Broken Lies

by Roger Williams

  “Hello. You must be Chase.” The voice interrupted Chase’s wall-gazing, arresting his thoughts. “I’m Doctor Rhinegold.” His tone was quite businesslike and his physique rather imposing, six foot two or three, large jaw, with eyebrows sinking over his eyes. He wore a well-pressed shirt with a striped tie that hung a bit too long over his brown slacks.

  “Nice to meet you.” Chase stood and extended his hand. A moment later, he followed the doctor into the most well-appointed office he had ever seen. He admired the plush teal carpet, the dark walnut desk, the shelves filled with expensive-looking books, and a sofa flanked by two oversize armchairs. Chase sat tentatively in one of the chairs, feeling the soft crinkle of leather giving way and peering at the impressive gold-leaf credentials hanging just above eye level.

  “So, Chase, tell me why you’re here.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m not exactly sure. I guess I didn’t know where else to turn. I’m not sleeping. I’m suspicious of my wife. I don’t know if I’m going crazy or what. I just … I just thought I could use some help.”

  “I understand. So continue on with your feelings. And try to relax. Whatever you say will be held in strict confidence.”

  Chase gripped the arms of the chair as if he were riding on the upward arc of a roller coaster and preparing to barrel downward. He released his grip, but his hands tightened again when he heard the words strict confidence.

  What am I doing here? Chase asked himself. How deep do I want to go with this guy? Is this a big mistake? But he could only manage what sounded like a flippant reply. “That’s nice,” he said.

  “Good. Like I said, relax. Even though this is the first time we’ve met, just talk with me like you would one of your close friends.”

  “I don’t know anybody I’d want to talk to.”

  “You don’t want to be here, do you?”

  “No.” The abruptness of his answer shocked Chase.

  “Well that’s all right. No one enjoys coming to a shrink!” the doctor said with a grin. “Why don’t you start by sharing what caused you to pick up the phone to make this appointment?”

  Chase hesitated. He moved nervously in the armchair and then blurted out, “I think my wife’s having an affair.” Relief swept over him as he took a deep breath. He felt better having finally said aloud the words that had haunted him for weeks.

  “What would cause you to feel this way?”

  Chase retreated from the question. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m being overly suspicious. Maybe it’s nothing.”

  “Tell me what you mean.”

  “About what? Feeling suspicious?” Chase shifted uncomfortably.

  “Well yes, but also what behavior you’ve noticed in your wife. What is her name, by the way?”

  “Linda.”

  “What behavior have you noticed in Linda that would prompt your suspicion? But first let me ask you how long you’ve felt this way.”

  “Two or three weeks.”

  “So what has Linda done in the last couple of weeks that caught your attention?”

  “She’s acting peculiar; she’s unresponsive in bed, out of the house longer than usual. I don’t know. It’s just weird.”

  “When you say she’s out of the house for unusually long durations, what do you think is happening?”

  “Beats me,” Chase said wearily. “She has these girlfriends she hangs out with, but recently she’s been away for two or three hours instead of just one or so. She also goes into L.A. a lot more often and will call me to say she’s running late.”

  “What does Linda do in the city?”

  “She works for a marketing firm but doesn’t always have a regular schedule.”

  “So this recent behavior is not typical?”

  “Yeah. I mean, in some ways not, but something’s different. Every aspect of our marriage feels strange.”

  The doctor nodded as he jotted on his notepad. Chase arched his neck ever so slightly, trying to see the notes. Unable to make them out, he nevertheless felt himself relaxing little by little. Talk therapy appeared not to be as bad as he’d thought—until the doctor’s next question. “How do you think that you have contributed to the strangeness you mentioned?”

  “What do you mean?” Chase asked with a frown.

  “You said that your marriage feels strange and that you’ve noticed this only recently. In what way has your own behavior been a contributing factor to this strangeness?”

  “Well, just last night I considered the possibility that I am the selfish one in our relationship and that perhaps Linda is tired of my attitude. I mean, she’s a generous and giving person. I don’t know what’s happening, but I guess if something is going on, maybe it’s due to my own thoughtlessness.”

  “Okay, that could definitely be an issue. Now when you say Linda has been unresponsive in bed, is this new?”

  “Yeah. Well maybe not totally, but it’s definitely different from how she’s acted in the past, if you understand what I mean.”

  “Tell me.”

  “All right. She’s been going to our room by herself these past few weeks, and by the time I get there, she’s asleep.”

  “So this is new behavior.”

  “Right.”

  “And have you been reaching out to her, asking if everything’s okay, touching her, speaking words of love?”

  Chase smiled. “Well, I’m not the greatest at that! I know I’ve done those things in the past, maybe just not recently.”

  Rhinegold nodded again and leaned slightly forward. “Have you considered asking her if she’s seeing someone else?”

  “No way!”

  “Why not?”

  “Are you telling me that’s what I need to do?”

  “No. I’m asking you why you haven’t done it.”

  “Because if it’s not true I’ll look like a fool, like the suspicious husband who’s been through this before.”

  “You were previously married?”

  Chase eyed the door, completely uncomfortable with further vulnerability. Seconds passed. He let out an exasperated breath. “Yes,” he conceded. “I was twenty-two, my wife twenty going on sixteen. It lasted about six months. She had an affair with one of my friends. I really don’t want to go into the details.”

  “No, you don’t have to,” the doctor said.

  “It’s all so cliché,” Chase continued as if Rhinegold never said a word. “Beautiful wife. Best friend at the time. I suspected something for a while, but I never knew for sure until I caught them in the act. I don’t need to explain that, do I?”

  “Not at all. I get the picture.”

  “There’s no way I want to go through that kind of stuff a second time. I don’t deserve it. Nobody does.”

  “I agree. So you want to discover the truth, but you’re afraid to ask the difficult question.”

  “Well yeah! Of course I am! Even though finding out the hard way is worse by far, I’m just hoping nothing is going on. But hey, I can’t just come straight out and ask Linda if she’s seeing someone else.”

  “All right. Then would you be open to allowing me to pose the question?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Is your goal to have Linda join us at some point to work through these issues together?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Okay, so let me make a suggestion to assist in that endeavor. You can tell her you met with a psychologist since you feel your marriage needs help. Let her know that it went well and that you’d like her to join you next week. If your wife is not having an affair, she’ll probably love the fact that you’re making an effort without her prodding you. And if she doesn’t, if she fights the idea of coming here, you can pursue the issue a bit further by asking something like, ‘What’s wrong? Why can’t we work on this together?’

  “Of course yo
u have to be ready to handle the potential blowout if she’s completely resistant and repeatedly challenges your unusual interest in improving your marriage. At that point you’ll need to decide how to proceed. Chase? Chase, are you with me?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just faded out for a moment.”

  “At what part?”

  “I guess where I’m speaking with Linda.”

  “Chase, I see you’re extremely ill at ease. And you absolutely don’t have to do any of this, but let me ask you something. How long are you willing to live tormented by suspicion?”

  “Not long, Doc. I can’t do that. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Okay, then give some thought to what I’ve suggested. I’m here to help, but we will make much quicker progress if Linda is willing to be part of the process. And I hope she will be excited at the prospect of working on your relationship. Most wives don’t have husbands who initiate intervention or counseling. If she is merely going through some personal changes, then she will more than likely be pleased with your efforts. She may initially question what you’re doing, but if you explain that you’d like to improve your marriage, hopefully she’ll agree to come.”

  “And if she does, you’re going to ask her flat out if she’s having an affair?”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’ll have to feel things out, see how she responds, look for cues. The point is that you two cannot go on as you are. Rather than continuing to be driven by suspicion, rightly or wrongly, you’ve got to find relief to maintain your sanity. If your suspicions are accurate, we’ve got a long road ahead. If inaccurate, then we can proceed with helpful tools to enhance your marriage.” Rhinegold hesitated. “Are you okay with all of this?”

  “Hey, I just want this to work. I love my wife and my children. I’ll do anything to keep them.”

  “That’s great, Chase. And I don’t expect this to be easy for you, but don’t you want to do something to end any and all mistrust one way or another?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then the next step is up to you. I’m sure you made the right decision by coming in today, so let’s go ahead and schedule you for another appointment next Wednesday, same time, hopefully with Linda by your side.”

  “That’s it?”

  “For the moment, yes.” Rhinegold stood, thick eyebrows moving up and down.

  Chase rose and shook the doctor’s outstretched hand. “Okay. I think I can do this. We’ll see how it goes.”

  He walked slowly to his BMW, his head spinning with ideas about what to say when he returned home. Chase hoped Linda would be there. He stopped at all the lights, but it didn’t feel as if he were driving. His mind was in a fog. He noticed the one-hour cleaners, a corner liquor store, a new Starbucks, but all of it blurred together. He heard the Rolling Stones on the oldies station as he merged westward on the 210 freeway, and though he felt himself accelerating to the speed limit, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

  Chase considered his limited options. He could continue on with the hope that this was merely a passing difficulty without consequence, or he could try to persuade Linda to meet with the doctor next week. Convinced that he would be unable to solve his troubling issue alone, the latter seemed the only feasible path. He reached for his head, scratching an itch that wasn’t there, and allowed his mind to wander back to the day he arrived on that L.A.-bound plane thirteen years earlier, feeling nearly as confused and alone as he did now.

  CHAPTER 5

  When he walked into the arrival area of LAX, mentally exhausted, badly bruised, and feeling anxious and agitated from cocaine withdrawal, Chase quickly searched for an information booth, figuring someone might be able to tell him how to get to Riverside. A smartly dressed woman instructed him to take a taxi to the bus station and said it would be about five hours from there.

  Numerous stops, loud destination announcements, and increasing muscle pains prevented Chase from sleeping. As soon as the bus pulled up to the station, Chase stepped out, thinking he would vomit. He didn’t. Slowly he headed to a phone booth inside.

  “Let’s see,” he muttered to himself, thumbing through the pages. “Betty Forester. Shouldn’t be too hard.” He glanced through the Fs and found two Foresters, Ron and Stephen. He vaguely remembered Ron since he and Betty had visited New York when Chase was around five. He put a quarter in the slot and dialed the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Aunt Betty?”

  “This is Betty. Who is this?”

  “It’s Chase, your nephew. How are you doing?”

  “Chase! My Lord! I’m fine. What about you?”

  “Well I’m at the bus station here in Riverside.”

  “At the bus station? In town? Chase, what on earth are you doing here?”

  “It’s a long story, but I was hoping that, um, I was hoping I could come and see you. I know it’s last minute and all—”

  “No, that’d be great! You need a ride?”

  “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “No, not at all. Are you alone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, give me about twenty minutes. Are you hungry? We’ve already eaten, of course, but I’d be happy to fix—”

  “That’s okay, thanks. I’m just tired.”

  “All right, honey, just stay there and I’ll pick you up shortly.”

  “Sure. Thanks a lot.”

  Chase slouched wearily on a nearby bench and observed the people at the station. A woman stood anxiously with three children—an infant in her arms, a girl around two, and a five-year-old boy whom the mother repeatedly warned to stay close. Chase couldn’t tell if they were arriving or waiting for someone on the next bus, but he couldn’t miss the stress on the woman’s tightly drawn face. He felt sorry for her and wondered if she was alone or if her husband would soon come to rescue her.

  A transient walked past them, slowly heading toward the bench next to Chase’s. The man abruptly turned and plopped down across from him. Chase immediately smelled a disgusting odor of urine and dirty clothes emanating from the man. His hair appeared greasy, his shirt noticeably wrinkled. He stared at the floor and the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with passersby. Chase could hear him mumbling something about himself or about how he wanted something, but the words were far too difficult to make out.

  As the muttering continued, a teenager caught Chase’s attention. The young man, about seventeen with a slight build and scraggly hair, glanced anxiously back and forth. As he walked by Chase, their eyes met. Chase immediately recognized the signs of an addict. He had grown up with kids like this. But whom was he kidding? He was one of them until just yesterday! Would he stay strong? Would seeing himself in teenagers such as this encourage him never to return to such a life? Suffering the effects of withdrawal and painfully aware of his addiction, Chase had resolved on the bus ride to remain resolute. He was determined to take this opportunity to start over again. What that meant, he had no idea.

  **

  As he continued his reflections, weaving his way homeward toward Glendora, Chase realized how far he had come since those early days on the lam. But he wondered if he could claim real progress. He felt isolated again, just as he did all those years ago. Putting aside his current circumstances, Chase let his thoughts return to his aunt’s arrival at the station.

  Betty was a small-framed woman with facial features remarkably like his father’s, her thick hair put up in a bun with something resembling a crochet needle holding it all together. Chase kept his eyes on the surroundings as she talked and he answered questions about the family. He didn’t tell her about his situation, saying something about coming out for a visit, maybe even staying awhile and looking for a job.

  The Foresters’ small, simple house nestled on Selma Court, a cul-de-sac next to the freeway. After Chase convinced his aunt and uncle that he needed sleep more than conversation, they led him to th
e first room down the hallway.

  “I hope this will be comfortable enough,” said Betty.

  Chase expressed his gratitude, closed the door, and fell into a deep sleep moments after crawling into the bed underneath a window overlooking the front yard.

  He awoke late the next morning and gazed around the room as he massaged his hurting legs. It felt strange to wake up in a new bed in a new home in a new state. Chase had left the window open all night as he normally did, but the air wasn’t hot and sticky like in New York. He didn’t care, merely noting the difference. He stared at the walls for a few more minutes, listening for any sounds in the house. Hearing nothing but chirping birds, he slowly dressed himself and meandered down the hall toward the kitchen. A note from Aunt Betty on the table in the small adjacent dining room said that he could help himself to coffee, toast, cereal, or whatever else he wanted and that she and Ron would return home at five-thirty.

  Chase quickly grabbed a cup of coffee, finished off a few pieces of toast, and headed out the door, still wearing Frank’s shirt and shoes. Finding himself on a freeway frontage road that led to the back of a shopping center, Chase remembered that he could use some more bandages for his shoulder since Allie’s supply was nearly gone. It took him awhile to locate the first-aid section in the grocery store, but finally he walked out with his small package and returned to Aunt Betty’s place. Simple, quiet, and normal. He liked that.

  However, he didn’t like the agonizing withdrawal symptoms, coupled with the throbbing of his shoulder. He gently rubbed it. Knowing that a distraction would help, Chase decided to call his brother.

  “Hello?” came the familiar voice.

  “Frank, it’s me. How are you? What happened back at my place? I heard there was a fight or something.”

  Frank reported that he had suffered a broken rib and several bruises but that his doctor said he’d be fine. “But that’s enough about me. What about you? Where’d you go?”

  “I’m far enough away. Just trying to heal and to get my head together.”