Page 17 of Obsession of the Egoist
THE NEXT TWO MONTHS DROWNEDin routine. Occasionally Gray stopped by, but Kuon spent most of the time alone, locked in his mind and memories. When the days merged into an eventless existence, Kuon’s patience thinned out.
He tossed the headphones aside. His ears hurt, head splitting from listening. He wanted to work out to distract himself from the empty feeling in his chest the apathy caused, but his muscles still trembled from overuse.
Wavering, he picked up his phone; the prominent numbers on the big buttons tickled his finger pads. Using the speed dialing feature, he called. Gray replied after the second tone. “Kuon?”
“I’m tired of staying here. The doctors don’t do anything anymore. They said the inflammation is gone and that I’m no longer at risk. I can be treated anywhere. I want to return to Vienna.”
“It’s gone, but your scars aren’t. Your eyes have only healed enough to start more aggressive treatment. Anyway, what does it matter where you are? What would you do in Vienna?”
Kuon sighed, resting back on the sofa. His fingers ran over the smooth velvety texture of its upholstery. “I don’t know… Meet someone? Talk to people? Didn’t you want me to see Helen?”
“I did. But if Mom sees you like this, she’ll cry. You are where you are because this clinic is the best. In a year, you will look as good as before. Leaving now would be stupid.”
“Austrian clinics aren’t bad.”
Gray didn’t reply, but a faint sigh reached Kuon from the phone.
“I’m bored from talking to the virtual assistant all day long.” Kuon winced, realizing that he sounded like a kid moaning to his older brother, but couldn’t stop. “I think she doesn’t like me much, and… I can’t say if she is joking or being slightly psychopathic. And the people here don’t speak German. I’m tired of speaking English all the time.”
“Okay, I got your problem. Don’t sulk; I’ll drop by in a few hours.”
“HEY, BABY BROTHER,how are you doing?” Gray said from the doorway after entering Kuon’s hotel suite.
Kuon turned the TV off and shrugged while fiddling with the remote control. “Did you talk with the doc?”
“Yes, I did.” The male shoes rapped against the parquet flooring; Kuon’s neck rotated following the sound. Gray circled the sofa, stopping behind his back, and his cold hands landed over Kuon’s shoulders. A familiar mix of tobacco and menthol washed over Kuon, but it had some foreign hint in it as if mixed with thin, female perfume. Kuon wondered if Gray came to him after seeing a woman. “You’re tense. Why do you refuse the massages?”
The side of Kuon’s mouth jerked. Having no desire to show and explain his scars, Kuon lied, “I hate being touched.”
The floral scent intensified, and a weird hunch that someone else was present in the room alarmed Kuon. He strained his ears and concentrated on the tactile sensations, trying to catch the small air oscillations with his skin.
“I see.” Gray’s hands rubbed his shoulders before kneading Kuon’s sore muscles through his t-shirt. “Your doctor said you don’t go to therapy sessions.”
“I don’t need a shrink. I’m fine.” Kuon’s shoulder jerked. “What I need is to get out of here. Can’t I go back to a normal life, to the people I know? I want to do something to occupy my mind. I feel like I’m getting dumber every day. I need people, Gray. Real people, not medical workers who treat me like a nut case about to have a crisis.”
“There are group sessions.”
“People with PTSD? Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want to hear their stories or share mine.”
“You never go to the workshop either.”
“Are you for real? Do you expect me to take clay sculpting classes?” Kuon tried to get up, but the powerful hands, digging into his skin, pinned him in place.
“They’re there for a reason. They help to keep you busy. The psychologist said that you’re hostile and mercurial.”
“Anyone would be if they’re locked in four walls for five months.” The sweet floral scent overpowered the tobacco one, making Kuon straighten his back and lean forward.
“Hmm, maybe you’re right.” Gray pressured the painful spots in his trapezius muscles. The sharp pain cut through his neck and spine as Gray kneaded deeper.
“Ouch!”
“You have knots. The next time a masseur comes, I expect you to accept the treatment.”
“Is there anyone else here?” Kuon asked as the haunting feeling refused to abate, but Gray ignored him.
“When was the last time you had sex? Do you masturbate?”
“What? That’s none of your business.” Kuon clasped Gray’s wrists, wrenching them away from his body, but the attempt failed as his muscles still trembled from working out earlier. “Let go!”
