by Hart, Romi
“Would you believe me if I said I did that to save your life? Those men discovered who you were. They’re dangerous. And they were out to get you?”
Her heart sinks and her face melts away into horror. “WHAT? How do you know?”
“…Nah, I’m just fucking with you. The truth is, it was more to do with my huge boner. My boner was dangerous and out to get you.”
She slaps me on the arm but can’t help cracking up with me.
We’re driving home, thoroughly exhausted from the mad voyeuristic fucking, in front of some major creeps!
“I can’t believe I knowingly jacked some guys off. Then again, it was kind of a perverted Illuminati thing, wasn’t it? When in Rome…”
“So hot. I loved seeing that side of you.”
All we can really do now is laugh, surprised that we actually went through with it, fucking in front of complete strangers wearing masks!
It was the kind of taboo fantasy I might explore with a whore or with some bar girl I just picked up. Trying it with someone I really care about feels so weird, exciting, confusing and invigorating!
“So…” I say with a grin. “Did you just do that because you thought I liked it? Or because you wanted me to answer more questions about my past?”
“I did it because I was really turned on, silly,” she says. “You shouldn’t question. You should just whip it out and give me what I want when that happens.”
“Good point.”
A beat passes. A psychotic, uncontrollable urge comes over me. Not sexual, for once, but just as intimate and disgusting.
“I don’t remember anything about my mother,” I say with a frown.
Laura looks over at me in concern. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” I look back at her, taking my eyes off the road for just a moment. “Literally nothing. Except for those Christmas mornings.”
“That’s not normal, Byron.”
“I know,” I say, feeling a pang of grief consumes me. I almost feel scared, or like panic, or tears. But it’s all I can do to hold myself together and drive her home.
“I don’t think anything is wrong with you, honey,” she says, her voice so warm and reassuring to my ears. “From what I can tell, from what you’ve told me, you’ve never treated anyone abusively or unfairly. But you still think you’re this evil, awful person. Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I corrupted you.”
“You didn’t corrupt me,” she says with a chuckle. “God, Byron. I’m far from innocent. Once you get to know a girl you might be surprised by how much ‘filth’ you discover in her.”
“Why do you put up with me? You’re so wonderful.”
“Because lovemaking, sex, fucking…all of it is the same. Because communication, want, need, the desire to be happy and to connect emotionally with someone else. That’s what I want. I hope it’s what you want.”
“I do.”
“I know that you do. And yet…you can’t, can you? Something is blocking you.”
“Yes.” I nod shamefully, realizing it’s true.
“I think whoever told you all that stuff about narcissism, they were very wrong. They were fucking with your mind. Who recommended that therapist?”
“My mother.”
“Hmm. And let me take a wild guess. Your mom doesn’t like me. Your dad doesn’t like me.”
She studies my face. She smiles snidely. “No, your dad hates me, doesn’t he? Getting hotter or colder?”
“You’re very hot,” I mumble.
“And that’s why you’re trying to break up with me. Not because it’s what you want but it’s because HE wants it.”
“I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“Give me some credit, Byron. I’m not some high-school-aged schoolgirl that’s going to go to pieces just because my boyfriend takes a hike. I can handle it.”
“I know you’re strong. You have good moral character. And yet you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. No matter how many times we’re together, it’s never enough. You’re the good things I want in life and the bad things I crave in shame, all wrapped up into one gorgeous package.”
“And how does it feel? To be honest? To confide in me, all of your dark thoughts and fantasies?”
“It feels amazing. Almost sexual. Almost like…just this huge weight lifted off my shoulders, this lump in my throat, my heart exploding.”
“Good. That’s what you need, Byron. Someone that you can confide in, be real with.”
“I want you. To be real with you. I don’t care about anyone else.”
“I want you too…”
A moment of silence passes, and I look at her, wondering what she’s thinking.
“Would you be willing to try something?”
“Always.”
“Mmmm you might want to let me explain first before committing yourself to it.”
“What is it?”
“You’re not afraid of taking risks. You also keep talking about becoming my patient, which of course, is not an option.”
“You don’t fuck all your patients?”
“No, bad boy, I don’t.”
“Then what?”
“I want to know if you have any suppressed memories. I would like to recommend you to a friend, one who specializes in hypnosis.”
“Ohh…” I say, gripping the steering wheel and sighing in discomfort. I’m scared to death at the idea…but why?
“You don’t have to. It’s your choice. But I really do feel that you might have suppressed something that happened in your past. Coming to terms with who you really are, might help you find the peace of mind you so desperately want but can’t seem to find.”
“I want you. That’s the only peace of mind I need.”
“Byron…” she says before a long and scary pause.
“What?”
“I don’t think I want to seriously date you unless you go through this process.”
“That seems like a strange request.”
“It is. And I understand if it’s not totally fair to you. But it’s what I want. I don’t think we can be honest with each other until you face facts about yourself and your life. The fact that you’re so emotionally suppressed makes me think you’ve experienced some trauma that you NEED to address.”
I feel wrath building. I see red. I feel a flare of fire and distrust. But I know it’s not at her. She’s right. “I don’t know if I can.”
“I understand. But just keep it in mind, that I cannot commit myself to you unless I’m sure that you’re a healthy, well-adjusted man, in-control of his emotions.”
“Oh, come on. You’re just picking on me because of the age difference…”
“NO, I’m not. It has nothing to do with age.”
“So, if you were dating Bill or whoever he is, you’d give him the same ultimatum?”
“I would never have sex with Bill. Nor would I ever emotionally confide in him. There’s no attraction there.”
“What about with me? Are you attracted to me? You know all those times we fucked? Did that mean nothing?”
“Yes,” she says, meeting my eyes in heated debate.
“And if I pulled this car over right now and fucked you right on the hood, what about that?”
“Byron…” she says, losing patience.
“Or what if you broke up with me and I came to your office and fucked you anyway? How about that?”
“If you want a relationship built on nothing but meaningless sex, fine. I will occasionally submit to your kinky fantasies. But eventually, we will get bored of each other. Sex is not enough. Is that what you want?”
My face goes back and forth, involuntarily spasming and wanting to argue and yell. But I quickly realize I’m only fighting myself.
“I don’t want it to be just about sex,” I mutter, finally being honest.
“Good. I don’t either. And you’re not doing this for me. Please understand this is about you. For your ow
n healing and understanding.”
“You are getting very sleepy. Your eyes are starting to feel heavy. You’re feeling muscles in your body starting to tense…and then relax. You love the feeling of relaxing…”
“This isn’t working,” I say, not to Laura, but to Amanda Hunter, a hypnotherapist recommended by Laura. Of course, I only submitted to this strange mental mindfuck on the condition that Laura would accompany me into the session. I don’t trust anyone going under and tinkering with my memories, unless it’s Laura.
Call me nuts but I either trust her entirely or I’m completely fine with her fucking me up and turning me into her man-slut-slave. Either way, only with her would I allow this to happen.
“You’re feeling very relaxed, at peace. Serene. Byron, I want you to think about a place. A safe place that you have in your mind. It can be the past or even pulled from your imagination. But this place is where you feel comfortable. In control. Completely at ease, no worries. You feel so safe, so contained. Nothing can hurt you here. You’re surrounded only by positive energy.”
“This isn’t working…” I say before yawning.
“One hundred. You are now in a deep sleep. You are completely at ease and consciously sleeping. But your mind is still awake and very aware of your thoughts, feelings and memories. How do you feel Byron?”
“Mmmmmmmmm…mmkay.”
“You have a safe vest that you’re wearing that is keeping you warm and safe. This vest is keeping you relaxed, safe from all the things that make you tense. Let go of that tension and relax. Let this warm vest neutralize all the “I can't” out of your mind. This will allow you to have total recall whenever you want.”
“Mmmmmmm yeah…”
“I want you to reach inside and take away any block that exists between you and your earlier memory. Whenever you sense tension or that block, just take a deep breath and un-tense your muscles. Let it go. Let it melt away. Relax and remember everything because that’s safe and comforting. Isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s so easy to remember. It’s natural to remember. You’re not tense. You’re relaxed. You have no reason to strain or think back. The past is right in front of you. All you have to do is look around you. Now you can see all of your memories tucked away inside your mind. As you receive this new information, my questions, you are going to have instant recall of all those memories. Everything, Byron, everything you have ever seen or experienced is freely available to you. All of these experiences are right there, in your subconscious mind. That knowledge has always been there and now you can see it in real time.”
“Yes…”
“Tell me about when you were a little boy, Byron. You can see things happening in front of you. You’re eight years old. It’s a very good and relaxing day. Maybe a holiday. Christmas time, your favorite. It’s Christmas morning, Byron. Aren’t you excited?”
“Yeah. I love Christmas.”
“What do you see? Look around the room and tell me what you see and who is there.”
“My father. My mother. Presents.”
“Is your father happy?”
“Yes.”
“And your mother, are they all happy there with you?”
“Yes. Mom’s always happy.”
“What is she saying?”
“Talking to dad. Calling him Alfred, instead of daddy.”
“What else is she saying?”
“She’s mad at him. She says Alfred why something-something. I don’t understand those words.”
“What is he saying?”
“Calling her names. Bad words. Words I’m not supposed to say.”
“What’s happening now, Byron?”
“Dad’s getting upset. He says Barbara stop it. Barbara, I hate you.”
“…Who is Barbara? Your mom?”
“Yes. My mom.”
“…Byron, are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Byron, who is Caitlyn?”
“I don’t know.”
“But your mother is named Barbara, not Caitlyn?”
“Yes.”
“STOP! STOP!”
“Byron, what’s happening? Byron calm down! Why are you shaking? Can you hear me? What’s wrong?”
“Ungghhhh…no no no no”
“Byron, listen to me. You’re not in any danger. You’re okay. Calm down, it’s not going to hurt you, whatever is happening.”
“Unnnghhhhhh…mmmmm nooo…”
“Why are you crying? What’s happening?”
“Mommy’s dead. He hit her so hard, she’s not moving around. He pushes me away. Away from mommy, He tells me to walk away. To go and walk outside.”
“Byron, listen to me. This is not happening right now. You’re safe. You’re in your vest. This happened a long time ago. Nothing is going to hurt you now. It’s okay. Do you hear me?”
“No.”
“LISTEN. It’s okay. This was a long, long time ago. You’re not in any danger. I want you to listen to me. You’re wearing your vest and you’re feeling good. You’re calming down. You’re slowly, very slowly, remembering who you are now. That was so long ago, when you were just a boy. You’re not a boy anymore. You’re grown up. Now I want you to listen closely. I’m going to count backward to twenty. When I do, I want you to gradually wake up. With each number counting backward, you slowly start to become aware. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen. Seventeen. Sixteen. Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”
“Mmmm…”
“Byron, open your eyes. You’re awake.”
I blink my eyes. I laugh hard and shake my head. “Told you it wouldn’t work.”
Laura and Amanda stare at me in shock and terror. Like they’ve seen a ghost! I start to feel uneasy. Like I’ve done something terrible. Oh God…what did I do? What did I do?
It was too much to take in at the moment, so Laura took me out to the park and we sat under the night sky. An old-fashioned picnic under moonlight, something to make me feel comfortable and “relaxed”. Admittedly, the hypnosis treatment worked like a charm, I didn’t even believe Laura when she told me what I confessed.
“Barbara Kalvan. That was my mother’s name. I remember now. Just saying her name feels like my childhood. A strange, soothing warm feeling in my head.”
“And Caitlynn? Well, I guess he remarried?”
“Yeah. I don’t remember a single thing about Caitlynn. Except that I always thought of her as my mother.”
“Didn’t you have Christmas mornings with her too?”
“No. I don’t remember anything with her. I mean, all the memories I had were with my mother, my real mother. And my father. Alfred and Barbara. When I think of Caitlynn, it’s the strangest feeling, like someone just photoshopped a memory in my head. I feel everything and I see her face over my real mother’s face. What the fuck is that?”
“You’re positive that’s what you saw?”
“Yeah. My father killing my real mother. I remember seeing her dead body. Her eyes looking at me even though she was bloody and beaten. Then he took her away from me, pushed me away. Told me to wait outside. I remember waiting outside for hours. I cried all day, thinking I did something terrible.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know. I mean, I know that now. But that explains why I could never think back, never feel anything. Besides just those fake memories of Christmas. Well, the memories were real. But they were fucking warped and edited by that psychopath.”
“It’s just a theory…but what might have happened was that after your father killed your real mother, he took you to one of his ‘recommended therapists’ and they implanted memories in you. Like false memories. You do remember bits and pieces of Christmas mornings with your father and mother. But the original perception has been altered. They brainwashed all the bloody details away.”
“So that I would forget and learn t
o look the other way, whenever my father did something against the law. He made me forget it. He made me bury the memory.”
“I’m not promising that’s what happened,” she says cautiously. “It’s just a theory. It would explain why you feel the way you do. Why memories seem to be vanishing.”
“I think that’s what happened, Laura.” I shake my head and look into her eyes, as vulnerable now as I’ve ever been, and always with her, from the first time I met her.
“What do you want to do? Go to the police? You know if you confronted him, he might deny it.”
“Then let him try,” I say with a glare. “He owes me a response. Even if it’s fake, even if it’s ridiculous. I have to hear the words from his mouth.”
I arranged to meet my father under the guise of a formal apology to him, for daring to threaten the family name. Not surprisingly, he agreed to a meeting. Imagine his surprise when he entered his office and saw, not just his son but his son’s reprehensible girlfriend right next to him.
Laura suggested I go alone since she didn’t want to cause unnecessary conflict. But I insisted she come with me this time. Not only am I proud to be associated with her but I’m also just itching for dad to comment about her, to my face.
As soon as dad sees me, all suited up and smiling ear to ear, he frowns. He knows this isn’t going to be the apology he wanted. Especially not with his nightmare of a daughter-in-law sitting in his chair, without his permission.
But it had to be this way. I still love the man. But right now, right here, he is going to show me his true character. In front of us both.
“Well, well,” he said in a condescending voice. “I see you brought your friend. Your therapist. Your therapist slash friends with benefits.”
“There’s no need to pretend anymore, dad. I know you don’t approve of her. I suspect you probably even hate her. Just like you hate me.”
“Now why in the world would you think I hate you? And if we’re all bringing things out in the open…well sure, I’ll admit it. I don’t approve of you marrying your therapist.”
“She’s not my therapist.”
“Ah, I see,” he says with a forced smile. “So, it’s just a coincidence that you’re having all these emotional catharses. Wake up, kid. She’s playing you. Why do you think I’m opposed to you marrying her?”
