Her first client of the day would arrive soon. The receptionist would discreetly knock on the door to announce his arrival. Sally prepared herself for the hour long therapy session which would soon start. She had his folder, a thin one. "Frank" had been a client for the recent months of his roller coaster life.
Sally was about thirty, a Christian family and marriage therapist for five years but now she doubted her gift for this kind of ministry. She was wearing her conservative long gray dress with white hose and low heels. Modest lipstick and nail polish were her makeup and she wore as always her gold chain and cross. Her veil was her biblical covering of long black curly hair falling down her back. Seeking strength and wisdom she knelt on the carpet and prayed. Hearing a knock on the door she knew she had to rise and get to work.
Swiftly rising she went to the door and upon opening, greeted Frank with one of those formal "A frame" hugs and showed him to a chair. Frank was a handsome man about her age, perhaps a few years older. The next few minutes were greeting and small talk. After a long pause in the conversation, she drew the writing tablet to her bosom and asked a leading question.
"Frank why are you here today?" she softly enquired and leaned back for his answer.
He started talking about his job and how he did not want to be working with computers and she went into a trance not listening carefully. On the outside she had a calm professional shell but inside she was screaming, her life was a train wreck.
Frank stopped talking and looked at her in a curiously odd manner then asked, "Sally may I ask why are you crying?"
Caught off guard she was confused replying, "What are you saying Frank?" in her very best controlled therapist speak.
"Touch your face Sally," he suggested and when she did she felt the tears slowly streaming down her face.
The dam broke and all the anger, pain, rejection and humiliation of the past week emptied out at once as she broke into a racking sob.
Frank leaned back and watched the emotional blizzard that Sally was going through but he was not surprised. While going to Sally for therapy for the past several months he knew how tightly wound she was and this was the logical result. She was always very calm and professional never showing her true feelings. He was curious about this spectacle but bided his time waiting for the proper moment, then leaning over handed her the box of tissues.
Sally mumbled thanks and started drying her eyes. When she started to apologize he saw her mask starting to slide back in place and he decided not to let her off the hook.
"Sally could you tell me about it?" was all that he needed to ask and the she erupted again.
Between the crying she plaintively said, "My husband is cheating on me," after another sob she said, "With a man at the gym." Then she fell silent.
"How did you find out?" Frank asked calmly.
"A man called our phone and left an angry message for Bill, my husband, accusing him of fooling around with someone at his company. He said he loved Bill and he did not care who knew it, especially that bitch that he was married to."
"Did you tell your husband about the message Sally?" Frank asked.
"No. I deleted it but it makes sense. He has not, you know, made love to me for a long time," she confessed looking down at the tissue she held in her hands.
Sally was remembering the last time she tried it was three months ago. She called his office and they used the code phrase "we have a babysitter tonight" that some friends with kids joked about and she thought they had a date. He came home late after stopping off at the gym for a workout. After his dinner and a shower she put on her long white satin gown and brushed out her curly long black hair. She applied up her red lipstick which matched her nail and toe polish then put on the gold cross and chain that he gave her for Christmas the first year they were married.
She was submissively kneeling on their bed when he came out of the shower. Bill took one look at her and dismissed her with a polite "I am sorry honey not tonight, I am bushed." The times before when they did have sex it was just sex without romance, feeling or passion. It was what she privately called a "maintenance fuck" which he performed with all the joy of changing the motor oil in the car.
