It was a small advert, flickering on the right hand column of
Stacey’s screen, but it spoke to her. Played on her mind. After another evening
of silence - sat next to each other, eating off trays on their laps, kind ‘good
nights’ and rolling away to their own thoughts - she’d had enough. She called
the number, made the appointment. “You’ve
been coming here for a few months now, do you feel any differently towards your
husband?” asked the kindly looking old man with a pointy grey beard and half
moon glasses. She shook her head. “No.
It’s the same. But, well, I haven’t told you everything.” “For
this to work, you need to be honest.” “I
know.” “So?” “I’ve
been seeing someone else.” “Having
an affair?” “Yes.” “And
how does that make you feel, Stacey?” Stacey
squirmed. “Excited, alive... guilty.” The psychologist didn’t say anything,
waiting patiently. “I don’t know what I want. It’s so silly, I don’t want to
ruin everything, hurt him. I just wish I could feel like I did before.” “When
you first met …