Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2000 22:23:41 -0700
From: David Cross <dcross1@home.com>
Subject: the-dance-of-death 2

The Dance of Death - Part 2
===========================

Memory is a powerful thing, but it doesn't take that long to catalog events
when you literally have no room for emotion. Joshua had killed something
within me. Or, if he hadn't outright killed it, he had snuffed it out for a
time. I would soon realize that I'd lost the ability to love another
man... or had I?

I looked at the clock again. 10:40 PM. I nestled myself under the sheets
and welcomed the oblivion that beckoned me.

=-=-=-=

I awoke the next morning, disoriented. Where was I? What was I doing in a
strange bed? I blinked a couple of times and the puzzle was beginning to
resolve itself. I'd come to my friend Jonathan's place after having had a
violent break-up with my ex-boyfriend, Joshua. Violent on his part, that
is; I'd been raped, beaten and left lying on his bed in my own blood.

Long story short - here I was, commencing to wake up. I was pleased to note
that I only felt minor twinges of pain in my bones as I shifted out of bed,
but the lingering pain in my rear was a most potent reminder of the vicious
attack on me.

For the first time in 24 hours, I was in front of a mirror. I saw why
Jonathan had been surprised at my appearance - my face looked drawn and
pale, and my eyes seemed haunted - with good reason. My brown hair was
tousled from the night's sleep, and my brown eyes stared back at me. The
rest of me, all of 19 years old, was skinny yet not overly skinny. Overall,
my body was "just right", me being about 6 feet tall, weighing about 155
pounds, with the proper muscle tone and contours and so on and so forth. I
had bruises from where Joshua had hit me. Bastard knew what he was doing,
since he left no visible marks on my face. Having finished the
self-assessment, I stepped into the shower.

After the 15-minute morning ritual, I stepped out. Teeth glistening, face
properly shaven, I walked into the living room, noting my suitcase where
I'd dumped it last night. Having no idea of what was going to happen
tomorrow let alone six months down the road, I left it there for later,
when I knew where I was going to stay for more than a few days. I glimpsed
a piece of paper on the table near the kitchen, and walked over to pick it
up.

"Daniel - it's about 7:30 AM as I write this. I'll be going to work
shortly, and will be back no later than 4 PM. Help yourself to whatever's
in the kitchen (but don't make a mess! :) ) and if you want to go out, the
spare set of keys is in the bottom drawer beside the stove.

Take care.

- Jonathan."

I noted the time on the wall clock: 9 AM. Today, as I recalled it, was
Friday. I poured myself a bowl of cereal, and as I sat at the table,
crunching away, my mind was running through the alternatives I had, which
seemed darn thin at the moment:

1. Stay with Jonathan (Ok, doable if I ignore the fact that it kills
privacy totally), 2. Try and find a new place, 3. Ask my other friends if
they need roommates.

... And what about Joshua? As much as I would have liked to completely
forget about him, I couldn't. He lived in the same city, after all. I
sighed, having come to no conclusion. By now he had probably cleaned the
bedsheets and eliminated all traces of my existence at his apartment, and
I'd washed the evidence off of me in my daze.

I sighed, put the now-empty bowl in the sink, and rooted around in the
apartment for a recent newspaper. I soon found one, and flipped to the
classifieds and began searching for cheap one-bedroom apartments.

=-=-=-=

Forty-five minutes later, I'd narrowed down the possibilities and made a
few phone calls. Since I had, almost literally, nothing except the clothes
on my back, I wasn't in the mood to be picky about apartments. I began
recollecting how I'd gotten here. I'd moved into Joshua's place three
months ago, after having lived on campus at Simon Fraser University for the
school year. We'd been going out for a couple months before the summer
started, and I wasn't on good speaking terms with my parents since I'd told
them I was gay just after my first semester final exams ended.

Joshua and I at the time were on a good footing, and I timidly asked him if
I could move in with him after classes ended for the school year. He
wholeheartedly agreed, and after my second semester finals were over, we
"shacked up". Then the troubles began. We always ended up fighting over
some little thing. Didn't matter if it was his tendency to forget that the
money I gave him for my share of bill payments wasn't his to play with, or
his nitpicking at some silly thing I did, like accidentally forgetting a
towel on the floor of the bathroom. It always blew up in our faces.

The weird thing was, looking back on it, we stayed together because I
thought I loved him. The sex wasn't bad, and we did have some good times
together. All that changed in an instant last night. Weird how something
that happens to you in less than fifteen minutes changes your entire
world. I would have forgiven his slapping me and calling me a bitch, since
no permanent harm was done. But Joshua had gone much further...

And then there was university. I'd finished working the previous week in
preparation for school, which was less than two weeks away. I'd declared my
major in chemistry, and I would have to take more calculus and physics
courses in addition to the organic and physical chemistry classes I had to
take. I was questioning whether my concentration would be enough to keep my
GPA high enough.

I decided I wasn't getting anywhere, and grabbed the spare keys. I left the
apartment, being sure to lock up, and walked aimlessly for a while...

=-=-=-=

I returned just after 4 o'clock to find Jonathan unwinding from his
workday. He grinned and said, "Wow! You look tons better, Daniel! What'd
you do today?"

I blushed and said, "Thanks. I just checked your newspaper, phoned some
people about apartments. Then I did some deep thinking, and later on I went
out." I hefted the tome I'd bought at Chapters. The cover read "The
Microsoft File".

"Cool. Work was boring. Same silly bank customers, same managers goofing
off and then scurrying around when the bigwigs came down." Jonathan worked
at a bank downtown, as a bank teller. It was OK money, considering he
didn't have to waste his dough on a car. "Hey. You gonna go to school for
your second year in chemistry?"

"You must have been reading my mind today. I was wondering about that." My
self-confidence began to shudder at the foundations, and I feared the
results if there were to be a collapse.

"Well, you can always talk to me if you feel like it." He grinned and did a
cheezy thumbs-up.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." Timidly, I ventured forth. "I don't know how
long you can have me over here-"

Jonathan cut in. "Don't worry! I would never kick you out like that,
man. Hell, if you want, we'll get a two-bedroom apartment somewhere."

Oh. My. God. He was willing to do this for me? "Wow. I don't know what to
say. Let me think about it, eh?" I cracked a wan smile.

"Hey, we're friends. Besides, I'd been sorta hoping we could do this
someday."

"Why?" Things are never what they seem to be...

"Well, we're friends, man. We get along well, why wouldn't we get along as
roommates?" His face seemed so earnest and open that it was hard for me to
not try and read between the lines. His willingness to uproot himself
seemed rather... spontaneous.

"Just... look, I'm trying to deal with a lot of shit right now..."
Damn. That was it. My self-confidence couldn't take another hit today, and
I sank to the floor, sniffling until I could hold back no longer, and began
crying.

A tentative hand was on my shoulder. I repressed my initial shudder at
human contact, and nodded at Jonathan's blurry face. He instantly enveloped
me in his arms, and whispered words of comfort. Next thing I knew, I was
lying on his bed, and he was saying, "Rest. I'll make us something to eat."

I saw and heard no more, as consciousness escaped me.

=-=-=-=

I awoke to the smell of chicken. I groggily looked at the clock next to the
bed - 6:32 PM. I brushed my hand through my hair and tried to reassure
myself I didn't look like Rip Van Winkle. Sleeping had a tendency to make
me look disorderly.

I walked into the combination kitchen/dining room and saw Jonathan setting
plates on the table. The food was in various stages of readiness, and I
felt my stomach rumbling. It occurred to me that Jonathan's solicitude
could save me from experiencing more difficulties in recovery that would
otherwise crop up, due to poor eating habits that I surely would have
developed. After all, had I not eaten just a bowl of cereal that morning
and nothing else?

I exclaimed, "Wow! Smells fabulous, Jonathan!"

He looked up and smiled. "Glad you could make it, even if your hair was a
casualty on the way."

I mock-frowned and said, "Fine. I'll just go shave it off, so you'll never
have to see it again!"

He giggled. "I'd love to see that. Seriously though, supper's just about
ready; the chicken's on the table, as you can see. The mashed potatoes are
just finishing up now, and the mushrooms are about halfway done. Caesar
salad?"

I nodded.

"Good! Just have a seat there and Chef Jonathan will impress you!" That
trademark grin which broke so easily upon him was there again. It was
infectious, and I responded in kind.

I mused on this hidden talent - a straight guy who could actually cook; he
was definitely going to make some woman a fine husband one of these days.

The food was on the table with due speed. I began dishing out food onto my
plate, then grabbed my empty glass and walked to the fridge. "Oh, Chef...?"

Jonathan looked up. "Yes, Monsieur?"

"While I'm over here, what drink would you like?"

"Hmm. What're you having? I know I have a bottle of Coke in there I haven't
opened yet - I'll have that."

"I was thinking of having Coke also."

The two Coke drinks were poured, and I toasted him on his excellent
cooking. We then fell to the food, and conversation was limited.

All too soon, I was finished. "Wow. Excellent! I must congratulate the fine
eating establishment that prepared such a meal."

Jonathan replied, "Indeed. Maybe I should send the manager a note." He
winked.

"Never hurts," I deadpanned.

The reply was an arched eyebrow. I abruptly realized I was being rude as a
guest; I swept up my cutlery, plate and cup and placed them in the sink. I
then set to clearing the rest of the table, with Jonathan's help.

After everything had been squared away, I turned to Jonathan, and
hesitantly put my hands on his shoulders. I looked him in the eye, and
said, "Jonathan, man, I want you to know I really appreciate everything
you're doing for me. I've got this feeling I'm going to be just fine!"

He smiled warmly, and said, "It was the right thing to do, and I wasn't
going to abandon my duty to you as a friend. Don't worry about it;
just... *please* be Ok? I'm worried you'll have nightmares or something
because of... well, you know." He reciprocated and put his hands on my
shoulders. For a second, I shrank back from the contact, but rallied
quickly.

He was right. I hadn't thought of that. The first night I was so
emotionally exhausted that my sleep had been that of the necessary healing
variety needed to put psychological barriers between the still-jagged
memories of my rape and my everyday functioning. My nap of today had been
some sort of shut-down mechanism in response to stress. Now that I was
beginning to return to normal, would I be able to take it in stride, or
would I falter along the way to recovery? I took a breath, and hugged him
briefly to let him know I didn't fear his touch.

I had part of the answer already, though. "Jonathan, I'll have to ask you
to trust me. The most important part is that my recovery won't be harmed by
having to focus my energies on pure survival - I've got a roof over my head
and food for my body. I'll be forever in your debt because you provided
them for me in my time of need." I warded off his protestations and rolled
on. "Can I ask you one favor, though?"

A nod was his only reply.

"If I ever.. well, need to hold someone, will you...?"

Jonathan said, "Don't worry. It'll probably be weird for me, but if you
think you'll feel safer that way, just ask."

I whispered, "Thanks." and hugged him again. I suddenly felt very small and
vulnerable. I wanted his encircling arms to reassure me that I wouldn't be
buffeted by the winds of fate. However, the poor fellow was probably
getting somewhat uncomfortable, so I released my embrace and stepped back.

I decided I wasn't going to get much done tonight, and mentioned I was
going to read my new book for a while. Jonathan said, "Ok. We'll figure out
the sleeping arrangements later. Go enjoy yourself." With that, he turned
to the task of cleaning the dishes and I walked over to the couch, sat
down, and opened my book...

=-=-=-=

To his credit, Jonathan only gave me the hairy eyeball once when I asked if
I could sleep on the bed next to him. It was, after all, a queen-size
bed. I didn't get all that much sleep, though. My mind was too busy running
down whether or not I could handle recovery and a full courseload. On the
one hand, if I took a semester off, I could concentrate on taking it easy
and building up my strength. On the other hand, if I plunged back into my
normal routine of school, I might be able to forget about my emotional
fragility. After all, atoms, molecules and their interactions were going to
do the same things whether or not I felt like shit or felt great.

All the while, I was brutally conscious of the fact that under normal
circumstances, being next to a nearly-naked guy would have had my body and
mind poised to take "action", given the appropriate nudge. However, while I
could mentally appreciate Jonathan's looks, I didn't feel even a twinge
down there. This contrasted from back in high school, when I could provide
my brain with all kinds of cannon fodder for wanking material by
fantasizing about him buck naked.

Was I doomed to be incapable of being physically attracted to a guy? Had
Joshua ripped something from my soul? Was my mind simply shutting down my
reaction to males as a defence mechanism? Hell if I knew.

Finally, I passed into a kind of half-awake, half-asleep state, flitting
back and forth across the wall between consciousness and dreams. At about
5:30 in the morning, I had passed into my awake state long enough to
discern that Jonathan's eyes were open, and he was looking directly at me.

I involuntarily jerked my head back and blurted out "Shit!" My heart was
pounding in my chest even as I regrouped and took stock of the
situation. "How long have you been looking at me?! Man, you freaked me
out!"

He looked so apologetic it was hard to stay upset. "Only a couple of
minutes, I swear. You looked restless, and I was wondering if you were
sleeping well."

"Honestly, I dunno. I've been barely asleep." I rubbed my eyes and
continued. "I hate to take advantage of your offer so soon, but-" Ack. I
was getting flustered. "Um... geez, how do I say it -- can I hold you?"

Jonathan didn't even bat an eyelid. He just extended his arm, and I nestled
within his embrace, my head on his chest and my arms around him in a fairly
comfortable manner. His warmth was so intoxicating, yet calming, that when
I closed my eyes, there was nary a ripple as I sank below the waters of
deep sleep...