Watching Brad

[dave_63]

Tomorrow is Monday. Can't wait for the next chapter!

 

[botboy03]

Yeah Bring it on Neil. I can't wait.

Zac

 

[gsdx]

WATCHING BRAD
Part 104​

Brad woke me up when he climbed into bed that night. He curled up against me, using my shoulder as his pillow and my chest as his armrest as he had done countless times before. I should have welcomed his contact. Instead, it weighed down upon me and I almost wished he would simply roll over and leave me alone.

He fell asleep quickly, probably exhausted from all the studying he had been doing. I was not so lucky. It was many, many hours before I finally fell asleep again. Many hours of lying there and doing far-too-much thinking for my own good.

Morning came early. Far earlier than I would have wished. I felt as if I hadn't even gone to sleep. I could hear Mom moving about in the kitchen, and I could hear my boys giggling at something on the television. I pulled on my robe and was heading for the bathroom to take a shower when Brad stopped me.

"Hey, Pops," he said. "Forgetting something?"

I turned to face him as he stood there in his own bathrobe, his ‘good morning' smile on his face. "Sorry," I said as I stepped back to him.

He took me into his arms and kissed me, but he could feel that my kiss was nothing more than perfunctory and cut it short, leaning away from me and staring into my eyes. The smile was gone from his face. "Ted? Are you sure you're okay? You're still shaking."

"I'll be fine, Brad," I told him. "I have a lot on my mind. That's all." How could I tell him that I wasn't shaking until he grabbed me in his arms?

"I'm worried about you."

"Don't be. I'll be okay once things settle down again." Brad didn't look convinced, which didn't surprise me. I hadn't even been able to convince myself.

We grabbed a quick shower and got changed, then I went out to help Mom finish preparing breakfast while Brad gathered his books and the things he would need for his exams that day. The twins ran to me and jumped into my arms for their morning hugs and kisses. The events of the night before seemed never to have happened in their minds.

"What kind of cereal would you like for breakfast?"

They told me, and then Justin asked, "Can we watch it in here?"

"No," I said.

"But we want to watch. . ."

"I said ‘no'. Please don't argue with me. Not today. You'll eat breakfast in the kitchen with everyone else."

"Okay, Daddy," Justin relented. He didn't look very happy about it.

I sent them back to watching television while I went to prepare their breakfast. Mom met me in the kitchen with yet another kiss. "Good morning, Dear," she said. "Did you sleep well?"

"No," I muttered.

"Perhaps you should take a few days off. . ."

"I don't need a few days off, Mom," I told her firmly. "I've got everything under control. I wish everyone would stop worrying about me."

Mom began to say something and stopped herself. Instead, she asked, "What would the children like for breakfast?"

"I'll get it for them," I told her and set about doing so.

Lindsay arrived, dressed and ready for school. I picked her up and gave her a huge hug and complimented her on how pretty she looked that morning. She gave me one of the most beautiful smiles a father could receive and it made me smile, yet it made me feel very sad at the same time. I wondered for a moment how many more times I'd be greeted in the morning by that pretty, smiling face.

I gave her one more hug and kiss and set her back onto the floor. She went to the pantry to pick out her cereal and to prepare her own breakfast as I set about making toast for the kids.

We all ate breakfast together that morning - mostly in silence. Except for the twins, of course. They were rarely silent and always seemed to find something to talk about. I decided to walk Lindsay to school myself that morning. We walked hand-in-hand along the street. It was a beautiful Spring day and the flowers were abloom and the trees were a cheerful green once more. The birds were singing and the air smelled clean and fresh. The sky was blue except for one wispy white cloud. I watched it as we walked along and the cloud followed me all the way, hanging over me like some haunting shadow.

I stopped at the park on the way home, sat on my favourite bench near the jungle gym and swings, and pulled out my cell phone. I called Sally at work and told her I would be in later. I sat there all morning, thinking. I cried twice and I didn't know why. All I know is that I had lied to Mom. I had told her that I had everything under control.

I didn't.

And that cloud hung over my head all morning.

* * * * *

Lindsay was surprised to see me at school when I went to pick her up and to walk her home for lunch. She had been walking to school and back home with her friends since the snow melted. She was old enough to do that now and she knew all the rules to keep herself safe. That day, her friends walked on ahead of us.

"What are you doing here, Daddy?" she asked.

"I wanted to spend some time with you, Sweetheart. I want you to know how much I love you."

"Daddy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Sweetheart."

Lindsay stopped walking and gripped my hand tighter, causing me to turn and face her. "You're different, Daddy," she said. "You changed after you talked on the phone yesterday."

I bent down and picked her up. "I have a little problem, that's all," I told her as I gave her the best reassuring smile I could. "Everything is going to be just fine."

"When you used to get mad at Mommy, you were different like this," she said quietly. "Are you mad at Mommy again?"

I grabbed Lindsay in a huge hug and held on for dear life.

"Daddy, you're hurting me," she whimpered.

I released my grip, but I still held on to her. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart."

"I'm a big girl now, Daddy. I'm ten years old. If this is about me, I should know."

I leaned her away from me so I could talk to her. "Yes, you are, Sweetheart. But you're not too big for me to carry for a little while." I started walking home. "And you're old enough to know the truth. That was your mother on the phone yesterday. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to upset you."

"Is she getting out of prison?"

"Maybe," I said. "There's a thing called ‘parole', which means that people in prison can get out early if they have been behaving themselves."

"Has Mommy been behaving herself?"

"I don't know, Sweetheart. We will know in a few weeks."

"If she gets out, will I have to go back to live with her again?"

"Do you want to?"

She shook her head ‘no'. "I want to live with you and Brad and J and J."

"Then I'll do everything I can do to make sure that happens. I promise you my very best promise."

I hugged and kissed Lindsay once more before setting her on the ground again. She took my hand and we continued our walk home. To take her mind (and mine as well) off the future, I asked her about her morning in school and all she had learnt that day so far. She was still telling me when we walked in the door.

"There you are, Son," Dad said. "We wondered where you got yourself to when you did not come back for your car."

"I was sitting in the park near the school, thinking," I replied. "I'm going to work this afternoon after I drop Lindsay off."

"I'll set another place," Mom said.

I felt good about talking to Lindsay about her mother, but, after lunch, when I had gone to work, I sat at my desk and doubts began to flood my mind. Should I have lied to her? Perhaps I shouldn't have told her the truth, or, at the very least, not told her anything at all. Perhaps I should have simply passed the entire thing off as a problem that I must handle alone.

But it wasn't my problem alone. Lindsay was very-much involved. It was her future as much as mine, and now I had involved her more fully. In trying to do the right thing, I may possibly have done the worst thing I could have done.

A sudden chill flew up my spine and I had the horrible, gut-twisting feeling that everything I held dearly to me was slipping slowly away from me, and it was all my fault.

I picked up my half-filled cup of coffee and brought it toward my lips. About halfway, my arm froze in place and my hand began to shake. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug and splashed on my desk. As I sat there, watching it in stunned silence, I could feel my heart begin to pound in my chest and I could feel the perspiration breaking out on my face and under my arms. I tried to set the cup onto the desk and dropped it instead. The mug smashed and coffee splattered everywhere.

I pushed my chair away from my desk, leaning back in it and closing my eyes tightly, breathing hard and fast. My chest grew tight. Breathing became an effort. I could not only feel my heart now. I could hear it as well. Sweat rolled off my forehead in tiny streams, dripping down my cheeks and nose and falling in droplets to my shirt. I had never experienced this before and I had no idea what was happening to me.

For several minutes, I sat there, scared to death to move in case I might be having a heart attack and even more scared that someone might walk into my office and see me like that. And suddenly, everything returned to normal. My heart slowed down and ceased pounding inside me. My breathing calmed and became easier. The perspiration subsided. I opened my eyes and held up my hand, fingers splayed and palm facing down to the floor. My hands were still shaking, but more out of fear of what had just happened than as a result of the incident itself.

I quickly grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on my desk and wiped my face dry and dabbed at the wet spots on my shirt, then set about the task of cleaning up my smashed coffee mug and the mess it had made.

Then I phoned my doctor's office and made an appointment for Thursday morning.

* * * * *

Somehow I made it through the rest of the day and was greatly relieved to be going home. People at work had noticed my stand-offish behaviour and, for the most part, had left me alone in my office.

Brad was already home from his first day of exams and greeted me at the door with and enormous and proud grin on his face. He had, as he put it, ‘aced' his exams that day. I returned his smile, gave him a hug and kiss, then knelt on the floor to greet the twins and my daughter.

Mom sent us all into the livingroom to await dinner. The twins sat Indian style in front of the coffee table, playing, after they showed me their latest watercolour artwork they had done that afternoon. Lindsay sat on one side of me working on her needlework. Brad sat on the other. Dad sat on the settee. I didn't tell anyone about my ‘incident' at work, nor did I tell them of the appointment I had made with my doctor. I decided to keep that to myself.

Brad was telling us about his exams when Mom called us to dinner. As we ate, Mom and Dad told us that the carpeting and floors had been purchased and would be delivered Wednesday morning. Installation would begin in the afternoon and would be completed by Saturday. Thanks to recommendations from John Hayes, Dad had found painters who would begin painting on Monday of the next week. They would be finished by Thursday, June 8 - the day I would be in Toronto whilst my best friend in the world was having heart surgery. Five days after that, I would be in Kitchener, attending a parole hearing.

The impact of the days ahead hit me then and I excused myself from the table.

"Dinner is good, Mom," I assured her. "I'm just not very hungry, that's all."

As I turned to walk into the livingroom, I heard the scraping of a chair on the floor and then I heard Dad's voice saying quietly but firmly, "Bradley, sit. Let him be."

I went into the livingroom, turning on the stereo and sitting on the sofa, propping my feet up on the coffee table and losing myself in Schumann's Konzertstück. For a few minutes at least, the four horns carried me away from my life and I forgot all about Warren and the parole hearing and my parents and my family. For a few minutes at least, my life was not my own. It belonged to Robert Schumann.

All too soon, though, real life came back to me as Justin came into the livingroom carrying a dessert plate with a piece of Mom's home-made coconut cream pie. Jeremy followed him carrying a fork. "Daddy," he said, "Ouma asked us to bring you this. She said it's your fav'rite."

He held out the plate to me and I took it. "Did you have a piece?" The twins both shook their heads ‘yes'. "Did you like it?" Their head-shaking became more vigorous. "Well, then," I said to them both as I took the fork from Jeremy, "climb up here with me and help me eat this."

They did. I really wasn't hungry, but I couldn't resist Mom's coconut cream pie. The boys climbed into my lap and, bite by bite, the three of us finished the pie. It was, indeed, my favourite, and it always made me feel better to eat it.

I felt even better a little later on when I was giving the twins their bath. Dad was with me, washing Jeremy's hair as I washed Justin's. As usual, Dad and I were sitting on towels tossed over the side of the tub. Dad had finished rinsing Jeremy's hair with the hand spray nozzle and I was rinsing Justin's hair. His eyes were closed and, as he reached up to wipe lather from his face, he hit my arm, sending a spray of water over my shirt. As I twisted away from it, the towel began to slide - and so did I. Down I went, right into the tub, my legs dangling over the side. Fortunately, the boys had their legs pulled out of the way and I landed between the two as they faced each other.

Both boys froze, especially Justin, who was terrified that I would blow my top again. Even Dad looked concerned and ready to intervene if necessary. I looked at all three, and then I started to laugh.

Oh, how I laughed. It had been a long, long time since I laughed so hard. I looked at Justin, who was still unsure of what to make of it all. I scooped up a handful of bubbles and smacked them onto his head. Lather sprayed in all directions, and Justin's laughter joined mine. I did the same to Jeremy, who was already giggling away. Dad simply chuckled and stepped out of the way.

I opened my arms to my sons and they rolled onto their knees and came into them. I hugged them to me and we sat there in the tub, getting soaked to the skin and laughing. The twins were scooping up more bubbles and mashing them into my shirt and onto my arms and anywhere else they could reach. I just sat there and hugged them and laughed.

There was a sudden flash of light and I glanced at the doorway to see Brad standing there with the camera, taking pictures. He had, apparently, heard the commotion and had come to investigate, then went running back to the bedroom for the camera.

Eventually, the moment passed and the laughter died down. I released the twins and they went back to their places. I looked down at myself, at all the wetness and lather, and I looked at Dad and smiled. He was still smiling.

"I believe that laugh was very necessary," he said. "I shall bring you some dry clothes." As he left the bathroom with Brad, he pulled the door closed behind him.

I looked at the twins. They, too, were still smiling. "That was fun, Daddy," Justin said to me. "Can we do that again sometimes?"

"Not on purpose," I told him. "But yeah, it was a lot of fun."

I pulled my legs into the tub and stood up and took off my shirt, wringing it out in my fists before dropping it to the tile floor. I pulled off my socks and pants next and wrung them out as well. I was twisting the water out of my underwear when Dad returned with my bathrobe and dry underwear for me. He set them on the sink, grabbed a towel off the shelf and brought it to me before taking the briefs from my hand and gathering up the rest of my wet clothes. He left again without a word.

As I dried myself, the twins went back to playing. Dad was right. I definitely needed that laugh. I felt better than I had in days. I stepped out of the tub, finished drying myself, then got dressed.

"I'll be back in a little while to get you dry and dressed for bed, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," my sons said.

My happy feelings lasted for a short while as I sat in the livingroom and listened to Dad telling Mom all about my impromptu bath. Brad was there, sitting beside me, passing around the photos he'd taken the time to print off. I even enjoyed the hug and kiss he gave me. Just like old times.

All too soon, though, Brad went back to his studying and I went back to the bathroom to get the twins ready for bed. We watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! together, then it was off to bed for them. An hour later, I tucked Lindsay in and kissed her ‘goodnight' and returned to the livingroom to relax on the sofa.

I was so very tired, both physically and mentally. I hadn't had much sleep those past few days and my mind had been working overtime, trying to deal with everything at once, and I still had three more nights to go before I could get in to see my doctor. And still my mind began working once more. I tried to think about the impromptu bath I had taken with my sons, but it seemed so many months ago rather than the few hours it had really been. All the problems came flooding back once more in one fell swoop, my mind insisting upon showing me the very worst possibilities of my future. Unfortunately, given my warped state of mind at that time, I didn't spend one single moment thinking of ways to try to prevent it from happening.

At ten o'clock, I locked up the house, bid goodnight to Mom and Dad, and headed off to bed. Brad was shutting down the computer when I got there.

"Finished studying?" I asked.

"Yup," he replied. "If I don't know it by now, I won't know it by tomorrow morning." He stood up and turned to face me. "You look as tired as I feel."

"I am," I said. "That's why I'm going to bed."

"So am I, as soon as I go take a leak. Is the house locked up?"

I nodded.

"Kids okay?"

I nodded again.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be right back." He began to leave, then stopped suddenly and turned back to me. "Oh, did you take a sleeping pill?"

"No."

"Want me to get you one?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You look like you. . ."

"Bradley, please!" I shouted. I didn't understand why he gave me such a strange, startled look until much later.

By the time he returned from the bathroom, I had taken off my robe, turned out the overhead lights, set the alarm, and climbed into bed. I still wore my underwear. Brad noticed immediately when he undressed and climbed into bed with me, snuggling up against me.

He tried to make light of it. "What's up with the Jockeys?" he asked jokingly. His hand moved down my body to cup my crotch.

"I felt like wearing them, that's all," I said. "Please don't touch me like that."

Brad turned suddenly serious, removing his hand and moving his body away from me. He sat up, twisting himself so he could look at me. "Ted, what in hell is going on here?"

"Nothing's going on, Brad. I just felt like wearing my underwear to bed."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Ted," he said angrily, but quietly. "I'm not stupid! I know you're having problems, but a few minutes ago, we were hugging and kissing and now you don't want me anywhere near you."

"Brad. . ."

"No, Ted, I want you to listen! You don't think I've noticed what's going on? Lately you've been going farther and farther away from me. Now, when I hug you, I might as well be hugging a scarecrow. Let's not even talk about kissing! One minute you're laughing and the next minute you're crying. You haven't told me you love me in two days. You've got big problems, and if us getting married is part of it, then I'll be damned if I'll go through with it."

Brad reached for his ring and began to pull it off his finger. I grabbed his hand in mine to stop him. "Brad, don't do that."

"Then, damn it, Ted! Tell me what you want me to do to help you!"

"You can't do anything to help me except to be here for me when I need you."

He slipped the ring back into place. "You know I want be here, Ted, but not if you keep pushing me away like this. If you don't love me anymore, then tell me, but don't leave me hanging here."

"I do, Brad," I said.

"Do ‘what', Ted?" he said, challenging me. "Tell me what you do!"

I couldn't. Heaven help me, I couldn't say it.

Brad nodded. "You need to know, Ted. I did some research tonight on the internet. I think you're heading for a breakdown."

"That's just stupid!" I protested.

"No, it isn't, Ted. I saved the pages. You have all the symptoms. If you don't do something about it. . ."

"I'm not having a breakdown, Brad," I told him. "I need some time, that's all. A few weeks and it will be over. That's all I ask for. A few weeks."

Brad stared down into my eyes for a long time. I held his gaze as I waited for his response. Finally, he nodded again. "A few weeks," he said softly. "But that's all. If things don't start going back to normal after Warren's surgery and the parole hearing, I'll drag your ass to the hospital myself and sign you in. Until then, you start taking it easy around here. You're not Superman, Ted. You can't do everything."

He waited for my reaction. I didn't give him one.

"Remember," he said after a few moments, "a few weeks. No more than that. But, for God's sake, if you don't want to marry me, please don't wait until after you do to tell me."

"That's never going to happen, Brad," I said. "And I told you before to stop worrying about me."

"I have to, Ted. I can't live without you now. If anything happens to you. . . to us, I might as well be dead." He paused for a short time. "I love you, Ted. Maybe you can't say it, but I can. I love you more than ever."

"I really do, Brad. I don't know why I can't say it, but I do."

"I hope you really mean that, Ted." He leaned down and kissed me, and I let him. Then he turned over to his other side and lay down facing away from me.

I checked the alarm one more time and reached up to turn off the light. Yet again, I lay there awake for a long time except that, this time, I lay there wondering if I was, indeed, heading for a breakdown. I knew something was happening to me. Could that really be it? And could that be the reason I was suddenly so afraid to let Brad get close to me?

I wanted to cry again. Not only had I lost control of my life, there was a good possibility that I was losing control of my mind as well.

* * * * *

I remember very little of the following morning. I don't even remember sleeping, although I must have done because I awoke at the sound of the clock alarm. I don't remember what I ate for breakfast let alone eating it. I don't remember driving to work and I don't remember getting there. I don't remember much of anything until I felt someone shaking my shoulder and calling my name.

"Ted!"

When I opened my eyes, I realized I was at my desk in my office, sitting there with my elbows resting on the desktop and my forehead propped in my hands. I looked up toward the sound of the voice.

"JW," I said. "What are you doing here?"

"Why aren't you answering your phone?" my boss asked.

I looked at the telephone on my desk as if it would tell me why I hadn't heard it ringing. "Sorry," I said as I looked back at him. "I'm tired and I've got a lot on my mind. I haven't been sleeping very well."

"Then go home, get some sleep, and sort it out, Ted. You're not doing us any good sitting around here stewing about it. Take the time you need and sort it out."

I sat there in silence for a long moment, then took a deep breath and let it out again. "Maybe you're right."

JW put is hand back on my shoulder. "Whatever time you need, Ted. We'll manage. I'll work it out with Sally. Now, please. Go home."

I remember JW asking me if I wanted someone to take me home and I remember saying ‘no'. I remember him walking me to the door and I remember him saying ‘good luck' to me. I don't remember anything after that. I don't remember getting into my car in the parking lot and I don't remember starting it. I don't remember driving through the lot toward the street and I certainly don't remember turning right instead of turning left. I don't remember driving and I don't remember parking. I don't even remember ringing the doorbell when I got to where I was going.

I don't remember anything until the door opened and a startled and anxious voice said, "Teddy? What are you doing here?"

"Warren," I pleaded desperately, "help me."

To Be Continued​

 

[GrayFox]

Way too real, Neil!

GrayFox

 

[sheep]

Don't you just hate panic attacks?

 

[gsdx]

Way too real, Neil!

GrayFox

Unfortunately, I didn't have to research this chapter. Most of it came from personal experience.

FYI, this was one thing I had planned for Ted, but it wasn't going to happen until much later. However, when I was inspired to come up with something special for Chapter 100 and I brought Connie back into the story, I thought this could be the proverbial straw which broke the camel's back. When a man is teetering on the edge and he falls over, his descent is usually very swift and, if I might say, a wee bit dramatic.

 

[harry113]

Neil, only one word !!
'Awesome' !!!!
Thank you
Harry

 

[botboy03]

Yeah another well written chapter, but I know it will get better for Ted, so I am not too worried about this.

Zac

 

[dave_63]

Too much stress will get ya everytime. I hope it all works out for Ted.

Another great chapter, Neil Thanks

Dave

 

[upyrkilt469]

What more can be said. Eveyone else has already done so. But anyway, great writing and keep it coming.

 

[kcm17480]

Yea! That was way to real. There are way to many times that you want to say "stop this merry-go-round and let me off". Excellent chapter.

 

[xchadx123]

I have to agree with everyone else, Neil!!!!! Excellent chapter...though I hope Ted wises up soon and turns to his support system that is already in place. I'm talking about Brad, Brad's parents, Ted's parents, their mutual friends Warren and Bill, maybe even the lesbian couple down the street...burdens shared are burdens made lighter!!..Ted has a lot of people in his life who are willing to give him all the love, emotional and moral support and encouragement he needs to face this latest crisis. He probably wouldn't have had an anxiety attack (for that's all it was) if he'd only turn twhat's really bothering him...but apparently his stubborn, masculine pride won't allow him to do so. That's so sad.
Again, keep up the excellent work!!

 

[Kyanimal]

Let me just say this, one more time:

A*W*E*S*O*M*E!, Neil!!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[gsdx]

WATCHING BRAD
Part 105​

When Warren and I were younger, when I first met him, he was a short and chubby kid. Not fat, mind you, but he was chubby enough to be the brunt of all the schoolyard bullies' teasing. He hated sports, and that opened him to more teasing still. Back then, if you didn't like sports, you were a ‘fag'. Warren didn't even know what a ‘fag' was - even though he was one - but that didn't make him any less susceptible to the teasing and joking and bullying.

I was tall for my age, but skinny as a rake. My hair was naturally curly, despite every effort to try to straighten it out, so I took my own share of teasing, but I was big enough that I could stand up to the bullies on Warren's behalf when necessary. From the moment we became friends, Warren always looked to me for protection and help. I was more independent. I took care of myself and handled my own problems.

This was one problem I could not handle on my own, though, and I knew it. I have no idea why I sought out Warren to help me. Somewhere deep in my muddled brain, I had been drawn to Mississauga to seek out my best friend. Something in my mind had taken me there. Something had told me only Warren would be able to help me, and it made certain I got there.

Much of the morning remains a blank in my mind, but, from the moment Warren opened the door to me and I begged for his help, it was like a barrier had been removed from around me. I realize now that I had built that barrier myself to protect everyone around me, but it collapsed when I finally admitted - more to myself than to Warren - that I needed help. The events which followed remain clear in my mind to this day.

"My God, Teddy," Warren said. His voice overwhelmed me with the fear I could hear in it and his face mirrored that fear. He grabbed my by my arm, pulling me inside and pushing the door closed behind us. One arm came around my back and I sagged against him as he led me to the sofa and sat me down. He sat beside me and wrapped his arms around me. I fell against him, wrapping my own arms around him, and I cried.

Warren cradled me against his chest, consoling me like he would a little child, resting his cheek against the top of my head and gently stroking my hair with his fingers. He let me cry until I didn't need to cry anymore.

Gradually the tears stopped and I lay there against Warren's chest listening to the sound of his beating heart. How ironic that this heart was one of the things which worried me so much. In just over a week, Warren would be lying on the operating table and the surgeon would be holding that beating heart in his hands.

As if in fear that I might be hurting him, I pulled myself out of Warren's arms and sat back on the sofa. He grabbed some tissues from the box on the table beside him and wiped the tears from my face and eyes. He set the tissues aside and grabbed a few more in case they were needed.

"Now, Ted," he said quietly, "what in hell is going on here?"

"I've got to piss."

"Come on, Ted. Stop playing your games. What's wrong?"

"I really have to go, Warren." I stood up and made my way to the bathroom. Warren followed me, standing outside the bathroom. I took a long piss, flushed the toilet, then washed my face. I saw myself in the mirror for the first time. My face was frighteningly pale and my eyes were decidedly bloodshot. It shocked me to see myself like that. I no-longer wondered why Warren had looked so frightened when he opened the door to me awhile ago and why he looked so concerned about me.

I leaned my hands against the sink and hung my head as if in shame, sickened to see my reflection in the mirror. How had I come to this? How had I allowed this to happen to me? I was supposed to be in control. I was supposed to be the one to keep my family together and to take care of them. Now, here I was, in a totally different city, looking like hell, and hiding from them. I had abandoned them. I didn't deserve them, and they most certainly didn't deserve me - especially when I had failed them so. I hated myself for that.

A quiet knock came to the bathroom door and Warren's voice came through it. "Teddy? Are you okay?" A moment later, he said, "I'm coming in, okay?"

The next thing I knew, Warren was standing beside me, his arm around my waist.

I found my friend's face in the mirror. His gaze met mine there. "Warren, what's happening to me?"

"That's what we're going to find out, Babe," he said gently as he put his free hand on my arm and pushed me upright. "You finished in here?" I nodded. "Come on then."

He led me back to the livingroom and to the sofa. We sat and he kept his arm around me. The hand on my arm moved downward and slid under the palm of my hand as it rested on my thigh. His fingers linked with mine and I held on tightly.

"Now, talk," he said.

"I don't know what to talk about," I said. "I don't understand what's going on with me."

"Then just talk to me, Teddy," he said encouragingly. "Let me figure it out for you."

I looked down at our hands and squeezed again. "You won't let go of me?" I asked.

"Never."

My gaze moved from our hands to his eyes. "I'm scared, Warren."

"I know."

And then he stopped talking and I started. The words were difficult at first, and then they came much easier. I talked without stopping and Warren listened to every word. As he had promised, he held my hand the entire time and didn't let go of me. He grounded me in reality and, through his touch, encouraged me to open up to him. I told him everything, including my withdrawal from Brad, the ‘incident' in my office with the coffee mug, my fears for him and his surgery, my attack on the twins. . . Everything. Still, Warren said nothing. He listened and let me talk.

By the time I finished, I was using Warren's shoulder as a pillow. "I'm so tired, Warren."

I felt Warren kiss my hair lightly. "Go to sleep, Teddy," Warren whispered softly. "I'll watch over you." And that's the last thing I remember before I fell asleep.

* * * * *

I had pleasant dreams that afternoon, and Warren was in all of them. We were kids again, and we were teenagers, and we were grown-ups. We were all of them at the same time. Yet, in all the dreams, Warren was my protector.

I dreamt of the time when we were in Grade 8, getting ready to graduate into high school. Warren was assured of graduation. I was not. My grades were dismal and there was a good chance that I would not graduate with him if I didn't do something about it. I gave up on myself, but Warren didn't. He refused to leave me behind. He stayed with me and he worked with me day after day, and my grades improved. I graduated with him.

I dreamt of my first wedding, and Warren was standing right there beside me. I dreamt of my impending divorce from Connie, and Warren was there to let me cry on his shoulder and to cheer me up with his antics and eccentricities. He gave me all the best reasons why this divorce was the best thing which could ever happen to me.

I dreamt of the time I was hit by the car whilst riding my bike when I was in grade ten, and I dreamt of all the hours Warren sat with me as I recovered and helped me with my homework so I wouldn't fall behind in my classes.

I dreamt of sitting in the waiting room of the hospital while my wife was giving birth to my daughter, and Warren was there with me, listening patiently as I rambled on about all the plans I had for my child. I dreamt of losing custody of Lindsay and all the hours Warren held me and let me cry on his shoulder to make me feel better.

I dreamt of many, many things, and always Warren was there for me. I realized that I depended on Warren as much as he depended on me. I realized that my life was so much richer because Warren was part of it. I realized as well that I loved Warren more than I could ever possibly have admitted before.

I slept well, reliving our lives together through my dreams. I knew what it was which had brought me to Mississauga and to Warren. When I could no-longer help myself, Warren was the only one who could.

I slept more in those few hours than I had slept in many days. I almost regretted waking up.

"Hun!" Warren's voice called out. "He's awake!"

I slowly became aware of my surroundings, remembering where I was. I was lying on the sofa now in Warren's livingroom. My head rested on a pillow and a sheet was tossed over me. I didn't have my shoes on anymore. Warren had put me to bed on his sofa.

Bill came into the livingroom as I was sitting up, the sheet falling away and gathering in my lap. I glanced at my watch. It was almost six-thirty. Bill took the sheet away and laid it over the back of the sofa before taking my arm in his large hand. "Come on, pal," he said gently, "I've been keeping supper warm for you."

"I'm not hungry," I objected.

"Like hell," Bill said gruffly. "I'm here now and you're going to eat even if I have to spoon-feed you."

I knew better than to argue with Bill. The three of us went into the kitchen and Warren and I sat at the table as Bill served up my meal. He set the plate in front of me. The food smelt heavenly. Potatoes au gratin, glazed carrots, and two pork chops with apple sauce on the side. There were also two dinner rolls, lightly buttered.

"Now, eat," he said.

I really wasn't feeling hungry, but as I began to eat, I didn't stop until I ate everything on the plate. When I finished, Bill served up another small helping of potatoes, carrots, and another pork chop. I didn't stop him. I hadn't eaten much lately and I didn't realize how hungry I really was.

As I was eating my second helping of Bill's delicious meal, Warren said, "I called your home when you were asleep, Teddy. I talked to your mom."

I stopped chewing and stared up at my friend. How could he betray me like this? "Why did you do that, Warren?"

"They were going nutso, Teddy," Warren continued, despite the accusation in my voice. "They didn't know where you were. Your boss phoned them at noon to see if you got home okay and you weren't there. When you didn't show up later, your dad started looking for you and your mom was on the phone calling the police and hospitals."

Fire began to burn inside me once again. I swallowed my half-chewed carrot and slammed the knife and fork to the table with such force that I made the dishes rattle and bounce. "How could you do that to me, Warren!?" I yelled.

Bill grabbed my forearm in his large hand and squeezed hard. I winced at the pain, but it made me forget my sudden anger and brought me out of it just as quickly as it had arrived. It was happening again. I leaned back against the chair and clenched my eyes shut. "What's happening to me?"

"Listen to me, Ted," Bill said. His hand gripped my arm once more, but much more gently this time. It was enough to get me to open my eyes and to turn my attention to him. "Warren told me what you told him. I know what's happening. I talked to my doctor friend. The mood swings. The sudden bursts of anger and hostility. You're exhausted and you're working yourself up to a breakdown."

"I'm not having a nervous breakdown!" I objected loudly, suddenly angry once again. I avoided Bill's gaze by looking down at my plate.

Bill squeezed my arm again and shook it this time. "Ted! Listen to me!"

I shut up again and stared at Bill, but I let him see the fury in my eyes and face.

"You're right," he continued calmly, ignoring my challenge. "You're not having a nervous breakdown. There's no such thing. It's a term people use to describe any number of emotional collapses. But, for the sake of ease and understanding, we'll use it. You're not having nervous breakdown. . . yet. But you're working on it. You were one of the lucky ones, Ted. You knew something was happening to you and you came to us for help. We can do that, but you have to let us, okay?"

As I stared at Bill, the anger faded away once again. He understood. He always did. Perhaps that's why I had subconsciously driven to Mississauga. I knew I could find the answers there.

I nodded.

"Good," Bill said. He left his hand on my arm, keeping me grounded and aware. "It's the stress, Ted. Pure and simple. You're taking responsibility for everything and making it your problem to solve, and you can't. Everything is piling up on you. Warren. The wedding. Your parents. Connie. Even Brad. It's causing a mental overload, Ted, and if you don't stop it, your brain is simply going to close down on you because it can't deal with it anymore. That thing with the coffee mug in your office? That was an anxiety attack. A panic attack if you will. It was a warning, and a big one. Big enough to scare you into doing something about it. And we can."

Bill stroked my arm gently as he went on. "Somewhere in that head of yours, you could tell there was a problem and you couldn't handle it on your own. You denied it was happening, though, until it was almost too late."

I looked down at my plate. "Brad could."

"What?" Warren said.

My eyes rose to meet his. "Brad told me I was having a breakdown. He looked it up on the net. He told me and I more or less told him he was full of shit." I looked down at my plate again and took a very deep breath, holding it a moment before letting it out in ragged, intermittent bursts. "Oh, God. What have I done?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed, Teddy," Warren said softly. "Bradley loves you very much, you know."

I paused in thought for a long moment, digging into the back of my brain for a small memory of something I had said once upon a time. I found it. "Bradley."

"What?"

I looked up at Warren again. "I called him ‘Bradley', Warren. I never call him that unless I'm seriously pissed off at him. No wonder he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, Teddy," Warren assured me. "Why do you think he told you what he did? He loves you and he's worried about you. You told me that you found yourself withdrawing from him. Why? I'll tell you why. You're trying to convince him you don't like him anymore."

"Why would I do that?"

"To protect him, Teddy. You can feel yourself falling apart and you didn't want to drag him down with you. Tell me, Teddy, when was the last time you had a hardon?"

I actually laughed at my best friend. "What in hell kind of question is that?"

"A valid one," Warren replied. "Now, what's the answer?"

"Not that it's any of your bloody business," I said accusingly, "but it was. . ." I stopped. I didn't know the answer. I had to think about it, and when I realized it had been the weekend before last - the last time Brad and I had made love together - I could respond only with, "Oh, shit."

"It happens, Ted," Bill said. "Stress does that to people."

"Do you think Bradley doesn't understand what's going on, Teddy?" Warren asked. "Do you think he's not worried about you and scared to death for you? He's going to marry you in a little over a month. Do you think he can't see his future falling apart right before his eyes? He's scared, Teddy. He's afraid for both you and himself. He knows there is a problem and he knows you need help solving it. What's Bradley going to do now that he knows, hmmm?"

I thought for a moment before answering. "He's going to want to take care of me."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"It's not his job."

"That's where you're wrong, Teddy. You're so wrong about that. People who love each other take care of each other. It's as much his job to take care of you as it is your job to take care of him. Bradley is a very beautiful, caring, generous young man, Teddy, and he loves you more than anyone else has ever loved you. More even than me. He helps you take care of the house and the kids. He goes where you go and he does what you do because he loves you. He shares your bed and he shares his body with you. You've never talked to me about your sex life, and I don't want to pry, but it's my guess that Bradley offers his body to you as often as, or perhaps more often than you offer your body to him. Am I right?"

I couldn't speak. I could only nod.

Warren smiled a tender, knowing smile. "That's real love, Teddy. Your pleasure is as important to him as his own. He's young, Teddy. He could fuck your brains out all night long and still be ready to go again in the morning. You could suck his dick all day long until you think he can't cum anymore then wiggle your ass at him and he'd be ready to go again before you could drop your pants. Am I right?"

Again, I could only nod.

"But he doesn't do that, does he?"

This time I said, "No."

"That's the kind of love you find only once in a lifetime if you're lucky. I found it with Bill and you found it with Bradley. We were the lucky ones, Teddy. You and I. Don't push him away because of your selfish pride. You need help, and you can bet your life savings that Bradley will bust his ass to do everything he can to help you. But you have to let him. You'll never find anyone else more willing to do it."

Warren was right, of course, which is why I had driven all that way to talk to him, even if I hadn't been aware that I was doing it. No-one knew me better than he did, and he knew when he had to be blunt. He knew how to get past my stubbornness. I truly loved Brad. That was never in doubt. But I had been pushing him away from me, and now I knew why. My life was in ruins and I could see it ruining his life as well. I also knew that Brad could help me more than anyone else. He wanted to help me. He had told me that. I wouldn't allow myself to listen to him. Brad had also told me that he couldn't live without me. That was true for me as well. I couldn't live without him, either. What's more, I didn't want to.

"I have to get home," I said as I stood up from the table. I shoved my hand in my pocket. My car keys weren't there. "Where are my keys?" I asked. My hand automatically went to my back pocket. My wallet was missing as well. "And my wallet!?"

"I took them from you when I put you to bed, Teddy," Warren said.

I slammed my hands on the table and leaned toward Warren. He leaned as far away from me as he could as my sudden fury came out yet again. "You fuckin' bastard! What in hell did you do that for!?"

Two enormous and very strong hands grabbed my arms and spun me around. Bill towered over me as he shouted, "Ted! It's happening again!"

I struggled against his grasp, trying to pull myself free, but Bill held firm and refused to let me go. He continued shouting my name until I stopped fighting him. "It's happening again," he repeated, much more softly this time. "If you feel the need to hit someone, Ted, then hit me. But you leave Warren alone. He can't handle this right now."

Bill's words finally worked their way into my brain. "Oh, God," I said. I looked at my best friend in the world. His eyes were full of tears. Mine were, too, but they overflowed and turned into some serious crying once more. "I'm so sorry, Warren. Oh, God, I'm sorry!"

As Bill released my arms, Warren stood up and circled the table. He opened his arms to me and I fell into them. "I'm sorry, Warren," I whispered in his ear. "Please don't hate me."

"I could never hate you, Teddy. Never."

"Please, help me, Warren," I cried. "Tell me what I have to do."

* * * * *

The table was clear now. Bill had removed my plate. My friends sat on either side of me, each holding one of my hands.

"The first thing you need to do," Bill was saying, "is to make an appointment to see your doctor."

"I already did," I told him. "I called right after I had that panic attack and made an appointment."

"When is it?" Warren asked.

"Thursday morning."

"Good. Make sure you go."

I promised that I would.

"The second thing you need to do," Bill continued, "is to forget about going home tonight. Your problems are there and you need to be here. And you can forget about driving home tomorrow. In your state of mind, it's not a good idea. We'll find another way to get you home."

I nodded. "I think you're right."

"Finally, you need to go into the livingroom and call Brad right now."

"You need to ask him for help, Teddy."

It was a few very long moments before I shook my head. As much as I hated the idea, I knew I had to do it. I knew I couldn't do this without Brad. I needed him now.

I nodded my head once more and stood up from the table. Warren and Bill released my hands. I went into the livingroom, sat on the sofa, and picked up the telephone.

To Be Continued​

 

[xchadx123]

See? What'd I tell you guys?...Am i good, or what?...LOL

Another excellent chapter, Neil!!!!!...Way to go, bro'!!!!!!!!!

 

[gsdx]

Hey Neil, I'm a big fan of the story and I wanted to ask your permission to use the whole "2 gay men adopting children" thing to use in my story. I will use completely different story lines but If you don't want me to use an idea thats too similair to yours then thats fine.

I don't believe I created the concept. You don't need my permission to use it in one of your stories. Thanks for asking, though.

 

[kcm17480]

That was really a scary chapter but then again it is happening all around us. There are times that it felt like I've been there. It seems that people are always in a hurry and don't have time to relax and just slow down and smell the roses.
Good chapter and a little close to home.

 

[botboy03]

Another great chapter Neil. I can't wait til Friday now.

Zac

 

[harry113]

Thanks again, Neil,
Scary, but a great chapter. Ted is so very lucky to have friends & family who care so much. Not everyone is so fortunate!
Now he has faced himself I hope he will be able to share all his worries with those who care so much for him, and find comfort in their presence & love for him.
Harry

 

[gmoney]

Wow! Neil, sorry for my absence. I was over 2 weeks behind in your story, what with my new job and all. Your writing is still as brilliant as ever! I too, have personal experience with panic attacks and your descriptions were extremely accurate! Ted did the right thing in going to Warren. Now, hopefully with Brad's help, he will get things sorted out and put priorities in order. Once again, I thank you for your extraordinary talents. This story has definately become part of me!