Couples

Irene sat in a black leather armchair to my left. I was perched in its twin, nervously bouncing my knee. Across from us was Dr. Carr, who had informed us that we may call her Sarah, though her tone suggested that she might prefer to remain Dr. Carr. So far, no one had said anything. We all wore our cloth masks like the bandits wore bandanas in old western films. It was a standoff. For my part, I had no idea what to expect or where to start. I needed someone else to say something, offer some kind of context, something to riff off of. For the time being, however, Dr. Carr seemed content to wait us out. Testing our commitment, perhaps.

An antique clock ticked away the seconds. It was a tasteful office, almost anachronistic with its 1920s charm. It was the sort of place where it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see an ornate ashtray replete with still-smoldering cigarette, and a well-stocked bar. This illusion was disrupted only by the Macbook on the doctor's broad, heavy desk— a damning modern touch.

We were in a small town in North Jersey, in an office suite on a nondescript thoroughfare as plagued by McDonald’s, Walgreens, Verizons and Home Depots as any other, but even so, sitting in these generous, stalwart chairs, listening to the antique clock’s unhurried ticking, we could have been anywhere, and anywhen.

I stole a glance at Irene, admiring her handsome features; light brown hair and dark brown eyes. There was a stoic air about her— a sense of imperturbability. Unusual for an era where so many people were anything but. She wore a knit sweater, dark jeans and Doc Martens. Put-together, but not effortfully so. She was the sort of person who made an impression in more ways than one.

“Well,” said Dr. Carr. “What feels most pressing today?”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“I just feel like he doesn’t know me at all,” said Irene.

Dr. Carr inclined her head sagely. “What would you like him to know about you?”

“I want him to know that I’ve kept most of me inside for a long time. And I’m kind of tired of it.” She glanced at me, then back at Dr. Carr. “But I don’t know if he wants to see the parts of me that I usually hide. And I’m not sure I’d want to see those parts of him, either.”

Dr. Carr turned to me.

“How do you feel about what Irene said just now, Jay?”

I looked at Dr. Carr’s impassive face, then glanced nervously at Irene. What the hell was I supposed to say to that?

“I— I don’t know,” I stammered. “I guess I don’t know if I know all the parts of me. I’m not sure I want to see them myself.”

“But what about the parts of her?” Dr. Carr pressed.

I chewed my lip. Things were getting heavy faster than I thought. I’d imagined some polite small talk would warm things up, maybe even occupy the first half hour. Such dewy-eyed optimism.

“Um.” I glanced at Irene, framed against the light of the window. “I think I would want to see those other parts. Sure.”

Dr. Carr let out a breath, smiling at each of us in turn.

“It’s hard to let ourselves be seen when we’ve become accustomed to hiding behind our walls. But knowing that you want to be seen is a big step.”

“But what if he wakes up one day, and doesn’t want to know me anymore?” Irene asked.

I looked at her in disbelief.

Dr. Carr smiled. “When it comes to love, it might be helpful to think about it like a game of poker. We all play our hands. Sometimes we ‘lose’. But if we don’t play at all, we never win.” She turned to me. “Jay, do you have any feelings about what Irene shared?”

I shook my head. “I guess I’ve always been afraid of that too? I dunno. You never know how people are going to be… um…” I trailed off.

“So you’re both afraid,” said Dr. Carr. “But that can be a tool. Learning how to communicate that fear to each other is how you nurture intimacy. We’re all vulnerable. We can all be hurt. But you know what I think…”

She paused, looked at each of us in turn. We shook our heads. We didn’t know what she thought.

“I think two people being vulnerable together is a pretty special thing.”

I had to suppress a chuckle at this. It was just too much.

“So, what did you think?”

“I dunno.” I shrugged. “She was pretty corny.”

“Mm. She was. But I kind of liked her. I’ve definitely never been this honest on a first date.”

I let out a laugh. “Me either.”

We stood facing each other in front of her dented Honda Accord. Traffic drifted by on the street, past the office suites and parking lots and gas stations. For a second, all the sordid details felt renewed. Like something out of the ordinary was happening.

I shoved my hands into my pockets.

“Wanna see me again sometime?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “That would be cool.”

I nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Great. Well…”

I extended a hand. She looked at it as though I was offering her a rotten egg. We hugged instead.