Page 55 of It's One of Us
A run. He needs to move. It’s his normal activity upon arrival at a new location. Settle in, take a run, get the lay of the land. It will work here in his hometown, too.
Outside, he notices the van only because the extension ladder looks like it might fall off, perched so precariously on the top. Apparently, the van’s owner has realized the problem, has pulled over to the side of the street to tie it down. But he’s struggling with the weight.
“Need help?”
A relieved smile. “Sure.”
It’s easy to get the ladder back into place with two of them, and five minutes later, the van drives off, the workman sticking a hand out of the window in a wave of thanks and goodbye.
At least he was able to help someone today, Perry thinks, and takes off down the hill in the opposite direction, feet slapping the pavement in time with his heart.
23
THE WIFE
Dr. Benedict’s office is designed to be calming. The room is painted a light greige, Sherwin Williams Agreeable Gray—second in popularity in her own designs only to Olivia’s favorite, Repose—complemented with a few pen-and-ink silhouettes hanging on the wall. The throw pillows on the plump sofa are lapis lazuli velvet and down-filled, perfect for hugging to your chest as a shield, and the doctor’s slipper chair is a lovely dove-gray leather with silver accents beneath a globe floor lamp. Olivia likes the space; there is nothing showy, nothing loud. Quiet and gentle, like Benedict.
But right now, Olivia is deciding whether to rip one of the pillows in two in frustration after Benedict’s last probing question, the quintessential therapy staple: “How does this make you feel, Olivia?”
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.Devastatedis 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 theD, now theE, pull harder, thatVis being tricky. It makes her think of giving birth, those letters flowing out from between her legs, rushing faster and faster.Redis a word.Bloodis 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 thatfeels. 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 façade 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.”
