Other Women

by Lisa Alther

  “If you hurry up and get this over with,” Hannah was alarmed to hear herself say, “maybe we can go out to lunch and start all over again.”

  Caroline studied her. Was it possible Hannah wasn’t just doing her job? That she really did like the person she glimpsed under all the misery and confusion? In this complicated tango of the emotions, neither had stepped back. Caroline felt such bafflement that she devoted herself to an intense scrutiny of the books on Hannah’s shelves: Sex and Masochism in American Society, The Neurotic Personality in Our Time, The Inner World of Mental Illness, On Death and Dying.

  “So do you want to skip a week?” asked Hannah, getting out her appointment book.

  Caroline said nothing, trying to imagine a week without this hour in it.

  “You look terrified. Is it really that frightening?”

  “I feel like a Flying Wallenda in a windstorm without a safety net.”

  Hannah laughed. “Let’s hope the results are more successful. Aren’t they always crashing and dying?”

  Caroline nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s skip a week.”

  Hannah handed her an appointment card. Taking it, Caroline walked to the door. Hand on the handle, she turned, suddenly swamped with loss.

  “You’re going to be fine,” said Hannah, reading in Caroline’s eyes the panic of a shot doe.

  Caroline nodded doubtfully, opened the door, and walked out.

  Hannah watched her go, wondering why she said that about lunch. The last thing she needed was another ex-client hanging around, watching her feet turn to clay. They always seemed disappointed that in real life she wasn’t the Earth Mother of their dreams. Her ability to play that role hinged on their seeing each other for only an hour or two a week; their ability to see her like that was based mostly on their own yearnings. And she had to confess, as Maggie always insisted, that the hardest part of termination for her was giving up their adoration. Because it felt so accurate…

  Oh well, probably there was a reason for having said that. She rarely knew what would come out of her big mouth, but usually the results were okay. Many ex-clients wanted lunch dates, but a couple convinced them she didn’t order more exotic meals than anyone else in their lives. But occasionally someone slipped in under her guard, and it was like finding a cockroach in her kitchen. To allow someone new into her real life was to open up another avenue of eventual loss. And she needed that like she needed an income tax audit.

  Unlocking her car door in the parking lot, Hannah heard the cries of Canadian geese returning from the south. Searching the sky, which was mottled with small puffy clouds, she finally detected their wavering V, heading across town and up the lake to the Canadian border. How did they manage to travel like that for thousands of miles? If they got too close, the whole formation crashed. If they got too far apart, there was no formation, only some lonely geese wandering around the skies.

  As Hannah climbed into her car, she saw the orange Le Car creep up the street beyond the parking lot. She started her engine, pretending not to hear its horn honking at her, and backed out of her parking spot. Then she stepped on the gas and flew out of the lot and down the street, as the orange Le Car turned around in a driveway to pursue her.

  Feeling like one of Charlie’s Angels, she took a circuitous route through the streets lined with electronics executives’ houses, hoping to shake the Le Car. As she turned onto the lake road, no orange Le Car in sight, she figured out why she responded like that to Caroline. Caroline issued a genuine invitation, straight from her heart, unsullied by hidden client games, and Hannah felt no choice but to respond in kind. Like called forth like. (Except when opposites attracted.) Once she tried to drag out of Maggie her reasons for becoming friends with her after therapy. Maggie looked over the top of her glasses and said brusquely, “Sometimes people come into your life to whom you simply can’t say no, however unwelcome their arrival.”

  Turning onto the dirt road to her house, Hannah recalled her stab of regret that afternoon when Caroline brought up termination. Unprofessional. What personal stake did she have in Caroline’s behavior? It was usually easy to help clients go, a pleasure even, because it spelled her success as a therapist. Mona would have been close to Caroline’s age had she lived…. But a bit of countertransference could be a useful thing. Because she identified with Caroline’s struggle, she knew how to help her. Because Caroline reminded her of Mona, she wanted to help her, as she’d been prevented from helping Mona.

  Yes, all right, she admitted it: Her detachment was wavering. Did Caroline embody qualities undeveloped in herself, as she was always explaining to clients about their choice of acquaintances? She did admire the energy, courage, and integrity that drove Caroline’s generation to keep reshaping their lives, however messy the results. She envied them the sense of security that allowed such exuberant experimentation. Those who had faced German torpedoes on the North Adantic had very little interest in rocking the boat.

  As she pulled into the driveway behind Arthur’s car, it hit her what Caroline was doing. Hannah told her she’d have to do the leaving, to break her pattern of waiting around to feel rejected. So she was now doing just that—leaving, not by riding off into the sunset, but by asking to be accepted as an equal. Breaking Caroline’s pattern involved letting lunch happen a few times. She was pleased with Caroline for challenging her pattern, pleased with herself for responding appropriately, and pleased finally to figure it all out.

  Climbing out of the car, she smiled at herself. Whatever happened was okay if she could fit it into a therapeutic context because then she was the boss. Face it, pal, she notified herself as she dropped her car keys into her pocketbook: You just like this woman.

  • 5 •

  Driving home from Hannah’s office, feeling queasy at the thought of two weeks without a fix, Caroline spotted a V of Canadian geese flying over the open water in the middle of Lake Glass. She stopped her Subaru by the roadside, overlooking a soggy plowed field that sloped down to the shore. Wet snow lay in the furrows like stripes on a zebra. Climbing out, she heard faint honking as the geese gossiped in mid-flight.

  Picking her way through the mud down to the lake, Caroline pictured the dead Canadian goose on her doorstep last fall. What maniac would aim a gun at that V and pick off one of those majestic birds? Probably the same maniacs who’d inject poisoned Kool Aid into little children.

  Standing at the edge of the lake, poking the toe of her boot into the soft ice, she observed herself. If she kept this up, she’d soon be feeling awful. You didn’t have to look at geese over a lake and think about jungle murders. Unless you enjoyed feeling horror. Which she no longer did. If she ever had. She felt anxious leaving Hannah; she turned that terror out on the world. It was as simple as that, and always had been, as Hannah had been trying to make her realize. Yet she’d see Hannah in two weeks, and lunch with her once therapy was finished. No need to be anxious, therefore no need to see this world, which contained such gratuitous wonders as wavering V’s of flying geese, as a horrible place in order to explain why she felt anxious.

  Breathing deeply of the muggy spring air, she studied the returning geese, moving slowly up the lake with the undulating mountains behind them and the cloud-mottled sky overhead. Rather than harbingers of jungle horrors, she could see them as heralds of spring. She could be grateful to have survived the drifts of winter. She took a few steps out onto the melting ice, which creaked ominously. A pattern of cracks formed under her boots like a mirror shattering. Soon the kids would be racing down the green field in front of the cabin to fling themselves into this water.

  Back at the car, Caroline could no longer hear the geese and could just barely see them, a flying wedge heading for home. Those geese knew effortlessly how to conduct their lives, and she felt dawning in herself a similar ease. All would be well.

  As she climbed into the car, she wondered if she was turning into a fruitcake. All these dreams, signs, and portents were things she’d always made fun of. What if she fou
nd herself putting a bumper sticker on her car that read “I Brake for Unicorns”?

  Alarmed to find she was whistling John Denver’s “Sunshine on My Shoulders,” Caroline shoved a cassette from the hospital library on “Deaths from Self-Induced Abortion Among Adolescent Females” into her tape deck. Although she tried to concentrate on hemorrhages from knitting needles, she kept thinking about Hannah’s willingness to lunch with her. Unexpected. As usual. What Caroline had come to expect from Hannah was the unexpected. She’d been bracing herself for never seeing Hannah again, knowing she couldn’t stay now that she felt better. To stay would require new crises so they’d have something to deal with. Yet the whole point was to get rid of her atmosphere of crisis. She’d known it was time to leave and had carefully not asked to stay in touch so Hannah wouldn’t have to refuse her. And now Hannah was suggesting lunch. I know what you want and you can’t have it?

  Caroline was uneasy. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to lunch with Hannah. What would they say to each other? Hannah knew too much, had seen her weep and grovel and rage. None of the standard social ploys would work with her. Yet they couldn’t continue as therapist and client outside the office. But what if Caroline had a crisis and needed a therapist? Maybe it would be better to preserve Hannah as a monument in her memory, rather than to lunch with her again and discover she liked tofu.

  As she turned up the dirt road to the cabin and revved the engine for a race through the mud, Caroline realized if Hannah hadn’t been willing to go to lunch, it would have thrown the whole therapy into question. If Caroline was as likable as Hannah kept saying, of course Hannah would wish to lunch with her. If she wasn’t, Hannah was a liar. Hannah was a smart lady. Presumably she was aware of this, since it was her job to be, as she was always pointing out. Therefore, she suggested lunch under duress, not because she really wanted to. She regarded Caroline as a pain in the ass. Lunch was a way to get rid of her more quickly. She practically forced Caroline to skip a week. Hannah couldn’t wait to replace her with a more interesting client with real problems, like a split personality or something. What had she said about Diana? That caretakers sometimes didn’t know how to behave with healthy people. Yet Hannah herself was a caretaker, and Caroline was now healthy. Hannah didn’t want her around any more than Diana did. The only way to keep them both would be to relapse. Caroline’s optimism leaked away like air from a punctured tire.

  Parking in front of the cabin, Caroline saw Diana, dressed in bib overalls and a parka, removing a wooden cover from an evergreen beside the cabin foundation. Diana looked up, waved perfunctorily, and began clipping away the rust-colored winterkill. The most they’d done since Diana’s pronouncement by the fire was to wave in passing. It was unclear how long this could continue. They seemed locked in a pointless stalemate neither knew how to break. Caroline wondered if she should go ahead with plans to move. But she still harbored a faint hope Diana would change her mind and they’d live happily ever after. It was worse than simply losing a lover. Diana was also her best friend. With men you retained your women friends to see you through the breakup of romances. But Diana was one of those women friends to whom she wanted to run for comfort after fighting with Diana as a lover. No Diana, no Hannah, and no one to take their place.

  Caroline looked around the car for things to carry in. Her appointment card lay on the dashboard. She picked it up, intending to tear the goddam thing into tiny pieces. She might not even keep the appointment. Better to go ahead and get it over with. She glanced at the card. Then she stared at it. The date was wrong. It was for next week. Hannah had failed to skip a week. A smile crept across her strained face. Good lord, was it possible Hannah was reluctant for her to stop coming too?

  “I really don’t understand you two,” said Jenny, as she and Caroline sat at a table in Maude’s Corner Cafe under a wooden ceiling fan. Jenny wore her navy blue Mao cap with the red star on front. There were dark circles under her eyes and deep frown lines between her eyebrows.

  “That makes two of us,” said Caroline. “Probably three of us.”

  “I don’t think you ever decided on a form for your relationship. Are you a standard couple, or roommates, or co-parents, or sometime lovers, or best friends who sleep together, or what?” Jenny scooped up hummus with pita bread and sprinkled bits of Bermuda onion on it.

  Caroline laughed. “I’m stunned to hear that coming from you, Jenny. Why should we have a form for it?” She took a bite of her BIT.

  “No reason. But it can get pretty confusing if even you don’t know what you’re doing. I mean, I tell every woman I’m with that I can’t be half of a couple. So we all know where we stand. But you and Diana are all over the place.”

  Caroline shrugged. “Well, I understand that’s how you see it, Jenny.”

  Jenny paused in mid-bite to look at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I don’t want to argue with you.”

  Jenny laughed. “I wasn’t criticizing, just commenting. In hopes of being helpful.”

  “Diana’s and my relationship has a logic all its own. We went along with whatever the other person needed at any given time. But the logic has broken down now that we’re both happy. That desperate need that keeps lots of couples together is gone. It may be hard on you, Jenny. I’m sure we’ll both be harassing you for sympathy.”

  “No problem, darling. I love you both. Harass me all you like. And if you ever want to share the bed of a woman who can’t be half of a couple, just let me know.”

  Caroline smiled. “Thanks, I’ll remember that.” She leaned across the hummus and kissed Jenny on the mouth while the mouths of

  Maude’s other patrons gaped. “But I suspect our styles wouldn’t suit each other. You’ve specialized in multiple relationships, and I’ve specialized in multiple orgasms.”

  Jenny laughed. “You’re probably right.”

  “So how’s it going with Hannah?”

  “Good. She’s really something.”

  “She sure is. I envy you. I wish I’d just begun.” Caroline looked at the circles under Jenny’s eyes. Jenny was miserable and got to see Hannah. If Caroline became miserable again, she could continue with Hannah too. They might go to lunch, but lunch was voluntary. Hannah could refuse lunch as she couldn’t a therapy appointment. The price of happiness was high.

  “But don’t forget how grueling it is,” said Jenny.

  “Wait till you try stopping. It feels like self-amputation.”

  “Well, I’ve never seen you so together. I always knew there was a John Wayne beneath your Mother Teresa act.” Jenny grinned.

  “Friends like this I need?” laughed Caroline.

  Walking down the main shopping street to her car, Caroline passed a florist’s shop. Many pots of blood-red tulips sat on the sidewalk, basking in the spring sun. Caroline stopped. Having looked out on white snow, gray skies, and glaring ice for so many months, she was dazzled by the red. Squatting, she touched the waxy petals with her fingertips. This world is like a diamond on black velvet. She went inside and paid for two pots, one for Hannah and one for Diana, her two favorite women. Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t give serious thought to Jenny’s invitation. Though it seemed unlikely Caroline would accept. The challenge for her parents’ generation had been to find people to go to bed with. The challenge for Caroline’s was to stay out of bed with people.

  Setting the tulips on the front seat floor, she remembered she’d forsworn gift giving. She intended to find out if anyone could like her for herself alone. Besides, she wasn’t supposed to take Hannah presents, and Diana and she weren’t speaking. She studied the newly orphaned tulips. She could keep them for herself. Why not?

  To hell with it. Hannah wanted her not to bring presents, but she was no longer doing things to please other people, and she wanted to give Hannah presents. En route to her appointment, she stopped at

  Cheever’s in the mall on the highway and retrieved her sunset shawl, despite protestations from the manage
r.

  Walking into the office, Caroline thrust a pot of tulips at Hannah. “You have to let me act out my need to bring you gifts. I know you don’t enjoy them, but it’s your job.” She tossed the bag containing the shawl on the couch. She’d give it to Hannah later, once she saw her reaction to the tulips.

  Hannah laughed. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. I love tulips.”

  “You can plant them in your garden to remember me by.” Hannah didn’t seem displeased. Maybe the rules had changed now that they were almost finished?

  “I will.” Just what I need, thought Hannah, someone else to remember.

  “Speaking of which, why am I here today?” Caroline plopped down on the couch beside her package and studied Hannah. She felt oddly buoyant—despite the estrangement from Diana, despite the need to leave Hannah. It had something to do with that screwed-up appointment.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Last week I decided to skip a week, but you gave me an appointment for today.”

  Could this be true? Hannah swiveled around and studied her appointment book. Caroline was right. “So why didn’t you cancel?”

  Hannah sounded irritated. Caroline smiled mockingly. “I didn’t want to cancel. I was delighted. I thought it showed you don’t want me to stop either.”

  Hannah looked down. Damn. You taught them your tricks, and then they used them on you. She looked up and met Caroline’s steady blue gaze, marveling at the transformation of the anguished little girl who sprawled helplessly on that couch last fall. “All right. Yes. You’re right. I’m going to miss you. Our sessions have been a pleasure for me, professionally and personally.” She realized this was true. She was glad on days when Caroline’s name was on the appointment book. She wasn’t just doing her damn job.

  “Thanks. For me too. I so rarely meet someone smarter than myself.” She grinned. It was real, what had gone on all these months, not just a shadow show manipulated by a master puppeteer from a sense of professional duty.

  Hannah laughed. “Well, now that we’ve gotten this love feast out of the way, what would you like to talk about?”