Confrontations

That was the first night I had slept in Chris’ room in a long time. After the conversation with him and his mom, I went back to my room and changed into some sweats before returning to Chris’ room. I started out curled up on the floor as I usually did, but sometime during the night Chris pulled me into the bed. I had no nightmares that I could remember.

I attempted to sleep in my own bed in the nights that followed but I ended up in Chris’ room on a regular basis. The nightmares I was having were growing more hazy but frightened me just as much as they ever had. Some of my dreams surrounded Pete leaving me, or finding out Pete was dead, or worse, that I’d killed him or he’d killed himself. My mind would come up with all these weird scenarios where I was being hunted and had no chance of surviving. Dreams like that were by far the scariest because they involved pain. What my pursuers did after they caught me isn’t something I’m going to put here, but I always woke up shortly afterwards sweating my ass off and wondering if my screams were real.

My sexuality was a non-issue. Chris seemed completely comfortable with me. I was letting him hold me on the really bad nights, but after I was calm the hormonal urges made an appearance. I tried unsuccessfully to ignore it, and there were a lot of sleepless nights. Chris either didn’t notice or didn’t care about my obvious reaction to being in his arms. I remember waking up in an excited state with my body tightly wrapped around him. How Chris could have slept through that dream and what happened immediately after I awoke I don’t know. If he was awake and aware, he never said anything to me about it.

Practice changed. Coach Navarro pulled the whole team together and gave everybody a lecture on what it means to be a team. The bulk of the time was spent explaining how we should respect our teammates and not abuse the trust we should have in the team as a whole. He also told us that we were always representing the school, whether on and off the mat, and we should act accordingly by keeping any personal differences out of it. Then came the killer.

"I don’t know which of you are doing it, but I want it to stop right now. You do not abuse anyone in the manner you have abused your teammate. If this comes to my attention again, I will find out who is doing it, kick you off the team, and suspend or expel you. I don’t care who you are, or if you’re a freshman or senior. Furthermore, you will never wrestle at this school again as long as I am the head coach. This is your one and only chance to clean up your act. If anyone on this team feels they are being abused, beaten on, or otherwise harassed, see me." His eyes were riveted on me as he continued. "No one should have to put up with that kind of bullshit, and as long as you are on my team, you won’t. Not any more. If you don’t think I’m serious about what I’ve just said… try me."

Silence settled over our group as Coach Navarro glared at each and every one of us. Some wrestlers looked completely confused while others seemed offended. I also looked around to see how my tormentors were taking the coach’s statements. They didn’t appear to appreciate what Navarro said, but they didn’t appear angry either.

The coach’s speech resulted in fewer bumps and bruises, but more threats. I took them in stride, ignoring them as best I could. I knew that I’d have hell to pay after the season if I didn’t figure out a way to get them off my back by then.

Christmas break began the week after I bawled my eyes out. We didn’t do anything too special. The Forns and I spent the holidays together. Wrestling practice continued through the break, so we couldn’t go anywhere out of the area. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to go, anyway.

My parents asked to see me just before Christmas. There was no way I wanted to have any contact with them: I still hated them. I wanted nothing to do with the people who had wreaked so much devastation in my life. Kathlene somehow convinced me to hear them out, but I made sure she understood I didn’t want to be alone with them.

My stomach was tied in knots for hours before my parents were due to arrive. I felt I had nothing to say to them and nothing they were going to tell me would change how I felt about them. Chris kept me company while I waited, trying to distract me with a mini-workout and playing pool, but I was so anxious I couldn’t hold the cue steady enough to shoot. My foster brother took pity on me and herded me to the couch where Chris and I talked for about an hour right before my parents got there. We talked about everything Chris could come up with, again in an attempt to distract me. While we chatted, my brain took off on another tangent.

I was afraid. Pete was gone, and he most likely would never to return. That was a fact I had to face. It scared me senseless. Just the idea that Pete might be out there waiting for me was enough to keep me going from day to day at that point, but how long would that thought be able to sustain me? How long should I wait for him? No phone calls and no letters. Not even an e-mail. Was he still waiting for me or had he found some other way of being happy; someone else to be with? How could I continue to live without that hope?

"Brian, are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh. Sorry, Chris. My mind drifted off."

He smiled slightly and nodded in understanding. "It’s okay. Um, your mom and dad are here. Danny too."

My body and mind froze as blind panic threatened to overwhelm me. I could feel my pulse and breathing speed up and only by a supreme act of will did I avoid the panic attack that was coming.

"Bri?" Chris prompted with concern.

"I’m fine. Let’s go."

I forced a smile in an attempt to prove to Chris I was really in control of myself. I couldn’t tell whether I was successful or not.

We climbed the stairs and rounded the corner to the dining room. My parents sat across from Kathlene at the table. Danny was with them sitting at the far end. My immediate urge was to run, but Chris’ arm around my shoulders prevented me from bolting. He led me to the dining room table where I sat next to Kathlene and across from Danny- only because I hated him the least. I wouldn’t meet their eyes because there was still too much pain involved. Kathlene was across from my mom and Chris faced my father. It was a struggle to keep my eyes dry. All I could see in my mind was Pete waving at me through the back window of his car as his mother drove him out of my life.

Kathlene was still making small talk as I settled into my chair for the long haul. I sat slouched over and looking at my hands in my lap. The fear that had crept in while I had been downstairs reasserted itself, and I fought it off with everything I had. I missed what was being said as I became angry at myself because of my weakness. I needed to be strong. A grim resolve lodged itself in my brain. I could survive this.

"Brian," my mother started, "Thank you for seeing us."

I stared at her as she paused, waiting for a response I wasn’t going to give. After a moment she continued.

"We know it’s difficult for you to believe this, but we do love you, and we want to do what’s best for you. We made a mistake, and it’s robbed us of almost two years. We miss you so much, Brian," she added with some emotion.

"Please tell us, how can we make it up to you?" She pleaded "How can we end this and put our family back together?"

I met her gaze unflinchingly for several long moments, then shifted my eyes to my father. He stared back uncertainly, his eyes clouded with emotion he did not show otherwise. We continued to stare at each other until Kathlene cleared her throat and my dad’s gaze slipped to her. Apparently he didn’t have anything to say to me.

"Brian," Kathlene said, "do you have anything to say?"

Without looking away from my father I asked, "Are you going to talk, dad, or are you just here because mom made you come?"

His eyes narrowed for a moment before returning his expression to that bleak emotionless stare, but his eyes still revealed his feelings. He seemed to struggle for a moment, then sighed.

"I want you home, Brian," he said simply while meeting my eyes once more.

"You’re sure you want a faggot for a son?" I asked brutally.

"Brian!" Kathlene gasped, aghast at my choice of language.

My father continued to stare back.

"Brian," my mom protested, "don’t say that."

"Why not?" I demanded. "It’s the truth. I’m gay. Get used to it."

Dad spoke again. "Brian, it doesn’t matter what..."

"Bullshit. I can see it in your eyes. It made a difference that first night, and it makes a difference now. You wanted a straight son, and you got a homo instead."

"Brian, shut up," Danny interjected angrily.

My glare swept to pin Danny in his place. "You ain’t my keeper. You fucked me over just like they did!"

"Brian Andrew..." Kathlene said again warningly.

"Dammit kid, you don’t get it!" Danny all but shouted. "We did what we..."

"Thought was best for me?" I interrupted sarcastically. "None of you thought to ask me what I felt, did you? You said it, Danny: I’m just a kid. How could I possibly know what’s best for me and my life?"

Frustration and anger warred across Danny's features as I glowered at him. He finally settled on disgusted.

"See? You can’t answer the question. Can any of you honestly tell me that you even thought about asking me, or telling me the truth?"

Seeing my parents and Danny shifting uncomfortably, I snorted.

"Are we done here?" I asked pointedly.

"No we are not, Brian," Kathlene asserted testily. "At some point a peace must be made. At the very least you could hear them out without interruption. They aren’t here just to torture you as you seem to think they are. They are here because they genuinely miss you. Can’t you tell how heavily this whole affair weighs on their minds? They love you, Brian. All of them. Surely you can look past your anger and see that."

I replied with a combination of controlled rage and inescapable sadness, and it made my voice shake. "What I see," I grated, "are three of the people who destroyed my life. As for reservations.... Sure, they seem to be sorry, but I look in his eyes," I glanced to my father, "and see just how much he wants to have a faggot for a son. He didn’t even want to come here." I glared at my mother. "She made him come. She claims to love me now. Maybe she does, but I’ll never forget what she did to me." I looked at Danny. "I’ll never forget what any of you did to me."

Slowly I rose from the table, trying to hide the sudden weakness in my limbs. I used the back of Kathlene’s and Chris’ chair to help support me as I moved around the table and toward the stairs. Halfway to the safety of my room, I turned and looked at my family again. They were watching me with a sorrow I’d never seen before. A lump formed in my throat threatening to choke off my voice. I closed my eyes and swallowed, exposing to them more weakness than I had intended.

God how I wished things could have been different; that my parents could have accepted me, and that Pete and I were still together.

"I can’t forgive you," I said, so quietly they had to strain to hear me, while staring at the stairs to avoid seeing more of their pain. "Not now. Maybe someday, but not now."

I moved toward the stairs and tried to round the corner before they saw the tears fall from my eyes.

Christmas Eve and day were rough for me. I tried to play it off like everything was fine, but inside I found nothing but emptiness. I had a gaping crevasse in my soul where family would reside, and an even more massive abyss where Pete should be. Kathlene and Chris tried to keep the mood light and keep me engaged so I couldn’t brood, but I ended up stuck in my head for most of the time.

I asked Kathlene for and received permission to take a morning and evening run on those days. The effect that running has on my psyche is well known to her, and I know she understood why I asked. Her sympathetic smile told me so.

Chris joined me on my morning run on the twenty-fourth. We ranged far and wide, extending the run to a good three hours. The entire time I was zoned out, following Chris as he led me through the trails and along the streets. Thoughts and memories of Pete tried to intrude into the peace I’d found. I managed to fight them off until, at last, I couldn’t concentrate. I slowed down to a stumbling walk allowing Chris to run ahead a short way before he noticed my absence.

He watched me curiously as I shuffled up the path toward him. As I got closer, his expression changed from curiosity to compassion. Without asking and without waiting, Chris wrapped me in his arms and stroked my hair as I lost my battle to keep my emotions under control.

I retreated to my room the instant we got home and shut the door quietly behind me. A moment later as I took off my t-shirt, Kathlene knocked on the door and asked permission to come in. I opened the door and she entered with Chris close behind her. I immediately sighed and made a preemptive strike.

"I don’t want to talk about it. All I want to do right now is forget for awhile."

I turned to my closet and took off my shoes, socks and sweatpants, leaving me in just a skimpy pair of running shorts and a jock. When I looked back, Kathlene smiled sadly. Chris wore an odd expression that I could only label as anxious. I stood before Kathlene.

"I’ll be okay," I said in an attempt to assuage Chris’ concern.

I kissed Kathlene on the cheek and threatened to give her a hug but she waved me off.

"Ugh," Kathlene said with a fake grimace. "Go wash that sweaty body. I’ll take my hug after."

I walked up to Chris and surprised him with a tight hug. I could feel his body tense to withstand the strength I put into the embrace.

"Thanks for being here, Chris." I murmured.

I released him and walked into the bathroom. I heard Chris take a deep, shuddering breath and let it all out in a gust of wind. Just before I started the water for my shower I heard mother and son speaking in quiet voices. I silently thanked God once more that I had them in my life.

Christmas Day was very reserved. I knew that I was the cause of Kathlene’s and Chris’ subdued mood and I felt very bad about it. When I apologized, Kathlene took me into her arms and cried quietly. Chris shed a few tears as well when he joined the embrace, which made me feel even worse.

We ate dinner with just the three of us. Kathlene led a prayer of thanksgiving and we each added our own silent prayers afterward. I prayed that God would one day reunite me with Pete, but I knew in my soul the likelihood of that coming to pass was infinitesimal.

Shortly after we finished eating the phone rang. As I expected, David had made his call home. Chris and Kathlene spoke to him for a while as I cleared up most of the dishes from the huge feast we’d just consumed.

I had eaten so much that I literally made myself ill. I spent a fair amount of time in the bathroom throwing up everything I had just eaten. It wasn’t all bad though: I was certain not to add any pounds I would need to take off later to make weight for the next wrestling match.

When I was done in the bathroom, Chris met me in the hall, all smiles and grins.

"Davey’s coming home for a whole week! He’ll be here tomorrow! It’s his Christmas present to us!" Chris burbled along happily. "We’re going to pick him up at SFO at noon. A whole week! Isn’t it great?"

I struggled to smile and said, "Yeah, Chris. That’s great news. I’m happy for you."

Chris stopped and stared at me, perplexed.

He asked, "What’s wrong, Brian?"

"I don’t think David likes me too much, Chris," I said candidly. "It’s, like, every time I’m around him I get a weird vibe."

"Of course he does! He likes you just fine," Chris insisted.

"Whatever you say, Chris."

"It’s your imagination. Probably because you’re sleeping in the bedroom and he’s on the couch."

"Maybe...." I knew I didn’t sound convinced.

Chris went back downstairs. I could hear him speaking with his mother in happy tones while my stomach continued to lurch. Another trip to the bathroom followed shortly.

That night I slept in Chris’ room from the outset. I knew that it wouldn’t be possible for the week David was home and that bothered me. My nightmares had gone from being relatively bearable to terrifyingly real since I had met with Danny and my parents. Chris’ presence had blunted the intensity somewhat, but I still woke in a sweat at least once on most nights. It was fortunate that nothing in my dreams made me flail around in my sleep. I didn’t want to accidentally wake Chris and have him ask awkward questions.

The next morning was terrible. Chris and Kathlene were bubbling with excitement at the elder Forn son’s return. I was living in quiet desperation, trying to remain calm and come up with a strategy to get through the week with the fewest opportunities for David and me to be alone. Not many people scared me, but David was one of them. He was stronger than Chris, and maybe smarter, too. He was a SEAL and that took some brain power. What frightened me most was that if for whatever reason it came down to a physical confrontation, David would kill me.

Chris and Kathlene tried to get me to accompany them to the airport to pick David up. I refused, stating I had some things I wanted to do. They both stared at me until I promised them I wouldn’t be running or lifting while they were gone. I kept my word but I did work out some. Push-ups, sit-ups, lunges, and leg raises made for a very nice light workout while burning some of the nervous energy that had been collecting since I found out David was going to be home.

I took an ice cold shower to cool off and clear my mind, and then went to my room, opening the window to let the frigid winter air in. The temperature dropped rapidly with the moderate wind blowing outside. I closed the door and then climbed into bed, encasing my naked body in my bedclothes. Sleep came over me more quickly than I thought it would.

Chris and I sat on a rock overlooking the crashing waves below and watching the roiling storm clouds that filled the dark lightening illuminated sky. A freezing wind whipped rain and sea spray into our faces and leeched the warmth from my body. Chris was dressed in a heavy jacket with the soaked hood of the sweatshirt he wore beneath pulled over his head. Nothing on the boy was dry. The tears in Chris’ eyes blended into the rain running down his face.

The rocks below us disappeared beneath the wind-driven surf with great crashes. It was difficult to tell whether the thunder I heard came from above or below. Behind me was a field of grass bowed over by the tempestuous winds blowing across the expanse in waves. I could see no one else but Chris. I watched him sit in the middle of the gale like a statue but for an occasional sob that wracked his body. Everything about Chris spoke of misery and sadness. His expression never wavered from one of tortured mourning.

My heart broke seeing him in this state. I sat next to him and placed my arm around his trembling shoulders. He didn’t respond at all. It was like I didn’t exist to him. I squeezed harder but he still did not acknowledge my presence.

"Why’d you do it, Brian?" Chris asked quietly.

"What, Chris?" I questioned.

"What did I do? I don’t understand!" My friend said more loudly.

"What don’t you understand? Tell me," I said in response.

"Why?" Chris roared the question to the lowering sky.

"Why what, Chris? What are you talking about?" I was thoroughly confused.

"Everybody leaves me," Chris whimpered pitifully.

"What? Who?"

I moved around in front of Chris so I could see his eyes. They were the same color as the clouds above. Thunder crashed all around us from sea and sky. I put my hands on Chris’ knees and brought my eyes even with his. He didn’t react in the slightest way.

Suddenly I fell forward to the ground, bashing my face into the rock Chris had just been sitting on. Frantically I looked around and saw Chris standing near the edge of the cliff clutching something to his body. I raced the ten yards to catch up with him. He was holding a picture of us that had been taken after a football game. He’d framed it and had had it sitting on his desk since the end of our eighth grade season. Chris stared at it, ignoring the raindrops gathering on the glass.

"Chris, what’s going on?" I asked nervously.

I reached out to touch him but my hand passed right through Chris’ body. Mouth open in shock, I pulled back from him. Fear suddenly overwhelmed me and rooted me in place. All I could do was watch the scene that unfolded before me.

Chris put the picture to his lips in a long gentle kiss. His sobs grew in intensity as the seconds passed. He once again held the picture to his chest, hugging it hard like he was afraid it would disappear from his grasp.

"I love you, Brian," said my friend and brother. "I’ll never forget you."

He stood staring at the photograph for a long moment, and then in a sudden motion Chris flung the picture away into the maelstrom. I watched it crash into the foam-covered rocks below as lightning pierced the gloom. I tried to scream, to call after Chris, but I could not. He walked away through the field and I was helpless to stop him.

When he was out of sight, my body was unexpectedly freed from its mysterious imprisonment, causing me to stumble before regaining my balance. I looked at my hands to ensure I could move them and found them covered with blood. In a panic I looked over the rest of my body. It too was covered in blood. Unbelievable pain overtook me as I was swept off my feet and over the cliff’s edge. The pink-tinged brine of the sea closed over my head, drowning out my screams.

I was certain my howl was real this time because I was still yelling in short gasps after I woke. While I endeavored to control my shallow breathing and racing heart, I listened carefully to my environment and prayed that no one had been home to hear me.

My door burst inward as Kathlene and Chris raced to my bedside, followed by David. I stared at him as I struggled to regain my composure. He returned my gaze impassively without a hint of distaste. A hand on my shoulder got my attention.

"Brian, look at me!"

I jerked my head to face Kathlene and answered her with an abrupt, "What!"

"Don’t take that tone with me, Brian," she said crossly. She continued in a more subdued tone "You know very well why I’m in here."

Casting about for an answer, I stammered, "It… it… it’s okay. I just got caught by surprise."

Kathlene glared at me in full mother mode and then said, "Boys, would you excuse us please?"

"Sure," David said casually. "I’ll get unpacked into the family room."

I could have sworn I had heard an emphasis on the term "family room." I stared after him and Kathlene waited until the door had closed in front of Chris’ worried face.

"You’re still having nightmares," she stated. "I thought those were under control."

"They are," I said. As long as I’m with Chris, I added silently. "This one just snuck up on me."

"What was it about?" Kathlene asked gently.

I thought quickly and answered, "I was drowning in the ocean."

"And how did you get there, Brian?"

"I don’t know," I replied to her question. "I just appeared there in the water."

Kathlene was quiet for a second, then inquired, "Do you remember anything else about your dream?"

"No," I lied. "It’s all gone now."

My breathing and pulse had slowed to a more acceptable rate. I realized I was naked with Kathlene sitting on my bed, and the only thing between her eyes and my crotch was a thin sheet. Suddenly self-conscious, I pulled my blankets back up. It was quite chilly, and my motion reminded Kathlene that it was nearly fifty degrees in my room.

"Why on earth did you open your window like that?" She asked tartly. "Are you trying to catch your death of cold?"

"No. I just... I don’t know...wanted to hibernate, I guess," I said by way of explanation.

"Well, un-hibernate," Kathlene quipped as she closed my window firmly. "Come down and say hello to David."

"Okay," I said with a sigh. "I’ll be down in a few minutes." My voice cracked, much to my annoyance.

"Lunch will be ready soon," she said as she left.

"Thanks."

Once the door was closed again, I climbed out of my cocoon and jumped into some sweats. As an afterthought, I substituted a pair of briefs for my boxers just in case something decided to pop up unexpectedly. A quick run to the bathroom and washing my face left me feeling somewhat refreshed physically, but my brain was still replaying every detail of the nightmare in front of my mind’s eye. By the time I made it to the kitchen, I felt haunted by the images and put myself at a distance from the others. A headache formed and threatened to get worse. Without a word, I went back upstairs and took a pain reliever in an attempt to knock the headache down.

When I returned, Kathlene eyed me until I sat and gave her a half smile and a shrug. I was sitting between Chris and Kathlene and across from David. Lunch was soup and sandwiches. I ate a sandwich and a few spoonfuls of broth, but by then my headache had exploded into a full-blown migraine and it was hard to swallow.

I excused myself and walked calmly to the kitchen bathroom where I lost what little I had eaten. Thank God I was quiet when I got sick. A moment later, I returned to the table and begged off in a scratchy voice using the headache as an excuse. Kathlene and Chris said they’d check up on me later and went back to their conversation with David.

I watched the Forns for a moment before climbing the stairs back to my ice cave. Chris, Kathlene and David seemed genuinely happy to be together again. I knew I had no place there with them so I resolved to stay out of their way as much as possible. I had to make another stop at the bathroom upstairs before opening the window again and crawling back into my cocoon. I held out as long as I could, but sleep overcame me again even with the migraine lancing through my brain like a hot poker.

"Brian, dinner will be ready soon. You need to get washed up," Kathlene said, her voice penetrating the veil of sleep that had protected me from the pain once again coursing through my head.

"Not hungry," I said hoarsely.

"You will eat something. And what did I tell you about leaving your window open?" She asked rhetorically while closing it.

"I don’t feel like eating. I have a headache."

"A bad one?" Kathlene’s tone was less severe.

"Uh huh. It made me sick at lunch."

"Why didn’t you tell me, Brian?" She crossly demanded in a soft voice.

"You were busy," I all but whispered. My voice was quiet in an attempt not to jar my sensitive brain.

"Since when have I ever been too busy for you to come to me if you’re sick, Brian?" Kathlene still sounded like she was pissed.

"It’s no big deal," I said, my voice slipping in and out of a whisper. "You were with David."

She glared at me for a moment before sitting next to me. She placed the back of her hand on my forehead and bit her lip.

Kathlene said, "Stay right there, Brian. I’ll be right back," as she left my room for the bathroom. I could hear her rummaging around in medicine cabinet and the cupboards beneath the sink. She came back a moment later with a thermometer.

"Here, honey, let me take your temperature."

I took the thermometer in my mouth without comment. The central heating kicked in and began to erase the chill that had overtaken my room.

"Are you warm enough, Brian?" Kathlene asked worriedly.

I realized I was a bit on the cool side when she asked. Kathlene went to the closet and got me another blanket when I indicated I wasn’t warm enough, and sat back down on the bed, waiting for the thermometer to read properly. Chris poked his head in to tell us dinner was ready, and came in when he saw me bundled up like an Eskimo.

"Are you okay, Bri?" He asked in a worried tone.

I shrugged as his mother said, "He’s sick because he’s stubborn and a bit stupid, right Brian?" Kathlene’s voice was filled with that "I told you so" tone. "This should teach you not to go running in the dead of winter and then sleep with an open window."

I grunted in reply.

"Chris, you and David go ahead and start without me. I’m going to be here for a little bit."

"Okay, mom. Hope you feel better, Bri."

Kathlene’s younger son smiled at me and departed to eat his meal. While we were waiting, Kathlene kept feeling my forehead and cheek.

"Do you feel sick to your stomach, Brian?"

I nodded again. My head hurt abominably, and that in turn made me nauseous. My body was aching as well, which was unusual since I hadn’t done anything strenuous. When she pulled the thermometer out of my mouth, I told her how I was feeling. She nodded as she determined my temperature.

"I want you to stay here in bed, Brian. You’re running a pretty good fever. I’ll bring you up something to eat in a bit. I’m going to get you some ibuprofen and some water, and I want you to drink it so you don’t get dehydrated."

"Okay," I croaked.

She looked at me fretfully for a moment and stroked my forehead.

"Brian, you’ve been here long enough to know that I love you," my foster mother said quietly. "Don’t feel like you have to hold back from me just because David is home, and don’t hold back on me because of Chris. You’re just as important to me as they are."

"Yeah, sure."

Her expression grew dark but held more compassion.

"I’m not joking, Brian. I mean what I said. I wish I could make you understand that," she said wistfully.

I looked up at her and met her gaze for a moment. I believed she was telling me the truth.

"Get some sleep, honey. I’ll be back in a little bit."

I gathered my blankets around me and huddled in the fetal position. I was now warm enough, but just barely. It was hard to think straight with the hammering headache I had. What seemed an instant later, Kathlene came back with a large glass of water and a couple of pills.

"Take these, Brian. They’ll help you sleep."

I raised myself unsteadily on one arm. The cold air shocked my body as it flowed under my sheets. Kathlene gave me the pills and I put them in my mouth with some difficulty. She had to hold the glass of water to keep me from spilling it all over. When I was done, my arm collapsed and I lay where I fell. Chris’ mom covered me back up gently.

"I’ll check on you in a bit, hon. If you need anything, yell, okay?"

"Yeah. ‘kay."

She turned off the light in my room and semi-darkness settled over me. I wrapped my bedclothes tightly around me in an attempt to keep warm. The last thought I remember before blacking out was I needed another blanket.

The light of the sun coming through the window fell on my foot, waking me with its gentle warmth. I looked around the room. Something wasn’t right. Something was missing. I heard the toilet flush and a pair of feet padding across the hall. I watched expectantly as the door was pushed open. The sight I beheld was one I would never tire of seeing, but I could not remember seeing it before.

He walked toward me, pausing as he crossed through the sunbeam streaming into the room. His body glowed with an internal light, his skin illuminated to a golden hue and his unkempt hair forming a halo around his head. His well-developed muscles stood out in bold relief, the sun accentuating every curve.

He gestured to me with a smile and I crawled out of bed to join him. I entered his embrace and he pulled my naked form tightly to him, molding his body to mine for the most skin contact possible. Our lips met gently, the kiss one of tenderness and love slowly turning into a passionate battle that neither of us were attempting to win.

My lover picked me up and returned us to the bed where he lay down on top of me. I relished the feeling of his weight pressing down on me and wrapped my legs around him to pull him closer. He began to move against me, slowly at first, and then with increasing urgency. Breathing became ragged and heartbeats fast. I knew it was only a matter of time until….

My dreams took an unusually cruel turn, and nothing is worse than having a nightmare and not being able to wake up. Instead of dreaming about Pete dying or me killing him or being hunted, I dreamed of us being together and living happily ever after. Those dreams nearly destroyed me again.

At some point during the night, my fever broke. When I awoke the next morning I just decided to stay in bed. I was an emotional basket case and didn’t have the strength to face David or anyone else. Kathlene cared for me most of the day while the brothers were out doing whatever they did. It didn’t matter to me much because I was diving deep into my depression. Kathlene would ask what I was feeling and thinking, but I would shrug or give her the standard answer of, "nothing."

She managed to force some soup into my gullet and I kept it down. My headache had receded thorough the night but was not gone completely. It hung over my head like an executioner’s axe. I never knew if it was going to return or how much pain it would bring with it.

While I lay there awake, I decided to do some of my homework but no matter what subject I pulled out, I couldn’t concentrate. On impulse I finally pulled out a blank piece of paper and wrote whatever came to mind.

A short while later I was surprised to see I had filled both sides of the page with half thoughts and phrases. It was very strange reading what I’d written because I couldn’t recognize any of it as mine. It was as if someone else had scrawled the contents of the page and handed it to me to examine.

What I discerned from my words terrified me to my core. I’d always thought of myself as a strong person, able to take anything that came my way and deal with it, but what I read on the paper forced me to admit I wasn’t coping well. Anger came through very clearly along with the loneliness and isolation I felt. I discovered I was fearful of being alone, of never finding Pete again. I was frightened that I couldn’t wait to find him; that I would betray him.

I stopped reading. I had to. I couldn’t be that vulnerable to anyone about anything. The paper in my hands was torn into small pieces. I got up and made my unsteady way down the stairs and to the fireplace where a cheery fire burned brightly. Without hesitation, I threw the scraps into the flames one by one and watched them char and disintegrate before my eyes. The mental door to the room containing what I had discovered slammed closed as the paper burned out of existence and out of mind.

"Brian Andrew Kellam, get some clothes on! Do you want to get sick again?" Kathlene asked in full mother mode.

When I continued staring into the blaze and did not respond, she came over and put her arms around my bare shoulders from behind.

"What are you doing, hon?"

I didn’t answer at first, but I could tell she was getting nervous about my lack of response.

"I’m just... thinking. Getting rid of some stuff."

Kathlene looked down and saw a few scraps of paper left over from my scribbling being consumed by the flames.

"What was it?" She asked, her tone one of uneasy concern.

I took a deep breath and released it.

"Something I don’t need anymore," I said quietly.

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