Red Dress

by Bridget Finklaire

  “No. I don’t know. Why?”

  “I think your psyche is looking for a source of nourishment but can’t find it.” He scratched his chin. Yes, it fitted with Cinderella, he thought. “Perhaps you’re waiting to be rescued? In the dream, you can’t resolve all this on your own. You’re trapped, and your inner psyche believes your life is beyond your means to repair.” He touched his fingertips together and waited. “But you know that’s not true, don’t you?”

  Katy was looking down into her lap. “It does feel beyond me at times.”

  “And that’s what we’re here to work through. You’re more powerful than you think.” He smiled, bringing the session to a close and placing his notes on the desk.

  * * *

  Anthony Verde was sitting in the waiting area, nervously fiddling with his left cufflink. Dr. Watkins noticed him jump as his name was called. It could be an interesting session, he thought, motioning his patient into the plush consulting room.

  “Has something happened?” he asked. “You called for an urgent appointment?”

  “I’d like to finish therapy,” stammered the client. “And I, er, wanted to tell you personally.”

  “I see, and what’s prompted this decision?” His voice was steady and calm.

  “I’m cured! You’ve done an outstanding job, and I know in my bones I’m ready to get on with the rest of my life.” The words sprang out, a broad smile lighting his features.

  “Well, that’s good to hear, and what made you come to that conclusion?”

  “I haven’t looked at porn for months, and I feel like a new man.”

  Dr. Watkins knew that addictions didn’t clear up that easily. “What’s caused this turn-around, do you think?”

  “I’m in love. I just needed the right woman in my life. Lauren’s too bossy, and well, I just don’t love her like I should. That’s why I turned to the websites! It all makes sense now!”

  The doctor had seen this sort of thing before, and knew he had to tread gently. “Oh! And who are you in love with?”

  “An old girlfriend from school. I’ve met up with her a few times, and I just know.”

  Yes, of course, like every other love and sex addict, they ‘just know’, thought Dr. Watkins. “What exactly do you know?” he said, his features softening.

  “I know it’s my one last chance at a relationship that’ll work. I fancy the pants off her, always did, always will.”

  “Well, that’s fabulous!” In the true sense of the word, he thought, fabled. “But may I ask how you know?”

  “I just do.”

  “May I offer something?”

  “Shoot!”

  He had to word this carefully “It’s difficult for people to know what their true, long-term feelings are when they first meet someone. All those chemicals firing off! But couples can always choose to take decisions slowly, while they savor the delights of the moment.” His soft brown eyes held his client’s gaze.

  “But I don’t want to take it slowly! I already know!”

  “Would giving it more time allow you to explore what you already know?” He paused, giving the patient a moment to get used to the idea. There was no answer. “People find reflection can be very useful when they’re making lasting decisions.” He leaned back and waited a moment. Addicts mostly focused on the immediate hit, and not the later consequences.

  “What are you getting at?”

  This was going to be delicate. “Tell me, how long have you known her?”

  “Over thirty years.”

  Dr. Watkins’ eyebrows shot up. He immediately composed himself, resuming a neutral expression. “You’ve known her all that time?”

  “Well, er, not exactly.”

  “How long, exactly, has she been in your life?”

  “I went out with her at school, but we lost touch.”

  “And you’ve been back in contact?”

  He nodded. “We wrote each other emails for a while then met up in March.”

  “Last month or last year?”

  “Last month.”

  Dr. Watkins considered his next question. “And how long were you together at school?”

  “A couple of years.”

  “That’s quite some time for a young relationship!”

  “What? No! I was at her school for a couple of years. I only went out with her for a few weeks, but I was a fool to run away.”

  Dr. Watkins pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath. “So, why did you?”

  “I was seventeen! I had my whole life ahead of me! I didn’t want to be tied down, did I? But I knew I’d made a mistake when I saw her with Gordon.”

  “Gordon?”

  “The bloke she went out with after me.”

  “Was she tying you down? Making demands of you, before you left?”

  “Er, no, but she might have!”

  The doctor made a note on the client file. Fear of commitment. Jealousy. “And she might not have? What stopped you allowing the relationship to simply take its course?”

  His patient frowned. “Well, I’m doing that now, aren’t I?” His voice had a strangled sound to it.

  Dr. Watkins had a feeling there was something else. This man was going back into the past to resolve unfinished business. “And you’re no longer worried about being tied down?” He wondered if there was a fear of rejection. There was definitely a problem with low self-esteem.

  “I’m happy to be tied down now, not in the sexual sense, you understand!” His ears turned crimson. “I mean, I’ve been married twice, I’m nearly 50, and I know exactly what I’m doing!” He stopped a moment, seemingly lost in a vision, a broad beam softening his face. “It’s my last chance to be with the woman I love! Don’t you see? It changes everything!”

  “I see that’s what you believe, and I’m interested in hearing how you know, after only a few weeks?”

  “I love her for Christ’s sake!”

  “May I offer something?”

  “Righty-ho!”

  “You’re already married, and you have a child. Have you considered the ramifications?”

  “Yes! I’ve been miserable for years. Amber can live with me. My new lady friend will love her and probably help her too.”

  “What if your wife wants custody?” Did this man think it was going to be as simple as that?

  “Nah. She won’t. She’s only interested in her career! Never really been there for Amber.”

  “Well that could be true, but still, your leaving is going to be disruptive to Amber, isn’t it?” He paused. “And most likely to you, as well as your wife?” He could see the look of confusion on his client’s face. “If a friend was going to put himself and his family through a breakup, you’d want him to be sure he was doing the right thing, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes of course! I see where you’re going with this and I can tell you, I’m doing the right thing!”

  “Then the program can support and guide you through the process.”

  “I don’t need guidance! I know what I’m doing.”

  Dr. Watkins took a slow breath. “And what does your lady friend want?”

  “She’ll want the same as me.”

  “You’ve discussed it?”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “May I offer, Anthony, that from a psychological perspective, it takes a while to get to know someone. Studies show that spending time together, discussing hopes for the future, hearing the views of a partner, that sort of thing, helps to cement a relationship.” He could see this chap wasn’t quite on board from the quizzical look on his face. “Statistically, a couple that communicate their feelings, their expectations, their values, are more likely to create a strong bond.”

  “We’re already strong!”

  “In what way?”

  “I love her, she loves me, and I told you, we’ve been corresponding for months!”

  “Has she told you she loves you?” Tony cast his eyes down and the doctor continued. “So how do you know she love
s you?” Clearly, the man was acting on old impulses, a part of him stuck in his teenage past.

  The client frowned, opened his mouth, drew breath, then faltered.

  Dr. Watkins carried on. “It takes time for a deep and committed relationship to take root. Could it be that you’re in the first flush of infatuation? All those feel-good hormones raging through your body?” He chuckled to himself. Even an old man like him could remember what it was like! “What would happen if you held back for a while?”

  “I’ve waited over thirty years and I’m not holding back a moment longer!”

  The softly, softly approach wasn’t working. “There’s a child at stake and a marriage,” he said bluntly.

  “My marriage hasn’t worked for years, and nor has hers.”

  “She’s married too?”

  “Yes, and I’m pretty certain she wants to leave.”

  “She’s told you?”

  “Not yet.”

  Dr. Watkins took a deep breath and sat back. “What if it’s not what she wants? The possibility exists, doesn’t it?” The patient’s face was beginning to flush.

  “Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

  “We’re not here to discuss what I believe.” Of course, I do, he thought, just not where love and sex addicts are concerned! “You came here to overcome an issue with pornography and masturbation. Your history suggests it’s part of a bigger picture of love and sex addiction.”

  “It’s not an addiction, if that’s what you think, it’s real!” His client’s face was now scarlet.

  Dr. Watkins changed tack. “Let’s suppose it’s true that you love this woman.”

  “It is!”

  “Then what’s stopping you taking it slowly, one step at a time?”

  “Nothing! I already am!”

  “In what way?”

  “I’ve waited over thirty years, haven’t I?”

  Dr. Watkins wondered at times, why he’d chosen addiction as his specialism. “As you’ve waited this long, what harm could it do to wait a little longer and complete the program?”

  “I told you, I’m cured. I don’t need the program.”

  He stifled a sigh. “Which step are you on?”

  “Step three. Handing over to God, and God sent me Katy!”

  “It’s a twelve-step process. Your group therapy, the meetings, your sponsor, and your one-to-one sessions constitute the program. It’s designed to hold you through any possible challenges or relapses right to the end of those twelve steps.”

  “There won’t be any relapses. I don’t need it. Simple as that!”

  He was acting like a defiant child and needed to be reminded of sober reality. “How will you handle the breakup of your marriage and family?” The man was looking blankly at him. “People find all sorts of things come up as they dismantle their lives.” Still nothing seemed to be registering. “Do you know what went wrong, why you’re leaving?”

  “Yes. I’m leaving to be with Katy.”

  “And what made you pursue Katy in the first place, when you were already in a committed relationship?” He thought he heard the client mumble, ‘for fuck’s sake’ but couldn’t be certain. “In our experience, patients who work through what went wrong in their marriage are better able to build healthy relationships in the future.”

  The client clenched his jaw and looked down at the carpet, muttering something under his breath before looking up. “I don’t think you understand,” he said, banging his fist on the edge of the desk. “I’m cured, I love Katy, and I intend to be with her!”

  “I understand you have powerful feelings for her.”

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” A fleck of spittle flew from his mouth.

  “I believe you feel very strongly.”

  “Bloody psycho-babble!”

  Dr. Watkins took another deep breath. “Have you considered mediation with your wife?”

  “What for? We’re done!”

  “To manage the breakup of your marriage and work out how you’ll carry on as a divorced family. Amber will always be your daughter, and Lauren will always be the mother of your child. You’ll want access, I presume? You’ll want to take joint decisions in the future?”

  Tony gulped.

  “Why rush from one committed relationship straight into another?” Dr. Watkins waited. He could see the look of agitation on the man’s face. “Studies show it’s better to be single for a while between relationships. How do you feel about living alone for an interim period?” He could see he’d lost his client. “Many of our patients find when they’re ready to embark on another relationship, they enjoy good-old-fashioned courting. That’s the feedback we get. It gives them time to be clear in their own minds.”

  “For Christ’s sake!” A vein was protruding on the dome of Tony’s head which was now turning puce. “I’m crystal clear. I know exactly what I want! I have to have Katy!”

  “Have to are strong words!” The sort of words an addict might use, thought Dr. Watkins. “We have to eat, drink, breathe and sleep. There’s a difference between a ‘need’ and a ‘desire’.”

  “You don’t understand! This is real love!” The man’s voice was rising, the vein on his head throbbing.

  Dr. Watkins shifted in his seat. “In which case, you have the rest of your lives to be together, don’t you?” His client’s breathing eased, the blood vessel disappearing as his fists unfurled.

  “When people chase the thrill of romance, marry quickly and divorce when it all wears off, they don’t allow themselves to experience anything deeper.” The client looked up. “Evidence suggests that couples who wait a year or two and get to know each other before making any major commitments have a better chance of staying together.” He paused for the man to take it in. “It takes a while for the euphoria of infatuation to wear off, and that’s when people know if there’s a deeper connection. That’s when genuine love blossoms.”

  The patient looked down at the floor, his hands clasped, his ears still burning bright.

  “Love and sex addiction are thorny issues,” said the doctor. “People can think they’re in love with the soulmate of their dreams, and it can turn out to be just a chemical reaction.” He’d had to spell it out this time.

  “You don’t know how I feel!”

  “No, I don’t.” He collected his thoughts. “You said she’s married. Does she have children?”

  “Yes. Two.”

  “So that’s at least seven people who could potentially get hurt?”

  “What?”

  “You, your wife, your daughter, your lady friend, her husband and her two children.” He was counting them off on his fingers.

  His client looked straight at him and spoke evenly. “Meeting Katy has rekindled something.”

  “What if it’s simply the memory of teenage infatuation? You mentioned you regretted ending it?”

  “It isn’t! I feel alive for the first time in years. She listens to me, appreciates me, understands me.”

  Oh no, he’s going to tell me his wife doesn’t understand him, thought Dr. Watkins, rubbing his brow as he collected his thoughts. The patient interrupted.

  “Lauren’s hard as nails. Katy might look all ‘London chic’, but underneath she’s soft and gentle.” He glanced up at the ceiling, as if trying to get a grip on his emotions before continuing. “She’s kind and loving. The breath of fresh air I’ve been gasping for! I know what I’m doing! This has nothing to do with addiction. It’s the real deal.” He rose to his feet, his jaw tightening, the color draining from him. “Thank you for your time,” he said, shaking the doctor’s hand. Buttoning his jacket, he turned, took a deep breath, and paced out of the room.

  Chapter 26

  May 2009

  Friday May 8th had been troubling Katy all week. Every time she checked her diary, she’d notice the entire day free of appointments, a diagonal line drawn through the clear page. Her stomach lurched. Cancelling would be the right thing to do. She loved Richard and the
children and didn’t want to hurt them. Any feelings she had for Tony were probably a hangover from the old days. Several times, she’d started writing an email only to delete it. Too formal, she decided, and anyway, what would she say? She couldn’t let him down like that, could she? Perhaps a text message would strike the right tone. Having scrapped several drafts, she realized she’d have to phone and talk to him in person.

  On Thursday morning, her heart beating wildly, she dialed his number, then hung up before it rang the other end. She’d left it too late. Anyway, she couldn’t stand him up, she’d promised, hadn’t she? But what about her promise to Richard at the altar? Maybe a quick lunch, just to tell Tony she couldn’t see him anymore? Picking up her phone, she pressed speed-dial.

  “Shanti? Thank God you’re there! I need to ask you something.”

  “Yes, I’m very well, thank you!” Shanti’s laugh tinkled. “What’s so urgent?”

  “I’m supposed to meet Tony tomorrow, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Has Tara got to you? Can’t you make your own decisions?”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “I feel like I’m clinging to a life raft in violent seas, tossed this way and that. I’m in the grip of survival.”

  Shanti laughed. “You’re turning it into a drama.”

  “I’m serious! I don’t know where I am! I’m completely disoriented! I’ve lost my coordinates.”