At the Waldorf

No, Ann, the truth is you were afraid Robert would say "no" and that if he did, you would cheat on him anyway. You didn't love him enough to tell him and live with the consequences. You made him second best to your lover and you. You lied about it. You betrayed him for sex and now you can't live with what you've done.

The lies we tell ourselves are corrosive. The truth - if told too late and for the wrong reasons -can be even worse. Her conversation with Robert had been a mistake and another disaster. Ann picked up the phone but then slowly set it down. Robert was right. She had nothing to say to him or anyone else. She had destroyed everything.

Christmas came and went. Beth relented, and the family came together on Christmas Eve to feast and exchange presents. Ann was invited but knew better than to attend. No one wanted her there.

Weeks later, Ann was in a long conference call when her PA told her there was a call she had to take, an emergency. Robert was in Bellevue for observation. He had attempted suicide. He hadn't shown up for work for two days. Police had been called because Robert was found sitting with a loaded pistol in his pocket and a note. Would she come? His office listed her as the emergency contact.

Ann with the plan - someone to get the elevator, someone to wrap up her call gracefully, another person to get her coat and purse, someone else to hold the cab -- was well on the way even as her staff came up with Robert's room number and doctor. By the time she arrived, Ann was back in control, demanding to see her husband and his doctors immediately.

There were two doctors in the meeting, both Board certified in psychiatry, one the author of a well-regarded text book. The other was the principal investigator leading a national study of depression and suicide in middle aged men. "Your husband is very ill. He is clinically depressed, has developed a suicide plan and has taken the step of obtaining a gun. He is a clear danger to himself, if not others. We are taking him off medication in the hopes of giving him a chance to gather himself. Whatever drove him to this condition was a shock but he won't tell us what it was. We were hoping you could help us out on that?"

Ann made up a story that might not have made sense. Ann didn't know because she couldn't remember a word she said. The doctors took their careful notes and talked among themselves as if that got something done. It wasn't helping Robert. She needed to talk with him.

"I want to see my husband? When can I see my husband?"

"We can certainly let you see your husband, but it will have to be behind a two-way mirror. For now, we can't risk anything that might make Robert worse. Sad to say, that could include seeing you."

Was that a bruise fading on the side of his face? He hadn't shaved in weeks and his hair! Had it even been cut since the last time she had seen him? Did he ever bathe? The hospital gown exposed his bony legs. He looked old and small, abandoned, homeless, unloved. Almost in slow motion, Robert was twisting and pulling against his wrist restraints. His head flopping to the side and back again. He was mouthing something, a word that she couldn't hear. What was he doing with his fingers? She came closer to the glass. The attending doctor didn't stop her. His fingers, ... he was pointing at something? At the ceiling? the walls?

Did Robert see her? He seemed to rouse himself and yell more loudly. Was he yelling her name? Ann thought he was yelling out her name. Was Robert making a pretend pistol with his hand and fingers? Was he aiming them at his head? Was he still trying to kill himself? Ann left without saying a word. She understood for the first time what she had done and what she needed to do.

Visiting hours ended at 8 PM. At 7:30, a family van pulled up with what looked like a mother and daughter coming to see Dad. The security check was perfunctory. While the guard was distracted, mom passed her purse around the metal detector to daughter. It wasn't noticed. Just before closing, daughter left, and mom made her way upstairs.

Psych wards are primarily designed to keep patients in, less so to keep people out. Ann hung her raincoat up on a rack so that her crisp white lab coat could be seen. Picking up a clip board and sample tray, Ann was admitted to the floor and had little trouble lifting a swipe card to get into the ward and then Robert's room.

How long she sat there, Ann didn't know. It seemed like hours. Slowly, as his medications wore off, Robert became more conscious. She must have dozed off and when she looked again, Robert was lucid and staring at her.

"Why are you here?"

"You asked me to come and I'm your wife."

Robert looked away as if he might never look back.

"Robert, you told me what you wanted. You told me what to do." From the corner of his eye, he watched her take a small pistol from her pocket.

"I know you want to die. Because of what I did, you want to die. And so do I. We had a good life together once. Let's end it the same way. I'll go first, then you. And maybe we'll see each other on the other side."

Robert looked at his wife, and things between them just stopped. He could see her as the girl he married, as part of every good thing that ever happened to him. She had her plan, but he had his plan too. To Ann, it was as if Robert was looking at her for the first time, and she never felt more unsure.

"Give me the gun. Check the corridor."

Ann handed, half-threw, the pistol into his lap. The corridor was empty. She thought her mind would be racing but it wasn't. What would it be like to take her own life? Could she do that? Could she put the gun to her head and pull the trigger? It sounded like a plan but really it wasn't. She had become a refugee from her own life and she was running away. Part of Ann hoped that there really was something after death where they would be together. If there wasn't, at least she would share her husband's fate. There was dignity in their choosing together how to end it all that Ann could accept.

"They come every five minutes. Keep an eye out. After the next one, then okay."

Ann watched, it was her duty, she owed it to her husband to give him this, and then to join him. Her throat was closing but she could do this. Ann had to see this through. It was the only way to fix all the hurt and pain she had caused. She closed her eyes and said a small prayer to whoever might be listening that Robert and she would be together forever.

"Ann, long enough. Let's do this. Sit on the bed. You first."

She hadn't been this close to Robert since, ... well, that night, and it made her nervous. But it made sense. The gun would fall where Robert could get it. She had the gun in her hand. Ann thought it would be colder. She must not hesitate, Ann thought. Put the barrel to your temple. She mouthed "I'm sorry" to her husband and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

She pulled it again, and nothing. And again. What was wrong? It was all going wrong! She was going to set Robert free and be with him but the gun didn't work. She looked up, her hands full of her final failure as a wife, her eyes full of tears.

What a terrible risk to take! So many ways it could have gone wrong, Robert shuddered. Even as he left that night, Robert knew that Ann would marshal all her forces to find him. She would put her entire staff on it, call in every favor, hire professionals and buy off employees at the paper to report on him. She would tell herself that she was just trying to find her husband when the truth was she was trying to control him. First find him, then cajole him with affection and guilt. Softly, she would bully him back off the ledge and let things go back to where they had been. Perhaps Robert could reconcile with his wife. But he would never surrender to Ann's parade of new lovers.

Life or death - that was what it had all come down to. Was his marriage to Ann going to live on or die? Robert couldn't say. Sometimes he asked whether he wanted to die and let Ann pick up the pieces but that sounded too much like self-pity.

At some point, Robert found himself asking what Ann would do if she was convinced that her husband was suicidal. She would never see it coming, would be completely unprepared. Ann with no plan to advance, no argument to win, no flattery or diversion to steal the day -- she would be stripped of her words, powerless to avoid facing him and the truth.

Ann could have walked into the cell and shot him, then herself. She could have said she was so sorry, put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger. A guard might have seen what Ann was doing and stopped her, perhaps killing her in the process. So much could have gone wrong! Robert knew Ann had taken the bait when she showed him the gun. It was easy enough to get it from her and empty it. But none of the drama mattered if Ann didn't play the scene out to its end.

Robert didn't think she would do it. She might put the gun to her head, but she would never pull the trigger. To his amazement, Ann did. How could she do that? In awe, Robert looked at his beloved and suddenly fearsome wife and saw her in a whole new way. He smiled, and Ann looked at him confused. Robert opened his left hand to show the bullets. His right hand reached out to her and Ann took his hand and pulled him close. She did not let go for a very long time.

"Let's go home, wife." And they lived happily ever after. (Yes, it took some time, very good lawyers and a great deal of convincing of medical professionals before they were allowed to leave.)

Epilog: Who was at fault? Does it matter? Who deserved more to be burned? Who cares? Life is short. Love is scarce. When you find true love, dig in and hang on. Never surrender, even if you're overrun. Pray for reinforcements and fight to the end.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.