by Sylvia True
“I think that punctuality should be a norm. Personally, I find it difficult when people come late to meetings and topics need to be repeated.”
Flavia raises a hand. “I do not intend on being late, but I know there are times when we cannot help things. A broken bus. If she can make it only for five minutes, and that will help her, I would not want to take that away.” She dips her head and glances at Bridget’s empty seat.
“I suggest,” Kathryn says, “that we agree we will try our best to get here on time, and we will also finish on time.”
Gail and Lizzy nod.
Kathryn turns to Flavia. “You said you would like to find out if it’s your husband you really want. Do you want to say more about that?”
“Only that I am not sure the way I once was.”
“What about anyone else?” Kathryn asks.
Lizzy brushes her hand along the knee of her black jeans. “I believe my husband this time. But we still don’t have sex. I’d like to understand why.”
“It could mean,” Gail says, “that he’s going through an anorexic phase. He’s quit pornography, and maybe he wants to stay away from everything. It’s not uncommon.”
Hannah has never heard of sexual anorexia. She wants to tell Lizzy that she’s beautiful and attractive, and that her husband is a moron for not showing her affection.
“Why do you think it is?” Kathryn asks Lizzy.
Lizzy’s neck and face redden. “He’s not attracted to me.”
“But you are a beautiful woman,” Flavia interrupts. “It cannot be that.”
“What if it is?” Her eyes are moist. “I mean, what if, for whatever reason, he’s just not attracted to me? What if he finds out through going to groups and therapy that he’s really gay?”
Hannah’s heart races. She knows that fear all too well, even though Adam has sworn that isn’t the case.
“I don’t really know who he is anymore,” Lizzy says. “Who knows, tonight might be the night I go home and he’ll tell me that he’s never really loved me.”
Lizzy takes a tissue and wipes her eyes. The room grows quiet.
Hannah still wonders where Bridget is.
Flavia scoots forward. “I will speak. I have a different problem. Dema, he cannot sleep unless he is in the bed with me. I say okay. Then at night he comes closer. One thing, it leads to another, and then … we have sex. I know I said I would not, and now I do not know. Was it okay to do that?”
“Did it feel okay to you?” Kathryn asks.
“I suppose, yes,” Flavia answers. “I am shy to say this, but it is nice.”
“I remember,” Gail says, “when Jonah and I made love the first time after I learned about his disease. It was difficult for me not to think of other women. But we took it slowly, and we meditated beforehand. The key is that you have to trust your instincts and—”
Bridget stands in the doorway. She looks thinner than last week, almost gaunt. Her hair is stringy, her eyes puffy. Hannah jumps up but stays next to her chair, sensing that another sudden movement might make Bridget bolt.
“Come in,” Kathryn says.
She doesn’t move. No one speaks. Flavia grabs the tissue box and tiptoes over.
“Would you like one?”
Bridget pulls out a tissue and stuffs it in her pocket. “Thanks,” she mutters.
“Do you want to come in?” Hannah asks.
Bridget scans the room. Her gaze rests on Gail for a second or two, then she turns and leaves.
Hannah hurries down the stairs, opens the front door, and sees Bridget in the parking lot.
“Hey,” she calls. “Wait up.”
Bridget stops but doesn’t turn.
Hannah jogs over. “I was so worried about you.”
“I don’t think I can go back up there.”
“You don’t have to talk. You can just sit and listen.”
Bridget takes a step away and shakes her head. “I’m not feeling so good.”
“I noticed you look thinner. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She shrugs. “Just don’t know how I’m going to deal with all this crap.”
“I hate this saying, and I’m going to say it anyway—one day at a time. You don’t need to know how to deal with it all right now. It’s a process. A long one.”
“What if I want out?”
As Hannah looks at Bridget, she thinks that’s probably the best option. She has no children with Michael, she’s young, there aren’t any permanent ties.
“There are so many things you have to consider. You need to figure out if you love Michael enough to want to go through this with him.”
“Did having kids change things for you?” she asks.
“I love my children more than anything, and yes, kids make it more difficult to leave.”
“I hate my fucking life.”
“Come on inside. It may help.”
“Nah, I can’t. Not after last week, after I said if my husband did the kind of shit Gail’s husband did, I’d leave. I lasted one freaking night at that hotel and then ran home. I’m a hypocrite.”
“No.” She puts a hand on Bridget’s arm. “We’ve all been there. We’ve all made threats we don’t end up carrying out, and it’s not because we’re victims or weak. It’s the opposite. It’s because we care for and love these men.”
“I hate Michael.”
“Of course you do now. And you might always. That’s fine too. You need to figure out what’s best for you, and listening to what other people are going through can really help.”
“Fine. I’ll go in.”
As soon as they enter the room, Gail stops talking.
“Thanks for joining us.” Kathryn speaks calmly.
Bridget sits and stares at the carpet. “Sorry for interrupting.”
“It is so good that you decide to return to our circle,” Flavia says. “Some days, they are more difficult than the others.”
“That’s for fucking sure,” Bridget replies.
“We were talking about how people resume their sex lives after they’ve discovered their husband is a sex addict,” Kathryn says.
“Not a smart move.” Bridget shakes her head.
“Some of us may want to,” Gail replies.
“Yeah, well, from my limited experience, it was the stupidest thing I ever did.”
There are a few moments of silence, then Kathryn turns to Lizzy.
“You spoke earlier about your husband having difficulty making love. Do you think he might have performance anxiety?”
“That used to be one of his excuses. But now I’m not sure. What if it was because he was watching porn all the time, and he didn’t have anything left for me? He says I should have more patience.”
“For real?” Bridget snaps. “You? You should be more patient? I can bet my life that you’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I’m sure I’m not always right, but I get your point.” She grins.
“Jonah used to be like that. Saying he didn’t want to aggravate my rheumatoid arthritis, or he was worried about my high blood pressure. He made it sound as if he was being thoughtful, but really it was just a way for him to come up with excuses.” Gail takes a tissue and blots her face. “Lizzy, perhaps if you show your husband that you understand how hard this is for him, he’ll be more willing to open up about his fears.”
“I am so fucking sick of this being all about them.” Bridget glares at Gail. “First it’s their addictions, now it’s their recovery. And then they get chips for good behavior. How about if we got some chips?”
“Those sobriety chips are an important symbol. Jonah just received his nine-month one.”
“Since you and he have it all worked out, why do you even need to come here?” Bridget asks.
“As I was saying when you stepped out, I think it’s wise to talk about the experience with other people who understand.”
“Well, I don’t understand anything anymore. All I feel is rage. No rational thoughts go through here
.” She taps a finger on her head.
“How do people deal with their anger?” Kathryn asks.
“I’ve learned to surrender,” Gail says. “That’s when the battle ceases.”
“Or maybe it’s when you kill your opponent,” Bridget adds.
“I smashed the heel of a shoe into Adam’s dashboard,” Hannah says. “I threw a chair at him once too. They might not have been the most mature actions, but they felt good at the time.”
Flavia raises her hand, then cups it to the side of her face, as if she’s trying to hide. “One night when I was so angry, I took Dema’s best pants and I cut little tiny holes in the back of them.”
A few of them laugh.
“I think I’ll try that one,” Lizzy says.
“Anger is something that we will be discussing a lot.” Kathryn pauses, then looks at Flavia. “You asked earlier if it was right to have sex with Dema. Now that you’ve heard what other people have to say, do you have any other thoughts or feelings?”
Flavia’s fingers move deftly as she braids her hair. “I understand that Lizzy needs to know her husband still has desire for her. I admit that I was happy also to know Dema felt this for me. I also understand what Gail says. That she medicates before she is with her husband. I think I should try this medication. Yes?”
Hannah watches Bridget smirk as she turns to the older woman. “You medicate before you have sex?”
“I meditate. I think she may have misunderstood. I find it keeps us in the moment so I can let go of the anger that he has been with other women.”
“I will never let go of the fact that Michael has fucked someone else.”
Kathryn tilts her head. “When did you learn this?”
Bridget bounces her knees. “Last week.”
“That must have been very hard,” Kathryn says.
“Not as hard as what I learned today.”
“What?” Hannah asks.
“I’m pregnant. And it’s my fault. I slept with Michael after I found out about his chat room crap. On purpose. To show him how good I was, and what he’d never have again.” She holds her head in her hands. “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do now.”
“I’m sorry,” Gail says.
Bridget wipes away a tear. “Thanks,” she whispers.
“Have you told your husband?” Kathryn asks.
Bridget shakes her head and reaches for a tissue. She cries, looking at Hannah.
“It will be okay.” Hannah moves across the room, kneels beside Bridget, and takes her hand. As she does, she realizes she will have to come here again, at least one more time.
Hannah
Two square black armchairs sit in front of the tall windows in the Newbury Street office. Hannah enters the room first and decides to sit on the chair that Adam usually occupies.
“This is different,” Elias, their couples’ therapist, notes as he closes the door. He’s a slight middle-age man, with thinning white hair and quiet, unobtrusive movements.
Hannah looks at Elias, then her husband, then across the street at the Church of the Covenant.
“I guess I’ll get current.” Adam keeps his gaze on his hands.
She flinches at the phrase.
“I haven’t acted out. I’ve been going to my meetings. Aside from an episode we had Wednesday before Hannah went to her group, it’s been a smooth week.”
Elias shifts his gaze equally between the two of them. “An episode?” he asks.
“I thought it would be nice to come home at six before Hannah left. I wanted to spend a little extra time with the kids.” He looks at the bookcase as he speaks.
Two minutes in, and she already feels enraged.
“He didn’t follow the schedule.” She looks into Elias’s eyes. His slight nod tells her he understands, and for a moment that calms her.
Adam shakes his head. “It was never clear that I couldn’t come home at six. Granted, I normally get home around seven, but I knew she was leaving so I didn’t think it mattered.”
“You knew I hired Gabby to come at six, so how could it not have been clear?”
“Yes, I knew Gabby was coming, but you were leaving and you didn’t say anything about me not being able to come home early. I didn’t think it would hurt to see the kids an hour sooner.”
She sighs, exasperated. “But that wasn’t the plan.”
He smacks the arm of the chair. “I know it wasn’t the exact plan, Hannah, but can you bend just a little?”
“Oh, right, because I’m so inflexible.” They haven’t even been here five minutes and already the battle is gearing up to bloody.
“Do you feel like the boundaries your wife has set are unreasonable?” Elias’s voice is soft.
“Overall, not really. I understand why she needs them. But I don’t think I was breaking a boundary on Wednesday.”
“But you were,” she says. “It was clear you weren’t supposed to come home until seven.”
“Hannah, I get that now. It was also clear that you were going out. So I’m sorry if I just don’t understand what difference it made.”
“I know I probably sound like some sort of control freak, but you both know why I need these rules. It isn’t exactly how I would have chosen to live my life.”
“I think what your wife is trying to say is that she needs you to understand her,” Elias says.
Adam glances at his hands. “It’s not as if I’ve been breaking the rules. I’ve been respectful of what she wants.”
“I can’t do this,” she says. “I can’t keep getting into these bickering matches.”
“This can feel like slow work,” Elias replies.
Adam shifts so that he faces forward. “Maybe it would help if we spent more time together. Without the kids.”
His request might sound kind and sympathetic to an outsider, but to her it feels like an assault.
“I’m not ready.”
“I know you’re not ready to be alone with Adam at home,” Elias says. “What about meeting somewhere more public? Would that feel safer?”
“Like a men’s room?” Her words are quiet, so it takes a moment for the dig to sink in.
“And you wonder why we’re not getting anywhere?” Adam says.
“I’m not ready for a public place,” she tells Elias.
“Understood. But it might be something you want to consider in the future.”
Adam’s brow is creased. He keeps shaking his head as if he can’t believe how unreasonable she is.
“I come in here wanting to work through things, to make them better, but instead I feel…” She takes a water bottle from her purse and opens it. “More out of control.”
“Is that how you feel when Adam doesn’t follow the rules?” Elias asks.
She nods, takes a sip of water, but has trouble swallowing. She doesn’t want to cry.
“I’m sorry,” Adam tells her. “I’m trying.”
She glares at him. For a second their gazes meet. “Trying what exactly?”
“I’m going to therapy and groups. I’ve been doing a lot of writing with the steps. I call my sponsor twice a day. I tell you every move I make.”
“Except when you don’t, and you come home when I have a babysitter planned.” Hannah feels tears welling. She takes a deep breath. Control, she tells herself.
“I think what your wife is asking isn’t so much about Wednesday night but more to do with understanding how frightened she is.”
“I’m asking that she understand that I’m trying as hard as I can,” Adam replies.
“Okay.” Elias looks at Hannah. “Can you hear what he is asking for?”
She slams the bottle on the small table that sits between the chairs. Water spills. “What I need you to understand is that I feel anxious all the time. Nothing is the same. I go out with my friends, who don’t know any of this, and they tell me I have the perfect life. I want to laugh in their faces. It’s such a farce. But I smile and pretend that I’m as lucky as they think I am. I
can’t look at my mother without wanting to cry. But I’m not about to tell her what’s really going on. She’d never speak to you again.”
Adam doesn’t shy away from looking at her now. “I get it,” he says.
“No, you don’t. What you don’t get is that every little fucking rule you break, however well intentioned, feels like you’re breaking our marriage vows again. That’s what you don’t get. If this were a normal marriage it wouldn’t be a big deal, obviously, if you came home an hour early. But it’s not a normal marriage, no matter how much I wish it were.” She dabs her eyes with a tissue.
“It’s upsetting for you not to feel understood,” Elias says.
That makes her cry harder. She hates that the man she still loves, who’s only two feet from her, doesn’t reach over to hold her hand and tell her he understands how alone and ashamed and petty he’s made her feel.
Lizzy
It’s the kind of weather that sets off migraines—a thirty-degree shift in temperature. One day it’s forty, the next seventy. If Lizzy didn’t have medication for her headaches, she’d probably have to move to a climate that wasn’t so variable. But she loves it here, especially the small hamlet she teaches in.
She erases the whiteboard in her classroom as a few students meander in for the third-period class of the day.
“Hey, Ms. Nickels,” Bryan says. “Guess what I did last night?”
She turns and smiles at him and the capricious tuft of bright red hair sticking out above his ear.
“What did you do?” She expects a wisecrack.
“Homework.” He holds up a hand for a high five.
She swats the air, purposefully missing.
“Aw,” Bryan whines. “You can do better than that.”
“Not in my skill set.”
A few others walk in, and she feels herself come to life. The classroom is her sanctuary.
Kathryn brought up the word safe a few times in their group, and although Lizzy wouldn’t exactly consider her home unsafe at this point, she can say with certainty that she feels most at ease, even peaceful, in a room full of teenagers.
The bell rings. A few students are chatting. Most are sitting, staring blankly. Lizzy writes a few notes on the whiteboard. A couple of students read it and giggle. She is going to begin teaching limiting reagents today, and she likes to start using the analogy of “Ms. Nickel’s Brew.”