A Miserable Pile of Secrets Ch. 12

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Try to remember.
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Part 12 of the 15 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 03/07/2019
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Author's Note: I'd like to remind the reader that I don't know much about medicine, and I don't work in a medical field. So, if there are any inaccuracies in this story about that ... I'm sorry.

***

It was the morning after the shopping trip when Arthur decided he needed to leave, super early, still a little bit dark. He even had a plan. He did feel bad about leaving Benny behind, but he didn't think Vince would hurt the cat. Benny wasn't a threat. Benny was just a kitty cat. If Vince didn't want him, he'd at least find a good home for him.

Step One, pack necessary stuff into a bag. Step Two, leave a polite if heartbreaking note explaining that he needed to go away for a while. Step Three, go to the second garage where his car was. He'd been there a few times to make sure his car was in good shape. Mostly employees would park there.

Step Four, drive as far away from the house as possible and occasionally glance at his phone for any sign from the GPS. When the GPS was able to give him any information, he'd go off to the nearest town. That was Step Five. Step Six, get to a bank. Step Seven, open another account and put all his money there. Arthur wasn't a hacker, didn't know anything about hacking, but he assumed if he did this in person instead of online it would be more difficult to hack. Well, that was what he thought.

Step Eight, get a good amount of cash. Step Nine, drive away to some other town to start over again. Step Ten, figure out how to file for divorce respectfully. Arthur didn't want to go full thot levels of greed. He didn't want half of Vince's money. He just wanted out.

As he packed his stuff together, he wondered if he should try talking to Vince first.

But then he remembered Vince shooting a fucking gun at a tied up woman.

No ... that wasn't a guy you wanted to fuck around with.

He scratched at his neck, then his arms. Stupid summer bugs had given him some nasty bites. They itched and ached.

While he carried his bag and hurried on to the second garage, he thought he should get a new cell phone, a cheap one from Wal Mart.

But just when he was stepping into the cold garage, walking towards his car, he heard it.

"Arthur! Arthuuuuuuur!! Where are you going?!"

Whiny, sad.

Vince!!

Arthur turned around.

Vince was in a long, white, bathrobe with big pockets and a pair of slippers. He had what Arthur could only describe as frenzied panic soaked in his face. Seeing such an expression on the normally confident, strong Vince was disturbing. His face was thinner. His eyes were red and puffy. Plus, his black hair was a mess.

"Where are you going?!" Vince reached out and ran to him. "What's wrong?!"

Arthur couldn't just get in the car, now could he? He was caught. The head start was void. All he could think of to do was dig his fingernails in his bag's straps and look down at his own shoes. Vince gripped his arms. He smelled like clean bed-sheets and warm cotton. "Artie, you aren't leaving, right?"

A kiss.

Arthur's fingers turned limp and he dropped his bag. It thunked on the smooth floor.

Vince rubbed all around Arthur's back, keeping him close, and he'd only stop the kissing to tell Arthur something. "Don't go. Please don't go. What if something happens to you? Don't just leave me like that!"

A few blinks of Arthur's eyes ...

Then, after a certain blink ...

***

Cozy, fresh, sweet in the nose, soft textures, and pleasantly cool air with just enough warmth in his body.

A mattress ... a bed?

But ... wasn't he just in the second garage ...?

No ... never mind. Arthur was too comfortable.

He heard and felt the mattress lightly giving into a movement near him.

A lick just above his pubic hair.

Arthur shot up.

A familiar black sheet with a lump underneath. The lump moved down and Arthur felt a lick up the length of his sleepy dick. Then a muffled voice. "Good morning!"

Arthur yanked the blanket away.

Vince was between Arthur's legs, and there weren't any underpants to be seen. Vince smiled and then put his mouth right back to his groin.

"Woah!" Arthur pushed himself away and folded his legs. "What the fuck's going on?! When the fuck did I get here?!"

Vince sat up and laughed. "What are you talking about, Honey?"

"I was in the garage! I wasn't here!" Arthur was pointing at random directions in the air. "When the hell did I get here?!"

"What?" Vince frowned and crawled over to him. "I don't get it." He was every bit as naked as Arthur, which was always distracting.

Arthur avoided him, shuffling away and off the bed. "I was in the garage! I was in the fucking garage! How the hell did I get here?" A few spots on his body felt tight as he moved. He realized there were some Band-Aids on his arms and neck. "Huh? When did these get here?!"

"What are you talking about?" Vince got off the bed too. "You're the one who put the Band-Aids there."

The bug bites?

Scratching his head, Arthur turned to face the black canopy curtain. Then he opened a section of it and walked down the platform's stairs. "I was in the garage. But now I'm here. What happened?"

He heard Vince walking behind him. "Come on, you don't even drink. You can't say you had too much and blacked out. This isn't funny."

They were both on the floor when a most terrifying thought struck Arthur's brain like lightning. He whirled around and looked up at Vince's puzzled face.

Words so quiet not even Arthur could fully hear them. "No ... this didn't happen again." Arthur put his hands to his mouth. That didn't stop his fingers from shaking.

"What?" Vince was hugging him again. Skin to skin. Heat mingling. "What's wrong?"

Arthur moved his hands to Vince's shoulders. "The date. Give me today's date, please."

The answer broke Arthur's heart.

He'd lost at least a whole day of time.

Completely putting aside his desire to leave, Arthur focused on this more urgent matter, which unfortunately made him cry like a baby.

And Vince was there to comfort him. "It's okay, we have options. Don't worry, Honey. I'll make an appointment for you. I'll find the best psychiatrist possible, okay?"

"Why is this happening?!" Arthur was leaving shiny marks of tears all over Vince's skin and body hair. "What happened? What did I forget?!"

"I don't know why it's happening." He kissed Arthur's cheek. His voice was like a soothing breeze. "But I guess I have to tell you what you forgot, huh?"

Great. Arthur had to depend on this wacky, scary, possibly mentally unstable guy to fill in the blanks.

Huh, maybe Vince would do well with some counseling too.

Vince led Arthur over to a wardrobe, and they both put on some robes, since it might be difficult to have a serious conversation while naked. Then they sat down on a loveseat near the window, where they had a calming view of the waterfall. Vince weaved his fingers into Arthur's, and he told him what seemed to be the facts.

"Yesterday, you pitched a fit like you thought I was hurting you, but I was just trying to get you away from your car. Screaming and carrying on. You even started panting and twitching, and you fell onto me. I thought you might need a doctor, but you braced yourself and started screaming again. It took a few minutes to calm you down, but I thought you were fine. Maybe you didn't get enough sleep, or maybe you were hungry. I didn't know what going on, but after you said you were okay we talked for a while and made up, then we spent the whole day together. And about your Band-Aids, you kind of scratched the crap out of your bug bites."

Arthur started crying again. He was losing his mind, or he thought he was, and that was the scariest thing in the world. Knowing that you couldn't always trust the sequence of events in your brain, knowing you'll lose memories at one point, it was enough to make a person physically ill. And again, he had to rely on Vince to mollify him. By the time Arthur was quiet again his stomach growled.

"Want some breakfast?" Vince asked.

Arthur's throat hurt. He just nodded.

Breakfast potatoes, BLT sandwiches with a layer of fried egg, and cups of green tea, it was a hearty breakfast that helped to keep Arthur's nerves at a more normal state. After he'd put all the dishes in the sink, and without really looking at Vince, Arthur asked, "Hey ... how exactly ... how did we make up?"

With a tone that reminded Arthur of all the times a game crashed before he had a chance to save important progress, Vince whined out, "Oh my god, do I have to repeat everything I said? We had such a long talk!"

Arthur was too tired to argue, but he was also too stubborn to let the matter go. His mind was thirsty for whatever knowledge he lost. "Just give me a short version." He went back to his seat beside Vince, put his elbows on the countertop, and rested his cheek on his hands, looking in the direction opposite of his husband.

He heard Vince's great sigh.

"Well ... you should know my line of work earns a lot of enemies."

"Enemies? Like who?"

First, a snort. Then air sucking between Vince's lips. "I don't know. Pick a competitor. Hell, pick a god damn country! Like China or anywhere where Islamic extremism is a major thing. If you want to fuck with a military, one of the ways to do it is to fuck with their supply of weapons and software. I've killed so many spies and assassins trespassing on my land."

Arthur folded his arms on the countertop and hid his face in the crook of his elbow. His stifled voice was so drained. "So, in order to survive, you have to know everything you can, right?"

"That's my life. I can't predict everything, but I can react well when I know everything that's going on around me. That's how I stay safe, and how I keep people I care about safe. I hack everything. I guard everything. I read and watch everything." There was a sigh that sounded like it could break something in Vince's body. "I know why you were scared. I'm a scary guy, but I never wanted you to feel unsafe."

Arthur felt him touch his shoulder.

"You've killed people, Vince."

Vince's hand moved away and his voice soured a bit. "Well, what are you supposed to do when some stranger snuck into your house and he's trying to unlock your safes? What are you supposed to do when some heartless freak tries to murder you? You protect your property and you protect yourself. That's what you do, and if that means I kill someone, then it's not my fault. We live in a country with a long history of supporting self-defense, and even if I didn't live here, you can bet your ass I'd shoot to kill whenever I need to."

Arthur couldn't think of a rebuttal.

"I guess ... and I know this doesn't make sense to you, Artie, but it makes sense to me ... I guess I just wanted to show you you're safe because you're with me, because I know what you're up to, and because I know when someone tries to hurt you. But I really fucked you up, right?" That last statement had a youthful, miserable, and rocky feeling in it.

"Just ... just ..." Arthur sniffed down something thick and forced it down his throat. He looked up at the kitchen appliances with painful eyes. "Don't involve me in crazy stuff like that! I don't want to worry about you spying on my emails and stuff! And I don't want to see you kill anyone!"

"Oh come on, you're not cheating on me or anything, and it's not like I think your shopping history and emails to your parents are interesting. It's just my way of making sure nobody's trying to hurt you, or trying to use you to get close to me. Besides, reminding myself of how boring you are is the most comforting thing in the world."

Arthur put his head back on his arms, his eyes shut. "Oh god. I'm too boring to be a threat to you."

"Kind of." Vince was getting back some of his cheer. "You have nothing and you want nothing."

"Arrrgggghhhhhh!!" Arthur wanted to start crying again, but he was too tired to do so.

Vince ruffled Arthur's hair. "But I'll try to keep you out of the nastiest bits of my life, okay? You're such a nice person. You shouldn't have to worry about stuff like that."

"Fine." Arthur pushed his head up and took a tight inhale. "Truce. We have a truce."

***

Green Parrot Wellness Center was actually not far away from the Pomegranate Valley Medical Center. In fact, Arthur wondered if the mental health clinic was an off-shoot of the hospital. Arthur expected Vince to drop him off, but nope. Vince stayed with him. He said he moved a meeting to another day to make sure nothing bad happened while Arthur was out and about. Goodness, if it was permissible, Vince would've gone with him to the counseling session.

When Arthur's name was called, and he got up, he looked back at Vince. That weird rich guy looked ridiculously content in the waiting room, reading a novel he brought and listening to music with his phone. He didn't care about giving up his time to be there, doing nothing important.

The psychiatrist was a fairly short man with a balding head and an earnest smile. Dr. Thomas Kipper. The room the session took place in was oddly cozy, like a room in a nice house. They sat in pretty, relaxing armchairs and spoke to each other very affably. Well, actually, the doctor didn't sit down right away. He did some ordinary checkup tasks, checking Arthur's lungs, ears and eyes, looking at his tongue and throat, and asking some basic health questions. According to Dr. Kipper, Arthur seemed physically healthy with no need to perform any more intensive tests.

Dr. Kipper then sat down on his armchair and pretty much had a conversation with Arthur, or rather, he asked a lot of personal questions and listened while taking notes on a laptop and occasionally an old fashioned notepad. What are your parents like? What was your childhood like? So, you're homosexual? How did your family react? You're married now, right? How's that going for you?

Certainly, Arthur knew better than to say his husband was filthy rich and occasionally did questionable stuff. He just went with the "owns a gun shop and a cute little house" lie.

Then came the questions about the loss of memory. What was happening before your memory cut off the first time this happened? Oh? You used to be in an abusive relationship? I wish you'd told me that earlier. Okay, so what about the second time this happened? What was going on then?

Arthur didn't want to give a reason for why he'd suddenly wanted to leave. He came up with a thin excuse about Vince looking through his phone like some less than talented people might do. He couldn't tell if Dr. Kipper bought that or not, but the issue wasn't pressed.

Close to the end of the session, Dr. Kipper told Arthur, "I can't guarantee that I'll stop this from happening again, but I can promise that I'll try to help you. I think I need least another meeting with you to get a better idea of what's going on."

"Can't you at least get me some pills or something?" Arthur asked.

"I'm afraid of doing that right now," the doctor explained. "Improper medication can kill you. Maybe next time."

Back in the waiting room, Vince was still there, reading. When he looked up at Arthur, he smiled and closed his book. "Alright, let's go eat. Want some sushi?"

The men went out to eat then. It wasn't a buffet. It was a place where you sit down and have to wait to be served. The food was nice, more than just sushi, but sushi was what they mostly had. Even though most of the sushi was what some would call high quality, Arthur's favorite had strips of imitation crab. It was cold and sweet, with just the right texture. He didn't know why, but eating the imitation crab consoled his heart. He even told Vince he'd love to eat packs of imitation crab at home.

Arthur should've known better at that point.

After their meal, Vince had the limo take them to a grocery store, earning raised eyebrows from the people in the parking lot. Then, not giving any of the shocked people his attention, Vince took Arthur's hand and went into the store.

Vince was the one to take a shopping cart, and he was the one who grabbed all the products, including an ungodly amount of imitation crab packages. He pretty much got seventy-five percent, roughly, of the imitation crab available for customers to get on their own. He'd said he was tempted to buy it all, but he didn't want to be unfair to the other shoppers. Although, he did ask an employee if there were any more in "the back." The employee seemed to decide Vince was insane just by looking in the cart, and he gently said he wasn't certain.

Thanking humanity for the invention of freezers, Arthur was munching on strips on the way back home. Imitation crab had a good deal of salt, but he promised Vince he'd drink extra water and be more careful in general.

For the next week, even with his treats, Arthur had difficulty falling asleep. He was afraid that when he woke up he'd loose all progress. When Vince first figured out Arthur was losing sleep, he said, "That's it, you're sleeping in my room."

That only helped a little. Arthur was so tired, and even though he didn't have any more memory erasing fits, he did lose track of time. He couldn't be bothered with what day of the week it was. His cell phone and PC's calendar weren't consulted. He filled his time with distractions, worry, and more distractions. Sometimes he started crying for no reason, or at least no reason he could properly articulate. If Vince was around, and there were times when he wasn't, he'd hug Arthur and tell him it would be fine. Don't freak out. Don't have another episode. That just might be the trigger. You never know.

You never know ...

Vince even told him to start leaving records. Take notes of things that happened, things you don't want to forget, even the smallest things. Post-it Notes, a blank journal, even a digital journal on his PC with copies on two different USB sticks. "The doctor might think this is a good idea," Vince had said. "So next time you see him, tell him all about it."

Dr. Kipper was probably already planning on telling Arthur to do something similar anyway.

Arthur found out he certainly did have that planned on their next session. Dr. Kipper even said he had at least one diagnosis ready, panic disorder. Then he prescribed some medication, two different drugs.

The first one was for his memory. The second one was for anxiety. He didn't know how to pronounce the first drug's name. It started with an X and came in tablets. Arthur had to take it with liquid and right after eating a full meal. The second drug was similar, and with an equally difficult to pronounce name, but it came in a lower dosage. The drugs weren't sent to a Walmart or similar location. They were sent to a Mom and Pop kind of pharmacy. The building was almost too cute to look at, old fashioned and with plenty of character.

Arthur called his Mama one morning, and they caught up. Then Arthur unloaded the heavy truth. He had a panic disorder, and some mild amnesia symptoms to go with it. Naturally, Mama went into a cursing fit that was a mix of consternation and woe, switching from whining to Arthur and whining to Daddy. How dare the world be so cruel to her sweet baby?! He was such a smart, likable fellow, and he'd been such a good kid! Why did this have to happen?!

"It's okay, Mama. It's okay. I got some counseling and meds. I'll probably be fine. It's not like I'm hearing voices or anything."

"Well ... has Vince been taking good care of you?"

Arthur shrugged. "When I have an appointment with the doctor, Vince makes sure his schedule's free so he can drive me there, and he stays in the waiting room the whole time. He doesn't care about losing time. He always says he can't stand the thought of me going out alone. He's even thinking of getting me a service dog, but I don't think I can get one. Those dogs are only for people with disabilities, and the doctor doesn't think this is bad enough to be a disability."

12