The Golden Couple(41)
If anyone is going to give my wife flowers, it’s me.
Matthew’s phone pings and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Fuck it. I’m late for a client meeting. He flew in from Switzerland. You know what would be almost as bad as losing you, Marissa? Losing my job. I gotta go.”
Marissa wipes her eyes as Matthew retraces his steps, back toward Coco.
I study her as she stares after her husband. I’ve never seen Marissa like this: her mascara is streaked, and her face looks pale and a little hollow, as if she has dropped a few pounds she can’t afford to lose.
“Are you ready to tell me what’s really going on?” I ask her.
A puzzle I’ve been wrestling with is how the opportunity for infidelity presented itself to Marissa. The natural intersections in her life for her to meet men are few. Coco caters to women, and all but one of her vendors are all in other states or overseas. Her son’s private school, where she’s involved as a volunteer, hasn’t any eligible candidates—no handsome soccer coach or intriguing male teacher. I’ve checked. Even the math tutor she just hired is female.
Natalie mentioned some good-looking dads at Rolling Hills, but Marissa wouldn’t risk entangling her son in something as sordid as a fling.
Other than Marissa’s boutique and Bennett’s school, her present life revolves around Matthew. Which leads me to conclude that the man she slept with is almost certainly from her past.
I wait for her to speak, but she just shudders and wraps her arms around herself.
For most of my clients, the fourth session—Revelation—means finally acknowledging lies. Either ones they’ve told themselves, or lies other people have convinced them to believe. Marissa’s revelation, one that should hit her hard, is that she is betraying not only her husband, but herself and me, by continuing to conceal the truth. That’s something I won’t stand for.
“Marissa, this isn’t working,” I say crisply. “I’ll send you a final bill for today. Good luck.”
I turn on my heel and walk away.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MARISSA
MARISSA WATCHES AS AVERY STANDS at the head of the crosswalk, waiting for a break in traffic to venture across the busy lanes of traffic, and out of Marissa’s life forever.
Her head throbs and a wave of dizziness passes through her. Last night, she woke abruptly at 3:00 A.M. and lay there until dawn, while Matthew slept beside her, unaware. She nibbled on a half piece of dry toast this morning and drank too much coffee.
Her secret is a rough, tight knot in her stomach.
She can’t continue like this.
“Wait!” she calls out.
Avery doesn’t turn around.
“Avery, please!”
Maybe it’s the tone of Marissa’s pain-filled cry that captures Avery’s sympathy, because she pulls back the foot she was about to plant in the street.
Avery twists to face Marissa and studies her for a moment, then walks back.
“It wasn’t a man from the gym. That guy doesn’t exist,” Marissa blurts.
Avery nods. “He’s from your past, right? Someone you met at college, or maybe your hometown.”
The color drains from Marissa’s face. “How did you…?”
“Matthew knows him, too.” Avery says this as a statement, not a question.
Marissa wraps her arms around her waist and begins to shiver. “Yes,” she whispers. “We’ve known each other forever.”
Avery exhales. “You should have told me. We’ve wasted so much time working under a false pretense.”
“I’m sorry. Please, you have to help me. I’ll do anything to fix this.”
“What else have you lied about?” Avery asks abruptly. “Did you sleep with him more than once? Maybe it went on for a couple weeks. Or longer…?”
“No!” Marissa cries. She feels as if she were on the witness stand, being cross-examined. And she’s guilty, she knows she is, but only of that single infidelity.
“He’s always had a thing for you. You like the attention. Maybe you led him on, flirted behind Matthew’s back. But now he’s hooked on you, and he’s a problem that won’t go away.”
Nausea fills Marissa’s throat. How can Avery know so much? Marissa had liked the attention, but she never flirted, either in or out of Matthew’s presence. And not because she didn’t have the opportunity. The man she’d cheated with had been woven through most of their lives: When she was just a kid, he’d taught her to bodysurf the waves. They’d shared beers on sandy blankets, and he and Matthew used to race each other out to the floating dock. On her wedding day, he’d worn a tuxedo and stood beside the other men, and when Bennett was born, he sent a gigantic stuffed dog from FAO Schwarz. She has sat across from him at dinners dozens of times—and, yes, she has looked up and caught his longing eyes lingering on her face.
And just weeks ago—on the night this sordid mess all began—he phoned to say he was in the neighborhood, and a few minutes later she opened her front door to see him standing on her stoop with a wide grin and a bottle of Malbec tucked under his arm.
“He wasn’t ever my boyfriend,” Marissa tells Avery now. “But … he was my first kiss.”
His lips had felt warm and soft on hers. She’d caught the scent of the wintergreen Life Savers he’d always loved before she drew away. It was over in a moment, yet it felt as if it had the potential to change everything.