The Venus Fix

Seventy-Two

“I know what I thought I was going to get out of her, but I didn’t get it.”

“You actually thought she was going to confess and you were going to get a reprieve for your client,” Nina said. “You’re sure that he didn’t have anything to do with the murders and that he’s covering up for someone, and it makes perfect sense that the someone is his wife.”

We were sitting in Nina’s office. It was too cold to go out, so she’d ordered up lunch-tuna sandwiches on rye bread for both of us. She’d finished hers but I’d only taken a few bites of mine.

“I don’t understand love any better than I did forty years ago when I first started studying human psychology. We’re such pathetic victims of our emotions.”

I didn’t want to philosophize. We had to figure out a way for me to ethically talk to the police about Kira.

“How is your wrist?” Nina asked.

I looked down at the white cast. Like the snow, it was going to get gray eventually, long before it was time to remove it.

“It’s all right.”

“Do you still feel any pain?”

“A little ache. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. To me. You’re in pain and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Oh, there’s a point to this. A little parable. Go ahead, O wise one.”

“If I could take your pain away, Morgan, I would. You feel that way about Dulcie. I’ve seen you with her when she’s hurt herself. But you’re not supposed to feel that way about your patients.”

“I can’t stand by and watch Alan take responsibility for something he didn’t do, that he thinks his wife did-something I’m not even sure his wife was capable of doing. Someone did kill those girls, and that person is still out there.”

“What is Alan’s problem, Morgan?”

“I’m not a neophyte like Blythe, I’ve been a therapist for years. I don’t appreciate the idea that you are handing me.”

“Play along. What’s his problem?”

“He has intimacy issues. His wife is a real woman. Dealing with her means dealing with his emotions. He doesn’t want to do that. So he shies away from sex with her. In the meantime, she can’t deal with his distance, so she distances herself further. She was powerful, she made a lot of money, got a lot of press, and she pushed it. She became more powerful, made more money and got more press. She gave herself an excuse. He won’t love me the way I want to be loved because I’m not needy enough. I’m too successful. It works. They split off. She works. He has the Net. It allows him gratification without emotional risk. He can find pleasure and excitement without a connection and still not feel as if he is really cheating on his wife. How am I doing?” I asked sarcastically.

Nina’s phone rang and I didn’t need to look at the clock on the wall to know that her next patient was there.

“I’m trying to help you,” she said.

“I know.”

But on the walk back to my office I wasn’t sure how she could help me. It wasn’t until I sat down at my desk that I finally figured out why Nina had asked me those precise questions.

How did she know enough about Alan to know that I had identified with him and felt that, if I could save him, if I could help him, it would mean that I could save myself, too? Not from Internet porn, but from a cold, emotional landscape that I kept running back to whenever I got too close to the sun.