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The room was quiet. It was always like that at the beginning of the sessions. One brother didn't care enough to bring up a topic and the other was giving himself time to structure his thoughts into barb-and-scorn-infested sentences. And the poor therapist was left contemplating when they would grow out of this inconvenient habit.
Dr. Betsy Dobson blew on her hot chocolate, contemplated waiting more, then decided against it and seeped her drink, only to draw back when it burned her tongue. She looked up to Andrew's infinitesimally lifted eyebrow and really wished they would be done with their silence so she could laugh at her own stupidity. A look at Aaron showed he hadn't noticed the exchange, actually, wait, he looked too much in thought. Bee felt like she could actually see the hill Aaron was compiling with his thoughts, and could only wait for the moment he talked and pushed the already doomed session downhill.
It still took Aaron four more minutes to speak, not that Bee was counting. (Bee could hear Andrew's voice, "a therapist who can't even tell herself the truth," but to be honest, what therapist ever did?)
"I can't decide if it's karma or just simple irony."
If Bee still hoped for a better ending, it just vanished right then and there. "Would you care to enlighten us?" Jesus she should've had the calming tea instead of the hot chocolate.
"Josten. It's just so amusing, you know? Of all the people in the world, Andrew just had to fall for him. Though I don't think anyone else would be suicidal enough to actually touch my brother."
"He asks first though. And he does it when Andrew consents. Why do you think of it as suicidal?"
"What if one day he forgets to ask? Or just forgets where was off-limits at the moment?"
"He won't," Andrew finally deigns to reply.
"What if he does?"
"He'll probably berate himself more than i ever would."
Bee can barely keep herself from beaming at Andrew. What a long way he'd come in these years.
"I know what you're thinking Dobson. Isn't it just ironic?" Aaron's eyes are actually amused. That's not a good sign, not for anyone in the room for the next 45 minutes.
"I'm not sure I'm quite following."
"You're wondering about how trusting he sounded."
I'll be damned, Bee thought. Aaron actually read someone right for once.
"He trusts Josten. He admitted last month that it wasn't just nothing between them. That they have something, something Andrew was willing to let go of me to keep. And of all the people in the world, it had to be with Neil Josten, a lying runaway. The man best equipped to pack up and run away whenever he wants," Aaron waited a moment for them to grasp the gravity of his statement, and when none of them showed anything he continued, "What I can't decide is whether it's karma, irony or self-punishment?"
Well, shit. Bee's eyes were on Andrew, waiting for some small, barely-there sign of his thoughts on the matter. There was something in his non-existent expression, in the way his eyes looked faraway and yet the most present he'd been until this moment. Bee had seen it before but she couldn't for the life of her place it.
It was too late anyway. He looked so impassive then she would think she imagined the expression, except her years of experience with him had acquainted her with his mannerisms and his control. Aaron had seen it too, but he hadn't deciphered the expression either. He looked torn between self-satisfaction and disappointment. Bee would laugh at his expression if she weren't the very mature, very professional therapist that she was.
"I hate him," was Andrew's answer.
And suddenly Bee was able to place it. It was there when she asked him about why he'd killed Tilda Minyard, why he'd thought death to be the answer and why he'd never contemplated anything less severe. Back then he'd said because she deserved it. He'd warned her and she hadn't paid attention. And then Bee had asked him if he would've done the same for that one foster mother who used to beat him. Or the one before that. Or the one after that. That exact expression was on Andrew's face then and a few other occasions, and it disappeared just as quickly as then.
Bee had thought the expression to be one of reflection, far enough to see the memories and present enough to be affected by Bee's statement.
Andrew hates him. Bee had thought about it. She had multiple, very different theories about why he'd say it but Andrew had never told her. Now she knew.
Andrew had found this twist way before Aaron, and if Bee knew him at all, she'd say he'd come to the same question. Was it irony, karma, or self-punishment?
"Well I can safely say karma is out of the question-"
"Why?"
"Karma is the consequence of one's actions, right? If we're merely looking at Neil's runaway tendencies, then I believe Andrew hasn't done anything to warrant it." Bee didn't bother mentioning Neil's merits. They'd talked about those points months ago. This was about that expression. About helping Andrew figure out the question.
"I disagree. I mean-"
"You're wasting time. Bee, he's saying he accepts Neil. Why are you arguing?"
"I am most certainly not-"
"You're saying 'I deserve him'. I don't know what else you'd call it but Bee here usually calls it acceptance."
"Aaron, he's right. You are saying they deserve each other. We'll discuss your reasons later in the session, but now i want to find the answer to the question."
"Okay, fine. What's your verdict?"
Bee looks at Andrew. Maybe this was an issue they should shelf and discuss in private. But Aaron was clearly invested in the answer. "Andrew, do you think it could've been self-punishment?"
Andrew was silent for so long Bee almost decided to take it as confirmation, but then: "No. I hate him."
Aaron huffed and shook his head, but Bee understood. Andrew said he hated him , and why would he hate Neil if Andrew was punishing himself?
She nodded. Aaron looked between them for a moment, and then it seemed to dawn on him. The look on his face was just precious.
"Great! Now that it's settled, let's discuss your reasons and why you think…"
Irony's a bitch, Bee thought later over a tumbler of whiskey. (The session was as bad as she'd predicted.)