Making an Honest Woman Ch. 02

A few minutes after I arrived, a middle aged woman walked out of the door that wasn't to the hallway, and stepped briskly past me without glancing. I waited a couple more minutes, and Dr. Andersen came out to call me in. She was an older woman-50s or early 60s, I guessed-with bright, brassy blonde hair, which looked professionally styled, large glasses with elaborate red plastic frames, and she was wearing a dark gray pantsuit with a white silk blouse.

"Dr. Tucker? Won't you come this way, please?" she stepped aside to allow me into the room.

There was a small sofa against one wall, faced by an expensive looking armchair with a footstool in front of it. A desk and a file cabinet were in a far corner. She gestured me towards the sofa, and seated herself in the armchair, putting her feet up. She wore sensible leather shoes.

I quickly explained the circumstances that had brought me to her, and reminded her that restoring trust was what I wanted to work on.

"I have been staying in a motel room for the past couple of weeks," I told her, "but you should probably know, last night I had sex with my wife, and spent the night at our house."

She didn't seem surprised. "How did that go?"

"It was really good to reconnect with her. I've missed her, and I've missed living at home with my family. She said all the right things."

"You did not have trouble . . . performing?"

"No, thank god. I actually forgot all about him while we were . . . having sex, although we did talk about him, after, indirectly."

"What did she say that was right?"

"What I needed to hear, and what I'm still afraid she doesn't mean: that she will only ever be with me, that she sincerely regrets not just hurting me, but having the affair, that if there is a problem, she will come to me immediately."

"Why do you continue to doubt her?"

"Because she might just be saying what I want to hear, so that I will relax and she can do it again, only this time more carefully."

"You are afraid your wife will outsmart you?"

"I wouldn't have put it that way," I said, carefully.

"You say that the night when you confronted her about the affair, you had waited until you knew the truth. How did it feel to know more than she did? To know, as they say, that she did not know what you knew that she knew?"

"It felt . . . like I had the power back. She had taken that from me, by deceiving me, and I took it from her by catching her and putting her on the spot."

"You and your wife are in the habit of playing power games?"

"I never thought so before," I admitted. "And I don't know that we did before that, that I'm aware of. But I guess I have to consider the possibility."

"Why do you think your wife would cheat to take power from you?"

"I don't know. I don't rule the roost with an iron fist. She has always had all the freedom she's needed or wanted, as far as I know. I would say too much, in light of what's happened, but, looking back, I wouldn't have wanted to keep her on a short leash, even if it would have prevented this. It's not how I'm wired. I don't want a pet-I want a wife."

"That's admirable, but it's not exactly what I'm asking. You're a college professor; your wife is a caterer? Would you say that, by virtue of your career, you carry more, um, intellectual authority than she, in your dealings with her, and with the family?"

"I suppose so. She frequently alludes to my being so much smarter; but I've never asked for or encouraged that. Asking her not to do it actually makes it a bigger deal than just letting it go. Do you think she resents me? She always said it was one of the things that attracted her to me."

"I don't know her, so I can't say. For what it's worth, it's possible for her to both admire and resent you for it. Contradictory feelings are part of what makes us human."

"So, what am I supposed to do?"

"Talk to her about it. Letting it go does not seem to have had an effect. The discussion could be enlightening."

Neither of us said anything for a moment. She seemed comfortable with the silence. I took the opportunity to change the subject.

"Do you think I made a mistake by sleeping with her, before I'm sure I want to come back?"

"Do you think you will ever be sure?"

"I want to be. I was before," I said; that question seemed to hint at an unsettling future-not what I was hoping for.

"There are different kinds of certainty," she said. "Before, your sureness was based upon an assumption that you can no longer make. Going forward, your sureness will have to find its basis on some other ground. But, to answer your question, I don't think you made a mistake, as long as you don't have reason to think so. You say you love your wife, and being with her was satisfying and restorative. Neither of you hurt the other in doing so, and it seems likely that what you did generated some good feeling that has been missing from the relationship for a while. If you are worried that she will misunderstand what it means, then you have to talk to her, and make sure that she does understand."

It made so much sense when she said it. I decided I liked her.

I was in a good mood when I returned to campus. I stopped off by the department office to pick up my mail, and was greeted by Bonnie, the administrative assistant.

"Dr. Tucker," she called to me, "I have the application for the apartment, signed by the dean."

I went over to her to collect it. "Thanks, Bonnie."

"Does this mean what I think it does?"

"That depends," I said. "What do you think?"

"That you finally caught Mrs. Tucker at her little game. Or did she come clean and ask for a divorce?"

Ch. 3 to follow