by Alex Lake
It wasn’t a rational response to a clear threat.
Except this time, maybe it was. This time there was a threat.
She looked at her schedule. Next up was Becky. The notes said she was complaining of nausea and sleeplessness. Well, she was pregnant.
Sarah went into the examining room. Becky was standing up, her arms folded across her chest.
‘Becky,’ Sarah said. She studied her for a few moments; she looked dreadful, her eyes ringed with dark circles and her face thinner than Sarah remembered. She sat down and gestured to the empty chair opposite her. ‘Take a seat.’
Becky ignored her.
‘How are you?’ Sarah said. ‘Is everything OK?’
Becky nodded, twice, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She seemed unable to look Sarah in the eye.
‘Why don’t you sit down? Tell me why you came in today?’
Becky hesitated, then moved toward the chair. She sat down, her arms still tightly folded.
‘The notes say you’ve been suffering from nausea and sleeplessness?’ Sarah said. ‘Could you give any details?’
‘It’s bad,’ Becky said, her voice barely audible. ‘I don’t sleep more than an hour or two a night. And I feel sick, all day.’
‘Have you vomited?’ Sarah said. ‘Or is it only the feeling?’
‘Once or twice,’ Becky said. ‘But it’s mainly the feeling.’
‘That is fairly normal in pregnancy,’ Sarah said. ‘As is insomnia. Your body is going through a lot of changes – physical, hormonal, emotional – and a reaction is common. Even quite an extreme reaction, like this seems to be.’
‘It’s more than that,’ Becky replied. ‘A lot more.’
‘Oh?’ Sarah said. ‘Like what?’
‘I feel – it’s hard to describe – but I feel smooth,’ Becky said. ‘Like I can’t get hold of anything, can’t get any grip. Sometimes I feel like I’m in a bubble. Other times I don’t feel anything. And I feel the same way about the baby.’ She started to cry. ‘I don’t feel happy or excited. I feel empty. And that makes me feel awful, like I’m already a bad mom. And then I think I don’t deserve this amazing gift, like I’m ungrateful, and I start to worry it’ll be taken from me.’ She paused. ‘I’m worried I’ll lose the baby, and it’ll be my fault.’
Sarah handed her a tissue.
‘It’s very hard to deal with,’ she said. ‘But even this kind of thing is not uncommon. It’s hard to over-estimate the effects of pregnancy on mood, behavior, appetite. It’s a massive thing for the body to go through.’
‘But it started before the pregnancy,’ Becky said. ‘It’s been going on for months. I’ve felt numb and stupid and worthless for months and I want it to go away!’
‘When did these feelings start?’ Sarah said.
‘Around Christmas, which is crazy because that’s when I met Sean. I feel so guilty. I have all this wonderful stuff in my life, and all I can do is complain.’
‘You’re not complaining.’ Sarah caught Becky’s eye. She held her gaze. ‘Have you considered that you might be depressed?’ she said. ‘It would explain a lot of this.’
‘But why?’ Becky said. ‘What have I got to be depressed about?’
‘It doesn’t always works like that,’ Sarah said. ‘Think of it like an illness. You don’t need a reason to catch a cold; it’s a virus. Part of the problem with mental illness in general is the way people look on it as some kind of failing on their part, but it isn’t. It’s a chemical imbalance in the brain.’
‘I know,’ Becky said. ‘But what am I going to do?’
‘We could try you on some medication,’ Sarah said. ‘Other patients have found that effective.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Becky replied. ‘I don’t think – I mean, is there another way?’
‘Would you like me to refer you to somebody? A therapist? They might be able to help.’
Becky paused. ‘I’m already seeing someone.’
‘Oh? Good. You could ask them about medication?’
Becky shook her head. ‘They said it wasn’t necessary to take medication. There are strategies for coping.’
‘Could I ask who you saw? Was it a medical professional?’
‘I don’t know their qualifications.’
‘If you give me their name, I might know them. You don’t have to, of course. So no pressure.’
Becky nodded. ‘I’ve been seeing a woman called Rachel Little.’
Sarah hesitated. She hadn’t been expecting that name. It seemed to crop up everywhere.
‘Do you know her?’ Becky said.
‘I do,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ve known her a long time. Since high school.’
‘Oh,’ Becky said. ‘Good.’ She clearly took the length of Sarah and Rachel’s acquaintance as a positive sign; Sarah did not feel like correcting her, even though she had no professional knowledge of what Rachel did or how effective it was.
‘Well,’ Sarah said. ‘If anything changes, get in touch, especially if it gets worse.’
Becky stood up. She held out her hand for Sarah to shake; it was an oddly formal gesture.
‘I will,’ she said. ‘Goodbye.’
22
There she goes. Making her way home to the family she does not deserve. To the family she will lose, when she is finally destroyed.
And she will be destroyed. She has no idea she is hated as much as she is; she has no concept she could be hated like this. She is a good person, a doctor, and mother, and dutiful, loving, loyal wife.
Although there was that incident with the handsome physical therapist a few years ago. She thinks no one knows – and if anyone did, they will by now have forgotten – but this is a small town and word spreads and people have long memories.
She has forgotten, more or less. It wasn’t much, after all. A handful of dates, one of which ended up with a hurried, guilty coupling at his house.
And she had an excuse: she was going through a difficult time. Depressed? Perhaps not. But anxious? Most certainly. And lost? Without any doubt. Lost and grasping at straws. And the physical therapist – Josh, was his name – was one of those straws.
He’d recently started working at her medical center. She went to see him because of back pain and difficulty breathing. Tightness in her ribs, brought on, she thought, by the anxiety that plagued her, woke her in the night and left her reeling, dizzy and unable to think straight during the day.
He made her feel better. Safer, more secure. Gave her stretches and exercises. They helped; they were the only thing that did, and she mistook her gratitude for something else.
He didn’t. He saw it for what it was. An opportunity for some sex with a desperate housewife. He liked that kind of thing.
But after their first, fumbled time together she realized her error. Broke it off. Went back to her family and husband.
Didn’t tell him, of course. Didn’t feel she needed to: it was an honest mistake. She is a good person. Not a slut. Not the kind of person who sleeps with handsome physical therapists called Josh on a whim. No: she told herself it was part of her sickness. A symptom of the malaise which plagued her. And now it was gone. No need to tell Ben and make it worse than it needed to be.
After all, she felt – weirdly – better. Relieved she had got away with it. Newly grateful for her beautiful son and loving husband.
And other than one little slip-up – and we all deserve one slip-up – she’s blameless. So no one could hate her. How could they? What is there to hate? She is safe in the knowledge that, whatever else might befall her, no one could be so filled with disgust and hatred for her that they would want to bring her down from her lofty perch and destroy her utterly.
This certainty is her downfall.
Because she is wrong.
Totally wrong.
23
As she drove home, Sarah could not shake the meeting with Becky from her mind. She was clearly suffering from either the beginnings of depression or depression itself, and it had
started six months ago.
When Sarah introduced her to Sean.
Which happened to be when the Facebook account had been set up.
And unlikely as it was that Becky was involved, it was an odd coincidence, and right now, with everything else going on, anything odd – even slightly odd – stood out.
Was Becky involved? Sarah couldn’t see how, or why, but it was at least possible. And she was seeing Rachel Little, which was another coincidence. As was Rachel Little’s divorce six months earlier. She was the one who had alerted Sarah to the existence of the Facebook account, right before she moved back to Barrow.
And now she was Becky’s therapist. Sarah could imagine the scene, Rachel sitting, arms folded, brow furrowed in a look of deep, sincere concern for her new patient.
And do you think these feelings are linked to meeting Sean? Weren’t you introduced to him? Match-made, so to speak?
Yes, by Sarah Havenant.
And perhaps, in some weird way, Becky blamed Sarah for the depression, and Rachel was using that to get her to set up fake Facebook accounts and invite Sarah’s friends’ kids to fake play dates, or invent a fictitious uncle who was supposed to pick up Faye from camp.
But why? Why would Rachel do it?
Because she wants your kids, Sarah thought, and a chill went through her. The thought had come unbidden, surfacing from her subconscious like a whale breaching. Like the truth emerging.
She shook her head. It didn’t make sense. If she wanted Sarah’s kids – and why she would want hers over someone else’s was a mystery – why do all this? All it did was attract attention, which was the last thing a kidnapper wanted.
It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense.
And that made it all the more threatening.
She pushed open her front door. It opened a few inches, then stuck. She pushed again; it gave a little – as though it was pushed up against something soft – but wouldn’t move.
She shoved harder, panic gripping her, and the door flew open.
Skidding to a stop in the middle of the hall was one of Ben’s New Balance running shoes. The toe was compressed; it must have been wedged under the door, out of its normal home in the boxes by the door.
It wasn’t the only thing out of place.
Most of a wooden jigsaw puzzle was strewn across the floor, mixed in with what looked like hundreds of Lego pieces. The book Sarah had been reading was open, face-down, spine bent, in the doorway to the kitchen, and there were Pokémon cards everywhere.
She walked into the kitchen, where the scene was repeated.
‘Ben?’ she called. ‘Are you there?’
The back door opened and he walked into the house. He was dripping wet, and grinning.
‘What’s going on?’ she said.
‘Water tag,’ he replied. ‘I started off with the hose but somehow the kids ended up being the ones doing the spraying. Miles, mostly. Saves me having a shower before I head into the office.’ He looked at his clothes. ‘Although I think I’ll need to change.’
Sarah bit back her anger. He was off to work, leaving her to clean up this mess. No doubt the kids were equally soaking, which would mean yet more laundry.
‘Have the kids had lunch?’ she said.
Ben shook his head. ‘I was planning to feed them but we got carried away.’
‘Did you go to the store? We don’t have much in.’
‘No.’ His expression had changed, the smile replaced by a wary, conciliatory look. ‘I can go on the way home, though.’
‘Doesn’t help me now, does it? I’ve been at work all morning and now I come home to this,’ – she swept her hand behind her, indicating the mess – ‘and nothing for the kids to eat.’
‘I’m sorry, darling. It’s a summer’s day and we were messing around.’
‘Well, I’m glad you had fun.’ She could hear the sarcasm in her voice; it was unpleasant and she didn’t like it, but she couldn’t help the rising tide of emotion. ‘Off you go to work. At least now there’s a grown-up in charge.’
His expression changed again; this time the conciliation was gone, replaced by a mounting anger.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I know it’s been a stressful few days, but don’t take it out on everyone else. We were only having some fun.’
‘That’s got nothing to do with it!’ she shouted. ‘I come home to a dump, hungry kids and an empty kitchen, and all you say is “We were only having some fun.”’ She glared at him; he backed away. ‘That’s what this is about,’ she said. ‘Not the last few days. So don’t make excuses.’
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’m going to get changed. And on the way I’ll pick up the toys. Should take me – oh, five minutes? And I’ll call for a pizza, which should take care of lunch.’ He folded his arms. ‘You don’t think you may be over-reacting, do you? A little?’
She wanted, at that second, to sink her nails into his cheeks and claw them off. Before she could, he turned and went upstairs.
24
Sarah handed Jean a mug of coffee and sat down. They were sitting out in the backyard on Sarah’s favorite chairs – two Adirondacks she had bought the previous summer. They were expensive, but she had wanted them for a while, and the year before she had finally pulled the trigger.
‘Did Kim go down OK?’ Jean said.
‘After a struggle.’ Kim’s afternoon naps were becoming less regular; the other two had slept more during the day, but she fought it, aware that her elder siblings were having fun elsewhere. Which was perfectly reasonable; at that moment Miles, Faye, Daniel and Paul were throwing themselves along the slip ’n’ slide.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s so much easier when the kids have friends to play with.’
‘No problem,’ Jean replied. ‘Mine aren’t in camp this year anyway, so I’m always looking for something to do with them.’ She shook her head. ‘Camps are so expensive now. It wasn’t that way when we were kids.’
‘The Rec Camp where we went was free,’ Sarah said. ‘Although it was a bit crappy. It was in that windowless basement, remember? It felt like a prison.’
‘But we had fun,’ Jean said. ‘Kids do.’ She looked at Sarah. ‘Are you going to send yours back to camp this summer? After the email?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Sarah said. ‘I want to – I want everything to be normal – but I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure I’ll be able to. I’d spend the whole time worrying about them.’
‘I would too. I’d be terrified.’
Sarah massaged her temples with her forefingers. ‘I don’t get it,’ she said. ‘I don’t understand what’s going on.’
‘It’s got to be some sick joke,’ Jean said. ‘I don’t see what else it could be.’
‘But who?’
‘A patient, maybe? Someone you upset in some way? Maybe you wouldn’t give them oxy?’
‘There was a patient today,’ Sarah said. ‘It was a bit weird.’
‘Oh?’
‘I can’t say too much, but – well, she’d was quite depressed. It began six months ago. I offered her medication but she declined, so I suggested a therapist, but she’d already contacted one.’
‘So far, this doesn’t sound at all strange, Sarah.’
Sarah leaned forward. She was aware this was a breach of patient–doctor confidentiality, but it felt important to share it.
‘She’s been seeing Rachel Little.’
Jean frowned. ‘And you think that’s relevant?’
‘It’s a coincidence, at least.’
‘I don’t know,’ Jean said. ‘It’s pretty thin.’
‘It is,’ Sarah said. ‘But it’s something. You want to stay and eat? I can call and ask Ben to pick up stuff for the grill. If he answers my call.’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’ Jean asked.
‘I snapped at him earlier,’ Sarah said. ‘When I got back the house was a mess and I kind of lost it.’
‘You’ve got a lot on your mind.’
‘
That’s what he said, which made it worse. But you’re both right. I’ll say sorry. And I can text him, so if he doesn’t answer, he’ll still get the message. And the apology.’
‘It’s fine,’ Jean said. ‘I need to get back and feed the kids. I’ve got a babysitter coming at five thirty.’
‘Oh?’ Sarah said. ‘Going out?’
‘Yep,’ Jean said. ‘On a date.’
‘A date?’ Sarah said. ‘Who with?’
‘It’s kind of embarrassing.’
‘No it isn’t. Well, it might be. But tell me anyway.’
‘You know Clara, from the school?’
‘The receptionist?’
Jean nodded. ‘She has a friend called Carl who’s recently moved to Lewiston. He’s setting up a business there in the old mill. The one that’s being redeveloped.’
‘Doing what?’
‘I don’t know. Clara said, but it wasn’t clear. She mentioned IT networks, which didn’t really help.’ Jean gave a bashful smile. ‘She set it up. Kind of a blind date.’
Sarah grinned. ‘Great! And a blind date. That’s pretty brave.’
‘We’re meeting for a coffee downtown. Early evening, no pressure. Clara suggested dinner, but a meal could last hours. Don’t want to be trapped if he turns out to be a weirdo.’
‘Does she know him?’
‘She does. He was friends with her brother. She says he’s a good guy.’
‘I guess you’ll find out. Divorced? Kids?’
Jean nodded. ‘Divorced, yes. Kids, no.’
‘Perfect,’ Sarah said. ‘He sounds lovely.’
Jean rolled her eyes. ‘How does he sound lovely? He’s a divorced IT nerd. So lovely maybe isn’t the word. But it’s worth a shot, although I’m kind of nervous. I’ve forgotten how to date. It’s been a while. Apart from that disaster with the college professor, it’s the first date since Jack died.’