The Golden Couple(3)
Marissa nods eagerly. I take Matthew’s stony silence for acquiescence.
There’s a hitch in my energy, which I’m careful to mask. All couples have secrets. The Bishops are no exception. There’s more than just infidelity here. Marissa’s cheating is a symptom, not the source of their fundamental breakdown.
Twelve minutes ago, they breezed into my office—glamorous, affluent, enviable. The golden couple. Now the underlying tarnishes they’ve never allowed the public to see are already beginning to show.
It’s going to get a lot uglier soon.
“When do we start?” Marissa asks.
“We already have.”
CHAPTER TWO
MARISSA
MARISSA FEELS AS IF she and Matthew have hurtled off a cliff. They’re in free fall. She just spoke the terrible words out loud: I slept with someone.
On the drive to Avery Chambers’s office in Cleveland Park, D.C., Marissa almost suggested canceling the session. She knew Matthew wouldn’t have minded. It had been her idea to schedule the meeting, which she insinuated was to talk about their eight-year-old son, Bennett, who had been bullied by a classmate last year.
Marissa reached out to Avery after reading an article in The Washington Post Magazine that described Avery’s unconventional “anti-therapy.” The profile contained biographical details about the forty-one-year-old: she grew up in Chicago, attended Northwestern, is an avid runner, and loves to travel to off-the-beaten-path destinations. Several of her former clients were interviewed—“She literally saved my life,” one proclaimed—and so were a few detractors, including the head of the American Psychological Association, who was quoted as saying, “Avery Chambers does not represent or uphold the sacred tenets of our profession.” An accompanying photo revealed the silhouette of a woman with a tumble of long hair looking out a window.
In person, Avery is more attractive and stylish than Marissa expected, with her radiant olive skin and full lips. She wears a belted green suede dress and three-inch heels that make her almost as tall as Marissa, and a stack of gold bangles adorns her right wrist. Avery doesn’t wear a wedding band. Marissa wonders if this matters. Would it be better if Avery had a husband? Would that enable her to more effectively understand the nuances of a complicated marriage?
And certainly Marissa and Matthew’s union is complicated. A decade into their marriage, Matthew, a partner in a D.C. law firm, spends more evenings at business events than by her side. Marissa feels lost in a constant swirl of activities: running her boutique, Coco; cooking delicious but nutritious meals for her family; staying trim and fit enough to slide into the pair of faded Levi’s cutoffs she’s had since high school; and serving on the auction committee at Bennett’s private school.
Avery’s voice pulls Marissa into the present. “You need to answer four questions, Marissa. Keep it short. One: Have you ever cheated on Matthew before?”
“No! Never!”
Her whole body is shaking; she’s freezing. Normally Matthew would notice and wrap an arm around her or offer her his suit jacket. She desperately wants to stand up and walk past her husband to get her cape, but it feels perilous to enter his space now. He’s blazing with fury; he’s the heat to her ice.
“Two.” Avery must sit in that chair day after day, absorbing sordid and sad stories. She’s in the epicenter of the rage and pain and disgust ricocheting around the room; it seems impossible that she’s immune to it. Yet she looks utterly calm, and invincible. “Will it ever happen again?”
“No, I promise.”
Avery nods. “Three: Is it truly over with the other man?”
“Yes,” Marissa whispers. The moment carries a solemnity; it has the feel of a vow. Matthew finally turns to look at her. There’s a sheen in his eyes, just as there was on their wedding day when she walked down the aisle, in a cream silk dress with a long train, past two hundred guests.
Avery is studying both of them intently, Marissa realizes. What is she thinking?
The silence stretches out.
“What’s the fourth question?” Marissa finally asks.
“That’s for Matthew to decide. But not right now. Matthew, when you leave here, I’d like you to think about the essential information you need to know in order to move on.”
He nods, just once. But it already feels like progress.
Coming here was a good decision. Avery’s no-nonsense approach suits Matthew’s personality. He likes charts and precise plans; he’s a cut-to-the-chase kind of guy. Back when Bennett was being bullied, Marissa tried talking to the other child’s parents. Matthew hired a boxing coach to teach their then second-grader how to throw an uppercut.
“Let’s go back to happier times.” Avery jots something on her notepad. “Tell me about one of your favorite moments together, Marissa.”
There are so many for Marissa to choose from, whole albums of memories. She selects one of the glossy snapshots: “Just last year, Matthew and I were invited to a black-tie dinner at the Kennedy Center. It was magical. We hired a car and driver and danced all night. He looked so handsome. It was because of his work on behalf of the World Wildlife Fund that we went—”
Avery cuts her off. “That’s an Instagram post. Give me something real.”
Marissa flinches. In those few words, Avery has cut to the core of what their marriage has become: curated moments served up in public, while in private the emptiness between them slowly expands.