without pills? Even better. Lana had watched pills destroy her mother’s personality until she was nothing but a vapid shell who nodded politely and then went back to her jigsaw puzzles while guzzling orange soda – at least she wasn’t drinking alcohol with the pills. I’d rather die than become her. Sister Inid was already on that path with her shitty husband and brood of kids.
The therapist cleared his throat before continuing.
“That doesn’t mean he’s cheating on you. All you’ve mentioned is a suspicious young maid mooning over your husband’s stationery. Otherwise, isn’t everything as it should be? No other problems? Money? Business? Your own personal sex life?”
“Everything’s fine.” They were rich. Business was always good. And sex? When were they not copulating like rabbits? The other night notwithstanding. Unfortunately, Lana still had a chip on her shoulder after they got home from The Dark Hour. Ken tried seducing her before they went to bed, but she shrugged him off, sending him to jack off in the bathroom. I wouldn’t even blow him. That was a big deal for them. “Perhaps that’s the problem. Everything is too fine.”
“You’re used to a certain level of chaos, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know if I would say that, but…” Lana chewed on the inside of her cheek, wishing she had some gum, a mint, anything to keep her tongue and teeth preoccupied with other than talking. “Things always change, eventually. Something always gives.”
This was a truth in life. Or at least in hers. Nothing stayed nice and quiet forever. At some point, some business deal would flat line, somebody would go broke, someone would cheat and divorce, or, in her mother’s case, someone would have a nervous breakdown and get doped up on Xanax and its ilk.
People died. Marriages ended. Children were born and created strained relationships for others. Houses were sold. In comparison to other people they knew, Lana and Ken were too quiet, wild sex life aside. They almost never disagreed regarding money and business, and if they did, it was sorted out rationally within a few days. When it came to sex, they were always on the same page, even if tastes changed here or there. But at our core, it’s business as usual. It was always business.
“Ten years is a long time to be with someone,” the therapist said. “Perhaps you are antsy?”
“I would believe that if we didn’t have the kind of relationship we did.”
“Do you still love him?’
“Of course I do!” What kind of question was that? Would she be here trying to sort out her insecurities if she didn’t love the bastard? “Do I really have to spell that out?”
“I merely wanted to confirm, Lana.” The man was more patient than Ken. Especially with someone as high-strung as Lana could be. “Do you believe he still loves you?”
“He says he does every day.” How many women could say that after a decade of marriage? Only a lucky few, in Lana’s experience. “He doesn’t treat me any differently. We have a lot of sex. Three, four times a week. Sometimes more. Less if we’re apart or sick, but that doesn’t happen often.” She glanced at her therapist. “I’m including non-penetrative sex with that.” Oral and manual sex always counted in Lana’s book. Otherwise she would’ve lost her virginity at sixteen and not fifteen, and she did love numbers with a multiple of five.
“All right.” The therapist typed something on his tablet. “Now, Lana, I want to ask you something that may make you a bit defensive…”
She waited.
“Do you think it’s possible that you are manufacturing this illicit affair between your maid and your husband?”
Lana turned toward him again. “Why would I do that? ”
“Well, from the sounds of it, you’re uncomfortable with how seemingly simple your relationship is after all this time. If your instincts tell you that things fall apart after a certain amount of time, then you will start looking
The therapist cleared his throat before continuing.
“That doesn’t mean he’s cheating on you. All you’ve mentioned is a suspicious young maid mooning over your husband’s stationery. Otherwise, isn’t everything as it should be? No other problems? Money? Business? Your own personal sex life?”
“Everything’s fine.” They were rich. Business was always good. And sex? When were they not copulating like rabbits? The other night notwithstanding. Unfortunately, Lana still had a chip on her shoulder after they got home from The Dark Hour. Ken tried seducing her before they went to bed, but she shrugged him off, sending him to jack off in the bathroom. I wouldn’t even blow him. That was a big deal for them. “Perhaps that’s the problem. Everything is too fine.”
“You’re used to a certain level of chaos, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know if I would say that, but…” Lana chewed on the inside of her cheek, wishing she had some gum, a mint, anything to keep her tongue and teeth preoccupied with other than talking. “Things always change, eventually. Something always gives.”
This was a truth in life. Or at least in hers. Nothing stayed nice and quiet forever. At some point, some business deal would flat line, somebody would go broke, someone would cheat and divorce, or, in her mother’s case, someone would have a nervous breakdown and get doped up on Xanax and its ilk.
People died. Marriages ended. Children were born and created strained relationships for others. Houses were sold. In comparison to other people they knew, Lana and Ken were too quiet, wild sex life aside. They almost never disagreed regarding money and business, and if they did, it was sorted out rationally within a few days. When it came to sex, they were always on the same page, even if tastes changed here or there. But at our core, it’s business as usual. It was always business.
“Ten years is a long time to be with someone,” the therapist said. “Perhaps you are antsy?”
“I would believe that if we didn’t have the kind of relationship we did.”
“Do you still love him?’
“Of course I do!” What kind of question was that? Would she be here trying to sort out her insecurities if she didn’t love the bastard? “Do I really have to spell that out?”
“I merely wanted to confirm, Lana.” The man was more patient than Ken. Especially with someone as high-strung as Lana could be. “Do you believe he still loves you?”
“He says he does every day.” How many women could say that after a decade of marriage? Only a lucky few, in Lana’s experience. “He doesn’t treat me any differently. We have a lot of sex. Three, four times a week. Sometimes more. Less if we’re apart or sick, but that doesn’t happen often.” She glanced at her therapist. “I’m including non-penetrative sex with that.” Oral and manual sex always counted in Lana’s book. Otherwise she would’ve lost her virginity at sixteen and not fifteen, and she did love numbers with a multiple of five.
“All right.” The therapist typed something on his tablet. “Now, Lana, I want to ask you something that may make you a bit defensive…”
She waited.
“Do you think it’s possible that you are manufacturing this illicit affair between your maid and your husband?”
Lana turned toward him again. “Why would I do that? ”
“Well, from the sounds of it, you’re uncomfortable with how seemingly simple your relationship is after all this time. If your instincts tell you that things fall apart after a certain amount of time, then you will start looking
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