“I’ll do better, I really will,” Laila pleaded.
It wasn’t for a lack of trying, heck, they’d been going to couples therapy for a whole year (well, 10 months to be exact). A few weeks ago, Otto and Laila had sat in Dr. Berg-Levitansky’s office and discussed whether it was best for Otto to sleep outside for a while. Otto didn’t mind, there was an old-growth Elm in their backyard that he would often retreat to for naps. Plus, Laila was a blanket-hog anyways. Today, they were going to revisit the topic.
“Does that sound okay?” Dr. Berg-Levitansky asked the couple. Laila started to choke up, reaching for the box of tissues on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I just feel…” Laila said between sniffles, “It’s just not been the same since…” Otto noticed the painting above Dr. Berg-Levitansky’s head for the first time. He stared at the canvas. It depicted a lone tree, on top of a hill, with a gigantic moon behind the tree. It was acrylic—he knew this because his mom had been a painter. Laila’s continued to cry but Otto was in his own world. He squinted at the corner of the canvas and saw the psychiatrist’s signature. Otto realized that Dr. Berg-Levitansky had done this painting at one of those Paint & Sip nights, and he unsuccessfully attempted to hold in his laugh.
“What is so funny???” Laila said through her tears. Dr. Berg-Levitansky noticed that Otto was looking at the painting, did a quick glance over his shoulder, and with a beet-red face turned back to the couple.
“Sorry Dr. Berg-Levitansky, that sounds fine. I will sleep outside.”
That night, Otto sat up in the tree in the back yard. He looked down into the kitchen window, where Laila was making tea in her faded rose-pink robe. Oolong tea. It was always Oolong, even at night. He smiled as he remembered how they had met years ago at a coffee shop, where they had both ordered the same thing.
“Oolong! Careful it’s hot,” the barista shouted as they moved on to their next task. Both Otto and Laila had reached towards the cup, and in one of those awkward oh-no-sorry-go head moments they had locked eyes, and both chuckled. The memory of that day made him feel warm, like he was sitting in a giant mug of Oolong tea.
Otto laid down onto his back, being cradled by the large, curved branch of the tree. A few stars were shining through the leaves above and he took a deep breath. Otto thought about Dr. Berg-Levitansky’s painting in his office. Earlier he had laughed, not because it was bad necessarily, he had just been caught off guard. He admired that Dr. Berg-Levitansky had displayed a piece of his own art. Even if 25-40 other people in the class had painted the same thing, there was still a piece of himself in it. Otto thought about all of Dr. Berg-Levitansky’s clients who had sat on that same couch. Maybe Dr. Berg-Levitansky’s artistic vulnerability had helped encourage them to open up about their own lives.
Otto turned his head towards the house, where the lights were now out in the kitchen. He smiled, feeling back at home in the trees. He closed his eyes, and could have sworn that he could smell the pleasant sweetness of Oolong Tea.