CHAPTER 21
*PRESENT*
“She pushed too fast, too soon”
Aaron
The therapist gave us an appointment just three days later.
Maya was the first to arrive, her attitude clear: back straight, head high, calculating eyes. Just when I was about to kiss her, the doctor opened her door and the couple before us left, her with puffy eyes and him with an angry face and a head held high.
Maya followed them with their eyes. I knew her well; she was about to give her card to the wife.
The doctor must have thought the same because she asked us to step inside.
“Good afternoon, couple. Do you want something to drink?”
I shook my head, while Maya looked between the clock and the doctor, signaling clearly what she wanted.
The doctor left and came back with a tray filled with a tea set and some cookies.
I didn’t have to look at my wife to know she was fuming.
“It’s the perfect moment for tea time. Don’t you think, Maya?”
“Sure,”
said my wife in her fakest voice. “Maybe next time don’t take patients on in this timeframe,”
she finished with a smile.
The doctor was clearly provoking my wife, and from a professional standpoint, I wanted to know why.
“Do you want sugar, Aaron?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She poured tea in my teacup and added the sugar slower than she could.
“What about you, Maya?”
she asked with the kettle in her hands.
“Plain,”
she replied, rolling her eyes.
“Bitter, I see,”
the therapist said.
“And strong,”
my wife retorted.
“I was talking about the tea.”
“Me too,”
my wife replied with her lethal smile, the one she used as a scary lawyer about to sentence whoever dared play with her client.
I cleared my throat and drank some tea.
“Well, tell me, couple. How are things going?”
“I failed,”
my wife said, going directly to what she wanted to say. “I was the one that was supposed to take care of our date, but a work emergency came, and I canceled on Aaron.”
“I see. Why were you the one planning the date?”
“I told him I would,”
Maya said, and the therapist just nodded.
“How did that make you feel, Aaron?
“I understood. I didn’t have any problem with that.”
She just nodded again, deep in thought. My wife was moving next to me, clearly wanting this to go faster.
“I still failed him,”
my wife said, almost wanting the therapist to agree, but she just raised and lowered her shoulders. “I did, and we would have had sex if Aaron didn’t stop me.”
The therapist looked between us with a poker face. “You told us we couldn’t.”
“Maya, do you want me to say that you’re failing?”
the doctor asked.
“No, I—”
My wife was lost for words. “I’m just saying things as they are, as they happened.”
“From my point of view, you still talked about your feelings, planned a date, and didn’t have sex. You passed the test.”
“I don’t agree,”
Maya replied, trying to remain calm. But her shoulders were tense, and her body was inclined to the table between us and the therapist. Like a wounded animal about to attack whoever hurt her.
“You want things to move fast, to fix things with your husband, to take the blame and move on. This is not how it works. You need to go deeper.”
Maya laughed incredulously next to me.
“How many more sessions?”
she asked mockingly. “A year? Two?”
“Whatever you two need.”
My wife laughed humorlessly. “Of course.”
“Do you want things to go faster, Maya?”
My wife just looked at her with an angry expression and no humor left. “What happened two years ago?”
My wife tensed more, if possible.
“I told you,”
she said defensively. “My parents died.”
“How?”
“What has that got to do with my marriage?”
my wife asked, raising her voice.
“I think everything.”
My wife shut down just before my eyes. All her rage was replaced by helplessness; she looked like an abandoned, lost kid.
The doctor’s voice softened. “It must have been very hard for you to lose them.”
Her rage came back.
“I don’t give a fuck about them,”
she said, moving her hands with big, convoluted movements. I reached for my wife, wanting to soothe her. “Tell her, Aaron! Tell her I’m being honest.”
I didn’t reply. Betrayal painted my wife’s face.
“You don’t believe me?”
she asked, rising from her seat. “After everything, you don’t believe me!”
“My love,”
I started.
“Don’t try to placate me!”
she screamed. “I’m not lying.”
She started to move around the room. “I don’t care,”
she chanted, over and over. “I don’t care!”
She left the room, slamming the door on the way out.
I followed her, running after her, my heart beating fast, thinking of her hurting. The doctor pushed too far, too soon.