During the course of his therapy I found myself attracted to him. At first he was profane with a penchant for scatological humor. But after he found I was unshockable, his speech became more conventional, he revealed a tender and vulnerable persona that I was convinced was the real Chas and not just a role he was playing.
I was aware of his atrophied libido, and our failure to resolve that problem made his recovery less than complete. I hoped that in time his rejection of sex would fade. Doctors treat, nature heals. But it had now been several years since his therapy ended and, during my visits, I found no improvement.
He had locked the door after his brother left, but when I knocked, I heard the hum of his motorized wheelchair. A moment later he unlocked the door, looked up at me, and smiled.
'My lucky day,' he said. 'And aren't you elegant! Pink is definitely your color. Come on in.'
His studio was in disarray. The remains of his lunch with Herman were still scattered on his desk. I began cleaning up.
'Forget it, Cherry,' he said. 'I'll get to it eventually.
Would you like a dill pickle? There's one left.'
'No, thanks,' I said, laughing.
'How about a Jack Daniels?'
'A very small one with lots of water and lots of ice. I'll mix it.'
'Help yourself.'
It was a ramshackle home, but he did have a small kitchenette kept reasonably clean. I made my drink and sat on a spindly ladder-back chair facing him.
'I met Herman outside,' I said. 'Did you have a nice visit?'
'As usual. I'm always glad to see Herm-once a week. I love my brother, but a little of him goes a long way.'
'Why do you say that, Chas?'
'He's such a lecher. That's all he thinks about chasing women. What makes a man act like that, doc?
'It could be a number of things. You say he continually chases women.
Does he catch them?'
'Continually,' hesaid, laughing. 'If you can believe him.
Then it's on to another conquest. What do you call a male nymphomaniac?'
'I call him a fool. But the term you want is probably satyr, a male who suffers from excessive sexual craving.
' Herm doesn't seem to suffer.' He gave me an ironic smile.
Just the opposite from me-right?'
'Mmm,' I said.
'Hey,' he said, 'you promised to cut the Mmm' shit. I know that in your work you've got to be noncommittal. But not with me.
Okay?'
'Mmm,' I said, and we both giggled. 'All right, Chas, I won't be noncommittal with you. How is your work coming along?'
'It doesn't get any easier. I thought it would, but it doesn't.'
'Do you ever wonder why you write books for children? ' 'Because I'm a kid at heart, that's why.'
'Be serious.'
'Of course, I've wondered why I write these fairy tales.
You know what I decided? That they're an escape from reality.'
'I thought you and I agreed there is no such thing as reality. There are only perceptions.'
'Uh-huh. Well, let's just say I perceive reality as a world I don't particularly admire. So I created the world of Tommy Termite.'
He poured more liquor into his jar. I've never met anyone who could drink as much as Chas and show no obvious effects. What his liver must look like I didn't care to imagine.
'How are you feeling?' I asked quietly. 'Any nightmares? ' 'Nope.
Most of my sleep is dreamless.'
'Depressed?'
'Only when my writing isn't going well. Don't worry about me, doc, I've adjusted.'
'No regrets?'
'About what?'
'And I thought you promised not to play games with me.
Regrets for your lack of sexual desire, of course.'
'Oh… that.'
He took a gulp of his drink. 'I can live with it.'
'I'm sure you can. But do you want to?'
'I don't have any choice,' he said in a low voice.
'Of course you do, ' I said angrily. 'I saw you change from a helpless wreck to an alert, functioning individual able to make a new life for himself. Therapy didn't do that. I didn't do it.
You accomplished that because you wanted to change.'
He shook his head. 'I know I've got a hang-up,' he said.
'And I know the reasons for it as well as you do.'
'Chas, would you like to start regular sessions again?
Perhaps twice a week. I can come out here, you won't have to come to my office. Maybe we can work it out together.'
'No,' he said. 'Thanks, but no.'
I stared at him but he looked away. The upper part of his body had become heavily muscled. Grips and railings had been installed in his studio so he could lift himself into bed, onto the toilet, into the shower stall.
It was vitally important to him to be absolutely independent-another reason he shunned my offer of assistance.
'You know what you're sacrificing, don't you?' I asked.
'I don't want to talk about it,' he said.
I nodded, finished my drink, and rose to leave. He let me kiss his cheek. I was at the door when he called, 'Cherry,' and I turned.
'If I change my mind,' he said with a wolfish grin, you'll be the first to know.'
I went outside and sat on the hot cushions of the Jaguar a few moments.
I lighted a cigarette. I smoke infrequently, but at the moment I needed it.
I still felt there was more than a doctor-patient relationship between Chas and me. I knew how I felt about Chas, and I thought I knew how he felt about me.
That could be wishful thinking, of course. Let me say merely that I hoped my sense of his desire was correct. Not only did it hold out the possibility of his eventual happiness, it kept alive the possibility of mine.
I was ashamed of myself. That last thing I said to Cherry-'If I change my mind, you'll be the first to know'-that was stupid, macho posturing.
As if my love was a great boon, to be bestowed if I felt like it.
Dr. Noble is a brainy lady, she knew very well the causes of my self -imposed celibacy. What she might not realize is what a stubborn man I am. Obstinacy has been my curse, I've always insisted on doing things my way- even when I know the suggestions of others make sense. There's no explaining it, I'm just pigheaded.
The studio seemed awfully empty after Cherry left. I wasn't able to pace, of course, but I could gun my chair back and forth, running down the battery and finding no tranquillity whatsoever.
So I finished my jar of whiskey and capped the bottle. Not much left, but there were full bottles under the sink and under the bed. My 80-proof muse.
I believed that if I tried to make it with Dr. Noble, she'd go along.
But I'd never know if she really wanted to, or if she intended it as part of my therapy.
And because I wasn't certain of what her motive might be, it seemed best to abstain and stew in my own juice.
Once, after I had been in therapy a year or so, Cherry asked me, 'Why have you never married, Chas? I'm
