Date: Thu, 7 Feb 2008 00:43:29 -0800 (PST)
From: Lusty <lustyville@yahoo.com>
Subject: Starving For Love-Part11. A Litany of Reasons

     I wanted to read the words in the notepad about as much as I
wanted to be in the hospital. I didn't care about the lies
Charlie had written down or that Charlie was planning on coming
back. I didn't want to think about Charlie at all and most
importantly, I didn't want to think about the things he said to
me. He blamed me. He thought I pushed them away. How could he
think that when I was the one who was isolated from the family
and left to fend for myself? They abandoned me long before I had
a chance to push them away.

     Tom tapped my arm, "Just read it."

     The notepad was open to a page with a question scribbled on
it, `What do I know about Sam?'

     I looked at Tom, "What is this?"

     "Just read it."

     I turned the page in the notepad and started reading.
Charlie had written random things on the pages: `Sam and Tom are
always together' `Sam doesn't talk to us' `Sam barely ate at
dinner' `He looks sad'

     I almost stopped breathing when I read one page: `Smelled
smoke by his door' `Heard a sizzling sound' `What in the world?'
The next page succeeded in asphyxiating me: `Saw him with a knife
a few times. What does he do with it?' A few spaces lower was the
question: `Does he hurt himself?' I forced myself to take a deep
breath.

     On another page I read, `Sam went to a game tonight. He sat
with Mr. Yeager' `He left with Tom.' Charlie was stalking me. I
turned the page. `Sam has a silver ring. Tom has one too..hmmm' I
turned the page again. `Sam and Tom were hugging in the front
yard. Sam made eye contact with me. Strange.' Charlie had seen
more than that according to the next page. `Saw him kissing Tom.
Guess that question is answered.'

     I sat the notepad down and turned to Tom, "He knows about
us."

     "Keep reading."

     I read through several more pages of observations about me.
I wondered how I missed him watching me. I finally reached the
page he must have been writing while we were talking. The first
thing he had written was: `He doesn't want me here.' Then he
wrote: `Being hostile.' Next was: `He thinks we're perfect.'
`Blames us but can't say what we did.' `He made a joke.' `He's
angry.'

     The notes stopped and I felt the sadness building as it
filled me with questions of my own role in the family. I threw
the notepad on the floor. I had tried for years to be a part of
them. They didn't welcome me. Charlie didn't understand what was
wrong but how could he when being perfect was as natural as
breathing for him. He couldn't look in my eyes and see the pain
that his perfection had inflicted on me.

     "He doesn't get it," I said.

     "He doesn't get what?"

     "He doesn't get me or us."

     "But he's trying,"

     "Is he really?"

     "Sam, he came here to see you. Shouldn't that mean
something? He made an effort."

     "Don't say that."

     "It's true. Why does that scare you?"

     "Because"

     "Because what?"

     "I know they pushed me away. I know it! I don't need him
coming in here telling me that everything I know as true is
wrong. I don't blame them for what they did. I mean look at me!
But it's not right for him to come in here and try to say I made
them the way they are. They're the way they are because I'm such
a loser that they hated being around me. He should just admit it.
I could handle that, but he came here with this bullshit about
respecting the boundaries I set. I never set any boundaries."

     Tom gave my shoulder a squeeze, "Calm down."

     "How can I calm down? He blames me for everything."

     Matt walked around the curtain. I smiled to myself because I
had forgotten he was on the other side and probably listening to
every word. He stood next to the curtain, "Look at it this way:
Does it matter if he stayed away because he didn't want to be
around you, or if he stayed away because he thought you didn't
want him around you? The result is that he missed out on a lot of
years with you and a lot of shit that brothers do and he wishes
he had that time back, but he can't have it back because it's
gone so he's trying to reach out to you. Who cares why he came?
If I were you I wouldn't give a shit about his reasons. Just be
happy he cared enough to visit you. I told you about my mother.
Life with her was hell but if she came here to talk to me I would
forgive her and try to work it out." He looked at his hand. "I
guess that's my one fault. My shrink says I have a boundless
amount of compassion in my heart and a capacity to forgive that
he has never seen before. He says it's because I'm so desperate
for love that I'm willing to overlook flaws even when I
shouldn't. "

     "Matt," Tom said with irritation coating the tone of his
voice.

     "I know I need to mind my own fucking business but I heard
the two of you talking and I wanted to come over and tell Sam
that sometimes the `why' doesn't matter that much." Matt stared
at me until I looked at him. "You feel like an outsider and now
you have someone trying to pull you inside the circle, why would
you fight or even question that? Do you know what I would give to
feel like someone wanted me to be a part of their life? And don't
even think about saying my foster parents want me. Foster parents
don't fucking want you, if they did they would adopt you.
Adoption means you're wanted, foster means you're tolerated and
your check is greatly appreciated. You're not a check to anybody.
Maybe the rest of your family doesn't like you for whatever
reason but your brother is trying so don't begrudge him that.
Hell if you don't do it for him, do it for the boy who's going to
be sharing a room with you for the next few days. Your brother is
kind of cute. Not that you would notice. Let him come back so I
can look at him again, okay?" He had a wicked grin on his face
and despite my best efforts I had to smile at him.

     "So you are gay?" I asked.

     "Can't a straight guy appreciate the looks of another
straight guy? I mean you would have to be blind to not notice
what a work of art your brother is. He was even cute when he left
here in a huff. He's like perfect. I want to be like him when I
grow up." I watched as Matt subconsciously traced the scar on his
face with the tips of his fingers as if he was reminding himself
that his face would never be perfect.

     I didn't have time to appreciate his moment of sadness
because the mention of Charlie's perfection made my blood heat up
and obliterated my smile. "I know he's perfect." I said, "You
don't have to remind me."

     "You're perfect, too. You just don't realize it."

     "I'm a freak," I told him.

     "Well you're one of the hottest freaks I've ever seen.
You're like the perfect storm; gorgeous and complicated. Your
brother is like an Adonis but that's generic. Do you know how
many guys look like him? Blond hair, blue eyes is overrated. Nice
to look at it, but still, overrated. What you have is something
different. Your long black hair makes your eyes pop in a way that
blond hair never could and your hair adds an element of intrigue
to your appearance. I can look at you and tell that you're
special. I look at your brother and all I can tell is that he's
hot." Matt flexed his arm for a brief moment. "I mean your
brother is handsome but you're beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I
could stare at you all day and be captivated by the things that
make you, you. If I was gay or bi-curious I'd definitely have a
huge crush on you."

     "So you're not gay?"

     "I'm a man of mystery. Let's leave it at that. You'll have
to get to know me better before I tell all of my secrets." He
winked at me. "Well I'm going back to my side of the room. Try
not to talk about me too much."

     Matt was barely on his side of the room when Tom whispered,
"That was interesting." Tom kissed my nose. "Are you okay?"

     "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

     "Matt needs to mind his own business."

     "He didn't bother me."

     "I told him not now."

     "Tom, he made me feel better."

     "How?"

     "I don't know, but hearing things from his perspective
helped. His reasons made a lot of sense. Charlie wants to try to
be brothers. I say why not try?"

     "Okay who are you and what have you done with my Sam?"

     "Let me introduce myself." I held out my hand. "I'm Sam and
I am trying to change."

     He held my hand. "So no more hurting yourself?"

     I was honestly feeling better until he said that and then I
remembered how pathetic I was. "I can't promise that."

     "But if you're going to change then,"

     "I'm only trying to work on my relationship with Charlie.
That's what I'm going to try to change."

     Tom's face broke in half. "Oh."

     "Oh what?"

     "I just thought you," I caught a hint of something in his
eye that I had never seen before, "nevermind, I'm happy that
you're going to give Charlie a chance, but"

     "But?"

     "I tell you that you should give Charlie a chance and you
spit in my face but when Matt tells you the same thing, you
suddenly see the light. It just seems like you haven't given this
much thought. Don't get me wrong. I think you're making the right
decision, but you're a thinker. You take things and you break
them down and you analyze them then you come to a conclusion.
Even your seemingly impulsive actions come from some thought out
process."

     "How would you know that?"

     "I know you. I know almost everything about you." He
grinned, "Besides you get this distant look in your eyes when
you're thinking."

     "Yeah right."

     "You do."

     "Next you're going to say you know when I'm lying to you."

     "I wouldn't go that far but sometimes I can tell when you're
hiding something."

     "Yeah right. You didn't even know I was gay and I had a
crush on you."

     "I suspected."

     "What about the stuff you found in my room? You never
suspected that, did you?"

     The question managed to steal the rest of the glow in his
eyes. "No. I never suspected that. I didn't think you were
capable of it," he shook his head, "didn't see you were desperate
enough to do it. I missed that one big time." I leaned over and
gave him a quick kiss. "What was that for?"

     "It's not your fault that I am the way I am."

     "What way? Absolutely beautiful?" He had a cheesy grin on
his face.

     "Yes, it's not your fault that I am absolutely beautiful."

     He giggled and kissed me. His tongue was almost down my
throat when a loud squeal interrupted us. We broke apart fast
enough to see a woman dart to the other side of the room. A few
seconds later his mother peeked around the curtain then she
slowly walked towards the bed.

     She seemed nervous as she said, "Hi boys." We both said
hello then she tried to smile but something prevented it. "How
are you feeling, Sam?"

     "Much better."

     "That's good."

     She glanced at Tom lying next to me. "Are you ready to go?"

     "Can I stay?"

     "No you may not. We're going home and you're going to school
tomorrow. You can visit Sam after school."

     Tom got off the bed. "Why can't I keep him company like I
did today?"

     "I'm sure he'll survive until tomorrow afternoon. Now say
goodbye and let's go."

     "Okay. May I say goodbye in private?"

     "Do you have a problem with me being here?"

     "No, it's just,"

     "Just what? You don't want to kiss him in front of me? Well
it's too late for that."

     "I, I uh"

     "Spit it out Tom."

     "Yes, Mom." Tom turned to me and ruffled my hair then said,
"See you tomorrow Sam." He paused for a moment and looked at me
like he wanted to kiss me but that was the last thing in the
world he would do.

     "What you're too afraid to kiss him with me standing here?"
his mother asked.

     "Mom what is your problem?"

     She pointed her finger at him. "You know what my problem is!
Did we not have this discussion? I asked you what was going on
between the two of you and you lied to my face!"

     "I'm sorry." Tom stepped away from me.

     "Wait in the hallway. I want to say a personal goodbye to
Sam." Tom lowered his head and walked out of the room. His mother
came and stood over me. "My husband may be all for this thing you
and Tom have. Heaven knows I used to be, but I'm not so sure
anymore. I wonder if the two of you have become too co-
dependent." She rubbed my arm. "I'm not trying to be hurtful. I
love you like you're my own. You remind me so much of, well,
someone."

     "Isaac?"

     "So you know about him?" I shook my head. "I guess I should
have known Tom would tell you about him. Tom loved Isaac so much.
We all did, but Isaac and Tom had a special connection. Tom
always knew how to make him smile. I couldn't do that, no matter
how hard I tried." Her hand stopped rubbing my arm. "Maybe we all
see a little bit of Isaac in you." She fixed my hair where Tom
had ruffled it. "I know Tom loves you very much and I know I
can't stop your relationship. I wouldn't dare try to come between
you boys. I just want you to do your best to get better because I
think I'd lose Tom if he lost you and I've already lost one son.
Do you understand?"

     "Yes."

     "Good, now give me hug." She leaned down and hugged me and
gave me a tiny kiss on my cheek. "I'm not upset with you or him."

     "I know."

     She whispered, "Don't think I was short with him because of
you. I was short with him because he lied to me and there was no
need for that. I don't know if Tom told you, but I found out he
was gay a while ago. I wasn't surprised. I had suspected he might
be. I always thought he was in love with you. I think he loves
you more than that car of his and you know how much he loves that
clunker." I laughed and she laughed with me. "I'm going to come
back in the morning and check on you, okay sweetie?"

     "Okay."

     She walked out and I heard a loud swishing sound as Matt
pulled back the curtain. "Can I be you for one day?" he asked.

     "Why would you want to?"

     "Because you've had more visitors in one day then I've had
all week." His face contorted in to a half smile half frown
expression and I looked in his eyes and saw all the sadness I
felt in my heart. I stared at him for a few minutes and then I
saw it: a lonely tear fell from his eye. He quickly wiped it away
and said, "I'm not crying. There was something in my eye."

     "I know the feeling. I think I've had that same something in
my eye a time or two." I recognized that something for the
emotions that it was. I knew it was a black hole baring nothing
but emptiness, regret, and a willing acceptance of being
condemned to be alone. It was powerful and often overwhelming. It
had ushered out many tears from my wounded eyes and caused the
proliferation of a countless number of cracks to my wounded
heart, successfully damaging me at my core. I hated the feeling
but I needed it to remind me that I was real. Pain and sadness
were my version of happiness. They were as much a part of who I
was as breathing.

     "I wish you weren't a stranger," he said.

     "Huh?"

     "I wish I knew you better."

     "You know me better than most people who have known me all
my life."

     "A mutual understanding of the inner-workings of depression
does not mean I know you. Who are you?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "This morning I thought you were more like me. I thought I
had my sister and you had Tom but now I see that you have so much
more than I do. Just let me be you for one day."

     "What would you do as me?"

     "Hug a lot of people, talk to a lot of people, kiss Tom"

     "What?"

     "I have to kiss him if I'm pretending to be you. What would
he think if you didn't kiss him?"

     "He would think I wasn't me."

     "And we wouldn't want him to think that, now would we?"

     "Yes! If it's you being me I don't want him to kiss me."

     "You don't want your boyfriend to kiss you? What kind of
boyfriend are you?"

     I rolled my eyes as it occurred to me that I was trapped in
one of his mazes again. I knew I wouldn't win so I gave up.
"You're right! You should kiss him."

     "Don't just tell me what I want to hear."

     "I'm not." I sat up on the bed. "What else would you do as
me?"

     "I would be moody and angry and tired of being sad but
unable to dig my way out of the sadness so I would just pretend
to be okay and hope no one noticed."

     "I'm not like that."

     Right, and I'm not like that either. I'm happy. Really."

     "So you're not happy?"

     "Neither are you." He sighed, "What else can we talk about
because you're depressing me?"

     "Ha! I'm depressing you. You look like a walking downer
right now and you find me depressing?"

     "I'm only sad because I want what you have and you act like
you don't even know what that is."

     "I'm sorry."

     "Don't be sorry. I'm just having a moment." He closed his
eyes and crossed his legs on the bed and then he started
breathing deeply. I figured he was meditating so I tried to keep
quiet. It was strange though because I was afraid to breathe too
loudly. I didn't want to disturb him. I watched him as his face
relaxed in to a peaceful smile. He opened his eyes. "You should
have seen the look Tom's mother had on her face when she ran over
here after seeing the two of you kissing. It was priceless."

     I was completely dumbfounded by his change in demeanor.
"Okay."

     "That was a happy memory from today." He stood up and walked
over to me and waved his hands above my head then he walked back
to his bed and sat down. "The cloud was coming back and we can't
have that, can we? If I'm going to be happy then you have to be
happy, too."

     I wondered if he realized there was no actual cloud. Doing
something like that one time was pleasantly odd but doing
something like that twice in one day was borderline crazy. In
fact, I wasn't feeling sad or anything. I was feeling a very
satisfied ambivalence to the events of the day as a whole. I was
wishing I was somewhere else and imagining what life would be
like if I was Matt. If he was being me for a day, I wondered who
I would be because I certainly didn't want an even trade. The
idea of being him scared me more than the idea of being me.

     I lied in the bed and decided I was done with talking to
Matt. He made me feel better because we were on the same page
with our emotional vulnerability but I didn't think he had the
potential to actually make me better. Tom's mother said I had to
be better so I needed to find a way to make that happen. I
wouldn't hurt Tom the way Isaac had hurt him. I wouldn't break
him down like that. I knew we were co-dependent. I knew I needed
him and he needed me. Tom needed me to be the Isaac he could save
and he couldn't save me unless I helped. I had to try to be
different.

     "Hello?" Matt said.

     "Huh?"

     "If you're going to tune me out at least have the decency to
give me the occasional `uh-huh' or `yeah.' Don't just ignore me.
I don't like being ignored."

     He said it with such fragility in his voice. I was sure he
had a lot of things that hurt him internally and I was positive
that being ignored was one of them. We all have our things. Being
ignored wasn't one of mine because I was used to being ignored
but being loved was one of my things. Feeling like someone loved
me, or might love me scared me because then I had to admit that
there was something about me that someone could appreciate and
love. It was hard for me to believe Tom loved me in that way.
Even after he made it clear, I still found myself questioning it.
Why me? How could he love me like that? The questioning was
second nature to me. I questioned everything and then I answered
everything. Maybe I should have gone directly to the source for a
lot of my questions. Maybe I was only giving myself half answers
because I only had half of the information.

     I looked at Matt and apologized, "I'm sorry."

     "It's okay. It just makes me feel bad sometimes."

     "I know. I heard it in your voice."

     "What did you hear in my voice?"

     "The pain."

     "Can we talk about something else?"

     "I don't really feel like talking."

     "How about I talk and you listen?"

     "Sure."

     "I'll tell you about my first foster home. I can't tell you
everything because some things are better left secret, you know,
but I had a good friend there. Losing him was hard."

     I fell asleep listening to Matt tell me about a dog named
Ricky.


Copyright Lustyville 2008
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