Cait
The change in Matt continued. He was up and dressed before me in the morning, doing more than his fair share of household tasks, out for walks, down the gym, researching various classes and courses, and telling me all about them with great enthusiasm. Curiously, the more he signed up for things, the more I found I was less and less inclined to go to my classes; in fact, I had a strange urge to put on my dressing gown and to stay in with my feet up, watching telly, instead of dashing out to Zumba or yoga or choir.
Matt and I had agreed to travel separately to the third session with Gina, because I’d been visiting Jed, and Matt had been down at the gym doing a t’ai chi class. However, my car broke down on the way over to Warminster and I had to wait for the road recovery men. When I texted Matt to let him know, he’d just arrived at Gina’s, so he decided to have a session with her on his own.
He got home around the same time that I did, and got out of his car looking subdued. He let out a deep breath.
‘You OK?’ I asked. ‘Has something happened?’
He nodded and let out a deep sigh. ‘I had an amazing realization.’
‘You did? Come inside then and tell me.’
We went in and sat in the kitchen.
‘So what is it?’
Matt took another deep breath. He really did look overcome by some deep emotion, and I wondered what trauma Gina had unearthed. ‘I realized that you’re not Rex,’ he said as he sat on a stool at the island. Rex had been his dog and constant companion from childhood until he left for college.
OK, I thought. Not quite what I expected. ‘I’m not your dog?’
Matt seemed genuinely moved and close to tears. He always got that way when he talked about Rex. ‘Yes. Remember I told you about him? I had him from when he was a puppy. He was my constant companion, went with me everywhere, slept at the end of my bed and always knew what I was thinking, if I was sad or happy.’
‘OK. And how does that relate to me exactly?’
‘Rex instinctively knew what I was thinking and feeling. I realized that I actually have to voice my thoughts to you; you’re not telepathic in the way that he was.’
I had to try hard to resist the urge to laugh. I knew that would be the worst possible reaction and that Matt was having a sincere moment.
‘Oh … OK. So does that mean you’ll be talking to me more now?’
Matt nodded. ‘Yes, absolutely, and I’m sorry that I expected you to just know what I was thinking and feeling.’
‘As long as you don’t get me a lead or call me for a walk, that’s fine.’
Matt laughed. ‘But it got me thinking, how about we get a dog again?’
‘Oh, Matt, we can’t, not at the moment. Animals cost money – vets’ fees, food, kennels if we go away. There’s too much uncertainty in our lives at the moment.’
Matt looked so disappointed that I almost changed my mind, but then he nodded. ‘You’re right as always. It’s not a good time to make a commitment like that.’
‘I am sorry, Matt.’
‘Maybe later, when we’re settled again.’
‘Sure.’
‘Oh, and Gina’s given us some homework.’
‘Another questionnaire?’
‘No.’
‘Another date?’
‘Nope. We have to give each other a non-sexual massage. Twenty minutes each. It’s to get us used to touching each other again.’
‘Homework?’
‘She wants us to get comfortable with each other physically.’
‘I’m hopeless at massage.’
‘Me too. She said to use our hands to explore and stroke each other, to trace each other’s faces, necks, frames, right down to the tip of our toes with our fingers, but not the breasts or genital areas. We can stroke, rub, squeeze, but that’s all. You up for that?’
‘Guess so. How often?’ I asked.
‘Two or three times a week. Does that sound OK?’
‘Can’t do any harm.’
‘We could try it tonight if you’re not doing anything, and she said to try not to see it as a chore.’
‘Gina was the one who used the word homework.’
‘Fair point,’ said Matt.
*
In the evening, Matt dimmed the lights in the bedroom and we stood there looking at each other. It felt odd and awkward.
‘Who goes first?’ I asked.
‘I will,’ said Matt. He stripped off and lay on the bed on his front. I climbed up next to him and ran my hands up his back.
‘How’s that?’
‘Like you’re tickling me. Needs more pressure.’
I pressed harder. ‘Like that?’
‘Hmm. Not really. Maybe try my shoulders.’
I attempted to knead in the way that masseurs did, but I was on my knees and leaning over him felt uncomfortable. ‘We need a massage couch that we can get round if we’re going to do this. This is clumsy. Maybe we should do it on the floor. How does it feel?’
‘Like you’re pinching me. Try gliding up with the palms of your hands.’
‘OK but maybe we need oil,’ I said as I tried using my palms then felt the right side of my back pull. ‘Owwwwww.’
‘What is it?’ Matt asked and turned to look. ‘Arghhhhh.’
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘I’ve cricked my neck.’
‘And I’ve pulled my back.’
He turned over and lay on his back, and I lay back next to him and both of us started laughing.
‘You OK?’ I asked.
‘Yeah. You?’
‘Yes, but how about we do each other’s feet to start with. Remember? You used to massage my feet when the kids were young. You were good at it.’
‘I do, and you used to do mine. Let’s go and watch telly and do that.’
We hobbled off the bed like a pair of geriatrics and made our way downstairs, where we put on the TV to watch the latest series of House of Cards on Netflix.
‘Subtitles on or off?’ Matt asked.
‘On.’
Matt settled at one end of the sofa and I sat at the other and we took turns massaging each other’s feet. It felt good, comfortable and familiar. Maybe this is what love is, I thought, not the fireworks or intensity of passion, but something softer and safer.
‘It’s a start,’ Matt said when we’d finished.
‘Not very arousing, though.’
‘No, but it wasn’t supposed to be, was it? It was just to get us back touching each other.’
‘Job done. You still want to leave me?’
Matt squeezed my foot. ‘Never, Cait. Relationships change, don’t they? We can make it work again, and we still have a few sessions with Gina.’
I smiled back at him and felt a surge of affection. ‘Cup of tea and a biscuit?’
‘Please.’
*
Later that night, some devilish part of me couldn’t resist a quick look on Tom’s Facebook page. There were some new posts showing photos of him. I looked at the date. Yesterday. Hmm. Who’d tagged him in? I clicked through. A woman called Cici Williams. Hmm. My age, dark, attractive. They’d clearly had a day out at Regent’s Park Zoo. I was pretty sure he’d sold the location to her as an adventure. Hmm. He hadn’t wasted any time.