“And why is it not great?” Sanders asks, not a ball in sight, no hockey stick to be seen. And apart from the pajama pants,thisfeels like we’re seeing the true therapist, which seems odd. Don’t you think you’d want to show this side of yourself on the first therapy appointment? Or is that just me?
Then again, nothing about his practice is conventional, so not surprised that he’s switching tactics.
“Well, you know, we’re in a rough patch right now, and staying in the cabin that we’re staying in is just a reminder of everything we’re not…participating in.”
Sanders nods knowingly. “I see. You’re in the red square cabin, correct?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“That’s the one you chose.”
Um, what?
“Chose?” I ask.
“Yes,” Sanders says, looking confused. “It was the one chosen in your application.”
Wilder filled out the application.
“Are there different cabins?” I ask.
“Oh yes, they’re all themed to the couples’ preferences. On the application, when asked about your sex life, you marked ‘thriving’ and ‘adventurous,’ so the staff thought it was appropriate to put you in the red square cabin.”
I shoot a look at Wilder, who has a guilty expression. Smiling, I say, “Um, Sanders. Would I be able to have one moment alone with my husband?”
He looks between us and says, “Normally, I’d say whatever you need to say to each other should be said in front of me, but I can see that maybe something needs to be discussed here without a witness, and because of the fragility of your marriage, I think I’m going to give you a quick five.” He walks out on the balcony and shuts the sliding glass door.
I turn to Wilder, and in a scary whisper, I say, “You said our sex life was thriving and adventurous?”
He starts chuckling, his smile stretching across his cheeks. “Holy shit, is that why they put us in that bedroom?”
“Uh, duh, you idiot! The reason handcuffs kept rattling against the bedpost last night was because of you.”
“You know, that’s really funny actually. Makes me wonder what the other cabins are like.”
“Probably normal. They probably don’t have a giant flesh dildo attached to the tile of their shower.” I press my hand to my forehead. “Oh God, what my coworkers must think of me. They must have noticed we were in that cabin and said?—”
“Scottie must have such an active sex life.”
“Noooo,” I drag out. “They probably thought I was a sex fiend and that’s why our marriage wasn’t working, because I wanted to be surrounded by plastic, jiggly prosthetics rather than the jiggly shaft in my husband’s pants.”
He chuckles some more. “I mean, that looks worse for me than you.”
“This is not funny, Wilder. This is exactly what I’m talking about. We need to keep it tight. We can’t just be flailing about, thinking there are no consequences to what we say and do.”
“In my defense, when I filled out the application, I wasn’t aware that there were themed cabins. This just happens to be aunique coincidence. And I did mention in that first meeting with Sanders that we were pretty kinky.”
“Yeah, a unique one I want nothing to do with.” I catch Sanders turning toward the door and offering me a thumbs-up, looking to see if we’re ready. I hold out a finger, asking for one more minute. “Remember what we talked about, okay? Be cool. This is no time to go off the rails with your improv. I saw that look in your eye.”
“What look?” he asks.
“The one that said ‘we’re about to have fun with this.’”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a look I have,” he counters.
“Oh, you do. I saw it. Clear as day.”
“I think you’re making things up in your head.”
