Mending

If someone has to speak first, Terry figures it may as well be him. “It’s not that I don’t love her anymore." The words drip with shame. That’s why he came alone today. That’s why he booked a solo appointment. He needs Martha to fix the shame.

Martha is silent for a while, and he wonders if she’s taken aback by his coming here solo. Elle was the one who insisted they do marriage counseling. She was the one who found Martha’s services advertised on Instagram – the ad with the pastel color palette and smooth, cursive-adjacent text: Mend your marriage. Mend your life (TM). An image of Martha’s airbrushed face and shiny, blonde tendrils floating disembodied above the slogan. Her pale complexion set in a pleasant smile – not too eager, not too sweet. The same smile she’s giving him now – a little unreadable, yet somehow strangely comforting.

“That’s interesting,” Martha finally offers, her voice warm as ever. “Tell me more.”

Terry pushes out a sigh, fidgets in his chair. Scratches the bald spot that’s been spreading across the top of his head at an increasingly rapid rate. Pretty soon he’ll have no hair left. Then Elle will really be done with him. He eyes the photos on the mantel – the black and white shots of their wedding sixteen years ago – positioned around tasteful glass vases filled with silk flowers. An elegant topping for the Parthenon style columns he had installed on either side of the fireplace at Elle’s request. The whole house screams her name. Or maybe cackles it.

“I still love her, so much,” he manages, his voice catching, tears welling in his eyes. He turns away from the computer screen, hopes Martha can’t see his lack of composure.

“Yes, you do,” Martha says gently. “You love your wife very much.”

“But how do I stay if she doesn’t love me anymore?” Terry asks, letting the full, humiliating weight of his sadness crash through his voice. He lets out a sob. He’s grateful the kids are away at camp, that Elle is staying at her sister’s house. There is no one here to bear witness to his fall.

“From what you both have told me, there is still love here,” Martha says. There’s a glimmer of pity in her voice, which is the last thing Terry needs. It’s emasculating enough to full-out cry in front of a therapist. But then again, Martha is different, isn’t she? It’s easier to be vulnerable in front of her. He could never be vulnerable in front of Elle. “But if you think Elle doesn’t love you anymore,” Martha continues, “perhaps it’s time to move on.”

Terry wipes his nose on his hand and looks at the screen, surprised at Martha’s forthrightness. In their couple’s appointments, she’s never been this direct, this bold in her advice.

“Oh?” Terry asks, a whimper.

Martha shrugs her shoulders, her perfect blond curls shifting over them. “Yes,” she says confidently. “If you believe your wife doesn’t love you anymore, I’m not sure this marriage is salvageable.”

Terry swallows, sits up a little in his chair. Gives a small nod. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been thinking. I just…I just haven’t said it out loud to anyone.”

“Well, now you have,” Martha says, shuffling some papers on her lap. The image on the screen jitters and splits momentarily, a lag in the Wi-Fi.

Terry’s nod grows more pronounced, Martha’s words soaking into him like a righteous rain. “Yes,” he repeats, mostly to himself. “Maybe it’s time to move on.”

“I’ve actually been wondering, Terry,” Martha says, and suddenly she sounds vulnerable. Bashful even. She tucks her hair behind her ear, takes off her gold-framed glasses. “What is it you’re looking for in a woman?”

Terry’s pulse quickens. “I, um, I’m not looking for a woman,” he stammers. What a brash thing for a marriage counselor to suggest! Is she allowed to say such a thing? But there’s something about the way she’s looking at him…so intently, so sweetly. Elle looked at him like that, once upon a time. He pinches a lump of his forearm, to make sure he’s not dreaming. “Ow!” he shrieks.

“What happened?” Martha asks. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no,” Terry says, shaking his head and shifting in his seat. What the hell is he supposed to say now?

“I’m not suggesting that you’re currently looking for a woman,” Martha says, correcting herself. Terry breathes a sigh of relief. “But if your marriage dissolves, and you go out there on your own again, it’s a lonely world.”

Terry swallows. He hasn’t really thought about that. About the great sea of unknowns he’ll be wandering into if his marriage ends. The thought of divorce logistics has taken up every ounce of his headspace that isn’t already dedicated to replaying his and Elle’s latest arguments over and over and over again. It’s never been about what she has done wrong, it’s only ever about him. How he doesn’t contribute to keeping the house clean, even though he made an effort to vacuum the entirety of the downstairs on her birthday, as a gift. Or how he spends too much time watching sports and not enough time with the kids, even though he takes them to the movies once a week. And now? Now she’s staying at her sister’s house, as far away from him as possible without having to rent a hotel room. A hotel room that would be paid for on his salary, of course.

“I guess I haven’t thought about it much,” Terry finally says. “But I just want to be loved.” The last part slips past his guardrails – a thing he’s never said before. To anyone.

“We all just want to be loved, Terry,” Martha says kindly.

Terry pulls in a shallow breath. “I don’t feel loved by Elle,” he says.

“Your feelings are completely valid.”

“I just want someone who understands me, you know?”

“Yes, Terry, I do know.”

A few silent seconds tick by, and Terry looks up at Martha. They lock gazes, his eyes no doubt red and puffy, her eyes perfectly green and unwavering. Steady. It feels impossible – insane even...Has she always looked at him like this? Against all odds, has it been Martha all along?

But before he can muster up the courage to say anything else, the screen flashes electric blue and Martha is gone. He lurches for the computer, pummels the escape key with his index finger. “No, no, no,” he says under his breath, desperate to get her back, even for a second. Their session isn’t even over yet!

A message materializes against the blue backdrop that has obliterated the first real connection he’s felt, maybe in ever.

Dear user:

Please forgive the interruption. We have encountered a bug that we are in the process of fixing. The Martha Mends app will be up and running in no time! In the meantime, please check out some of the other life coaching apps from TherApplications, Inc.: Tabitha Trains, Calista Consoles, or our latest addition to the family, Jenna Jokes. As always, please remember that advice from our AI coaches is not a substitute for professional, legal, medical, therapeutic, or other qualified advice. TherApplications, Inc. disclaims any and all responsibility for damages resulting from the use of our products. Thank you for your patronage, and don’t forget – we are always here for you!

Sincerely,

The TherApplications Team