“Yes,” said Celeste. “And no.”

“It’s complicated,” said Susi.

“It’s complicated,” agreed Celeste. “But all marriages are complicated, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” said Susi. She smiled. “And no.” Her smile vanished. “Are you aware that a woman dies every week in Australia as a result of domestic violence, Mrs. White? Every week.”

“He’s not going to kill me,” said Celeste. “It’s not like that.”

“Is it safe for you to go home today?”

“Of course,” said Celeste. “I’m perfectly safe.”

Susi raised her eyebrows.

“Our relationship is like a seesaw,” explained Celeste. “First one person has the power, then the other. Each time Perry and I have a fight, especially if it gets physical, if I get hurt, then I get the power back. I’m on top.”

She warmed to her theme. It was shameful sharing these things with Susi, but it was also a wonderful relief to be telling someone, to be explaining how it all worked, to be saying these secrets out loud.

“The more he hurts me, the higher I go and the longer I get to stay there. Then the weeks go by, and I can feel it shifting. He stops feeling so guilty and sorry. The bruises—I bruise easily—well, the bruises fade. Little things I do start to annoy him. He gets a bit irritable. I try to placate him. I start walking on eggshells, but at the same time I’m angry that I have to walk on eggshells, so sometimes I stop tiptoeing. I stomp on the eggshells. I deliberately aggravate him because I’m so angry with him, and with myself, for having to be careful. And then it happens again.”

“So you’ve got the power right now,” said Susi. “Because he hurt you recently.”

“Yes,” said Celeste. “I could actually do anything right now because he still feels so bad about what happened the last time. With the Legos. So right now everything is great. Better than great. That’s the problem, see. It’s so good right now, it’s almost . . .”

She stopped.

“Worth it,” finished Susi. “It’s almost worth it.”

Celeste met Susi’s raccoon eyes. “Yes.”

The blandness of Susi’s gaze said nothing at all except, Got it. She wasn’t being kind and maternal, and she wasn’t reveling in the delicious superiority of her own kindness. She was just getting the job done. She was like that brisk, efficient lady at the bank or the telephone company who just wants to do her job and untangle that knotty problem for you.

They sat in silence for a moment. Outside the office door, Celeste could hear the murmur of voices, the ringing of a telephone and the distant sounds of traffic passing on the street outside. A sense of peace washed over her. The sweat on her face cooled. For five years, ever since it had begun, she’d been living her life with this secret shame draped so heavily over her shoulders, and for just a moment it lifted and she remembered the person she used to be. She still had no solution, no way out, but for just this moment she was sitting opposite someone who understood.

“He will hit you again,” said Susi. That detached professionalism again. No pity. No judgment. It wasn’t a question. She was stating a fact to move the conversation forward.

“Yes,” said Celeste. “It will happen again. He’ll hit me. I’ll hit him.”

It will rain again. I will get sick again. I will have bad days. But can’t I enjoy the good times while they last?

But then why am I here at all?

“So what I’d like to talk about is coming up with a plan,” said Susi. She flipped over a page on her clipboard.

“A plan,” said Celeste.

“A plan,” said Susi. “A plan for next time.”

34.

Have you ever wanted to experiment with that, what’s it called, erotic asphyxiation?” said Madeline to Ed as they lay in bed. He had his book. She had the iPad.

It was the night after she’d taken the cardboard over to Jane’s place. She’d been thinking about Jane’s story all day.

“Sure. I’m up for it. Let’s give it a shot.” Ed took off his glasses and put down his book, turning to her with enthusiasm.

“What? No! Are you kidding?” said Madeline. “Anyway, I don’t want sex. I ate too much risotto for dinner.”

“Right. Of course. Silly of me.” Ed put his glasses back on.

“And people accidentally kill themselves doing that! They die all the time! It’s a very dangerous practice, Ed.”

Ed looked at her over the top of his glasses.

“I can’t believe you wanted to choke me,” said Madeline.

He shook his head. “I was just trying to show my willingness to accommodate.” He glanced at her iPad. “Are you looking up ways to spice up our sex life or something?”

“Oh God no,” said Madeline, with perhaps too much feeling.

Ed snorted.

She looked at the Wikipedia entry for erotic asphyxiation. “So apparently when the arteries on either side of the neck are compressed, you get a sudden loss of oxygen to the brain so you go into a semi-hallucinogenic state.” She considered it. “I’ve noticed whenever I’ve got a head cold, I often feel quite amorous. That might be why.”

“Madeline,” said Ed. “You have never been amorous when you had a head cold.”

“Really?” said Madeline. “Maybe I just forgot to mention it.”