Since when did we become the voice of reason? Sooner or later you play all the parts.
They were a beautiful couple, his British accent made him all the more handsome; she was much younger with an exotic Latina flair. Gerard and Marta had come to therapy seeking help as the marriage was out of control. The police along with the court system, attorneys, restraining orders, and veiled threats against each other, were now ongoing and egregious.
Their daily actions were both conspicuously bad and offensive, including Marta’s ramming Gerard’s Bentley with her car and having him thrown out of their Ten-Million dollar home and put in jail, based on her accusations that he had beaten her and threatened her life. Now they sat before the Psychologist looking to see if there was anything left to save of the marriage.
The transgressions in the marriage were numerous and both parties were complicit in their infidelity. This disloyalty, might have been expected from Gerard, he had a long history of womanizing ways. But Marta, she was but a novice, a wide eyed child with dreams and expectations in the world of such unfaithfulness, compared to her husband— yet certainly not an innocent. He had been living with a woman his age with her two children while Marta was out of town for several months during the summer. She had gone back to her country for some plastic surgery. While there, Marta had also taken a lover and disclosed this with some amount of bravado, to the doctor.
“Why did you get plastic surgery? Was there a physical problem? You are so young.” Marta responded, “Oh, I went for pussy rejuvenation… do you want me to show you? I had lost weight and my pussy was hanging too low.” She stood up motioning to her pubic area. The doctor vehemently replied, “No, no… that is ok, you don’t have to show me, I understand what you had done.”
Leaving the office after her individual session with the doctor that afternoon, Marta paused; leaning against the door, she looked the doctor up and down and said, “I can see why Gerard comes to you, he likes “Granniii Ladieeess”… you are his type.” The Dr. was confused and asked, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Marta repeated, “Granniii Ladieees… you know, the older women, he likes that, you are his type. That woman he was living with while I was away in Colombia was in her forties, ugh… older!”
The Doctor looked at Marta in disbelief; taken aback by what she had just heard. She thought to herself, oh boy, I’ve got my work cut out for me with this one. Of course she has no respect for her twenty year senior, new husband; this girl respects no one, not even her doctor. The Doctor just looked at Marta, speechless, and thought, she stands proudly in her expensive new clothes, and new found lifestyle, yet her crassness shows through like a dingy light, casting its harsh yellow brashness on Marta’s store bought, prestige. Sadly, no matter what you dressed Marta up in, her greed and shallow interior would color her future as fate would have it…