The Seducer (46 page)

Dr. Emmert smiled cynically. “To pursue Rob's point in a slightly different direction, don't you think that if you had become his partner you would have eventually run up against the same wall?” he asked Ana.

“Maybe ...” she hesitated, instinctively placing her fingers to her forehead, to sort through a painful recollection. “Our relationship became so confusing and stressful at the end that I couldn't tell who was to blame for what anymore,” she attempted to soften the picture.

Seeing her stubbornness resurface, Dr. Emmert folded his hands. “Just out of curiosity. Why is it that you believed everything this man told you? Why did you accept his side of the story about Karen? Did Michael ever give you any compelling reason to trust him?” he reverted to the Socratic approach, which seemed to yield most progress.

Ana leaned slightly forward in her chair. “It's not just about
what
he said to me,” she explained. “It's more about
how
he said it. He spoke in this calm, soothing voice and looked straight into my eyes. It was really hypnotic. At any rate, he seemed very sincere. There was no fidgeting, no looking away, no nervousness whatsoever, like when people lie to you.”

“My point exactly! The fact this guy could lie as easily as normal people breathe should have made you run away from him as fast as possible,” Rob remarked.

“It sounds to me like Michael's slick style obscured your reason,” the psychiatrist concurred. “You were so distracted by this guy's smooth manner that you didn't pay enough attention to the content of his words. Because if he had, indeed, concluded that Karen wasn't compatible with him and that he didn't love her, then why didn't he leave her?”

“I asked him this very question on a number of occasions.”

“And?”

“He never really gave me a satisfactory answer.”

“That's because he couldn't admit right off the bat that he wanted to string along both of you, plus several more women on the side,” Rob said, running out of patience with his wife's inexplicable naiveté, which, he felt, bordered on stupidity. That's not the Ana I knew, he thought, once again having the eerie sensation that his wife had become a different person, a stranger, as a result of this experience.

“What did he tell you?” Dr. Emmert asked her.

“He said that it's because he didn't want to be left all alone,” Ana replied mechanically, as if citing an answer in a foreign tongue that she didn't fully comprehend.

The therapist smiled knowingly. “I see. And, given that he already had you and thus wasn't all alone, that explanation didn't ring false to your ears?”

“Sure it did,” Ana admitted. “I never quite understood why Michael wanted to hold on to a woman that he didn't love anymore.”

“Maybe that's because he always needs to have someone to control and manipulate,” Dr. Emmert offered his own hypothesis. “Sexual conquests may not be sufficiently stimulating for him.”

Ana considered his reply, then her eyes lit up with a recollection of a more generous interpretation. Given how all of the therapist's explanations were systematically unsympathetic towards her lover, she felt like she needed to point out the other side of the coin. “Early on, Michael gave me an answer that kind of made sense to me at the time. He said that he was a hopeless romantic, like me. That's why he never lost hope on the relationship with Karen. I guess he was still trying to make it work,” she half-heartedly suggested, since this answer no longer rang convincing to her.

“By cheating and lying to her?” Dr. Emmert asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did his answer seem even remotely plausible to you?”

“It sure did, since that's exactly how Ana worked on our relationship!” Rob sullenly interjected.

Ana had no reply. She couldn't defend Michael's behavior. She couldn't even defend her own, for that matter.

Dr. Emmert sensed they had reached an impasse. “It seems to me like you're engaged in a few denial strategies of your own,” the psychiatrist observed, gazing in passing at his watch. He needed to bring the session to a close in the few minutes they had left. “Unfortunately, for some reason, and only you can tell us why, you're still struggling to hold on to an idealized image of Michael and of your relationship with him. This will make it practically impossible for you and your husband to work on your marriage in good faith.”

“That's what I've been telling her and why I persuaded her we needed therapy,” Rob commented. But the session hadn't been as helpful as he had hoped. He felt ignored yet also validated during this therapy session, which had revolved around Ana and her former lover rather than their marriage.

“For as long as you believe that Michael's the perfect standard by which to judge all other men, including your husband,” Dr. Emmert pursued, “you can't focus on improving your relationship with Rob.” The psychiatrist's gaze passed back and forth from husband to wife. “So if you guys are interested in having another meeting with me, I'd like to suggest the following exercise: think about what was missing from your marriage that you'd like to accomplish together. Also,” he addressed Ana in particular, “ask yourself what was missing in Michael as a partner. In other words, continue to de-idealize this fantasy you've constructed of the perfect love story. Because, as you're no doubt beginning to see, your relationship with him wasn't nearly as perfect as you initially believed. In fact, in many respects it was the opposite of what it seemed to be.”

Once again, Ana felt like the psychiatrist, her husband and probably anybody who hadn't lived through a similar experience couldn't really comprehend it. “You're implying that I was blind for not seeing through Michael. And in some ways I was. But things aren't so simple when you actually live through them. I mean, when a man gives you so much affection and support for months on end, it's hard to see him as selfish and malicious.”

“I'm not saying that you were blind,” Dr. Emmert calmly responded. “But clearly you ignored the red flags that revealed early on Michael's core self­centeredness and insensitivity.” The therapist seemed lost in thought for a moment. “In fact, the more I hear about him, the more convinced I become that Michael's a textbook example,” he concluded.

Ana meant to ask him a textbook example of what, but Dr. Emmert continued, sounding somewhat rushed, “Listen, our time's almost over,” he informed the couple, to wrap up the session. “But from what you've been telling me about him,” he took a quick glance at his notes, “Michael seems to be seriously lacking the two qualities that are essential to love: the capacity to form emotional bonds with others and empathy. Without forming genuine emotional bonds, people have no compelling reason to stay together over time. They don't need each other when they're together and they don't miss each other when they're apart. And without empathy, or the ability to put yourself in another person's shoes and care about their feelings, they lie, cheat, con and manipulate people easily, for profit and fun,” the psychiatrist observed, examining Ana's reaction to his statements. She seemed to be contemplating his statements. “I'd like to suggest that you take a look at a few psychology books,” he extended her a note on which he had jotted down three titles. “You don't have to read them from cover to cover. Just browse through the parts that seem most relevant to you. These studies will help you recognize some of Michael's personality traits. After reading this material, it will be even harder for you to see him as an ideal partner.”

“Thanks,” she took the note and slipped it into her coat pocket: ironically, exactly where she had placed Michael's phone number on the day they met.

“Would you be interested in setting up another meeting with me?” Dr. Emmert asked the couple.

Rob looked uncomfortable. He didn't think he could suffer through more blow-by-blow analyses of his wife's affair with another man.

“We have to decide if it wouldn't be more useful for me to have a few individual sessions with you,” Ana replied, after exchanging a quick look with her husband, who seemed hesitant. “It looks like before Rob and I can work on our marriage, I have to get Michael out of my system.”

“And I'd rather not be a part of that process,” Rob hastened to add. “I've heard more than I ever care to find out about that guy.”

“Alright, then how about you figure out together which configuration you prefer and get back in touch with me to schedule an appointment?” Dr. Emmert proposed.

“Sounds good,” Ana agreed.

Once they were alone in the elevator, she burst out: “He's straightforward and has a lot of common sense!” She was pleasantly surprised by the discovery that sometimes her prejudices, not just her idealizations, turned out to be mistaken.

“Yeah, he's good. But I thought he was going to help us work on our marriage, not rehash your sordid affair,” Rob responded somewhat less enthusiastically.

“Like the Dr. Emmert said, we can't do one without the other,” his wife reminded him.

“What are you doing with Kitt?” Ana asked her daughter. They had purchased the 1930's doll, complete with her art nouveau bedroom set, only last summer.

“Nothing. I'm just moving her to the basement.”

“You're bored with her already?”

“I've outgrown dolls, Mama,” the girl rolled her eyes.

With her diminutive frame, large blue eyes and delicate features, Michelle herself looked like a doll. “You're only nine years old. How could you have outgrown dolls already?” Ana objected.

Her daughter's eyes suddenly clouded. “I've grown up faster this year, I guess.”

Ana blushed at the allusion. “You never let us know you were so upset.”

Michelle placed the doll on the living room sofa. She sat down next to her, a little doll and a bigger doll side by side, both with blond hair and blue eyes, only Michelle's gaze was so much more expressive than Kitt's. “I saw how you and Daddy were upset. I didn't want to make you feel even worse. Besides, you were sure you wanted to leave us. There was nothing I could do about it.” Her usually sparkly voice trailed off with sadness.

“You mean leave Daddy,” Ana corrected her.

The girl shook her head. “Not just him. Me and Allen too. I don't think that man would have ever cared about us. He wouldn't have liked us coming by his house.”

A few weeks earlier, Ana would have insisted that Michael's house would have been theirs as well. But now she was much more inclined to agree with her daughter. “Maybe. But he couldn't dictate my actions. And I'd choose to be a good mom to my kids.”

“You say that now. But before, you chose him,” Michelle retorted. She approached her mother to give her a conciliatory hug. “It's okay, Mama. You made the right decision in the end. That's all that counts.”

“Yes, but I'm afraid I've hurt everyone too much. Especially your father,” Ana replied.

Suddenly, Michelle's face lit up with an impish smile and she became a child again: “I have only one thing to say to that,” she replied, then paused for dramatic effect.

“What?”

“Build a bridge and get over it!”

“Easier said then done.”

Michelle once again assumed a more grown-up demeanor. “Think of it this way: at least things are better now between you and Daddy. Before all this happened, I used to pray that you wouldn't get divorced. You and Daddy were so cold to each other. But now I don't have to pray about that stuff anymore. My wish came true.”

“What do you pray for now?”

“For Allen to stop bugging me,” Michelle replied. Then she suddenly remembered that she was about to take Kitt to the basement, where she kept all the toys she had outgrown, unwilling to make the more decisive move of giving them away to charity. She glanced evaluatively at the doll. Kitt's demeanor seemed pretty mature. After all, the doll was older than she was, being eleven already. She also dressed okay, considering her clothes were almost a century out of date. “I might keep her in my room for a few more months,” Michelle reconsidered her decision.

Ana knew better than to approve too enthusiastically. “It's up to you,” she said. But deep inside she was glad that her daughter was holding on to her childhood for a little while longer.

That evening, when they were all sitting down to dinner, Michelle said a brief prayer for her reunited family: “Dear Lord, thank you for this meal, for keeping us healthy and for getting my parents back together. Amen.” Then they all dove into the chicken alfredo.

“Chew with your mouth closed,” Michelle advised her brother.

“I am!” Allen objected, as bits of chicken burst out of his mouth like fireworks.

Ana could hardly believe that only days after her break-up with Michael, life was beginning to return to normal. Only this was a new, more normal normality, one which they never really had: with all the conventions like eating together as a family and sleeping with one's spouse and nobody else's, which they had skirted before, since after all, Ana was a subversive artist and Rob was too busy to be conventional.

But later that night, when she and her husband lay side by side in bed, there was an aura of tension around their bodies, shielding them from physical intimacy. Rob wondered when he'd be able to make love to his wife again. Ana still emanated another man's touch, another man's scent and another man's kisses. Would he be able to touch her without thinking of him? When he looked at his wife, Rob saw a desirable woman who still looked attractive and youthful. But the difference between finding her desirable and desiring her wasn't yet bridged. The other man continued to lie between them.

For her part, Ana felt surprisingly at ease given the tension that still vibrated in the air. It was nothing compared to the tension of remorse and regret, of hurting those she loved. The thought of Michael made her think once again about Rob, in an association of opposites. Ana sensed that it was still too early to show any overt signs of physical affection towards her husband. It would seem fake after everything we went through, she speculated. When he's ready to make the first move, he'll make it, she decided. She nonetheless appreciated the comfort of lying in bed next to a man who hadn't bedded hundreds of women and who wasn't plotting whom to seduce next. A man who didn't manipulate her or ask guilt-inducing questions like “Don't you trust me?” or “Who was that man I saw you with the other day at the gallery?” A man who allowed her space and freedom, maybe to a fault. With Rob, it's the real deal, Ana told herself. No bells and whistles, no ideal promises, no romantic gifts, no public displays of affection or wild declarations of love repeated dozens of times a day. But whatever he says or does, I can always count on it to be true and real. And that, she thought as she began drifting off to sleep soothed by the warmth of her husband's presence, is what now matters to me most.