14 Par for the Course

14

par for the course

Danielle

A couple of years ago we were seeing a therapist who was also a psychologist. We thought we could doctor our relationship back into bliss. Dr. Gray was his name. Gloomy from the start. He also had taxidermy in his office, which I thought was bizarre and inappropriate.

Every time we were there, an image would flash through my mind of my and Alex’s heads stuffed and mounted on the wall, next to a largemouth bass. But Dr. Gray had come highly recommended, regarded for his unique approaches to solving marital unrest, so we gave it a try.

For the first twenty minutes of the appointments, we would do regular talk therapy and then the last part would be an exercise. He had us practice and work up to doing headstands side by side, against one wall of his office. The pure absurdity of it would make Alex and me laugh every time. Other sessions included us doing small jigsaw puzzles without being able to talk, and one time he even had us feed each other. It was all very strange and new wave, but for a while, the distractive nature of it helped us get along better. So maybe Dr. Gray was on to something.

What eventually happened, though, was that we would do his silly exercises and then get into the car and fight.

At our last meeting he took on a more traditional approach. He talked about John Gottman’s Four Horsemen. Basically, a theory that names four relationship characteristics that inevitably will lead to divorce. Alex and I had them all.

The memory is still vivid in my mind, not only because it was our last session with Dr. Gray, but also because that same morning was the last time Alex and I slept together. By that point we were already living in separate bedrooms of the house, so sex was few and far between and never involved any sort of rapturous passion. It was basically a quickie every couple of weeks. But that morning was different, or so it could have been. The boys were on spring break and had stayed overnight at a friend’s house. My mother had already been gone for six months so the topic of her abuse was rarely coming to the surface anymore. I had passed Alex in the hallway. He was dressed in running clothes.

I said, “We have Dr. Gray in an hour.”

He seemed irritated and rolled his eyes. “I know, I’m going on a short run. I’ll be back by the time we have to leave.”

I looked down at my toes and up my own body. It was supposed to be subtle. The implication was, Look at me, I’m wearing a short, lace nightgown . At that time I was still hopeful. I believed if we stuck with Dr. Gray, it would all work itself out. We enjoyed his weird little exercises. But beyond the silliness of it, and laughing for a moment, it wasn’t actually bringing Alex and me any closer together.

“I just thought— ”

“What? What did you think?” he said, not rudely. Obtuse.

Alex’s body language was telling me he was in a hurry. Always in a hurry. He stood there blinking, eyebrows arched.

“No one is here,” I said.

“Keen sense of the obvious,” he said, and smiled like he thought he was clever.

“Jesus, Alex.” He wasn’t getting it. “Uh…do you want to do me?”

“Danielle,” he scoffed.

“Well, why do you think I’m wearing this skimpy nightgown and blocking your way in the hallway and pointing out that we’re alone?” So many things I wish I didn’t have to say. So many times I felt we were in the same theater watching a different movie.

“Okay, let’s do it,” he said.

He walked past me into my bedroom and stood near the bed, still fully clothed. In a way, I was on autopilot as I walked up next to him, pulled my nightgown up to my waist, and bent over the bed. I could see him in the closet mirror. He pulled his shorts and underwear down to about mid-thigh and took one arm out of his shirt so half of his shirt was bunched on his shoulder. This was something I recognized. He did it so his shirt wouldn’t get in the way, but so that he wouldn’t have to take it off completely and put it back on afterward. He still had his running shoes on when he started thrusting. It hurt.

I closed my eyes and tried to pretend we were young again, that we were in love. I tried to go somewhere else.

“Can you get down lower? Your legs are too long,” he said between breaths.

My legs are disproportionately long, so Alex does have to sort of stand on the balls of his feet when we’re having sex standing up. I shimmied down and spread my legs wider so the entire upper half of my body was flush with the top of the bed. My face and chest were rubbing back-and-forth against the comforter with every plunge. Idly, I thought that I was getting some much-needed exfoliation for my face.

Why did I want this ? What do I look like back there?

I was trying desperately to stay in the moment, or at least the moment I imagined in my mind.

It was taking longer than usual and the sex was getting rougher and harder to tolerate. He wasn’t intentionally hurting me, I just wasn’t into it. Apparently, neither was he.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he stopped and said, “This can’t feel good to you.”

“What’s wrong? Do I not turn you on?”

“I’m not the one who’s not turned-on; do you realize that?” he barked.

“Then what is the problem?” I said.

“I don’t know, Dani. Let’s just forget it,” he said.

“But…can we just lie down and talk about this for a second?”

“I wanted to get a run in.” His tone was not mean or rude, it was almost apologetic, but it didn’t matter.

“Go, then. I’ll see you at Dr. Gray’s. I have errands to run after, so we can drive separately.”

“Okay, bye. I’m sorry,” he said as he kissed me on the forehead.

After he left I cried for twenty minutes. Then Alex was fifteen minutes late to our appointment. During that time, Dr.Gray tried to make small talk with me. When I acted aloof about his idle chatter, he said, “Danielle, do you want to talk one-on-one until Alex gets here and then I can schedule a separate appointment with him? I don’t normally do that, but it could be beneficial. ”

“No,” I said. I truly had no interest.

Alex finally got there, sat down next to me, and said, “Sorry, I needed to shower and time got away from me.” He glanced over at me quickly and then looked back at Dr. Gray.

“What are you saying, Alex? That it’s my fault you’re late, or that you were masturbating in the shower because you couldn’t get off with me?”

It had been building in my chest, getting bigger and bigger. I had hit my edge and couldn’t hold back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dr. Gray said.

“Oh my god, Danielle! What is wrong with you? I went running and had to take a quick shower. That’s it. I ran farther than I should have. That’s it! ”

I took a deep, cleansing breath. “Let’s just get on with it.”

“What would you like to talk about or work on today? Did you guys have a good week?” Dr. Gray was looking at me because I was usually the one who spoke up first.

“I just feel myself giving up,” I said. Alex stayed quiet as I went on. “I tried to initiate sex this morning and it was terrible all-around.”

Alex made a noise like he was exasperated.

“Alex,” Dr. Gray said, “do you have anything to add?”

“I can’t turn her on. Maybe Lars can,” Alex said.

“Just stop that,” I sneered. I looked at Dr. Gray. “I need intimacy. Not quickies.”

“I try to kiss you all the time, Dani. You turn your head away. You act like you don’t want me to.”

“Not that kind of intimacy, Alex. You don’t get it.”

“Danielle,” Dr. Gray said, “let’s reframe and rephrase. Come on. What is intimacy to you and what do you need to feel turned on? But before you answer that, Alex—remember men and women are different. I’m not talking about physically. I’m talking about the foreplay that happens from the moment you’re done having sex the time before.”

“I’m not following,” Alex said. “I give her attention. I tell her she’s beautiful again and again. I try foreplay all the time, but she pushes me away then rushes into sex—”

I couldn’t help myself. “See! He doesn’t get it.”

Dr. Gray looked at me pointedly. “Danielle, tell him specifically what it is.” When I started to speak, Dr. Gray said, “No! Tell Alex directly. Use the pronouns you and I, not him .”

“Fine.” I shifted on the cold, uncomfortable leather couch. Before I even opened my mouth to speak, I glanced up at the stuffed deer corpse mounted on the wall. My breath hitched. I shook my head diminutively.

“Focus,” Dr. Gray said.

It’s hard to keep your thoughts straight and quell your emotions when a dead animal is glaring at you. I tried to imagine being at home, on our bed. The bed we used to share.

Speaking directly to Alex, I said, “Okay. Can you face me?”

He turned his head only. “I’m looking right at you.”

“Tell him, Danielle,” Dr. Gray said.

I was crying before the first words came out of my mouth. My voice was shaky and weak, but as I went on, and despite the fact that I was hysterical, my conviction got stronger.

“Alex, I want you to be proud of me…and proud to be with me . I want you to be fascinated by me, and by my brain, like you used to be. Enchanted by who I am, captivated by how I see the world, mystified by how someone like me can exist and by how you are the one who gets to hold me in your arms. I want you to be enamored, Alex! Even if it’s not true—I want you to pretend it is…and I want to believe the lie.”

I was sobbing. Hyperventilating.

Alex sat there, stunned into silence. The image is still a bloody razor in my mind. Alex on the leather couch, two feet away, hugging the armrest to get as far from me as possible, his head turned toward me and cocked slightly to the right, while his rigid body stayed facing the door, I assume so he could be ready to flee at any moment. He was staring at me…nonplussed. And directly behind him was the dead deer, looking equally bewildered.

I was blinking and wiping tears away. Nothing. He said nothing.

“Alex,” came Dr. Gray’s voice. I had almost forgotten Dr. Gray was there. Alex turned to look at him. “Do you have a response?”

Alex shook his head.

“Say something,” I said through tears.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

“Anything,” I said in a voice that sounded like a mewling cat.

“I think I do all of those things,” he said with no emotion whatsoever. “You don’t exactly act like I’m the bee’s knees, Danielle.”

After that, I became the quiet one. Dr. Gray leaned forward in his leather wingback chair, resting his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands together, and said, “Are you guys familiar with the Gottman Institute?”

Alex shook his head while I nodded.

Dr. Gray went on. “They refer to the Four Horsemen—”

“Of the apocalypse?” Alex laughed. It was insensitive. Not so much what he said, but the fact that the mood was intensely serious and he tried to make a joke.

“That’s right, Alex,” Dr. Gray said. “So the four horsemen in a relationship refer to contempt, criticism, defensiveness, and stonewalling. When these four behaviors are involved, it’s really difficult to make any progress at all. You might be wondering why I’m bringing this up now instead of doing one of my silly exercises?”

My eyes shot open. Was he admitting the exercises were trivial and just a waste of time?

“Go on,” I said.

“The exercises are to give you an insignificant topic to conversate about when you leave. It’s not team building, like people think. These dead animals mounted all over the room, they’re not mine. I got them from a Hollywood prop house. They’re just conversation starters. I’ve stopped our sessions ten minutes early and neither of you have said a thing about it. My hope was that every day you would leave here and talk about me or this office, or the silly exercises. Most people do, then realize they have a lot more in common than they thought. It leads to other, deeper conversations in private. You see?”

“This whole thing is just a made-up game? This is complete insanity,” I said.

“Not really. I think today you should go home and contemplate why this method that has helped so many people who want to stay together has proved useless with you guys. Can you think of a reason why?”

“Because we’re stubborn,” Alex said.

“Maybe,” Dr. Gray replied.

I didn’t say it out loud…I couldn’t, but in my head, I knew it was because we didn’t want to stay together.

Alex huffed and then said, “Well, now that you’ve blown your cover—”

“We can still do talk therapy, but that involves talking. I don’t think you guys are hopeless. I brought up the four horsemen because I see a lot of contempt from you, Danielle; and Alex, you are constantly stonewalling her. Eighty-five percent of stonewallers are men. This isn’t uncommon. I’m guessing, Alex, you think that if you speak up you’ll make things worse?”

Alex shrugged.

Dr. Gray continued, “Staying quiet actually makes things worse. The frustration that you cause Danielle by not saying anything is instantaneous and obvious.”

I was shocked. Dr. Gray wasn’t holding back. At first it felt like he was taking my side. A shit-eating smile spread across my face, which I later regretted.

Alex winced. “I feel like I’m being crucified now.”

“No,” Dr. Gray replied, “not at all. I’m telling you, point-blank, what you two need to do to heal this marriage. Danielle, you’re a writer, for Christ’s sake. You need to learn how to use the proper language when you’re talking to Alex so he doesn’t want to go running for the hills. Do you guys see how it all boils down to communication? Danielle, you are constantly pouring fuel on the fire, while Alex is hiding in the corner, shooting himself in the foot and wondering why his goddamn foot hurts.”

Dr. Gray took a deep breath. Now there were three deer in headlights—me, Alex, and the stuffed one behind us. It was beyond unprofessional and un-therapist-like, but I appreciated Dr. Gray’s candor that day.

“Listen,” he went on, “stonewalling is a very common behavior in men. I promise there’s hope for you guys. If Danielle were stonewalling, I might not think so. When the woman does it, it’s very indicative of divorce. You can just stop doing it, Alex, it’s not that complicated. All you have to do is start telling Danielle how you feel. And Danielle, I have learned over the course of this therapy that you are a very forgiving person. Forgive him for shutting down. Listen to him communicate with the beautiful language you are so familiar with. ”

Alex turned his whole body this time and looked at me. “Well?” he said.

“Time’s up,” Dr. Gray blurted out.

“What?” I barked. Finally making some progress and then time’s up? I looked at the clock, he was right. We were actually twenty minutes over.

Alex stood and reached out his hand to help me stand. “Well, Dr. Gray, I guess we’ll let you know what the plan is,” Alex said.

“Okay. You guys take care.”

We walked to the parking lot in silence. As Alex started the car, he looked over at me and said, “That guy’s a quack.” I didn’t respond. “Right?” he said.

“I guess.”

“We’ll find someone better, Dani.”

But we didn’t. Instead, we muscled through four more bad experiences with different therapists. We continued to be miserable because neither one of us wanted to make the effort. Now it’s too late. Now I’m the one avoiding. Sitting in my house, stuck in the past when what I should be doing is finding someone to pick up the boys tomorrow. I should be planning my pitch. I need to sell myself as a showrunner.

Ethan walks into the kitchen. I’m in a daze. He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “Jose’s mom can pick us up and take us to their house until you’re done with your meeting.”

I look up at him. He appears sympathetic. “Did you call her and ask for me?”

“I just texted Jose and he asked her. It’s no big deal, Mom. A lot of kids walk or ride their bikes and then go home to an empty house until their parents get home from work.”

Inside I feel appalled, but on the outside I’m trying to stay cool. “That road is not safe for you guys to ride your bikes on.”

“I know. That’s why I asked Jose if we could go to his house. ”

I nod. He’s trying to help, and he is helping. It’s also becoming clear to me that I need to cool it with the helicopter parenting. I need to prepare myself for the days when Alex and I will be legally divorced. He’ll be taking the boys places I’ve never been, with people I don’t know, and I will have absolutely no knowledge of it. Maybe there will even be a new woman there. She’ll wish the boys called her “ Mom” instead of me. She’ll want them to tell her they love her, or that they like her more than me. My boys never will. They will never betray me.

“Mom!”

I shake my head back to planet Earth.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Your face is bright red, you look like a tomato. What is wrong?” Ethan says, his eyeballs darting back and forth.

“Do you think I’m a good mom?” Never before have I stooped this low. “I mean, do you ever wish I was different?”

“Like a mom who doesn’t make us do chores?” He smiled. He was teasing. “No. I don’t wish you were someone else, that’s ridiculous.” It’s equal parts pride-inducing and humbling to be put in your place by your twelve-year-old son.

“When Dad and I divorce officially, which is going to happen very soon…” I stop myself and yell for Noah. “Noah, get down here. Family meeting!”

Ethan is watching me like he thinks I might be clinically insane.

“Coming,” I hear Noah say from upstairs.

“You and Dad have never said the words family meeting, ” Ethan says in a low voice.

“Well, I’m having one now.”

“What’s up?” Noah says as he enters the kitchen. It seems like the boys have grown a whole foot in one year.

“Sit down.” I gesture to the barstools .

I begin calmly. “I know Dad’s not here…” I pause. They look around the kitchen and both arch their eyebrows, indicating that I am stating the obvious. “It’s not really a family meeting, but I think he’ll agree with everything I’m about to tell you. He’ll probably have a similar discussion with you in his own way.”

Who am I kidding? No, he won’t. He’s a steel trap.

“What’s up, Mom,” Noah says.

“Your father and I are getting a divorce.”

“We know,” Ethan says. “You guys have told us like ten thousand times.”

Noah says, “It’s about time.”

“You want us to get divorced?” I say.

“No, we want you to stop talking about it,” Noah blurts out.

I realize in that moment how hard it is to see the scales anymore, let alone keep them balanced.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “There is something specific I want to talk to you about.”

The boys are staring at me, Ethan with his light hair, blue eyes, and Noah, all dark hair, dark eyes like me. One is stubborn, one is brainy, one is loving, one is more independent…but together they are perfect. Right now Ethan is about an inch taller, which infuriates Noah. Sometimes the two of them are warring nations, but right now they are a united force.

They are their own people and I’ve just realized in this moment that my marriage has nothing to do with them. Having two parents who get along is important, much more important than a piece of paper that is simply a declaration between me and their father.

“Mom!”

“I know, I know.” I’m changing course in my mind. “So we’ve talked about how there are going to be some logistical changes, but I think it’s important to point out that we are getting a divorce so we can be happier, not just divorced. We have unlearned how to be happy together.”

“And can’t you relearn it?” Noah asks.

“No. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Why did I just say that? I’m flailing.

“But it’s not a new trick, and are you comparing Dad to a dog?” Ethan asks.

“No, not at all. I’m saying we both are.” I take a deep breath and collect myself. “Your dad is a great person. He is kind, generous, loving, smart, so many wonderful things. Someday, he will likely get a girlfriend.” They’re still staring at me like I’m spewing the obvious. “I want you to know that unless she’s a total train wreck, mean or ignorant, materialistic or shallow, or she’s a fan of shitty music, you must be nice to her. As long as she’s nice to you.”

“Oh, it’s this talk,” Noah says. “Yeah, Dad gave us this talk while we were waiting in the ER a couple days ago.”

“Huh?” I’m flabbergasted. “What did he say?”

“Essentially the same thing you just said in reverse,” Ethan says.

“He told you to be nice to his future girlfriend?”

“Noooo, Mom, are you serious? This is when you would call someone ‘obtuse,’?” Noah says playfully.

Jesus, when did my kids become smarter than me?

“He said you were great. He said you’re a great mom and person and that someday you might date. His criteria was a little different though. He mentioned all that mean and shallow stuff, but at the end he said, ‘If the guy is a Giants fan, you have my permission to be a dick to him.’?” Both the boys chuckle.

I’m laughing and crying at the same time. I can’t believe he had this talk with them, and I’m shocked that he said those nice things about me. This feels like the true marker of the end.

“Well, I guess I agree. No Giants fans.” We laugh for another moment and then I stop abruptly. “I’m curious. I need to know. What did he say exactly? Like word for word?” Now the boys look exasperated.

“I don’t remember word for word, Mom. He was basically saying not to make you feel guilty about being happy.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I say, almost in a whisper. From the mouths of babes…

“Anyway, Dad would never date someone with bad taste in music,” Noah says, laughing.

I shrug. “I’d never date a Giants fan.”

“Can I order a pizza now?” Ethan says.

Just like that, they’re kids again.

Everything is taken care of. The boys barely need me anymore. I walk upstairs thinking how insane the day has been. I still have to hunker down and get organized for tomorrow. When Connie called and said four executives from Apple TV wanted me to come in and pitch my show, I was over the moon. Before this, I really thought my career was done for. I should feel reinvigorated, or happier about the news. I was jumping up and down on the phone with Connie, but as soon as I hung up, reality came rushing in.

I wished I had someone to tell, to bounce things around with. When I was twenty years old, one of my childhood friends went to Spain to study abroad. She would send me postcards of all her fabulous travels. She ventured across Europe alone. Every weekend she went to a new country. I was envious of her independence and bravery. I planned a trip to go see her over the holidays that year. When she met me at the airport in Madrid, she was crying hysterically, hugging me as tightly as she could. She was so lonely. I kept asking her about all the places she went and she just kept saying, “It’s like it didn’t even happen. I’m so glad you’re here.” Later that week, we traveled to Portugal. It’s such a vivid memory still and I love that it has stuck with me. We were staring out at the Tagus river from Belém Tower, just in awe of the country, when she turned to me and said, “None of those other places felt real because I knew I wouldn’t have anyone to share the memory with.”