Page 3 of The Amendment

“Pete, why doyouthink you’re here?”

He readjusted in his seat, shifting the coffee cup from one hand to the other, obviously uncomfortable with being put on the spot. I willed him to pull it together, keeping a smile plastered on my face. “Um, well, we’ve been married for nearly twenty years, our kids are growing up, and we’re…” He looked at me.

“Pete,” Joanna said, somewhat sternly, pulling his attention back to her. I liked her. “Tell me. Tell me whatyouthink. You don’t have to get Annie’s opinion on that.”

Or…maybe I didn’t like her so much. Something about the way she said my name told me she’d already pegged me as controlling. Manipulative, maybe.

If she only knew…

There was only one true bad guy in this room.

“We’re growing apart, I guess. It’s been hard. Like she said, we’ve tried counseling and date nights and…” He was going to slip up, but he caught himself. “Well, I guess one of the biggest issues is that I’ve become somewhat addicted to fencing. And Annie wants me to stop.”

Fencing.

The word we’d come up with to discuss Peter’s discretions in our session. If she was surprised, she hid it well. “Fencing?Interesting. Tell me more about that, Annie.”

She tossed the figurative ball back to my court, and I smiled. “Well, for one, it’s not entirely about the fencing.” I nodded in his direction slowly. “It’s more how obsessed Pete has become with it. He lies to me about where he is and what he’s doing, which certainly puts a strain on our trust—”

She held up a hand, cutting me off. “We’re talking about fencing, as in the sport—swords and metal mesh masks, right?” Her hand was held in front of her face.

“Yes, that’s right. Pete did it a bit in college, but then gave it up when we’d gotten married. But lately, he’s gone back to it.”

“I see… And Pete, why do you feel the need to lie about it?”

I couldn’t hide my smile as I looked his way, watching him physically squirm. He crossed one leg over the other, then uncrossed it, switching legs just to avoid eye contact. “I guess I’m embarrassed by it.”

“Why should you be?” she coaxed.

“Well, for one thing, growing up, I was always made to feel like I needed to be doing somethingmanly,you know? And fencing makes me feel…good. But I know it’s not really something most people approve of.”

“By that, you mean Annie doesn’t approve?”

He nodded, and she looked at me again. “Annie, what is it about Peter’s fencing that you don’t approve of? Is it just the lying and sneaking around?”

“I’ll be honest and say I had a really hard time with the fencing in the beginning. I just didn’t understand it. It…it scared me a little. But then, I mean, really, the lying has become the biggest issue, yes. I’m trying to be understanding about the rest. I don’t like secrets. I want to know what my husband is up to, and I don’t understand why he has to lie to me,” I said firmly.

“I see.” She was still for a moment, staring at us with intense concentration. “Have you tried to explain to Pete what it is about the sport that bothers you? Have you had a bad experience with it personally? What do you think it is about fencing that caused you to have such a reaction to it in the beginning?”

I pressed my lips together, trying to work out my answer in my head before I gave it. “The violence of it. The anger involved… He didn’t tell me it was something he was interested in, either, not when we met, or even after we’d been married. I didn’t know until I caught him one night when he’d said he was working late.”

“So, Pete, you felt the need to hide something you were passionate about even before Annie told you she disapproved. Why do you think that is?”

“I know my wife. I knew she wouldn’t approve,” he said simply.

I could already feel her judgment of me, but she didn’t look my way. Not yet. She was too busy feeling sorry for my husband.

He was good at that.

No one had ever seen him for what he was until it was smacking them in the face, myself included.

“Have there been other things she hasn’t approved of?”

“No, I—”

She cut me off, holding a finger up. “Annie, let’s let Pete talk and then you’ll get a turn to respond.” Leaning forward in her chair slightly, as if he were a shy child she was having to coax out of hiding, she went on. “Pete?”

I held my breath, waiting for him to respond. When he finally did, I released a quiet sigh of relief.

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