Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“No, I wouldn’t have. Because it wouldn’t have happened, at all.” Neil’s expression was stony, impenetrable.
Stephen made a short, rueful sound, as though he were resigned to some undue penance. “I know I can never convince you that what happened was an accident—”
There it was again. Happened. As though he’d had no choice in the matter. As though it were an event that swept them along into equal suffering.
“—but I do hope that someday you realize that I would have never hurt you like that intentionally. We cared about each other. We were friends. I’ve missed you every day,” Stephen went on, like he was acting out a speech in a movie.
“I don’t see how,” Neil said, laughing in bitter disbelief. “Do you miss all the rubbish you throw out? All the things you use and discard, do you feel the same agony of regret toward them?”
Still playing the martyr, Stephen nodded in understanding. “You have every right to be angry with me. I know that.”
“I don’t need your permission to be angry with you.” Neil spoke more forcefully now. “What you did to me that night… And, then, you dared to write about it as though we parted on a passionate argument. You said I ‘couldn’t handle the scene’, and I became too emotionally involved. You implied that I was a manipulator and that I was unstable. And you wrote about my sexuality without asking permission. I wasn’t out to my family, let alone strangers.”
My spine went rigid. Neil had never told me what Stephen had written about him. I felt sick to my stomach.
“And you did it because it would liven up your book. There would be rumors and gossip, and you would sell more copies.” Neil’s throat flexed as he swallowed. “That’s the level of regret you truly feel over what you did.”
Stephen didn’t have anything to say to that. I wondered how many people had ever called him out on his bullshit before. “I have to say, I thought this would be about making up and putting some of this ugliness behind us.”
“It is about putting ugliness behind him,” Dr. Harris interjected patiently. “But there was no guarantee of reconciliation.”
“Of course, doctor. My apologies.”
Ugh, smarm. It was like he was running for class pet. Even I could tell that Dr. Harris wasn’t impressed, and I’d just met the guy. I desperately wanted to ask Dr. Harris if he would diagnose Stephen as a malignant narcissist, because that was my armchair opinion.
“All I can say, Neil,” Stephen went on, “is that if I misrepresented you or our relationship in any way, then I am deeply, deeply sorry. And I hope that one day you might be able to forgive me for whatever wrong I’ve done you.”
Whatever wrong? I silently fumed. As though there were some dispute over what he’d done.
“You raped me,” Neil said suddenly, forcefully. Finally, he’d said it. Instead of relief at hearing him admit it, all I felt was deepening horror. He looked Stephen in the eye, with an expression that would have scared the hell out of me had I been on the receiving end. “You raped me, and you announced my sexuality to the entire world. There is no question in my mind as to what ‘happened’ between us. And, if a time comes that I can forgive you, I won’t be informing you.”
Stephen wasn’t shaken. He spread his hands, dropping all pretense of remorse. “Then, why am I here?”
“Because you owe it to me to hear this. After what I’ve lived with for nearly three decades, you owe me this much.” Neil took a deep breath and nodded to Dr. Harris. “I think we’re finished here.”
Stephen looked to Dr. Harris, who nodded and said, “Thank you for your time today.”
Maybe it was because he was a TV personality, but I couldn’t help but think Stephen was relishing the drama when he stood and said, as though he were the bigger person, “I hope this doctor can give you the help you need to accept reality, Neil.”
Then, he went out the door.
I tried to take Neil’s hand, and he let me, but only for a moment before he pulled away.
“Sophie, could you give me a moment with Neil in private?” Dr. Harris asked gently, and I nodded and stepped out of the room.
Stephen was still there, on his cell phone in the waiting room. Unbelievable. He didn’t even have the grace to leave.
“I think it went well,” he murmured into his phone. When I closed the door behind me, the sound brought his eyes up in guilty shock.
I kept my expression blank and sat in one of the chairs across the room. I stared, never flinching, into his eyes. A part of my brain, a part that terrified me, made a weapon out of everything in my peripheral vision. I could grab the brushed steel lamp from the secretary’s desk and bash him over the head. Or the phone. I could garrote him with the phone line. I had no doubt I would be strong enough; my hate was that big inside me.