“You mean, do I feel ashamed or angry?” he asks.
I realize my mistake. I shouldn’t have told him the results of the study. Now he’s going to try to shoehorn his emotions in to fit them.
“Not necessarily,” I say. “Those are the two I looked into, but therecould be others. I want you to tell me whatyouwere feeling, even if it doesn’t fit my results.”
He leans back and extends his long arms across the back of the loveseat. I try not to be impressed by his arm span and fail.
“I guess I did feel a little ashamed the other night,” he says. “Lapointe made sure I was bleeding, then he stuck a tampon down my jersey. I know it shouldn’t have upset me, but it did.”
My eyes flare. “Someone shoved a tampon in your jersey?”
He nods.
“So you felt…emasculated?” I venture.
He shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.”
“Trash talk often includes gender or sexuality-based comments. Implying someone is womanish or gay is common in trash talk, even though leagues often have rules against it.” I pause. “What did you do when this guy shoved the tampon in your jersey?”
His look turns distinctly deer-in-headlights. “I…don’t want to say.”
I cock my head at him and give him my best ‘Out with it’ look.
He sighs. “I went after him and shoved the tampon in his mouth. Then we tried to beat the shit out of each other.”
My jaw drops open before I can think of how to respond. “Alright. Well, the good news is that your reaction suggests you’re within the bounds of the shame-rage dynamic.”
“And that’s good?”
“Actually, yes. If we know what we’re dealing with, it should be easier to come up with some strategies to help you. If you were experiencing different emotions, we’d have to pinpoint those first before proceeding.”
“Alright,” he says, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers. “For once I’m just like everyone else. So what do we do now?”
Good question.
Chapter 6
Ash
“How did it go with the doc last night?” Kelsier asks as we step onto the treadmills the next day. “Did she fix you?”
“She gave me fucking homework,” I say as I turn the machine on and the belt begins to move.
Kelsier looks like he’s about to burst out laughing, and I give him a ‘Don’t you fucking dare’ look.
He purses his lips and suppresses the laugh before he asks, “What kind of homework? You got an essay due already?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth again.
“No, she wants me to make some notes before I see her again on Sunday,” I say.
“What kind of notes?”
“I’m supposed to reflect on my ‘ideal image.’”
Kelsier stares at me. “What?”
I wave a hand as we bump the treadmills up to a fast walk. “The doc says trash talk can make people feel shame and rage, and shame happens when a person’s ideal image of themself is threatened. She wants me to decide what mine is and think back to the times I got angry over guys chirping at me. She wants to see if they,” I put up air quotes, “‘challenged my ideal image.’”
Kelsier continues to stare at me before giving an ‘Okay, whatever’ shrug. “How’s that going to help?”
