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“Report.There was only one.”
“Let’s get back to the facts, okay?”
“That is a fact.”
I glanced at the clock on the wall.“I don’t think we should spend the limited time we have together arguing semantics, Mrs.Solomon.”
A look of desperation crossed her face.It’s fleeting, but it’s enough to show me that I’ve almost gotten to her.That the cracks in her armor are beginning to show.A feeling of hope spreads across my chest, but then that hope is quickly extinguished when she reveals the reason behind her visit.“I want to know why you don’t believe me.”
“What?”
She repeats herself.“I want to know why you don’t believe me.”
“That you’re not a danger to yourself and others?”
“Sure.”
“So where are they, Grace?Your family.You have to know something.Certainly more than you’re saying.”
“If I knew—if that were the one thing that could get me out of here —don’t you think I’d tell you?”
“You’re the only one who can answer that question.”I looked at the clock again.“And we’re running out of time for today.”
Mrs.Solomon began to cry.Real tears.Soon they were flowing down her cheeks, but there was not a sound coming from her mouth.The sobs came low and deep.Real sobs.They were clearly pent up and ready to be released.I found myself standing, walking to the table, sitting down with Mrs.Solomon, and wrapping her in my arms.She didn’t resist or pull away.She leaned in and curled her body around me.The smell of her hair and perfume was heady.Like apples.Like summer.I held her for a long time, though I am not sure she noticed.After a while, she pulled away from me.She smiled and blinked her eyes, drying her cheeks with the handkerchief I offered.She placed her hand on my knee.“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“It’s just, sometimes I think I won’t ever see my baby again.Do you know what that’s like?”
“I don’t have children, Grace.But I can imagine.”
“I’m not sure you can.”
“We have just a few minutes left.Do you want to tell me about the last time you saw Charles?Before he disappeared?”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’d made him garlic butter herb steak, his favorite.”
“Had you had a fight?”
The patient glanced at my ring finger.“Have you ever been married, Dr.Branson?”
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“Suicide, sadly.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s why I do what I do, Grace.I couldn’t save her but—well, I’m sure you understand.”
She seems stuck over whether to say anything more, so I said, “You made him dinner and then what?”
“I got up from our candlelit dinner and started to move my hips.I was wearing nothing but the expensive kimono Charles had brought me back from his last trip.It felt luxurious, meant for special occasions, and to be honest, I felt almost silly wearing it.The children had gone down early, and it was just the two of us enjoying a late dinner, the way we used to before the kids, before Charles’s travel schedule had become as hectic as it had been lately.”
