Page 2 of The Amendment

Soon, he’d joined me. I felt the stress leaving my shoulders as we laughed together at the ridiculousness of our situation and the truth of his words.

“That just might be the understatement of the century,” I said, when I’d finally caught my breath. He was smiling at me, and I slid my hand down his arm and into his palm, squeezing it gently. “Look, I know this will be…complicated. But we’ll handle it. We always do.” He still didn’t look convinced. Didn’t want to admit to his issues and how they were affecting us. “We’ll just talk to her. It’s only one hour. If things go wrong, we won’t go back. We’ll have our answer. But we have to do this, Peter. We have to. Otherwise, we’re just giving up and hoping for the best.”

He sighed again, though less begrudgingly. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Though I didn’t appreciate the attitude, I released his hand and stepped from the car. We walked together in silence toward the door, and he held it open for me to pass through.

The lobby was small and quaint, a neutral palette of cream and gray. The woman behind a small, natural wooden desk in the corner was talking into a headset. She smiled at us, holding a finger up briefly.

“Okay, I’ll let her know. I’ve got you down for thefourth.” She paused. “Mhm. You bet.” Another pause as I felt Peter’s fingers lace through mine. I smoothed down a piece of my hair out of nervous habit. “Okay. Buh-bye.” She looked up at us. “I’m sorry about that. How can I help you?”

“We’ve got a one o’clock with Joanna,” I told her.

She typed something into the desktop in front of her, nodding. “You’re the Greens?”

I smiled at the familiar fake name. “Yes.”

“Okay, I’ve got you checked in. She should be right out.” The woman stood, gesturing toward a matching set of gray sofas behind us. “Feel free to have a seat while you wait. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Soda?”

“No, thank you,” I said.

At the same time, Peter said, “Coffee would be fine.”

“Of course. Be right back.” She nodded, disappearing around the corner. Moments later, she returned with a paper cup. “It’s hot. I just made a fresh pot. I left room in case you’d like to add cream or sugar.” She pointed to a small table on the far side of the room that had powdered creamer, various packs of sweetener, and black stirrers just as the door to our left opened.

“Okay, guys, I’ll see you next week. You have your homework.” I turned my head to look at the voice, spying two men exiting the office.

I recognized Joanna from her pictures. She was a bit older than us, maybe early fifties, with stark black hair and thick-framed glasses. She was beautiful—even more so than I’d imagined from her pictures—and she moved with an easy elegance that felt out of place in the small office.

As she waved goodbye to the couple, I noted one’s puffy, red eyes and the other’s grim expression. I tried to picture Peter and me leaving the same way in exactly an hour—it seemed ridiculous.

Once the door had shut behind them, she turned her attention to us and we stood. “Are you Pete and Annie?”

“Yes,” Peter confirmed, glancing at me, though I kept my attention trained on her.

“I’m Joanna. It’s nice to meet you both. Come on in.” She pushed the door behind her back a bit and allowed us into her office. Once we were inside, she shut it again, closing us into a cocoon of silence.

The walls of the large room were painted a warm cream color, with paintings of plants here and there. In the center of the space were two gray sofas that matched the ones in the lobby, sitting directly across from each other, and an off-white chair at one end, creating a sort of U shape.

The entire far wall was lined with windows, giving a clear view into a courtyard filled with a meticulously kept garden. Farther back, I could see the mostly empty parking lot and our car waiting for us.

We stopped awkwardly just before the sofas, and she moved around us, smiling as she gestured for us to take a seat. Once we had, she sat down in the chair, folding one leg over the other and leaning backward.

“So…” Her smile was warm but cautious. I watched her gaze trailing over us, attempting to read us, trying to gain perspective and insights from the way my shoulders tensed or how Peter gripped his knees.

I knew what she was doing—could see straight through it. But she’d never get the truth about us.

She’d get what we gave her and nothing else.

“Would you like to tell me what brought you here today?”

Peter glanced at me cautiously, and I scooted forward just a hair. He needed me to speak for us, so I would. “Well, we’ve been having some problems in our marriage. We tried counseling before, but it didn’t seem to work.”

“How long were you in counseling previously?”

“Six months?” I asked, though I knew that was it exactly. Six months for me, at least. Peter had shown up to less than half the sessions before I’d given up and canceled any future ones.

“I see.” She spoke slowly. “Well, it’s normal for couples to try out different therapists and therapy methods before they find the one that’s right for them.” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “I’m really glad you’re here.” Then her eyes fell to Peter.

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