Friends

“Alright, let's start from the beginning,” said the counselor. 

He was a young man, no older than 30 from the looks of it. His black hair slicked back made him look like he could be part of Grease, and his physique was well to carry him a mile or two. His voice was reassuring in a caring yet serious tone when he asked us how this all started. 

I observed this while sitting on the far end of the black leather couch. On the other side a good three feet away was my husband, James. 

“Jane, I know you have been partaking in many hobbies recently; and James, you clearly stated that it has gotten out of hand, am I correct?” he said pointing at us when saying our names.

“That is correct,” James said with one arm under his arm, legs crossed, and two fingers touching his temple the first signs of a headache coming on.

“I beg to differ,” I said. 

“Why is that?” the counselor said, sounding somewhat enthusiastic as he got us talking. 

“Well starting with he's always at work, and after the closing of my advertising department; I have found myself with so much time and nothing to do with it,” I stated. 

James laughed into his hand, and said: “this is ridiculous, pick something and stick to it”. 

“You don’t think I've done that,” I scoffed. 

“Nope, don't think you have, '' he said, shaking his head in irritation. “Cause by now you would have, and we wouldn’t be here, no offense.”

The counselor nodded and turned his head every time one of us replied to the other person's arrogance.  

“I have,” I said a little loudly “maybe if you paid attention to me you would know.”

“ Oh, really,” he turned his whole body towards me and said, “I'm paying attention, tell me, what exactly have you committed yourself to?''   

“Reading, writing, yoga, knitting, coloring, painting, golfing, tennis lessons, horseback riding what else have I left out cause clearly, I don't pay attention,” he said standing up, pacing back and forward rubbing his now premature white hair. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you left out scuba diving, baking, pottery, and sewing,” I said irritated. 

"Oh, how could I forget," he said sarcastically, "that was favorite, it's not every day your wife decides to torch gingerbread men."

“And do you want to know why I’m not “committed,” lifting my hands to make quotation signs to clearly emphasize my reasons?

“I'm all ears,” he said, placing his hands on his hips and inching his head closer to hear.

“You constantly complain about my hobbies,” I said.

He scoffed, pacing and rubbing his head, turning to face the counselor, “Do you believe this?” 

The poor counselor started to mumble along the lines of, “I'm not in a position to take sides.”

“Yes,” I said, “and I quote,” waving my hands again in quotations. “It's too messy, you look like the trunk of an elephant in that scuba suit, your thighs look porky on the horse, god I swear you're worse than a four-year-old!”

“I never said that, if anything they were compliments.” 

“Well, that was a hell of a compliment. I feel so loved, sweetheart.” I said bitterly. At that moment he smiles his pearly whites and raises a hand above his head and bows. 

“Ugh!” I said annoyed and ready to snap back until the counselor stood up before the snap came. “Alright, alright let's try and calm ourselves, please sit,” he said partially from fear of his office becoming a battlefield. 

“Now let's take a deep breath,” he said, taking a deep breath, I wondered if this was all worth it. 

“Now let's agree,” he said, “Jane when you leave this office I want you to place small pieces of paper with all the hoodies you have done and place them in a jar. And when you pick one out you are committed to that hobby for the rest of the month,” he said seriously. 

I nodded, then he turned to James. 

“James under any circumstances you are not allowed to comment on your wife's hobbies, and as a replacement for those comments I want you to turn around and count to ten,” he said with his hands together looking like a reverend ready to pray. 

He nodded as well. 

He looked at us one final time, smiling approvingly, and said, “good, I'm so glad you both came today,” he quickly glazed at the wall behind the couch, where an abnormally large clock took up much of the wall in his office.   

“Thank you so much for your advice, I will definitely give it a try,” I said sincerely while shaking his hand. 

At that moment James stood up and turned his back; having no patience for him anymore I left the office down the hall to the elevator. I smiled at the receptionist. The elevator doors were on the corner to the left. Hearing the footsteps of my husband I pressed the button, on entering the elevator we both were quiet and still. That is until halfway down; James turned facing me with his mischievous smile that could make anything he said not be taken seriously. Stretching out his hand he questioned. 

“Friends?” staring at his hand to the corner of his lips, filled me with the memory of our first ever encounter. 

It happened like this; my first job interview fresh from college, ready to kick butt and take names of one of New York’s biggest and finest Advertising Firms. Celebrating my little victory in the elevator, James stuck his arm between the doors interrupting my moment of bliss. Smiling his all but one of a kind smile, congratulated me. Thus starting us off on what is now.

At this moment both the past and present came rushing to me at once, a simple handshake could not suffice the feeling I felt in both realities, so clearly. 

Until I finally said the seven-letter word. 

“Friends,” that started this whole roller coaster.