Authors: C. Kennedy
Jerry’s eyes darted around the landing looking for an escape route.
“Give it up, Jerry. You won’t get past me.”
Jerry feinted left and darted right, but Michael caught him anyway. “You’re gonna talk to my dad before you go off and do something stupid!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Michael lifted him again, threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and trudged up the two flights of stairs to the floor where everyone waited for them.
“I’m not going!” Jerry shouted again.
Michael shoved through the stairwell door and headed down the hall to where his dad, Rob, and a worried Christy waited. He set Jerry on his feet and ordered him to “Stay!”
“No!” He tried to bolt again, and Michael caught him by the back of his shirt.
“Yes!” He grabbed Jerry by the shoulders and turned him to face Mac. “You’re gonna talk to my dad.”
Mac raised his brows at Michael’s firm handling of Jerry.
Jerry glared at Mac, defiant. “I won’t go!”
“All right, why don’t we consider your alternatives? Let’s step in here, shall we?”
They filed into the very waiting room that Father Lafayette had stormed from only moments ago, and Rob leaned a shoulder against the wall near the door, prepared to prevent another attempted escape.
“I’m not going to a place like that! There’s nothing wrong with being gay!”
“True, but your father would like you to receive some counseling on the matter.”
“I’ve known I was gay since I was five! I’m not gonna change no matter what they do to me!”
“Would you agree to a place that offers you counseling of any kind?”
“No! I don’t need counseling!”
“I see. When do you turn eighteen?”
“Three days.”
“Isn’t that convenient. Do you think you can manage to stay in this facility until then?”
Jerry eyed Mac suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because you can discharge yourself from the facility when you turn eighteen.”
“They won’t try to keep me? I heard those places are like jails.”
Mac smiled. “I’m certain they’ll call your father, but you can still leave the facility.”
Jerry’s eyes narrowed on Mac, even more suspicious. “Then what?”
“You can stay with me,” Christy said quietly.
“Christy.” Rob’s single word carried a heavy, unspoken warning.
Christy looked up at Rob. “Why not?”
“Wellington is a very specialized facility. It isn’t a place for Jerry.”
“It is a group home, no? It has counseling, no?”
“Very specialized counseling for very special people. It’s counseling that Jerry doesn’t require.”
“What kind of people?” Jerry interjected. No one responded, and Jerry’s eyes moved from Rob to Mac to Michael to Christy and settled on Rob again. “What kind of people?”
Rob pursed his lips and relented. “It’s a home for abused and neglected children. Christy is our only adult family member.”
Jerry turned to Christy, his face pinched. “Is that true?”
Christy turned away with a soft “Yes,” and Michael put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Wow, you don’t act like you’re abused.”
Christy turned back to him, his eyes alight with hope. “I don’t?”
“Uh-uh. Abused people usually get real mean.”
A smile filled Christy’s face, and he looked up at Rob. “I say Jerry can stay there.” It was unequivocal.
“Christy, we don’t offer counseling of that nature. We can’t accommodate Jerry. I’m sorry.”
“We can until we find a place for him. A place that he likes.”
Rob shook his head and rubbed his face. “I don’t know, Christy.”
Jerry looked from Christy to Rob. “I start NYU in August. It would only be for, like, four months.”
Rob turned to Mac. “Do you know a clinical psychologist who can counsel him?”
“I don’t need counseling!”
Mac put a gentle hand on Jerry’s arm. “We’re trying to find a way to appease your father.”
“What? Like I gotta pretend I’m thinking about not being gay anymore?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking, but only for a short while.”
“Forget it!”
It was Mac’s turn to show his frustration. “Then where will you go, young man?”
Michael spoke. “Hey, Jerry? What if that jerk, Duncan, finds out you’re homeless? Do you think you’ll be safe?”
Jerry’s face crumpled as realization set in.
“I say Jerry can stay with me,” Christy repeated.
Mac looked at Rob. “I’ll find someone for him.”
Rob shook his head again. “On the condition that Jerry lives in the main house and follows the same schedule and rules that apply to you.”
Christy smiled, entirely pleased with the outcome of his negotiations. “He will do this.”
“Jerry?” Rob prompted.
“How often do I have to talk to a shrink?”
Rob smiled at the moniker. “Once a week until you leave for NYU.”
Jerry looked at Christy. “Is that what you do?”
Christy’s face clouded over. “More than that because I wish to get better.”
Jerry mulled this over. “Did your parents make you go to this place?”
Christy held his gaze for a long, raw moment. “My parents are dead.”
“Oh, sorry, man. I didn’t know.”
“It is…. It is okay. I have Michael, now, and I am safe.” After a long beat, he added, “And I have Rob.”
“Okay, well, yeah, that sounds okay. Thanks, Christy and Dr. Sattler, and what’s your name?”
“Rob Villarreal, but you can call me Rob.”
“You a doctor too?”
“A shrink.”
“I
CAN
’
T
believe it,” Christy said as Michael carried him into the cabin and set him on the couch carefully.
“Wow!” Jerry exclaimed. “This is where you live?”
“Yes. Thank you, Rob.”
“No problem, Christy. I’m glad we could get it done in time for your return.”
“Was it expensive?”
“The insurance covered it.”
“The clothes and the paintings?”
“As far as I can tell, everything is okay, but I’ll leave it to you for final inspection and approval.”
“Thank you, again.”
“You’re welcome. Dinner will be ready at six. Jerry, let’s get you settled in your room.”
“Can I come back and hang out with you?”
Christy sat forward on the couch with a grimace. “In a little while. I must shower, but we can eat together here.”
“Christy, I’d like to meet with you before dinner,” Rob said pointedly.
Christy frowned but said, “Okay. Can Michael be in the meeting?”
“That’s up to you and Michael.”
“I’ll stay,” Michael promised.
“Darien would also like a quick visit.”
“This is okay, but after the shower. Does he know about the fire?”
“I explained to everyone that there was an accident and a fire but that you’re okay.”
“This is good.”
“Michael, are you okay with the shower?”
“Got it under control. The nurse showed me how to deal with the bandages.”
“D
ID
Dad say you could take a shower?” Michael carefully helped Christy undress.
“Yes, but no bath, and I must put the ointment and the bandages on.”
“Okay.” Michael clipped the bandages off carefully, just how Nurse Carol had shown him, and peeled the tape away. He had to admit, other than the redness, Christy’s leg and hip looked almost okay. “Are you in pain?”
Christy shook his head. “Your father said I must be careful of the water temperature.”
“Okay. Sit here for a minute.” Michael guided him to sit on the lid of the commode, turned the shower on, and got undressed. He checked the water temperature and turned the hot water down until the shower was lukewarm. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Christy stood slowly and teetered.
“Wait, wait, let me help you.” He steadied Christy and helped him into the shower with an arm around his waist.
Christy hissed when the water hit his leg.
“Too hot?”
Christy shook his head. “No, the water is rough on my skin.”
Michael turned Christy so the spray only hit his good hip and leg. “Better?”
Christy nodded. “Thank you for doing this for me, Michael. It is a terrible job.”
Michael kissed the tip of his nose. “No, it isn’t, babe. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Do you know where Sophia is?”
“I don’t, but I can guess that she’s with Jake.” Michael wondered if he should tell Christy that Jake had asked Sophia to marry him and thought not. It was Sophia’s news to tell. “We’ll call when we’re done showering.”
Michael bathed Christy carefully and even washed his hair twice. Christy tried to help a few times but nearly fell and finally obeyed Michael’s order to stay still.
“Why didn’t you let them wash your hair at the hospital?”
“I didn’t want them to touch me except for the bandages.”
“Do you think two washes are enough?”
“Three.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m being taken advantage of?”
“You are. You can’t imagine how good it feels. Your hands are so gentle.”
“Wait until I do your bandage. You might not feel that way anymore.”
Christy insisted on using Sophia’s special green tea hair conditioner, and Michael had to step out of the shower to get it from the counter. “Stay perfectly still. I don’t want you to fall.” Christy nodded, and Michael slipped out and back in within seconds. Christy protested when Michael went to rinse out the conditioner. “It’s the kind that you leave in the hair.”
Toweled off, with a towel wrapped around his incredibly tangled hair, Christy sat on the lid of the commode as Michael doctored his leg.
“The ointment feels good.”
Michael read the tube. “It has numby stuff in it.”
“Unfortunate.”
“Why?”
“It would be good to put here.”
Michael looked to where Christy pointed and cracked up. “Yeah, I don’t think so. A numb dick would not be good.”
“You could use the lubricant,” Christy teased. His voice, though hoarse, was singsong.
Michael laughed again. “No monkey business. You’re not at 100 percent, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I will do it myself, then.”
Michael laughed again and kissed Christy chastely. Typically, Christy wreathed his arms around Michael’s neck and drew him in for a thorough, heart-stopping kiss. Michael was certain his body broke another speed record getting hard. “You’re killin’ me, babe.”
Christy smiled. “Good.”
“What do you want to wear?”
“The negligee.”
“I don’t think so. I think it needs to see a washing machine before you see it again.”
“I want to wear it. I also need the barrettes and bracelets. I want to look nice for Sophia.”
“You don’t have anything in your closet that you want to wear?” Christy frowned and shook his head. “Okay. Hang on a second.” Michael left the room and returned two minutes later with another gift box.
Christy’s eyes went wide. “What is this?”
“A welcome-home present.”
“Michael, you can’t buy me so many things. It isn’t fair. I don’t have anything for you.”
Michael smiled. “You’re not supposed to keep score like that. A gift is something you give without expectation of receiving anything in return.”
Christy’s brow knitted. “You do not want me to do something for you?”
“Like what?” Christy turned away. Michael squatted before him, turned his face back, and pecked his lips. “You don’t have to do anything for me but open it.” Christy’s eyes held confusion, distrust, and worst of all, fear. “These are gifts because I care about you. Not because I expect something from you.”
“You do not buy this to… to… remind me that I am to do something for you?”
It was Michael’s turn to frown. “Christy, you don’t owe me anything. Did some of the people who hurt you buy you things?” Christy’s eyes filled with memories, ancient haunting, as he stared into an unseen distance. Michael kissed him gently. “I’m not those people.”
Christy met his eyes, his thoughts now seemingly on solid ground again. “You are not.”
Michael smiled. “I’m not. Now, open your gift.”
Christy untied the satin ribbon and folded it before setting it on the counter and opened the box. A small gasp escaped him as he raised the white negligee from the tissue. “It is like the blue one.”
“Just like it, and I also put the little shorts and top in there. The teal one has those too, but I knew you couldn’t wear the shorts over the bandage. I think you can now, though. The bandage is a lot smaller.”
Christy launched into his arms, sending the box to the floor. It scraped his leg, and he issued a sharp cry in pain and pulled away.
“Are you okay?”
Christy placed a flat hand against the bandage and pressed. It looked as if he counted to ten as he breathed deeply. “Yes,” he finally eked out.
“You need to be careful, babe. Here, let me help you.” Michael withdrew the lacy garments and carefully dressed him. “Where’s your brush?” Christy pointed to the counter filled with Sophia’s many jars and things. “Like I can find anything in that. It’s worse than Where’s Waldo.”
“Who?”
“Waldo. It’s a game. Where’s the brush?”
“Just there. The red one.”
The color made it easy enough to find. “Okay, let’s get you to the couch, and I’ll brush your hair.”
Michael brushed Christy’s hair carefully, gathering small tresses and brushing them out one by one. He thought his hair was impossible to work with, but brushing Christy’s ringlets was an überchallenge. He was almost through when a loud knock sounded at the door.
Déjà vu
hit them both at the same time, and they stilled. Michael was the first to come to his senses, and he gave Christy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he stood. “It’s okay.” Michael went to the door; the new door with a peephole in it. He peered out and opened the door with a smile. “Hi, Darien.”
“Is Christy here?” Darien’s whisper was not really a whisper.
Michael shared a smile with Gwen, the counselor who stood behind Darien. “He’s here.” He opened the door wide and gestured to the couch. Darien tiptoed in, and Michael smiled. “He’s awake, Darien.”