The Question

Finn asked Chris if he had been unfaithful. Finn just came out with it, in the kitchen as they made coffee.

Chris left the crab ointment on the bathroom bench and Finn had noticed it when he used the bathroom. Finn had had a shower, we’re not using soft language for Finn taking a dump.

Finn could see Chris was taken back, because he was.

“Finn?...” Chris’ eyes glassed over, as if they had already decided. “I never... no.” 

For the last year, since Angelo gave crabs to Chris, just occasionally Chris has felt something crawling on his skin. It had a really high ‘ick’ factor for him. In those moments, he puts the ointment on, for peace of mind, more so than anything else. He changes his sheets, washes his clothes and then he feels everything is fine. 

I don’t even really feel them, as such, Chris has said. It’s just a feeling, a passing shiver up my spine, I get sometimes.

Angelo still lives up the street. He's just finishing uni. But Chris hasn't, you know, not since he met Finn. Well, maybe that one time right at the beginning, but Chris counted it as before Finn, when he got the damn crabs.

“I know. I just wondered,” said Finn. He was quiet after that.

Chris suppressed the urge to confess. Brain kicked in. It was one of those red stop-light moments. Don't say anything. Count to ten. Do not question. Don't pull a face. Keep your mouth shut.

“I have only been with you,” said Chris. And that was true. He’d been with Angelo moments before he met Finn, but that still counted as before. Chris thinks he was still dealing with the crabs when he and Finn drunkenly hooked up that first time.

“Me too,” said Finn. “I’ve only been with you.” Chris guessed Finn felt he should add that, you know, in the spirit of the conversation.

“The cream is psychosomatic,” said Chris. “It is all in my head.”

“What is?”

“The crawling on my skin,” said Chris.

“The crawling on your skin?”

“Yes, not another man,” said Chris.

Finn laughed nervously. “Is that why the cream is on the bench?”

“Yes, that’s why the cream is on the bench.”

“What? Crab ointment?”

“Yes. I had a struggle to get rid of them once. And sometimes I feel them. Imagined, don’t worry. But…” Chris shook all over. “Yuk.”

“They can’t hurt you?”

“Have you ever had them?”

Finn blushed. “Yeah, sure, um...”

“How many times?”

“Oh, come on, you don’t expect me to admit to that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“You might think less of me.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“How many times have you had them?”

“More than once,” said Finn. “Is that enough information?”

“So, bigger than a bread box?”

Finn laughed. “Yes, sure, let’s say that.”

“So many many times is what I am hearing?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t use quite so many manys.”

“So many times?”

“It doesn’t really sound much better.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Oh?” Finn looked crestfallen.

“Oh, Finn, I am kidding you.”

“Sure.”

“Yes, positive, I don’t care how many times you have had them, despite only ever having them once myself.”

“What?”

“It’s a joke.”

Finn inhaled noticeably. “My house mate used to call me pigpen, because of how many times I had them.”

“Oh.” Chris kept a blank face for as long as he could, but eventually he couldn’t help but smile. “Is that a Peanuts reference.”

“Yes.”