The Wednesday Group Read Online Free PDF

energized again—excited to finally begin.

 
    SESSION ONE
    The first group happens to coincide with the first day of spring, although snow still covers the ground. There hasn’t been a day above freezing for months.
    Hannah tells herself to get a grip as she parks at the back of the small lot across from the rambling Victorian that has been turned into offices. A solid ten minutes early, she looks at herself in the rearview mirror. Her lipstick is even; the neutral tone seems appropriate. She’s grasping for familiarity in what feels unfamiliar and terrifying. She reminds herself she doesn’t have to stay; she can excuse herself at any time if she feels too uncomfortable.
    When Kathryn called two weeks ago to tell Hannah she’d been chosen, Hannah felt honored, as if she’d won something. Kathryn sounded pleased that Hannah agreed to join. It was all so removed from the reality of actually exposing the shameful secrets that have become the skin of her life.
    Instead of putting her keys in her purse, Hannah shoves them in her pocket. They will serve as a reminder that she is not trapped. Kathryn asked that Hannah think about what she wants from this group. Support was the first word that came to mind, but the more she thought about the word, the more literal it became. Support beams, support bras, support hose. Other words— empathy, understanding, coping skills, friends —came to her. None felt quite right. She finally decided that what she wants is relief from the panic that comes in the middle of the night, and the floating anxiety that plagues her most of the day. She wants to stop snapping at her children, stop obsessing about what Adam may or may not be doing. She wants to start living again—a tall order for a therapy group to deliver.
    The place feels deserted. She climbs the stairs to the second floor and knocks on the door, wondering if she got the time wrong.
    Kathryn greets her.
    â€œHi,” Hannah says. “Am I too early?”
    â€œNo, but you are the first.” Kathryn smiles.
    Hannah has read somewhere that group leaders are sensitive to the early birds who try to sneak in one-on-one time.
    â€œI’ll wait out here,” Hannah says.
    â€œNo, come in. Please.” Kathryn looks younger than Hannah remembers. She has her hair in a ponytail, and her brunette bangs hit just above her well-defined eyebrows.
    Hannah steps into the room, where mismatched chairs are arranged in a circle.
    â€œTake a seat.” Kathryn smiles again, and Hannah senses that she is also nervous.
    Hannah decides on the wooden Windsor chair, the only seat without padding. She doesn’t want to sit on the loveseat and risk being too close to someone else. And she’s not going to take an armchair since she probably won’t come again.
    â€œThere’s water on the coffee table,” Kathryn says. “Help yourself. I’m just finishing up some notes.”
    Hannah could use some water, but right now she’s afraid her hand will shake if she actually tries to pour a glass.
    It’s too quiet. She digs her phone from her purse and reads the last text from Adam, informing her of the time he left work, traffic conditions, and estimated arrival. This is what her life has come down to—his reporting his every move. It’s supposed to build trust, but it doesn’t. She powers off her phone.
    â€œKnock, knock,” a voice calls.
    â€œGail,” Kathryn says. “Come in.”
    The woman is already in, and Hannah wonders if it’s because Gail is older that Kathryn seems too eager as she takes her coat. Gail has on bright red lipstick and no other makeup. The circles under her eyes have a plum-colored hue.
    She looks around, nods as if the room is acceptable, then sits in the armchair next to Hannah. She shifts, trying to get comfortable. Her sneakers stand out against her tailored slacks and peach silk blouse. When she finds a position that