Page 5 of Shadowman
“Isn’t sharing things like this a part of that?” he asks pointedly.
“I would say revealing my inner monster is more three-month anniversary material, don’t you think?” My lips quirk, and for all of his robotic tendencies, I get the reaction I’ve beencraving. The most minor change to his face, from stone-serious to mildly amused.
It has meflying.
He scribbles something in his notebook before glancing back up at me. “I see you’re no longer referring to Alice as ‘they/them.’ That’s new.”
I nod. “She’s decided to use pronouns that make her more comfortable.”
“Good. I’m sure that’s helpful for her.”
“It is.” My mind reflects to a few months ago, when I first met Alice. “She said that she was using ‘they/them’ in the early stages of her transition, but that she’s always wanted ‘she.’ I’m happy to give her whatever makes her feel happy and respected.”
He stares at me for a moment before asserting, “This relationship is clearly growing more serious for you, Trevel.”Uh-huh… and?“It’s interesting to me that you have no problem accepting Alice and supporting her emotionally, but when it comes to opening up yourself, you’re afraid she won’t accept you.”
My head tips back and I stare at the ceiling. “That’s not the same thing.”
“I believe it is.” The gruffness in his voice causes my chin to drop, our eyes meeting once more. “This is a part of you, Trevel. This is who you are. If you ever want to move forward in your personal relationships, you’ll need to let people see the real you.”
My stomach twists into a knot as I blink at him. “What if she hates it? What if she… runs screaming?”
Honestly, who wouldn’t?
He gives me a bit of a patronizing look that reminds me of Riverwoods.White walls, fluorescent lights, little paper cups full of pills and the gurneys with the straps…“If someone isn’t willing to accept you for who you are, then they’re not the right person for you.”
Sighing harshly, I rub my eyes. We’ve been having this conversation for nearly a year, since I left Riverwoods—the psychiatric facility I’d been confined to following… my crimes.
Dr. Lemuel Love, PhD, has been my doctor for long enough to know pretty much everything there is to know about me. He knows all about what I’ve done, what I’ve experienced, and who I am as a result of those things.
He knowsexactlyhow fucked up I am; how broken and jaded inside. And he’s also seen how far I’ve come. From lashing out in the early days at Riverwoods—screaming and crying and throwing fits—to existing as a productive member of society.More or less.
I have a job that I enjoy, a small apartment here in downtown Atlanta that’s more than enough for just me, and a few acquaintances, though more often than not, I choose to spend time alone. That is, until Alice.
Part of me thinks I liked Alice morebeforewe started dating. Another part of me thinks that’s an excuse.
Because of how well Dr. Love knows me, he’s more than aware of how much stock I put into finding love. Then again, that’s also the most obvious thing about me. I never had love growing up, so I search desperately for it now as an adult.
It’s so axiomatic, it borders on cliché.
The difficult part comes with the idea of arealrelationship. Something more than just the superficial. It’s human nature to hide our faults in order to get people to like us… But to Dr. Love’s point, is that sustainable?
Do I really want a relationship with someone I have to hide things from? Would my partner want that?
I think we all know the answer to these questions, which is why my doctor won’t let it go. But still… when I consider the darkness that lurks in the corners of my mind…
Scream.
Thud.
Pain.
Slap slap slap.
Tears.
Slice.
Twist, drag.
