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My wife visited a therapist named Dr. Ramsey on our behalf for six weeks. I drove her to every of their sessions but never got out of the car. You know people visit therapists because they have problems but we certainly don’t have any, not even the tiniest bit of skirmish. Nothing I tell you. Six years, two kids, a beach mansion for a home, what can another man tell me about my home and the woman I married?
Therapist are no better than psychic, I don’t want him messing with my head with just a stare. That hypnotic stare that would lift me off the fabric of our reality. I couldn’t risk it but my wife was that kind of a risk taker and I feared he had messed up with hers cause every time she returned I could tell with the look on her face that her mind wasn’t the same again.
Every dinner we would go through their routines: tell me five things you like and dislike about me and I will tell you mine. Most of the times I lied. This is a joke right? Our marriage is fine–a therapist is a waste of time and dime for Christ’s sake.
But to my wife, he was next to God. We were at the mercy of the Almighty Dr. Ramsey. What he quoted was law and what he disapproved was crime. Just imagine, if in Dr. Ramsey’s constitution, coming a little bit late from work was crime then I would have been behind bars with the keys thrown away. My wife would have so loved that.
One day I asked over dinner just to feed my curiosity: “is this Dr. Ramsay a married man?”
“How would I know?” She snapped.. “ I don’t go to discuss about his personal life.”
“But what do you think, is he?” I persisted but her reply proceeded, totally devoid of even the thinnest of smiles.
“I am not the psychologist here.”
But what wrong was it to ask? To know a thing or two about the man my wife was spending most of her Wednesday afternoon with. No harm, if I was been asked. She was just been difficult to deal with or was she now sentimental about the whole patient-doctor confidentiality clause-thingy?
Well it was a good thing; he also doesn’t get to broadcast their discussion to whoever was unfortunate to be his friends. Unfortunate, yes, I wasn’t about to take back this word cause I don’t know who would want to befriend a psychic. Definitely not me but my wife wasn’t the person to be influenced by my opinions. She thought I was too primitive to label her sessions as unnecessary but do you blame me? I am African and we are not used to these things.
So the time finally came when her meetings with him ended. Some peace can now finally return I thanked the heavens. Dr. Ramsey in fact became a vanishing wind in our home. She burnt all his recommended books and stopped all those ridiculous routines. Frenetic but it was a beautiful sight to watch. Calling his name became a taboo even. I had attempted to mention his name once but the reaction on her face forced me to stop before I was even close to saying his name.
I didn’t care at first, it was all for the best but i had reason to the day I referenced one of the routines and her eyes caught fire. Another word could have resulted to an inferno. That certainly got me scared, I won’t lie.
So I went down to his office to find out what this man had done to my wife, something was definitely up. He was just as she’d described, temperate, effeminate and stylish with an almost perfect spoken english.
“I want to know what you did to my wife…” I asked the second I sat on his comfy sofa with my fist clenched to throw an impulsive jab.
“Wife?” There was something puzzling about my questions and I could see it on his face, seeping from his prescription glasses.
“One of your clients Mrs. Adisi,.” I tried to remain calm, these expatriates can go extreme with the law, so.
“Oh! You’re the husband?” A sudden realization and then a puzzling brief chortle.
“Yes,” now my fist could just lose it.
“She hasn’t told you why she stopped?” He took off his glasses, just for me to see he was trying hard to suppress his laughter.
“Oh you think this is a joke?”
“No, I mean no disrespect but she stopped because she has made her decision.”
“What decision?” I smelt a psychic mental floss here.
“She’s divorcing you.”
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