[Author's note: Cassie failed to confront her cheating husband about Lily. Unable to bear the thought of what it means for her life, she has compartmentalised. Before she is able to move forward Cassie needs an answer to a burning question: was it a once-off fling or is it love?]
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THE CHALLENGE OF PLACING ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER
Cassie made everyone breakfast, got the boys ready for school and made their lunches. Sam grizzled about the type of snack bar she had bought; Charlie forgot where he'd left one of his school shoes. She watched the clock ticking away the minutes as the usual circus unfolded in front of her, checking her work schedule to see which clients were booked in with her today like she would normally do, while directing traffic in the kitchen because that was what a mother would do. Damian stopped in the hallway, pulling her close and kissing her as the boys circled them. Cassie kissed him back, because that was what a wife would do, especially after a night of passion with her husband.
Damian scooped up the car keys, giving both sons a hug, and headed out. Cassie managed to find the other shoe, stopping to ask Charlie how he had managed to lose just one shoe, then packed the school bags and herded the twins through the front door. The walk to school took five minutes; drop off was uneventful and she was soon on her way to the store to buy some groceries for dinner.
The store was half empty, aside from a couple of mothers from school doing the same thing. She nodded to them, exchanged a few words, while wandering the aisles collecting vegetables, beef, pasta, rice. She weighed up the pros and cons of coconut milk versus low fat coconut milk and then patrolled the cosmetics aisle looking for deodorant.
Cassie took one look at the rows of boxes of toothpaste and began to tremble. She turned towards the checkout, grimacing at the lady swiping her groceries unhurriedly through the till. Cassie stuffed her shopping into a bag, paid, and then fled the store. She barely made it to the female washrooms before she broke down.
In her mind, through the tears, were two visions: Damian, with his face close to hers last night, his body inside her, hard and strong; versus Damian, with his hands spread across the younger woman's breasts while Cassie watched from the walk-in wardrobe. She couldn't process it. Two alternate realities, one of which was familiar, comfortable, full of love, and the other a nightmare, her place in her husband's life usurped by the willowy blonde stranger.
She gripped the sides of the wash basin, paralysed, for a long time. Then, eventually, she pulled herself together to get on with her day.
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Cassie's phone pinged: the receptionist was letting her know her appointment had arrived. She took one last look around the meeting space to satisfy herself that everything was in order, then headed out to the lobby area. It was a good arrangement; the meeting space granted her up to ten hours a week, giving her a professional environment to meet clients without the hassle of setting up her own office or having to make house calls. She could appear professional and give her clients a clean, welcoming place to discuss their issues. It also felt good to be in a different environment, away from kids and home life. Especially now, but she repressed that line of thought mercilessly, tucking it away into a separate compartment in her mind. She couldn't afford to break down again, not with clients waiting.
Cassie smoothed her blouse as she walked and fussed with her hair, dressed in a pair of dark trousers and low heels. She straightened her back, and took a deep, calming breath, pushing away the other parts of her life to concentrate on her clients for the next hour.
She saw the man and the woman in the reception area and waved them over. The woman moved first, her partner tagging along behind, reluctantly. Cassie welcomed them into the meeting space and closed the door.
"Good to see you again," she said, "Won't you take a seat? Sit anywhere you feel comfortable."
The man hesitated, but when his wife selected the sofa, he dutifully took his place next to her. Cassie selected a chair opposite. She smiled brightly at the couple sitting in front of her, as if the act would lift her own spirits and push away the other thoughts to the back of her mind. Burying her own feelings wasn't healthy, as a psychologist she knew that better than most people, but for the next hour she needed to put her clients first.
"Kiko," she began, directing her attention to the slim, black-haired woman before her, "Do you want to go first? How have you been since we spoke last?"
The woman nodded, smiling shyly, before replying in a soft, gentle voice, "Good. I have no complaints."
Brett shifted in his seat, grumbling, "That's not true, otherwise we wouldn't be here."
The corners of Kiko's mouth turned down briefly, but then she continued. "Our life is good. We are looking forward to taking a holiday soon."
"That sounds nice," Cassie replied, easing into what was going to be a challenging conversation, "Where to?"
"We're going back to Osaka to visit my parents." She reached out and took her husband's hand in hers.
"And how about you Brett? How're you going?" Cassie asked, directing her attention to Kiko's partner.
He was a tall man, wiry rather than broad, maybe a few years older than his wife, late-thirties. He wore rounded glasses and had salt-and-pepper close-cropped hair. He was looking distinctly uncomfortable with the question.
"I don't really know how to answer that," he muttered.
"How have the exercises been going? Let's start with that."
Brett let go of his wife's hand and folded his arms across his chest.
"Okay, I think. We've been talking a lot."
"Do you still feel the same way about your wife?"
Brett tilted his head to one side, eyes fixed on Cassie. She waited, letting Brett feel comfortable filling the gap in conversation.
"No," he admitted at last, "No, I don't. We talked a lot, and I'm starting to understand her side of things."
"Do you think it's acceptable behaviour?"
Brett stood up and began to pace the room, much to Cassie's surprise.
"Do you want to take a break?" she asked.
"No. I, um," Brett replied, making a gesture with his hands. "Uh, can I speak to you privately? Is that allowed?"
Kiko's eyes widened in dismay.
"Kiko, it's up to you. This session is for the both of you."
She was watching her husband pace. Finally, she stood.
"I think if he needs to speak alone, I will give him that. I will wait outside until you call."
Kiko walked to the door, her hand resting momentarily on her husband's arm as she passed. The door closed and Brett let out a deep breath. He sat back down, leaning forward, head in hands. Cassie waited.
"The thing is," he stammered, "I... Well, I was brought up a certain way. I can't help it, and frankly, I don't want to. Women. It's a pretty fixed thing. How a wife should behave, how you should treat her."
"I see. I understand there is an element of re-learning what you grew up with. The question is whether you're willing to change for your wife."
Brett snorted. "She's pretty clear, she's not going to change to accommodate me."
Cassie noted the vehemence in his tone. Kiko seemed to be very mild and placid; they must have had bitter arguments in private to get as far as needing to come to Cassie in the first place.
"Do you think you can change?"
Brett stood up again and resumed pacing.
"Cassidy, do you know what you're asking of me? My family would disown me," he blurted angrily, "You're asking me to beat my wife."
"Brett, please sit," said Cassie, "Let's talk through what you're feeling."
Brett's pacing stalled and he flopped back down into his seat, raising his hands in the air.
"I'm feeling like I'm being railroaded."
"When Kiko suggested coming to see me, what outcome were you looking for?"
"Honestly? I was hoping you could talk her out of this. It's not right. I mean, I knew that marrying her, there would be cultural differences, but... I didn't expect this."
Cassie waited for Brett to calm himself before she continued.
"This isn't a cultural difference though. It's a personal one. What she's asking from you is something that's deep-seated. It's part of her."
"Do you think I should hit women?" Brett asked, eyes hard as marbles, "Do you think it's normal?"
"Normal is a relative term. The need for something other than the typical, uh, vanilla requirements is not unusual between couples, and if it's done consensually it can actually bring about a much stronger bond between you."
"What if I hurt her though? What if she sees a side of me she doesn't like? What if I make her afraid of me?"
