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“I assume you already know that.”
“Sometimes it helps us to say it ourselves.”
&nb
sp; I can barely resist the urge to roll my eyes and to punch Carl Jung in the face. “He lives in my house.”
“Your house? Interesting.”
“Wait. I meant our house.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.” Of course I do. If anything, it’s Otter’s house, seeing as how he’s the one that bought it. He did say he was going to add my name to the deed, but we’ve been so busy he hasn’t gotten around to it yet. Well, that’s what he says, at least. For all I know, maybe he’s waiting to see if I go out and fuck someone else like he thought I would. Crap, how the hell am I going to convince him—
“What was that?” Eddie says sharply. “Right there, that thought that just crossed your mind. Say it aloud.”
I open my mouth without giving myself time to think. “I wish there was an Arby’s nearby. I really feel like roast beef.”
He starts writing furiously. “You have a very expressive face, Derrick.
It’s like reading a pop-up book about emotions. You pull the little tab and a glut of feeling just launches into the air. Tell me about this Arby’s. Do you think about roast beef often? Is it guilt because your brother chose to be a vegetarian and you yourself daydream of meat?”
This I can do. “Yes,” I tell him. “That’s exactly it.”
He nods like it’s the most profound thing he’s ever heard. “You know, Freud would have said your obsession with meat is about sex. Freud thought everything was about sex. One might think that the man never got laid in his entire life. Or he was in love with his mother. I was never sure which. But regardless, it does bring up an interesting point, your fascination with the beef industry and this place you call Arby’s. I understand you are currently expressing your newfound sexuality with a man. Your first.”
I glare at him. “And you know this how?”
“Tyson was simply a fountain of information,” he says. “The words just spewed from him in a geyser of truth and love.”
Somehow, I doubt this. If Tyson had spewed anything to this man, it was not done in truth and love. “I wouldn’t call it expressing—”
“Are you the dominant one in your relationship?” he interrupts.
“Depends on what you mean by dominant—”
“Is he bigger than you?”
“Like, way bigger. He’s huge and—”
“Uh-huh. So is he the dominant one?”
“I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
“And do you enjoy that, Derrick?”
“Sometimes.”
“Giving up control? Letting someone else handle things?”
“I suppose.”
“And does it give you peace that he can provide that for you?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Would you consider yourself to be an aggressive lover?”
