Page 79 of True Sight
“Does your emergency rival Thor in muscle mass and just walk out of here looking like he was ready for some sort of sexual awakening?”
“Wow, someone’s quippy today. Something good must be going on in your life. You’re never this amused.”
“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not a bad thing at all, just curious. What’s going on that makes you this…pleasant?” She squints at me and tucks her chin into her shoulder, waiting. I haven’t seen Hanna since Henry and I got together, and I guess haven’t realized how much his sunny disposition has rubbed off on me.
“Work is just going really well is all,” I lie. “Lots of happyclients, you know.”If only she really knows the kind of happy I mean.
“Well that’s great to hear, it’s always nice when work is going well. Anyone new in your life?”
The question is innocent but makes me sit straight up in my seat.
“What?” All the moisture in my mouth dries up and it feels like I’m swallowing sandpaper.
“I asked if there is anyone new in your life?” The way she swings her head to one side causes her blonde hair to sway behind her. She watches me like a cat watches a mouse, ready to pounce when it makes the wrong move.
“Anyone new inyourlife?” I counter, trying to sidestep her question and turn the conversation back on her.
“This session isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
“But it could be about you. I’d graciously donate my forty-five minutes to you.” I turn my palms face up at her as if I’m giving her a gift.
“Conrad.” Her voice is flat, almost threatening.
I push out a breath and lace my fingers together before hammocking them behind my neck. “Okay,” I groan and close my eyes as if doing so will make this any easier. “Maybethere’s someone new in my life.”
“And what’s his name?” She asks so casually and doesn’t bring her eyes to look at me as she writes her notes.
“Who told you it was a he?” I scoff and curl my lip.
“You did, just now by your reaction. And last time we met you asked me some pretty specific questions that made me wonder.” She sets her pen down and folds her hands over her lap. “So, does he have a name?”
I swallow hard and press my eyebrows together. “You don’t care?”
“Care about what?”
“Care that I’m sleeping with a man?” She raises her eyebrows in surprise and suppresses a smirk.
“So you’re sleeping with him. Good for you.” Her tone is light and she drags her words out for comedic effect. “But no, I don’t care that he’s a man. I care that you’re practicing safe sex, which I hope you are, but I care about that no matter what kind of relationships my clients are in,” she states matter-of-factly.
I study her for a moment, thinking about what she just said. I’ve gone back and forth with myself on whether or not I was going to talk to her about Henry. When I walked in today, I decided to just let the conversation go where it may. Of course she managed to pull it out of me in the first ten minutes of our session. I shouldn’t be surprised. This girl has some sort of weird voodoo she casts on you when you walk in and sit down on her couch. Even when you don’t want to, there is something about her that makes you open up and spill your guts. Part of me knows that I want to tell her about him so I have someone else to talk about him with. Sure, I can talk to Margaret about him but then there’s the chance that she’ll accidentally let something slip to Magnolia and I’m not going to take that risk. With Hanna, I have the security of HIPAA on my side.
“So are you going to treat me differently now?” I ask with an edge to my voice.
“Why would I treat you any differently than before?”
“Because I’m…I’m…”
“Gay?” she asks, finishing my sentence for me and using the word I still haven’t mustered up enough gusto to say myself.
Before Henry, I never would’ve labeled myself as being gay, but being with him has forced me to reflect on a lot of my past relationships all of which were typically short-livedand lackluster at best. I’d slept with other women but never more than once because it wasn’t anything like my friends told me it was for them. The more I thought about it, the more my being gay made sense. Sideways glances at other guys in the locker room, never really noticing women when my friends and I would go out, and the dull undertone of infatuation with the way NFL players looked in their uniforms whenever a game was on. Being with Henry and allowing myself to have the feelings I have for him just solidifies the fact that these weren’t mere oddities that I had but clear, screaming signs that I’m more into men than I’ll ever be into women.
I’m gay, even if I’m not ready to outwardly admit it yet.
“Sure, yeah, that,” I bristle and shrug my shoulders.
“You being gay changes absolutely nothing about how I feel about you or how I treat you. You are still the same old, sometimes grumpy Conrad to me.” She smiles widely at me knowing that she’s annoyed me by calling me ‘grumpy.’
