Chapter twelve
Four options
"So all of this was over the course of the past week?" the psychiatrist asked.
"Basically, yeah," Elsa said.
He scribbled a few more notes into his pad, even though she had given him no new information. She took the lapse in conversation as an opportunity to compose her thoughts.
The room was decorated in a very non-aggressive style. Taupe wallpaper, a couple of fake potted plants, and a few pictures of serene waterfalls. Even compared to the nonthreatening décor of the rest of the school hospital, it felt overdone. The psychiatrist was similarly nonthreatening, an elderly man with large round glasses.
"I see," he said after some time. "And you've never had any thoughts of this nature before this week?"
Elsa sat up straight. "Well, I didn't think I did," she said, pulling out her phone. She tapped the screen and pulled up her cousin Evan's Facebook feed. "Until I found this."
The doc pushed up his glasses and looked at her screen. Elsa tapped the screen and turned the phone sideways.
Onscreen, an image of Elsa and Anna had appeared, about a year younger. Elsa was clutching a half-empty glass in the hand she had draped around Anna's shoulder, and her cheeks were almost as red as those of the Elsa holding the phone. Elsa fast-forwarded to the relevant part.
"...And this girl," the virtual Elsa slurred, pointing for emphasis, "this fucking girl, I swear, she's the hottest fucking girl on the goddamn planet!"
Anna of the past laughed, a little embarrassed but not the least bit flustered.
"And she's gonna tell you she's not," Elsa continued, pointing at the camera. "Cuz she's all humble and shit. But don't believe her! She's fuckin' gorgeous!" She then attempted to drink from her glass, which resulted in her pulling Anna's face directly into her boobs. Someone, probably Evan, started snickering.
Elsa stopped the video. "I think you get the idea," she said.
The doc nodded. "Seems innocent enough," he said. "On its own, at least."
"On its own," agreed Elsa. "But convinced with all the stuff I've been telling you about…"
"Yes, I agree," the doc said. "How long ago was this?"
"About a year," Elsa said. "Last fourth of July."
"And you remembered it all this time later?" the doctor said, impressed.
"Well, no," Elsa admitted. "Anna mentioned it when we were at Angel Island. She was kinda coy about it, though."
The psychiatrist stroked his chin. "Interesting," he said.
He wrote a few more notes down. "So, forgive me, I'm a little confused about a certain point you mentioned," he continued. "Which of you initiated the kiss on the Ferris Wheel?"
"Anna did, technically," Elsa said. "I made my intentions clear, but she kissed me first. It still only happened because of me."
"And she also initiated the first kiss, outside of the theater?" the doc asked, checking his notes to confirm.
"Hold on, isn't this supposed to be about be, not my sister?" Elsa asked, getting confused.
"Yes, of course," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "So, when did you first begin to suspect your motives were non-platonic?"
Elsa thought about it. "After the first date," she said. "When we were cuddling on the couch."
"I see, I see," the doc said. "And do you think your sister suspects the same thing?"
"I don't think so," Elsa said. "She's too innocent, bless her heart."
The doc raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
Elsa leaned back. "So, give it to me straight, doctor P. On a scale of one to ten, how fucked up am I?"
He chuckled. "Please, miss Elsa, don't think of it like that. In truth, you're one of the saner students I've dealt with."
"Really?" Elsa said disbelievingly.
"You are at a key developmental age," he said. "This is the age at which everyone makes discoveries about themselves that they never could've expected. Not just sexuality, but beliefs, morals – even their very identity."
"But…incest?" Elsa said. The very word sounded caustic to her ears once spoken aloud, a monument to its own ill meaning.
"That one is uncommon," the doctor admitted. "But not unheard of, and not as rare as you might think. Two siblings, when separated for lengthy periods of time, will sometimes develop romantic feelings for one another. Occasionally, this can even happen between parent and child."
Elsa was taken aback. "Eww," she said, making a face.
The doctor nodded. "As I said, uncommon. But not unheard of," he said. Again, he scribbled on his notepad.
"So, how do you deal with that?" Elsa asked. "Is there, like, a drug or something you can take?"
He looked over his glasses at her. "There is no drug or treatment that can change a person's sexual preferences," he said, a hint of sternness in his voice. "None approved by the FDA, anyway. If you're looking for one of those, try a Catholic conversion camp."
Elsa nodded. "I get your point," she said, her body language indicating that this was the last thing she would ever consider trying.
"I respect your courage for coming here and speaking to me about this," he continued. "Incest is a criminally understudied condition – outside of clearly nonconsensual cases, such as father-daughter cases and the like."
Elsa made another face.
"As things stand now, there are three possible ways that I see you could progress from here. Three possibilities – none of which are perfect, but all have at least a chance of working out well for you and your sister."
Elsa looked at him. "Okay," she said. "Let's hear them."
"Option one: suppression. You refuse to act on any of your sexual desires for your sister. Sexual preferences tend to change over time – you yourself told me that you once liked brunettes a great deal more. If luck is on your side, your desires will shift again, towards other women, and this will simply be a phase, with your sister none the wiser."
Elsa raised an eyebrow. "Just keep it bottled up?" she said. "That's your advice?"
"It is simply one option," the doctor said. "If I were a therapist, it would be harder for me to recommend this course of action to you. As a psychiatrist, however, I am in a position to prescribe you medication to help."
"Hang on," Elsa said. "You said-"
"Not to change your preferences," he clarified. "There are certain drugs, known as SSRIs, whose main function is as an antidepressant; however, they have a side effect of reducing sexual drive."
Elsa blinked. "Well, I don't want that," she said quickly.
The doc chortled. "No, I suspected not. Few your age would. But if you do decide to go the route of suppression, I would advise against doing it unmedicated. For your own peace of mind."
Elsa still felt leery of the idea, but she nodded. "Okay. Second option?"
"The second option is isolation. Separate yourself from your sister until such time that your desires fade or change." He lowered his pad and looked at her. "I would consider this only as a method of last resort. It can lead to far worse emotional side-effects, such as feelings of abandonment and resentment."
Elsa shuddered. She had considered this option herself, late last night, but the idea of leaving Anna alone like that was just too awful to bear. "I agree," she said. "She needs me there. Besides, didn't you say isolation was the cause of this whole thing to begin with?"
"It was one possible factor," he said.
"Right, well, just scratch that option off, too," Elsa said.
"Very well." The doctor pushed his glasses up again. "The third option is group therapy. You and your sister visit a psychiatrist or therapist together, discuss how you feel about one another, and determine the best course of action going for-"
Elsa sat bolt upright. "Are you NUTS?" she exclaimed. The doctor was taken aback by her vehemence. "You want me to tell my sister I have the hots for her, and then invite her to talk about it, with me, to a complete stranger?"
"Please, calm yourself, miss Elsa," the doctor said quietly. Elsa leaned back, still visibly shaken. "It would be very awkward, I know," he said, "but having an open and honest dialogue is the course of action most likely to end positively for everyone."
Elsa folded her arms. Of course, the psychiatrist's solution was more therapy.
"Not to mention," he continued, "it would clarify the greatest variable in this equation, which is the reciprocity your sister feels."
Elsa frowned confusedly. "Recip…I'm not an English major, doc. Use small words."
The doctor sighed. "How much of this feeling is mutual," he explained.
Elsa's eyes widened. "Hold on, doc, are you saying-"
"I can say nothing conclusively until I met her in person," the psychiatrist said. "An idea which you seem heftily opposed to, so it likely will not happen. However, from my perspective, she is in a similar position to you – isolated from you for long periods of time, and at a key developmental phase in her life. Nothing you have said has ruled out such a possibility, nor confirmed it. You know your own sister better than I do, so I shall leave it to you to discover the extent of her affection for you, platonic or otherwise. But you certainly should try to ascertain this, for the best course of action going forward will depend strongly on that."
Well, gee, doc, when you put it like that, it sounds so easy. I'll just ask, Say, Anna, do you want to fuck me as badly as I want to fuck you? And we'll see where the conversation goes from there.
She put a hand to her head. "Fuck, this is all my fault," she said. "I just wanted to help her find a date, and now I might've fucked her up too."
The doctor put a sympathetic hand on hers. "You are not to blame," he said. "Anna is a consenting adult, just as you are. The age of consent implies the mental fortitude to choose the proper mate for yourself."
"Well, yeah, in theory," Elsa said. "In practice…"
The doctor chortled. "In practice, miss Elsa, some people never acquire such fortitude."
Eventually, she nodded. "So, those are my three options," she said. "I hate all of them."
The doctor nodded. "It's not an easy choice to make," he said sympathetically. "But you will have to choose something."
Elsa looked him in the eyes. "And those are the only options I have?" she said, the skepticism in her voice apparent.
He stared right back at her. "The only ones I can recommend," he said flatly.
She told herself not to press the matter any further, that she didn't want to know the answer to the question she was about to ask. But…if she didn't ask him now…
"This may be a stupid question," she said. "But if these feelings are…reciprocal…wouldn't the best solution be…one you haven't suggested?"
From his reaction, she could tell he knew exactly what she meant. "Tell me, miss Arendelle, have you ever had a bad breakup?"
She swallowed. "One or two," she said.
"Then you know the risks inherent in any relationship. Young relationships are fickle, prone to misinterpretations, misunderstandings, and fights. If things don't work out, you may still be friends afterwards, or you may not. I doubt you want to throw the dice on this particular friendship."
She cringed. "No," she said quietly. "I don't."
"That being said, I am a psychiatrist, not a hypnotist. I can't force you to do anything, only give you counsel." He adjusted his glasses. "You at least seem more receptive to my advice than most who have come to see me, I must say."
"So, doctor," she said. "You've given me…a number of options. Which one would you recommend the most?"
He straightened himself, his body language suggesting than the session was nearly over. "Well, I'd recommend the third option, myself, but if you are still leery of that…" He grabbed a prescription page from his desk and scribbled on it, then handed it to her. It was a nearly illegible scrawl, with only the signature Dr. G Pabolo legible to Elsa's eyes.
"This is a prescription for one month's supply of an SSRI," he said. Seeing her open her mouth again, he raised a hand. "You don't have to take it. You don't even need to redeem this right away. But if you find your emotions getting out of control, and you fear you might do something you'll regret, then consider this prescription as a safety net."
Elsa nodded. "I will." She got to her feet. "Thank you very much, doctor Pabolo," she said, shaking his hand. "You've been a big help."
"You're very welcome," the doctor said. "If you're ever unsure about what to do next, come and see me again."
Heh, she thought as she walked out the door. If I did that, doc, I'd never leave.
Walking down the hall, away from his office, Elsa mulled over her options. The fact that her possible actions had been laid out and numbered in no way made them easier to choose from.
Just hide my feeling forever, taking drugs every time I get horny? No thanks.
Lock myself away, and hope this affection just blows over? Not gonna happen.
Sit myself and Anna down in front of a shrink and talk about our potentially mutual unholy desire for one another? I don't fucking think so.
Which left only…the fourth option. The one she hadn't even wanted to consider, that would depend entirely on whether or not she'd already fucked things up with Anna.
A line drifted into her mind, from one of those Sherlock TV shows.
"Once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."
"Fuck off, Sherlock," she muttered to herself. "I bet if you wanted to fuck Mycroft, you wouldn't be able to think so clearly!"