Between Sisters by Kristin Hannah Read Free Book Online

course.” She remembered at the last minute to add, “But hopefully you won't need me.”
    “Yes,” Jill said, “I can see that you're the hopeful type.”
    Meghann sighed. “I know people all across this country are happily married. They just don't come to see me, but I do hope—honestly—that I won't see you again.”
    Jill gave her a sad, knowing look, and Meghann knew: The decision might be soft around the edges and filled with regret, but it had been made.
    “You go ahead and hope, then,” Jill said softly. “For both of us.”
     
    “You don't look good.”
    Sprawled in the black leather chair, Meghann didn't move. “So, that's why I pay you two hundred dollars an hour. To insult me. Tell me I smell, too. Then I'll really get my money's worth.”
    “Why do you pay me?”
    “I consider it a charitable deduction.”
    Dr. Bloom didn't smile. She sat—as always, chameleon still—watching. If it wasn't for the compassion in her dark brown eyes, she could easily be mistaken for a statue. It was often that compassion—an emotion that bordered on pity—that undid Meghann. Over the past twenty years, Meg had seen a constant stream of shrinks. Always psychiatrists, never counselors or psychologists. First off, she believed in a surplus of education. Second, and more important, she wanted to talk to someone who could dispense drugs.
    In her thirties, Meg had gone through a new shrink every two years. She never told them anything that mattered, and they always returned the favor.
    Then she'd stumbled across Harriet Bloom, the stone queen who could sit quietly for an entire hour, take the check, and tell Meghann it was her money to spend wisely or throw away.
    Harriet, who'd uncovered a few artifacts of the past that mattered, and surmised some of the rest. A dozen times in the past year, Meghann had decided to sever their relationship, but every time she started to actually do it, she panicked and changed her mind.
    The silence was gaining weight.
    “Okay, I look like shit. I'll admit it. I haven't been sleeping well. I need more pills, by the way.”
    “That prescription should last for another two weeks.”
    Meghann couldn't make eye contact. “A couple of times this week, I needed two. The insomnia . . . it really rips me. Sometimes I can't take it.”
    “Why do you think you can't sleep?”
    “Why do
you
think I can't sleep? That's the relevant opinion, isn't it?”
    Dr. Bloom studied her. She was so still it seemed impossible that her lungs were functioning. “Is it?”
    “I have trouble sleeping sometimes. That's all. Big deal.”
    “And you use drugs and strangers to help you through the night.”
    “I don't pick up as many men as I used to. But sometimes . . .” She looked up, saw a sad understanding in Harriet's eyes. It pissed her off. “Don't look at me that way.”
    Harriet leaned forward, rested her elbows on the table. Her steepled fingers brushed the underside of her chin. “You use sex to dispel loneliness. But what's lonelier than anonymous sex?”
    “At least when the guys leave my bed, I don't care.”
    “Eric again.”
    “Eric.”
    Harriet sat back. “You were married for less than a year.”
    “Don't minimize it, Harriet. He broke my heart.”
    “Of course he did. And you suck on that candy every day in your practice, as women tell you their sad and similar stories. But the flavor has been gone for years. You're not worried about someone breaking your heart again. You're worried you don't have a heart to break. The bottom line is, you're scared, and fear isn't an emotion that fits well with your need to control.”
    It was true. Meg was tired of being alone and terrified that her life would be a stretch of empty road. A part of her wanted to nod her head, to say yes, and beg for a way to shed her fear. But that was a thin, reedy voice lost amid the screaming blare of self-preservation. The bedrock lesson of her life was that love didn't last. It was better to be lonely and