18 Addison

"It's been a while since our last appointment," Dr. Larry said. "How have you been?"

"I've been better," Addison said. "To be honest, my life is a complete and total fucking mess."

Dr. Larry nodded. He was a great nodder, letting Addison continue with whatever thoughts she wanted to get out. She recalled one session when the only words Dr. Larry said were Nice to see you and Well, when would you like to meet again? Addison had a whole lot to say today. "I'm sorry, but things are worse than a mess. My life is a total train wreck."

"How so?"

Dr. Larry kept a neat little office on the fourth floor of the Poplar Perkins building, a run-down slice of old East Memphis with a Relax the Back store and a kitchen remodeler fronting the parking lot. He had a small waiting room with two chairs and a radio on a side table playing 91.1. Classical music with NPR breaks. The US military failed to investigate the mistreatment, torture, and deaths of insurgents captured by Iraqi forces according to... A series of Debussy string quartets, somewhat relaxing Addison as she anxiously flipped through Psychology Today until the office door opened and it was her time, a nervous couple not making eye contact as they left the office, the woman blotting her eyes before they continued into the hall.

"Dean left me."

"I'm so sorry."

"And then he came back," Addison said, legs crossed with her right foot rocking back and forth. "Like a bad penny. Isn't that what people say? But this was more like the return of a dumpster fire. Everything about us—everything about our family—is a goddamn lie."

Dr. Larry didn't ask a lot of questions. He took a lot of notes. He was an older man in his sixties with a dark ring of hair around a bald head and a long, drawn face. He wore comfortable clothes, wrinkled checked shirts with chinos, and sensible shoes. She'd met with him regularly for the last four years, starting with the first hints of trouble with Dean. Dean had called her both paranoid and jealous, blaming many of her issues on her late mother. Dr. Larry didn't think that was the case at all, although she never shared that with Dean.

"Addison?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about the lies."

Addison told Dr. Larry about Dean disappearing, about finding out his office was a fake, and the absolute humiliation of having her Escalade towed and being arrested. She said she'd gone to her dad, feeling like such a little girl, and then meeting Porter Hayes. She told him a little about Mr. Hayes and the run-in with that crazy country woman who faked being Amanda. (Dr. Larry knew all about Amanda. Once they'd had a complete session about how she believed Dean thought more of his secretary than he did his own family.) She told him about these long business trips to London and how he'd hoodwinked poor Alec Dawson, a good and decent guy, out of millions. "Do you see this watch?" she said, pointing to the Cartier. "Dean brought it back from London. And what do I do? I'm such an idiot. I'm wearing it."

Dr. Larry took a long breath. He removed his reading glasses and clamped his teeth on the temple. "Are you now separated?"

"No."

"But you've asked for a divorce?"

"Not exactly."

Dr. Larry slipped the glasses back on and took some more notes. His hand moved furiously across the legal pad. She wondered what he was writing. Paranoid schizoid. Daddy issues. Spoiled bitch. A man with such sensible shoes would never write something like that. Would he?

"And he was gone a week?"

"A week and a couple days," she said. "He wouldn't answer my calls. He'd lied to me for years about his office. He lied to me about Amanda. You ever meet anyone stupid enough to wake up one morning and realize they've been sleeping with a stranger for years?"

"All the time," Dr. Larry said, giving one of those knowing Dr. Larry smiles. "It's practically my bread and butter." Bread and butter. Again, prime Dr. Larry. He tilted his head. "So," he said. "Where exactly was Dean? Did he explain this to you?"

Addison took in a deep breath through her nose. She rested her hands in her lap and stared across to the other wall at the macramé hangings and a small Buddha statue that was new from last time. Was Dr. Larry a Buddhist? She always thought he was Jewish. She knew he put in a lot of hours at the Jewish Community Center working with the elderly. He would sometimes brag about So-and-So's wonderful blintzes.

"Dean said he was attacked."

"Where?"

"In the stomach."

"I mean, where did this happen?"

"London," she said. "It was always London. He said he'd been at Paddington Station and two guys asked him for money. When he told them to get lost, one of them stabbed him with a knife and the other kicked him in the head. They stole his new leather jacket, a really nice one I gave him for Christmas, and his wallet and passport. He said he woke up in the hospital two days later and drifted in and out of consciousness after that."

"Why didn't he call you when he woke up?"

"He said he had to sort out a lot of business at the American embassy and police reports and he said he was both ashamed he'd been beaten and thought I'd only be more worried."

"More worried than him disappearing?"

"That's what I said."

"And what did Dean say?"

"He said he wasn't thinking straight," she said. "He said that he only wanted to get his clothes and his new passport and take the first flight home. He said it was much easier to explain all this in person. He's done a lot of sulking since he's been back, just sitting in his study and drinking. He's been making a lot of phone calls, talking for hours to God knows who, and then he goes out, coming back up for air with me and the kids later as if nothing has happened. When I tried to get him to tell me more about it, he said it was too fresh for him. We ended up sitting for two hours out by our pool and not saying a goddamn word."

"Your pool is still open?"

Oh, Dr. Larry. Nothing escapes you!

"No," she said. "It's just a place where we usually sit and talk. It has comfy furniture out there and I kind of like looking at it. I guess it's a place where I go and think. We just sat out there in silence and I drank a bottle of wine and god knows how much scotch Dean had. He'd bought a nice bottle in Duty Free. He told me how much he loved me and apologized for scaring me. And that he hoped we could put the whole mess behind us."

"And you told him you couldn't live that way?"

It was one of Dr. Larry's hopeful questions. Addison took another deep breath and changed her crossed leg, dangling her left foot over the knee, pumping it up and down.

"Addison."

"No," Addison said. "We ended up having sex."

Dr. Larry looked down to the page, more scribbling. She waited what felt like an eternity before the scribbling stopped and he looked up again. He removed his glasses as if the scribbling had taken all the energy out of him. She looked for some kind of sign of disappointment in his eyes but didn't see it. So well trained, Dr. Larry. Never passing on any judgment, although he'd worked for years with her about establishing boundaries. Outside his window was an old stone Baptist church, a lovely building where she used to go with her grandmother the mornings she didn't go to Our Lady of Perpetual Help with her parents. Developers were about to tear the old church down to make way for a Walgreens.

"I guess it was a mistake," Addison said.

"Why do you feel that way?"

"Ever had a one-night stand?"

Dr. Larry smiled. "I went to college," he said.

"It felt like that," Addison said. "Like screwing a goddamn stranger. Yesterday, I told him I couldn't live with him anymore and that he had to get out."

"Did he?"

"No," Addison said, swallowing. "He said I was having a nervous breakdown and that I needed to see you. He thinks I need to up my meds."

"You said he leaves the house during the day," Dr. Larry said. "If he doesn't have an office or a job that you know about, where do you think Dean goes?"

Nothing is lost on Dr. Larry. Nothing. Addison opened her mouth but for the first time didn't have an answer.