It was nine o'clock in the morning and she didn't want to divorce Jack. She was standing on the same pier. Jack loved this town when she brought him home for Christmas, and decided he would practice here. Jack is perfect. Almost perfect. Jack had straight teeth, knew how to comb his hair. In the morning when he shaved he's sexy and when he came home at night with a tiny coat of dark stubble he was even sexier. He reminded her of her father. In college when they met he was dashing and quick witted. He made her laugh, and he laughed with her.

But he was driven to succeed, driven to accomplish, driven to win. She felt it was the same now. "You are going to see Dr. Morales. If you do not go this time, I will divorce you. I will, Jamie, I will divorce you and I'll take Mark with me. You're killing yourself. Go see Dr. Morales."

The sweater she had on now was several sizes too big too. It had to be. She was fat. She was fat and if she thought anyone could see the thick on the back of her legs and her hips, she would die. She would kill herself. Standing out here on the pier, just like when she was seven and grampie explained to her that for every fish that was caught, two more would be born in the ocean. Wearing this great big sweater that smelled like aftershave and grampie's tobacco. He quit when she was born, grammie told her later. But the smell was still there.

The wind played with her hair, and she walked down to where the pier ended, to the ratty old boards where grampie always held her hand so she couldn't fall in. The water was the shiny slate color of a brisk day in October. It was choppy, and slapped rhythmically on the legs of the pier.

She didn't want to see Dr. Morales. The first time she went to see him, he asked her to hold a piece of cake in her hand. "Just hold it, Mrs. Doseman. You don't have to eat it. Just hold it." Then he made her pick it up off the plate. Hold it in her hand. Gooey chocolate, warm and sticky. She started to cry. It smelled so awful. "It's just a pile of carbon, Mrs. Doseman." Then he made her feel even worse. "But you can cry if you want to."

He promised her he would never make her eat during their sessions. "Why don't you go, Jamie? He said he wouldn't make you eat. You love doing things that don't involve eating." Jack was wearing a tie, his shirt sleeves rolled up, balancing the checkbook again. They were rich, what did a few dimes here and there matter?

But he can only see me at 9:00. I have aerobics at 8:30.

"No, You are canceling aerobics at 8:30. You already do aerobics three times a day. Enough is enough, Jamie."

And she knew, now. Never say the F word in front of Jack. When she was a girl, and her father had to go on a business trip, she knew she should never ask him when he was coming back. When are you coming back, daddy? "Don't you like going to grammie and grampie's?" Yes, and you come too, okay? Grampie will take us out on the boat. You can wear one of his sweaters. "Jamie, I have to go to Boston. I have to earn money so we can eat. You don't want me to lose my job, do you sweetie? You don't want us to starve to death, do you?" No daddy. But when are you coming back? "Damnit, Jamie!" He acted like he thought she thought he was abandoning her. She never thought that.

But I'm fat, Jack. Never, never ever say that. He always flew into such a purple rage. Grabbed the mirror off the wall and shoved it in her face. He was such a beautiful man, such a handsome and wonderful man, but he could be so cruel. "Look at yourself! Look!" Stop it, Jack, you'll wake up Mark. "He's scared of you, Jamie! Look!"

She was supposed to be across town, in that cold sterile office, with it's beige walls and piped in muzak. The pier groaned under her weight, shifting slightly with the tide, back and forth. She closed her eyes, and tried to feel the pier move. She felt like the world was slowly spinning around her.

Stupid Dr. Morales. He was so slimy. Not like Jack at all. Old, pot belly, bushy mustache and squinty eyes. "I'm going to ask you some personal questions now, Mrs. Doseman, but remember, psychiatrists are trained as medical doctors. When was the last time you menstruated?"

What?

"How often do you engage in sexual intercourse?"

You mean with Jack? Are you saying I sleep with other people?

"When you have sex, Mrs. Doseman, do you require the use of lubrication? Does your partner use a condom?"

He was dirty old man. She pulled a peppermint out of her jeans, jeans Jack brought with him to school, and grew out of as soon as he joined the rowing team. She had on her favorite belt, too, leather and solid silver. She sighed and fingered the holes cut into it, nibbled on the peppermint, sighed and dropped it into the water for grampie's fishes.

He's creepy, Jack. His office smells like rotted peanut butter.

"Then go to see someone else, I don't care."

Yes you do. If Craig Stevens found out your wife was seeing a shrink, he'd never make you a partner.

"I'll worry about Craig Stevens. You worry about you."

Out on the ocean she could make out one of the old fishing boats, trolling back and forth on the horizon. The wind picked up, and she hugged herself inside the thick wool. It was grampie's sweater. He died when she was twelve. She was only twelve, but she thought it was her fault.

Daddy can I take grampie's sweater with me?

"Give it back to grammie. You can wear it next time you're here"

Everytime. But once when she was twelve.

Daddy can I wear grampie's sweater home? It's warm.

"Put it away, honey. You can wear it next time."

"Oh, you go ahead, honey." Grammie said, giving her a kiss on her head. "Grampie has plenty of sweaters."

But grampie died of old age, in his bed. Grammie cried, but daddy didn't. Jamie wanted to, but she thought it wasn't fair to cry. She had taken his sweater.

But later when she went to college she realized she hadn't killed him, and she took the sweater with her to school. Cold nights in the quad, watching the snow fall. Such a different whisper than the dull rolling of the ocean around the pier. She thought she might like to be somebody's wife in a nice cold place like this. Sit and watch the snow fall, snuggle under a blanket, talk about politics and gossip about the faculty. Jack said it was romantic. But the ocean was even more romantic.

The wind died down again and she wiped the water form her eyes. The wind always did that to her, even when she was feeling silly, making honking noises like fire engines, riding with her little boy around the school parking lot on their bicycles and crying was the last thing on her mind. She loved her little boy, the spitting image of his father, and she was going to give the sweater to him when he was big enough. That's what's she wanted to talk to Dr. Morales about. Not her periods.

"Weight gain during pregnancy is normal, Jamie."

Even after the baby is born?

"Yes. It's healthy, too. Regular exercise and a good eating habits, not a diet, will give you the body you want."

No, it doesn't.

"Do you blame Mark for your weight."

Of course not. She loved her little boy. He was a perfect angel. He got straight A's in school, just like she did. She made sure of it. Her own father had been very fair when it came to her studies, and she wanted to be fair to Mark. "Fairness gives you the freedom to excel."

I know, daddy.

"If you get a 3.5, that's fine. It's not good enough for Iverton, but you can go to State."

I want to go to Iverton.

"Then get a 4.0. Then won't let you in, otherwise."

"And extra curricular activities," the counselor said. He was oily too, just like Dr. Morales would be. But she obeyed. Cheerleading. Debate team. Student senate. She was the senior class secretary.

And now her wonderful angel. Would Jack really take him away? Was she really scaring him? Of course not. Her little boy loved her. And who would take him to soccer? To piano? To karate lessons, the beach, the park, shopping for shoes? Jack had wonderful taste in clothes, but did he even know what size his own son's feet were?

"I want the red ones, mommy."

But the blue ones match your pants, and your sweatshirt from when Grampa went to Boston.

"But I hafta have the red ones, mom."

Why? Why is it so important?

"I just have to, mom."

She turned the watch over on her wrist. 9:15. She was late for Dr. Morales after twenty minutes, and had to pay extra. But her car was half a mile away, at the other end of the parking lot. Walking was good a good work-out, they said.

Dr. Morales's secretary called the first time she missed. "We have to still charge you unless you arrange to reschedule."

That's fine. My husband's a lawyer.

"Would you like to reschedule next week?"

I thought Dr. Morales had a full itinerary.

"He usually golfs on Wednesday, but next week he has a meeting at two. We can put you in at noon."

No, I'll just see him at my normal time.

She sat down for a moment, but she could feel her belly scrunch when he hugged her legs to her chest, so she stood up again. her head felt light, and the smooth gray of the ocean water began to turn darker. She inhaled sharply, the sting of salt air waking her up. She felt a tingle in her fingers, and hugged herself. Dr. Morales was a fool.

"Close your eyes and smell this, Jamie."

What? No!

"Please, Mrs. Doseman, I'm trying to help you."

She started to cry again. It smells like lemons.

"Now aren't lemons nice? You know, you can wash your hair with lemon juice."

Maybe if she weren't so fat, Jack wouldn't mind that she hated her doctor. Maybe if she was really as pretty as she was when they got married, he'd love her enough to tell that damn doctor to go to hell.

She read once, in magazine at the gym, that shivering actually burned calories. She took off the sweater, and threw it into the pier. Poor grampie. But Mark would understand. And so would Jack.