Warning: This part might be a little rough.  Viewer discretion advised.

Julia

Of course, we did not begin immediately after I announced we would do so.  First, I slid a pad of lined notebook paper off my desk and clicked a black pen to readiness.  I lowered my head, said a silent prayer. Very quietly I drew a single deep breath through my nose and out my mouth. And Freddie began to fidget.

"Do you always take this long to get started?" he quipped.

I shook my head, eyes still closed.  "No, sorry, usually I can launch right into the fun and games- but every now and then it takes a little more effort."

Freddie almost sounded hurt.  "Am I that much of an exercise, dear?"

"It's not you, it's- it's just today.  That's all."

A pause as he worked his mouth. "Right."

This was going to be tricky. I didn't want to counsel him. I was in no condition to play therapist to anyone in that moment, much less Freddie. I wanted to hold him, to absolutely throw myself into his arms and never let him go.

Control, I commanded myself, one hand tightening quietly into a fist, then relaxing again.  It was all I could do not to reach up to play with my necklace, for fear the ring should fall out of my collar for him to see - and even worse, question. 

 I lifted my head, and tried my hardest not to think about how only twelve hours ago this selfsame man was moving so skillfully back and forth within me, his face hovering directly over mine so that in the split second I managed to keep my eyes open I caught glimpses of his clenched jaw and the mess my hands had made of his dark hair, while my flesh erupted in pleasure with every long, hot minute that passed over us-

Jim Hutton, I reminded myself before I could tumble over the edge- which did the trick nicely.   In a trice, my expression melted into the painstakingly crafted, warm yet professional smile I wore with every client while I inwardly cringed so hard it was a wonder I could still breathe.

And so,  I declared, "So- what would you like me to call you?"

Freddie blinked.  "What?"

"Your name, sir!  What is it?"

He looked quite lost.  "I'm - not sure I understand what you're doing."

"You said you wanted the works, so you're getting it.  I'm treating you as I would anyone else who walks through that door- so starting now, you are a stranger to me.  You see?"

"Mm," was the only sound he made in response.  "Well, then we might as well drop the whole thing."

I frowned.  "Why?"

He shot me a wry look.  "You know I don't like talking to strangers."

"I'm not a stranger."

"You just said, that for as long as we play this game, we basically have to pretend we don't know each other.  So, I mean- this might as well be an interview- which I loathe."

"Freddie, a counseling session isn't anything like an interview.  It's more of a back and forth-"

"Yes, but the fact is- it still remains that if we have to act like we don't have a sort of history or whatever, then neither of us are going to get anywhere.  My God, I don't just vomit up personal things to anyone- and if I have to act like you're not- you're not you, then there's no point."

"Good grief, you can be so stubborn," I sighed.  "It's just an example; this was your idea anyway, so I don't even know what the problem is."

Freddie shrugged.  "No problem.  It's a matter of preference.  It would be one thing if you were my doctor and I was in for a checkup, but you're not my doctor or whatever.  You're my - you're- you.  You know?" 

Yes, Freddie, I am me.  I couldn't have said it better myself. 

Still, despite my sarcasm, I sighed and conceded, "All right, I'll meet you halfway- even if it takes away some of the professionalism."

But of course, Freddie did a mocking turnabout.  "No, no!  If it's really so important, I'll play along.  My God."

My jaw dropped.  "Freddie, I just gave in to-"

"Never mind that.  I dare not muck up the process. Shall I use a fictitious name as well, become another person entirely?  Strangers and all that, you know.  Very important."

Good Lord.  If I had done this to him in the studio way back when... 

A light switched on in my head.  Wait a second. Here it was, the gateway topic.  The man had practically handed it to me on a silver platter.

Strangers.  Of course!

"All right, let me ask you, then," I said softly, crossing one leg over the other.  "What is a stranger?"

Freddie frowned.  "What do you mean?"

"How would you define a stranger, necessarily?"

"I mean, it's- fairly obvious.  A stranger would be someone I don't know."

I nodded.  "So, only people you don't know are strangers?"

"No, no.  I mean- I suppose it goes both ways, really.  Someone I don't know, and, conversely, someone who doesn't know me- that's a stranger."  He punctuated this with an odd, ironic little chuckle. 

"What's funny?" I asked.

He sighed.  "What isn't."

Before I knew it, my curiosity was whetted.  I licked my lips in anticipation. 

Whether he intended to or not, the man was tasking me.  I could see in his eyes, there was some kind of internal dialogue going on inside his head- a dialogue I wanted to hear.  And very badly.  So, in that moment, I set my mind on drawing it out.  So many years had passed since I had felt even the slightest desire to exhume the things he kept walled up and locked away in his heart- yet here I sat, that long-lost wonder enveloping me with its old, sweet familiarity. 

Time to ask some "dumb" questions. 

I clicked my pen back and forth twice, but wrote nothing down. "So you're telling me that anyone who doesn't know who you are, is a stranger?"

Freddie fell right into the trap.  "No, no, no.  Darling, everyone knows who I am, that doesn't make me and them cousins.  My God.  Not that they don't know who I am, it's- they don't know me, the real me inside."

"Ah," I nodded. 

He went on, "Then again, that's really quite true for most people around me as it is, so- by that, um- that criteria I suppose most everyone in my life is a stranger."

I cocked my head, knit my eyebrows.  "Everyone?"

"Most everyone.  Um- and that's partly due to me and, you know, the very strong persona they all see on the stage, and that's all the experience they have with me, so, that's all they think I am.  Which isn't true.  You know that.  Because I do have a softer side- and there are people who see that side of me as well, but there's- there's still very very few people who ever get to know the real me."

"But," I put in, "there are people with whom you let it show."

"Yes, there are.  But there's not many.  I mean, I could probably count them all out on one hand, to be honest.  That's how few.  And even then- but I suppose, there's always some little piece of yourself you keep hidden, you know, so that's only natural."

"Mm-hm."

"But- as far as I'm concerned, I think I still, um- I think I'm still very much myself either way.  I used to be much more sort of guarded, you know- not inauthentic exactly, just- I used to be much more concerned about maintaining an image for the sake of my career, in the days when we were still very new to the game, but that time is past, and I think I've just become much more set in my ways, and- for the most part, I'd like to think that what you see is what you get."

"But that sort of contradicts what you just said about keeping yourself-"

Freddie shook his head.  "No, um- when I talk about the 'real me', I mean- myself on the whole, with all the problems and, uh- I mean we all sort of keep a bit ourselves inside, like I said before, but I do find that even now- to protect myself, I sort of stay a bit, um- I just keep quiet about some things that I might, you know, feel, or think, because so often it happens that- when I do open up and make myself vulnerable to someone..."

He trailed off a moment before the look in his eyes shifted toward melancholy, and his voice softened as at last he continued, "When I do that, it always seems to be the wrong time, and so they're always able to tear me apart inside and out, so I'm- quite covered with scars, really, and uh- to be honest, I'm just to the point where I'm tired of the scars, and I'm tired of the pain, and the hurting- I suppose I'm just tired, period."

In the seconds that followed, I was speechless.

Absently I began rubbing my right arm.  It was all I could do not to reach up and take hold of my necklace so I could fiddle with my ring- although at present, I didn't see much harm in showing Freddie how fully his words resonated with me- and how deeply I still cared for him. 

In other words, even though I had sworn to myself I would be vigilant this last day, and hold myself well beyond the reach of this man regardless of my feelings, once again I found myself being taken prisoner by those selfsame emotions, much like I had the night before.

And I suppose Freddie could see it all over my face, too, because suddenly he seemed to awaken from a trance- and his features pinched with embarrassment.  "Wait a minute, why am I- how'd we get round to this anyway?"

All I did was quietly shrug.  But somehow that still set him on the defensive. 

"How did you do that?" Freddie cried.  "You- you hypnotized me or something, didn't you?"

I squinted.  Seriously, Freddie?  Do even hear yourself?  "No I didn't!  I just sat here!"

"But you did something, I know you did, or said something, or-"

"Freddie, I barely said anything, I asked two questions, spoke maybe three sentences, that's it.  I was just following you, because you were the one driving the discussion. You had the gas and the brakes at your feet, the gearshift in your hand, the road before your eyes.  All I did was steer."

"You tricked me," he muttered. 

I shook my head.  "Sorry, no.  It was your idea in the first place, and you can't get angry at me because of where you yourself decided to take it."

"I'll feel exactly as I want to feel, thank you," was his knee-jerk response- when he realized perhaps how childish that sounded, and added a second later, "It's just- I never meant to say all those things, I don't talk about these things, and you just let me ramble on like there's no tomorrow!"

"Well," I offered, "maybe you needed to talk about it more than you realized."

He shrugged.  As if desperate for something to occupy his hands, Freddie reached suddenly for the roses and began pulling them out of the vase one by one and rearranging them.  I opened my mouth to ask just what did he think he was doing, but I relented before I began; if redoing the bouquet would settle him down, I saw no reason to stop him.

"I'll never understand," Freddie mused aloud, "how - how you can coax all these things out of me without even trying."

"It often happens that if somebody really needs to talk, things often tend to fall out on their own."

"That doesn't happen to me."

"No?"

"No, I just sort of burst after a sort of build-up of things, and then- I'm all right, but it doesn't necessarily mean talking it out is a part of it.  In fact, it almost never is."

Freddie didn't wait for me to answer, and instead went on, "I mean, it's just - something about you does that to me, and I- hate it and love it at the same time.  It's always such a surprise to find myself telling you all these things even though I- know I'm leaving very soon, but it doesn't seem to matter."

"Oh."  I swallowed.  "Well, I suppose I should be glad to count myself one of the lucky few then."

"The few?"  He shook his head. "No, dear, it's just you. It was that way years ago, that's how it is now."

"Me and who else?"

"No one else."

Before I could stop myself I asked, "But what about Mary?  I thought-"

"Darling, listen very carefully: You are the only one."

I couldn't help smiling.  I wasn't sure if I believed him, of course, but the words warmed my aching heart nonetheless.

"It's your eyes, I think," he said decisively. "They're too sweet, it's like they're just constantly asking people, 'Tell me everything,' so they do, because they're too big and people can't look at anything else until they've sort of done their bidding."

I blushed.  "Again, I can't help my eyes, they're-"

"That smile doesn't help, either," Freddie whispered, looking intently into my face.  "Not one bit."

"Well, if my face is that much of an issue, it's a lucky thing you won't have to look at it for much longer," I quipped, far too cheerfully.

Freddie's jaw clenched in perfect synchronization with his hand.  Without a word, he cast his eyes down, worked his mouth.  After a very uncomfortable minute and a half, he drew back again and stared silently at the blooms, lifting a white rose to move it to a spot where a black rose used to be- but not before sticking his nose into it and taking a long whiff, shutting his eyes as he did so. 

Just this simple act accentuated how otherworldly Freddie really seemed.  This beautiful, fey man at my side- such a far cry from Stuart's focused distance, his cerebral absent-mindedness.  Freddie looked so sad at the moment, so pensive- and I doubted it was solely to do with him giving too much of himself away a moment ago. 

"What's wrong, Freddie?" I murmured. 

He didn't answer, in fact didn't so much as look in my direction. On impulse I reached out my hand to touch his face.  At first, he seemed to lean closer, as if to meet me in the middle- only to suddenly jerk back again.  Quite unceremoniously he rose to his feet and walked back toward the desk.  I swallowed.

"So," I ventured, "did you want to carry on with this, uh, experience, or- drop it altogether?"

Again, for a few seconds Freddie was silent.  He plucked one last black rose from the vase, then very quietly he set the new and improved arrangement back on the desk.  Just before Freddie came back, however, he stuck this rose back into the bouquet- but where was difficult to determine, since he stood entirely in my field of vision. 

At this rate, I highly doubted either of us would be in the best of spirits for the upcoming "lesson."  Odd, how we had been so physically intimate with one another last night, yet emotionally we were still just as reticent, and every bit as guarded, as before- perhaps more so, if that was even possible. 

Still standing with his back to me, Freddie spoke at last- and in a strange, strained tone. "Do you remember, darling- what you used to call me?"

My heart pounded.  "W-which thing?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't, it was so many years ago.  Didn't remember, I mean."  He cleared his throat.

"Well- maybe I just need a refresher," I lied.

Another pause- cut short by a little sniff.  "We used to... call each other by silly, ridiculous things," Freddie said softly.  "You were my- my stray kitten, for one."

"Oh yes," I whispered, so as to hide the catch in my voice.  "Very silly, indeed."

"Mm- but not half so silly, I think, as that other thing I called you."  He chuckled, then turned to face me.  "Angel.  I mean really.  How absurd."

"Indeed," I managed.  "It doesn't get much more absurd than that."

"Mm, I don't know, the name you gave me- as I recall it left all the others behind, as far as being ridiculous is concerned," Freddie replied.  "But I can't remember what it was exactly.  Do you?"

I hesitated for more than a moment- while my throat dried up and my heart once again started busting apart along the same jagged, uneven crack lines where I had put the damn thing back together over and over through the years. 

What are you doing, Freddie? I screamed inside my head. This is the last day, and I'm already hurting so badly, what on Earth are you thinking, bringing this up now?

As each second passed, Freddie's ironic little smile faltered.  "You do remember, don't you, darling?" he asked.

I almost nodded.  I was so close to giving in one more time, to telling him all the things I had been keeping so tightly under wraps for the sake of my son and my sanity- to showing him that for me, in all honesty, it still was far from over.

But then, as per the seeming curse of my everyday existence, we were interrupted.

A fist rapped at my door.  Freddie lowered his head, letting out a frustrated sigh through his nose.

"Straker," I mumbled- an attempt at levity.  In a louder voice, I called, "Who's there?"

"Antonio," chirped my colleague.  "You busy?"

"Uh, well, ki-" I began, when I noticed that Freddie had gone quite pale, and his eyes grown impossibly wide in horror.

To Antonio I called, "I mean- do you need me for something?"

"Well, my ten-fifteen appointment just wrapped up, I was gonna tell you about-"

"Oh, yeah!  The thing."

"Someone's not in there with you, are they?"

I looked at Freddie.  "Uh, actually-"

"Say no," Freddie hissed.

I obeyed.  "No-?"

Then suddenly something occurred to Freddie.  "I mean- yes!  Say yes!  Quick!"

Before I could confuse the hell out of Antonio the way Freddie was confusing the hell out of me, however, he cut in, "Okay, great, so can I come in?"

"In a second, okay?"

"Got it."  Antonio began loudly humming the Jeopardy theme song.

"Oh, Lord," Freddie whispered, covering his mouth.

"What's the matter?" I asked him.  "Don't tell me you recognize the guy?"

"I do."

"How charming!" I cooed insincerely, taking a step toward the exit.  "Here, let me open the door so you guys can-"

But Freddie grabbed my shoulder.  "Julia, please don't let him in."

I frowned.  "Don't you want to say hi?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Just- don't."  His voice shook.  "Please."

Freddie's eyes begged me so desperately, I wondered what was going on here.  Freddie recognized Antonio, that much was certain.  But from where?  How could these two possibly have crossed paths last Wednesday, if not here at Princeton?

And then I remembered, how Freddie had told me absolutely nothing about what happened on Wednesday night, after he stormed out of the house and left us to watch Star Wars one more time with Stuart- the night he came home unconscious with a nearly broken nose.

Suddenly I had a pretty good idea how they had met.

Before I could make up my own mind how to handle this, however, the humming cut out; Antonio had apparently decided he had waited long enough.  The door popped open.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to just barge in, but I'm just so excited, I just want to tell everyone!" he gushed. 

"That's o-" I whirled around on instinct, looking for Freddie, but he had vanished- "Kay.  So what happened?"

"Well," he began, "so I was out with some friends, at this club in Manhattan- I'd never been there before, but it was the greatest, I mean, EVERYone was just breaking ALL the rules, definitely my kinda place, know what I mean?"

"Uh-huh," I nodded, idly casting my eyes around the room in search of Freddie- only to catch sight of a pointed thumb tip barely sticking out from under my desk.  Chicken, I giggled to myself.

But I wasn't giggling for much longer.

"So- I'm standing there at the bar," Antonio began breathlessly, "chilling with my squad, when from out of nowhere this dark-haired guy sweeps up to me with this look in his eyes, and I realize right away it's the guy from the news- and I mean, I just wanted to die right then and there, he's just got these EYES, you know?"

I know.  My stomach churned.  "Then what?"

"Well, he walks up close to me and so, I'm thinking, he's probably just heading over to get a drink or whatever, but no, he leans in and very obviously gets into my personal space, and he's still got that look, so I try to play it a little cool and I say, 'Hi, I'm Tony, who are you?' because Tony sounds more sexy than Antonio at first."

"Okay."  I bit my tongue so hard I almost drew blood.  "Uh- then what?"

Here Antonio's lips curved into a devilish little grin.  "He says, really softly, 'I'm Richard,' and then you know what he does?"

I shook my head.  "No."

"He reaches down- I mean, I didn't see this coming at all- he grabs at me, and he growls into my ear- I mean, he literally growls, 'And what's your name, darling?'"

My breathing shortened.  "Wow.  That's- amazing."

Of course, it didn't stop there.  Antonio had quite a story to tell- the stuff of legends and tabloid dirt.  It would seem that he and Freddie took to each other like moths to a flame.  It was the greatest night of Antonio's life, and apparently Freddie enjoyed himself as well.  He certainly acted like it.  I could go into every detail of their "soiree," but so much as thinking about what he described makes me sick to my stomach, I don't think I could stand to type it out, too.

I probably missed out on the best bits anyway.  Because right as things were getting really juicy, we, once again, were Strakered.

"We couldn't get into the restroom fast enough, I mean he was already trying to loosen my belt before we even pushed the door open," he crooned.  "He was so determined, and so forceful, I couldn't stop him.  Not that I wanted to either.  So he pushes me into the biggest stall, kissing my neck, unbuttons my jeans, and reaches in and-"

BAM!

A fist crashed down onto my desk, rattling us into silence.  I whirled around to see a lightly perspiring Freddie standing there, looking for all the world like he wanted to murder Antonio with his bare hands.

"It's funny," he said coldly.  "I- don't remember it quite that way."

Antonio's jaw dropped.  "Oh- Rick!  Hi!  What're you doing he- oh," he gasped, realization dawning on him a bit too late.  "Wait a second, are you- are you guys together?"

"Get out," Freddie growled.

Now it was Antonio's turn to sweat.  "Rick- Richard- look, I didn't know that-"

Freddie lifted the large vase threateningly over his head.  "I will not say it again-Tony."

"Okay, okay, I'm gone- and Julia, I'm sorry, I- I didn't know," he stammered.  "I'm awfully sorry, I- okay, I'm gone.  Bye."

I didn't see Antonio leave; I didn't see much, to be honest; in fact, it would be some time before my vision cleared enough for me to notice he had turned the "checkered flag" into what looked like a yinyang symbol. 

I simply sat back down on the sofa, hands folded, the world a haze before my eyes.  My head was killing me.  And as much as I wanted to cry, somehow the tears didn't come.  Not yet.  I think perhaps I was in some sort of shock.  That's the only reason I can fathom, that I didn't immediately tackle Freddie to the floor with fists flying, hellbent on beating him to a bloody pulp and calling him every low, disgusting, vile name in the book.

Finally I looked up at Freddie.  His pretty, dark brown eyes were just as wide as before- but with supplication, now, as opposed to terror.  He took one step closer.

"Stay where you are," I said in a soft, flat voice that I only used when Danny was in very serious trouble- a voice that immediately set him to obedience.  It had the same effect on his father; Freddie froze in his tracks.

I stood up.  "Well!" I sighed.  "I'm glad you had a good time while here, Freddie.  I knew you could do it."

"Julia, that's not what happened," he whispered.  "I swear to God, it's not true."

"None of it?" I asked.  "Not that it matters, I'm just curious."

He blinked.  "Well- a lot of it isn't true, but-"

"Mm.  That's what I thought."  I shrugged. 

"I can explain-"

"I really don't want to hear it, Freddie, but thank you.  There's nothing to explain anyway.  It's just your way.  I get it.  Just like they said.  It's what you do.  And there is absolutely nothing wrong with it, as long as it makes you happy."

Freddie swallowed.  "Darling, look-"

"No, no, I'm serious, it's fine!  I'm glad you enjoyed yourself.  I really am.  I mean, if one is not having fun, what is indeed the point of life?"

"For f---'s sake, would you just let me talk?" he cried.

"What for? There's nothing to talk about, like I said. You are you, and I- am a colossal idiot. And I brought this all on myself."

He opened his mouth, but I spoke again before he could start.  "And just think, you can get right back to even more of that frivolity and such in a few short hours, and you'll never have to think about whatever disappointment I may have caused you last night, because Stuart's going to rip it right out of your head along with everything else having to do with me or Danny or anyone.  It'll be as though it never happened."  I shook my head with a sigh.  "In a way, I'm almost jealous of you, Freddie."

"Julia, please."  Freddie took hold of my upper arms.  His eyes shone unnaturally, as though they were made of glass- and his voice sounded almost unrecognizable, it was so thick and choked.
"Please don't say these things, I- that's not what happened.  I swear- you do believe me, don't you?"

I looked at his flushed face- and somehow found the strength (or was it meanness?) to whisper my answer:

"What do you care?"

All he did was stare at me a moment, searching my face for something he did not find- then he left, without a word.  I had hurt him, I could see that as plainly as anything.  But at present I didn't care.  Although I knew I would eventually, and very much, I was hurting enough for five people right now, I didn't mind seeing him bleed a little too. 

Only once I was sure he was gone, I let myself weep. 

Shit, I said to myself through bitter tears.  Shit, shit, shit.  God, I'm so stupid. I'm so g--d---f---ing stupid, what did I expect? What did I think was going to happen? He's not in love with me anymore, he just gets lonely and he needs a body to caress and hold and kiss and hug and f--- and I- I was just there. I was convenient- just like I was ten years ago.  

I could feel the darkness rolling in.  If nothing else, this confirmed that I was nothing special in his eyes, and last night was business as usual- and probably very boring business at that. Sure, he climaxed with a vengeance- but who's to say I was the one on his mind?

I lied, Freddie, I went on silently.  I do regret last night. I regret it with all that's within me. Because now I have that to look back on- the one night you let me borrow your love before you go back and live what's left of your life out, the one night you were mine. In the moment it seemed worth it, it seemed enough- but now, on the other side, it's a moment I can never have again, and the fact is- I'm possessive, just like you are, and I want to hold on to you, with all my might, never let you go, keep you all for myself- it's a foolish desire, but what can I say. We're possessive people; the difference is, for you, one isn't enough.  You are all, and everything, to me- but me, I'm a link in a chain. 

But, then again, it's what I deserve.

I lifted my swollen eyes, noticed that my right sleeve had ridden up my arm a little when I slumped against my desk, just far enough that I could see a piece of my own old scar.  I sniffed, traced the raised white mark along its length, shaking my head.

"Why? Oh, John, why?" I whispered between sobs.  "Why did you stop me?"