by Nicky James
“Unusual lifestyle?” I filled in. He was going easy on me. I could tell.
Instant flames rose to his cheeks, and he ducked his head. “Yes.”
His inner drive to be put together and professional that time around was only surface deep. With no more than a small nudge, his nervous state returned. However, as much as I enjoyed his moments of floundering uncertainty and the light blush his cheeks so easily acquired under duress, I pulled back the urge to push him too far.
So, he wanted to know how I lived in my fucked-up world. Baby steps. Maybe I could do this.
“Obviously my entire inner clock has taken a one-eighty. I’m up all night and sleep all day. In the beginning, it was just sunlight I couldn’t handle, but as you can see…” I waved a hand around, indicating the shadowed room where we sat. “That’s no longer the case.”
“What changed?” Adrian’s brows drew together as he listened attentively.
I couldn’t help feeling like a spectacle. In a deep down, disturbing way, it was almost the same as when I’d been stared at in my childhood by the bullies in school who were preparing their next attack. It rose my defenses, and I curled my nose as I scanned the apartment, avoiding Adrian’s eyes.
“Krew.”
Was that true? Would I have ended up worse regardless? Light, in general, had never been comfortable after the incident. Was it possible that I’d have slipped further under without Krew there to facilitate?
As I pondered that line of thinking, Adrian nudged me on. “Can you explain?”
“I met Krew two years ago at Bottoms Up. He works there. I don’t like being stuck at home, and there isn’t a whole lot to do at night for socialization. Bars, in general, have low lighting, and even though I wasn’t incapable of venturing into lit rooms at the time, it was never comfortable. When Krew and I became friends, and he learned of my… issues… he did what good friends do. He helped me. When he learned that lighting in the stores bothered me, he offered to run in if I needed smokes or groceries or whatnot. The less I did those things for myself, the worse it became when I had to. I got accustomed to complete darkness, and any bright light started affecting me in the same way sunlight did.
“Now, I get my groceries delivered, handle banking mostly online—since the all-night machines are generally in brightly lit rooms—and whatever I can’t handle, Krew takes care of.”
I met Adrian’s gaze, daring him to find humor in my handicaps. His nerves wouldn’t allow him to maintain eye contact, and he dropped his head, focused on taking notes on his pad of paper.
“Do you work?”
“Self-employed. I do web design.”
More note-taking. Adrian adjusted himself on the cushioned chair and pushed his glasses up his nose. He was the image of what would have been considered a nerd in high school. Between his pressed Khakis, his white button up, and checkered sweater vest, I couldn’t help but smile. Somehow, I knew it was his usual style, too, and not simply what he wore to look professional while on the job.
Maybe I hadn’t been part of the nerd crowd in high school, but my own differences made it so I didn’t fit in any better. With the small bit I’d learned about Adrian, somehow, I knew we’d shared the same fate in school. What I desperately needed to know was if he was still stuck in that hell or had found his escape.
Based on our previous meeting, I feared the worst.
My insides itched for the need to smoke. There was too much focus on my problems, and I hated it.
“Umm… Would you feel comfortable sharing the reactions you have to light? Or how exactly it makes you feel when you are faced with a situation where you are submerged in light. I understand if this is something you aren’t ready for.”
Cracking my knuckles, I tried to ignore the subtle rise in the hairs on my arms. It was accompanied by tightness in my joints and muscles which I fought off, squirming and seeking a more comfortable position so I wouldn’t feel it so readily. Even though I knew from experience, it wasn’t something I could shake off.
Eyeing my smokes in the center of the table, I jumped from the couch and snapped them up. “Do you mind if I step out for a few?”
Sitting, Adrian needed to raise his eyes to meet my gaze. His dark irises, whose color I could only guess were deep brown, lingered on my face. Lips slightly parted, his tongue glided their surface, wetting them before he nodded, increasingly unsure of himself. The action and our positions threw me directly into my fantasy from before, and I cursed the heat that bloomed over my skin in response to his shy expression.
Shoving it all away, I spun and exited onto the balcony, closing the door behind me. The night air wasn’t nearly cold enough to douse my inner flames. I was hot all over and chose to lean on the railing instead of sitting. Once again, I’d avoided the more invasive questions and fled to safety, successfully driving a wedge into our meeting.
Halfway through my smoke, the sound of the sliding door being shoved open drifted to my ears along with a meek voice which asked, “Do you mind if I join you?”
Without turning, I shrugged and squinted at a flashing light farther out on the river which was likely a boat. “Suit yourself. Don’t go causing yourself a problem on my account.”
“I’ll be okay.”
The creak of the lounger told me he’d sat. After, silence filled the void between us. I stayed focused on the boat in the distance as I drew again and again on my smoke, inhaling sanity, and fighting off images of our last meeting and the unexplained fantasies my mind wouldn’t release. I still couldn’t find the courage to voice anything, but the empty space in our conversation grew and needed filled.
“Why psychology?” I asked.
When he didn’t answer, I turned and leaned backward on the railing, quirking a brow to punctuate my question.
He smoothed a hand over his pants and smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes and was edged with a pain that I suspected went bone deep.
“I’m fascinated with the human mind. It amazes me in a way I’m not sure I can explain. The more I learn, the more I want to know.” He chuckled and met my gaze. “I love rooting around and seeing how it all works, you know? My father is a neurosurgeon. So, he literally cuts open the human brain and gets to the nitty-gritty of it all. I prefer studying it on a more sanitary level. One that won’t make me lose my stomach… much to his disappointment.”
The way his nose curled at the mention of his father’s work made me believe he wasn’t one for blood or gore.
“So, the whole doctor thing runs in your family?”
He nodded but didn’t elaborate. I wondered what his mother did for a living. Was she a doctor too? Did he have siblings? If so, were they all on the same paths? He obviously didn’t live at home if he had roommates.
“So, you stay on campus?”
I told myself I was making friendly chit-chat, but the truth was, I was digging, too curious about his living situation to let it rest.
I hit the nail on the head with my suspicions. There was a subtle stiffening of his back and pull of gravity that made his lips curve into a frown. “For now.”
Again, he didn’t elaborate, but I bit back the urge to ask more. My cigarette was finished, and the expectation was probably to resume our focus on me.
“Do you want to go back inside?” I asked.
“We can sit out here. It’s nice. I like the view.”
I settled on the lounger across from him and propped my feet on the railing. I recalled the night Krew and I had sat out here when I’d turned down his advances because of having Adrian on the brain. Sneaking a look at the man across from me, I wondered what it was I was so drawn to. While I studied his profile, he watched the water.
“Do streetlights and car headlights bother you the same? You said you go out at night.”
“Sometimes. It depends on the day. Right now, I’m ok, but if I were to go out, I’d always have my shades on me, in case I had a problem. On bad days, I wear them all the time. Even inside my house where I keep it
dark. It’s just…”
“Safer?”
Our eyes connected, and I nodded, hating his penetrating, knowing gaze. He saw my weakness. Somehow, I knew Adrian could see past my carefully constructed walls to the darkness I carried within. The one I didn’t like, and the one that was the most disconcerting.
A long pause ensued.
We’d grown good at gaping holes of silence in our conversations. Tiny mouthfuls of sharing followed by vast, cosmic expanses of nothingness. Each consecutive void grew denser and more uncomfortable. Adrian must have felt it too because we both sought to break the tension at the exact same moment, both spewing questions at one another.
“What happens if you are exposed to light?” he asked.
“How are things with your roommates?” I sputtered over top of his words.
We shared a laugh and simultaneously ducked our heads, breaking eye contact. Whether it was him or me, we didn’t seem cut out for this counselor/counselee bullshit. A weird bubbling sensation fizzled through my body. Again. It was becoming harder and harder not to analyze or look it directly in the face, knowing it for what it was.
“How about we try something different.” Adrian broke through my thoughts, and I lifted my head. “You don’t seem to be fully comfortable sharing with me just yet, and that’s perfectly okay. So how about we try a little ‘getting to know you’ exercise. We did this in one of my courses last year. Perhaps if our titles—counselor/patient—weren’t so stringent, and our boundaries loosened a little, you’d be more comfortable talking. We could build a connection.”
He was killing me. Not only did I sorely want to loosen our boundaries, but I seriously didn’t at the same time.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll ask you a question—something simple to begin with—and you answer. After, it’s your turn to ask me. We get three passes, so if something comes up we aren’t ready or willing to talk about, we can choose not to share today.”
He closed his notebook and set it on the ground beside his chair. “And no note-taking. This will be just an informal session until we are ready to work on the real reason you called the center.”
I studied him. His excessively poised posture, his forced confidence, and the minor tremble noticeable only in his hands where they were folded together in his lap. Did the poor guy think he was failing again? Was that why he was floundering through textbook scenarios to see if he could find something that would work? Fuck, I needed to get this right. I didn’t want to be the reason he walked away defeated.
“Can I go first?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I tapped my pack of smokes against my knee, shoving away the urge to pull out another. I could do this. It wouldn’t be that bad. I re-worked my previous question into something a little less invasive, in case I pushed him to an immediate pass.
“Okay. How many roommates do you have?”
A twitch in his cheek drew my attention. The brightness in his eyes dulled, and I knew right away all my theories were correct. And fuck if that didn’t make me even more pissed off.
“Three,” he said, adjusting his glasses and shifting his attention to the water again.
There was no explanation or embellishment, but I guess he answered my question. “Your turn.”
“Did you go to college?”
Fuck! The guy was as smart as he looked.
Chapter Eight
Adrian
I couldn’t tell who was studying who more. My not-so-innocent question about whether or not he’d attended college instantly rose his hackles. Rory was twenty-eight years old. According to what he’d already shared, his problem with sunlight began six years back. That made him twenty-two at the time. So, I asked myself, what were most twenty-two-year-olds doing at that age? Schooling most likely. Or, if their course of study was simple enough, they’d be in the workforce. What I hoped to determine was, where was Rory Gallagher at the time all this began.
“Yes. Computer Technology.”
“Did you graduate?”
“My turn.”
He was no more forthcoming with information than I’d been. I supposed I deserved that. Waiting to hear what he’d ask next made me fidget. For some reason, he seemed hell-bent to know about my living arrangements and roommates. All week, I’d hated that he’d been exposed to one of their crueler tricks. It painted me as unprofessional, and I’d have much preferred burying the whole incident.
Nothing that happened in Rory’s presence was going as planned. There was an air of extreme nervous energy surrounding us. I was hyper-aware of everything I said and did while around him. More than once, as I heard the words fall from my mouth, I wondered if I sounded as stupid as I imagined. Not once had he given me that impression, but I was so accustomed to feelings of inadequacy surrounding my social skills, it was second nature. Growing up, my innocent comments or words had been tossed back at me in a mocking tone.
“Do your roommates always cause problems like they did on Monday?”
Floundered wasn’t quite the word for how I reacted to his question. Although it was certainly a fish-like reaction. I opened my mouth to respond, closed it, opened it again, snapped it shut, and turned to look out at the water.
“Pass.” Before he could object to my answer—or non-answer—I jumped in. “Did you graduate from your computer program?”
He didn’t respond. When I dared a glance back in his direction, the burning rage behind his eyes wasn’t hidden, and his lip twitched. My heart took off like a shot as a rush of adrenaline coated my skin in a thick blanket of heat.
The moment he noted my rising panic, he closed his eyes and visibly pushed away his animosity as he fisted his hands and pinched his lips. When he opened his eyes again, they locked on me. There was less anger behind them and more concern which confused me. What had caused his slip of control? My question or the answer I’d given to his?
“No,” he said. “I dropped out in my last year. Are you friends with your roommates?”
I hadn’t expected the exercise to feel so invasive, but he actively threw me off every time he asked something new. Taking the casual question route was supposed to help me dig deeper into Rory’s mind without him knowing what I was doing. However, I seemed to be as much under the microscope as he was.
“No. Not at all. I hate my roommates. If all goes well, I’ll be able to move out on my own come September.” Maybe that would shut him up. “Why did you drop out?”
“Pass.” He ducked his eyes to his smokes and opened the packet, pulling out another and fitting it between his lips. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
I almost choked on my spit. It was the last thing I’d expected him to ask, and suddenly his gaze—which had been aloof and flitting between me and the river—was solely on my face, unwavering, searching, and extremely interested in a response.
Before I could get a handle on my reaction, my cheeks flamed. I didn’t make a habit of flashing my relationship status or sexuality around in stranger’s faces. Nor did I think it was appropriate with a client—especially a good-looking client who’d captured my interest on the first day we’d met. One I was uncomfortable around because his body language and looks screamed badass bully. What would he do if he found out I wasn’t into girls?
I wasn’t the free-spirited gay man who needed to flaunt and gain attention from anyone around simply to prove he was content and happy in his own skin. In high school, I’d come out of the closet—but only barely. About one foot out. The other remained firmly planted on the other side of the door among coats and boots.
Aiming for calm—and failing—I tried playing his question off with as much nonchalance as I could muster. “No.”
“Boyfriend then?”
When I didn’t think my cheeks could get hotter, they did, obliterating any questions he might have had over what team I played for. Why was he asking me this?
“No. And that was technically two questions, so I get two now.”
Since he�
�d decided to venture into personal territory, I took my chances at digging into his, hoping he’d be ready to offer up something.
“Is the reason you left your program related to what happened six years ago?”
Rory’s eyes went unfocused as he peered into a memory or saw something only he could see. Where he went or what he saw, I could only hope he would feel safe enough to share it with me someday.
“Yes,” he said. His voice was pitched so low it was nearly lost on the breeze. A surge of excitement coated me because I’d been expecting another pass. Did I push for more or proceed with caution?
“How about your friend, Krew. Does he know what happened?”
“Yes.” There was less hesitation in his answer that time. “Krew is the reason we are here right now. He’s the one who is pushing me to get help.”
“He sounds like a good friend.”
Rory shrugged as he smoked. I tensed, knowing it was my turn again, and I wondered what he might ask me next. For a while, he didn’t say anything. If he was forming questions in his mind or lost in his head, I didn’t know. In school, I’d been taught to recognize those moments when a patient had something to say and was trying to find the best way to express themselves. That was one of those moments. I didn’t know how I could tell, but I just knew.
After a short time, Rory mashed his butt into the ashtray and—respectfully—blew a wisp of smoke away from me. “I feel trapped.” He wet his lips as he left those words to hang in the air. “I’m the most comfortable in complete darkness, yet some days, my head is the most haunting place to be. I can escape light easily enough, but I can’t get away from the terror in my head. It’s a whole other shade of darkness altogether in there, and it feels like it’s slowly consuming me. Like, one day, I might wake up and find I’ve been eaten alive by it, and there will be nothing left of who I am. Does that make sense?”
