“Yes,” Marissa whispers. The moment carries a solemnity; it has the feel of a vow. Matthew finally turns to look at her. There’s a sheen in his eyes, just as there was on their wedding day when she walked down the aisle, in a cream silk dress with a long train, past two hundred guests.
Avery is studying both of them intently, Marissa realizes. What is she thinking?
The silence stretches out.
“What’s the fourth question?” Marissa finally asks.
“That’s for Matthew to decide. But not right now. Matthew, when you leave here, I’d like you to think about the essential information you need to know in order to move on.”
He nods, just once. But it already feels like progress.
Coming here was a good decision. Avery’s no-nonsense approach suits Matthew’s personality. He likes charts and precise plans; he’s a cut-to-the-chase kind of guy. Back when Bennett was being bullied, Marissa tried talking to the other child’s parents. Matthew hired a boxing coach to teach their then second-grader how to throw an uppercut.
“Let’s go back to happier times.” Avery jots something on her notepad. “Tell me about one of your favorite moments together, Marissa.”
There are so many for Marissa to choose from, whole albums of memories. She selects one of the glossy snapshots: “Just last year, Matthew and I were invited to a black-tie dinner at the Kennedy Center. It was magical. We hired a car and driver and danced all night. He looked so handsome. It was because of his work on behalf of the World Wildlife Fund that we went—”
Avery cuts her off. “That’s an Instagram post. Give me something real.”
Marissa flinches. In those few words, Avery has cut to the core of what their marriage has become: curated moments served up in public, while in private the emptiness between them slowly expands.
Matthew hasn’t seemed bothered that their conversations have become more about to-do lists than ideas or feelings, or that their hands no longer find each other during long drives, entwining atop the gearshift. She can’t even remember how long ago Matthew began getting out of their bed as soon as the alarm sounded in the morning, instead of reaching for her.
“Something real,” Marissa repeats. She feels as if she were about to fail a final exam. Then she closes her eyes and it comes to her.
A snowstorm blanketing the city; her and Matthew at home. Baby Bennett napping. Matthew building a fire, while she makes mugs of hot chocolate spiked with rum. The two of them sitting on a chenille blanket playing Scrabble, then abandoning the game to make love.
“It wasn’t rum. It was Grand Marnier,” Matthew says when she finishes. His voice is still hard, but have its edges softened just a little?
Avery leans closer to Matthew. “Now I want a memory from you. I want you to recall some incredible sex you had. Something really steamy.”
Marissa lowers her eyes, her cheeks flushing, wondering which moment Matthew will pick. He might not play along. But if he does, will he share the same recollection that bloomed in her mind? That trip to St. Barts when they snuck into the outdoor cabana in the middle of the afternoon, their bodies slick with suntan lotion and sweat. The taste of salt and coconut on his skin. They hadn’t had raw, passionate sex like that in a while. Years, truthfully.
Matthew squeezes the crumpled plastic cup in his hand again, making a loud crackling sound. “I can’t think about any good times with Marissa right now.”
Avery stands up and retrieves a trash basket from behind her desk. “Let’s get rid of those cups.” As she returns to her chair, Avery continues, “And I’m not talking about Marissa.”
Marissa’s head snaps up in time to catch a smile playing on the edge of Avery’s lips. “I want you to tell me about the greatest sex you had with another woman.”
“Are you serious?” Matthew asks.
“Yes. Your mind is being flooded with ugly images right now. You’re imagining your wife with another man. So let’s have her think about you with another woman.”
Matthew is doing it; Marissa can tell by the way his gaze grows unfocused. She bets she knows exactly whom Matthew is thinking about: Natalie, the woman he dated for a year during college and still maintains a friendship with. Natalie’s young daughter attends the same private school as Bennett, and Natalie is the cochair of the auction committee; she is impossible for Marissa to avoid.
However, when Matthew speaks, he shares a different memory. “Okay, fine. I was a first-year law student and this hot TA approached me in the library. I was in the stacks and she snuck up behind me and slid her arms around my waist, under my sweatshirt. We ended up in her apartment.… We did it three times that night. It’s still my record.” Matthew pauses. “Do you really want me to go on?”
Naturally Matthew would boil it down to numbers, to a record. He is highly competitive.
And for a moment, so is she. She feels like the runner-up.
She’s never heard this story before. So she and Matthew both kept secrets, she thinks.
Avery taps her pen on her pad and seems to make a decision. “Marissa, would you step out for a few minutes? There’s a chair just outside the door where you can sit.”
Marissa hesitates, then rises. This appointment is nothing like what she expected. Leaving the two of them alone feels dangerous.
As Marissa exits Avery’s office, she glances back at her husband, but he isn’t looking her way.
The wide, wood-planked hallway contains a single upholstered chair, next to a table holding a Mission-style lamp and vase of red tulips. Marissa is too agitated to sit. She moves closer to the door. She can hear the low rumble of Matthew’s voice, but she can’t make out a single word.
Avery could be asking him anything. Nothing seems out of bounds for her. Losing my license was the best thing to ever happen to me—and to my clients, Avery was quoted as saying in the Post article. Marissa stares at the door. If she pressed her ear against it, just for a minute …
Then a thought strikes her: there could be a video camera somewhere. It would be humiliating to be caught.
Finally, she pulls out her phone and taps a message to Bennett’s babysitter: All okay? If Bennett wants a brownie, he can have one. I snuck black beans into them so they’re secretly healthy.:-)
Just as she finishes, the door to Avery’s office opens. Marissa quickly tucks her phone into her bag.
“The sitter.” Marissa’s unsure why she feels the need to explain her actions.
“Come back in.”
Marissa studies Matthew’s face as she reenters the room. It reveals nothing.
“A lot of times people confess an infidelity because they can’t stand the guilt.” Avery’s tone isn’t judgmental or forgiving; she’s matter-of-fact. “They do it to ease their own conscience. Is that why you brought your husband here?”
Marissa thinks carefully about her answer, making sure it is truthful: “I wanted to tell Matthew because it was the right thing to do.”
Avery raises an eyebrow. “You two are going to have to put in a lot of work.”
Marissa nods eagerly. “I’ll do anything.” Beside her on the couch, Matthew is as still as a stone. Marissa wonders if Avery thinks they need more fixing than the average couple with an infidelity issue.