by Amanda Aksel
“It’s a joke, Marin. Lighten up okay?”
“It’s not funny,” I yelled after him.
I worked steadily until noon when Holly met me at my office for lunch. We went to the deli down the street for our usual salad, panini, and iced tea.
“Rachel told me she and David are seeing you today.”
I nodded.
“Good, I hope it’s going well.”
I smiled at her tight-lipped, both of us knowing I couldn’t tell her anything about David and Rachel’s sessions or progress.
“So now in light of everything, what do you believe about the secret lives of men?” she asked. It was a tough question.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think we’ll ever know. But I also think we have to have faith in those we love and hope it works out. After all, love itself is a leap of faith.”
She gave me a slanted smile but agreed. I could see her faith had been tarnished by the acts of David and Chad.
“Do you think there are any good men out there?” she asked.
“Yeah, I had one.” I dropped my head.
She lifted my chin with her hand. “You’ll have one again. I promise.”
I smiled at her and she returned it, both of us innocently hoping for something good.
When I returned to the office, it was time for my therapy session with Andy. He was armed with his usual notepad, even though he almost never took notes and spent the majority of the time talking.
“So what do you think?” he asked, which took me by surprise. He also never asked my opinion in our sessions.
“About what?”
“About your progress.”
“Overall, I feel better. At the same time, I’m afraid that I’ll be notoriously suspicious of the next guy I’m with. I mean, how could I not be?”
“I think the question is why would you be?”
“Because of my past experiences.” Duh!
“But don’t your past experiences also prove that there are many trustworthy men?”
“I guess so.” He had a point.
“Okay then, innocent until proven guilty. Marin, you can’t live your life waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s not good for you, and it’s not good for any of your future relationships. Guys hate that shit.” He kneeled in front of my chair and looked into my eyes. “You have a choice. You can choose to worry and be suspicious or you can choose to be happy. So which is it?”
It was one of the most basic ultimatums in therapy, and one of the most effective. I had control of my own thoughts and fears. I had control over whom I dated and whom I chose to trust. I had control over my own happiness.
“I choose to be happy,” I said, and I meant it.
“Great.” He stood. “I think we’re done here.”
“What?”
“Yep, I’m releasing you from care,” he said.
“Is this because you wanna call Telly?” I asked.
He smirked. “I’m not going to call your friend.” Thank God. “Or am I?” he said, and I gave him a little shove.
“Kidding,” he said putting up his hands to surrender. I questioned him with my eyes, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he opened his arms.
“Now come here and give me a hug.” I embraced him with a friendly and final hug. “You’re a good girl, Marin. Don’t ever change.”
I smiled at the notion, feeling like I had finally found myself again. I turned back just before I left his office.
“Andy?” He looked up. “Thank you,” I said with a smile.
“Anytime.” He returned the smile with a wink.
The afternoon passed as usual and at four o’clock David and Rachel arrived at my office. They settled on the couch and updated me on the home assignments I had given them the past week. Everything seemed to be going well, but it was the beginning and they had a long way to go.
“I don’t want to be that kind of husband.” David remarked about his indiscretion.
“I know,” Rachel said with tears in her eyes.
“I think you’ve made it clear to Rachel how sorry you are. Now you have to gain her trust back. That means being honest about who you are and what you’re doing,” I said, and he nodded.
“Rachel,” I said, and she looked up. “Do you believe in second chances?”
“Sometimes.”
“I know you’re here now, and I know you’re working on this at home. However, this is only going to work if you open up and really give David a second chance to prove that he can be a faithful husband.”
“I’m trying, but in the back of my mind I keep thinking it’s going to happen again.”
“Rachel, I’m going to tell you something that my therapist told me.” She looked curious and wiped her tears with a tissue. “You can choose to worry or you can choose to be happy. So which is it? Are you going to continue worrying, or are you going to give your husband a second chance?”
Rachel stared at me and then at him. She placed her hand softly on his knee.
“I’m going to give him a second chance.”
He pushed her hair out of her face and gave her a grateful smile. “I love you,” he told her.
“I love you too.” Then he kissed her with what looked like all of the gratitude in his heart. I knew that he was thankful for her kindness. If only James could do what Rachel had done. Not that David or I really deserved it, but a second chance was all we really wanted.
After their session, I began packing my things for the day. I looked out my window and saw David and Rachel walking hand in hand. Somehow I knew they would make it through, giving me hope that somehow I would make it through too.
Sunday was race day. It was still dark outside when my alarm went off at five-thirty. I switched on the lamp and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Anxious thoughts about the run ahead consumed my mind. I breathed in deep and bent my leg to stretch my knee. It felt a little tight, but I hoped after a warm up it would loosen. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine how the day would play out. I imagined myself running on the Golden Gate Bridge while the sun glistened off of the water and Telly and Holly cheered me on. I reveled in the thought of boldly crossing the finish line, feeling triumphant with my arms raised high. Then I thought of James, how he would miss it, and how much I missed him.
Seven a.m. marked the start of the US Half Marathon. When I arrived it was packed with participants, volunteers, sponsors, and supportive friends and family. My girls were nowhere to be found among the sea of faces that surrounded me. I signed in, took my tag, number 1011, and attached it to my white, running jacket. My buzzing nerves turned my stomach while I waited for the marathon to begin.
Between my nerves and the crowds, my breathing became fast and shallow. My eyes began to well with tears. I rushed toward a nearby clearing to pull myself together. In that moment, I was alone. No Telly, no Holly, no James. I looked out onto the bay and slowed my breath. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine a place of calm, thinking about the lake that James took me to on our camping trip. Trying to recall the soothing sounds of the water, the birds rustling in the trees, and the wind that picked up the leaves. I exhaled. I remembered how it felt to catch all those fish even though it was only my first time and I held onto that feeling.
I opened my eyes. The race wasn’t about my friends, it wasn’t about James, it wasn’t about proving something or disproving something. It was about me and what I could do on my own. The race was about to start so I took my position and waited. I shook out my arms and adjusted my ponytail. While I waited, I noticed my shoelace had come untied.
Before I could finish my double knot, a familiar voice called out, “Marin!”
I stood and looked behind me. My brother, Michael, made his way over. He wore shorts, a long sleeved St. Jude t-shirt, and a tag that read San Francisco US Half Marathon- 1171. I beamed as he approached.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Supporting St. Jude’s, of course.” I just smiled. “Besides, chicks
love it,” he said as he waved to someone in the crowd. I looked in the direction of his wave and saw Jennifer and the kids standing on the side in support. All wore matching St. Jude t-shirts. I waved to them too. The crowd started counting down and we were moments from race.
Three. Two. One!
Michael looked at me. “Come on, Marin, let’s kick this race’s ass!”
I nodded. The race was so crowded that we began at a walk. It wasn’t long before the crowd separated and we were able to begin our run. Michael and I ran side by side to the bridge. It was just as I imagined. The morning sun glimmered on the water, there was a cold breeze that prickled my cheeks, but felt amazing on the rest of my body. I focused on my breathing and the finish line. As we made our way across the bridge and through the streets, I thought about the past six months and how many amazing moments passed me by because I was too preoccupied with my obsession. I was glad to be out of it. And running the marathon with my brother and all those people, I realized, that moment was mine.
Michael and I were nearly at the finish line when my knee began to ache. I kept my focus and tried to push through the pain. The closer we got, the more it hurt, and the more I wanted to stop. I hissed at the stinging in my knee and the tired muscles in my legs. Almost there. Then, I saw Holly and Telly near the edge cheering me on. I grinned as they waved me to finish. With their encouragement, I pushed harder and made it to the finish line. Right as I lifted my arms in triumph, I felt a tug at my foot, and lost my balance. Fighting to stay upright was no use, I tumbled to the ground and felt the grit of the asphalt scrape against my knee.
I lifted myself, gripping my knee in pain. My undone shoelace was the culprit. I’d never finished the double knot when Michael found me before the race. Dammit! Then the pain was superseded by a sense of humiliation. I really had to learn to be more graceful and tie my shoes properly.
Before I could think on it too long I heard, “Are you alright?”
I looked up and saw a face that matched the familiar voice. It was James. Surely I had hit the ground so hard that I was hallucinating, but whoever it was helped me to my feet. My eyes focused on him again.
“Marin, are you okay?” he asked. It was James. I couldn’t believe it. What was he doing here?
“Oh, God,” I said. It was by far more humiliating than the time I had fallen in front of the office building and the intercom apology put together. It was my karma. The universe always knew how to get back.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said.
“This is so embarrassing. Please, you don’t have to help me,” I said, trying to limp away.
“I don’t mind,” he said and placed my arm over his shoulders.
“You should mind. I don’t deserve your help. I’m a terrible person,” I said, tears flooding my eyes.
“No, you’re not. You did a terrible thing, but you’re not a terrible person.” He walked me to a nearby bench. My knee was scraped, dirty, and bleeding. I couldn’t look at him, so I gazed down at the blood seeping through my skin. Just as before, he had a small duffle bag with a first aid kit, and he went right into mending my knee.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I’ve been better.” I sobbed.
“Yeah, me too.” He wiped my knee with some peroxide and my skin tingled from the touch of his fingers. I shut my eyes trying to restrain the rush of emotion. Then, he lightly blew on my scrape. It was so undeservingly sweet.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I came to see you,” he said.
“You did? Why?” My heart jumped at the idea that he wanted to see me again. I wasn’t too hopeful in case he came to tell me off.
“Despite everything . . . I miss you.” I dropped my head and let out a cry, relieved by his words. Even though I was thrilled he missed me, it made me feel even worse about what I had done to him.
“I missed you too. I’m so sorry, James,” I cried. He put on the band-aid and lifted my chin.
“I know.” He said, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and I get it. I went a little crazy too when Vanessa did what she did.”
“Probably not that crazy,” I said.
“No.” He chuckled. “Not that crazy.” I felt flushed at the thought of how I had behaved. I had my reasons, but in that moment they seemed silly and stupid.
“I just need to know one thing,” he said still kneeling down in front of me. I looked at him and his crystal blue eyes. “Was it all a lie?” he asked.
“No,” I shook my head, wiping new fallen tears. “All of the things I told you about me were real. The walks in the park and the night in the woods. It was all real.”
He sighed deeply, and I held my breath.
“Good. I hear you’re helping David and Rachel put things back together.”
“Yeah. She wants to give David a second chance.”
“I want to give you a second chance too,” James said, looking like my own fairytale prince.
“Why?” I asked.
He stood up and held out his hand. I took it and he helped lift me from the bench. I didn’t care that my knee was throbbing, or that I had fallen in front of all of San Francisco, only that James was there and he was giving me another chance.
“Because . . . I love you,” he said.
I smiled. “I love you too.”
It felt so good to tell him and even better that he felt the same, even after everything. We stared at each other for a moment, thinking how crazy it all was. He leaned in slowly and I lowered my eyes to watch his mouth as I had done so many times before. My heart leaped as he kissed me, like it was the first time. I shut my eyes tightly and relished in the moment with him. My stomach fluttered and I was so thankful to have him back. I loved him, I trusted him, and I wanted to be happy with him. Finally, I could start over, for real this time.
We pulled back and he leaned his forehead against mine.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Now, let’s get you some ice cream.” We beamed at one another. He took my hand in his and led me away from the marathon. I glanced back and saw Telly and Holly huddled together cheering me on. As I turned forward, I looked up at him.
“What flavor are you gonna get this time?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I think I’ll try something more adventurous.”
The Commitment Test is now available!
Find out what happens to Marin and James in the next installment of The Marin Test Series. Click here to get your Kindle copy now.
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THE
COMMITMENT
TEST
Sample Chapter
CHAPTER ONE
Love and San Francisco
Commitment begins with the best of intentions. That’s what I thought as I sat across from the couple in their early thirties. Both were dressed to perfection in expensive suits.
They looked perfect for each other. But looks could be deceiving.
Silence hung between them in a reflective moment. Tick, tock, tick, tock. It was like the two were playing a game of honesty chicken, each hoping the other would speak first. I was tempted to break the silence, but held on a moment longer.
Finally, she opened her mouth, but before she could summon the words, her husband jumped in.
“I’m just going to say it,” he said. “I think marriage ruined our relationship.”
Dun, dun, dun—Now we were getting somewhere.
She scoffed. “How can you say that? Marriage doesn’t ruin relationships.”
“Of course it does, we’ve seen it over and over again. Remember when we first got married? All of our friends were getting married too. How many couples did we
hang out with? Five? Five other couples. It’s been eight years, and how many of them are now divorced?”
“That’s different!” she said.
“Three. Half of us couldn’t even make it to ten years. Remember Janet and Danny? Those two were crazy about each other until they got married. And now they’re divorced.”
“Why don’t you just say what you really mean? You want out. Stop using our friends’ failed marriages as an excuse for why ours isn’t working.” Tears slid down her cheeks.
“Then you tell me, why isn’t it working?” He raised his voice.
“I don’t know. That’s why we’re here!”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupted. “He’s right. Some relationships fail after marriage. However, marriage doesn’t ruin relationships, people ruin them and sometimes relationships ruin themselves.”
She sniffled with sorrow filled eyes, and he pulled a tissue from the floral box on the table. His eyes harbored something else. Something that looked an awful lot like regret. No husband wants to be the bad guy, hurting his wife with words and feelings he couldn’t help but let go of, if only to unhinge the chains enough to breathe a little more.
I caught the wife’s gaze. “You really don’t know why you’re here, do you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I thought everything was fine.”
“I thought so too,” he said and dropped his head.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked.
“You two did the right thing by seeking help,” I said. “This is your opportunity to find out what’s really going on. Is that what you both want?”
They nodded.
“Good,” I continued. “We’re going to work on your communication and get to the root of the problem. And trust me, what’s in the best interest of each of you, is the best interest of both of you. Okay?”
The broken lovers agreed, and I sighed, anticipating an arduous journey. Then, he gently took her hand in his.