Prenuptial Jitters

This is post 22 of Section III. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here.

“Oh yeah,” Robert said. “You can dish, but can you swish?”
“That’s rather clever, enfant,” Jack said, pausing coffee cup in hand. “Your own?”
“No, Frank’s.”
“About what you’d expect from a piccolo player.”
“Hmm.” Robert sipped his latte.
“Anyway, this isn’t really about my insecurities; it’s about yours.”
“Come again, Herr Freud?”
“You fear—not commitment, maybe—but let’s call it domestic life. The quotidian ‘Whose turn is it to make dinner?’ and ‘How was your day, chéri?’ and ‘Guess who I saw at the health club?’ In a word, becoming your parents.”
“My parents wouldn’t know a health club if it bit them in the gluteus,” said Robert, reaching for the paper. Then he paused, reflectively. “Still, there may be something in what you say.” He looked up, putting his hand to his cheek and widening his eyes in a frightened manner. “Tell me, Doktor. Vat can I do about zees feelings?”
Jack looked at his watch. “Sorry—our time is up. But I sink you must never overcome your transference.”
They kissed briefly; then Jack went off to the library and Robert took out his clarinet.

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