The Good Wife(145)

She fell asleep dreaming about contracts and athletes and player lockouts.

* * *

Sarah woke late, discovered it was nearly noon. Everyone else had gone for breakfast already. She walked to Mr. Toots, got her coffee and a bagel, and returned home to eat.

“You slept in late,” Kit said from her seat on the porch. She’d been grading papers all morning and looked sick of it.

“I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about things.”

“What sort of things?” Kit asked, leaving her chair and stretching.

“I need to work,” Sarah said, sipping her coffee. “Need to contribute to life again. Do something with my brain.”

“It doesn’t have to be a job,” Kit said, leaning against the railing. “You could volunteer, get involved with an outreach of some sort.”

“I know. But I’d like to have income.”

Kit glanced down at her hands and feet. “I’m swelling.”

“It’s probably just the heat. And you’ve been sitting for hours. You need to move.”

“Want to go walk with me?” Kit asked hopefully.

“As long as I can take my coffee.”

They left the house, walking at an easy pace. “Remember how I once wanted to go to law school?” Sarah asked as they crossed the street.

Kit nodded.

“I still want to go.” Sarah glanced at Kit’s profile, checking her reaction. “I think maybe this fall I should apply for next year. See what happens.”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Kit nodded approvingly. “You’re smart. Probably the smartest of all of us. And the most ambitious. And you’ve been a wonderful mom, and a good wife, but I think you need to use that brain of yours and channel your thoughts, harness your drive, so you can feel good about yourself again.”

“And be someone,” Sarah added under her breath.

“You are someone already,” Kit retorted, “but there’s no shame in wanting more. You’d always planned on working. And you know, Mom went back to school and earned her MBA at the same age you are now.”

That’s right, Sarah thought. Mom had gone back to school in her midthirties.

“And you are like her, Sarah. Not physically, but on the inside. You have her smarts, and strength—”

“I’m not strong.”

“You’re very strong. But you’re self-destructing because you have no place to channel all your drive and energy.”

They crossed the street and turned the corner, dodging a woman walking five different-sized dogs on very long leashes.

“Did you ever read ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ by Charlotte Perkins Gilman in any of your women’s studies classes?” Kit asked as they stepped back off the path to avoid a speeding cyclist.

Sarah shook her head, walking next to Kit again as they headed for the eighty-six stairs to Depot Hill.

“The story was first published in 1892; it’s written in first person, about a young woman who is also a new mother. She’s suffering from depression and needs an outlet. Instead of allowing her to be active and physical and work, her doctor and her husband confine her to an attic room to recuperate, but the confinement backfires. It makes her obsessive, and pushes her over the edge.”

They were climbing the stairs now and Kit slowed, taking the steps one at a time. “I’m not saying you’re mad, but you aren’t seeing the big picture anymore, just the patterned wallpaper in your mind.”

The patterned paper in her mind being Boone.

Sarah stopped midstep. “I obsess about Boone. Where he is, what he’s doing. I don’t even care about the rest of the world anymore . . .” She frowned. “That’s not right. Not normal.”

“As you said, it’s time to figure out what you want. Will you be happier with him? Or without him? Regardless of your decision, the obsessive stuff has to end. It’s not healthy.”

Sarah glanced past Kit to the sea, which could be glimpsed through the buildings and trees. “I just wish I knew definitively that he was faithful. Wish I could know once and for all.”

“You know Jude has a dangerous job,” Kit said after a moment, tugging on her auburn braid. “His dad died on the job. Jude could, too. And I could spend every day thinking about him dying and leaving me and our baby. I could imagine the horrible things that could happen to him, but why? How does it benefit me to imagine terrible scenarios?”

“You’re preparing yourself. In case.”

“Yes. But let’s be honest. He probably won’t die. He could very well live to ninety-five. And then wouldn’t it be pointless for me to spend all these years we have together worrying and obsessing about something that might not ever happen? And I’m not taking Boone’s side, but I think it’s important to consider the possibility that he is innocent. And since you’re the one who once wanted to go to law school, let’s entertain the possibility that since screwing up so badly three years ago, he’s been absolutely faithful to you.” She paused, her gaze resting on Sarah’s face. “Wouldn’t it be terrible to go through your life fearing the worst, tormenting yourself, only to find out at the very end that Boone was a good husband? That he was faithful and he did protect you?”