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“You see,” she said.“It makes sense that he would disappear with the children.If he knew that something terrible were going to happen.”
“Why would he leave you and Phillip behind?”
“He didn’t intend to.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, I don’t think my husband quite realized what he was involved in.At least not until it was too late.”
Her voice quickened, and her eyes flashed, and her hands went in motion, fluttering and fidgeting.It was a transformation, and I had the feeling I was witnessing something real, although I still wasn’t sure what.
“He was only supposed to drop them off.Just drop them off.That was the plan."
“What plan, Grace?”
“The plan was to drop them off, and then he was supposed to come back.But he didn’t.”
“He didn’t what?”
“He didn’t come back.”
Was she telling the truth?Maybe.It seemed to me more like she was pleading the truth, trying to convince herself more than me.Maybe there were shards of truth in the things she was telling me, but I was not convinced.I took another approach.“Your husband was a traitor, Grace.He was a communist.Is that right?”
“My husband is a good man.”
“A good man?”I glanced at the clock.I noticed she corrected the use of my tense from past to present.This suggests she believes her husband is alive.“Good men do not aid and abet the enemy.”
“Who's to say he was?”
“Why else would he disappear?”
“There are two sides to every story.”
“I think you are lying.”
Mrs.Solomon’s face contorted into an expression of pure hate.I have seen this look on criminals.I have seen it on serial killers and mass murderers.I have seen it during police interrogations, when all the evidence is presented and still the criminal refused to confess what the evidence so clearly indicated.It was such a sudden transformation that it was almost shocking to witness.Her eyes narrowed, her brows lowered, and her lips got tight.“Like I told you, my husband is a good man.”
“Then why did he abandon you and Phillip?Why did he take your children from you?”
“How many times do I have to tell you?I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
She studied me curiously.“Unless he was not the one who did it.”
“Are you saying someone else took the children?”
“I’m not saying it,” she said.“I’m just saying it makes sense.”
I sensed at that moment that Grace Solomon was a pathological liar.Not just a liar, but a good one.I had come to the conclusion that she had convinced even herself.I believe it was then that I realized the extent of her condition.
The patient began to cry.Not in a sudden way, or a random way, but in a calculated way.It was like watching a pot being slowly brought to a boil.Her face became red, and her eyes moistened, and tears began to form and run down her cheeks.She didn’t wipe them away.She let them fall.It was the most genuine moment I had seen from her, and I had to give her credit for it.It was a good job of acting, but I wasn’t buying it.“Now, come on, Grace.”
I handed her one of my handkerchiefs.It had lipstick on it, though I was sure it was clean.I washed them on a regular basis.She took it, put it up to her face, and dabbed at her eyes.It was a single, feminine gesture, and it was a good one.I wanted to believe her.I wanted it so bad."Have you given any thought to my offer?"I asked.
"Is that what you're calling it?"
"I can't see any other way to help your memory, Grace.I'm afraid we aren't getting anywhere with...with traditional therapy."
