Love Is Ǝvil

4 I'm Tired of Committin' So Many Sins

"Look, Doc, this was a stupid idea", he said barely standing in the room. He closed the wooden door behind him and stepped to the couch. It was a two seater, light grey and a little coarsely meshed. Marshall actually liked this piece of furniture.

His therapist sat in a chair consistent with the couch, one leg crossed the other and her hands rested patiently in her lap. She had long brown hair with just a hint of curls. Obviously she dressed in business attire, a woman couldn't afford to be casual if she wanted to go places or be perceived as professional. As far as Marshall's experience went, she knew her stuff. She wasn't the first therapist he'd tried, but even though she was a woman he could actually talk to her. And she listened. He didn't feel the urge to boast about some stupid stuff and even if he was ashamed of his thoughts, she always took him seriously.

Now she looked at him curiously. "What stupid idea exactly?"

"The whole gay thing. Didn't work out. I'm done with it. Let's move on."

"You actually tried it?" She sounded surprised and disbelieving.

He nodded.

"How was it?", she asked. She never sounded pestering or annoyed or furious like all other women Marshall knew. Her voice was always calm, soothing even. Most of the time it didn't bother him when she asked him stuff. And she asked a lot.

Now he shifted uncomfortable in his seat. "Didn't work out, told you already."

"What didn't work out?" She always wanted to know the details, all the little details. "Did you not find a man to your liking? Or did you not get aroused? Or did your temper get the better of you and it ended in a fight? Or did he have a bad temper? Or did he ask for an autograph? I can imagine that might be more of a turn off for you."

"It is", he mumbled. Just because she was his therapist, didn't mean he rushed to the opportunity to tell her how he cried himself to sleep. And he very well knew that was exactly the situation he should tell her about. "But I found some guys that didn't", he explained. "That just didn't work out." He shrugged.

She looked him over and made some thoughtful humming noises. He was sure she knew he was lying, but her voice stayed even. No prejudice, no condescension, no anger, no wisecrack - just a normal question: "Does that mean, you're not homosexual?"

He flinched slightly at the sound of that word. "I'm done with it. Case closed." That didn't sound convincing. He really needed to work on his acting skills.

"It's a yes or no question."

He didn't answer. He just looked down to his shoes, they were black with red laces. He liked this color combination a lot. Its meaning could be scary or erotic or just stylish and it could switch between them in an instant. Right now it seemed to accuse him. He could hear her question - that word - echoing in his head.

"Those can be the toughest questions", she said and sounded like she understood exactly how hard this was. "Why don't you walk me through one of these encounters you had. You said you found some guys, right? Maybe there was one with whom it didn't work out the most."

He didn't say a word. Of course he knew which night he should tell her about, the one he could still taste in his mouth and still feel on his body. The night when he had cried. The night that could never repeat itself.

Suddenly his mouth was dry but he didn't dare to move and pick up the glass of water from the table. If he just sat here unmoving, his mouth wouldn't move either.

Well, that he should know better.

He met her eyes. She sat in her chair waiting, looking at him with kind expectation. That's what he liked about her, she never rushed him.