Marissa clears her throat and changes the subject. “There’s one other thing I can’t stop thinking about. When I got home from the hospital, I couldn’t find Polly at first.”
“Polly?” I put more emphasis on her name than I intended.
“Yes, my assistant at Coco. I asked her to come to the house because I couldn’t leave Bennett alone. I told her he’d probably sleep through everything, and that she could nap on the couch.”
Polly had a busy night trying to keep tabs on the Bishops, I think.
“I finally found her in Bennett’s room.” Marissa gives a little shudder, and Matthew pulls her in even closer. “She was sound asleep, leaning against his big stuffed dog.… Something about it made me deeply uncomfortable.”
“I can imagine,” I comment. “What did you do?”
“I woke her up and motioned for her to come into the hallway. She claimed she heard Bennett whimpering and went to check on him. He hadn’t woken up, but she said she decided to stay close. Just in case.”
“She heard him whimpering from one floor below?” I ask.
Matthew frowns. “Marissa, there’s no way she could have…”
“So what was she really doing up there?” I interject. “There’s Bennett’s room and the master bedroom and what else?”
“Just a couple of guest rooms,” Marissa replies. “One I use as a little office, but I don’t store a lot there. Most of my work things are at Coco.”
Which Polly has full access to, I think.
“Your bedroom.” I tap my pen against my pad. “Anything missing or moved in it?”
I haven’t seen the master bedroom in the Bishops’ house, but I imagine it’s similar to areas on the first floor, which means it looks like a spread out of a design magazine.
“I’m not certain.” Marissa hesitates, then frowns. “I’m pretty sure our closet door was open and I always keep it closed, but I left in such a rush…”
“We don’t have anything in there but clothes and shoes,” Matthew says. “There’s nothing of real value in the bedroom.”
“Matthew, all my jewelry is there. And I left my watch and the necklace out on the dresser.”
Matthew’s phone buzzes, and without looking at it, he reaches into his pocket to silence it. “Sorry.”
I’m pleased his priorities are where they should be right now.
“But nothing’s missing, right?”
Marissa shakes her head.
“Look, there’s an old axiom that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one,” Matthew continues. “Bennett has nightmares now and then. It’s possible that Polly came upstairs to sneak a look around and really did hear him whimpering. There’s no other good reason for her falling asleep in his room.”
Marissa nods slowly. “You’re probably right. I can see her taking a peek at our bedroom—she’s intrusive like that—but it’s probably nothing more than her curiosity and lack of boundaries.”
Matthew clears his throat. “There is one more thing. Polly called me yesterday, right after she closed up Coco. She said she wanted to talk.”
Marissa stiffens, but I speak before she can. “About what?”
I see Matthew caressing Marissa’s shoulder, as if he’s trying to soothe her. Their roles have shifted during our time together since the first session, I realize. At first, Matthew was enraged and Marissa seemed equal parts frightened and placating. Since then, he’s displayed admirable qualities, such as forgiveness and protectiveness, while Marissa seems a little more fraught, not to mention deceptive, considering she’s still lying to her husband about whom she cheated with.
Matthew continues, “Polly told me she was worried about you, Marissa. She said she was driving downtown and asked if I could meet her.”
Aha, I think. Polly’s puzzling visit to Giovanni’s.
“And you didn’t tell me any of this?” Marissa’s tone is dangerously quiet.
Matthew shakes his head quickly. “I’m sorry.”
The question that came to my mind during my first session with the Bishops surfaces again, but this time the order of the players shuffles: Is Matthew fearful of upsetting his wife—or is he fearful of her?
“I never saw Polly. I got an important work call and couldn’t leave the office, so I texted her to say I’d call her on my drive home. I was going to tell you about it, but obviously I never made it out of the parking garage.… Anyway, she phoned me and left a message while I was in the hospital.”
Matthew reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He touches the screen a couple of times, then Polly’s reedy voice fills the room: “Um, hi, Matthew.… So, I’ve been waiting for you to call, but it’s getting late. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you I’m really worried about Marissa. She doesn’t seem like herself—I’ll explain more when we talk. Okay. Bye.”
Matthew puts his phone away again. “I haven’t called her back.”
Marissa’s lips are tightly clenched. “This is outrageous. I’m firing her tomorrow.”
“Marissa, I get it, she’s weird and she clearly idolizes you,” Matthew replies. “But, look, with everything that’s happened lately, I don’t want you alone in that shop. Fire Polly, but can you at least wait until you hire someone new?”
Marissa exhales. “Fine. I actually just got a few résumés from promising candidates who go to GW. Hopefully one of them will work out.”
Even though I’m growing ever more intrigued by the mysterious happenings churning around the Bishops, and I have my own suspicions about Polly, I can’t lose focus on the reason why I was hired. We need to use our sessions together to do the internal work of repairing their marriage. If someone on the outside is trying to wrench the Bishops apart, that’s for me to explore on my own time.
“Let’s shift gears,” I tell them. “Marissa, when you first got the call from the hospital, how did you feel?”
Marissa slumps and closes her eyes briefly.
“It was awful. I was really worried that he—”
“Talk to Matthew directly, Marissa. ‘I was really worried that you…’”
Marissa turns to face her husband. They’re so close that the tips of their noses are just inches apart. “Matthew, I was really worried that you wouldn’t make it.” She swallows hard and her voice trembles. “That we wouldn’t get a second chance. I’ve hurt you so badly, and I was terrified I lost you just when it seemed like we were finally finding each other.”
Even though Marissa’s words sound a bit Hallmarky, I believe they are sincere. She truly wants a deeper relationship with Matthew; something more than a curated Instagram marriage. If Marissa had had that connection with her husband in the first place, she would never have sought it with another man.
Maybe it’s the naked yearning on Marissa’s face or perhaps it’s my earlier remembrance of Paul’s final moments, but I feel my throat tighten, as it always does when I’m about to cry. I look down at my notepad and pretend to jot something down.
“Marissa,” Matthew begins.