Page 61 of Body Count

“Is that true, Gray?”Pauline asked.

“We’ve worked really hard on intimacy,” Darnell said, and he tugged on my hand until I looked him in the eye.“Haven’t we?That’s our foundation.”

Our foundation, I thought.Intimacy.Like we’re a bedrock of traditional family values.I just got fucked by a weird dom type with about a hundred people on the other side of a window.I had to stop to squirt out his cum in a gas station crapper.How’s that for traditional family values?Like Wilma Flintstone getting railed by that guy Steve fromBlue’s Clueson Nick at Nite.

“Yeah,” I said.

Darnell sat back, his expression satisfied, but Pauline studied me for a moment longer before saying, “Could you tell mehow things have been since the accident?”

“Hard,” Darnell said.“Things have been really tough.”

“Gray?”

“It’s hard for him to talk about it,” Darnell said.“The physical injuries were really bad, really scary.I mean, we didn’t know what was going to happen with his eye, and we’re still waiting for the go-ahead on the scar revision surgery.”

Pauline nodded and looked at me.

“And it’s really affected his self-image,” Darnell said.“His self-confidence.I mean, Gray is always going to be the handsomest man in the world for me, and I’ll always be attracted to him, but I know it’s been difficult for him to process, uh, the changes.Like, his body image.His whole identity, actually.”

“Gray, do you feel like that’s true?”

I shrugged.

“He doesn’t—” Darnell began.

“Darnell, I’d like Gray to answer.Gray, do you want to tell us how you feel things have been since the accident?”

“I don’t know,” I said.“Not great.”

“Do you want to tell us more about that?”

“It’s hard for him to talk about it,” Darnell said.

Pauline didn’t look like she lost her shit very often, but if she were in charge of those stupid reward charts, I can tell you this: Darnell would not be getting a fucking sticker.

“Darnell mentioned that, in addition to the physical injuries, he thinks you’re still dealing with the psychological trauma of the accident.”

It wasn’t a fucking accident, I thought.

Into my silence, Pauline said, “Lots of people who suffer injuries that affect their appearance experience periods of diminished self-worth.They often struggle with their identity and self-esteem.And—” There was an unexpected current of energy in her voice—faint, but undeniably there.“—they may find themselves struggling with their role in their intimate relationships.Do you feel like any of that has been true for you?”

Darnell put a hand on my arm and said, “You don’t have to answer that.”

I shook him off.Pauline was still looking at me, so I went for something safe: “I’m still figuring things out.”And then I heard myself add, “Some days are better than others.”

“Gray’s been doing really well, actually,” Darnell said.“All things considered.”

But her eyes didn’t leave me.She said, “How are you dealing with the bad days?”

I shrugged.

“We’ve worked on lots of healthy coping mechanisms,” Darnell said.

And then he was off to the races, explaining everything he’d researched, all the stuff we’d done.He talked about creating a supportive atmosphere—making me feel safe by establishing routines, helping me avoid triggers.He talked about the different hobby nights we tried.For fuck’s sake, he talked about art night.He told her all about the self-care strategies he was modeling.He was so proud of me for getting back to the gym.He spent way too much time on the sticker chart; he at least had the good sense to call it avisualizationand aprogress reminder, so I didn’t sound like I was learning to do my potties like a big boy.

After the first few minutes, his words washed over me, dissolving into meaningless noise.What I kept hearing—what I couldn’t stop hearing—was Pauline saying,Lots of people who suffer injuries that affect their appearance experience periods of diminished self-worth.

The days I walked by the mirror—still, a year later—and didn’t look.

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