Date: Tue, 19 Mar 2002 16:57:13 -0500 From: Michael Raburn Subject: DYLAN'S HOPE 8 THIS WORK IS FULLY PROTECTED BY U.S. COPYRIGHT LAWS. NO PORTION OF THIS WORK MAY BE COPIED OR REDISTRIBUTED BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT THE EXPRESS CONSENT OF ITS AUTHOR. THIS WORK DEALS WITH A FICTIONAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TWO MEN. IF READING ABOUT HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS OR SEXUAL CONTACT BETWEEN TWO MEN IS EITHER ILLEGAL IN YOUR AREA OR OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READY ANY FURTHER. ANY SIMILARITIES TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS WORK IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. THANKS GUYS FOR THE ENCOURAGEMENT... DYLAN'S HOPE Michael A. Raburn Chapter 8 I woke to the movement on the bed. Dylan shifted to face me. "Come on, old man. Time to get up." "Old man, my ass." "Yeah, I see your ass." He laughed. "Dinner's almost ready." Robert called through the door after knocking. "Okay, we'll be out soon." Dylan answered. "Let's get a shower." "Together?" I leered. "Yes, husband, together." Andrea and Robert had made my favorite stew, a mixture of beef and assorted vegetables in a rich gravy. I had suggested we sit around the coffee table in front of the fire rather than use the dining room. It was more informal and much cozier there. Dylan and I sat back against the couch, him leaning against my side. Robert had Andrea in a similar position as they leaned against the loveseat. As Dylan was refilling our wineglasses I dropped the ball in my daughter and son-in-law's laps. "You what?" she screamed, sitting upright. Robert unfortunately had just taken a drink of wine. He choked on it and began to cough loudly. "Calm down. You heard me, we're retiring." I leaned over and kissed Dylan. "You can't do this. What about the company?" Robert asked after he regained his composure. "You two run it." I said. "What?" Andrea's eyes were wide as she began babbling. "But we're going... How... What about the contract on...?" "Can you two leave us alone?" I asked of Robert and Dylan. "Help me with the dishes?" Dylan asked. "Ah, yeah." Robert stood, gathering their plates and following Dylan to the kitchen. "Daddy. Are you sure about this?" she asked. I stretched my arms to my daughter. She walked over on her knees and settled down beside me. "It's what you wanted years ago." I reminded her. "I know. But, I always assumed I'd have to work in the field for several years before you'd really offer something like this to me, to us." "That's what we talked about when you were getting ready to graduate. Remember it was you that wanted to get away from me for a while. You felt you had to do it on your own." "I still feel that way. You've got big shoes to fill and I don't have the reputation, yet." "You will, baby. You will. You already know the business. Hell, you grew up with it. My two babies." I mused. "What about Robert?" "It's big enough for the two of you. There are lots of things that I haven't done that the two of you could tackle. I just never had the time." "Too busy being my father." She whispered. "No, definitely not. It was not important to me for it to grow much larger. There is lots of places it can go, if you choose to take it there." "But, we've already put up the money for the house in Seattle. And, Robert's parents are expecting us." "Forfeit the earnest money. I'll pay you back. As for Robert's parents..." "Where will we live?" "Andrea, take our house. We'll be living here." I gestured around the room. "We can't do that. You'll need the Atlanta house." "Well expand it then. Convert your bedroom and the one next to it into another master suite." "You've got all the answers." She kidded me. "No, just a few." Robert came back into the room and tossed four legal pads and a box of pens on the coffee table. Dylan followed him with a full coffee pot and four mugs. "What are these for?" Andrea asked. "If we're to plan this, we'll need notes." Robert answered. "I still don't know about this." Andrea started. "Baby..." Robert answered. "We'll never have this opportunity again." "If you're sure." She looked at all three of us. "Yep!" we all answered her. For the next several hours we worked on the future plans. Andrea designated Robert as secretary for their team and she asked questions at a phenomenal rate. She asked about clients, structure, finances, future options, things that had to be done for the transition. I answered everything she asked as he feverously scribbled on the pad. Dylan's hand caressed my head, his fingers lazily running through my hair as he wrote on his pad. I squeezed his thigh and looked over to see what he was working on. "Things we need to do." He whispered. "Studio?" "Do you want to convert the barn or build a new one?" "For who?" "For you, silly. You'll need the space." "Daddy, what about..." She started again. "Baby, whatever you think best." I whispered to Dylan. Somebody should have nominated my daughter as Grand High Inquisitor. I felt like I had been through the wringer several times before I called an end to the evening. I glanced at my watch and realized we had been at it until three in the morning. "Andrea, we have a phone. You can always call us. We're not jumping off the earth." "Sorry." She meekly apologized. "You know how I am." "You two sleep well. Robert, I'm sorry. You know she'll be up all night." "We probably both will." He smiled. "Night." Dylan grabbed my hand to pull me off the floor. He was sleeping soundly, his back nestled against my chest, his head on my arm. I rearranged the pillows under my head so I could see out the window. Snowflakes continued to fall outside as I held the man I loved in my arms. I could hear the muted voices from the other room as Andrea and Robert debated on. I eased back from Dylan's body to get up to go to the bathroom. I paused on the way back to look out at the snow covering everything I could see. I'm not sure if it was the snow or the arguing from the living room that triggered the memory. I grimaced as I remembered the only time Dylan and I had ever argued. "Jon, goddamn it. You've got to call the police." He yelled, shaking me by the shoulders. "No." I answered, not able to meet his gaze. "Why the hell not? If I hadn't driven by when I did, he could have killed you." "I can't." "Then I will." He stated, crossing the room towards the phone. "Dylan, don't. Please." I pleaded. "Can I call an ambulance?" "No." "Jon, you don't know how badly you're hurt. He beat the shit out of you. You've got to see a doctor." "No, I'll be alright." "Will you tell me what happened?" "No." "Damn it, Jon." I pushed myself up from the chair Dylan had gotten me into and tried to make it to the bathroom. It made me dizzy to stand but I was determined that no one would know the details of that evening. I stumbled down the hall with him following behind me. I stopped a couple of times to try to catch my breath and shake the dizziness from my head. That only ended up making it worse and the nausea took hold. I barely made it across the floor to grab the sink. I looked in the mirror at my battered face. I grimaced when I saw him behind me watching. What had I done? My stomach lurched and I barely had time to turn to the toilet before I began to throw up. Dylan wet a washcloth in the sink and bent to wipe the mess from my face. He was cursing under his breath until he saw the blood in the toilet. He helped me sit against the tub and left the room, returning with the portable phone in his hand. I no longer had the strength to fight him and the dizziness was getting worse. I wasn't sure who he called and really didn't care. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die. Andrea and Robert were in California with the university debate team. At least she wouldn't have to see her father in this condition. My last conscious thought was the fuss she would make. I woke later in the hospital emergency room. My head hurt horribly and my chest hurt when I breathed but at least I wasn't nauseous anymore. Dylan and Doug were standing in the corner talking with a nurse when they noticed I was awake. The nurse checked my vitals and left to get a doctor. The guys started in again asking me about what happened. I refused to give them any more information. The doctor showed up and proclaimed that I had a concussion and two broken ribs. The bleeding in my stomach was from an ulcer and not a sign of internal damage. I wanted to go home and threatened to leave anyway. He finally agreed if Dylan promised the doctor that he would stay with me. They taped my ribs and gave me a couple of prescriptions. As enlightened as I tried to be I still couldn't help feeling it had been my own fault. My father's years of ragging at me on some level had convinced me that I deserved to be beaten and robbed for going to that bar. It was only the painkillers that calmed the battle that raged in my mind between being angry that someone would do such a thing and feeling that I deserved it. I never told anybody the truth about that incident, but maybe it was time I told my lover. "Jon, come back to bed." Dylan's voice lured me. "Yes, baby." I climbed back in and snuggled against his chest. "I love you." "You too." TO BE CONTINUED