“Brian Andrew Kellam, what have you done?” Kathlene made no effort to conceal her anger, and I made no effort to hide my contempt.
I snorted with derision and said, “What’s it look like? I put a hole in the wall.”
“And why, pray tell, did you put a hole in my wall?” Kathlene demanded.
I shrugged and turned away from her as she entered my new room.
“Why did you throw this?” She waved the broken picture frame that had contained the picture of my ex-family in front of my face.
“Because they don’t exist to me any more,” I grated as I snatched it from her, tore it up into tiny pieces, and tossed the remnants of the photograph into the air like confetti. We watched it fall to the carpeted floor.
“Young man,” Kathlene said in a tightly controlled voice, “I have agreed to let you stay in my home, but while you’re here with us, I expect you to follow the house rules, the first of which is not to throw things inside the house! Do you realize what would have happened if that frame had hit Chris?”
“It didn’t hit him, so get over it.”
“Whatever else you do, you will treat me with the courtesy and respect I deserve. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yeah. Whatever.” Kathlene grabbed my chin and forced me to look her in the eyes.
“Do I make myself clear?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Let me go, God damn it!”
A rifle shot rang out. I held my cheek in shock, more surprised than in pain. Kathlene’s face was cherry red, and the veins at her temples were throbbing with her heartbeat.
Her voice was ice cold with her rage “You will not take the Lord’s name in vain in my house. I agreed to let you stay, because I thought you were a nice, well-mannered boy who needed someone to look after him since he wouldn’t live with his parents. But let me tell you something, Mr. Kellam. If you ever disrespect me like you have in these past few minutes, I will return you to your parents forthwith!”
“Fine! Should I start looking for a place to stay now? Should I pack my stuff up and go? Huh?” My cheek stung like fire as my face flushed with my anger.
“I’m going to go to my room and change. When I return, I expect you to have picked up this mess and composed yourself in a manner conducive to rational discussion. Do you know what that is?”
“I’m not stupid!”
“Good. I’ve told you what I expect for the moment. When I return, we’ll discuss my other requirements.” She turned on her heel and strode out, closing the door behind her.
Looking around the room, I took in the Spartan furniture and closet packed with David’s old clothes. The window in the back wall let in the diffuse afternoon light, illuminating the space to a level just above what would require a lamp. Looking down, I counted the fragments of the photo I’d decimated. Thirty-seven bits were scattered in a five foot area. Sighing to myself, I bent down to retrieve the pieces.
Brilliant. Wonderful fucking job, Brian, I thought. Alienate the only person in the world who cares and hasn’t betrayed you. Real smooth. What are you going to do For an encore? Kill yourself?
I stopped what I was doing, considering that last thought. Was it worth killing myself over what had happened? I’d lost my boyfriend, my family, my life; everything that mattered. No one cared if I lived or died, except Pete. After a moment’s thought I knew couldn’t do that to him. I just couldn’t. I needed to stay alive to figure out a way to get him back. Suicide was out.
So what do I do? I’ve already made it a certainty that Kathlene will kick me out. She wouldn’t want a bad influence like me to corrupt her son. What am I gonna do? The more I thought about my situation, the more panicked I became.
I sat on the floor, resting against the bed, knees to my chest. My arms wrapped around my knees and I buried my head in them. I was lost, completely and utterly on my own. Footsteps came down the hall and stopped in front of my door. I heard Kathlene take two deep breaths, and then she opened my door.
“Brian, can I come in?”
“It’s your house,” I said through my arms. She sat in the chair by the door.
“Brian, we started out on the wrong foot here. Can we please start over?”
I shrugged. She sighed.
“I’ll be blunt. You know David is in the Navy, and, well, the house seems a little empty. I know Chris would enjoy the company, and I think you could use it, too. We're your friends, Brian. It's your choice, but you are welcome to stay here.”
Still lost in my thoughts about Pete, I didn’t respond.
“Brian, I know most of what’s occurred over the last week or so. I’m very sorry for what’s happened to you. David, Chris, and I, we’ve all gone through loss. What you’ve been through is loss as well.”
Kathlene paused for a moment.
“I won’t pretend to know what Pete meant to you, or what you’re feeling, but I do know what it is to lose someone you love. You must really have cared for Pete to feel as strongly as you do toward your family.
“You’re feeling angry, sad, frightened, lost, weak, and tired, right?”
I didn’t respond.
“Those are the same emotions we went through after Jim died.”
“Yeah, well, Pete didn’t die.”
“Does it really matter? He’s not here. Jim isn’t here. We can’t talk to either of them. They’re gone and there’s nothing we can do about it. Your loss is just as profound in its own way as the boys’ father’s passing was for us. We all dealt with it in our own way. I don’t think any of us has fully come to terms with Jim’s death. It takes a lot of time, and there is a lot of pain to go through to heal after an event like that. It’s even more difficult if you intend to do it alone, without someone in your life to help you.”
I just sat there and took in her words without comment. The words made a strange sort of sense, but I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone that much to let them in to help me. With all the betrayal I’d suffered from people who are supposed to care for me, it would be very difficult.
“You loved Pete,” she continued. “It doesn’t matter what circumstances that love came from, Brian. Love is love. Now he’s gone. The love is still there but it can’t be shared with Pete now, because he’s gone.”
Tears started to seep into my eyes. The very thing I’d been trying to avoid thinking about was brought back by Kathlene’s words.
“He’s gone, and you have to accept that. It’s painful, and it hurts…”
“It fucking sucks!” I blurted
“Yes, it does suck, but we have to move beyond it. Our loved ones would not want us to dwell on their leaving us. They want us to get on with our lives.” Tremors rose from nowhere, causing my body to jerk and shake.
“Do you want to stay here with us?” Kathlene asked again. “We all have pain to deal with because we’ve all lost someone or had someone leave us. Each one of us could use the help and support. Chris is willing if you are, and so am I.”
I couldn’t bring myself to respond to her, because I couldn’t trust my voice. Sobs took control of my body, shaking my shoulders as the tears came. Kathlene moved from the chair and sat down next to me, putting her arm around my shoulders.
“It’s okay, Brian. It’s okay to cry. The pain needs to come out. Let it out. I’m here. I have you. Let me help you.”
With great effort, I stopped crying. I couldn’t cry. I needed to be strong for myself. I could deal with this on my own. Crying was no longer an option for me. It made me vulnerable, and that was deadly to me. My dad had taught me how to hide my emotions well, and I had had a lot of practice. I took the pain and anger I was feeling and locked them away into a corner of my brain that I’d never open again. I needed to survive, and that’s the way it had to be. It was over now, and I needed to get on with my life like Kathlene had said.
Kathlene sat back and examined my now dry eyes and tear stained cheeks. I looked back at her impassively, emotionless.
“Are you okay, Brian?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about earlier,” I said contritely.
“Me too,” my new foster mom said sincerely. “Chris is very worried about you. You scared him.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“He knows that,” Kathlene said with a smile.
I stood.
“Where is he?” I asked. “I’d like to apologize.”
“He’s down stairs watching the television.”
“Thank you.”
Leaving Kathlene sitting on the floor, I walked down to the lower level where Chris sat watching a movie on HBO. Hackman, Sharon Stone, and Leo. The Quick and the Dead.
He hadn’t noticed me come down the stairs, so I startled him when I called his name.
“Chris?”
“Gah! Brian, don’t sneak up on me like that! You scared the piss out of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“For everything. For earlier in the hall.”
“It’s okay, buddy. I know what it’s like. After Dad, and then Davey leaving… I know what it’s like to feel alone.”
I didn’t respond to his words, and just looked down at my feet.
“Want to watch the rest of this flick?” Chris asked. “It’s a good one.”
I glanced at him sheepishly, still deeply ashamed of what I’d done. I could have hurt him really badly in my fit of anger. It looked like I had a new project: controlling my temper.
“Come on, Brian. Take a load off,” he urged me.
I fell into the couch in front of the TV. Chris sat next to me, leaving a gap between us. As the movie went on, my thoughts returned to Pete, and the tears started falling again. I guess I wiped my eyes one too many times, because Chris noticed.
“Brian? Are you okay?” I shook my head. Chris scooted over and put his arms around me.
“It’s okay, Brian. You’re safe here.”
So much for being strong, I thought as the tears fell more and more rapidly.
I leaned into him and was comforted by his presence. Chris held me as I cried, just like Pete would have, and that made me cry that much harder.
Suddenly, I realized what was happening. Chris’ compassion, the act of him holding me, was destroying me on the inside. Everything he was doing reminded me of Pete. I couldn’t handle it. I jumped away from Chris like I’d been burned, and stared at him, wide eyed.
“What is it, Brian?”
“I… It’s… I can’t do this.”
I ran back up the stairs and out the front door. Kathlene called out to me, but I kept going until I was beyond the sound of her voice.
A small park was in my path, so I decided to sit and try to figure out how I could go on. The swings were unoccupied, and were a bit too low for me. I tossed one of the swings over the bar to raise it and sat, letting it swing freely. Birds were singing in the background, and as twilight came they disappeared, each one going home. The day finished.
How fitting, I thought, that the sunset, which ends the day, should happen just as my old life ends.
Ideas were found and rejected as my brain worked to find a solution to my problem. I needed something to distract me; something to keep me from fixating on Pete’s absence. What could I submerge myself into completely? Without warning, a possible solution presented itself to my mind. I examined it from all angles, and it made sense. I could get totally absorbed, provided I could figure out how to do it. I knew just the person to ask, too.
I rose from the swing and walked back toward Chris’ place, somewhat satisfied with my plan. The only thing that worried me was getting the cooperation I needed to pull it off. Before I knew it I was back at the Forn residence. I knocked on the door, and Chris answered it almost immediately. He must have vaulted the back of the couch to get to the door so quickly from the living room.
“Hi, Brian,” he said cheerily.
“Hey.”
“Nice night for a walk?” Chris asked as he looked past me into the evening.
“Pretty nice, I guess.”
Chris moved aside to let me in, then closed the door behind me.
“Mom’s making some soup and sandwiches,” he informed me. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” I replied, “but I guess I should eat something.”
“Come on then, bud. Soup’s on the table.”
As I walked into the kitchen with Chris preceding me, Kathlene looked up.
“How many sandwiches do you want, Brian?” She asked in a conversational tone.
“Um, what kind?”
“Tuna.”
“Uh, just one, please. I’m not that hungry.”
“Well, I’ll make extra just in case. Chris, show Brian where the glasses are, and get him something to drink.”
“Sure, mom. Over here, bud.”
Chris did as his mother asked and pointed out where the other dishes were, since I’d be there for a while. He handed me a glass and sent me to the fridge to choose my beverage. Rummaging around, I found milk, fruit punch, and water. None of it appealed to me. I chose milk, filled my glass, and shut the fridge.
“Please come to the table, Brian,” Kathlene requested, “Dinner’s ready.”
Both she and Chris watched me move to the table in no particular hurry.
As I sat, Kathlene said, “I’ll say Grace tonight.”
Unsure of my own beliefs, I bowed my head out of respect theirs.
“Gracious Heavenly Father, we thank you for the bounty You have put before us this evening. We pray You will watch over us and keep us safe through this night and the days to follow. Keep us mindful of Your will, that we might better serve You.
“Lord, a new soul has blessed our table with his presence. We thank you for bringing Brian into our home. Please be with him as he struggles with his recent trials. We know that there is a purpose for everything that happens, and though we cannot see it now, we will see it in the fullness of time, as You promise. We pray that through Your grace, Brian will heal from this ordeal, and come to understand a small part of Your plan for him.
“Father, we also ask that you grant us the strength to forge a new bond between us, so we might live in peace with one another according to Your will. In Christ’s name we pray, Amen.”
Chris echoed his mother’s last word, stealing a glance at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
“Sandwich, Brian?” Kathlene asked.
“Yes, please.”
We finished off the meal between the three of us, and then Chris dished up a bowl of ice cream for each of us. We made small talk as we ate our dessert, speaking about nothing of significance or relevance to my current situation.
When I’d finished my ice cream, I stretched expansively.
“I’m going to go to bed. I’m exhausted.”
Kathlene smiled and said, “Okay, honey. If you need anything, I’ll be up for a while longer, reading down stairs.”
“G’night, Brian.”
“Thanks. Night, Chris.”
I plodded up the stairs, just then realizing how fatigued I really was. I picked up my toiletries and completed my nightly ritual before returning to the bedroom and throwing myself onto the bed. As usual, my brain switched into high gear just as I was ready to go to sleep. It didn’t matter how exhausted I was, and it never failed.
Letting my mind run freely to see what it would come up with, I realized I’d been really nervous when I came back from my walk. I expected to get yelled at by Kathlene, or at the very least get bawled out by Chris for dissing his mom like I did, but they acted like it was just another night, as if nothing had happened. It scared me, because it was the last thing I expected. I didn’t like it when people were inconsistent. It made me uncomfortable and put me on the defensive.
I drifted off to sleep, trying to determine the motive behind their nonchalance regarding my tantrums earlier that evening.
The apartment building was low and long, with two stories. A man who’s features vaguely reminded me of Pete’s father, in his early forties with a powerful build and thinning blond hair. The guy walked in and dropped a bag on the floor just inside the door and then swaggered to the refrigerator to remove a can of beer. While standing there, he popped the top and drained the entire can before retrieving another. He strutted to the living room and sat on a sofa.
“You, boy!” The man yelled from the front room, “Get your ass out here!”
A door down the hall opened. A tall, thin youth walked past as if he hadn’t seen me, and stopped at the entrance to the living room.
“Yes, sir?” Fear and loathing dripped from boy’s voice.
“Get yer ass in gear an’ fix us some supper.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t burn it. Try to do one fucking thing right today.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shocked, I watched as the child prepared a meal over a campfire. His motions were hesitant and careful. Midway through the preparation, he accidentally knocked over a plastic jar of pepper and the lid opened with a loud pop. The man’s reaction was immediate.
“What’d you do boy! What’d you do?” The brute launched himself from the picnic table and loomed over the cowering form, screaming obscenities at him as the young man tried to clean up the pepper from the counter and floor.
“You better not ruin supper or you’ll regret it, fag boy,” the man threatened as he looked at the dishes cooking on the stove.
“Look at this!” the man suddenly exclaimed. “You see what you did?”
He roughly grabbed the kid by the scruff of his neck and forced his face over a bubbling pot of spaghetti sauce hanging over the fire.
“What do you see, boy? Huh? What do you see?”
“Pepper!” the boy cried. I cringed as the sauce spattered into the young man’s face and neck.
“Yeah, pepper! You fucked it up again!” The boy was thrown into the refrigerator, and bounced back toward the man, who struck him with a closed fist to the right cheek. The kid fell like a sack of potatoes.
“Get up! Get up!” he continued to scream at him as he landed kicks to the boy’s side. “You ain’t done yet! Get off the fucking floor and clean this up!”
The beating continued for several minutes. I was rooted in place, horrified and unable to move.
At last, the monstertook another beer from the fridge and sat back on the couch. The boy painfully picked himself up off the floor and cleaned up the mess before he ran down the hall to his room. I followed him.
Yes, it was a room, but nothing more. There wasn’t even a bed. Just some blankets on the ratty carpet. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This whole situation seemed unreal, impossible.
“What are you doing here?” The boy asked.
I turned around to face Pete, but I didn’t see the happiness I expected. Instead, I saw hatred in its rawest form.
“Get the fuck out of here! It’s all your fault! If it wasn’t for you, mother would still love me! You turned me into a faggot, you cock-sucking bastard!” Pete yelled and punched me as hard as he could, hitting me in the side of my head.
I screamed and scrambled to my feet, breathing hard. My head hurt. Gathering my wits, I realized I was in Chris’ old room. A hand to the side of my head revealed a drop of wetness beyond the sweat that was pouring out of me. In the residual light creeping through the blinds, it looked black. I tasted it and the recognized the copper tang immediately. Blood.
I gathered my feet slowly, ensuring I was steady enough to walk,and then went to the bathroom. Turning on the light, I examined my wound. A one-inch long gash cut across the right side of my head just above my temple. It was bleeding quite a bit, but head wounds always did.
“Brian?” Kathlene must have heard me fall.
“I’m in the bathroom.”
Unfortunately, I had left the door open, and she walked in.
“Brian, whatare you… what on earth happened to you?”
“I, uh, fell out of bed, I guess,” I answered with a shrug.
“I see. And, uh, how did you do that?” She asked, mimicking my reply.
I shruggedagain in answer to her query. There was no way I was going to tell her about my dream.
“Did you realize you were screaming, Brian?”
I shook my head in the negative and replied, “Uh uh.”
She peered into my eyes via the mirror.
“Yes, you were screaming. It sounded like you were pleading for someone to stop hitting you or something.”
A chill ran down my spine. Even in my dreams I wasn’t safe.
I phrased my response carefully. “I’ll be okay. Let me take care of this and I’ll go back to bed.”
“Brian Kellam, I will not be put off that easily! What was your dream about?”
I turned around to face her directly, stared into her eyes.
“None of your damn business,” I grated, and stomped off toward my room.
Much to my surprise, Kathlene didn’t follow me, instead retreating to her own room. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was just about three-thirty in the morning. I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep, so I turned on the light and picked up a book that had been sent with my things. I finished half of it by the time the sun rose the next morning.
The sun finally crept over the horizon, its first rays peeking through the blinds. I raised them and faced the new day with uncertainty and fear. Was Kathlene willing to put up with my anger and resentment?
My parents had betrayed me. I hated them with every ounce of my being, beyond all reason. There was no way I could keep all that anger bottled up inside me, no matter what I did. That meant I needed to find a way to vent that anger. The more I thought about it, the more the decision I had reached in the park the night before seemed the right thing to do. It would definitely keep me occupied, and there were other benefits, as well. Having come to a resolution, I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. When I opened the door, I was startled to see Chris standing at the toilet relieving himself.
“Oh, sorry, Chris. I didn’t realize you were in here.”
“No problem, Brian,” Chris called as I shut the door.
I went downstairs to the water closet just off the kitchen and took care of business there. By the time I was done, Kathlene had started the coffee and Chris was pouring himself a huge bowl of cereal. Kathlene wandered about the kitchen in a near comatose state, moving more by instinct than conscious thought. Neither mentioned the cut on my face.
Following Chris’ example, I fixed myself a bowl of corn flakes but went outside to sit on the patio. The deck was still in shadow behind the house, so the patio was cool in the morning air. I sat at the patio table with my back to the house and I lost myself in my thoughts as I ate, rehashing much of what I had tried to deal with in the night just past. The funny thing was that the emotions that I felt as those thoughts passed through my mind were less intense to a surprising degree. The raw hatred I felt for my parents had faded to mere loathing. I still wanted nothing to do with them, but I didn’t want to waste such a powerful emotion on them.
As for Pete, he was gone. Probably for good. There was nothing I could do about it, so why try? It most likely wasn’t love we had between us anyway, just a good friendship. If that, even. I wasn’t gay, either. I was too young to know. I’d just have to put Pete out of my mind.
The sliding door opened. I heard Chris come up behind me.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Your house,” I said as I shrugged indifferently.
Chris sat next to me and put down his second bowl of cereal. Without preamble, he dug out a massive spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. I watched him eat a couple mouthfuls, just observing his motions. Chris became self-conscious as I peered at him, and swallowed a bite too early, leading to a coughing fit.
“What?” Chris asked as he recovered his breath.
When I didn’t answer him immediately, Chris took on a hunted air, glancing from side to side as if looking for escape.
“Brian? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t sleep well.”
“I, uh, I know. I kind of heard you and mom talking last night.”
“Sorry.” I bowed my head in shame.
“Don’t sweat it buddy. I remember what it’s like. Nightmares?”
How did he know, I wondered and nodded in confirmation.
“Yeah. Pretty brutal ones.”
“Want to talk about it?” Chris offered.
“No.” My answer was immediate and definite. This was my battle, and I would fight it alone.
“Okay, but if you change your mind…”
“Thanks, but I’m okay.”
We went back to our cereal with a palpable tension hanging in the air. I knew that I had caused it, and that it was up to me to fix it.
“Uh, Chris, I know I don’t have any right to ask, but, could you do me a huge favor?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“If I don’t find something to do, I’m going to go crazy thinking about everything. I need something I can really get into; something that will distract me.”
“What do you have in mind?” Chris asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Can you teach me how to work out?”
“Is that all?”
“Well, yeah, I guess,” I responded, “unless there’s more to it than just that.”
“Depends on what you want to get out of it,” Chris said thoughtfully. “If you just want to bulk up, that’s one thing. If you want strength and endurance, that’s something entirely different.”
“I want to get into shape. I’d like to go out for football this fall.”
“Football?” Chris asked with disbelief coloring his tone. “Aren’t you a little small for football?”
“It ain’t my fault I got fucked in the height department,” I said flippantly.
Chris frowned at my choice of words, but seemed to be seriously considering my request.
“If mom says it’s okay, I’ll train you,” Chris replied, “but you gotta follow the rules, and do as I tell you. You can mess yourself up pretty bad if you don’t do it right. Davey used to get down on me ‘bout that all the time. So you gotta do as I say, or I’ll lock up the weight room.”
“Geez, Chris. You’re that serious about it?”
“Yes. One bad lift could ruin your life. Literally.”
“Okay,” I acquiesced. “I’ll follow your lead. When can we start?”
“After we ask mom. You like to jog?”
I shrugged again. I hadn’t really thought about it before.
“It’s a good way to warm up and get started on the legs, plus it’s a good cardio workout,” Chris told me. “We run first and then we can come back and do some lifting.”
Not knowing what he was really talking about, I nodded like an imbecile. I really hoped Kathlene would say yes. I needed this. I didn’t know why, but I knew I did. We picked up our bowls and walked into the kitchen where Kathlene sat reading her morning paper as she absentmindedly sipped a cup of coffee.
Chris took his bowl to the sink, rinsed it out, and placed it in the dishwasher. As he spoke to his mother, I did the same with my bowl. After a short conversation with Chris, Kathlene eyed me intently. I responded with the poker face I had perfected with my father.
“All right, Chris. Brian, you’d better listen to what he has to say. If you don’t, you’ll answer to me.”
I didn’t respond to her words, just staring at her. After a moment, she went back to her paper.
“C’mon Brian, let’s get changed,” Chris ordered excitedly. “The morning is passing us by.” Chris trotted to the stairs leading up to the bedrooms.
I followed him dutifully, and changed into some shorts and a t-shirt. When I was ready, I met Chris downstairs and put on my sneakers. Chris studied them as I laced them up.
“We’re going to have to get you some good running shoes. You’ll have blisters and shin splints in no time with those. What size shoe do you wear?”
“I dunno. Six?”
“I don’t have any that’ll fit you; I wear a ten. We’ll figure something out,” he explained. “Today is a short run anyway, ’cause it’s your first time. We’ll only go a couple miles.”
“A couple miles?” I asked, stunned.
“Yeah. I usually go five or six on an average run.” Chris actually sounded excited to run a mini-marathon every day or so. Strange.
“Oh. Okay…” My voice did nothing to hide my dread.
“Hey, Brian, don’t look at it like that. You’ve heard of a runners’ high?”
“Yeah…”
“It’s real, and it is a high. You just have to stick with it, and you’ll get there.”
“Sounds cool,” I said as I finished tying my shoes. “You ready?”
Chris nodded. “We’ll be back in a half hour or so, mom.”
“Okay, boys, have a good run.” Kathlene waved us off impatiently, eager for our interruptions to run out the door with us.
We obliged her. I threw open the front door, with Chris just a split-second behind me. As I started running for the street, Chris stopped me.
“Hold on, Brian. We need to stretch first. Don’t need to cramp up or tear a muscle or anything your first time out. Nothing will make you quit working out faster than getting hurt.”
He led me through a ten minute stretching routine, and then we set off down the road for our run. Even in his mid-pubescent awkwardness Chris displayed a grace that I couldn’t explain. He was supremely comfortable with his body, or so it seemed, and his body worked flawlessly. He forced me to exert myself more and more just to keep up with him. Speech was a physical impossibility for me because I couldn’t spare the air. A half hour later, we returned to his house. I was certain I was dying the way my lungs burned and my legs ached. I collapsed onto the lawn, trying to catch my breath.
“No ya don’t,” Chris admonished, “We ain’t done yet. You lay down now and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
Chris was grinning at me, reveling in my suffering. I just knew he was. With supreme effort, I forced myself to my feet and followed my taskmaster around the garage to the workout room. He led me through a stretching routine again before we entered.
“Okay Brian, here are the main rules,” Chris said seriously. “One, never lift a bar alone. Two, don’t try to keep up with me if you aren’t strong enough to. It takes time to build muscle and strength, so give yourself some time before you try to lift heavy. Three, pay attention to how you do the exercise, because that’s just as important as doing the exercise. Davey says you can end up looking really weird if you work out wrong. Something ‘bout building some muscles faster than others. You can screw up your back, too. Oh, and we gotta drink a lot to stop us from drying out.”
“You’re the boss, Chris,” I replied.
“Good. Here’s what we’re going to do. Come over and sit on the bench.”
As we worked out, my brain was turning somersaults in celebration. My path to survival and salvation had opened widely in front of me.
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