They stepped off the elevator into a long hallway wallpapered a dingy beige. The therapist’s apartment was directly across from the elevator. Steve pressed the buzzer.
He turned to her as they waited, still looking stunned. “I guess you’re trying to get back at me? That’s what I just saw, right? Melanie’s revenge?”
The door swung inward onto a narrow foyer warmed by a deep red Oriental rug and smelling of potpourri and scented candles. A petite woman with frizzy red hair and fashionably small eyeglasses greeted them. She was about their age.
“Hello, I’m Deborah Mintz. You must be Steve and Melanie.” Neither of them responded. She looked at them and smiled quizzically. “Why don’t you come in?” she said. She had a mellifluous voice, unusually deep for such a small woman. To her surprise, Melanie immediately liked her.
She showed them into an office off the foyer, furnished with a brown corduroy sofa and two beige leather chairs. Against the far wall stood a desk piled high with books and papers. Deborah shut the door firmly and went to sit in one of the chairs.
“Please, sit down,” she said.
Melanie sat on the sofa. Steve chose the empty leather chair, dropping his head into his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were red and teary. If Melanie had ever thought revenge would be sweet, she was sadly mistaken. Hurting him felt much worse than getting hurt herself.
“It was lucky you called when you did, Steve,” Deborah said. “I only have evening office hours once a week, and I just happened to have a cancellation. Now, would one of you like to begin and share with me what brings you here?”
“I cheated on Melanie, and I’m here to take responsibility for that,” Steve said firmly, looking at Melanie as he spoke. “Melanie’s been acting out, trying to show me how upset she is, and I want her to know that I hear her and that I’m going to do better. For us and for our daughter.”
“Okay, well, that sounds like a good place to start. Melanie, would you like to respond?” Deborah asked.
Now they were both looking at her. Steve’s words were what she’d been waiting to hear all along, right? So why didn’t she feel overjoyed and relieved, like she’d expected to? Why didn’t she jump up and throw her arms around him? Could it be that, in her heart, she was already out of this marriage?
“It’s not that simple,” was what popped out of her mouth.
“Why not? What do you mean?” Steve asked. He looked at Deborah for an explanation, but she just gestured for Melanie to continue.
“When Steve says I’ve been acting out, I get the feeling he thinks I didn’t mean any of it. That I just want attention or to get back at him.”
“You did mean it?” he asked, shocked.
“Mean what? Fill me in here,” said Deborah.
“She was downstairs kissing some other guy, for starters,” Steve said. “Did you mean that?”
“Just now?” Deborah asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I think I did mean it.” Melanie felt short of breath. Her heart was beating erratically. She’d never had this experience before, of being the one in the wrong. She didn’t like it. But she needed to get the truth out on the table here, and the truth was, she felt something for Dan, and she was no longer certain what she felt for Steve.
“Who is he?” Steve demanded.
“An FBI agent I work with. We’re doing a case together. We only just met a couple of days ago.”
“And you’re already kissing him? Fast work, Melanie! Are you fucking him, too?”
“No! Don’t use that word. You must be confusing me with that puta Samantha.”
“Whoa, time out,” Deborah said, making a T with her hands. “Let’s try to stay civil and productive. Melanie, please continue. I think Steve needs to hear what you have to say.”
“If Steve is serious about wanting to work things out, I guess I’m still willing to try. But we can’t sweep our problems under the rug. I want him to know that nothing I’ve done was for show. Not asking him to move out, not taking off my wedding ring or kissing somebody else. I did all those things because I’m not sure whether I want to continue with our marriage.”
There, she’d said it. All of it.
Dead silence.
“Which doesn’t mean I’m convinced our marriage is over,” she continued, her voice ringing out, loud and urgent, in the quiet room. “Maybe there’s-”
Steve stood up. “I need out.”
“What? Out of where?” asked Melanie, heart in her throat. Whatever she thought she was up to here, she never intended to end things this minute. She needed more time to decide.
“I can’t hash this out in front of a stranger right now. I’m too confused. I’m sorry, Deborah, I know this was my idea. It just-I’m not ready. I need some air.” He began to move toward the door.
“Wait!” Melanie said. “Maybe she can help us. We should give it a chance. We should-”
“I can’t right now, okay? You really took me by surprise, with this other guy. I need some time to think.” He strode out of the room.
“I have to go after him,” Melanie said to Deborah, leaping to her feet. “Can you mail us the bill?”
“Of course. And, Melanie, I’m here if you want to come back, either together or alone. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
She ran after Steve, catching up with him as he waited for the elevator, leaning against the wall with his face buried in his arms. She placed her hand lightly on his back, making contact for an instant with the well-defined muscles under his suit. The touch reminded her of that morning, doing it standing up in the hallway. What was wrong with her, thinking about that at a moment like this? There was more to marriage than just sex.
Steve angrily shrugged off her touch and barreled into the elevator when it arrived. She followed him. On the street he hailed a cab.
“Is it okay if I come with you?” she asked in a small voice. She hated this. It was actually much better to be the wronged party, the victim. Being the offender felt too terrible.
He opened his mouth to reply but merely clenched his teeth, whistling with a mixture of defeat and scorn, holding the taxi door open for her.
ELSIE OPENED THE DOOR FOR THEM, DISPLEASURE written all over her face.
“You people realize what time it is?” she said.
Steve took money from his wallet. “Thanks for staying, Elsie. We really appreciate it. Here’s your overtime and cab fare.”
“That don’t make it okay. Night after night being asked to stay late. You-all must think I have no home life.”
Steve patted her arm. “We’re sorry, really, we apologize. Listen, we’re kind of in the middle of something here. If you wouldn’t mind, can we talk about this in the morning?” He shepherded her to the door and gently guided her through it. “Thanks again, Elsie. Have a good night.”
He closed the door behind her and walked into the living room, sinking down heavily onto the sofa. Melanie came and sat at the opposite end, leaving several feet of space between them. They hadn’t spoken the entire way home in the taxi. She looked down at the sofa’s once pristine taupe chenille surface, now marred with spit-up stains. She thought of when it was new, of their happy ignorance as they settled into their marital apartment. They’d been so confident of a smooth future, so blind to what could go wrong. Down the hall, as if on cue, Maya started to cry.
“Do you want to check on her, or should I?” Steve asked, sounding tired. He didn’t move.
Melanie stood up, but then the crying stopped.
“Stay here. She stopped,” Steve said, but Melanie continued heading for Maya’s room. She always checked on the baby when she came home. Besides, she’d feel better and think more clearly if she saw her daughter’s face.
The nursery glowed with golden light from the night-light. Melanie approached the crib reverently, holding her breath so she wouldn’t make a sound. Maya lay on her back, lost in the wild abandon of infant sleep, her arms thrown back over her head and her eyelids fluttering. Looking at her baby daughter, Melanie flashed back to how she felt at her high-school graduation when her father didn’t show up, seeing all those other big, happy families. By then it was official that he was never coming home. The doctors had given him a clean bill of health, but every time a date was set for him to fly back to New York, he made some new excuse to delay. Finally she demanded an explanation from her mother. “Your father wants to stay in San Juan,” her mother had said wearily. “But he’s better! He can come home now! The doctors said so,” Melanie had protested. “You wanted to know, so listen to what I’m telling you. He’s not coming back here. We’re getting a divorce.”