The Perfect Wife

“Okay, Sherlock,” the guard said skeptically. “Assuming you’re right, how am I supposed to find him? Did you see what floors the elevator stopped on?”

“Eight. But if I’m right, that won’t matter. If he’s a hotel guest, I gather that’s his floor and that’s where he’ll stay.”

“And if he’s not a guest?” the guard asked.

“If he’s not, I’m guessing he’ll be coming straight back down on the elevator that’s returning to the lobby right now.”

Just as she said that, the elevator door opened and the sweaty, suited man stepped out, newspaper in one hand, briefcase in the other. He began walking to the exit.

“I’m guessing he’s going to stash that one somewhere and start the whole procedure over again,” Jessie said.

“Stay here,” the guard said to her, and then spoke into his radio. “I’m gonna need backup in the lobby ASAP.”

He approached the suited man, who saw him out of the corner of his eye and picked up the pace of his stride. So did the guard. The suited man broke into a run and was just pushing his way out the front door when he collided with another security guard running in the opposite direction. Both of them sprawled out on the ground.

Jessie’s guard grabbed hold of the suited man, lifted him up, yanked his arm behind his back, and slammed him against the hotel wall.

“Mind if I look in your bag, sir?” he demanded.

Jessie wanted to see how it would all play out but a quick glance at her watch showed that her appointment with Dr. Lemmon, set for 11 a.m., was in five minutes. She’d have to skip the walk back and catch a cab just to make it in time. She wouldn’t even have the chance to say goodbye to the guard. She worried that if she tried, he’d insist that she stick around to give the police her statement.

She barely made it and was out of breath and just sitting down in the waiting room when Dr. Lemmon opened her office door to invite her in.

“Did you run here from Westport Beach?” the doctor asked with a chuckle.

“Actually, I kind of did.”

“Well, come in and get comfortable,” Dr Lemmon said, closing the door behind her and pouring them both glasses of water from a pitcher filled with lemon and cucumber slices. She still had the same awful perm that Jessie remembered, with tight little blonde ringlets that bounced when they touched her shoulders. She wore thick glasses that made her sharp, owl-like eyes appear tinier. She was a small woman, barely over five feet tall. But she was visibly wiry, probably a result of the yoga she’d told Jessie she did three times a week. For a woman in her mid-sixties, she looked great.

Jessie sat down in the comfy easy chair she always used for sessions and immediately settled back into the old vibe she was used to. She hadn’t been here in a while, well over a year, and had hoped to keep it that way. But it was a place of comfort, where she’d struggled with, and intermittently succeeded in, making peace with her past.

Dr. Lemmon handed her the water, sat down across from her, picked up a legal pad and pen, and rested them on her lap. That was her sign that the session had formally started.

“What are we discussing today, Jessie?” she asked warmly.

“Good news first, I guess. I’m doing my practicum at DSH-Metro, NRD Unit.”

“Oh wow. That is impressive. Who’s your faculty adviser?”

“Warren Hosta at UC-Irvine,” Jessie said. “Do you know him?”

“We’ve interacted,” the doctor said cryptically. “I think you’re in good hands. He’s prickly but he knows his stuff, which is what matters for you.”

“I’m glad to hear that because I didn’t have much choice,” Jessie noted. “He was only one The Panel would approve in the area.”

“I guess that in order to get what you want, you have to color inside their lines a bit. This is what you wanted, right?”

“It is,” Jessie said.

Dr. Lemmon looked at her closely. An unspoken moment of understanding passed between them. Back when Jessie had been interrogated about her thesis by the authorities, Dr. Lemmon had shown up at the police station out of the blue. Jessie remembered watching as her psychiatrist spoke quietly to several people who’d been silently observing her interview. After that, the questions seemed less accusatory and more respectful.

It was only later that Jessie learned Dr. Lemmon was a member of The Panel and was well aware of the goings-on at NRD. She had even treated some of the patients there. Looking back, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all, Jessie had sought this woman out as a therapist precisely because of her reputation for expertise in that area.

“Can I ask you something, Jessie?” Dr. Lemmon said. “You say working at NRD is what you want. But have you considered that the place may not give you the answers you’re looking for?”

“I just want to better understand how these people think,” Jessie insisted, “so that I can be a better profiler.”

“I think we both know you’re looking for much more than that.”

Jessie didn’t respond. Instead she folded her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. She knew how the doctor would interpret that but she didn’t care.

“We can come back to that,” Dr Lemmon said quietly. “Let’s move on. How’s married life treating you?”

“That’s the main reason I wanted to see you today,” Jessie said, happy to change subjects. “As you know, Kyle and I just moved from here to Westport Beach because his firm reassigned him to their Orange County office. We’ve got a big house in a great neighborhood within walking distance of the harbor…”

“But…?” Dr. Lemmon prodded.

“Something just feels a little off about the place. I’ve been having trouble nailing it down. Everyone has been incredibly friendly so far. I’ve been invited to coffees and brunches and barbecues. I’ve gotten suggestions for the best grocery stores and daycare options, should we eventually need one. But something just feels…off-kilter. And it’s starting to affect me.”

“In what way?” Dr. Lemmon asked.

“I find myself feeling down for no good reason,” Jessie said. “Kyle came home late for a dinner I made and I let it weigh me down much more than I should have. It wasn’t that big a deal but he was so nonchalant about it. It just ate at me. Also, just unpacking boxes seems daunting in a way that’s outsized for the task at hand. I have this constant, overwhelming sense that I don’t belong, that there’s some secret key to a room everyone else has been in and no one will give it to me.”

“Jessie, it’s been a while since our last session so I’m going to remind you of something we’ve discussed before. There doesn’t have to be a ‘good reason’ for these feelings to take hold. What you’re dealing with can appear out of nowhere. And it’s not a shock that a stressful, new situation, no matter how seemingly picture-perfect, could stir them up. Are you taking your medication regularly?”

“Every day.”

“Okay,” the doctor said, making a note on her pad. “It’s possible that we may need to switch it up. I also noticed you mentioned daycare might be necessary in the near future. Is that something you two are pursuing actively—kids? If so, that’s another reason to switch your meds.”

“We are trying…intermittently. But sometimes Kyle seems excited by the prospect and then he gets…distant; almost cold. Sometimes he says something and I wonder ‘who is that guy?’”

“If it’s any reassurance, all of this is very normal, Jessie. You’re in a new environment, surrounded by strangers, with only one person you know well to cling to. It’s stressful. And he’s feeling a lot of those same things, so you’re bound to butt heads and have moments where you don’t connect.”

“But that’s the thing, Doctor,” Jessie pressed. “Kyle doesn’t seem stressed. He obviously likes his job. He has an old high school friend who lives in the area so he’s got that outlet. And all signs indicate that he’s totally psyched to be there—no adjustment period necessary. He doesn’t appear to miss anything from our old life—not our friends, not our old hangouts, not being in a place where stuff actually happens after nine at night. He’s completely adjusted.”

“It might look that way. But I’d be willing to bet he’s not as sure of things on the inside.”

“I’d take that bet,” Jessie said.

“Whether you’re right or not,” Dr. Lemmon said, noting the edge in Jessie’s voice, “the next step is to ask yourself what you are going to do about this new life. How can you make it work better for you as an individual and as a couple?”

“I’m really at a loss,” Jessie said. “I feel like I’m giving this place a shot. But I’m not like him. I’m not a ‘dive right in’ kind of gal.”

“That’s certainly true,” the doctor agreed. “You’re a naturally wary person, with good reason. But you may have to turn the volume down on that a smidgen to get by for a while, especially in social situations. Maybe try to open yourself up a little more to the possibilities around you. And perhaps give Kyle the benefit of the doubt a bit more. Are these reasonable requests?”

“Of course they are, when you ask in this room. Out there it’s different.”

“Maybe that’s a choice you’re making,” Dr. Lemmon suggested. “Let me ask you something. The last time we met, we discussed the source of your nightmares. I gather you’re still having them, yes?”