i_speak_softly | Luceti Appointments

[It always sends a little pang through Robert to think about that - that Don had to suffer to gain knowledge, had to struggle to get anywhere...]

... Your family is... very strong.

Still, I am happy that you have better access here... [He looks around the room again.] And... I should look into this sort of thing myself.

[He gestures to a rack of barbells.] You're welcome to use the free weights.

Can you instruct me on how to do so? [Don, meet a man who has never lifted a barbell in his life.] I... I would like to learn the proper protocol involved.

[... Oh, right.]

[Don selects a five-pound barbell and hands it to Robert, then takes a twenty-pound weight for himself, holding it at his side with elbow slightly bent and palm facing forward.]

[Robert takes the barbell, studying it curiously. It has heft in his hands - five pounds of heft, which admittedly isn't much - and it's strange to hold an object like that, with such an odd shape.

After a moment, he emulates Don's posture, balancing the barbell on his hand with obsessive care.]

... Like this?

[... It might be somewhat off. Feel free to correct him.]

[Don reaches forward to adjust the position of Robert's wrist and fingers - it's a barbell, not a serving tray - then moves back and smiles.]

There you go.

[That's not a "natural" holding position for Robert, and it's uncomfortable, but he tries to adjust to the way it sits in his hand.]

... Now what exactly do I do?

[Don fixes Robert's grip again.]

Now you lift it.

[And he demonstrates a bicep curl. If Robert knows what to watch for, he will notice that the lifting comes from Don's upper arm, and not from his shoulder or back.]

[Let's see if he can emulate it. Robert tries his best to repeat the action - he should be mostly lifting from his upper arm, but there may be some awkwardness here as he tries to compensate.]

... This is... interesting.

[Don laughs.] Only the first thousand times.

[And he lifts again.]

[It's a repetitive, rhythmic motion - perfect for Robert to get engrossed in. And so, along with Don, he continues it, with less effort than he honestly had expected to need.]

I never thought I would be doing something like this.

... Then again, you do seem to be that sort of person... giving me all sorts of new experiences.

Listen, Robert... [Don lifts and lowers the weight rhythmically as he speaks, the movements guided by some part of his brain that has spent many, many hours doing exactly this.] I'm glad you're willing to do these things for me. I really think that they're good for you. But if I ask you to do anything that you don't want to do... please say so. Do you understand?

[Objectively, he understands this. Subjectively? It's much harder to do something against Don than anybody, even Robert himself, might give him credit for.

But he nods brightly anyway.]

Of course, Don... It is never ethical to do something without someone's explicit consent.

[A frown furrows his brow, and he switches hands. Sorry, Robert, but he's going to have to be blunt.]

I think sometimes you say yes when you don't mean it.

[Bluntness is always appreciated, though this certainly takes Robert by surprise.]

... Why do you say that?

[It's actually a genuine question. Robert doesn't exactly see this from the same perspective...]

[The frown moves down his face.]

Am I wrong?

...

[Robert gnaws a lip anxiously before admitting:] ... Perhaps not entirely.

[That's the most weasel-word-ingest way of saying no, ever.]

Robert. [He puts the weight back on the rack and moves to sit on the bench again, leaving room for the scientist to sit next to him.] Talk to me.

[Robert puts his own weight back, and sits next to Don, looking a little awkwardly at the floor.]

... I do not want to... to be a disappointment. Or... or to get this wrong again...

[So much hinges on this, for Robert. Getting it wrong isn't acceptable.]

[Don looks at the floor also. He has a sense that something here is terribly wrong, but he's not sure yet how to put it into words.]

How can I be a good partner for you if I fail your expectations...? [Robert is half-speaking to himself at this point, expressing this rather dangerous sentiment that might make it more obvious just what the problem here is.]

Robert, that's not -- [He makes a noise of frustration. This is too close to a question he asks himself, one that he still struggles with the answer to.]

[Not seeing this himself, Robert just cringes in place, hunching his shoulders before wringing his hands against his chest.]

I... I d-do not want to fail you. I... I do not want to... be inadequate for you...

... I already made so many mistakes before... you should not have to tolerate them. You deserve... perfection.

[And so this requires putting Don before himself in all things, and because perfection is impossible... Well, Robert's setting himself up to fail.]

No. [Don stands abruptly and stalks over to the sandbag.] You're not a failure. If I have expectations, and you don't meet them, then it's the expectations that are wrong. I don't want to change the facts to fit the hypothesis, Robert, I want the truth. [He grasps the bag and presses his forehead against it.] I want you.

[For a few long seconds Robert doesn't say anything. He doesn't even really know what to say to that. It's such a fundamental redefinition of dealing with... anybody, really. How many times has he felt like he should sacrifice himself on a pedestal for the sake of other people?]

... Don... [He looks up, over at where his partner is fiercely embracing the sandbag. His eyes are teary, but his voice is relatively strong.]

... How do I do that without... without being a disappointment...?

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