It's One of Us(49)

Dr. Benedict watches her, a slight smile on her face, as if she can read Olivia’s thunderous thoughts.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“You are anything but.” Benedict’s smooth, modulated voice is usually hypnotic, but today, she’s asking hard questions and expecting honest answers; her tone reflects her impatience with Olivia’s obfuscation. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward, the leather of her chair squeaking slightly under the shift of weight. “You can lie to Park. You can lie to yourself. But don’t you lie to me. This is a safe place, and you need to open up. Tell me how you really feel about Park’s children.”

Olivia realizes she is grinding her teeth. She doesn’t like therapy. She doesn’t like having to dig into her emotions, her past, her feelings. Feelings are difficult for her. Unsafe.

“I’m devastated, okay?”

“I’d be shocked if you weren’t. Devastated is a good word. Let’s unpack that.”

Oh, the ridiculous lingo that goes along with trying to repair your psyche. How do you unpack a word? Pull it letter by letter from a suitcase? Here’s the D, now the E, pull harder, that V is being tricky. It makes her think of giving birth, those letters flowing out from between her legs, rushing faster and faster. Red is a word. Blood is a word. And that closes her down again.

“What just happened? Where did you go?” Benedict asks quietly.

Olivia looks out the window. “Can we not do this right now?”

“If you’re not comfortable talking about your feelings, let’s talk about Park. How do you think Park is feeling?”

A scoffing laugh. “Proud.”

“Proud?”

“Yeah. I hear it in his voice. He’s trying not to rub it in, but I can practically see the gears turning in his head. He’s getting everything he’s ever wanted in one fell swoop. It’s like handing him a bag of sea monkeys—just add water, insta-family.” Olivia holds up a hand. “Don’t you dare ask me how that feels. It feels like shit, okay? It feels awful. It feels like there’s a schism between us that will never be mended.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Of course! Jealous and hurt and overwhelmed and—” And just like that, Olivia cracks open wide, sobbing, the fa?ade dropped. She hates herself for breaking down, and that makes her cry harder. Finally, she chokes out the rest.

“The worst thing is, I don’t even blame him. I wanted him to do this. I asked him to. Yes, he should have told me, yes, he was trying to protect me, my feelings, my inadequacies. But I was the one who suggested it in the first place. And now the police are digging into our lives, and it’s just so damn unfair.”

“Being infertile is not an inadequacy, Olivia.”

“Whatever. I’m just so upset with him, and really, I have no right to be.”

Benedict makes a noise in the back of her throat. “You have no right to feel betrayed that your husband didn’t tell you flat out that he had donated years before when you, realizing you might never be able to bear him a child, offered that gift to him? No, don’t argue with me. It was a gift, a damn gracious one, too, and he should have told you right then and there. No question about it. Do you understand why he didn’t? Why he’s hidden this incredible secret from you?”

“He didn’t want to hurt me.”

“Exactly. So why do you want to be hurt, Olivia? Why do you want to be punished?”

Olivia blows out a breath. “That’s harsh.”

“It’s true. You’re punishing yourself for not being able to hold on to a pregnancy. You’re punishing yourself for something completely out of your control.” A quick glance over Olivia’s shoulder. “I hate to end on that note, but our time is up. Please, do me a favor and think about this. Think about why you want to blame yourself for a biological glitch. Would you blame yourself if you got diabetes? If you caught a cold?”

“This is different.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She stands, and Olivia, who has shredded a tissue into confetti in her lap, stands as well, gathering the tiny pieces into her hand.

“Can I give you a hug?

It is the first time Dr. Benedict has offered more than a handshake or a box of tissues, and the gentleness of it nearly breaks Olivia in two. But she holds on, the tears thankfully staying away.

“Strength,” Dr. Benedict whispers, and sees her to the door.

Strength. Yes, she’d had another tragedy. Yes, Park has betrayed her. Yes, they are inside a snow globe of personal drama that is about to be shaken, hard.

But Olivia is not a weak woman. She is not going to let circumstance rule her. She’s going to try, at least.

In the car, she checks her messages, sees nothing from Lindsey but one from the fertility clinic. She plays the message—it’s Dr. Jameson. So many doctors.

“Hi, Olivia. Brigit told me you miscarried. She said it was complete, but why don’t you come on in and let us take a look, just to be sure. Put our minds at ease. And we can talk about our next steps. This was the last embryo for this cycle, so we could try a simple IUI since your body is all tuned up or discuss another round of stims and egg retrieval. Either way, whatever you decide, let me know and I’ll make a spot for you in the schedule. Hang in there.”

Olivia’s new life, reduced to a thirty-second voice mail.