A New Kind of Denial

Warning: I am not a therapist, have never been to one, and therefore I have no clue as to how they sound.

“I know this isn’t terribly professional,” I started, running my hand along the edge of my desk for some reason. “But you guys sounded like you were really urgent in needing to talk.”

“I don’t think it would matter if we met in the middle of a jello pool at the moment, Dr. Mendez,” Mason said, leaning back in his seat and sighing.

“We don’t care that we’re just in your home office; we just need to talk to you,”

“I’m glad you guys took the initiative to come to me earlier than our next scheduled meeting. That shows that you’re really doing well on you own, without any guardians. I’m really happy for you two because of that,”

“You might not be all that happy with us after we talk this out,”

“In which way might I not be happy? As a trained therapist? As a friend? Or what?”

“Well, you at least might not be happy with me, as the temporary guardian of Gavin,” Mason sighed, biting his lip slightly.

“And why might that be?” I asked, trying not to freak out, seeing as how I didn’t know what he was talking about yet. I really don’t like jumping to conclusions, even though this is starting to sound very bad.

“Because if he finds out, he might be hurt a little bit by it,” he said hesitantly.

“Okay, well, I’m going to put that whole mother-bird complex that I’m starting to get away for the moment, and just be your therapist. We’ll just pretend that I don’t know Gavin at all and we can maybe touch back on him later, depending on how it relates and everything. Does that sound good enough to you?”

“Yeah, that works,”

“Alright, well, what is it that you two needed to discuss?”

“so you already know that the two of us have been, uh, well, a lot closer than most brother, even twins,” Carson started, getting a look on his face as he spoke that I was unable to place.

“Yes, I do know that,” I said in a tone that told them to go on.

“And recently, those occasions have been occurring more frequently,” Mason added.

“Well that sure was a sophisticated way of saying it,” Carson scoffed. I just ignored it.

“How frequently is ‘more frequently’? And what exactly is ‘recently’?”

“Recently would be…a week or two maybe,”

“And frequently would be maybe every couple of days instead of every couple of weeks like usual,” Carson finished, saying it like it was nothing. He always was the one that was more comfortable with the incest situation. I had a feeling that if they’re wanting to talk about that, then it was Mason who wanted to do it. Carson was fine with everything, or so it seemed, but it has always bothered Mason.

“So would this be completely intimate or just little things like kissing?”

“Kind of both?” Mason said, sort of taking up the end of his statement, making it sounds like a question. “Mainly little things, but there’s been a few more intimate situations within the last couple of weeks.”

“Okay now, have they been mutual, or what?”

“Oh, they’ve definitely been mut-”

“Shut up, Carson,” Mason snapped, sounding annoyed. “You know that’s not true. You blackmailed me into doing things with you. Don’t try to act like it was mutual, because you know it wasn’t.”

“Alright, calm down,” I said, leaning over my desk and looking Mason in the eyes, trying to get him less fired-up. “Carson, which one is it really? Did you blackmail him?”

“It’s not like he didn’t like it,” Carson mumbled, reminding me more of a whiney ten year old than an intelligent - if not troubled - seventeen year old.

“What are you, twelve?” Mason chimed snidely. I gave him a stern look and as he saw it, he sunk back into his chair. “Sorry.”

“Trust me, if not as a friend, then as a long time gay man, when I say that it doesn’t matter if you really want it to happen or not. It’s going to feel good and you’re probably going to like it no matter who the other person is, as long as the other person is good at it. I’ve had a fair share of drunken nights and partners I either didn’t know or didn’t want, and trust me, as long as they’re good at what they’re doing, you could hate their guts and it’d still feel great,” I told them, telling to complete truth. Being a rock star leads to many nights in the arms of people you don’t care for. That’s one of the reasons we just started sleeping with each other. We’d all get into those situations ad get fed up with all the crap that followed, so we came to the conclusion that we’d be better off to just do each other instead of random people. And now that I look back on that, I rally have to laugh at us about it. I mean, we made it seem like sex was needed, and if we didn’t sleep with other people, we had to sleep with each other. It’s pretty untrue, and I don’t think any of us think that way anymore. But hey, we were young, and young people do lots of stupid things. “So you did blackmail Mason into it?” I asked, steering myself back on topic.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he mumbled again. He really seems to have a mumbling problem today.

“Mason, what exactly did he use to blackmail you?” Now must have been Mason’s turn for mumbling, because he said something, but I couldn’t understand it at all.” What was that?”

“Work,” he said, only a little bit louder this time.

“What work?”

“Our jobs.” Still really quiet.

“Which jobs?”

“The ones we’ve had for a year.” The same.

“The one I suggested you guys quit?”

“Uh-huh,”

“So you’re saying you haven’t quit?”

“Well obviously,” Carson snapped, seeming to get aggravated. “We live on our own; we’ve got to have a job of some sort, and it’s not easy for either of us to find other jobs. This is basically our only option.”

“Even if it’s degrading?”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” he snapped again.

“Oh so we’re back to this again, are we?”

“Back to what?” Carson asked, his voice squeaking on the word ‘what’.

“I need a water,” Mason sighed, standing up and heading towards the door. “Still in the door of the fridge, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I sighed, knowing full well that he was only getting a bottle of water because he didn’t want to hear Carson and me bicker anymore than necessary.

“Is Gavin home?” Carson asked once Mason left the room.

“He’s in his room, yeah. Why do you want to know?”

“You make it sounds like I’m not aloud to wonder where he is,”

“I just didn’t think you’d care whether he’s home or not,”

“I don’t,” he shrugged, seeming like he was so much less mad than he was just a few seconds before.

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Because I know my twin,” He smirked.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s going to go get a bottle of water,”

“Yes, that is what he said,”

“But then he’s going to see if Gavin’s here, and after he sees that he is home, he’s going to go hide away in there with him,”

“Oh no he’s not,” I said, standing up and walking to the door. I turned around when I got there and told Carson, “Stay here; I’ll be back with your brother in no time.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,”