Woman Last Seen in Her Thirties by Camille Pagán

Author:Camille Pagán [Pagán, Camille]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503949287
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2018-02-26T18:30:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

I had been in Ann Arbor for two weeks when I drove past a church on the way back from a grocery run. The sign out front read:

NONDENOMINATIONAL DIVORCE SUPPORT GROUP, TONIGHT AND EVERY TUESDAY, 7 PM. ALL WELCOME!

Support group, pshaw, I thought. I had facilitated a few support groups when I was a social worker, and I hadn’t enjoyed them all that much. One-on-one counseling had been far more rewarding, or at least it had been until someone had taken a knife to my neck.

Except now I was the one who needed support, I realized as I put my groceries away. And aside from Cathy and the baristas at Maizie’s, the coffee shop I went to most days to get my caffeine and conversation fix, I had not met a single person in town.

Still, a group wasn’t for me; I wasn’t going to go. That’s what I told myself. But after I had eaten dinner, washed my lone plate and cup, and checked email only to realize it was just six forty-five at night, I stood up from Jean’s worn farmhouse table. Maybe the support group would be a bust, but that was still better than moping around the house and wondering if I should just cry uncle and drive back to Oak Valley. I gathered my things and got in the car.

The scene at the church seemed less like life and more like a movie set. Linoleum-floored basement with circle of metal folding chairs: check. Burnt coffee and day-old doughnuts: check. Affable facilitator: check.

Upon closer inspection, the people attending the group, at least, weren’t typecast. There was a woman so young I thought surely she could not have secured a marriage license, let alone gone through a divorce. An older man in athletic apparel sat across from another even older man, who was wearing a suit. Another woman looked like the best-case scenario of me—also in her early fifties, but beautiful and impeccably groomed. A handsome man with warm brown skin sat across from me.

“So!” said the group leader, bringing his hands together. He was thin and pale, and ninety percent of his body hair had congregated in the inch of space between his nose and upper lip. “I’m Bob. As most of you know, I’m a licensed social worker as well as a divorcé, and I’ve been running this support group for the past three years.” His mustache wiggled up and down as he spoke. As I stifled a grin, the man across from me, who looked to be in his forties, caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back, which prompted Bob to home in on me. “I’m happy to see we have a new face joining us today. Welcome, welcome!”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, grateful he hadn’t asked me to introduce myself. I was pretty sure this wasn’t for me, so what was the point?

“We’re happy to have you here. Now, would anyone like to talk about the past week?”

The very young woman raised her hand and told us how disappointed her mother was about her divorce.

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