Bittersweet Surrender

by Q. B. Tyler

  “She is the only one,” Will jumps in. “I am in love with her.” His tone is firm, full of conviction.

  At this point, we might as well be transparent.

  “He took advantage of you as your counselor, Charlotte.”

  I glance over at Will and I can see in his eyes what he’s thinking. Not true. Don’t believe it, baby.

  I don’t, I try to tell him as best as I can with my eyes.

  I shake my head. “Matt, it wasn’t like that!”

  We just…fell in love.

  He snorts before turning his focus to Will. “And let me guess, she loves you? Until she does the same thing to you that she’s done to me? Until she gets bored with you and finds another plaything? What makes you so sure that you’re the only one she’s in a relationship with now? You two have weaved this web of lies and deceit, how can you even trust each other?”

  “Because we love each other, Matt,” I answer. “I know you’re hurt, and I’m sorry.” I wipe my eyes as the tears blur my vision. “I fell in love, but our marriage was broken beyond repair before Will came into our lives. We were just putting Band-Aids on the problems, but they were only temporary solutions, and if you were honest with yourself you would admit that. You aren’t brokenhearted over this,” I continue. “You’re embarrassed and your ego is bruised but you haven’t loved me for a long time. This isn’t about me sleeping with someone else.”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t know shit about what I feel, Charlotte. What I’ve learned through this whole process, is you only care about yourself. When you needed someone to get you away from your stepfather, I was there. When you needed a place to stay, I was that person. When you needed someone to pick up the pieces of your life and go with you to therapy and hold your hand, I was that person. And then you changed. Once you were strong enough to stand on your own, something you were never able to do before, you realized you didn’t need me anymore. It’s always been about you, Charlotte. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met in my entire life and I wish I had never met you.” His words are like knives slicing through my heart.

  He’s hurt, Charlotte.

  You hurt him.

  “How can you even say that to her. You know she doesn’t have a selfish bone in her body. She stood by you longer than she should have. You treated her like shit, Matt, and you know it. You lied to her about her fucking stepfather. You ignored her, neglected her…the list is endless. She was strong enough to walk away because she had to be. You have nothing to do with her strength,” Will interjects.

  Matt is silent as if he’s letting Will’s words sink in before he looks at me. “Charlotte, you can keep the money. All of it. At this point, even if I can prove an affair took place it wouldn’t matter much. So, you keep the money, because when I’m finished with both of you, it’ll be all you have left.” He starts moving toward the door before turning back to look at Will. “It’s funny, all this time you were sleeping with her, did you really think that if this blew up in your face she would be around after you were disbarred? Lost your practice, your license? Everything? Did you really think that a woman that you were fucking in marriage counseling was a loyal and faithful, be there with you till the end type of girl? You see what she does after she gets what she wants, don’t you? She leaves,” he says, “and she’ll leave you too.” With those final words my husband slams the door behind him leaving me and the man I’d left him for.

  Will and Charlotte’s Story Continues Summer 2018

  Will

  Seven Months Earlier

  “DR. MONTGOMERY, YOUR TWELVE O’CLOCK, Mr. Wells and Ms. Pierce, are here.” The voice of my assistant, Vanessa, floats through my office just as I finish reading through their file.

  “Thank you, Vanessa,” I say. “I’ll be right out.” I run a hand through my hair and pull my glasses from my face.

  The first session with a couple is crucial. Everyone is usually on their best behavior but I catch little things. I learn their body language with each other even though they are trying to act as if things aren’t as bad as they appear to be. The eye rolls that they think I don’t see, the shoulders that tense up when their partner talks, the obvious disdain that they try to hide.

  I open the door and almost take a step back in awe when the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is sitting there in my waiting room. I resist the urge to stare at her as the air slowly leaves my lungs, and fail.

  Her legs are crossed, her hands folded in her lap, and her back so straight it’s like a string is attached to the top of her head, keeping her perfectly erect. Her shiny, chestnut hair is cascading down her back and over her shoulders in waves that I swear belong in a shampoo commercial. Her lips are full and plump, and currently formed into a pout, though I notice her mouth ticking slightly upwards as I move closer to them. I scan her face, and when our eyes lock I feel the electricity move through me. She blinks her eyes a few times, attempting to break the trance between us, but I don’t remove my eyes from hers. Her brown irises are bright, hidden behind long, well curled eyelashes, and I’m convinced she has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.

  What the hell is this woman doing in marriage counseling? Any man married to her should be on his knees worshipping the ground she walks on. Okay, Will, you know the beautiful ones are the MOST crazy. Just wait till she reveals it.

  “Mr. Wells, Ms. Pierce,” I say, realizing that I haven’t said anything this entire time I’ve been ogling another man’s wife. Although, I don’t believe that he’s noticed as I see now that he’s engrossed in his phone.

  “Dr. Montgomery.” Mr. Wells nods and shakes my hand, firmly of course, doing his best to assert his dominance. He walks through my door ahead of his wife without another word and I want to scoff at his lack of manners. Chivalry is dead and gone in this marriage, huh?

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ms. Pierce starts and her voice is so soft and sweet, it’s as if she sprouts wings and a halo instantly, because she sounds like an angel. “Thank you for meeting with us.” She walks by me, her scent flooding my nostrils and sending a spark to my groin.

  Holy fuck, what is that? She smells divine. Christ, Montgomery. Get it together.

  I close the door behind me and sit in my chair in front of them as I take in the two painfully uncomfortable individuals sitting on opposite ends of my couch.

  Mr. Wells looks almost hostile, his arms crossed, leaning back, one leg over another as his index finger traces his lips, cockily. He’s looked at his watch at least twice since he’s sat down and it’s obvious he’ll be one of those husbands that don’t take this process seriously. Ms. Pierce on the other hand, looks nervous. She’s fidgeting with her rings and her teeth keep finding her bottom lip. I try not to focus on it because it’s distracting as hell.

  I look back and forth between them before I begin. “So, why don’t you tell me a little about yourselves? Ms. Pierce?”

  “Well, Matt and I have been together eight years, we got married about five years ago,” she says giving a small smile. “And things have just been…difficult as of late,” she says, and I give her a small smile.

  “Ms. Pierce, I admire your diplomacy, but you’re in marriage counseling, now isn’t the time to be diplomatic. I have read all of that in your file, and we will come back to that. Right now, I want to know about you.”

  “Oh, right, okay, sorry,” she says nervously and my eyes narrow. Why is she apologizing?

  “You’ve done nothing wrong, Ms. Pierce. No apologies necessary. Continue.”

  “Right. So, I graduated from UGA with a degree in marketing. When I graduated, I was offered a position as an events coordinator for The Wyndham Hotel Group. I worked there for a little while, until I got married. Then, I quit.” She blanches, and although I can’t hear it in her voice, I can see it on her face. That was not completely her decision and I can sense a bit of resentment regarding it. “And now I…” she starts before she looks down at her hands and I know this is the moment. T
he moment every couple has at some point after they cross the threshold of this room. Sometimes it’s an hour in, or a day in, or a week in, but with Ms. Pierce it’s ten minutes in. She’s about to lose it. And then we go to work. “Now I don’t do anything,” she says and looks up at me, the tears amplifying the color of her eyes. “I’m a prisoner of my own life.”

  I hear a snort from the other side of the couch. “Here we go.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since his terse greeting.

  “Heaven forbid I’m honest about my feelings in therapy,” Ms. Pierce snaps immediately.

  “A prisoner of your own life? Really? God, you can be so dramatic.” He rubs a hand over his eyes, clearly exasperated.

  “Okay, in here it’s better if we refrain from personal attacks or direct insults. I know it’s a bit of a cliché, but we need to start sentences with ‘I feel.’ Mr. Wells, you can say ‘I feel that I don’t understand what you’re saying.’ This is a safe space for both of you and I don’t want either of you to feel stifled, but you do need to respect each other.”

  The rest of the first session went similarly to how it started and it quickly became clear to me that Mr. Wells treated his wife like she was a burden. He didn’t pay her much attention, he knew nothing of her current dreams, her drive, her passion, her love of literature. He used her as a pawn in his life because she fit into his American Dream.

  But did he love her?

  The jury was still out on that, and I had yet to pass judgment.

  We were about a month into our sessions when Ms. Pierce started to open up more. She had quickly become one of my favorite patients and I started to look forward to seeing her every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She was witty and smart, and had a smile that stopped my heart the few times she flashed it at me. She was kind and courteous and I watched as Mr. Wells unabashedly walked all over her during their sessions.

  “Mr. Wells, tell me how you feel about children?” I ask one Wednesday afternoon and he immediately shakes his head.

  “She knows I’m not ready for that.”

  “Does she know why? She’s made it clear about her feelings on the matter, and yet I don’t think I know why you are so against it.”

  “I’m only thirty, I’m doing well in my company, we’re still young. She’s twenty-eight. It’s not like her biological clock is ticking. She has plenty of time,” he says as if he’s rattled off these bullshit reasons a time or two before.

  “While that may be true, she believes that she is ready and it might be something worth discussing. This is a marriage, Mr. Wells, it’s about compromise.”

  “You can’t compromise about a kid. If I’m not ready, how is that fair to them?”

  “What about it makes you feel that you aren’t ready? Do you think you wouldn’t make a good father?” He shrugs but doesn’t offer up any explanation and I wonder if there is more to that story. I know that his father died when he was in high school but he hasn’t discussed it much.

  There is something these two aren’t telling me. I can sense it.

  “So, what do you think it will take for you to be ready?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, brushing me off as he looks out my window. “Time?” He shrugs.

  “How much time?” I hear her voice ring through the room, not accusing or harsh or angry, rather meek and timid. “I want a baby,” she says softly.

  “Well, that’s not happening right now. Deal with it.” He’s still looking out the window and not making any effort to look at his wife.

  But I do.

  I see her lip tremble and the tears flood her eyes. She clears her throat, swallowing them down, and while I’ve never been one for having contact with my patients, I want to wrap her in my arms and let her know that everything will be okay. That I’m here for her. That I care. The sound of her husband’s cell phone rings through the air, and I try to control my look of disapproval as he tells her that he has to take it. She doesn’t even respond before he’s moving toward the door.

  Her eyes follow him out of the room and linger at the door long after he’s gone. I’m not looking at her straight on, but her body language shows that she’s hurt, but also that she’s not totally surprised at his lack of empathy.

  “Ms. Pierce?” My voice is soft and her eyes flit to mine. “Are you ready to be a mother…right now?”

  I know she can hear the true meaning of my question, because she nibbles on her bottom lip nervously. “I am ready to be a mother. Father aside…I didn’t exactly grow up with the best father figures.” She swallows, and for a moment I see the darkness cloud her beautiful features. Then she shakes her head as if trying to rid the thoughts from her brain.

  What was that about? Did someone hurt her?

  “If my mother could do it, so can I.”

  “That sounds like you’re prepared to do it alone.”

  “It’s not ideal but…why should I keep denying myself what I want?”

  I don’t say anything in response, because frankly, I’m at a loss for words. I’m not in a position to advise her on her options if Matthew isn’t a part of the plan, and I’m not about to go putting thoughts in her head.

  I’m ripped from my own thoughts when she speaks again.

  “You ever look at your life and wonder how the hell you got here? One minute you’re twenty-one and completely in love and the next minute you’re twenty-eight and you’re wondering—where did the years go? Where did my life go? When did my relationship change? When did…when did Matt’s feelings change? When did my feelings change?” She shakes her head and I see the tears building in her eyes. “I can’t live the next sixty-plus years of my life like this, Dr. Montgomery. Hell, I won’t make it another sixty years in this relationship.” She looks around and takes a deep breath. “I’m…miserable,” she says, and I wonder if it’s the first time she’s said the words aloud.

  Her words wash over me, seeping into my soul. The room is quiet, her soft gaze holding mine before she shrugs. “Ms. Pierce—” I start, wondering which words of wisdom to offer her.

  “I should go,” she interrupts me as she stands. “I don’t know how long his call will take, but our hour is almost up.” She looks down at her watch and smiles. “I’m sorry to waste your time like this, Dr. Montgomery.”

  “It’s not a waste of time,” I say giving her a genuine smile. Truth is, I enjoy Ms. Pierce’s company, probably far more than I should. “We are going to unpack what you said on Friday, alright?”

  “Forget I said anything.”

  “No. That’s not how therapy works,” I tell her. “You need to continue to be honest about your feelings.”

  She nods. “Okay.”

  “Ms. Pierce,” I call out to her as her hand finds the door.

  “Yes?” She stops to look at me as I make my way over to her.

  I don’t know what to say to her. She looks so completely broken. So fragile. Her husband is slowly breaking her and I’m doing a shitty job of stopping it. “Keep your head up, okay?”

  She seems surprised by my words but she gives me one of her heart-stopping smiles and nods as if I’ve given her the most profound advice. “Thanks, Dr. Montgomery.”

  “I’m not happy, Matt. I haven’t been for a year!” Charlotte rarely raises her voice, but when she does it is usually because of Matt’s evident indifference.

  He can be such a dick.

  “And you think I am? You think I like this?”

  “You’re not doing anything to try and change it!” Charlotte shrieks as she begins to pace around my office.

  “What do you want from me?!” he yells back.

  “To care! To talk to me. To want to spend time with me! Hell, something! I’m in this marriage too, Matt.”

  “I’m aware of that, Charlotte.”

  “You don’t even look at me anymore.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” he says, getting up from the couch.

  Charlotte pushes against his chest. “NO! You don’t get to walk awa
y from me! You don’t get to push this aside and brush the problems under the rug again! We have to deal with this. Why won’t you talk to me? Why do you hate me so much?”

  “I don’t hate you, Charlotte. Don’t be ridiculous,” he says as he runs a hand through his hair.

  “Then what is it?!”

  “I DON’T KNOW!” he roars and I’m seconds from telling him to rein in his temper when he cools off. “I’m sorry for yelling, I’m just…tired. Tired of dealing with this. This is exhausting. I am tired of feeling like I’m failing as a husband, failing at this marriage. And I just—I don’t know that I can do this shit anymore,” he says, and just as quick as the words are out of his mouth, he’s gone.

  Charlotte is frozen in place, staring at the door that her husband just walked out of and then she’s on her knees, sobbing violently into her hands. I’ve been around crying women before, often, but seeing her cry like this, does something to me that I’ve never experienced and before I can think I’m kneeling next to her, rubbing her back.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I say soothingly and it only makes her cry harder. “Hey…” I pull her face from her hands and looking into her glassy eyes. “Let’s get off the floor, okay?” I say softly. She nods and lets me lead her to the couch. I hand her the box of tissues that sits on my coffee table and I sit in front of her on the table.

  “Thank you,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I lost it like that.”

  She’s got to stop apologizing. I have to break her of that. “Nothing to be sorry for.” I am toeing the line right now but my hand finds her face and I wipe the tears that have streamed down her cheeks. Her mascara has run, leaving black smudges underneath her eyes that are red and a bit swollen.

  But she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  “I think my time is up,” she sniffles as she grabs her purse and stands.

  “Ms. Pierce,” I stop her and she turns to look at me, “you will be happy again.” I smile at her. “We’ll get you there.”