Then the lights go out and it's just the three of us
You, me, and all that stuff we're so scared of
CHAPTER FOUR: Hearts in Darkness
In the film
Apocalypse Now,
the protagonist (an army captain played by Martin Sheen) waits in a Saigon hotel for a new mission. Two men arrive via the stairs, bringing him one—"like room service," Sheen narrates. "It was a real choice mission," he continues, "and when it was over...I'd never want another."
Dr. Gayle Seymour sat in her office, preparing for her next and last appointment of the night. After more than twenty years in training or in practice as a therapist—specializing in relationship counseling—she felt she'd seen it all. She was getting a little bored with her job.
Maybe more than a little. The stories are all the same. The names change, the faces change—no, even the faces all seem the same now.
She still found satisfaction in helping people. She just hadn't had an interesting challenge in a while. Sure, depending upon the personalities involved, her work could be difficult, but it had become a tedious kind of difficult. She longed for something new.
Something not cast in the usual molds. Something that would engage me. Not just a case; more like...a mission.
Boredom was not her main problem, however. In fact, it was probably good for her. No, her main problem was...
No. Don't think about it at the office. Keep it contained to home.
Dr. Seymour's newest clients were coming up the stairs for their first appointment. She did not know it yet, but they were bringing her a real choice case. And when it was over...
* * *
The husband stood to the side of the doorway, allowing the wife to enter the office first. Dr. Seymour took notice. She noticed everything.
Chivalrous. That's good—mostly. But it seemed reflexive, out of habit. He didn't look at her as she passed by him.
"Welcome," Dr. Seymour said, shaking their hands. "Jennifer, I presume...and Mike. Please sit down."
As Dr. Seymour returned to her chair, the wife hesitated. One of the chairs was closer to the counselor than the other. The wife chose the closer one.
She wants help. Good; but she's not the one I'm most concerned about, it's him. He made the appointment, and he was damn thorough in vetting me. Experience tells me...he's not the one who screwed something up.
"So," she told them, "I understand you were looking for counseling, and chose me. I'm very flattered! Now, the main goal of this first session is for me to get to know you a little. Hopefully, that will help when we get to talking about...well, I sometimes call it 'tough stuff.' But let's not worry much about tough stuff just yet, okay?"
The man and woman nodded, somewhat blankly.
Same old same old. They're unsure how this is going to go. They're hoping for a fast resolution of their problems, but they're not eager to face the problems.
Dr. Seymour spent most of the session asking basic questions about the couple's background, their jobs, their home, and their son. By the end of the session, Dr. Seymour felt she had a pretty good sketch of their lives prior to what had brought them to her. Disappointingly, there were many elements that fit the usual molds.
Married for twelve years, with a child for ten years. Jobs wear them down and stress them out. "Spare time" is consumed by child care, managing property and finances, and trying to stay fit. Not much "couple time," and it becomes routine. Then something slips...
Still, some of the standard ingredients seemed to be missing. Dr. Seymour was intrigued; maybe this case would offer more than met the eye. She resolved not to pre-judge it.
"OK, we have some time left. I promised you we wouldn't jump into the tough stuff right away, but I would like to know something about your current situation. Not the 'what happened'—we'll get to that another time—but the 'what's happening.'"
Kind of vague, I know. But let's see where they go with it.
The wife spoke first. "Um...well, since..." was all she could get out before breaking down in tears. The husband's body language initially telegraphed sympathy; but after a split-second, he looked away from her and straightened his back.
Conflicted, aren't we?
As the wife struggled to compose herself, the husband spoke up. His voice was steady but slow. His tone was resigned.
"I'm sleeping in the spare bedroom. That probably tells you a lot."
It tells me you're having serious problems. Figured that one out from the fact that you're here! But the 'spare bedroom' thing suggests that you're open to reconciliation. No one has moved out...or been kicked out...yet.
"Does your son know that's where you're sleeping?"
"Yeah, Mikey figured it out, so we told him...I told him...that I've been snoring a lot, and Mommy can't sleep so we're sleeping in different rooms until I can get some help. Actually, there's some truth to the snoring bit, so I don't feel like I'm completely lying to him."
If you care so much for honesty that you find telling a little white lie to a child difficult...let's hope no one's told any whoppers to you!
"What's mealtime like?"
"We have dinner together," the husband answered. "It can be...uncomfortable for me, but it's important."
"Child care?"
They started to speak at the same time. The husband deferred to the wife. She spoke haltingly.
"We...well, we've always split the homework. Also, Mike does a lot of things with Mikey on Saturdays, as always. One thing that's changed is...well, I used to go the gym..."
She paused, seeming to be fighting back tears.
"Um, go to the gym after work twice a week and Mike would pick up Mikey from school. But now, I'm not going to the gym, so I get Mikey pretty much every day, except some Fridays. Mike...well, he..."
The husband interjected. "I've been staying a little later at work most days, but I make an effort to get off early on Fridays if I can and spend time with Mikey and his friends at the school. He really enjoys it."
Obvious, so obvious. The child is holding them together—holding him together, at least. Maybe this is just the same old same old, after all. Some good signs, though—maybe I can help them.
"Communication?"
The wife responded. "It's...better than it was at first. But it's still so different. "So...formal. Businesslike."
