Chapter Nine
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Sad news, my friends. I have been slow at writing recently, and I apologize, but it was for very good reason. My father has been sick for a few months now, and Monday night he passed from this world into the next. It has been a trying time for me and my family. I want to say thank you to my dearest ALittleTasteOfMadness, who has been amazingly supportive and wonderful, even though I have had less and less time to spend with her. Things will turn around a little now, my love, but my fics may continue to be a little slower as I work to finish the books my father so believed in.
Now, then, my reviewers. Edifying, I promise not to stop, I've only slowed down for a while. You'll see the end of this yet! ALittleTasteOfMadness, your reviews are always a breath of fresh air. I love seeing your reactions! We all know Norma and Norman are meant to be, and they will soon, too. :) Cleo, yes! It was a punishment for him, and he VERY MUCH DESERVED IT, despite the part of me that feels bad for him. I'm glad you like my portrayals yet again, that makes me very happy!
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The door to Arlene's office burst open, and Norman came storming in, clearly agitated. "Dr. Roberts, I need to talk to you right now!"
She stood, glancing to the patient she had just finished with. "Norman," she admonished, horrified, "This is highly inappropriate!"
"I need to talk to you, it's urgent," he said darkly, eyes wide, wet, and red, and Arlene sucked in a breath, recognizing this opportunity to finally, really connect with this boy. He was shaking, full of suppressed emotions brimming to get out, and she tried to think of something she could do to get them alone for a while...
She already saw the older woman she'd been counseling standing as she considered. "It's nearly one o'clock anyway, Arlene," she said quietly, patting Norman's arm with an understanding gaze. "I'll leave your check in the mail slot and tell Edith we'll have to wait until next week for couples..."
"Thank you, Ruth." She sighed as the old woman left and gestured Norman to the seat, but he remained standing. "Norman, what is it? What's happened?"
"It's Mother, she found me... She knows where I am, and she... I haven't told you everything..." He rubbed his face, smearing his tears around his rosy skin.
His agitation was contagious, but she took a few slow breaths to calm herself. "I know you haven't, and it's okay."
"It's not okay! How could you know?" he shouted, coming closer and leaning into her space.
Arlene held her ground, ignoring his intimidating presence despite her internal fear. She was a short woman, after all, and he towered over her; if he became violent, she wasn't sure she could fight him. "If you want my opinion, you'll have to tell me," she said smoothly. Turning, she placed the notebook she had back in her file cabinet and pulled out another, the one with Norman's information, and then sat in her chair as if everything was normal. She hoped that if she ignored his state, he would calm.
"I can't, I can't..." He didn't sit, but he did fall to the floor, his knees knocking loudly on the hardwood. "Oh, god, I can't..."
"You can. You can tell me anything, Norman. You're safe here." She watched him lift his head, meet her gaze, and felt her victory from the expression on his face. He was too desperate to resist now; and though she had her suspicions, she needed confirmation before she could know how to proceed.
He took a deep breath. "The night before I left," started, voice still trembling, "I... I told my mother..." His fear was nearly palpable, and Arlene wished there was something she could do to help him feel more comfortable. Finally, finally, he spoke again, voice full of shame. "I told her I was attracted to her."
Arlene nodded. "And how did she react?"
Norman's eyes narrowed, a bemused look on his face. "What?"
"I asked how she reacted," she pushed softly.
"She- she said it was normal." After a moment, his face twisted again. "She said it was normal, but it isn't. I know it isn't, and then... and then we... I don't really remember all of it, but we had sex."
"Okay. Why don't you don't remember all of it?"
Finally shocked out of his frantic desperation, he looked offended, as though her lack of concern were an affront. "Why aren't you disgusted by this?"
"Because I don't find it disgusting," she said kindly. "Do you?" When he didn't answer, she stood. "Sit down, Norman. I'll get you some tea."
Norman did as she asked, feeling compelled to continue. He told her everything, feeling a weight lifting from his chest as he finally admitted how he was feeling to someone. As he came to a close, he leaned back in the chair staring up at the ceiling and waiting.
Arlene reviewed her notes. It all made sense now; he was worried he would assault his mother in one of his blackouts, and he clearly believed that she didn't return his feelings entirely despite her confession right after their first encounter. "Thank you for talking to me," she said simply.
He laughed derisively once before looking at her again. "Yes, you're welcome to all my worst fears," he said, but he smiled as he said it, a little disbelieving smile. "I can't believe this doesn't bother you."
"The more important question is whether your relationship with your mother bothers you," she said.
"Of course it does," he said automatically.
Arlene sighed. "Does it really? Because it seems like the most upsetting part for you is that you might unintentionally cause your mother some sort of harm, not that you have feelings that are sexual for her." She glanced at her coffee table, at the picture Norman had seen during his last session, debating.
"You wouldn't understand," he said petulantly.
"I absolutely would understand," she said, and she leaned forward to take the frame and hand it to him. "Norman, do you remember this picture? You saw it the other day and asked if it was my husband." After he nodded, she went on. "Can I trust you to keep my secret, like I keep yours?"
"Yes, of course," he said, gaze flickering from her to the photograph.
"James isn't my husband. That's just what we tell people. He's my uncle."
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"He's your what?" Norman looked more closely at the picture he was holding, searching their faces without conscious thought and looking for familial similarities. Now that he was looking for them, they seemed all to clear; their eye color, their face shapes, even the thickness of their hair, all were telling.
"He's my uncle." Leaning forward, Dr. Roberts clasped her hands together. "I was given up for adoption at a young age; my mom was estranged from her family, a single, teenage mother, and I supposed she just couldn't handle it anymore. I was raised in foster care, but when I turned sixteen I started looking for her. She was dead, but I found her parents and her younger brother."
"But... but you...?" Norman's mind was racing. He looked on the wall, saw a picture of them kissing on the beach. "I don't understand."
"It just happens sometimes," she said quietly. "It's called Genetic Sexual Attraction Syndrome. It's more common the family members don't meet until they are adults, but it's not unheard of in cases like yours. I met my uncle, who was 29 at the time, and we just... clicked."
Head swimming, Norman leaned toward her. This was it; someone who could really understand him, who would help him understand what was going on inside him. "But that... That's different," he stuttered, grasping at straws, "You didn't know him, you didn't grow up around him..."
"So what? Who's to say we wouldn't feel the same if I had?" With a sad little smile, she lifted her own cup and took a sip before letting the silence hang around them.
Norman's knee jumped erratically as he tapped his foot. "So..."
"He held off my advances until I was eighteen and he didn't have my age as an excuse anymore." Smiling, she averted her eyes for a moment, a little shy.
"And your family?"
"My family..." Her smile faded. "They didn't understand. It didn't bother me that much, but James... It hurt him to leave them. But we did what we had to do. It would have seemed- strange, for an estranged niece and her uncle to move in together. You and Norma have a leg up on us there, it won't be so unusual for you two to continue living together."
Norman scoffed, despair rising inside him again. "I'll stay with her... but it won't be like that. She doesn't want me..."
"That's not true, Norman, and you know it."
"It is. She's just doing it to get me to come home." He dropped his head in his hands, pain emanating through his entire being.
Arlene sighed loudly. "Norman... Tell me again, what happened the night you made love to your mother?"
The words vibrated through him; he shivered, wishing desperately that making love had been what had happened. "I don't... I don't remember all of it."
"Tell me what you do remember."
Norman took a few deep breaths. "I just... it's flashes... Flashes of being... being with her..."
"And in these flashes, was she fighting you?"
Somehow, he'd never thought of that. Norman concentrated hard, thinking of what he remembered of his mother's reactions. "No..."
"Did she tell you to stop?"
"No..." He rethought the images he had, but he remembered nothing but pleasured groans and a single plea for more. "No. She didn't..."
"Did you never think that was odd?"
A sudden awareness of his psychiatrist came over him, and Norman met her eyes silently before looking away.
Her voice was a blessing to him. "You're wrong."
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Walking home, Norman spent some time reviewing what he'd learned. He had run there as fast as he could, and he didn't want to call Gunner to pick him up.
How was it possible, he wondered, that he had been so blind? Arlene had opened his eyes to many things. She and her uncle had lived together for over a decade, happy and free to be who they were; and if she was correct, Norman wouldn't even need to pay the price of losing his brother or friends along the way as long as he was careful. There was still a burning doubt inside him though, and he needed to speak with Norma honestly and calmly before he acted on his feelings again.
As he approached the farm, he reflected on the days events, almost unable to believe it had only been hours since his mother had confronted him behind the cabin. How could he wait almost a week to see her again?
He heard a car approaching and turned to see a police cruiser passing him and continuing on to the farm; heart catching, he took off at a run after it. By the time he arrived, the police officers had exited the vehicle and were grilling Gunner. "Hey, what... what's going on?" Norman asked, trying to catch his breath.
"We're here looking for Caleb Calhoun," one of them said, handing Norman a picture. "He's Dylan Massett's uncle, we understand he's been staying here."
Norman swallowed, wondering what they police were looking for. "He was staying here, but he's gone now."
"Isn't that his van over there?"
He mentally berated himself, frantically searching for an explanation. "Yes, of course, but we haven't seen him in days." Internally, he struggled; why in the world was he trying to protect his worst enemy, the most hated man in the world to him, the man who had raped the most important person in the world? "We don't know what happened to him."
The other officer spoke up finally. "Look... He's the prime suspect in a murder case. Chick Hogan, his wife, and their baby, all three dead and dismembered. We found them in a crude grave, think he might be the one who did 'em."
"Oh..." He felt sick as he looked at the woman's face, images flashing through his mind. "Does he... I mean, is this the first time...?"
"He was found innocent on a previous case because of evidence tampering." She looked kindly on Norman's horrified face. "Just let us know if he comes back."
She began to rummage in her pocket for a card, but before she could find a card, he continued, "Oh, don't worry, I know the Sheriff, I'll call him if I find out anything." The bile in Norman's stomach bubbled as he watched the police cruiser drive away. He may have just saved the worst person he knew from paying for his crimes.
"Norman?" Gunner asked quietly.
Turning, he saw the same green pallor that must be gracing his own visage on Gunner. "Yeah?"
"Do you think... do you think Caleb could have...?"
"Yeah, I..."
As he admitted his suspicion, the door to the van flew open, and Caleb stumbled out, obviously drunk. "They gone?" he slurred, waving his bottle.
"Yeah, they're gone." Norman already regretted lying, eyeing his uncle warily.
Caleb laughed and took another drink before throwing his bottle to the ground. "I gotta get goin'. They'll come back with a warrant for my van an'... you know. Tell Dylan 'bye for me. 'M gonna go see Norma first..."
"No, wait, you don't have to leave-" The door slammed in his face, and dread settled in his stomach. "You could at least give the cops a few minutes head start!"
Caleb didn't pay him any heed, and peeled off down the gravel road without a backward glance.
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To Be Continued...
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