The Beach House Read Online Free PDF Page A

he shows up every Wednesday morning in preparation for an attack. He meets Bee there, neither of them having talked about it in the morning at all, and squashes himself as far away from Bee as possible as she criticizes everything about him.
    And the worst part is, she’s right. He is distracted. He is busy. He doesn’t want to do things with her. He doesn’t compliment her. He isn’t kind, or loving, or affectionate, except when it comes to his daughters, where his heart knows no bounds.
    Bee is right about everything, and so every Wednesday, when the assaults come, there is little he can say; he shrugs, giving an acknowledgment that she is right. If he had the courage, perhaps he could say that he is everything she says because—oh and this is so painful to think about, something he tries to push to the back of his head—because he doesn’t love her. Loves her as the mother of his children, but doesn’t love her in the way he had always expected to love his life partner.
    He can’t say that. Can’t possibly cause this much pain. And a future without his daughters is not something he can contemplate. There are times, particularly in the middle of the night, when Daniel wakes up feeling as if he is suffocating. He knows sleep is not an option on these nights, and he goes upstairs to his office, breathing deeply to try to stay calm, grabbing a newspaper or book to try to take his mind off his fear.
    So he sits in Dr. Posner’s office, in a studio over the garage, week after week, too frightened to face a reality that will change his life forever, withdrawing more and more, terrified that if he tells the truth he will never find his way back to the only life he has ever known.
    Today Daniel isn’t prepared. He is prepared for the usual attack, but is in no way prepared for Dr. Posner’s question.
    “So how are things between you physically?” Dr. Posner crosses his legs and looks from husband to wife nonchalantly, as if he is asking how was their morning, rather than a question about one of the most intimate areas of their lives.
    Daniel can’t look at Bee, he colors ever so slightly at the question and hears her snort, looks up to see her shaking her head derisively.
    “Bee?” Dr. Posner says questioningly, seeing he has more hope of getting information out of Bee.
    “Do you mean sex?” Bee’s voice is small, as Daniel continues to shrink into the other end of the leather sofa, his own legs crossed away from Bee, his arms folded protectively over his chest, his entire body language screaming that he would rather be anywhere other than here. “I don’t remember,” she says at last, looking over at Daniel. “When was the last time, Daniel? Nine months ago? Ten? Longer? I’ve given up counting.”
    “Daniel?” Daniel is mortified to be even discussing this, but at least he sees there is no expression in Dr. Posner’s eyes, no hint of judgment.
    “It’s true.” He shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter.
    “And why is it that you haven’t had physical relations in nine or ten months?” He is asking Daniel, but Daniel can’t find the words so Bee answers for him, and the pain in her voice is palpable.
    “He will say he’s too tired.” Her voice is almost a whisper. “He will fall asleep while I’m in the bathroom brushing my teeth, and if I try to initiate he will brush me off or say he’s too tired, or he has an important meeting in the morning and has to have an early night.”
    “And who does initiate it?”
    “Always me,” Bee says. “It always has been, but in the beginning it wasn’t a problem. I mean, I knew he didn’t have a huge libido. It was one of the things I liked, that he wasn’t constantly trying to grab me, that it wasn’t all about sex—but to never want it? To never initiate it? It makes me feel ugly.” Her eyes start to well. “I feel useless, and ugly, and incapable as a woman and as a wife. I feel rejected.”
    There is a long silence, punctuated only by the soft