We no longer see our therapist
I called our couples therapist, today to tell her that Beth wasn’t interested in meeting with her again, and if she would, please send me the final bill.
She asked me how I was doing, how the boy was doing, and how Beth was doing. I told her we were doing all right under the cirumstances, and that the boy’s therapist and teachers were all so impressed at how Beth and I were dealing with all this.
She laughed a bit and told me how much she enjoyed working with us.
“You both worked really hard,” she said, “and it was clear that you enjoyed each other. It wasn’t until the end that it was clear that you two couldn’t work it out. You really tried.”
I told her that despite our outer cordiality, Beth was irritated at me, and told me as much.
“Why is that?” she asked.
I thought the question was odd, because usually our therapist would stop me every time I said anything that implied that I knew what Beth was thinking.
“Well, you’d have to ask Beth about that, but I think it’s because during the marriage she felt that I wasn’t doing enough to help out, and now she’s all by herself and feels that I’ve extricated myself from the marriage. I kept telling her what would happen if things didn’t change, and I thinks she’s angry and surprised that I actually left.”
“Well, I know that this wasn’t what you wanted, either of you,” she says, “but I also couldn’t understand why Beth was surprised that you left.”
More and more, especially on evenings when I don’t seem to have anything better to do than to experiment with vodka and gin, I miss my marriage. I think about the night I told her I wanted us to be in love again, and she told me we were too old and that it didn’t work like that.