Page 2 of The Big Race
Wise Sage
D r. Lieber’s office was warm but not stuffy, decorated in soothing blues and grays rather than the rainbow explosion Ray had feared. The walls featured abstract paintings and framed credentials rather than Pride flags. I felt Ray relax slightly beside me as we settled onto the slate-colored couch.
Dr. Lieber was a woman in her early sixties with short silver hair and kind eyes behind stylish glasses. She had the calm, measured demeanor of someone who’d heard it all before and wasn’t easily shocked.
“So,” she said after we’d covered the basics, “tell me what brings you here today.”
Ray and I exchanged glances. We’d agreed I would take the lead.
“Ray had an affair,” I said, the words still bitter in my mouth. “With a client. It lasted three months.”
If Dr. Lieber was surprised, she didn’t show it. She simply nodded and made a brief note on her pad. “And this affair has ended?”
“Yes,” Ray said quickly. “Completely. I ended it before Jeffrey found out.”
“That’s not exactly a point in your favor,” I muttered.
“I’m not looking for points,” Ray said. “I’m just being honest about the timeline.”
Dr. Lieber observed our exchange with careful attention.
“What I’m hearing is that trust has been broken,” she said.
“That’s where we’ll need to start. But before we dive into the affair itself, I’d like to understand more about your relationship.
You’ve been together for twenty-five years, is that right? ”
“Yes,” I said. “Married for fifteen, since it became legal in Florida.”
“Tell me about how you met,” she suggested. “What drew you to each other initially?”
Ray smiled for the first time since we’d arrived. “It was 1999. We met through Gay Match.”
“One of the early dating apps,” I explained. “More like a website with messaging capabilities. Not as sophisticated as today’s apps.”
“I’d been on the app for months,” Ray continued, “exchanging messages with guys who seemed promising online but fizzled in person.”
“That was me, actually,” I corrected him gently. “You had just joined.”
“Right,” Ray nodded. “My profile showed me on a mountaintop in Colorado, arms raised in victory, and another of me diving into a pool. ‘Former D1 athlete seeks adventure partner,’ I wrote. ‘Looking for someone to share the summit with.’”
“And I couldn’t have been more different,” I added. “My profile emphasized my computer career, starting with learning Fortran in high school and then majoring in computer science at Emory. I mentioned that I loved to read, and I minored in English in college.”
“I thought he was handsome and smart and was surprised that he messaged someone like me,” Ray admitted to Dr. Lieber. “But he did. And he mentioned Jane Austen early in our chats.”
“I asked him if he was Team Elizabeth Bennet or Team Darcy,” I said, finding myself smiling at the memory despite everything.
“And I said neither—I was Team Bingley, the genuinely nice guy who doesn’t judge people.”
Dr. Lieber nodded, encouraging us to continue.
“I was surprised and delighted. We messaged back and forth for a week before meeting,” I said. “He was fascinating—he’d played pro basketball in Switzerland, then started climbing mountains when his knees couldn’t take the court anymore.”
“And Jeffrey was this brilliant guy who could quote literature one minute and then explain complex coding problems the next,” Ray added. “When we finally met at a brewpub, he was exactly what his profile promised. Smart, funny...”
“And sexy as hell,” I finished, quoting his words from that night. “That’s what you said to me.”
Ray’s eyes met mine, a flicker of our old connection passing between us. “I remember.”
Dr. Lieber watched this exchange with interest. “It sounds like you were both drawn to qualities in each other that were different from yourselves. The athlete and the intellectual.”
“Or the jock and the nerd, to put it gay romance terms.”
“Complementary skills,” Ray agreed. “I pushed Jeffrey to try new physical challenges, and he opened my mind to books and ideas I’d never considered.”
“What about shared interests?” Dr. Lieber asked. “Things you both enjoyed together?”
We looked at each other, and I realized with a pang how difficult it was to immediately identify something that wasn’t connected to our son.
“We both love Leo,” Ray said, echoing my thoughts. “Our son. We adopted him when he was five, after Jeffrey’s cousin and his wife died in a car accident.”
“Raising him together has been the greatest joy of our lives,” I added.
Dr. Lieber nodded. “Parenting is certainly a powerful bond. But I’m curious about connections that are just between the two of you, independent of your roles as fathers.”
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. How had we lost track of what connected us beyond parenting?
“We used to hike together,” Ray finally offered. “Early in our relationship. Jeffrey would complain the whole time, but he’d make it to the summit.”
“And Ray would read the books I recommended,” I said. “At least the first few chapters.”
“Before Leo,” Ray continued, his voice softer, “we’d take weekend trips to small towns along the Gulf Coast. Find the local bookstore for Jeffrey, a trail or water activity for me, and then meet up for dinner to talk about our day.”
I’d almost forgotten those trips. “We’d stay at bed and breakfasts. Ray would charm the hosts while I checked our route for the next day.”
“What I’m hearing,” Dr. Lieber said, “is that you had a pattern of honoring both your differences and finding ways to share experiences. When did that pattern begin to change?”
“After we adopted Leo,” Ray said. “Which was absolutely the right decision, but?—”
“Our lives became centered around him,” I finished. “School events, sports, helping with homework.”
“And then the pandemic hit right as Leo was leaving for college,” Ray added. “Jeffrey started working from home permanently. I was stuck inside instead of having client meetings in person or doing outdoor training.”
“I felt like Ray started to see me as just... there. Furniture,” I said. “Always in his space.”
“And I felt invisible,” Ray countered. “Like Jeffrey was more connected to his computer than to me.”
Dr. Lieber made a few notes. “Ray, would you say you felt isolated in your marriage?”
Ray nodded slowly. “Yes. Like we were roommates more than husbands.”
“And Jeffrey, beyond the affair itself, what has hurt you most?”
“The betrayal,” I said immediately. “That he could just... replace me. That twenty-five years together wasn’t enough reason to work on what we had instead of looking elsewhere.”
Dr. Lieber set down her pen. “I think we have a good starting point. For homework this week, I’d like you to spend time doing something you both enjoyed in the past—something that isn’t connected to Leo or to your work. Can you think of anything that might fit that description?”
Ray and I looked at each other again, both struggling.
“We could go to that bookstore in Coral Gables,” Ray suggested. “The one with the cafe where we used to spend Sunday mornings before Leo.”
“Or kayaking at John Pennekamp,” I offered. “We haven’t done that in years.”
Dr. Lieber smiled. “Either of those sounds perfect. The activity itself matters less than the shared experience and the opportunity to connect outside your roles as fathers or professionals.”
As we left her office and walked toward the car, I felt emotionally drained but somehow lighter, as if speaking our struggles aloud had released some of the pressure that had been building between us.
We reached the parking lot in silence, the Florida heat immediately enveloping us after the air-conditioned office.
“You want me to drive?” Ray offered, keys already in hand.
I nodded, too exhausted to argue, and slid into the passenger seat.
As Ray navigated us out of the lot and onto the main road, I studied his profile—the strong jaw now slightly softened with age, the crow’s feet that appeared when he squinted against the early evening sun, the flecks of gray at his temples that he’d stopped trying to hide.
“What did you think?” I asked finally. “About Dr. Lieber?”
“She’s good,” Ray admitted, keeping his eyes on the road. “Not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. More judgment, I guess.” His knuckles whitened slightly on the steering wheel. “More focus on what I did rather than why.”
The ‘why’ had been haunting me for weeks. Not just the act of betrayal itself, but the path that had led to it. What had Russell offered that I couldn’t? What void had he filled that I hadn’t even noticed was empty?
“Let’s give it a try this weekend, all right?” he said. “I saw online that the third volume of that romantasy book you like is out now. We could pick it up, sit in the café and read together for a while?”
“I appreciate the suggestion,” I said. “But reading together doesn’t get us talking. How about we rent kayaks and go out on West Lake?”
Our community backed onto a large lake that fed into the Intracoastal Waterway, and we’d always talked about renting kayaks there and exploring the mangrove swamp. But something had always taken precedence.
“Kayak is a palindrome,” Ray said. “You taught me that word.”
I laughed. “And now you can coach me on paddling.”