Therapeutic Sessions -01 - Two Pillars of Manhood
Making an engineer our of a counselor
This is chapter one of several 'conversations in therapy.' Each chapter will be stand-alone, not interconnected by plot or any characters. Enjoy.
Relax: It's just a story, people.
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"Good afternoon, you two," Beverly Gleason greeted us. My soon-to-be-ex-wife Cheryl was seated to my left. I'm Jody - Jody Nelson, and I was both anxious and dispassionate about our second of twelve court-ordered counseling appointments. Our first, only three days prior, had been a mixed bag.
The previous hour-long session had consisted mostly of generalities, housekeeping, and 'Dr. Bev's' set of rules. It was odd that I hadn't seen anything on the walls supporting her claim of being a doctor. I wondered what Cheryl and I calling her by a title she likely didn't hold was all about. I guessed we'd find out at some point.
For my part, this sham of a delay tactic needed to end as soon as possible, and I was prepared to go old school on both of these women the moment the opportunity presented itself.
Cheryl had been careless, running around with her lover. I hadn't been looking for it, so when a business associate had clued me in, I'd been heartbroken. She was a beautiful woman, and I'd trusted her for nine years - seven and a half of those as her loving and trusting husband
. I should have been more cautious and less trusting,
I'd thought, once the shock had worn off. I'd just wanted someone who cared enough about me to not totally fuck me over - or perhaps I'd just wanted to believe in the ideal of such a relationship.
It had been difficult coming to terms with things I'd been told about this ugly world as a young man. . I'd had a strange life, and counted among my early mentors members of the Sicilian mob in the Midwest, members of the Jewish mafia in Hollywood, and many other wealthy and powerful people. Upon reflection, my desire and my decision to trust people - including my wife - stemmed from a visceral negative reaction to that grim diagnosis of humanity, coming from those corrupt and unsavory people. I'd wanted to believe that they'd been caught in a cycle of abuse and mistrust, receiving both what they gave, what they expected, and maybe what they'd had no choice but to receive when they'd been younger. The truth though, was that they were dead on - no pun intended - about much of what they said regarding humanity. The selfishness and the decisions made as a result, I'd seen a thousand times over. Nobody in their right mind would consider believing a mob boss over a college professor with regard to human nature and societal norms, but in my life experience the gangsters were killing the sociologists and psychologists on the big scoreboard. Maybe that was because the mobsters were living it, while the others were simply studying it. As shocking as it may seem, I figured that out without the help of any fake doctors.
One year after purchasing my own restaurant, I'd met Cheryl. As a customer, she'd flirted shamelessly whenever our paths had crossed. Cheryl was not a SoCal bombshell. She possessed a raw natural beauty. When she'd worn make-up on our first date, I almost hadn't recognized her. At five-foot-three, with a petite figure, she'd turned many heads, and I believed she still did turn a few.
I won't give a blow-by-blow of our relationship. It was much the same as other people, I supposed. We'd been totally in love for the first three years, and then the luster faded slightly, but not totally. Like most, we'd argued about money, especially how to use it in the short-term, or invest for our future. Still, that had seemed quite normal to me, and we'd never gone to bed angry with one another. In truth, I'd sometimes looked forward to the make-up sex!
The only other issue in our marriage - besides her recent treachery - was her outlook on societal topics. Cheryl certainly had had some strange ideas about how the world worked. I'd supposed that originally stemmed from being young and her college years. I'd learned first-hand how the real world worked, and I'd often tried to help her understand the differences between her opinions and reality, but they'd never stuck with her.
If you never see the man behind the curtain, you'll likely see things very differently. Oz will still be great and powerful... to you. Indeed, if you fall for the con, he may even gain real power over you eventually. That's the whole point, if people took the time to consider it. Still, the truth remains that it's just an old con man pulling a bunch of levers, maintaining an illusion. No matter how badly you get scammed, that will always be true. There is a bottom; there is bedrock. I felt like my feet were squarely planted on it. Her societal beliefs had been and were based on theory in a textbook. Mine were based on real life and real action. There's only one truth in every instance, after all, never individual truths, as she'd been pandered into believing all those years ago.
We'd decided to hold off on a family for a while. Cheryl was two years younger than I, and time had been on our side. Getting set up financially first had made a lot of sense, and Cheryl wasn't nearly as flighty when it came to money. I had spent lots of time in my business, and the hours had been crazy. Cheryl had gone to work as a bank teller for a year, and then, had taken a job as an administrative assistant for a large regional insurance company. She'd loved her new job and had developed some very deep and rewarding relationships there.
That's where Jonathan Springfield had come in, unbeknownst to me at that time. He'd been transferred in from the state next to ours. Cheryl must have fallen for him, or at least fallen under his spell, right from the start. She'd only mentioned him once - and not by name - as a new Vice President. It had taken me almost nine months to stop dismissing our troubles and start investigating. It had been one of my most regrettable actions, because had I started just six weeks earlier, I might have been able to nip it in the bud - or at least stop first instance of out-and-out physical infidelity.
Before I'd even gotten knee-deep in checking up on her, a friend had mentioned having seen her with this guy, and he'd thought they'd looked too 'chummy' for it to have been all business. A few bucks to an investigation firm, and two weeks later I'd had all the information I'd dreaded.
Of course, I'd been a day late and a dollar short, and Cheryl had been crying and apologizing after the fact. I'd left our home; she'd promised she didn't love him. I'd filed while she'd begged for another chance. I'd spent plenty of time at my favorite watering hole, going through the five stages of grief. She'd decided to fight for her marriage, gotten a good lawyer, and had been granted a transfer to another department at her job when she'd asked. After the initial stalling tactics by Cheryl's attorney, we'd had our first court date. That's where it had been announced by the judge that we would be heading to marriage therapy. My gut reaction had been,
Marriage therapy? Can't they just call it what it is?
Obviously, I hadn't said that out loud in court.
I'd known exactly what I'd be getting myself into. I'd let Cheryl pick. I'd known that if I'd pushed her to see an older, more traditional counselor, she would've become defensive immediately, drawing out both the selection process and the "therapy" process too. I'd just wanted it done.
"Mr. Nelson... Jody," Doctor Beverly brought me out of my reverie. "You were somewhere else, I think. Are we ready to begin?"
I nodded, and Beverly told Cheryl we would start with her today. During the previous session, both Cheryl and I had revealed what had led to us being there, but we hadn't delved into reasons or feelings. The session had ended when Cheryl had tried to claim she had made a mistake, and I'd interrupted to explain how ridiculous and feeble that line of reasoning was.
