Claire Thompson - Tracy in chains

"Tracy. Stop that. What is it? Why are you crying? I knew the deal going in. I knew you were married. I knew this could happen, would happen really, if you're to stay married. I was never good at picking women." He laughed ruefully.

"No, it's not that." Tracy sniffed loudly and said, "It's your flowers. You didn't get your flowers. Your birthday."

"Oh, stop. I'm glad I didn't get flowers. I hate my birthday. No one even knows I have a birthday around here. Good thing you didn't ruin it." His voice was teasing and kind. Tracy laughed in spite of herself and sniffed back her tears.

"Seriously, Tracy, how's it going?"

"Not so good, Paul. I'm trying, but it just isn't working. Kyle's ashamed of me, basically. He doesn't understand me. I think he's willing to forgive and forget, as long as I forgive and forget his little affair, but he wants me to change. He's willing to love me, he says, in spite of my 'peculiarities', if I can control myself. Frankly, I don't think I can."

"Do you want to?"

"No."

It was that simple, wasn't it? She didn't have to think it over, to make a decision; it was already made. She was who she was, and Kyle was never going to accept that. It was too much to face at that precise moment so Tracy changed the subject, saying, "Wasn't it amazing that we both logged on to the Palace at almost the same time? What are the odds of that?"

"No kidding, that was amazing," Paul agreed, not telling her that he had been logging on every day, sometimes ten or twenty times in a single day, since she had told him it was over those three weeks ago. Each time he logged on, he would hope against hope to 'see' his 'Beloved', his Tracy there.

Each day he told himself he was being an ass, and today would be the last day to do this, but the next day he would be logging on, over and over, hope springing eternal, even as he cursed himself for his stupidity.

When he'd seen her name in the 'logged on' list he'd actually whooped with joy, sitting there alone in his office. His fingers flew over the keys as he hurried to invite her to a chat room before she disappeared.

And what did it mean now, that she had broken her 'promise' and called him before the two months were up? Would things go on as before? Could they, now that secrets had been split open and bared to the harsh light of 'real life'? The questions hung, unspoken and unanswered, between them.

Tracy and Kyle sat opposite one another in Dr. Pearson office. They had come in separate cars, as he had suggested.

"Why do we need two cars?" Kyle had asked, his tone anxious.

"Because some of the issues we are going to deal with might leave one or both of you feeling, uh, a little vulnerable. You might want to be alone. You might not want to ride together. I'm not predicting the future, just trying to give you options so you don't feel trapped by anything. This is standard at this stage in your marriage therapy.

"We've gotten some real issues out there, and we are going to dive right in next time."

And that's what they did. Since Tracy had broken her promise, and was secretly again communicating with Paul, the last few therapy sessions felt like an exercise in futility.

Tracy was finally able to admit to herself that what she had so wanted to be the 'perfect marriage' was a constant series of compromises, primarily on her part. She had spent most of her adult life trying to conform to another person's idea of what she should be. She seemed to have lost something of herself in the process, or more accurately, let it atrophy, like a useless, withered appendage. The reawakening of her sexual self, of her independent self, instead of being easy and joyous, was sometimes painful and frightening.

She realized there was no place in their marriage for this 'different' Tracy, the one who didn't always concede to whatever Dr. Becker felt was best. She could no longer push her own dreams and desires into some tidy box to occasionally take out and sigh over. She was close to admitting to herself that there was no point in continuing with the therapy, or the marriage, but she was terrified to admit this to either Dr. Pearson or Kyle.

She and Kyle had spent nine years together, seven of them married. Divorce was something she never considered, though she wasn't always happy. From the beginning, her parents had predicted divorce, because Kyle and Tracy were so young when they got married. Tracy had been determined to prove them wrong. Both her older sisters had divorced, but she would be the one to 'show them' what a happy, loving relationship was.

She and Kyle had grown up together, but now, she sadly admitted, they had grown apart. She remembered the final time he had broken up with her, just before they married. He once told her then that he was no longer sure what was love and what was obligation between. Now, ironically, she found she completely understood what he had meant. More than that, she found she didn't respect Kyle in the same way she had once. In fairness to him, what she had done for so many years of their relationship was to put him on a pedestal. She admired him completely, and felt that his opinions automatically superceded her own. She didn't give him a chance to be fallible; to be human.

In fact, Kyle was as deeply insecure as his wife, probably more so, and had come to require her constant admiration and their mutual subtle 'put down' of Tracy in order to make himself feel less vulnerable and less worthless. When she began this newfound discovery of herself, gaining confidence and tentatively voicing her own opinions and desires, the very fabric of what their relationship had been based upon had begun to unravel.

She hadn't only been dabbling with sex outside the marriage; she had been eroding the very foundation of the life they had built together. A harsh light shone on what she had always idealized in her mind as a 'perfect love', and it was badly tarnished. On some basic level they both realized it, but like so many people caught in prisons of their own making, they were terrified at the prospect of unlocking the gates.

And so Tracy continued with the charade, until that final therapy session when Dr. Pearson suddenly turned to her and asked, "Why are you here, Tracy?"

"Excuse me?" She didn't expect the question, feeling put on the spot.

"I asked, why are you here? What do you hope to get out of this? You've been coming for several weeks now, twice a week, like a 'good girl'," his fingers marked the air with imaginary quotation marks. "And you promised, at the beginning, to close the doors, remember? To seal off the exits and really give this relationship your full attention.

"But it doesn't seem to me that's what's happening here. You don't seem to be 'present' any longer." She looked at him, her eyes full of fear. Her knuckles, white with tension, clutched the arms of her chair.

Dr. Pearson continued. "I'm going to ask you a question, Tracy, and please answer it honestly. You won't do Kyle or yourself a bit of good if you give me the answer you think I want to hear, or that you think is expected of you. I've been in this business long enough to know that you can't will a marriage to work. You have to want it; to long for it and be willing to give it one hundred percent of yourself to rebuild it.

"So listen hard, Tracy, and take your time responding. You're safe here. My question is this. Do you want to continue to work on this marriage, or do you want to work on how to say goodbye? There is no right answer. It's a matter of the heart, and you can't force your heart to feel something it doesn't feel."

The room seemed to close in on her, and she felt as if she might faint. It was as if she were in a movie, and the camera had just zoomed in for a close up of her face. Sounds were muffled and the world seemed to slow to a standstill as they all, even she, waited for her response.