Doctor Carlo and Brandon - 1. The One That Changed It All

Very Early Saturday Morning

I woke up screaming again. This is the fourth straight night, I've done that. Brandon was looking at me with fear in his eyes and concern on his face. Billy and Carla were standing by the bedroom door. Carla was crying. Billy had his arm around his eleven-year-old adopted sister's shoulders. He was barely ten himself, but he tries to do what he could to comfort her. I would have been of no use. Brandon had them come in and sit on the bed with us.

"You need to talk to us about this, Carlo. You can't keep going on like this. You're scaring the bejesus out of us. Please, tell us what's going on."

I didn't know how to talk about my own problems. I'm great at getting my patients to open up. It's like the adage: The cobbler has holes in his own shoes; the carpenter's house is falling down around him. Me? This shrink keeps it all bottled up.

Shaking my head, "You know how hard it is for me to open up, Brandon."

Brandon puts a hand on my arm, "We talked about everything in high school and college. You started seeing patients and now we hardly talk about anything serious at all. Please. I'm begging you. If you don't want to say it in front of the kids, I can understand that, but please, please, share what's going on in your head."

Frustrated, but I relent, "Okay… Okay. Billy, can you run and get me a bottle of water from the fridge?"

"Sure, Pop."

I took a few deep breaths, took one of Brandon's and Carla's hands into mine. When Billy returned with the water, I gave them all a hug. After a drink and a final deep breath, I opened up.

"I lost a patient Monday night. I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't a pleasant way to die from what I was told. He had been struggling since his first visit. Apparently, he felt it was time to give up."

Brandon knew what I meant. I wasn't sure the kids did, but I wasn't going to elaborate without being prompted.

"In my five plus years as a practicing psychiatrist, this was my first ultimate failure. I keep dreaming about possible variations on how Vi… my patient died."

"How did he die, pop?"

How do you tell your eleven-year-old daughter that someone blew part of his head off? With as few details as possible, that's how.

"He was shot, honey."

I shuddered as I recalled what I was told. He'd put a .44 Magnum Smith & Wesson in his mouth and pulled the trigger. My imagination pictured multiple variations. Was the gun facing straight back? Did he have it on an angle, so the rear left side of his head was torn away? Was he left-handed, so it was the right side plastered on the wall? Did he point the muzzle up, blowing the top of his head to the ceiling? I couldn't stop myself from envisioning the moment he gave up completely.

Brandon broke my train of thought, fortunately. "A couple of your partners have Saturday hours, right?"

I look at him, like, ‘what’s that got to do with anything,’ "Yeah, we rotate—so?"

"So. You're going to call in the morning and make an appointment. You'll keep that appointment, even if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming."

The kids laughed, obviously picturing Brandon doing just that. It broke the tension, anyway.

Brandon chased them back to their rooms. "Okay. Everybody go back to bed. It's Saturday, so you can sleep in a little, but you two aren't spending the day in your beds."

"Okay. I hope you're going to be alright, Pop. Goodnight Dad."

I was Pop, Brandon was Dad. Brandon and I both said goodnight to them. Carla hesitated, but then said goodnight to both of us. I think she put two and two together and saw the answer was suicide. She’s really smart.

Saturday

I was up at eight o'clock. Vincent DeMarco was my closest friend in the practice. If I was going to be able to open up to anyone else, it would be him. He was only preparing for his first patient, so he took my call.

"Carlo, buddy. What's going on?"

"I'm in need of your services, Vin."

"Templeton?"

"Yeah. I can't get the image of him killing himself out of my head. Hell, multiple images."

"Okay. I have patients until noon. I can see you after that. Do you want to come here, or maybe somewhere less formal?"

"Anywhere else quiet, I guess."

"Okay, come to the house, we'll use my home office. Maria won't mind. Hell, bring Brandon and the kids. I bet Petey and Anne would love to see them again."

Vincent's kids were each just a year older than ours. Petey was eleven and Anne twelve.

"Yeah, we can do that."

"Great. I'll throw Maria a text. She'll get a couple steaks for us, and hot dogs for the kids. We'll make it an end of summer cookout."

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me, "You don't have to go through all that trouble."

"Hey, I hear it in your voice. You need an escape, even if it's just a couple hours. The weather's nice. I'm going to do everything I can to help you through this."

"Thanks, Vin. I guess we'll see you around twelve-thirty."

"Sounds perfect. In the meantime, think about your successes. Make them push this out of your head. We'll see you later."

I told Brandon the plan. He was happy I reached out and he didn't need to drag me anywhere. A couple hours later, when the kids woke up, we let them know of the plans.

Billy bounced up and down on his toes, "Can we bring our bathing suits?"

"Sure. I don't know if Uncle Vinnie has closed up his pool yet, but if he hasn't, I'm sure he won't mind."

"Yea!!" "Yippee!"

We got to the DeMarco's just after twelve-thirty. Vin's Bimmer was in the driveway, so I knew he'd be ready for me. Maria's Audi was next to it. I parked my Jaguar behind it. Funny, Brandon was the only one there who had an American car, a Camaro. The driveway was a semi-circle, so we wouldn't be blocking anyone in. Not that I expected either of them to leave, but I always tried to be considerate of others. Fortunate side-effect of the job, I suppose. Brandon and Maria went out back to the patio with glasses of wine, Petey and Billy went to Petey's bedroom, likewise the girls to Anne's. Vin made me a cup of Chamomile tea. It was still steeping when a cackle of bathing suit clad laughing hyenas rumbled through the kitchen on their way to the pool. Well, at least that's what it sounded like. Apparently, Vin hadn't closed it up yet. Minutes later, tea ready, we headed to his office.

Holding a hand up, Vin cautioned, "Don't start talking yet. Take three swallows and think of something pleasant."

I went for the most pleasant thing I could think of—making love with Brandon. A minute later…

"Okay, talk to me."

Although I wasn't ready to give up the pleasant thought, I responded, "Well, you know my patient, Victor Templeton, killed himself Monday night."

"Right. I don't have any details, but I'm aware of that fact."

"I have to be blunt, maybe that will help me get past it quicker.”

“"However you feel comfortable.”

“He blew his brains out. He’d been denying his homosexual side for so long, trying to keep his marriage together. Fortunately, they didn’t have kids yet, mostly because he had difficulties performing with a woman. He apparently decided he’d never win the battle, and surrendered completely.”

“Do you know where he was?"

"Home, in his study, according to his wife. She called Tuesday to let me know. She needed to vent, so she shared quite a few details."

"Did the details bother you?"

"No. I don't get queasy at all. What bothers me, is that I couldn't help him."

Frowning at me, "You do know that it would be impossible to help everybody, right?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "I guess."

Vin frowned again, "No guessing. It is. Nobody's perfect. You tried your best, I'm sure. Granted, we're not like some other types of doctors; surgeons and the like who lose patients more often, but we can lose patients, too."

"Have you ever lost one?"

"Three, but I've been practicing a lot longer than you."

Eleven years longer. Vin was forty-two. He and Maria started their family in their late twenties. Brandon and I were thirty-one.

"How do you get through it?"

"Like I said on the phone: You don't dwell on it, fill your mind with your successes. Don't let one case out of dozens, or even hundreds, be your downfall. It's hard to do. It's a fresh memory. They tend to be the strongest drivers of our emotions. Bring more pleasant memories to the forefront. If you're consciously thinking of something else, there's no room for the bad stuff. Drink your tea."

I drank. We continued talking for quite some time. Before I knew it, it was almost two o'clock. The last thing Vin had suggested was to get away; take some time off from seeing patients.

Vin fired up the grill and started cooking. Maria had prepared potatoes and corn-on-the-cob to put on the grill as well. A salad was brought out, along with French fries from the air fryer. We sat out on their patio, enjoying the weather. It rarely got too cold around Jacksonville, but September was slipping away and days like this wouldn't be as common. When we got home that night, I mentioned getting away to Brandon.

"That's a great idea. Columbus Day is two weekends away. I'm sure I can take a personal day. Let's fly to Sint Maarten Friday, spend the weekend on the beach, eat at some awesome restaurants, and just let everything go."

I couldn't argue with that. We'd gone to Sint Maarten on our honeymoon and went back once after we adopted the kids. It was beautiful. On Monday, I had Maxine, our office assistant, move my appointments for that Friday afternoon and Monday. I was already free on Saturday, being on this coming week. That evening, we all sat around my laptop and a large monitor. We chose a resort, booked a three-bedroom suite, and bought first class airline tickets. If we were doing this for my sanity, I was going all out. We booked a limo for the ride to the airport. As far as we knew, the kids had never been in one, a fact, they confirmed while making that booking. Hell, they'd only been on an airplane twice, for that first round trip. That was coach class. Like I said, I went all out. The last item was a rental car on the island. We were all set to go. All that was left to do was wait eleven more days. Thoughts of our mini vacation kept the wolves at bay. I still had the occasional pang of guilt, but at least my screaming stopped.

Those eleven days dragged on, but finally, that weekend arrived. We'd packed everything the night before, scheduling the limo shortly after the kids got home from school. Early enough to pick us up for our three o'clock flight. Fortunately, they had a half-day going into the holiday weekend.

We landed in Sint Maarten at nine o'clock local time. It was an hour later than back home. Fortunately, the resort we chose wasn't very far from the airport. We had eaten at Jacksonville airport before we boarded and bought snacks near the departure gate. It was still after ten-thirty when we got into our room. Nobody was hungry. We had plenty of time the rest of the weekend for our fun. We got the kids settled into their bedrooms, made out for a while until we knew they were asleep, then made love to each other. My frame of mind hadn't been the best for that activity recently. Getting away made a huge difference.

We weren't up too early. Early enough to head to the breakfast room about a half-hour before they closed at ten. After breakfast, we cranked up my laptop and discussed which beaches we wanted to hit. Maho Beach was tops on the list. All kids loved watching airplanes take off and land. When they did it barely twenty or thirty feet above your heads, it was extra special. Needless to say, we stayed way off to the side for takeoffs. (LRW: See the links below).

Sunday, we took the island bus tour. It makes a loop around the whole island, stopping at several places along the way. We had always tried to teach the opposite of your typical American body shame to the kids. So, when they realized Orient Beach was a nude beach and begged us to go to the clothing optional section, we set down some rules and went. They tried not to stare but couldn't help doing it at least a little bit. We corrected them a couple times before they got the message. The beach was beautiful, the eye candy, not so much. Most people are not fashion models. Being on that beach proved it. Otherwise, it was very enjoyable.

The rest of the time we spent at different restaurants and the beach at our resort. All too soon, it was time to leave. Everybody had a good time, and Carla was going to make her friends jealous with her brand-new deep tan. Billy, being black, didn't think he really looked any different, so he was already jealous of his sister. Although, I felt he did indeed look a little darker than before we left home.

Walking into the office Tuesday morning, Vin cornered me.

"So, how was the weekend away?"

I couldn't contain the smile, "It was awesome. Three plus days without a care in the world. How could it not be? The only way it could have been better is if it was longer."

"No more screams?"

"No. None since we spoke at your house."

Nodding, "Good. I made the mistake of telling Maria where you were going. Guess where we're going over Christmas?"

Smiling, I offered, "Hmmm, Fairbanks, Alaska?"

"Do I LOOK like a polar bear?"

"Hmmm, maybe with a white suit on."

Hiding a smile, "I see you still haven't obtained a sense of humor."

Chuckling, "Nope. I can't ever be funny. Sint Maarten?"

Feigning surprise, "The man's a psychic! How did you ever figure that out?"

"Wild guess. Ever been?"

"No. But thanks for the photos you emailed me. Maria and the kids can't wait to check out the beaches."

"You'll have a great time. Okay, time to get ready for my first patient. They're stacked up this week. Penalty for taking two days off. Talk to you later."

"Take it easy, Carlo."

The rest of the week went smoothly. Friday afternoon, I had a new patient coming in. Steve Millson was a very confused fifteen-year-old boy. His father caught him in a compromising position with a friend. Fortunately, the dad didn't freak out over it, but the experience was quite traumatic for Steve, so his father felt he should talk to someone who would understand. I spoke to the two of them together first.

Friday

"Welcome, Steve, Mr. Millson. Would either of you like a drink—coffee, tea, water, soda?"

"Nothing for me. Call me Ed, please." I nodded.

"Can I get a Coke?"

I reached into my mini-fridge and pulled out a Pepsi. "Is Pepsi okay?" I had both, but I wanted to see how Steve took the offering of an alternate. It didn't seem to bother him. Good start.

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem. So, Steve, your dad gave me a little information about why you're here. First, Ed, thank you for not making a big deal out of it. I've seen too many fathers react badly, which causes even larger issues."

"As I told Steve, I love my son, no matter what. I'm aware of the problems that could arise from a bad reaction."

"That's good. Steve, I'm not going to embarrass you, and ask a lot of questions until we're alone, but making sure everyone is on the same page is important. First, let me tell you that there's nothing wrong with you. You're different than most boys your age. Just as if you were black, Chinese, or purple. Understand?"

He looked up a little as he was speaking, "I guess. But most people don't hate black or Chinese kids." Once again, Steve looks down at the floor.

"And most people don't hate gay kids, either. A lot of people don't understand being gay. What people don't understand, they fear. That fear is often exhibited as hateful actions. Have you had any negative interactions with others who might have made the assumption that you were gay?"

Half raising his head this time, "No. But up until last week, only Aaron, my friend, even had any idea, I was gay. Now my family does, but nobody else."

"It may not happen right away, but at some point, that will change. One of the things that we'll talk about, is how to deal with that eventuality. I'm sure that's at least one thing that you're concerned about."

"Yes. I don't expect to tell anyone, but I know, sooner or later, people will find out. I don't know why I'm like this. I never wanted to turn gay."

I said as gently as possible, "Can you look at me? This is important for you to understand."

He looks up. "Thank you. You apparently aren't aware of this, but people don't 'turn gay.' At some point in time, we realize that it's what we are. We were born like this, so it's not yours or anybody else's fault. Better than one out of every fourteen people feel like us in some way shape, or form."

"Us? You mean you're gay, too?"

"Yes. Correct me if I'm wrong, Ed, but that's one reason why you chose me, yes?"

"Yes. I wanted someone who would understand what Steve is going through. I didn't think, a straight psychiatrist would truly understand."

"You may have gotten lucky and found one that understands better than most. But you were probably just as likely to find one that would try to 'fix' your son. There's nothing to fix. I must ask; do you both understand and believe that?"

They both agreed, they did.

"Great. Ed, if you wouldn't mind stepping back into the waiting room. I feel, my younger patients will be a little more open with their feelings without a parent listening."

Ed hesitated a little. He was apparently not as tolerant as he thought he was; that, or he didn’t think he would have to let Steve be alone with me.

I read his reaction correctly, "Steve is perfectly safe. I have two adopted children, ten and eleven. I'd never do anything improper with them or any other child. Steve, you may scream for help if you feel threatened in any way."

Steve grinned.

"Okay. I get it. It's just difficult to get past some stereotypes."

Being as reassuring ad I could, "Understood. Be assured, that particular stereotype is not applicable here."

I waited a minute until Ed was out of my office. I was about to start, but Steve spoke up first, "What stereotype?"

"It's a fairly common misconception that all gay men are pedophiles, and will take every opportunity they can get to corrupt a child. In truth, the percentage of straight pedophiles is significantly higher than the straight/gay ratio."

"Dad was afraid you'd, um, molest me?"

"I think he wasn’t completely sure about it, yes."

Steve folds and unfolds his hands, "What you said before about not turning gay, that's really true?"

"Yes. I hope you believe me when I say, I will never lie to you. Even if the truth is painful, that's what you'll get from me."

He nodded, "Did my dad tell you exactly what he caught us doing?"

"No. He only said, he caught you and a friend experimenting sexually and being caught had upset you."

"I guess you could say that. I wasn't just upset. I was freaking scared out of my head. Aaron had…"

He hesitated.

"You don't have to tell me the details if you don't want to. Everything we talk about is confidential, I won’t, and can’t share it with anybody. What you were seen doing was uncomfortable for you. That's what matters. Even if it was as innocent as just being naked together."

"No. I think, it will help me if I say it."

"Then feel free. You will get no reaction from me."

Tapping his hand on a leg, "He was—is it okay if I curse?"

"Say it however you need to."

"I know, I'm not supposed to say it, but he was… fucking me. He had his dick in my ass."

"I can definitely see why your father seeing that would be upsetting. How did your father react, exactly?"

"He immediately looked away, said he was sorry and that he'd be willing to talk about it whenever I was ready, and stepped out of the room."

"And did you talk about it later?"

"Not right away. I kind of ignored him for a few days until he sat me down and said, we should talk about it."

"And how did that discussion go?"

He thought for a moment, "It was okay. He didn't yell at me or put me down. He said he loved me no matter what. If that's the kind of relationship I wanted, it was okay with him. But I'm not sure, I want that kind of relationship."

"Did Aaron force you to do anything?"

"No. I wanted to do it. We had done it, both ways, before."

"So, you felt comfortable doing that with him. Why do you say, you may not want that kind of relationship?"

"I was always told, it was wrong."

"And who usually told you that?"

"Our minister. It's not like he was telling just me, but the whole congregation. Every few months, he'd have a sermon about how wrong it was."

"Hypothetically, if the minister was your father, how do you think he would have reacted?"

He thought for a moment, "I'd guess, he would have told me to get my perverted ass away from him and never come back."

I had to suppress a snicker, "Do you think that would have been a good reaction for a supposed man of God?"

"No. He's also always preaching how we should all love each other. But if he says, we can't love that way, I think it makes him a, um…"

"Hypocrite?"

Nodding, "Yeah."

"And you'd be right. Two more things before we stop for today. Think about what I said. You didn't choose to be the way you are. But try to embrace it. Understand that it IS who you are and do not feel bad about it. You can still be happy. I know, I am." Screaming fits aside.

"Okay. What's the second thing?"

"The second thing is a bit of fun. I'll go unlock the door. You stay sitting there, and when I nod, scream. Okay?"

"You want to freak out my dad?"

"Yes. I think we need to show him that you really are safe with me. He definitely has doubts."

"Isn't that mean?"

"Do you think me just telling him will make him really believe it?"

Understanding reaches his eyes, "No."

"Sometimes we have to do things that are a little mean to get our point across, don't you think?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"Don't be afraid to laugh at his reaction. It will be difficult not to, believe me. Ready?"

"Okay, yeah."

I’d gotten away with this before. It could end up bad for me if it backfires, but sometimes I felt it was necessary. I got up, unlocked the door and nodded to Steve.

"Aaaaaah. Get away from me!!!"

Ed burst through the door three seconds later, "What the fuck is going on?"

He saw me twelve feet away from Steve, who was laughing hysterically.

"Wha… Are you okay, Steve?"

Through a constant giggle, "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Then what was that all about Dr. Marini?"

"A little lesson for you, Ed. I didn't believe you completely trusted me around Steve. I had him scream, thinking you'd react exactly the way you did and then see that nothing was wrong."

"Wow. I didn’t realize I was leaving that impression."

"Are you more or less convinced that Steve is perfectly safe with me?"

"I'm… Shit, you're right. He really put you up to this, Steve?"

Still chuckling, "Yeah, Dad. You should have seen the look on your face."

"Damn. I didn't realize I really felt like that. You've opened my eyes, Doc. Thanks."

I give him a big smile, "Not a problem. Have Steve come back in a week, so I can give him some pointers on dealing with people who feel like you did until a minute ago."

Next up - "More Difficult Patients"