The Dance of Death - Part 2 ===========================
Memory is a powerful thing, but it doesn't take that long to catalog events when you literally have no room for emotion. Joshua had killed something within me. Or, if he hadn't outright killed it, he had snuffed it out for a time. I would soon realize that I'd lost the ability to love another man... or had I?
I looked at the clock again. 10:40 PM. I nestled myself under the sheets and welcomed the oblivion that beckoned me.
=-=-=-=
I awoke the next morning, disoriented. Where was I? What was I doing in a strange bed? I blinked a couple of times and the puzzle was beginning to resolve itself. I'd come to my friend Jonathan's place after having had a violent break-up with my ex-boyfriend, Joshua. Violent on his part, that is; I'd been raped, beaten and left lying on his bed in my own blood.
Long story short - here I was, commencing to wake up. I was pleased to note that I only felt minor twinges of pain in my bones as I shifted out of bed, but the lingering pain in my rear was a most potent reminder of the vicious attack on me.
For the first time in 24 hours, I was in front of a mirror. I saw why Jonathan had been surprised at my appearance - my face looked drawn and pale, and my eyes seemed haunted - with good reason. My brown hair was tousled from the night's sleep, and my brown eyes stared back at me. The rest of me, all of 19 years old, was skinny yet not overly skinny. Overall, my body was "just right", me being about 6 feet tall, weighing about 155 pounds, with the proper muscle tone and contours and so on and so forth. I had bruises from where Joshua had hit me. Bastard knew what he was doing, since he left no visible marks on my face. Having finished the self-assessment, I stepped into the shower.
After the 15-minute morning ritual, I stepped out. Teeth glistening, face properly shaven, I walked into the living room, noting my suitcase where I'd dumped it last night. Having no idea of what was going to happen tomorrow let alone six months down the road, I left it there for later, when I knew where I was going to stay for more than a few days. I glimpsed a piece of paper on the table near the kitchen, and walked over to pick it up.
"Daniel - it's about 7:30 AM as I write this. I'll be going to work shortly, and will be back no later than 4 PM. Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen (but don't make a mess! :) ) and if you want to go out, the spare set of keys is in the bottom drawer beside the stove.
Take care.
- Jonathan."
I noted the time on the wall clock: 9 AM. Today, as I recalled it, was Friday. I poured myself a bowl of cereal, and as I sat at the table, crunching away, my mind was running through the alternatives I had, which seemed darn thin at the moment:
- Stay with Jonathan (Ok, doable if I ignore the fact that it kills privacy totally), 2. Try and find a new place, 3. Ask my other friends if they need roommates.
... And what about Joshua? As much as I would have liked to completely forget about him, I couldn't. He lived in the same city, after all. I sighed, having come to no conclusion. By now he had probably cleaned the bedsheets and eliminated all traces of my existence at his apartment, and I'd washed the evidence off of me in my daze.
I sighed, put the now-empty bowl in the sink, and rooted around in the apartment for a recent newspaper. I soon found one, and flipped to the classifieds and began searching for cheap one-bedroom apartments.
=-=-=-=
Forty-five minutes later, I'd narrowed down the possibilities and made a few phone calls. Since I had, almost literally, nothing except the clothes on my back, I wasn't in the mood to be picky about apartments. I began recollecting how I'd gotten here. I'd moved into Joshua's place three months ago, after having lived on campus at Simon Fraser University for the school year. We'd been going out for a couple months before the summer started, and I wasn't on good speaking terms with my parents since I'd told them I was gay just after my first semester final exams ended.
Joshua and I at the time were on a good footing, and I timidly asked him if I could move in with him after classes ended for the school year. He wholeheartedly agreed, and after my second semester finals were over, we "shacked up". Then the troubles began. We always ended up fighting over some little thing. Didn't matter if it was his tendency to forget that the money I gave him for my share of bill payments wasn't his to play with, or his nitpicking at some silly thing I did, like accidentally forgetting a towel on the floor of the bathroom. It always blew up in our faces.
The weird thing was, looking back on it, we stayed together because I thought I loved him. The sex wasn't bad, and we did have some good times together. All that changed in an instant last night. Weird how something that happens to you in less than fifteen minutes changes your entire world. I would have forgiven his slapping me and calling me a bitch, since no permanent harm was done. But Joshua had gone much further...
And then there was university. I'd finished working the previous week in preparation for school, which was less than two weeks away. I'd declared my major in chemistry, and I would have to take more calculus and physics courses in addition to the organic and physical chemistry classes I had to take. I was questioning whether my concentration would be enough to keep my GPA high enough.
I decided I wasn't getting anywhere, and grabbed the spare keys. I left the apartment, being sure to lock up, and walked aimlessly for a while...
=-=-=-=
I returned just after 4 o'clock to find Jonathan unwinding from his workday. He grinned and said, "Wow! You look tons better, Daniel! What'd you do today?"
I blushed and said, "Thanks. I just checked your newspaper, phoned some people about apartments. Then I did some deep thinking, and later on I went out." I hefted the tome I'd bought at Chapters. The cover read "The Microsoft File".
"Cool. Work was boring. Same silly bank customers, same managers goofing off and then scurrying around when the bigwigs came down." Jonathan worked at a bank downtown, as a bank teller. It was OK money, considering he didn't have to waste his dough on a car. "Hey. You gonna go to school for your second year in chemistry?"
"You must have been reading my mind today. I was wondering about that." My self-confidence began to shudder at the foundations, and I feared the results if there were to be a collapse.
"Well, you can always talk to me if you feel like it." He grinned and did a cheezy thumbs-up.
"Thanks. I appreciate it." Timidly, I ventured forth. "I don't know how long you can have me over here-"
Jonathan cut in. "Don't worry! I would never kick you out like that, man. Hell, if you want, we'll get a two-bedroom apartment somewhere."
Oh. My. God. He was willing to do this for me? "Wow. I don't know what to say. Let me think about it, eh?" I cracked a wan smile.
"Hey, we're friends. Besides, I'd been sorta hoping we could do this someday."
"Why?" Things are never what they seem to be...
"Well, we're friends, man. We get along well, why wouldn't we get along as roommates?" His face seemed so earnest and open that it was hard for me to not try and read between the lines. His willingness to uproot himself seemed rather... spontaneous.
"Just... look, I'm trying to deal with a lot of shit right now..." Damn. That was it. My self-confidence couldn't take another hit today, and I sank to the floor, sniffling until I could hold back no longer, and began crying.
A tentative hand was on my shoulder. I repressed my initial shudder at human contact, and nodded at Jonathan's blurry face. He instantly enveloped me in his arms, and whispered words of comfort. Next thing I knew, I was lying on his bed, and he was saying, "Rest. I'll make us something to eat."
I saw and heard no more, as consciousness escaped me.
=-=-=-=
I awoke to the smell of chicken. I groggily looked at the clock next to the bed - 6:32 PM. I brushed my hand through my hair and tried to reassure myself I didn't look like Rip Van Winkle. Sleeping had a tendency to make me look disorderly.
I walked into the combination kitchen/dining room and saw Jonathan setting plates on the table. The food was in various stages of readiness, and I felt my stomach rumbling. It occurred to me that Jonathan's solicitude could save me from experiencing more difficulties in recovery that would otherwise crop up, due to poor eating habits that I surely would have developed. After all, had I not eaten just a bowl of cereal that morning and nothing else?
I exclaimed, "Wow! Smells fabulous, Jonathan!"
He looked up and smiled. "Glad you could make it, even if your hair was a casualty on the way."
I mock-frowned and said, "Fine. I'll just go shave it off, so you'll never have to see it again!"
He giggled. "I'd love to see that. Seriously though, supper's just about ready; the chicken's on the table, as you can see. The mashed potatoes are just finishing up now, and the mushrooms are about halfway done. Caesar salad?"
I nodded.
"Good! Just have a seat there and Chef Jonathan will impress you!" That trademark grin which broke so easily upon him was there again. It was infectious, and I responded in kind.
I mused on this hidden talent - a straight guy who could actually cook; he was definitely going to make some woman a fine husband one of these days.
The food was on the table with due speed. I began dishing out food onto my plate, then grabbed my empty glass and walked to the fridge. "Oh, Chef...?"
Jonathan looked up. "Yes, Monsieur?"
"While I'm over here, what drink would you like?"
"Hmm. What're you having? I know I have a bottle of Coke in there I haven't opened yet - I'll have that."
"I was thinking of having Coke also."
The two Coke drinks were poured, and I toasted him on his excellent cooking. We then fell to the food, and conversation was limited.
All too soon, I was finished. "Wow. Excellent! I must congratulate the fine eating establishment that prepared such a meal."
Jonathan replied, "Indeed. Maybe I should send the manager a note." He winked.
"Never hurts," I deadpanned.
The reply was an arched eyebrow. I abruptly realized I was being rude as a guest; I swept up my cutlery, plate and cup and placed them in the sink. I then set to clearing the rest of the table, with Jonathan's help.
After everything had been squared away, I turned to Jonathan, and hesitantly put my hands on his shoulders. I looked him in the eye, and said, "Jonathan, man, I want you to know I really appreciate everything you're doing for me. I've got this feeling I'm going to be just fine!"
He smiled warmly, and said, "It was the right thing to do, and I wasn't going to abandon my duty to you as a friend. Don't worry about it; just... please be Ok? I'm worried you'll have nightmares or something because of... well, you know." He reciprocated and put his hands on my shoulders. For a second, I shrank back from the contact, but rallied quickly.
He was right. I hadn't thought of that. The first night I was so emotionally exhausted that my sleep had been that of the necessary healing variety needed to put psychological barriers between the still-jagged memories of my rape and my everyday functioning. My nap of today had been some sort of shut-down mechanism in response to stress. Now that I was beginning to return to normal, would I be able to take it in stride, or would I falter along the way to recovery? I took a breath, and hugged him briefly to let him know I didn't fear his touch.
I had part of the answer already, though. "Jonathan, I'll have to ask you to trust me. The most important part is that my recovery won't be harmed by having to focus my energies on pure survival - I've got a roof over my head and food for my body. I'll be forever in your debt because you provided them for me in my time of need." I warded off his protestations and rolled on. "Can I ask you one favor, though?"
A nod was his only reply.
"If I ever.. well, need to hold someone, will you...?"
Jonathan said, "Don't worry. It'll probably be weird for me, but if you think you'll feel safer that way, just ask."
I whispered, "Thanks." and hugged him again. I suddenly felt very small and vulnerable. I wanted his encircling arms to reassure me that I wouldn't be buffeted by the winds of fate. However, the poor fellow was probably getting somewhat uncomfortable, so I released my embrace and stepped back.
I decided I wasn't going to get much done tonight, and mentioned I was going to read my new book for a while. Jonathan said, "Ok. We'll figure out the sleeping arrangements later. Go enjoy yourself." With that, he turned to the task of cleaning the dishes and I walked over to the couch, sat down, and opened my book...
=-=-=-=
To his credit, Jonathan only gave me the hairy eyeball once when I asked if I could sleep on the bed next to him. It was, after all, a queen-size bed. I didn't get all that much sleep, though. My mind was too busy running down whether or not I could handle recovery and a full courseload. On the one hand, if I took a semester off, I could concentrate on taking it easy and building up my strength. On the other hand, if I plunged back into my normal routine of school, I might be able to forget about my emotional fragility. After all, atoms, molecules and their interactions were going to do the same things whether or not I felt like shit or felt great.
All the while, I was brutally conscious of the fact that under normal circumstances, being next to a nearly-naked guy would have had my body and mind poised to take "action", given the appropriate nudge. However, while I could mentally appreciate Jonathan's looks, I didn't feel even a twinge down there. This contrasted from back in high school, when I could provide my brain with all kinds of cannon fodder for wanking material by fantasizing about him buck naked.
Was I doomed to be incapable of being physically attracted to a guy? Had Joshua ripped something from my soul? Was my mind simply shutting down my reaction to males as a defence mechanism? Hell if I knew.
Finally, I passed into a kind of half-awake, half-asleep state, flitting back and forth across the wall between consciousness and dreams. At about 5:30 in the morning, I had passed into my awake state long enough to discern that Jonathan's eyes were open, and he was looking directly at me.
I involuntarily jerked my head back and blurted out "Shit!" My heart was pounding in my chest even as I regrouped and took stock of the situation. "How long have you been looking at me?! Man, you freaked me out!"
He looked so apologetic it was hard to stay upset. "Only a couple of minutes, I swear. You looked restless, and I was wondering if you were sleeping well."
"Honestly, I dunno. I've been barely asleep." I rubbed my eyes and continued. "I hate to take advantage of your offer so soon, but-" Ack. I was getting flustered. "Um... geez, how do I say it -- can I hold you?"
Jonathan didn't even bat an eyelid. He just extended his arm, and I nestled within his embrace, my head on his chest and my arms around him in a fairly comfortable manner. His warmth was so intoxicating, yet calming, that when I closed my eyes, there was nary a ripple as I sank below the waters of deep sleep...