The following week, I walked down the hall toward the group-therapy room and saw Laura-Lea standing at the door.
“I want to chat with you after session.” She touched my arm. “Can you stay?”
I swallowed hard, my stomach doing a tiny flip. “Sure.” I had a pretty good idea what Laura-Lea wanted to talk to me about. Not only had I blown off the emergency appointment with Dr. Alexander, but I had skipped our regular appointment. I knew I needed his help, but I couldn’t face his quiet look, his pen and paper, his inquiries about the medication. I needed a break from the scrutiny.
When everyone was seated, Laura-Lea looked me in the eye. “Kate, it’s your turn to begin session.”
Apparently, not only was I to talk with her about my disappearing act of the past week, but I was also to share my story.
But I was cornered, so I nodded.
Laura-Lea nodded back.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, just like Laura-Lea had taught us.
I glanced around.
Grace shifted in her chair.
Richard coughed in a fake way.
Mimi adjusted the front of her V-neck top to maximum effect.
Bobby openly stared at Laura-Lea.
I froze, feeling the weight of their stares. I glared down at my shoes. “I’ll start next week’s session instead, okay?” I said finally.
Laura-Lea puckered her lips in a doubtful expression. “You said that last week.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”
She flicked her hands at me, like shooing a puppy out the door. “It really is your turn to begin the session, Kate.” As an afterthought she added, “Remember, this is a safe place. You can say anything here.” She said it smoothly as if explaining the return policy at Walmart. But I knew differently.
I glanced at Malcolm, remembering the way the group had swiftly judged and convicted him after his bizarre monologue. He still came to each group therapy session, but now he said little. His opinion was never sought by anyone in the group, not even Laura-Lea. He had been, by silent majority, relegated to the fringe of the group. Safe was a crock.
But short of bolting from the room, there was no way of out this. I cleared my throat. The image of the teenagers and Jack clinging together in their grief came to mind. Would it be so awful to share my grief? I didn’t have to tell them everything, did I? I didn’t have to tell them about hearing Kevin’s voice. I didn’t have to tell them anything I didn’t want to. They wouldn’t know the difference. “Uh, three months ago my husband died unexpectedly. I mean, he wasn’t sick or anything beforehand. And I guess I’ve had a hard time, uh, coping since then.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “And?”
I looked at Laura-Lea for support. True to form she nodded vigorously. I nodded back. “And, uh, it’s been hard.”
Grace turned to me. “Hard in what way, dear?”
I sucked on my upper lip. “Really, really hard.”
Richard crossed his arms. “Oh for—. Talking to you is like pulling teeth.”
Here we go … I gave him a pleading look, but he just continued.
Richard smirked at me. “You come to group, sit slumped in your chair—your body language is very closed off, did you know that? You say almost nothing. And when you do talk, you give these one- or two-word answers.” He turned to Laura-Lea. “I find it difficult with her in the group. I wonder if she really wants to be here.”
I sat feeling like a stick of wood.
Laura-Lea opened her mouth, closed it, pointed to me, and then pointed at Richard, like she was playing a game of eeny-meeny-miny-moe.
Mimi cleared her throat. “Richard, I think you’re being unfair to Kate. In my opinion—”
“Your opinion is of no interest to me,” Richard roared. “I don’t know why you’re here either. You get all dolled up with makeup and low-cut blouses. It’s more like you’re on a man hunt than grieving.”
Mimi clutched the neck of her blouse. “That’s unnecessarily harsh. Why are you always so harsh with people?”
Richard leaned toward her. “It’s called tough love.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t love me.”
He stared at her. “I do. In an existential way.”
She gave a snort and turned away. At the same time, she tossed a get-a-load-of-him look at Janice. Janice glared back at Mimi.
Grace lowered her eyes and folded her hands on her lap like she was about to break into prayer.
“We’re here to help each other,” Laura-Lea mumbled to no one in particular.
I nodded vigorously, overcome by a sudden desire to comfort Mimi. “Th—that’s true. And we are helping each other.” There was a hint of desperation in my voice. I wanted this group to get along. I wasn’t sure any of this was helping anyone, but I had a tremendous need to be here. With them. Week after week. Like a TV show, a vitamin pill, a full-time job, I wanted us to always be here. To stay the same. I needed the steady knowledge of Wednesday night.
I turned to Richard. “I want to be here.” I closed my eyes and tried to think what Laura-Lea would say. “I hear what you’ve said, and I promise to be sensitive to your ideas.”
Richard gave me a curt nod. “Good.”
Mimi pounced. “Yes, it’s good that she listens to you, isn’t it, Richard? That’s what you want from women. For them to listen and obey.”
Richard turned an alarming shade of purple. He crushed out his words between his teeth. “Mimi, stop. I’m not having this discussion with you.”
She threw an arm over the back of her chair, ready for anything. She resembled Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce. “Oh, yes you are. You just accused me of being on a man hunt. Well, who asked who out to dinner? You. Remember? You asked me. I didn’t chase you. You did the chasing, mister.”
My eyes bulged from their sockets. They were dating?
Grace slapped a hand over her mouth.
Malcolm tittered.
Janice rolled her eyes.
Richard was on his feet. “Shut up, Mimi.”
Mimi, undaunted, leaped off her chair. “You can’t bully me. That’s what you are—a bully. Why don’t you tell the group about your dear wife, Richard? Tell them how you miss having her clean your house, cook your food, and wash your clothes. Tell them how you needed to slap her around sometimes.”
The rest of us sat, risking tennis neck looking from Mimi to Richard, to Janice.
Laura-Lea shot to her feet and stood in the center of the circle. “I’m going to lead the group in a cleansing exercise. Everyone sit down and close your eyes. You, too, Richard. Breathe deeply through your nose.”
I closed my eyes and filled my lungs to bursting.
At the end of the session, Mimi, who was supposed to have been calmed by twenty minutes of deep breathing, slammed out of the room. Richard sighed and then slowly made his way out, carefully holding the door for Janice, who was refusing to look at him.
I added my chair to the stack by the far wall and Laura-Lea tossed me a weary look. “Got a second?”
I nodded.
She leaned against a stack of chairs. I wondered if they were the same ones Jack used on Sundays. “Dr. Alexander asked me to speak to you if you came to group tonight.”
I sucked my lower lip in. “If?”
“Seems you were a no-show for an appointment with him last week and then again for your regular appointment on Monday. Can you tell me what happened?”
My head jerked. “It wasn’t really an appointment. He had asked me to call him if … if I wanted to. I had called him and he asked me to come see him if I could. But I was feeling better, so I decided not to bother him further.” I shrugged to prove how trivial it all was, but my eyes filled with tears.
Laura-Lea put her hand on my arm, the casual touch of a caregiver. “What about Monday?”
I frowned at the floor.
“There’s more that you aren’t telling me.”
“I’m not crazy,” I said, inching away from her.
Laura-Lea’s eyebrows snapped together in a look of confusion. “No one is saying you are.”
I took a few more steps backward, creeping toward the door. “I’m not. No matter what Dr. Alexander told you. I have this under control.”
“Dr. Alexander is concerned. He cares what happens to you.”
“That’s good to know. Thanks for telling me.” I shook my head, still edging toward the door. She made no effort to stop me.
She sighed. “He asked me to tell you that he would like to see you tomorrow morning.”
I stopped in the middle of the open doorway. “I can’t tomorrow. I have an appointment at the bank.” Another lie.
“Fine. I’ll tell Dr. Alexander you’ll be at his office late morning, after you’re finished at the bank.” She turned her back and began collecting her things.
I watched her for a moment, and then headed for the door.
The sounds of basketball filled the foyer. The crew was back, meeting again. I listened to the sound of the bouncing ball, the squeak of sneakers against the peeling wax on the floor. The image of these teenagers, just last week, huddled, hugging, grieving, filled my mind. I pushed the door open. The group was smaller than usual, but playing hard. Jack blew the whistle on a foul and pointed to the top of the key for the teams to assemble for the two-shot. He spotted me and jogged over. “Good to see you, Kate.”
“You too, but I’m not going to stay tonight,” I said. “I just wanted to say hi. But I’ll stay next time, okay?”
He squinted. “Everything all right?”
I squared my shoulders. “Yes. I’ve figured some things out, I think.” Even if my own doctor doesn’t believe me.
He patted my arm. “Sounds like good news.”
“You know what? It just might be.” I smiled. “I think things will work out.”