When Love Takes Over Ch. 05

After a few more hours of sleep, I came to again. This time the agony in my head, though still soul destroying, was bearable, just. Moving extremely slowly and carefully, I opened my eyes and turned my head, praying the that the sound of someone else in bed with me was just a dream. Alas, that was not the case.

When I finally managed to look beside me, I wasn't sure what (or more properly who) I would see. The last thing I remembered clearly was walking into The Hardy Hole. What I wasn't expecting was see someone so young. Oh God, it was the 24? 25? 26? (please dear God let it be 26) year old cub I had met yesterday at the bar. His big brown eyes were open and he was smiling at me.

"Hi," he said. "Good morning."

"Hey" I tried to say. It came out as a groan. A painful groan.

"Last night was wild, right?" He giggled. Oh Jesus, he was a giggler. I'm not sure, but I think I may have t-shirts older than him.

"Wild," I agreed, using every ounce of strength in me to raise my torso to a sitting position. He looked at me expectantly, and I searched my battered brain desperately trying to remember his name. Ryan? Brian? Fred, I suddenly remembered. His name was Fred. "Um, Fred," he looked at me and smiled. Thank God, his name WAS Fred. " Why don't you call room service and order us some coffee...and some ibuprofen...and anything else you want. I need to go...ummm. freshen up."

I started to get up, but paused when I realized I was naked under the sheet. I looked frantically around the room trying to locate my underwear. I finally found my briefs. They were hanging from the chandelier. Shit. Oh well, why be modest at this juncture, I thought, staggering naked from the bed to the bathroom.

"What's the room number," he said, looking up from the phone.

"612."

"Thanks. And be the way, my name is actually Frank." Fuck, I thought.

After what seemed like a journey of a thousand miles I made it to the bathroom just in time to be violently ill. Though honestly at the rate the day was going so far, actually making to the bathroom before puking seemed like a major win. Laying there on the floor of the bathroom of my suite at the Ritz-Carlton, I tried to process the events of the past few days, but honestly all I could think of was how cool the marble tile was against my cheek. That is until I happened to glance over at the huge walk in shower and notice the used condom on its floor. Actually make that the multiple used condoms on its floor. That's when the memories of last night came flooding back.

Well, I thought, laying there, at least I now know for sure that the shower could comfortably hold two people with room to spare. In fact, I now knew it could hold three people with room to spare. Flashes of consciousness kept coming as I remembered Fred, shit, Frank, his name is Frank, and Charlie and I in various combinations. I remembered the overwhelming sensation of wet fur pressing against my chest and back simultaneously, I remembered the overwhelming orgasm that occurred when Frank sucked me as Charlie filled me. I remembered the even more overwhelming organism as I sank my own aching cock in Frank's tight, tight hole as Charlie pushed into my own once more.

I even, if I searched my hazy memories even further back, remember Frank on his knees between my legs at the bar sucking my cock like it was the tastiest treat in the world as Charlie pressed himself against my back. Oh well, I thought, I guess I can now cross "doing a three way" off my bucket list. I hadn't managed one before Reed, and as I had no interest in dabbling in an open marriage, I figured it would have to live in the realm of fantasy for me. I guess the world works in mysterious ways.

I eventually managed to stand and, after pausing a minute to see if any more of last night's attempt to drink All The Bourbon In The World was going to come back up, I staggered over to the sink to brush my teeth and splash some water in my face. I avoided looking in the mirror; I had a pretty good idea of what I looked like: 20 miles of bad road. I had no desire to confirm it. I took my morning piss, out of delaying tactics, decided to face Frank again.

I snagged a towel to hide my nakedness and walked back into the room. The food had come, but more importantly, the coffee and painkillers. I poured myself a cup, took a couple of pills, and sat as far from the food as possible. The smell of pancakes was making me even sicker.

I looked over at Frank and had to smile. He was wrapped in a terry cloth robe, and his hair was sticking out all over. He was inhaling pancakes and bacon like he had never eaten, though his sturdy frame indicated that he did, in fact, enjoy sustenance on a very regular basis. He sensed he looking at him and turned to smile at me, his teeth very white against his dark brown beard.

"I love breakfast," he said, snagging another piece of bacon. "Do you want some? I ordered plenty."

My response was a visible shudder. He giggled again. "Guess you're not a morning person."

"Good guess," I said. The coffee was beginning to make me feel, if not quite human, at least like one of the higher primates. "Look, about last night..."

He interrupted me. "Dude, it's cool. You just got out of a relationship." I started to speak; he stopped me with a gesture. "Let me finish. I mean I really dig you, and I'd totally like to date you, but c'est la vie." He shrugged. "Anyway, last night was major. You and Charlie...wow! I was in cub Heaven." I blushed so hard it made my head ache even more. Seeing me turn red, he giggled again. "Too bad Charlie had to leave. We could have gone for round two...No, that's not right. Round six?" He giggled again. Thank Heavens for small favors; at least I didn't have to face Charlie, too, this morning. I'm not sure I could have handled that.

Leaving him to finish breakfast, I went to shower. Frank offered to scrub my back, but I declined it. Contributing to the delinquency of a 25 year old while I was drunk, I could forgive myself. Doing it while sober (or at least mostly sober), no. Leaning down to pick up used condoms while hungover was definitely the worst thing I have ever experienced. But eventually, the shower floor was clear, and the hot water worked miracles.

In fact, remembering what I had done in that shower only hours earlier had my dick hardening, and for a split second, I considered taking Frank up on his offer, but I managed, for once, to curb my poor impulse control. Clean and wrapped in another robe that I hadn't noticed earlier, I finally emerged from the bathroom.

Frank was finished eating. In fact, he was dressed and ready to head out. He had obviously waited to say goodbye, which I found endearing. For a moment, I wished circumstances were different and almost made plans to see him again, but I knew that was too selfish. Still, I gladly gave him the goodbye kiss he asked for, and when he asked for my number I gave it to him, too. I wasn't expecting to hear from him again; but I had to admit he was a sweet boy. And a talented one.

After he left, I poured more coffee and settled on the sofa to think. Really think this time. Obviously wallowing in self pity (and bourbon, the voice in my head said...don't forget all the bourbon you wallowed in) wasn't going to be the ideal way to handle this break up. Well, I thought, realizing that I did consider Reed and I as having broken up, not just "having issues." At least that one decision. I am through. Now what.

Well, I now knew I didn't want a post-breakup slut period. I didn't really regret last night, at least not entirely. Though I had to admit I had lost quite a bit of moral high ground by jumping into bed with someone (okay, two someones) so quickly after leaving Reed. Sure, technically we had kind of broken up, but still, my behavior had been far from classy. Moreover, I knew I didn't want a series of one night stands. Last night's acrobatics had been exciting, but I now knew what making love felt like when there was genuine love; that's what I wanted again.

I need to leave New Orleans, I realized. Ben and his partner would let me stay for as long as I needed, but I was certain the temptation to distract myself with bars and boys would be too strong to overcome. Too many temptations, period, in this city. Plus, it held too many memories, mainly good ones, of me and Reed. So where to?

I didn't have unlimited resources. Aside from various retirement accounts, I had about $10,000 in the bank. Luckily I didn't have a lot of bills. My credit cards were all paid off, and I didn't have a car note. I knew Reed would let me stay on the company health plan, at least until I settled somewhere (I was furious at him, but knew he wasn't a complete asshole). New York, I thought.

I knew my friend Patrick, an old college friend, would be happy to let me camp out in his guest room for a while. And he had lots of connections from his 15 years in the city; I was confident him could help me find a job, even if was something just to get by for a while. If I didn't have to immediately spend it on housing, my tiny nest egg would last for a while.

I finally found my dead phone and plugged it in to charge while I dressed and straightened the room a bit. I didn't want the maids to think that I had hosted some sort of debauched orgy, especially since I had done exactly that. It took a while, but I was certain I finally found all of the used condoms. I don't remember this part, but we must have stopped somewhere and bought an economy pack. And the empty bottle of lube I found in the trash held as much as a Big Gulp. Even alone, I blushed when I found it.

I spent the rest of the morning drinking coffee and looking up flights to NYC. After a couple of hours, I judged the phone to be fully charged and turned it on. I was immediately assaulted by a series of beeps alerting me to text messages and missed calls, most from Reed. Lots of "Please call me" and "Where are you? I'm worried" interspersed with the occasional "I am so sorry." I deleted the thread.

I saw a couple from Ben. I wasn't quite ready to talk to him in person. I think I was afraid I'd find out that he and his partner had known about Reed and John. Instead I composed a brief email, telling him that Reed and I were finished, that I was fine, that any inquiries about the project were to go to Reed, and that I'd be in touch when I got settled.

I called Patrick, getting his voicemail. I told him to call me, stressing the importance. I wanted to make sure I could come, and I wanted make the necessary travel arrangements as soon as possible.

With the important things, out of the way, I turned to dealing with my stepmother. She had married my father about 15 years ago (my mother had died of an aneurysm when I was a teenager ), and while our relationship was cordial, we weren't exactly close. We talked on major holidays when I hadn't come home to visit, on birthdays, etc., but she didn't call just to chat. So I was surprised to see a series of missed calls from Ruby. I figured she was calling to plan my dad's next birthday, a big one, his 80th. The last time I saw, a couple of months earlier, he was in great shape, so I wasn't prepared for what she had to tell me.

"Oh thank goodness, Brandon," Ruby said after I had identified myself. "I'm very worried about your father. He just doesn't seem like himself."

"Anything in particular?" I humored her, not yet concerned.

"Well, he's not eating. He's quit his morning visits to town. He's dizzy all the time; in fact, he fell last week. Thank goodness it was in the den on the carpet."

My smugness vanished. "I'll head right up." I looked at my watch, or tried to. I was so used to it being there that I hadn't stopped expecting to see it. I searched frantically around the room looking for a clock. "It's 10 o'clock. I can be there around three. Is his doctor still Dr. Harris?" She answered in the affirmative. "Good, I'll call and make an appointment on the way."

I then called Dad to talk to him myself. I was hoping that after talking to him, I would be convinced that Ruby was making a mountain out of a molehill. That didn't happen. He was distracted and almost incoherent. I had the horrible feeling he wasn't exactly sure who he was talking to.

I quickly packed and prepared to leave. After settling the bill with a grateful thought that I didn't have to see the look of judgement on the face of the poor maid who had to change those cum covered sheets (I left an enormous tip), I asked for a stamped envelope, put the American Express in it with a brief note and mailed it to Reed's office. I then headed for home.

On the way, Patrick called. He was shocked when I told him about Reed, but concern for my father, not my failed relationship, was foremost on my mind. Patrick agreed, as I knew he would, that I could come start over in his guest room. "Call me when you have everything sorted out with your father. I'll start making some inquiries for you...professional and personal."

"Patrick," I laughed. "Professional only, I'll take care of personal."

"If you insist," he said. "All joking aside, I'll put some job feelers out for you. I know a couple of designers. Email me a resume when you get the chance. And Brandon, don't worry. I'm sure everything will be okay with your dad."

I also manned up and called Ben. I was so relieved when he seemed genuinely shocked when I told him about John and Reed.

"That whore!" he exclaimed.

"Which one?" I asked.

He laughed. "Point taken. I meant John. I knew he was a piece of work. And I had a bad feeling he was trying to sink his claws in Reed, but quite frankly I credited Reed with better sense, not to mention better taste."

"Well, what's done in done. Anyway, once I get Dad to the doctor and find out what's going on, I'll let you know. For the foreseeable future, though I'll be there. I'll email you the address and the landline number when I get there. Take care."

"You, too. I'll keep you in my prayers." He must have read something in my lingering silence. "Yes, bitch, I pray," he said, laughing. I laughed with him and hung up. That was the last laugh I had for a long time.

I got home about 3pm, and when I saw my dad, I was appalled. He had been in his 40s when I was born, so he had always seemed old to me. But he had been blessed with good health, always hale and hearty and suntanned; in fact, only a few, maybe six, months earlier, he had still been that way. But the man who greeted me with a tentative hug was a frail shadow of the father I knew. Ruby saw the expression on my face and gave me fierce hug. "I'm so glad you're here, Brandon."

Dinner was a quiet affair, and my father whose enormous appetite was legendary picked at his food. Only a few bites actually made it into his mouth. I tossed and turned in the narrow bed in what had been my room growing up and which now was the computer room. I was up early the next morning, surprised that my father wasn't up yet. He had risen by 6 as long as I had known him. He was still asleep at 8 when Ruby entered. Though still in her robe, her hair was fixed, and she was in full makeup. In the fifteen years, I have known her, I have never seen her without "her face" on.

"How long has he been like this?" I asked.

"He started slowing down this summer, but I didn't really think anything about it. I mean, he is almost 80." Ruby was younger at 70. "But the last couple of weeks, it's like he's another man." Tears started welling in her eyes. I knew she had lost her first husband to cancer after a long battle, and I could see she was worried. "I'll go get him up. Maybe I can get him to eat something before his appointment."

I had managed to get an early appointment to see Dr. Harris, and I was sickened by the shocked look he gave my father as Dad shuffled in. Dad sat docilely as the doctor and his nurses poked, prodded, drew blood, took his temperature, etc. My worry grew. Of all things, my father hated going to the doctor, and for him to agree to a sudden appointment, to not demand to know who I was to come up and make him go, to sit calmly there as he underwent test after test and we talked around him... Well, I knew it was serious.

We would have to wait several days for some of the results, but Dr. Harris did notice that Dad's blood pressure was very low, which was causing the dizziness, and that he seemed to have lost blood since his last check up. He was also worried about dehydration, but wasn't ready yet to hospitalize Dad and add fluid.

He made a few changes to his medication list, and sent me home with instructions to bring Dad back in a few days to take some more measurements to use as a comparison. I tried to interest dad in a hamburger from the town's one greasy spoon, but he disinterestedly told me he wasn't hungry. Suddenly, I wasn't either.

Several nights later, it came to a head. Unbeknownst to either Ruby or me, Dad decided to take a bath. We thought he had just gone to bed; he was going to sleep ever earlier in the evening. We were sitting in the kitchen talking about everything but Dad's health.

I was wondering if I had any bourbon left in the bottle that I had hidden in my former closet during my last visit (I was pretty sure Reed and I had polished it off) and was cursing myself that I hadn't stopped in a wet parish to pick up another bottle. Then we heard the crash from the bathroom. '

I got to him as fast as possible. He had slipped on the floor. He seemed okay, but disoriented. I couldn't tell if he had hit his head, but I got Ruby to call 911 just in case. He was naked, so I got a robe to cover him. As I was lifting his head to put a folded towel under it, I was the growth on his neck. It wasn't large, but I knew it hadn't been there his last visit, but so far during this one it had been hidden under the collared shirts he favored. I saw it and I knew...cancer.

The next few days passed in a blur. They settled him into the hospital at Ruskville and started giving him fluids to deal with the dehydration. They also checked his head for trauma, but it seemed the fall hadn't caused any major damage.

However, the growth on his neck was cause for concern. Dr. Harris refused to make a diagnosis without proper testing and the Ruskville hospital wasn't equipped for that kind of procedure, so he located a doctor in Shreveport who was willing to do a biopsy. However, we had to improve Dad's condition enough to make the hour and a half trip and day long testing possible. Harris hoped a short hospital stay would do it.

Honestly, I knew, even in the early days, it wouldn't happen. In the hospital

gown, the growth on Dad's neck was clearly visible, and it seemed to grow by the hour. He still refused to eat, and Ruby was growing hysterical. She had moved from the farm into what had been her home in Ruskville before she and Dad got married. Her oldest daughter and granddaughter were living there now and were glad to have her.

I hadn't heard from Reed since the day I left the house. After seeing the seriousness of Dad's condition, I had sent him a brief email letting him know what was happening, and he had sent me a sympathetic and caring reply.

I had avoiding asking Ben about Reed in our infrequent telephone calls, but now I needed him. I ached for him. My anger at his not being here for me was only matched by my longing for him. When there was yet another delay in the trip to see the oncologist, I broke down and called Reed.

I'm not sure I really expected him to answer. I had made it clear I never wanted to see him again, so I wouldn't have blamed him if he had taken me at my word. But he didn't. He answered.

"Brandon?"

I swallowed. It had been so long since I had heard that voice. "Reed..." I couldn't say anything else.

"What is it? Your dad?"

"It's bad...it's really bad."