=DISCLAIMER= This story is meant to imply nothing about the sexuality of the real people involved. Anything mentioned from this point on is purely fictional and not meant in any way but the highest regard.
The lyrics used within are not meant to imply anything about the individual preferences, practices, or lifestyle choices any of the musical artists mentioned. The lyrics are not used for any personal monetary profit...
If you have any objections to my writing, then why in the name of Jesus are you reading this? I know some of you might like Hanson but I don't buy the whole "I didn't know it was a GAY STORY!" defense. So shut up and don't send me any more hate mail you stupid, obesessed little Christian girls.
Comments, Suggestions, and Criticisms can be sent to saboteur_98155@yahoo.com
I can be reached on ICQ at 70639912... Or on AIM at Reid00005992...
Enjoy!
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| || Took For Granted- Chapter 1 || || By Reid || ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
These doctors made so much money and cured people of life threatening diseases, but they can't afford to heat their office? It just didn't make much sense to me. They at least could have made an effort for the more nervous cases that passed through their doors but it wasn't like my opinion mattered. These doctors could just go on shoving their patients into poorly heated offices to get the bad news and do so shivering all the way, for all my words meant. It wasn't like making someone comfortable really mattered that much when you were going to bleed them dry for your precious time and services.
Excuse me, Doctor, I was just coming to you because my health is failing and you're supposedly able to help. Don't mind me. I'll just sit my ass right down here and shiver while you drop the bomb. Don't worry, I'll be fine! You just sit there and stroke your beard and click your tongue and worry about what's to be done with this Homer Simpson! Or something. Doctors always made me nervous but the real odd thing was that I was never really nervous when it was me. It was when someone I cared about needed medical care that it really got to me. My personal health didn't really mean anything in my immediate mind when it compared to someone I cared about. But the other weird thing was that I'd never cared about anyone as much so the whole experience and cavalcade of feelings were totally new to me.
It had started when Zac had complained about "twinges" in his hands when the tour swung through Brazil. No one really suspected anything and the general consensus was that he should ice his hands after the show. The ice worked well enough and there weren't any problems until late in the night after the final tour date in Rio De Janeiro. On the ride back to the hotel from the arena, Zac was shaking his hands so violently that I had to stop him and ask what was wrong. He said his hands were "just kinda numb" from all the performing and autograph signing. He then subdued me with a kiss and his trademark smile, which set me at ease. If only I'd known what would happen several days later, I would have insisted he get medical treatment. But I didn't and it ate at me the whole time in the office.
During the flight back to Tulsa from Rio, Zac had begun to shake his hands again and the flopping sound was so loud, it woke me up. That should have worried me right there because in my entire life, I'd never woken up on a plane flight before and I'd taken many. When I asked what was wrong, in the reading light of the cabin, his face looked unusually worried. It wasn't something I was used to and it made me worried too. He said his hands were feeling numb again and when the waitress brought several bags filled with ice, something inside me told me it was starting to get serious. Zac again managed to soothe me and assured me that the ice was making him feel better, then another smile and kiss which calmed me down again. The rest of the flight was uneventful but I didn't sleep as well as I had been. I was still worried.
Then it got serious. Our second night in Tulsa was interrupted at 5:49 in the morning when I heard Zac sobbing next to me. Until that point, Zac had never really cried in front of me and it was like I didn't know what to do. He was curled up in the fetal position, protecting his hands against his stomach, and his eyes were clenched shut. He was in some other world of pain and I don't think he even recognized my voice when I tried to alert him. He was just curled into a ball and whimpering with pain. It was the most horrible sound that had ever hit my ears and the acid in my stomach seemed to flash boil with concern. After practically shouting at him, he opened his eyes and looked at me... and the look was so pleading, so dependent... if you had asked me right then and there, I would have told you that my heart was breaking.
There was some relief when he was able to sit up long enough for me to pull some clothes on him and wake up his mom and dad. I could only imagine what it was like for them to see him in so much agony as we went to the doctor. Me in the back seat cradling Zac like a baby and holding him while he sobbed with worry and pain. It had started raining and the morning was gray and pretty damn appropriate for what was happening. Zac's dad had nearly sent the car into a fence in his hurry and when we got to the hospital, it was like some dream. My feet didn't feel the wet concrete outside the emergency room or the floor of the inside of the ER.
By the time we got there, the pain wasn't so severe and Zac managed to stay a trooper as we waited for the pediatrician. Zac laid his head on my shoulder and he didn't really say anything. He just sat there and looked down at his hands, which didn't look out of the ordinary. Whatever was wrong wasn't doing anything to his skin or the outward appearance of his hands and for it's own odd reason, was scarier than if he'd gotten his hands caught in the blender. They just looked so normal.
"Reid?" He said softly.
"Yeah?" I looked up from the crossword puzzle I had become involved in.
"Something is seriously wrong with me." His tone was so flat and unfamiliar.
"We don't know that." I said, kissing his forehead as consolingly as I could.
"I can tell. It felt like someone had parked a bulldozer on my hands."
Yikes. There was no way I could even pretend to identify with what that must have felt like and as much as I wanted to write it off as heat of the moment embellishment, there was just something in he way that he said it. He sounded so sure of himself that it chilled me right to the bone. What made it worse was that there was no way I could really reassure him because not even I knew what was going on. I'd heard of husbands and wives having trouble finding out what happened to their significant others so why would the doctors tell the "gay partner" anything? When Zac disappeared back into the exam room, I would be waiting for word just like his mom and dad.
Things were still kinda awkward between the parents and myself. His mom had seemed accepting enough but his dad had been more than a little... cold. It was pretty apparent that they didn't want Zac to get hurt and letting him take a stab at his first real relationship had taken a lot of letting go and trust on their part. When Mr. Hanson, we both weren't comfortable with the first name thing yet, had agreed (at Zac's endless begging) to allow the band to lug me on tour, and it was a big concession. The money it cost to transport and feed a 19 year old guy wasn't putting him in the poorhouse but it still showed that they were at least willing to respect my relationship with Zac as one that would be good to try and nurture.
So there we sat. In the cold waiting room using it for what it was named for. Waiting. They were waiting for word on their third youngest son... I was waiting for word on the kid that had saved me from a life of crime. It was pretty interesting how we must have looked. The chair that Zac had occupied was on my left between his mom, and myself and on her left side was his dad. And we just sat there for what felt like days with no word from the doctor about what was going on. I could tell that Mrs. Hanson was nearly hitting the ceiling and I didn't blame her at all.
One of my less charming traits was that when I worried, my sinuses would feel like they were being worked over with a jackhammer. Ever since I'd woken up that morning feeling Zac sobbing in pain against me, my sinuses were at about pain factor 1000. No amount of shaky massage did it any good so I resigned to spending my morning sitting in the glaring hospital waiting room rubbing my eyes like an old yenta. It was the kind of thing I'd normally laugh and poke fun at but when it was happening to me, it suddenly wasn't quite as hilarious.
"Reid?" Mrs. Hanson said.
I pulled my hand from my face and squinted at her like a bear just out of hibernation, "Yeah?"
"Are you all right? Do you need some aspirin?"
"No thanks. If a red hot poker wouldn't get rid of the pressure, I doubt a pill would help."
I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and rubbed my face. This was all just happening at the best possible time. We had bonded so strongly just a few months earlier and there was no way of knowing if he was going to be taken away from me. This was just so damn cruel and I didn't know if God was punishing Zac, me, or both of us for being gay. If he was, he was sure doing a damn good job of it because my face felt like it was going to fall off and there was no way of knowing how Zac was. It almost made me laugh in the mirthless tone that I thought I'd left behind when I'd met Zac.
So there we sat... and the deep canyon of awkwardness was just widening and getting bigger and wider. The only thing I could do to keep from going crazy was to try and meditate, but a lovely stinging ache in one of my back teeth was starting to get worse. To top my life off, God had to give me sensitive teeth. What a giving guy he was. Then I immediately felt bad because God had given me Zac and it wasn't like I could turn right around and renounce him for it. That God... he's a funny guy. That sense of humor is just tosser, I'm telling ya. Wait a minute... what the hell was that? What's with the British word? Oh screw it.
"Mr. and Mrs. Hanson?" The voice didn't sound familiar but I assumed it was a nurse or something.
The next few words didn't penetrate my shell of self-pity but when Mr. Hanson gently shook my shoulder, my head snapped up and I looked at him, "Yeah?"
"The doctor wants to see us." He said.
My stomach jumped as I stood up and rubbed my eyes briskly a few times, trying to get my wits about me and put on my strong face. We walked over through the emergency room and I did my best to try and block out all the pain-related activity going on. Somewhere along the way, I was told that we were going to meet with a pediatric muscular specialist or something like that. Either way it wasn't something that made me feel any safer. If it were up to me, I would have packed Zac's hands in ice and taken him to a witchdoctor. Thank God I wasn't in charge.
The doctor's office was actually pretty nice but of course, the first thing I noticed was the lack of heat. The room was a dark brown color with burgundy seats that just made my blood boil. How many heart surgeries did he have to work on to afford those seats? Then I wondered how many kids died that he didn't give a second thought to. Before I had even met this doctor, I was cursing him and his unborn children. Usually Zac was right there to calm me down and keep me from losing my cool, but he wasn't there and the vile assumptions just kept coming.
The side door to the office opened and the doctor walked in. At first, all my suspicions were fueled as he looked like the kind of doctor that would see kids as nothing more than dollar signs. He looked to be about 40 and he was dripping with the George Clooney charm that I had despised so much during the first five seasons of ER. Part of me expected him to still be zipping up his fly from a quick nooner in the hospital broom closet.
"Hi there," He said and his voice made me wince, "I'm Dr. Bailey. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Hanson?"
From what I could see, they were having the same apprehensions I was. It made me feel reassured and it made this Dr. Bailey turn up the charm even more. I wondered what his first name was. Probably something easy to remember like Dr. Dan or Dr. Dean or Dr. Dickhead. When he looked at me questioningly, I wanted to jump across the desk and impale him with his Sharper Image desk lamp.
"And you are...?" He asked, his tone was pleasant but nothing could break through my wall of hate.
"I'm Reid. I'm a very close friend of the family."
He nodded his head agreeably and sat back at his desk. He made the little "sucking the air in through his teeth" noise as he looked at Zac's chart. I felt pretty low at that point, to be honest. The life partner. The homosexual lover. According to everyone else, my title was "close personal friend of the patient". According to every fan at all the meet and greets all over the world... I was "Zac's best friend". My stomach wanted to churn but I reminded myself that any discomfort I was feeling had to pale in comparison to what Zac was going through.
"Well... we ran some X-rays, did a CAT scan, and we checked the area," Dr. Bailey said, "It turns out that Zac has developed a form of arthritis. It's very rare in people his age and it comes from repeated and unrelenting stress to the wrist and back of the hands. We've seen it quite a bit in people who have worked in factories or other places of employment where they've had to repeat the same action in high stress situations."
"So... Zac has carpal tunnel syndrome?" Mrs. Hanson asked and I could feel her worry.
"Zac has a more severe form of carpal tunnel syndrome. Apparently, his history of playing the drums has damaged his wrists. The muscles have deteriorated and the tendons in his wrists have ruptured," The doctor got what I could tell was an X-ray of Zac's hands, "You'll see here that the nerves that connect his fingers to his hands are swollen. And he has this condition in both his hands. It's very painful and it won't go away. Basically, what we're looking at here... Zac's hands have failed."
"What do we do?" Mr. Hanson asked in a very hollow voice.
"There's a surgical procedure where we go in and sever the tendons. It relieves the immediate pain and if we perform the surgery soon enough, he'll still have feeling in his hands." Dr. Bailey sat back and I felt myself begin to soften towards him.
"Will he still be able to use his hands?" I asked.
"No. After the surgery, he'll have no muscular control in his hands."
Mrs. Hanson had heard all she could, "We can't do that. We can't take that away from him!"
Dr. Bailey kept his calm, "If we don't perform this surgery, Zac will eventually lose the use of his hands anyway, except it will be much longer and more drawn out. The pain will increase tenfold and there's a good chance that he could lose feeling in not only his hands, but also his arms up to the elbows. This surgery will save him a huge amount of suffering."
My mind was spinning but I managed to ask, "He's going to need special care, isn't he?"
"Yes, he will. He'll need assistance in essentially every task in which he uses his hands until he feels comfortable with familiarizing himself with alternate methods. There are certain activities that can be accommodated such as using water faucets and other household facilities. He can learn to use wrist braces that will help him eat and drink and write. It is a highly inconvenient condition but it isn't as crippling as it immediately might seem."
Mrs. Hanson looked at me, "I don't think he'd want anyone else to help him, Reid."
I sighed and leaned forward on my knees, realizing what she meant. If there was one situation that would prove to them that I was serious about my feelings for Zac, this was it. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I knew it was Mrs. Hanson. We all knew what was going to have to happen. There was no other choice. There was no way that Zac could be let to feel such horrifying pain as his hands gave out on him. It wasn't civilized.
"How soon can we have the operation performed?" Mr. Hanson asked.
"Our resident pediatric surgeon is currently away. The soonest that we can have the procedure done is the day after tomorrow. I'll prescribe a painkiller for Zac that will keep him set until the operation. It'll also give him a little time to get used to the idea... I do realize it isn't much but the sooner we can do this, the sooner his pain will be relieved."
The clock at the side of Zac's bed said it was 6:49 in the morning. In just a few hours, Zac would be going under the knife to have his hands hacked into. There was some sort of weird shame I was feeling because it felt like I had let Zac down. It was as if entering into a relationship with him had bestowed upon me a very special responsibility. If I couldn't keep the kid from losing the use of his hands, what good was I to him? There way I could feel like I still deserved having Zac if I couldn't keep him at least that safe. Every time I heard "it wasn't your fault" or "there's no way anyone could have predicted..." it just made me want to tear my hair out.
Someone had overworked his hands. There was a very specific cause for what had happened and it had been the result of overworking his wrists and hands before they were finished growing. His hands still looked perfectly normal from the outside. There was no swelling, no discoloration... but inside, they were ravaged. It may not have been my fault but it sure as hell had been the result of someone's poor judgment. My sense of loyalty kept me from blaming his parents but I knew that deep down, they had their share of responsibility for it. I didn't let it show because I could tell they both felt it. They knew that Zac had been over stressed.
It was funny because Taylor had said to me that out of everyone involved, I was probably the least to blame for what had happened to Zac. My logical brain wanted to badly to believe him but there was still a part of me that just felt like it was my fault. It was hard to keep from mentally berating myself. Everytime I felt it begin to rise up, I pushed it back down and reminded myself that it wasn't about me. Zac needed me. The one positive aspect was that it seemed as though Mr. and Mrs. Hanson had actually started to warm up to me. They had let me be the first person to see Zac and had, by and large, left me alone with him when he needed someone to cry to. I could tell that this was going to be my chance to show them that I wasn't going to hurt Zac. It was going to be my chance to prove myself to them.
I felt Zac squirm against me under the covers. He shifted his head on my chest and I felt him breathing softly and from the speed of his breathing, I could tell he was awake. We laid there for several seconds and didn't say anything. He and I had never really felt awkward around each other, not even when he caught me trying to break into their tour bus... we had always been comfortable together. It was frustrating that we could be so close together and still have to struggle for something to say.
"Reid, I'm scared." His voice was soft and beautiful in the darkness.
The only thing about his voice that was less than perfect was the heavy, almost suffocating layer of fear that covered his words. I had heard him say those three words quite a bit in the past two days and every time I heard it, it still sent a pang right into my heart. He had been prescribed some pretty heavy muscle relaxants and against my conscience, I had hoped it would dull his senses and keep him from thinking too hard. It hadn't. It had just alleviated the immediate pain in his hands.
More disturbing for everyone was the quiet. Zac had said maybe five words altogether in the two days since the visit to the emergency room. It was the kind of fear that couldn't be compared to anything that could be immediately imagined. Zac had been walking around like a zombie. He had barely eaten anything and had only gotten out of bed to use the bathroom. The only breaks in the silence were when he would break down and all the fear would let itself out. We were all worried that he had been scarred permanently by the experience and the simple notion of that was scarier than any man made object of intimidation.
Thankfully, as the evening before the surgery day went on, Zac seemed to brighten up a bit. It seemed as though he was realizing how much he had and it was a nice thing to see. I was his willing accomplice as he played a few final games of Knockout Kings 2000, whipping my ass beet red in the process and not missing every opportunity to gloat over it. I was surprised when he asked his mom if he could feed his baby sister. It was that tender side that he'd been showing me more and more of.
"It's going to be OK." I said softly and kissed him on the forehead, and I felt his arms tighten a bit around my midsection.
"Reid... when they wake me up, are you gonna be there?" His unsteadiness was more than a bit disconcerting.
"Of course I'll be there." I said and stroked his soft hair as reassuringly as I could.
"I heard my mom tell Ike that if you stay and take care of me, she'll know that you're for real."
"Well, I kinda figured that." I chuckled and rubbed his back, still getting a thrill from how muscular he was.
"What are we gonna do with all our new free time?" Zac said in a pouty voice.
"What do you mean?"
"I spent at least twenty hours a week jerking off and that doesn't count the time we spend mating." He rolled over on top of me and kissed me, his hot mouth sending waves of pleasure from my head down to my toes. Part of the pleasure came from being so relieved that he wasn't TOO freaked out.
"Mmmm... At least you're in good spirits." I barely got the last words out before he kissed me again.
He pulled back and shrugged, "Hey, it's God's plan. I can't get too pissed at the guy because he gave you me."
"This is kind of different."
He didn't say anything for a few seconds, "I know... I just feel weird."
"I know you do."
All I could do was hold him. He felt so warm and so alive against me but there was that big cloud hanging over him. Things were going to be really different and there was really no way to know exactly how different it would be. There were so many possible scenarios but none were at all clear. It was so random. Like playing Russian Roulette with post-op recovery conditions. A 15 year old boy shouldn't be forced to adjust to life without his hands and anyone who felt differently didn't deserve to live in a world with impressionable youth.
Through the one window in Zac's room, I could see the sky beginning to light up. It was gray and cloudy and the weather couldn't be any more fitting for the situation. My fingers drummed softly on Zac's shoulder as I felt his heart beating and his soft breath against my neck. His fingers wrapped around the blanket and then relaxed as he was using every opportunity he had left to use his hands. I looked up at the ceiling and squinted my eyes, keeping myself gentle but still strong because even though he wasn't actively holding me, Zac was still relying on me as he laid there on top of me.
7:03 in the AM...
I lifted up my hand and studied it in the dim light of the room. Just letting my eyes wander over the backs of my fingers, and I was pretty happy with how much they had recovered. What had once been scarred and scratched actually looked pretty respectable and nice. That's what five months around rock stars and the entertainment industry will do to you. It'll take your hands that you had fought your way up the hill with and transform them into smooth, unused perfection.
Zac had told me that he had never once used his hands in a real, honest to God fight. Myself, on the other hand, had been in so many fights before that day that I couldn't even estimate how many broken bones my fists had caused. Zac had only used his hands for drumming and drawing and making goofy faces. Mine had been used to destroy and defend. Yet, here we were. Zac was going to lose his hands while mine were still in perfect working order. Something about this whole thing didn't really strike me as fair.
"Hey..." Zac said softly and he began to kiss my neck gently.
"Hmm?" I murmured and rested my cheek against the top of his head.
"I want to jerk off one last time." He was kissing my neck harder now and slowly swiping his tongue over my adam's apple.
There wasn't much else that could be said. Zac sat up and stretched his arms up over his head and in the sparse light, I could see goosebumps standing up on the exposed skin of his shoulders and upper arms. My hand crept up and rubbed his back under the red tank top he was wearing as he reached down and massaged the morning hard-on inside his shorts. Zac's bed, which was basically a double mattress on the floor, began to smell of desire and sleep induced musk as he laid back down and pulled the tank top up and off. The sight of his hard nipples was almost too tempting for me to stand.
He took my face into his hand and gently guided me down to the waistband of the black swimsuit he'd slept in. I knew that his primary aim was to bring himself to orgasm with some extra curricular stimulation from myself, which suited me just fine. Hooking my index fingers in the waistband of his shorts, I pulled them down slowly and his plump erection sprung upwards and slapped his stomach with a soft whap. Suddenly freed, it throbbed and a thin glob of precum slid down his shaft.
We had done mutual masturbation a few times before, but never had Zac jerked off with it being the sole focus of our sexual intercourse. There were lots of things about Zac that I found cute, but one of the weirder things that always charmed me was his left handedness. I watched as his fingers curled around the shaft and stroked slowly, and the hot scent of his sweet precum caught my nose. My urge was to swallow him whole, but I controlled it and kissed both of his plump balls softly.
Zac moaned softly as his strokes began to speed up and he played with his foreskin, rubbing the precum over the head of his cock. My kisses turned into soft suckling as I gave each ball a warm toungebath, tasting the pleasure-fueled musk that was exuding from his pores. His legs shivered and I nibbled his thighs, drawing another soft moan as Zac continued to stroke, trying to savor every sensation. Sweat was standing out on his brow and trickling down his cheeks as he masturbated, and a thin stream of precum was flowing down the front of his hand.
My mouth watered at the sight. My tongue snaked out and licked up the stream off his fingers and he let out another moan and thrust his hips, and my tongue licked sparingly in-between his fingers and I could feel the hot, stretched skin of his shaft on my tastebuds. The feeling of his warm thigh against my cheek felt amazing. The fingers of his right hand traveled up to his chest and he played with his nipples, tweaking them and stroking them teasingly.
From the sound of his gasps and whimpers, there wasn't going to be much more waiting. Zac's foot pressed against my leg and I felt his toes curling and pulling the sheet between them. I looked up and began to lick the barely exposed head of his dick, and above it, I could see his face. His eyes were closed and he was biting his lower lip, a look of intense pleasure on his face. He released his lips and they looked so invitingly puffy and stimulated.
Zac opened his eyes and looked at me, smiling slightly as he jerked his chin upwards and beckoned me forth. I crawled up to him, gently rubbing my fingertips up the length of his naked body until I was beside him, my lips brushing his cheek. He turned his head to side and I felt his hand speed up as we kissed, his hot lips pressing against mine. The tips of our tongues touched as he breathed hard into my mouth and he moaned, but his breath caught in his throat. His body went rigid as I wrapped my hand around his as he finished himself off. Even though his hand, I could feel his cock swell and the hot, thick splatter of his cum as it rained down.
He groaned several times into my mouth and his lips sealed around my tongue as he shot his load all over us both. I felt his leg jerk several times and his balls constricted against the bottom of my hand. They felt so hot and moist as they emptied, squeezing out their precious white seed. His chest heaved and eventually, the groans stopped as his body went limp and from the feeling of him against me, I could tell it had been a truly grand finale. The side of my nose rubbed against his forehead and I could feel the beads of sweat and stray wisps of hair as I kissed his hairline gently, doing my best to help him calm down.
We laid there for a few minutes as he recovered, his breathing slowing down as he gave himself several slow draining strokes and milked the last of his cum. The air in the room was chillier than our horniness had allowed us to realize and Zac shivered slightly, and goosebumps stood up on his chest. I pulled the comforter and the blankets up over us but not after mopping him off with one of the stray T-shirts that decorated his room. We laid back down under the covers and Zac draped his arm over me and cuddled against me. He was still breathing hard.
"Hi there." He gasped and smiled primly.
"Feel better?" I asked and kissed his bicep.
He murmured something in the affirmative. There wasn't any way I could blame him for being more than a little nervous. My hand reached up and stroked his ruffled hair gently as I smoothed the dark streaks that seemed more visible in the growing light. I had only one wish at that point and it was that whatever God had done to Zac, I wished that he would put it into me. It was 7:32 in the morning and he had about three hours until he would lose the chance. He could just give me the arthritis and I would go under the knife and Zac wouldn't lose his musical career. It just sounded like the fairest thing to do.
Zac went back to sleep a few minutes later but I stayed awake for the next hour until his mom came to wake us up. We showered, but it wasn't our usual playful, grab ass filled shower. Neither was getting dressed, which didn't seem right due to the lack of scrotum tickling and last second blowjobs before the underwear got put on. They told Zac to wear whatever would be comfortable. I watched him after he had dressed and he just sat on his bed looking down at his hands. You still have time, God... Put it into me and everything will be cool.
Then we went to the hospital. Thankfully, for our collective sanity's sake, they were performing the surgery in a different section with a properly heated waiting room. They had a nice living room set with some magazines that were actually current and didn't have to do with prostate cancer. Just like our first hospital visit, the silence was woefully awkward between Zac's parents and myself. It was frustrating because it didn't feel like my continued presence had proven anything but then again, it was to be expected that things would be weird considering the circumstances.
Zac had been taken into the surgery prep center and all we could do was wait. They had to check him out and make sure he was fit for surgery, or so the nurse had said. She also said that we would get to see him just before they took him into the OR. I wasn't sure if I should politely step back so his mom and dad could see him or what. Part of me was worried that he wouldn't be coming back to me and for that reason, I wanted to see him. I wanted to see him and hug him and kiss him one more time just in case.
There wasn't much for me to do in the waiting room. All the issues of People Weekly had their crossword puzzles filled out and there was no TV in the waiting room. The vending machines didn't look too appetizing and trying to start a conversation with either parent was enough to turn me white as a sheet. Taylor had said he would come later which gave me someone I could talk to but it wasn't quite later yet. Gnawing my own fingers off from nervousness didn't seem too productive, either.
I began to drift off to sleep when I heard a voice, "Zac is going into surgery. You can see him for just a few seconds."
My head bobbed up and I saw a nurse in blue OR scrubs standing there. I followed Mr. and Mrs. Hanson into the operating area, just far enough behind to not look very prominent. After all, I was the good friend of the patient. The nurse ushered them through two double doors and told me to wait outside. My back leaned against the wall as my nose caught the sterile scent of the hallway and there were no screams, which made me feel reassured. I sighed and rubbed my forehead as I waited. The buzz of the fluorescent lights... like the angels up above...
My body relaxed and when I felt a hand on my arm, I jumped. It was Mrs. Hanson.
"He wants to see you." She said and smiled warmly.
"Thanks." I took a deep breath and went back through the double doors.
The nurse met me halfway and led me down the hall, and I tried not to look at the walls around me. If there were any awareness of the situation, I'd lose all self-control and end up crying like a baby. The only thing I registered was the sound of the floor under my feet as she led me into the room. As I walked, I kept telling God that he still had time. He still had time to save Zac and let me take the hit instead. But nothing. Nothing as she led me into the room. Once I was inside, all I saw was the stretcher where Zac was laying.
I walked over tentatively and looked down at him. He looked like an angel. They had held his hair back with a white, hairnet style bonnet and he was wearing a white hospital gown. Even the sheets on the gurney were white. It was very fitting for an angel like him. He turned his head to the side and looked up at me dreamily and I could tell they had started the anesthesia.
"Hey." He said softly.
"Hey, how do you feel?" I said and leaned over, taking in the contours of his face.
"I'm hungry." He hadn't been allowed to eat anything since the day before, which had been torturous.
You still have time, God, I said silently to myself. I reached out and stroked his cheek with my index finger, "When you get out of here, I'll make sure you get fed."
He smiled, "You're gonna be here to feed me, right?"
I smiled back and my stomach felt that warm fluttery feeling of love, "Yeah, Zac. I'll be here."
There was a few seconds of silence before his hand reached out from under the sheet and slipped easily into mine. His fingers squeezed my hand feebly and my soul shook. He was using his last strength in his hands to reach out to me. I meant that much to him and it was such an amazing feeling. It felt like I had finally connected with someone for real. Like I had finally found love. My eyes felt damp and I could feel tears rolling down my cheeks but I didn't care.
"I love you, Reid." Zac said softly and stroked the side of my hand with his thumb.
I sniffled and leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the lips. The nurse came back in the room and told me it was time to go. Pulling away from him had to be the hardest thing I'd ever done as I kept telling God that he still had a chance. Zac smiled and winked wryly, which had the same effect on me that it'd had the first time he'd done it. It made me feel weak in the knees.
"I love you, Zac." I said and kissed him on the forehead.
Then they wheeled him away. Just like that. I walked out the doors and back into the waiting room, still urging God to do the right thing and give the disease to me. But he didn't listen. My hands didn't start hurting like hell even as the minutes wore on and rain began to fall outside. All logic said that Zac was already in surgery but I still kept hoping that something would intervene. After a certain point, I was even open to the idea of it not being God, which was somewhat reckless. But no more reckless than pacing around a hospital waiting room. It felt like a rut was being worn under my shoes as I paced around, looking out the window for anything to distract me.
My neck felt like it had been tenderized with a jackhammer and my sinus had begun to ache. But the hands... they were just fine. Nothing wrong with my hands. Why would there be anything wrong with my hands? They weren't needed for anything important. It was only fair to take away a pair of hands that meant a great deal to so many people. You can't deny that, can you? It would be just wrong to cripple the hands of someone who didn't need them. But to take away the hands of a 15 year old boy who relied on his hands to live out his dream... now that's just fine.
As much as they tried to stay away, my eyes kept wandering over to the exit of the hospital. I had no intention of leaving but something inside me kept looking over to them and wondering what would happen if I just left right then and there. It wouldn't be hard to run out faster than anyone could catch me. Just run right out of here and go back living in squalor and stealing to make ends meet. Just leave Zac behind and let him deal with his own problems. Just leave the love of my life. But then again, someone had told me that real men don't leave.
The rain kept falling. The window was cold against my forehead and the sky was gray and drizzly as I looked out at it from inside the hospital. The waiting room was positioned with a nice view of the parking lot below and the other clinics that surrounded the establishment. Rain was falling into the puddles. Making little whirlpools. A gray, rainy June day that fit the mood. It fit the mood but something about it would have been scarier if it were sunny and nice out. It would have been more twisted.
Damn, this shitty hospital vending machine chicken soup. At that moment, I would have killed and fought a thousand wars just for one cup of coffee or ice cold bottle of Pepsi. But nope... the lack of a spleen and gall bladder means no caffeine for Reid. Reid can only drink pulp free orange juice, acidophilus milk, and filtered water. Anything else is... iffy. God damn it, for one whom loves orange juice with extra pulp it was hellish. But Zac had dulled the pain. I would have drunk turpentine so long as I could be in his arms while I did it.
"A 10 letter word for 'pleasing'..."
"I don't know..."
"Come on. You're supposed to be good at these things."
My mind was seeing a lot of things but pleasing wasn't one of them. Still, I was glad that Taylor was there and wasn't being deterred by my nervous agitation. We were keeping each other sane, really. Since my inclusion into their household, Taylor had stepped back more gracefully than I could have imagined and passed me the mantle of being Zac's "protector". The first thing I'd noticed was how close they were. The bond of growing up in the limelight with nothing immediate to count on but each other is a very amalgamating thing. Or so I'd observed. Hell, I had no idea or ability to judge from my pre-Hanson experiences.
"OK... we'll try another one." Tay said and scanned the puzzle. I noticed he chewed slightly on his lower lip nervously.
He was pretty worried. He had stopped jerking his right leg at light speed, which was a piece of good fortune. But he couldn't stop tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair or on his knee. Neither could he stop himself from running his hand through his hair every chance he got. Maybe he had a right to be more worried than I did. Zac had told me that for all his life, Tay had been his "male role model". It made some sense considering the number of kids in the family would occupy their dad and it all made me more forgiving towards Tay when he felt the need to clear his throat or suck his teeth.
"OK, how 'bout this..." He shifted in his chair and crossed his legs, "10 down. Director of original 'Gone In 60 Seconds'?"
"How many letters?" I managed one more sip of the soup before tossing it out.
"Seven letters."
I fell back into the chair next to him and thought, "Halicki. Does that fit?"
"Indeed it does," He filled in the letters and closed the magazine, "We're done with that one."
My sinuses began to pound again and I tried to fight it off as Tay sighed and crossed his arms. There wasn't any muzak playing over the speakers. There weren't any other sounds in the waiting room, really. Myself, Tay, their parents and the security guard were the only people there. I had kind of hoped that Isaac would get back from his trip to France in time but he had found out so suddenly that it was an unrealistic hope. The smaller the crowd the better, really.
News of what was happening had broke pretty quick from some source inside the hospital. MTV had made a passing mention of it but nothing that would give any indication that they were actually, you know, concerned about Zac. Rumor had it that a flower basket had been sent but it was only a rumor. It was all I had to pass the time as we sat there and waited for the surgery to conclude. And it wasn't hurrying, that's for sure. But that's a good thing because if they hurried, something might go wrong.
"Jeez... were are they?" Tay asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I don't know. They're your parents." I mumbled and assumed the familiar position of leaning forward and rubbing my eyes.
"Don't say that so loud. Seriously, how long does it take to pick up a prescription for freakin' Percocet?"
"They probably stopped to make out." I smiled a little.
"OK, don't say that."
The poor kid, he didn't like hearing about his parents doing the nasty any more than anyone else. He was just like everyone else. So was Zac. And so was I. God damn, what the hell had happened? My eye sockets felt as though they were swelling like throbbing balloons. Stress was something I'd never been very well equipped to deal with and all the headway I'd made over the past few months didn't seem to matter much right then and there. Right then on a rainy June morning, right there in a pediatric surgery facility in Oklahoma.
Time was still refusing to pass at a civilized rate. The hands on the clock moved at a stone aged pace with no word from the hospital staff as to the surgical progress. We sat there long enough to watch the desk clerk refill her coffee cup about ten times and each time, my mouth watered. Taylor seemed to understand a bit and didn't have any coffee and I appreciated it. He was very considerate. Not going to public school along with learning to share early on had allowed him to retain a certain level of respectfulness and selflessness that you didn't get from most people.
It was obvious from getting to know both Taylor and Isaac that Zac had grown up looking to them as role models and it had shaped him in a big way. They had been very positive influences on Zac. Taylor, with his compassion and sweetness, and Isaac with his maturity and positive out look. Their family was very special. A loving, stable family. But all the love and affection in the world couldn't stop this from happening.
I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't notice Taylor holding out a bottle of water. My mind snapped back to reality and took the bottle from him, only giving him a slightly un-deathbedly look in return. The water was safe and I could taste it being so. Nothing to harm my carefully rebuilt digestive tract. God knows nothing could ever happen to me.
The morning went on and eventually turned to early afternoon. Taylor went home to check on the baby-sitter and his younger siblings, giving me some welcome alone time to think. There wasn't much there to pass the time and the only thing I took solace in was that if something went horribly wrong, they'd let us know and they hadn't said anything. Yet. So it was a good thing. At some point, the parents came back and I couldn't tell one way or another if they'd stopped to make out or anything but the smart money said they hadn't. They had brought back sandwiches from the cafeteria and as much as I tried, I wasn't real hungry. Each bite felt like it was made of glue and sawdust, even though it tasted really pretty good. No sense in making myself sick but of course, sense wasn't rearing its welcome head in this situation.
When the chair felt like it was sticking to my ass like flypaper, I got up and walked around the waiting room. Nothing really changed each time I did it but I still did it. The rain stopped and the day turned out to be quite nice and it made me smile in a bitterly justified way. From my view outside the window, the parking lot had filled up a little as the day went on and then, in a moment of irony, a rainbow was visible out beyond the trees that lined the property. A beautiful rainbow. My body felt numb and I learned against the windowsill, feeling something but not exactly sure what it was.
My forehead rested against the cool metal frame and I closed my eyes. The sound of sudden footsteps on the polished floor made me jerk my head up, trying to shake off the drowsiness. Dr. Bailey was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Hanson over by the door to the OR. He was dressed in those lovely blue scrubs that the nurse had worn earlier. From the look on his face, nothing had gone wrong and he actually looked pretty pleased. My heart felt warm with relief and my body shuddered... but then I remembered that there was still a long road ahead.
I rested my head against the frame again and felt a lump of reprieve in my throat. Even though he hadn't done what was best, God had the good sense to let Zac come through the surgery without any major complications. My lungs released and a rickety breath came out. The sense of relief washing over me was so complete that I didn't hear the nurse saying my name the first two times.
"Huh... yeah?" I said, turning around and breathing deeply.
"Zac wants to see you." She said, and from the look she was giving me, I knew that she knew about... us.
"What about-- wait... what about his parents?" I stuttered, trying to come up with a way to keep her from thinking I had some sort of mind control, brainwashing thing going on.
She smiled, "They're all right with it. He's in recovery."
Wordlessly, my feet moved and I followed her. Against my own self-control, my eyes drifted over to the exit door one last time and my feet stopped. If I went in there and he saw me, I was committing pretty much the rest of my life to being with him and helping him get better. It all seemed to go in slow motion as my eyes narrowed and looked at the lighted green letters. Everything I'd known in my upbringing told me to leave. Everything the male role models in my life had taught me said to walk out the door and get the hell away. It told me I was getting myself into a situation that I wasn't smart enough to deal with. It kept telling me what to do...
Zac heard the doctor very faintly. Some weird thing made his muscles tense and for a second, he wondered if they didn't give him enough of that sleep stuff and he was still awake. Like on Dateline when he and Tay had heard about the people who were actually awake and felt everything as they got cut into. Maybe they hadn't done it yet... but he couldn't move. Then he felt the doctor speaking to him a little louder and he knew it was done. But how could it be done? He was only out for a second.
"Zac, can you hear me?"
He opened his eyes slowly and he felt like he was floating. Whatever room he was in was dim and quiet and warm. The blankets on top of him felt heavy as lead at first but as the lightheadedness left him, they didn't feel so heavy. Silently, he did a mental inventory to make sure he was still in working order. His head and his eyes moved OK, so did his legs and arms. In his head, Zac recited the words to the Neo-Morpheus conversation and remembered it perfectly. He remembered everything and knew they didn't make some mistake and cut into his brain somehow.
"Huh?" He said weakly and tried to rub his eyes... then he remembered.
"OK, Zac. Are you feeling any pain in your hands?"
Zac shook his head and tried to re-alert himself, "No... I can't feel my hands at all..."
"All right. That's very normal. Are you feeling nauseated?"
"No... just real dizzy..."
"All right. We had to sedate you heavily," He watched the doctor hold up a small flashlight, "I'm going to check your pupils. Don't worry."
Zac flinched slightly as the doctor checked his eyes and the nurse behind him wrote something on a clipboard. While they did so, Zac held up his hands as best he could and looked at them. His wrists and palms had been wrapped in heavy white gauze and the bandaging was so thick he couldn't move his fingers. But it's not like he could move them if he wanted to. The sedation wore off as he realized the situation and bit his lip, wanting to see someone. He wanted to see someone who could make him feel better.
The rain clung to my coat as my fingers tried to turn the key. After a few tries in the drizzling rain, the lock finally turned and my nose was greeted by the musty, sweaty smell of a bachelor pad. I smiled and shook the rain my clothing as I walked into the apartment and dropped my bag on the floor, hearing the wet thud resound off the walls. Just being home made me feel a lot less guilty. It just made me feel so much more secure. No wild drummers with arthritis could ever get to me again.
I ran my fingers through the wet slick of my hair and walked over to the telephone and hit the playback button on the answering machine. Part of me was worried that I'd get some threatening call but I knew that they weren't that stupid. They had left the choice up to me and I'd made my choice. Luckily, there weren't any messages from Tulsa. Just messages from my coworkers and friends who had heard that I was heading home and it made me smile. I yawned and opened the fridge, scanning for something airtightly sealed that couldn't have spoiled.
Damn, someone needs to go shopping, I thought. Finally, there was a can of Pepsi One that no one had drank yet, allowing me something cold and with caffeine and the first few sips made me shiver. Good, nourishing drink. I sat down on the couch and looked out the solitary deck window into the gray rainy day. At least I still had my freedom, I told myself. Not tied down to anyone, not stuck caring for someone, not stuck hiding for the rest of your life. You're now free to find someone who you can kiss and hold hands with in public with no fear of the paparazzi.
But yet, I still wondered. Maybe I'd made the wrong decision. Maybe I should have stayed there and been nothing more than a servant to a, for all intents and purposes, cripple. His family can deal with him. They can get his food and help him scratch his ass. It's not my problem. It never was. I never asked for him to help me and I never asked for him to fall in love with me. He did it all. He did everything. It wasn't me so I had no responsibility towards him. The feelings were completely one way.
You're free, I thought to myself and reached for the TV controller and flicked the "on" button. The TV crackled and flickered to life after about six months of non-use. There wasn't anything on, which wasn't exactly what I needed. I didn't need to be alone with my thoughts were I could convince myself that I'd made the wrong decision.
The rain pelted the roof and I could see it falling into slivery puddles out on the small concrete deck. The remote control fell from my hand and my head rested back against the couch, my eyes focused on the ceiling. All the little dots started to run together and my mouth felt dry and pasty. A sip of the soda didn't help at all. Rubbing my face briskly didn't help either and a sick knot of just plain rancidness tore at my stomach.
But then I remembered.
He was just a long haired, weird looking, lunatic with big lips, a flabby torso, and an annoying personality. You never loved him! He loved you. And that annoying song got stuck in your head. You are better off without him. I smiled and sighed, realizing that it was all true. Even at my ripe old age of 19, I didn't need to commit to him. Even though he made you so happy but that doesn't matter. You're a free man and you don't have to care for him...
Reid...
Huh...
Reid... he's in... here...
The nurse's voice pulled my eyes away from the exit sign and back into reality and out of my little alternate universe. Any desire or notion that I had of leaving was stamped out quicker than a forest fire right then and there. I shook my head and cursed myself only a little bit for even considering the idea. If I left Zac, I didn't deserve to live. If I couldn't recognize such an incredible gift, then I didn't deserve to even be there.
"Yeah," I said and turned towards the door to the recovery wing, "Let's go."
The point of no return. The nurse led me through a different door and down a very sterile, very white hallway with white tiling. This hospital had a thing for the white décor. All white. The whiteness almost hurt my eyes as I tried to prepare myself for seeing him. I kept telling myself that he'd only had work done on his hands and he'd look pretty much the same. But my hands still started to shake and I couldn't stop it. It was damned annoying. The sweat running down my sides from my armpits wasn't really that nice either.
The nurse stopped, "He's in there. Can I trust you to not overexcite him?"
I felt the nonconformist well up inside me, "Well, sure. Considering that I'm 6 years old and need to be reminded of that sort of thing."
She seemed to empathize, "I know you'll do OK."
She held the door open and I walked in, bracing myself for the worst. The room was dim and it felt warm and comfortable, which slightly put me at ease as I walked in. It only took a second before I saw Zac and my face must have relaxed tenfold. He was lying under the covers and his eyes were closed softly. The sight of him made me feel weak in the knees even though his face was somewhat telling of the rigors of surgery. His face was pale and his lips looked a little thinner and his hair seemed a bit scraggly, which seemed normal.
I walked over and sat down slowly in the chair next to his bed. I couldn't help but smile and look at him as he lay there and for the first time, I saw his hands. They were wrapped in a pretty thick layer of gauze and medical bandaging. Each of his fingers had been spun in a layer of the gauze as well and I realized that even if he could curl them, he wouldn't be able to yet. His fingertips were a little flushed and in the dim light, the sparse hairs on his forearms glinted slightly and in my stomach, I felt a familiar flutter.
I leaned in and kissed his cheek several times and I felt him move slightly. When I sat back, he turned his head and opened his eyes slowly... and then he smiled. My heart melted, recongealed, and melted again about five times over. My hand reached out and gently rested on his cheek and the skin felt quite warm and soft. I didn't know what to say.
"Hey." He said faintly.
"How do you feel?"
"Hungry." He said and smiled again.
I laughed softly, "When you wake up again, you can eat as much as you want."
"You're still gonna help me eat?"
"I'm going to help you however you need me to help you." I said and held his arm.
We didn't need to say anything else. After a few minutes, I kissed him and it felt just as sweet and just as wonderful as it ever had before. He didn't need hands to kiss. We didn't need hands to know that we were meant to be together. It was just a feeling that we had and it was a feeling that we couldn't deny. Just knowing that I had stayed seemed to give us both a huge burst of confidence. Even when the doctor came back in to resedate him, it didn't seem to matter. We both knew that I'd be there when he woke up again... and when he woke up in his bed and when he knew he was safe, we knew that I'd be there.
To Be Continued...