yet to dig up every answer I need, but I’ve gotten my hands on the one with the most value to me: what had sent my mind spiraling away from my body one October afternoon.
I’ve tried since I’ve been at Gabby’s to stay on top of my work. No podcast this week—I ended up bumping it after all, calling Derek and informing him that Sasha wasn’t ready to handle the show on her own. Next, I called Sasha and told her if she ever went behind my back again, it would be her final day as my intern. Let the chips fall where they may.
I’ve filled Roger in since I’ve been here. Hugh, too. And Damien. I still don’t know if his “interest” in me was sincere, but he took the time and seemed to care. I figured I owed him an update.
Gabby reemerges a minute later, carrying a bottle of chardonnay and two wineglasses. She sets the glasses on the table, uncorks the wine, and pours.
“Are you going to keep working with the private eye?” she asks.
“Yeah, he’s still trying to figure out where I was Wednesday night and very early Thursday, though of course I have the facts that matter most. You were right all along, Gabby. I had witnessed something terrible.”
“Does that mean the fight with Hugh never played a role in your disassociation?”
“Not directly at least, though I was obviously pretty upset and discombobulated afterwards. It seems I must have turned my phone off when I was at Le Pain Tuesday, probably because I didn’t want to see any more calls from him coming in.”
“I assume you went by train to Erling’s. But do you think you took the train back to the city after finding the body?”
“Williams is looking into it, but probably. When you dissociate, you can still function normally, and I probably wasn’t totally unglued by then. I mean, I called WorkSpace, so I still knew who I was, plus I showed up there later. But I was probably in bad shape already. I left my purse in my drawer, almost as if I was leaving myself behind.”
Gabby nods and takes a long sip of wine. “Erling must have been totally freaked when she started to piece the truth together.”
“Absolutely. And in hindsight I realize that once she began having suspicions, she made sure she was in close contact with me. I think she even said little things to rattle me. She insisted I should have a lawyer with me if I spoke to the police again. That made me so tense at the time. And sometimes I just felt stressed being in her presence, but didn’t understand why.”
“Ugh, I’m so sorry for everything you went through. Will this affect how much you can trust the new therapist?”
“I don’t think so. This one’s very different, and she’s a psychiatrist, too, so the approach won’t be the same. She even wants me to try medication, something to help prevent a relapse. I feel okay right now, but I don’t want to take any chances. If the case in New Jersey goes to trial, I’ll certainly have to testify.”
Gabby jumps up, ducks into the kitchen again, and returns shortly with a bowl of hummus and little squares of toasted pita bread.
“And what about Hugh?” she asks, plopping back into her chair.
“I told him I would meet him at the apartment for dinner tomorrow night. I can’t put it off any longer.”
I grab a pita square and scoop up hummus with it. This is the first time since Sunday that I’ve had even a hint of an appetite.
“Are you going to try to work things out with him?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll talk tomorrow. And then, I guess, I’ll take it from there.”
I’m actually pretty sure what I’m going to do, but it doesn’t feel fair to admit it to Gabby before I tell Hugh. He’s still my husband.
“Well, just so you know, you’re welcome here any time.”
“Thanks, Gab. It’s been so good to spend time with you again.” A thought suddenly occurs to me. “Hey, by the way I never found the gift you dropped off for me on Sunday.”
Gabby flops back onto the cushion, raking her hair with her hands. “Oh boy,” she says with a sigh. “There never was a gift.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’d gone to your apartment to talk to Hugh.”
“Talk to Hugh about what?” I say, feeling a ripple of worry.
“The fact that I didn’t believe he was telling you the whole