Page 213 of The Holy Grail
“Yes. It feels like I never will.”
“That’s because you won’t,” she said quietly. “No one gets ‘over’ their trauma, gets ‘around’ it, or ‘moves on’ from it, because that implies you can simply leave it behind in the dust, which you can’t. You can workthroughit, but part of that process is being forced to make space for it in your life, because you have to carry it and learn to live with it, because it’s a part of you. A very important part.
“I know there are days when the process is difficult and motivation is hard to summon, but I’m here to tell you every slow, painful step is worth it. Getting to the other side is worth it, no matter how long it takes. Because you owe it to the part of yourself that was abused by the man who called himself your father—and got stuffed down into the darkness—to bring it out into the light and live.”
To say Evan was surprised Lauren wanted him to come to a session with Malcom was an understatement.
As Evan got comfortable in his chair, Lauren gave him a friendly smile, putting him somewhat at ease. “I’m glad you came today,” she said.
“Anything I can do to help,” Evan returned.
“Malcom might have told you he and I discussed how to handle people in public who might not be very tolerant of two men being together, so I thought it would be a good idea to get your input. You’ve probably had some experience with that, I imagine?”
Evan shrugged a shoulder. “A little.”
“Would you be willing to share some of those experiences?”
“Well, the worst ones were when I was in high school,” Evan explained. “I ended up getting into some fights, mainly because I was a little quick on the draw to throw a punch when being called a name, or ridiculed for being ‘different’. And it’s not like bisexuals weren’t around, because they were, it’s just that high school wasn’t really a place where you could be different and accepted at the same time. Especially when you’re the only bisexual out of a thousand students … well, the only one who was ‘out’, anyway. So, I got in a few fights, because some of the people deserved to get punched, but as I got bigger and filled out, less people called me names or ridiculed me—at least to my face. Then, in my senior year, I dated several popular girls, and at this point most of my fellow classmates didn’t really know what to do with me, so I was pretty much left alone during that time.
“Obviously I don’t get in too many fights anymore—” he broke off to clear his throat and glance over at Malcom with a quick grimace, “—but if someone’s being a little too free with their judgment, to the point where they say something, I will say something back.”
“Like what?”
Evan smiled. “Have a nice day.”
“You tell them to have a nice day?” Malcom asked, having expected it to be more along the lines of ‘Fuck off, motherfucker’.
“Yeah. Have a nice day,” Evan repeated. “The main reason is because whatever they’ve said to me, or said under their breath loud enough for me to hear, isn’t worth any further … engagement. I don’t know them and I don’t care what they think, so I tell them to ‘Have a nice day’, in a pleasant voice, to let them know I heard them, and continue on my way. It usually stops them in their tracks, because they don’t know what to do with that response, especially if they’re trying to get a rise out of me and they get a dose of ‘Mr. Rogers’, instead. Minus the cardigan.”
“I like that,” Lauren said.
“It’s pretty effective, in the event I can’t just ignore them, which I do about ninety percent of the time.”
Lauren gave Malcom a pointed look, as if to say,See? Ignore, ignore, ignore.
“I know,” he muttered. “A random stranger’s opinion doesnotmatter. You ignore it and live your life.”
Evan glanced at Lauren. “Mal seems to know how to deal with intolerant people, well enough.”
“Knowing and being able to do it are two different things,” she countered. “Which is why I wanted both of you to sort of work out a way to deal with it together, because this is pretty new for Malcom, and he could benefit from your experience. I’d like to see you come up with a game plan, so to speak, in case something does happen—mostly for Malcom’s sake.”
After quickly agreeing non-verbal, judgmental people should simply be ignored, they moved on to discussing verbal encounters, which was at the root of Malcom’s anxiety. The ‘plan’ they arrived at was to hold onto each other’s hand, which would keep him grounded in the moment, tell the person to ‘Have a nice day’, and then walk away.
When it came to a possible physical encounter, Evan pointed out he wouldn’t hesitate to defend himself, but it might not be feasible to also defend Malcom, who, even though he’d proven he could throw a punch, still wasn’t really a ‘fighter’.
“What about self-defense classes?” Lauren suggested. “It would make him feel more secure, being able to defend himself against another person, regardless of the situation. You could even have Jules take them with you.”
Evan and Malcom both thought that was a good idea.
“Now, then,” Lauren said, leaning forward, her expression turning serious, “I’d like to move on to the other reason I wanted you to be here, Evan, which is to discuss your contribution to Malcom’s anxiety.”
Shocked, Malcom asked, “His contribution?”
“Yes,” she said, before turning her attention to Evan, who, rather than being shocked, appeared thoughtful. “I want you to think about something that makes you feel uncomfortable, and not in an ‘I don’t like killing spiders in my bathroom’ kind of way. I mean in a visceral way.”
Evan was silent for several moments before saying, “Public speaking. Any time I’ve ever had to get up in front of people, like to read a book report, or a presentation for a class, it’s been an unmitigated disaster.”
“Unmitigated? In what way?” Lauren wanted to know.
