Chapter Nine

"Don't push yourself too hard, Mr. Smithers," said his physical therapist, Bill, as Smithers struggled to hold himself upright, propping himself up against a bureau. His legs gave out and Bill caught him, then helped him back into his wheelchair. "Usually my problem is the patient doesn't want to work hard enough, so I don't say that very often."

"I have to get back on my feet as soon as I can. Monty and I are going to re-create our first date. I want to be able to dance with him. And I don't want to disappoint him. He's such a sweet man."

"I know, but – really, Mr. Burns?" He shook his head. "Never mind." He handed Smithers some physical therapy bands. "But you can't possibly expect to be able to dance in the next couple of weeks. Recovery from your injuries is going to be measured in months, not weeks."

Smithers put one end of each band around a foot and proceeded to pull up his legs and bend his knees, one at a time. "I don't expect to be able to do the Lindy hop with him anytime soon. I just want to be able to do a romantic slow dance with him."

"Well, if you want to maximize your progress, make sure you do your exercises throughout the day. Reviewing your log, I see you missed your morning and noon exercises yesterday."

"I know, Monty stayed home with me, and I wanted to make the most of our time together. Now that he's back at work, I can focus on getting better."

"Okay, but recognize your limits. You don't want to set yourself back."


Burns sat at his desk with the palm of his hand under his chin, looking at his phone sitting face up on the other side of his desk and twiddling his fingers nervously against his cheek. How I wish I could call Smithers. But what if he's still sleeping? Or I interrupt his physical therapy again? I don't want to come across as being too needy. He pulled out his wallet and affectionately lowered his eyelids as he looked at a picture of himself and Smithers enjoying ice cream cones at the beach. "We'll have those days soon again, dear friend."

Except we won't ever have those days again. I've led him to believe we were an item, unintentionally at first, but now I've actively misled him about our relationship, and we kissed as lovers do. He closed his eyes, remembering their impassioned necking the day before, touching his fingertips to his neck where Smithers had kissed him. Well, at least my deception spared us an awkward conversation where I finally tell him about all these feelings I've been having lately.

Still... would he reciprocate my feelings if he did remember? Or is he only requiting my love out of a misplaced sense of loyalty to his mate? Or perhaps out of gratitude for my assistance during his recuperation? What if he would reject me if he found out? Burns swiveled around in his chair and gazed upward at the cooling towers and the sky. "I'm in way over my head." He reached for his phone, but instead of dialing Smithers, he looked up another number in his contact list and rang him. "This is Montgomery Burns, and I need to schedule an emergency appointment with Dr. Kowalski. ... As soon as possible. ... When I say 'as soon as possible,' I mean today! ... Then make an opening today. This is Charles Montgomery Burns! ... Thank you," he said, exasperated, as he hung up the phone.

He left his office for his limousine, then drove to his new psychiatrist's downtown office, an old brick building with a fire escape outside. He walked into the lobby, and Dr. Kowalski, a man in his fifties with brown hair with silver streaks in a blue sweater and brown pants, approached him. "Mr. Burns, please come in."

"Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice," he said, following him to his office.

"Oh, please, Mr. Burns, it's my pleasure. You're the jewel in the crown of my career." He opened the door to his office and let Burns in first.

"I'm not so sure that's as flattering as you seem to think." He sat in a sapphire blue Lawson chair across from Dr. Kowalski, who sat in a brown leather tub-style chair angled toward him.

"I mean, you have such a complex mind, with so many layers and interesting problems."

"Yes, well, I'm not your typical bored housewife on Valium."

"So what brings you in today?" He got out a notepad with a pencil and sat back, ready to take notes.

"Well, I suppose the sooner I get on with it, the better." He took in a deep breath and exhaled. "I've been caring for my employee who lost his memories of me after pushing me out of the way of an oncoming car. We've always been friends, but in the weeks before the accident, I was beginning to look upon him more fondly than that, but I hesitated to broach the topic with him. So after he lost his memory of me, I tricked him into thinking we were already in a long-term romantic partnership, and I've been telling him lies about our past, inventing romantic dates, telling him we've made love, and so forth."

"And you're feeling guilty about deceiving him?"

"No! I need help figuring out how to keep him from ever finding out!"

"Mr. Burns, I'm here to help you work out your emotional problems, not help you deceive people."

Burns crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Well, that's just great."

"Why don't we talk about why you were afraid to have an honest discussion with him and open up about your feelings, hm?"

"Why do you think I was reluctant to tell him?"

"Hey, I'm the one who is supposed to reverse the questions back on you."

"I didn't want him to think of me as some lonely old pervert. He has always been a friend to me when no one else has. I couldn't abide seeing him look upon me with disgust in his eyes. I know, because I've seen him aghast at my moral transgressions. I've tried to annihilate my tender feelings for him with surges of rage and indifference, but at the end of the day, he's always been there to tuck me in at night, and when he would shut the door on his way out, I would sometimes cry into my pillow, lamenting that he ever had to leave my side."

"And how does he feel about being in a relationship with you?"

"Oh, he seems quite happy about it," Burns said with a sigh, as if he didn't quite believe it.

"Then isn't that good news?"

"You don't understand. I led him to believe we were already romantically entangled. He is so loyal, I am certain he would stay even if he felt miserable with me."

"Surely you would be able to tell if he's really attracted to you or only feigning interest."

"If I couldn't tell when he was bullshitting me about my financial situation, how could I tell if he's being sincere in his affection?"

"Well, how does he look at you?"

"With a smile and a glint in his eye that gives me butterflies. He kisses me so perfervidly, too, and he does say he's been wanting me all week..."

"It sounds like he's into you."

"But you don't know him like I do. He's an unabashed kiss-ass, and I've been tending to him since the accident. He gives such over-the-top compliments, at every hour of the day, at the slightest provocation."

"Does he? Or does he only compliment you so readily?" Burns looked thoughtfully into the floor. "Anyway, if he loves you, you don't need to deceive him to be with him, and if he doesn't love you back, he is going to leave you eventually, anyway."

"Not if I tell him he already married me and signed a pre-nuptial agreement. I can have my lawyers doctor up some papers lickety-split. He'll have to stay with me if he wants to continue living in luxury."

"Mr. Burns, that's not going to solve your problems. Your emotional insecurity will destroy your chances of making a relationship work if you don't address it. Why do you feel you need to resort to deceit to keep him with you?"

"Because... he's the only one who could possibly love me as I am." He sniffled, and Dr. Kowalski handed him a tissue, which he used to dab his eye. "If I lost him..."

"So shouldn't he be the one you're most comfortable being honest with? If he's such a loyal, good friend, you should be able to talk about this with him."

"So, that's your advice, eh? 'Be honest?'" Burns scoffed. "As if that's ever worked."

"Could part of your anxiety be that you're having a difficult time being honest with yourself?"

"What the devil are you talking about?"

"Homosexual relationships were much more stigmatized in your day. You've only mentioned being with women to me."

"Do you honestly think I concern myself with the prudish moralizing of church-men?"

"Maybe not, but when you were growing up, it was a different world, and there weren't, by and large, any out gay or bi men in the public sphere."

"I'll thank you not to educate me on 'my day,' which if you haven't forgotten was fifty years before you were born."

"My point is that maybe you need to work on accepting yourself before diving into a relationship built on lies. Here," he said, writing a number on the corner of his notepad and tearing it off, handing it to Burns. "This is the number of a social group for older gay and bisexual men. Why don't you try to connect with them?" Burns stared at the piece of paper in his hand. "It might do you good to get some practice opening up about your feelings."

Burns crumpled up the paper and stuffed it into his left breast pocket. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard. I'm more socially connected than you are."

"I don't mean connect as in 'connections,' I mean connect as in relate to, on a personal level. I know that some of the men there were closeted a very long time, even into their sixties."

"Do you take me for some sort of novice to this world? I've had affairs with men long before you were ever born. I've worn my share of green carnations and red neckties."

"It's only a suggestion. I really hope you follow through on it, though. I think you'll really benefit from talking to men with perhaps some similar life experiences, men whom you don't have to censor yourself around."

"I shall consider it."


Author Note: Starting next chapter, the rating goes up to M.