Page 94 of The Holy Grail

Putting in the work

“Before we get started,” Lauren said, at the beginning of their second session, “I wanted to let you know that from this point on, I will be referring to your father as ‘Monroe’, and not as your father, or dad. I do this to strip him of any warm feelings associated with those titles, as well as the respect it carries. I’ve found for some of my patients, it helps them separate the family bond a little bit, because sometimes it’s hard to erect strong boundaries with a family member, as if they should be given special rights, just because they’re ‘family.’ I mean, people will put up with a lot of shit from a family member they wouldn’t with an acquaintance or even a friend, right? ”

Malcom nodded; it was true.

“So,” Lauren continued, “I recommend you also start addressing your father as ‘Monroe’ going forward, because that’s the man we’re going to be dealing with—not the father who might have taught you how to ride your bike, or drive, or took you to baseball games, or whatever.

That man is gone, and letting him take up space in your head is going to work against you. ”

“I understand. I haven’t thought of him as my father in a long time, to be honest.”

“Okay. So … are you ready to talk about Monroe?”

Malcom took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Yes.”

From there, they spent the majority of the session on his childhood and teen years, with him telling Lauren about the first inklings of his bisexuality, Monroe’s obvious intolerance of gay people, and Malcom’s growing need to stifle his attraction to men.

When he got to the episode with the pink shirt, Lauren’s expression became one of sad amusement, which led him to ask, “What is it?”

“I’ve heard a few pink shirt stories,” she explained.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Pink shirts seem to be a trigger for men who don’t want to have a gay son.”

He then went on to tell Lauren about going shopping with Jules and buying another pink shirt, and her insistence he wear it when he took her to meet his parents.

“I’ve known Jules for a while, and I’m extremely glad she’s in your corner,” Lauren said.

“I am, too.”

A week into his verbal journaling, Malcom was still marginally self-conscious about it.

Each day got a little better, though, with the exception of how he felt when he was done.

His sessions tended to run about a half hour on average, and while he knew it was good to unload negative thoughts and emotions, he also felt slightly unsettled afterward, not only by the amount of negative thoughts and emotions he had, but also by how tired he was when he was finished.

To combat this, he was supposed to end each session with some breathing exercises Lauren had shown him, which he did when walking around the yard as well.

The first few sessions had been pretty dark. With no one in there to hear him, he found himself saying all sorts of shit, from calling Monroe a ‘cock-sucking motherfucker’ to a ‘cunting asshole’ and everything in between.

He also found himself recalling moments from his childhood and adolescence he’d forgotten about—moments where Monroe had exerted negative influence over Malcom, forcing him to basically buckle under the pressure or suffer the consequences of disappointing his father.

Once finished with his latest session, Malcom headed toward the kitchen to make dinner.

As usual, he was experiencing fatigue from the session, both mental and physical, and he’d discovered the act of cooking afterward to be soothing and grounding.

Before he got to the kitchen, however, he heard Jules and Evan in the living room, and to his well-trained ear, it sounded like they might be up to a bit of fuckery.

He was right.

He found Jules straddling Evan on the couch, both of them naked, with their clothes tossed everywhere. Malcom took a moment to enjoy the picture the two of them made, with Jules’ red hair flowing to the middle of her back as Evan’s hands held her in place while sucking on one of her nipples.

Catching sight of Malcom, Jules asked, “Done already?”

He nodded.

Alerted to Malcom’s presence, Evan released Jules’ nipple and glanced over. Seeing the serious expression on the other man’s face, Evan asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Malcom replied, as he walked over and ran his fingers through Jules’ hair a few times before tilting her head back and kissing her upside down.

Evan obediently raised his head to get a kiss, and after Malcom obliged, Evan asked, “Why don’t you join us?”

Malcom appreciated the invitation, even though Evan probably knew it was likely to be declined, which it was. “Thanks, but I think I’m going to get started on dinner.”

Jules reached out and took his hand. “Are you sure? Dinner can wait.”

“I’m sure.” It was said with regret, because not being in the mood for sex was a real goddamn drag.

Of all the things he was experiencing during this time, the dip in his libido was perhaps the worst, which seemed to be more pronounced following a session in his room, and took a little while for it to rebound.

It didn’t keep him from watching Jules and Evan while working on dinner, however.

When they began moving quickly, with Jules sliding up and down Evan’s length in a fierce rhythm, their sighs and groans growing louder, Malcom knew they were both getting close to orgasm and stopped what he was doing to see it happen.

After it hit, and they both started to come down, he picked up a clean kitchen towel and brought it over for cleaning purposes.

Evan, who was resting back against the couch and catching his breath, took the towel with a grin. “It’s like having a butler.”

The ridiculous observation made Malcom chuckle, even as he responded with, “Fuck you. I do it for her.”

Jules turned and caught Malcom’s eye. “Thank you,” she said sweetly .

“You’re welcome,” he told her, cupping her chin and stroking her cheek with his thumb before kissing her.

“How are you feeling? About your therapy so far, I mean,” Lauren clarified.

It was their fourth session in two weeks, and Malcom was feeling good about it for the most part, and told her so.

“I’m glad to hear that. Are you keeping up with your verbal journaling?

“Yes.” He was also getting a little better at dealing with the lingering effects of his sessions.

“What about walking in your backyard?”

“I’m actually really enjoying that,” he said, even if one of his neighbors always seemed to be watching him from her upstairs window.

“Good.” She gave him a long look before changing the subject. “You seem a little off today. Is something going on?”

After a brief pause, he answered, “I’ve been doing some journaling on paper, as well.

You know, just writing down some thoughts and things I’d like to say to …

Monroe … above and beyond just telling him to go fuck himself.

But I worry about having the balls to actually say these things to his face, because he always makes me feel like a child, instead of a grown man. ”

“You don’t have to see him in person and verbally tell him to go fuck himself.”

“I don’t?”

“No.”

“So, I what? Send him a postcard? ”

Lauren chuckled. “I actually had a patient do that. It was a very simple ‘Fuck You’ letter, but it did the trick.”

“‘Fuck You’ letter?”

“Yes.” She paused for a moment. “That’s something I was going to address with you at a later date, but since we’re here, I’ll explain it now.”

She went on to tell him that near the end of a patient’s therapy, if they were so inclined and wished for a sense of closure, Lauren encouraged them to write a ‘Fuck You’ letter, instead of attempting closure in person.

It was a safe alternative, meant to keep the survivor from being verbally abused or even physically attacked, but at the same time letting the survivor say everything they wanted to say.

“I’ve even had a few patients write the letter even though their abuser was dead, because the simple act of writing it is very cathartic. ”

“It hadn’t even occurred to me to not make my ‘stand’ in person,” Malcom murmured.

“Well, it is an option, but if you really want to do it in person, and that’s how you think you’ll get the most satisfaction, then you should.

But I want you to think about it very carefully, because in-person confrontations—and that’s what it will be—are extremely unpredictable.

Whatever satisfaction you’re hoping to get depends on the person you’re confronting.

One patient who went that route, was in a pretty strong place when she went to confront her father, and when she was done saying what she wanted to say, he laughed in her face.

They were on his front porch, because she wasn’t comfortable going inside with him, and after laughing at her, he went inside and closed the door on her.

” Lauren pressed her lips together. “She’d been prepared for anger, denial, and maybe being called some names, but not ridicule, and it was a mess.

He’d basically traumatized her all over again, only this time by being utterly dismissive.

It took her quite a bit of time to deal with that, unfortunately.

“So, you should think about the many ways Monroe could react to you, and how each one would make you feel, and if that would affect how you speak your truth. Because the confrontation isn’t the goal. The goal is to speak your truth with strength and bravery.”

“I understand that, but for me, if I don’t do it in person, he’ll think I’m weak, and—”

“Who cares what he’ll think? And no offense, Malcom, but he probably already does.”

Her brutal honesty made him blink in shock.