Chapter 2

Jeff was gone when I awoke in the morning. I panicked for a moment, until I came to my senses and realized it was almost nine and he was already at work. I checked to make sure the kids had both gotten off to school. Then I took a long hot shower.

The tears started again as I stood there under the strong spray. I wasn’t even sure why. It could have been fear of what was to come or just my guilty conscience. I know I’ve given Jeff short shrift over the years of our marriage. I haven’t been a very good wife. I’ve been a good housekeeper and a good nanny. But I’ve always held back when it came to being a wife. I knew I was doing it, too. I just didn’t know how to change.

I dressed and went downstairs. I don’t usually drink coffee this late in the day but I’m exhausted. I put a half pot on and got the phone book out while it was brewing. I had no idea how to go about finding someone to treat me for a lifetime of sexual dysfunction.

It turns out there are pages of them in the phone book. I was able to eliminate a large number of them whose practice seemed to be grounded in Christianity. I was pretty certain Christianity is my problem, not the solution I’m seeking.

I wrote down the names, addresses and phone numbers of a dozen of them and poured myself a cup of coffee.

I was steeling myself, preparing to make the first humiliating phone call when the phone rang. It startled me so much I screamed!

I saw Jeff’s name on the caller ID and picked up the receiver. I said, “Good morning, Jeff. I’m glad you called. I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am. I’m doing what you wanted. I’ve just finished making a list of counselors. I was just about to call the first one.”

“I’m glad you didn’t make an appointment yet. I called Barry and told him about the problem we’re having. He gave me the number of a man he recommends highly.”

I wasn’t very happy to hear that. Barry is our family doctor. Except for my OB-GYN and my dentist he’s the only doctor I’ve ever seen. I never saw a doctor when I was growing up. I never needed to.

I know Barry is a good friend of Jeff’s. Maybe that’s a large part of why I feel so uncomfortable when I go to see him. But I’ve always thought there was something not quite right about him. He always gave me the feeling he was looking at me in a way that was inappropriate for a family doctor.

There’s nothing he has ever done or said that I can point to and say it was inappropriate. He never said or did anything that I felt was unprofessional when I went to see him. And yet I always felt dirty when I left his office.

I’ve always chalked it up to my own self-consciousness. To be honest it may be that I react that way only because he treats me more like a friend than a patient and that makes me uncomfortable. But it’s a feeling I’ve never been quite able to reason away.

That’s probably why it made me uncomfortable to hear Jeff has been taking him into his confidence in this matter. I would prefer Barry didn’t know anything about my sex life.

I wrote down the contact information he got from Barry and told him I’ll call as soon as we hang up.

He must have heard the fear in my voice. Or at least he must have known how scared I am. In a soothing, somewhat reassuring voice he said, “I know this is hard for you, Rebecca. I’ll do anything I can to make it easier. If you need me to go with you just let me know. If he needs me to be there tell me when the appointment is. I want to make this ... I want us to have a real marriage. I love you.”

I sighed and answered, “I love you, too. I’ll call you back after I make the call.”

After I hung up I sat at the table sipping coffee and staring at the number. Dr. Phillip Carter. Dr. Phil!

That didn’t help.

His was not one of the names I wrote down on the list I just made. I went back to the yellow pages to look up his ad. It isn’t there! I checked the white pages. His name isn’t there, either. I looked at my note. It’s definitely a local number.

It concerns me that he isn’t in the phonebook. I almost called Barry to ask about it. But I really don’t want to talk to him. If I did get him on the phone I’d be forced to listen to his too friendly voice and picture the self-important expression he always seems to have on his face. And somehow I just knew he’d be imagining me having sex with my husband. Well, I don’t actually know it. I just have that feeling.

I realize I’m getting paranoid about this. I’m being silly. It’s just a referral by my family doctor to another doctor who’s an expert in a field of expertise where Jeff and I are having problems. This is not some medical plot to humiliate me or turn me into a nymphomaniac.

I picked up the phone and dialed. My call was answered immediately by a sweet young thing who purred, “Dr. Carter’s office” into the phone in such a way that it almost sounded sexual. Or was that my paranoia again?

I almost hung up the phone. But after a pause the girl said, “Hello?”

I came to my senses and said, “Yes. I’m sorry. You answered so quickly I didn’t know what to say. My name is Rebecca Storm. I was given Dr. Carter’s number by my GP, Dr. Barry Defoe.”

The sweet young thing exclaimed, “Mrs. Storm! I’ve been expecting your call. Dr. Defoe spoke with Dr. Carter earlier. He’s looking forward to meeting to you.”

I cleared my throat nervously and said, “I was looking in the phone book and I couldn’t find your address. Is Dr. Carter new in town?”

She answered easily, “No, Ma’am. Dr Carter is semi-retired. He still sees a few of his old patients and on rare occasions he takes referrals from close friends. He and Dr. Defoe have known each other for years. You’re very lucky he’s available. He’s a wonderful doctor.”

I was unnerved when the girl gave me an appointment for tomorrow morning and gave me the address. For some reason I was expecting this would take place sometime in the future, perhaps weeks from now. I’m not sure how to deal with next-day service.

I thanked the girl and hung up. I poured myself another cup of coffee and then called Jeff. I told him about the phone call and the appointment. He seemed pleased. He asked if he needs to be there.

I had to assume his presence wasn’t required. The girl didn’t mention it.

We talked for a few minutes longer. After I hung up I took stock. There’s nothing urgent that has to be done today. I’m so sleepy that I feel drugged. I decided to go lie down for a couple of hours. I went upstairs and went back to bed. I set the alarm so I’ll be up by the time the kids get home from school and fell asleep as soon as my head hit he pillow.

I awoke three hours later feeling much better. I even feel a little less paranoid now that I’m more rested and the appointment has been made. I took a quick shower and dressed. Totally refreshed, I went downstairs and made believe I’d been up all day doing housework. It wasn’t hard. The kids wouldn’t notice if I stopped cleaning house entirely. Well, Sara would, but not until she ran completely out of clean clothes. I don’t think Seth would ever notice.

I was in the kitchen to greet them when they got home. I made them a healthy snack. Sara prefers them. Seth resents the hell out of them. After they ate they went up to do their homework. Their homework has to be done before they can use the pool.

They both like to spend a little time in the pool before Jeff comes home. We encourage them. Swimming is good exercise and I enjoy watching them together. I never cease to be pleased by how well the two of them get along when they’re together. Unlike most siblings, they almost never fight.

They came down an hour and a half later in their swimming suits. I hate the suits they wear. Even Jeff has a problem with them so I know it isn’t just my uptight genes at work.

Sara’s bikini would probably be illegal on any beach in this state. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Seth insists on wearing a little spandex suit that isn’t much more than a thong.

Both of their costumes are outrageous. I can’t even look at Seth when he’s wearing only his trunks. His sex organ is impossible to ignore. It looks enormous. Looking at him in that tight little pair of trunks it’s impossible to believe he’s only fifteen. It ... his penis, looks much larger than his father’s!

Maybe it’s just that I embarrass too easily. But I’d swear he goes out of his way to display his manhood when his father isn’t home.

There have been far too many occasions when I’ve glanced at the large bulge in his trunks and looked away quickly to find Sara smiling at me strangely. I have often thought I should say something to both of them. But I can’t. I’m much too embarrassed.

As they often do, they tried to coax me into changing and joining them in the pool. But I have to start supper. They grinned at each other when I demurred. As usual I was bothered by the looks they sometimes exchange. More and more often now I find myself wondering about the unthinkable. But I watch them constantly. If they aren’t at home I know where they are every minute. It just isn’t possible that they ... god! I can’t even think it!

I kept an eye on them through the kitchen window or the patio doors while I got supper ready. I probably shouldn’t worry so much. They’ve never said or done anything to give me reason to believe they’re doing anything they shouldn’t. It’s just those looks! There’s something so conspiratorial about them.

Now that I think about it, maybe I should stop joking with myself about being paranoid. Maybe that self-diagnosis is just a little too close to the truth. Maybe I really am paranoid.

Neither of my children has ever done anything to make me think they can’t be trusted. They wear what I consider provocative bathing suits. But when you take into consideration that it turns out I’m the anti-sex maybe my judgment isn’t to be trusted on the subject.

Jeff came home and changed for dinner. He didn’t say a word about my appointment all evening. Even when we went to bed he tried to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

But I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop worrying about it. Will I actually be able to open up to a strange man about the most intimate secrets in my life? Will he really be able to help me? And above all, what will I be like if he actually succeeds in ‘curing’ me? What will my life be like if he can make a difference in me?

Even though it took me a long time to go to sleep that night I awoke early the next morning. I made breakfast and got everyone off to school and work as usual. I was glad then that my appointment is early. I don’t have much time to worry about it. I cleaned up the kitchen and started getting ready right away.

I went out to my car and plugged the address into the car’s navigation system. I’m not familiar with the part of town where the doctor has his office. When I got there I saw why. There is no office. The GPS guided me right to the driveway leading up to a home that must have cost more than a million dollars, far more. It’s surrounded by a small subdivision of homes in the same price range.

I hesitated, thinking I might have entered the wrong address into the GPS or that “Navigator Nancy” might have screwed up and directed me to the wrong area. But I saw the doctor’s name on the mailbox and realized this is where I’m supposed to be.

I drove up to the house and shut the engine off. I sat there for a moment, reminding myself why I had to come here. I’m broken and Jeff wants me fixed. It’s this or the end of life as I know it. So, I did what I often do when confronted with a situation which makes me nervous or uncomfortable. I told myself that no matter who’s inside that house they can’t be any scarier than the nuns who terrified me all through school.

I got out and rang the doorbell. The door was answered almost instantly by an older woman who smiled and asked, “Mrs. Storm? Please come in. Dr. Carter is expecting you.”

She stepped aside. I entered and she led me through the house to a set of double doors at the end of the wide hallway. She opened one of the doors and held it for me. I stepped in and was greeted by the young girl I spoke with on the phone yesterday.

She got to her feet and said, “Thank you, Helen.”

Then she smiled at me and said, “Mrs. Storm, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dawn. Dr. Carter is on the phone. He’ll be right out. Can I get you anything to drink?”

I shook my head and tried to return her friendly smile. She offered me a seat and brought me a clipboard. She asked me to fill out the forms and returned to her desk.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye as I filled out the paperwork. Dawn looks just like she sounded on the phone. I had to wonder if she’s the doctor’s daughter or niece or something. She appears to be too young to not be in school. She’s beautiful and dressed very stylishly. But I can’t believe she’s much older than my fourteen-year-old daughter!

I sat down and watched as she went about her business. She certainly seems to be efficient. She finished typing something into her computer and then did some filing while it printed. She’s obviously older than she looks.

I was so caught up in trying to guess her age that I was startled when a door opened and I looked up to see a tall, handsome man in his mid forties smiling at me.

I jumped to my feet as he approached. He held out his hand and as we shook hands he said to me in the richest voice I’ve ever heard, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I’m semi-retired. I believe Dawn told you that? But I still do a lot of consulting. That means I spend a lot more time on the phone than I would like.”

Without meaning to I blurted out, “You seem so young to be retiring!”

He grinned and replied, “I’ve reached a point in my life that I don’t really need to work any longer. I was able to scale down my practice and devote more time to my writing. Now I see the cases which interest me, and the people I know I can help.”

His confidence, his seeming absolute certainty that he’s going to cure me was very reassuring. He noticed I picked up on that and his grin widened. He said, “Yes, Rebecca. I know I can help you. Please, come into my office and let’s get acquainted.”