He didn't ask us back
"We're going to marriage counselling,"my wife said. Which were the first words she had spoken to me in about five months. Which never got mentioned during the counselling.
So a couple of weeks later, with her now intermittently speaking to me, we arrive. It was a dingy little office somewhere in the south of Brisbane, overlooking the main street. I had arrived by train, early, and walked. She had driven, late as per usual.
And we take our places opposite a true blue fair dinkum Aussie pastor: rimmed glasses, ginger beard, thin red skinned face, a peeping paunch below too loose a shirt and of course that slow Queensland blokey drawl. He looked from my wife to me then back to me, folded his arms, took off his glasses and decided he would spend the session glaring at me.
And he starts firing questions like bullets at me. And I am answering. As well as I can. Except for this twittering in my right ear.
My wife is whispering. Sour somethings I suppose but only as I talk. And I don't understand a word she is saying. Which I think must be due to the five month cone of silence.
And then I stop. And she stops. And then I speak and then stop. And she stops. And then I speak and then stop. And she continues without stopping. And she is heard.
The pastor turns to us and admonishes us, "Stop playing games, both of you." And I'm thinking, I'm not the one playing bloody games here, I'm answering your questions.
It took two more sessions : each pock marked with aggression all focussed upon me. At no time was I asked what I thought, or what I felt, or what I wanted, or what had happened. Otherwise I would have most probably mentioned the five months of silence.
And a thread started to emerge. I mentioned once or twice how critical my wife was of me. And her riposte was always the same: she would say she was joking. Even as I pointed out on one occasion that particular criticism continued for many months afterward. And slowly the aggressive pastor began to see a pattern. Perhaps I needed to lighten up and enjoy the joke as well?
The last session culminated with me picking up a toy off the messy floor. The pastor had asked my wife, I remember he couldn't even say her name correctly, about her health. And my wife said she was never well.
And he stopped. And rounded on me picking up the toy.
"Why aren't you listening?" he began.
"I deal with this everyday," I said. I continued stating that every morning, I have to decide whether I should take a sick day to look after my wife. Because every morning she didn't want to get up. And I said that's why I have no sick leave (for me (which I left out)) and that on one occasion I had looked after the children for two or three weeks when she was in hospital (which had ended with a violent attack upon me (which I also left out)). And I had no leave left. And that this was a regular occurrence and happened every weekend.
He stopped glaring at me. He didn’t ask me any more questions. And he didn't ask us back.