“You get more and more gorgeous, Cara.” Cara smiled in thanks, as though it was nothing.

“Grace and I are just going to go and get us all some chips.” I saw the worry move across Mum’s face like a shadow. Susie put an arm around her.

“I’m not sure that’s the best plan just now, girls. How about Cara runs out and brings us four portions back? What do you think, Cara?”

Cara looked at me. I shrugged and she said, “Fine by me.”

Susie gave her money to get the chips, and Cara headed out the door. And now I’m back in my room, alone, trying to block out the sound of Mum crying.

Lots of love, Grace xxx

10

Jon

I’m sweating and over forty minutes late for our session. Dr. Bunce opens the door agonizingly slowly.

“Thank you,” I say, pushing past her, coughing on the incense smoke in the hall.

“Shoes,” she says.

I go back and kick my Converse off next to Ruth’s sandals. Ruth is sitting quietly in the therapy room. She doesn’t shout at me when she sees me—not a good sign. She shakes her head, and turns away when I try to kiss her cheek.

“Ruth, don’t be like that. I was working. I’m sorry, I really am, you know how important you are to me.”

But Ruth waits for Dr. Bunce to sit in her chair before she says in a calm, well-trained voice, “Jon, I’ve decided I want us to formally separate.”

I look from Dr. Bunce to Ruth and back again.

“Ruth, don’t be like that. I’m late, that’s all!”

But she shakes her head slowly, as though what is going on inside is physically weighing her down.

“No. I told you how important these sessions are to me, and therefore to our marriage. You chose to completely ignore me, which is symptomatic of our entire relationship. You’ve placed me in a horrible position. I have a choice: either I stay with someone I don’t trust, or I hope I’ll find something better. I’ve chosen the latter.”

“No, no, I think you’re the most important—”

Dr. Bunce’s alarm rings and she says, “That’s time.”

“Oh come on!” I appeal to Dr. Bunce, but she just raises a sharp eyebrow at me, playing the headmistress.

Ruth stands. “Thank you for helping,” she says to Dr. Bunce.

They smile at each other, like the two of them share an understanding. Her composure is aggravating. This whole fucking thing—the incense, the lotus poster in a frame—it’s all so fucking aggravating.

“This is absolute bullshit,” I say, in the wild hope that one of them might come to their senses and agree. But they both carefully ignore me and Ruth follows Dr. Bunce in her slippered feet out of the therapy room. My shoes are still warm as I try to squirm my feet inside, not pausing to put them on properly. I’ll talk to Ruth once we’re outside, on our own, but Ruth’s out of the door too quickly. I kick my sneakers off again so they don’t slow me down and, holding them, ignoring Dr. Bunce’s requests to let Ruth leave, I go after her.