My throat closes. “No. I went to the bar so I wouldn’t yell in front of Milo or at her. Not because I was planning to…”
“Really?” Lore says softly.
I nod immediately. “I went there to calm down because the rational part of me knew I was overreacting, but-” My throat tightens and I force the words out. “It hurt.”
Lore’s face crumples, heartbreak written in every line. She opens her mouth, then closes it again, like she doesn’t know what to say.
Dr. Kendall clears her throat gently. “Okay. I think it’s time to step back a little.” She glances down at our hands, white-knuckled and locked together, and smiles softly. “It’s clear you two love each other. But there are hurt feelings on both sides.”
She sits back in her chair. “There’s a saying:‘The heart has its reasons, which reason knows nothing of.’Basically, it doesn’t hurt any less just because you can explain why you did it,” she looks pointedly at me, then turns to Lore, “or because of when it happened.”
Her voice stays calm. “The point is… it hurts.”
She folds her hands in her lap. “And how the two of you navigate that hurt is going to determine whether your marriage survives down the road or not.”
I nod. She’s serious now.
“Patrick,” she says, “be completely honest. Do you still have unresolved feelings about what Lorelie did?”
I sit back, thinking. Then I look at Lore’s hand in mine.
“Yes,” I answer. I don’t look at Dr. Kendall. I look straight at my wife.
“Lorelie,” Dr. Kendall asks gently, “do you feel like what you did was wrong?”
Lore takes a moment. Then she says quietly, “I didn’t then. I do now.”
“Can you elaborate?” the therapist asks.
Lore exhales a small, humorless laugh. “At the time, I thought… why not? I thought he was doing it, so why shouldn’t I?” She glances at me, eyes shimmering. “Only it turns out he wasn’t. You waited for me… and I didn’t.” Her voice breaks at the end.
Dr. Kendall nods, then opens the file on her lap and jots something down.
“Lorelie,” she says, “do you still have unresolved feelings about what Patrick did?”
Lore doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
“Patrick,” she prompts gently.
I take a breath. I knew this question was coming.
“At the time,” I admit, “I also felt justified.” A beat.
“Now?” I roll my eyes at myself. “Now I wanna drag my drunken ass to the alley behind O’Riley’s and beat the crap out of him.”
Dr. Kendall smiles a little. “Well, you can’t do that.”
She leans forward slightly. “But there is something youcando.”
We both look at her.
“I want the two of you to write letters,” Dr. Kendall says. “To your past selves, right before the moment you regret. Tell thatversion of yourself what you needed. What you should’ve said. What you wish you’d understood.”
Lore and I look at each other. I’ve heard of this exercise before, usually from people who drink herbal tea and post quotes on WhatsApp.
“Do we read them out loud?” Lore asks.
“No,” Dr. Kendall says. “They’re just for you.”
