“From my knowledge of DBDG physiology,” said Creesik, “I would say that the recent change in O’Mara’s facial skin coloration – bearing in mind that it has not indulged in any physical activity that would elevate its blood pressure – is indicative of embarrassment. Stop teasing it, dear.”
“Nonsense,” said Neenil. “Psychologists are never embarrassed talking about sex. We were reticent at first because it is a private thing, but not embarrassed. I don’t mind O’Mara knowing, if it hasn’t already guessed, that the improvement in my work is due to my wanting us to qualify together. With Sector General qualifications in multi-species surgery there isn’t a medical establishment in the Federation who wouldn’t hop at the chance to get us, and if you wanted to stay here I would, too, and…”
“… we would be life-mates and warm your eggs together,” Creesik ended for it, “whatever happened.”
O’Mara was glad that the two love-birds (and he was not thinking of the word in any derogatory fashion) were talking to each other and letting him escape further embarrassment. But his relief was premature.
“O’Mara” said Neenil, “I don’t understand why you are denying yourself such a great pleasure, satisfaction, and emotional comfort. But you must know this from past experience…”
“No,” O’Mara broke in, then cursed himself for not remaining silent, Kelgian fashion. What was making him want to tell these people the truth?
There was a moment’s silence while they both cocked their heads to one side and stared at him. Creesik spoke first.
“No wonder,” it said, “you’re mad enough to be a psychologist.”
“Don’t joke about it, Creesik,” said Neenil. “This is very serious. O’Mara, are you saying that you have never wanted, never felt the need to love another person in your entire adult life?”
“I didn’t say that,” said O’Mara, cursing himself again for telling the exact truth. Why the hell was he doing it? There was no weight on his conscience, nothing to feel guilty about, just the sudden surfacing of anger mixed with his helpless, hopeless feeling of sadness.
Neenil made a soft, sympathetic twittering sound, then said, “Have you loved someone in the past but the love was not returned?”
“No” said O’Mara.
“Are your feelings for someone of the present,” Neenil persisted, “but you have not spoken of them so that the entity concerned doesn’t as yet know what you feel?”
“Yes,” he said.
“O’Mara,” said Neenil, “you must speak to this female. Whether the answer is good or bad for you, you must speak your mind to her. If the answer is bad, well, among my species unrequited love is a serious condition but it is rarely fatal…”
“Now who’s making a joke?” said Creesik.
“I’m being serious.” Neenil went on, “Speak of what is in your mind, O’Mara. Then, at least, you will know what this person feels about you and be able to allow your emotional life, perhaps both of your emotional lives, to go on from there.”
“This person” said O’Mara, “doesn’t even know I exist and, and lives halfway across the galaxy.”
He shook his head in self-irritation. This was getting way out of control. The things he was saying he had never believed that he would ever tell to another soul, and most certainly not to Craythorne, who would probably fire him on the spot. But here he was talking about it, admittedly in the most general terms and without mentioning names or details, to a pair of enamored Eurils. He had to end this quickly and get away from here.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This was to be a social visit. I came to talk to you, but not about something that I’ve never spoken of to any other person. As a psychologist, I can’t understand why I’m talking to you about it now. Perhaps I’m feeling envious over what you two have and I haven’t…”
Neenil and Creesik were twittering again. It had a sympathetic sound. Their heads were cocked sideways and they were looking at each other.
He looked at Creesik and went on, “… but no matter, I called at an inconvenient time and I’ll go now. There is no reason for you to leave.”