by Amanda Aksel
“Hi . . . Dr. Johns,” Anderson shook my hand slowly, shocked to say the least.
“Anderson, have we met before?” I asked.
“I . . . um . . . don’t think so,” he stuttered, then cleared his throat.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep, I’m pretty sure.”
“Oh, never mind. You just look so much like someone I know.”
I asked them to follow me back to my office. As we walked, I overheard Miko ask Anderson if he was feeling okay. That he looked like he was going to be sick.
They sat down on the sofa, and I sat across from them in my usual chair with a note pad and whistle. I played my role as the uninterested third party couples counselor, while Anderson squirmed and fidgeted. It seemed like it was really getting to him, and I was glad.
“So, why are you here today,” I asked.
“Well, we’ve been together for two years, and I feel like our relationship has hit a road block,” Miko said.
“Wow, two years,” I replied and raised an eyebrow at Anderson. He put his head down.
“Yes, and I would like to take our relationship to the next level and move in together, but he feels like it’s too soon. I wanted to have a professional settle the argument for us and help us move forward.”
I felt sorry for her. She probably had no idea he was a cheater, and likely a serial one. Not to mention the fact that I was actually the other woman.
“So, Doctor, do you think it’s too soon to move in together?” she asked.
“Every relationship is different. It really depends on when the couple is ready. The time to wait before moving in is all relative.”
“Oh,” Miko said, pouting her lip slightly. Obviously, not the answer she was looking for.
“Anderson,” I said. His head shot up as if he was startled out of a nightmare. He looked alert yet frightened and blinked intermittently. He was in the spotlight now.
“Yes?”
“Is there any particular reason you don’t feel you’re ready to move in with Miko?” He looked at her, then me, then her again. We stared at him, anxious to hear what he had to say.
“I just, um, I like to have my own space and privacy. Is that so bad?”
“Well that depends. Do you need all that privacy and space to hide something?” Like another woman, I thought as I stared him down. Anderson’s mouth gaped for a moment, then he began to stutter. Normally, I’d never say something so accusatory to a patient in couples therapy on the first day, but I wanted him to squirm a bit. Miko shot impatient eyes at his hesitance, waiting for him to come back with a quick rebuttal.
“That seems like an inappropriate question,” he said, deflecting my inference.
“Dr. Harper, are you questioning my ability to counsel and ask questions?” I gave him a severe look and so did Miko.
“Anderson!” Miko yelled. He looked at her then looked at me. He was outnumbered, so he slouched back into the couch and lowered his head.
“No,” he said. A moment of silence created an unnerving wave of tension. I relaxed for a second and tried to think of how I could make Anderson’s torture just a little more entertaining.
I snapped my fingers in recognition. “I know why you look familiar,” I said. Anderson’s eyes widened and the color drained from his face. Surely he thought I was going to blow him in right then.
“You look like this guy I dated. Geez, that guy was an asshole.” They cocked their heads. “He had trouble committing too.” Suddenly, Miko appeared interested in my paralleled tangent.
“So, what happened?” she asked.
“Oh, you’re not going to believe it.” Miko and I leaned in as I continued. “Turns out the reason he didn’t want to commit was because he was already with someone else.”
“No,” she gasped.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“How did you find out?” she asked. I smirked and looked at Anderson, who had sweat beading along his forehead. For a moment, I thought he was going to pass out.
“That’s the worst part. I ran into him and his real girlfriend in this very building.”
With wide eyes she asked, “Oh, my God, what did you do?”
“I did what any sane woman would do. I confronted him right there in front of his girlfriend. She was furious and totally clueless.” I let out a deep sigh at the thought, “I don’t think they lasted much longer after that.”
“Did you ever see him again?” Miko asked.
“No, and I hope I never will.” Miko’s eyes were fixed on me, mine were fixed on Anderson, and his were on the ground. “Well, enough about me, let’s talk about you two. That’s why we’re here, right? To talk about you and your two year relationship?” I faked a warm smile.
Miko sat up straight appearing eager to resolve her own non-committed boyfriend issues while Anderson remained stiff in his petrified expression.
“Are you alright, Anderson?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said and gave a nervous smile. “I’m fine.” Miko took one look at him and grabbed a tissue from the box sitting on the coffee table.
“Why are you so sweaty. It’s not even that warm in here,” she said wiping the perspiration off of his head and neck.
“Let’s get back on track. I want you two to try an exercise that I think will help with your communication on this issue. We’re going to do a little role playing.” Anderson exhibited a bewildered face as if he was pleading with me to go easy on him. No doubt the afternoon had already been trying enough. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t in the mood to sympathize.
“Anderson, you’ll be Miko, and Miko, you’ll be Anderson. Now, Anderson, pretend that you’re Miko, and tell Anderson,” I said pointing to Miko, “what is on your mind.” I smiled and sat back in my chair to watch the show.
“Anderson, I think it’s time we get a place together,” he said to Miko.
“Wait,” I said. “Anderson, this is role-playing. I really need you to get into it. Sit up taller like Miko and talk in her voice, not yours.” He looked frustrated, but I urged him to follow my directions. He sat up straighter.
“Anderson, I think it’s time we get a place together,” he said again. This time in a higher pitched voice.
“Anderson,” I whispered like a director back stage, “more girly.”
“Anderson, I think it’s time we get a place together,” he said again sitting up straight just like Miko and in a high soprano voice. He sounded ridiculous. I tightened my lips to contain a laugh.
“I don’t want to,” Miko stated in an Anderson sort of way.
“Why not? It’s time we move forward.” He kept up his ladylike tone.
“I don’t want to move forward. I like the way things are now,” Miko said.
“You’re right. Things are pretty great the way they are now. We can see each other when we want and be away from each other when we don’t,” Anderson said with a smile. It was an out-of-character statement for Miko. Before I could blow my whistle to tell Anderson that he was not playing fair, Miko shouted in her own voice. “Oh, I see. This arrangement is convenient for you, isn’t it?” She brought her lips and brow to the middle of her face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked defensively in Miko’s voice. He quickly cleared his throat and in his normal voice asked, “I mean, what is that supposed to mean?” I also leaned forward and asked, “Yes, what does that mean?”
“I mean you’re out of touch a lot, even a little too much for a surgeon.”
“Miko, you know I work crazy, unpredictable hours.”
“Oh, there’s a new excuse. What about Friday night, huh? Where were you?”
“Yes, where were you on Friday?” I said. I knew where he was on Friday night, but I had no idea what excuse he gave her. At the time he and I were going at it in my bed, I didn’t know she existed. He looked appalled, stressing his eyes as if he hoped I’d get the hint to keep my mouth shut. I got the hint. Just didn’t care.
“I was at the hospital,
” he said.
“No, you weren’t. I went by the hospital and couldn’t find you,” she said shaking her head.
How’s he going to get out of this one?
“What time did you go by?” He stalled, probably trying to think of a good excuse.
“I don’t know, around seven or so.” She started to retreat. It was probably an old trick he used and for whatever reason she fell for it.
“I must’ve left to get dinner.” He looked up at the ceiling. “That’s right, I went to eat sushi.” He smiled with pride. Did it work?
“Sushi?” Miko asked. She stood and yelled, “Like you were eating some other girl’s sushi!” She grabbed a pillow from the couch and started wailing on him. I kept my game face on, but inside I cackled like a villain. Revenge was sweet and Miko was right.
“This is good, Miko. Let out your frustration,” I said. She stopped shortly after and threw the pillow in his face.
“Why can’t you just want to be with me the way I want to be with you?” she asked, then tears fell from her eyes. My vengeance instantly melted into guilt. It wasn’t her fault he was a cheat. Miko was probably a great girl who didn’t know any better. I knew all too well what that was like. She hid her face in her hands and ran out of the room.
“Miko!” he called out as he stood, but she was gone. He turned to me.
“Looks like you have quite a mess to clean up,” I said.
“She’ll be okay. We’ve been through this before.” I remained silent, glaring my two cents at him. Would he apologize or leave? He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head, then gave an inappropriate smirk. “Of all the counseling practices in San Francisco, I had to come into yours.”
“So I guess this means our date’s off?”
What an asshole. I gave him a chilly stare. “Good-bye, Anderson.”
“Right,” he said defeated, then vanished from my office and from my life. I threw myself back into my chair, letting out a long sigh. Of all the ways I imagined catching Anderson cheating, this was not one I had expected. It was an unsatisfactory end, but it fueled my belief about the unspoken side of men. I decided not to give up. It was only a matter of time before I found “Mr. Right.”
Five minutes after five, and I had plenty of time to stop by Holly’s before she left. I waited for what seemed like ages at the elevator. My phone started ringing when I arrived at the revolving doors of the building. No doubt it was Telly promptly calling for our after work chat. Considering the circumstances of the afternoon, it was going to be a long call. The phone seemed to be hiding in the depths of my bag among my wallet, iPod, business cards, and packets of spearmint gum. Right as I walked through the revolving doors, I looked into my bag, struggling to find it before it went to voicemail. Then suddenly, WHAM!
The door hit me, knocking me off my balance and sent me tumbling to the ground. My vision blurred and it took a moment to clear. When it did, I saw that I was lying faced down, smelling pavement, my knee stung in pain. Humiliation churned my stomach when I realized numerous, respected business people from my building would see what a klutz I was. I surveyed my surroundings. My purse and all of its contents had spilled out everywhere.
I heard a faint voice as I tried to pick myself up.
“Are you alright?” the voice called out.
And in only a second, I was lifted to my feet and handed the effects of my bag. Some nice gentleman had come to rescue me. The man put my arm over his shoulder and helped me over to a bench nearby. When he sat me down, I began to notice little details about him, his wavy, dirty blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and handsome face. He sat a large gym bag on the ground next to him and examined my knee. It was scraped and bloody, the kind a seven-year-old gets from a bike fall. The humiliation sunk in deeper. I must’ve looked ridiculous and in front of such a cute guy. I kept my head down, wishing I had the power to make myself disappear.
“You really took a spill there,” he said as he reached inside his gym bag.
“You saw that, huh?” I said blushing.
“Oh, yeah.” He took out a first aid kit and began to bandage my knee.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.” It was very sweet, but could I feel any more like a loser getting my knee bandaged in the street like a helpless child?
“Sure I do. I can’t let you walk around with a bleeding knee.” He dabbed peroxide on my scrape with a patch of gauze. “This might sting a little.” I tried to hiss silently not knowing if it was a reaction of the minor pain or the blaring embarrassment.
“So, are you a paramedic?” I asked, wondering about his handy first aid kit.
He smirked. “No, I’m a physical therapist.”
“Wow, so you really do heal people.” Suddenly, I felt a little better.
“Yeah, that’s the idea.”
“I’m a therapist too,” I said with an anxious giggle. “Well, a couples therapist anyway.”
“So you heal people, two at a time.” He winked with a bright smile.
“Something like that.”
“You work in this building?” he asked.
“Yeah, you?”
“No, just passing by on my way home from an appointment.” He secured the bandage gently on my knee. “Good as new.” He smiled. Then, the smile turned to puzzled recognition.
“Were you at David and Rachel’s wedding?” he asked. I didn’t recognize him at first, but then it hit me like lightning. It was James, the best man. Then came another inspirational bolt of lightning. This was the guy. He was perfect! Cute, sweet, and a modern-day hero, at least in this scenario. I decided I might want to play up the damsel in distress role that I had been serendipitously placed into.
“Yes! You’re David’s best man.” I smiled, this time, with all my teeth.
“I’m James Young.” He stuck out his hand for a proper introduction, and I returned it.
“I’m Marin Johns.” We stared into each other’s eyes, our handshake lingering a bit. The connection was made, and I knew instantly that my search was over.
“Well James, it looks like I owe you one.”
“Hmm, you can pay me back by letting me buy you an ice cream.” Ice cream! Isn’t he adorable?
“Ice cream?” I asked, trying to hide my excitement.
“Yeah, that’s what you do when you fall and hurt your knee. You get ice cream.”
“Okay, sure. When do you want to go?” I couldn’t wait for this ice cream date.
“How about right now?” I guess I wouldn’t have to wait.
“If you insist,” I said with a modest smile and a coy tone. He stood and offered his hand.
“I do.” The pain in my knee was dulled by the moment and all the promises of the encounter.
We took the trolley to Baskin Robbins. Of the thirty-one flavors, I got strawberry cheesecake on a waffle cone and he chose plain chocolate. We enjoyed our cones in the warm, spring sun while we walked around a nearby park. It was a perfect random first date.
“I can’t believe you got chocolate. It's called thirty-one flavors because there are thirty-one to choose from,” I said, nudging him a bit.
“But chocolate is simple and classic. You know it’s always a good choice.”
“Oh, I see. You're unadventurous,” I said with a smirk.
He laughed. “Okay, Freud, let’s psychoanalyze you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, for starters, how do you know David and Rachel?”
“Rachel’s sister Holly is my best friend.”
“Ah,” he uttered as if it all made sense.
“Yeah, we all grew up together. Rachel’s like a little sister to me.”
“So, you must be from San Jose?”
“Yep. What about you? Where are you from?”
“I’m from a small ranch town in Montana.” His tone was cautious, as if I’d judge him for it.
“Really?”
Which I did. Not in a negative way. This Montana ranch boy was just the hors
e I was looking for. I bet he grew up with strong family ideals about marriage. Catching him cheating would be like finding the proverbial Holy Grail.
“Yeah. I also have two sisters, a horse named Kabob, and I was nineteen before I rode a rollercoaster.”
“Wow,” I whispered. “And what did you think of the rollercoaster?”
He stopped, and his eyes locked on mine. His smile was big and full of warmth. It was infectious and I felt my eyes sparkle back at him.
“It was a great ride.” He turned to keep walking. “How's that strawberry cheesecake?” he asked.
“It’s so good.”
There I was with a bandage on my knee, an ice cream cone in my hand, and a handsome man of possibilities. What a crazy day.
We finished our ice cream and engaged in light, fun conversation. James was completely different from Anderson. No smooth one-liners or attempts to take me home. He was relaxed, friendly, considerate, a complete gentleman. I spent most of the time observing him, the things he said, and how he interacted with me, trying to uncover even an ounce of liar, cheater, or mistreater. I couldn’t see any. It was in there somewhere, and in time I would reveal it. Then, I could prove, without a shred of doubt, that all men were liars and cheaters.
In the middle of him talking about his college experience with David, I remembered Holly.
“What time is it?” I said.
He looked down at his watch, “Six-thirty.” Uh oh.
“I have to go. Holly leaves for Thailand in thirty minutes,” I said with haste.
“Can I call you sometime?” he asked. I rummaged through my oversized bag and found a business card.
“Thanks for everything. You really saved the day,” I handed him the card. He smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
I hurried out of the park and hopped on the nearest trolley toward Holly’s neighborhood before stopping by a local drug store to pick up a going away gift of mosquito repellent and sunscreen. A little impersonal, but I knew she would appreciate it. My knee and feet were sore as I rushed to Holly’s on foot. The cab was parked outside and Holly loaded her suitcases into the car.
