sheer male presence.
The day she turned in her final paper she asked him out. Expressionless as usual, he declined. That night she went to a frat party, got drunk, and did the walk of shame back to campus behind a pack of grade school children on their way to a field trip to see the Christmas tree at Lincoln Center. Two weeks later Shane called her at home.
” I turned in grades today.”
Her heart was pounding. “How did I do?”
“You got an A. Your final paper was excellent. The best work in the class.”
“Are you calling all your students over Christmas break to tell them their grades?” she asked.
“Just you,” he said. “I’m not your teacher anymore. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“I’m back in Hoboken,” she said.
“I’m calling from the PATH station.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes .”
She told her parents she was meeting a friend for a drink, picked him up at the station, and drove to a hotel. Dinner came after, in the form of room service.
“We started dating when the semester ended and got married after I graduated,” Natalie added quietly. She looked past Dr. Lindstrom to Shane’s face, reflected dimly in the windows. Did he remember the passion? Was it gone forever?
“How long have you been married?”
“Eight years,” Shane said when Natalie’s silence made it clear it was his turn to answer.
An encouraging smile from Dr. Lindstrom. “When was the last time you talked to each other?”
“This morning,” Shane said with his first hint of defensiveness. “I kissed her goodbye on the way to the train station.”
“You said Have a good day see you tonight . That’s not a conversation! We haven’t had a real conversation in months!” Natalie took a deep breath and looked right into his impassive eyes. “We haven’t been on a date in months. We work in New York City, but we haven’t been to the ballet, or dinner, since last fall. We don’t talk. What makes a marriage if two people don’t spend time together?”
“People change, Nat,” he said.
“I haven’t.”
His eyes glinted behind his glasses. “Really?” he asked mildly, in the tone he used to use when a student’s answer bordered on the ridiculous. She bristled, then swallowed her indignant response as she smoothed her skirt towards her knees. She would not respond to his provocations. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Dr. Lindstrom cleared her throat. “Are you having sex?”
This time it was Shane’s turn to sit in silence, prompting Natalie to answer. “Not often. Not like we used to.”
Shane looked at the therapist. “I work from six in the morning until nine at night, five days a week, and most of the day Saturday as well.”
“And Sunday afternoons,” Natalie added, wondering when telling the truth started to sound like sniping.
“And Sunday afternoons,” he agreed. “I don’t set the schedule. You’re the one who went to B-school. You knew what I was signing up for when I took the job. We agreed we’d pay the upfront price for me to fast-track to partner. I’m a year away, maybe two,” he said.
“Another year of seventy hour work weeks, minimum, and you working on vacations, if you can take one at all. When we went to Vail last winter the partners were emailing at all hours, too. We don’t talk. We don’t have sex. We don’t have a life together.”
“This is what it takes to make partner, Nat. We agreed on this. It’s a big investment of time and energy up front for a payoff down the road.”
When we have children was the unspoken end cap to that statement. Natalie clamped her lips together. “I didn’t agree to you being gone mentally and physically for years before you made partner.”
“It’s very possible for both partners to have demanding schedules, yet still enjoy a satisfying, committed marriage,” Dr. Lindstrom pointed out. “What characterizes those relationships, however, is a commitment to the marriage, and an equally
The day she turned in her final paper she asked him out. Expressionless as usual, he declined. That night she went to a frat party, got drunk, and did the walk of shame back to campus behind a pack of grade school children on their way to a field trip to see the Christmas tree at Lincoln Center. Two weeks later Shane called her at home.
” I turned in grades today.”
Her heart was pounding. “How did I do?”
“You got an A. Your final paper was excellent. The best work in the class.”
“Are you calling all your students over Christmas break to tell them their grades?” she asked.
“Just you,” he said. “I’m not your teacher anymore. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“I’m back in Hoboken,” she said.
“I’m calling from the PATH station.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes .”
She told her parents she was meeting a friend for a drink, picked him up at the station, and drove to a hotel. Dinner came after, in the form of room service.
“We started dating when the semester ended and got married after I graduated,” Natalie added quietly. She looked past Dr. Lindstrom to Shane’s face, reflected dimly in the windows. Did he remember the passion? Was it gone forever?
“How long have you been married?”
“Eight years,” Shane said when Natalie’s silence made it clear it was his turn to answer.
An encouraging smile from Dr. Lindstrom. “When was the last time you talked to each other?”
“This morning,” Shane said with his first hint of defensiveness. “I kissed her goodbye on the way to the train station.”
“You said Have a good day see you tonight . That’s not a conversation! We haven’t had a real conversation in months!” Natalie took a deep breath and looked right into his impassive eyes. “We haven’t been on a date in months. We work in New York City, but we haven’t been to the ballet, or dinner, since last fall. We don’t talk. What makes a marriage if two people don’t spend time together?”
“People change, Nat,” he said.
“I haven’t.”
His eyes glinted behind his glasses. “Really?” he asked mildly, in the tone he used to use when a student’s answer bordered on the ridiculous. She bristled, then swallowed her indignant response as she smoothed her skirt towards her knees. She would not respond to his provocations. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Dr. Lindstrom cleared her throat. “Are you having sex?”
This time it was Shane’s turn to sit in silence, prompting Natalie to answer. “Not often. Not like we used to.”
Shane looked at the therapist. “I work from six in the morning until nine at night, five days a week, and most of the day Saturday as well.”
“And Sunday afternoons,” Natalie added, wondering when telling the truth started to sound like sniping.
“And Sunday afternoons,” he agreed. “I don’t set the schedule. You’re the one who went to B-school. You knew what I was signing up for when I took the job. We agreed we’d pay the upfront price for me to fast-track to partner. I’m a year away, maybe two,” he said.
“Another year of seventy hour work weeks, minimum, and you working on vacations, if you can take one at all. When we went to Vail last winter the partners were emailing at all hours, too. We don’t talk. We don’t have sex. We don’t have a life together.”
“This is what it takes to make partner, Nat. We agreed on this. It’s a big investment of time and energy up front for a payoff down the road.”
When we have children was the unspoken end cap to that statement. Natalie clamped her lips together. “I didn’t agree to you being gone mentally and physically for years before you made partner.”
“It’s very possible for both partners to have demanding schedules, yet still enjoy a satisfying, committed marriage,” Dr. Lindstrom pointed out. “What characterizes those relationships, however, is a commitment to the marriage, and an equally
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