While having just been released from prison, due to a night full of misfortunate mistakes, Red McCoy witnesses an old friend of his, son being kicked out of his apartment in the middle of the night.
Beverly Reid had been living on his own since he...
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Red was not happy. There he sat in an uncomfortable, brown couch with leathering on the edges of it. His fingers fidgeted with one another on one hand, his teeth latching onto his finger on the other. Beside him, sat Beverly, as perky and sophisticated as ever. His hair had grown the slightest bit longer, and he'd gotten just a smidge taller thanks to hitting his roaring twenties.
Not much had changed with Red. Sure, after having three children, he'd developed a beard and a short temper, but all the rest had stayed the same.
Well, all except he and Beverly's relationship. When their youngest started kindergarten, and Red had started his new job at the local construction yard, a strain had been put on their relationship. They didn't spend much alone time together, and started to forget the small things.
Like their five-year anniversary. And well, they hadn't forgotten it. Red did. And Beverly was not happy.
But then things took a turn for the better. Or perhaps the worst, when Beverly promptly suggested couples counseling. And when Red deliberately refused, Beverly brought up the minor fact that the couple hadn't my been intimate in almost three months.
Their therapist, Cora Raymond sat there, staring at the two of them with awaiting eyes. It made Red's skin crawl. He didn't understand why his husband was so hell bent on paying a woman three hundred dollars an hour to hear them bitch and moan about their nonexistent sex life.
It was embarrassing. And not to mention pathetic.
The woman clears her throat while crossing one leg over the other, an empty notepad displayed onto her lap. "So," she says, putting on a comforting smile, "who's going first?"
Beverly scooted onto the edge of his seat, earning a side-eyed glance from Red. "I will," the therapist perked up, seeming to be all ears. "This all uh—this all started about three months ago. Our youngest started kindergarten. And so far, he loves it. He loves interacting with all the other kids and getting to spend some time outside of the house. But it's also been a little challenging on the two of us, because in said kindergarten class, he's been causing quite a bit of . . . Quite a bit of um—"
"Trouble," Red interrupts, sparing Beverly a know-it-all sort of look. "The kid's a troublemaker."
"Can you not interrupt me? I was getting there." Beverly juts out, his eyes glaring holes into the side of Red's profile.
Red chuckles bravely, "of course you were, darling."
"Oh, you are so—"
"Let's get back to the point, shall we?" Cora asks politely, after jotting down whatever notes she taken from their brief conversation down into her notepad. "Tell me, Beverly, how do you feel that Emilio starting school has effected you personally?"
Her question took Beverly aback, him trying to conjure an answer that didn't make him seem like an overbearing father who didn't want his little boy to grow up. "Well, he's only been going for a few months and there's been phone call, after phone call. I have no idea why he's acting out, or why he feels like he need to cause a scene for attention. And soon, I guess all of that started to take a toll on Matt and I's romantic relationship."
Cora nods, returning to her notepad, before turning to Red. "And you, Matthew? How has Emilio starting school effected you personally?"
Red sits up straighter, clearing his throat for any signs of dry or coldness. "Same as what Bev said. I mean it's hard to focus on anything else, when your five-year-old is terrorizing his teacher and classmates and almost every afternoon we're being called in for a parent-teacher conference. It fucking—sorry, it freaking sucks."
Cora nods, not bothering to jot down any new notes. "All right, now let's get deeper. I need the two of you to really dig in order to get to the bottom of whatever could be going on at home."
The two husbands don't object, merely staying to themselves as they offer the woman an effortless nod. "Talk to me about quality time. About how many days a week do the two of you set aside for some one-on-one time?"
Beverly shrugs, leaning back onto the headrest of the couch. "Um, well—we used to have Saturday night designated as date night, but then things got so crazy that we just sort of . . . stopped."
"And was there any mutual communication to allow it to stop, or did it sort of fizzle?" The question is straight forward, but neither Red or Beverly have the guts to give her an answer. Was it possible that they were allowing their relationship to fall through the cracks. It couldn't be—they loved each other. Wasn't that enough?
Red is stuck. So in a moment of weakness, he looks over at Beverly for something to say. But unfortunately, the longer haired man is also stuck.
"Since I'm not getting a response, I'm assuming it was a fizzle? Is that right, Red?"
Red's skin is burning. He's searching her eyes for any trace of sarcasm as he can't help but lace her voice with a condescending nature. His instincts are to attack back hand tell her to mind her own damn business. But deep down, he knows she's right.
"Y-Yeah."
"Alright, so let's into how long it's been since the two of you have physically intimate?" The married couple pauses, brief embarrassment pouring over them.
This counseling sensation was going to be anything but easy.
