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Posted on June 11, 2012

Robin and Noah were dining alfresco at Trattoria Simpatico in Jamestown as a jazz trio played instrumental music under an old beech tree in the background. The waiter removed an empty bottle of Pinot Grigio from the table and walked away.

“What’s wrong?” Noah asked, watching Robin push the roasted potatoes around her plate. “You barely touched your food.”

“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“It’s no big deal. I was just thinking about what my shrink said to me the other day, that’s all,” she said, looking away.

“And… what did he say?”

“Nothing really. Just talked about fairy tales.”

Noah took a sip of wine. “I just don’t understand you lately,” he said, setting the glass down. “Ever since we got back from our honeymoon, you seem distant for some reason. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t do anything. I told you, I just have a lot on my mind.”

“You used to love going out on the boat, and you haven’t gone out on it with me once since we got back. For that matter, you won’t even hang out on it with me at the dock.”

“You spend too much time on that thing as it is.”

“The boat’s not a bad thing, you know. You treat it like it’s some kind of other woman.”

“Look, just because you named your expensive yacht after me doesn’t mean I have to like it, okay?”

Noah looked at her, puzzled. “And every time I walk up to you to show you the least bit of affectionate, you walk away. You’re never interested in making love anymore. It’s not so much about the sex as it is about expressing our love for each other in a way that only intimacy can achieve. So what’s bothering you? Is it me? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Robin hesitated, took a deep breath, and spoke. “Yeah, there is something you can do to help…”

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