Chapter 6

A wooden hand-painted plaque read, “Yaron Beilinson, Ph.D Therapist.”

Linda had talked with the therapist on the phone when she had scheduled a session for them. Yaron asked her a lot of questions about the state of their relationship and the problems they were facing.

Dennis parked her truck in front of the building and came down.

“I can’t believe you really came,” she said, her voice full of surprise.

“Why are you so surprised? I told you I would.”

Linda nodded. Dennis had never broken his word.

“Are you ready for this?”

He just shrugged. “As ready as I can be.”

Linda walked into the office, leaving Dennis to follow behind her. There was no secretary in the reception area and the door to the office was open.

“Ah, the Harris. I was waiting for you. Welcome,” a smiling young male greeted them. He was wearing sneakers and a word T-Shirt. In big letters, it read, ‘THERAPIST’, and then, in smaller letters ‘because badass miracle counselor isn’t an official title yet.’

Dennis came to a dead stop and cursed under his breath. No. This couldn’t be real. Each wall boasted a different mural, and if he wasn’t mistaken, they were trying to celebrate the four elements. There were big the letters spelling the word LOVE painted in each one of them.

There was soft music playing. It was some kind of relaxing tune with nature sounds. There was a circle of pillows on one side of the room. No sign of a couch, chairs, or even a desk.

“I had no idea you hated me this much, Linda.”

“The reviews online were overwhelmingly positive.”

“There’s a good chance his patients were high when they wrote those reviews,” he muttered.

A laugh bubbled out of her. How long had it been since he’d made her laugh?

“Maybe there’s a method to the madness,” Linda whispered to Dennis.

He took Linda’s hand and pulled her toward the exit, but she dug in her heels.

“You’re free to leave,” she said.

“Not without you,” he gritted out. “We can find someone else.”

“I like him and I like it here.”

“Believe it or not, Team Harris, your reaction to my working space is not uncommon,” Yaron had witnessed their exchange with a Buddha-smile on his face. “You might have a mental checklist for what you think the right therapist looks like, but allow yourself to be surprised.”

“How did you call us? Team Harris?” Linda asked.

“That’s correct.” Yaron clasped his hands together. “During our sessions, we are all Team Harris. Linda, Dennis, and me, Yaron, your therapist are going to work together as team. Rebuilding what is broken will be a collective effort. It will be daunting at times. But there’s some good news.”

“Enlighten us,” Dennis said drily.

The therapist nodded. “By the end of our fourth session, we should have an idea whether this marriage is worth saving or not.”

His eyes ticked back and forth between Linda and Dennis. “I can already see we have conflicting opinions on that matter.”

Before Dennis could question the therapist’s observation, Yaron said, “Follow me to the Circle of Healing if you would be so kind.” He sat on a pillow. “That’s not a joke. I really call it that.”

Linda dropped into a cross-legged position on a crocheted heart pillow. She didn’t have to make eye contact with Dennis to know he was the poster boy for skepticism.

Dennis looked right and left, searching for a place to sit.

“On the pillows,” Yaron directed. “Why not conduct our session in comfort?”

When Dennis made no move to join her, she arched an eyebrow at him and he sighed, taking a place beside her.

“A little bit about me, before we start. As I said, I’m Yaron Beilinson. I’ve been counseling troubled couples for three years. Yes, I’m a real therapist with a Ph.D. Yes, I’m young. No, I’m not married.”

The therapist caught the expression on Dennis’s face and said, “I know this is the last place where you want to be, Dennis, but right now I’m the only thing between you and the end of your marriage. You know your wife, and you know I’m not lying. I’m really good at this and there is a chance we can save your marriage if we work together.”

Dennis let out a loud grunt.

“We are dealing with hearts, minds, and expectations. They’re messy and complicated.

“My methods are unorthodox. They might make you uncomfortable, and that’s the point. To push past the limits of what you think yourself capable of as a partner and human being.

“Nothing leaves the safe space of this room. Nothing you can say will shock me or make me think less of you. We’re here for a common purpose. To save this marriage.” He clapped his hands and said, “Now, face each other, please. We’re going to begin by reintroducing your energies.”

Linda and Dennis remained unmoving.

Yaron chuckled. “Sometimes we become so wrapped up in a routine, we forget to look each other in the eye. When was the last time you had even ten seconds of solid eye contact?”

“Ten seconds of eye contact?” she whispered. “I can’t remember.”

Dennis sighed. “No one does that.”

“We used to,” Linda said, her memory zeroing in on one hazy evening in particular. They’d climbed to the roof of the school during summer vacation. With the sun warming their skin and a breeze cooling it, they’d looked into each other’s eyes so long they’d lost track of time.

Now his brow furrowed. And then he surprised her by saying, “You’re right. We did.”

“Excellent, Dennis. You heard her.”

“Ten seconds?” Dennis asked.

“Ten is an arbitrary starting point,” Yaron said. “There are no time limits or rules within this space. If something feels right, we’ll continue with it.”

Linda’s heart hammered in her throat as she faced Dennis, their knees bumping, as they were both sitting cross-legged. “Um...” My God, she was having a literal heart attack overlooking her husband in the face. Honestly. She lifted her gaze to meet Dennis’s eyes.