Kim stood up. “I hope I haven’t upset you,” she said. “I know how tired you must be. Good night.” She stepped from the bathroom and started toward her bed.
“Wait,” Edward called out. He emerged from the bathroom. “I’m overreacting again,” he said. “I’m sorry. Instead of making you feel badly I should be thanking you. I really appreciated your putting the dinner together. It was perfect and turned out to be a big hit with everyone. It was the kind of break we all needed.”
“I appreciate your saying something,” Kim said. “I have been trying to help. I think I know the pressure you’re under.”
“Well, it should get better with Stanton temporarily mollified,” Edward said. “Now I can concentrate on Ultra and Harvard.” 13 Late September 1994
Edward’s recognition of Kim’s efforts at putting together the dinner on such short notice encouraged Kim to think that things would improve between herself and Edward. But it was not to be. During the week immediately after the Monday-night dinner, things seemed to get worse. In fact Kim did not see Edward at all. He’d come in late at night long after she’d gone to bed and would be up and out before she awoke. He made no effort to communicate with her at all even though she left numerous Post-It messages for him.
Even Buffer seemed to be nastier than usual. He appeared unexpectedly around dinnertime Wednesday night while Kim was preparing her food. He acted hungry, so Kim filled a dish with his food and extended it toward him, intending to put it on the floor. Buffer reacted by baring his teeth and snapping at her viciously. Kim put the food down the disposal.
With no contact whatsoever with anyone in the lab, Kim began to feel more estranged from what was happening in the compound than she had earlier in the month. She even began to feel lonely. To her surprise she started to look forward to returning to work the following week, a feeling she never expected to have. In fact, when she’d left work at the end of August, she’d thought returning to work would be difficult.
By Thursday, September 22, Kim was aware that she was feeling mildly depressed and the resulting anxiety scared her. She’d had a brush with depression in her sophomore year of college and the experience had left an enduring scar. Fearing that her symptoms might get worse, Kim called Alice McMurray, a therapist at MGH whom she’d seen a number of years previously. Alice graciously agreed to give up half her lunch hour the following day.
Friday morning Kim got up feeling a little better than she had on previous mornings. She guessed it was the excitement of having made plans to go into the city. Without her parking privileges at the MGH, she decided to take the train.
Kim arrived in Boston a little after eleven. With plenty of time to spare, she walked from North Station to the hospital. It was a pleasant fall day of intermittent clouds and sunshine. In contrast to Salem, the leaves on the city trees had yet to begin changing.
It felt good for Kim to be in the familiar hospital environment, especially when she ran into several colleagues who teased her about her tan. Alice’s office was in a professional building owned by the hospital corporation. Kim entered from the hall and found the reception desk deserted.
Almost immediately the inner door opened, and Alice appeared.
“Hi,” she said. “Come on in.” She motioned with her head toward the secretary’s desk. “Everyone is at lunch in case you were wondering.”
Alice’s office was simple but comfortable. There were four chairs and a coffee table grouped in the center of the room on an oriental rug. A small desk was against the wall. By the window stood a potted palm. On the walls were Impressionist prints and a few framed diplomas and licenses.
Alice was an ample-bodied woman whose compassionate manner radiated from her like a magnetic field. As Kim knew from Alice’s own admission, she had been fighting a weight problem all her life. Yet the struggle had added to Alice’s effectiveness by giving her extra sensitivity to other people’s problems.