“It is the best pizza on the planet.” He gleefully sucked a string of mozzarella into his mouth and wiped the grease off his chin. They were huddled together in their favorite Back Bay dive. It was Tuesday night, and they practically had Duke’s all to themselves.
“Anyway, guess what my 3 PM wore today?” She kept her voice low, even though no one else was sitting close enough to overhear their conversation. They’d snagged a secluded booth, their favorite spot, and always broke doctor–patient confidentiality sotto voce. Kate and James shared everything with each other, but never outside their private bubble. “She was dressed in the skimpiest outfit. Platform shoes, a miniskirt, and a vinyl jacket. In this weather. No coat, no boots, no gloves. And I had to ask—where’s the mother in all this? I’m surprised she didn’t get hypothermia.”
“Meh. The parents are coping with their own bullshit.”
“It breaks my heart all over the place. I should’ve gone to law school.”
He looked her in the eye. “We both know why you got into this field, Kate.”
“Yeah, and that’s another thing. I mentioned her again today. Savannah.”
“So?”
“Nikki’s very inquisitive. What if she starts to ask questions?”
He shrugged. “Then you’ll deal with it.”
Kate shook her head. “It was dumb of me. She’s finally beginning to trust me. I told her I’d always be honest with her. But I’m not sure I could handle it if she started asking questions about my sister.”
“You’ll handle it just fine. Your training will kick in.”
“Maybe. Anyway. She wanted to give me some things, and I had to remind her—no gifts.”
“What kind of gifts?” he asked.
“Some things she found at the beach. A skirt weight from the twenties. Ever heard of them?”
“Skirt weights? No, but this is intriguing. Why did she give my girlfriend a skirt weight? Does she know something I don’t know?”
“Ha. My boyfriend is hilarious. No, apparently flappers used to sew them into their skirts to keep the wind from blowing them up and revealing their legs.” She shook her head. “It’s so sad. Here’s this whip-smart, funny, brave, na?ve teenager talking about the olden days, when the women were much more modest. She kept tugging on her miniskirt. It’s supposed to be empowering.” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s what peer pressure and a lack of parental control will do.”
“I’m telling you. It breaks my heart.”
He paused with the pizza poised an inch from his mouth and said, “You can’t get emotional about your clients, Kate. It doesn’t help them. Not one bit.”
“But what if I fail them? What exactly does it prove, after all my years of training, if I can’t help them?”
“Some of them you’ll fix. Some you won’t.” James shrugged. “Nobody ever promised you a rose garden.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “More snark on my birthday?”
“You’re welcome.”
Kate leaned back. “You never have a moment of self-doubt, do you?”
“No, but isn’t that what you like about me? My blind self-confidence?”
“Yeah, sort of,” she admitted with a laugh.
“See?”
“I’m just saying…”
“Hey, guess what? I got you something.”
“Sorry, but I can’t accept gifts from my patients,” she quipped.
“Close your eyes.” He dropped his pizza and wiped his hands on a rumpled napkin and waited until she’d obeyed him. Then he took something out of his coat pocket. “Okay. Open.” He was holding a ring-sized jewelry box in his hand.
“James, no.” She cringed. “Seriously?”
“Relax. It’s not what you think.”
She covered her face with embarrassment. Today was her thirty-second birthday, and she’d told him repeatedly— no parties, no people, no presents. Just you, me, and Duke’s bacon-and-cheese pizza.
“Happy birthday,” he said, handing her the little box.
It had a perfect weight to it. Her face softened with delight and dread as she opened it and gazed at the slender silver ring with the dazzling amethyst centerpiece. “Wow,” she whispered.
“It’s just a ring,” James said. “Nothing special.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Matches your eyes.”
“Ooh. Not exactly.”
Kate’s eyes were lavender. She blushed easily. She was blushing now. She took the ring out of its velvet box and slipped it on her finger. “Oh, James. I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s just a ring, for God’s sake,” he said tenderly. “Because I kept passing it in the jewelry store on my way to work, and it reminded me of you every damn day. Same color eyes. Although, yeah, now that you mention it, spoilsport, you’re right, it’s not the exact color, but close enough. Cut me some slack, slugger.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Happy birthday.” He leaned in for a kiss.
She kissed him gratefully, tenderly, and then paraded her hand. “So, how do you like my non-engagement ring?”
“Yeah,” he said with a sarcastic smile. “Your I’m-not-ever-getting-married ring.”
“My he’s-just-my-boyfriend ring.”
“Christ. You’re such a commitment-phobe.”
“You can thank my miserable childhood for that.”
“Relax. It’s an ordinary gift-type ring. Okay? Because I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She rarely wore rings or necklaces, a fact that she must’ve mentioned to him a thousand times before. Her sensitive skin couldn’t tolerate jewelry. Not even exquisite, expensive jewelry. But James, being a psychiatrist, had assumed it was the thought of marriage, rather than the ring itself, that was causing her to break out in hives. And this was probably a test, or else a “blind trial” if you will, to find out how long she could tolerate the ring before she took it off and put it away in its box. Or maybe he wasn’t so much testing her (that would be manipulative) as he was seeking answers. Kate didn’t want to get married, and yet she was crazy in love with the guy. Which brought her to the same sore spot in her brain, the gray area she was constantly prodding and poking. What the hell is wrong with you? Why not marry him? He’s fantastic. James is everything you ever wanted. What is your freaking problem? She figured they were headed in that direction, just waiting for her to make up her mind—put another way, she was waiting to fall in love with the idea of marriage. She’d already fallen in love with James.
In truth, Kate had trust issues. She had abandonment issues. She and her sister, Savannah, had lost their mother early on, and their father had been emotionally remote. Dr. Bram Wolfe, an old-school family physician, possessed the uncanny ability to disappear on you, even when he was sitting right in front of you—emotionally, psychologically, mentally. His eyes would glaze over and his mouth would stitch shut, and he’d zoom a million miles away in seconds. He would stay gone for a very long time—detached, unreachable. It never ceased to amaze Kate, this remarkable disappearing act of his. She called him “the bullet train of fathers,” because he could take off like a shot.
And the hits just kept on coming. Six years after her mother passed away, Kate’s little sister went missing. It ended badly, and her father vanished for good after that, psychologically speaking. By the time she turned seventeen, Kate’s entire family had disappeared on her. Mother—dead. Sister—dead. Father—emotionally unavailable. This trifecta of traumas was at the root of all her deep-seated anxieties and self-doubts, as well as a source of her strength. It was the main reason she’d gone into psychiatry, as opposed to law or medicine.
“Glad you like the ring,” James said with grave seriousness now.
“I love it.”
Ten minutes later, she was still wearing the ring. They paid the bill at the register and pushed the heavy front door open, laughing at the handwritten sign that said PUSH HARD. Kate made the same joke every time—“Harder, James, harder.” And he responded the same way every time—“I’m pushing, I’m pushing.”
“God, we are so easily amused,” she sighed as they linked arms and tumbled out into the crisp cold night air. Winter in Boston. Dark streets and frosty breath. Soon it would be spring, but not soon enough. They walked the two and a half blocks to James’s silver Lexus and got in. She sat shivering inside the new-smelling interior and eyed him suspiciously.