Once Upon a Marriage

“You’re marrying your shrink?”

“Marie!” The sharpness of the tone surprised her. But made Marie feel good, too, in a little-girl kind of way. It was a remnant of the mother she’d known. The one who’d disciplined her. Set boundaries. And been an example to her.

“Don’t be disrespectful, sweetie, please.” Barbara’s tone softened. “I know this is sudden. I knew you’d be shocked. Which was why I wanted to tell you first and by myself. It’s just... For so long I thought what I was feeling for Bruce was transference—it’s not uncommon, you know, for clients to think they’re falling for their therapists...”

Marie thought that was exactly what was happening.

“But after this last time with your father... I didn’t hurt, Marie. I felt sorry for him. But I was fine. I realized I didn’t need therapy anymore...”

“You quit therapy completely?”

“Yes.”

“What about your medication?”

Barbara had been on one form or another of antianxiety and antidepressant medication since Marie was in high school.

“I’ve been off it for almost a year...”

“What?” Marie jumped up. Walked to the wide window in her living room, looking down at the street below. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to make certain I was ready, that I could make it without help, before I told you about it. My biggest regret is what my unstable relationship with your father did to you, Marie...”

“You’ve been medication free for almost a year.” She had to get this straight. Barbara had been needy for so long...

Marie wasn’t sure what to do with this new version of her mother.

“Anyway, after I quit therapy I realized that I hadn’t needed it for a long time. What I needed—wanted—was Bruce. He makes me laugh. I make him laugh. He loves me in a way I’ve never been loved, Marie...”

She wasn’t sure how much of this she needed to hear.

“Don’t be angry, baby.”

“I’m not.” In the least. Shocked, yes. Doubtful, yeah, that, too.

“So... Bruce—he’s, what, ten years older than you?” She’d met her mother’s therapist once. When her mother had asked her to join them for a session. She and Gabi had been in town during summer break and Gabi had joined in, too. Because Marie had asked if she could. That must have been five years ago or so.

“Seven.”

“And divorced?”

“He’s never been married, Marie. I know it’s hard to believe, but he said he just never met a woman he cared more about than his work. Until me.”

Wow. It sounded like a fairy tale.

And a disaster waiting to happen?

“When’s the date?”

“Next weekend. In Las Vegas. At our age, we just want to get the legalities out of the way and start living life. We’re going on a nearly three-week Caribbean cruise for our honeymoon, and then, later in the year we want to take a trip to Italy.”

A week and two days away. For once in her life Marie was speechless. Her mother was getting married—not to her father—in less than two weeks.

“I know I’ve shocked you, Marie. But please be happy for me, sweetie. Please?”

“I am happy for you.” And she was also worried. “Even if the happiness in your voice only lasted a week, I’m thrilled to hear it, Mom. Truly. I’m just...as you say, shocked.”

“Bruce and I... We were hoping that you’d be there. For the wedding.”