I HAD AN APPOINTMENT scheduled with Susan Silverman the next morning, and was glad for it.
The temperature was back in the low thirties. I decided that it was just warm enough—or not cold enough—that I would walk to her office.
It was, I knew from having made this walk a few times before, four miles or so from my house to hers. I left myself an hour and a half. If I gave up and decided to call for a car, I had time for coffee before my appointment. On the way I thought more about Tony and Jabari. Battle of the Boston Pimps. Maybe it could be a new reality series. I tried to empty my brain of thoughts about Richie and Richard and save them for Susan Silverman. Why I paid her the big bucks.
When I arrived Susan was wearing a navy suit jacket and skirt, white shirt underneath. I noticed, and not for the first time, that in addition to a beauty that seemed almost effortless, she had a sensational figure.
I began by telling her of my conversation with Richie the night before, and Kathryn’s impending departure for Los Angeles.
“I should fix her up with an old boyfriend of mine out there,” I said.
“The agent,” she said.
“Good memory,” I said.
She smiled.
“Tony Gault is his name,” I said.
“It did not end well between the two of you, as I recall,” she said.
“Multiple times,” I said. “But you know me. I’m a game girl.”
“You’re not here to talk about old boyfriends, I’m guessing,” she said.
I sighed. It sounded as if it had come from a whole church choir of sighers.
“Richie keeps telling me we can handle this,” I said.
“Having a child,” she said. “Or at least sharing one.”
“Maybe he can,” I said. “I don’t think I can.”
“Up to now,” Susan Silverman said, “this is something both of you have only imagined in the abstract.”
“Only this is no longer symbolic thinking,” I said. “Maybe I know myself better than I ever have, more than somewhat because of you. And I know that I’m not ready for this. And might not ever be ready, not that I’ve yet mentioned that to Richie.”
“But you’ve said you’re quite fond of the boy,” she said.
“And could likely learn to love the boy,” I said. I sighed again. “Just not in my own space.”
I surprised myself by how hard I stepped on the last word. Susan Silverman waited now. She was good at it. I’d always thought she could win medals for waiting.
“I’ve been able to create enough space for Richie and I . . .” I reached up with my right hand, as if trying to somehow catch the right word. “For us to function successfully as a couple.”
She nodded.
“But you fear that three will not fit in the space you describe,” she said.
“Things have been so much better for us than I ever thought they could be after Kathryn gave him a child,” I said.
“A child she is now giving right back.”
“I was thinking about this last night,” I said. “It’s not as if I had a vote when she got pregnant. And I certainly don’t have a vote about the child now.”
“A person for whom you have no use still exerts this kind of control over your life.”
“Even when her skinny ass is about to be on its way to the airport,” I said.
“Are you at least able to put yourself in her shoes?” Susan Silverman said. “Whether it was her choice or not, she has been a single mother for the past six years. It was Richie’s decision to end the marriage. The decision she makes now might be selfish. But not malicious.”
I felt myself smiling.
“Do I sound selfish right now, or malicious?”
“Maybe if Kathryn were here,” she said, “she’d be able to put herself in your shoes.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said.
“But just because you think you can’t, because of the way your life is constructed, doesn’t mean you can’t,” Susan Silverman said. She smiled. “You’re a game girl, after all.”
“Viewing the boy as a complication instead of as a wonderful child always makes me feel like a bad person,” I said.
“Not one of the rules of engagement in here,” she said.
“I feel like I’m projecting,” I said.
“Said the patient to the therapist.”
“There’s one other thing,” I said. “I feel as if Richie is being a little controlling here when he keeps telling me we can do this.”
“How so?”
“Because every time he says that, what I’m hearing is that we should be able to do this,” I said.
“Maybe it’s something the two of you need to discuss.”
“Maybe it is,” I said. I ran a hand through my hair. “What a mess.”
“Which is how you describe your professional life at the moment,” she said.
“I know both Tony and Jabari are lying to me,” I said. “It’s part of the pimp handbook. I just can’t decide which of them is lying more. And who would have profited more from Lisa Morneau’s death.”
“Or maybe,” she said, “the question ought to be: Who has most to lose?”
We both stood now, with a familiar and practiced synchronicity.
I smiled.
“That,” I said, “is a very good question.”
“Try not to sound quite so surprised,” Susan Silverman said.