Page 29 of You Will Never Be Me

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Ben surprises me by speakingup when the counselor, Laura, asks who’d like to begin.

“I’ll go first, I guess,” he says. And he gets right into it. “I’m tired of living in an Instagram account.”

“Oh? Can you clarify that, Ben?” Laura says. Her voice is very calming. I should learn how to modulate my voice so my questions don’t come out too aggressively.

“Well, Aspen here’s an influencer.” That tone again, like “influencer” is a dirty word. Ben gives Laura a look and laughs a little, as though he expected her to laugh along with him. She doesn’t. I decide that I like her. “When we first met, I thought it was cute, you know? I was so supportive. I did everything I could to help her grow online, and now it’s grown way out of control. It’s ridiculous. I’m sick of feeling like everything we do is purely for ‘aesthetics.’ When we bought our house, I didn’t have a say at all in how I’d like it to be decorated. Oh no, Ben knows nothing about aesthetics. I wanted some color in the house. I always thought that when I had kids one day, they’d have this vibrant nursery full of every color of the rainbow, but no. The whole house is gray or white or eggshell or whatever the fuck. Even our kids’ toys all have to be color coordinated. God forbid I ever get them a brightly colored plastic toy! No, it all has to be boring Nordic wooden toys that they don’t even like to play with. What even is Nordic wood? Is it Norwegian?” He gives a short, shrill laugh before raking his fingers through his hair. “It’s—it’s exhausting.”

Every word in his well-prepared speech slices into me, opening the wound even wider, exposing me to Laura. By the time Ben’s done, I feel like I can barely look Laura in the eye. She must think I’m the worst wife and mother in the world. His testament is so scathing and so full of wrath, it’s a wonder Laura doesn’t just go, “Okay you guys, there is no hope for the two of you. Off you go now in separate directions.”

But when I raise my gaze to Laura’s, I find nothing butempathy in her eyes. “Thank you, Ben. That was enlightening.” She nods encouragingly to me. “Would you like to tell me what you think about what Ben said, Aspen?”

Tears prick my eyes, and I don’t bother trying to fight them. What’s the point? “Um—” My voice cracks and I take in a shuddery breath. “He’s right. All of it.” I turn to him and clasp his hands in mine. “You’re right.” Ben looks confused. I sniffle and turn back to Laura. “Ben’s right. I’m tired of it, too—of having to pretend to have the perfect life. But the thing is, I don’t know if I can afford to stop. I’m responsible for most of our finances. The mortgage, the healthcare…One of our daughters, Noemie, she’s diabetic. The insulin alone is costing us eight hundred dollars a month, and that’s with insurance. Then there are the pediatrician costs and other drugs, not to mention the exorbitant school fees, and—” This time, when my voice breaks, I let it. I sit there and cry and don’t even bother trying to hide my tears. Laura hands me a box of tissues, and I thank her in a small voice. “I’m sorry. I just feel so helpless. What would we do without my income?”

Ben pulls his hands away and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He looks everywhere but at me.

“I mean, maybe we could downsize to a smaller house,” I continue between sobs, “but I’ve been trying and trying, and I can’t figure out a way to afford Noemie’s healthcare without my career. And Ben—I’m sorry, babe, but your income…”

“Isn’t anywhere near big enough,” Ben mutters. “I know.”

“Ben’s a Realtor,” I say for Laura’s sake. “His job doesn’t have health insurance. Mine doesn’t provide it either, to be fair. I’m paying for our family health insurance.”

She says, “Ah, I see. Right. Well, I think you both have very legitimate concerns.”

“It really hurts my feelings,” I add, “when Ben treats my career as an influencer as something silly.”

“Do you feel that he does that often?” Laura says.

I chew on my lip and nod. “I get the feeling that Ben thinks it’s shallow and fake. I think maybe it’s easy to see it that way because I have to appear bubbly in my videos, even when I don’t feel cheerful. I’m a momfluencer, and one of the many reasons I love what I do is because it connects me to other moms. We help one another feel less alone. Being a mom can be so isolating. I put a lot of thought into my content, and I wish he would recognize that. Especially since I’m the one supporting the family financially.”

When Laura looks at Ben, there is, for just a split second, a flash of contempt in her expression. And I wonder how many wives have sat here on this leather couch and told her how dismissive their husbands are of their careers. Ben squirms, his gaze locked onto his lap.

“Ben, do you have anything to say to that?”

He shrugs, his whole demeanor that of a guilty schoolboy.

“Well.” Laura leans back and takes a deep breath. “Thank you both for being so honest with me and with each other. I think there is a lot to work with here. There are some issues, yes, but I also sense a ton of love between you two.”

Is there?I want to shout at Ben. Is there still a ton of love between the two of us? Or are there only its remains, festering away?

I wish Ben would look up and meet my eyes. Convey to me somehow that he’s in this, too—that I’m not the only one fighting to keep our marriage intact. But when he does lift his head, his gaze is trained on Laura’s. He’s deliberately not looking at me, and his jaw is set in a way I find familiar. A stubborn expression that I used to find attractive and so masculine, but which I now knowis nothing more than childish petulance. Despite everything I brought up, or maybe because of all the things I brought up, Ben is even more set in his thinking. He’ll continue casting me as the villain, refusing to face the reality of our situation, and resenting me for doing what needs to be done to support the family.

And I know, then, that no matter what Laura says, no matter how obediently we do whatever homework she assigns us, our marriage is over. The only question that remains is which of us will have the courage to say it outloud.

13

MEREDITH

What am I doing?Thequestion hounds me the entire morning, and I still can’t come up with a good answer.What am I doing?I ask myself as I carefully curl my hair.What am I doing?I ask as I swipe on mascara.What am I doing?I ask as I slip on a top that shows off my cleavage. Each time, I tell myself I’m just getting ready as per usual. Each time, I know I’m lying to myself.What am I doing?I ask myself as I drop Luca off at Clara’s. (At least she’s less pissy this time because I asked her in advance, and also gave her a luxury gift basket as a thank-you for her trouble. The hamper was actually a gift from one of my new sponsors, but I thought it unnecessary to tell her such petty details.)

What

Am

I

Doing?

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