“Jennifer, please let Mr. Scott know he can come in now.”
“Right away,” the receptionist replies.
The muscles in my stomach tighten. Chris walks in and his expression is blank. His eyes look like deep pools of sadness, and I feel terrible that I have caused it. Helen doesn’t get it—she makes it seem so simple—that I can be this dictator and that their feelings don’t matter. I care about every part of this man. I don’t want any of them hurt, to be upset with me. I just want peace. I just want my husband to love me and for me to be able to love him back. He sits down stiffly, so different from when we first came in as a team, and I’m terrified we’ll leave as opponents. I can only blame myself. I should have talked to him about this myself, and regret that Helen brought it up at our first session together.
“Thank you for allowing Lauren to speak to me alone.” Helen smiles at him and her eyes study him. His body is rigid, and I wish I could read his mind. I wonder what he must think of me—probably that I’m a disloyal slut, a horny little housewife who gets off on sleeping with three different men when it’s not like that at all. No, I can’t believe that. Chris would never think anything like that. If anything I’ve really hurt him, and maybe even worse, have broken his heart.
He’s the same person. He’s the same person. I have to keep repeating this to myself as I let out a deep breath and beg my heartbeat to slow down and my voice to not shake when I speak. I shift toward him, but he doesn’t even look at me. My heart sinks and I wish that we had done this last night—when it was him and me in my office. With the romantic, soft lighting, and the ease with which he held me and I rested on him, it would have been such a different scenario. Instead, we’re on opposite sides of Helen’s couch with an audience.
“Chris,” I speak more softly than I intend to but am hoping I can penetrate the hard wall he’s put up between us. He throws me a sideways glance, his arms across his chest, his lips pressed together in a hard line. He is pissed, and I can’t help but feel more anxious and nervous than I have ever felt before.
“I love you,” I tell him honestly and with my whole heart, and his head makes the slightest turn toward me. “I have never stopped loving you,” I continue, my eyes glance toward Helen and I feel my nerves climb across my back. This is such a strange situation doing this in front of Helen who is observing everything.
“I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but you have to understand that I want to love every part of you,” I plead with him, but I can see that I’ve lost him from the grunt he lets out. I rub my shoulders feeling a mountain of stress starting to make camp on them.
“Chris, can you look at me please?” I can hear the desperation in my voice. “I don’t want to cause any of you pain, I don’t want to hurt you—any part of you,” I plead with him. He finally turns and looks at me.
“Wouldn’t it be a disaster if I only loved one of you? What if it was just you? What if I just loved Cal? Or Collin?" I ask him, and I hear him let out a low breath.
“This would never work if I only loved one part of you. It would kill me to share you with someone else, and if I shut out any part of you, it could happen. I’m so afraid of that happening,” I plead with him. He looks me in the eyes, and I can see him relenting. It’s not much, but it’s something and I’ll take it.
“I can’t really give you permission… but I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t need to be updated on what you do with them,” he says, and the fist around my heart unclenches. I look over at Helen silently letting out the breath that was balled up in my throat.
“You mean with you when you’re not conscious,” Helen interjects.
“I guess,” he says, and relief floods through me. He’s only one part of the three-sided puzzle, but such a big one. Collin seemed indifferent and Cal…. I doubt things will go this smooth with him but right now Chris is here, and he doesn’t hate me.
The rest of the session goes by without any more turmoil and doesn’t really involve me at all. Chris talks about feeling disconnected from Collin and Chris, and how he doesn’t feel as if he can relate to them at all. It doesn’t surprise me and shouldn’t come as a surprise to Helen either. She reiterates that they are all one and for him to remain open-minded toward both of them, and his homework is to write a letter to each of them. Chris looks at her as if she’s insane when she suggests this but I’m intrigued. I wish she’d ask him to let me read them, but she doesn’t mention that of course. She asks him what relaxes him and he tells her playing music and suggests that he does it for at least an hour a day regardless of what’s going on—that it’s important for him to make time to relax and de-stress to gather his thoughts.
“Listen for them,” she says and I can see he’s exasperated but trying to remain open-minded. I squeeze his hand, all that I can do to offer my support. “Will I see you two tomorrow?”
He confirms and opens the door for me to go out, and we head to the elevator both quiet and in our own thoughts.
“So, what did you think?”
“I’m glad you were there with me,” he tells me and I smile thankfully. Given how the session began, I assumed he’d regret having me come.
“I’m glad I was there too.”
“What did you think of her as a doctor?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I think she’s knowledgeable—I’ll give her that. How did you feel?”
“I guess I’ll know more when I start to make progress,” he says as the door opens. He waits for me to go out first. As we walk outside of the building, I turn to him to look at him, and the sun is reflecting off his eyes. The sight of them still steals my breath away.
“I think that we should alternate sessions. I’ll go with you to every other one,” I tell him and he frowns at me.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I can still make sure everything’s on the up and up, but you can have your own space to vent about things that are private.” I know that Chris trusts me, and he needs to see that I trust him too.
The first thing I notice when I step inside the house are amazing smells that have never come out of my kitchen before. I have gotten a little better at cooking —I can make hamburgers, baked chicken, fish and follow most simple recipes without creating a disaster—but not many things smell as good as Mrs. Scott’s cooking. Caylen is sleeping on the couch, and I kiss her cheek before heading to the kitchen where Mrs. Scott is tasting from a large pot.
“Did I tell you how happy I am that you’re here,” I remind her and she smiles widely at me. “Here taste this,” she says, and my mouth waters as she puts string beans on a plate for me to taste. I grab a fork and pop them in my mouth.
“Oh my gosh,” I am salivating for more as I finish my little taste. “I’ve never had string beans that taste like this.”
She grins, “I used smoked turkey and my secret recipe that I’ll write down for you.”
“They don’t even taste like vegetables,” I say in shock. She places the top back on the pot. “I also made pot roast and potatoes.” I’ve never been more excited for food before I met this woman.