The Wednesday Group (5 page)

“Perhaps this is a good time to talk about what addiction means,” Kathryn suggests.

“Number one,” Bridget says, raising a finger with a chewed nail, “addictions escalate. And number two”—she raises another finger—“addicts have withdrawals when they stop. I'm a nurse in a psych ward. I've seen it all.”

“I don't think my husband had withdrawals,” Lizzy says.

“Do you believe he's stopped?” Kathryn asks.

Lizzy tugs at a thread on the couch. “I want to believe he has.”

“Not all people have withdrawals in the classic sense as we know them,” Kathryn tells her.

“And,” Bridget speaks up. “Addicts lie. They are con artists, and bullshitters.” Her voice is abrasive, and Hannah believes fear courses beneath Bridget's tough exterior.

Gail draws in a deep breath. “I do not believe my husband is any of those things.”

“Then maybe he's not an addict,” Bridget tells her.

“I don't think that's for you to judge,” she replies. “Addicts are individuals and behave in different ways. We can't generalize.”

“I didn't say they weren't different.” Bridget scuffs her boots on the carpet. “I just think that addicts have some similar characteristics. And one of those is lying.”

“Lying is often part of an addict's behavior,” Kathryn adds.

“Well, I know that Jonah has been working hard in therapy, and he has been vigorously honest with me since the discovery.”

Bridget rolls her eyes. A taut silence falls. Hannah would like out.

“Bridget,” Kathryn says after a few moments, “would you like to tell us why you're here?”

Bridget glances around, then focuses her gaze on Hannah, whose first instinct is to turn away.

“We're telling what our husbands are into, right?” she asks.

Hannah nods and tries to imagine telling these strangers about Adam. It feels impossible.

“Michael is into the chat rooms.” Bridget's foot bounces. “Porn too.”

“That must be difficult for you,” Kathryn says.

“He gets off on the chase. He likes to know all these women get hot for him. He's on every dating site known to man, and he sends pictures of himself.” She pauses. “It's fucked up. But if he ever crossed the line and slept with someone else…” Her small hands ball into fists.

“I don't think it matters what the exact nature of the addiction is,” Gail says. “It comes down to feeling betrayed.”

“Oh, it matters to me,” Bridget tells her. “I'd kick his ass out if he slept with anyone.”

“Does it frighten you that your husband might be doing more than he's telling you?” Kathryn asks.

Bridget twirls her finger in her hair again.

“Listening to other stories can be terrifying,” Kathryn says. “Considering the betrayal you have all already experienced, it would not be surprising to start wondering if your husband was doing more than he is saying.”

If Hannah finds out more, she will shatter.

Bridget bites her bottom lip, then glances at the women on the couch. “So, what about your husbands?” she asks.

The striking young woman gathers her hair and ties it in a knot behind her head. She scoots forward a little. “I am Flavia. My husband, his name is Demetrius. He is from Greece. I call him Dema.” Her face flushes. “First I must say that, although I live in this country since five years now, my English is not always so good. Excuse me please. I am from Brazil.”

“Your English is fabulous compared to my Spanish,” Bridget says.

“I believe she speaks Portuguese,” Gail interjects.

“Actually, I speak both.”

“Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your story,” Bridget says as she glides a cool glance in Gail's direction.

“It is fine.” Flavia smiles. “It is not something I like to tell, so stop me when you like.”

No one speaks. No one stops her.

“This is how I find out,” she begins. “I work for two years in the Boston Library. One day, not too long ago, one of the janitors brings me an article from the newspaper. He thinks it is my husband's name he sees in the paper. It tells he was arrested for groping on the subway. I nearly fainted. On the way home, I think of all the ways that Dema will tell me that the article is not about him. By the time I walk into my house, I have convinced myself there are many other Greek men in Boston with the same name. But when I show him the newspaper, his head sinks. My heart felt like it explodes, and little glass pieces of it swim through my arms. I never have this feeling. Not even when my father died.” She stops and rubs her arms.

Hannah thinks of the politically correct anti-groping posters she's seen the few times she's been on the subway.

“Then.” Flavia shakes her head, and her hair falls out of its knot. “The library finds out, and I have no more job. Not because of my husband, they make sure to tell me, but because there is no more funding.”

“Yeah, right,” Bridget says.

Flavia re-knots her hair. “Yeah, right,” she says with an American accent.

“Did you think of suing?” Gail asks.

“I cannot afford a lawyer, and I also do not want more attention put on this.”

“He lives with you now?” Bridget asks.

“Yes, but I do not have the sex with him. That is the limit for me.” She slices her elegant hand through the air.

“You need to make boundaries in order for you to feel safe,” Kathryn says. “You will all make different ones. What's important is that you learn what works for you.” She looks at Hannah. This is her cue to talk. Her palms are damp, her heart races. She glances at the rug as her face heats.

“Lizzy,” Kathryn says, sensitive enough to move on. “Are there any boundaries you've made that have helped you?”

“I don't think I'm good at that. I think … well.… it's more like I've made anti-boundaries. The thing is, I probably should say I won't have sex with him, but I want him to prove that he wants me and not some porn star dressed in a Catholic schoolgirl uniform with pigtails.” She hesitates. “He won't have sex with me.”

Now Hannah feels the need to speak. “You could be Angelina Jolie, and he'd still watch porn.”

“I know.” Lizzy smiles. She has a round, warm face. “I try to tell myself that, but I'm not exactly young anymore, and I don't have time to work out at the gym every day. I have cellulite on my thighs.”

“It is important,” Kathryn says, “that you begin to understand that your husband's addiction isn't about you.”

“How the hell is she supposed to believe that?” Bridget asks. “He's jerking off watching other women and not having sex with her. How is that not about her?”

“Of course she's affected by it,” Kathryn says. “It can take a long time for it not to feel so personal.”

“It's always going to feel personal,” Hannah says. She may not be able to talk about herself, but having lived with a sex addict for years, she has learned a few things. “Sex in a relationship is the most intimate and vulnerable way we express ourselves, and when we've been made to feel as if our husbands want something or someone other than us, it's very painful.” She pours herself a glass of water, believing she can now drink without her hands shaking.

“I disagree,” Gail says. “Jonah doesn't want other women, and I recognize that. It's a compulsion with him. A disease.”

Bridget grimaces. “I fucking hate that it's labeled as a disease. It's such a lame excuse. And then there's all the childhood emotional reasons. Poor Michael, his parents were alcoholics and didn't give him enough attention. My mother died when I was thirteen, and I didn't become a sex addict.”

“Well, I happen to believe it is a disease,” Gail says. “And since Jonah has also recognized it as that, he feels less stigmatized and has been more self-reflective. In turn, he's been healing.”

“I get why alcoholism and drug addiction are diseases. They actually change body chemistry,” Bridget says.

“That also happens with sex addicts. Neurotransmissions in the brain are altered. Essentially, it's the same thing,” Gail replies.

“There has been quite a lot of debate in the psychiatric community about just this issue. Some people think of addictions as illnesses. Some believe they are compulsions,” Kathryn says.

“Well, this is what I think,” Bridget says. “Sex releases endorphins. I feel kind of high from it too. Doesn't make me an addict.”

“It's when you can't stop. When it gets in the way of your everyday functioning, when you withdraw from your intimate relationships. Sex addicts lose their jobs, their spouses. Everything. Just like any other addiction.” Gail glances around the room, satisfied she's won the debate. Lizzy and Flavia nod.

“Does your husband go to meetings?” Bridget asks.

“Yes. He's gotten a lot from them. And your … partner?”

“Husband. He goes, but sometimes the twelve-step stuff seems like a load of crap. Like he has to learn from a group that he's not supposed to lie to his wife.” She huffs. “Seems like shit. That's all.”

“Hannah,” Kathryn says, “is there anything you'd like to add?”

Hannah's mouth goes dry. She knows she's supposed to share something about herself. It's not only her turn, it's her obligation. She rubs her hands along her jeans.

“My husband seems to get help from those groups,” she says. “But I understand what you mean, Bridget. It does seem as if some of the things they talk about are pretty basic. I think for them it's about applying those guidelines to their addictive personality. For me it feels like I have two husbands: the one I fell in love with—he's thoughtful and kind; and the addict—he's narcissistic and self-centered.”

Bridget nods. “I'm just so angry.”

“Do you know the serenity prayer?” Gail asks.

“I hate that prayer. I mean, think about it, we're just supposed to sit back and wait for them to change? Not get involved? It makes no sense.”

“Only they can change themselves,” Gail replies.

“Then think of this,” Bridget snaps. “If we hadn't caught them, you think they'd be changing or going to those groups? Probably not.” She holds up her chin, mirroring Gail.

“I don't think you understand the prayer.” Gail squares her shoulders. “It's about surrendering to a greater power.”

“No, I don't think you understand. I'd love to just toss in the towel and tell Michael to fix himself and figure this all out, but he's not about to do that unless I help him. We've decided to stick with these men, and that means we're tied to them. Change doesn't happen in a vacuum.”

“I think she has a good point,” Lizzy says. “I doubt Greg would be getting help if I hadn't caught him. I think we're often the catalysts for change.”

“Yeah.” Bridget points to Lizzy. “We're the catalysts.”

“Before Jonah and I leave for work in the morning, we kneel together and say the serenity prayer.” Although Gail is at eye level with Bridget, she appears to be looking down on the younger woman. “It helps remind us to stay vigilant.”

“I sure as hell will never be kneeling and praying with my husband,” Bridget mumbles.

Kathryn leans toward her. “I think part of being in this group is learning to accept the different ways people choose to struggle through this.”

“And I think some husband-bashing might do us all good.” Bridget kicks up her leg and grins.

Hannah smiles.

Gail clenches the armrests of her chair. “I'm afraid,” she says, “this is not the right group for me. I would prefer not to listen to someone denigrate my husband. Kathryn, I thank you for letting me come, but I will not be returning.”

“I understand,” Kathryn says. “But I would like very much if we could all try again next week. We will disagree about many things, but that's part of what being in a group is about. What we need to do is agree that we will try to withhold judgment of other people's partners.” She looks at Bridget.

“Yeah, all right.” She pauses, then bites her nails. “Gail, I'm sorry. You can keep on praying.”

“Well, I thank you for your permission,” Gail replies. “But I need to think about it. I might be looking for something that is structured a little differently.”

Hannah sits taller. “If you want the twelve-step structure where you can't really talk to anyone, why not go to one of those groups?” Her question sounds more aggressive than she had intended.

“I don't want a step group. I'm just looking for something a bit more serene. A group where people have reached another level, that's all.”

“What level?” Hannah shoots back.

“I've been doing a lot of work in therapy, with my husband and on my own,” she says. “I think I'm at a different place. I've been through the anger and the grief. We're in the healing stage, and I don't think it will be good for me to go backward.”

“If some of the things Bridget says will make you slip backward, maybe your footing isn't as strong as you think,” Hannah tells her.

“Gail,” Kathryn says, “we circle around with our feelings. Sometimes we think we're over the anger, and it comes back. Sometimes we find ourselves forgiving even if there's more grief to live through. It's a cyclical process. I think having people at all different stages is what makes this a powerful group.” Kathryn places her hands firmly on the arms of the chair. “It is through your shared experiences that you can all find the courage to move forward.”

“I respect everything you're saying. It's just that sometimes a personality conflict might get in the way,” Gail says.

“So then I'll fucking leave.” Bridget picks up her jacket and stands. “You can sit around and preach to everyone else. I don't need this.”

“Don't,” Hannah says. “Please.”