Flower Boy (BoyxBoy)

xxx

edd.

"OH, EDD, BEFORE YOU LEAVE, MAY I ASK YOU SOMETHING?"

"Of course," I say, sitting again.

"I want to ask your permission to use a recorded sample of our sessions for the next few weeks to aid in the education of college students," Ms. Salid explains.  "You were the first person who came to mind when I heard of this project, and I figured that a scientist-in-practice such as yourself wouldn't mind being chosen from a small number of patients here to offer their brains to science."

"I don't know," I say nervously.  "What if someone I know gets the tape?"

"Don't worry, your first name and diagnosis are the only things that will be shown to the students.  Eddward is also pretty average, so I'm sure you'd go unknown."

I think about it for a second.  I'd love to help fellow students, especially people who are studying to aid others like me, but what if it's weird?  What if I change who I am for the tape and I'm not offering one hundred percent authenticity?

"May I think about it and email you tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course.  Take your time and really think about it, okay?  No pressure."

She opens the door for me, and I smile at her as I leave. 

On my way home, I plug in my earbuds and listen to The Japanese House to help me think.  In my mind, I list the pros and cons.

Pro: this is for education.

Con: I might be making a fool of myself.

Pro: nobody will know who I am.

Con: What if they laugh at me?

Pro: I won't ever know if they laugh.

Pro: the students are learning more about my illness.

Pro: the students are professionals and most likely won't laugh since it is their future career to listen to people like me.

Con: what if they know who I am?

"What do you think I should do Eddy?"

"I don't know, man," Eddy says.  He bites into a pork eggroll as he thinks.  "I would do it if I were you.  It just sounds kinda cool to be helping someone out just by talking about yourself.  I mean, you're helping them learn, right?"

"But what if someone I know gets me as their person to study?  What if they see me and from then on only notice my faults?"

"Edd, nobody has ever done that.  Anyway, these people are experts.  They're pros."

I shrug.  "I suppose you're right."

"So what's the verdict?"

"I think I'll do it," I say.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I smile to make myself feel better.  "I will do my best to help future psychologists."

Eddy laughs and raises his beer in the air.  "Cheers!"

I raise my water glass and clink it with his. 

kevin.

I ACTUALLY ENJOY CLASS TODAY. We talked about a lot of important stuff, like courses for next semester and seasonal depression—something I never really understood before today.  We also had a short quiz on how the environment affects mental health, which I think I aced.

But it gets even better: towards the end of class, Mr. Moore announces that due to non-stop complaining, the assignment has been changed from surveying someone to doing something more anonymous.

"I understand that it is hard for you to find people willing to share their illness so openly, so I have with me the first names of patients all around the state who were willing to offer a week of audio therapy sessions; all real, genuine recordings," Mr Moore explains as he hands out a piece of paper to everyone in the front row, who passes it back.  "On your paper are the names and illness description.  You'll learn more about it as you listen to knew recordings every Friday for two months.  I'll give you one minute to look at the list and choose your patient."

I look down at the list, and even though I don't look like it, I'm so relieved to not have to interview someone.  It was so fucking hard to find a patient.  Now that I think about it, I guess I could've asked my father but he barely even recognizes me anymore.

Scanning the list, I don't see anyone interesting.  There are about thirty names in alphabetical order, and next to the names is the illness they're diagnosed with.  Starting at Amelia, I go all the way to Dianne without paying much attention to the names.  And then I see someone familiar—Eddward.

It can't be him.  Edward is a common name, I rationalize, but then I remember that his is the only one I've ever seen spelled with two D's.

"Okay, when I call your name, you say who you're studying," Mr. Moore says.  "Adam."

My heart is racing.  I need to get Eddward.  I need to listen to his sessions and see how he interacts and talks when it's not to me; how he sounds when he's serious or when he's crying.  Is this weird?  Am I invading his privacy?

"Kevin?"

"Eddward," I say without hesitation.

"Sorry, Sabina already called for him.  Can you choose someone else?"

"Uh," I look at the list. "Jenna."

I look back at Sabina Aamer.  She's smiling a bright, beautiful smile as she talks to the person next to her.  I can't believe she chose him.  This was the perfect chance to understand Edd.

The rest of the class call out names until we leave, but I don't hear them.  As soon as were dismissed, I catch Sabina in the hallway.

"Sabina," I say as I tap her shoulder. 

She looks back at me, smiling (as usual).  "What's up?"

"Can we trade patients?"

"What?" She laughs.  "No way.  Mine is one of the only dudes on that list, and I'm sick of hearing from girls.  It's getting old."

"Come on, please?"

"Sorry, Kev," she says as she turns her head and walks away.

I think for a moment, then catch up.  "I'll do anything for him."

She looks at me from the corner of her eye as she laughs out loud.  "Why?  He's some random guy."

"I'm just... really interested in him."

"Right," she says.  "Well if you're so 'interested' then what's in it for me if I take your patient?"

"A girl with body dysphoria and depression."

Sabina snorts.  "Almost everyone on that list had depression.  What else you got?"

"What else do you want?"

She looks up at me and smiles.  "You know what I want, Kevin."

I gulp.  "Listen, I just got out of a relationship, I don't know if I'm ready for a hookup."

"You doorknob!" She rolls her eyes.  "I want what all college students want: money."

"Oh," I blush. "Right."

I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet.  After counting my money, I hand it to her.

"Twenty dollars and a gift card for Starbucks," she says. "Yeah, this'll do."

"So I can have him?"

Sabina shakes her head, amused I suppose.  "Sure, take him.  It's just a project."

She shrugs and walks away, meanwhile I clench my fists with excitement.  A small, barely noticable pang of guilt rests in the bottom of my stomach through my celebration.  It's just a project, right?