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LOVE IS ALL THAT MATTERS ~ Chapter 6 ~
From the Narrative of Harrison Ridgeway IV:
I managed to get home before Mom woke up and came looking for me. Needless to say, I was still so sleepy that even a hot shower to wash off the sand didn't manage to keep me awake. Remembering to put on some clothes this time, I jumped into bed and immediately fell asleep. All thoughts of Josh, Reid and my father faded into oblivion.
For the second time that morning, I found myself being woken up. The bright sun shone directly into my eyes through the open windows. I groaned and tried to cover my face with a pillow, only to find it being pulled away.
"Get up already, it's ten in the morning," said my sister Phoebe.
I glared at her. "Don't you have a job and a baby to look after?"
"Yeah, well, my shift at the hospital starts in about half an hour. I just came by to drop Alan off with Mom, and she told me you've been sleeping a lot since you came home. You slept yesterday afternoon, and then immediately after dinner until now."
Not entirely true, but then they didn't know about my midnight trip to the beach. "Oh, just go away," I grumbled. "I don't want to listen to you bitch about my sleeping habits. No wonder everyone complains about older sisters."
"Well I'm not going anywhere until you get out of bed. Mom's been waiting with breakfast for you since eight. She made your favorite pancakes since it's your first breakfast back home."
"Alright," I groaned. I pushed the bedcovers off and started to get up. Phoebe didn't move.
"Some privacy please?" I glared at her.
"For your information I've seen you naked before. And if I leave now, you're probably going back to sleep."
"I was about two when you last saw me naked! And in any case I'm not naked now. Now I promise I'm not going back to sleep okay? Could you just shut the door behind you?"
"Fine," huffed Phoebe and got up to go. Then she paused. "Why is there sand on your floor?"
Oops. "Erm . . . it must have been from my shoes." I quickly changed the topic. "By the way, what time did you say it was?"
"Ten o'clock."
"Shit! I meant to do something."
"And what might that be? Sleep some more?"
"Mind your own business. Now out. Shoo!"
"I'm not some animal for you to chase out of your room; I'm your big sister."
"You're a witch, that's what you are."
Phoebe threw the pillow at me and left the room. "Thanks for waking me up!" I yelled to her, but by then she'd gone downstairs.
I grinned. Despite our frequent bickering, we really got on quite well; better than most siblings I would say. Phoebe, being five years older, was always protective of me. Now she was married with her own child but she still had an almost maternal streak when it came to me.
I didn't need to shower again, so I just washed my face and put on fresh clothes before going down for breakfast. Dad would be at his office by now, so I didn't need to see him. As soon as I reached the breakfast table, Mom emerged from the kitchen with a plate piled high with blueberry pancakes.
"They look excellent, Mom," I told her as she placed them in front of me.
"Thank you, dear. And don't call your sister a witch."
Mom had supersonic hearing. I rolled my eyes as I replied, "Okay, Mom."
She sat down opposite me, watching me gobble down the pancakes hungrily.
"Did you eat properly in prison? You look half-starved. You need to eat more."
"Mom! You know I've always been on the thin side."
"Well now that you're home, you could do with a good feeding. So what are your plans for today?"
"I think I'll be out most of the day, Mom. But I promise to be home for dinner."
Mom looked worried. "Harrison, you're spending a lot of time out of the house since you got back."
"You don't need to worry, mom. I just have a couple of things to do, that's all."
She didn't look very comforted.
"Don't you trust me to look after myself?"
Mom sighed. "I keep forgetting that you're a young man now. Okay, but drive carefully and don't be late for dinner."
I smiled at her.
It hadn't been easy to get the address from Jack, my family's attorney. He'd been most reluctant to give it to me, saying that it wasn't a good idea. But I had to get this off my chest. He'd relented at last.
So here I was, standing outside a two-storey apartment complex on the beachfront, waiting to be buzzed up. I wasn't sure I would be, but it was worth a try.
I pressed the button next to the nameplate that read, "WINTERS, D."
A voice crackled over the intercom. "Hello?"
I cleared my throat nervously. "Uh, hi, this is Harrison Ridgeway. I - well, you probably know me already, and I was -"
"Come on up," the voice interrupted. The door clicked open.
I was a bit surprised at the abruptness of it. Still feeling very tense, I climbed the stairs to the upper floor. By the time I'd reached the top, the door of the apartment in question was already open. I recognized the guy standing in the doorway. He was the same age as me, and around the same height. His dark-brown hair was messy, as if he hadn't bothered to comb it in the morning. He had a slightly nerdy appearance, but there was an attractiveness about him which I hadn't noticed the last time I'd seen him.
"Hi!" he said cheerfully. "Come in. I know it's a bit chaotic in here, but I'm trying to organize things."
If I had been confused earlier, now I was completely thrown by his cheerfulness. Did he know who I was? I was sure he wouldn't forget the face of the guy who'd punched him for staring at him on that life-changing night. My confusion must have been evident on my face.
"Don't worry, I do know who you are," he told me. "You were the only guy who didn't run off and leave me there in that alley."
I felt a lump in my throat. "I - I'm not sure we're on the same page here. I came here to apologize, for hitting you. And for doing nothing while those other guys beat you up."
There was still a slight smile on his face. "You've already apologized."
"Huh?" What was he talking about?
"Before you punched me," he explained. "With your eyes . you said sorry with your eyes. You have very expressive eyes, you know."
I looked down, ashamed. "I still can't be forgiven for what I did."
"You came here to apologize, but you didn't need to. I forgave you a long time ago. I think what you need to deal with . . . is forgiving yourself."
I looked at him. His face showed no animosity towards me; only sympathy for the guilt he knew I must be feeling.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Dean smiled. "So do you still want to come inside?" I nodded and followed him into the apartment. He'd been right about the chaos. My fingers itched to set the living room back to rights.
"Sit down." I obeyed. "What would you like to drink? I'm not sure my kitchen is well-stocked but I could get you a soda from the vending machine."
"No, it's okay."
"Alright then." He sat down on the couch opposite me. An uncomfortable and prolonged silence ensued. I wondered what the hell I was doing there. I was supposed to apologize and hightail it out of there.
Dean was the first to break the silence. "You know, there's no reason for you to blame yourself. Those bastards would probably have bashed me without any reason. And I was probably partly to blame for staring at you in front of an obviously homophobic crowd. Why were you with them anyway?"
"I thought they were my friends. Michael - the leader of the group - was my girlfriend's brother."
"A girlfriend, huh." Dean shook his head. "I should've known better than to stare at you. But I thought you were too pretty to be straight."
My head snapped up to look at him. He held up his hands in front of him. "Sorry, didn't mean to offend you. I guess it must be hard for a straight guy when another man is trying to hit on him - not that I would know."
He thought I was straight. After he'd forgiven me so easily, I guess I owed it to him to tell him the full truth. "I'm -" I cleared my throat. "I'm not straight, Dean."
He drew his breath in sharply. "You're not? Then . . . oh." He nodded in understanding. "Still in the closet, huh?"
I nodded slowly.
He shook his head. "Then it must have been hell for you. You wanted to keep up appearances, while I was behaving like an idiot who might've blown your cover."
"I'm sorry. I didn't want those guys to know I was gay as well, so I had to do what they wanted, as much as I hated it. And I can't blame anyone else except myself. You don't know how sorry I am."
"Relax . don't get all tensed up about it. I mean, I'm not, so why are you?"
Frankly I was amazed by how well he was taking all of this. "I don't know why you aren't. I'm the bastard who caused you to be in a coma for more than two months."
He patted my hand. "I spent those two months in a coma, Harrison. I didn't really feel anything. But you had to spend those months in a maximum-security prison. And it's not as if you committed the crime for which you were imprisoned."
"But I did commit a crime. I don't blame you, if you want to hit me."
Dean appeared confused. "Why would I want to hit you?"
"Because of what I did to you. Don't you want to?"
Dean shrugged. "No, but if that's going to make you happy." He drew his fist back. I half-closed my eyes, anticipating the punch.
But it never came. Instead his hand gently brushed against my cheek. I opened my eyes.
"What are you doing?"
"I don't want to hit you, Harrison. That'd be like . . . destroying a work of art."
"You don't want to hit me?" I asked him in disbelief.
Dean laughed. "You almost sound as if you actually want me to."
I looked down. "There's no way I can make this up to you."
"Coming here to apologize was enough."
"What about dinner?" I said suddenly, confusing even myself. Where the hell did that come from?
Dean raised his eyebrows. "So, first you punch me, and then you ask me out on a date?" I started to look down in shame, but Dean added, "That was a joke. I know, I have a terrible sense of humor. At least that's what my ex always said."
"Your ex?" I asked.
"Yeah, my former boyfriend. Cute as they come, but not exactly the type to stick around. He decided to leave me a few months ago. I guess I wasn't good-looking enough for him."
"You're looking better than the last time I saw you," I blurted out. Shit, that was a stupid thing to say, considering that the last time I'd seen him, he'd been bruised and bloodied. But Dean didn't take the comment badly.
He joked, "Oh yeah, comas do a lot to improve your looks. If not for the extended period of unconsciousness, I'd certainly recommend them."
I laughed in spite of myself. I was really starting to like him. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing.
"Okay, I'll give you my number and we can arrange a dinner sometime next week?"
"Sure, I'm not free this week either. I really need to get this place in order. What's the number?" I gave it to him. He laboriously scribbled it down on a notepad, with his tongue sticking (which elicited another grin from me) and then looked up at me.
"So, can I call it a date?" he asked mischievously.
I don't know why I couldn't stop grinning. Dean was just so cute and amusing. "Maybe," I said. "Okay then, I'll see you next week."
"I'll show you out." He opened the door and led me down the stairs. Meanwhile my mind was swirling. I was finding this guy cute, and I hadn't denied it when he'd interpreted my offer of dinner as a date. There was nothing wrong with that I suppose, before one considered how our first meeting had left him bleeding and near death in an alleyway.
I just didn't know what to think. Was this a positive sign, that I was getting over Josh? But as soon as his name cropped up, I remembered the passionate kiss we'd shared only yesterday. Forgetting him wasn't going to be easy. Neither was sorting out my love life.
Why does life have to be so complicated?
To be continued . . .
You can tell me what you think of the story by emailing me at justinr_88@yahoo.com. Thanks for all your feedback. The next part of this story should follow soon.