Chapter 12. Simon Says
"And that's when we had the accident," I finished. There was a silence, and then I added, "Please don't ask me how I feel about it, or how it makes me feel, or any of that therapy shit, okay?"
Simon sort of snorted, I think it was a laugh, and then he said, "I don't think I have to. I think I know.
"Basically," he went on, "you're sort of confused, right?"
I thought about it. Confused sounded right. "Yeah."
"You're wondering if Shep is gay, right? And if he is, how it just completely got past you, how come you never suspected, right?"
"Yeah." Boy, he really had that one right.
"And you're feeling sad that your first blow job was from a guy, right?"
"Yeah. I said that."
"Right. And you're trying not to feel resentful about that, trying not to be mad at Shep about it, right?"
"Yeah." And also wishing I hadn't enjoyed it quite so much.
"And you're wondering if you can get past how you feel about Shep now, past the being resentful and mad, and past being sort of weirded out if he is gay, past the confusion that he pulled the wool over your eyes so totally, past all that and back to being friends like you were, right?"
"Yeah." That was really the bottom line—to get back to the way things were. I was hoping Simon could at least point me the way to start doing that.
"And you're seeing it as kind of a heavy burden—like, do his parents know? Is he going to tell them? Should you tell them? Should you tell your parents? Should you tell Cammie? Or do you have to keep it a secret? Right?"
"Yeah." I said yeah, but actually I hadn't even gotten that far in my mind. A whole new bunch of problems to worry about.
"And probably, before, you had some sort of vague notions about the future, how you and Shep would find two lovely women and get married and maybe live near each other and do stuff together, and your wives would be friends, and your kids would play together, and your families would go up to the lake and stuff, and now all of that is probably not going to happen, so you're feeling nostalgic about the future, right?"
"Yeah." I realized that I actually had been thinking all that, in a sort of vague unconscious way.
"And way deep down, you're really sad and worried that you might be gay, because what would that do to your parents and your relationship with them, and with Cammie, and if you are, you'll never have a wife and kids, your life will be very difficult in ways that you never envisaged, and it all seems so complicated and not like you planned, and basically you don't want to be gay. Right?"
"Yeah. Not that I think there's anything wrong with being gay, because I really don't. And I think if you are, you're born that way, so how could there be?"
"You just think it would really complicate life and make it more difficult. Like being African American would make it difficult, or being a midget, or being confined to a wheelchair, or having some sort of disfigurement or handicap—or even just being left-handed. Anything that doesn't qualify as 'normal.'"
"I guess—but I mean, it's not abnormal to be left-handed, or um African-American."
"I should have said 'average.' To you, a white person, being black is not average, and anything that keeps you from being absolutely average is going to complicate your life to some degree."
"Right. But if you are, you are."
"True. Anything else?"
I thought about it. "I think you pretty much covered it," I told him.
"So far I've done most of the talking," he said, "which is not exactly orthodox, but now I'm going to make you talk—I'm going to ask you some questions."
"Okay."
"Before Shep put his mouth on your dick, had you ever thought of having a blow job from a guy? Be honest."
I thought about that. "Yes," I finally said. "When I first found out about what gay guys do with each other, I wondered about how that would feel, what it would be like to do it—have it done to you. To me."
"Did the thought turn you on?"
"Well, yeah, but that was just the idea of the blow job, not the who was doing it."
"Probably," he agreed. "Have you ever looked at a guy's body and gotten aroused—not a guy who was kissing someone or jacking off or in some sexual situation, just a guy in the showers or the locker room or in a movie or on TV."
"No. I don't think so."
"Have you ever used a fantasy of sex with a guy to jack off with?"
"No! I mean, no. It never occurred to me."
"How many times in your life have you looked at a woman and gotten aroused?"
I opened my mouth and turned and looked at him. "No idea. Ten thousand? A million?"
"And how many times have you used a fantasy of sex with a woman?"
"At least a million," I said.
"You can have sex right now with anybody you want. Who is it?"
"Angel," I said without even thinking about it.
"Are you still worried that you might be gay?"
I laughed a little. "I guess not."
"And that was the real problem, wasn't it?" he asked. "The rest, that was just window dressing. Shep is your buddy and always will be, one way or another. If you have to keep his secret—if he has a secret—you will. You'll have a lot of blow jobs in your lifetime, from a lot of people, and the one Shep gave you on the raft wasn't your first anyway."
"Yes, it—oh. But that was Shep too."
"Yes. And you didn't even remember it. If it had been Angel on that raft, you would have thought she gave you your first blow job, and you would have been wrong. So it isn't really that important."
"I guess not."
"You really guess not, or you're just going along with me to be polite?"
I thought some. "I guess none of it is that important. I'm not gay, Shep's my buddy, and maybe it'll be kind of cool to think back, when I'm old and gray, that the first two of the thousands of blow jobs I hope I will have had in my life were from my buddy Shep. It kind of shows that I'm laid back about it, that I'm not homophobic, that I'm comfortable with my masculinity and shit like that."
"It does indeed."
"So are we through?" I asked.
"Up to you," he said. "Do you think we need another session?"
I considered. "No," I said finally. "I don't think so. I think I'm okay now. But what if I have a relapse?"
He laughed. "I don't think you will. I don't think it was any kind of a serious problem. You just needed to think it through. But if you want to talk with me again, about this or anything else, I'd be happy to. Want some lunch?"
Suddenly I was ravenous. "I would love some lunch," I said.