Good Wood (18 page)

“Why did she have to do it? The house, the business, everything could have burned to the ground…as long as I had her.” Dr. Greene rose, walked to the sink and wet a small towel. Crossing the room, he handed it to me.

“Take care of that hand before you bleed all over my office.” Looking down I saw I’d split my knuckles. Wrapping the towel around it, I stared. The lump of towel around my hand resembled a wrap. A Strappin’ Wrap, to be precise.

“Joe, it’s all right to be angry with Jessica.” His voice was warm, but firm. “It’s okay to love her-even to hate her. They are
your
feelings. No one, not even I, should tell you how to feel.
You
probably can’t control how you feel, but you can control how you choose to deal with those feelings.”

It was such a simple statement, but the wisdom behind it floored me. For years now I’d been wallowing in my feelings; barricading myself behind repetitive work, shutting out everyone who cared about me. The wasted energy was embarrassing. I tore off the towel and wadded it up, applying pressure to my wound. Dr. Greene motioned for me to come back to my seat by his desk. Feeling like a world class jerk for damaging his office, I did as he asked. I could at least pretend to be civilized as some sign of respect.

As he settled into the leather chair across from me, I remembered that I had something positive to share and looked up.

“Did I tell you that I started carving again?” The way his eyebrows shot up told me that I hadn’t. “I’ve been making things for oh, I don’t know…maybe a month? A spice box…some figurines. Yesterday I made two dollhouses for my nieces for Christmas.”

“That’s wonderful, Joe.” He’d started scribbling like mad in that little notebook of his. “How does using your craft make you feel?”

“Peaceful. Guilty. I’ll lose myself in the work for hours…it’s relaxing, really. Later, when I’m done and think back about it…the guilt comes. I feel like I am betraying Jessica and Jack somehow. Like I shouldn’t get to have any pleasure since I let them die.” The words were out of my mouth before I had time to consider them and Dr. Greene actually set down his pen.

“We’ve never really talked in detail about the accident. I understand if you aren’t ready, but if you are, can you tell me about it?”

I nodded but the lump in my throat kept me from speaking immediately. I rose and grabbed another bottle of water. Suddenly I had to do something, anything with my hands. Ripping off the lid I drank half of the bottle. Taking a breath I tried to force the knots in my stomach away.

“She went out alone after I fell asleep. Jessica was close to her due date and I’d been… hovering. I worried about her. But I also was trying to get everything done that I could. Looking back I realize how stupid that was. I should have spent more time with her and less time at work. What is the old adage? You’ll never regret spending less time at work on your deathbed?”

The doctor smiled and nodded. “Yes. Something like that.”

“Her friend Bethany talked to Tamryn at the funeral. She said Jessica snuck out to pay her bookie and was probably hurrying back. I had no idea she even had a problem. Hell, I barely knew she gambled. She always bought lottery tickets, but so do most of the guys I work with. Maybe if I’d been paying more attention to her, I would have seen the signs. They’re so obvious in retrospect. The way she’d suddenly hang up the phone when I came into the room. The mood swings, the insistence on handling all the finances. I should have known. If I had, I would’ve forced her to talk about it. We could always work things out. We could talk about everything and anything.” The doctor picked his pen back up.

“Not everything.” He murmured. I guess he had me there.

“She kept it really well hidden.” I added. My knuckle stung, but when I lifted the towel, the bleeding had stopped. “No one knew she had a problem except Bethany. Until she died and everything fell apart.” I drank down the rest of the bottle and then vented my rage on the empty plastic crushing it flat before dropping it into the recycling bin.

He sat back in his chair, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “Joe, if you don’t mind my saying, you seem pretty hung up on the money. That comes as kind of a surprise to me. You have never struck me as the materialistic type.”

“Of course it wasn’t the money. Fuck the money! You can always make more...” The lump came back into my throat with a vengeance.

“So then why are you so angry with her?”

“I...she…ugh! Do you know what it feels like to fucking hate the woman you love? Depending on the day I would give anything to hold her in my arms or wring her damn neck! She stole from me! Who does that to someone they love?” I was nearly wearing a run in his carpet as I paced back and forth but I needed to vent the anger somehow.

“Lots of people lie to their spouses about money. Some are just bad with finances. Money is the number one cause of conflict in marriages.”

“It’s not the money!” I spat, pacing his narrow office restlessly.

“Then what is it? Because she betrayed you? Tricked you? What is the core of your anger, Joe? When you think of Jessica and the anger comes out, what is buried all the way underneath? What is the ugly center that you don’t want to tell anyone about?” The rage built up until it felt like I was standing in the middle of a bonfire. Shaking, I let the words rush out of me.

“She got herself killed and left me alone! She killed my son!
She
killed him! He never had a chance!” My knees gave out as agonizing pain blossomed in my chest. My lungs burned as I fought to force air past the giant lump in my throat. “I couldn’t save them! I couldn’t save either of them!” The world blurred behind a wall of tears.

“Joe,” Dr. Greene stood and came to my side. He put a hand on my shoulder. “You can’t take that weight upon yourself. Not even your shoulders can carry such a load. Not without crumbling. It was an
accident
: a senseless accident. Yes, she had problems. Yes, she was less than honest with you. She wasn’t perfect. Neither are you.”

I covered my eyes with my palms, trying to rein in my rising fury. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I should have been there! I could have stopped her!” Wiping my eyes I turned away from him, ashamed at anyone seeing my tears.

“How?”

I turned to look at him stupidly. “I don’t know. Somehow.”

“Okay. I’m all ears, Joe. Jessica, a gambling addict from all accounts, was able to hide her malfeasance from all of her colleagues. People who are trained in spotting just such inconsistencies, but she was able to fool them. Yet you feel lax in being able to spot what she was trying to hide from you. Why? Because you were in love? Perhaps you have a psychic gift that you have heretofore never mentioned? No?”

I gave him a dirty look. But I had no argument.

“Then it seems odd to blame yourself for something that no one could have foreseen. It is like blaming yourself for the accident. Unless you caused the accident by negligence, I fail to see how you can shoulder the blame.”

I glared at him. “I knew her. At least I thought I did. If anyone was going to help her…stop her—”

“Did you really have that kind of control over her?” He interjected, cocking his head to the side.

My shoulders slumped and I shook my head. Jess had been her own woman. She always seemed to have everything together. If anyone had controlled anyone in our marriage, it’d been her. One of the things that attracted me to her most was her fierce independence. The doc reached a hand down and after a moment I took it. He pulled me up and led me back to my chair. As I dropped into the seat, he walked back around the desk and sat down.

“What is it that’s changed?” Dr. Greene pulled off his glasses and rubbed his temples.

“What? What do you mean?”

“You’ve been coming in here for a long time. Most days you’ve just sat there with a scowl on your face and watched the clock. A few times you even napped. Don’t misunderstand me. I have no problem taking your money. I get paid either way. But recently you’ve had a breakthrough of some kind. Some catalyst set this desire to ‘get well’ in motion. You’re
trying
now. So what’s changed?”

I raised my shoulders skyward. “I guess I finally got tired of letting everyone down.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Like who?”

“
Everybody
.” I blurted, feeling inexplicably edgy.

“Your sister? Co-workers?” I didn’t like the suspicious way he was eyeing me.

“Yeah…all of the above.” His shrewd gaze was making me uncomfortable.

“How long ago did you say you started carving again?” The question seemed so unconnected that I just stared at him for a minute. He flipped back through his notes.

“Umm…About a month ago.” I thought back. “Yeah.”

He tilted his head and put his pen behind his ear. “And what was the first thing that you made?”

“A spice box. I made it from some scraps I had just lying around the workshop.” I explained.

“Can I see it?” He asked. “Can you bring it next time you come?”

I shook my head. “I gave it away.”

He raised his chin and put on his glasses. “Do you have any pictures? I’ve always wanted to see some of your work.”

I nodded and pulled out my cell phone flipping to the pictures. I slid the phone across the desk to him. He studied them in great detail, enlarging them, zooming in. My stomach sank as I realized just which picture the good doctor was obsessively focused on. My scroll work on the letters of her name was impeccable if I do say so myself. He looked at it for a full minute before handing my phone back. A knowing smile tilted the corners of his mouth as he focused on me like a laser.

Ah, shit. Here we go.

“So, Joe. Who’s Molly?”

MOM’S A GREAT cook. I’d never say otherwise. But, her gravy had always been bland or lumpy as hell. None of us-not even dad- had ever had the heart to tell her this. So in order to make our family holiday as pleasant as possible, I volunteered for gravy duty. By the time I arrived at ten thirty a.m. Thanksgiving morning, Mom had been up baking pies for hours. Attempting to prep for gravy and stuffing turned out to be a battle royale for counter space against her 10 cooling pies.