The Wednesday Group (21 page)

“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 understand. 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 job. 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.

She picks up her briefcase and walks to the door. “I have worked hard, and I believe I am a good therapist.”

O'Reilly glances up. There is a fleeting panic in her eyes, as if she's being discarded. But the moment doesn't last, and her gaze turns sharp. “I'll call in a couple of days. Give you some time to think this over.”

“That's considerate of you, but it won't be necessary.” She zips her partially open bag and smiles, politely and professionally, the way she imagines Gail might smile at an annoying attorney.

 

Lizzy

It's been almost a week since the last group, since Hannah said that Greg didn't treat Lizzy well enough. For the past six days, Lizzy has made mental checklists of all the ways Greg shows her that he's invested in her and their marriage. He does the yard work; he's made dinner a couple of times; he's been telling her he loves her before they go to sleep. That counts for something. So does the fact that he's texted her a few times during the day, just to say hi. A new and improved behavior.

His small steps to let her know that he does in fact think about her have made her realize that what she actually wants is closeness and friendship. Those things don't require sex. And the five percent bracket that Hannah mentioned—Lizzy did some research of her own. Most sources stated a higher recovery rate. Granted, no one claimed anything near fifty percent, but fifteen was about average. So there's no reason not to have hope, especially since Greg's addiction isn't like the others. Never having sex with another person puts him in a whole different category.