Beside Herself

by Elizabeth Laban

  “He had work to do,” Hannah said, welcoming her into the bed and finally daring to turn out the light. Lincoln followed shortly after. He went right to Joel’s side and looked for a long time, like maybe Joel had disappeared or was wearing a cloak of invisibility that might wear off if he looked hard enough.

  Every time Hannah felt close to dozing off, she would imagine the details Joel had told her in the car, and she would be wide awake again. The hours passed slowly and miserably, but finally she could see the sky begin to lighten. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she got up and showered. She had plans to visit Richard—they had a meeting about his care—and she had an important work meeting with a company that was building a hotel on Washington Avenue in an old chocolate factory. They said their hope was to have every single thing about the hotel be local. They wanted Hannah to be in from the very beginning, to be one of the managers of the project, and to have a hand in every choice that was made. It was the sort of opportunity Hannah had always wished for. She couldn’t cancel just because she hadn’t slept. She couldn’t cancel just because she now knew the details of the affair. She couldn’t let Joel take this job away from her too.

  Just as she reached for her phone to see exactly where and when her meeting was, it rang. Kim. She looked at the time. It wasn’t even seven yet.

  “Kim, are you okay?” she said into the phone, easing the bathroom door closed again.

  “He took them to the castle,” she said, like it was some riddle or fairy tale. Hannah could tell she was crying.

  “The castle?”

  “Cinderella’s castle,” she said. “I mean, of course they were going to go; you can’t not go when you’re at Disney, but for some reason I hadn’t thought of that detail until Savannah posted a photo. I was going to take her there. Ever since they were babies, we read about Cinderella, remember? Michael even liked her. And Savannah was Cinderella for Halloween for her first three years. She is still her favorite, even though of course she would never admit it anymore. And now, well, now they’ve been to her home—without me.”

  “Kim,” Hannah said, sitting on the closed toilet seat. “You know Cinderella isn’t real, right? She doesn’t have an actual home.” But as soon as she said it, she regretted it. That wasn’t the point. That didn’t even begin to be the point. “Sorry,” Hannah said. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Kim said, sniffling. “I’m not even calling to complain personally, if you can believe it. What I’m doing is sharing with you another devastating moment of divorce. This is it. This is divorce in all its misery. Please, Hannah, please take what I have said seriously. You do not want this to be you.”

  Ridley wasn’t in love with Cinderella, but she did love the Minions more than anything. Well, more than most things—probably not more than Stinker. Hannah knew there was a ride at Universal Orlando that they had talked about going to—before Ridley lost interest. They had even researched the hotels in the park and decided that if they went, they would stay at the one with the Italian theme. She closed her eyes hard at the thought of missing that—of getting the call that they were all there and had just seen it while she was here alone, finishing her solitary tour of the mansions of Fairmount Park. She leaned over and took deep breaths.

  “Kim, I’m so sorry you are going through this,” Hannah said.

  “Forget about me, it’s too late for me,” Kim said. “But it isn’t too late for you.”

  “It might be,” Hannah said.

  When she got downstairs with the kids, they found Joel sleeping peacefully on the couch under Ridley’s thin fleece Despicable Me blanket. Perfect, Hannah thought.

  “Shhhhh,” she said to the kids, putting her finger to her mouth. “Daddy still isn’t feeling well. That’s really why he slept down here. He didn’t want to bother me. So let’s let him sleep. Okay? Don’t wake him up.”

  Hannah knew he had an important meeting this morning, at ten. Some of the executives from Minnesota were coming into town to discuss the finishing touches of the marketing campaign for the new Minneapolis hotel. It was a big deal that they were coming to him. She knew he wanted to impress the Minnesota office. She had the urge to yank the blanket away or, better yet, get a picture of him so the words Despicable Me were clear as day and send it out into the world on Facebook or Instagram. But she knew not doing anything, letting him sleep through the meeting, was the worst thing she could do, at least right now.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hannah was surprised to find Richard still in bed, asleep, with the same peaceful-with-a-hint-of-being-tortured face she had just left on the couch at home. She turned, scowling. This was so unlike Richard, especially on the morning of his monthly care meeting. Or had the nurses fallen down on the job and not even tried to get him up yet today? As she began her angry march to the nurses’ station, Reuben was there, coming up behind her in his usual way.

  “Good morning,” he said quietly.

  She had to take a second to reshuffle. She was so ready to be combative, but she didn’t want to come at Reuben with that. She cleared her throat. “He isn’t up yet,” she said.

  “I know,” Reuben said. “I was going to call you, but by the time it was all decided, I figured you were probably on your way. Is Joel here too?”

  “Uh, no,” she said. “He has some important meeting this morning.”

  “Well, then it’s probably all for the best,” Reuben said. He began to walk away from Richard’s room back down the long hall, and Hannah followed.

  “Richard was up earlier. He had breakfast, his usual big bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar and a drop of maple syrup, but then he went back to his room. He said he didn’t want to talk about his care, he didn’t want to talk about anything. I told him to rest a little, to think about it, but when I went to check on him—that was about fifteen minutes ago—he was back in bed asleep. He couldn’t have done that by himself. He must have sweet-talked a nurse into helping him, but nobody is owning up. So I guess the meeting is cancelled. Let’s go talk anyway; I just made some coffee.”

  “Sure, okay,” Hannah said. She hadn’t had coffee yet this morning. Joel usually made it. In the small conference room, Reuben handed her a full, steaming mug that said Cup of Sunshine.

  “Oh, I’m really sorry to say this, but this is not my mug today,” she said, not sure why she cared so much, but she did. “I definitely can’t drink out of this mug.”

  “Why not?”

  “I am anything but sunshine right now,” she said, putting the mug on the table. “Can’t we pour it into another mug?”

  “Well, it doesn’t say you are sunshine,” Reuben said. “It basically says the coffee in the mug is sunshine, and that is probably true. Maybe it will improve your mood, make you feel sunnier.”

  “Can’t do it,” she said, wandering away from the mug, thinking it was probably time to go. She needed to think about her meeting later that day.

  She watched as Reuben scanned his mugs and pulled one out, then smoothly poured the coffee from the first mug into that one and brought it to her.

  “Thank you,” she said, turning the mug so she could see the front. It said Crappity Crap Crap, the words surrounded by dainty painted pink flowers and leaves. “Perfect.”

  Reuben then poured his own coffee into the Cup of Sunshine mug, held it up as if to say, Cheers, and took a long sip.

  “Can you sit?” he asked.

  “I guess, for a few minutes,” she said, pulling a seat away from the oval table and sitting down. She took a sip of the coffee. It was delicious.

  “Well, the obvious question is, What is going on with you that you find the sunshine mug so inappropriate but the crappity mug just right?” Reuben asked, choosing the seat directly across the table from Hannah. Hannah allowed the phrase just right to pass over her, hearing it but letting it go.

  “That is a good question but one I’m not prepared to answer,” she said.

  “All you Bents,” Reuben said warmly. “Shutting down today.�
��

  “Speaking of which, what is going on with Richard?”

  “To be perfectly honest, I think he’s depressed,” Reuben said seriously. “I know we talked about that possibility the other day. And this, going back to bed, not wanting to talk about his care—it’s classic, really. Also, he hasn’t wanted to be out in the lounge at all. People are asking for him. They miss him. On the flip side, he ate his oatmeal, so his appetite hasn’t been affected. I’m relieved about that.”

  “Well, that’s good, I guess, but I’m really worried,” Hannah said. “I mean, even three weeks ago, maybe a little longer, he was really a completely different man. I can’t imagine what has changed.” She felt her phone buzz in her purse but ignored it. It buzzed again, and she pulled it out. Two texts from Joel. Why didn’t you wake me? And I slept through my meeting. She put the phone back in her bag without responding.

  She was thinking that even the Crappity Crap Crap mug wasn’t going to cut it today. She needed something stronger.

  “I should go,” she said, getting up.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Reuben said.

  As they walked toward the exit, the image of the old lady, Kim, came back into Hannah’s mind, since this was exactly where she had encountered her.

  “Hey, I wanted to ask if you know an older lady—I think her name is Kim. At least, she had a blanket with the name Kim on it. She’s tiny, and she was sitting out here by herself the last time I was here.”

  Hannah felt her phone begin to ring. Joel, she thought.

  Something cloudy took over Reuben’s open expression.

  “Kim Sokolov?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, maybe,” Hannah said. “She is really tiny, like, her feet don’t touch the ground when she’s sitting down. I want to do something for her, I don’t know, maybe give her something. Or maybe just spend a little time with her if she’s lonely. Is she lonely?”

  “Well, no, she isn’t lonely. She’s dead.”

  Hannah took two steps back. “No. No, it must be a different Kim,” she said, feeling her phone stop and then start again. “She was just here, sitting right here.”

  “When was that?”

  “Not quite a week ago, maybe five, six days ago? Right after the last time I saw you.”

  “What time?”

  “What time?” Hannah asked. What difference could that make? But she thought back. She had wanted to be home by about five; it had been that endless day that had begun in the emergency room and ended with that awful Leslie. She had gone swimming, then come here. She’d talked to Reuben and Richard. “Three? I think it was around three.”

  “I am really sorry to say that is the same Kim. She was found here around four. She was sitting right there, covered in some sort of blanket. That’s right,” Reuben said like it was all coming back to him now. “People thought she was asleep, so nobody said anything. But then her husband came down and figured it out. I wasn’t here. I had just left. But apparently it was a very sad scene. He was distraught.”

  “Oh my God,” Hannah said. “That is so shocking—and sad. I mean, she seemed so peaceful when I saw her. And I wondered if she had a family or if she was alone.”

  “Yeah, one of the few married couples we had living here,” Reuben said. “Everyone loved them. They had just celebrated their seventieth wedding anniversary. We had a big cake right here. It isn’t every day you can do that.”

  “So how’s her husband now?”

  “Distraught, beyond distraught,” Reuben said. “We don’t expect he’ll be with us for too much longer.”

  Hannah didn’t know what to say. She felt inexplicably sad considering she really didn’t know either of them.

  “I must have been the last person she talked to,” Hannah said. “I wasn’t even going to stop to help her.”

  “But you did!” Reuben said in his usual positive way. “Listen, let’s see if we can reschedule that meeting for Richard early next week.”

  “That sounds good,” Hannah said quietly, still thinking about Kim and her husband.

  Reuben reached out and touched Hannah’s arm. “Pace yourself,” he said kindly.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Hannah continued to ignore her ringing phone, and as she backed out of her spot, she saw an old man at the far end of the porch, sobbing. Kim’s husband. It had to be. He was sitting on a chair, looking straight ahead. She knew that if she lowered her window, she would be able to hear him—he looked like he was making a lot of noise. The other thing she was certain about was that if she heard him, that noise would haunt her all day. She cranked up the music and drove away. But when she was on Broad heading north, she made a jerky right turn onto Porter and drove back to the nursing home. She pulled into a spot, breathing hard, and got out of the car. He was still there, but he was quiet now, staring off. Where was everyone? Why wasn’t a nurse with him? Hannah walked over slowly. She didn’t think this was against the rules in any way, but she wasn’t sure.

  “Excuse me,” she said gently when she was about two feet away. She could see his nose was running, but he made no move to wipe it. “My name is Hannah. I knew your wife, Kim.”

  He looked at her eagerly, and she thought she could have done that in a different way. She hadn’t really known her.

  “I met her,” she continued, trying to explain. “She was such a nice lady.”

  The man nodded and smiled.

  “I just want to say how sorry I am,” she said. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” the man said so clearly it surprised her.

  She waited, but there really didn’t seem to be anything more to say. She wanted to ask if they had had a good marriage, if they had had any bumps in the road. Had either one of them ever had an affair? What did it take to be married for seventy years? But she didn’t; she couldn’t. Instead she bowed slightly and backed away, making it to her car before she was crying so hard it was embarrassing. She pulled out her phone. Four missed calls from Joel. She called him back.

  “What?” she asked harshly when she heard his voice, certain he was calling to complain about oversleeping.

  “I think I finally found a really good therapist. Really good. I think this person will help us. Her name is Marjorie Snow—she’s in the Northeast, near Bustleton—and . . .”

  “And what?”

  “And I made an appointment for tonight, at six thirty.”

  Hannah was going to say no. She had had it, and she didn’t believe for one second that tonight would be any different from any of the other nights. But then she looked over at Kim’s husband. A nurse had finally come, and she helped him get up. It was hard, a huge effort, and Hannah could see he was crying again.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll go. But this is the last time.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hannah usually loved driving around the Northeast—it was such an interesting part of Philadelphia, with hidden parks and Russian markets and an endless stream of row homes. A few years ago, the local restaurant critic had done a roundup of restaurants in this sometimes-underappreciated part of the city, and ever since then Hannah had liked coming here even more, hoping to slowly try every single place he’d recommended. But tonight, she didn’t love being here at all. In fact, she felt worse than she had in days, if that were possible. After she’d agreed to see Dr. Snow, she’d been mad at herself. She had to stand her ground. And so before her meeting she’d done a little research and found two divorce lawyers. She planned to reach out to both of them tomorrow.

  They drove by a Chinese restaurant they had been to not too long ago, on a lazy, happy Saturday. She knew they were also near an Italian place the critic had raved about, one they had talked about trying soon, on a date night, without the kids. She had to close her eyes to keep the tears from falling. Finally, Joel pulled up to a house that wasn’t a row home. It was more like a tiny castle standing all by itself on a corner.

  “This is it,” Joel said.

  “What is
this place?” Hannah said, then wished she hadn’t. Her plan had been to not say a word until they were with the new therapist.

  “Look, it has a turret,” Joel said.

  Hannah followed Joel up an inside staircase that wound around like in a mini lighthouse. Tiny stained glass windows lined the wall as they went up and up to a wooden door. Joel hesitated, then pushed it open, and sure enough, they found themselves in a waiting room.

  “Good evening,” a woman greeted them warmly. “I’m glad you found your way. Please come in. And you can leave that door open; there’s a nice cross breeze, and I’m not expecting anyone else tonight.”

  “Thanks,” they both mumbled.

  Four chairs were arranged in a big square. Dr. Snow sat in one, and Joel picked the seat next to her. Hannah chose the seat across from Joel, leaving an empty chair between them on the other side, so Hannah didn’t feel too close to him. Hannah sat back and took a deep breath.

  “First of all, let me say welcome. Thank you for giving me a chance to help you sort out this very difficult situation you are now in,” Dr. Snow said. “I understand, from what Joel told me quickly on the phone, that it has been a very hard few days. Hannah, he told me a bit about what’s going on. My two takeaways from my very brief conversation with Joel are that his affair is over and that he wants to stay married to you. I mention those two things because Joel asked me to—he wanted to be very clear about them. Now I want to hear from you, if you’re ready to talk. I know it is all very raw, and you may be all over the place with your thoughts. That’s okay. This is a process. You can say anything here.”

  Joel looked at Hannah hopefully. She’d come in thinking she would just listen and let them do the work, but she was surprised to find there was something about Dr. Snow that made her want to talk.

  “I realize you don’t know me, you don’t know us as a couple,” Hannah began. “But if someone had told me before we went to New York that I would discover something like this on Joel’s phone, that we would be sitting here now, that I would be thinking about what my life might be like without him in it, I would have thought that person was the craziest crayon in the box. Sorry—strange thing to say about something so serious, I know, but my kids are really into crayons right now.”