forced myself to watch, I couldn’t get back to me. Being mad at my husband, not having him to lean on, not having anyone hit me harder than I’d imagined. I reclined my seat and opened the door.
Darren stepped out of his vehicle and waited for me near the back of my car. “You ready for this?”
“Are you?” I quickly snapped back.
The small flicker of optimism in his eyes faded.
I needed to calm down. “Sorry. Yes . . . I’m ready, I guess. Just anxious. I don’t know what to expect, you know?”
“Right.” He dipped his chin. “We’re in this together. I want us to work this out, get over this hump.”
This was more than a hump, this was Mount Everest. I decided to keep my commentary to myself. “Well, let’s take the first step.”
We walked through the doors, and I was surprised again by the setup. The office was kind of new-agey. Near the sign-in sheet was a mini rock waterfall, illuminated by LED lights. The speakers near the desk played zen music—sounds of waves crashing with pan flutes above the sounds of nature at a respectable volume. A eucalyptus mint scent wafted throughout the office.
After we signed in, we took a seat in the lobby. Before Darren could make awkward small talk, I closed my eyes and pretended to nod off. What was the protocol on things to do when waiting for a marriage counselor? We couldn’t hold hands. That would be confusing to me, him, and the counselor. We couldn’t chat it up about the weather.
I didn’t have much time to mull over what Miss Manners would do because our names were called.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jones?”
I opened my eyes. A short, black man with a bald peanut-shaped head gave us a smile.
We both stood and stretched out our hands to shake. I didn’t need Miss Manners to tell me that.
“I’m Dr. Harrison. Nice to make your acquaintance. Come on back.” He led us through a long hallway lined with doors on either side with name plaques that displayed PhD and other letters behind the names.
He opened the door to a cozy, comfortable room, like an office in corporate America. “Please, come in.” He moved to a chair near a desk and motioned us to sit on a love seat.
Was that done on purpose? I bet some couples couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other, let alone on an intimate couch. I examined my seat choice and decided to sit a few inches away from the end. Not too close, yet not so obvious in my desire to sit far away from my husband.
Dr. Harrison started off with a few softball questions, who we are, what we did, the crazy weather. Finally, after a few minutes of small talk, he clapped his hands together.
“So. Why are you here today?”
Darren swallowed, squared his shoulders. “We’re here because of me, Dr. Harrison.”
I snapped my attention away from the doctor and to my husband.
“Last week, my wife caught me watching porn and . . . and I also exchange pictures, dirty pictures, with my friends.”
“Mm-hmm.” The doctor steepled his hands, and I wondered if it was a requirement to say “mm-hmm” if you were a counselor. Raina did that a lot on her show.
“How did that make you feel, Mrs. Jones?”
“I was upset, obviously. I never knew he did stuff like that.”
“Stuff like what?”
“Watch porn. Share pictures and make these lewd comments about women. It hurts me because I know I’ll never look like those exotic women he obviously has an obsession with.”
“It’s not an obsession, Kara.” Darren shook his head.
“Then what is it? A hobby? A fetish? What?”
Dr. Harrison raised a hand. “Not that I’m making an excuse, but sometimes men do watch porn,” he said in the most condescending voice ever.
Yes, I knew people watched porn. One time, Darren and I even watched. I was tipsy, but it was fine. I knew it was a regular thing for Raina and Nikki to do with their guys. But what pissed me off was that I didn’t know he did this by himself. It wasn’t something sexy or new for us to try. When I saw his little setup, I realized that porn was something he sneaked off to do. I felt like I married Darren’s representative, and it hurt like hell that he felt like he couldn’t be himself around me.
“Yes. I get that. Some of my girlfriends do, too. I’m not so much mad about