The Seven Year Itch
There was a weird contraption on his desk, with six silver balls lined in a neat row. They were attached to a silver bar with thin wires. She clutched one ball between her fingers, and upon releasing it the ball clinked against the lineup and in succession the entire row swung back and forth hypnotically, emitting tiny clicks in sync.
Click. Click. Click.
Six small spheres swung back and forth in unison with their incessant clicking, and her eyes moved in perfect pace back and forth. As they began to slow, she reached forward to set the balls in motion again, but she felt a strong and sturdy hand clamp her roving fingers to the desk.
"That's incredibly annoying."
She rolled her eyes at the owner of the voice and folded her hands in her lap.
Click. Click. Click.
"Stop it."
"Stop treating me like a child."
"Stop acting like one."
She snorted and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. Gazing around the room she admired several beautifully framed plaques, with crisp certificates bearing seals of honor housed inside. Rows of books lined the shelves behind the mahogany desk, and a marble bust of surely some philosophical type person stood proudly on a corner table. She wiggled nervously in the plush leather chair, causing it to squeak loudly in the quiet room. She grimaced slightly but all current lack of comfort was forgotten when she heard the creak of the door. An older man stepped through, his pinstripe suit baggy on his small frame and a terrible comb over sweeping across his obviously bald head.
"Good evening," he said extending his hand towards the two people who occupied the chairs in front of him. He slid a pair of thick, black glasses up the bridge of his nose and shuffled through a pile of papers before he came upon the correct sheet. "Ahh yes, you two must be Mr. and Mrs. Lopez Fitzgerald ..."
"Yes," the man seated next to her said taking the older man's hand roughly in his and shaking in vigorously. "Mr. and Mrs. Luis Lopez Fitzgerald."
"For now," she spat giving him a sour look. "And my name is Sheridan not Mrs. Luis."
She hissed the final syllable like a venomous snake before turning to face the man behind the desk. He ran his hand through his very poor comb over, revealing a rather hideous scab marring his skull. He scratched it for and moment before sitting down and shuffling papers again. "Well then, welcome to the both of you. I am Dr. Gering and I will be your therapist for this session."
Both Sheridan and Luis shifted uncomfortably in their seats while staring intently at Dr. Gering. He slid his glasses off his nose and folded his hands on the desk, as if in some type of deep concentration. He scratched the scab again and Sheridan grimaced.
"Now then, how long exactly have the two of you been married?"
"Four years," they both said monotonously.
"Ahh yes interesting, very interesting..." the doctor continued. "And how long were you together before you were married?"
"Three years," they said together with equal lack of enthusiasm. Dr. Gering arched a grey eyebrow and continued to shuffle his papers. Above them the clock ticked ever so slowly, counting down the minutes of each wasted dollar.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The entire history of their marriage, summarized in three ticks of the clock.
The doctor finally set his papers aside and focused on the couple sitting in front of him. Sheridan brushed a worn, blonde strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Luis emitted a muffled cough and shifted again, causing the leather to squeak once more.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, trying to subdue the onset of an incoming migraine.
"When are we going to get to the dirty ink blots, I am sure Luis is just itching to get to those," Sheridan muttered cutting through the silence.
Luis scowled but said nothing. After another long pause, he finally spoke. "When will we be getting to your codependency issues?"
"What about his obvious Oedipus complex?" Sheridan interrupted, "I wouldn't be the least surprise if his father's disappearance had something to do with..."
"Damnit Sheridan when will you ever learn to keep that overly lip glossed mouth of yours shut!" Luis seethed, his jaw clenched and blotches of angry red beginning to cover his face.
"... perhaps he harbored some unknown resentment and jealously towards his father, and extreme feelings of attachment towards his mother," Sheridan pressed on, "I really think it would be worth investigating. He always was a ma-muh's boy."
Sheridan's mischievous giggle was cut short when Luis lunged towards her, grasping her wrists in his hands. She yelped and pulled away, digging her nails into the side of the chair.
"Did you see that? Do you see what I have to put up with? This constant anger and rage. Sometimes I am afraid he might ... "
"Quit feeding the man your bullshit Sheridan. The Pity Princess act doesn't work anymore," Luis said bitterly.
"That's enough," Dr. Gering said flatly. "I won't have any domestic disturbances in my office. Seeing as neither of you are medical doctors, I think it is time I give me preliminary assessment of this situation."
Both parties scowled at each other before looking at Dr. Gering expectantly. Both were quite assured that their problems were the other's fault.
The doctor picked nervously at his scab again before locking his fingers together and resting them on the desk. "I fear this maybe a case of the seven year itch," he began.
"Listen Doc, I know Sheridan may be a dumb blonde but she has never stood over a subway grate..."
Dr. Gering cut off his remark with a sneer and continued. "Many in the psychiatry field regard the seven year itch as an actual phenomenon. At the beginning of the relationship, there is nothing but heat and passion. A couple is wild for each other. The chemical in the brain react to stimuli..."
Somewhere during Dr. Gering's rambling, Sheridan's mind drifted off. She caught some medical term now and then, but mostly she slumped her chin against her hand and watched the doctor's jowls flop to and fro while he spoke.
"... and sooner or later, the relationship reaches a plateau stage where things cool off. That chemistry cools off, and the initial high looses it's luster."
"So you're saying, our marriage is like an experiment with drugs?" Luis asked.
"Not exactly," Dr. Gering continued, knitting his heavy eyebrows together. "After about seven years or so, a relationship cools off, and couples get what is known as 'The Seven Year Itch' upon which that delightful film is based. One of my personal favorites."
Sheridan scrunched her nose in distaste. "Right then. So, our marriage is falling apart because of some syndrome and it has nothing to do with the fact that Luis is a rampant cheater?
Dr. Gering scratched the scab again, puzzling over her statement. Luis' eyes bore down on her, and he spoke in a flat and even tone.
"It was once Sheridan, only once. I thought we were past that."
"Ya, and I thought that when you promised to love, honor, and cherish me that you were telling the truth. I guess we both have misconceptions, don't we?"
Luis forced down the lump in his throat and adjusted his tie. The three of them sat in silence except for the ticking of the clock. Suddenly, what seemed like a loud bang in the silent room startled them. Dr. Gering patted the top of his egg timer and smiled gently.
"I am afraid that is all for today," he said jotting down a few words on his notepad. "Will I be seeing you next week?"
"I highly doubt that," Sheridan snorted scooping up her purse and exiting the room. Luis quickly scribbled his payment on a cheque, ripped it out and tossed it on the desk before he too departed.
The didn't speak a word to each other as they drove home, and the tension between them continued as they pulled in front of the Book Cafe.
"I need a coffee," Luis muttered combing his hands through his hair.
"Sure you do," Sheridan responded sarcastically, stepping out of the car and onto the sidewalk beside him.
"You coming in?"
"No darling, I wouldn't dream of interrupting your little rendezvous."
Luis didn't even bother giving her an exasperated glare. He shrugged his shoulders and slipped into the coffee shop. Sheridan turned her back to the glass window and slid and package from her inside coat pocket. Letting a fresh cigarette fall between her fingers, she brought it to her lips and felt the warmth of a new spark rising to greet her. She blew a long stream of gray smoke before turning around to look through the window. Luis' mouth was pulled into a wide grin, rows of glinting teeth flashing at the girl behind the counter. Her hair was shorn into a cute pixie cut, each strand still slick and black. She smiled back and patted his arm, and he stroked hers in return. Sheridan exhaled another wave of smoke that clouded her sullen features. She wiped the thick lines of black eyeliner from beneath her lids and the harsh red lipstick from her frowning mouth.
"Slut," she muttered, brushing back her bleached hair from her eyes. She tapped her foot impatiently on the concrete sidewalk as Luis sauntered out looking like a cat with a fresh canary in his belly. "Did you get your fill of ... coffee?"
Luis didn't acknowledge her as he slipped into the car, leaving Sheridan no choice but to simply shrug and follow.
They soon pulled into the driveway of their dream home, complete with white picket fence and closets full of skeletons. Luis absently dropped the keys on the front hall table, not noticing them fall onto the tiled floor. Sheridan clutched the keys between her fingers and slumped against the front door, just as Luis was heading straight for the fridge. He loosened his tie and unscrewed the lid to the beer bottle before immediately thrusting it to his lips. Sheridan drew idle patterns in the carpet with the keys, picking absently at the fibres.
"So, what did Bethy have to say? Did she slip you a motel key with your latte?"
Luis flinched and lowered the beer bottle, searing eyes staring down at her. "We have been through this thousands of times. It was only once, you know that..."
"Do I really Luis? There are a lot of things I thought I knew, but they all turned out to be heaps of flaming crap. Why should the activities of Little Luis be any different."
"Damnit Sheridan, why do you have to act so self righteous? I think I held you on a pedestal too long for all those years, so much time in the clouds has cut off the oxygen to your brain."
With a sudden thrash, the beer bottle connected with the countertop, sending shards of glass spilling onto the counter and floor. Sheridan jumped back in shock, and Luis swore as he gripped his wounded hand. Wrapping the bleeding flesh wounds with a tea towel, he winced as he slumped down onto a kitchen stool. Sheridan lay her head in her hands, and for some reason she began to giggle. It began as a soft chuckle, but quickly became a full fledged laugh.
"I am glad you find my injuries so amusing," Luis said applying pressure to his palm.
"I think the quack may have been partially right Luis," Sheridan replied wiping a tear from her eye, "this marriage is a joke."
Luis lowered his head, his dark eyes fluttering for a moment before he slowly nodded.
"I remember when you promised that you would love me forever," she whispered listlessly, carving a heart into the carpet. He looked down at his floor and nudged a piece of glass towards him with his foot.
"And I never break a promise," he said with complete sincerity. He looked up to catch her eyes. "I just never promised to like you forever."
Her mouth curled into a half smile and she looked down at her scribbled carpet heart. She fingered the fibres gently before speaking again.
"I'll always love you too Luis," she said in a slightly sarcastic tone. She gripped the keys tightly in her hand and crossed an X through the heart.
"But I just don't like you anymore."
There was a weird contraption on his desk, with six silver balls lined in a neat row. They were attached to a silver bar with thin wires. She clutched one ball between her fingers, and upon releasing it the ball clinked against the lineup and in succession the entire row swung back and forth hypnotically, emitting tiny clicks in sync.
Click. Click. Click.
Six small spheres swung back and forth in unison with their incessant clicking, and her eyes moved in perfect pace back and forth. As they began to slow, she reached forward to set the balls in motion again, but she felt a strong and sturdy hand clamp her roving fingers to the desk.
"That's incredibly annoying."
She rolled her eyes at the owner of the voice and folded her hands in her lap.
Click. Click. Click.
"Stop it."
"Stop treating me like a child."
"Stop acting like one."
She snorted and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. Gazing around the room she admired several beautifully framed plaques, with crisp certificates bearing seals of honor housed inside. Rows of books lined the shelves behind the mahogany desk, and a marble bust of surely some philosophical type person stood proudly on a corner table. She wiggled nervously in the plush leather chair, causing it to squeak loudly in the quiet room. She grimaced slightly but all current lack of comfort was forgotten when she heard the creak of the door. An older man stepped through, his pinstripe suit baggy on his small frame and a terrible comb over sweeping across his obviously bald head.
"Good evening," he said extending his hand towards the two people who occupied the chairs in front of him. He slid a pair of thick, black glasses up the bridge of his nose and shuffled through a pile of papers before he came upon the correct sheet. "Ahh yes, you two must be Mr. and Mrs. Lopez Fitzgerald ..."
"Yes," the man seated next to her said taking the older man's hand roughly in his and shaking in vigorously. "Mr. and Mrs. Luis Lopez Fitzgerald."
"For now," she spat giving him a sour look. "And my name is Sheridan not Mrs. Luis."
She hissed the final syllable like a venomous snake before turning to face the man behind the desk. He ran his hand through his very poor comb over, revealing a rather hideous scab marring his skull. He scratched it for and moment before sitting down and shuffling papers again. "Well then, welcome to the both of you. I am Dr. Gering and I will be your therapist for this session."
Both Sheridan and Luis shifted uncomfortably in their seats while staring intently at Dr. Gering. He slid his glasses off his nose and folded his hands on the desk, as if in some type of deep concentration. He scratched the scab again and Sheridan grimaced.
"Now then, how long exactly have the two of you been married?"
"Four years," they both said monotonously.
"Ahh yes interesting, very interesting..." the doctor continued. "And how long were you together before you were married?"
"Three years," they said together with equal lack of enthusiasm. Dr. Gering arched a grey eyebrow and continued to shuffle his papers. Above them the clock ticked ever so slowly, counting down the minutes of each wasted dollar.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The entire history of their marriage, summarized in three ticks of the clock.
The doctor finally set his papers aside and focused on the couple sitting in front of him. Sheridan brushed a worn, blonde strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Luis emitted a muffled cough and shifted again, causing the leather to squeak once more.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, trying to subdue the onset of an incoming migraine.
"When are we going to get to the dirty ink blots, I am sure Luis is just itching to get to those," Sheridan muttered cutting through the silence.
Luis scowled but said nothing. After another long pause, he finally spoke. "When will we be getting to your codependency issues?"
"What about his obvious Oedipus complex?" Sheridan interrupted, "I wouldn't be the least surprise if his father's disappearance had something to do with..."
"Damnit Sheridan when will you ever learn to keep that overly lip glossed mouth of yours shut!" Luis seethed, his jaw clenched and blotches of angry red beginning to cover his face.
"... perhaps he harbored some unknown resentment and jealously towards his father, and extreme feelings of attachment towards his mother," Sheridan pressed on, "I really think it would be worth investigating. He always was a ma-muh's boy."
Sheridan's mischievous giggle was cut short when Luis lunged towards her, grasping her wrists in his hands. She yelped and pulled away, digging her nails into the side of the chair.
"Did you see that? Do you see what I have to put up with? This constant anger and rage. Sometimes I am afraid he might ... "
"Quit feeding the man your bullshit Sheridan. The Pity Princess act doesn't work anymore," Luis said bitterly.
"That's enough," Dr. Gering said flatly. "I won't have any domestic disturbances in my office. Seeing as neither of you are medical doctors, I think it is time I give me preliminary assessment of this situation."
Both parties scowled at each other before looking at Dr. Gering expectantly. Both were quite assured that their problems were the other's fault.
The doctor picked nervously at his scab again before locking his fingers together and resting them on the desk. "I fear this maybe a case of the seven year itch," he began.
"Listen Doc, I know Sheridan may be a dumb blonde but she has never stood over a subway grate..."
Dr. Gering cut off his remark with a sneer and continued. "Many in the psychiatry field regard the seven year itch as an actual phenomenon. At the beginning of the relationship, there is nothing but heat and passion. A couple is wild for each other. The chemical in the brain react to stimuli..."
Somewhere during Dr. Gering's rambling, Sheridan's mind drifted off. She caught some medical term now and then, but mostly she slumped her chin against her hand and watched the doctor's jowls flop to and fro while he spoke.
"... and sooner or later, the relationship reaches a plateau stage where things cool off. That chemistry cools off, and the initial high looses it's luster."
"So you're saying, our marriage is like an experiment with drugs?" Luis asked.
"Not exactly," Dr. Gering continued, knitting his heavy eyebrows together. "After about seven years or so, a relationship cools off, and couples get what is known as 'The Seven Year Itch' upon which that delightful film is based. One of my personal favorites."
Sheridan scrunched her nose in distaste. "Right then. So, our marriage is falling apart because of some syndrome and it has nothing to do with the fact that Luis is a rampant cheater?
Dr. Gering scratched the scab again, puzzling over her statement. Luis' eyes bore down on her, and he spoke in a flat and even tone.
"It was once Sheridan, only once. I thought we were past that."
"Ya, and I thought that when you promised to love, honor, and cherish me that you were telling the truth. I guess we both have misconceptions, don't we?"
Luis forced down the lump in his throat and adjusted his tie. The three of them sat in silence except for the ticking of the clock. Suddenly, what seemed like a loud bang in the silent room startled them. Dr. Gering patted the top of his egg timer and smiled gently.
"I am afraid that is all for today," he said jotting down a few words on his notepad. "Will I be seeing you next week?"
"I highly doubt that," Sheridan snorted scooping up her purse and exiting the room. Luis quickly scribbled his payment on a cheque, ripped it out and tossed it on the desk before he too departed.
The didn't speak a word to each other as they drove home, and the tension between them continued as they pulled in front of the Book Cafe.
"I need a coffee," Luis muttered combing his hands through his hair.
"Sure you do," Sheridan responded sarcastically, stepping out of the car and onto the sidewalk beside him.
"You coming in?"
"No darling, I wouldn't dream of interrupting your little rendezvous."
Luis didn't even bother giving her an exasperated glare. He shrugged his shoulders and slipped into the coffee shop. Sheridan turned her back to the glass window and slid and package from her inside coat pocket. Letting a fresh cigarette fall between her fingers, she brought it to her lips and felt the warmth of a new spark rising to greet her. She blew a long stream of gray smoke before turning around to look through the window. Luis' mouth was pulled into a wide grin, rows of glinting teeth flashing at the girl behind the counter. Her hair was shorn into a cute pixie cut, each strand still slick and black. She smiled back and patted his arm, and he stroked hers in return. Sheridan exhaled another wave of smoke that clouded her sullen features. She wiped the thick lines of black eyeliner from beneath her lids and the harsh red lipstick from her frowning mouth.
"Slut," she muttered, brushing back her bleached hair from her eyes. She tapped her foot impatiently on the concrete sidewalk as Luis sauntered out looking like a cat with a fresh canary in his belly. "Did you get your fill of ... coffee?"
Luis didn't acknowledge her as he slipped into the car, leaving Sheridan no choice but to simply shrug and follow.
They soon pulled into the driveway of their dream home, complete with white picket fence and closets full of skeletons. Luis absently dropped the keys on the front hall table, not noticing them fall onto the tiled floor. Sheridan clutched the keys between her fingers and slumped against the front door, just as Luis was heading straight for the fridge. He loosened his tie and unscrewed the lid to the beer bottle before immediately thrusting it to his lips. Sheridan drew idle patterns in the carpet with the keys, picking absently at the fibres.
"So, what did Bethy have to say? Did she slip you a motel key with your latte?"
Luis flinched and lowered the beer bottle, searing eyes staring down at her. "We have been through this thousands of times. It was only once, you know that..."
"Do I really Luis? There are a lot of things I thought I knew, but they all turned out to be heaps of flaming crap. Why should the activities of Little Luis be any different."
"Damnit Sheridan, why do you have to act so self righteous? I think I held you on a pedestal too long for all those years, so much time in the clouds has cut off the oxygen to your brain."
With a sudden thrash, the beer bottle connected with the countertop, sending shards of glass spilling onto the counter and floor. Sheridan jumped back in shock, and Luis swore as he gripped his wounded hand. Wrapping the bleeding flesh wounds with a tea towel, he winced as he slumped down onto a kitchen stool. Sheridan lay her head in her hands, and for some reason she began to giggle. It began as a soft chuckle, but quickly became a full fledged laugh.
"I am glad you find my injuries so amusing," Luis said applying pressure to his palm.
"I think the quack may have been partially right Luis," Sheridan replied wiping a tear from her eye, "this marriage is a joke."
Luis lowered his head, his dark eyes fluttering for a moment before he slowly nodded.
"I remember when you promised that you would love me forever," she whispered listlessly, carving a heart into the carpet. He looked down at his floor and nudged a piece of glass towards him with his foot.
"And I never break a promise," he said with complete sincerity. He looked up to catch her eyes. "I just never promised to like you forever."
Her mouth curled into a half smile and she looked down at her scribbled carpet heart. She fingered the fibres gently before speaking again.
"I'll always love you too Luis," she said in a slightly sarcastic tone. She gripped the keys tightly in her hand and crossed an X through the heart.
"But I just don't like you anymore."