Emily hailed a cab and got inside. She felt shocked by what she’d done, and guilty. Even though it was two o’clock in the morning, she called Ezra. She couldn’t wait for him anymore. She needed him. She needed to talk to him. She needed not to go looking for love somewhere else. She was still hurting from the miscarriage—mentally and physically—and she needed him. She needed him to care for her like he used to. He didn’t pick up, but she wasn’t surprised. He was probably sleeping after his double call. He often turned his phone off when he could, when he knew the hospital wouldn’t be calling him. She left a message. “Can you please come home?” she said, her voice thick with tears. “I miss you. I love you. I choose you. I want you to choose me.”
Then she got out at their building and walked inside alone, her phone in her hand, waiting for him to wake up, hoping it would be soon.
Instead of going to bed, Emily went back into the second bedroom and rummaged through a box of her old notebooks to find her journal. The one she’d started years before at the recommendation of Dr. West, a way to tell her story, process it as she explained it to someone else. She hadn’t written in it for years. Not since right after she’d gotten married to Ezra.
When she found the notebook, leather-bound and navy blue with gold on the edges of the pages, she brought it, along with a pen, to the couch in the living room. Instead of reading it over, which she used to do sometimes—when she needed grounding, when she needed reminding of who she was—she opened it to the next blank page and flattened it in front of her.
I want to feel whole again, she wrote. And then looked at the words. What did that even mean? I want to feel loved again.
Her phone vibrated and she looked at the screen, expecting Ezra. But instead there was a text from Tessa. For a moment, Emily couldn’t remember how in the world Tessa had gotten her number, but then recalled the lunchtime of babysitting, which seemed forever ago now. A sense of dread filled her. There was no good reason that Tessa would text her in the middle of the night.
She clicked open the notification and read: I don’t know who else to reach out to. I need help. Are you there?
Emily wasn’t usually up at 2:27 in the morning, but today she was. She was there.
Yes, she wrote back, What’s wrong?
Emily’s heart raced. She was worried about Tessa. Worried that she didn’t feel she had anyone else. Where was Chris? Where were her friends? Her family?
I keep thinking Zoe would be better off without me. And I can’t stop coming up with ways I could make that happen.
Emily had dealt with patients who were experiencing suicidal ideation only a handful of times before, but never when they were in the middle of a crisis like this. Never when it was a patient she cared about as much as Tessa. Her heart raced, knowing that everything she chose to say could have life-or-death repercussions. She took a deep breath. She really wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be strong for anyone right now. But she would do it. For Tessa, for Zoe. Did something specific happen to make you feel this way? she typed. She thought about calling, but if this was how Tessa had felt comfortable reaching out, this was how she would respond. She didn’t want to risk calling and then Tessa not picking up and going silent. She didn’t want to be too intrusive.
Chris left us today. I can’t do this alone. I’m staring at a bottle of sleeping pills right now. I just need someone to take care of Zoe.
Adrenaline raced through Emily’s body. This was even more serious than she’d first thought. She’d seen Tessa on Friday. She had seemed like she was struggling but not like she was suicidal. Emily needed to risk a phone call. She needed Tessa to hear her voice. I’m going to call you, Emily typed. Please pick up. She pressed the button that would call Tessa’s phone.
“Dr. Gold?” Tessa said, after the phone rang once.
Emily breathed a sigh of relief. “Tessa,” she said. “I’m here. We’ll figure this out. Can you do me a favor, though? Can you walk into another room?” She knew easy access to things like weapons or medications made suicide more likely. Would Tessa leave the room and leave the pills behind?
There was the sound of movement on the other end of the line. “Okay,” she said. “I’m walking into the bedroom.”
“Great,” Emily said. “Thank you.” Her mind was scrolling through options. She could tell her to go to the ER. She could meet her at the ER. But what if Tessa didn’t go? What if she hung up after that suggestion and Emily never heard from her again? She could call the police, but she didn’t want to put Tessa on hold and risk losing her completely. She knew she wasn’t supposed to do it, but the only choice that felt right was going to Tessa in person. Assessing her when they were face to face. She didn’t care if she was breaking protocol. She was too afraid of what might happen if she didn’t. “Will you tell me where you are? I’m going to come over and help you.” Emily worried Tessa wouldn’t answer. That she’d hang up.
But Tessa gave her address, which wasn’t far. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Emily said. “But let’s stay on the phone until I get there. Do you want to tell me what happened today?”
Tessa started telling her about the argument that she and Chris had gotten into the night before, about the fight that continued in the morning, about how he left . . .
As she told the story, she seemed to calm down slightly. Emily jumped in a cab, moistening her thumb and rubbing the mascara from her cheeks and under her eyes, knowing she had to look presentable if she was going to try to counsel Tessa. She got out a few minutes later, still listening to Tessa talk. Still so glad Tessa was talking, that she was on the other side of the phone.
When Emily finally walked into the apartment building, she asked to be buzzed in and went upstairs.
Tessa opened the apartment door and fell into Emily’s arms. “I’m so afraid,” she said, over and over. “I’m so afraid, I’m so afraid I’m going to do something terrible.”
“It’s okay,” Emily told her. “You didn’t do anything terrible, you called me, you did the right thing, and now we’re going to get you help.”
She hugged Tessa close, felt her tears on her shoulder. The irony that Rob had been comforting her not long before wasn’t lost on Emily. Sometimes you were the one who needed support. Sometimes you were the one who gave it. She wondered if, years ago, Dr. West had ever gone through anything in her personal life that she had to push aside for her patients.
“I need help,” Tessa said.
Emily was so glad that she was going to be able to get it for her. That she had been there when Tessa called. That together they’d made it to this point, the point where Tessa was alive in her arms. With all the doubts she’d been feeling, she was glad she had been able to do at least something right.