Between Sisters

“That prescription should last for another two weeks. ”

Meghann couldn’t make eye contact. “A couple of times this week, I needed two. The insomnia . . . it really rips me. Sometimes I can’t take it. ”

“Why do you think you can’t sleep?”

“Why do you think I can’t sleep? That’s the relevant opinion, isn’t it?”

Dr. Bloom studied her. She was so still it seemed impossible that her lungs were functioning. “Is it?”

“I have trouble sleeping sometimes. That’s all. Big deal. ”

“And you use drugs and strangers to help you through the night. ”

“I don’t pick up as many men as I used to. But sometimes . . . ” She looked up, saw a sad understanding in Harriet’s eyes. It pissed her off. “Don’t look at me that way. ”

Harriet leaned forward, rested her elbows on the table. Her steepled fingers brushed the underside of her chin. “You use sex to dispel loneliness. But what’s lonelier than anonymous sex?”

“At least when the guys leave my bed, I don’t care. ”

“Eric again. ”

“Eric. ”

Harriet sat back. “You were married for less than a year. ”

“Don’t minimize it, Harriet. He broke my heart. ”

“Of course he did. And you suck on that candy every day in your practice, as women tell you their sad and similar stories. But the flavor has been gone for years. You’re not worried about someone breaking your heart again. You’re worried you don’t have a heart to break. The bottom line is, you’re scared, and fear isn’t an emotion that fits well with your need to control. ”

It was true. Meg was tired of being alone and terrified that her life would be a stretch of empty road. A part of her wanted to nod her head, to say yes, and beg for a way to shed her fear. But that was a thin, reedy voice lost amid the screaming blare of self-preservation. The bedrock lesson of her life was that love didn’t last. It was better to be lonely and strong than heartbroken and weak.

Her voice, when she found it, was honed and tight. “I had a difficult week at the office. I’m getting impatient with my clients. I can’t seem to feel for them the way I used to. ”

Harriet was too professional to show her disappointment with something as obvious as a sigh or a frown. Her only reaction was to unsteeple her fingers. That oozing, uncomfortable compassion was back in her eyes, though. That poor-Meghann-so-afraid-of-intimacy look. “Your emotions feel distant and inaccessible? Why do you think that would be?”

“As an attorney, I’m trained to see things dispassionately. ”

“Yet we both know that the best lawyers are compassionate. And you, Meghann, are an extremely good attorney. ”

They were on safe ground again, although it could get slippery again in a second. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m not as good as I used to be. I used to help people. Even care about them. ”

“And now?”

“I’m some balance-sheet automaton who moves through the day crunching finances and spitting out settlements. I find myself hashing and rehashing canned speeches to women whose lives are falling apart. I used to be pissed off at the husbands. Now I’m just tired. It’s not a game—I take it too seriously still for that—but it’s . . . not real life, either. Not to me. ”

“You might consider a vacation. ”

“A what?” Meghann smiled. They both knew that relaxation didn’t come easily.

“A vacation. Ordinary people take weeks in Hawaii or Aspen. ”

“Dissatisfaction isn’t something you can run away from. Isn’t that Psychology 101?”

“I’m not suggesting you run away. I’m suggesting you give yourself a break. Maybe get a tan. You could spend a few days at your sister’s place in the mountains. ”

“Claire and I aren’t likely to vacation together. ”

“You’re afraid to talk to her. ”