The Imperfection of Swans

by Brandon Witt

  Kevin spoke up from the bed, sounding tired and drugged. “Babe, you don’t have to do that. You need rest.”

  “No. I’m staying. I’ll….” He started to say that he’d stay all three nights, then thought back to what Noelle had said earlier. “I’ll stay tonight, just to make sure things are okay, and so that you’re not lonely.”

  “We’ll take turns,” Noelle chimed in. “You’ll get sick of us in no time.”

  And it was decided.

  IT TURNED out he needn’t have stayed. Kevin was so drugged and exhausted that Casper doubted he even realized Casper was there.

  Casper lay with him for the first hour, stroking his hair, whispering plans he dreamed for the two of them.

  The nurse put a stop to that when she came to check Kevin’s vitals. Too many IVs to be pulled out. Too many stitches to pop. Too many everything.

  After that, Casper pulled the recliner of questionable fabric choice next to the bed and stretched out, keeping one hand on Kevin’s as they slept.

  KEVIN

  DR. WYNN’S office was a dark mustard hue. It instantly made Kevin question the credibility of the therapist. After all, who in their right mind would use the color of baby shit to paint their walls? To add insult to injury, on the desk next to the wall of bookcases gleamed a two-foot-tall brass unicorn. Brass! Mustard and brass!

  And he needed a therapist?

  If Casper weren’t waiting for him in the vestibule, he would have booked it. Surely someone with such bad taste couldn’t help anyone with an eating disorder.

  Whoa, he’d just thought eating disorder without hesitation. He was sure the woman sitting in the puffy armchair in front of him would say that was a good thing.

  Whatever.

  Her frizzled hair was as puffy as the armchair.

  Again. This was the one qualified to dig around in his psyche?

  “You look nervous. Is your anxiety kicking in?” At least she had a pleasant voice.

  They’d only said hello to each other less than a minute ago. Unless the pain pills that kept him from driving had started blocking out time, Dr. Wynn not only had bad taste, she also was presumptuous. “How did you know I struggle with anxiety?”

  She cocked her head. “It was one of the questions on the intake form I asked you to fill out online the other day. Did someone else fill it out for you?”

  Oh, right. Maybe it was the pain pills. Noelle had helped him by typing in his answers. Since the surgery and the medication, the fuzziness of his brain impacted every thought he had. It was worse than the numbing effect of the anxiety medication.

  “I’d forgotten about that. And, no, surprisingly, I’m not having any anxiety issues at the moment.” Which was true, though the mermaid painting he’d just noticed on the opposite wall might change that.

  Mustard, unicorns, and mermaids.

  Maybe they could work on a barter system. She could fix his brain, and he could fix her lack of taste.

  Seemingly satisfied, Dr. Wynn sat back in her cloud of a chair and took out a pen and pad of yellow paper. “Once we get to know each other, I’ll ask you to determine where our sessions go, but for now, I’d like to take a more directive role, if that’s okay with you.”

  Kevin opened his mouth, then reconsidered what he’d been about to say and adjusted. “That will work. I think I’d prefer that anyway.” Telling her that was what he was paying her for probably wouldn’t get things off to a good start.

  He reprimanded himself for his poor attitude. He wasn’t unaware that his dislike of the woman had more to do with him not wanting to have to do therapy than anything about her personally, but still. And, bad attitude or not, bad taste was bad taste.

  With a soothing smile, Dr. Wynn looked up from her notepad. “So, your surgery was last week, if I read your intake correctly. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m doing fine, thank you.”

  Her smile widened. “Kevin, as I said, I will be direct. This is an easy question, and I’d like us to get into the habit of giving true and detailed answers. If we keep things on a surface level, progress will be limited. Don’t worry, we aren’t headed to any deep waters today, and I won’t spring anything on you that will plunge you into dark places.”

  Maybe he was starting to feel the anxiety. At her words, Kevin could almost see sharks swimming around the open spaces of the office.

  “Let’s try it again. Can you tell me how things have been going for you since your surgery?”

  Direct was an understatement. All he’d said was that he was fine. You could put her and Renata in a barrel to see who would come out on top. He studied the therapist for a split second and saw it. Behind the fluff, fuzz, and excruciating propensity for tackiness, there was definitely a Renata spark hidden in her eyes.

  Maybe this would work after all. And if there were any mommy issues that came up, she’d be able to play the part perfectly.

  “Okay, then.” He took a breath and forced himself to lean back into the puffiness of the matching sofa. “I’m doing all right after surgery. The first few days were a little more agonizing than I’d anticipated, but I’m better now, and the pain medication is making it so that I’m more uncomfortable than in pain. And making it hard to think clearly. I’ve got two more weeks of recovery before I can go back to normal, so they say.”

  He’d expected her to compliment the better answer, but she didn’t. She just plunged right in.

  “I know you haven’t sought treatment before, but judging from your intake form and what I can see of your personality thus far, I’m betting you’ve done some research into eating disorders already. Would that be true?”

  He felt his defenses weaken. “Yeah. I have. I’d looked at stuff before. But since all this came up a few weeks ago, I’ve been doing a lot of looking stuff up online.”

  She nodded knowingly. “Pretty scary stuff, I would imagine. From what you’ve read, do you feel that it is accurate to say that you have an eating disorder? Or did it not seem to fit with where you are?”

  The question surprised him. Why else would he be there? “A lot of it fits. I wish it didn’t.”

  “That’s a great place to start, Kevin. I’ve seen clients who are much further down the road than you, ones who even a person off the street would be able to identify as having an eating disorder, who did not feel they had a problem.”

  The skeletal woman at the gym.

  Kevin wondered if she was doing this same thing somewhere right then. If what he saw when he looked at her was his future.

  “Kevin?”

  He glanced up at Dr. Wynn, startled.

  “You left me there for a moment. May I ask what you were feeling? You had a defeated look on your face.”

  His voice cracked with emotion when he started speaking. “Online….” Kevin cleared his throat and commanded the tears to stay where they were. “Online, almost everything I read was that eating disorders are some of the hardest things to treat and that people often don’t beat them.”

  The expression on her face made her look more like Noelle than Renata. “Searching for things online can be a bit terrifying. I’m sure if you’d looked up your surgery, you’d find a billion warnings and stories of how it could go wrong.”

  Kevin just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She was right, of course. Casper had nearly forced him to put the laptop away before he triggered a panic attack as he’d researched the procedure.

  Dr. Wynn continued, “Before I address that concern, I’d like to ask you something else. In searching eating disorders, what did you find about what causes them for a lot of people? Was there anything that rang true for you?”

  He’d thought they weren’t going to dive into deep water that day. “Uhm, I guess the things that seemed to fit talked about the need to be perfect and struggling with anxiety.” Kevin couldn’t hold back a disgusted laugh. “They might as well have put my name there.”

  Still she smiled. “And what did you discover about the disorder and
its relationship with eating?”

  “That it’s not really about food, it’s often about having control over life.”

  “Did that feel true to you too?”

  Kevin shrugged. “I guess. Somewhat. I definitely need to control my world, but I also think it has to do with food. I care about what I look like, and I want to stay in shape.”

  After scribbling across her notepad, it was several more moments before Dr. Wynn answered. “I’d like to alleviate some of your worry. On the positive side, from what your intake form suggested, while not complete, you had a relative hold over the bulimia practices pretty early on, which, I’m certain, is why you managed to function without requiring more intensive interventions until now. It also sounds like you have a very strong support system, which is vital. What you read is true. Eating disorders are complex, individualized, and extremely powerful. They are not, however, untreatable. And I truly believe you have many of the ingredients that lead to managing this.”

  She paused.

  Kevin nodded, indicating he was still with her, though he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. For trying to alleviate his worry, she was terrifying him.

  His expression must have said as much.

  Dr. Wynn leaned forward, her elbows resting on the legal pad over her knees. “Kevin, I do truly believe you will learn to manage it successfully. Truly.”

  “Okay.”

  The tears started to fall, but Kevin didn’t really care as much.

  BY THE end of the session, Kevin felt somewhat at peace. It still wasn’t something he wanted to do, but Dr. Wynn, for all her grotesque décor, had given him some hope.

  The idea that his life might be free from the constant burning and pain from the acid reflux, or at least that it would be greatly decreased, and that he could take control over his stress and issues around food, seemed nearly too good to be true. To have those, Bella Dolce, and Casper? Seriously?

  “I love you, Casper.”

  Casper glanced up from his plate of rotisserie chicken, surprised, and gifted Kevin with a beautiful smile. “I love you too. Those are my favorite, by the way. The ones out of the blue.”

  Kevin didn’t respond. It seemed that therapy was already bringing his emotions closer to the surface. That should be fun.

  “Are you loving the mashed potatoes? Charu will want in on that meal.” Casper waggled his eyebrows.

  “Actually, yes. Having something besides soup and applesauce is pretty amazing. I’m really craving a cheeseburger.” Who would have thought eating at a deli could taste so good?

  Casper blanched. “Are you serious?” He leaned in, his quiet voice teasing. “Did the therapist replace my boyfriend while you were in there?”

  “Well, maybe half a cheeseburger.” So far, Casper was the only one willing to tease him about the eating issues, and it helped more than anything else. “Actually, I think my throat is feeling well enough that we can try some of the softer solid food from the approved list they gave us. Maybe some tuna or something tonight.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “I thought maybe we could swing by the shop for a bit this afternoon. I feel up to doing some work. Nothing too strenuous, I know.” Not being able to prepare for the store’s opening week was causing Kevin nearly as much pain as the postsurgical effects.

  Casper shook a fork-skewered piece of chicken at him. “Nothing doing. Even if I was willing to disobey the doctor’s order, I wouldn’t be willing to risk your moms’ murder attempts on my life as retribution.”

  Though it was pointless, Kevin started to argue.

  Casper cut him off with a sly grin. “Although I do have a surprise for you, and I want to point out that I’m learning some manipulative strategies from you and Renata. Notice I saved it until you brought up the store.” He held out an opened envelope. “Now, validate my new relationship skill and let this suffice.”

  Kevin took the envelope and glanced at the return address. “Devina Malloy!” Hurriedly, he pulled out a short, handwritten letter on soft cream-colored stationary and scanned it quickly. “Yes! She can come to the Grand Opening! That is awesome!” A thought hit him, and he looked up from the letter. “Exactly how long have you had this?”

  “It came in this morning.” Casper chuckled. “Don’t worry, I know better than to withhold for too long.”

  “Hmmmm. You’d better.” Kevin returned to the letter, a happy excitement beginning to build. He’d been so caught up in everything, even before his acid reflux had upped its attempt at eating him alive, he’d forgotten to enjoy the wedding dress shop. “You know, as much as it’s killing me, it’s nice to take a short break from everything. Getting that place ready was so stressful, and so much was going wrong, I think it stopped being enjoyable for a bit.”

  “It’ll be fun again. Endless work, but fun. I can’t wait to see what Devina thinks when she sees the shop in person.”

  Kevin waved him off. “She’ll love it. The brownstone is perfect. Look at her designs. She’s got taste.” He shook the letter. “And good handwriting.”

  “I thought you’d notice that.”

  Kevin took another spoonful of the mashed potatoes. He never wanted soup again. “Let me tell you who doesn’t have good taste. That Dr. Wynn. I swear to you, she might be smart and insightful or whatever, but something in that woman is batshit.” He let off an exaggerated shudder. “It’s like the fourth dimension of tacky hell in that office.”

  Worry sounded in Casper’s voice. “But you said you liked her, right?”

  “Yeah. I think I do. I think she’ll help.” He knew he’d probably been driving Casper crazy, but he couldn’t help but check again. “She was pretty clear about this being a long process. One that I might not completely beat, but just figure out how to manage. I hate that you—”

  Though kind, Casper’s voice was firm. “Nope. Not doing it again. I will tell you and show you how much I love you as much as you need. But I will not listen to you trying to convince me to run for the hills anymore. So knock it off.”

  Kevin couldn’t help but grin. “Has Mom been giving you bossy lessons?”

  “Something like that. But not the one you’re thinking.”

  That was ominous. Before Kevin could ask anything else, Casper changed the subject.

  “So, I have another surprise, if you’re up for it.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He nodded. “Feel like walking a bit?”

  “Anything if it keeps me out of the house a bit longer.”

  “Good! Now hurry up on those potatoes, and we’ll get out of here.” Casper stood, picking up his tray. “Actually, I’ll be right back. I saw some cinnamon rolls that have Noelle’s and my name written all over them. You and Renata can have the cinnamon-flavored applesauce if you feel jealous.”

  THIRTY MINUTES later, they pulled into a parking lot at a large strip mall. A wave of love washed over Kevin once more. “You really do get me, don’t you?”

  Casper motioned to the Container Store. “I don’t understand the appeal, but I do know nothing makes you feel quite as relaxed as organization. I thought walking up and down endless aisles of closet organizers, file folders, and color-coded storage boxes might make you happy.”

  Kevin let out a happy sigh. “I love you.”

  “You should.” Casper laughed. “And, if you’re good, I might let you pick out something to use in my sock drawer that’s been driving you so crazy!”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, thank God!” Kevin clapped his hands and then reached for the door handle. “Let’s go!”

  CASPER

  KEVIN’S VOICE called up from the lower level, interrupting the planning Casper and Charu were doing on the custom order form. “Casper, can you come down here, please?”

  Casper grinned at Charu. “Just do it however you want. You know I trust you.”

  He hurried down the steps into the wedding dress shop. “What’s up, babe?” He paused when
he saw the heavy man glaring at Kevin. It was only supposed to be the two of them and Charu and Annie. Even the rest of the Bivantis had agreed to let the final day be the four of them.

  Kevin motioned toward the man, his gaze communicating his irritation more than his tone. “Casper, this is Mr. Russo. He is the owner of Mr. Wang’s Sushi Emporium.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo.” Casper strode forward, his hand outstretched, then paused as the name clicked. “Oh.”

  He could swear he saw a smirk at the corner of Kevin’s lips. “Yes, that Mr. Russo. He seems to not be quite satisfied that the bakery got the go-ahead from the city.”

  Casper had never had direct contact with Mr. Russo. The issue had all been dealt with through filing permits and paperwork. However, the owner of Mr. Wang’s Sushi Emporium couldn’t have looked any more different from what Casper had expected. He supposed that was a lesson in stereotyping. This man looked more like an older, overweight Robert De Niro than the cantankerous Asian grandfather he’d been expecting.

  “You are the baker?” Mr. Russo ignored the hand that Casper had yet to drop.

  “Uhm, yes, sir, I am.” This was the last thing they needed today. “I assure you that I have the license and permits that—”

  “I do not care about that. I want proof.”

  “Proof?”

  Mr. Russo just nodded.

  Casper spared a wondering glance toward Kevin. Was this guy for real? “You want proof that I am not going to be serving sushi in my bakery?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okaaay.” He so wanted to tell the guy to get lost. However, it was probably better to attempt to appease the crazy instead of pissing it off. Casper turned to the stairs. “Why don’t you follow me? I’ll be happy to show you what we do in the bakery.”

  He tried to give Charu fair warning before Mr. Russo made it up the stairs, but failed. “Charu, this is Mr. Russo. He’s the owner of Mr. Wang’s Sushi Emporium. He’d like to make sure we aren’t rolling sushi up here.”