by Sylvia True
Jonah gives a diminutive, appreciative smile and rotates his shoulder, ready to head out. He’s been so agreeable, so easy to talk to about this.
“Are you going to read?” she asks.
“I was. Just for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
She does mind. She minds that he’s not coming to bed, that he didn’t kiss her good night, that he hasn’t provided a name.
“So what is her last name?” she asks.
“It’s Russian. Difficult to spell. I’ll write it for you and leave it on the kitchen counter.”
“Thank you.”
He’s about to leave.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was back?” She should have just let him go, but she couldn’t.
“I simply forgot,” he tells her.
“Oh,” she replies, trying to mirror his ease. It’s the first time tonight she’s felt as if he wasn’t being genuine.
He walks toward her, his head bent, his eyes shy, young almost. For a moment she reads his demeanor as guilty, but when he looks into her eyes, she tells herself she’s overanalyzing. He leans to kiss her on the lips, and she is soothed.
Hannah
Monday morning, Hannah gets Sam off to school, then wakes Alicia. At nine-thirty, they take Adam’s car to the family therapist that Hannah found.
Beth Healy’s office is in a small brick building next to Newton-Wellesley Hospital. The three of them sit in the waiting room. Hannah keeps smiling at Alicia, who keeps looking away.
Then she takes count. There’s her therapist, Adam’s therapist, their couples’ therapist, his sponsor, her group therapist, and now a family therapist, a school counselor, and she’s pretty sure Alicia will have her own therapist soon. That’s eight. A family of four with eight therapists. Hannah picks up a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. Adam and Alicia are playing some game on his phone, and she wants to whip the magazine across the room. The eight therapists are because of him—the wonderful, thoughtful father who’s taken time to download games on his phone that his daughter finds amusing.
Beth Healy comes out at exactly ten and invites them in. She’s wearing a well-fitted red suit with black pumps.
Adam and Alicia sit on the couch. Hannah chooses one of two armchairs. Tall windows make the room light, and a dollhouse in the corner catches Alicia’s eye.
After the introductions, Beth explains that she will split the sessions up. First she wants to talk to Alicia alone, then to Hannah and Adam, and at the end they’ll all meet together.
Hannah and Adam return to the waiting area.
Fifteen minutes later, Alicia emerges smiling.
“There are some books over there you might like.” Beth points to a table in the corner. “Will you be all right?”
Alicia stands very straight. “Yes, thank you.”
Hannah feels proud of her daughter as she walks into the office.
“There isn’t a lot I can tell you from our first meeting,” Beth says. “But I do think it’s wise that you’ve chosen to seek help.”
“And why is that?” Hannah asks.
“Alicia is a very bright child, which I’m sure you’re both aware of.” She looks at them and smiles. “No particular disorder jumps out at me, but I do think she’s very angry, and she could use some coping skills to learn how to deal with the turmoil of emotions she’s feeling.”
“But you think she’ll be okay?” Hannah asks.
Beth gives a thoughtful therapist nod, a gesture that has become all too familiar. “I think we have some work ahead of us.” She takes a legal pad from her desk. “I did get a report from the school psychologist, but I’d like to hear from the two of you as to what you think is causing the anger.”
“My husband and I are going through a rough spell.”
She waits.
“I’ve been struggling with some addiction issues, and it’s been very difficult on Hannah,” Adam explains.
“I see,” she says. “Can you talk a little bit more about what the issues are?”
He looks at a painting on the wall as if he’s actually studying the artwork. “It stems from my own childhood,” he says to the picture.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Hannah interrupts. “He’s a sex addict, and I caught him cheating again. We’re going to therapy. We’re trying, but it’s been very tense at home.”
“Alicia did mention she was worried you were going to get divorced. Is that something that you see happening?”
“No,” Adam says.
“Not immediately.” Hannah glances at the green carpet. “I mean, we’re trying to make it work. It would be better for the children.”
“It’s not always best for the children to stay together if you’re unhappy.”
“I know,” Hannah says. “We’re not only doing it for them.”
“You’re both in therapy?” Beth asks.
“Yes,” Adam says.
“And you feel it’s helping?”
“Yes,” he says again.
She waits for Hannah.
“I suppose.”
“May I make an observation?” Beth asks.
“Sure,” Hannah replies.
“You seem angry. Understandably, of course, but I’m wondering if the tension I’m feeling here is what Alicia’s picking up on at home.”
“Probably.” Hannah regrets she snapped so quickly at Adam. “I try not to act angry in front of the kids.”
“Alicia’s a very sensitive child. I think it might actually be more frightening for her to feel you’re pretending. Have you ever thought about allowing her to see some of your pain? I’m not suggesting you explain any details, but sometimes it’s surprising how relieved children feel when they actually see their parents fight.”
“We don’t speak to each other in the house,” Adam tells her.
“Not at all?” Beth asks.
“Just the pass-the-salt type of thing,” he replies.
“We have dinner conversations,” Hannah says.
“Only with the children. We don’t actually speak to each other except in couples’ therapy.”
Beth jots a few notes. “And how long has this been going on?”
“Since I caught him fucking another man in a public bathroom.”
“Hannah,” Adam chides.
“So basically, what Adam is trying to tell you is that I’m a rigid bitch with a thousand and one rules. He’s always cheerful, like nothing is wrong, and I have to constantly restrain myself from screaming and yelling and telling him how he’s ruined my life. Yes, Alicia picks it up. She sees me get tense, and of course it looks like it’s my fault, and he doesn’t have the balls to explain to her that he’s hurt me. That people can do that to each other, even mothers and fathers.”
“You never told me you wanted me to say anything.” He tilts his head, bewildered.
She throws up her hands. “Can you think for yourself? Perhaps you could do the right thing without being told.”
“I’m not sure how to tell her,” he says.
“I think that’s something we can discuss in here,” Beth interjects. “You might be able to start with something like Hannah suggested. Something to the effect that things are difficult between the two of you because you acted in ways that were hurtful.”
“And what do I say when she asks what I did?”
Beth scribbles a few words on her legal pad. “You might explain it in terms she can relate to. Perhaps a friend of hers once lied to her or betrayed her in some way.”
“And if she wants to know more?” he asks.
“You’re the parent. You set the boundaries. You can say that she doesn’t need to know all the details. That’s not her business. What is her business is that she understands that she’s not the cause of the problem, nor is she wrong for feeling things aren’t okay.”
“He doesn’t understand boundaries,” Hannah says.
“Damn it, Hannah. I know I’m not perfect, but I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
She c
an’t stand him. The way Alicia favors him. The way everyone thinks he’s such a nice guy.
“I think it’s been very helpful for me to see the dynamic between you. You’re in a very difficult situation, and we need to find the right words to help Alicia understand.” Beth glances at her watch. “Would it be all right if I brought her in now?”
“Yes,” they say in unison.
For the last ten minutes, Beth explains to Alicia that many, many parents fight, that it’s very hard to understand, that it’s not necessarily anyone’s fault, least of all hers. Alicia soaks in her words, nodding at a rapid pace.
On the way home, Adam suggests they stop at Friendly’s for ice cream. There he goes again, always the nice guy, the good dad. But when she glances over her shoulder and sees Alicia smile, she knows that she’s going to have to bend a little more, not for his sake, or hers, but for her children.
SESSION FIVE
After last dress-up night, Hannah now finds herself contemplating what to wear to group. She doesn’t kid herself though. She’s dressing for Jake, not herself or the other women. Tonight she decides on a navy tank dress, a fitted jean jacket, and pearl stud earrings—a mix of sexy and traditional.
During group she listens as Flavia tells of having sex with other men, as Bridget talks about Michael and her preparations for a polygraph. She listens as Lizzy explains that school is her safe haven and Gail relays that Jonah was so unruffled about the letter from April, it’s clear their marriage has overcome the biggest hurdles. Hannah feels obligated to say something about herself, so she tells them about the new family therapist and how she hopes it will help Alicia.
As the hour ticks away, she feels occasionally connected, but there are moments when the signal breaks, as if a synapse is missed, and panic floods in. To calm herself she thinks about how comforting an appletini will be.
The session comes to a close, and Kathryn thanks them all for coming.
At the bar, they sit around the same table as last week, and as soon as Hannah takes her first sip, she feels as if her nerve endings aren’t quite so raw, as if she can finally think. Hannah notices that Lizzy closes her eyes for a second after she takes a drink and guesses she feels the same way.
“You look like you’re in postcoital bliss,” Bridget tells Lizzy.
She smiles. “The bliss part feels right.”
“He still does not make love to you?” Flavia asks.
Lizzy shakes her head. “Not yet.”
Gail sips her merlot. “What about trying to go away to a hotel?”
“I suggested that, but he sort of winced. I think that puts more pressure on him. It has to happen naturally, and until it does, I’m just going to enjoy other things in my life, like spending time with you all.” She lifts her glass. Hannah joins in the toast and finishes her drink.
Bridget takes out a small notepad and a pen. “I’ve been thinking,” she says.
Gail grins. “This should be good.”
Bridget smiles wryly. “We’re making a pact.”
Hannah laughs. “I haven’t done that since I was a Girl Scout.” She glances around for their server.
Bridget rolls her eyes.
“Sorry,” Hannah says. “I didn’t mean to sound derogatory.”
“Here’s the deal.” Bridget ignores Hannah. “No one is allowed to do anything rash, anything out of the ordinary, unless they call at least two other members of the group.”
“And what does this rash mean?” Flavia asks.
“Well, it can mean different things for different people. But obviously something like jumping off a bridge applies to everyone. If you think you want to do that, you have to call two people.”
“Okay, I will sign,” Flavia says.
Gail places her hand in front of Bridget. “Have you been considering anything dangerous?” she asks.
“Suicide? Hell, no. Homicide? Hell, yes.”
Gail lets out a breath. “You’re sure?”
“Do I seem like the type to hurt myself?”
“I just needed to check,” Gail tells her.
“So aside from killing oneself or one’s spouse, what else?” Hannah asks. She signals the waitress to bring her another drink and looks for Jake.
“Doing something way out of the ordinary. Say Gail wants to hire a male hooker. That kind of thing,” Bridget explains.
Gail laughs.
“Okay, like running away, or binge drinking, or shaving your head, or getting a tattoo on your neck. Things like that. Maybe slashing your husband’s tires.” Bridget pauses. “Actually, scratch that one. That’s sane, not rash. But you get the idea.”
“I think it’s good.” Gail rests her chin in her palm.
The waitress brings Hannah her drink.
“Other comments?” Bridget asks.
“I like it,” Lizzy says.
Bridget rips off a few sheets from her notepad. “I’ll pass around five pieces of paper. We each get everyone else’s number. I know some of us already have them, but this makes it official.”
Hannah writes down her cell and home numbers on one of the sheets, then sees Jake at the bar. She drinks her appletini as if it’s water, hands the paper to Bridget, and slides out of her chair.
“Hey, you.” He smiles as she approaches.
“How are you?” she asks.
“Can’t complain. And you?”
She laughs. “I could complain, but I’m not going to.”
“A drink?” He looks at her empty hands.
“Sure.”
“You here with your friends again?”
“Yep,” she says.
“You look like such an interesting group.”
“How so?”
“In that none of you look the same. I mean, it’s like you don’t really go together. I don’t mean it in a bad way. Just that lots of times when you see a group of women, they all kind of have on the same clothes, or they’re around the same age, or…”
“Yeah, I get what you mean.” The drink tastes fruity, as if it barely has any alcohol.
“You never did tell me how you all met,” he says.
She watches his lips. God, she’d love to kiss him. Right here. Right now, in front of everyone. His cheeks are ruddy, and she brushes a finger along one of them.
The third drink goes down more quickly than the second. She orders another.
“Come meet them,” she tells Jake.
On the way to the table, she sways a little and decides it’s because the old wooden slats of the floor are uneven. She’s not drunk. In fact, she feels refreshed and alive.
“Hey, everyone, I want you to meet my friend Jake.” She grabs a chair from the neighboring table.
Flavia gives a sexy wave, Lizzy says a demure hello, Gail turns toward the wall, and Bridget glares at Hannah.
“Nice to meet you all,” Jake says quietly, and drinks his beer.
“That’s Gail.” Hannah points. “Flavia.” She moves her finger. “Lizzy and Bridget.”
“Hi,” Lizzy says again, more meekly.
Hannah slaps the table. “So what are we talking about?”
“Private stuff.” Bridget narrows her eyes.
Jake pushes his chair back and picks up his beer. “Well, I have to go. I’ll catch up with you later.” He stands. “Take care of yourself.”
Hannah waits until he’s out of hearing range. “What’s with the icy reception?”
“What the hell is with bringing someone over here?” Bridget asks.
“He’s a friend.” She finishes her drink. “Might be good to get a sane male perspective on things.”
“He’s not a friend. You met him at this bar last week, and we don’t know the first thing about him.”
Hannah shrugs and takes off her jacket. The fourth drink is working wonders. “He’s nice.”
“Does he know anything about us?” Gail asks.
“Of course not. You think I’m going to go blabbing that our husbands are a bunch of perverts?”
“And please don’t refer to our husbands that way.” Gail uses a coaster to fan herself.
“Yeah, that was really uncool,” Bridget says.
“You want a ride home?” Lizzy asks Hannah.
“Me?” Hannah shakes her head and grins. “I’m not ready to leave. And they are a bunch of perverts.”
“Stop,” Bridget warns.
“Or what?”
Lizzy stands. “Come on, let me give you a ride.”
“No. I want to know what she’s going to do to me if I keep talking.” She stares at Bridget.
“I’m not here to fight. I just don’t think it was cool that you brought someone to our table. What if he knew one of us?” Bridget asks.
“He doesn’t.” Hannah is ready for drink number five.
“He might start asking,” Gail tells her. “He might start putting the pieces together.”
“And then what? He’ll call the newspapers? Don’t you think you’re all being a little overdramatic?” Hannah looks around for the waitress and notices Jake facing away from them. She embarrassed him. A wave of self-hatred grips her gut.
“You need to respect us.” Bridget points emphatically to herself.
“Oh my God, like I don’t? Are you kidding? And where is the waitress?” She turns her empty glass upside down.
“No more drinks.” Lizzy touches Hannah’s arm. “I’m going to take you home.”
“I’m not leaving.” She shakes her head again.
“Come on.” Lizzy picks up Hannah’s jacket.
“Go home with her,” Bridget says.
“I think that’s a wise idea,” Gail adds.
Hannah stands. She likes how she feels, as if she’s walking across one of those fake rickety bridges. When she gets to the door, she turns to catch a glimpse of Jake. He doesn’t see her. Lizzy keeps hold of Hannah’s arm. She doesn’t need the support, but she doesn’t mind it either.