The Human Condition Ch. 07

"Oh, Betsy..."

A thousand things went through my head that I could have said to reassure her. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. Betsy seemed oblivious and after a moment she went on.

"We get along so well, it's as if we've always known each other. We never fight-did you know that? It's like we've already been married for twenty years -- so comfortable and safe. It's almost eerie. I mean, it would be great if it had really had been that long, but shouldn't there be more? Shouldn't that be the end of the journey and not the beginning?"

I squeezed her hand and she smiled. I noticed the tears in her eyes and she laughed embarrassedly, then brushed them away with her free hand.

"Damn," she said. "What a bitch I am. Complaining about not having fights-it's pathetic. Don't mind me."

"Hey, don't apologize," I said. "You know I'm here for you."

"Even when I don't make sense?"

"Especially then."

We both laughed and Betsy got up to leave. I made a protesting noise, but she ignored it.

"Well, now that I've made a total fool of myself," she said as she walked by my bed, "I need to get going; Joe's waiting at my place. We have to go register at Hudson's tomorrow."

"God, he's waiting? He must be going nuts, it's almost 2 AM."

"I called him and told him I was working late and that I was going to stop up here after and check up on you. He said he was just going to bed."

"Well," I smiled. "Then I certainly don't want to keep you."
Betsy gave me a funny look I couldn't read.

"Trust me, I don't think he minds," she muttered.

Before I could think of a response, she leaned down and kissed me goodbye. Then she gave me an extra hug.

"'Night, Mike," she turned on her heel and walked to the door and turned. She was smiling again. "Did I ever tell you I think it's a damn waste that you're gay?"

"That all depends on your point of view," I responded and listened to her laugh all the way down the hall as the door closed behind her.

It's always hard to sleep in a hospital. That's probably why they wake you up in the middle of the night to give you a sleeping pill. They've learned from bitter experience that an unmedicated patient can't sleep through the bells and the whispers and dull thuds that are a hospital's version of crickets and nightingales.
This was my last night. I was to be discharged in the morning and I'd refused the obligatory pill that had been offered soon after Betsy left. My excuse had been that I wanted to be alert the next day. That wasn't the real reason; I needed to think.

If Betsy was telling the truth, and I had no reason to believe otherwise, then why had Joe proposed? It wasn't like him to settle for something less than the best. For three years now, he'd been lecturing me against doing that very thing. He was one of the last great romantics; why was he willing to play it safe now?

I tried to concentrate, but, sleeping pill or not, I was starting to drift. As I felt the darkness descend on my mind, a little thought burst out of my subconscious and tried to worm its way to the front of my brain. I opened my eyes wide as the idea grew. No. I shook my head. It was too ridiculous. I was getting punchy. I closed my eyes again, but now, I wasn't sleepy and it was hours before I lost consciousness.

The doctor didn't get around to discharging me until after 11. By that time, I was fully dressed and gingerly sitting in a wheelchair with Lucy and Betsy. Joe was waiting for us in the car, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he gave up and came in to find out what the hold up was. I was right: five minutes before I was released, he appeared. I found myself suddenly shy, and I couldn't meet his eyes.

We finally got the go-ahead and left the room. Joe ran ahead to get the car. Lucy hauled all the junk I'd accumulated in the last four days, and Betsy wheeled me out to the elevator, which we rode to the lobby. She'd just cleared the wheels of the door when she stopped. I twisted around to look at her and found she was staring at something to our right. I turned and there stood Cam.

I hadn't heard from him since I'd been admitted. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"Could-could I talk to you?" He said in that deep voice that used to melt my bones. "Alone?"

My bones were pretty sturdy now. I nodded and Betsy and Lucy moved away from me; far enough to give us some privacy; but close enough for protection.

"I called every day," he said.

"How considerate," I was trying to be cool, but I felt anger welling up inside of me. If he had called, I'd never heard about it.

"I know you said you didn't want to see me, but when the nurses told me you were being discharged today, I took a chance."

This confused me. I'd never said I didn't want to see Cam. I was about to tell him that when he started to speak again.

"God, Mike," his voice choked. "I'm so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

"It wasn't your fault," I said, though a part of me believed he was right.

"I should have never let you go. I should have made you leave with me."

I shook my head. "That's bullshit, Cam. I made my own choice."

"But I should have stopped you."

"And how were you going to do that?"

We stared at each other for a long minute and it was Cam who finally dropped his eyes. "I guess that was always been our problem wasn't it?"

He was right and in saying so he gave the eulogy to our relationship. For a moment I almost wished we could try again. The moment passed.

"I've talked to the other partners," Cam changed the subject.
"Take as much time as you need; your job will be waiting for you."

"Thanks."

"And we agreed that if you want us to represent you in this, we'll be happy to do anything we can-pro bono, of course. You don't," he cleared his voice. "You don't have to worry. I won't be involved, you can pick any lawyer you want."

"That's very generous, but I don't know if I'll need it. The police are handling this as a criminal case. Ever since they found the bodies..."

We both had nothing to add to that one. Yesterday it had been all over the news, the police had found at least two bodies buried in shallow graves deep in the woods around Elliot's cottage. I had been very lucky indeed.

"I know, but in case it doesn't work out or you want to pursue it through a tort. Jesus, Mike, you must know that this could maybe get a small fortune if you sued his ass for violating your civil rights."

"Cam, we both know that it'd take at least five years to get this into court. I don't think I can face that idea right now. I'd just as soon put this whole thing behind me."

"I understand and I'm not pushing you to make a decision now; I just want you to think about it."

I nodded, but really, I wasn't interested. My only hope was that they'd find a nice dark cell for Elliot and forget he was in there. Not an impossibility in a state that commonly uses the "guilty but insane" verdict, and likes to give 150-year sentences as a matter of course.

"What the hell is he doing here?!"

Both Cam and I swiveled our heads to look at Joe. He was rigid with fury and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

"It's okay," I said, and realized I meant it. I no longer cared enough about Cam to have his presence upset me.

"No, it's not! He's not even supposed to be here. After what he's done, he doesn't deserve to be around you!" Joe started to walk towards Cam and only Lucy's tiny hand on his arm stopped him. But she couldn't stop his mouth.

"This is your goddamn fault, Montgomery! Mike may think differently, but you and I know better."

By this time, Cam was just as rigid as Joe. Two spots of color showed on his cheeks and his mouth had settled into a grim line. But he couldn't be goaded and he remained silent as Joe continued to tell him exactly what he thought of him. Several passers-by in the hallway eyed us curiously. I finally couldn't take it anymore.

"Joe, shut up," I ordered. "Go out to the car, all of you. I'll be out in a minute."

Lucy tugged on Joe's sleeve and managed to get him turned around and heading for the door. Betsy stood there for a minute, then followed reluctantly.

"I'm sorry about that," I said to Cam.

"I deserved it," he shrugged and then smiled sadly when he saw the look on my face. "I know you don't think very much of me, Mike. I wish... Well, I wish a lot of things, but you can't turn back the clock, can you?"

No, I thought wearily, you can't. I suddenly wanted this meeting to be over. Cam was a part of my past. I didn't want to think about him anymore.

He wheeled me out to the waiting Bronco. Joe was out of the car like a flash. Cam held his ground though and leaned down until we were at face level.

"Whatever else you think, Mike, believe this: I hope that you'll be okay, and that someday you find the happiness I know you deserve." He leaned over and kissed me gently on the cheek. Then he turned and he was gone.

"The same to you, Cam," I called after him and I was surprised at how much I meant it.

The trip home was made in stony silence. Joe was still steamed over Cam's surprise visit. Lucy and Betsy didn't seem to be inclined to say anything either. I thought I should ask Joe why he'd decided - on his own - to ban Cam from any contact with me. But the truth was, I didn't care. The lack of sleep was catching up to me, and I was having a hard time staying awake.

It had been decided that I would spend the next few days with Lucy. I'd made token protests at this arrangement, but really I was more than willing to capitulate. I wasn't ready to be alone. There were still a few dark shadows in my nights that I'd rather not face by myself. I just needed some time, I told myself. What had happened had been a fluke, and I was determined it wasn't going to effect my life.

We pulled into the driveway and Joe helped me into the house. I'd been walking for a couple of days, but I was stiff and sore all over, and the stitches in my ass pulled with every move I made. I was relieved when we finally got upstairs to the bedroom Lucy had prepared. Joe unbuttoned my shirt, but I insisted I could do the rest myself and he left me to it. I was almost immediately sorry I'd been so independent. By the time I finished getting out of my clothes I was soaked in sweat, and it was all I could do to crawl into bed, where I fell asleep instantly.

It was late afternoon by the time I awoke. The sun was in my eyes and I squinted and groaned.

"He lives!" Lucy was sitting in a chair by the window, but now she got up and grabbed some pills off the nightstand.

"What are they?" I asked warily. I didn't want another pain pill; it'd just make me sleep more, and then I'd be up all night.

"Antibiotics," she said, thrusting them at me. "Swallow."

I obeyed and she continued to talk. "Do you want to rest more or do you want to eat?"

I was famished. "Eat."

"Good," she sounded pleased. "I'll go fix you something. What would you like?"

"Surprise me."

She zipped off and I dozed again while she was gone. I assume it was just a few minutes later when she came back with a big bowl of cottage cheese, another of apple sauce, two cups of steaming mushroom soup, and a large glass of Vernor's Ginger Ale, a taste she knew I'd acquired since moving to Michigan.

The Vernor's was welcome but the rest looked bland and uninteresting. Then I remembered how even bland food hurt like hell when it worked it's way out of my sore bum and I thought better of complaining. Lucy helped herself to a mug of soup and sat at the foot of my bed.

"Soft foods for a week," she said shortly.

"Mmmm-looks great, but I can't eat all this," I said, then I dug in and made a liar out of myself as gobbled it all down.

"You're a mess."

"Thank you," I responded ironically.

"You need a wash and a shave, and your hair is dirty."

I sighed sarcastically. "I'm afraid I'm not exactly in a position to take care of that right now."

She nodded. "Joe's coming back. Maybe he can help."

"Couldn't this wait until tomorrow?" I was almost whining. I didn't feel up to a beauty treatment. "I'm sure by then I'll feel better..."

"You'll feel better when you're clean."

I gave up. Occasionally Lucy would let me win one when we bickered, but I didn't think this was going to be one of those times.

She took my silence for capitulation and gathered up the dishes and left. I drifted again until I felt Joe gently shaking me.

"Wake up sleepyhead. Time to get gorgeous."

"Fuck off," I said, yawning.

"Is that anyway to talk to Mr. Joseph, your own personal guide to a better you?
Come on, get your ass out of bed."

I pissed and moaned for a while, but finally obeyed. Joe grabbed my bathrobe, which had somehow materialized and was lying at the foot of the bed. Lucy must have raided my apartment for things she thought I'd need. He wrapped the robe around me awkwardly, since my arm was still strapped to my chest, then led my tottering body down the hall to the huge, old-fashioned bathroom.

It was the first time I'd ever been in Lucy's upstairs john, and I looked around in awe. Old-fashioned it might be, but that didn't mean it didn't have just about everything you could ever want in a bathroom.

The toilet was elevated like a throne, and directly beside it was a bidet. The sink was a single, but the bowl was almost big enough to take a bath in - not that you'd ever need to. There was a huge marble tub completely surrounded by mahogany paneling. The thing must have been 8 feet long and at least 4 or 5 feet wide. There was no shower, but the tub did have one of those old-fashioned metal hose thingies with a brass nozzle that looked like a phone.

Joe whistled softly as he looked around. Then he walked over to the tub and turned on the water. It let loose with a roar. No water pressure problems there. He turned it on and off a few times just to make sure, then he shut it off and turned to me with a big grin on his face.

"This is great! I could live in this room," he enthused, then he turned to me. "Okay, dude-strip."

Uh-oh. For the first time it occurred to my sleep soaked brain, that Joe was actually planning on washing me. All of me.

I shook my head. "Look, you don't have to help. I can do this myself."

"Yeah, right," he said, frowning. He wasn't buying it.
"No, really, it's okay," I smiled and swiveled my hips to show how limber I was,
then bit my lip to keep from groaning at the pain.

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe you."

I didn't care what he believed, I only knew there was no way I was going to give him the opportunity to see how much I really liked him. Already my treacherous cock was waking up to the possibilities. No way was I going to stand nude in front of Joe with a hard-on. I looked up to see him staring down at the bulge that was starting to form through the terrycloth robe. Shit.

"Okay, listen," Joe was talking to the wall behind me, his face red. "Why don't you go ahead and do whatever you can and I'll come back in later when you need me."

"Sounds good," I muttered and felt my cheeks flame, too.

I won't say he ran from the room, but it was close. The idea that had kept me awake the night before tried to take over my mind again, but I beat it back. I walked to the sink and picked up the clean washcloth that Lucy had laid out for me. I couldn't even cheat and soak the dirt off in the tub. I couldn't get my stitches wet. Oh well, might as well get it over with. I wet the cloth and started to scrub.

It worked, sort of. At least the pain made my dick think twice about waking up. I struggled to reach all my cracks and crevices; no easy task, but I was determined. The more I washed, the less that was left for Joe. Finally, though, I had to admit to one defeat: there was no way I could raise my hand to wash my hair.

Somehow, I got my robe back around me and stuck my head out the door. Joe was sitting on the floor in the hall. He appeared mesmerized by a spot on the far wall.

"Mr. Joseph," I said softly and watched as he jumped at the sound of my voice.

"Whatcha need?"

"My hair washed."

He grinned. "Ah-the house specialty."

He got up and walked into the bathroom with me. It took a few minutes to work up a strategy, but we finally settled on me on my knees leaning over the tub, with Joe beside me. He reached over my tipped head and grabbed the hose.

"We're going to have to do something about the robe," he said softly. "It'll get wet otherwise."

"Uh, okay," I said. Actually, it wasn't okay at all, but I didn't see where I had any choice.

I felt him pull the robe down and then helped him slip my good arm out of the sleeve. He bunched the material at my waist. I almost sighed in relief. My fantasies might have included a scene or two with me pointing my bare ass in Joe's direction, but not like this.

"Here we go."

Joe gently pushed my head farther down and leaned over me to rinse my hair. His body felt warm and hard, and I had to resist arching back into it.

"Oh, shit!" He muttered.

"What?" I turned my head to look at him.

"I'm getting all wet," he answered, and I relaxed. "Here, just a minute."

Joe dropped the sprayer and sat back on his heels. I turned my head and watched as he stripped off his sweatshirt and the shirt beneath it. My heart did a little flip of glee as I saw his muscular torso come into view. Joe spent a lot of time in the weight room, and it showed. He wasn't ready for the Mr. Universe Pageant, but he definitely had a solid, defined body. I'd seen it before, of course, but not since I'd faced my true feelings about the guy. It certainly put a different perspective on my viewing.

"Lean over the tub," he said quietly.

He grabbed the nozzle again and started to wet my hair. At least I supposed he did; I wasn't paying much attention. All I could think about was the hot skin that was rubbing against my back. Joe had reached across me so that his hands were straddling my head. In order to do that, he practically had to lay across me. I could feel hard nipples rake my back and the pounding of his heart as reached he for the shampoo. My cock stood at attention under the folds of the robe, and I wondered if it was wishful thinking that made me believe there was an answering bulge that occasionally seemed to brush against my hip.

"Turn around," Joe's voice was husky and low.

I turned and sat back on my heels. He reached towards me and poured a big slurp of shampoo on my head. We faced each other as he started to massage the lather into my scalp. We were both breathing like we'd just been through some huge physical ordeal-which, in a way, was true, if I was honest about it.

Part of me still wanted to deny what was happening. It may not be a great feeling to be involved in unrequited love, but at had the appeal of familiarity. The possibility that Joe wasn't as immune to my charms as I'd thought was mind-boggling. I had no idea what was going to happen next, and I wasn't even sure what I was hoping for.

Joe's hands stilled and he drew away from me a little. I continued to look down at the floor between us.

"Are you okay?" Joe broke the silence.

I looked at him. There was compassion in his gaze and caring. There might have been more, but I dropped my eyes. Oh God, who'd have thought a shampoo, could be so dangerous to your health?

"I mean... with what happened?" he continued.

This wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting, but I was kind of glad for the diversion. I nodded and then realized he expected a verbal response.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I barely think about it."

It was the truth. I was amazingly calm about my encounter with Elliot. It was almost like it had happened to someone else; like it was a bad movie I'd only seen and not actually starred in. The physical pain was my only reminder, and I could brush that off for the most part. It wasn't, after all, like I was going to have any permanent damage. All in all, I was pretty pleased with myself.