Omorphi (33 page)

“You knew about that?”

Mac chuckled. “Your mother complained about cleaning up the tree house for a week. Food poisoning. Honestly.” Mac chuckled again.

“We had to think of something.”

“My point being, what made you who you are today, Christy hasn’t experienced. Or he did, and his beliefs were shattered by his abusive experiences—all through no fault of his own, I might add. Contrary to Christy’s life, you’ve endured circumstances that, while perhaps costly in some ways, were largely of your own making, and we were always there to catch you when you fell. Show him that kindness.”

Michael couldn’t imagine not having his parents, let alone enduring anything even remotely close to what he supposed Christy had endured. “How long will it take him to catch up? I mean, you know, to learn how to live.”

“That varies from person to person and even then, he may not catch up in every aspect. The damage abuse causes can be everlasting. However, as with the broken leg analogy I gave you, it doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy life and come to a place of happiness. He merely has to want it and fight for it a little harder than you do. If I were free, as a physician, to say what I pleased, I would tell every abused person I see that there is an entire world out there that is nothing like the one you’re living. Go discover it.”

“You’re a great man, Dad.”

“Hardly. I’ve merely had half a beer and am full of myself.”

“You’re a serious lightweight.”

“I am, and I don’t mind. Teach Christy how to live, Michael. Share your good fortune with him. You’ll both be better for it.”

Michael looked at his dad and knew he’d never know a kinder man in his lifetime. “Why didn’t you freak when you figured out I was gay?”

“Did you think I should?”

“Back then, yeah. I was scared to death you’d think something was wrong with me.”

Mac humphed. “Good, old-fashioned social conditioning. It’s a hell of a thing.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“There was a time long ago when I thought I was homosexual.”

Michael’s jaw came unhinged.

“Close your mouth.”

Michael slapped it shut.

“More than 75 percent of the male population has some experience with another male before they figure out their sexual identity. It wasn’t until I met your mother that I knew, for certain, that I wasn’t.”

“You’re just chock-full of surprises.”

“During my junior year in high school, I thought I was in love with the most handsome young man in school. Then I met your mother, and everything changed.”

“Why?”

“In spite of my age-old wisdom, I can’t answer that. It simply did. The moral to the story is that I went with my heart and haven’t ever regretted it. The heart has its reasons, which reason does not know. We feel it in a thousand things.”

“Blaise Pascal,
Thoughts on the Means of the Belief
.”

“You’ll make Oxford proud.”

“Did the other guy know you liked him?”

“Did Jake know when you had a crush on him?”

Michael told himself not to let his jaw hit the floor. He’d never told anyone, not even Jake, that he’d once had a crush on him. “Ah, I didn’t say anything but, knowing Jake, he figured it out.”

“There’s your answer.”

“Was the other guy gay?”

“No. He married a lovely woman and had a wonderful son named Jacob.”

Michael’s jaw dropped again. “Jake’s dad?”

“He was a dashing young fellow, and we were no less joined at the hip than you and Jake are.”

“Wow. Can I tell Jake—strike that.”

Mac chuckled. “Fast thinking.”

M
ICHAEL
sent Christy a text message letting him know that his diaphragm was fine and decided to call Jake before doing his homework.

“Hey,” Jake answered, sounding flat.

“Hey, man, what’s wrong?”

Jake sighed long and loud. “Would you think I was a total girl if I told you that I miss Sophia already?”

Michael laughed. “Never. You’re my straight hero.”

“I can’t believe it. In spite of everything that happened over the past couple of days, you and Christy really made my weekend. Thanks, bro.”

“I’m glad everything worked out, and I’m thrilled she likes you.”

“You sure she likes me?”

“You know it. You’d have been proud of me. I researched the facts and collected empirical evidence. Exhibit A, she gave you all her numbers, even the ones in freakin’ Europe. Exhibit B, the deposition wherein she said, and I quote, ‘I like him, Michael, very much.’”

Jake barked a laugh. “Glad to know I trained you right. What’d she say exactly?”

“She said she and her mom are going to stay in New York until Christy leaves and, though she has to travel for work, when she’s here, she’ll come up on the weekends and we’ll have fun.”

“Really? She said that?”

“Not lying, bro.”

“Listen to me. I sound like a girl.”

Michael smiled. “It’s nice to switch places with you every twice in a while.”

“Dream on. How’s the diaphragm?”

“Not perforated, bruised.”

“That’s fantastic, man.”

“Knew you’d like it.”

“Not to put a damper on things, but my dad had the cops check the slaughterhouse. They found evidence of Jason being there, but not him.”

Michael swore.

“My dad wants round-the-clock protection for us ’til they catch him. I think he’s calling your dad now.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, and I’m not sure I disagree. Seeing you in that gun sight scared me friggin’ shitless.”

Though it had only happened last night, it seemed like light-years ago to Michael.
Good
. The more distance he could put between himself and that memory, the better. “Have you heard from any of the other guys?”

“No. Why?”

“I’m curious how it’s going to be tomorrow at school.”

“Because Jason outed you and Christy or because Jason tried to kill you?”

“Both.”

“I’d go to school with a fresh outlook and a good attitude. Jason doesn’t have many friends so my guess is, as to trying to kill you, everyone’s going to be on your side. If Lisa’s history is anything to go by, it could get dicey on the queer thing. Hope that everyone’s empathy overrides their prejudices.”

“Not likely.”

“Not, but we’ll stick together.”

“You’re a great friend, Jake.”

“Don’t go all maudlin on me. You know I hate that.”

Michael laughed. “You do not. Hey, I didn’t know your dad spoke Greek.”

“You just find that out? He has tons of European clients and speaks about five different languages.”

“Can I run something by you?”

“Anything.”

“You think we can teach Christy how to defend himself?”

“Physically?”

“Yeah. I can’t run or work out this week, and I was thinking I could take him out on the mat and teach him some of the moves they teach in self-defense classes.”

“Why don’t you put him in a R.A.D. class? Almost every college campus has one.”

“That would be awkward.”

“You sure about that? He’d be around like-minded people. They also have one for men. Instead of rape aggression defense, I think they call it something like resisting aggression with defense. You can find it on the net. I think the only thing we can teach him is how to deck people, and he’s so small he’d barely make a dent in someone.”

“Okay, I’ll check it out. Next question. Remember how I said I wasn’t curious about his family? That it’d come out in time?”

“Yeah.”

“Sophia said Christy’s parents aren’t there for him, but she said it in a weird way. She said in one way it was good and in another bad but wouldn’t say anything else. Did she say anything to you about Christy’s family?”

“Not a word. I asked how she became a model, and she said her mother was one. When I asked about her dad, she said he was dead. I left it at that.”

“Man, Rob can’t tell me anything, and Sophia says she won’t say anything. I feel totally in the dark, especially with this Sanna psycho in town. I feel like I have the responsibility of protecting Christy without the knowledge or authority to do it. Not to mention, I hate Christy not knowing that I know about Sanna. I hate secrets, and I’m walking on eggshells with Christy. I almost blew it today while we were talking. Another thing bothers me. Sophia said she didn’t want Christy to know that Sanna was here because he’d flee back to Greece and fall into his hands again. Why wouldn’t security protect him there like they do here? I’m sure Greece has places like Wellington.”

“Maybe he needed a change of scenery.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You and your suspicious mind. You still think Humpty Dumpty was pushed, don’t you?”

“The king’s horses did it. They weren’t in the original rhyme in 1797 and all of a sudden they show up, bang, unannounced, no preamble, no nothing, in the 1870 version. That proves my theory.”

“How so?”

“It’s obvious, Jake. Someone witnessed the crime and couldn’t name names until all the horses died off for fear they’d end up sleeping with the fishes.”

Jake cracked up. “Oh my God, bro, there is something so wrong with you. See you tomorrow.”

I
T
WAS
eleven thirty when Michael finished his homework, and he was beat. Memories of his beautiful morning with Christy had flashed through his mind while he worked, only to be plagued by intermittent thoughts of Jason and the police interview. His body was rudely at attention while his mind was part angry, still part in shock, and a lot frightened for himself and Christy. He stacked his books, crammed them into his backpack, and sat and stared at his laptop. Should he or shouldn’t he? Michael mentally scrutinized what he knew about Christy. He knew this Yosef character had held Christy captive and abused him. Had Christy gone with him willingly and then couldn’t get away? Had Christy tried to commit suicide, or did Yosef try to strangle him? What was the deal with Christy’s parents? Where would Jason get the idea that Christy’s neck injury occurred during a sexual act? Michael dismissed the allegation immediately, chalking it up to Jason’s disturbed state of mind. What else did he really need to know about Christy? Other than Christy being afraid of the world, he seemed okay. He was sensitive and a little overreactive, but that stood to reason, didn’t it? Why was he so bothered about not knowing Christy’s history? Because Christy was his boyfriend, and he had a right to know. Or did he?

M
ICHAEL
pulled into the parking lot at Wellington at seven on Monday morning to find Christy waiting on the porch. He bounded to the car, his smile no less radiant than the first time Michael had picked him up. When Christy bounced into his seat and hugged him, Michael was no less happy, felt no less whole, than the first time Christy had hugged him. “Morning, babe.”

Christy held his pad up, and Michael read
Kaliméra, filos
.

“Think you can teach me Greek?”

Christy nodded.

“How’s your throat?”

Christy gave him a thumbs-down, fastened his seatbelt, and waited with anxious enthusiasm. He looked rested, relaxed, and excited all at the same time. Rob was right. Christy was damn resilient.

Michael turned the CD player on, and Godsmack’s “Running Blind” filled the air. He put the car in gear and headed to school. He glanced over when he felt Christy’s hand on his thigh and met Christy’s smile with a wink and a smile of his own.

“Today is going to be weird at school.”

Christy shrugged.

“Let me know if anyone hassles you.”

Christy nodded.

“I was thinking. Since I can’t practice or work out this week, how would you like to attend a self-defense class with me?”

Christy gave him a wary look.

“If I’m there with you, I can keep things from getting out of control if you get upset.”

Christy didn’t relent.

“Think about it. We can run by this afternoon and check it out.”

They pulled into the parking lot at school to find Jake leaning against the back of his SUV, waiting for them. Michael pulled into a space a couple of cars away and climbed out.

“Hey,” Jake said as he fell into step with them.

“Morning, man.” Michael thought it interesting that Jake walked on the other side of Christy rather than at Michael’s side.

“Christy, I gotta tell ya, I really enjoyed meeting Sophia. I like her. A lot.”

Christy smiled up at him before stopping and scrolling through the messages in his phone. He held it up so Jake could read a text message.

Jake threw a fist into the air with a shouted, “Yes!”

Michael read it and laughed. “Just like I said, bro. When are you going to learn to believe me?”

They began walking again. “Christy, thanks!”

Christy gave Jake a thumbs-up before tugging on Michael’s shirt and pointing to the art bungalows.

They stopped walking. “Give me your phone.” Christy handed it to him, and Michael issued instructions as he programmed the phone. “I’m programming an automated text message in your phone. If anyone hassles you, all you have to do is press five and hold it down. It’ll automatically send HELP to our phones.” He handed the phone back to Christy, withdrew three pieces of paper from his backpack, and handed one to Jake and one to Christy. “This is all of our class schedules on the school map. Your schedule is marked in red, mine is in green, and Jake’s is in blue, so you can see at a glance which of us is closest to you at all times. I also put a J here for Jake’s locker and an M here for my locker. Where is your locker?”

Christy shook his head.

“You don’t use a locker?”

Christy suddenly looked very afraid. Michael went to put an arm around him but refrained when two girls walked by. “Be easy, babe. Talk to me.”

Christy swallowed hard. “Can’t read a map.”

Christy’s voice was raspy and raw, and Michael could only imagine the pain from a weekend of trying to talk and a night of vomiting. “You don’t know how to read a map?”