I told her I would go see the marriage counselor. It was my idea. I knew I screwed up. I felt like a screw up. It’s hard to explain to someone who isn’t me. You have to be in my head to get it. I shouldn’t have lied to her. I should have told her that I didn’t agree with the arbitrary decision she made and that it wouldn’t fly. Hell, I should have stood up that night and said no, she was going to have to deal with her issues.
Instead, I let her bury them. I buried them.
I kept the patter going with the counselor. I don’t like people I know butting into my business and even though I volunteered to come here, I didn’t come for me. I came for Jane. She needs this, I told myself and I’ve been selfish enough so I have to participate.
When the doctor asked if I wanted to stay married, my answer was unwavering. “Absolutely.” When Jane stayed quiet, I didn’t like that. I listened as the doctor prodded her and I felt sick to my stomach. She wasn’t sure. I tried to get the doctor’s attention back on me. But the doctor pressed Jane.
“I don’t trust him.” Jane said. “I hate the choices he made. I hate the way he’s made me feel. I think I might even hate him.”
That sick feeling in my stomach expanded. I knew she was mad. I knew she was hurt. She had every right to be. I didn’t like the idea that she hated me.
I’m a screw up.
“I gave her reasons to not like me,” I told the doctor, taking the blame. “It is my fault.”
“Why are you here, John?”
“I want to help her. I want to help us. I want to make it better between us. I spent a long time not growing up and not dealing with things. I let her do that.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just what I said. Jane’s great. She’s a terrific person. She’s a great mom. She’s responsible. She gets things done. She puts up with me.”
“John,” Doctor Smith focused on me. I really hated her tone of voice. She was too soft. Too calm. Too something. “Are you trying to thank Jane for everything she’s done for you?”
“I am just trying to tell you that she’s got a reason for feeling the way she does.”
“Jane doesn’t need you to justify her emotions. But I think you are saying that you appreciate her. That what she does means something to you.”
“Of course it does.”
“Can you tell Jane how much you appreciate her?”
“You’re great,” I said automatically, looking at her. Jane’s shoulders were stiff and she held her chin up, just slightly. I knew that look. That look said she didn’t believe I was capable. She was challenging me. “You are thoughtful in ways I never seem to be able to. You are a fantastic mom – I watch you and I am so glad our daughter has you. I know I’m a lousy dad and you have been trying to teach me, you remind me and you take hits for me when you shouldn’t have to. I love you.”
“Jane,” the doctor looked away from me and at her. “How does John’s show of appreciation make you feel?”
What kind of a stupid question is that? I didn’t say it out loud, but damn lady.
“It’s nice to hear.” Jane said.
What else was she going to say? People don’t talk like this. Our hour was nearly up. It didn’t feel remotely like an hour. My head hurt and my gut hurt. I wanted to go and get something to eat. I have no idea how this is supposed to help us. The 30 page questionnaires look like a real treat to have to do too. Jane was quiet in the car on the way home. I tried to get her to talk, but she didn’t seem to want to.
I left her alone.
This is what she wanted to do. I wanted to do it because she wanted to do it.
God, I hope this helps.