Tom crawled up next to me in the bed and kissed me on my cheek then he put his arm around me and I rested my head on his chest. The lack of space forced us to be extra close to each other and I calmed down by smelling Tom's scent and feeling his body. My hand started innocently enough on his chest and wandered down his body until it felt his dick in his jeans. I rubbed up and down the length and it kept getting bigger but I didn't really notice because I wasn't paying attention to what my hand was doing to him. It was one of those odd moments where I was aware of the situation but not able to do anything about it because my mind was busy wondering why my brother came to see me.
The thumping in Tom's chest increased and my mind began sifting though random thoughts about my brother. Charlie and I had never been close. We were too different. If we weren't brothers, we wouldn't have ever spoken to each other because there wouldn't have been a circumstance that required us to interact. He seemed like a nice person but truthfully I didn't know what type of person he was because I could only go on what I heard and what I observed. I had lived in the same house with him for 17 years and I knew virtually nothing about him.
I heard Tom gasp and then he grabbed my hand and pulled it away. The feel of his skin touching mine brought me back from my trance. "What are you trying to do?" he whispered.
"Huh?"
"You were touching somewhere you shouldn't have been touching."
I laughed lightly, "Sorry."
"If we weren't here I wouldn't stop you but anyone could walk in and," he lowered his voice even more, "you don't do that type of thing in hospitals, remember?"
"I wasn't thinking about it when I was doing it."
"What do you mean you weren't thinking about it? There was definitely thought behind your hand movements."
"I was doing it subconsciously, like I knew I was doing it but I couldn't stop myself."
"So it was your subconscious that was all over me because you wouldn't consciously do that?"
I gave his neck a little lick and then I whispered in his ear, "Oh I'd do it when I was conscious too."
He gently pushed me away. "Could you please not touch me at all for the next few minutes?"
"Why?"
"I'm about to explode." I blew on his neck and he pushed me farther away. "I'm serious. Stop it." He got off the bed and grabbed the chair. Then he pulled the chair as far away from me as possible. The chair hit the wall pretty hard and then he sat in it and wiggled around a little. He stopped wiggling and looked at me and our eyes met. "Shit, I gotta go to the bathroom." He jumped up and ran.
I wondered what Matt and his new foster parents thought about the blur that ran by them and in to the bathroom. I would have paid money to have the curtain pulled back so I could see it all unfold. Tom returned about six minutes later. His cheeks were rosy and he didn't look at me when he came back; instead, he sat in the chair and looked at the floor. "Sorry," he said.
I couldn't stifle my laughter, "What did you do?"
"I had to finish what you started." He still didn't look at me. "Do you think they heard me?" I thought it was hilarious and I laughed so hard it hurt. "Stop laughing. You did it to me."
Tom finally gave up on telling me to stop laughing and he sat there with his head hung low until I stopped. I patted the bed next to me and said, "Come back and lay down."
"Why? So you can fondle me again?" he asked loudly.
I froze for a second then I said, "Ssh."
"Why? Are you afraid someone might hear me?"
"Ssh. Be quiet."
"No, I want the entire room to know that you tried to make me cream my pants."
"Tom I'm sorry. Okay? Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Tom, please!" I was begging him to shut up because I could only imagine what Matt's foster parents thought about us.
Tom stood up and walked to the curtain. "Maybe I want them to hear. Hell, maybe I want them to see us." He pulled the curtain back and I swear I had a mini heart attack and then I saw no one was over there. I hadn't heard them leave.
It was Tom's turn to have a good laugh. He sat on Matt's bed. "They were leaving the room when I came out the bathroom." He smiled at me, "Oh God, that was fun."
"Were you trying to kill me? I hope you know I almost dropped dead."
"Oh come on, it was funny."
"No it wasn't."
Matt walked back in the room alone and Tom got off Matt's bed and sat back down in the chair.
Matthew lied on his bed and asked, "What's going on?"
"He just tried to kill me," I said.
Matt looked at Tom, "You should wait until he's out of the hospital before you try to kill him again." He grinned and crossed his legs then he asked in a fake accent, "What were you guys doing while Mr. and Mrs. Washington were here?"
"Trying to eavesdrop," Tom replied.
"Hear anything good?"
"Not really. They sound like nice people though."
"They always sound like nice people in the beginning. Give them a month with me and we'll see if they really are."
"What are you going to do to them?" I asked.
"Nothing, but I've learned that my charm wears off fairly quickly."
"Why am I not surprised?" I knew the words came out kind of snotty so I punctuated the question with a smug smile.
"At least I have charm, Mr. Gloom and Doom. Why don't you just shoot yourself already and get it over with?"
I felt my face moving and despite my best efforts, I couldn't keep the smile in place. His comment shouldn't have hurt but it did. I looked at Matthew and saw that asshole had stolen my smug smile.
Tom came across as threatening as he told Matthew, "Don't talk to him like that."
Matthew stared at Tom for a moment and then Matthew's smile became less smug and more genuine, "I wish I had a friend like you." There was a brief uncomfortable silence before Matthew changed the subject, "I hope this home lasts until I'm 18."
"You only have a few months, I'm sure it will," Tom said.
"Then I get my freedom. Yippee!" The expression on Matt's face was not one of a happy person.
Tom tried to comfort him by saying, "Maybe it won't be so bad."
Matt sighed heavily. "Yeah, maybe."
My focus on the progress of the conversation was inhibited because my mind was busy echoing Matthew's comments. I kept hearing, `Mr. Gloom and Doom just shoot yourself.' Eventually I zoned out completely and a few minutes later I rejoined the conversation and said, "I'm not Mr. Doom and Gloom."
Tom and Matthew both looked at me like I was crazy and then Matthew said, "Well of course not silly, you're Mr. Gloom and Doom, get it right."
He stood up suddenly and walked over to me and grabbed at something above my head. I didn't see anything so I asked, "What are you doing?"
"I'm taking the cloud from over your head." He paused. "No more gloom. No more doom. Not today."
I thought he was insane but I wondered if I should thank him and then it occurred to me that I should. "Thank you, I guess."
"Don't thank me yet all I can do is push the cloud to the side, but it'll be back. I can't make it go away." His hand came to rest on my head. `He's my kind of crazy,' I thought. He must have caught the look on my face because he winked at me. "Don't fall in love with me," he warned as he backed away and sat on his bed.
I quickly professed, "I love Tom."
"You love him in a sexual way."
"It's more than that."
Matthew zeroed in on Tom. "You love him because he's cute and sweet and gentle and"
Tom started blushing. I interrupted, "Are you trying to hit on him?"
"Am I gay?" Matt asked.
"I don't know."
"Well what do you think?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if you were."
Matthew pointed at me and looked at Tom, "Did you hear that Tom? Your boyfriend wants me to be gay."
"I didn't say that," I protested.
"But that's what you meant."
"Are you always like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like" I tried to think of an appropriate word to describe him, but all I could up with was, "well, like you?"
"What kind of question is that? Of course I'm always like me. Even when I'm pretending to be someone else, I'm still me. Are you always you?"
"No, sometimes I pretend to be a transgendered girl," I teased.
Matt began laughing and I realized he had the kind of laugh that sounded like pure joy. I laughed with him and soon Tom joined in with us. The laughter seemed to fill the room with warm thoughts and good memories and for the briefest of moments I found myself being honestly happy without analyzing my happiness or awaiting the sadness I knew would soon return.
Matthew was odd, but the odder he became, the more I liked him. Having someone who I deemed crazier than I was somehow distracted me from thoughts of cutting or burning and took away the feeling of constant dread that I usually had all day. When Matthew excused himself to go to the bathroom, the dark cloud that hovered over me returned and unleashed a torrential downpour. I felt that sick strained feeling I sometimes got in the back of my throat when my body wanted to cry but I was fighting hard to hold back the tears.
Tom grabbed me, "Are you okay?"
"I just feel so sad all of a sudden."
"Don't be sad. Maybe we can get you moved to a new room."
"Why?"
"Because of Matthew. Don't you want a different roommate?"
"No not really."
"You think it's good for you to be in a room with him?"
"He's not as bad as I originally thought."
"He is bad. He's bad for you. It's not appropriate for the two of you to be in the same room."
"What are we going to do, put our defective minds together and kill each other?"
"Well"
"Well he's crazy and I'm crazy so we shouldn't be in the same room because there's no way we could be anything other than destructive."
"Where is this coming from? I thought you would want a different roommate. You act like Matthew irritates you."
"He did at first, but by the third hour he started to become kind of amusing."
"He needs more help than"
"Than what? Than I do?"
"No than he's willing to admit. He has a lot of problems."
Matthew came out of the bathroom, "Yeah I do," he agreed and then he lied on his bed and looked at us.
Tom immediately apologized, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I don't know what you said about me but it must have been bad if you feel the need to apologize."
"I just said that I don't think you and Sam should share a room because you both seem to have a lot of your own issues and I'm not sure how well you two can work through those issues together."
Matt eyed me for a second, "You're probably right. He'll depress me."
"You're no box of sunshine either," I told him.
"So you don't want to live with me?"
"It doesn't matter. I don't plan on being here that long."
Matthew and Tom were quiet and I knew they thought I was going to be there for a while. I turned on the television and flipped through the stations. Neither of them said anything and I felt uncomfortable and angry at the same time. I needed one of them to say something but they both stared blankly at the television and ignored me. I thought about screaming at the top of my lungs and I could have, but I didn't. I sat there and watched the news as I tried to figure out what was upsetting me. In all fairness, maybe Matthew and Tom were quiet because they didn't realize I wanted a response.
"Sam." I looked in Matthew's direction and saw Charlie standing in the doorway. "Hey Sam," he said as he walked closer. It was strange seeing him and hearing his voice and knowing he was talking to me. We rarely spoke directly to each other and I felt a sense of awkwardness and confusion. I wondered why he was standing in my hospital room speaking to me.
"Hi Charlie."
Charlie was the kind of guy you couldn't help but notice. He was 6'3" tall with short blonde hair and shimmering blue eyes. He was built like a quarterback, but it wasn't his looks that got him noticed, it was his attitude. He walked in to a room like he owned it and he was being kind enough to let other people be in it and be in his presence. It wasn't arrogance on his part. At least I never thought it was arrogance. I always thought it was just his aura. People naturally gravitated to him.
He stood next to me and stared at me and all I could think about was how much I hated his blue eyes because they looked so much like my own. I looked away first. Tom stood up, "Hey Matt, didn't you want to show me something?"
Matthew rolled his eyes, "I can show you later."
"No, show me now."
"Things are just getting interesting. I'll show you later."
There was silence and not regular silence but rather a silence that said everyone had something to say but no one was saying anything. A lady walked in with my dinner tray. She sat the tray down and I had a good look at the food. All of my fears about calorie intake were eased because the food had that bland look that told me the only way it could be healthier was if vitamins were infused in it.
Tom turned to Charlie and said, "I'm going to help Matthew, can you make sure Sam eats something?"
"Sure."
"And don't let him get away with nibbling on his food either."
"Okay."
"Thanks." Tom walked over to Matthew's side of the room and pulled the curtain to divide the room. I heard him whispering something to Matthew.
Charlie pulled the chair over and sat next to the bed. He watched me as I took a tiny bite of my baked chicken. He watched me sit my fork down. He watched me as I took a sip of my water. He watched me sample the jell-o. He watched me sit my spoon down. He just sat there watching me and making me feel like I was under a microscope. I kept quiet for as long as I could which turned out to be about three minutes.
I finally asked him flat out, "Why are you here?"
"I wanted to see how you were."
I might not have talked to him much but I could tell when he was feeding me a load of shit. If he came to see how I was then that would mean he cared about me and we both knew that was not true so I wanted to know what the hell he was doing in my hospital room, watching me and lying about caring about me.
"You never cared before. Did Mom send you?"
"No, I'm here on my own. I wanted to see how my little brother was doing."
"Why?"
"Mom said you were sick and they didn't know exactly what was wrong with you." His gaze fell to my plate. "Your food is getting cold."
I muttered, "Like you care." He took a small notepad out of his pocket and started writing. "What are you writing?"
"I was just making a few observations."
"Why?"
"It's nothing. Something for a class, that's all."
"What class?"
"Psychology."
"Psychology? What for psychology?"
"I'm working on a research paper. It's nothing." He put the pen and the notepad back in his pocket.
"Nothing like what?"
"Don't worry about it. It's nothing."
"You weren't writing down nothing."
He took his notepad back out and wrote something else down then he closed the notepad and said, "I'm writing a paper about your depression."
He said it and I heard it loud and clear. He was only there because I was the subject of his research paper. He needed to write a paper on depression and I practically had the market cornered. The small appetite I did have was gone. "What do you want to know?"
"Are you serious? It's that easy?"
"Yeah what do you want to know?"
"Well, how do you feel?"
"I feel fine I guess. My head hurts a little but that's"
"I don't mean physically. I mean how do you feel mentally?"
That was a good question. It was the type of question I was accustomed to hearing from Dr. Conley but it sounded like a foreign language coming from Charlie's mouth. I initially wanted to lie to him and tell him I was feeling great mentally and I had never felt better but then it occurred to me that he might never ask me about my feelings again. His paper was giving me the perfect opportunity to tell him how I felt and have a candid discussion with him that scrubbed under the surface of our usual hello' and goodbye' conversations. He wanted to talk so I was going to talk.
"Honestly, I mostly feel like shit. Sometimes I go for long stretches where I feel okay, but it's just okay, never good or great or wonderful. There's always something the makes me unhappy or reminds me that I should be miserable and that something is always in my thoughts."
"Isn't therapy supposed to help with that?"
"It does help, some. It would probably help more if I vented more and shared more of my personal thoughts and insecurities and other things." The other things I had in mind were my coping mechanisms but I couldn't say that to him. I glanced over at him and saw that he was looking at me but his notepad was still closed. "Shouldn't you be taking notes?"
"You want me to write this down?"
"Yeah, it's for your paper, right?"
He opened his notepad. "Do you feel like you don't belong in the family?"
"Ouch."
He started waving his hands, "I'm not trying to hurt your feelings or say you don't belong, I'm asking how you feel about the rest of us?"
"I feel that the rest of you are perfect and I wish I could have a fraction of your perfection. I look at you guys and I wonder what happened with me. I mean you're all so normal and I don't think I've ever been normal."
"Is it because of something we've done?"
"Yes, no, maybe, not really. You've done things but I'm not sure if any of them were done intentionally to hurt me. It just kind of worked out that way." I was having trouble with what I was saying because I was admitting things to Charlie that I hadn't fully admitted to myself. I think the shock of having an actual conversation with him gave me a bad case of diarrhea of the mouth.
"Could you name some of the things we've done that have bothered you?"
I tried to gain control again and go in to shut down mode, "No."
He made a note then asked, "Do you blame us for your anorexia?"
I told myself not to answer, but I did. "How can I? Mom fixed dinner every night." I smiled but he didn't. "The last part was a joke." He gave me a courtesy smile and then he scribbled something else on the notepad. "So what are you writing down?"
He ignored my question and responded with one of his own, "Do you think we love you?" I thought about it and I wasn't sure. They said they loved me but they didn't act like they loved me. They spent most of their time ignoring me. Charlie rephrased the question, "You know we love you, don't you?"
"I um,"
He reached out and touched my arm. "You don't have to lie to me."
His touch swiped the lie off the tip of my tongue and I answered truthfully, "I know that you guys say you do, but I don't know that you do."
I could tell I had offended him. "How would you know when you don't give us a chance? You pushed us out of your life a long time ago and you continue to make it clear that you don't want us to be a part of your life. The only person you care about is Tom."
"That's because I'm a stranger in my own house."
"You set the boundaries, we just respect them."
"Why are you here?" I asked. The conversation was taking a turn in a direction that I didn't like.
"The paper, remember? Because that's the only reason I would come visit my brother in the hospital. I couldn't possibly be here because I love you or because I wanted to talk to you and find out what's going on with you. I wouldn't dare cross that line and actually risk you thinking I cared about you. Do you really want to know why I'm here?"
My shut down sirens were blaring inside my head. "Not anymore. Just go home and we can go back to the way things should be. Just pretend I didn't say anything to you. It was my stupidity trying to tell you how I feel. You don't give a damn about me! You never have! You let your friends pick on me when you were in high school and you never said anything to them, so don't come in here and act like you care." I was pulling out cards I didn't even know were in the deck.
"I didn't let them pick on you. Why do you think they never did it in front of me? Did you really think they were scared of Tom? My friends ate punks like Tom for breakfast."
"Whatever, just go away. Leave me alone and go write your paper."
He threw the notepad on the bed and yelled, "THIS ISN'T ABOUT THE PAPER! This was never about the goddamn paper! How fucked up are we that I have to do a fucking paper on you just so you'll actually talk to me? Do you realize that you said more to me today than you have said to me in our whole lives? Our whole fucking lives! I'm not the problem, you are. I've tried to talk to you more times than I can count and one day I finally wised up and stopped wasting my time and yet here I am again. I'm here! I've always fucking been here!"
"No you haven't. You've never been there, ever, EVER! You hate me just like the rest of them."
"What?" He sat down in the chair and looked at me like I had sucker punched him. He sat there and I waited for his response. His voice was calmer when he spoke again. "Do you really think we hate you?" I didn't answer because my shut down was complete. "Do you really think that?" he asked again. I remained quiet. "Answer me! Do you think we hate you?"
"Yeah he does," Tom said. Tom walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. Charlie looked at him like he was going to say something but Tom stopped him, "I know I don't belong here, but you're pushing him too hard. I know him better than you do and I'm not saying that to rub it in, I'm saying that because it's the way things are. You don't understand what it took for him to talk to you the way he did and open up and tell you how he feels. He took a huge step forward today and you don't even realize it. I'm glad to hear you love him but maybe you should come back tomorrow and talk about this."
"You're telling me when I can talk to my own brother?"
"It's not like that. I'm telling you this isn't good for him right now and I'm asking you, if you care about him, please don't push him." Tom put his hand on my leg. "He had another attack this morning and we don't know why he's having them but I'm willing to bet that getting in to an argument is not going to help."
"He's my brother and you know he's in the hospital because he's had attacks, but all I know is that his best friend took him to the emergency room because something was wrong with him. Don't you think that's screwed up?"
"Yeah, I do, but nothing is going to change in the next few minutes so go home and come back tomorrow. I guarantee he'll be here."
"Is that what you want, Sam?"
I stared at the patterns on the blanket and shook my head. Charlie left without saying another word. As soon as he was gone Tom moved up the bed and put his arm around me. "Are you okay?"
I didn't speak. I curled up against him and buried my face in his armpit and then I was startled by the sound of clapping. Matt walked around the curtain. "I give the family drama a B+. The dialogue was a bit iffy but the content was heartfelt and I found it rather emotional."
"Not now," Tom told him.
"I'll be back later then." Matthew retreated to his side of the room.
I stayed in Tom's arms and thought about how great he was. Tom knew what I needed and when I needed it. He knew I couldn't take much more and he came and made Charlie go away. Charlie didn't understand my relationship with Tom because if he did he would understand why Tom and I were so close. Having Tom in my life was a necessity, not a choice.
Tom reached under his leg and pulled out Charlie's notepad. He flipped through a few pages and then handed it to me. "You should read what he wrote."
Copyright Lustyville 2008 Please send comments to lustyville@yahoo.com and check out more of this story and my other stories at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lustyville