Page 46 of The Marriage Game

“Oh look who decided to join the conversation,” Jill says with a little laugh.

“Sorry,” I say, adopting a sheepish expression, “guess I got lost in staring at you for a second there.”

“Aww,” Amelia gushes, her eyes dancing back and forth from me to Jill—who’s blushing from my words. She grabs Tucker by the hand. “Baby, aren’t they just the cutest?”

I swear a muscle ticks in Tucker’s jaw as he hones in on my thumb stroking Jill’s hand, but he smiles at Amelia, agreeing with her in his overly jovial tone.

“Pretty dang cute,” he drawls, “but no one’s as cute as you and me, baby.”

Blech. I fight a grimace because this guy is so artificial.

Unlike me and Jill.

I squeeze her hand.

We’re the real deal.

Chapter 18

Jill

Ican’tbelieveTuckeris here. My insides feel squirmy and uncomfortable. After what happened with him twenty years ago he topped the list of people I never want to see again. I’m trying to be pleasant because we’re all adults here, and he did apologize, but I really don’t want anything to do with the guy.

I can tell Max is uncomfortable with his presence too. He seems to be coping by laying things on thick with me. This would be annoying if it didn’t serve my own purposes with Dorothy. As things stand, if the presence of Tucker helps encourage Max to play the part of a loving and adoring husband then maybe having him around won’t be so bad after all.

Not that he really needs toplaythe part. As we established at breakfast: Max does love me, and I love him. All we’re doing is adding a little sparkle to our love so that other people can see it too.

I spot my sisters and their husbands making their way into the room. I was so invested in making sure we sat in the optimal spot and then distracted by Tucker’s unexpected appearance that Iforgot to save them seats. Luckily there are still four open ones on Max’s other side and he wastes no time in waving them all over to claim them. Wait, no, I look again. Not luckily. I see now that Max took copies of the papers left at the door for note taking and put them on four chairs. That’s why there are still open seats in our otherwise full row.

It was such a simple thing to do. A gesture I could easily take for granted, but for some reason this morning I see the sweetness of it. The thoughtfulness of it. How he anticipated a want of mine.

I should say thank you. So why do the words stick in my throat? It’s not hard for me to realize why. I don’t want to thank him because thanking him feels as if I’m excusing all of the things he does that I don’t appreciate. Like declaring yet again that he’s going to be running for attorney general. If I thank him he’ll think I don’t care about that anymore. He’ll think I don’t have any grievances against him.

And I still have many, many grievances against him.

My sisters and their husbands greet us. Dorothy takes the stage. I still don’t thank Max.

And as Dorothy opens her mouth to begin with a word of prayer, the long list of his wrongs that I’ve spent years cataloging shut that moment of gratitude down.

Dorothy concludes her prayer and everyone gathered joins their amen to hers. She opens her eyes and looks out over the sea of couples. Hurriedly I reach for Max’s hand, just in case her gaze finds us. Good thing, since a second later she does seem to catch sight of us, though she moves on so quickly I can’t be totally sure. Still, better to play it safe.

“I just want to start off by saying how happy I am that all of you are here at this retreat. I have helped a lot of couples over the years; couples with seemingly small problems like the constant bickering that comes with one spouse being a neat freak andthe other being messy and also couples with larger problems like infertility struggles, depression, and even one couple—who you may already know about if you read my books—where the husband struggled with a years-long, secret porn addiction.”

A secret porn addiction? And Dorothy talked about it in one of her books? That’s disturbing. Is nothing private in her mind?

“My point in saying all of this, is that, large or small as the problems in your marriage may be, agreeing as a couple that you want to work through those problems is a great first step. One you presumably have taken by coming here. So pat yourselves on the back—you’re working toward a stronger marriage just by being here.” She pauses to allow us to do so, then continues.

“Now then, this morning I want to talk to you all about something that might sound a little obvious. In fact when I say the topic of our talk this morning, I’m guessing many of you will perform an internal eye roll or mutter duh to yourselves.” Dorothy shrugs. “And that’s perfectly fine with me so long as after you're finished with that you still tune in and listen to what I have to say on the matter. Can we all agree to that?” Around the room heads nod their acquiescence. “Lovely. I knew this was going to be a great group.” She claps her hands together, then announces, “My talk today, dear friends, is called ‘If you want a successful marriage, you need to love your spouse.’” She rolls out one of her hands in invitation. “Go ahead–say your duhs, roll your eyes, exchange this-lady-is-captain-obvious glances with your neighbor.”

She waits, though after her warning none of us seem inclined to express our doubts verbally or otherwise.

“Oh good,” she says with a laugh, “nobody raced out to demand their money back. I’ll continue then. To really grasp the meaning of my statement ‘if you want a successful marriage, you need to love your spouse,’ I think it might help us to define what love means.”

The screen behind her lights up as she continues, displaying the text version of her words. “Webster’s defines love as strong affection for another.” She flips the slide to another definition. “As affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests.” Another slide.“As attraction based on sexual desire.” She waggles her eyebrows at the audience earning herself a small ripple of laughter.

“Then there’s the Hollywood definition.” An image appears on the screen. It’s a picture of Johnny kissing Baby in the movieDirty Dancing. “Thrilling passion that can only be fulfilled with a kiss, but then,” she flips to another screen, this one showing Cinderella and her prince, “that inevitably leads to living happily ever after. A concept that we also find in romance novels.” The next screen shows an assortment of book covers, all clearly of the romance variety. “Lots of buildup until eventually the couple admits they can’t live without the other person. A kiss is shared, I love yous exchanged, and then we have an epilogue that showcases just how much their feelings for each other have continued to grow and strengthen. Their lives wrapped up in a perfect bow of bliss and endless love.” She sighs. “Which, of course, brings the music industry’s take on the subject to mind.” Diana Ross and Lionel Richie appear on screen, accompanied by the notes of their hit song “Endless Love”.

I shift in my seat, already uncomfortable with the direction this talk is going. Though I’m more than willing to pretend otherwise, I’m all too aware of the lack of bliss and passion in our marriage.

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