Author’s note: All the therapy methods mentioned in this chapter are purely fictional. Trust me because I made them up. However, if there are any success stories based on music therapy, please inform me, right? Thanks, and happy reading!

Chapter 1: First Things First

Intro

by Dr. Brian Cooke

My name is Dr. Brian Cooke. I am a marriage counselor. A very experienced marriage counselor.

I do not mean to boast, but I have seen all types of married couples: hot-tempered ones; dissatisfied ones; the ones with cheating husbands; the ones where the wives are too powerful; the ones where the kids are taking away too much of their free time; the ones who are depressed financially; been there, done that, really.

I’ve had, after all, almost 20 years of experience. All sorts of couples have walked into my office seeking for help every day, so, yes, you can say that I am a very busy person. However, I do have a wife and three kids to go home to, and since I am, after all, a marriage counselor, my wife and I are perfectly happy. And I mean it, because as a marriage counselor, I know what works and what don’t.

My success stories? Oh, I have plenty of those. Of course, I’ve had a few failures, but the last failed case I have had is ten years ago. That was before I started my special therapy method. Ask any married couple who’s been my client before and they will tell you about my very effective and, of course, very amusing method to reawaken the love and spark in a marriage.

One word: music.

That method has never failed me before. Music is powerful enough to move hearts and soul, to make them stop and listen to the beautiful string of words, mostly of love and longing for a partner. Usually, I give them a list of CDs to find, buy and listen to. Sometimes for the very busy ones, I just mail them the CDs they are supposed to listen to. After two or three weeks after that, they would be back on track again, and once more happily married couples who are truly, deeply in love with each other.

And, of course, I tell them: if they feel off with each other again, they can always listen to those CDs again. And sure enough, they do get back on track once more.

Trust me on that. Music WORKS.

Enter The Jansens

At precisely 2.30 pm, my telephone rang. I looked at the blinking light. Line 3, my secretary, Lindsay’s line. I picked up the receiver. “Hello, Lindsay.”

“Dr. Cooke? A couple’s here with Reservation Slip No. 8. No official appointment arranged, though. But they said they didn’t know the protocol. Should I let them in?” came her sweet, clear voice.

They didn’t know the protocol. Right. I checked my schedule. “I guess there’s no harm in letting them in. I’m free this afternoon.”

I could almost see Lindsay’s grin. “Not anymore, Doc.”

She hung up.

I laughed softly. Here goes my free afternoon.

Minutes later, the door opened and the couple comes in. They smile at me, and I smile at them. They are young, I observed, young and stunningly good-looking.

The husband was probably in his early-thirties. He was boyishly handsome, even with closely-cropped dark blonde hair. His eyes were bright blue and his smile was enough to make any woman swoon or drool, whichever way they preferred. He wore a smart and crisp gray suit. A very neutral color. He probably owed his six-foot height to his long legs. His shoulders were broad, and his walk confident as he and his wife made his way to the two cushioned chairs in front of my desk. I am, naturally, surprised because I didn’t even have to prompt them.

The wife, ah, she was a real beauty. Her eyes were a rich, cobalt blue. Her hair was a luxurious shade of brown and was tied in a neat bun, making her look very arresting and professional. The equally smart beige suit that she wore enhanced her air of elegance even further. She was tall, only several inches shorter than her husband. And her legs? Ah, a flawless masterpiece. She looked perfectly happy and confident, unlike most couples who enter my office, and this is odd.

Extremely odd. They look too . . . calm.

And polite, I added to myself as I watched the husband gestured for his wife to sit first, saying, “You first.” And she smiled ever so politely and delicately, and said, “Thank you.” Then he smiled back at her and took his seat. Simultaneously, they smoothened out their clothes and smiled back at me, as if prompting me to greet them.

At this, my eyebrows automatically knit together. My goodness, I thought, they are so . . . formal. Even with each other, I can tell.

Drawing a deep breath, I smile and said, “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” they reply together. Like robots.

Before I get to ask them to introduce themselves, the husband ventured first, “My name is Andrew Jansen. This is my wife - ”

“ – And my name is Marlene Jansen,” the wife cut in. They looked at each other and smiled. They didn’t even apologize. Okay, this is weird. However, I put on a straight, understanding face and nodded as I wrote their names on a client registration form, then copied them out onto a notepad.

“Right,” I started, then I looked up and smiled them. Courteousness and cheerfulness are part of the image I liked to project to my clients. That way, I can encourage them to loosen up and relax, and assure them that I can keep their secrets.

The Jansens looked happy, calm and open enough, but I have a hitch that they aren’t. I can trust my instincts most of the time, and, well, this does not quite spell well for the couple because it would mean extra sessions.

Let’s see first.

“What do you work as?” I looked at Mr. Jansen.

“I run a real estate company,” he grinned at me, revealing perfect white teeth, “Jansen Real Estate. This is its fifth year.”

So, Mr. Jansen is a successful corporate man. Very good.

“What about you, Mrs. Jansen?”

“I am the Marketing Director for Silverson Pharmaceuticals,” she recited confidently, and smiled.

And so is Mrs. Jansen. I don’t think they have any children. Couples with children are usually very emotional, especially the wife.

But just for confirmation . . .

“Do you have any children?”

“No,” they shook their heads and laughed. “We’re too busy,” Mr. Jansen added jokingly, but was given a sharp look by Mrs. Jansen. Apparently, she doesn’t like that comment very much, but almost instantly, she turns back to me and smiles politely again, as if nothing has happened.

“Right.” My hunch is that Mrs. Jansen wants children, but Mr. Jansen is not ready yet. They were, after all, corporate people, and pretty high-flying ones at that. Even if they have any children, the poor children would probably feel very lacking in love due to their hectic careers. But somehow today, they managed to spare time for this marriage counselor.

I wonder what drove them here?

“Why are you here, Mr. and Mrs. Jansen?”

They smiled and looked at each other briefly before turning back to me. “My mother set us up,” Mrs. Jansen replied, and restrained laughter danced in her eyes.

“As an anniversary present, supposedly,” continued Mr. Jansen, giving me an abashedly charming smile. I had to smile back. Already I can sense that he dislikes the interfering third party.

“She has a fantastic sense of humor actually,” Mrs. Jansen rushes forward to, what, save the insult from fully registering in my mind? Sorry, Mrs. Jansen, I’ve computed it. “Anyway, we just came here for fun. You know, maybe its time we take a step back and look at where we’re at. She just wants us to see that, I suppose,” Mrs. Jansen resumed, ending with a nervous laugh.

I laughed nervously inside too. Obviously, she doesn’t want to appear to be having some sort of trouble, especially the ones concerning her married life. I know many corporate women who treat their working life and personal life as two separate entities. Sometimes, it works. Most of the time, it bombs.

And it’s no different, I think, with Mrs. Jansen.

“My thoughts, exactly,” Mr. Jansen echoed, and Mrs. Jansen nodded earnestly. Mr. Jansen didn’t want to hurt his wife’s feelings and wrong her in front of strangers, that’s for sure. A sign that shows that he still loves her.

Or was he afraid that she would humiliate him in return?

“So, how long have you been married?”

At this, both Mr. and Mrs. Jansen fingered their wedding rings. They seemed to be calculating, which is unnatural for the wife, who usually do not have any problems remembering. Finally Mr. Jansen gave me the number: “Seven.”

“Eight,” Mrs. Jansen corrected sharply, and gave her husband a sharp glare. Mr. Jansen glared at her back, and I felt caught in the middle, the fish between the sharks. They looked almost ready to tear each other to pieces, until Mr. Jansen finally said, “Eight.”

Oookaaay, I wrote it twice on the notepad and the registration form and cleared my throat. The couple immediately returned to their happy, calm selves.

I have a schizophrenic couple as prospective clients. This is great. I’m going to have a whale of a time working on them.

Right. So time for the ultimate question.

“So, how often do you have sex?”

The simple question had an instant, hilarious effect on the young couple. Mr. Jansen looked away, suddenly interested in the stitches of his coat sleeve. Mrs. Jansen just sat and stared at me, as if asking me, “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?”

So I repeated the question: “How many times do you, let’s rephrase it shall we?, make love, every month?”

Mr. Jansen remained fascinated in the coat sleeve stitches, and Mrs. Jansen looked down and studied her hands on her lap. Finally, Mr. Jansen shrugged. But that wasn’t a good enough answer to me.

“When was the last time you had sex with each other?”

Now, both of them looked up, but all happy, joyous light had gone out of their faces. Slowly, and hesitantly, Mrs. Jansen replied, “Last week, I think.” She looked at her husband questioningly, as if prompting him to agree with her, but he just glared back, as if screaming silently, “No, we didn’t!”

At that, I can happily conclude that this young, beautiful couple are: a) not happy with each other; and b) have never had sex at all for several months now.

We have plenty of kinks to work out. And I’m going to start tomorrow. Separately first, shall we?

I cleared my throat again, and that immediately snapped them back to a safer reality: that their marriage counselor was going to sign them on for a few sessions.

“I am going to sign you on for five sessions first, okay? And if we’re still not done by then, I’ll extend it. Is that all right with you, Mr. and Mrs. Jansen?”

All they can manage are weak smiles and nods.

“Good. Just fill in the rest of the form and hand them back to me.”

As I sat and watched the couple fill the form, they never even tried to talk to each other. Not even the smallest talk, like: “Will you be coming home for dinner?”, or “What do you want to have for dinner?”, or even “Do you think this is a good idea?” None, nada, nil. They are silently, deathly furious that they have failed in projecting the perfect couple image.

Jeez, guys, your cover is blown.

They handed the forms back to me and I nodded for them to leave, saying that I will call to schedule the appointment soon. As they got up and headed for the door, I waited for the last of the Jansens to go out the door. Lucky me, it was Mr. Jansen, who played the gentleman husband as always.

“Mr. Jansen, may I have a moment please?” I stood and pretended that the idea had just gotten into my head. Mr. Jansen glanced outside the door for a moment, then walked back to my desk.

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Are you free tomorrow afternoon, at this time?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Young and confident. “Is it all right if you come in alone tomorrow for a one-on-one session with me, you know, for a little guy talk?” I smiled at him. “It’s free of charge.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, then he shrugged again, and said, “Okay. Anyway, nice meeting you, Doc.” He shook my hand with another dazzling smile, and left my office.

Well, well, well, so it begins . . .