Disclaimer: Story characters belong to the author, any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental.
Content Advisory: Adult situations, language, sexual references
Copyright, 2010, Anyta Sunday
I hope you enjoy it. Please comment to: anytasunday@gmail.com
This story will continue to be posted on Nifty. It is COMPLETED, however, and can be found also at http://www.gayauthors.org/story/anytasunday/shaneandtrey
Also, St-st-stuffed (following Karl and Paul from this story is just completed and can be found at http://www.gayauthors.org/story/anytasunday/st-st-stuffed )
Chapter Eighteen
I flew out the door, Trey close behind. Keys poised in hand, we swiftly made it to the car and onto the main drag. Coming Syd.
The drive seemed painfully long. Where did all the damn traffic come from? I slapped my hands against the steering wheel. Another red light. My thumbs drummed in wait. I honked at the driver in front. It's green, dammit, go! Why did everything move at snail's pace today? Come on!
Trey rested a tentative hand on my knee. "We'll get there soon enough. It'll all be okay."
I gave him a curt nod, but it didn't stop the feeling that I needed to get there faster. If my gut lurched for my friend, then how must Lucas feel right now? A whole day and a half away?
I flicked on some music. A bit of classic rock to calm my nerves...huh! or not. After the second song I shut it off. "Tell me something, you're all quiet." It was true, he'd not said much the entire first half of the trip. "Why's that?"
"Ahh,"—Trey shrugged—"I, um... don't particularly like hospitals."
I grunted. Who did? "You don't have to come in. The buses are more regular from there to college. Faster too."
"Are you coming back to the dorms to sleep, or...?"
I shook my head. "I'm staying there until Lucas comes. I'll just find a hostel or someplace to crash close by—hello!"--I braked to accommodate a crawling black SUV--"No left turns, keep moving!"
Why was every idiot driver on the road today? I craned my neck to the side, jeez I was stiff. Yeah, with worry for Syd. But he needed me calm. To be his rock for a bit. Relax.
Another tedious forty minutes later, we reached the hospital. "You don't have to come in," I said again while climbing out the car.
Trey met me on my side of the car. Clasped my shoulder. "I don't want to get in the way. Syd doesn't know me so well, it doesn't feel right. But... I'll go in with you, so I know where you are. Then while you're with him," he pointed across the street, "I'll book you a room at the Smile's Hostel."
I nodded. Thanks, Trey.
He shuddered as we passed the threshold into the hospital. He walked strangely stiff, his face schooled of emotion. Is he alright? I made a mental note to talk to him about it later. When you can focus properly.
We followed colored lines on the wall directing us to the information desk. It took us another twenty minutes before we found the correct floor. With worried steps, I made my way towards the waiting room.
Syd sat, his elbows on his knees and his head resting in the heel of his palms. Foot tapping erratically. Hair in disarray. He glanced up and our gazes snagged. Face pale and tired, eyes lost of their vibrancy, Syd's spark had been drained from him.
"Shane," Syd croaked, the relief in his voice tangible. He stood up and threw his arms around me. "Thanks for coming."
"Shit, Syd," I squeezed. "How are you doing? How's"—my voice lowered—"your dad?"
"He was moved out of ICU a half hour ago." He looked toward the doors and down the hall. "He's in the room at the end on the right. I saw them moving him there."
I could see Trey out the corner of my eye, lurking by the door. When he caught my eye. He mimed a cup and tipped his head back. Then left with a short wave. I focused on Syd. "Have you been in to see him yet?"
He shook his head. "Well, I've been given the okay...I don't know that I want to, though. But, I, ah, sort of do as well. It doesn't make much sense." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's...well, I'm...I don't know. Something."
We both sat down. The cold hard plastic chair cutting into my back and butt. Syd narrowed his eyes in thought and we sat in silence a moment. I wasn't quite sure what I had to do. Just be here. Be whatever it is he needs you to be.
Syd fidgeted on the frayed knee of his jeans. "I should be crying for him. A better son would do that, right? But, I...I just can't."
I wouldn't be able either. That Syd was even here showed more strength in character than I'd ever have in his shoes. I mean, what if it were my father here? Would I have come? Maybe. Yes. Of course. But would I be much affected? Hard to imagine. Probably not. Guess that made me a bad son too.
Syd looked up, sadness and confusion in his gaze. "He could have died. And..." He trailed off, and continued pulling at a loose thread on his knee. "I wish I were a better person."
I shook my head, though I wanted to shake him. "No. Stop saying that. You keep making yourself out to be the bad one here and I don't accept it. What he did to you was horrible! Fuck, I honestly have no idea how you made it here. You're...you're a beautiful person, Syd."
He ground his palm on his forehead. "It's not the half of it."
I waited for more, an elaboration, but none came. Trey entered the room (which had only three other people in it), carrying two coffees. He handed one to Syd with an apologetic smile, and gave the other to me.
My fingers brushed his as I took the cup. I felt a little guilty that a zing of happiness coiled through me.
"I'm bussing back to our dorm to bring you some stuff for the night." He leaned over and whispered in my ear. "I'll book us a double room. So you don't have to be alone later. Ah, if you want, of course."
Yes, I do.
"Just text when you're done," he said, "and we can meet outside."
With another nod, he doubled out of the room.
Syd gripped the coffee cup, staring at it, but with a glassy-ness that told me he hardly recognized what it was. Afraid the hot liquid would spill over him, I took it from him.
His head snapped up and in a burst of unexpected confidence, said, "I'm going in."
He stood up and moved towards the door. Halfway, he turned back and beckoned me. I followed him down the hall. He hesitated outside the door. Retreated. Came back again. His confidence shrinking to fear. Then, with an encouraging squeeze from me, he squared his shoulders, pushed open the door and went in. Urged with him, I kept close by his side.
Syd's Dad shared the room with three other patients. Although a curtain parted him from the others, it was left open to the door.
Syd stopped barely two steps into the room, and I heard the sharp intake of air. His dad, lying on his back, faced the curtain opposite us. A shiver spiraled through me, cold, as I stared at the ECG machine, scribbling his heart beat. And glanced at the tube with fluids flowing into his wrist. This could be my dad. The thought hit me like a kick to the gut. I swallowed the ebb of pain it brought with it. How could I've said I wouldn't be affected?
Slowly, his Dad faced us. Although pale and vulnerable looking, his eyes, the same green Syd's usually were, sparkled. "Sydney?" he said, his voice gruff, but the surprise and gladness palpable.
"Hi...Dad."
I shuffled so I stood more behind than next to Syd. My thoughts darted as I gazed at the man. The drip. White face. So vulnerable. Weak. Sad. Someone with a life who has made mistakes. Could be my dad.
He smiled at Syd. "You came to see me. That"—his chest rose as he took a deep breath—"that means so much. Thank you."
I glanced at the side of Syd. A small tear eased its way out the corner of his eye and, almost violent, he slapped it away. But there was no hiding the concern, the sorrow, and above all the hurt in his eyes.
His dad gestured him nearer, but Syd remained where he stood.
"I've missed you so much, you know." His voice broke. How could he have such a tender tone? Like someone who cared a great deal about his son?
Syd's dad cracked a pained smile. "If I'd known it'd take a heart attack to get you to see me again, I would've begun eating badly years ago." No comment. Perhaps the start of another tear? "I love you, you know."
The air cracked as Syd gave a strangled sob. He pushed against me as he stumbled backwards for the door and rushed out. I followed him around the corner and into the male bathrooms.
Syd paced the length of the wash counter in angry strides, muttering under his breath. I gripped his upper arms on his third turn, using more strength than I'd have thought to hold him in place. "Syd. Talk to me. Do you want to leave? Because we can, you know. Just say the word."
He sniffed and stopped fighting my grip. "I have to wait for my sisters and Mom to get here."
I stroked the length of his arms, hoping it comforted him. Well, at least a little.
"What did you think of him in there?" he asked.
I don't know. If I hadn't a clue what he'd done to Syd, I would have thought him a loving father, missing his son. I swallowed. But even knowing better, there was something sincere—genuine about his words. "Actually, confused, Syd. On the one hand, I hate him for what he did to you. On the other, he sounded really glad—no, more than that—relieved to see you."
There was a short silence.
"It's been a long time since I've seen him." Syd sighed and began to unbuckle his jeans. What the—He yanked them down to his knees, revealing a smooth, shiny mark the size of a school notebook on one thigh. I gasped in horror. I mean, I'd known he had a scar, but hadn't realized the extent of the burn. "Pretty ugly sight, huh?"
"No, what happened to you was ugly. But you are not, Syd."
He relished a smile. "Lucas says it's sort of like a map of Australia." He sighed as he pulled up his pants. "I wish he were here right now."
Yeah. If it were me in Syd's shoes, I'd want Trey's firm arms around me when I felt like shit. His soft kisses to take some of the pain away. "He's on his way. Tomorrow he'll be here."
Syd paused on the edge of saying something.
"What is it?"
He bit his bottom lip. "When I told you the story of my coming out to Dad, I didn't tell you everything." I remembered the evening clearly. How he'd said a better person would have forgiven his dad. How upset I'd gotten he could say that. And then his It's not the whole story. There's more to it.
I leaned back against the wash counter.
"It was a heat of the moment thing." I frowned. What was he saying? "I mean, before that my dad had never hurt me. And...after he chucked the water over me, I saw the disbelief cross his face. He couldn't believe what he'd just done." Syd shut his eyes. "He was the one that carried me to the bathroom and showered me with cold water, through the clothes because he didn't want to damage the skin further... I remember screaming in agony, I wasn't capable of anger just then. It was just pain." A tear ran down Syd's face, quickly followed by more. "He cried the entire time. Sobbed. And as he drove me to the hospital kept saying over and over how sorry he was."
I took Syd in my arms. "When I recovered though," he continued, "I was able to realize how angry I was at him. So I left home, and until today never saw him again." I combed his hair. The story—the whole thing made me sad. For Syd first and foremost. But, I don't know, I...I felt bad for his dad too. Never thought I'd think that. "See? See why I'm a bad son now?" His back heaved as he sobbed. "And Dad said he loved me, that he would've fucking welcomed a heart attack to get me to see him earlier! I—I hate myself for being so stubborn. I've screwed up. Fuck, I'm a screw up." He buried his face into my shoulder. "I should have forgiven him. Now he's hurt and could have died. And for years I hated him."
I coaxed his face up to meet mine.
"Hey. You're not a screw up. Your dad made a big mistake, and a mistake as big as that has consequences." I pressed my lips light against his forehead—friendly, supportive.
He grabbed me. Held me tighter against him. His muscles still shook. "I—I want to believe him, Shane. Want to believe he really does love me. But I need him to accept all of who I am. I'm...I'm scared he'll get angry again like he did. That he'll lose his temper—his sanity. Maybe he didn't mean it back then, but who's to say there wouldn't be more moments like that? More "I didn't mean it's"?" His tears soaked through my collar and I wished I had a way to make him better. Give him what he needed. "I don't...I couldn't handle something like that happening again."
I didn't know what to say. In his position I'd have been afraid too. I patted his back, and held him until his tears ran dry. He splashed cold water on his face and dabbed his eyes with a paper towel. With a brave smile, he hooked his arm with mine and we walked back to the waiting room.
Shrill cries hit my ears. Three girls came rushing towards Syd. The tallest throwing her arms around him. They all had long blonde hair and anxious faces. Undoubtedly were these his sisters. "We just got here. Is he alright? Mom's gone in first."
The youngest one, close to fifteen would be my guess, gripped her other sister's hand. Redness ringed her eyes, and she kept sniffing. I stared at her. Would I cry like you and your brother, if my dad were the one in hospital? Would June clutch my hand so tight? Would we lean against each other for support?
My throat tightened. He may have gotten things wrong. Way wrong. But what if he really was sorry for them? Sure there were mistakes that had consequences, but when did those end?
Syd's sister detached herself from him. He turned to me at my light tug of his sleeve. In the corner of the room, I whispered low. Somehow what I was about to say felt urgent. Necessary. "It's not too late, you know. You can still forgive your dad, if you need to. Want to."
His face wavered emotions I couldn't place. "It's not so easy. I...this is all very sudden. I never expected to be thinking so much about the past today." He rubbed his head. "I... I just need a little more time to process all this."
Although Syd didn't go back in to visit his father, he stayed until we had to be reminded visiting hours were over. His sisters and Mom begged him to stay with them at a motel down the road, and—with reluctance, in my mind—he went. Making me promise before he did that I'd be there in the morning. Of course.
I texted Trey and watched the backs of Syd and his family walk down the steps and across the driving entrance to the hospital. Although only seven thirty, exhaustion filled me. I leaned against the glass panes next to the doors. Closed my eyes and listened to the cool evening around me. The slamming of car doors, a screaming child, a whistling breeze.
A steady deep breathing. A light touch. My eyelids fluttered open. Trey stood before me, grinning. The light from inside the hospital lit up his face. Those gorgeous dark eyes. Too tired to move, to throw my arms around his neck, I smiled. "I've missed you."
"Missed you more. What I used to do before you, I don't know. I can't believe I'm about to admit this, but I was even bored playing basketball back there." He threw a hand in the direction of the hostel. "All I could think was you were so close to me, barely 100 feet across the road, and that was just too damn far." He cocked his head to the side, appreciating my face. "But enough selfishness. How is Syd? His dad? You?"
I peeled myself off the glass and walked with Trey down the ramp side of the entrance. As we walked across the road, I told him about my day, hedging around some of the more personal details. Not because I didn't trust Trey, but because it wasn't my right to share.
He looked at me, a slight frown on his face as though he knew there was more to it—that I held something back—but shook it off and replaced it with a comforting smile.
Before I knew it we stood outside room seven, Trey jingling a key as he opened the door. I stepped into the double unit. "Wow, I thought there'd only be a bed," I said, running a finger over the kitchen counter, "didn't think we'd get these extras."
Trey opened the small fridge in the corner and pulled out a bag of groceries. I plopped my tired ass on the end of the bed. "Well, I got the best room I could. I really wanted to make us something for dinner."
"Oh, really?" I undid my laces and took off my shoes. "That's sweet." The last bit came out a yawn. I flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Trey chuckled and started on dinner, while I rested. Soon a delicious aroma filled the air and my stomach rumbled in premature thanks. "That smells amazing."
Trey poured some of the pumpkin soup into a bowl and handed it to me with a spoon. I sat at the table and waited for him to bring his.
"Dig in, babe. It'll only get cold otherwise."
I didn't need telling twice. I practically inhaled the first serving. The second I scoffed, and the third I tried to make up for my previous lack of manners. Dainty, pinky finger extended. Trey laughed. "Yeah right. I much prefer the pig-Shane."
We cleaned together, (Trey under my instruction), until everything shined and the bed sang for us. Trey pointed to a duffel bag at the side of the windows. "Stuffs in there. I hope you don't mind, I put all our toiletries together."
After stripping to my boxers and putting on a night t-shirt, I grabbed the bag and headed to the bathroom. My blue and yellow toothbrush spooned Trey's green one. I reached to get mine, hesitated, and took out his instead. This is weird. Don't. Anyone else contemplating this and you would think it gross. Yet...
I smeared toothpaste over it and brushed my teeth. Little thrills zapped my nerves, but as I entered the main room uneasiness followed me. What if he finds that repulsive? Disgusting? Freakish? Probably should tell him, so he doesn't have to use it. Trey jumped up from doing his pushups. As he passed me, I started to speak, but it came out a crackle he didn't hear.
Jumping in bed, I listened to Trey humming through the wall. When he came back he switched off the lights and climbed into bed. He pressed me to him. "Shane?" His breath came out minty. "Did you use my toothbrush? It was surprisingly wet, and yours was—well, dry."
I stopped moving my hand over his back. "Ah, I don't know what came over me. Yeah. Sorry."
He laughed. "Well, I evened things up a bit. And help," his voice lowered to a husk, "knowing you'd done that was so freaking sweet. It makes me want to, I don't know, do anything for you. To show you how much you mean to me."
I chuckled. Relieved he took it so well. "Anything, aye? Like would you step on a crack just for me?"
Trey's minty breath stopped hitting my cheek. His body stilled. Too dark to see his expression I traced his face with a finger. Why did I have to bring up a fear of his? Why was my mouth so stupidly hinged? "I'm sorry. I know you don't like to step on cracks. You don't ever have to do that to prove anything to me. I know you care."
His breath came back. "I would, though. If you needed me to, I would."
In a small, unsure voice, I asked, "Trey, why can't you walk over cracks?"
He unlocked his arms around me and twisted onto his back. I could just make out the darker grey of his profile. "I'm so afraid to tell you. Scared of what you'll think of me. It's to do with my aunt as well."
I fumbled for his hand under the covers. "Okay, you don't have to tell me anything, but know that I'm not here to judge. Just to listen. When you're ready, let me be your rock."
Trey linked his fingers through mine. "Actually, I think I am ready to tell you. After our stupid fight on our hike, that night I saw the photos, I realized I wanted to share my past with you. Only I was too upset at the time."
I squeezed his hand—the only place we touched. Such a simple hold, and yet I felt so close to Trey. Maybe because this had nothing to do with lust. This was pure caring.
"I was just a kid you know. Not long nine. Aunt Patricia took me for the day. We walked up to Signal Point." Images of the old road way came to mind. Lots of day hikes leading off it. "The pavement up there are those concrete slabs. They're like three feet apart with that unsealed gap between them." Trey swallowed. "I thought it was fun. Leaping from crack to crack."
He turned away from me to the wall. I understood this was hard for him, but I didn't want him to feel ashamed. It's okay. I'm your rock, remember?
Trey let me slink my arms around his waist. "Patricia kept telling me to calm down. But I kept at my game. I wish I'd listened to her. Had been a good boy. Had stopped when she told me to." He took a breath. "But I didn't. She wanted us to cut back down the hill using the stairs, and I ignored her."
I tightened my hold as he started to sob.
"She grabbed my arm. I don't remember everything, but at the same time I jumped, pulling her with me. But there was this metal bar—the ones that are there to slow bikes down—in front of the steps she wanted us to go." His torso shuddered. "It all happened so quickly, but I thought she'd fall on it, and hurt herself, so I...I pushed her away from it. I didn't mean to hurt her more. I didn't... think"—sniff—"about the stairs behind her. And—and...when I got down to her she just, just couldn't move. I didn't understand."
I reached over and switched on the little lamp by the bed. Startled, Trey sat up. "What's up?" The edge of panic in his voice saddened me. But it's understandable he's worried about my reaction. Like Syd said, telling the people you most care about something difficult is the hardest. Yes, there was more at stake, Trey loved me.
I cupped his face, pushed away a tear with my thumb. "I want you to see me when I say this." He held my gaze, steady. Good. "I'm sorry for what happened. Sorry for your aunt, and sorry for you. You were just a boy. It was an accident. A horrible one. But an accident." I kissed away another tear trailing his cheek. "I don't think of you any differently. My feelings for you are the same." I care for you deeply, I am completely happy around you, I feel like we've always...been. "I—I—" Trey bit his bottom lip. "I want you to know you mean so much to me."
He frowned a bit, but nodded and forced out a smile. When I turned off the lamp and lay back down to sleep, I had the weird feeling I'd disappointed him somehow. Not that he showed it—he came and snuggled, purred a thank you in my ear. Hmmm maybe it wasn't anything to do with him. Maybe it was something with me.
In the morning, I snuck out the room keeping as quiet as I could, not wanting to wake Trey. Judging by his tossing and turning, he'd not slept well. After a coffee that tasted closer to battery acid, Syd rolled into the waiting room.
If I'd thought he looked bad yesterday, today was something else. Large red and grey puffs swallowed up his eyes. His hair stuck up at unnatural angles giving him an almost Einstein-like frizz, and he wore the same clothes as yesterday. Only today they were creased, and didn't smell so good.
He sat on a hard plastic chair and muttered.
"Where are your sisters and Mom?"
"They went to buy flowers or something. They'll be here soon." He jiggled his knee.
"Did you ah," get any sleep at all last night? "sleep alright?"
He didn't answer me, instead stared at the opposite wall. Okay, Syd was officially freaking me out. I felt my pockets. You should give Lucas a quick ring and update him. Tell him for God's sake to hurry. Shoot, where was my cell?
Dammit! Must've left it in the hostel.
"You have your cell on you?" I asked.
Syd shook his head as if clearing it of thoughts. "What?" "Can I borrow your cell?"
He handed his over. I ducked outside the room and rang Trey (I had his number memorized), who promised to bring the cell phone right around. After that I left Lucas a short message. "His dad's doing fine. Should make a full recovery. Syd's a little uh" Hysterical? Lost? Not himself? "well, he needs you. He'll be better when you're here."
I clapped the cell shut, and used the bathroom facilities. As I washed my hands I studied my own face in the mirror. I had my mom's lips, but everything else was dad. Including my ears, slightly sharp at the top. He's apart of you. Do you really not want him apart of your life? I jumped at the thought. Where had that come from?
I stepped back from the mirrors and left the bathroom. As I did, Syd appeared and gripped my arm. "Come with me." He charged down the hall and threw open the door to his dad's room.
"I want to forgive you," he said in a rush.
His dad pushed himself up slightly. Shocked and, again, relieved to see Syd.
"But I need to know you're okay with who I am," Syd poured out his words, rich in feeling. "So that I can forgive you, I need to know you accept me. That you can you handle who I am without hurting me again. Can you handle"—he grabbed me and planted a kiss, long and deep. I didn't go with it, but in my shock I didn't pull away either. Shit, Syd, couldn't you have waited a little longer for that demonstration?—"me kissing another guy?"
A flash of coat whizzed by the open door. Great. And we'd made a public show of it as well.
I searched Syd's tired eyes. He was a wreck. He didn't know what he was doing. Well, certainly he didn't mean it in any way other than to make a point. That I was one hundred and ten percent sure. Still, it was a risky one. What if his dad wasn't ready to accept him? I glanced at the ECG machine. Shit, what if it'd worsened his condition? Poor Syd was too out of it to think straight.
"So, Dad?" Syd rocked on his feet, and I grabbed him, concerned he'd fall. "What do you think?"
His dad exhaled. Slow. "Sydney, I've had many years to learn about what being gay is. I—I didn't know much back then." He shut his eyes, wincing. "I'm so—so very sorry for the way I behaved. Every day I regretted... I lost you, boy. You meant so much to me, and I lost you. I love you. Have always loved you. And, I—I don't care who it is you fall in love with." He glanced at me and back at Syd. "So, the answer to your question is yes. I accept everything you choose to be." His voice cracked.
More tears ran down Syd's face. He nodded. "Then"—clear throat—"let's call this a second beginning." Syd stepped back toward the door. "But we're going to have to take things slow. This... this is enough for today."
His dad nodded, and we left the room. Syd asked me to leave him alone for a few minutes while he went for a small walk. I grabbed a magazine in the waiting room, flipping through it, but unable to concentrate on anything. I checked the time. Had Trey fallen back asleep? Or had he forgotten about my cell?
Syd's `small walk' turned out to be an hour and a half. Trey hadn't made it here, and without Syd's cell, I'd had to use a pay phone. Trey's phone didn't ring and an automated message told me to try again later.
I tried ringing my phone to see if he'd pick that up, but it eventually went to the mailbox. My stomach knotted. Something about this didn't feel right. I rang my phone again. This time someone picked up on the third ring.
"Shane's phone," came a miserable voice. Syd's voice.
"What"-- the hell? Trey had dropped my phone off and not stopped to say hello?
"Shane? Your cell must have slipped out your pocket. It was on the seat here."
I hung up and reeled into the waiting room, checking the corners as if Trey lurked there waiting for me.
What would have possessed him to—I stared at Syd fiddling with my phone. Fuck!
That was it. Must have been.
He saw that kiss.