Fear of Falling

don’t want to sleep with me.”
    Genuine confusion flashed across his features. “I don’t get it.”
    I knew something dark and ugly had happened to Dom, but that moment solidified it for me. I would never, ever leave him. He was a smart, witty man, but emotionally, he was an infant. He honestly had no idea that sex and love were two totally different things.
    Then he broke down and told me what happened to him, his inhibitions numbed after sharing a few bottles of wine. I cried for him. And when my sobs had grown out of control, stealing my breath, I wanted to vomit from the sheer repulsion of his account. My beautiful, dear friend deserved every one of those anguished tears.
    “I didn’t understand, Kam,” he cried, his face buried in my neck as I held him tight. “He was my uncle, and he said he loved me. He said that if I loved him that I would show it. That I would be a good boy and show him my love. And when he invited his friends to come over and… and… fuck! When he let his friends fucking rape me over and over, he said it was because he loved me so much that he had to share it. He had to share his love for his nephew by letting them fuck me!”
    He went on to tell me how it continued for years and didn’t stop until Dominic was hospitalized for severe damage to his rectum. His uncle had been his caretaker since a car crash claimed the lives of Dom’s parents when he was just a toddler. The police investigated and arrested all the sick-fucks involved, including his uncle, the only family that Dom had ever known.
    After his body had healed, Dom was sent to live with a relative in North Carolina when he was 14. The relative, a distant older cousin, was a stranger to him and only took him in out of obligation. She never helped him heal emotionally from the trauma or cared enough to get him help. So Dom coped in the only way he knew how—with sex. He slept with any girl that would have him, desperately trying to prove to himself that he was straight, that he hated everything his uncle had done to him. But he couldn’t deny that he still loved him. He was the only parent he had ever known. The conflicting feelings, the abuse, it fucked with everything he thought he knew about love and sex, right or wrong.
    The man that laid beside me today was still confused and outraged but he had begun to heal. He knew that intimacy wasn’t a substitute for affection, but he sought it out anyway. He needed that constant reassurance. He needed the physical reminder that he was a man, that no amount of abuse could strip him of his masculinity. I still hurt for him deeply, but I was honored to love him. He of all people deserved it.
    “Kam?” he said, pinching my thigh and breaking me from my morbid account. “Wanna tell me why you’ve been missing Dr. Cole’s appointments?”
    I shook my head and resumed putting the tiny origami stars back in the glass jar. “Because I’m not going back. It doesn’t help. And she thinks I’m being irrational.”
    Dom let out an exasperated sigh. “You have to talk to somebody, Kam. I’m serious.”
    “I talk to you.” I got up and put the jar in its spot on my windowsill before walking over to grab my guitar. I needed a distraction.
    “Bullshit. You don’t talk to me. And I’m afraid that I won’t be around when you finally need to talk to me. Please, Kam, give Dr. Cole another chance.”
    “Why the hell is she calling you about me anyway? You aren’t my father. Doesn’t that break some kinda patient-doctor confidentiality?”
    “She didn’t tell me what you two talk about,” he replied, rolling his beautiful eyes. “Her office called to find out what’s been going on.”
    “Mmm hmm,” I said, lightly strumming the strings. I was done talking. Nothing Dom could say would make me go back to therapy. It was a waste of time and money.
    Dom got the hint and sat up with a huff. He knew I wouldn’t budge. “Fine. But the moment you feel yourself losing control, you come to me. Ok? Don’t give me that “I’m fine” bullshit. Next week, we look for another therapist.”
    I nodded and just kept thrumming, getting lost in the melody that had been stuck on a continuous loop in my head for days. I hadn’t played for weeks but, for some reason, I felt the need to let my emotions trickle out in song. It flowed easily, and before I even realized it, I was humming, and the story was slowly coming into focus.
    It was a song about hope and longing. About wanting