CHAPTER 17

In the following days, I was busy in my clinic.

"We want to have a child," said my female client. She was thirty years old, sitting on the sofa before me. Her husband sat beside her, head bent down. "But every time we try to have sex, he suddenly runs out of our bedroom."

"Why do you run?" I turned my attention to the husband. They were both chubby; the man had a shaved head, a thick beard, and glasses.

"When she starts to undress," he said, clearing his throat. With a flushed face, he gathers some courage to explain. "I suddenly feel dizzy and nauseous. I start to feel unwell."

His wife interjected. "Doctor, this has been happening for five years. Sometimes, I even accuse him of being gay."

The woman put her two hands on top of the table, and I noticed the two different colors of her cuticles: violet and yellow.

"I'm not gay!" the man said gently. I noticed that he had a tattoo on his arm.

I raised my right palm, interrupting them because the tension was rising. "Okay, please don't argue. I believe in you, Kuya."

"Why do you feel nauseous and dizzy?" I asked the man again. He took a deep breath and noticed he was not staring at me. "I want an honest answer."

"When I see her...you know...her vagina, I start to feel different," he said. His wife's mouth formed a round 'O' shape from his confession.

I nodded, understanding his situation. "I see. I think you have Kolpophobia."

"Kolpophobia?" the wife asked.

"Yes, it's a rare form of phobia associated with female genitalia," I stated earnestly. The man's condition was not a joke. "When did this start?"

"I was in sixth grade, doctor. When they first taught us about reproductive organs, my sister would often tease me about the teeth on women's...you know...vagina."

"Vagina dentata, an archaic myth about women's genitalia having teeth," I explained.

He paused, covering his face with his two palms, cupping it. "I remember seeing my sister's shorts stained with blood once. She scared me, saying that her vagina had eaten something."

His wife burst out with a loud laugh. "Honey, I never thought you'd been that stupid ever since," she said.

The man covered his face again, head bent down. I sighed deeply upon learning that his suffering overshadowed the humor in his situation.

"You know, Ate, even though your husband's experience seems funny, it's a serious issue," I told his wife. She stopped laughing. "It's just like any other phobia that can affect someone's life. Kuya, you're also dealing with paranoia, and your childhood trauma has made your phobia worse. Ate, please try to understand what he's going through."

The woman put her arms around her husband.

"I know a good sex therapist who can help you guys out. She was my professor, and she's great. Especially for you, Kuya. She can help you deal with your phobia and paranoia," I said, handing them a business card. "Don't feel ashamed about what you're going through. It's crucial to take care of your emotions and body."

The woman interjected again. "I want to have a child, doctor."

"What can I do if it won't get hard?" the man exclaimed.

"But do you love your wife?" I asked.

"I love her, doctor, but a hindrance keeps me from giving her what she wants."

"There are many ways for you to have a child," I said. "For now, I advise you, Ate, not to leave Kuya because of his condition. Help him fight it. I believe you will have a child someday."

***

After the session had ended, I immediately called my former professor, who is a sex therapist. We discussed the couple's case, and she promised to help. After the call, I was alone again in my clinic.

My Android phone rang, and I read a text message from Kuya Drei. I went to the reception area. "Rachel, has Marco de Leon arrived? he has an appointment with me."

"No, doc. Ara, he hasn't," Rachel replied, making me wonder. He was the one who sought help on our radio program's Facebook page days ago. I felt disappointed and concerned but decided to let it pass as I had more pressing matters.

I returned to my desk and sank into my office chair. I stretch and massage my temples but when I remember my client from earlier, I made a hearty laugh. When I swiveled my chair around, I was surprised to see someone standing before me. Eric stood there, hands in his pockets, grinning widely. He was wearing a burgundy long-sleeve shirt tucked into dark blue jeans.

"Eric, have you been here long?" I asked, noticing how handsome he looked in that outfit.

"Something funny? And you don't need to call me Eric anymore. It feels too formal between us."

A wide grin stretches my face, feeling excited, and sat up straight in my chair. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

"What do you want?" he replied, leaning in and kissing me on the forehead.

"I'm not very creative. The only thing that comes to mind is 'baby.'"

He smiled again and sat on the desk. "Okay, I like it, baby," he said, leaning close and gently pinching my chin.

"So, where are we having dinner?" I asked.

I'll be going home in a few minutes. Eric usually arrives early to pick me up. He mentioned that he would be getting his new car next week.

"Guess what! Tita Cecile cooked dinner for us," Eric said, gesturing excitedly. "She learned a new recipe and wants you to try it with me."

"Really!" I exclaimed, standing up and miming hunger. Eric laughed at me. "Now I'm excited and hungry."

He hugged me from behind, and a memory flashed in my mind as I glanced at his arms. When was the last time I felt an embrace like this? It seemed like yesterday that Hector filled this space. His face and sinewy arms came to mind, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Let's go," Eric said, interrupting my daydream. I noticed his arms still around me. Eric is both my present and my reality. I forced myself to push Hector's face out of my mind and held Eric's arms tightly. Taking a deep breath, I nodded at him.

***

"When we were in college, my professor taught us that phobia," I told Eric. We were waiting for the elevator in their condominium building's lobby. "I can't believe I encountered a client with that condition for real."

"That's the weirdest story I've heard today," he said, still chuckling.

"I know. But I feel sorry for the guy. I hope my former professor can help them."

The elevator doors opened, and we both stepped in. Just as the doors closed, a mother and her child hurried in. Eric quickly pressed the "open" button. The mother and child walked in, and we were both surprised because the child's face looked familiar. We glanced at each other.

The elevator ascended, and the four of us remained silent. I noticed the woman's anxious expression while the child looked scared. I stared into the child's eyes, and a slight beam registered on my face again.

"Mommy, I'm scared," the child said, breaking the silence. I furrowed my brows and noticed they were heading to the same floor as us.

The elevator doors opened, and the mother and child hurried out first. "Don't worry, dear. Daddy isn't mad at you," the woman said, hugging her child and stroking his hair.

Eric and I exchanged glances again. The woman stood up and urged her child to run down the hallway. As they walked away, I watched them. I snapped back to reality when Eric squeezed my right hand. I never noticed I was drifting off into space again.

"Baby, we don't know them," he said.

I looked at him again and smiled. "I know, let's go! I'm excited."

We arrived at Tita Cecile's unit door. I couldn't resist the urge to watch the mother and child closely. Their unit was on the left, whereas Tita Cecile's was on the right, three doors from where we stood.

As soon as they walked in, the door slammed and closed. As Eric knocked on the door, the noise echoed in the hallway, startling Eric and me. They caught my full attention now, and I couldn't help but feel a mixture of concern.