Every Single Secret(21)

“I hear you’re not meeting with him,” she said.

I cocked my head. “You heard that?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it, but you’re a bit of a celebrity, coming up here with your fiancé but refusing the therapy. Very rock-star of you.”

“Oh, well. Truthfully, I’m not a big believer in that kind of thing. I mean, not to say I haven’t read my share of ridiculous self-help books. You know, Chicken Soup for the Perpetually Panicked. But no, I guess I prefer a quick sprint around a track to talking about . . . all that.”

Her eyes sparked. “Interesting. So you’ve never had therapy?”

There was a lump in my throat suddenly, and it was difficult to talk around it. I coughed.

“I actually did meet with someone once, after an incident at the place where I lived.” The lump in my throat felt like a boulder now. “Anyway, I think I was supposed to see her, the doctor, I mean, a few more times after that, but for some reason it never happened. The system was overloaded, and things like that seemed to fall between the cracks a lot.”

A vague, non-answery answer, if there ever was one. But if Glenys had questions about what the hell I was talking about, she didn’t show it. She just nodded like it all made absolute sense to her.

“Have you?” I asked. “Had therapy, I mean? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh yes, I’ve seen therapists before. And you’re smart to be skeptical. A lot of them have no idea what they’re doing. Others go beyond incompetence and are actually destructive. It’s almost as if they became doctors in order to mess with people’s heads.” She ruffled her hair again. “The good ones, though”—she sighed—“the good ones are magic. It’s like, when you finally let go, release your problems to them, they take some of the pain away, and suddenly you’re lighter. Unencumbered and free to live your life.”

I considered this.

“Am I convincing you?” She laughed. I laughed too, then our eyes met.

“Is that what you’re trying to do, convince me?”

She waved her hand. “Goodness, no. You seem like a smart woman. Like someone who can certainly figure out what’s best for herself.”

Silence settled between us. Overhead, some kind of bird cried. Little did this woman, Glenys, know how far off the mark she was about me. I was not a smart woman. I was scared, floundering, terrified over the thought of losing Heath. But I liked that she said it, anyway. It reminded me of the way Barbara Silver used to talk to Lenny. That motherly tone—all at once protective and confident in her daughter’s infinite capabilities of resourcefulness. I liked the way it felt when it was directed at me.

“So you think Dr. Cerny is one of the good ones?” I said.

“I do. I saw him for the first time years ago. And I’ve never found anyone to be quite as perceptive as he is.”

I absorbed this.

“I lost my son,” she went on. “It was a long time ago, but it happened very suddenly. One day he was with me, and the next . . .” Her fingers pressed against her chest. “It was terribly difficult. It still is, if I’m being honest. Which it seems I am.” She smiled sadly at me.

I spoke before I had time to think. “I don’t mind. I’m glad you are.”

She nodded. “No one tells you that you never get over losing someone you love, do they?”

“No,” I said.

No, they didn’t.

She sobered. “So. I came here to release some of the pain. To see if there was a way forward for me.”

“And your husband.”

“Yes. That’s right.” She regarded me. “I’m sure your issues are different. But you must want the same thing for you and your fiancé.”

“I do, but it sounds like a fairy tale. Like something that can’t even be real.” I glanced away, feeling tears press against my eyes.

“It’s real.” She said the next thing in such a matter-of-fact tone that it didn’t even surprise me. “Why are you here, Daphne? It’s not just for your fiancé, is it?”

I shook my head. The tears had sprung up, in spite of my best efforts.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

I sniffled and dabbed at my eyes. “Ah, well. I’m probably due.”

She seemed to want to say something else but, in the end, turned back to the overlook. Grateful to escape her scrutiny, I sniffed mightily and wiped my running nose on my sleeve.

“Hey,” she suddenly said. “A hawk.” She pointed, and I looked but didn’t see anything. “He just dove into the trees. He must’ve seen something tasty down there.”

We stared at the empty sky for what seemed like a very long time. I wanted to speak, to say something to break the silence, but I was afraid of what would come out of my mouth. It had become a physical sensation now, a painful cramping all the way down in the lowest part of my stomach, the way the memories pressed against my insides. I realized my hand had moved up to my neck. That I was digging my nails into it.

After a while, Glenys turned to me. “I understand why you might not want to talk to a doctor,” she said quietly. “Especially one like Cerny. But—would you consider talking to someone else?”