Chapter Seventeen

 

 

The following morning, Mitch pulled into the driveway and sat, the engine idling. Why was he so nervous about going inside? This was his home, his family. He sat with his fingers curled around the steering wheel. Maybe this was a bad idea, especially after the other day. Of course, he was hardly going to throw Janie down on the floor and have his way with her—again—with the kids there. He squinted, recalling their frantic lovemaking. She hadn’t given him one command, one direction to follow. Hadn’t taken notes. It had been like old times, when they were first married.

He grinned as he remembered the two of them in their first apartment. It was the size of a shoebox and smelled like garlic. They’d made love on every surface of the place including the Formica-topped kitchen table. One leg of that table was loose and the whole thing shook as if it would give way beneath them. Then Mrs. Ricuitti, their downstairs neighbor, pounded on the ceiling and shouted something in Italian. He and Janie had collapsed in a fit of laughter on the table.

Someone pounded on the side window and Mitch startled. Jane stood bundled in her down jacket, staring at him. He lowered the window.

“What are you doing? The kids are up and breakfast is almost ready.”

“I was just remembering something.”

She frowned. “Well, you might want to remember to come inside. It’s freezing out here.”

He got out of the SUV and reached back inside for the shopping bags filled with gifts. “Hey, you remember that kitchen table we had in our first apartment?”

She stopped and turned, staring at him. “What?”

Mitch shook his head. “Never mind.”

The smells of pine, vanilla and spices filled the air inside. It smelled like Christmas. Kristi sat curled up in the over-sized recliner that had been a Father’s Day gift to Mitch two years earlier. She was wrapped in a pink fleece robe, her blond hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her knees were drawn up and she was focused on the phone in her hands as her thumbs moved rapidly.

Rob lay on the sofa, remote in hand, channel surfing.

Jane reached over the sofa and snatched the remote, shutting off the TV. “No TV right now. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. Kristi, put that phone away, please.”

“But Mom….” both kids said at once.

Jane continued through to the kitchen.

Mitch set the shopping bags down by the tree. “Jane, do you need help out there?” he called.

She peered around the doorway. “Since when do you help me with breakfast?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought….” He didn’t know exactly what he thought. He was feeling like a guest in his own home and that bothered him. He swatted at Rob’s feet for him to move and dropped down on the end of the sofa.

Rob began to snore softly. Kristi continued to text on her phone. Mitch wondered what it was he used to do during these Christmas mornings. He started to reach for the remote, then glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen. Folding his hands together in his lap, he sat as if waiting for an appointment with his dentist.

Jane returned and jostled Rob. “Wake up, sleepy head. Breakfast is served.”

Mitch stood and followed his children into the dining room, heading automatically for his usual seat. Once everyone was seated, Jane looked at him expectantly. It took him a few seconds to realize what she expected. He’d always been the one to say grace at meals.

He reached out to join hands with his son on his right and daughter on his left—linked to Jane by the hands of their children. This is how they’d always be linked. He stumbled through an awkward prayer of thanks, avoiding words like home and family.

The food had all been passed around and they’d just begun to eat when Kristi set down her fork, pushed her plate back and leaned on the table. “Rob and I have been discussing the situation.”

Mitch looked up and caught Jane’s gaze. She looked like a deer in headlights—probably the same way he looked.

“What situation?” Jane asked.

“Duh. You and Daddy. We’re not kids any more, Mom. We expect the two of you to treat us as adults and be honest with us.” Her chin trembled and her eyes shone. She cleared her throat before continuing. “If you two are getting divorced, we have a right to know.”

“Uh…we…um…. We haven’t talked about a divorce.” Jane looked to Mitch, her eyes pleading for help.

Mitch covered his daughter’s hand with his own. “Kristi, your mom and I aren’t getting a divorce. We haven’t even considered it.”

“But you’re separated. That’s always the first step. Unless you’re talking to someone. A counselor. How do you think you can work things out if you don’t talk about the issues?”

Mitch blinked. When had his daughter become a rational adult? “You might be right.” He shifted his gaze to Jane. “Maybe we should consider talking with a counselor.”

Kristi and Rob grinned across the table at one another. She nodded at Rob who then produced two small white envelopes, passing one to Mitch and the other to Jane. “Merry Christmas, Mom. Dad.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s our gift to you,” Kristi said. “We arranged for an appointment with a marriage counselor. For Tuesday.”

Mitch opened the envelope and a business card dropped out. The raised lettering on the front read: Rose Llewellyn, Ph.D., Certified Marriage and Family Therapist. He turned the card over to find an appointment scheduled for Tuesday, December 28^th at 11:00 a.m.

He looked up and into the widened eyes of Jane.

Rob looked from one to the other, then said, “Don’t both of you thank us at once. You’re welcome.”

“I don’t quite know what to say.” Mitch turned the card over and over as if expecting it to change. “I’m not sure the timing is….”

“We’ll go. Thank you.” Jane locked her gaze on him as if daring him to argue. “I’m sorry we’ve worried you both. This is something we should have done ourselves.”

Kristi reached for her mother’s hand and then took hold of Mitch’s. “Counseling can be a scary thing at first but, trust me, it can only help.”

“Trust you? Are you saying you’ve been to counseling?” Mitch’s voice rose an octave by the time he finished the question.

“Daddy, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. College can be overwhelming and sometimes you just need someone to talk to about…things.”

Rob gulped down the last of juice. “Can I watch TV now until we’re ready to open gifts? Or are we gonna do more of the Dr. Phil show here?”

“You’re excused,” Jane said. Then turning her attention back to Kristi, she said, “Honey, I didn’t know you were having a hard time at school.”

“Everyone has a hard time at school that first semester. So I spoke with one of the counselor’s on campus and it was very helpful. I’m seriously considering a major in psychology.” A dreamy smile pulled across her face. “Gage…er…Doctor Young says I’d be a natural.”

“Dr. Jung?” Jane asked.

Kristi laughed. “No, Dr. Young. He’s one of the therapists who staff the counseling office on campus. He’s so smart and it’s like he can see right through you. He really helped me understand that college is about so much more than studying.”

Jane gasped. “What does Dr. Young think college is about?”

“It’s about growing up, being on your own, making your own decisions and taking responsibility for yourself. Really, Mom, if you knew half of what goes on at campus and in the dorms, you’d freak. But Gage says college is a time to experiment.”

Mitch felt his jaw clench. “Experiment how? Who the hell is this quack?”

“Daddy, he’s not a quack. He’s very wise for his age.”

“Yeah, just what exactly is his age?”

“He’s twenty-nine.”

“Don’t they have any women counselors on campus?”

Kristi glared at him. “Of course. But they’re both ancient. They’re like, well, your age. I needed a younger perspective.”

Mitch sat back in his chair absorbing the fact that, to his nineteen year old daughter, he was ancient. When he glanced up, he saw a smirk play across Jane’s face.

Kristi stood. “I knew you were going to freak out when I told you about Gage. But, Mom, you understand. I mean, you write about this stuff. You’ll love Gage. He’s so sophisticated and handsome and romantic.”

The smirk on Jane’s face was replaced by a frown. “What do you mean we’ll love Gage?”

Kristi picked up her plate and glass to carry it to the kitchen. “I invited him for New Year’s Eve. He said he’d love to meet you both.” She stopped in the doorway and turned toward them. “I’m going upstairs to give him a call. Let me know when we’re ready to open gifts.”

Jane sat back in her chair looking as deflated as Mitch felt.

Mitch huffed out a deep breath. “I’m calling the President of the University first thing tomorrow.”

“They’re on break, Mitch. He won’t be there.”

“Well I’m calling someone. Isn’t there some ethical issue here with the counselor dating his patient?”

“I don’t now,” Jane said wearily. “But did you see her face? Mitch, we have to be very careful here. She’s in love, or she thinks she is. If we over-react, it’ll only push her away.”

“Oh, I’m going to over-react. Wait until Dr. Young gets here for New Year’s. I’ll over-react his ass right back out the door and in front of whatever disciplinary board I can find.” He looked up to find Jane staring at him, her eyes glistening. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything violent. And I’ll try not to embarrass Kristi.”

“I know. You’re such a good father. You know that, right? Regardless of….” She held up the appointment card. “I think we should go to this appointment.”

He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “We don’t need some stranger to tell us about our marriage, do we? Besides, I thought we were getting along pretty well now.”

When she didn’t respond, he opened his eyes.

Jane leaned forward on the table and hissed, “It figures. You think just because we had…” She glanced around, then continued, “…sex, now everything is fine.”

“That’s not what I said.” And it hadn’t been, though it was what he thought. Why would she have sex with him if he wasn’t forgiven? And what exactly was it he’d done that required forgiveness?

Jane stood and noisily began to collect the plates from table. “Let’s not do this now. It’s Christmas.”

Mitch rose and picked up cups and glasses, following her into the kitchen. He watched while she rinsed the dishes and stacked them into the dishwasher.

Jane closed the dishwasher, switched it on, and then turned to face him. In a measured voice, she said, “I think we just need to go on with our day. We can’t do a thing about this Dr. Young right now. I’ll try to talk to Kristi later, get more information about him. For now, let’s call the kids down and open Christmas presents. Act normal.”

She moved past him and down the hall to call for Kristi.

‘Act normal?’ How in the hell was he supposed to do that? There was nothing normal about any of this. He dragged his fingers through his hair, realizing he needed a haircut. Their lives had become anything but normal. He’d lost his job and didn’t have a clue what to do next. His marriage was hanging by a slender thread that seemed to be fraying fast. His son had become insolent and moody. His daughter thought she was in love with her school counselor who, apparently, was playing with her affections. And he was living—alone—in a crappy little apartment his son even hated to visit.

He snatched up the business card from the dining table. And he had an appointment for marital therapy. The TV in the living room went silent, then Elvis crooned, “I-I’ll have a blue Christmas without you.”

Mitch jammed the card into this pocket and, shoulders drooping, headed for the living room.