Laurie Abraham on what can be learned from observing a year of couples counselling: "You ask me for intimacy," Marie was telling her husband of 22 years, Clem — and, unavoidably, the therapist and four other couples in the room — "the same way you ask if I'd like croutons on my salad." She spoke slowly, deliberately, each word chipping out of her mouth like an ax striking wood. "I don't hear the difference."
"I guess — " Clem began.
"I don't hear the difference in the question." More sharp chips; Marie would not be denied. Seated next to her husband, she had turned to confront him, though, as usual, she was holding a large pillow in her lap — between her and him, between her and the rest of the group. Light dappled the walls of the Jersey Shore office, reflected sun off the bay three stories below.
"I guess I've tried different ways, and nothing seems to . . . to . . . ," said Clem, who stutters when he's challenged, or trying to plead his case. He is the personification of mild: fit and trim, with cornflower blue eyes. "It doesn't seem like you hear me no matter how I say it." Later, he'll say, even more plaintively: "It sounds like you want me to initiate sex, but it's just hard to because the answer is always no, or 'O.K.,' and that just doesn't turn me on. It really takes all the wind out of my sails to know that you're only saying yes to appease me."




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