Determination (11 page)

Determination

65

“My body feels like jelly,” Brian whispered before crawling to the side of the bed. He picked up the condom and lube I’d set out earlier and fell back on the bed next to me. It took no time at all for him to roll the condom on me and coat it with lube. It felt like heaven to have his hand on me.

When he straddled my hips, I reached for him. Brian leaned forward and captured my lips with his in a soft, lingering kiss.

Wrapping my arms around his back, I held him there in that kiss for several minutes. Every bit of the love and affection we felt for each other exploded between us as he sank down onto me without breaking our kiss. He stole my breath away with his sharp inhale when I entered him. He tightened around me, and my need grew stronger. I grabbed his hips and held them in place, even as I gritted my teeth and took several deep breaths. We had waited weeks to make love, and I wasn’t about to cut it short with a lack of control.

He waited, though I could see the way his muscles strained to move. After a moment, when the pressure didn’t seem so dangerous, I rolled my hips up, sliding deeper into him. His answering moan did nothing for my control, but neither of us slowed. I watched his body undulate as he ground himself on me. He moved in a slow, rhythmic dance backward then forward, and his body arched gracefully even as his head fell back. Long, soft curls danced along his shoulders each time Brian slid forward.

God, he was so beautiful.

I sat up as well as I could and wrapped my arms around Brian’s back. His damp forehead fell onto my shoulder before he turned his head and pressed his lips to my neck. With his mouth so close to my ear, I heard every sound. Every cry made me hold on tighter, and I never wanted it to end, even though the pulsing waves of my impending orgasm reminded me that it had to. I reached blindly to my side and felt for the bottle of lube, cool against my hip. After a few distracted tries, I found it and popped the cap before handing it to him.

I could feel his hand moving between us as he stroked himself.

“Jamie,” Brian cried just before his mouth covered mine in a desperate, fevered kiss as our lovemaking pushed him headlong over the edge of oblivion.

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“I love you,” I whimpered into his ear even as I climaxed. The sentiment, coupled with the physical need, made my orgasm scream through my body and explode into the condom. We rode the feeling out together, our cries mingling against the backdrop of candlelight and rumpled sheets.

“Promise me that we’ll always be like this,” I whispered against his forehead, “that we’ll always love each other like this. I can’t bear the thought of being away from you ever again.”

“Forever, Jamie. I will love you for the rest of my life,” Brian whispered back, and then wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I held him as close as I could against my chest.

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Six

I RAN out of oxy three weeks later.

When Brian came home from a shoot, he found me curled up on the bathroom floor, crying. Stomach cramps had replaced the pain from the burn, causing my abdomen to feel like someone had turned it inside out. He wiped the cold sweat from my face with his palm, and I turned just in time to throw up violently in the bowl again. The cold rag he handed me felt good as I cleaned away the sweat and vomit. My head pounded, and I had a hard time trying to stand as he helped me to the bed.

“Have you been sick all day?” he asked as he set the small garbage basket from the bathroom on the floor next to the bed. I shivered under the blankets and grabbed one of the pillows to hold against my stomach as another wave of nausea rolled over me.

Thankfully, that time I didn’t throw up.

“Yeah,” I whispered. I didn’t have the energy to say more, even if the raw pain in my throat would have allowed for conversation. If I could just lie still and not move, maybe it would all stop.

Brian crawled on the bed next to me, and the motion caused my stomach to lurch again. I rolled over to the side of the bed and dry heaved into the basket. Apparently, there was nothing left to bring up.

He moved closer to me on the bed and wrapped an arm tenderly around my waist, which I immediately shrugged off. I didn’t want to be touched right then; it felt like my skin was crawling.

“I’ll… I’ll get you something to drink from the refrigerator.” His voice sounded hollow as the bed moved again, and I saw him walk 68

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toward the kitchen. I didn’t have the strength or patience to try to make him feel better. The symptoms had hit like a freight train that morning, waking me from a sound sleep. They hadn’t let up all day.

Brian came back next to the bed, set down a can of lemon-lime soda, and told me the carbonation and sugar would make me feel better.

“I’m a junkie going through withdrawal. I’m sure a can of soda is going to make that right as goddamn rain,” I said. I buried my head under the blanket and curled up into a tighter ball with my back to him.

Just before I finally started to doze, I heard Brian talking to someone, but I couldn’t focus on the words. The sound buzzed in the back of my head like a persistent fly. I wanted to tell him to shut up, but sleep pulled me under before I could.

Twenty minutes later, I was awake again and felt more tired than before I fell asleep.

“How are you feeling?”

I glanced up to see Leo standing over me with Brian at his shoulder. Where Leo looked calm, but sad, Brian’s face was pale. He looked almost sick. I closed my eyes, too tired to hold them open while we carried on this asinine conversation.

“Like hell,” I told him honestly. Then my brain kicked in, and I remembered Brian had been getting the oxy from Leo in the first place.

Hope flared inside me. “Did you bring pills?”

“No. I wanted to get one last bag to help wean you off of them, but the dealer I’d been using was arrested last week.” I rolled over away from him, feeling the darkness seep into me from every shadow in the room. He couldn’t get me any more drugs, so I’d have to keep suffering for days, maybe even weeks. I had no idea how long withdrawal took, but with the way my heart kept pounding in my chest, if it went on too much longer, I’d be dead anyway.

“Then what? You came over here to watch me suffer? Why don’t you sell tickets? I’m sure your buddy Mike would love one. Just get out,” I mumbled into my pillow because I didn’t have the energy to raise my head and yell.

“Jamie!” Brian’s voice sounded shocked as he admonished me.

Leo stopped any kind of comment I could make.

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“Brian, he’s sick and in pain. Another symptom of withdrawal, along with everything else you’ve seen, is irritability. I’ve been where he is, and I know how bad he’s feeling, so let’s cut him some slack, okay?” Leo said quietly. “I have some things that might help a little, but he’s going to have a rough time for a while.”

Brian finally asked the question that I needed an answer for, and I silently thanked him for it. “How long?”

“It depends on the depth of his addiction. He’s only been on the oxy for about two months, but he was already an addict before that.

Generally, with the people I’ve seen, it’s a week or two,” he told Brian, and the sick feeling slammed back into me. I’d thought the worst would be over in a day or two, but I knew that if it went on longer than that, I couldn’t do it. I’d always been a wimp. When we first got back together, I kept saying I’d do whatever it took to get clean for Brian, but it was a lie. I’d literally beg for something to take the edge off right then.

“He’s strong, Leo. He’ll make it. I’ll cancel my shoots for the next week and take care of him.” The conviction with which Brian spoke just made me feel worse. He had so much misplaced faith in me.

I knew I would let him down; it was only a matter of when.

“What he needs right now is a roof over his head, food on the table, and stability in his life, Brian. You need to work to give him those things, not sit there and hold the bucket. Believe me, that’s the last thing he wants right now. Being in the bowels of addiction, trying to crawl back out—it’s humiliating. He doesn’t want or need an audience,” Leo said. If I hadn’t felt like hell right then, I’d have realized that my respect for him had grown.

“I’m sorry, I just… I feel helpless,” Brian said in a small voice.

“I know, babe, but right now, this isn’t about you. Go put two cups of these salts in the tub and run him a bath.” I heard Brian leave the room, and I squeezed my eyes shut further.

“I don’t want to take a bath,” I muttered even as I tried to prepare myself to get up. The blinding stomach pain had finally started to dull, but I knew if I moved, it would come back. The water started in the bathroom, and I groaned into the pillow.

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“It may make you feel better, kid. The salt sometimes helps pull the toxins from your body, and it helps you relax so you can sleep.” He didn’t raise his voice, even to talk over the sound of the water, but I heard him. God, I wanted to sleep. Getting up and hobbling to the bathroom sounded like torture, but if it meant I could sleep afterward, maybe it would be worth it. I kept my eyes closed and listened to the sound of the running water.

I might have dozed because then Brian was there helping me to sit up, and Leo was nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s go in the bathroom—everything’s ready,” he said as he pushed my hair back from my forehead. As I let him pull me up, I saw he looked sad and withdrawn. It was a minute before I realized I’d been a jerk to him earlier. Leo seemed to understand, but Brian still looked upset about it.

“I’m sorry about earlier with Leo. I know that you were trying to help me. It’s just… it’s hard,” I told him as he wrapped one of my arms around his shoulders so I could stand on weak legs. Steadying me with both hands on my hips, he walked behind me as I shuffled into the bathroom. I leaned against the sink as I took off the briefs and sweats I’d been wearing for two days.

“I need to take a leak. I’ll be okay getting in by myself,” I told him so he didn’t feel the need to stand there and watch me piss. Brian took that as a dismissal and left the room without comment. I sighed and relieved my aching bladder before crawling into the tub. The hot water relaxed my muscles, and I leaned back in the tub with my eyes closed. I had to admit it felt nice.

After I’d been in the tub long enough for my skin to start wrinkling, I pulled the plug, stood up, and turned on the shower. I felt a little stronger than I had before being in the tub. Washing my hair and my body made me feel almost human, even though the dull pain in my stomach hadn’t completely gone and I dropped the shampoo because my hands shook. I’d made it through the first day. Of course, I still had to make it through the night, but I’d take the accomplishment for what it was worth.

I dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist as I left the bathroom. Brian brought me a mug as I looked for something to wear Determination

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in the small amount of clothes I’d accumulated since leaving everything at Steven’s apartment.

“It’s chamomile tea with a little bit of peppermint. Leo said the chamomile would help you relax, and the peppermint may help your stomach.” He set the mug down on the dresser where I stood pulling on a pair of shorts over the boxers I’d found. As he turned to go, I grabbed his hand and pulled him against me. My body trembled as I held him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, and he put a hand on the back of my head, holding me against his shoulder.

“I’ll always take care of you, Jamie,” he whispered back, and we stood like that for a long time, taking comfort from each other’s arms.

THE tea did help some, and I kept down the chicken soup he made for dinner—for a while, at least. When we decided to go to bed, after we’d been talking quietly on the couch for a few hours, the symptoms returned almost as strongly as they’d been that morning. Stomach pains, nausea, cold sweats, and shakes kept me on the couch when I finally made Brian go to bed. I knew there was nothing he could do for me, and he had a shoot the next day with a new studio. As much as I hated it, he needed to be at his best. Taking care of his junkie boyfriend wasn’t going to help him land steady work.

Around two in the morning, the shakes tapered off, and I managed to read for a while. The soup had been lost hours before, so I munched on some crackers, trying to take the edge off my nausea. I reheated the pot of tea on the stove and returned to the little nest Brian had made for me on the couch. Propping myself on the pillows, I drank my tea and read a gay-oriented mystery novel. Until Brian had given me a virtual stack of books on his computer, I hadn’t known such things existed.

Around nine, when I’d nearly finished the second book in the series, Brian got up and made breakfast. The smell of eggs made me sick, but I had a bit of toast and bacon. The orange juice burned as it went down my raw throat, and I switched to one of the sports drinks 72

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Leo had brought the day before. He had told Brian they would help keep me from dehydrating because of all the vomiting. I didn’t think a little thirst would be all that bad compared to the rest of the stuff I was going through, but I drank it to make Brian happy.