The Silver Compass By: Sean Roberts
Author's Note: Please send feedback to seanr_13@yahoo.ca It is very much appreciate :)
An Unshaven Face
"She's charging at least one hundred and fifty dollars an hour," Michael mumbled as he entered the building. The large foyer of the building had a lot of marble; the marble had a lot of blue. He leaned on the counter of the security guard's marble box. "I'm looking for Doctor Stone," he said. He placed his palm flat, feeling the smoothness of the marble. It had been finished so perfectly. But he knew it was fake. Nothing without an imperfection could be real. Especially not the doctor.
She had a receptionist and an empty waiting room. She stuck to her appointments like glue -- Michael was shown in at exactly two o'clock. She had a large mass of wavy, blonde hair on top of her head, and it hung down to her shoulders. It was the first thing Michael noticed. She was wearing a maroon dress, which he stared at instead of looking into her eyes. He was embarrassed. He did not know what he was doing there.
"I'm Paulette Stone," she said, extending her hand. "And you're Michael, right?" He nodded. He did not want her calling him Mike yet. He followed her into her office; he noticed she was taller than he was.
He had expected something much darker. Dark wood and brown, leather couches. Blinds blocking out everything from the outside so that it would be only doctor and patient. But the furniture was light, the couches beige, and the blinds open. She had a magnificent view of the city. She had taken a minimalist approach to designing her office; Michael liked it.
"I'm glad you came, Michael," she said after they had sat. "Your parents told me you might not. Can I get you something? Some water, or some coffee?"
"Can I smoke?"
"I'm afraid not." He nodded.
"Why did you come here Michael?" He smiled. He had not expected this; he thought only psychiatrists on television asked such questions.
"My parents think that...didn't they tell you?"
"We aren't here to discuss your parents. We want to talk about you."
"Fine. I'm gay. My parents think that you can change that."
"I see. And you don't think it can be changed?"
"No."
"Okay. What if you could, though. If you thought there was a way, would you want to?" He had thought about this only briefly when he first began to realize he was gay, but he had come to accept it. But even if it was something he could change, it would mean giving up Cameron.
"Is there a way?"
"That depends. Now tell me..."
"What does it depend on?"
"Whether you're really gay or not."
"But I am."
"Not necessarily. You see, Michael, some people just think they are. There are so many events in a person's life, in their childhood especially, that could make them think they are gay. At the same time though, there are some people who are actually gay. With you, it's fifty-fifty. Unless you, well, to put it simply, unless you check to really find out, you won't ever know for sure."
"I had a better way of finding out."
"And what was that?"
"This is confidential right?"
"Absolutely. Your parents won't find out."
"I had sex with a girl, about a year ago. I didn't enjoy it at all."
"I see. And who was this girl?"
"Does it matter? She's pretty though, really. You'd think the same thing if you saw her. But there's no attraction whatsoever."
"But you were able to have sex with her?"
"Yes, but like I said, I didn't enjoy it."
"Well, Michael, if you didn't enjoy it, and there was no attraction, how were you able do it?"
"I don't know. I just did." He shrugged. He did not want to tell her that it was "a guy thing", though he knew that's exactly what it was.
"I see." The doctor scribbled down some notes.
"Listen, doctor..."
"Please, Michael, call me Paulette."
"Right, Paulette then. I only came in to make my parents happy. So I'll talk about whatever you want, but it isn't going to change anything."
"Very well Michael," she said. "If I'm just sitting here asking you questions, it won't take us anywhere. I'll simply be wasting your parents' money. But do me a favour and think about it. If, at any time you decide you would like my services, for this or any other problem, please don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you," Michael replied. They shook hands and he left her office.
He swore out loud at his phone when it did not get reception in the elevator. He needed to talk to Cameron; the person he did not want to give up.
Matthew was watching television with a bag of chips when Michael arrived home. Michael sat down and took one out of the bag, chewing it loudly. Matthew did not look at him. He kept his attention on the television.
"How long ago did you tell them?"
"I told them the night you were out with him." Matthew continued to stare forwards.
"That's what I thought. Why?"
"I don't know. They asked if I knew where you were, it just came out. I'm sorry." They were both staring at the television. The cartoon characters were moving as if silently on the screen.
"You know, there was a reason I didn't want them to know."
"I know Michael."
"Fine. Whatever." He stood up, angry that he was not getting better responses than this. On his way out of the room he said, "and why the fuck are you watching cartoons? Grow the fuck up."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Matthew asked defensively. He turned away from the television. Michael did not turn around to face his brother, but he stopped walking.
"It means you're acting like a dick, Matthew. I find you, in my room, in the middle of the night, doing God only knows what to me, and you have to go and tell mom and dad that I'm gay. Well I'm going to tell them what you did. Then we'll see who they send to therapy." Matthew raised his eyebrows; the thick, blonde eyebrows they inherited from their father. Michael had made his point.
Matthew switched off the television. He showered, dressed, and drove. He knew he would have to come home eventually, but he wanted to delay it as much as possible.
Michael was awoken by a knock on his door. He sat up in bed. His father walked inside, a fake smile on his face.
"Sorry Mike, I didn't realize you were sleeping."
"It's okay dad." He rubbed his eyes and sat up. His father sat beside him on the bed, facing the window. Michael stared at the door.
"How did it go with Dr. Stone?" Michael swallowed. He knew he had to tell his father the truth. Mr. Miller had paid a large sum of money to help him.
"I can't change it dad. I'm sorry. I don't know what makes you and mom and Matthew think that this is something I can change."
"I know that."
"No you don't! If you knew you wouldn't have made me go..."
"That's not why we made you go. That's not why I made you go. Your mother wants all of these thoughts out of your head. I wanted you to go so that you would have somebody to talk to. It can't be easy to deal with. And Lord knows you're not going to talk to your mother or me about it; though you're of course welcome..."
"I have someone to talk to dad. Sarah knows. She's known for a couple of years. It is hard but she's been there always. So you believe me? And you're okay with it?"
"It's a surprise. It's something that's going to take me some time to get used to. But all in all, I'm okay with it. But Sarah isn't there now. I spoke with her father the other day. He mentioned that the two of you weren't talking anymore. He said she's been kind of depressed lately...what happened Mike?"
"We just had a fight. It's nothing." Michael turned to his father, who was already looking at him. He hadn't shaved that day. When he was younger he had been fascinated with his father's stubble. Facial hair is always something for a boy to wonder about until he gets some himself. Michael smiled, remembering the times he would watch his father shave; especially when Mr. Miller had not done so for a few days. He remembered the surprise at how different it made his father's face. "I don't want to see the doctor again. I don't need to. I'm fine dad."
"Well what about Matt? You two have been..."
"It isn't my fault. It's his. He's as pissed off about this as mom. My seeing a doctor isn't going to do anything about that."
"Okay Mike. But you're alright?" Michael nodded. "Okay. Listen, I know I don't really get involved in stuff when you've got a problem. When I was your age, and I had a problem with something, I didn't want my parents finding out about it, or helping me. That's why I'm not pushing you to discuss any of this with me. But, Mike, if you ever do want to, I'd be more than happy."
"Thanks dad."
"Sure. I ordered pizza, should be here in about ten minutes." Michael's legs were under the comforters, out in front of him. His father patted the lower part of his leg, twice, before standing up. The touch sent shivers up Michael's body. Combined with the words it meant his father loved him and was behind him.
A few moments later Mr. Miller re-appeared. "Have you seen your brother anywhere?"
"Don't call him that," Michael answered.
"Very funny," said Mr. Miller, both of them grinning.
"I saw him about an hour ago, watching TV. Then I took a nap."