Adam's Apple Pie

Eleven - Third Session

I took a huge bite of the pie, swallowing the piece down in one. I didn't chew, because I wanted this feeling to disappear as quickly as possible. Eventually, I managed to force it down, but something got stuck in my throat and I had to throw it out with a cough. Even the sweet taste of Dr Eve's apple pies couldn't lower my stress levels. Bits of apple and crust went flying out, causing a mess over her table. I felt a twinge of guilt for wasting such a wonderful food that Dr Eve had no doubt gone to huge trouble to prepare. I punched my chest, feeling like I was trying to work a nail down my throat, but one big swallow and I dislodged it. I felt it go down into my stomach, hoping it would work it's magic.

"Sorry," I said, in between coughs. My face felt burning and it must have looked red from where Dr Eve was.

"It's all right," Dr Eve said, taking a drag of her cigarette and puffing it out (Was it wrong that my dick twinged each time she did that?). "Would you like to try the apple juice I made you?"

There was a glass of red juice by the side of the pie, which I only noticed now. Needing to clear my throat, I took a large gulp and washed down the last bit of apple stuck in my throat. Drinking this was like drinking the clearest water, instantly my throat was clear and my body refreshed. It had been a while since I had tasted anything as pure and clear as this.

"This is so good," I exclaimed.

"I made a few bottles for you," Dr Eve replied. "You can take that as well as the apple pies. I made an extra stash for you this time."

I was finally able to clear my throat and speak normally. "New look?"

Dr Eve looked different again today – a lot more conservative than last time that was for sure. Her outfit still had that leathery look, but this time it was green. And was it just me, or did she have more jewellery on her than before? Every single finger she had seemed to have a ring, and her neck was covered in god knows how many gold necklaces.

"Oh this?" Dr Eve asked. "I had a win on the lottery, decided to splurge a bit." Even the way she spoke sounded like she was throwing it all in my face. "It doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Oh no, not at all," I lied. The pie and juice were the only thing keeping me calm, but even with them I was about to explode.

"But something is bothering you, right?" Dr Eve asked.

Damn, I couldn't get anything past her. "Yeah, I guess..."

"Want to talk about it?" Dr Eve asked. "That's what these sessions are for, after all."

I breathed in through my nose, still not sure if I was able to speak. This time there was nothing clogging my throat, the airway was clear – but it still felt damn near impossible to hear anything without my words being choked.

"It's just... I... I'm just..." Fuck it, dude, keep it together! "I'm just. Well... I've been working, argh... I've been writing for years. I've worked so hard on that book, putting everything I had in it. And I never got so much as a whiff from an agent. But then, Mysti writes a story in the space of a few weeks – which is crap by the way! – and she gets a publishing deal without even trying! I've even heard from her that Catchflex are going to adapt it into a TV show and the book isn't even out yet! I mean, I'm pleased for her and all – she's a good kid. But... what do I have to do to catch a break? How much more do I have to give? It doesn't help that all of these stupid online courses feed you false information about getting published – all you need is luck. I guess that's something I don't have any of at the moment!"

"You feel angry that someone has succeeded in something that you have spent your whole life on?" Dr Eve asked.

"Oh, ya think?" I sarcastically yelled. I shouldn't have snapped at Dr Eve – she was trying to help me after all. "Sorry."

Dr Eve took another puff from her cigarette. I was starting to wonder how she was able to breathe anymore – she smoked so much that her lungs must be dust! I whilst awaiting, my gaze shifted around, fixing on the icon that hung on the wall. It seemed to look creepier each time I looked at it – but I couldn't tell you why. Always seemed to make me shiver.

"I'm going to tell you something, Adam," Dr Eve spoke after she exhaled. "And officially, I'm not supposed to say this to you – but I don't think I should lie to you, because you've been lied to your entire life."

"Um, okay." Where was this going, I wondered? What had I been lied to about?

"The truth is, Adam," Dr Eve continued, "you'll never become a published author. And it's nothing to do with your talent, and it's nothing to do with your book. It's also nothing to do with finding the right agent, publisher, film producer; and it's certainly nothing to do with luck."

"So, what is it?" I asked after she gave a much longer pause that I would have liked.

Dr Eve took a long drag on her cigarette and puffed it out in one long blow. "It's because you're a man."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I did something that sort of resembled both. "What?" I gasped. I had to screw my finger into my ear in case I had gone deaf. "That's bollocks, surely? I mean, look at all the great authors out there, most of them were men!"

"And it was a great time to be a man back then," Dr Eve replied. "But things have moved on, and no one wants to see a male be successful anymore. Look at the current bestsellers – how many men amongst them do you see? Hell, how many men do you see in positions of power these days?"

"That's not..." For whatever reason, I couldn't finish my words. "That can't be true..."

Dr Eve smiled. She took another drag. "Enjoying your pie?"

Honestly, I can't remember the rest of the session after that, what Dr Eve said was burned into my mind and nothing I did would get rid of it. It had to be a joke, it had to be. Even in this overly sensitive age, people were still selected for their talent and not their gender, right? It surely mattered more what was in your head than between your legs?

But when I got home, my stomach couldn't stop churning. I had to see for myself. I logged on, looking at the list of top selling authors. I scrolled through each of them in turn. My hands started to shake and I struggled to hold my mouse.

How could I have missed this? Had it always been like this? Or had I just been so distracted that I never noticed it before? There wasn't a single male author in any list I saw. It was all females.

My heart fell into my stomach, boiling away. Dr Eve was correct. Just like always. With that, all my dreams of becoming a published author vanished, blowing away like dust on the wind. All that hard work I'd done on my book, all the sleepless nights, the staring at the blank screen, the self-doubt and loathing, the sleepless nights, the time when I typed until my fingers hurt – it was all for nothing.

I had the rotten luck of being born in the wrong century. If only I had been born twenty years earlier, I would have stood a chance. Now nothing I did would be of any worth.

I was forgotten. Left behind. Old news.

I opened up the file on my computer, where my book was stored. All those years crafting the best story I could, writing something that I could be proud of. Yes, I wanted to be famous, but you name me an author that didn't? This was my dream, the reason I took on those shitty jobs, promising that they were just a stop gap for when my career took off. And yet, years later, I was still in those shitty jobs – working on something that will never be seen by anyone other than my own eyes.

I felt a tear fall from my eye. There's nothing worse than realising you've wasted your life.

I clicked on the file, the cursor shaking as my hand struggled to keep hold. My tears fell. From outside, I could hear drunks laughing. It felt like they were laughing at me, even though they didn't see me – but I could hear their laughter all the same. I breathed in through my nose and let it out with an exhale.

Then moved my book to the Recycle Bin.