17
FRANNIE HARDY MOVED up the hallway, past the closed doors to three other offices on her right, past the stairway on her left. At the front of the hall, a window looked down onto Clement Street, and she stopped when she got to it, pushing the white gauze curtains to one side.
A steady stream of pedestrians filled the opposite sidewalk, the majority of them Asians. The storefronts across the street mirrored this demographic. Standing in the window, Frannie had within her field of vision a sushi bar, an acupuncture studio, a Thai and a Chinese restaurant, a fishmonger, a corner grocery with crates of fresh vegetables, two massage parlors, and a store featuring lots of camera equipment and electrical gear.
Frannie normally loved not just her work but going to work, since it wasn’t quite a mile from her home and she almost always walked. It was like traveling to another country every day. But today she stood at the front window, frowning. She’d seen two clients in the morning, then she’d gone out for sushi, which she found herself unable to eat. She had sipped at her green tea until it was lukewarm, then, exhausted, had walked back home and lay down for an hour and a half. Finally, her mind empty, she had walked back to her building.
This was the regular hour for Katie Chase’s weekly appointment. From the minute Frannie had woken up in the morning, she’d found herself more and more upset. Although she’d talked with Dismas about the disappearance a couple of times, the emphasis had fallen upon the criminal case that might be building against Hal. Katie’s true situation was something Frannie and Dismas had never discussed. And now the reality of that situation—that Katie might very well be dead—hit her with a crushing force.
Katie was an educated, vibrant, sensitive woman with whom Frannie felt a strong bond. Her issues had been similar to many Frannie had faced many years ago as a young mother—adequacy, attractiveness, purpose. They had both decided to leave their jobs and become stay-at-home mothers. As of last week, Katie was hanging in with that decision, but Frannie knew it was getting to be a close thing. In spite of the spin she’d given Dismas, the couple had been negotiating some serious shoals. True, Katie hadn’t started out seeing Frannie to talk about problems in her relationship with Hal, but as the counseling had gone on, the scope of the conversations had widened. And Hal had begun to feature prominently.
Frannie turned from the hallway window and let herself into her office at the back of the building. It was a small but warm and comfortable room with one window that overlooked the backs of the neighboring structures. Frannie had her own relatively small leather recliner, and her clients could choose between a quilt-covered love seat or another recliner, larger than Frannie’s. A fully loaded bookshelf covered half of one wall, and on the bare wall space, she’d hung some fine-art prints—Picasso, Vermeer, Monet—in simple frames.
She crossed to the file cabinet and removed a manila folder that she brought back to her chair. Leaning back, she sighed and said, “Oh, Katie,” and then pulled the sheaf of pages, about eighty in all, out onto her lap.
FRANNIE HARDY: So how have things been this week?
KATIE CHASE: About the same, really. But sometimes I don’t know why I bother to come in here every week. Other than it’s nice to see you. I seem to be going over the same things again and again, and I don’t feel I’m making any progress at all. All of this talking and trying to understand myself and what I’m feeling and why I feel it—I’m supposed to be getting better someday, aren’t I? Whatever that means.
FH: Don’t you feel like you’re making progress?
KC: I don’t feel particularly better, no. This morning Will got up at four, which meant I got up at four . . .
FH: I thought you were going to talk to Hal about that, about helping you when the kids get up early.
KC: I was going to. But I just . . . can’t.
FH: Why not? Katie?
KC: He’s got his job. He can’t go in to work exhausted. The people there are . . . well, you can’t imagine. And not just the guys in the cells. If he’s not sharp, he could literally get himself killed. So that leaves the kids to me. They’re my job. I can’t let anybody else do it. It’s what I signed on for, and I can’t . . .
FH: It’s all right.
KC: Not really. No, it’s not. I know I’m a total bitch about it, but it’s the only power I’ve got left with him.
FH: Who’s watching them now?
KC: My mother. At least she didn’t completely mess me up, so for an hour or so once a week, I guess I can trust that she probably won’t ruin them, either.
FH: And you feel like you need power with Hal? Or what? Katie?
KC: I’m sorry.
FH: There’s nothing to be sorry about. Here’s some Kleenex. If it’s too painful, we don’t have to . . .
KC: No. It’s all right. I’ll be all right. I just can’t believe Hal and I have come to this. We used to be so in love with each other and have so much fun. I can’t believe we’re the same two people, me talking about power and control. And Hal, he used to be such a great guy.
FH: He’s not anymore?
KC: How could he be, living with me? I barely let him breathe. And part of me knows I’m wrong . . . I’m just punishing us both.
FH: For what?
KC: Well, him, for being who he is. For not making enough money. For not fighting me hard enough when I’m not the me I know I can be, the best me. For being tired. I know that sounds terrible, blaming him for all that is wrong, so I feel guilty for that, too. I’m just such a complete mess. I’m really so sorry, Fran.
FH: It’s all right. You can let it all out. That’s why you’re here.
KC: I just need a minute.
FH: You’ve got it. All the time you need.
KC: I should never have had the affair. That’s what ruined everything.
FH: Does Hal know about that?
KC: No. I could never tell him. It was just a pure mistake. I didn’t even love the guy. I was feeling ugly and useless and trapped by my baby and just . . . Well, I did what I did. There’s no turning back from that now. Every day I feel like a liar and a fraud. And then I resent Hal because he’s a constant reminder of who I really am. The bad person I really am.
FH: Have you tried to talk to him?
KC: No. Our deal was if one of us was unfaithful, that would be the end.
FH: People say that, but it isn’t always true.
KC: I think that for us, it would be.
FH: So you’re living all the time with the fear that Hal will leave you?
KC: Not so much that. I don’t know that he’ll ever find out. It’s more that I’m living with the guilt of knowing what I’ve done. That we’re still trying to build this life that’s so hard and isn’t based on the truth anymore.
FH: That could change, Katie. It really could.
KC: You mean if I told him?
FH: It could be a start. You’ve got a family now. It’s different. Would he leave you over a mistake you made almost three years ago?
KC: I don’t know. He might.
FH: But if things continue the way they’re going now, and you don’t tell him, what kind of chance would you give yourselves? As a couple, I mean.
KC: At this point, almost zero.
FH: So think about it, Katie. What have you got to lose?