Page 28 of The Therapist
‘Isn’t there someone you can call to stay with the children? I think you should report it to the police tonight. She wouldn’t leave her children.’
Mike looks at the woman and wonders exactly what kind of a therapist she is. There’s no way she has even the faintest clue who Sandy is, that much is obvious.
‘She would,’ says Mike softly. ‘You think you know her but you don’t.’ He understands it, he really does. It’s always the husband, isn’t it? Anytime he has ever seen or read anything about a missing wife, his mind automatically blames the husband. Because it usually is the husband. Men are bigger, stronger, angrier. Men are the perpetrators of violence. And women are the victims. But not all men and not all women. Although how is this particular woman to know that? Sandy has had a good few weeks of talking to Lana to convince the woman that Mike is an abuser. And Sandy can be very convincing when she wants to be. But surely a therapist can see through obvious lies?
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Lana asks and Mike wishes that he had stuck around at the appointment, maybe convinced this woman of the truth about his wife.
In the kitchen Lila shrieks and Felix shouts, ‘No, Lila, that’s bad.’
‘Give me a second,’ says Mike and he goes to the kitchen, where Lila has taken Felix’s iPad and is trying to findBlueyon his screen. ‘Mine is flat, Felix, it’s flat.’
Irritation and anger mingle inside Mike. He needs to sort this out. He can see that Sandy’s therapist thinks he did something to her and she can believe whatever she wants. He needs Sandy tocome home so she can sort out the house and the kids and then they can talk about him losing his job. She’s going to be beyond pissed and he just wants to get it over and done with.
‘Right, both of you lose iPads now,’ he yells, hating that he can’t control his anger even with someone in the next room who thinks the problem is that he can’t control his anger. But that’s how it goes sometimes. It rises inside him, a tsunami of rage that he can do nothing about.
‘But, Dad!’ shrieks Felix.
‘Go to your room,’ bellows Mike, and Felix darts out of the kitchen, followed by his sister. He is the worst parent in the world. He groans and feels a sharp stabbing pain join the low-level tightness in his head.
In the living room Lana has her phone in her hand. ‘I’m calling the police,’ she says and Mike lunges forward and grabs the phone. ‘Just wait,’ he snaps. ‘Let me explain.’
And now he can see she’s not just scared but terrified. He has grabbed her phone and she’s no longer close to the front door. Outside, the hailstones hit the house, clattering as they smash against windows and the roof, and it occurs to Mike that Lana could scream as loud as she liked and no one would hear her. If the kids are in their rooms with their doors closed, they wouldn’t hear her either, and if they did, they would probably be too scared to come out. Right now, he could do anything he wanted to this woman.
‘There’s nothing to explain,’ says Lana, her voice rising over the noise outside. ‘Your wife is missing. The police need to know.’ Her face is flushed and he can see her eyes darting from side to side, seeking out an escape.
Mike would like to roar his frustration but instead he takes a deep breath and hands her phone back to her, which she takes with two fingers, like he’s made it dirty. ‘Lana, you need to let meexplain, and after I explain, if you think we should call the police or go to the police, we will, okay?’
He can see she wants to leave but she nods slowly, stepping back, the phone in her hand, where she taps the screen and then turns it to show him. ‘All I need to do is hit the call button.’
‘Do you want to sit down? Can I get you a drink?’ he tries.
‘No.’ She steps back again, closer to the door of the living room. ‘Just tell me what you have to say. I have to go and get my son, and if I’m late, everyone will worry. They know I would never be late. And I’ve told…I told the receptionist at the practice that I was coming here.’
He knows that’s a lie. Therapists don’t visit their patients at home. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know.
Mike shakes his head. ‘You think I hurt her right, that I hit her?’ He locks eyes with Lana.
‘I need to go and get my child.’
Mike knows he’s going to get nowhere now. This woman is not going to believe a single thing he says.
Upstairs he hears Lila shout at Felix and he gives up.
‘Fine,’ he says, going to the door and opening it, letting rain blow into the entrance hall.
‘I’m going to the police tomorrow if you don’t,’ says Lana.
‘Before you do, you should know: I don’t hurt her. It’s actually the other way around.’ He feels the heat of a blush on his face. He’s a man but he doesn’t feel much like a man right now. He feels like a boy. A scared stupid little boy. And he hates feeling like that because that’s when he does things he knows he’s going to regret.
TWELVE
Lana
As I stand in the entrance hall, the rain flying at me as the wind blows in, I have no idea how to respond to what Mike has said. He must be at least six feet tall, if not more, and he has broad shoulders. He looks like he works out and like he could lift his wife in a single hand. How stupid does he think I am?
‘Before you laugh at me, let me explain.’
My instinct is to run, to get out of this house and go straight to the police, but there is something in the way he’s looking at me that makes me stay. I step forward, allowing him to close the front door, relieved to be out of the cold and the rain. Is this a lie, and if it is, why? What kind of a person says something like this and thinks they will be believed? And if I stay and listen, will he tell me where his wife is?
