Hey guys! Here's an excerpt from Disasterology 101, releasing July 12th :-)
Prologue
“Hello,
Cedric.”
“Hello,”
he answered as he stepped into the office. One look around and he felt a sharp,
throbbing pain in his temple. Everything was different from last week. “I see
you redecorated.”
“I
had it done over the weekend. What do you think?”
As
focused as he was on his surroundings, Cedric barely registered Dr. Black’s
question and the soft click of the door closing behind him.
He
took a deep breath and tried not to let the new, bulky, earth-toned furniture,
and the trinkets someone had placed on every surface without any regard for
order and exactness get to him. “It’s fine,” he mumbled. “Functional and
soothing.”
“You
think so?”
Not really.
But he bit on his lip and didn’t say anything.
He eyed the couch that was placed too far back
from the coffee table, the bookcases that weren’t aligned in proportion to the
floor plan, and the desk that was too close to the wall.
He
fisted his hands and gulped.
“I
like the chaise lounge sofa.” That much was true. The sofa seemed comfortable
and inviting. It had lots of throw pillows he could either hide behind or play
with, and it was blue. Cedric loved all shades of blue.
The
crystal landmarks collection Dr. Black had on the coffee table caught Cedric’s
attention. The White House, the Empire State Building, the Cristo Redentor, the
World Trade Center, Big Ben, the Taj Mahal, the Arc de Triomphe, the Great Pyramids and Sphinx… all extremely
pretty, and all out of position.
Cedric
leaned forward and moved the Tower of Pisa. And then he moved the Clock Tower
of Kremlin and the Windmills of Holland. They needed to be arranged just right,
or he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else. “Why did you decide to
change things around in here?”
“I’d
been looking at the same decor for two years,” Dr. Black said.
“Uh-huh…”
The
Eiffel Tower was too close to the Statue of Liberty. Cedric lined them up three
inches from the edge of the table, which was how they had to be.
He
glanced around the office and decided to fix the furniture as soon as he was
done with the crystal landmarks. The books had to be next, then the papers on
top of the desk.
“Got
a little tired of it.”
“What?”
“I
got tired of looking at the old decorations.”
“I
liked the black leather couch.” He went to move the St. Louis Arch, but Dr. Black
stopped him by placing his hand on Cedric’s arm. “A little contrived, but it
did the job,” he finished saying.
“How
are you doing as far as controlling your urges?”
“Not
too bad.” Still, his fingers wouldn’t stop itching, and his mind demanded he
fix the mess around him. “Not too good,” he mumbled, pushing the St. Louis
Arch.
“Have
a seat, Cedric.”
It
was a herculean effort, but he managed to step back from the table. “Thanks.”
“How
are you doing today?” Dr. Black’s voice was as gentle as it was firm. Cedric
knew from experience he wouldn’t let him move one more thing.
“I’m
fine, thank you.” Cedric sat on the blue sofa and slid his itchy gloved hands
over the velvety upholstery. As usual, he couldn’t feel anything. “And you?”
“I
can’t complain, but we’re not here to talk about me.” Dr. Black smiled and sat
across from him. “How was your week?”
Down to business it is.
They
were there to talk some more about his issues, and whatever progress he’d
managed to make…or not.
Cedric
grabbed a throw pillow and lay down on the chaise lounge, more than familiar
with the routine, but resistant to starting it.
“The
week was fine,” he said, knowing he needed to give his doctor something. He
hugged the pillow, crossed his legs at the ankles and tried to not think about
the crystal landmarks on the coffee table. Or the books. Or the furniture.
“Earlier today I signed the contract to teach another class.”
“That
is fantastic!”
“Yes…
The students drive me mental sometimes, but I can handle it,” he said with a
smile. Unlike the other psychologists he’d seen before, Dr. Black didn’t shy
away from showing his pleasure at his patients’ achievements. It encouraged
Cedric to share more. “I’ve also been getting my own tea every day from this
place near the office.” He felt his smile grow bigger. Going to a coffee shop
and ordering a beverage was not a big deal for most people, but a bloody huge
accomplishment for a germaphobe who couldn’t stand being around many people. “I
even sit there every day while I drink it.”
“I’m
very happy to hear that.”
“Thank
you.”
Dr.
Black didn’t say another word. That wasn’t unusual. He always gave Cedric the
opportunity to approach things on his own terms, but if he didn’t, the good
doctor would force the subject.
“Have
you talked to anyone at the coffee shop?”
Here we go.
“No.” Cedric gripped the pillow and avoided looking at his doctor. “I’ve been
thinking about getting another piercing,” he said after a few minutes.
“Hmmm…”
Blimey.
He
knew what that noncommittal sound meant. Dr. Black hadn’t forgotten the issues
they’d discussed during their last session, and Cedric shouldn’t expect to be
let off the hook. He knew better than to think he wouldn’t have to talk about
certain things, but he could avoid them for a little longer.
“My
nose… or maybe my nipple,” he continued. “I haven’t decided if I’d like a stud,
a hoop or a little diamond. What do you think?”
“I
think your other piercings are enough proof of the control you’ve gained over
your mind and body in the past year, Cedric,” Dr. Black said softly. “You might
consider pushing your limits by trying something else now.”
“Like
dating?” he asked, and damn if he didn’t feel like vomiting. “I’ve told you.
That didn’t work out the one time I tried it.”
“You
were eighteen years old at the time,” Dr. Black reminded him. “And you weren’t
in therapy.”
“I
know that,” Cedric growled, “but what
if I haven’t changed? What if not freaking out constantly in front of people is
as good as it gets? What if I approach a bloke and get invested, only to have
him walk out on me the first time we go to bed together?” He put the pillow
between his legs and nearly squeezed the stuffing out of it. “What if I don’t
want to go to bed with him? What if, no matter what he does, I feel totally
disgusted by him?”
“Have
you felt disgusted lately?”
Cedric
thought about the last two guys he’d been with and shook his head slowly. “They
did everything I requested. They were totally clean.”
“Then
what’s the matter?”
Cedric
groaned.
Normally
he didn’t have a problem talking to Dr. Black, as it was in his best interest.
He wanted to get better. He wanted to be in control of his mind and body, and
he was willing to do anything in order to stop being a bloody wanker.
But
this was different.
He
suspected relationships in general were difficult, and often feared a love life
would most likely be impossible, which was something he hated. He dreamt often
of a loving partner and anniversaries. He wanted a knight in shining armor and
happily ever after, but his symptoms got in the way constantly. Dr. Black
thought that, as long as Cedric maintained an open communication with the other
person and involved him in his treatment, it was doable. But Cedric had yet to
meet a man he wanted to talk to about it, and even if he had, he hadn’t reached
the point where he felt comfortable disclosing his condition to anyone.
And
if that wasn’t bad enough, there was also a new development that had him scared
out of his mind, not to mention ready to commit murder.
“I
don’t think I’m ready to date.” He sat up and threw the pillow to the side. “I
need to concentrate on getting better.” While I figure out what the hell’s wrong
with my dick. “No need to put pressure on myself.”
“Do you feel satisfied with the sexual
encounters you’ve had?”
Cedric blanched. “Do you mean physically, or
emotionally?” Good Lord. Was his doctor psychic?
“Both.”
Cedric
glanced at Dr. Black and moved the St. Louis Arch closer to the Sydney Opera
House. If he was going to talk about this, he needed to keep his hands
occupied.
“I
haven’t been all that interested in sex in the past few weeks,” he mumbled.
“But I’ve forced myself to do it anyway, because if I don’t, it’ll get to the
point where I’ll avoid it completely.” He got up from the chaise lounge and
walked to the only window in the office. The view of Central Park with its
green lawns and flowers in full bloom was magnificent. “I feel like a circus
freak when I’m with a bloke,” he admitted, “and the last time I couldn’t even
finish. Got it up and tried to… you know… but lost my erection two minutes into
it.” Cedric rested his forehead on the window and scratched the back of his
head. “Bloody hell, this is embarrassing.”
“Have
you lost your erection before?”
Cedric
cringed.
Dr.
Black was very professional, but seriously. They were talking about Cedric’s
schlong and his inability to perform. That was never an easy subject for a man.
“Just
this one time.”
“I
see.”
“You
see what?” Cedric rolled his eyes.
“This is unacceptable. I might not want to have sex all the time, but I want to
know I’m functional.”
“No
need to fret.”
Cedric
turned sideways and glared at his doctor. “Easy to say when you weren’t the one
watching your flaccid dick slip out of some chap’s ass.”
Dr.
Black didn’t react to his crass statement. He just put his reading glasses on
then shuffled through his medical records.
Cedric
put his hands on the window frame and bumped his head against it. “Is this
going to happen again? Am I going to be impotent before my next birthday?” The
more questions he asked, the more agitated he became. “I can’t take that. I’d
rather slit my wrists than add another brand of abnormal to my persona.”
“I see Dr. Hoffman started you on a new SSRI
medication.”
Cedric turned around to look at his doctor and
crossed his arms over his chest. “He did.”
“I
assume he discussed the possible side effects with you.”
“Of
course.” Cedric frowned as he remembered the long list. Constipation,
dizziness, nausea, trouble sleeping, unusual weight gain or loss, change in sexual performance or desire,
and so on. “Do you think it could be a side effect?”
Dr.
Black nodded. “Let’s monitor it.” He made a note on his file and glanced at
Cedric. “Don’t forget to mention this on your next visit with him.”
“I
won’t.”
Cedric
sighed in relief. Knowing the terribly mortifying episode could’ve been caused
by his medication was easier to digest.
“Does
your incapability to perform have anything to do with your decision to not go
out on dates?”
“Incapability
to—it was once,” Cedric sputtered. “Don’t question my masculinity again.” He
moved to the desk, grabbed a stack of papers and organized them the right way.
“Christ.”
“I’m
not questioning your masculinity,” he heard Dr. Black say. “I’m asking about
your reasons for not going out on a normal date.”
“Why
do we need to talk about this again?”
“It’s
the next natural step after everything else you’ve accomplished.”
Cedric
realigned the phone and the laptop on the desk, and frowned at the cup of
coffee. He needed to get rid of it.
“You’ve got to get this place cleaned.”
“Come
sit down, Cedric.”
“I
hate you,” he mumbled on his way back to the chaise lounge. “I just want you to
know that.”
“Thanks
for sharing,” Dr. Black said with a toothy grin. “Now let’s talk about what
you’d like to be able to do the next time you find yourself interested in a
man.”
.jpg)