Date: Wed, 03 Nov 1999 06:33:40 -0500
From: Charlie <charlieje@mindspring.com>
Subject: Andy-17 (Young-Friends)

           XVII Andy Learns the Truth

The temperature outside was warm for March. Birds were singing
constantly, azaleas were in full blossom. Spring had definitely sprung.
Andy left Charlie asleep one Monday night at midnight to get some air. He
found that the constant sterile smell of the hospital could become rather
stifling, so he had to get some air now and then to keep his head clear. He
was just finishing his second loop around the hospital building when he
heard a voice behind him: "Well, if it ain't my new brother! Hey, new
brother!"

Andy froze, wondering what was coming next. When there was no club
strike his head, no knife in his ribs and no sign of a gun, he whirled around
to face what could easily have been Charlie, but larger, more physically
mature, and more unkempt. "Garth?" he queried.
"Very good, Sherlock!" the other boy said with a grin. "Now if I knew
your name..."
"It's Andy." He stuck out his hand. Garth ignored it.
"I assume the fact that you're still here means the little fucker hasn't died
yet, right?" Garth sneered.
"No," Andy replied, trying to keep his cool, "And I don't expect he will
any time soon."
"Too bad. The world needs less of his kind."

Andy regarded Garth carefully. The resemblance to Charlie was uncanny!
But then again, they were brothers. For reasons he didn't understand he
felt drawn to this sneering, gloating teen that was almost exactly his own
age. "Can... can I buy you a cup of coffee?" he asked haltingly.
"Sure dude... any time I can take advantage of Daddy Conner's generosity
I ain't gonna pass it up."

"So why do you hate them so much?" Andy asked when they were seated
in an all-night diner, steaming cups before them."
"What makes you think I hate them?" Garth asked.
"It's pretty obvious by the way you talk. Your brother is up there fighting
for his life, and you can't wait for him to die."
"You'll find out soon enough. If you're smart you'll get your ass back to
wherever you came from, while you still can."
"It's a little late now. The adoption's been finalized."
"Then you'll find out even sooner. You'll discover that living in the same
house with Daddy Dennis isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"I think I know him pretty well, and I've never seen anything but kindness
and understanding."
"Long as things go his way. But wait 'till you fuck up! Then you'll see the
REAL Dennis Conner!"

"You'll have to be more specific, Garth." Andy said. He'd only met this
guy a few minutes ago and he was already getting frustrated. If he delved
deep enough into his subconscious, he would have realized that he had
hopes of reconciling Garth with the family. But why? Was he attracted to
him? Was he already looking for an alternative lover? Could he possibly
do that to Charlie? Or were his intentions truly honorable? Was he just
trying to mend the obvious hurt in his parents' hearts?

"Things weren't too bad," Garth was saying, "Till that little shit came
along. But he was so perfect there was no way I could compete. It was
always Charlie this and Charlie that! Why couldn't I be more like Charlie.
Why did I always have to pick on Charlie. Why couldn't I be a good big
brother to him? Why did I have to always make him cry."
"You did pick on him pretty bad. He told me you used to kick him in the
nuts, then laugh when he doubled over."
"Sure I did! It was funny, watching that perfect little piece of crap trying to
handle a situation that he couldn't. He was better'n me at everything,
except fighting. I could beat the snot outa him any time at all."
"You were four years older!"
"Yeah, that helped. But I tried to toughen him up, and all he did was try
and get away from me."
"Well he's tough now. He still isn't a fighter physically, but he's as tough
a little guy as I've ever seen. Why did you feel that you had to compete
with him anyway?"

Garth looked at Andy carefully. He studied the face looking back at him;
he thought about what he'd just heard. "You got a thing for him, haven't
you?" he accused.
"If you mean do I love him, yes I do. I think he's a great little guy."
"You fuckin' him?"
"I don't think that's a subject we need to be discussing. Even if I was, I
wouldn't tell you. We don't have that kind of relationship. We have love
and respect."
"Ok, I'll take that as a yes."
"Take it any way you want. I really don't think it matters."
"Not any more, does it? I heard they cut his nuts off."
"He's got cancer, Garth! When you got cancer, they do what they have to
do."
"Have to? They could always just let him die."

Andy opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had come very close to
blurting out "what difference does that make?" but stopped himself at the
last moment. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So if you hate
them so much, why did you come back?"
"Come back? Hell, I didn't 'come back'." I had business in Wilmington or
I wouldn't be here. I just thought I'd check out and see what's happenin'.
Man, did I get an earful!"
"What kind of business? What do you do? How do you live?"
"A lot better'n you do I bet. I sell things."
"Things? What kinda things?"
"Just things. Like... sex, drugs, whatever's on the go. I bet you never even
tried coke did ya?"
"No, and I don't plan to. That stuff is for losers!"
"Thought so. You and Charlie make a good pair. Two faggots afraid to do
anything that might piss off Daddy Dennis."
"He cares a lot about us, Garth. And whether you're prepared to admit it or
not, he cares a lot about you."
"How in hell could you know how much he cares about me?"
"I could see it in his eyes, when he told me about you. He told me all about
it, how it wasn't your fault, he just couldn't seem to give you what you
needed. He feels really bad that you're not home where you belong."
"Yeah, right! I'm not home, but I am where I belong."

"I have to get back to the hospital in case Charlie wakes up." Andy
announced, "I was wonderin'..."
"You were wonderin' if I'd like to go up and see him. Sorry to burst your
bubble but I don't care nuthin' about him now that he don't have any nuts
to kick."
"I know he'd be pleased to see you. He misses you. He loves you, Garth."
"Well you can take my place. Kick him once in a while where his nuts
used to be. That'll remind him of me."
"You know the doctor says all that damage is probably the reason he's in
hospital now."
"There, ya see? Something bad happens, and it's ole Garth's fault.
Somehow I knew I'd get the blame for this."
"It was you who kicked him."
"Yeah, and I'd do it again if I ever got the chance."
"You never will, unless you're ready to go through me."

Garth laughed. "You think you could stop me?"
"I have no idea, Garth. But I think you'll find my twelve years in the
system has left me not quite so reluctant to fight that I wouldn't make a
good showing. And if you don't believe anything else I say, believe this:
Standing up to you is mild compared to the things I'm prepared to do to
protect Charlie."
"You're a little late, don't ya think?"
"He isn't dead yet. He's a fighter even if you don't think so. An' he's
gonna beat this one. But now I have to go. You gonna be around long?"
"Hell no! Now that the weather's better I'm headin' for New York. I'll
probably leave in the morning. Now that I've met my new brother I know
more than ever there's nothing for me here."

Andy walked slowly the two blocks back to the hospital. He was glad he'd
met Garth; that meeting had confirmed everything he'd been told. There
was no reasoning with him, no reconciling. Garth was just one of those
people who didn't fit in with the family he'd been born to. Was it his
fault? The Conners? Fate? Andy didn't know. But he did know he'd have
to watch his back in the future. Garth was capable of most anything, and
he'd made it very clear he would not hesitate to do whatever he had to to
get his way in the world.

It was about 3 am. Andy had awakened, having slept as much as he could
for this night. He had nothing to read, nothing to do. He picked up
Charlie's chart, now inches thick with lab reports, doctor's comments,
unintelligible drivel. He leafed through it idly. He began to read. The
surgery report, uneventful. Andy was appalled at the clinical, un-emotional
way that such an event was described. It seemed to him almost like
removing a wart from a hand; or cutting a dead limb from a tree! And yet a
young boy, the boy Andy worshipped, had been changed forever!

He read on. Then he suddenly sat bolt upright. "Holy incredible rotten
crap!" he exclaimed. "It can't be! NO!"

He read further, looking for evidence that he was mistaken. There was
none. The reports and charts went on endlessly, never again mentioning
the entry that had first got his intention. He read it again. He couldn't be
right! But there it was, for any who cared to read it. Now what to do? In
desperation he carefully took out the page in question, plus about ten
others on either side of it, folded them carefully and slipped them under
his shirt, then left the hospital.

Dennis arrived at the ICU about 8 am, in response to a call. They wanted
to see him as soon as possible. It was mid March; almost time for spring
planting, but there had been no plans made. "Where's my son?" he asked
idly at the nurses' station.
"We're not sure," came the reply, "he went flying out of here about four
this morning and hasn't been back. That's why we called you. Mr.
Conner... Charlie arrested last night."
"He what?"
"He arrested. His heart stopped."
"Are you telling me that..."
"No sir, he's not dead. We revived him. But he's very weak."

"How could this happen?" Dennis demanded. "He's supposed to be
getting drugs to make him better, and all he does is get worse! Are you
trying to kill him, or what?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Conner. I know that's how it seems. For what it's worth
we took him off the IV drugs last night and are giving him glucose instead.
That should give him some more strength."
"More strength for you to beat out of him."
"No sir. He has to finish that regimen of drugs, otherwise it won't do him
any good."
"Even if it kills him?"
"But the cancer..."

Dennis didn't answer. He walked down the hall and into Charlie's ICU
room. What he saw jolted him to his toes. Charlie was lying naked on the
bed, wearing nothing but a diaper. "A diaper?" he roared, "You put him
back in a diaper?"
"We had to, Mr. Conner. He was making quite a mess."
"He'd got over that! He was so proud of himself! And now you've taken
that away from him! And you just leave him lying there, tubes and probes
all over his body, for all the world to see."
"But we need to get to him in a hurry, in case he goes into crisis again."
"How long does it take to pull a sheet off him? Damn! Where's Andy? He
would never allow you to treat Charlie like this. Where did that boy go?"

"Daddy!" Charlie whispered.
"Charlie! You're awake?" Dennis was truly shocked, having assumed that
he was unconscious.
"Daddy!" Charlie said, this time a little louder. His eyes opened to reveal
not the bright blue eyes everyone loved, but cloudy, lifeless, almost black
cavities. As he spoke the tears flowed. "Please, Daddy, take me home!"
"Charlie," Dennis said gently, "The treatment..."
"I'd rather die, Daddy! I'd rather be with y'all where I know I'm loved.
I'm ok with dying but I don't want to do it here. Please Dad, take me
home!"

"Mr. Conner, please calm down. I know it must be awfully hard, losing a
son, such a beautiful little boy! But please believe me, we're doing the best
we can. He just doesn't respond!"
"So it's Charlie's fault that you're killing him, is that right?"
"I didn't say that. It's just that..."
"He isn't dead yet, my dear! And he's not going to die either! My wife will
be here within the hour, and we're taking him home."
"You can't do that, Mr. Conner! Without life support, the next time he
arrests, he'll die!"
"Near as I can tell he's gonna die anyway. But he's not gonna die lying
naked in his own shit, with every kinda tube and hose and needle sticking
into him. He's gonna die in his own bed, where people love him and care
about him."

The nurse ran back to the nurses' station and paged Dr. Fisher. She paged
about three other people too, including Security. But no one came. Well,
almost no one. The first doctor on the scene was John Petrie. He stood in
the doorway watching Dennis as he gently cleaned Charlie up and
prepared to get him dressed. "You're finally taking him home!" he
commented. "I was beginning to wonder when you would."
"Go ahead," Dennis said without looking up, "Tell me all the reasons I
shouldn't."
"Not me." John answered, "I was wondering if they were ever gonna tell
you."
"Tell me? Tell me what?"

At that moment Andy arrived, with Carlo Meoli and Evan Turnbull, plus
two men that Dennis didn't know. "Andy," he said sternly, "Where the
hell have you been? You were supposed to... Oh never mind, come help
me get Charlie ready to go home."
"Dad...." Andy said, "Can I..."
"Not now, Andy. We're taking Charlie home. Tell me what, Dr. Petrie?"
"Perhaps we should wait for Dr. Fisher." John said, realizing that he'd
almost let the cat out of the bag.
"Wait nothing! If you've got something to say regarding my son, you'd
better tell me, and NOW! An hour from now he won't be here!"
"You're right, sir, you have a right to know."
"Dad..." Andy broke in again as he helped Dennis pull the needle out of
Charlie's arm.
"Andy, NOT NOW! Can't you wait for one minute?"
"No, I can't, Dad! I can't wait another second! NOW, Dad! Charlie
doesn't have cancer, Dad! He never did!"

The wind came out of Dennis' chest as if he'd been hit by a plank. He
plopped down in the chair that was luckily behind him, then looked into
Andy's eyes. "Andy," he demanded, "What in hell are you talking about?"
"Yes," came the voice of Dr. Fisher, "What ARE you talking about?"
"Dr. Fisher," John Petrie said with surprise, "You never did tell them, did
you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Fisher argued.
"Really! Even Turnbull joined the fray. "That's not what these reports
say."
"Where did you get those?" Fisher demanded, "Those charts are hospital
property. You can't take those any time you feel like it. That's theft."
"And what you've done," Evan countered, "Is lawsuit material, maybe
even attempted murder!"

"If I might explain," Carlo Meoli interrupted and spoke to a very confused
Dennis, "Andy arrived at my home early this morning, in a state very close
to hysteria. He had some medical reports he'd found here in Charlie's
charts, had read them to the best of his ability. He thought he knew what
they said but he wasn't sure and didn't know how to confirm the findings,
so he came to me. These two gentlemen are my personal physicians. They
have confirmed what Andy suspected: that there was never any cancer, and
certainly no need for the chemo that seems to be killing Charlie. We have
a court order in process to seize that bag of drugs he's been given, and we
need this room left exactly as it is until the police arrive. My doctors will
be taking care of Charlie from now on, if that's ok with you, Dennis."
"By all means!" Dennis answered gratefully.

"Andy," Dennis ordered when he realized all the commotion in the small
room, "Take care of Charlie. Get him cleaned up and dressed. He's going
home. The rest of you, out of here, NOW! We'll sort this out in the
hallway!"
"Leave him to me, Dad." Andy said.
"One more thing, Andy. No one comes in this room! No one takes
anything out of it!"
"Just let 'em try, Dad!" There are simply no words to describe how Andy
felt, so I won't even try.

"Andy!" Charlie said hoarsely, "What's goin' on? Where's Dad gone?"
"He's gone down the hall, Charlie. The hospital don't want you to go
home so they're having a big meeting. But don't you worry, lil bro, you're
goin' HOME! And you're gonna LIVE!"

Carlo Meoli stood at the doorway after they'd all left. "May I help?" he
said meekly.
"Yes, please." Andy answered, "And thanks, Mr. Meoli. I didn't know
what to do after I found that report."
"If it hadn't been for you," Carlo pointed out, "We might never have
known. Charlie may well have died!"
"He might still die. He's awful weak."
"He'll be ok now. We shall see to it, shall we not!"
"Ya see?" Charlie said, "I told ya Mr. Meoli was our friend."
"You sure did, Charlie!" Andy answered as he gave the older man a huge
hug.

Andy was carefully removing all the tubes, probes, attachments, being
careful enough to be handling fine china. But then in his mind he WAS
handling fine China: he was handling Charlie, slowly removing what he
had believed had stood between Charlie and death all this time. Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw Carlo slowly, gently, remove the soaked diaper.
He took a tissue and gently wiped Charlie's skin. He paused as his fingers
touched the empty sac, now completely healed, that had held Charlie's tiny
testicles. He took the sac between his fingers and just held it, tears in his
eyes. "Those barbarians!" he muttered, "Look what those barbarians have
done to you! But it will not be in vain, my little songbird. I would never
have done such a thing, but now that it's done, you will have the last
laugh!"

A nurse came into the room. "I'll take care of those." she announced,
referring to the instruments that Andy was busy turning off.
"What you'll do," Andy said softly but sternly, "Is get the hell out of here!
Can't you see my brother is naked? Did you not hear my father say it's
time for Charlie to get back his dignity? We'll let you know when my
brother is presentable and the police have taken any evidence they might
want. Until then he is no longer a clinical piece of flesh for you to analyze
and probe. He is no longer just the kid in room number 109, he's Charlie
Conner, and he will be naked in front of only those he chooses! And as far
as I know, he has never chosen to be naked in front of you!"

By the time Karen arrived, Charlie was dressed in the only clothing he had
at the hospital, his pajamas. He was lying on top of his bed. He was awake,
but just barely. "We're going home, son." Dennis had told him gently,
"And we're not coming back. You're gonna be all right, you just have to
hold on. Mr. Meoli is here, and Andy, and your mom, and Mr. Meoli's two
doctors. You'll like them, Charlie. They're already working to get you
back on your feet. And there'll be no more chemo poison. We're all going
home in Mr. Meoli's limo."
"Cool, Dad!" Charlie said weakly, "That limo's really cool!"


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If you wish to comment on this story, please send your comments to me at
charlieje@mindspring.com