Todd opened the door, wearing his jersey, eyes blackened. “This game is going to kill me.”
“Is it close?” she asked.
“I can’t handle the stress. I hate the Falcons.”
“Is that M.B.?” Sunita called.
“Yes, I believe she came to watch football with us. Is that right?” Todd asked suspiciously.
“I’d love to. But do you mind if I check my e-mail first?”
He made a pfffing sound. “Can we dispense with the charade and admit that you’re using us for our Internet.”
“I’m using you for your Internet the way that you’re using me for my cooking abilities.”
He grinned. “Doesn’t it feel good to come clean?” He nodded toward the laptop. “Help yourself.”
She sat down and Todd returned to the living room. It had been three days—and one more kiss—since the e-mail from Jason and she had yet to respond. It wasn’t exactly avoidance. She just didn’t know what to say. Where to start. I’m so glad you’re mad at me because at least we’re not pretending didn’t feel quite right.
But she didn’t have to think about how to reply because when she logged on to her Gmail, there was already a message from Jason waiting. The subject line was “Full Disclosure.”
Remember when you were pregnant and I had all those dreams? Maybe you don’t. I tried to downplay them. I didn’t want to scare you but they were very vivid, Maribeth. So vivid that I went to a therapist. She said the dreams meant I was afraid of losing you to the babies. But I said, no, I really thought you were going to die, could feel the terror of it. Once you had the kids and didn’t die, the dreams mostly went away and I quit therapy.
When that doctor came out to get me in the waiting room to tell me there’d been a problem with your procedure, I thought he was going to tell me you were dead. The look on his face, Maribeth, was like the grave. I thought my own heart stopped. I really did. He said you weren’t dead. You were having emergency open-heart surgery. But still, terror.
So I guess that’s what got me most upset about your note, aside from you leaving. Your suggesting that I didn’t understand terror. Maybe I didn’t feel that same way you did that day when the twins were babies, but I felt the love, and I’ve known the terror.
—Jason
p.s. Fuller disclosure: After you came out of your surgery okay, I called up that original shrink, planning to let her have it, ask for my money back because my dreams had been prophetic. Dr. Lewis called me back, listened to me rant, and then asked if I might like to come back in and talk about some things. I’ve been seeing her ever since.
p.p.s. Dr. Lewis was the one who told me that if I were going to challenge your whole staking the claim on terror business, I needed to come clean about all this.
“Touchdown!” Todd and Sunita screamed.
“Falcons? Ha! More like sparrows,” Sunita yelled. “M.B., you’re missing the game.”
“I’ll be right there,” she said.
Jason was in therapy? Her Jason? In college, when his parents were in the midst of their split, he had fallen into what Maribeth thought was a depression. She’d implored him to talk to someone at the counseling center, but Jason had said he couldn’t stand to listen to himself like that. It seemed so indulgent. “But you’re a deejay,” Maribeth had said. “You listen to yourself talk all the time.” “That’s different,” he’d said.
Jason was in therapy. Had been when she was pregnant. Had been even before she’d left home.
“Are you going to watch any of the game?” Todd yelled from the living room.
“They seem to be doing okay without me,” Maribeth said.
“You really are using us for our Internet.”
“I thought we’d established that.”
She read the message again and logged off without replying.
She went into the living room just as Todd was turning off the TV. “Excellent timing. It’s over.”
“Did we win?”
“You can’t say ‘we’ when you didn’t watch,” he said.
“We won,” Sunita said. “Don’t mind him. And you can use the computer whenever you need to. Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked, exchanging a look with Todd.
Jason had been so scared she was going to die that he’d gone to therapy. Back then and again now.
Why hadn’t he told her?
What else hadn’t he told her?
“I’m not sure,” she answered.
54
From: [email protected]
Subject: Therapy?
I wish you’d told me.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Therapy?
I don’t know why I didn’t. It’s a good question for my therapist.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Therapy?
Is it wrong that the idea of you in therapy is oddly gratifying to me? I wish I could say it was purely altruistic, that I’m glad you’re getting healthier/happier. (And if you are, I am.) But really, I like the company. I like that it suggests that maybe I’m not the only damaged one in the family.
From: [email protected]