Standing On A Chair

Telling it like I see it…

Rants from the Chair: On What Happens When You Marry Your Shrink – Part 11

I gave two weeks notice at work, and during that time Marcus called me at the office every day.  I was always out in the field so the messages he left with our secretary were desperate and urgent.  I called him back once, and the conversation was so painful I couldn’t talk to him again.  It’s amazing how much more a man loves you after you leave him. 

Those first couple of months living with Andrew…well, they were divine.  He finally told Marcus about us. I was not privy to their conversation, which took place in a session and was confidential.  Andrew did tell me Marcus was pretty stunned, that he got up and walked out without a word.  I knew Marcus well enough to know that his usual full-blown reaction to anything difficult or huge was always a delayed one.  So I didn’t completely relax, though I succeeded in putting it pretty much out of my conscious mind so I could fully devote to my new world. 

Andrew loved me with a single-minded intensity, of which I had never before experienced.  When he wasn’t seeing patients, we were together every minute.  It was like we couldn’t imagine being apart from each other.  We spent our time in complete intimacy, whether that be through talking with each other, playing Scrabble, seeing a movie, eating a meal, making love, sleeping intertwined, or laughing hysterically with each other in the shower.  For the first time in my life I felt unconditionally loved and adored by a man who gave me the pure freedom to absolutely be myself; he gave me the ability to love back, without fear.

We occasionally ventured out and socialized with other people.  Those people were some of Andrew’s patients, a fact which I now see as odd, but at the time I was so taken by my fantasy-like connectedness with Andrew, I thought nothing of it at all.  We had a lot of fun.  Flights to Vegas, road trips to Big Sur and San Diego, greyhound races, dinners out.  And presents!  Oh my God, clothes, jewelry, whatever I wanted, really.  I mentioned to him once that I always wanted to breed Persian cats, and the next day he bought me a pure bred female tortoise-shell kitten. 

After a while Andrew thought it best if I drop my night classes at El Camino JC, which from the Hollywood Hills, was a pretty long drive.  I only had a few more weeks to go, so I completed my two courses for the semester, and that was the end of that.

I made myself learn how to cook.  I mean really cook.  I presented Andrew with fabulous meals, from Beef Wellington, to leg of lamb loaded with garlic cloves with mint jelly, to chocolate or cheese fondue, to freaking fruitcake, for God’s sake.  I loathe fruitcake.

The only thing that discolored my new landscape just a tiny bit was that I missed my friends.  When I mentioned this to Andrew, he pulled me close, hugged me and suggested gently that I lay low and away from them for a while, given their connections to Marcus and all.

So I did.

And we practiced making a baby.  Often.  All the time. 

When after three months I hadn’t become pregnant, Andrew grew concerned.  “I have a son with my first wife,” he said, “so I know I am fertile.”

That felt like a blow to the belly by a hard-thrown basketball.  

I was a barren woman?  He had a son? And how odd was it that Marcus had not yet reacted?  Or had he, and I just didn’t know about it?

Stay tuned for Part 12


September 6, 2011 - Posted by | Psychotherapy | , , , , , , , , ,

1 Comment »

  1. Fruitcake, Jill???????????? Learning to cook is one thing, but fruitcake?

    Comment by Linda Wines Stokes | September 9, 2011 | Reply

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