Page 22 of Chasing the Horizon

Victor stalled. “I don’t have a mental illness. I got divorced. Years ago.”

“But the reason for your divorce isn’t exactly standard,” Dr. Frank said.

Victor flared his nostrils. “You and I haven’t talked about that.”

Dr. Frank looked as though he were trying to play chess with Victor and anticipate Victor’s next move. Victor resented this and looked out the window. He missed the snow from the other day. He missed the coziness of his afternoon with Valerie, wherein they’d made enormous headway on the book.

He decided to talk about that, if only because he thought it made him look like a good father, a good person.

“I’m working on a book with my daughter. I think it’s going really great. She’s a better writer than I thought she’d be. I mean, she doesn’t have a ton of experience. She works in events.”

Dr. Frank was still difficult to read and didn’t look impressed with Victor. Victor started to resent him.

“You had reservations about writing the book?” he asked.

Victor wondered if his brother had somehow gotten this news back to Dr. Frank.

“No. I mean, sort of. I mean, usually, I work by myself.”

“And this is probably another reason you don’t want to go to couples therapy,” Dr. Frank said.

Victor wondered if there was a way to get out of this. He’d begun to sweat profusely. Maybe he could feign a heart attack. Maybe he could say he needed to pick up a package at the post office.

Or maybe he could sit the full hour and never come back.

That was the ticket. That was what he’d do.

It was perfect. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to tell Esme he quit. Or he’d tell her, but he’d tell her it was because Dr. Frank had told him he was perfect. He’d needed just the one session, and now he needed no more help.

Would she believe it?

Over the following fifty minutes, Dr. Frank got nothing out of Victor or of value for his “analysis.” They spoke about their times in medical school, mutual friends, and what they felt about living in Nantucket. Victor vaguely mentioned his opinions about returning to Nantucket after so many years away, and he immediately regretted this because it meant he was revealing pieces of his soul when he didn’t really want to.

And then, toward the end of the session, Victor made a mistake.

“How long do you think these couples therapy sessions should go? In your professional opinion.” There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and Victor regretted it immediately.

Dr. Frank shifted back in his chair, regarding Victor far differently than he had the past sixty minutes. “I think you owe it to your partner to get to the bottom of it all,” he said. “I don’t think you should put a time limit on something like this.”

Victor scrambled to get out of there. “Of course.” He extended his hand to shake Dr. Frank’s, getting up and eyeing the door.

“Dr. Sutton, I truly believe we can get somewhere together. That we can make real progress,” Dr. Frank continued. “But I need more from you. Do you understand?”

Victor said he did. Then he ran out of there.

Before he knew it, he was over at his brother’s place, cracking a beer and watching the sun set over the water. It was suddenly fifty degrees, a bizarre opposite snap from last week’s freeze, and they sat outside, talking about their days. Victor felt comfort with his brother and a sense of calm that negated the chaos back at Dr. Frank’s office.

Victor didn’t want to tell his brother about the therapist.

But his brother wanted to talk about Esme, about Valerie, about the book.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

Victor shrugged and said the best version of the truth he could find. “I think the girls are happy with me right now. I think I’m trying as best as I can to be who they need me to be.”

But I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, he thought.

He felt like he was always on an emotional roller coaster. He felt like he was always about to make a mistake.

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