The Ring of Truth

“How have you been, Brittany?” Joy asked as she closed her office door.

“Still trying to get back to normal,” answered Britt. She hadn’t seen Joy, her grief counselor, in several weeks but she had known that she would need to today. “I’ve been back to work for almost six months, but you already know that. Things are going well.”

“I sense a ‘but’,” prompted Joy, after a prolonged pause.

“Yes,” agreed Britt, her voice shaking slightly. “I feel like I’ve reached an impasse.”

“An impasse?” asked Joy.

“Yes.”

“In what way?”

Britt hesitated. “I feel like I can’t move on.”

Joy presumed she meant from her sister’s death, but presumptions could be pitfalls in her line of work. “Move on from what?”

“Sam’s murder,” answered Britt, impatiently. “It’s been a year – exactly. A year ago today, I went to the morgue to identify her body.”

“Anniversaries can be difficult,” said Joy. It had been almost four months since Brittany’s last visit. Joy had looked through Brittany’s file in preparation for today’s session, to refresh her memory. Brittany’s younger sister Samantha had been found beneath the Harbour Bridge by a jogger on the Harbour Passage. She’d been strangled. “So, it’s been a year since Samantha’s death –”

“Murder,” corrected Britt. “Sam’s murder.”

“Sorry, Samantha’s murder,” repeated Joy, “and you’re feeling as though you’re no longer moving forward. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” confirmed Britt.

“It sounds like you feel kind of stuck, and you don’t want to feel like that anymore,” said Joy. “Can you help me understand what that feels like?”

“I’m frustrated and angry. If the police would do their job and catch the person who did this … this horrible thing,” said Britt, not quite able to keep the bitterness out of her voice, “I think I could move forward again.”

“It’s the lack of progress in the investigation that’s holding you back – is that what you’re saying?” asked Joy.

“Yes! No. I don’t know,” replied Britt.

“Well, the investigation is outside of your control,” said Joy. “Let’s focus on what you can control. Any ideas?”

“I keep thinking that if I could find her phone, that would help,” said Britt, ignoring Joy’s question. “Detective Bryant thinks it might break the case wide open. But I’ve looked everywhere.”

Joy knew that the chances of finding Samantha’s cell phone after a year were slim to none. She considered again the notes from their previous sessions. “Let’s talk about the phone.”

“Okay,” Britt nodded.

“Do you still call her number?” asked Joy.

“Yes,” admitted Britt.

“Let’s explore that,” said Joy. “What is motivating this behaviour?”

“I miss her,” said Britt, her tone of voice adding the unspoken word duh. Britt took a deep breath and told herself to calm down. This was therapy and that was a fair question. “I miss hearing her voice. It never rings – always goes straight to voicemail. She tells me to have a fabulous day and –".

Joy pushed the tissue box on her desk toward Brittany and grabbed a bottle of water from her mini fridge. She set the bottle down in front of her client and waited until they could continue.

“She actually says ‘fantabulous’,” said Britt, her voice shaky. “It was her special word. She had a few of those. Anyway, and then she tells me to leave a message. I always hang up before the beep.”

“Her phone is still working after all this time?” asked Joy.

“Yes,” replied Britt, blushing. “I’ve kept paying the bill just to hear her voice.”

“Brittany let’s do a little exercise together,” suggested Joy. “It’s called ABC – antecedent, behaviour, consequence. How do you feel before you make the call?”

Britt considered the question. “Anxious, and maybe a little desperate. I miss her so much!”

“How do you feel while you’re listening to her voice?”

Again, Britt gave it some thought. “It used to cheer me up, make things hurt less, but it doesn’t do that now. Maybe tired, and kind of depleted.”

Joy nodded and made a note. “How do you feel after you hang up?”

“Empty,” said Britt. “No, not empty. Hollow. Guilty.”

“I want to make sure I’m understanding you correctly,” said Joy. “You are still calling Samantha’s phone regularly to hear her voicemail message. You feel anxious and desperate beforehand, and then hollow and guilty afterward. Listening to Samantha’s voice is draining in some way. Is that correct?”

Britt nodded. “Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”

“Do you think so?”

“Well, when you sum it up like that you make it sound like I’m punishing myself,” answered Britt.

“Are you?” asked Joy.

“No! Maybe,” conceded Britt. “I keep going over our last conversation. It’s driving me crazy!”

“Let’s talk about that,” suggested Joy.

“I needed to talk to Sam, needed her opinion,” said Britt. “I was sure my husband, Nick, was having an affair, but I couldn’t decide what to do – confront him, hire a private investigator, or maybe I was just wrong. I was almost 100% sure that I wanted to hire a PI, to know … for sure, you know? And I was equally confident Sam would back me up in this, but she didn’t. She got quite upset.”

“Yes,” said Joy. They had covered this ground before. “Go on.”

“And now I can’t ask her why,” said Britt, her voice cracking.

“But you parted on good terms, am I remembering that correctly?” prompted Joy.

“Yes,” agreed Britt, as she wiped a stray tear away. “I tried to ask her what was wrong, but she wouldn’t open up. There’s never been anything between us like this. We talked about everything. Obviously, something had been going on in her life, but that was my first indication. I’d been so wrapped up in my own fears about Nick, that I hadn’t noticed Sam’s trouble. I should have.”

“What do you think Samantha would say about –” started Joy.

“That doesn’t matter!” interrupted Britt. “We were sisters and best friends. If something was weighing on Sam that much I should have noticed, but I was so wrapped up in myself. I hugged her and told her I loved her, and she told me the same, but when I left her apartment, it felt like we now had this huge thing wedged between us. And I still have no idea what it was. Two days later she was gone.” Britt wrung her hands together and shut her eyes.

Joy gave her a moment, allowed her to process her thoughts on her own. “Most, if not all, people die with at least a little unfinished business. That is not your fault. Let’s return to Samantha’s phone. Are you saying that you now dread calling Samantha’s phone, because of the guilt you feel afterward, yet you still feel a compulsion to do so?”

“It helped so much at first!” said Britt, emphatically.

“Perhaps,” said Joy, “but is that a fair assessment of how it makes you feel now?”

Britt thought for another moment and let out a long sigh before replying. “More or less, yes. ‘Dread’ might be a little strong. I guess you don’t think it’s helping anymore.”

“What I think doesn’t matter,” said Joy. “Do you think it’s helping?”

“Perhaps not as much as it used to,” said Britt, and then she sighed. “No, definitely not as much as it used to. Maybe just definitely not.”

“In light of that,” said Joy, “what do you think would be a good next step?”

“I should stop paying for Sam’s phone and let it go,” replied Britt, slowly. “Nick keeps telling me that I should, but –”

Joy waited, but Brittany did not continue. “Yes? Go on.”

“Never mind,” said Britt. “It was something I read.”

“There are a lot of good things in books,” said Joy. “I’d like to hear it.”

“It’s a kind of self-help book,” said Joy. “I can’t change the past, but I can change how I respond to it – change the power it has over me.”

Joy nodded. “That’s good. Let’s think about that in the context of your last visit with Samantha. What are the positive elements of that conversation?”

“Sam knew I loved her,” said Britt. “We hugged, laughed a little.”

“So, in spite of the fact that you were not aware of some trouble in your sister’s life and that you were going through a difficult time yourself, you both knew how much you loved each other.” said Joy. “Is that accurate?”

“Yes,” agreed Britt. “I think so. It doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

“It sounds pretty good,” agreed Joy. “Can we change topic slightly?”

“Sure,” said Britt.

“Is there anything else that you’d like to make sure we cover in this session, Brittany?” asked Joy. “Anything that could be exacerbating how you are feeling?”

“Like what?” asked Britt.

“Any other aspect of life,” clarified Joy. “Something that you are suppressing – where the trouble really lies – and it’s resurfacing here, mingled with your grief and guilt. It could be work, your marriage, perhaps a different relationship, like a friend or family member. How are things with Nick?”

Britt hesitated, unsure of what to say. Right after Sam’s murder, Nick had been very attentive and compassionate, just like the first few years of their marriage. Eventually she had questioned the suspicions of infidelity she’d had. Whatever had been going on – stress at work, a difficult time with the media, whatever – it had passed. Sam’s reaction to Britt’s worries showed a faith in Nick and his loyalty to their marriage that had been stronger than her own. Perhaps that was why Sam had objected to the private investigator. Perhaps – but then, if she and Nick were good again, why had all the little red flags and warning bells reappeared? “I’m not sure.”

“Are you questioning whether or not he is having an affair again?” asked Joy.

“I …” Britt paused. Was she? “I think I am.”

Joy smiled sadly. “Has this been affecting how you’ve been feeling lately?”

“I’m sure it has been,” replied Britt. “How could it not?”

Thankful that question was a rhetorical one, Joy pursued this thread of self-discovery. “The guilt you associate with your last conversation with Samantha and the conflicted emotions you are having about your marriage – do you think they are connected in any way?”

“Well,” started Britt, “they were both happening at the same time, a year ago. I guess that lends them a feeling of proximity to each other, in my memory.”

“Do you think it’s possible that one or both of these things is related to your current sense of being at an impasse?” asked Joy.

“Do you mean that my feeling stuck could actually be about my marriage and about Sam?” asked Britt. “Both things together? Or do you mean that my marriage feels like it’s not moving forward, and I’ve superimposed that on my grieving?”

“They are both good questions and possibilities,” said Joy. “But only you know. What do you think?”

Britt let that sink in; tried both ideas on and walked around in them, in her head. “I’m … I’m not sure.”

“Let’s try to summarize,” said Joy. “Can you separate how you are feeling about Samantha from how you are feeling about Nick?”

Britt closed her eyes and relaxed into her chair. How much of her recent anxiety had she attributed to her ongoing grief, to avoid thinking about what might be going on in her marriage? “I don’t think I’d consciously acknowledged my fears about Nick until you brought it up. And I think you may be right. Just saying it has made me realize both sets of feelings were all jumbled together. I need to think – maybe take a long walk.”

“Walking is good,” said Joy. “Fresh air and exercise can sometimes bring clarity.”

*****

Britt took a walk on one of Sam’s favourite beaches. She felt close to Sam here and she needed her sister’s help to sort through all these feelings; examine the little things that made her question Nick’s extra hours at work; try to remember if she had been with him for a late supper at a fancy restaurant a month ago – or had it been another woman. They ate out so often – date nights, socially, and with colleagues – it was sometimes hard to keep track. It was only a fluke that she had been looking at their last credit card statement. Nick paid all the bills. Britt took off her shoes, rolled up her pant legs, and strolled through the surf.

Two hours and several skipping stones later, Britt parked in the garage and carried the Chinese take-out into the kitchen. She’d noticed Nick’s briefcase on the floor by the closet in the foyer, but his car was gone. She checked her phone for missed calls or a text message. Nothing. She called him and he picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hi, Nick!” said Britt.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend today with you, but you know – work.”

“I understand,” said Britt.

“How did it go with Joy?”

“Good,” said Britt. “I’m glad I went. I’m glad you encouraged me to go. I think it really helped.”

“Did she tell you to stop calling Samantha’s phone?”

He did it again. He hadn’t done it in months, but just now he did it again. No one called Sam by her full name – except Joy. And he brought up the phone again.

“Britt?”

Nick’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I’m still here,” said Britt.

“Look, Britt, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up like that. We can talk about it later. Don’t save supper for me. I’m eating out with a couple of guys from the office. We’re going over some paperwork.”

“Sure, Nick,” said Britt. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

Britt put the Chinese food in the fridge, suddenly not hungry. She went to the foyer, considered Nick’s briefcase, and decided that she would spend her evening looking up some local private investigators. But first, she would dial Sam’s number. Maybe it was holding her back, but there were still some days, albeit rare now, when she woke up, forgetting Sam was gone. When the realization hit her, the grief was sudden and sharp and strong. At first, Sam’s voice had taken the worst of the sting out of those moments – not so much anymore. Joy was right, of course, this habit had become a compulsion – an addiction.

Still standing in the foyer of her home, Britt dialed Sam’s number. She was surprised when it didn’t go to voicemail automatically. It was ringing, but it didn’t sound right. On the third ring she realized she was hearing it twice – first through her phone and second in the foyer, but muted – from Nick’s briefcase.