I’d checked my voice mail a few days earlier, from the client phone. I had a message from my mother, which I was too scared to listen to. I’d spoken to Karim when I first arrived, who informed me that she knew I was off somewhere doing some “American-style self-help” thing, but as for where, why, and for what exactly, she had no idea. I hadn’t checked my email yet, and I was happy to ignore what was waiting in my inbox.

“You sure?” Greg asked. “It’ll probably be your last chance until you leave.”

“I’m sure. How about you—any exciting emails?”

“Jill wants me to meet her in Miami. After I’m done here.”

“Your intern?” He nodded.

I took a big sip of iced tea, so big that my throat ached. “Are you going to?”

He looked down at his computer, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know.”

“But what about your wife? And your daughter?”

He made a joke about how it might be awkward to bring them along. I didn’t laugh. “They’ll still be around after Miami,” he said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “Don’t worry, darling!”

I pulled my hand away. I immediately felt like punching him. What was all of this for, then, all the time we spent talking about his family, listening to him cry about how much he loved them, how much he regretted everything he’d put them through? How much he wanted to change for them. “Look, I’m not strong like you,” he told me. “I just can’t help myself. You said it yourself: I’m a fucking pussy.”

“Yup.” I shut my journal and looked him in the eye. “I guess you really are.”

•

My fourth Friday in treatment was my last day with Charlotte. I wasn’t flying home until Sunday but she didn’t work weekends. I watched the clock hands move forward, wishing they would just stop, but soon it was four thirty. In half an hour I would never see her again, a prospect that saddened me deeply despite the confirmed asymmetry of my feelings. We’d been working with just Richard ever since the midafternoon break, and I was scared that she had left without saying goodbye. I couldn’t stand to sit in group anymore, so I asked Richard, “Is Charlotte still here?”

He tilted his head in the direction of their office. “She’s doing some paperwork.”

“Can I go back there?” I asked. I knew he could see the panic on my face, maybe he even recognized it. Maybe he looked forward to spending time with her each day and understood my fear of never seeing her again. How was everyone not in love with her?

He nodded. “Go for it.”