrible?" The fear shows on her face.
"Let's walk down to the beach. It’s okay." He doesn’t speak with total confidence.
"Am I going to end up crying?" she asks.
"Yes," he answers honestly.
“Is it Pemberley?”
He shakes his head.
"Are you throwing me over?"
"No, I am not throwing you over," he answers, pulling her to the door. “Come on.”
On the beach, he lays a blanket and they watch the surf while he figures out how to share this. These warm nights on the island are his favorite. She lets him take his time, curious, but ever patient. He loves that about her.
"I don’t know where to start. I wanted to give you a chance to get here and get settled and to be honest, I needed to check it out for myself. I'm not sure how you are going to react. This is a fuck-load to take in with everything else going on. Telling you now seems wrong. Not telling you seems worse."
"Jesus Christ, you are scaring me. Oh my god, you are sick, aren't you?" she starts rising, in a complete panic.
"No, no, no. Nothing like that. I'm sorry. I'm doing a bad job of getting this out."
"Please just say it plainly before I have a heart attack. Come on now. Deep breath and out with it."
She allows him two deep breaths.
"It’s about your parents, Anna. Pemberley told me in New York. She wanted to tell you, but things didn’t work out as she hoped. The woman who raised you, your adoptive mother, was your aunt. She was your biological mother’s sister. Your biological mother had you when she was sixteen, and you were taken away and she was sent to America. She lives in Atlanta now. She knows about you, but only that you exist, nothing else. Pemberley started digging when she got her diagnosis. She was going to tell you when she was here in July, but she said it didn't feel right and she expected to have more time."
Circling The Shadows Page 22