Page 7 of Chasing the Horizon

That night, Victor struggled to sleep. To avoid tossing and turning, he got up and wandered down to the kitchen, where he listened to music on his headphones and tried to blot out his anxiety. Right before he knew Esme would wake up, he snuck back in bed and waited for the alarm clock to blare.

Esme rolled over and burrowed her face in his armpit. Victor’s heart swelled.

“How did you sleep?” she said dreamily.

“Great,” he said.

Esme’s eyes snapped open. “You’re a liar.”

Victor’s heart pumped. How did she know everything?

“I promise. I slept wonderfully. I was up for a little while, sure, but I came back to bed and fell right back to sleep.”

Esme seemed to weigh up whether she wanted to press the issue, then decided against it. She kissed him, first on the cheek and then on the lips, then slipped out of bed.

“Let the games begin,” she said.

After that, it was off to the races. Victor was at the griddle, flipping pancakes, asking grandchildren their flavor preferences, stirring up batter with blueberries, and turning the radio up. The joy in the kitchen, dining room, and out on the back porch was glorious. At ten in the morning, it was sunny and bright and fifty-eight degrees, and once the grandkids were done with their pancakes, they were running around like crazy again. It took a lot of effort from Bethany and Rebecca to wrangle them into their vehicles and take them away.

When they left, Valerie and Alex helped with the dishes, then took their boat back to their little cabin. Esme made sure to nag them briefly about finding a new place to live, to which Valerie said, “We know, Mom. We’re on it.”

“The baby will be here before you know it,” Esme said.

Valerie kissed her mother on the cheek and hugged Victor goodbye.

After that, all they could do was get ready for therapy.

Victor thought he was going to throw up.

But, as was customary when it came to Victor, he knew that his fear would be displaced, and he would become annoyingly confrontational, a know-it-all of the highest order. He knew he would demand the therapist’s credentials. He would probably tell the therapist how much experience he had, and the therapist would probably just say,I know that you’re famous, and jot something down in her notebook.

Victor was terrified—not only of what the therapist would say about him but also of what he would think of himself after the session.

Esme drove them to the couples therapist. On the radio was a song Victor had loved in the eighties, something by Hall & Oates he couldn’t place right now.

“You used to hate this song,” Esme said.

“What? I loved it,” Victor said, surprised.

Esme laughed. “Is that our first topic in therapy? I think you hate this song, and you think you love it?”

Victor’s heartbeat intensified. He wasn’t going to waste money or time on something so silly. But it was a funny situation. If Esme and Victor remembered this song so differently, then what else did they remember differently? What else would they disagree on?

Esme and Victor waited in the lobby next to a teenager with a big pair of headphones and across from a couple in theirtwenties.They have enough time to save themselves, Victor thought.They can fix things. Maybe Esme and I are too old.

Privately, he felt that Esme would get bored of therapy soon and quit.

He hoped she would, at least.

But Victor was surprised at how professional she seemed when the therapist—a licensed psychiatrist named Hannah Benson—called them into her office. Sitting on the leather sofa, he eyed her Harvard degree on the wall and the angled photograph of her and her husband on her desk.

“To start,” Hannah said, folding her hands on her lap, “I want to say that every couple should go to couples therapy at one point or another. My husband and I went before we got married, and we’ve touched base with other sessions over the years. It is completely normal and valid. But it’s also a brave first step forward.”

Hannah gave Victor a look that seemed to meanI see right through you, Victor Sutton.

Victor resented that. But it was also almost exactly what he’d needed to hear.

Hannah leaned forward. Esme wore a soft smile as though she were really enjoying this.

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