Page 2 of Conflict Mediation
James was desperate to know what Leon had been about to say. Standing up to what? Leon had always had a problem with him. James didn’t understand why, though. He tried to leave his personal life out of the office. As far as his coworkers were concerned, he was just a finance nerd who logged long hours and didn’t bother anyone. It had been one of the many reasons he’d chosen to stay closeted at work. He didn’t want any more problems than he already had.
Leon slouched out of his chair, and James stalked after him, working to keep his spine straight in contrast to Leon’s disrespectful stance.
He was so focused on his posture that he nearly slammed into Leon when he pulled up short in the doorway.
“Are we… do we sit here?” Leon asked, sounding flustered, which was not an emotion James had ever seen on him. James peered around him and was equally surprised to find that the only available seating on their side of the room was a blue loveseat.
Katherine raised an accusatory eyebrow at them, and they both quickly took their seats. James did his best to sit as far to the right on his cushion as he could. Unfortunately, the foam was worn out and sagged under his weight, pulling him back into the middle of the seat, only a few inches away from Leon. James heard the faint squeaking of springs as Leon clearly encountered the same challenge, but James refused to look over at him.
The mediator, Katherine Davis, MSW, as the nameplate on her desk read, took a seat in a plush armchair across from them. James’ eyes settled on a tissue box and what looked to be a small zen garden on the coffee table in front of them. James sure as hell wouldn’t be needing the tissues, but if anything could bringsome zen into his and Leon’s relationship, he was about ready to take a chance on it.
The room went uncomfortably quiet as Katherine gazed at them, seemingly sizing them both up. James shifted on the uncomfortable couch and forced himself to stop staring at the tissue box.
“Uh, I’m James. He/him pronouns,” he volunteered.
It had been several years now, but he never tired of getting to say that.
“Leon. He/him as well,” Leon said, his voice rumbling through the back of the couch. James tried not to notice how resonant it was. Like a low bell being struck. Instead he decided to classify it as a growl, like he was some kind of dumb werewolf.
“It’s nice to meet you, gentlemen. I’m proud of you both for coming in to see me today,” she said pleasantly, crossing her ankles and opening a heavy-looking leather notebook in her lap.
“Not much of a choice,” Leon said under his breath, and there went Katherine’s eyebrow again.
“We always have a choice, Leon. You could walk out of here right now, and never look back. But the fact that you’re here, sitting in that seat, means some part of you wants things to get better. Some part of you recognizes that you can do more, and be more than you are right now. If at any point you no longer think that and aren’t willing to fight for that, to fight for each other, I welcome you to show yourself out the door.”
A stunned silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the soft ticking of the wall clock behind Katherine’s desk.
James was no stranger to fighting forthings. He’d fought to keep a roof over his and his mom’s head when his dad left, unwilling to stick around for a sick wife and his gay, trans son. He’d fought to help his mom get the right care she needed and fought his own bone-deep exhaustion to stay up with her when she couldn’t sleep because of the pain.
He’d never fought for apersonother than his mom, though. No amount of fighting would have kept his dad from leaving, and he hadn’t had the time or inclination to fight for a partner in years. If given the choice, James was pretty sure Leon would be the last person on earth he would fight for.
As if mirroring his thoughts, Leon let out a huff. “Well, I don’t know about all that, but I’m here–I mean,we’rehere so we might as well do this thing.”
“Well, alright then, let’s dive right in. What would you say is the primary reason we’re here today?” Katherine asked.
Leon tensed beside him, but said nothing, so James decided it was time to take over this meeting. He was rather wary of this entire conflict mediation arrangement. He wasn’t sure if he should admit to any wrongdoing. Would anything said in this room end up on his permanent record? He just wanted to listen to what the woman had to say, promise to enact some deep breathing, or maybe use more “I feel ___ when you ___” statements or whatever, and get home in time for dinner.
“We seem to be having some communication challenges,” James said, parroting what Kevin had written in that first email. He tried not to fidget, but a spring in the couch was beginning to make itself known to his left butt cheek.
“And when do you think these challenges began?” Katherine asked, her pen already scratching notes into her notebook.
“To be honest, I think it started at the beginning, from pretty much the first time Leon ever spoke to me,” James admitted, and Leon let out a huff.
James turned to look at him, effectively sliding even more into the crevice of the couch, until the length of their thighs were pressed together. James tried very hard not to notice the distinct musculature in Leon’s thigh. He wasn’t chiseled like some of the gym rat twenty-somethings they worked with. Instead his muscles spoke of hard work and possibly hard labor. He realizedwith an uncomfortable tightening in his stomach that he had no idea what Leon’s background was. Had he always done IT work? Or was he, like so many others in the area, a manual laborer before getting into tech?
As their eyes met, all of James’ musing evaporated, because Leon’s eyes held nothing but their usual disdain.
“You disagree?” James challenged.
“That we’ve been having issues since the beginning? No, we have. But the way you said it makes it sound like I’m the problem.”
James scoffed. “I ask again, do you disagree?”
Leon snorted but before he could respond, Katherine cut in. “Some of my clients like to sit fully facing each other, so this can feel more like a conversation and not an interrogation.”
They both looked at her and then back at each other. Slowly, Leon turned to face him, pulling his leg away from James’ so he could lean his shoulder into the couch. James did the same, bringing their knees into contact again. The feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and James tried not to think about how long it had been since his last Grindr hookup.
He wasn’t at a total loss for human connection. He and his mom would often curl up on the couch, shoulders bracing through a movie or one of his mom’s favorite game shows. The fact that his only interactions outside of work were meaningless hookups and hanging out with his mom was not lost on him, but he shoved the thought away as the lines around Leon’s mouth tightened into a scowl.
