Page 3 of Second Chance Summer

Remember, this is to help you two make better decisions regarding your marriage. I know this will serve to only make things better.

That’s all for now.

Regards

Dr. Hubert

Marriage & Family Counselor

“I know you freakin’ lyin’!”

Those words came forth from thy mouth after I had to suffer through this email, feeling sick the whole time I was reading it. I’m sure this ridiculousness is optional, even though the doctor says our attendance is ‘strongly encouraged’. I strongly encourage her to stay out of folks’ busted marriages. Well, she can’t do that with her profession and all, but still – a couple’s retreat? Really? Like the freakin’ movie (which was hysterical, by the way) but, no. No! Absolutely not! Is this a joke? Has she not paid attention to our terrible sessions over the last four months? We practically bite each other’s heads off while sitting on that springy sofa in her office, and she wants us to go on a retreat?

I’ma retreat right here in this apartment. The doctor is smoking something that rhymes with ack if she thinks I’m going anywhere with Hendrick Vaillant.

“Oh, she trippin’ real bad,” I say, and sip coffee.

I laugh out loud because there’s no way I can be anywhere near Hendrick. The hour sessions we have at Dr. Hubert’s have worn me thin and given me more stomach pain than my contracting uterus on period days. How am I supposed to endure a week in a one-bedroom suite with the enemy?

Oh, I know. I can’t if I want to maintain what little sanity I have left!

Taking my phone, I walk back to the sofa with my coffee and dial said enemy back.

He answers, “You read it?” before I can even say a word.

“Yeah. I read it and laughed, because surely Dr. Hubert done lost her FREAKIN’ mind, or is trying her hand at comedy because there’s no way I’m going on a toxic, tropical beach vacation from hell with you. I’d rather chew glass. You and her got me messed up.”

“Jeez, Nai. Can you try not to be bitter for like two seconds?”

“Bitter? I’m not bitter. I’m just done.”

“You’re done? You act like it was terrible living with me.”

“Yeah, that’s because it was! It’s not an act. It’s reality.”

“Well, I think being in Hawaii and doing this is the best thing for us right now.”

“A week alone with you? No, that’s not the best thing. In-person therapy is enough.”

“Apparently the doctor doesn’t think so. She’s the professional here—not you. And it’s Hawaii, Nai.”

“I don’t care if it was the freakin’ Cayman Islands.”

“You always—we’ve—always wanted to go to Hawaii.”

“Yeah, but you were always too busy. If I want to go to Hawaii, I can get there by myself. I have dreams and plans of traveling many places, solo.”

“Oh, like those women on social media who film themselves traveling alone to prove to the world they don’t need a man, huh?”

“They don’t.”

“You do. You can’t even read GPS right. I can see you now riding right up into a lake because GPS told you to keep straight when you were supposed to turn.”

“Shut up. That was one incident. And it wasn’t a lake. It was a—”

“Corn field,” he says, laughing.