The Other Side of Midnight

Catherine shook her head helplessly. "I--I don't know."

"Have you ever had a nervous breakdown?"

She was watching him now, her eyes wary. "No. Do you think I need one?"

He did not smile. He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "The human psyche is a delicate thing, Mrs. Douglas. It can take only so much pain and when the pain becomes unbearable, it escapes into hidden recesses of the mind that we are just beginning to explore. Your emotions are stretched very tight." He looked at her a moment. "I think it is a good thing you came to someone for help."

"I know I'm a little nervous," Catherine said defensively. "That's why I drink. To relax me."

"No," he said bluntly. "You drink to escape." Nikodes got up and walked over to her. "I think there's probably a good deal we can do for you. By 'we,' I m

ean you and I. It will not be simple."

"Tell me what to do."

"To begin with I am going to send you to a clinic for a thorough physical examination. My feeling is that they will find nothing basically wrong with you. Next, you are going to stop drinking. Then I am going to put you on a diet. All right so far?"

Catherine hesitated, then nodded.

"You are going to enroll in a gymnasium, where you will work out regularly to get your body back in shape. I have an excellent physiotherapist who will give you massages. You will go to a beauty parlor once a week. All this will take time, Mrs. Douglas. You did not get in this condition overnight, and it will not be changed overnight." He smiled at her reassuringly. "But I can promise you that in a few months--even a few weeks--you will begin to look and feel like a different woman. When you look in your mirror, you will feel proud--and when your husband looks at you, he will find you attractive."

Catherine stared at him, her heart lifting. It was as though some unbearable burden had been removed from deep inside her, as though she had suddenly been given a new chance to live.

"You must clearly understand that I can only suggest this program for you," the doctor was saying. "It is you who must do it."

"I will," Catherine said fervently. "I promise."

"To stop drinking will be the most difficult part."

"No, it won't," Catherine said. And as she said it, she knew it was true. The doctor had been right: She had been drinking in order to escape. Now she had a goal, she knew where she was going. She was going to win back Larry. "I won't touch another drop," she said firmly.

The doctor saw the look on her face and nodded, satisfied. "I believe you, Mrs. Douglas."

Catherine rose to her feet. It amazed her how clumsy and awkward her body was, but all that would change now. "I'd better go out and start buying some skinny clothes," she smiled.

The doctor wrote something on a card. "This is the address of the clinic. They will be expecting you. I will see you again after you have had your examination."

On the street Catherine looked for a taxi, then she thought, to hell with that. I might as well start getting used to exercise. She began to walk. She passed a shop window and stopped to stare at her reflection.

She had been so quick to blame Larry for the disintegration of their marriage without ever questioning what share of the blame was hers. Why would he want to come home to someone who looked like she did? How slowly and subtly this stranger had crept in without her being aware of it. She wondered how many marriages had died in this same way, not with a bang--and there certainly hasn't been much of that lately, Catherine thought, wryly--but with a whimper, just like good old T.S. Eliot said. Well, that was all in the past. From now on she would not look back, she would only look ahead to the wonderful future.

Catherine had reached the fashionable Salonika district. She was walking past a beauty parlor and on a sudden impulse she turned and went inside. The reception room was white marble, large and elegant. A haughty receptionist looked at Catherine disapprovingly and said, "Yes, may I help you?"

"I want to make an appointment for tomorrow morning," Catherine said. "I want everything. The works." The name of their top hair stylist suddenly popped into her head. "I want Aleko."

The woman shook her head. "I can give you an appointment, Madame, but you will have to take someone else."

"Listen," Catherine said firmly, "you tell Aleko that he either takes me or I'll go around Athens telling everyone I'm one of his regular customers."

The woman's eyes opened wide in shocked surprise. "I--I will see what I can do," she said hastily. "Come in at ten in the morning."

"Thanks," Catherine grinned. "I'll be here." And she walked out.

Ahead of her she saw a small taverna with a sign in the window that read "MADAME PIRIS--FORTUNE-TELLING." It seemed vaguely familiar and she suddenly remembered the day that Count Pappas had told her a story about Madame Piris. It was something about a policeman and a lion--but she could not remember the details. Catherine did not believe in fortune-tellers and yet the impulse to go in was irresistible. She needed reassurance, someone to confirm her feeling about her wonderful new future, to tell her that life was going to be beautiful again, worth living again. She opened the door and walked inside.

After the bright sunshine it took Catherine several moments to get used to the cavernous darkness of the room. She made out a bar in the corner and a dozen tables and chairs. A tired-looking waiter walked up to her and addressed her in Greek.

"Nothing to drink, thank you," Catherine said. She enjoyed hearing herself say the words and she repeated them. "Nothing to drink. I want to see Madame Piris. Is she here?"