"Coup de Foudre" 21
Brian looks for some help.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, June 2016
“So, Brian, I’m glad to see you here, but I must say that I’m surprised. Pleasantly surprised.” Dr. Alex Wilder sat back in his chair and looked at his new patient across the desk. He didn’t usually make appointments in the evening - that was his personal time - but in the case of this very special patient he was more than willing to make an expectation. “I would ask you to lie on my couch, but you might misunderstand my intentions.”
“Still a comedian, huh, Doc?” Brian rubbed his forehead, hoping the ache would subside. “For the record, I can’t believe I’m here either. Are you sure we can’t do this at Woody’s? In a nice, quiet corner where I can lubricate myself with bourbon while I’m spilling my fucking guts?”
“Sorry,” said Dr. Wilder, smiling slightly. “You don’t need a drink, Brian. You need to talk - obviously, or you wouldn’t have called me.”
“Well, I’m beginning to rethink this whole adventure in head-shrinking.” Brian could not get comfortable in the fucking chair. As much as he didn’t want to surrender to the cliché, he thought maybe lying on the couch might not be such a bad idea. At least he might relax in his favorite position - horizontal.
Dr. Wilder nodded. Now that he had the elusive Brian Kinney in his office, he wasn’t about to let him get away. “You must have something you wish to discuss with me or you wouldn’t have made an appointment. I know we haven’t spoken in a number of years, but I’ve often thought of you - and not just our encounters in the baths back in the day. I heard what a success you’ve been out in California. And I heard about your partner, too. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks, Doc,” said Brian. This was so fucking awkward! He had no idea what to say! And all this condolence bullshit was not why he’d come here. Was the Doc going to start asking about his rotten childhood and his crazy dreams and all that Freudian jibber jabber? But how could Dr. Alex help him if Brian couldn’t even articulate what was wrong? Except that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. “I… Shit! This is beyond my fucking comfort zone, I have to tell you.”
“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Wilder’s voice was low and soothing. He was used to patients who could not - or didn’t want to - tell him why they were there. And Brian was especially reticent. He’d always been a man who kept his emotions tightly locked up - at least until they overwhelmed him.
Dr. Wilder remembered the last time he’d encountered Brian. It was in Woody’s, which was where they usually saw each other. Brian came over and bought him a drink as a prelude to unburdening himself. The upshot was a canceled commitment ceremony, a young lover who had left town, and Brian hurting like an open wound, but pretending that he was fine with it. Pretending that it was all his idea to send the young man - Justin - away. The same young man who’d had his head bashed in in front of him a few years before. The same one Dr. Wilder had counseled Brian to help confront that terrible incident so he could get past it and move forward. So they both could come to terms with their shared trauma.
But Brian, it was clear, had never come to terms with it. The guilt he felt about failing to prevent the attack still haunted him. Dr. Wilder believed it was one reason - perhaps even the main reason - that Brian let Justin leave him, never to return. Brian felt unworthy to hold him close. Unworthy to tell him how much he needed him. Unworthy even to love him. That’s what was still tormenting him months after Justin had packed his bags. He’d purposely cut-off contact with his former lover, believing that any life he created away from Brian was for the better. But at the same time, Brian was bleeding inside. And he didn’t think he could handle it much longer.
The two of them drank and talked and then drank some more that night. And then Dr. Wilder had gone home with Brian and had sex with him. He wasn’t particularly proud of that, but they had hooked up before and Brian wasn’t technically his patient. And Brian did seem better in the morning, claiming the whole thing the night before was an act, although Dr. Wilder was well aware that was Brian’s practiced distancing mechanism. He gave Brian the name of another therapist and encouraged him to go and talk things out, but Brian never did. The next thing Dr. Wilder heard, Brian had met a new man and left Pittsburgh for the West Coast. And now that man was dead and Brian was back and having a difficult time dealing. No surprise, that.
“Where do you wish to begin?” Dr. Wilder asked. “There must be something that’s finally driven you to see me. Unless after all these years, you’ve finally succumbed to my charms?”
“I always have liked the Anderson Cooper/Silver Fox vibe you have going on, Doc,” said Brian. “But, alas…”
“Then what?” Dr. Wilder prodded ever-so-gently. “Is it your partner?”
“Husband,” Brian corrected. “Yes… but… no.”
The psychiatrist raised an eyebrow. “Which is it, Brian? Yes or no?”
“Yes, I’ve been having a hard time dealing with Ron’s… Ron’s…”
“Death,” Dr. Wilder interjected.
“Death,” said Brian. The word was sharp in his mouth, like broken glass. “Ron’s death. That’s one thing. And my son… that’s another thing.”
“Is there a problem with your son?”
“Not really,” Brian admitted. “Gus is a great kid. But he’s 15 - almost 16. That’s a scary age. He took Ron’s… death almost as hard as I did. In a lot of ways, Ron was more of a traditional father. He was older, he was the discipline guy, he was the one Gus went to for the serious-type talks. I was the one he went to for the fun shit. Or when he wanted to wheedle money. Or skim the rules. You know - good cop, bad cop. But Gus always knew we were on the same page about the big stuff. Now it’s just me… and I don’t know if I’m up to it.”
“Both of those things - your husband’s death and your relationship with your son - seem areas that we might work on. But don’t think that you can resolve those issues in a single session, Brian. I know you’re always looking for a magic bullet, but there’s no quick fix. That time when you came to me about your lover’s bashing and the difficult time he was having was never meant to be final. I told you that at the time. Both of you needed long term therapy to deal with the aftermath of that attack. And I know neither of you got it.”
Brian shrugged. “Not really. Fuck it - not at all. My advice to him was to forget about it. But that was impossible. He was living with the physical and mental effects for years. And so was I, although I’d never own up to it.”
“I know,” said Dr. Wilder. “It’s been what? Over 10 years? But I’m sure you’re both still touched by that event. How could you not be? It’s possible that he’s gotten therapy in the meantime. But you obviously haven’t.”
“No,” said Brian. “Ron encouraged me to… but it seemed a fucking waste of time. I did stop drinking, though. Well, not stopped exactly, but cut way back. Ron pointed out that I come from a long line of insufferable drunks, so I didn’t want to be pathetic and follow in the footsteps of my old man, especially when Gus came to live with us. I still drink too much, too often, but nothing like before. The same with the drugs. A couple of joints now and then, but that’s all. For a Kinney, that’s like being on the wagon.”
“That’s a wonderful start, Brian,” said Dr. Wilder. “And it proves that you can change, especially when you have a strong reason to do so. Like being a good influence on your son.”
“Yes, I can change, Doc,” Brian returned. “What about living with Ron for 10 years? No one thought I could do that, including me. No one thought I could sustain a relationship that long. No one. Not…” Brian paused. Fucking little twat! If he’d only had faith! If only…
“Not?”
“Not Justin,” said Brian. “He didn’t believe I really wanted to get married. He didn’t believe that it was really no fucking sacrifice to want to be with him and live with him and have a fucking relationship with him. The fact that he, of all people, wouldn’t believe that I could change… It hurt, Doc. It still hurts.”
“But Ron believed it,” Dr. Wilder stated.
“Yes! He believed it!” That still amazed Brian. “He believed I could do anything. He had more faith in me than I had in myself. And now that he’s gone… how can I have that faith in myself? How the fuck?”
“You need to look inside yourself, Brian, and try to see what he saw. Try to see the person he loved.”
Brian put his head down. This was more painful, more harrowing, than he’d imagined. How the fuck could he talk about these things? He couldn’t even think about them, let alone talk about them! And Dr. Alex expected him to open up his heart? All he wanted to do was close it up and hide away somewhere. If he didn’t have Gus to think about, he would have done that weeks ago - and no one would have ever found the body.
“Brian? Are you all right?”
“What the fuck do you think? I’m the opposite of all right!”
“Would you like a tissue, Brian?” Dr. Wilder asked.
“No, I don’t want a fucking tissue!” Brian tried to blink back the tears and failed. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. “I want a bottle of Jack Daniels, a dime bag of heroin, and a faceless ass to fuck, that’s what I want! But I’m here so that I don’t resort to those things.”
“I think you should see me once a week,” said Dr. Wilder.
“I knew you’d say that,” Brian sighed.
“One more thing, Brian. Have you resorted to those things? Tell me truthfully.”
“The booze,” Brian answered. “Yes, I’ve been drinking too much. But I think about Gus and then try not to. The drugs - no. Once an addict, always an addict, especially with the smack. Except for a little weed, of course. What’s the harm?”
“Of course,” said Dr. Wilder. “And what about sex?” He knew that Brian Kinney and sex were inescapably linked.
“What about it?” Brian said glumly.
“Since your partner died… have you had sex?”
Brian gulped. “I couldn’t. Not for weeks. I would think about Ron and then I’d feel guilty. So fucking guilty!”
“Did you cheat on him? Is that why you feel guilty?”
Brian hesitated. But he knew Dr. Alex wasn’t one to judge. He was a gay man himself. He knew the score.
“We had an agreement. We could both fuck other people as long as we didn’t get emotionally involved. Or as long as it didn’t threaten our relationship. That worked fairly well. I know I fucked around more, but Ron had his moments, especially when he was on location. And we did guys together, too, especially at the beginning. But… in the past few years I found that I wasn’t really looking for cock the way I used to. Ron and I had a good sex life and that was usually enough. Except near the end. I should have known he wasn’t feeling right because he didn’t want to fuck. Or he couldn’t. I thought it was just stress. But it was… his heart. I know that now. I should have seen there was a problem! Instead… I ignored it and got my rocks off whenever I could. If I could take that back! If only… I’d make things different. So fucking different!”
“Brian, you aren’t a doctor,” Dr. Wilder said softly. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. Obviously, Ron didn’t know, either. Any guilt you feel is misplaced.”
“Tell that to my dick!” Brian snorted. “It was fucking useless after he died. I couldn’t scare up an erection to save my life. It was like after I had cancer. For weeks I was… impotent. Shit! I hate that fucking word!”
“I remember you telling me about your cancer and impotence the last time we saw each other,” said Dr. Wilder. “After Justin left. But are you telling me that you have had sex recently?”
Brian took a deep breath. “Funny you should mention Justin, Doc. That’s one of the reasons I came here. I mean, along with the stuff about Ron, and Gus, and my fucking father and mother, and the drinking and drugging, and everything else.”
Dr. Wilder leaned back thoughtfully. “So you still have unresolved issues about your former lover.”
“Unresolved is fucking right.” Brian paused, unsure how to put this. “Justin works at Kinnetik. In the Art Department.”
Ah! thought Dr. Wilder. A new complication. “How long has he worked there?”
“Quite a while. Maybe 7 or 8 years. I didn’t hire him. My Office Manager, Cynthia, and my Creative Director, John, hired him. They ran it by me, but I was living in Los Angeles and figured it wouldn’t matter. I was rarely in Pittsburgh and in all those years I only caught glimpses of him. His job evaluations were always good, but I could never understand why he wanted to work at Kinnetik. He’s a talented artist. Something must have gone very wrong in New York for him to come back to the Pitts and work in an ad agency, especially mine. He always acted like that would be the fucking kiss of death to his creativity. But there he was and if he wanted that job, I wasn’t about to nix it.”
“And does he have unresolved issues about your relationship as well?”
Brian coughed nervously. “I… guess so. I mean, yes. I mean… It’s a fucking problem, Doc.”
“Why a problem now and not before?”
“Because we fucked, that’s why! I’m not even sure how it happened, but it did.” It was suddenly very hot in the office. Brian wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Dr. Wilder tried not to react, but his surprise must have shown on his face. “I see. That could certainly be a problem. But this didn’t happen in a vacuum, Brian.”
“No,” he replied. “I told you, I’ve been having… trouble. Even jerking off didn’t get me anywhere. I even tried taking Bonevil - that’s one of our client’s products, Doc. It’s for so-called erectile dysfunction. It got me hard, but it felt fake, like my fucking fake ball. I couldn’t come. And the last thing I wanted was to pick up someone and then not be able to perform. I may be well on my way to old fartdom, Doc, but I’m still Brian fucking Kinney and I have some pride left. It didn’t help that I went out a few times and I’d look at hot guys and… nothing. I couldn’t get my head to function, let alone my cock.”
“But with Justin…”
“Listen, I was pissed off at him! He’d worked on a campaign - the Bonevil campaign, ironically - did all the creative stuff, but didn’t take any credit for it. That made me angry. I went into his office to ream him out about it, and…” Brian closed his eyes, remembering. He felt his cock stir. “It just happened.”
“Sex doesn’t just happen, Brian.”
“This did!” Brian insisted. “He stood next to me, toe-to-toe, and looked me in the eye. That’s when my dick took over. It was suddenly hard as the fucking Rock of Gibraltar. I went for him and he went for me. The next thing I knew we were on the desk with our cocks out. We didn’t technically fuck - I didn’t have a condom in my pocket, that’s how out of practice I am - but it was sex. And… and we kissed. I haven’t kissed another guy since I’ve been with Ron. In fact, I haven’t kissed another guy besides Ron since Justin left for New York. He and Ron are the only two men I’ve kissed in the past 11 years. Why the fuck did he have to be there? And why did my dick want him so badly? Now I feel like I’ve betrayed Ron again. Some random guy would have been bad enough. But Justin isn’t some random guy. He’s a guy I’m in love with.” Brian stopped. “I mean, I WAS in love with. A long time ago.”
“You obviously still have feelings for this man,” said Dr. Wilder.
“No, I don’t! I mean, I cared about him a long time ago, but now… it was just sex. Wasn’t it, Doc? I can’t have feelings for Justin after all these years. Not when I loved Ron. I’m so fucking confused I don’t know what to do!”
“You’ll need to work out what you feel, Brian,” said Dr. Wilder. “I can’t tell you what you feel. But the past is a powerful thing. You never had closure with Justin and he obviously never had it, either. It’s like you’re both hanging in mid-air, unable to go up or down. There was never a resolution, emotionally. So you’ve fallen back on an old and easy pattern - sex.”
“Yeah, sex between us was always easy. Too easy,” Brian acknowledged. “And too good. Even that quickie on the desk was fucking hot. I… I’ve been jerking off thinking about it ever since it happened.”
“When was that, Brian?”
“Monday. At least I know my dick still works.” Brian tried to laugh, but he knew the joke was on him.
“So you called me almost immediately.” It was Wednesday evening.
“I didn’t know what else to do! And there’s no one here I can talk to. I have one or two friends in L.A. who might understand, but this isn’t something I can discuss on the fucking phone! And my best friend, Michael… well, if he knew I’d had sex with Justin, he’d blow a fucking gasket. He and Justin used to be pretty close and they worked together on ‘Rage,’ but now they hate each other. Or I know Michael hates Justin, so I assume Justin isn’t too fond of Michael, either. It’s all because of me, of course. The problem has always been that I love both of them, but not in the same way. Michael could never accept that.”
“You said it again, Brian.”
“Said what?”
“That you love Justin.”
“I meant loved, past tense!” Brian huffed. “Shit, Doc! Don’t put words in my mouth! I’m fucking mixed up enough as it is.”
Dr. Alex Wilder looked at his watch. “As much as I’d love to continue this, we are way over time. Shall we meet here next week?”
Brian stood up and stretched. “No chance we could do this at Woody’s with a bottle of Jack on the table?”
“No chance.” Dr. Wilder smiled. “Was that so painful?”
“Yes,” said Brian. “You have no fucking idea how painful. And I don’t feel fixed yet.”
“Give it time.” Dr. Wilder walked Brian to the door. “Oh, one more thing. Don’t have sex with your ex again. It might feel good for the moment, but you two have too many issues going on for that to turn out to be anything but a disaster.”
“Amen, Doc,” said Brian. “Don’t worry. That’s one mistake I’m never planning to repeat!”
We’ll see about that, thought Dr. Wilder. We will just have to see. “Good night, Brian. And good luck.”
“Later, Doc.”
Yes, later.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, June 2016
“So, Brian, I’m glad to see you here, but I must say that I’m surprised. Pleasantly surprised.” Dr. Alex Wilder sat back in his chair and looked at his new patient across the desk. He didn’t usually make appointments in the evening - that was his personal time - but in the case of this very special patient he was more than willing to make an expectation. “I would ask you to lie on my couch, but you might misunderstand my intentions.”
“Still a comedian, huh, Doc?” Brian rubbed his forehead, hoping the ache would subside. “For the record, I can’t believe I’m here either. Are you sure we can’t do this at Woody’s? In a nice, quiet corner where I can lubricate myself with bourbon while I’m spilling my fucking guts?”
“Sorry,” said Dr. Wilder, smiling slightly. “You don’t need a drink, Brian. You need to talk - obviously, or you wouldn’t have called me.”
“Well, I’m beginning to rethink this whole adventure in head-shrinking.” Brian could not get comfortable in the fucking chair. As much as he didn’t want to surrender to the cliché, he thought maybe lying on the couch might not be such a bad idea. At least he might relax in his favorite position - horizontal.
Dr. Wilder nodded. Now that he had the elusive Brian Kinney in his office, he wasn’t about to let him get away. “You must have something you wish to discuss with me or you wouldn’t have made an appointment. I know we haven’t spoken in a number of years, but I’ve often thought of you - and not just our encounters in the baths back in the day. I heard what a success you’ve been out in California. And I heard about your partner, too. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks, Doc,” said Brian. This was so fucking awkward! He had no idea what to say! And all this condolence bullshit was not why he’d come here. Was the Doc going to start asking about his rotten childhood and his crazy dreams and all that Freudian jibber jabber? But how could Dr. Alex help him if Brian couldn’t even articulate what was wrong? Except that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. “I… Shit! This is beyond my fucking comfort zone, I have to tell you.”
“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Wilder’s voice was low and soothing. He was used to patients who could not - or didn’t want to - tell him why they were there. And Brian was especially reticent. He’d always been a man who kept his emotions tightly locked up - at least until they overwhelmed him.
Dr. Wilder remembered the last time he’d encountered Brian. It was in Woody’s, which was where they usually saw each other. Brian came over and bought him a drink as a prelude to unburdening himself. The upshot was a canceled commitment ceremony, a young lover who had left town, and Brian hurting like an open wound, but pretending that he was fine with it. Pretending that it was all his idea to send the young man - Justin - away. The same young man who’d had his head bashed in in front of him a few years before. The same one Dr. Wilder had counseled Brian to help confront that terrible incident so he could get past it and move forward. So they both could come to terms with their shared trauma.
But Brian, it was clear, had never come to terms with it. The guilt he felt about failing to prevent the attack still haunted him. Dr. Wilder believed it was one reason - perhaps even the main reason - that Brian let Justin leave him, never to return. Brian felt unworthy to hold him close. Unworthy to tell him how much he needed him. Unworthy even to love him. That’s what was still tormenting him months after Justin had packed his bags. He’d purposely cut-off contact with his former lover, believing that any life he created away from Brian was for the better. But at the same time, Brian was bleeding inside. And he didn’t think he could handle it much longer.
The two of them drank and talked and then drank some more that night. And then Dr. Wilder had gone home with Brian and had sex with him. He wasn’t particularly proud of that, but they had hooked up before and Brian wasn’t technically his patient. And Brian did seem better in the morning, claiming the whole thing the night before was an act, although Dr. Wilder was well aware that was Brian’s practiced distancing mechanism. He gave Brian the name of another therapist and encouraged him to go and talk things out, but Brian never did. The next thing Dr. Wilder heard, Brian had met a new man and left Pittsburgh for the West Coast. And now that man was dead and Brian was back and having a difficult time dealing. No surprise, that.
“Where do you wish to begin?” Dr. Wilder asked. “There must be something that’s finally driven you to see me. Unless after all these years, you’ve finally succumbed to my charms?”
“I always have liked the Anderson Cooper/Silver Fox vibe you have going on, Doc,” said Brian. “But, alas…”
“Then what?” Dr. Wilder prodded ever-so-gently. “Is it your partner?”
“Husband,” Brian corrected. “Yes… but… no.”
The psychiatrist raised an eyebrow. “Which is it, Brian? Yes or no?”
“Yes, I’ve been having a hard time dealing with Ron’s… Ron’s…”
“Death,” Dr. Wilder interjected.
“Death,” said Brian. The word was sharp in his mouth, like broken glass. “Ron’s death. That’s one thing. And my son… that’s another thing.”
“Is there a problem with your son?”
“Not really,” Brian admitted. “Gus is a great kid. But he’s 15 - almost 16. That’s a scary age. He took Ron’s… death almost as hard as I did. In a lot of ways, Ron was more of a traditional father. He was older, he was the discipline guy, he was the one Gus went to for the serious-type talks. I was the one he went to for the fun shit. Or when he wanted to wheedle money. Or skim the rules. You know - good cop, bad cop. But Gus always knew we were on the same page about the big stuff. Now it’s just me… and I don’t know if I’m up to it.”
“Both of those things - your husband’s death and your relationship with your son - seem areas that we might work on. But don’t think that you can resolve those issues in a single session, Brian. I know you’re always looking for a magic bullet, but there’s no quick fix. That time when you came to me about your lover’s bashing and the difficult time he was having was never meant to be final. I told you that at the time. Both of you needed long term therapy to deal with the aftermath of that attack. And I know neither of you got it.”
Brian shrugged. “Not really. Fuck it - not at all. My advice to him was to forget about it. But that was impossible. He was living with the physical and mental effects for years. And so was I, although I’d never own up to it.”
“I know,” said Dr. Wilder. “It’s been what? Over 10 years? But I’m sure you’re both still touched by that event. How could you not be? It’s possible that he’s gotten therapy in the meantime. But you obviously haven’t.”
“No,” said Brian. “Ron encouraged me to… but it seemed a fucking waste of time. I did stop drinking, though. Well, not stopped exactly, but cut way back. Ron pointed out that I come from a long line of insufferable drunks, so I didn’t want to be pathetic and follow in the footsteps of my old man, especially when Gus came to live with us. I still drink too much, too often, but nothing like before. The same with the drugs. A couple of joints now and then, but that’s all. For a Kinney, that’s like being on the wagon.”
“That’s a wonderful start, Brian,” said Dr. Wilder. “And it proves that you can change, especially when you have a strong reason to do so. Like being a good influence on your son.”
“Yes, I can change, Doc,” Brian returned. “What about living with Ron for 10 years? No one thought I could do that, including me. No one thought I could sustain a relationship that long. No one. Not…” Brian paused. Fucking little twat! If he’d only had faith! If only…
“Not?”
“Not Justin,” said Brian. “He didn’t believe I really wanted to get married. He didn’t believe that it was really no fucking sacrifice to want to be with him and live with him and have a fucking relationship with him. The fact that he, of all people, wouldn’t believe that I could change… It hurt, Doc. It still hurts.”
“But Ron believed it,” Dr. Wilder stated.
“Yes! He believed it!” That still amazed Brian. “He believed I could do anything. He had more faith in me than I had in myself. And now that he’s gone… how can I have that faith in myself? How the fuck?”
“You need to look inside yourself, Brian, and try to see what he saw. Try to see the person he loved.”
Brian put his head down. This was more painful, more harrowing, than he’d imagined. How the fuck could he talk about these things? He couldn’t even think about them, let alone talk about them! And Dr. Alex expected him to open up his heart? All he wanted to do was close it up and hide away somewhere. If he didn’t have Gus to think about, he would have done that weeks ago - and no one would have ever found the body.
“Brian? Are you all right?”
“What the fuck do you think? I’m the opposite of all right!”
“Would you like a tissue, Brian?” Dr. Wilder asked.
“No, I don’t want a fucking tissue!” Brian tried to blink back the tears and failed. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. “I want a bottle of Jack Daniels, a dime bag of heroin, and a faceless ass to fuck, that’s what I want! But I’m here so that I don’t resort to those things.”
“I think you should see me once a week,” said Dr. Wilder.
“I knew you’d say that,” Brian sighed.
“One more thing, Brian. Have you resorted to those things? Tell me truthfully.”
“The booze,” Brian answered. “Yes, I’ve been drinking too much. But I think about Gus and then try not to. The drugs - no. Once an addict, always an addict, especially with the smack. Except for a little weed, of course. What’s the harm?”
“Of course,” said Dr. Wilder. “And what about sex?” He knew that Brian Kinney and sex were inescapably linked.
“What about it?” Brian said glumly.
“Since your partner died… have you had sex?”
Brian gulped. “I couldn’t. Not for weeks. I would think about Ron and then I’d feel guilty. So fucking guilty!”
“Did you cheat on him? Is that why you feel guilty?”
Brian hesitated. But he knew Dr. Alex wasn’t one to judge. He was a gay man himself. He knew the score.
“We had an agreement. We could both fuck other people as long as we didn’t get emotionally involved. Or as long as it didn’t threaten our relationship. That worked fairly well. I know I fucked around more, but Ron had his moments, especially when he was on location. And we did guys together, too, especially at the beginning. But… in the past few years I found that I wasn’t really looking for cock the way I used to. Ron and I had a good sex life and that was usually enough. Except near the end. I should have known he wasn’t feeling right because he didn’t want to fuck. Or he couldn’t. I thought it was just stress. But it was… his heart. I know that now. I should have seen there was a problem! Instead… I ignored it and got my rocks off whenever I could. If I could take that back! If only… I’d make things different. So fucking different!”
“Brian, you aren’t a doctor,” Dr. Wilder said softly. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. Obviously, Ron didn’t know, either. Any guilt you feel is misplaced.”
“Tell that to my dick!” Brian snorted. “It was fucking useless after he died. I couldn’t scare up an erection to save my life. It was like after I had cancer. For weeks I was… impotent. Shit! I hate that fucking word!”
“I remember you telling me about your cancer and impotence the last time we saw each other,” said Dr. Wilder. “After Justin left. But are you telling me that you have had sex recently?”
Brian took a deep breath. “Funny you should mention Justin, Doc. That’s one of the reasons I came here. I mean, along with the stuff about Ron, and Gus, and my fucking father and mother, and the drinking and drugging, and everything else.”
Dr. Wilder leaned back thoughtfully. “So you still have unresolved issues about your former lover.”
“Unresolved is fucking right.” Brian paused, unsure how to put this. “Justin works at Kinnetik. In the Art Department.”
Ah! thought Dr. Wilder. A new complication. “How long has he worked there?”
“Quite a while. Maybe 7 or 8 years. I didn’t hire him. My Office Manager, Cynthia, and my Creative Director, John, hired him. They ran it by me, but I was living in Los Angeles and figured it wouldn’t matter. I was rarely in Pittsburgh and in all those years I only caught glimpses of him. His job evaluations were always good, but I could never understand why he wanted to work at Kinnetik. He’s a talented artist. Something must have gone very wrong in New York for him to come back to the Pitts and work in an ad agency, especially mine. He always acted like that would be the fucking kiss of death to his creativity. But there he was and if he wanted that job, I wasn’t about to nix it.”
“And does he have unresolved issues about your relationship as well?”
Brian coughed nervously. “I… guess so. I mean, yes. I mean… It’s a fucking problem, Doc.”
“Why a problem now and not before?”
“Because we fucked, that’s why! I’m not even sure how it happened, but it did.” It was suddenly very hot in the office. Brian wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Dr. Wilder tried not to react, but his surprise must have shown on his face. “I see. That could certainly be a problem. But this didn’t happen in a vacuum, Brian.”
“No,” he replied. “I told you, I’ve been having… trouble. Even jerking off didn’t get me anywhere. I even tried taking Bonevil - that’s one of our client’s products, Doc. It’s for so-called erectile dysfunction. It got me hard, but it felt fake, like my fucking fake ball. I couldn’t come. And the last thing I wanted was to pick up someone and then not be able to perform. I may be well on my way to old fartdom, Doc, but I’m still Brian fucking Kinney and I have some pride left. It didn’t help that I went out a few times and I’d look at hot guys and… nothing. I couldn’t get my head to function, let alone my cock.”
“But with Justin…”
“Listen, I was pissed off at him! He’d worked on a campaign - the Bonevil campaign, ironically - did all the creative stuff, but didn’t take any credit for it. That made me angry. I went into his office to ream him out about it, and…” Brian closed his eyes, remembering. He felt his cock stir. “It just happened.”
“Sex doesn’t just happen, Brian.”
“This did!” Brian insisted. “He stood next to me, toe-to-toe, and looked me in the eye. That’s when my dick took over. It was suddenly hard as the fucking Rock of Gibraltar. I went for him and he went for me. The next thing I knew we were on the desk with our cocks out. We didn’t technically fuck - I didn’t have a condom in my pocket, that’s how out of practice I am - but it was sex. And… and we kissed. I haven’t kissed another guy since I’ve been with Ron. In fact, I haven’t kissed another guy besides Ron since Justin left for New York. He and Ron are the only two men I’ve kissed in the past 11 years. Why the fuck did he have to be there? And why did my dick want him so badly? Now I feel like I’ve betrayed Ron again. Some random guy would have been bad enough. But Justin isn’t some random guy. He’s a guy I’m in love with.” Brian stopped. “I mean, I WAS in love with. A long time ago.”
“You obviously still have feelings for this man,” said Dr. Wilder.
“No, I don’t! I mean, I cared about him a long time ago, but now… it was just sex. Wasn’t it, Doc? I can’t have feelings for Justin after all these years. Not when I loved Ron. I’m so fucking confused I don’t know what to do!”
“You’ll need to work out what you feel, Brian,” said Dr. Wilder. “I can’t tell you what you feel. But the past is a powerful thing. You never had closure with Justin and he obviously never had it, either. It’s like you’re both hanging in mid-air, unable to go up or down. There was never a resolution, emotionally. So you’ve fallen back on an old and easy pattern - sex.”
“Yeah, sex between us was always easy. Too easy,” Brian acknowledged. “And too good. Even that quickie on the desk was fucking hot. I… I’ve been jerking off thinking about it ever since it happened.”
“When was that, Brian?”
“Monday. At least I know my dick still works.” Brian tried to laugh, but he knew the joke was on him.
“So you called me almost immediately.” It was Wednesday evening.
“I didn’t know what else to do! And there’s no one here I can talk to. I have one or two friends in L.A. who might understand, but this isn’t something I can discuss on the fucking phone! And my best friend, Michael… well, if he knew I’d had sex with Justin, he’d blow a fucking gasket. He and Justin used to be pretty close and they worked together on ‘Rage,’ but now they hate each other. Or I know Michael hates Justin, so I assume Justin isn’t too fond of Michael, either. It’s all because of me, of course. The problem has always been that I love both of them, but not in the same way. Michael could never accept that.”
“You said it again, Brian.”
“Said what?”
“That you love Justin.”
“I meant loved, past tense!” Brian huffed. “Shit, Doc! Don’t put words in my mouth! I’m fucking mixed up enough as it is.”
Dr. Alex Wilder looked at his watch. “As much as I’d love to continue this, we are way over time. Shall we meet here next week?”
Brian stood up and stretched. “No chance we could do this at Woody’s with a bottle of Jack on the table?”
“No chance.” Dr. Wilder smiled. “Was that so painful?”
“Yes,” said Brian. “You have no fucking idea how painful. And I don’t feel fixed yet.”
“Give it time.” Dr. Wilder walked Brian to the door. “Oh, one more thing. Don’t have sex with your ex again. It might feel good for the moment, but you two have too many issues going on for that to turn out to be anything but a disaster.”
“Amen, Doc,” said Brian. “Don’t worry. That’s one mistake I’m never planning to repeat!”
We’ll see about that, thought Dr. Wilder. We will just have to see. “Good night, Brian. And good luck.”
“Later, Doc.”
Yes, later.