Chapter Text
“How are things with Tony?”
Caitriona’s eyes moved towards the window.
The rain had been falling since morning, leaving the glass streaked and the small garden below almost colourless. She sat with one ankle resting over the opposite knee, the toe of her boot moving slightly beneath the hem of her trousers.
“Fine.”
Dr. Levin nodded once.
Caitriona looked back at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You did something.”
“I nodded.”
“It was a very loaded nod.”
Dr. Levin’s mouth curved faintly. “How would you describe the load?”
“That’s not how this works.”
“No?”
“No. I pay you, and you tell me what your face is doing.”
“I’m listening.”
“That was not a listening nod.”
“What sort was it?”
Caitriona narrowed her eyes at her, but there was little force behind it.
“The sort that says you’ve heard that answer before.”
“I have.”
“Well, perhaps things are consistently fine.”
“Perhaps.”
Caitriona let out a quiet breath and looked down at her hands. Her fingers were folded tightly together in her lap.
Dr. Levin waited.
“We stopped going,” Caitriona said.
“To couples therapy?”
“Temporarily.”
“How long has temporarily been?”
“Three months.”
Dr. Levin nodded again.
“There. That one.”
“What did that nod say?”
“That three months isn’t temporary.”
“I don’t think it said that.”
“It did.”
“Why did you stop?”
Caitriona shifted slightly in the chair.
“There wasn’t a dramatic decision. Tony had something on one week, then I was away, and then we didn’t book another appointment.”
“Did either of you suggest that you should?”
“We spoke about it.”
“What did you decide?”
“That we would.”
“But you haven’t.”
“No.”
“Was stopping helpful?”
Caitriona gave a short laugh.
“No. Probably not.”
“What makes you say that?”
Caitriona’s foot stopped moving.
“We could have done with her this week.”
Dr. Levin left a brief pause.
“What happened this week?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing that made you think you could have done with your couples therapist?”
“It was an argument.”
“What was the argument about?”
Caitriona glanced towards the clock on the table beside Dr. Levin, then back at the window.
“We went to Stratford.”
“To see Sam?”
“Yes.”
“How was the play?”
“He was brilliant.”
The answer came without hesitation. Her face softened briefly, and the corners of her mouth lifted.
“Really brilliant,” she added. “I knew he would be good, obviously, but it was different from seeing him on a set. There was nowhere to hide. He had to hold the whole room, and he did.”
“You sound proud of him.”
“I am.”
“Was Tony?”
“Yes. He said he was excellent.”
“And the argument happened after the play?”
“After dinner.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona rubbed one thumb across the knuckle of the other.
“Sam brought Steph.”
“The woman you met at the wedding?”
“Briefly.”
“What was that like?”
“At the wedding?”
“This time.”
Caitriona’s lips pressed together.
“Different.”
“In what way?”
“She seemed nice at the wedding.”
“And at dinner?”
Caitriona gave a small shrug.
“I didn’t particularly like her.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona watched her carefully.
“You’re not going to ask why?”
“I thought I would give you time to tell me.”
“That sounds very generous.”
“Was it difficult not to like her?”
“No.”
“Was it surprising?”
“Yes.”
“What surprised you?”
Caitriona leaned back and crossed her arms.
“I thought she was quite warm when we met before. She was friendly. Normal. It was a wedding, so we only spoke for a few minutes, but I had no reason to think badly of her.”
“And this time you did?”
“I wouldn’t say I thought badly of her.”
“You said you didn’t like her.”
“That isn’t quite the same thing.”
“What did you feel towards her?”
Caitriona’s gaze dropped briefly.
“I found her irritating.”
“What did you find irritating?”
Caitriona looked up again. “Does it matter?”
“It mattered enough that you and Tony argued.”
“We didn’t argue because I found her irritating.”
“What did you argue about?”
“Tony overreacted.”
“To what?”
“To a comment.”
“What did you say?”
Caitriona unfolded her arms and adjusted the cuff of her jumper.
“I said I didn’t think Sam looked happy.”
“And how did Tony respond?”
“He said I had spent the entire evening watching them.”
“Had you?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
Dr. Levin remained still.
“I was sitting opposite them,” Caitriona added. “It would have been difficult not to notice anything.”
“What did you notice?”
Caitriona’s expression tightened.
“She was very different from how she had been at the wedding.”
“How did that affect you?”
“It made me wonder which version was real.”
“Why was that important to you?”
“Because Sam is my friend.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“And you were concerned for him.”
“Yes.”
“What were you concerned about?”
Caitriona paused.
“That she isn’t genuine.”
“What does genuine mean to you in this context?”
“That she wasn’t simply having dinner. She was presenting something.”
“What did you feel she was presenting?”
“Their relationship.”
“To whom?”
Caitriona’s eyes met hers.
“Everyone.”
“And did that include you?”
“I was at the table.”
“That isn’t quite what I asked.”
Caitriona shifted in her seat.
“Yes. I suppose.”
“What was it like to feel that she was presenting their relationship to you?”
“It was irritating.”
“What about it irritated you?”
Caitriona let out a breath through her nose.
“She kept speaking for him.”
“How did you feel when she did that?”
“I thought he looked uncomfortable.”
“That is what you thought about Sam. What did you feel?”
Caitriona’s eyes moved away.
“Annoyed.”
“With her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t know him well enough to speak for him.”
Dr. Levin watched her.
Caitriona’s jaw tightened slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“There is very clearly something.”
“You felt she didn’t know him well enough.”
“She doesn’t.”
“How did you decide that?”
“Because she got things wrong.”
“What did that mean to you?”
“It meant she was performing an intimacy they don’t have.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
Caitriona was silent.
Dr. Levin waited.
“Protective,” Caitriona said eventually.
“Of Sam?”
“Obviously.”
“What did he need protecting from?”
“I didn’t say he needed protecting.”
“You said you felt protective.”
“That doesn’t mean I thought he was in danger.”
“What did it mean?”
Caitriona looked down at her hands again.
“That I didn’t like watching someone pretend to know him when she doesn’t.”
“Why did that affect you personally?”
“Because I do know him.”
Dr. Levin inclined her head.
“Yes.”
Caitriona’s eyes lifted.
There was a brief silence.
“I do,” she repeated.
“I know.”
The tension around Caitriona’s mouth eased slightly.
“I know when something is wrong with him.”
“What did you believe was wrong?”
“He looked off.”
“How did seeing that make you feel?”
“Worried.”
“What else?”
“Nothing else.”
Dr. Levin did not respond.
Caitriona looked towards the window again.
“He wasn’t himself,” she said. “He barely spoke unless someone spoke directly to him. She answered half the questions anyway. She kept touching him, and he didn’t respond. Not really.”
Dr. Levin waited until Caitriona looked back at her.
“You noticed how often she touched him.”
“She was doing it constantly.”
“And you noticed whether he responded.”
“It was obvious.”
“What did you feel when she touched him?”
Caitriona’s eyebrows lifted.
“I’m sorry?”
“What did you feel?”
“I thought it looked forced.”
“That is an interpretation.”
“It was.”
“What did you feel?”
Caitriona stared at her.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you feel uncomfortable?”
“I felt uncomfortable for him.”
“What did you feel in your own body?”
Caitriona’s eyes narrowed.
“Is this really necessary?”
“You seem upset.”
“I am not upset.”
“You said you and Tony had an argument. You said the two of you probably needed your therapist this week. You have described Steph in considerable detail, and your hands have been clenched since you began talking about dinner.”
Caitriona looked down.
Her fingers separated slowly.
“I’m irritated,” she said.
“With Tony?”
“Yes.”
“Only Tony?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He turned a perfectly ordinary concern into something else.”
“What did he turn it into?”
Caitriona’s mouth flattened.
“He said I was jealous.”
Dr. Levin gave no visible reaction.
“He said I was jealous of Steph,” Caitriona continued. “Because apparently he liked her at the wedding, and because I did too then, so the only possible explanation for not liking her now is that she’s still with Sam.”
“What do you think of that explanation?”
“I think it’s insulting.”
“In what way?”
“Because it assumes I’m incapable of seeing her clearly.”
“Do you think Tony believes you are incapable of seeing her clearly?”
“I think Tony sees what he wants to see whenever Sam is involved.”
“What does he want to see?”
“That there’s something inappropriate in every interaction.”
“Is that what he said?”
“Not in those words.”
“What words did he use?”
Caitriona leaned back again, crossing her arms more tightly.
“He said I was watching them all evening.”
“You said that already.”
“Because that was his argument.”
“What did he mean by it?”
“He meant exactly what he said.”
“What did you hear in it?”
Caitriona’s eyes flashed briefly.
“That I was behaving like some jealous teenager.”
“And were you?”
“No.”
Dr. Levin nodded once.
Caitriona gave a humourless smile.
“You don’t believe me.”
“I haven’t said that.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I’m trying to understand what jealousy would mean to you.”
“It would mean Tony was right.”
“About what?”
Caitriona looked away.
Dr. Levin waited.
“About Sam,” Caitriona said.
“What would he be right about?”
“That I can’t bear seeing him with someone else.”
“And can you?”
“Yes.”
The answer came quickly again.
Dr. Levin’s voice stayed even.
“What was different this time?”
“Nothing was different.”
“You had seen Sam with women before.”
“Yes.”
“And you have not described reacting this strongly.”
“I am not reacting strongly.”
“You have just spent 10 minutes defending your reading of a woman you have met twice.”
Caitriona’s eyes glistened, but her expression remained controlled.
“I’m allowed not to like her.”
“Yes.”
“I’m allowed to think she’s wrong for him.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m allowed to be worried when someone I care about looks miserable.”
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin allowed a short pause.
“None of those things are in dispute.”
Caitriona looked at her.
“Then what are we doing?”
“Trying to understand why Tony’s accusation hurt you.”
“Because it was unfair.”
“Was that all?”
“Yes.”
“What did you feel when he said you were jealous?”
“Angry.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Did you feel exposed?”
Caitriona’s chin lifted slightly.
“No.”
“Misunderstood?”
“Yes.”
“Afraid?”
“No.”
Dr. Levin watched her for a moment.
“What do you think jealousy would expose?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why does the possibility make you so angry?”
“Because I wasn’t jealous.”
“What were you?”
“Concerned.”
Dr. Levin leaned back slightly in her chair.
“All right.”
The room went quiet.
Caitriona’s eyes remained on her. A tear gathered along her lower lashes, but she blinked before it could fall.
Dr. Levin’s voice softened.
“When you saw Sam sitting beside Steph, what did you feel?”
“I’ve told you.”
“You’ve told me what you thought about her. You’ve told me what you believed was happening with Sam. You’ve told me why Tony was wrong.”
Caitriona looked down.
“I’m asking what happened inside you.”
Nothing moved in the room except the rain against the window.
After several seconds, Caitriona shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“Then perhaps that is where we begin.”
Caitriona looked at her for several seconds.
“That feels like a very expensive way of saying you don’t know either.”
Dr. Levin smiled faintly. “I don’t know what you felt.”
“Useful.”
“But you seem to know what you didn’t feel.”
Caitriona’s brow tightened.
“I wasn’t jealous.”
“All right.”
The ease of the answer made her pause.
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
Caitriona looked down at her hands. Her fingers had folded together again, though more loosely this time.
Dr. Levin waited.
“I didn’t like her touching him,” Caitriona said.
Her voice was quiet enough that the rain nearly covered it.
Dr. Levin did not move.
Caitriona looked up. “You could at least pretend that’s surprising.”
“Would that help?”
“No.”
“What was it like to say?”
Caitriona let out a breath and looked away.
“Not particularly flattering.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“I know.”
She rubbed her palm over one knee.
“It feels childish.”
“Because?”
“Because he’s allowed to have someone touch him.”
“Yes.”
“And I have no right to object.”
“Perhaps not.”
Caitriona looked back at her. “You’re agreeing with me quite a lot today.”
“I’m not asking whether you had the right to feel it.”
“What are you asking?”
“Whether you did.”
Caitriona’s mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“I didn’t like it.”
“What did you dislike about it?”
“She was making a point.”
“You felt the touching was directed at you.”
“Some of it.”
“And that affected you.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Caitriona shifted in the chair. “It made me want her to stop.”
Dr. Levin left a small pause.
“Did you want Sam to stop her?”
Caitriona’s eyes lifted quickly.
“I didn’t expect him to make a scene.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“No.”
“No, you didn’t want him to stop her?”
“No, I didn’t want him to touch her back.”
The words came out before she could soften them.
Her face changed. She looked down almost immediately.
Dr. Levin’s voice remained gentle. “And did he?”
“No.”
“How did that feel?”
Caitriona’s fingers moved to the cuff of her jumper.
“I don’t know.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona drew in a slow breath.
“Better.”
“Better than what?”
“Than if he had.”
Dr. Levin nodded once.
Caitriona looked towards the window.
“That doesn’t mean what Tony thinks it means.”
“What does Tony think it means?”
“That I want Sam.”
Dr. Levin said nothing.
Caitriona turned back sharply. “That was not an invitation for silence.”
“What would you like me to say?”
“That wanting someone not to touch another woman is not the same as wanting to leave your husband and run away with him.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Thank you.”
“But Tony may not experience those as entirely separate things.”
Caitriona’s expression cooled.
“Tony has always experienced Sam as whatever is most threatening to him at the time.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“Because it’s true.”
“What was threatening this time?”
“That I noticed.”
Dr. Levin tilted her head slightly.
Caitriona’s jaw moved.
“That I noticed Sam wasn’t happy,” she clarified.
“And that you were relieved he didn’t respond to Steph.”
Caitriona’s eyes narrowed.
“I didn’t say relieved.”
“You said it felt better.”
“That isn’t the same word.”
“No.”
The room went quiet again.
Caitriona rubbed her thumb slowly over the side of her wedding ring.
“Fine,” she said. “I was relieved.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“And Tony saw that.”
Caitriona’s hand stilled.
“What did he see?” Dr. Levin asked.
“I don’t know. Apparently everything.”
“What did he say?”
Caitriona looked down.
“That I seemed pleased.”
“When?”
“When Sam moved away from her.”
“How did you respond?”
“I told him he was imagining things.”
“Was he?”
Caitriona did not answer.
Dr. Levin waited without looking away.
“He may have seen something,” Caitriona said eventually.
“What do you think he saw?”
“That I was uncomfortable.”
“And then relieved.”
“Yes.”
“What did that mean to Tony?”
Caitriona gave a small, tired shake of her head.
“The same thing everything means to Tony when Sam is involved.”
“Which is?”
“That there is always something between us that he can’t reach.”
Dr. Levin stayed quiet.
Caitriona looked at her.
“That is his language, not mine.”
“Does it feel untrue?”
“It feels dramatic.”
“That is not quite the same thing.”
Caitriona leaned back and crossed her arms again.
“There has never been an affair.”
“I know.”
“I have never hidden Sam from him.”
“I know.”
“I include Tony. I always have. I don’t meet Sam secretly. I don’t delete messages. I don’t invent reasons to see him.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“You’ve been transparent.”
“Yes.”
“Does transparency make something painless?”
Caitriona’s eyes moved away.
“No.”
“What do you think has been painful for Tony?”
“The history.”
“Only the history?”
Caitriona let out a breath through her nose.
“The closeness.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“What about the closeness?”
“That it never became less.”
“Did Tony expect it to?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because filming ended.”
The answer came with a faint edge.
“And you thought that was unreasonable.”
“It was unreasonable.”
“Why?”
“Because Sam didn’t stop being part of my life because a job ended.”
“No.”
“He’s been there for twelve years.”
“Yes.”
“He’s family.”
Dr. Levin’s expression remained calm.
Caitriona watched her. “You don’t like that word.”
“I haven’t said that.”
“You always pause when I use it.”
“I’m thinking about what it means to you.”
“It means exactly what it means.”
“Someone permanent?”
“Yes.”
“Someone you would not consider giving up?”
Caitriona’s face tightened.
“No one should ask me to give up a friend.”
“Has Tony asked you to?”
“Not directly.”
“What has he asked for?”
“Boundaries.”
“What does that mean in practice?”
“It depends on the day.”
“Give me an example.”
Caitriona looked down at her hands.
“Fewer calls.”
“Did you agree?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he doesn’t get to decide how often I speak to my friends.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“Anything else?”
“He didn’t want Sam coming for Christmas last year.”
“Did Sam come?”
“Yes.”
“And how was that?”
“Fine.”
Dr. Levin gave her a look.
Caitriona almost smiled.
“Mostly fine.”
“What made it not entirely fine?”
“Tony was withdrawn.”
“Did you know why?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“I’m asking what you did.”
Caitriona shifted in her seat.
“I tried to include him.”
“In what?”
“Everything. Conversation. Plans.”
“Did that help?”
“No.”
“Why do you think it didn’t?”
“Because he had already decided Sam’s presence meant something about our marriage.”
“What did it mean?”
Caitriona’s expression hardened again.
“That I wanted Sam there more than I wanted Tony to be comfortable.”
Dr. Levin allowed the words to sit between them.
“Was that true?” she asked.
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Then Caitriona looked down.
Dr. Levin waited.
“I wanted both,” Caitriona said.
“Yes.”
“I wanted Tony not to make it into a choice.”
“And did it feel like one to him?”
“Yes.”
Caitriona’s voice had softened.
“What was he asking you to choose?”
“He wasn’t.”
“What did it feel like he was asking?”
Caitriona pressed her lips together.
“To prove something.”
“What?”
“That he came first.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“And did he?”
Caitriona looked up.
“He’s my husband.”
“That tells me his role.”
“It tells you the answer.”
“Does it?”
Her eyes flashed briefly.
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona uncrossed her arms, then crossed them again.
“This is exactly what Tony does,” she said. “He takes two completely different relationships and puts them on a scale.”
“Do you think he experiences them as completely separate?”
“He should.”
“What would help him do that?”
“Trusting me.”
“Has he said he doesn’t trust you?”
“He says he trusts that I won’t sleep with Sam.”
Dr. Levin’s gaze remained steady.
Caitriona gave a humourless laugh.
“Yes. I know.”
“What does he say he doesn’t trust?”
Caitriona looked towards the window.
“That I know where the line is.”
“What line?”
“The one between friendship and something else.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Caitriona turned back.
“I am married to Tony.”
“That is another fact about your relationship with Tony.”
“It is the line.”
“Is it?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What are you asking me?”
“I’m asking how you know when your relationship with Sam has moved beyond what feels acceptable inside your marriage.”
“It hasn’t.”
“Never?”
“No.”
Dr. Levin did not challenge her.
Caitriona watched her for a moment, then looked down.
“We’re affectionate,” she said. “We always have been.”
“Yes.”
“And Tony knew that.”
“Yes.”
“We speak often.”
“Yes.”
“He knew that too.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona’s fingers tightened together.
“He knew Sam loved me.”
The room became still.
Dr. Levin’s expression did not change.
“He knew before we married,” Caitriona added.
“And what did you ask Tony to understand about that?”
“That it wasn’t something I encouraged.”
“Did you believe that?”
Caitriona looked up sharply.
“I didn’t promise Sam anything.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I never told him to wait for me.”
“No.”
“I never told him I would leave Tony.”
“No.”
“I have been very clear with him.”
Dr. Levin nodded. “About what you would do.”
Caitriona went still.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been clear that you would not leave your marriage. That you would not begin a relationship with him. That there were limits.”
“Yes.”
“Have you been as clear about what you feel?”
Caitriona’s face closed.
“That is irrelevant.”
“To whom?”
“To everyone.”
“Sam?”
“He knows enough.”
“Tony?”
“He knows too much.”
Dr. Levin allowed a brief silence.
“And you?” she asked.
Caitriona looked down.
“What about me?”
“Do you know?”
“Yes.”
“What do you know?”
“That Sam is important to me.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“That I love him.”
“Yes.”
“That I don’t want to lose him.”
“Yes.”
Caitriona looked up.
“There. I’ve said all of this before.”
“You have.”
“So what are we doing?”
“Looking at why Tony’s accusation unsettled you this week.”
“It unsettled me because he was wrong.”
“Perhaps.”
Caitriona stared at her.
Dr. Levin continued quietly.
“You have known for years that Tony is uncomfortable with Sam’s place in your life. You have disagreed. You have defended the friendship. You have explained the history. None of that is new.”
“No.”
“What was new was Steph.”
Caitriona’s eyes moved away.
Dr. Levin waited.
“Tony saw you respond to another woman occupying a place beside Sam,” she said. “And he believed that response confirmed something he has been trying to tell you.”
“That I’m jealous.”
“That Sam’s romantic life affects you.”
Caitriona’s mouth opened, then closed again.
Dr. Levin leaned back slightly.
“You don’t have to call it jealousy.”
“Good.”
“But perhaps we can ask why it mattered that he did not touch her back.”
Caitriona looked down at the carpet.
The toe of her boot had begun moving again.
“It meant he was uncomfortable.”
“And that mattered because you care about him.”
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“What else might it have meant?”
Caitriona shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Did it mean the relationship was not as close as Steph wanted it to appear?”
“Yes.”
“And how did that feel?”
Caitriona’s hands opened in her lap.
“Safer.”
The word seemed to surprise both of them.
Dr. Levin did not speak immediately.
Caitriona looked up.
“I don’t mean safe.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“All right.”
Caitriona’s eyes filled again. She blinked and turned towards the window.
Dr. Levin’s voice softened.
“What felt less dangerous if Sam wasn’t close to her?”
Caitriona’s lips pressed together.
“That things wouldn’t change.”
“Between you and Sam?”
She nodded.
Dr. Levin allowed a long pause.
“What would changing mean for your marriage?”
Caitriona looked back at her.
“My marriage?”
“Yes.”
“I thought we were talking about Sam.”
“We are talking about the place Sam has in your life. Your marriage is part of that life.”
Caitriona wiped beneath one eye.
“I don’t know.”
“What does Sam’s presence give you now?”
“Friendship.”
“Yes.”
“Support.”
“Yes.”
“He knows me.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“He makes me laugh,” Caitriona added.
Her voice had become quieter.
“He makes things feel lighter.”
“Do you have that with Tony?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes.”
Caitriona looked down.
“Tony is tired.”
“So are you.”
“We have a child. We have a house. We have actual responsibilities.”
“And Sam?”
“Sam arrives without any of that attached.”
Dr. Levin nodded slowly.
“What is that like?”
“Easy.”
“Is it only easy?”
Caitriona’s eyes lifted.
“No.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona swallowed.
“It feels good.”
“What feels good?”
“The way I feel when he’s there.”
Dr. Levin’s voice stayed gentle.
“How do you feel?”
Caitriona looked down at her wedding ring.
“More like myself.”
The room fell quiet.
Dr. Levin did not ask another question immediately.
Caitriona’s thumb moved once over the band.
“That sounds awful,” she said.
“It sounds painful.”
“For Tony.”
“And for you?”
Caitriona’s eyes filled.
She gave a small, shaky laugh and wiped at one cheek.
“I’m the one who made it this way.”
Dr. Levin’s expression softened.
“We don’t know that yet.”
“I invited Sam into our home when I knew Tony didn’t want him there.”
“You wanted someone important to you included.”
“I kept telling Tony there was no reason for it to bother him.”
“You believed that.”
“I told him he was insecure.”
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“Could he also have been hurt?”
Caitriona looked down.
“Yes.”
“Could both be true?”
Another tear slipped down her cheek.
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin waited while she wiped it away.
Caitriona took a slow breath.
“He thinks Sam gets the best of me.”
“What does that mean?”
“That I’m lighter with him. Happier. That I listen more. That when Sam calls, I answer, but when Tony wants to talk, I’m tired.”
Dr. Levin remained quiet.
“He says I defend Sam before I’ve even heard what he’s saying,” Caitriona continued. “That every concern becomes an attack on my friendship. That I expect him to accept things I would never accept from him.”
“Do you?”
Caitriona looked up.
“I don’t know.”
“What would it be like if Tony had someone in his life who made him feel more like himself?”
Her face tightened.
Dr. Levin did not continue.
Caitriona looked towards the window again.
After several seconds, she shook her head.
“I wouldn’t like it.”
“No.”
“I would tell myself it was fine.”
“Would it be?”
“No.”
Dr. Levin nodded once.
Caitriona closed her eyes briefly.
“That doesn’t mean Tony is right about everything.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t mean Sam shouldn’t be in my life.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t mean I’ve done something terrible.”
“No.”
Caitriona opened her eyes.
“What does it mean, then?”
Dr. Levin’s voice remained soft.
“Perhaps only that Sam’s place in your life has a cost inside your marriage.”
Caitriona looked down at her hands.
“And that you may have been asking Tony to bear that cost without acknowledging it was there.”
The rain had begun to ease against the window.
Caitriona sat very still.
After a while, she said, “He knew.”
“Yes.”
“He knew what Sam was to me.”
“Yes.”
Her voice broke slightly.
“But maybe I didn’t.”
Dr. Levin’s expression remained still.
Caitriona looked down at her hands. Her wedding ring caught briefly against the light from the window as she turned it around her finger.
“What do you think you didn’t know?” Dr. Levin asked.
Caitriona gave a small shake of her head.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because apparently everyone else has known for years.”
“Everyone?”
“Tony. You, perhaps.”
Dr. Levin tilted her head slightly. “What do you imagine I know?”
Caitriona looked up.
“You always go very quiet when I talk about Sam.”
“I go quiet when there is something I think you may need room to hear yourself say.”
“That sounds suspiciously like yes.”
A faint smile appeared on Dr. Levin’s face.
“I know Sam is important to you.”
“We’ve established that.”
“I know Tony has often felt threatened by the relationship.”
“Yes.”
“I know you have spent a great deal of time trying to reassure both of us that those two facts are unrelated.”
Caitriona’s mouth tightened.
“They are not unrelated. They’re simply not proof of what Tony thinks.”
“What does Tony think?”
“That I chose the wrong man.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona looked away.
“He’s never said it exactly like that.”
“How has he said it?”
“He asks why I married him.”
“What do you say?”
“That I love him.”
“Does he believe you?”
“Yes.”
The answer came quickly.
Caitriona paused.
“Most of the time.”
“What makes him doubt it?”
“Sam.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona gave a tired laugh.
“There. We’ve completed the circle.”
“Perhaps.”
“It always ends there.”
“Does that frustrate you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you feel Tony makes Sam responsible for problems that exist between the two of you?”
Caitriona’s face softened slightly.
“Yes.”
“Is he always wrong?”
“No.”
The answer was quiet.
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona rubbed her thumb over her ring again.
“He uses Sam to avoid looking at himself sometimes.”
“In what way?”
“If I say I feel lonely, it becomes because I’m comparing him to Sam. If I say we don’t spend enough time together, he says I always find time for Sam. If I say I don’t feel close to him, he asks whether I feel close to Sam.”
“What happens when he asks that?”
“I get angry.”
“Because?”
“Because it’s deflection.”
“Is it only deflection?”
Caitriona looked at her.
Dr. Levin did not add anything.
“No,” Caitriona said after a moment.
“What else is it?”
“A question he already knows the answer to.”
“And what is the answer?”
“Yes.”
The word was almost swallowed.
Dr. Levin nodded once.
“I do feel close to Sam,” Caitriona added. “That isn’t a revelation.”
“No.”
“I’ve never denied it.”
“No.”
“So why does it become evidence against my marriage?”
“What do you think Tony experiences when you tell him you feel lonely with him, but close to Sam?”
Caitriona’s fingers stilled.
“That he’s failing.”
“Does he say that?”
“Not directly.”
“What does he say?”
“That he can’t compete with twelve years of playing the love of my life.”
Dr. Levin allowed a pause.
“And what do you say to that?”
“That Sam is not Jamie.”
“Does Tony believe you confuse them?”
“No. Not literally.”
“What does he mean, then?”
Caitriona looked towards the window.
“That Sam and I had something built into our lives that most people don’t.”
“Intimacy?”
“Yes.”
“Emotional or physical?”
“Both.”
The answer was quiet but steady.
“And Tony believes that intimacy continued outside the work.”
“It did.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona looked back at her.
“That doesn’t mean it was wrong.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t mean we were having an affair.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t mean I loved Tony less.”
Dr. Levin remained quiet.
Caitriona’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You could answer that one.”
“I don’t know whether you loved Tony less.”
“I didn’t.”
“All right.”
“I didn’t.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona looked down.
“I loved them differently.”
“Yes.”
“That is allowed.”
“Yes.”
Caitriona’s shoulders lowered a little.
Dr. Levin waited until the tension in the room had softened.
“What was different?” she asked.
Caitriona gave her a wary look.
“You know what was different.”
“I know some of what you’ve told me.”
She looked down again.
“Tony was safe.”
“Was?”
“Is.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“Sam wasn’t.”
“In what way?”
“In every way.”
Caitriona gave a brief laugh, but there was no humour in it.
“He was the person everyone wanted. He was surrounded by women. He was always going somewhere, doing something, starting something new. He could never sit still.”
“And Tony?”
“Tony stayed.”
Dr. Levin let the words settle.
“That mattered to you.”
“Yes.”
“Does it still?”
“Of course.”
“What does staying mean to you?”
Caitriona’s eyes moved towards the floor.
“That I don’t have to wonder.”
“Whether he’ll leave?”
“Yes.”
“Whether he’ll choose someone else?”
“Yes.”
“Whether you’re enough?”
Caitriona’s mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin nodded slowly.
“And with Sam?”
“I would always wonder.”
“Even though you believe he loves you.”
Caitriona looked up.
“Those are not the same thing.”
“No.”
“He can love me and still need more than I can give him.”
“More what?”
“Attention. Excitement. Movement. Whatever it is he’s constantly chasing.”
“And Tony doesn’t ask those things of you?”
“No.”
“How does that feel?”
“Peaceful.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona’s gaze dropped.
“Most of the time.”
“What does it feel like the rest of the time?”
She exhaled slowly.
“Quiet.”
“Is quiet different from peaceful?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Caitriona looked at her.
“Peaceful feels chosen.”
“And quiet?”
“Like something stopped.”
The room fell still.
Dr. Levin gave her time.
Caitriona pressed her lips together, then looked away again.
“I don’t want this to become an indictment of Tony.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
“He’s a good man.”
“I know.”
“He’s kind. He’s a wonderful father. He has put up with a great deal because of my work.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“He has never asked me to become smaller,” Caitriona continued. “He has never resented my success.”
“Do you feel loved by him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel wanted?”
Caitriona’s eyes moved back to her.
There was a long pause.
“He loves me,” she said.
Dr. Levin’s expression softened.
“I heard you.”
Caitriona looked down.
“This is unfair.”
“What feels unfair?”
“Reducing a marriage to whether someone still wants to tear your clothes off.”
“I didn’t mention sex.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona folded her arms, then released them almost immediately.
“We have a child,” she said. “We’re tired. We both work. Life isn’t designed around desire.”
“No.”
“And nobody feels the way they did at the beginning forever.”
“Perhaps not.”
Caitriona looked at her sharply.
“Perhaps?”
“I don’t know what everyone feels.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I think I do.”
“Most marriages settle.”
“Yes.”
“Things become less urgent.”
“Yes.”
“That’s normal.”
“It can be.”
Caitriona’s jaw tightened.
“You’re being very careful.”
“So are you.”
The words landed softly.
Caitriona looked away.
Dr. Levin waited until she looked back.
“What would happen if you allowed yourself to say you are dissatisfied?” she asked.
“With what?”
“With the marriage.”
“I’m not dissatisfied.”
“All right.”
“I’m not.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona let out a breath.
“It isn’t perfect.”
“No marriage is.”
“Exactly.”
“Is that the same as being fulfilled by it?”
Caitriona’s eyes began to glisten.
She looked down quickly.
“I don’t know what that word means anymore.”
“What did it once mean?”
“To feel happy with what I have.”
“And do you?”
“Yes.”
The answer came quietly.
Then her face tightened.
“Sometimes.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“What do you feel the rest of the time?”
“Tired.”
“What else?”
“Restless.”
“Lonely?”
Caitriona swallowed.
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin did not speak for several seconds.
Caitriona wiped beneath one eye.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t mean I want to leave.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t mean I made a mistake.”
“No.”
Caitriona looked at her.
“You’re agreeing again.”
“I don’t think those things necessarily follow from feeling lonely.”
“Tony does.”
“What does he believe?”
“That if I’m unhappy with him, it’s because I want Sam.”
“And what do you believe?”
“That it’s more complicated than that.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“How?”
Caitriona opened her mouth, then stopped.
Dr. Levin waited.
“Sam is easy to want,” she said eventually.
Her voice was low.
“In what way?”
“He isn’t attached to the difficult parts of my life.”
“Because he isn’t your partner.”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t share the house.”
“No.”
“He isn’t part of the routines.”
“No.”
“He doesn’t have to ask you to take the bins out or discuss school forms.”
Caitriona gave a faint smile.
“No.”
“So perhaps wanting him feels uncomplicated because the relationship has not been tested by ordinary life.”
“Yes.”
The relief in the answer was visible. Her shoulders loosened slightly.
“That’s what I’ve always said.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“And do you believe it?”
“Yes.”
Caitriona paused.
“I think so.”
“What makes you uncertain?”
She looked down at her ring again.
“Because I use it as an answer to everything.”
“What does it answer?”
“Why I didn’t choose him.”
Dr. Levin stayed still.
Caitriona’s lips parted slightly, but she did not look up.
“That is a different sentence,” Dr. Levin said.
Caitriona gave a small, shaky laugh.
“Yes.”
“You usually say you chose Tony.”
“I did choose Tony.”
“I know.”
“But that also means I didn’t choose Sam.”
“Yes.”
Caitriona’s eyes filled again.
She rubbed at one cheek.
“I had reasons.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“He was impossible.”
“Was?”
“He still is.”
A little humour returned to her voice, but it disappeared quickly.
“He wants everything,” she said. “Every project, every trip, every opportunity. He can’t stay in one place long enough to let anything become ordinary.”
“And ordinary matters to you.”
“It has to. I have a child.”
“Did it matter before?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona looked towards the window.
“I wanted a home,” she said. “I wanted something that felt separate from all of it. The cameras and the travel and everyone having an opinion.”
“And Tony gave you that.”
“Yes.”
“What did Sam offer?”
Caitriona’s mouth tightened.
“Everything else.”
The words seemed to remain in the air between them.
Dr. Levin did not repeat them.
Caitriona looked down at her hands.
“That sounded terrible.”
“It sounded honest.”
“It sounded as though Tony was a house and Sam was a life.”
“Is that what you meant?”
“No.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona wiped at another tear.
“I meant Sam made me feel…”
She stopped.
Dr. Levin’s voice remained gentle.
“You don’t have to find the perfect word.”
“Alive.”
The answer came quickly once it came.
Dr. Levin nodded.
“And Tony?”
Caitriona closed her eyes briefly.
“Safe.”
She opened them again and shook her head.
“That is such an ugly comparison.”
“It doesn’t have to be a judgement.”
“It is a judgement.”
“Of whom?”
“Me.”
Dr. Levin leaned back slightly.
“Why?”
“Because I chose safe.”
“Yes.”
“And then spent twelve years taking the other thing from Sam whenever it was available.”
Dr. Levin’s face remained open.
“Is that how it feels?”
Caitriona stared down at her lap.
“I don’t know.”
“Take your time.”
She rubbed her palms over her knees.
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“How did you think of it?”
“That we were close. That the attraction was there and always would be, but it didn’t have to mean anything.”
“Did it give you something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Caitriona looked up.
“You know what.”
“I would rather not decide for you.”
Her eyes dropped again.
“Excitement.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“Attention.”
Another nod.
“The feeling that someone wanted me.”
Her voice broke slightly on the last word.
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona wiped both cheeks with the heels of her hands, then gave an embarrassed laugh.
“This is absurd.”
“What feels absurd?”
“I’m nearly fifty years old.”
“And?”
“I shouldn’t need someone to look at me like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not twenty.”
“Does desire have an age limit?”
“No.”
“Then what are you ashamed of?”
Caitriona looked towards the window.
“That it mattered so much.”
“Sam’s desire?”
She nodded.
“Did Tony desire you differently?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Caitriona took a moment.
“Quietly.”
“Was that enough?”
“Yes.”
Then, after a pause, she shook her head.
“Not always.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona looked back at her.
“I hate this.”
“What do you hate?”
“That it makes Tony sound inadequate.”
“Is that what you’re saying?”
“No.”
“What are you saying?”
“That something is missing.”
The words came slowly.
“In the marriage?”
“Yes.”
“And Sam has filled it?”
Caitriona’s face tightened.
“Not deliberately.”
“I didn’t suggest deliberately.”
“He didn’t set out to.”
“No.”
“Neither did I.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona’s eyes stayed on her.
“But he has,” Dr. Levin said softly.
Caitriona looked away.
The rain had almost stopped. A thin line of water still travelled down the centre of the window, bending the view of the bare branches outside.
“Yes,” she said.
Dr. Levin let the answer rest.
Caitriona drew in a slow breath.
“And Tony knows.”
“Yes.”
“He’s always known.”
“Perhaps not in the same way you know it now.”
Caitriona pressed her lips together.
“No.”
“What does that change about Stratford?”
She looked back at Dr. Levin.
“I don’t know.”
“Did Steph threaten the friendship?”
“Possibly.”
“Did she threaten Sam’s feelings for you?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“You’re certain.”
“Yes.”
“Then what did she threaten?”
Caitriona’s face went still.
Dr. Levin did not add another question.
Caitriona looked down at her wedding ring and turned it once around her finger.
“Access,” she said at last.
“To Sam?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of access?”
“All of it.”
Dr. Levin waited.
“The calls,” Caitriona said. “The holidays. Him coming when I ask. Me knowing he will.”
“Knowing he will what?”
“Come.”
The word was barely audible.
Dr. Levin remained quiet.
Caitriona’s breathing had become shallow. She uncrossed her legs and placed both feet on the floor.
“Does Tony know that too?” Dr. Levin asked.
“Yes.”
“What is that like for him?”
Caitriona’s eyes filled again.
“I imagine it’s awful.”
“And for you?”
She stared at the carpet.
“Comforting.”
Dr. Levin’s voice softened.
“What does it comfort?”
“That I haven’t lost him.”
“You chose not to build a life with him.”
“Yes.”
“But you did not want to lose him.”
“No.”
“Did keeping him close help you live with the choice?”
Caitriona looked up slowly.
The room was very quiet.
“Yes,” she said.
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona wiped beneath one eye.
“And now Steph makes that closeness feel less certain.”
“Yes.”
“Which makes the choice feel different.”
Caitriona stared at her.
“How?”
“Perhaps because until now, not choosing Sam did not require you to experience him as truly unavailable.”
Caitriona’s mouth parted.
She looked away.
Dr. Levin waited.
“I’m married,” Caitriona said.
“Yes.”
“He has always been unavailable to me too.”
“Practically.”
Caitriona’s eyes lifted.
“What other way is there?”
Dr. Levin did not answer immediately.
“You said if you asked, he would come.”
Caitriona’s face changed.
“That was hypothetical.”
“Yes.”
“It isn’t something I would do.”
“I know.”
Caitriona folded her arms tightly across herself.
Dr. Levin’s voice stayed quiet.
“What do you believe would happen if you did?”
Caitriona shook her head.
“This is not useful.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not going to call Sam and ask him to leave whoever he’s with.”
“I’m not asking whether you will.”
“Then what are you asking?”
“What you believe he would choose.”
Caitriona’s eyes remained fixed on the floor.
Dr. Levin waited.
“He would choose me,” Caitriona said.
There was no hesitation in it.
Dr. Levin nodded once.
“And what has it meant to know that?”
Caitriona’s face tightened.
“I don’t know.”
“Has it made him feel available?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly, then softened.
“Maybe.”
“Even while you remained married.”
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin sat back slightly.
Caitriona looked at her.
“That sounds selfish.”
“It sounds complicated.”
“It is selfish.”
“Perhaps parts of it are.”
Caitriona’s eyes filled again.
Dr. Levin continued gently.
“That doesn’t mean your intention was to keep him waiting.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I believe you.”
“I wanted him to move on.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Caitriona’s voice shook.
“I wanted him to be happy.”
“I believe that too.”
“Then how can both things be true?”
“Which two things?”
“That I wanted him to move on, and I needed to know he would still choose me.”
Dr. Levin let the question remain in the room.
Caitriona lowered her face into her hands for a moment, then sat back again.
“This is horrible.”
“What feels horrible?”
“That I’ve done this to both of them.”
Dr. Levin’s expression softened.
“We are not deciding today that you have deliberately done something to either of them.”
“But Tony has lived with it.”
“Yes.”
“And Sam…”
She stopped.
“What about Sam?”
Caitriona looked down.
“He has been waiting.”
“Do you know that?”
“Yes.”
“Has he told you?”
“Not in those words.”
“How do you know?”
“The way he is with me.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“The way he looks at you.”
“Yes.”
“The way he comes when you ask.”
“Yes.”
“The way his relationships have remained outside the centre of his life.”
Caitriona looked up sharply.
“That isn’t because of me.”
“Perhaps not entirely.”
She looked away.
“Nearly a decade,” she said.
“What about it?”
“He hasn’t had anything serious in nearly a decade.”
“Had you thought about that before Stratford?”
“Not properly.”
“What had you told yourself?”
“That he was busy.”
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
“That he wasn’t ready.”
“He probably wasn’t.”
“That he hadn’t met the right person.”
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
“And what did Stratford make you consider?”
Caitriona’s fingers moved again to her wedding ring.
“That he might be trying.”
“To have a serious relationship?”
“Yes.”
“What did that bring up?”
Caitriona closed her eyes.
“Panic.”
The word came quietly.
Dr. Levin’s voice softened further.
“What did the panic say?”
Caitriona opened her eyes, but did not look at her.
“That I was losing him.”
“Even though you believe he still loves you.”
“Yes.”
“Even though he still looks at you the same way.”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you losing?”
Caitriona’s eyes filled fully now.
“The chance.”
Dr. Levin remained still.
Caitriona wiped at her cheeks, but the tears kept coming.
“What chance?” Dr. Levin asked.
Caitriona shook her head.
“Caitriona.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to make a decision. Only name what feels threatened.”
She pressed her fingertips against her lips.
“The chance that one day I might be brave enough.”
Dr. Levin said nothing.
Caitriona’s hand fell slowly into her lap.
“To do what?” Dr. Levin asked.
Caitriona looked down at her wedding ring.
“To choose him.”
Dr. Levin did not move.
Caitriona lowered her hand from her face and wiped her cheeks with her fingers, letting out a small, unsteady laugh.
“Well. That sounds appalling.”
“All of it?” Dr. Levin asked gently.
“The fact that I’ve apparently kept a possibility at all.”
Dr. Levin leaned back slightly. “You’ve realized it matters. What does that mean to you?”
Caitriona’s gaze dropped to her wedding ring. She turned it slowly.
“I didn’t have a plan. I wasn’t waiting for my marriage to fail or thinking about Sam as some future option. But the idea that he might not be there when I was ready…” She hesitated. “That frightened me.”
“Ready for what?”
“To find out if we could have a life together.”
The admission came quietly. She stared toward the rain-streaked window.
“I think I’ve wanted to know for a long time. Before Tony.”
Dr. Levin nodded. “What stopped you then?”
“The show. And everything around it. We were just starting—we didn’t know what it would become. If we stayed together and it went badly, we’d still have to work together. So we told ourselves it was sensible to end it.”
“Was it?”
“At the time.” She paused. “We thought the feelings would pass.”
“They didn’t.”
“No.”
“So you adjusted.”
“We became only friends,” Caitriona said, though her expression suggested the word didn’t quite fit. “We made rules—no kissing unless we were filming, no being alone after drinking, no talking about what might have been.”
“And when those rules slipped?”
“Nothing physical. But we’d get too close. One of us would pull away.” She gave a faint, sad smile. “Usually me. And he always let me.”
Dr. Levin waited.
“He never made me feel guilty,” Caitriona continued. “Which made it worse. Because I knew—if I’d asked him to try again, or to wait, or even to step back completely, he would have done it. Anything.”
“And what did you ask for?”
“Nothing.”
“What did that leave between you?”
“An understanding. That the possibility was still there.”
She rubbed her palms against her trousers.
“When Tony came along, that should have ended. But it didn’t. Because Sam was still Sam.”
“And Tony?”
“Someone I could build a life with. He wanted the same things—home, family, stability. And I loved him.”
Dr. Levin inclined her head. “And loving Sam doesn’t make that unreal.”
“No,” Caitriona said, though her jaw tightened. “But it makes it different.”
“How?”
“Tony felt possible. Sam…” She gave a brief, sad smile. “Sam felt like something you survive.”
“That sounds frightening.”
“It was. It is.”
She exhaled slowly.
“Choosing Tony protected me—from uncertainty, from being left. Not because I thought Sam would leave, exactly. More that he might not know how to stay. He talks about wanting a family as if wanting it is the same as living it.”
“And you imagine the reality.”
“The mornings,” Caitriona said. “School runs, illness, laundry, repetition. Staying home when something more exciting is happening elsewhere. I’m not sure he could do that.”
“And you’ve never seen him try.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“That’s the problem. In theory, he’s perfect. We’d be in love, we’d laugh, everything would feel extraordinary. But in practice…” She swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“And if it didn’t match the theory?”
“I’d lose him. Not just as a partner—as everything.”
Dr. Levin let that settle.
“I don’t think we could go back to being friends after that,” Caitriona added. “Not after twelve years of wanting something and finally taking it.”
“What do you imagine would happen?”
“We’d hurt each other. He’d feel trapped by the life. I’d become frightened—suspicious, needy, watching for signs he regretted it. I’ve done that before.”
“Because you were betrayed.”
“Yes. I know Sam isn’t those men, but the fear is still there. And I wouldn’t handle it well. I’d go quiet, pretend I was fine, then resent him for not understanding.”
Dr. Levin gave a small, knowing smile.
“You’re describing how it might fail,” she said. “But not whether it must.”
Caitriona looked at her.
“And if it didn’t fail?” Dr. Levin added.
“That’s not fair,” Caitriona said, though her voice softened.
“We can leave it,” Dr. Levin replied.
Silence stretched between them until Caitriona spoke again.
“He’d be good with my son,” she said quietly. “He already is. He’d make everything an adventure. He’d be late, chaotic, exhausting…” A faint smile broke through. “Wonderful.”
She looked down, surprised by the word.
“He’d love loudly,” she continued. “He wouldn’t let me hide when things weren’t fine. I’d hate that.” She paused. “And I’d need it.”
Dr. Levin nodded. “You’ve imagined a life with him beyond the intensity.”
“Yes.”
“And when those imaginings go well?”
“I stop them. Because they’re not useful.”
“Meaning not possible.”
“Yes. And if I let myself believe they were, I’d have to ask why I wasn’t choosing them.”
“And your answer?”
“That I’d already chosen Tony.”
“Did that satisfy you?”
“It had to.”
Her eyes filled.
Dr. Levin spoke carefully. “If the marriage is fine, then the choice remains defensible.”
Caitriona went still.
“Tony is kind. A good father. There’s no betrayal, no clear reason to question your life. So wanting more can feel… ungrateful.”
“Yes,” Caitriona said, her voice breaking. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. He doesn’t deserve to be left because I’m…” She faltered. “Bored isn’t the right word.”
“What is?”
She hesitated. “Empty feels too dramatic. But sometimes, at night, when everything is quiet… it’s there.”
“What happens then?”
“Nothing. We talk sometimes. We touch sometimes. But I don’t anticipate it. I don’t miss it when it doesn’t happen.”
She wiped her cheek.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”
“I know.”
“But it’s always been… fine.”
The word lingered between them.
“With Sam?” Dr. Levin asked after a moment.
Caitriona flushed.
“That’s not a fair comparison.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She hesitated, then spoke softly. “When he touches me, I feel it for hours. Even something small—I know exactly where his hand was long after it’s gone.”
“What is that like?”
“Embarrassing,” she said, then added, “Alive.”
“And then you go home.”
“Yes.”
“To Tony.”
“Safe,” Caitriona said. Then, after a beat, “Quiet.”
Dr. Levin let the silence stretch.
“I’ve told myself for years that’s the difference between fantasy and reality,” Caitriona continued. “That Sam feels like that because I don’t have to live with him. And if I did, it would change.”
“It probably would,” Dr. Levin said calmly. “Desire changes. Life becomes ordinary. But ordinary isn’t the same as empty. And change isn’t necessarily loss.”
Caitriona looked down.
“I think I’ve been afraid that choosing him would eventually mean losing him.”
“And not choosing him?”
“Hasn’t prevented that. Not really.”
“Because he stayed close.”
“Yes. And in love. And available.”
Caitriona flinched slightly at the word.
“Emotionally,” she corrected.
Dr. Levin nodded.
“I didn’t keep him there,” Caitriona added. “But I let him stay. And Tony lived beside that.”
She covered her mouth briefly.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“We don’t need to decide anything,” Dr. Levin said gently. “For now, stay with what frightened you in Stratford—that he might move on.”
“And I’d lose the possibility.”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t just reassurance,” Caitriona said. “It was a future. One I thought I might choose someday.”
Dr. Levin waited.
“I don’t know if it would work,” Caitriona said. “Or if he could give me what I need. Or if choosing him would destroy us.”
“I know,” Dr. Levin said softly. “But those are questions about what might happen. Not about what you want.”
Silence settled again.
Caitriona turned her ring slowly.
“I’m not ready to answer that,” she said at last.
“All right.”
She looked up, wary. “That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
A faint smile flickered. “Very disappointing.”
“We still have time.”
The smile faded.
“What happens if the answer is yes?” Caitriona asked quietly.
“That you want the future?” Dr. Levin said. “Then you would know something you’ve been avoiding. And you’d decide what to do with it.”
“That sounds very clean.”
“It probably wouldn’t be.”
Caitriona shook her head.
Dr. Levin’s voice remained steady. “But not knowing hasn’t kept your life clean either.”
Caitriona looked up.
The silence stretched.
Then her eyes filled again.
“No,” she said, gripping the edge of the chair.
“It hasn’t.”
Dr. Levin glanced briefly at the clock beside her.
Caitriona followed her eyes.
“Are we nearly done?”
“We have a few minutes.”
Caitriona released the chair and sat back. She wiped beneath her eyes, then folded her hands in her lap.
“I don’t think I can make any decisions in a few minutes.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“It feels as though you are.”
“Which decision?”
Caitriona looked at her.
“What to do about my marriage. What to do about Sam.”
“I haven’t asked you to do anything about either of them.”
“No, but once you know something, you can’t simply put it back.”
Dr. Levin nodded. “That may be true.”
“And then it becomes a decision.”
“Not necessarily.”
“How could it not?”
“Knowing how you feel and deciding what to do about the feeling are different things.”
Caitriona turned her ring once around her finger.
“They don’t feel different.”
“Perhaps that is why you’ve avoided separating them.”
Her fingers stopped.
Dr. Levin allowed a brief silence.
“You have given me many reasons a relationship with Sam might not work,” she said. “Some of them may be entirely valid.”
“They are.”
“I believe they are real fears.”
Caitriona’s shoulders eased slightly.
“But every time we come close to what you want,” Dr. Levin continued, “you answer with what might happen if you had it.”
“Because what happens matters.”
“Of course it does.”
“I have a son. I have a husband. Sam is with someone. I can’t behave as though wanting something makes it right.”
“No.”
“Or possible.”
“No.”
“Or worth destroying several lives for.”
Dr. Levin nodded. “It doesn’t.”
Caitriona studied her face.
“You agree with me.”
“I agree that a feeling does not tell you what action to take.”
“Then what is the point of naming it?”
“So that whatever decision you make is based on something true.”
Caitriona looked down.
Dr. Levin waited.
“Tony is a good man,” Caitriona said.
“Yes.”
“He’s kind to me.”
“Yes.”
“He’s a wonderful father.”
“Yes.”
“We have a life. A real one. Not something I’ve imagined from the safe distance of hotel rooms and phone calls.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona’s thumb moved over the surface of the ring.
“He is home,” she said.
“What does home mean?”
“The person who is there. The person I expect to be there. The shape of my life.”
“That sounds important.”
“It is.”
Dr. Levin remained quiet.
Caitriona looked up.
“What?”
“You sound as though you expect me to disagree.”
“I expect you to say it isn’t enough.”
“I don’t know whether it is enough for you.”
Caitriona’s mouth tightened.
“I’ve already said it isn’t.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t mean none of it matters.”
“No.”
“I care about him.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“I know that too.”
Caitriona looked towards the window. The rain had stopped, leaving small drops clinging to the glass.
“He deserves someone who wants that life,” she said.
“Do you want it?”
“I wanted it.”
“With Tony?”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
Caitriona’s eyes lowered.
“I want my son to have it.”
“That wasn’t quite what I asked.”
“No.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona rubbed her palms slowly over her knees.
“I don’t wake up excited that he’s beside me,” she said. “I don’t miss him when we’re in the same room. I don’t look forward to being alone with him.”
Her voice remained controlled, but her eyes had filled again.
“I know how that sounds.”
“How does it sound?”
“Cruel.”
“Does it feel cruel?”
“Yes.”
“Does it also feel true?”
Caitriona pressed her lips together.
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona looked down at her wedding ring.
“I love him,” she said. “But I’m not…”
She stopped.
Dr. Levin did not complete the sentence.
Caitriona turned the ring again.
“I’m not in love with him.”
The words were quiet and flat. She wiped quickly at one cheek.
Dr. Levin remained still.
“I don’t know when that happened,” Caitriona said. “Or whether it happened at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know whether I stopped being in love with him or whether I confused something else for it.”
“What might you have confused?”
“Safety. Relief. Being chosen by someone who wasn’t going to frighten me.”
Dr. Levin nodded slowly.
Caitriona gave a small shake of her head.
“But that is what happens, isn’t it?”
“What happens?”
“People stop being in love.”
“Some do.”
“Most do.”
“Perhaps.”
Caitriona looked at her sharply. “You don’t believe that?”
“I don’t know that there is one rule.”
“People don’t feel that way forever.”
“What way?”
“Consumed by someone. Excited by them. Wanting them after years and years as though nothing has worn away.”
“Some people describe feeling that way.”
“Not after twelve years.”
“Why not?”
“Because it isn’t real.”
Dr. Levin’s expression remained open.
Caitriona let out a small, frustrated breath.
“That’s Jamie and Claire.”
“What about them?”
“They’re written that way. They survive decades and wars and separations and still look at each other as though no one else exists.”
“They are fictional.”
“Exactly.”
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona’s brow tightened.
“What?”
“You seem to be using their being fictional as evidence that lasting desire is impossible.”
“It isn’t impossible. It’s just not…”
She stopped.
“Realistic?” Dr. Levin offered.
“Yes.”
“Because you haven’t experienced it with Tony?”
Caitriona looked away.
“That isn’t what I said.”
“No.”
Dr. Levin leaned back slightly.
“Your marriage may have become companionship,” she said. “That does not mean every relationship must follow the same path.”
“People change.”
“Yes.”
“Desire changes.”
“Yes.”
“Ordinary life wears things down.”
“It can.”
Caitriona looked back at her.
“You’re doing that careful thing again.”
“I’m trying not to replace one certainty with another. I can’t tell you that a life with Sam would preserve everything you feel now.”
“Because it probably wouldn’t.”
“It would change.”
“Yes.”
“But you have treated change as proof that the feeling would disappear.”
Caitriona’s eyes glistened.
“Wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is very reassuring.”
Dr. Levin smiled faintly.
“I’m not trying to reassure you.”
“No. God forbid.”
The smile that touched Caitriona’s mouth disappeared almost immediately.
Dr. Levin waited before continuing.
“Perhaps the intensity would soften,” she said. “Perhaps ordinary life would alter it. Perhaps you would discover things about each other that neither of you has had to face.”
“Yes.”
“But none of that tells us what you feel now.”
Caitriona looked down.
“It tells me not to trust it.”
“It tells you to be cautious about what you do with it.”
“What is the difference?”
“You can acknowledge a feeling without treating it as a prediction.”
Caitriona’s fingers tightened together.
Dr. Levin’s voice remained gentle.
“You don’t have to decide that you and Sam would be happy forever.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to decide whether you should leave Tony.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to decide whether the relationship with Steph is real, or whether Sam would be able to give you the life you need.”
Caitriona blinked, and another tear slipped down her cheek.
“Then what am I deciding?”
“Nothing.”
Dr. Levin allowed a short pause.
“You are only naming what is already there.”
Caitriona shook her head.
“I’ve named it. I love him.”
“You have said that many times.”
“I do love him.”
“I believe you.”
“Then what else is there?”
Dr. Levin watched her quietly.
“The way you speak about loving Tony and the way you speak about loving Sam are very different.”
“They are different people.”
“Yes.”
“Different relationships.”
“Yes.”
“One is real.”
Dr. Levin tilted her head slightly.
“Is your relationship with Sam not real?”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“One is a marriage. A home. A family. The other is…”
Caitriona stopped.
Dr. Levin waited.
“Chemistry,” Caitriona said.
“Yes.”
“History.”
“Yes.”
“Habit.”
“Perhaps.”
“Twelve years of playing people who were meant to love each other.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona’s eyes dropped.
“Maybe it was easier to believe it belonged to them.”
“To Jamie and Claire?”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
Caitriona rubbed at her cheek.
“They’re gone.”
Dr. Levin remained quiet.
“There are no scenes anymore,” Caitriona continued. “No reason for it. No one asking us to look at each other or touch each other or make it believable.”
“And does it still feel the same?”
Caitriona closed her eyes briefly.
“Yes.”
Dr. Levin gave her time.
“When Sam looked at you in Stratford,” she said eventually, “did it feel as though he was playing Jamie?”
“No.”
“Did your reaction feel as though it belonged to Claire?”
Caitriona opened her eyes.
“No.”
“What did it belong to?”
She looked down at her hands.
“To me.”
Dr. Levin nodded.
Caitriona drew in a shaky breath.
“I don’t want that to be true.”
“I know.”
“It would be easier if it were the show.”
“Yes.”
“Or chemistry.”
“It may also be chemistry.”
“Or nostalgia.”
“It may also be nostalgia.”
Caitriona looked up.
Dr. Levin’s voice softened.
“More than one thing can be true.”
Caitriona stared at her for several seconds.
“What do you think I’m trying not to say?”
“I think you know.”
“That’s irritating.”
“I know.”
A faint, broken laugh escaped her.
Dr. Levin waited.
Caitriona’s hand moved towards her wedding ring, then stopped before touching it. She placed both hands flat against her knees instead.
“Loving Sam isn’t the same thing,” she said.
“As what?”
Her breathing changed.
Caitriona looked towards the rain-marked window, then back at Dr. Levin.
Her eyes were wet, but her voice was clear.
“I’m in love with him.”