Chapter Twenty-Nine #3
The answer was polished. I saw Dr. Mercer notice.
“What do you actually want today?” she asked.
Callum gripped his knee. “I want her to come home. I know there is no home to come to. I want it anyway.”
That was better.
I said, “I want to sleep with him again tonight and I do not want sex to decide anything for me.”
Dr. Mercer nodded. “Those wants can enter the room. They do not chair the meeting.”
We spent the first session describing the statement. Callum began with Nathaniel's transfer. Dr. Mercer stopped him.
“Where was Mira when you approved the wording?”
“In the foundation conference room.”
“What did you see?”
He closed his eyes. “She was standing by the window. Her left hand was flat on the table. She said, ‘You know I did not authorize this.’”
“What did you say?”
“That the statement was temporary.”
My throat tightened. We had discussed the sentence through lawyers and calls, but not while sitting close enough for me to see the scar on his thumb.
“And then?” Dr. Mercer asked.
“I approved it.”
“Why?”
Callum's first answer was about payroll and markets. Dr. Mercer waited.
“Because I believed I could repair Mira after using her name,” he said. “I believed my love would remain available even if hers did not.”
I stood and walked to the window. No one asked me to return to the chair.
“I hate that answer,” I said.
“So do I,” Callum said.
“Do not join me.”
He looked down. “All right.”
After the session, we left separately. Callum did not ask whether I would still see him that evening. I called from the corner.
“Come to my apartment at eight,” I said. “I want sex. I do not want to discuss therapy.”
“Yes.”
“Bring condoms.”
His breath caught. “Yes.”
The sex was less beautiful than our first reunion and more honest. He came too quickly the first time, swore, and buried his face against my stomach.
“That was humiliating,” he said.
“It was three minutes.”
“Two.”
“I was being generous.”
I laughed until his embarrassment eased. Then I put his hand between my legs and showed him the speed I wanted. He watched my face while his fingers worked my clit. I came with one heel digging into the mattress.
Later, he grew hard again. I climbed over him and took his cock slowly, keeping my palms on his chest.
“Do not move,” I said.
He obeyed until I told him not to. Then his hips met mine, rougher each time, his hands on my thighs where I placed them. We came within seconds of each other, neither of us quiet.
Afterward, we ate cereal because I had forgotten dinner.
“Therapy sex,” Callum said. “Very responsible.”
“Do not put that phrase in the world.”
He left before midnight because we had not changed the sleeping agreement.
The second counseling session went worse. Callum admitted he had asked Dorian whether my archive open day had gone well after telling me he would not seek reports through family.
“He volunteered it,” Callum said.
“You asked a question.”
“I asked whether the event was orderly. I did not ask about you.”
“You knew I ran it.”
“Yes.”
His defensiveness rose, familiar and sharp. “I walked past. I did not enter. I did not ask Dorian where you lived or who you were seeing. I asked whether a public event had gone well.”
“And now you want proportional credit.”
“I want proportional blame.”
The room went still.
Dr. Mercer asked me what I heard.
“That he thinks I make every mistake equal to the statement.”
“Sometimes you do,” Callum said.
I nearly left. Instead, I sat with the insult until I could inspect it.
“Sometimes I do,” I said. “Because if small pressure is allowed, I am afraid it becomes the large thing again.”
Callum rubbed both hands over his face. “I should have told you I asked Dorian. I also need to be able to make a small mistake without acting as though our entire marriage has already ended.”
We did not solve it that day. Dr. Mercer gave us no slogan. She asked Callum to disclose information-seeking within twenty-four hours and asked me to name the feared consequence before assigning motive.
For six weeks, we practiced badly. He forgot once and told me on the second day. I interpreted a question about archive hours as an attempt to plan my route. He got angry. I accused him of using anger to punish honesty. He said my calm voice could punish too.
We went home separately, cooled down, and returned.
Our third dinner ended without sex because I had a headache. Our fourth included sex on the kitchen floor and a bruised elbow. Our fifth was canceled when Callum visited Beatrice after Nathaniel sent another letter. He told me before canceling and did not ask me to comfort him.
By the eighth week, Dr. Mercer returned to the question from our first session.
“What choice are you asking this room to help you make now?”
I looked at Callum. He looked tired, hopeful, and imperfectly quiet.
“Whether we want new vows,” I said.
“Not the old ones repaired?”
“No.”
Callum's hand opened on his knee. I placed mine in it because I wanted to, then removed it before the session ended because I was warm.
Neither action required interpretation.