CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Tuesday, December 4
The cherry notes of the Pinot Noir melt away the icy rawness of the commute home.
The seared beef tenderloin and grilled asparagus are removed from the Dean & DeLuca containers and arranged on a china plate, flanked by heavy silverware. Chopin’s piano chords fill the room. The single dish is carried to one end of the glossy oak rectangular table.
Dinners used to look different here. They were cooked on a six-burner Viking stove and adorned with sprigs of fresh rosemary or leaves of basil from the herb garden in the window box.
The table also held two place settings.
The psychology journal is laid down; it is impossible to concentrate on the dense words tonight.
Across the table, an empty chair remains where my husband Thomas once sat.
Everyone who met Thomas liked him.
He appeared on a night when the lights flickered, and then darkness swept in.
The last client of the day, a man named Hugh, had departed my office only a few minutes before. People come to therapy for different reasons, but his never became clear. Hugh was an odd one, with his sharp features and nomadic existence.
Despite his wanderings, he fixated on things, he divulged early on.
Ending his sessions was difficult; he always wanted more.
Whenever he left, he lingered outside the door, his footsteps not beginning for a minute or two. His pungent scent could be detected in the waiting room even after he was gone, evidence of the time he’d spent there.
When the entire building went dark that night, even the lights outside the windows, it seemed natural to assume Hugh was involved.
The worst of humanity comes out in the shadows.
And Hugh had just been told that his therapy needed to be terminated.
Sirens began to wail in the distance. The noises and lack of illumination created a disorienting atmosphere.
To exit the building, it was necessary to take the stairs. It was seven P.M., late enough that all of the other offices appeared closed.
Although residents lived in the building, their apartments were only on floors five and six.
The sole light in the stairwell came from the screen of my phone, the only sound the tapping of my shoes against the steps.
Then a second pair of footsteps, much heavier ones, began to descend from somewhere above.
Symptoms of terror include a racing heart, light-headedness, and chest pain.
Breathing exercises can only help people through situations in which panic is not warranted.
Here, it was.
My presence would be announced by the glow of my phone. Running in complete darkness could lead to a fall. But these were necessary risks.
“Hello?” a man’s deep voice called.
It did not belong to Hugh.
“What’s going on? It must be a blackout,” the man continued. “Are you okay?”
His manner was soothing and kind. He stayed by my side for the next hour, during the trek from Midtown to the West Village, until we reached my residence.
In every lifetime, there are pivot points that shape and eventually cement one’s path.
Thomas Cooper’s materialization was one of these seismic moments.
A week after the blackout, we went to dinner.
Six months later, we were married.
Everyone who met Thomas liked him.
But loving him was something reserved only for me.