One of the best predictors of a marriage’s success in the modern day is whether the wife feels that the household chores are divided evenly.
Thousands of factoids about marriage are published yearly. Not surprisingly, many of them don’t stand up to close inspection. The influence of religion and religious organizations on the various studies accounts for a large percentage of the incorrect information. Many of the widely accepted myths about marriage involve the deleterious effects of premarital cohabitation, marrying outside of one’s religion, and premarital sex.
A marriage is 57 percent more likely to fail if the spouses live together before the wedding, I read on the website of a popular women’s magazine. In a tiny footnote, the magazine cites a study conducted by the American Coalition for the Protection of Family Values. Scientific surveys, however, indicate that the cohabitation myth is patently false. Among the couples I’ve seen, those who lived together before marriage seem to be standing on far firmer ground.
One piece of data, though, is fairly consistent across the board, from study to study, regardless of the source: Most married couples report being happiest during their third year of marriage. Alice and I are only a few months into our marriage, and I can’t imagine being any happier. On the flip side, I also can’t imagine the idea of being less happy after our third year.
37
A man and a woman step out of the SUV. Both wear suits. The man is in his mid-to-late thirties, clean-cut, freckles, shorter than the woman. His suit strains at the chest and shoulders, as if he started lifting weights sometime after he went to the tailor. The woman stands beside the driver’s-side door of the Lexus, hands behind her back. “Good morning, I’m Declan,” the man says, approaching us at the bottom of the stairs. Like Kieran, he has an Irish accent. He reaches his hand out to me and I shake it.
“Jake,” I say.
“This must be Alice.”
“Yes,” Alice says, squaring her shoulders.
“This is my friend Diane,” he says. Diane nods. “Would you mind if we come inside?”
I can see the glimmer of defiance in Alice’s smile. “Do we have a choice?”
Diane takes a large black duffel bag from the backseat of the Lexus. Declan follows Alice and me into the living room, while Diane waits in the foyer, black bag at her feet.
“Something to drink?” I ask.
“No thank you,” Declan replies. “Perhaps we could sit for a minute?”
Alice, still in her puffy coat, sits in the blue chair. I stand beside it, my arm around her shoulders.
Declan pulls a folder from his messenger bag and lays some papers on the coffee table in front of Alice. “My understanding is that you received a directive to report to Half Moon Bay Airport. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“She had to appear in Federal Court that morning,” I add. “We expressed our wishes to leave The Pact, and when our request was refused, Alice explained that she wouldn’t be able—”
“I’m sure she had her reasons,” Declan interrupts, “but that’s not really for me or Diane to determine.”
He slides a sheet of paper in front of Alice. “I need you to sign this and date it at the bottom. Take a moment to read it, if you like. It states that you were aware of the directive to appear at the time and location stated.”
“I can read,” Alice says curtly. She scans the few paragraphs, and as she’s about to sign I stop her hand. She looks up at me. “It’s okay, Jake. Let me handle this. Really, that’s all it says.” She signs.
Declan slides a second sheet in front of her. “If I could also ask you to sign this form.”
“What is this?”
“The form indicates your acknowledgment of my identity and the responsibility that Diane and I have to fulfill the requirements of the contract you signed on the date below, witnessed and notarized by Vivian Crandall.”
“And what are those requirements?” I ask.
“It means that your wife needs to come with us this morning.”
“I’ll come too.”
“No. Just Alice.”
“Do I have time to get changed?” Alice asks.
“You’re not actually going?” I protest.
She puts a hand on my arm. “Jake, it’s okay. I want to follow this through. It’s my choice.” Then she looks at Declan. “I’m not signing that, though.”
“You must,” Declan says.
Alice shakes her head. “If you need me to sign that in order for me to go with you, then you’ll have to leave without me.”
Declan glances at Diane, who is listening intently but has yet to speak.
“It’s procedure,” Diane says.
“Well, call someone if you need to.” Alice shrugs. “There’s a limit to what I’ll sign. I’m an attorney, remember?”
I think back to the original documents we signed, and despite what she said this morning on the beach, I wish with all my heart she’d been as cautious then as she is now.
“Fine.” Diane’s face is unreadable. “There’s a list of procedures we need to follow. We’ll go through them after you change.”
“I would suggest,” Declan adds, “you wear something comfortable and loose-fitting.”
Alice gets up and goes back to the bedroom to change out of her damp beach clothes. I want to follow her, but I don’t want to leave these two alone in my living room. There’s no telling what they’d hide where.
“How long will she be gone?”
Declan shrugs. “I can’t say for certain.”
“Where are you taking her? Can I visit?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Diane says.
“Can she at least call me?”
“Yes, of course.” Declan smiles, as if to prove he is the most reasonable person in the world. “She’ll get two phone calls per day.”
“Seriously,” I insist. “How long will she be gone? And what do you plan to do with her?”
Declan tugs at the shoulders of his tight suit jacket. I get the feeling I’m asking questions he shouldn’t answer. “Look, I really don’t know.”
Diane takes a cellphone from her pocket. “I’ll be outside.” She steps out the front door and closes it behind her.
“Between us,” Declan tells me, “if I had to guess, first time, newly married, new to the program, I’d say seventy-two hours max. Probably less. As for what, it’s reeducation.”
“Some sort of class, you mean?”
“Probably more a one-on-one situation.”
I picture another counselor like Dave, albeit more intense.
“But I don’t know,” Declan adds, “and I can’t say, and we didn’t have this discussion.”
I can hear Alice frantically going through drawers in our bedroom. “And what if she refuses to go?”
“Dude,” Declan replies quietly, “don’t even go there. Here’s how it’s going to work: Your wife is going to get dressed, she and I are going to go through the procedures, we’re going to prepare her for travel, and then Alice, Diane, and I will get into the truck and leave. How that happens is up to your wife. She has a long ride ahead, and there’s really no need to make it any more unpleasant than it has to be. Understand?”