Black, leather docs carried herself the small, dark space of dated wood and fragranced with frankincense and the cloud of chlorine that clung to her skin from very early that morning.

She sat forward; torn, black skinny jeans on legs wide open, elbows on her knees as she got comfortable. She could only just make out the silhouette of the priest through the many, many small hexagram shaped holes that honeycombed the partition between herself and Father Jesou.

"How many days since your last confession?"

"I..." she sighed and brought her hands to her face, trying to rub the exhaustion from her eyes. "I couldn't say."

"Are you here to confess a venial or mortal sin?"

"Wait, Father."

"...Yes?" His voice strung with the kind of practiced warmth and compassion that made her edgy.

"What if .... what if someone don't got a soul that can be saved? What about a sin then?"

There was resounding, tightly-woven silence for a long time.

"I'm afraid, I can't answer that. I don't think you will find what you are looking for here, child."

Roach frowned and looked down into her open palms.

"What about grace?"

"If you have committed mortal sin, it destroys the ... essence of grace in your soul. It is an offence against Christ. Have you committed a mortal sin?"

"Yes.."

"Do you have a soul. If s--?"

"Uhm.."

Silence.

"Child, you are making me feel very, very uncomfortable."

"What if someone... someone repents?"

"There are three conditions, for a sin to quality as mortal. Are you willing to recognise the severity of one?"

"What are the conditions?"

He paused, cleared his throat a few times and went on.

"The act you committed must be something serious. You must have been cognisant of the act and what was done and why. You must have had freedom of will, in order to conduct this act you were complicit in and of."

"And... and what if I did some of these things, out of my choice, because I had no others? Because, if I didn't, I might have ended up.. wells, dead?" Her voice a tremor at the end.

There was another span of silence that felt like she was being strangled. She closed her eyes against the heat in her eyes.

"We cannot continue without you addressing this; your answer forfeits further discussion if it is that you do not. I will ask you again. Do you still have a soul? This is Rhydin. This is a valid and very serious question, child. You must be certain of this, as fact, before you can begin to restore the grace you seek."

"I have one. But, it's no--"

"You have a soul. But it is not, what, exactly, child?"

"It's not... " she tapped at her knee caps. "It's not mine anymore."

A wooden divider was abruptly driven back across the honeycomb, blocking her view of the hunched silhouette entirely.

"Hello?" She reached out and beat her knuckles against the divider. "Hey? You, uh, you still there, yo?"

Silence.

"What's the deal with the assimilating?"

"It's a notion, to some, a controversial one, but one I think is very powerful. It's about acknowledging the strength in your flaws instead of critically assessing them as.. well, as mal-adapative. Everyone has their adaptive glue, their coping skills, and they aren't always healthy. They can be damaging and it depends entirely on what the personal, pain strategy is. But. What I am presenting to you is a way of empowering yourself with the parts of you that might disenfranchising you, instead."

"Jesus christ. You recording this all or sommin? Bit to take in."

Finch cast a wide, understanding smile and glanced over to the stereo system. "If you like, we can do that. I don't often recommend it being that the city has its magic and recordings can be compromising if they were to fall into the wrong hands. But if you wish..."

"Naahh, looks. Go on. So, this whole ideas thing. What were you saying, after the whole glue part?"

"If you're sure. What I am getting back to, about boundaries and behaviour, is that our ideas inform our beliefs and when we change our beliefs about things we can change the way we think about situations, people and more significantly, in this case, ourselves. We can then change our behaviours according. But in all transformation is decay. The chrysalis."

He placed the book down on the table and she sat forward a little more herself to begin flicking through it. Oh my god, this is actually... Persephone Principle? Maybe you should look around, maybe there's a hidden camera.

"Like, okay. You're saying that my behaviours may not be actually bad but that if I try and thought abouts some shiz differently, I wouldn't act the way I am? That kinda on the money, or am I off the betting table?"

"You're on the right track."

"I feel like my synapses just exploded but okay."

Finch laughed again and sat back looking at her for a length of time.

"Can I ask what or whom directed you here? Did your partner advise you to visit, or was it something else?"

"I am seeking answers. Like I says before, I got a ... a situation going on and I am trying to find a way to deal with that and also's, as a part of that...."

He tilted his head and nodded that she go on.

"Ah man, this is hard." She exhaled and rubbed at her temples. "As a part of coming to terms with a larger problem, I wondered if maybe, other stuff, smaller stuff, might be connected. I feels like, maybe, there's a few things at play and also ... I hurt people. And, I feels bad. I love someone and I want to be able to be there for him, too." Roach stiffened and swallowed and closed the book with a sweep of black nails across the cover. "I got this want to take care of him and be stronger. And not be a sucker who can't do nothing for no one, you know, emo-wise. I am getting better at saying no. I quit coke years ago so.." her voice vibrating with tension, "so I know's that it is possible. To... to stop. But this behaviour, these boundaries, it.. it goes back before even the drugs. And it's ambiguous, like the bigger pic, why it's... it's the way it is.."

"Roach, it is hard. I mentioned before the chrysalis, decay, death. When we move forward there is often pain involved. I can't promise you that is will be easy, that you won't feel it is hard in a week or even a year. But at some point it does get easier and you will begin to find that these new beliefs you have about yourself start to filter into your actions and so forth. And you will begin to feel like it isn't hard at all. But the hardest part, the most seemingly insurmountable part, is always, always the first step."

She looked up at him, his words forcing a twinge of a smile to appear.

"You have already taken that. That is the first and greatest hurdle. You realise you have a problem and want to change it. But first, I'm going to help you to recognise it as something else; change the way you see it completely. And, from there, we can move onto other things. I'm going to need to ask you some very personal questions."

"Like what?"

"There's a reason why you are identifying this behaviour as problematic. As hurtful. You are feeling contrite, aware, bothered and that reaction is from a trigger that something isn't sitting right with you, in the very same way as our hand driving back if we get too close to a hot stove." He made the action, throwing his hand back and then changed the pen between them to write down something else she couldn't make out.

"At some point, you weren't recognising this. I want to observe, from you, the history of this behaviour. The times where boundaries were non-existent. Give me an example."

"I cheated on someone and I really hurt him. And, I can't seem to say no even though..." She tattled her fingertips against the book. "Since that, I've ... mucked around."

"Is there a feeling you get when the situation arises and you feel that you can't?"

"No. But.." she was rubbing at her temples the other night.

"I need a break."

Finch placed down the paper, pen and folder and walked over to the water cooler and fetched her small, styrofoam cup of water which he brought back and handed over. She took it in a gulp and placed it down by the book between them on the clear coffee table.

"When you're ready."

"I'm not, Doc."

He nodded a couple times and looked down to the table as he placed the side of a calf over his knee. "Take your time."

They sat in silence as she stared down at her palms. Come on, Lizzie. Quit frakking around. You're here. Make the most of it.

"I had sex the other morning with someone. And, afterwards, for a brief bit? This... " she shook her head again and sat up a bit straighter and clasped her hands. "I felt this thing. This... real icky, icky kind of pit in my stomach. And I..."

He held up a hand. "It's okay. Don't push it. Low volume. You're doing good. You're being honest."

She nodded and sighed.

"Going to hurt, Roach. But sounds like it's another of those hot stove moments."

"That a technical term? Hot stove moments?"

He humoured her. "No, it's not. But it makes it easier for you to follow."

She smirked and looked down at her boots, rubbing the sides of them against one another. "So's, something is telling me that what I'm doing isn't good no more?"

"Conscience. And change. Feelings of being hollow or empty as some describe, come from a feeling of being displaced in some regard. It's a sign from your body as much as it is your mind that it isn't right for you."

"Right."

"But you said, you love someone. And how does it feel with him?"

"Perfect." Immediately, her face lifting and she was smiling. "I mean, it's not like, shiz was bad with this other guy the other morning, mean, guy is hot, got that French accent, daaaaaaamn, and the one I love, it's great, but it's not why it's good with him, you know?"

"Because you love him."

"Yeah. It's different. When we are together, I don't feel bad. Never. He makes me feel so frakking happy." She grit her teeth and looked down, rubbing at her forehead with the heel of a hand.

"I don't want to lose him."

"That's good. But, you're not here for him, Roach. You're here for you. And if you work on you for you it's much more likely to stick. If he were to leave you, for any reason, and you make these changes, you will revert back to your old ways."

She dropped her hand and met his eyes again as he removed his glasses and reached out to move the book closer towards her on the table between them. "Read this. Give it a think but not too hard. Let it sink in. And when you come back, in a couple weeks, we can discuss the parts I'm going to ask you circle and make your own notes on. In your own time, in your own pace."

Taking the book up she sighed again and tapped the cover with her the side of her thumb.

"You said something befores. About, things not being bad. The comfort thing?"

"Yes, and?"

"Sounds like maybe you were ... getting somewheres with that."

"It is a point I will circle back to."

She frowned a touch. "Can I ask something about that?"

"Of course you can. Go ahead." He gave her a warm smile and indicated she go on with a tip of his head.

"That whole Margaret thing. What if I want Hank and Mark, likes, what if that's just me?"

"Maybe that is the case. I can't advise you on your personal morality, Roach. I can help guide you but at the end of the day you need to decide yourself on what beliefs you want for yourself and if the behaviour you exhibit matches that, based upon the feelings in between these things. Good or bad. And likewise, how these thoughts, actions and feelings affect Hank, or Hank and Mark and... what was it, Shirlee, as the case may be."

"But it's not bad, then, to likes... a few peeps?"

Finch smiled a little. "That is up to you to decide. For some people, it isn't bad, for some people, it is. I think, professional speaking, for someone who has boundary issues a few partners is a recipe for disaster, if I can be so frank. But if you are honestly asking me what I think, then, I would not recommend it. At least, not while you are in a period of flux. Of disturbance. But you would need to elucidate on things, this, bigger picture you spoke of and I intend to circle back to that too. Right now, I am trying to establish, with you, and for you, what those boundaries are."

"So's having a few lovers isn't necessarily.. wells, frakked up?"

"There is more to it than that."

"Is there, really?"

"There are behaviours which are... akin to a programming. Something we have experienced that lead us to acting a certain way and there is a belief behind that. That aside, some people can have functional, happy, multi-partner, ethical relationships. But.."

"But what if I really likes all three?"

"You may very well. But if you feel emptiness or discomfort, then it needs to be acknowledged. Roach, I want to help you to start leading an examined life. To help you to better apply meaning to things. You are capable of this; you've told me as much, and for someone that doesn't "talky-talky", you're making plenty of sense. You're articulating some difficult concepts just fine."

"My head hurts."

He looked at her with an expression of mild amusement as he stood and moved to the door. Roach grabbed her hefty purse off the floor and slung its strap over her shoulder while grabbing the book.

"We can leave it for today. Just, it has to be a step at a time. If, morally, you are feeling you have questions, there are resources for that. I can certainly assist you on that basis, however, I feel that one's morals, pertinent to their sexuality or religion, is something that really is personal choice. Someone might advise you on their opinion on either, but it doesn't make it right."

He opened the door and smiled again. "You will find the answers you seek. But you have to have the right tools first, Roach. Perception, attitude, belief they each go into that. Right now, something isn't sitting well with you, so have a read of that book and try and apply the parts you like to what you're experiencing. See if you can find some... parallel." He nodded once and moved with her into the waiting room and rested an elbow on the counter as she paid Rosie.

"Two weeks."

"Alright, Doc."

He grinned at her and turned to head back in. Once she was paid up she walked out into the sun, the door swinging shut behind her.

Rosie looked back at Finch at the exact moment he peered around the door.

"Reckon she will come back, Maynard?"

"She'll be back. There's a light bulb going off."

Rosie smiled sweetly and laughed a little. "There's something going off."

They shared a chuckle. "Every one in a while you get one of those. They can be the sorts that surprise you."


Further on down the street she paused by a bin to toss the book in... when she froze. She looked down at the cover with a grimace, a roll of eyes at that bright blue sky and flicked through it one more time. Then muttered, shoved it back into her bag, turned the corner and walked on, lighting up a smoke.

"Hey Roach."

"Yo, Doc."

"Please, have a seat."

Settling down into the chair she dumped her bag and went for her cigarettes - only to pause.

"By the window is fine."

"Oh? Okay." And up she got, to join him by the window he was unlatching to raise.

"I'll join you." And Finch stepped over to open a drawer and reach inside for one of his Lucky Strikes and a small, cheap, red bic.

"Tell me about your week, Roach. Since we met last." He lit up and the way he went about handling the cigarette, his fingers, reminded her of Vitaly's elegance and immediately guilt and sadness ran through her like a full-body paper cut.

"Kinda shizzy, to be honest. Kinda real... real frakking awesome."

"Start with the good?" He exhaled and stared off into the sunny courtyard outside.

"I saw my boyfriend a bit more. We's good. But, I still haven't told him nothing, is all. But we's good, you know? And been spending more time with an old friend of mine from back in the Crez."

"Crez?"

"New Orleans."

Finch turned to look at her through his thick-framed glasses, wonderingly. Then "Ah, Crescent City."

"Yo." Pointing her cigarette at him. "Bingo, Doc."

"And what else has been positive?"

"Vitaly, someone... who has become real important to me, he .. he's been in hospital. And uh... he's doing a bit better. He's been in an induced coma and they're going to pull him outta that shiz. Thank frakk."

Finch smiled, if dimly and exhaled. "That's great news, Roach."

"Yeah, relieved is... " she sighed and blew smoke in smooth jets from her nose. "And, other good stuff but, it uh, it goes into what we was talking about last week. Boundaries."

He frowned in a considered way and lowered his smoking hand to tuck a hand down the pocket of his jeans and study her face. "Pushing or maintaining?"

"Been frakking this guy. At first, it was all bizz."

"Bizz? What is it you do, Roach? You put Sales on the form you filled out, but unless by sales you meant stripper or prost, most people don't sleep with their clients." He grinned, just barely. "I suppose, then, you're not most people..."

Roach barked with smoke-ridden laughter, coughing. A wave of a hand.

"I can'ts really goes into that stuff."

"It's confidential, Roach." He implored, his face concerned.

She peered out at the garden, hard, just like her pull on that cigarette held delicately between forefinger and middle. A slant-wise look his way. "You don't got to report shiz, likes, surely, some of what I say goes somewhere."

"Only if you go missing, or, wind up dead; which, in the case of the latter, you won't have to worry about it." He smirked.

She frowned and then grinned a bit. "You a dark mofo, man."

"Is that.. a compliment?" He was smiling a bit more, peering at her over his glasses.

"Nope. Just an observation, Doc." But she was grinning even wider, a shoulder turned back as she leaned into it and gazed at him thoughtfully before looking back into the garden and exhaling.

"So, about the boundaries. You slept with a business associate. And, you've not told your boyfriend. Is that the only boundary you've..." He took another pull as she took the cigarette from her own mouth and stepped up to sit on the sill and carelessly ash her cigarette into a bush below. Finch moved over to his desk, collected the ceramic ash tray by the monitor and placed it on the sill by her knee.

"It's not just bizz no more. That's the problem. And, I don'ts know why, cuz, I love my boyfriend, likes, first time I've had these, these feelings, like I tells you last time I was here? But this guy. Man. We, we so intense? We frakk for hours and hours and watch movies and ... man." She tries to swallow away the lump in her throat and in a nervy way takes another draw. "He reads frakking ... poetry to me from books? And tells me all this shiz about the world and words and... it's like being a teenager again? And it bothers me because, we dived right in and it's a lot, a lot of... of stuff, there, he and I, straight up."

Doctor Finch nodded, stubbed his cigarette and then walked over to drop into his wheeled chair behind his desk.

"So you are saying that the boundaries you are worried about, with regards to this business associate who is now - a second boyfriend - you're concerned you have feelings? It's not so much the boundary you broke by sleeping with another man, again, as it is, having an emotional attachment?"

"Yo, Doc, I am nots attached. Not likes, it's..." she shut up and frowned. Her face dark and cold.

"Roach. Correct me then, please." He didn't say the words with contempt or pity or in any way that might stir her. He sat forward and spun the chair around to face her some more.

"I don'ts... ok. I might be a little attached, but it's not likes it is with my boyfriend."

"The first one?"

"Oi, looks, I only got one. This other guy, we just.... we just frakking."

"And bonding over literature and film and...?"

"Okays. Doc, I.. yeah. I like him. He's... he's frakking neat, man. He... he .."

"He.. he?"

"I don't know!" Hands thrown in the air, she took one last, frustrated pull on the cigarette and stubbed it into the tray.

"Roach. Come sit down."

She walked across the room and dropped down in the chair by her bag and nodded. Sinking right down. "What?"

"Is it possible - this is all purely hypothetical - is it possible you are attaching yourself to this not-boyfriend because you fear telling your actual boyfriend about this all and that you won't have a safety net?"

"Frakk no. I ... I wasn't even thinking about that! Not even, not even.. in my darkest recesses; no, no ways."

"You asked me last time if I thought it was possible to love a few people at once."

"Yeahs, I did. And you got an answer for me?"

"I am not here to enable unhealthy behaviour - and I think, unhealthy behaviour, is a person without sound boundary making abilities forming a multitude of relationships - but."

"Oh frakk. But. But?! But is always bad."

"Listen. I think it is possible to love many people at once. Maybe it is a series of genuine connections that vary in intensity and quality and context. I think, perhaps, this is possible for you. You... don't strike me as the sort to necessarily sleep with anyone. That, is an assessment I can only make from... well, partly being a fairly good judge of character, but also, what I know, the way you are. Who you are. Perhaps, you move quickly with those you choose and you don't have any boundaries, but I don't believe your flippant ideas around fidelity are rooted in.."

She was laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh no's, just..." she sat forward, laughing harder. "When's you said rooted, I don't know, it tickled me."

"Poor choice of words, I would agree." He adjusted his skinny hipster tie and cleared his throat. "Roach.... "

She was still laughing.

"Roach."

"Oh, sorry, sorry Doc. Looks, uh.. I am.. I am zhebe; old term for someone who is alive. In every sense, but particularly, uh, promiscuous. And, I don't gots no shame about that? But I don't goes getting feels for people easy like. And, well, I don't just jump on every body, neither. I don't. I never frakked Robert!"

".. Robert?"

"Oh, shiz. We didn't get there last time, eh."

"Where, exactly?"

"Oh frakking hell man."

"What is it, Roach?"

"I gots to tell you that, likes, but it's a big story."

Finch sat back and relaxed into the curve of his chair and nodded at her, removing his glasses. It made him appear younger, more at ease. "Go on." He gestured to the white clock on the wall. "We still have forty minutes."

She rubbed the sides of her combat boots together and sighed. "Then we get back to the boundaries shiz, huh?"

"Then we get back to the boundaries shiz." He smiled, that affable, calm, smoke on the water smile. "And, you'll disclose to me what it is that you really do."

Roach looked aside, awkward, then wrapped her fingers in a clasp around each, distressed-denim knee and set her eyes on him across the room.

"You see, I was living on the streets...."

"Good to see you Rita; come along, have a ... "

"Doctor, I couldn't stop..."

"Yo Doc."

"Roach!"

Rosie stood with a hand on her waist, the other at the door, staring at Roach in a mousy breed of contempt. "..Her."

"Roach..." Finch steepled his hands and bowed his head to his client as the dreadlocked girl hurtled inside, hellbent on his attention, like a thunderhead, or a comet always off course. "I'm with Mrs Lynch, you'll have to come back."

"No, y'see Doc, I gots some serious shiz to be discussing witchu. The lady here can wait."

"I beg your pardon!" Rita, inflamed, leapt to her feet. "This is an outrage! Excuse me, but I've paid for this hour."

"Yeah, y'see, lady, an outrage is when your husband cheats on yer ass, like you're here for, can see it in your face, or, how's about, ifs I was to sets your car on fire when I left. That's an outrage. I gots some urgent shiz to be sorting here with the Doc. So's get those panties out of their knot. Capiche?"

The woman just stared at Roach and fluffed at her inky, back combed hair and then pressed her fuchsia lips into a tight line and gave Maynard Finch a raised brow of expectancy.

"Miss Lynch, my client here, Ms Lee, she's been ... uh, missing for a time. I am ever so sorry about this..."

"Are you telling me you're going to see me over this wretch?"

Roach folded her arms and tilted her head at the Doctor. "Yeahs, are you gonna see this wretch?" She tilted her head further, eyes flying towards Rita. "That one theres."

"Doctor..." Rosie begged, moving to clasp Rita's elbow. "I'm so very sorry about this, she's unmedicated..."

Roach spun around to give Rosie the long eye. "Oi. Lady. What happened to confidentiality. Fucking hell!" Hands thrown in the air she chartered a course with her eyes between the awkward triumvirate of Rita, Doctor and receptionist.

"Roach, outside. Rita, give me a couple of minutes. This session is on me."

Rita huffed and sat down with a lift of her chin as Rosie fluttered out of the room in a cloud of admonishing mutters. "Rosie, later" the Doctor curtailing his assistant's nebula of frustration with a hard stare along with his smooth, sharp tone.

Outside, in the hall, he steered Roach, and when she was back against a wall he placed his hands on his hips and looked at her. "You can't do this. But, look. I'm glad you finally managed to come in. Are you alright?" He removed his tortoise-shell frames and leaned into his right leg, his face concerned. "How long have you been back?"

"Justs on a week and yeah.. feeling allergic to the state of Louisiana and I nevers want to eat gator again in my fucking life, but aight, I'm fine, Doc. Looks, I gots this wild fucking idea to help with.. wells, everything, and I really needs to discuss it with you. It's... it's beyond urgent, man. Likes, we got to talk."

"What is it, precisely, that you want me to assist you with immediately? Mental and emotional turmoil doesn't cease in the click of your fingers, Roach. While I would love to be able to..."

She held his eyes, pleadingly, and reached out to grab his elbow. "Look, man, I think I gots a way to get out of the hole I'm in. Nots the emotional shiz, I knows that is all going to take a holy mother of a miracle. Heh. But what I need from you is a prescription or a hook up."

Finch went rigid and stood back, shooing her arm off his gently by drawing it away, replacing his glasses and studying her closely with a sweep of a hand through his dark blonde hair; it had grown since she had last seen him, and fell to frame his face. Made him look even less like a professional than she thought when she had first met him, what felt like an eon ago.

"There's a few cards got to be played, but, to start with.. cans you get your hand on the Ambrose BD? 'Parently some sorts of .. of local grown belladonna variety that..."

"Yes I can and no I won't. I would be risking my job, frankly, Roach. No. The answer is no."

"Maaaaaan. Pleaaaaaase."

"Roach. No."

"But Doc, I'm paid up by Grey, likes, he did a little sommin', now you can do a little sommin', eh? Come ooonnnnn." She stomped lazily at the floor and threw her head back making a whiny face. "Pleaaaaaase."

He folded his arms and blew a stream of hot air from his nose. "I am with a client. I could compromise this practice, Roach, by doing what you ask."

"What ifs you dont's do nothing. Just gimme a name." A black nail pointed his way.

He started back towards his office and paused by the door, ducked his head, placed his hand on the frame and gave her a glare. He sighed and despite himself gave her what he did have, his voice lowered out of Rosie's range, who was furiously typing at her desk.

"Lagos. Johnny. Now go away."

He gave her a quick smile that almost became a grin, shut the door behind him and left her staring with wide eyes at the place where he had been standing.

"Well, fuck me!"

Rosie's eyes rose over the lip of the desk and bore daggers. Roach stood dumb founded in place for a minute before crossing the room and exiting via the front door. The bells by it jingled, like relief, and Rosie laughed a little before composing herself and continued to type.