Stacey starts the car. “There’s something wrong with you, Coop. And I was mistaken before. The quickest way to put an end to this relationship is to propose on the sidewalk like that.”
“That was impulsive, I’m sorry,” Coop says. “What if I start over privately, here and now. Please, Stacey, will you marry me?”
“No,” she says, as she feeds their parking stub into the greedy mouth of the machine at the exit. The barrier rises. “I’m sorry, but no.”
There’s something wrong with you, Coop. Stacey Patterson had the courage to state what no one else would. All his life, people have been telling Cooper he’s an “old soul.” He’s been here before, he was born with an…ease. An…understanding. Who was the first person to tell him this? His mother? A teacher? Geri Gladstone from across the street? Well, whoever it was did Cooper a great disservice. He’d always trusted his instincts—even after they turned out to be wrong again and again and again. （And again and again.）
Cooper’s most recent ex-wife, Amy, is a psychologist in the District, and in order to find someone who isn’t a close colleague of Amy’s, Cooper has to look in northern Virginia. Fairfax, as it turns out, where he makes an appointment with a woman named Dr. Theron Robb. Whereas Amy is known as a “touchy-feely” therapist, Dr. Robb is cool and reserved. Cooper appreciates this. He doesn’t need someone to empathize with him; he needs someone to tell him what’s broken and how to fix it.
Dr. Robb is in her late forties, Cooper would guess. She’s tall, Black, and as slender and graceful as a ballerina—but Cooper must think of his therapist as a person, not a woman.
“You lost your parents in a tragic car accident in 2013 and your sister to cancer in 2020. You’ve been divorced five times.” Dr. Robb pauses. “That’s a lot of loss.”
Cooper nods.
“It’s no wonder you proposed to Stacey,” Dr. Robb says. “I’m sure you were driven by a primal instinct for permanence. Someone who would stay.”
“Maybe?” Coop says. “I’m not completely alone. My nephew, Link, is living with me this summer, doing an internship at Brookings. We’re close.”
“But he’ll go on to have his own life,” Dr. Robb says. “He won’t be with you forever.”
“True.” Cooper doesn’t like to think about this. Link is the only family he has left and Cooper loves the kid like a son, always has.
“Why did your marriages end?” Dr. Robb asks.
“Various reasons,” Coop says. “Sometimes it was them, sometimes me. The most recent divorce was me. I wanted out.”
Dr. Robb studies Cooper frankly from behind her glasses. He would love to know what she’s thinking. “When was the last time you were happy?” she asks. “When was the last time things felt right? Can you take me back there?”
“I’m not completely obtuse,” Coop says. “I’ve given this exact question a lot of thought. The mistakes started on Nantucket Island in 1993.”
Dr. Robb laughs, startled. “I hadn’t anticipated that kind of archaeological dig, but I’m game. What happened on Nantucket in 1993?”
“I left my own bachelor weekend,” Coop says. “My sister, Mallory, was cool enough to invite me and my two best friends to visit her over Labor Day. And then she had her best friend from growing up come as well, so there were five of us around the dinner table. I can remember when we all hoisted our glasses, thinking how lucky I was. That moment was…golden.” Coop sighs. “Then, later that night, my fiancée, Krystel, called to demand that I come home. She was jealous, she was threatened…”
“Controlling,” Dr. Robb says.
“And I left,” Cooper says. “I abandoned my sister, I abandoned my friends. But most of all, I abandoned myself.”
Dr. Robb nods.
“So I guess if I could go back to any point, I would choose that night.”
“I see.”
“A bunch of things happened that weekend after I left,” Cooper says. “Crazy stuff, like from a novel or a movie. And I set them all in motion by leaving. If I had stayed on Nantucket in 1993 instead of going home…my sister’s life, my friend Jake’s life, and my friend Fray’s life all would have been different.”
“That’s a pretty big statement,” Dr. Robb says.
“I know,” Cooper says. “But it’s true.” He drops his head into his hands. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I could go back and do it over.”