by Sylvia True
“If Flavia wants to tell us something, I’ll listen,” Hannah says.
“I have come to thank all of you. And to tell you that we have made a decision.” Flavia smiles. “Dema and I, we have talked for many hours and in conclusion have decided to move back to Greece.”
“Whoa.” Bridget is halfway out of her seat.
Flavia tugs at her gold chain. “His friend, he has a restaurant on a small island. It will not be much. The economy is terrible, but for us it is enough.”
“But what will you do?” Lizzy asks.
“I will find something. It is a small place. There are no subways, and for Dema it will be safer. We can be happy again. We leave in three days.”
“Three days,” Lizzy says. “You don’t want to think about it more?”
“I did much thinking on my own, then with all of you, and finally I made up my mind. I know myself. It is a good decision.”
Hannah approaches and gives her a hug. “Good luck.”
“And the same to you. I have learned so much from your kindness and wisdom.”
“Thank you,” Hannah says, and slips out of the room.
She gets in her car, looks at the second-floor window of the Victorian house, and feels defeated. She didn’t lose the battle exactly. She just can’t keep up the fight. She needs a break from all of this—from the group, from couples’ therapy, from all things sex addiction. Home might not always be comfortable, but it sure beats the hornet’s nest she was just in.
Gail
It will be good to go out tonight, to sit with an intelligent group of people, to have substantive dialogues. Most of all, it will be wonderful to be with her husband, to be a team, an intellectual force.
The long table is beautifully dressed with white linen and sparkling crystal. Gail has on her teal suit, which Jonah had told her looked like a lovely summer breeze.
They are seated near the far end. She reaches for his hand under the table, and he gives her fingers a quick squeeze. As the guests arrive, many of whom are professors from Jonah’s department, she feels his tension and again reaches for his hand. She would like to assure him that he does in fact belong here, that he should never underestimate himself. But he pulls his hand away this time, and she feels a moment of sadness at not being able to give him the comfort he deserves.
Gail chooses the rosemary-braised lamb shanks for her main course. The chatter is animated and vibrant. There is talk about the political climate, the economy, and gay marriage. This is the sort of environment she belongs in. She can’t help but contrast it to last night’s group.
For dessert they eat truffles, and Gail talks to the man seated across from her, Paul Bennett. He is a philosophy professor at Boston University and genuinely interested in the judicial system.
“The human element can never be discounted,” Gail tells him.
“Yes, it is fascinating how the course of a narrative can alter with only the slightest shift in emotion.”
“We try so hard to be objective, to separate facts from feelings. There are times we must try to do that.” She stirs the dainty spoon in her coffee. “But of course it is never truly possible.”
“May I be very bold and ask if I could sit one day in your courtroom and observe a trial?”
“It is always open to the public. And naturally I would be honored.” She feels proud.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your last name earlier.”
“I’m Jonah’s wife. Gail Larson.” She gazes directly, confidently into his light brown eyes.
He grins and tosses his napkin on his plate. “It is a small world. Just yesterday Dr. O’Reilly was speaking of you.”
For a moment, the clatter in the room feels strangely far away, as if some sort of bucket was thrown over her head. Then the noise returns—the tinkling of silverware, the refined laughter, fragments of sentences.
“Are you ill?” Paul asks.
“No.” Gail pushes back her chair. “I’m terribly sorry, but will you excuse me for a moment?” She leaves the table as quickly and unobtrusively as she can.
In the restroom, she walks into the last stall. Her heart thuds. She worries about her blood pressure. The only time she met Dr. O’Reilly was for her initial interview. How could a woman who wanted to be president of a university lack such basic judgment? What else did Dr. O’Reilly say? Not that Gail is about to ask Paul. A perfectly delightful evening is now ruined. Another woman, Gail thinks, might blame her husband; after all, it is because of him she went to see Dr. O’Reilly in the first place. But Gail doesn’t feel angry at Jonah.
* * *
The following morning, Gail calls Dr. O’Reilly, who says she will “clear the decks” and be available immediately. Gail gets off the phone quickly, not wanting to divulge the reason for the meeting.
In Dr. O’Reilly’s office, Gail chooses the chair closest to her adversary. Her years of experience in court will allow her to conduct this deftly.
Dr. O’Reilly wears a confident smile. “It sounded important,” she says. “I’m pleased you felt comfortable enough to call and reach out. How may I assist you?”
“I was at an event last night with some distinguished professors in the Boston community. I sat across from a man named Paul Bennett.” She pauses, watching Dr. O’Reilly’s eyes lower.
“I know Paul,” Dr. O’Reilly says.
“I viewed us as having much in common. We are both women who have risen in our fields. We are expected to be trustworthy, to hold confidences.” Gail sits squarely in her chair as O’Reilly shrinks in hers.
“I did mention to him that I knew you. But I didn’t, and would never, say anything about the circumstances under which we met,” Dr. O’Reilly defends.
Gail shakes her head. “I’m afraid that isn’t the point. You violated boundaries. You have broken my trust, and I don’t think I need to explain to you how devastating that is.”
Dr. O’Reilly tugs at her skirt. “I am so terribly sorry. I never meant to hurt you. And I truly don’t believe anything will come of this. Again, I merely mentioned that I had met you.”
“Do you know what happens when a juror speaks to a friend, when they break confidentiality? A mistrial is declared. We have to begin the entire process again. So many people are hurt by what the juror always claims to be an innocent mistake. I normally understand that the person didn’t have the foresight to see the consequences of their behavior. But I cannot give you that benefit of the doubt. You are in a position to know better.” Gail works at maintaining her courtroom presence.
“Again, I can only express my deepest apologies.” O’Reilly glances up, then shifts her gaze to the desk.
“I am disappointed. You have put a whole group at risk.”
O’Reilly holds up a hand. “I know it was completely unforgivable of me, but I don’t think this needs to affect the group.”
“When I began this process, I did so because you came highly recommended. I wasn’t convinced having a graduate student run a group of this nature would be wise. But I must say that Kathryn has been excellent. Her compassion, her ability to handle conflicts, and her maturity have impressed me. I cannot say the same about you.”
Dr. O’Reilly rubs her hands together. “My only excuse is that I felt proud to know you.”
“But you do not know me. Not really. I do, on the other hand, have a more realistic explanation of why you did what you did. You are too eager to make all the right connections.”
“No. I have nothing to gain from name-dropping.”
“Of course you do.” Gail waves dismissively. “I assume you will be telling Kathryn.”
Dr. O’Reilly nods.
“If this does leak out,” Gail says, “I would like her to know she had nothing to do with it. I am not unwise when it comes to understanding human nature. Kathryn will question herself, wonder if she wasn’t clear about confidentiality. Ultimately, she may blame herself, and I do not believe that would be fair.”
“I underst
and. But I just don’t see that there is any possible chance of a leak.”
“You already opened the faucet.”
O’Reilly paws at her necklace. “I have an appointment with Kathryn this afternoon. I can assure you I will get all of this cleared up.” She leans forward, her concerned expression bordering on disingenuous. “And allow me to say, one last time, that I did not tell Paul anything of consequence. I would never do that.”
Gail places her hands on the armrests and stands. “I believe I have made myself clear. The stakes are high. We both have the ability to damage each other’s career.”
“Thank you for coming. For being honest. Again, you have my word that you have nothing to concern yourself with.”
“I hope that is the case.”
Once outside, Gail’s legs feel unsteady. She kept her composure, even though there were moments that she wanted to lash out, to yell, How dare you? How fucking dare you? She stops and smiles. A few months ago, before she met Bridget, a phrase like that would never have grazed her thoughts.
* * *
At her office there is a mountain of work waiting. But Gail can’t concentrate on it. She thinks of the power Dr. O’Reilly has. All she needs to do is pick up the phone, call Paul Bennett, and somehow let it slip that Jonah is a sex addict. It would devastate both Gail’s and Jonah’s careers. For the next five minutes Gail does a deep-breathing meditation exercise. When she is finished, she takes her phone from her purse.
Kathryn picks up after the first ring. As Gail explains the events, she is surprised to find herself crying.
“Would you like to come and see me?” Kathryn asks.
Gail takes a tissue from her pocket. “No. But thank you for offering.”
“I am so sorry this happened,” Kathryn says.
Gail is struck at the sorrow in Kathryn’s voice, how different it is from the fear of repercussion that leached through Dr. O’Reilly’s apologies.
Kathryn
Kathryn cannot stop replaying the conversation with Gail in her mind. On some level, considering O’Reilly is motivated by prestige, it shouldn’t have been such a shock to hear what she did. Yet every time Kathryn thinks about it, she feels breathless.
The question now is, how will O’Reilly handle this? After going through a variety of iterations, Kathryn expects O’Reilly will minimize the breach, apologize, and expect to continue as if nothing has changed. If she had been less critical in the past months, more helpful, Kathryn would likely be willing to move forward. But at this point, it’s time to find a new supervisor.
Considering the situation, O’Reilly can do little but be understanding and give Kathryn a strong reference. The conversation will be difficult, embarrassing even. No student wants to see her mentor in a compromising position. But Kathryn will keep it professional and short.
O’Reilly’s door is open. A first. Still Kathryn knocks.
“Come in,” O’Reilly calls from her desk. She is scavenging through a heap of papers.
Kathryn closes the door and sits, as she always does, on the chair farthest from her supervisor. She takes out her notebook, a security blanket of sorts, and places it on her lap.
O’Reilly finally settles in her desk chair and faces Kathryn. Her hair, usually pumped up with a few wayward tufts, is flat, as if she’s wearing a black bathing cap.
“So,” O’Reilly says, “how was the last group?”
Kathryn opens her notebook, needing a moment. She certainly didn’t expect O’Reilly to begin with such a normal question. But perhaps a gentle lead is best.
She sits taller. “I think there’s been a breakthrough. Bridget confronted Hannah, who I think is getting close to talking about her situation.”
“I must be very up-front with you.” O’Reilly takes a deep breath. “All of the women replied to the survey I sent out a couple of days ago. I have read and reread them, and I am very concerned that you do not have a good handle on the group.”
“I don’t have a good handle?” Kathryn asks, surprised.
“For one, Flavia is leaving.”
“Yes, I know. She’s decided to move to a small island in Greece with her husband. They think it will be safer for him there where there are no subways.”
“You don’t think there will be young women on this island?” O’Reilly pretends to be baffled, as if Kathryn hadn’t thought of this.
“Of course there will be. But the opportunities will be reduced. It’s like an alcoholic who…”
The wattle of skin under O’Reilly’s chin flaps slightly as she shakes her head. “I understand the analogy. But you are aware we advise at the minimum three sessions for someone to transition out of the group.”
It was stupid, Kathryn thinks, not to expect O’Reilly to take a strong offensive position. “I’m aware of that. But it’s what we advise. It’s not mandatory.”
“But Hannah leaving?” O’Reilly says. “We can certainly agree that might not be so good.”
“Hannah’s not leaving.” Kathryn’s palms sweat, although she maintains a front of calm.
“That’s not what she wrote.” O’Reilly rummages through some papers on her lap. “Ah, here it is. I printed it out this morning. She writes that you’ve done a good job, but the group is not for her at the moment. It seems as if what you’re considering a breakthrough was more of a breakup.”
“She’s upset. She feels vulnerable. But she is a very smart woman, and she’ll see that it will benefit her to return.” Kathryn hopes this will be the case.
“I have the sense you aren’t listening to me.” O’Reilly waves the paper. It creates a slight breeze. “I don’t think you’re facing the reality of this. I also don’t think three members are really enough to carry on a group of this sort. I’m advising that you take a few weeks to terminate and rethink your thesis. Perhaps you should go back to working with drug addicts.”
Kathryn holds the arms of the chair. “Absolutely not. I will continue the group, even with two members. The last thing these women need is another untrustworthy person in their lives.” She lets go of the chair. “To be honest, I thought we would be having a very different conversation. Gail called me a few hours ago. She told me everything.”
O’Reilly stands and walks to the window. “I think Gail is making much more out of this than it warrants.”
“You mentioned that you knew Gail to another professor. You have only met Gail once. During our intake interview.”
“I mentioned that I had heard of her. Yes.” She turns. “Gail misunderstood, and frankly, when she came to see me I was so taken aback, I didn’t know what to say. After I’d given it more thought, I realized that what I had said to this professor, who shall go unnamed, was that I had read about one of Gail’s cases in the paper.”
Kathryn stares at the stalwart, thickset woman, briefly admiring her determination. “You only remembered this after meeting with Gail?”
“Are you accusing me of lying?” O’Reilly asks, appalled.
“I’m not sure what I think at the moment. I suppose I’m confused. I am wondering if the real reason you want me to terminate the group has to do with Gail, and not with how many members will be left.”
“As I said, I did nothing wrong.” She walks back to her desk and fumbles through some papers. “I think the group isn’t working, and I will stick to my belief that it is time to terminate.”
“And I will adhere to my belief that that is not the case.” Kathryn closes her notebook. She doesn’t need a prop.
O’Reilly places a hand on the large silver shell hanging from her necklace. “I think you might be too attached to the women.”
Kathryn understands the manipulative tactic, yet she still wonders, is she too attached? She has felt furious at their husbands. She has spent many hours researching the specifics of each man’s addiction. And even more time learning about trauma.
“I am attached to them,” Kathryn says. “But that’s my job. To care.”
“Yes, it is your j
ob. But I think you have lost your objective perspective. And with two members not returning, I will once again strongly advise you to terminate.”
“No. I will not do that, but I think it would be wise if you and I terminated. I don’t think anything useful can come out of this relationship.”
“There is no one I don’t know here at the university. Who do you think people will listen to, me or you?”
“I would hope they would have an open mind.”
“I could ruin your career,” O’Reilly says.
Kathryn stares in disbelief. O’Reilly is cold and critical, but she has never thought of her as mean. “Why would you do something like that?”
“I’m sorry. Perhaps that was uncalled for. Spoken in the heat of the moment. I think it’s also a reflection of how difficult the issues in the group are. It puts us all on edge.”
Kathryn takes a moment. “I don’t believe I’m on edge because of the group or the issues in it. I am on edge because I no longer trust you.”
“Kathryn, please. Let’s not take this to the level of absurdity.”
“My feelings are not absurd.” She thinks about the women, how they talk about their husbands trying to make them feel as if they’re crazy. She has never understood them as well as she does in this moment.
O’Reilly sits and sighs. “Look, there have been a few miscommunications. Let’s both try to regain some perspective on this. Perhaps I spoke too rashly in suggesting you end the group.” She nods as if she’s being self-reflective. “I’m willing to give it a few more weeks together.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible for me.” She thinks of how the husbands bargain, of how the women, who love them, keep trying. But Kathryn is not in their position. She has no ties to O’Reilly.
“I really don’t know who will take you on,” O’Reilly says.
“I’m sure I’ll find someone.” She puts her notebook in her briefcase.
“I am the chair of this department. Think carefully before you make your next move.”
Kathryn looks at O’Reilly, then slowly stands. The woman Kathryn was so nervous to meet months ago is a wounded narcissist who will do anything to protect her image. But Kathryn holds the trump card. She knows what O’Reilly did.
