text: By the time Cooper and Park had gotten up and showered, they'd missed their window for breakfast and had to hightail it to their first counseling session on nothing more than the two little foil-wrapped chocolates that had been left on their pillows the day before. Well, Cooper had two chocolates. Park had valiantly donated his own, and in turn Cooper valiantly resisted telling him how delicious they were.
  
  Having a "lie in and a late start" did wonders for their cover story but not a lot of good for Cooper's stomach. He was unusually hungry that morning. Unusual for him and his medically picky guts, anyway. Though perhaps it wasn't really strange considering the amount of exercise he'd done yesterday—and this morning—on barely more than the emergency nutrition the staff had forced on him post-river dip. What remained of his shredded, fragile gut had worked up an appetite. So much so that humiliatingly he swayed woozily while walking into Dr. Joyce's office.
  
  "Are you all right?" Dr. Joyce asked, reaching out, not quite touching, but ready to catch him if Cooper actually fell.
  
  "Completely," Cooper said, and nodded reassuringly at Park's troubled look. "Early morning and no coffee makes Jack a dull boy."
  
  "I think I can prescribe something for that," Dr. Joyce said, closing the door behind them. He gestured to a sleek, single-serve coffeemaker on a low, wooden side table.
  
  "Therapy really does solve all your problems," Cooper marveled.
  
  The room was nice enough in a prep-school dean's office sort of way, but there was a faint scent of lavender in it that reminded him of his mother's gazebo, around which bushes of the stuff had grown. A doubly troubling memory, as of last summer's shenanigans.
  
  "How long have you worked here?" Cooper asked as he and Park took up a small love seat facing a comfy-looking armchair and Joyce put together coffee for them. Behind the chair was an intimidating desk framed by two large bookshelves. Two of the corners of the office housed large floor plants in unglazed dark blue pots, looking almost too healthy to be real. Maybe they weren't. Maybe they were there for quick and handy visual metaphors. Something to point at when Dr. Joyce told couples to nurture and grow and...fertilize?
  
  "Oh, since the beginning. Vanessa and I worked together before, so when she first decided to open the retreat she was kind enough to offer me a position."
  
  Joyce handed out the mugs, and Cooper inhaled the steam from his before taking a careful but deep sip. He relished the ache and burn in his mouth. "Not bad for pods," he said.
  
  "The marvels of modern science," Dr. Joyce agreed as he settled himself, loosely cross-legged, in the armchair, a small notebook in hand. "You seem in a much better mood than yesterday, Kyle. No side effects from your unscheduled swim?" He smiled kindly to take any edge out of the words.
  
  "Nope!" Cooper popped the P. "I feel baptized, reborn and ready to rumble." He wondered if it was as boring for people to hear as it was for him to keep saying it.
  
  But Dr. Joyce just looked impressed. "Nothing at all?"
  
  "He had a slight fever last night, but was, ah, all better this morning." Park stumbled slightly over the words and Cooper tried not to look like someone who had just gotten railed into the mattress by nodding solemnly.
  
  "I'm relieved to hear it," Dr. Joyce said. "Should we get started on what's brought you here today?"
  
  "'What we've got here is failure to communicate,'" Cooper quoted, and ignored Park's overly put-upon sigh. If "Andrew" thought he was going to miss an opportunity for a reference like that, maybe this fake relationship wasn't worth saving.
  
  Dr. Joyce just smiled patiently, which was a shame, and scribbled something into his notebook that hopefully didn't include the words humor and deflection.
  
  "Actually, the way we do things at Maudit is to begin with your AQs."
  
  Cooper flinched and pulled one of the two tiny decorative pillows from behind him into his lap. How had he forgotten about those already. He picked at it as Joyce reached behind him and pulled a folder off his desk, opening it in his lap.
  
  "Andrew, I see here you've tested many times before. Any questions or concerns about your result?"
  
  "No," Park said shortly.
  
  At the same time Cooper said, "What? You got yours back already? Why didn't you say anything?"
  
  Park's expression was confused. "I got it this morning. I assumed you did too and just didn't want to talk about..." He trailed off.
  
  Dr. Joyce cleared his throat. "Actually, Kyle, there was a slight problem with your test." He held his hand up to calm Cooper's concern. "Not your fault, I promise. Sometimes a specific set of questions just isn't compatible to a specific person. We're not quite as uniform as all that yet, thank goodness. I promise it's a fairly common pitfall of the system."
  
  Cooper glanced at Park and he nodded encouragingly back as if to say, Yes, that's true.
  
  "I'd like to ask you to take it again. Another question set, of course. If you don't mind staying a little after today's session."
  
  "Um," Cooper said. He and Park had big plans to snoop out Kreuger's office, but what was he going to say, no? And besides, Cooper would be lying if he didn't acknowledge at least a little part of his reluctance to retake was because he just didn't want to know. Not getting the result felt like a reprieve. "Sure. Yeah, that's no problem." He forced the words out firmly.
  
  "Excellent. Now, why don't you start by telling me how you two met?"
  
  They spent the next hour gamely following the loose script Cooper and Park had worked on when discussing their cover stories and then meandered into what parts of their relationship were a source of stress. Feeling a bit off balance knowing he'd have to take that thing again, Cooper let Park do the majority of the talking. He nodded when he should, and argued when he was supposed to, but the test continued to loom in the corner of his mind. He didn't even laugh when Dr. Joyce gave them suggestions like incorporating activities that required teamwork into their weekly schedules, "Activi-we-s, if you will."
  
  It wasn't until Dr. Joyce mentioned taking time-outs if they felt an argument becoming more about besting the other person rather than a discussion that he even brought up the AQs again.
  
  "Not every conflict can be approached as something that needs to be won," Joyce said. "Of course, we'll be able to talk about this more when you have your results back, Kyle. But for now, are there any other sources of tension you personally feel come from an unwillingness to let go of the reins?"
  
  Cooper frowned. Was he supposed to be letting go of the reins? Was that a healthy partnership? Or was that just because Joyce assumed Park's own giant AQ couldn't and shouldn't possibly be confined?
  
  "I don't think so," Cooper said. It was obviously the wrong answer. But Dr. Joyce nodded sympathetically and began to make another note in his book.
  
  Park remained silent beside him, then suddenly blurted out, "We're having some tension over buying a house."
  
  Cooper looked at him in surprise, but Park shrugged a little. You said tell the truth, right?
  
  "That's not because I want to control the situation," Cooper said slowly. "I'm just..."
  
  Both Park and Joyce were looking at him expectantly now, but Cooper had no idea what to say. Did he really need to explain himself? Was it so abnormal to be nervous giving up his own space and security to be at the complete mercy of another? It wasn't that he didn't trust Park. He...didn't trust himself.
  
  Cooper cleared his throat, which felt suddenly tight and strained. "Figuring out what you want is hard and adding another person is harder," he said vaguely.
  
  "I might be able to help with that," Joyce said. He spent the rest of the session giving them some thought exercises to do and then handed them each a chart he wanted them to fill out and bring to their nest session.
  
  "Homework?" Cooper asked scanning the paper. It had three columns titled: Need, Want and Would Be Nice for them to organize each of their priorities for a house.
  
  "I'm afraid so," Dr. Joyce said, glancing at the wall clock. "And now another test. Therapy's a lot more work than people expect, I know."
  
  "But that rose garden you promised me," Cooper mumbled, and felt Park snort with laughter and his hand shifted on the love seat to touch Cooper's thigh. Oddly enough, that small gesture made Cooper feel a bit more ready. "All right, hit me with it. Where's this new test?"
  
  Dr. Joyce's eyes tracked Park's hand. "Actually, Andrew, I'm going to ask you to give us the room."
  
  "Oh," said Park, sounding unsure. He looked at Cooper, who shrugged that he was fine with that. "Okay. I'll see you later, then." He hesitated, then kissed Cooper quickly on the cheek before standing hurriedly and making his goodbyes.
  
  Cooper was still touching the warm spot on his skin, too surprised to react, when Park left.
  
  "If you wouldn't mind sitting here, Kyle." Dr. Joyce waited until Cooper took the seat indicated behind the large desk. It was much harder than the love seat and uncomfortable in a way that reminded Cooper of his early morning with Park. He missed Park. Which was hands down the most ridiculous thought he'd had all year, considering Park had literally just left the room. But Cooper felt oddly exhausted and tender this morning. Was this what talking about feelings for an hour did to a person? What a nightmare.
  
  Cooper's leg still itched and his head was beginning to ache as well. Whether from tension, not getting caffeine into his system fast enough or the light aroma of lavender that had grown more irritating and cloying the more stressed Cooper got was unclear.
  
  "Another coffee?" Joyce asked catching Cooper massaging his temples.
  
  "Better not," Cooper said quickly. "It's just... I think the lavender's giving me a headache."
  
  Dr. Joyce looked surprised. "You have a rather sharp sense of smell for your kind," he said.
  
  "I bet you say that to all the boys."
  
  "I'm sorry it's bothering you," Joyce said. "It's generally supposed to be a relaxing. Fights anxiety by lowering the heart rate and blood pressure."
  
  "What if you don't like the scent?" Cooper asked.
  
  "Then I'm afraid you're beyond help."
  
  Cooper laughed, startled by this glimmer of a sense of humor. Dr. Joyce winked and placed a sheaf of about ten papers on the desk in front of him.
  
  "An older edition," he said. "Maybe a bit dated, but no repeat questions, so the results shouldn't be skewed."
  
  "Is this one timed, too?" Cooper asked, glancing at the first page. He wondered if Park had taken this version before. Then abruptly wondered if the very reason Dr. Joyce had separated them was because he thought Cooper had cheated.
  
  "Yes, I'll be timing you, but try not to worry about that." Dr. Joyce opened one of the desk drawers and searched for a pen. "Actually, before you begin, there's something I wanted to speak to you about in private," he said cautiously, still looking in the drawer and not at Cooper. "After you'd been pulled from the river, I could not help but notice the injury. On your belly." He paused. Cooper didn't breathe. "Did Andrew do that?"
  
  Cooper exhaled with a whoosh and laughed. It wasn't a funny suggestion, but the absurdity of Park hurting him—and the relief that Joyce hadn't just accused him of cheating on his AQ—made him feel oddly relieved and light.
  
  "No. God, no. Absolutely not. He would never," Cooper said, then realizing he might be protesting too much, snapped his mouth shut. He'd been hoping to get through the weekend without anyone seeing the scars, but he'd be a pretty shit agent if he hadn't worked out a cover story just in case. "That was from a couple of years ago. Before I met Andrew. Mugging. Tried to fight back. Obviously I wasn't prepared for this." He gestured to himself. Normally he hated talking about the damage to his body left behind by Symer. But today, like this, it was extremely easy to recite the lie for the very reason that it was a lie. A thing that had happened to Kyle. Left its mark on Kyle. Almost like Cooper wasn't the one who had been attacked at all. "Andrew would never hurt me."
  
  "I'm very glad to hear that. I hope you understand why I have to ask."
  
  "I do," Cooper said honestly. Hesitated. "Do you...ever treat couples who you think really shouldn't actually stay together?" he asked, thinking of Jimmy and Lisa.
  
  Joyce blinked at him curiously. "Do you have concerns of incompatibility with Andrew?"
  
  "Oh no, we're fine," Cooper said quickly.
  
  Dr. Joyce remained quiet, longer than a normal, comfortable pause in conversation and something about the silence made Cooper want to keep talking. The expectancy of it perhaps, or maybe it was the papers staring starkly up at him.
  
  "It's just all this talk about, well, AQs and stuff. I guess I don't understand what I'm...aiming for here. What's the ideal sort of ratio? I mean, do you ever get results and just think, oh no, this won't work, they'd better throw in the towel?"
  
  Joyce's expression was distant for a moment as he considered the question carefully. "Aiming for. I've never heard it put quite like that before." He smiled suddenly. "Just try and take it as naturally as possible. I promise you, I've been working here since the day Dr. Claymont opened the retreat and I've yet to tell anyone to end a relationship based on an AQ. So..." Dr. Joyce handed him a pen. "Are you ready to begin?"
  
  Cooper looked down at the test, apprehensive. He wished Park was with him, teasing him with AQ questions about real estate. Then Park's disappointed face when he wasn't able to name three things about the last house they'd toured, and Cooper swallowed against the suddenly tight feeling in his throat.
  
  "Actually," Cooper said impulsively. "Could I ask you one more thing?"
  
  Dr. Joyce perched on the arm of the nearby chair. "Of course. What's on your mind?"
  
  "Before, when you were talking about...problems letting go of control." He paused. "I...sometimes I feel that. About this house thing, I mean. The truth is, I haven't really been trying to...help with the tensions about the house stuff. I haven't even wanted to because the less we agree about places, the longer we put off actually moving."
  
  "Why do you think you're doing this?"
  
  Cooper shook his head. "I don't know. I mean I've been looking after myself, just myself, for a long time. Like, a really long time." He forced his face to smile and Joyce nodded sympathetically. "And then this all just happened so quickly and, well, yeah, maybe it's freaking me out a little bit."
  
  "Have you talked about this with Andrew?"
  
  Cooper grimaced. "Not in those exact words. I think it would worry him. He's just so...sure about this whole thing. And I'm sure, too," he added hastily. "I like the idea of putting down roots with him. But I like my apartment. I like my neighbors. I like our life now."
  
  Joyce tilted his head thoughtfully. "A thing doesn't have to turn completely bad before you leave it behind. Something better just needs to come along."
  
  Cooper blinked at him "That sounds like some serious midlife crisis advice given right before a really shit decision."
  
  "It's true, though. Sometimes the best thing we can do is move on. If you're waiting to hate your current apartment, it might never feel like the right time to move. Of course, the key is determining that the other thing is truly better. Is investing in a future with Andrew better than digging your heels in, staying where you are and hoping nothing ever forces a change?"
  
  Cooper made a face. "Wow. I can tell by the phrasing of that question you're not trying to influence me one way or another."
  
  Dr. Joyce chuckled softly. "If you only ever make a change when you're unhappy, you'll always be in the position of running away from something, never running toward it."
  
  Cooper tapped his fingers on the desk. "You know, I think I liked you better when you were being a barista."
  
  "But how do you like me as a proctor?" Joyce winked and nodded at the waiting test.
  
  "Now, if you really want to see what I look like running away," Cooper grumbled, but flipped the first page over and began.