The Seven Year Bitch by Jennifer Belle Page A

it?”
    â€œGUY-ana,” I said like I was talking to the town fool. “We trust her with our baby , I think we can trust her with a cell phone.”
    â€œShe can’t make long-distance calls on the baby,” Russell said.
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    Our win-a-shrink was an obese man named Howard Klein who sat in a sagging chair drinking a Snapple with a mobile of winged frogs dancing over his bald head.
    â€œWhat made you bid on couples therapy at the auction?” he asked.
    Russell and I sat squeezed together on the too-small love seat facing him.
    I instantly started to cry and as I cried I realized that my tears were not wholeheartedly sad, because Duncan was fine, and as long as Duncan was fine, I was too grateful to be sad. Still the tears poured out of me for no reason.
    â€œWhat are those? Frogs?” Russell asked, about the mobile.
    â€œRussell, did you notice that your wife is crying?”
    â€œYes I did.”
    â€œDo you want to ask her why she’s crying?”
    â€œNot really,” Russell said.
    â€œWell, I’d like to know why your wife is crying,” the shrink said. “Izzy, do you want to tell us why you’re crying?”
    â€œI’m tired,” I said. “I get up with the baby at five while Russell sleeps. He never stops reading. He takes agents and authors to lunch every day.”
    â€œShe’s never believed in my work,” Russell spit out.
    I hated this accusation more than anything. His business lost money every month. We had put thousands and thousands of dollars into it. There were boxes of unwanted books everywhere in our apartment. We couldn’t even sit at the dining-room table anymore.
    â€œThe way I see it,” Howard said, “we each live on our own planet in our own universe. I live in my own world and you have no way of understanding the rules of my world because the rules are completely different from the rules in your worlds.” I knew one rule of his world was you could eat as much dessert as you wanted to. “That’s something I want us to think a lot about. I want you each to start making a list of some things the other can do for you that makes sense in your world. It sounds like one thing Izzy would like, Russell, is for you to wake up at five with the baby, and it sounds like one thing Russell needs in his world is for you, Izzy, to support his work.”
    The only thing I knew was that I could no sooner support Russell’s work than he could wake up at five with the baby.
    â€œNow,” Howard continued, “besides working on your lists, I’m going to give you a trust exercise to do together.”
    â€œGreat!” Russell said, leaning forward to pay full attention to the assignment.
    â€œThis is something you can choose to do blindfolded or not blindfolded,” Howard said.
    If he thought we were going to take turns falling backward into the other’s waiting arms, he was crazy, because if one of Russell’s authors called on his cell phone I’d be on the floor in two seconds.
    He took a sip from his Snapple. “I want you, Russell, to lead Izzy all around your apartment by her nipples.”
    â€œWhat?” I said, trying to think if there was any other word he could have said.
    â€œYes,” Howard said. “Pull Izzy around your apartment by her nipples. She has to follow you. You are the leader and she is the follower. Does that seem like something you two could try?”
    I turned to look at Russell, who was just nodding his head like a lunatic.
    â€œI see,” Russell said. “Well that’s certainly an interesting suggestion. I forgot to ask, why did you put your therapy services up for auction? Do you have a child at the school?”
    â€œDoes it matter to you if I have a child? I happen to have a patient who has a child at the school. I myself am not married and have no children. Izzy, how do you feel about letting Russell lead you by your