Page 80 of Notorious

“If Johnny reacts when you touch him without meaning harm, Kurt, what are you going to do?” Christian asks.

“I guess talk to him, remind him what’s real and what isn’t,” he says.

“That’s a good start.”

Again, the room goes quiet. After a moment, Christian says, “Johnny, it seems as if you may lack the levels of safety and security many of us take for granted, and you’ve got some shame piled on top of that. You’ve been relying on yourself for a long time, being the primary resource—financial and, in earlier years, physical and maybe emotional—for your mom. Who took care of you when you were growing up?”

“Didn’t need no one,” I mutter. My head is starting to hurt.

“You didn’t need someone to care for you?”

I shrug, and she nods. Not in an agreement way, more a moving-things-along way.

“Now you’re a provider and a caretaker, and it seems like you think you have to do it on your own. Does that sound right to you?”

“Sometimes,” I mutter.

“But it’s okay to let other people help if they want to,” she says.

“Shit.” My jaw hurts. I wanna get out of here.

“Babe, you might have some toxic masculinity,” Kurt says.

“Possibly,” Christian says. She turns to him. “We don’t have to label it as toxic. We’re all products of our environment.”

“Sorry,” Kurt says. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re also a softie.”

I put on a smile that falls with Christian’s next words.

“Let’s speak plainly. You were violently assaulted at work, on camera,” Christian says. “Not only was your body violated, but the fact that it was recorded, there’s documentation of it that others might see—that perpetuates the violation and keeps it fresh. It’s natural for you to feel like you need to protect yourself against further harm by not letting anyone get close to you. It’s a sign of healing that you’ve let your husband in to hear about this.”

“I’m fucking scared he’s gonna leave me, now that he knows,” I say, my eyes wet.

“Never,” Kurt hisses. “What happened at that studio wasn’t your fault. Period. And if you try to judge yourself for it, I’ll … well, I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it that you have nothing to be ashamed of. The fact that it happened and that asshole isn’t being punished, though, that’s making me ragey.”

How does Kurt always break through my defenses? Instead of running, I want to curl up in his warmth.

Christian notices when I move closer to him. “It’s important that you have someone like Kurt,” she says. “He supports you. Can you feel it?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I feel like we’ve always been together.”

“I do, too. Even though that’s so far from the truth,” Kurt says.

“What do you mean?” Christian asks. “How long have you two been together?”

I turn to Kurt. “I don’t want to minimize what you’ve done for me, but she should know that we only just met two days before we first came to see her.” I turn to her. “We’ve known each other a little over a month. It was one of these get-drunk-and-married-in-Vegas things.”

“I didn’t know that,” she says, her eyebrows raised. “Does the length of time you’ve known each other matter to you?”

“No,” I say. “I feel like Kurt’s exactly what I need.”

He glances at me, and his expression makes me feel like I’ve just downed a cup of hot cocoa on a cold day. “I’m so glad to have Johnny in my life,” he says. “I liked him before I met him”—he coughs—“um, from his videos, but now that I know him as a real person, know how complicated and caring he is, it’s …” He shrugs, apparently at a loss for words.

“Forgive me for asking, but with such a … spontaneous marriage, did you ever consider dissolving it?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “I did, at first. But … well, this sounds awful, but I thought that it would look bad for my political career if we divorced immediately. And then I got to know him, and now the last thing I want is to split up.”

Kurt’s not one to fib, but is that true? Seems too much to hope for.

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