“I need advice about my wife. About our marriage.”
It was Ian Henshaw’s third session with Aubrey, and he looked nervous instead of smug and challenging. He looked ready to talk.
“Okay,” said Dr. Prentice, “what makes you want to talk about your wife?”
“She’s a total bitch, that’s what.”
Inside, Aubrey shouted with glee. Outside, though, she kept to a professional high road. And even though the progress they had made in their first two sessions had vanished, Aubrey knew Ian’s good feelings wouldn’t last, and she was right.
“That’s not a way to start if you want to improve your marriage, Ian,” Aubrey called him by his first name now.
“I know that. But it’s true. And she doesn’t want to change. She sits around the house, doing nothing. I can’t even get a decent meal from her. I’ve started eating dinner before I come home, only to find her in bed. That bitch needs to be taught a lesson.”
“You know, if you are thinking about domestic violence,” Dr. Prentice said, “I will have to report you.”
“No, I would never physically harm Hope. I’m all talk, and she knows it. She’s defeated me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. And before you say anything, I’m not granting her a divorce.”
“I can’t tell you what to do legally, Ian. Do you think she would come in, and I could treat you as a couple?”
“No way.” Ian was firm. “This is my time now. I’ve decided that you’re the only one who can make me feel better.”
And there it was.
Aubrey smiled her best ‘I can help you smile’ and congratulated herself on the start of their slow-burning love affair.
“Let’s begin then, shall we? What first attracted you to Hope?”
“Her sweet ass.”
“Ian, don’t make this hard for yourself. Take a deep breath and answer the question truthfully. There had to be something more that attracted you to Hope than that. Where did you meet her?”
“She was dancing at a strip club.”
“Okay. She was there dancing, but you were there too. Why did you go?”
“Because I was trying to be one of the guys. I took them out to the strip club to show them that I was just like them. You know, always chasing women.”
Aubrey paused. “Can you see now how that might be part of the problem?”
“Yes, I’ve been doing some reading about failed relationships.”
“Then maybe you can see that your behavior is part of the problem you are having with Hope? You have to take some responsibility here, Ian, or we can’t move forward.”
Ian huffed. “I guess. But that doesn’t mean she can’t take some responsibility, too.”
“Here’s what I want you to do, Ian,” Aubrey said. “I want you to stop focusing on what Hope isn’t doing and start paying attention to what you are doing.”
“I work. I provide. I make exceptions for her behavior.”
“That’s your story,” Aubrey said. “But Hope sees it differently. What else does she have to do but keep house? Grocery shop? You come home angry, and she plays defensive. She might be afraid of you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? You decide where you live. You decide how money is spent. You decide what has value and what doesn’t. Where does Hope get to decide anything?”
“She gets whatever she wants. She doesn’t even have to work.”
“But she does work,” Aubrey replied. “She maintains the home you insist on living in. She manages herself around your expectations. She absorbs your disappointment. That’s labor, Ian, just not the kind you respect.”
Ian was quiet.
“She doesn’t know how good she has it.”
“Good, according to who?” Dr. Pentice asked.
“Good, according to any woman who behaves herself and brings something to the marriage.”
“Wasn’t Hope an exotic dancer when you decided to marry her?”
“Yes, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
“When you met her, she was a free spirit. Now you have her keeping house and waiting for you to come home, like a faithful dog.”
“That’s not fair,” Ian said. “I work hard and so should she.”
“And what would you have her work at?”
“Charity stuff. That’s what all the Henshaw women do.”
“Does she know that?”
“Yes,” Ian said. “I told her that.”
“Have you ever met any wealthy women who do charity work?”
“You know I have,” Ian was defensive. “You know the same women I do from the country club. They’re self-righteous bitches, who act like they’re better than anyone and always asking for money.”
“Can you see Hope doing that?”
“She could do it differently. She could do it the right way.”
“Does she know how to do that? Does she have that skill?”
“All she has to do is start volunteering, and she can do that at home by taking care of me.”
“Why don’t you do something nice for her, even though she hasn’t done anything nice for you?” Dr. Prentice suggested. Take her flowers and dinner. Have a date night.”
“Why would I do that? She doesn’t deserve it.”
“Don’t you see the problem? You want her to live a life that will gain you respect as a Henshaw, but what does she get out of it?”
“I love her as a wife,” Ian said. “That should be enough. But she has to meet me halfway.”
Tell her you want to romance her. Make her feel special for a night. Make love to her the way you think she would enjoy."
Aubrey watched for Ian’s reaction.
“Romance her? Are you serious? I come to a dirty house, no dinner, and a groggy wife, and I’m supposed to reward her for that?”
“Yes,” Aubrey said. “You might be surprised at the reaction you will get. And what’s the harm? Trying something different means different results. It’s worth a shot.”
“She doesn’t deserve that. Not with how she treats me.”
“That’s exactly why you need to do it,” Aubrey replied. “Right now, your intimacy with Hope is transactional. You give; she fails to be grateful. You withdraw. She withdraws further. It’s a closed circuit.”
“So I’m supposed to pretend?”
“No,” Aubrey said. “I want you to practice something you’ve never actually done with her. Accept her for who she is. That’s the only way you’ll get to the root of the problem.
Ian scoffed. “She just wants attention. She doesn’t even want sex anymore. And I’ll tell you something else. She’s a bottomless pit. The more you give her, the more she wants. Believe me, I’ve tried that approach.”
“And you want obedience and appreciation,” Aubrey said. “You’re not as different as you think.”
Ian went quiet.
Aubrey continued. “Ask her what she wants to eat. Don’t decide for her. Let her pick the wine, even if it’s not what you’d choose. And when you touch her, pay attention to her reactions instead of your own expectations.”
Ian let his guard down. “And if she laughs at me? Or thinks I’m being fake?”
“Then you’ll have to pretend not to be upset,” Aubrey said. “You won’t correct her. You won’t explain yourself. You won’t retreat into moral superiority. Remember, she’s shutting you down the only way she knows how. To emasculate you. She knows it’s your week spot. Don’t play into it.”
Ian looked genuinely unsettled now. “You’re asking me to give up control.”
“I’m asking you to suspend it,” Aubrey corrected. “For one night.”
Ian crossed his arms tightly. “And the sex part?”
Aubrey held his gaze. “Once you stop being such a control freak, it will happen naturally. You can’t control women like that, Ian.” Aubrey heard what she was saying and stopped. Was she telling him this for Hope, or for herself?
“How are we going to make love when I’m groveling at her feet?”
“She has the right to say no.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“The point is that if you stick to being understanding, it allows her to tell you how she feels. And yes, she may say no to sex.”
“And if she says yes?”
“Then,” Aubrey said, “you let her lead. You listen. You follow. You make love to her like a husband who cherishes his wife.”
“God, that feels so fucking backward.”
“Look, what you’ve been doing hasn’t worked,” Dr. Prentice said. “Let yourself be humbled for once.”
“Ok. For one night. I’ll try it.”
Dr. Prentice picked up her pen and made a small note in his file. Not about Hope, but about the way Ian had looked when she asked him to surrender his control.
She put her pen down. "I want to try an exercise. I'll be Hope, and you will be yourself. We'll have a practice conversation to get you started."
Ian sneered. “Role-playing?”
“Yes,” Aubrey said. “A rehearsal conversation with Hope. I’ll play Hope. And you play you, coming home from work.”
“I don’t like games. I keep telling you what I don’t want to do, and you make me do it anyway.”
“This isn’t a game,” she replied. “It’s practice. You don’t know how to talk to Hope without talking down to her. We can rehearse a conversation here, and then you'll be ready for your date night with Hope. This gives you a chance to screw up before the real event.”
“Fine.”
When Dr. Prentice spoke again, she was Hope.
“Hi,” she said. “You’re home early.”
“I—” Ian stopped, glanced at Dr. Prentice. “I’m supposed to be myself, right?”
“Yes,” she said, still in Hope’s voice. “And think of me as her.”
He tried again. “I brought dinner.”
Dr. Prentice looked Ian straight in the eye. “Why?”
“Because I thought you might like it.”
“You don’t usually think about what I like.”
“That’s not fair. I bend over backwards for you and get nothing in return.” Ian almost stood; he was so angry.
“Stop,” Dr. Prentice said. “Take a breath.”
Ian was irritated. “She always says things like that.”
“And you always defend yourself,” Aubrey said. “That’s the pattern. Try again, but don’t correct her. You’ll only start another fight.”
He looked unconvinced, but agreed.
Aubrey changed back into Hope. “You don’t usually think about what I like.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t. Not enough.”
Aubrey watched closely but stayed in character. “So why now?”
“Because I miss you,” Ian said. “And I don’t like how things are between us.”
Aubrey, still as Hope, looked at him as if weighing whether to believe him. “What do you want from me tonight, Ian?”
He hesitated. Old instincts surged. Ian wanted to pound his fist into the wall to show his anger. But instead, he calmed down and tried something new.
“I want…” He stopped, then tried again. “I want to spend time with you. If you want to.”
Aubrey broke character. “That was better.”
“It felt weak.”
“It felt like you cared, even though she was probably going to say something mean.”
“I guess,” Ian said.
“Let’s do it again. This time, I’m going to let you have it.”
She became Hope once more, her tone harsh now. “Why should I believe you? What do you want now, Ian? Have me scrub the floor while you watch?”
Ian was trying hard to focus. When he spoke, his voice was quieter.
“I deserve that,” he said. “But I’m trying to change.”
“That was perfect, Ian,” she said. “That’s the sentence you can practice this week.”
Ian looked at her. “She’s not going to make this easy.”
“No,” Aubrey agreed. “But neither are you. And that’s why we rehearse.”