Travails of a Trailing Spouse

by Stephanie Suga Chen

  Just then, the figure started moving, and when he lifted his head, she saw that it was Ian, eyes a bit red and hair a bit tousled. He and Carys lived at this unit, but one floor above. She wasn’t sure how to break it to him.

  “Morning, rough night?” Sarah said.

  “Oh, hello,” Ian said, slowly. He looked at her and Eric, then down the hall, then realised his mistake.

  “I’m on the fifth floor, aren’t I?” he said.

  “Uh, yes…” Sarah answered. Eric nodded his head in agreement.

  “No wonder my key didn’t work,” he joked, getting up and smoothing the front of his shirt and pants.

  Sarah pressed both the up and down call buttons, staring at the moving floor numbers above each door, trying to predict which one would arrive first. The one going up arrived with a ding, and Ian got in, saying, “Well, I’m off”, shaking his head as the doors closed.

  Sarah looked at Eric and said, “Well, that was a little weird.”

  Eric looked back at her, over his glasses, which he wasn’t supposed to do, and said, “Noah lives upstairs.”

  “Yup, you’re right. Noah lives on the sixth floor. His daddy was on the wrong floor,” Sarah said.

  “Noah daddy key didn’t work,” Eric said, wisely.

  The pressure of being a stay-at-home mother peaked at throwing birthday parties, Sarah thought, when she had sat down to plan Eric’s big day a few weeks earlier. Of course, there was no competing with Ashley and her homemade fondant cake of a perfectly replicated Superman shield, but even Sara-without-an-H had made her own Pinterest-worthy Kit-Kat cake tied around with a wide ribbon for Ethan’s last birthday.

  Sarah decided to keep it simple, holding the party at home and limiting the invite list to condo friends. When she asked Eric who he wanted to invite to the party, he had answered, “Luke”, referring to a boy he sometimes played with when Patricia took him to the HDB playground. Sarah had only seen the boy once or twice; and as she had no way to get an invitation to him, short of hanging around the playground in the off chance of spotting him, she asked Eric if it was all right that he just see Luke at another time, like at the playground as he usually did. Eric shrugged his shoulders, answering, “OK. What kind of cake will we have?”

  Sarah instructed Patricia to make chocolate cupcakes, each with a smear of chocolate icing topped with a cut-out sugar cookie in the shape of a car. Sarah then placed them in three rows on a white tray and used red frosting gel to spell out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERIC!” It was a shockingly easy way to cover up the fact that she hadn’t yet learned how to properly frost a cupcake. If she stood back and squinted, they actually didn’t look half-bad, she thought.

  On the day of the party, Jason cleared the balcony, which they rarely used – so much for their early talk of pre-dinner drinks outside, Sarah thought ruefully – moving the large potted bamboo palms, which Sarah had bought from a neighbour who had moved out after living in the condo for only six months, around to the side and out of sight. Jason marked a double yellow line down the centre with a fat piece of sidewalk chalk, and called the kids over to help him draw a street scene on the concrete balcony wall. When they were done, they had created a two-way mini-track with a background of pastel-outlined stop signs, the Singapore Flyer, Marina Bay Sands, and other tall, windowed buildings.

  The guests started arriving, carrying scooters and tricycles as instructed on their invitations, to “drive” along the balcony “street”, with Ruby standing in the middle with a whistle, directing traffic. Ashley and Carys both arrived with their sons but no husbands, Ashley saying that CS was still glued to the TV, watching “some rugby match”, but he would be down a bit later. Carys didn’t offer any excuse why Ian wasn’t there and Sarah didn’t press her as the two women led their boys out to the balcony.

  Sara and John arrived, and Ethan ran straight to Ruby to co-supervise the traffic directing, while John helped Jakey into his long-handled tricycle, which required an adult to push him.

  “Where are Ian and Chad?” Sara hung back, helping Sarah set out the chicken nuggets and fruit.

  Sarah relayed the information about CS watching rugby and then quickly told her about finding Ian sleeping at the wrong door this morning, keeping her voice low.

  “Oh my, so much drama,” Sara said.

  “Yeah, I wonder if he thought Carys had changed the locks on him,” Sarah mused.

  “What is going on with them, I wonder,” Sara said.

  Just then, Irene and Mike arrived, also neighbours from the building; their daughter Audrey was in Eric’s class and they were also Taiwanese, and they had understood at once when Sarah had asked the teacher at school to change the caption under Eric’s name from “Chinese-American” to “Taiwanese-American”. Mike grabbed a beer and went off to find Jason, who was outside supervising the traffic directors.

  After all the kids had ridden a few times around the track, Sarah called everyone in for a game of “Who knows Eric?” which she had put together in a video presentation a few days earlier, asking questions like, “What is Eric’s favourite song?” (Answer: “Gangnam Style”) and “Why does Eric wear an eye patch?” (Answer: He has a lazy eye.)

  After the game, she invited all the guests to help themselves to lunch; Chad conveniently appeared just as they were starting. While they were all seated and eating, Irene asked Carys across the table, “Hey Carys, where’s Ian?”

  The two Sara/hs exchanged a look, while Carys responded, “Oh, he had a big night last night so I let him have a lie-in today.”

  “That’s nice of you,” Irene said.

  “Yes, it is,” Carys agreed politely, not offering anything more.

  “Anyone need a drink?” Sarah said, trying to divert attention away from Carys.

  “I’ll take some water; let me help you,” Ashley said, passing Lucas to Chad and following Sarah to the fridge.

  “Have you heard anything about John’s latest trip to the Philippines?” she whispered.

  “No, I’m afraid to ask,” Sarah said. The other Sara had not discussed John since the yoga retreat.

  “He certainly looks well rested,” Ashley said dryly, glancing at John waving his arms around animatedly at Mike, who was munching on a chicken wing.

  “Mm-hmm,” Sarah said, not wanting to say too much while Sara was in earshot. “Has Chad said anything more about that night? Did he recognise anything or anyone else from the video?” Sarah had shared her thoughts with Ashley about feeling like she was missing something about that night, but since the other woman had not been there either, it was difficult for her to ascertain if anything was amiss.

  “No, he still says he can’t remember a damn thing,” Ashley said, pouring herself a glass of water.

  Sarah then started walking around to see if anyone needed their plate cleared. As she passed Carys, the other woman motioned for her to sit down. “Hey, so I heard that you and Jason are seeing a marriage counsellor,” Carys said, keeping her tone casual.

  Sarah sighed. Between Ian and John’s antics, Jason and Chad’s arrest, Ashley’s lawsuit, and now apparently her own marriage, the gossip in the condo was running rampant.

  “Yes, well, I have a name, but I’ve been dragging my feet on calling her. I told myself I’d do it after Eric’s party,” Sarah said.

  “I might take the name, too,” Carys said, meeting her eyes.

  Sarah blinked, saying, “Yes, of course, I’ll send you the info.” This would have been the time to say something about seeing Ian this morning, but still, she said nothing.

  Jason came by and asked if it was time for the next game, which he was leading; it was Pin-the-Racecar-on-the-Finish-Line, a variation of the traditional game that Sarah had thought up last minute. Most of the kids were too young to really understand what was going on, so Sarah was happy when Eric himself pressed his green car closest to the black and white chequered finish line, “winning” a hug and a firm handshake from his father.

  Finally, it was time for cake,
Patricia lighting the candles and bringing out the tray of cupcakes while everyone sang “Happy Birthday”. Eric leaned over and tried to blow a big breath out, but he succeeded only in spitting on a few of the cupcakes. Ruby stepped in from the opposite side and gave him a hand, blowing out the candles with two, quick puffs. Sarah took Eric around with the tray, letting him serve his guests before he took his own cupcake.

  Later she would ask him what his favourite part of the party was, and Eric would respond, “blowing out the candles”, something she would be equally disappointed and amused at, given how much planning and work they had all done for the party, and that he hadn’t actually blown out any candles at all.

  Near the end of the party, after the kids had finished their cupcakes and were running off their sugar highs, Sarah saw Jason and CS out on the balcony, drinking beers while looking out at the Sonus building. She saw Jason lean in close to hear what CS was saying, then pull his head back, mouth straightening in a “hmm…” line.

  “What was that all about?” Sarah asked him later, as they were washing the chalk drawings off the balcony walls.

  “It sounds like Ian’s found himself a ‘piece of Asian tail’,” Jason said. “At least that’s what CS said.”

  chapter 21

  THERAPY

  THE MARRIAGE COUNSELLOR’S name was Dr Phyllis Young and her website said she was a clinical psychologist who specialised in family and marriage therapy and had been practising for over 20 years, the last 12 in Singapore. She had a short, practical haircut and reminded Sarah of a younger Angela Merkel, which she supposed was a good sign, as Sarah had always admired the German Chancellor’s cautious, methodical leadership style. Poised over a legal pad, pen in hand, Dr Young started the session by asking why they were seeking counselling and what their goals were. Jason held Sarah’s hand as the woman spoke to them, which she supposed was also a good sign.

  “Well, I have been feeling disconnected from Jason lately,” Sarah said.

  Dr Young nodded, taking notes, then asked her to elaborate further.

  “Well, Jason was arrested earlier this year for public drunkenness,” Sarah started, describing what had happened.

  “So, is his drinking causing a problem for you?” the therapist asked, not mentioning the arrest directly.

  “Not exactly,” Sarah clarified. “I’ve also been feeling a bit lost at home, like, directionless, after moving here.” Sarah gave a quick rundown of her own background.

  “And Jason, how do you feel?” Dr Young asked, eyes turned on him.

  “Yes, I guess I kind of agree; I do feel like we’re a little disconnected,” Jason said, uncertainly.

  “All right, disconnected,” Dr Young repeated slowly, writing again. “Tell me how you met.”

  Sarah, always watching the clock, covered their history quickly; they had met at an intercollegiate conference held at Princeton when she was a sophomore and Jason had been a senior. They had both felt something right away, sitting in the lounge of her friend’s dorm, staying up all night talking, not at all surprised when the sun started to peek through the room’s vertical blinds at 6am. They went together to the dining hall for breakfast, discussing how they liked their eggs, both knowing that this was it, they had found each other, the rest was just logistics.

  After that weekend, they returned to their respective schools and kept in touch by phone and email, flying back and forth as often as they could afford to, Sarah scouting the last-minute airfares that were put out every Tuesday morning. After Jason graduated, he got a technician position at one of the labs at her school, renting an apartment off-campus while she finished her last two years.

  On Valentine’s Day during her senior year, he proposed, pulling out a ring as they were having dessert at their favourite steakhouse downtown. She said yes, of course; after dinner, she asked if it was all right with him for her to drop in at O’Brien’s, the bar down the street where her sorority was holding a social for the new spring pledges. Sarah ran in and stole the spotlight for one of the few times in her life, whipping out her left hand and letting her sisters ooh and aah in admiration over her diamond engagement ring.

  At this point, Sarah paused, but Dr Young gestured for her to continue.

  They got married a week after her 23rd birthday, Sarah said, in a big wedding outside Detroit attended mostly by their large extended families and their parents’ friends. After their honeymoon – two weeks in Bali – they moved to a third-floor walk-up near NYU, Jason taking the train all the way uptown every day to Columbia, where he was getting his doctorate.

  She was ahead of all of her friends; she listened sympathetically when her girlfriends came over to sit in her living room and bemoan the New York City dating scene, offering support when they asked, “He hasn’t called, what should I do?”

  Jason, the ultimate relationship snob, would usually be in the bedroom eavesdropping, saying to Sarah later, “He’s obviously just not that into her.”

  After her account, Dr Young looked at Jason and asked, “Jason, do you agree? Is that how you would describe how you met?”

  Jason shrugged and answered, “Sure, that’s all about right.”

  Dr Young then asked about what they hoped to achieve through counselling, to which Sarah repeated what she had said earlier, that she felt lost and wasn’t sure how to reconnect with her husband.

  Sarah finished her thought, and Dr Young again looked towards Jason. He didn’t take the bait, this time turning it back on her. “As the expert here, what do you think?”

  The therapist stared back at him, but didn’t say anything. They had been there 50 minutes and she had said perhaps 15 words during the entire time. She didn’t answer his question, instead looking at her watch, pausing, and then saying, “Before our next session, I’d like to assign you both some homework.”

  Sarah looked at Jason. “OK…” she said uncertainly.

  “What I’d like you to do is to sit next to each other, on the couch or in bed, and just gently caress each other’s arms. Nothing more than that, you don’t have to talk, just feel each other’s presence,” she said. “And when you come back next week, we can talk about how you felt.”

  Sarah looked at Jason again, eyebrows raised. “Sure, OK,” she said again. They stood up to leave, thanking her half-heartedly, and walked out of her office.

  Stepping into the lift, they shook their heads, both wondering how they could get the past hour of their lives back.

  “Well, that was helpful,” Jason deadpanned.

  “I really don’t even know what just happened,” Sarah said. She recalled one of her friends, a chronic therapist-seeker, once telling her that not all therapists were the right fit; her friend had had to meet three or four before finding one that “clicked”. She was about to relay this to Jason, but thought against it; Sarah was pretty sure that neither of them were interested in pursuing counselling any further, even with a different therapist.

  Jason grabbed her arm as they were walking out of the building, starting to tickle her, mimicking Dr Young, “How does this make you feel?”

  Sarah pulled away, touching his arm, saying, “No, you’re supposed to ‘gently caress’ my arm. Like this.” She reached out and tickled him right back.

  He slapped her hand away good-humouredly and said, “Seriously, what a crackpot.”

  Sarah, Carys and Ashley went out for drinks, which the women were doing more often these days, leaving the men at home to fend for themselves. Sara begged off at the last minute, saying both her boys had fevers and were having trouble getting to sleep. Carys, drinking two glasses of wine in quick succession, spoke more freely than usual, then posed the provocative question, “Do you ever picture yourselves married to someone else?”

  Ashley answered immediately, “Uh, yes! Maybe someone who’s never been arrested? Do you see this man-child I’m married to?”

  The other two laughed, but they knew Chad and Ashley were a perfect match, football vs. rugby rivalry notwithstanding.<
br />
  Sarah answered truthfully, saying she had never imagined herself married to anyone else, although given everything that had happened that year, she had found herself recently imagining what it would be like to not be married to anyone at all, just being free to spread out on her own bed, eat a pizza on her own, surf the Internet all night without having to worry about disturbing Jason’s sleep.

  “What about you?” Sarah turned the question back to Carys.

  “Well, I was pretty serious with the guy I dated before Ian,” she answered. “He actually came to Singapore last week and we had dinner.”

  “Oh yeah? Where’d you go?” Only Ashley would ask about what restaurant they went to at a time like this.

  “Just went for sushi at the mall,” Carys said.

  She went on to tell them that he was a journalist. They had met while she was teaching in Surrey; they had both wanted to go see the world, but she hadn’t been ready to get married then.

  “How was it, seeing him?” Sarah asked.

  “Good, I guess. I mean, I wasn’t attracted to him, but he’s lived all over the world; I could imagine what it would be like tagging along with him to India, Chile, Japan,” Carys said.

  “You’ve lived in more than a few countries yourself, though,” Ashley pointed out.

  “Hm, I suppose you’re right. It somehow feels different,” Carys sighed. “I mean, he’s not travelling to five-star hotels in Bali to evaluate their service offerings; he’s reporting on international conflicts, natural disasters, scientific discoveries.” It was a dig at Ian, who didn’t quite match her on an intellectual level; they all recognised it.

  Sarah shifted the conversation; somehow she felt less comfortable pressing Carys than she did with the other Sara. She described her and Jason’s failed attempt at couples counselling, and the girls laughed heartily when she told them what their “homework” was for the following week.