Таррин Фишер - The Wives

“You attacked him. Do you remember that?”

I do. It comes back to me, a wave crashing over my head. I remember the anger, flying across the kitchen toward him. The feeling of wanting to claw at his skin until he bled. The reason for my anger comes back, too, and I grip the sheets as I remember—first Hannah, and then his denial.

“Why did you attack him? Do you remember?”

“Yes. He hit his other wife. I confronted him about it and we fought.”

He cocks his head to the side. “His other wife?”

“My husband is a polygamist. He has three.” I expect him to react, to be shocked, but instead he writes something down on the notepad in front of him and then looks up at me expectantly.

“Did you see him hit his wife?”

“One of his wives,” I say, frustrated. “And no, but I saw the bruises on her arm and face.”

“Did she tell you that he hit her?”

I hesitate. “No—”

“And you all live together, you and these other wives?”

“No. We don’t even know each other’s names. Or we’re not supposed to.”

The doctor lowers his pen, looking at me over the rim of his glasses.

“So you’re a polygamist in that your husband—”

“Seth,” I say.

“Yes, Seth, has these relationships with two other women whose names you don’t know.”

“I know their names now,” I say. “I...found them.”

“And you confronted him about these other relationships?”

“Yes!” I drop my head. My God, this is getting so twisted.

“I knew about them. I confronted him about the bruises...on Monday’s arm.” The inside of me feels hollow as alarm bounces through my chest and settles like a weight in my stomach. I try to keep my composure; breaking down now would only result in me looking crazier than I already do.

Dr. Steinbridge picks up his pen and writes something on my chart. His pen scratches against the paper in quick little successions. The sound triggers an echo of memories, memories that make my entire body clench in emotional agony. I imagine it says something like delusional . Maybe underlined two or three times. Isn’t that something? I’m the one being called delusional when it was Seth who thought he could pull off three marriages at once.

I decide to stick to my guns. Pulling myself up, I stare Dr. Stein-whatever right in his beady little eyes and say, “I can prove it. If you bring me a phone and allow me to make a call, I can prove the whole thing to you.”

Nurse Sarah reappears in the room, a food tray in her hands. She glances at the expression on the doctor’s face and then at me, her cat eyes bright with interest.

“Dr. Steinbridge,” she says, her voice light and friendly. “Thursday has a visitor.”

Seth strolls in, looking every bit like he’s going for a casual Sunday brunch instead of visiting his wife in the psych ward. He’s wearing a button-down with a cardigan and distressed gray jeans. I don’t recognize the outfit; it must be something he keeps at one of their houses.

I see that he’s had a haircut recently and strain to remember if he had it a day ago when he surprised me at our condo. Wouldn’t that be something? His wife in the psych ward and he goes to get a haircut. Who am I kidding? He has two others—when one of the spares falls off the wagon, life keeps moving.

He smiles, looking refreshed and well-slept, and walks over to kiss me on the forehead. I almost turn away but think better of it; if I want to get out of here, I’m going to have to play nice. Seth is my shot at freedom.

The spot where his lips touch my skin stings. It’s his fault that I’m here, his fault that no one believes me. Isn’t he supposed to be on my side, trying to keep me out of places like this? And then I remember his lie, his denial, as I stared him down in the kitchen. He’d tried to make me believe that I’d made Hannah up. I look up at his face in alarm, wondering if I should wait to confront him when we’re alone, or if I should just do it now. I glance at Dr. Steinbridge, who is watching us. Everyone’s always watching in this place, hawk eyes waiting for you to mess up and betray your mental state.

“Maybe you can clear something up for us,” the doctor suggests, looking to Seth. Yes! I think, settling deeper into the bed. Finally. Put him on the spot and make him answer. My husband nods, his brow furrowed like he’s dying to help.

“Thursday has mentioned that you have—” Dr. Steinbridge glances at me like he’s embarrassed to say it “—additional wives...” His sentence drops off, and Sarah freezes where she’s writing something on my white board. She glances over her shoulder at me, and then, embarrassed to be caught, turns back to her work.

“I’m afraid that’s not true,” Seth says.

“No?” Dr. Steinbridge glances at me. His tone is light. It’s like they’re discussing the weather.

“I divorced my first wife three years ago,” Seth says, looking embarrassed.

“But they’re still together,” I say.

“We’re divorced,” Seth says firmly. The doctor nods. “I left her for Thursday—”

I shake my head in disbelief. I can’t believe it. “That’s bullshit, Seth. You can’t spin this story any way you like. Tell the truth—you’re a polygamist!”

“I am only married to one woman, Thursday,” Seth says. His face is earnest, so convincing. I falter, because his performance is so excellent I am temporarily tongue-tied.

“Okay, then,” I say. “But how many women do you have a sexual relationship with?”

“Thursday claims you have two other wives that you refer to as Monday and Tuesday,” the doctor says.

His face colors underneath the doctor’s gaze. I watch it eagerly. There’s no way he’ll be able to talk himself out of this. “It’s a game we play.”

“A game?” Dr. Steinbridge repeats. My mouth drops open. I’m shaking.

“Yes.” He looks at me for support, but I turn my face away. I don’t understand why he’s lying like this. He isn’t legally married to the other two, so it’s not like he can get arrested for bigamy. Everything between us has been consensual. Making it seem like I’ve made all this up is ensuring that they won’t let me out of this place—not without a lot of counseling and medication, anyway.

“This thing Thursday and I would do to joke about all of my time spent away. I’d always come home on Thursday and since her name is Thursday, we said there was a Monday and a Tuesday, as well.” He glances at me nervously. “I didn’t know she took it this far, but considering...”

“What? Considering what?” I snap. Anger surges through me. I can’t believe he went there . I’m suddenly hot all over, even though I know they keep the rooms cool. I have the urge to shove off the sheets and lean out the window so the cold air can touch me.

“Thursday, you have a history of delusion,” the doctor interrupts. “Sometimes, when a trauma...” His voice continues, but I block it out. I don’t want to hear it. I know what happened, but that isn’t what’s happening now.

Seth’s eyes are pleading with me; he wants me to go along with whatever he’s doing. My headache has suddenly gotten worse, and I need to be alone, think all of this through.

“Get out,” I say to both of them, and when it’s not enough and nobody moves, I scream it. “Everyone get out!”

A new nurse comes charging around the corner and looks at Dr. Steinbridge for instruction.

I look pointedly at him, ignoring Seth. “I don’t need to be sedated. I’m not a danger to myself or anyone else. I need to be alone.”

The doctor considers me for a moment, making up his mind about my mental state. Then he nods. “All right, then. I’ll be back later to check on you and we can talk further.” He looks at Seth, who appears ready to pass out. “You can come back for afternoon visitation and see if she’s ready to talk then,” he says. “I’d like to talk to you in my office.”