Kathryn’s door is open. Hannah pokes her head in and sees that once again she is the first to arrive.
“Hannah.” Kathryn swivels around and stands. “I’m so pleased you decided to return.”
Hannah sits on the same hard wooden chair and looks through her purse for her phone. Damn. She left it at home on the kitchen counter.
A few minutes later, Lizzy walks in. She takes her corner of the couch and pins up a loose curl.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says to Hannah. Her smile is honest.
“Thanks.” Hannah glances away, feeling guilty that this is going to be her last group and that she only came for Bridget.
Flavia, wearing a scoop-neck sweater that complements her long neck, strolls past and also sits on the couch, same as last week. Kathryn folds her hands on her lap.
Lizzy smiles broadly, warmly, and Hannah wonders again why men married to these women would ever jeopardize their relationships. She reminds herself that, as in her case, the addictions have nothing to do with the women. But still.
Kathryn glances at a small oval alarm clock with bold black numbers. “It’s just about seven. I haven’t heard from either Bridget or Gail, so I assume they’re coming. I thought perhaps you could each take a moment to think about what you want to get from this group.”
Hannah tugs at the sleeves on her sweater. Last week she came here hoping the group would magically enable her to start living again. Now all she wants is for Bridget to show up so she can somehow make her see that coming here will be beneficial. She recognizes the hypocrisy of her goal, but it’s the best she can do.
“I would like to find out what it is I really want. Do I want to stay with Dema?” Flavia holds out her hands as if they are the scales of justice.
“We can—” Kathryn starts to say as the door opens.
Hannah is ready to jump up and greet Bridget. But it is Gail who stands, out of breath, on the threshold.
“Gail.” Kathryn beams. “We’re so happy to see you.”
She fans herself. “Am I late?”
“We were just getting started.” Kathryn gestures to the chair Gail had taken last Wednesday. It is obvious, at least to Hannah, that Kathryn is pleased her group is living to see another week.
Gail places a hand, with long, manicured nails, on her chest.
Kathryn taps a pencil on her knee. “We were just talking about what people hope to get from the group, but before we continue, I’d like to quickly review the norms. It’s essential that we all understand that everything said in here is done so in confidence. Please be mindful of allowing others to speak and, if possible, refrain from giving advice.”
Gail clears her throat. “Are we expecting Bridget tonight?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Kathryn answers.
“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.