Читать книгу Four Friends - Робин Карр, Robyn Carr, Robyn Carr - Страница 9

three

GERRI BOOKED HERSELF and Phil for three emergency sessions with a crisis counselor. She chose a woman she’d used through CPS, a woman she thought was very good even though her instincts said if her heart was in it, she’d have selected a man who could understand Phil. But she didn’t want Phil to get understanding—she wanted his head on a pike. And at this point, Phil would’ve taken counseling from Gerri’s mother had she been alive, he was that accommodating, that beaten down with guilt and remorse...and hope. He would do anything to make this go away.

She scheduled them for three evenings running, from two days following his apologetic admission. They told the kids they had meetings. She had no idea what he had to say at the prosecutor’s office to leave work on time for a change. She secretly hoped he had to say, “I cheated on my wife and if I don’t go to counseling with her right now, I’m getting thrown out of the house.” She wanted him to feel her pain. His claims of great guilt and remorse weren’t doing much for her.

But he made it home on time to go with her. They held it together pretty well during the session. Phil seemed to struggle but tried to answer the counselor’s questions. Gerri thought, for a prosecutor, he’d make a lousy witness. Judges wouldn’t accept answers like, “I don’t know what I was thinking, what I was looking for,” or, “There wasn’t anything missing in my marriage that I was trying to make up for, I was just extremely tempted and I failed.”

As was typical of marriage counseling, the real bloodletting and fireworks came later, after the session. Usually in the car on the way home, probably to the great entertainment of cars passing by.

“She’s trying to get me to fight it out with you, take shots at your choice of sleepwear as the thing that drove me to it,” Phil said.

“She’s just saying it wasn’t the affair, it’s what was going on in our marriage,” Gerri fired back.

“Bullshit! There wasn’t anything going on in our marriage that hasn’t been going on for over ten years! It was the same! It’s always been a busy marriage, one full of pressure, stressful jobs, kids, horrible schedules, tight budgets. And you’re not asking me if the marriage has been satisfactory lately. It’s been the same!”

“If I asked, you’d say whatever you had to because now you’re scared you’re going to lose everything!”

“I was always afraid of losing everything! She’s trying to get me to say I’m just a little boy who wanted to come my brains out!”

“Well, didn’t you say as much? Isn’t that what ‘extremely tempted’ means?” Gerri railed.

“I’m saying I don’t know why! Seven years ago, for whatever reason, I didn’t have much willpower, much restraint. I never once thought, ‘Gerri’s not putting out so this is okay.’ I had accepted how we were.”

“Accepted how we were? You’re blaming me!”

“Jesus, I’m blaming us! I knew this was going to come back and bite me in the ass, but I couldn’t help myself—I was tempted because it felt too goddamn good to have someone actually tempted by me! You and the counselor want to hear me claim you’re a frigid wife, that I’m just an irresponsible asshole! Goddamn it, Gerri, I’m not a player. I have never been a player.”

“You son of a bitch,” she blustered at him. “Like it was my fault! Not wanting you enough!”

“Come on, don’t go there,” he said meanly. “You know as well as I do that for the past ten years, sex in our bed is rare at best. We’d have to get sex therapy to get up to once a month!”

“I know it’s real rare for you to make any effort!”

“How many no, thank yous do you think a husband can get before he figures out that’s not on the agenda?”

“Oh—so that’s your story now? That I said ‘no, thank you’ too often and damaged your frail little libido? That I drove you to the other woman?”

“Listen, the most love I feel in that house is when you hand me my list of chores and praise me like a puppy for doing as I was told. Aw, Jesus, we don’t need a therapist to help us say cruel things like this to each other! Christ!”

“Well, maybe if you’d fucking hold up your end, I wouldn’t be so tired at the end of the day!”

“See what I mean? Why don’t we just rent a cabin in the woods and fire insults and accusations at each other? It would be cheaper than a hundred bucks an hour! And it sure as hell isn’t helping put us back together! You want to know all the ways you were a less-than-perfect wife? Wanna tell me all the ways I failed as a husband? Because I’m sure the list is long and ugly for both of us!”

When they got home, they separated in silence, holding back the rage in front of the kids. Given they were teenagers, they were mostly oblivious. Jessie asked Gerri, “You mad about something?”

“Just worn out from a problem at work, honey,” she said. “Be patient with me.”

“It’s not, you know, that menopause thing?”

“No! It’s not that menopause thing!”

By the end of the week, a mere five days after the affair came to light, Gerri told Phil, “It’s time. I need to go to counseling alone, you need to find your own counselor, and we have to separate.”

“You’re giving up?”

“I don’t know. If I can stop hating you, maybe we can work it out. But right now, I’m just in too much pain.”

“Where do you expect me to go? Our finances can’t withstand another residence.”

“I don’t care. Stay in the city, come out for dinner, visit on weekends, whatever. But I can’t fight about it anymore. There’s just no explanation for what you did and I can’t get past the betrayal. You just have to give me some space and time.”

“If that’s what you want,” he said. “But I still love you.”

“Well, I don’t love you right now. I want to, but I can’t love a man who can do what you did without even knowing why. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe again.”

“Fine,” he said. “This weekend we’ll tell the kids.”

“I don’t agree with that,” she told him.

“We tell them what they’re old enough to understand. That’s what we do in this family. In fact, you wrote that rule. You’re the social worker.”

“I don’t think they’re old enough to understand,” she said.

“Yes, they are. They’re not old enough to sympathize and it’s not in their experience, but they’ll know what we’re talking about. They’ll know that what I did was wrong, that you being out of your mind angry is reasonable.”

She shook her head and a large tear escaped. “Why did you do this to us, Phil?” she asked in a desperate whisper.

“I can’t explain. I’ve had nightmares about this for over five years. If we’re not stronger than one indiscretion, then I completely misjudged us. I thought, given all we’ve had to handle, both personally and professionally, if it came to this, we’d find a way. We’ve seen families through murder that didn’t give up this fast.”

“One two-year indiscretion!”

“Do you have any idea how many times, during those two years, I put my arms around you and held you? How many times you told me not to get any ideas? God, Gerri, I remember when the kids were little and we were both exhausted from work, the house was collapsing, everyone was screaming they needed something, and we still snuck away from them, locked ourselves in the bathroom and—” He shook his head. “I don’t know when that stopped happening for us, but it stopped.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Before it was too late?”

“I thought I had.” He looked down for a long moment, then looked up again. “Never mind. It wasn’t because of you. It was me. I should have found a way. But then, I didn’t know it was going to be too late...”

There was a very small part of her, remembering those days so long ago, that wanted to say, It was me, too, let’s see if we can get it back. But she said, “I’ll tell Jessie if you’ll tell the boys.”

He gave a nod. “Sunday,” he said. “Then I’ll go to the city.”

“You’re going to drop it on them and leave them with me?”

“No, of course not. We’ll tell them, separately. I’ll stay through the evening and when the house quiets down, I’ll head out. I’ll handle as much of this as I can, but it’s your decision for us to live apart and we don’t do that to our kids without them knowing the reasons.”

* * *

At five o’clock on Sunday, Phil knocked on Jed’s bedroom door and said, “Hey, bud, I have to talk to you about something. Can you come with me?”

“Where?” he asked, getting up from his reclining position on the bed.

“We have to go somewhere away from the house so I can talk to you in private. Just come on, you’ll have the details soon enough.”

They walked a couple of short blocks to the neighborhood park. Phil sat on the top of a picnic table, his feet on the bench, elbows on his knees, head down. Jed stood in front of him. “Come on, man,” Jed said impatiently. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Your mom and I are having some problems,” Phil said. He felt his eyes begin to water, his throat threaten to close. “Serious problems. Oh, Jesus, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Come on, Dad! You getting divorced or something?”

“I hope not,” Phil said, and watched his son deflate, as if all the air had just been sucked out of him. “It’s my fault. I want to tell you why, and I need your help with Matt. He needs to know the facts, but he’s kind of young to understand.”

“You’re shitting me,” Jed said in a panicked breath. “Oh, man, you’re shitting me.”

“Several years ago—over five—I broke the oath. I cheated. I don’t have an excuse—it was wrong. I never wanted to lose your mom, lose my family. I never wanted another woman, but I guess I was weaker than my hormones or something, because I cheated. Your mom just found out and she really wants to kill me right now. She’d like us to be able to work things out, but she’ll need some time to decide if she can forgive me.”

“What?” Jed asked, though he’d heard clearly. “What? You wouldn’t do that to Mom.”

“I hear ya, buddy. I never thought I’d be that stupid or that wrong, but I was. When she found out—and I still don’t know how, though I have a few ideas—it just hurt her so bad, she got us right into counseling. We’re going to keep going, but she’s too angry to live with me right now.” He reached out and put a strong hand on Jed’s shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be around. I promise I’ll be around plenty. I want to spend time with you guys, plus I have to hang close in case your mom wants to talk about it. Or yell at me about it some more,” he added with a lame smile.

“Why?” Jed asked.

“Why what, son?”

“Why can’t you work it out with you home? You guys fight all the time. You always work it out.”

“We don’t fight all the time,” he said. “We argue about little shit sometimes. This is different.”

“Well, did you say you’re sorry?”

“Of course,” Phil said. “I didn’t just say it, Jed. I mean it. I’ve never been so sorry about anything. But there’s all that trust—you count on it. You stake your lives on it, depend on it. And when the trust is broken, you can’t just say sorry. You know? You have to pay penance. You have to work hard to put the trust back in the relationship.”

“Oh, man, she isn’t going to give in easy,” Jed said, running a nervous hand through his short, spiky hair. “This is Mom we’re talking about.”

Phil wanted to laugh. At least smile. Boy, did they both know Gerri. She was brilliant, classy, strong and stubborn. There was that little male bonding thing going on with Jed and Phil was in a position to appreciate it more than his son knew. But he kept a straight face. “Here’s what I want you to know. This is very important. I want you to know I’m willing to do anything for her forgiveness. Anything. I’ll try to get her trust back, I swear. While we’re working on that—if I’m not around the house and you need me for something, need to talk to me, you call my cell phone anytime. It’ll be turned off for court, but I’ll answer any other time—day or night. With me, bud?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You going off with some other woman?” Jed asked.

“No. Absolutely not. I love your mother, I don’t even know where that woman is. I’ll do whatever I can, son. I’ll try my best to get our marriage back. Our family. Jed, I’m so sorry.”

“You mad at Mom for this? For saying she doesn’t want to live with you?”

“Nah. But I’ll be honest with you—this whole thing has caused us to say a lot of real nasty things to each other. We have things to get over. You’re going to have to be mature. Patient. Give us a chance to work it out. This wouldn’t be the best time to be the badass we both know you can be.”

“When was this? When did you say?”

“Over five years ago,” Phil said.

“Jesus. You haven’t done that since, have you?”

Phil just shook his head.

“Well, then, what the fuck? ”

“Listen, son, I didn’t take the other woman out for a soda. I was intimate with her. That’s the betrayal that sticks, that hurts. I’d love your mom to say, ‘Oh, well, I hope you learned your lesson,’ but it’s not going to be that easy. And it’s up to her. She’s the one who was wronged, so give her a break. You understand, Jed?”

He thought for a long moment. Then he said, “I understand life around our house is going to suck big-time.”

They talked awhile longer. Jed had questions that Phil answered a little differently than he had with his wife. He still couldn’t say why, but he did relent that the woman was pretty, nice, smelled good, made herself available. Jed was nineteen and had been with his girlfriend, Tracy, for about a year. They’d had many father-son talks about Jed’s responsibilities as a man. Phil knew the boy was sexually active and understood feelings of lust. He hoped he wouldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps and stray just because he was a little bored, a little needy or whatever the hell it was. “I thought I was a bigger man,” Phil said. “I hope to God you learn from this. You have a problem with your girl, your wife, your frickin’ hormones, you better find a way to communicate that. Find a better way to deal with things than I did.”

“Man, you always seemed so perfect,” Jed said. “But when you fuck up, you fuck up big.”

* * *

If trying to tell her kids was horrible, preparing to tell Andy and Sonja was torture, and Gerri had no idea what she was going to say to her coworkers at CPS. She pinched the fat gathering below her waist and knew it was impossible to say she needed time to see her counselor twice a week for anorexia. On Monday morning when she was to meet her friends for their walk, Sonja was at her door five minutes early. Gerri came out with her coffee cup and led her to Andy’s. When Andy opened the door Gerri said, “Got the coffeepot on?”

“Sure.”

“I have to tell you both something. Let’s go inside. We’ll walk tomorrow.”

When they were seated at Andy’s sawdust-covered table, Gerri went through the chronology of events, from the encounter with Kelly in the elevator to the confrontation with Phil, the three disastrous counseling sessions and brutal arguments that followed. And then she described telling the kids he was sleeping elsewhere for the time being and why.

“Couldn’t you have come up with some story?” Andy asked, horrified.

“Believe me, I wanted to,” Gerri said. “Don’t tell him I said this, but Phil was right—they’re not preschoolers, they have to know why. My husband had an affair and I’m too angry to live with him right now.”

“How’d it go?” Andy asked.

“As bad as possible. Jed was silent and brooding, disillusioned, actually more angry with me than Phil, but Jessie fell apart. She sobbed almost uncontrollably. And Matt shrugged and asked something like, “How long will this take?” And then he asked if it was all right to go pitch a few balls with a couple of friends. Baseball season’s starting. At dinner, it was quiet as a tomb except for questions about their routine—rides, takeout orders for dinner, chores. Matt asked if there was going to be child support—they know about those problems from friends—moms who are suddenly unable to pay for school trips, that sort of thing. Then before the plates were cleared, Jessie lost it, threw a glass across the room and screamed at us both, asking how we could do this to her. She’s sixteen so it’s all about her. When the house was finally under control and quiet, Phil and I had another fight in the garage as he was leaving with his suitcase.”

“What did you fight about?” Sonja asked.

She laughed weakly. “Our routine. Child support.”

“What’s up with the routine? The child support?”

“He’s going to stay in the city. He’ll come out to Mill Valley as much as possible, when he’s not working till nine or ten. If he’s not around as much, can’t car pool, he also can’t be expected to drive all the way out here just to bring home dinner or help with homework. It’ll be a major adjustment. Before, if I was going to be late, he was on time and vice versa. And he said he’d take care of the bills, but I’ve been paying the bills for over twenty years—he just gets his cash out of the instant teller or my purse. Now he’s going to have his check payrolled to him rather than direct deposited and give me money. He needs money to pay for a place to stay. Oh, forget about it,” she said, waving her hand. “It’s just logistics. We don’t know who does what. We always used to know who does what.”

They’d also fought about him leaving, though she asked him to leave, so they fought about the fact that he made her make him. And she cried half the night again.

“I can’t believe it,” Andy said, resting her head in her hand. “I never even imagined this possible.”

“Me, either,” Gerri said. “I never knew anything was wrong with us.”

“But it was five years ago,” Andy said. “You sure you want to separate over something that’s been over that long? Five years doesn’t give you some peace of mind?”

“I can’t just forget about it,” Gerri said. “He said he tried but couldn’t get my attention. I’ll tell you one thing he never tried, though. He never said, ‘I’m tempted by a pretty woman at work and I need us to have more sex.’ He never came clean with me. Instead, he got involved, knowing the risk. Apparently we were worth the risk. I just can’t go through that again.”

* * *

There was a little lie in Gerri’s memory. She couldn’t exactly remember Phil romancing her, letting her know he was feeling needy. But she could remember their sex life dwindling, all but disappearing and not being sorry. It was so gradual she couldn’t put a time marker on it. She remembered when Andy met Bryce and was flushed and floating because of all the erotic sex and Gerri had just laughed at the absurdity of it. “Better you than me,” Gerri had said. “I don’t think I could handle the stress at this point in my life. And God knows, I can’t spare the sleep.”

There was one truth—she hadn’t realized it was just her. She thought it was both of them, their libidos beaten down by everything else. And, she didn’t think he minded, either. She thought he’d gone as dry as she had. She did remember times he snuggled her, pressed up against her, tried fondling. Most of the time she said, “Aww, Phil...” Honestly, she couldn’t remember when they’d last had sex. Months ago. And she had no memory of whether they were doing it more or less than that seven years ago.

But then along came a woman—a small, young blonde with fluffy hair in Gerri’s imagination—to awaken him. Stir him. What was so unfair in that image was that Gerri couldn’t possibly compete—not with her stretch-marked stomach, saggy boobs, torn sweats, her tired eyes, her menopausal mood swings.

What she did have, from the day they met to the day before she heard about the affair, was the ability to communicate with him about anything and everything else. Their professional lives had so much more in common, they used each other for sounding boards all the time. When it came to family, they shored each other up, at least one of them always being there for the kids. And they were unfailingly there for each other, whether it was a work problem or personal crisis, obsessively interested in each other’s lives. They worked together like synchronized swimmers to keep everything running as smoothly as possible. And they didn’t just have meaningful conversations sometimes—it was all the time.

And on those evenings they were both at home and could relax with a glass of wine or sit in front of a fire on cold winter nights, their time wasn’t consumed by passion or even that unhurried, gentle love she remembered from younger days. It was companionship that filled the hours—conversation, laughter, empathy, advice for each other. Maybe a movie or quiet time when they both read. Companionship. Partnership. Perfect symbiosis.

She didn’t know when or how the lovemaking disappeared. She had always thought it was normal for the sex drive to relax, to become better friends than lovers. She thought his libido was exactly like hers—no longer urgent. It simply went to sleep. When she thought about growing older with him, she never thought of sex being a part of their lives. Their lives were so good, their relationship so strong, it never once occurred to her they needed anything more, except maybe time.

Honestly, if he’d said, ‘I need a good, hard, sweaty roll in the hay before I lose my mind,’ she would have laughed at him.

They argued, yes. But they had laughed a lot, too. Their chemistry was good. She kept telling herself the marriage had such value, such depth, it just couldn’t have been all about sex. Sex was something they could’ve fixed. She wasn’t sure how but something could have been done.

Their first week of separation was difficult at best. The kids were angry and quieter than usual until they had regular short flare-ups, outbursts that had nothing and yet everything to do with their parents living apart. Gerri watched them carefully, fully aware that few people understood how closely depression and anger were linked. Jed was absent a lot, typical for a nineteen-year-old in college with a steady girl, but when he was around he held his tongue, a feat for him. Matt, on the other hand, acted as if nothing had happened; his conversation was all about baseball.

Jessie was in the worst shape, snotty and disrespectful, sneering sarcastically when answering her mother, muttering under her breath. “You probably didn’t notice there weren’t any chips or Cokes since you’re hardly ever here.” And “Why do I always have to stay home just because you and Daddy have this thing going on?” Once in a while Gerri heard what sounded suspiciously like the b-word directed at her. She was so awful that Gerri wanted to smack her. But then Jessie got out the photo albums, looking through the family pictures as if someone had died. As if trying to remember how they’d been before this.

A second week passed, Gerri seeing her counselor twice a week, whole sessions during which she did little talking and a great deal of crying. She slept poorly and wondered often if Phil was finding comfort somewhere else, angry because she wasn’t finding comfort anywhere. Angrier still because she had no desire to seek out any other form of comfort. It wasn’t that she was bored with Phil sexually, there just wasn’t so much as a spark in her. How long can I do this before I say uncle? she wondered. Is it better with you as a cheater than without you as a partner?

Then Gerri looked through the photo albums herself, left on the coffee table by Jessie. She studied their faces, hers and Phil’s, twenty years ago, fifteen, ten, five. Two years ago. He was a good-looking man who had seasoned with age and experience. She looked at herself in the pictures very critically, but she had photographed well. She had probably never qualified as beautiful, but she was handsome—five-nine, slender, long neck, high cheekbones, engaging smile. She knew she was fortunate. Tall, slim women tended to look decent in everything from shorts and jeans to cocktail dresses. She marveled at the frequency of so many shots being captured while she smiled into the camera and Phil gazed at her. And in every goddamn one of them—from twenty years ago to two, even through the time it was happening for him with someone else, they looked happy and loving. How was that possible?

Gerri soldiered on. Walking in the early morning, driving kids to school, going to work, coming home in the evening to manage her home and family, sometimes finding Phil there using the computer in his home office after having spent time with the kids. Then she’d lie in bed at night feeling so robbed, so alone, every expectation shattered.

* * *

Sonja was having a really hard time with Gerri and Phil’s separation. She was trained to intuitively know when intimates were in trouble. A hundred seminars and retreats had helped her to develop these skills. She tried not to say anything when she noticed small things, like a person’s chakra auras or the balance in their homes being out of whack, but truthfully, except for the usual disruption of a busy household, she had always judged the Gilberts to have the stuff of a solid, unbreakable family. This troubled her because she loved Gerri; she should have paid closer attention.

She refused to offer to clear the presence of Phil out of the house with sage and feathers. She hoped this was just an altercation that would mend. She didn’t offer healthy meals or special herbal drinks because while Andy would become annoyed and throw her offerings in the trash, Gerri was just testy enough to shake her till her teeth rattled. So she remained positive, urging Gerri to listen to her body’s messages and use her instincts in getting through the rough patch with a goal of emerging stronger, better. And Gerri snarled at her.

Then she came home from a yoga class to find George was home early. She found his car in the garage and she went into the house and called out to him. He was in their bedroom, packing.

“George,” she said, surprised. “Do you have to leave town?”

He turned slowly. Gravely. “No, Sonja. I’m leaving. I’ve rented a place. I’m sorry, Sonja. I’m moving out. I just can’t do this anymore.”

“Do? This?”

“The candles. The tinkling music. The little waterfalls. The bland meals. The way-out-there philosophies on destinies being altered by where people put the goddamn red candle. I just want a normal life.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, laughing nervously. “You’re just teasing me again...”

He took a breath. “This is no joke. I can’t take it. I feel like a fucking Chia Pet, constantly fed and groomed. I don’t want you in charge of my sleep patterns, my cholesterol. I take goddamn pills for my cholesterol. It’s not necessary for me to eat grass. My home life is intolerable. Seriously, Sonja—if you want to do this for a living, have at it. Knock yourself out. But I’m through.”

“But where will you go? What will you do?”

“What will I do? Spill food on my shirt and let the dry cleaner get it out. We haven’t had an adult conversation in years. It’s all you telling me what to eat, what to wear, scolding if I want a drink, going on and on about my fucking chakras. I managed fine never knowing I had chakras!”

“But we have sex at least twice a week,” she said, remembering everything Gerri had said about her deteriorating sex life with Phil.

“We have sex exactly twice a week. Tuesday night and Saturday morning. And you want the truth? I couldn’t care less. Sex isn’t the problem, and frankly, it never was. Not even before I met you. But I can’t be in this kind of relationship. It’s loony. I want to come home and turn on the football or baseball game, eat bloody red meat on a TV tray, spill on my shirt, fall asleep on the couch, wake up tired and hungover once in a while.”

“George—”

“You’ll be taken care of, don’t worry. I’m sure your heart’s in the right place, but if I come home to candlelight and spa music one more time, I’m going to snap. We’re not right for each other, Sonja. We’re not. I don’t want you to make me last so that every day of my life feels like an eternity. I’m miserable.”

“But you’ll be alone! No one will care about you!”

He thought about that for a moment and said, “I know.” Then he zipped his bag, hefted it and walked out of the room. He turned at the door. “If you need me, just call my cell. I won’t abandon you, but I have to stop this now. Before I go totally crazy.”

“But, George,” she cried, running to him, grabbing his shirtsleeve. “You want me to change? I can make changes! We’ll compromise!”

He just looked at her. “Sonja, you can’t change this. And you haven’t heard a thing I’ve said in ten years. You need to just carry on, be yourself and let me go.”

And then he left.

* * *

Gerri walked out of her house at the crack of dawn, holding her coffee cup. Andy emerged from across the street at about the same time. Sonja had not been early; Gerri made a mental note to thank her for that. Sonja was go, go, go all the time; she seemed to see it as her mission to keep her friends in shape, moving all the time. Gerri and Andy met in the middle of the street. “Where’s little Mary Sunshine?” Andy asked.

“Sleeping in?” Gerri asked with a short laugh.

BJ came out of her house down the street and the women waved at each other. BJ began stretching for her run while the other women wandered up Sonja’s walk.

“We could sit on the planter box, finish our coffee,” Andy suggested.

“Yeah, but I’d rather get this over with,” Gerri said.

“You doing okay?” Andy asked.

“Ach,” she said with a noncommittal shrug. “I think I’m doing what all women in this position do. Half the time I want him killed, half the time I just want him back.”

“Bryce must be a real loser,” Andy said. “I’m pretty miserable, but I don’t want him back. I just want the kitchen finished and some energetic young stud to come over a least a couple of times a week, then leave quietly.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Andy laughed at her. “Really? You’re just bitter. Not that I blame you, but I hope you can work this out. I love Phil. I know he has to be punished, but I love him. If I didn’t love you more, I’d take him off your hands.”

They approached the door. “He watches himself brush his big, beautiful teeth, splatters all over the mirror and everywhere. He snores like a locomotive and farts in his sleep. He blows his nose in the shower and poops three times a day.”

“Oh, he’s regular, that’s good. That’s one of the things I’ll be looking for in a man,” Andy said with a laugh. Then she knocked on Sonja’s door.

“Knowing what you know, you could not have a man like Phil.”

“Sister, if I could get a man down to one infidelity per twenty-five-year marriage, I’d think I was queen of the universe.” Andy knocked again.

“I’m not ready to laugh about this yet,” Gerri informed her. “Where the hell is she? She’s usually pacing outside my door at least five minutes early. Hit the bell.”

“I don’t want to wake George. He doesn’t get up before six.”

“I wonder how he gets away with that, being married to the hyper one. Ring it, anyway.” When there was still no answer, Gerri pounded on the door. “What the heck,” she muttered. “Andy, see if you can see in the garage windows, see if there’s a car in there.”

Andy handed off her coffee cup and jogged to the front of the garage. She had to jump up and down to get her eyes up to the windows in the garage door. Then she stopped and turned toward Gerri. “Just her car,” she said. “You think they went out for a whole night somewhere?”

“She would’ve scheduled that with us three weeks in advance,” Gerri said. Then she pounded again and yelled, “Hey, Sonja! Sonja, come on!”

“They’re not home,” Andy said.

“She would’ve called. You know her—she’d pull herself off the operating table and call to say she’s running a little late because of major surgery.” She pounded and yelled again.

“You’d better get in there,” a voice said from behind them. They turned to find BJ standing on the front walk. BJ shrugged. “She’s never missed a morning. She’d never be a no-show. She’s relentless.”

Andy and Gerri exchanged looks, knowing how true that statement was, wondering for only a split second how BJ, who didn’t know them at all, would read the situation so accurately. So quickly.

“Don’t you women have keys to each other’s houses? Because something’s gotta be wrong. If she’s not in there, maybe she is in the hospital. But you’d better find out.”

“What could be wrong?” Gerri asked herself as much as the others.

BJ shrugged. “I don’t know. But she’s wound a little tight.”

Again, Gerri and Andy exchanged glances. Then Andy bolted across the street to get the key to Sonja’s house that she kept in her desk. She ran back across the street, leaving her front door standing open.

Gerri opened the door slowly, peeking in. The house was still. Quiet and dark, all the blinds drawn. She stuck her head in and called, softly, “Sonja? George?” Then turning she said, “I don’t think anyone is home.”

Suddenly BJ was there, brushing past them and striding purposefully into the house. She paused in the great room, looked right and then left, then headed down the hall toward the bedrooms. Gerri and Andy followed a bit more slowly, unsure if searching the house was the right thing to do, even under these circumstances. Then BJ yelled, “In here!”

Whatever visions Gerri and Andy might’ve had as they raced to the master bedroom, nothing could have prepared them for what they found. Sonja sat on the floor between the bed and the bureau, her back against the wall. She wasn’t wearing her usual perfect, colorful walking togs but rather a skimpy little outfit, the type she’d wear to her yoga class. BJ was kneeling in front of her, then backed away as the other women came closer, letting them in. Sonja’s hair was limp and stringy, her face red and damp as if she was sweating, her eyes glassy. Her breath was rapid and shallow; she was hyperventilating. She almost smiled when she saw her friends, but instead, put one of her hands out toward them, showing nails gnawed down so severely they were nipped into the skin, pink and sore. “I bit them all off,” she said weakly.

“Sonja! What’s the matter?” Gerri asked. “Are you sick?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “I just need to move pretty soon. I have to get up,” she said, yet made no effort to rise.

“Maybe she had a seizure or something,” Andy said.

“Ask her if she took anything,” BJ said from behind them.

“Sonja, did you take something? Medicine? Maybe a whole bunch of your magic herbs?”

She shook her head, remaining against the wall.

“Where’s George, Sonja? Has he gone to work?”

“George,” she said, shaking her head. “Poor George.”

“Sonja, what? What about George?” Gerri demanded.

“Get her to the hospital,” BJ said from behind them. “She’s having some kind of psychotic break.”

Gerri turned and looked at BJ. She was shocked that BJ would catch this before her, with her master’s in psych. But looking back at Sonja, it was obvious. Everything was all wrong—she wouldn’t have put on yoga clothes to walk in the morning, but she did have an afternoon class three days a week. She might’ve been like this since yesterday. But where was George? And the torn-up nails, the sweating face and greasy hair...

Instead of asking any more questions, she said to Andy, “Get your car. Pull into her drive. Let’s go.”

“Maybe an ambulance?” Andy asked.

“Get the car. Right now!” Then to BJ she said, “Help me here,” and they each took one arm and slowly lifted Sonja to her feet, urging her to walk. “You’re going to be okay now,” she murmured to Sonja, leading her out of the house. “It’s going to be okay—just come with me.”

BJ left them to take their friend to the hospital. Gerri sat in the back with a Sonja she couldn’t even recognize. She asked her questions all the way to the hospital, but didn’t get any answers. Sonja would sigh softly or whisper, “Poor George,” or just shake her head and turn unfocused eyes toward Gerri.

It took quite a lot of confusing explanations at the emergency room before they put Sonja in an exam room. Gerri called her house and Jed answered. “Listen, I didn’t walk this morning, I’m—”

“I know, Mom,” he said. “Some lady came to the door and said you had to rush Sonja to the hospital. But she didn’t say what was wrong. What’s wrong?”

“We don’t know, she hasn’t seen the doctor yet. It’s like she’s drugged or something. I have to find George. Get my address book out of the kitchen drawer and see if his cell number is there. Look under Johanson. I know I don’t have it in my phone.”

“Sure,” he said. “Want me to get Jessie and Matt to school? I can be late for class.”

“Please. I should stay here until—”

“Here it is,” Jed interrupted, reciting the numbers.

“Thanks, honey. You’re in charge. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I won’t go anywhere else without calling your cell or leaving a note at home.”

“Want me to run your purse and phone by the emergency room?”

“Could you? That would help.”

It was a long, tense hour before George entered the E.R. and went directly to the nurses’ station. He produced his insurance information, asked questions, answered, nodded solemnly. Gerri crept closer to listen, but it didn’t take long for the nurse to pull George away from the desk just as a doctor was exiting Sonja’s exam room. Gerri would have liked to sidle up to them and eavesdrop, but the doctor was speaking in low, private tones, so she shrank back.

“Mom?”

She turned to see Jed standing there, holding her purse. “Oh, honey,” she said. “This is so good of you.”

He shrugged it off. “You know anything yet? Like what’s wrong with her?”

“No, we—” She stopped talking as George approached them, his head down. She turned her attention on him, touching his arm. “George, what’s wrong? What happened to her?”

He took a breath. “It’s a little complicated. The doctor has called for a psych consult. They’re going to be keeping her for a while. I’ll go see her in a minute. They’ve given her something to calm her down, but—”

“Calm her down? She was almost catatonic!”

“Not on the inside,” he said. “Her brain was on overdrive. She needs medication.”

“She won’t like that. Maybe they should tell her it’s herbs. George, where were you? Aren’t you usually home in the mornings?”

“Yeah, well that’s the complicated part. Sonja and I have separated. I left our home yesterday. It must have come as more of a shock than I anticipated.”

“What?”

“I imagine we’ll divorce, Gerri. Don’t worry—I’ll take care of her. It was never my intention to abandon her. I just can’t live in that loony bin any longer.”

Gerri got in his face. “You left her?” She felt Andy and Jed each grab hold of one of her arms, keeping her back before she launched on him physically. “Did you talk it over with her first? Air your...your... Did she know?”

“Oh, I talked, but Sonja never listened. Do you have any idea what it’s like, living in a temple? I thought I had prostatitis, I was peeing so much—but it was just all the goddamn fountains and waterfalls in the house. The candles, the meditation music, the herb-infested meals that tasted like lawn clippings...”

“She did all that for you!”

“I’m sure she thought so, but I asked her not to. There’s more stimulation on a mountaintop monastery in Tibet,” he said. “Really, I did my best. Sonja’s kind of nuts.”

Gerri was straining against the hold Andy and Jed had on her. “You know she can’t take that sort of thing! You should have given her a list to work from or a date to deal with! You can’t just leave her! She’s too fragile for that!”

“Mom,” Jed said, pulling on her arm. “Jeez, Mom. There are people...”

“I have to make arrangements for her,” George said. “Maybe we’ll talk later.” And he turned away from them.

“Jesus, Mom!” Jed admonished. “Calm down. People are watching.”

Gerri turned abruptly and sat down on one of the chairs against the wall. Her cheeks were flushed. She threaded her fingers into the short hair on top of her head, kneading a little wildly. How could George know so little about his own wife? Didn’t he realize Sonja clung to all that stuff to keep her steady? She had to have her bag of tricks to get through the days. It was her life raft. And organization, planning, they were her religion. She couldn’t cope with a shock like suddenly losing her husband, her marriage.

And then Gerri realized it was she who couldn’t cope with that. Her reaction to George was more about Gerri feeling her own marriage was gone, suddenly and without warning. Just as Sonja relied on all her woo-woo stuff, Gerri had always relied on Phil, on their marriage. “God,” she said. “I’ll apologize. I was emotional. Scared.”

She took a few deep breaths and put her hand on her son’s knee. “Go on to school, honey,” she said. “I’m not leaving till I see her.”

“Maybe I should hang around in case you...you know...”

“Nah, I’m fine. I’m not going to lose it. If I go berserk, I’m sure they can give me something.”

“You sure?” Jed asked. “I mean, you’ve been a little rocky lately.”

A huff of laughter escaped her. “Ya think?” she asked. Not only was her life falling apart, the whole neighborhood was hitting the skids. “It’s been a rocky few weeks. But we’ll be okay.”

“Okay, then. Andy, keep an eye on her.” Then he leaned over and gave his mother a kiss, something he never did in public and was loath to do in private.

“Whew,” was all Gerri could say, leaning back in her chair to wait.

Two hours later, the nurse let them in to see Sonja. She was lying back in the bed with her eyes closed, her arms relaxed at her sides. They stood there for a second, looking down at her. She looked fifteen, lying there. Small and vulnerable, weak and pale. Not their perky Sonja. While her energy and zeal drove them both crazy, this image was far more unsettling.

Sonja opened her eyes, saw them, but didn’t move a muscle. Gerri picked up one of her limp hands and said, “Oh, honey.”

A tear gathered and ran slowly down Sonja’s temple into her hair. She whispered something and Gerri leaned closer to hear. She whispered again. “He said I made him feel like a Chia Pet.”