Mid-Life Crisis Diaries (2 page)

Marsha crossed her legs, her eyes sweeping the carpet. This wasn’t getting any better and Dominique’s pointed questions were making her feel uncomfortable. Facing the camera, she gave a wide smile. “We make an effort to date once a week—no distractions—no cell phones—no work—just us.”

“There you have it, Dr. Marsha Caufield up close and personal. There’s no reason to deny that she is the
Love Guru
of San Francisco. But wait a minute...my assistant who is outside tells me that the groom just arrived.”

Shirley and Tricia’s eyes opened wide when the screen featured a furious Blake wearing jeans and a pink long-sleeved shirt.

Marsha’s breathing grows rapid.
Why isn’t he wearing his suit? Since when does he wear pink?

“Is that Blake?” Dominique asked.

The view shifts to Dominique’s assistant wearing a lilac dress. “Yes, Blake’s here and he has a message for Marsha.”

“Okay, we’ll be back after the break.” Dominique rose from her seat. “We need to get Blake on the set
pronto
. Why isn’t he dressed?”

“Right.” Marsha approached her desk and punched in Blake’s number. It went directly to voicemail. “Blake, honey, we’re all waiting for you. Please come up.”

Tricia wrapped her hair in a bun with a pencil. She approached Marsha with a champagne glass. “Have a drink. You look like you need it.”

Marsha set the glass aside. “We’re not supposed to be drinking now.” She nudged Tricia.

“Trust me, you’ll feel better.”

She’s right. Everything seems odd today, starting with the dress.
Marsha could feel the tension around her office and she needed to take deep breaths.
Everything’s going to be all right.

Dominique strode back to the couch. The make-up artist retouched her make-up. The intercom buzzed.

Tricia pressed play. “This is Adrianna, Dominique’s assistant. Blake refuses to go up. He’s requesting for Marsha to open the window.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Dominique giggled. “A
Romeo and Juliet
theme. We need to capture this live.” She signaled to the cameraman then turned to Marsha. “Do what he says, my dear.”

Marsha takes a few steps, glancing back at Dominique.
Why did I agree to this?

“Go on.”

A knot formed in her stomach as she peered outside the window. From down below, a huge crowd cheered in unison. There were placards spelled with
I love you, Marsha Caufield.

“Marsha,” Blake’s voice cracked on the megaphone. “I need to talk to you. Can you come down? Please!”

“Blake.” Marsha recognized the urgency in his voice and sensed something was wrong, but waited for him to tell her.

A TV reporter appeared on the screen. “If there’s anything you wish to tell your wife, announce it here.”

“I know I should be up there with you...” he paused, running his fingers through his wind-swept auburn hair. “But it just dawned on me today that we’ve been together for twenty-five years.”

“That’s right, Blake, even I myself can’t believe it. Where have all those years gone?” Tears of nostalgia spilled from her eyes.

“You see, honey, there are a million things I want to pursue.”

“Same here.” Marsha smiled, wishing she could join Blake downstairs and tell him she loved him more now.

He sighed, looking around the audience they inched closer to him.

“But... I can’t do it with you.” Blake pushed them away and walked out.

Did she hear that right? Her palms moistened.

A huge pause filled the street.

“What did he say?” Dominique asked.

A reporter ran after him.

“I... I need to find myself. I’m sorry, Marsha.” He shoved the mic away from his face.

A wave of anxiety washed upon her. Marsha was dumbfounded, her head glued to the window pane as she watched her husband slip away into the crowd.
What did he just say?

A man booed, another person clapped his hands, then the crowd became rowdy and Dominique yelled for the cameraman to cut the scene.

“What’s the meaning of all this, Marsha?” Dominique approached her. “Were you aware this was going to happen?”

Shirley came to the rescue again. “We can still salvage the show. Just say it’s a
lovers’ quarrel.
”

But Dominique ignored her while she darted her eyes back and forth toward Marsha and the cameraman.

Tricia handed Marsha the champagne glass, but all Marsha could do was dash to the door.

This isn’t happening! How can Blake walk away from me? Twenty-five years of marriage down the drain.

C H A P T E R  2

H
eart pounding, Marsha passed through the back door so nobody would see her. She blended in with the pedestrians walking the busy streets of San Francisco. A flock of seagulls soared above the sky. Oblivious to the cars honking, all Marsha could think of was Blake’s cold words playing on her mind—his nonchalant expression—his indifference like she didn’t exist. How could he fucking leave her? And the way he humiliated her in front of millions of viewers was uncalled for.

A cab screeched in front of Marsha and the driver flipped her off. She continued to walk while the drivers honked their horns. Her stomach growled and she wasn’t aware of how many miles she had walked, but the Chinese restaurants and shops informed Marsha she was in Chinatown.

Thunder clapped and raindrops came crashing down. Marsha received dark stares like she was a jilted lover still wearing her wedding dress, but what was she supposed to do? Nothing prepared her for this day.
Absolutely nothing!

“Shit.” Marsha darted inside a lingerie shop and squeezed the water from her hair. Two women filled their cart with thong panties. A long line snaked its way to the cash register. Toward the right were scented candles and accessories for women to seduce men. Sex toys were also displayed on the shelves.

I need to get out of here.
Marsha twisted her body in a different direction and slipped, knocking the vibrators down to the floor.

A Chinese sales clerk glared at her.

“I’m sorry.” Marsha bent down and picked up the items in shame.

The woman grasped the products from Marsha and mumbled something in Chinese.

“I’m really
sorry
,” Marsha repeated.

Rain continued to pour outside and the wind willed her to remain inside the shop, yet still she inched her way to the back door.

There’s a NO ENTRY FOR ANYONE BELOW 18 sign displayed. Marsha entered, hoping she could escape.

A black and white painting of a naked man and woman is displayed on the wall. She spotted a nude mixed Caucasian and Asian woman with pale, flawless skin, long jet-black hair and hazel eyes reclined on a sofa with her body glued to a man who looked like a model from a
Romance
novel.

Three middle-aged women who were painting turned their eyes to Marsha.

“I’m sorry, but I thought this was the back exit.” She covered her mouth. “OMG! It’s you! The controversial Dr. Lee.”

Dr. Lee rose and approached Marsha. “Dr. Caufield, whoever thought we would meet again?” A wry smile crept across one corner of her mouth.

Marsha observed the women but looked away right after. She opened her mouth but no words appeared. She never expected to see Dr. Lee, her college classmate, who eventually became a sex coach who not only counsels patients but blogs about controversial subjects that go against Marsha’s beliefs in having a healthy relationship.
This is such a crazy day.

“You two know each other?” A woman wearing a red scarf asks.

Marsha eyed Dr. Lee.

Dr. Lee grinned. “Ladies, although Dr. Caufield and I don’t see eye to eye, there’s a reason why our paths crossed again.”

Marsha folded her arms and pursed her lips. “What are you some kind of psychic now?” Her erect nipples are right in front of Marsha’s view. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“So, this
is
your office.” Marsha studied the place.

Dr. Lee raised her eyebrows. “Welcome to my crib.”

Marsha rolled her eyes. “I should go.”

The man rose from his seat and joined them. “I’m Alan. Care to paint?”

Marsha cringed and averted her gaze to the floor.
Great! Two naked people in front of me.
“I don’t remember when the last time I painted was.”

“You can start now,” he said.

Marsha hesitated but grabbed a chair and sat down beside the three ladies. She knew if she headed back to her office, Shirley and Tricia would be looking for her. Digging inside her purse, she noticed there are fifteen missed calls from Tricia. None from Blake. She turned off her phone.

Dr. Lee pulled a sketch board from the corner and positioned it near Marsha. Dr. Lee and Alan settled back on the couch. He traced his fingers from her arm down to her waist which made her giggle in delight.

Marsha drew a few lines but ended up poking the board. “I can’t do this.”

The woman wearing a scarf stared at Marsha’s wedding dress and patted her back. “You’ll survive. We all did.”

Great, now the tables have turned and they’re giving her advice.
Marsha covered her face. “And you think a naked portrait of them will make you feel better?”

The ladies exchanged glances and Dr. Lee reclined her seat. Alan winked at Marsha.

Marsha quivered.

“We’re here to explore our sensuality,” A woman with a black shirt said.

Marsha approached the door. “I’m sorry but I’ve seen enough.”

“Wait!” Dr. Lee called out to Marsha.

Marsha turned her head as Dr. Lee exited to the bathroom. She appeared wearing a robe and carrying a towel.

Marsha gazed at Dr. Lee whose eyes were glued to the light drizzle pitter patter on the pavement from the window.
She’s so confident.

Dr. Lee approached her, kneeled down and dried Marsha’s legs with the towel. “You’re soaked. The rain’s gone, but you can stay if you want.”

“Thank you, but I must leave.”

Dr. Lee pulled out a lipstick from her pocket and applied it on Marsha’s lips. Marsha closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“There you go,” Dr. Lee said. “A woman should always be beautiful even if she’s drenched.”

Marsha flipped her eyes open. “Thank you.”

She reached for a business card on her way out and shook her head
. Dr. Lee, the Sex Coach,
is the last person I wanted to see.
Laughter escaped her mouth. She wept shortly after.

C H A P T E R  3

T
raffic is jammed during the five o’clock rush hour. Pedestrians hovered together like centipedes. Marsha marched down the street in a hurry. A parade blocked her view. Drum rolls, trumpets and a huge crowd clapped as she reached the pavement of Blake’s office.

A flock of birds soared above and bird poop lands on Marsha’s shoulder. Sighing, Marsha grabbed a tissue from her purse to wipe it off.

Marsha waited outside the building then glanced at her watch. She looked behind her and gasped. Blake appeared wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. He turned to the right and Marsha trailed behind him. From across the street, Marsha spotted Blake enter the hotel. She followed him.

She maneuvered her way toward the elegant lobby gazing at the chandeliers above. At the check-in counter, men and women dressed in business suits lined up behind Blake. Marsha hid behind the post, studying her husband’s next move.

Blake took his keys and headed for the elevator. Before it closed, Marsha hopped in.

He pushed the button. His eyes opened wide upon seeing Marsha. “What are you doing here?”

Marsha pursed her lips and tightened the belt of her trench coat. “We need to talk.”

The elevator opened and they both stepped out, crossing the hallway in silence. Blake slid his key through the door and led her inside his suite.

He plopped his briefcase on the chair and loosened his tie.

Marsha remained standing in a corner. “I don’t understand what happened yesterday.”

Blake ran his fingers through his hair and paced around the room like a caged animal. “It’s complicated.”

“You humiliated me.”

“Because of your stupid idea to do it in front of your viewers,” he darted back at her. “I never wanted to renew our vows in public, but you needed to prove to everybody you’re
Ms. Perfect.”

Marsha pointed a finger at him. “That doesn’t erase what you did.”

Blake rubbed his face with both hands. “I can’t explain what I’m going through.”

“Why are you running away from your problems?” She released an exasperated breath. “We can talk about this like mature adults.”

“I’m not one of your patients, Marsha.” Blake sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Is this what it’s about?”

He shook his head, like he was trying to find the right words. “I only need time for myself.”

“Time? How long?”

“For Christ’s sakes, I hate how you push me toward a corner and interrogate me like that. I don’t know.”

Her voice cracked. This wasn’t the Blake she knew—the Blake she married. “Who is she?”

“Don’t you go accusing me of another woman,” he said, sounding hurt.

Marsha approached the window and gazed at the sun setting beneath the Transamerica Pyramid building. She traced her fingers as if she was touching the pink sky, desperate to find a solution. She faced him. “Why can’t we work this out? Go through counseling, take a vacation, or do something. Please!”

Blake opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “Want one?”

“What has gotten into you? You used to hate drinking beer.”

Blake shrugged, snapped the tab and took a big gulp. He removed his long-sleeved shirt, baring a tribal tattoo on his right arm.

“Oh my God!” Marsha gasped. “What the hell, Blake?”

He sighed, clearly irritated by her voice. “What’s the big deal?”

“Perhaps you’re going through a phase and this will pass,” she said in resignation. “If there’s any consolation, we’re planning to hire another therapist. We can go to Paris, take a second honeymoon.”

“I need to figure things out. I want to pamper myself and be alone.”

“So this is it?” Marsha raised her hands in the air. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“I’m not
breaking up
with you.” Briefcase unfastened, he pulled out a brochure. “I’m going to Nepal.”

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Marsha helped thousands of couples restore their relationships and now she couldn’t find a way to get to her own husband. “Nepal? Do you want to be a monk?”

“Well perhaps I can find some answers while I’m there.”

“And what am I supposed to do while you’re in
Nepal?”

Blake shrugged.

Marsha straightened her skirt and walked toward the door. “Really now, Blake. Well, let’s hope I’ll
still be here
when you get back.” She stormed out of the room.

***

Back at home, Marsha sat inside their dressing room. She spotted Blake’s army-green coat. Eyes shut, Marsha sniffed and held the coat close to her chest while she wept. How could Blake do this to her?

Marsha soon retired to her bed, tossing and turning as she tried to sleep. She choked on her cries.

Sunlight crept in and Marsha dried her eyes. She didn’t sleep a wink. Marsha reached for the picture frame on her night table and traced her fingers on Blake’s smile.
You used to say I was your first lady,
she thought, lost in sadness.

Marching down the stairs, Marsha decided that a walk will do her good. She glided slowly as she watched happy couples holding hands. She passed by the boutiques gearing up for spring with their new displays.

Thoughts of Blake and their wedding entered her mind. She could still feel the confetti the guests had thrown at them as they marched out of the chapel, waving goodbye. Everyone pictured them as the happiest couple. She still couldn’t fathom what was going on with Blake.

A blond lady walking four dogs stopped beside her. She opened her eyes wide when she spotted Marsha. “Hey, I know you. You’re the
Love Guru
.”

Marsha forced a smile as the lady tied the dog leashes to the railing.

“Can you give me advice regarding my boyfriend? How can I convince him to tie the knot?”

Marsha exploded into a hysterical laugh. “You believe marriage will make you happy? Think again. He might leave you.”

Marsha scurried away.

She called out to Marsha. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

Marsha continued to hobble away.
If only she knew what I’m going through.