Marnie liked Anna right away. A small woman with thick honey-blond hair, she was a psychiatric nurse practitioner and a Taoist spiritual director who saw clients rather informally in the living room of her small apartment over a neighborhood library. So Portland, Tamara had said.
Marnie wasn’t sure she could explain to Anna how she had gotten into such a mess with Paul. After all, she’d been an excellent student and was a successful teacher. She found it easy to make friends wherever she worked or lived. She seemed to have a lot of confidence. So why had she put up with Paul’s drinking and other women for so long? She felt embarrassed by such repeated acts of stupidity.
At first, Anna encouraged Marnie just to cry and rage at Paul for his betrayal of their marriage. “How did that make you feel?” she asked each time Marnie tried to analyze another event from the last several months, then the last nine years. “Let the explanations go for now,” she’d say and then push Marnie deeper into those feelings that she had been avoiding—grief, anger, foolishness. Marnie left the sessions wrung out.
At the fourth session, Anna asked Marnie to talk about the other men in her life. She listened patiently to the stories about Marnie’s dad and Robert. She asked Marnie to consider any parallels. Successful, confident men. Charismatic men. Men who liked the company of women, several at a time. Marnie’s spirits sank at the obviousness of it all.
Then Anna asked a different kind of question. “Where does alcohol fit into all this? Have you been involved with alcoholics other than Paul?”
Marnie thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. A few weeks after I came back from Boston, I met a guy named Mike at a party. I went home with him.” She looked out at the hills west of town. “He didn’t go to the college, just came to our parties. I think now he must have been selling dope or providing the alcohol as most of us were under age, but I never asked. I was drinking some then and, I don’t know, I didn’t want to be a good girl anymore. I never slept with Robert. I wanted to wait until we were married. How stupid was that?”
Anna said nothing but she smiled in sympathy.
Marnie went on. “Mike wasn’t into waiting. It was sex or nothing. So we had sex, a lot of it. He was, I don’t know, kind of dangerous. He had shaggy hair and wore leather and for a while it was kind of exciting. And I needed somebody to want me. We drank whenever we were together—smoked dope and did some cocaine.”
She didn’t speak for a moment, and Anna let her be. Then she went on. “It didn’t last long, a couple of months. Mike and I didn’t have anything in common. We didn’t even have particularly good sex. It was just a change, I guess. One day he just stopped calling and then I saw him at a party with another girl from the college. She was a senior with a really wild reputation. He wouldn’t look at me, and I felt…” She stopped and began to worry the cuticle on her thumb.
“And you felt?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Dumped. Abandoned. Not interesting enough. Not sexual enough.” She sucked at her thumb nail. “He wanted to do some sexual stuff that I didn’t like. I just couldn’t get into it. But I wanted to be the one who left, you know?” And she looked at Anna, who nodded.
“So I called him a few times, asked to see him. I feel ashamed of that now. Finally, he told me flat out to stop calling. He wasn’t going to see me anymore.”
After a moment, Anna spoke. “And then you met Paul?”
“No, not yet. There was one other guy, Adam. I met him in Berkeley while I was in a teacher training program. Adam was in line behind me at this coffee place, and he insisted on paying for my latte and then wanted to sit with me. He wasn’t my type: too blond, too preppy, that pressed-pants look. But there was also something attractive to me about him, something I couldn’t figure out.”
Anna smiled in encouragement.
“Adam was charming.” Marnie gave a little smile. “And he really chased after me. He had a lot of money and we did a lot of extravagant things—weekends in nice hotels, good meals, plays and the symphony. It was seductive. And he was a good lover, thoughtful of me, you know. After a few months, I found myself falling for him.” She bit at her nail again.
“Then he began to pull away, wasn’t so available. I had figured we’d be living together soon and had begun to leave things at his place. He asked me not to do that. I should have seen what was coming. I should have been able to figure it out when I wanted to come over or make plans and he’d put me off. But somehow I told myself it didn’t mean anything, and to tell the truth, that all just made me want him more. Then one night when we were together at his place, he got really drunk and told me to get off his back and he threw a bottle at the wall. I didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I couldn’t understand how he could have wanted me so much and now not want me anymore.” She fell silent.
“Was that the end?” Anna asked after a couple of minutes.
“No, not for another month. There were more fights and he’d blow up whenever I’d ask him about his behavior. I knew he was seeing someone else, and I got more and more jealous. Then one night when I was badgering him to see only me, he hit me. Just a slap really but I couldn’t pretend any longer that it was going to work out.” She sighed.
“Luckily, about that time, I got a teaching job and moved to San Francisco. I went out a few times with guys I met, but nothing special, not until I met Paul. And then, well,” she smiled. “I gave my heart away again, in no time at all. And we were really happy for a long time and I thought everything was going to be okay. But now, I can’t see how they will be ever again. I can’t see how we can get around all that we’ve been through.”
Anna sat silent for a couple of minutes. “What patterns do you see here, Marnie?”
“I love men who cheat on me.”
Anna chuckled. “Well, yes, there’s that. What else?”
“I’ve picked men who don’t respect me.”
“You’re warmer. Keep going.”
Marnie sighed. “I think you want me to admit I don’t respect myself.”
Anna nodded. “You haven’t learned how to set very good boundaries, not yet. Doesn’t sound like your mother set good boundaries with your dad, either. “
It was Marnie’s turn to nod although she didn’t meet Anna’s gaze.
“And, Marnie?”
She looked up now at the therapist.
“There was a third partner in these relationships. With Mike, with Adam, and certainly Paul. These were men with substance abuse problems. They loved their drug more than they loved you. In some ways, it’s not their fault. That’s what addiction does. But that’s an explanation, not an excuse. It does not excuse their infidelity, if they promised to be faithful. Or the violence, in Adam’s case.”
Marnie looked out at the trees again, took a sip of her tea. “Is that what I’d learn in Alanon?”
“Yes. And even more, you might want to consider some CODA meetings, Codependents Anonymous. People with your sense of loyalty in love relationships sometimes hear valuable things there.”
Marnie nodded. “I’d rather talk about this with you.”
“That’s fine. We can do that, but I’d also suggest you go to a few meetings. It’s free and it can be good to be in a group.” She paused. “How much is Paul still in your life?”
“We’re moving towards divorce, I think. I’m going to see a lawyer this week.”
“How do you…”
Marnie laughed but it was bitter. “How do I feel about that? I’m sad. I’m really sad. I love Paul. Or I love what he was and what we were together. I didn’t think I’d ever be getting a divorce.” She wiped her eyes.
“Give yourself space to grieve that, will you?”
Marnie gathered up her things. “I think that’s all I’m doing these days.”
It wasn’t until she got to her car that she realized she’d never told Anna anything about Jake.