Watching Brad

[dave_63]

This can go in many different directions....
I can't wait to see how all this plays out.

Another great chapter, Neil!

Dave

 

[Kyanimal]

Yes ... I am still here, and still reading. How could I possibly not??

Neil ... I would like to make you a promise. I shall do my best, to continue reading this story, for as long as You continue to write it!

I'm very much looking forward to all the new chapters!!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[sheep]

I'm curious to see what you're going to do with Connie, but I did go back and re-read chapter 20 which says "Lindsay never saw her Mother again, and her Mother never saw Lindsay again, either." I hope that she's gone for good. Good riddance.
All the best, Neil. Appreciatively,
WinGator

Ok Neil
You put it writing so you CAN'T bring Connie back.

 

[gsdx]

Finally, I would like to commend you on your amazing ability to describe fatherhood. From your inter-chapter posts, I gather that you are not a father, but the way you write Ted's behaviors and reactions seem truly authentic. I hope you consider making Brad an equal co-parent at some point in the future (maybe Chapter 200). Maybe?? Please??

You are among many who has chosen to post for the very first time in this story. I thank you, very much for that.

You are correct. I have never been married, and I have never been a father. However, I have the luxury of having helped raise many, many nieces and nephews.

Ok Neil
You put it writing so you CAN'T bring Connie back.

Perhaps.

And, perhaps, it was a red herring.

Either way, does it lessen Ted's situation?

After all, if Connie does decide to go for custody, as Ted fears, he has just handed over a whole truckload of amunition for her to use in court.

 

[gmoney]

And, perhaps, it was a red herring.

Either way, does it lessen Ted's situation?

After all, if Connie does decide to go for custody, as Ted fears, he has just handed over a whole truckload of amunition for her to use in court.

Neil, I saw this coming a while back. You constantly take us on twists and turns in this story, which just makes it more real. Whatever direction you take us next, I'm sure will be just as captivating as it has been since Ted moved into that house.

 

[upyrkilt469]

Neil, once again a great chapter. I hope I can hold out for the next one. Keep it coming. Vic

 

[Trent0n1]

His happy smile was enough to send warm snuggles deep into my heart.

What a lovely way you have of expressing yourself Neil. I've selected one sentence, but this story of yours has similar beautiful snippits of phrase that just melt my heart! Thank you so much for sharing this with us.

Trent

 

[gsdx]

WATCHING BRAD
Part 110​

Warren looked so beautifully handsome as he lay there in his coffin. His white suit sparkled from the bright light somewhere above him. My fingers dug into the sides of the long, narrow, finely-polished wooden box as I leaned over him, looking down at the cold, dead body of my best friend. A single tear rolled out of my eye and down my cheek, falling from my face to land on Warren's own smooth cheek.

His eyes opened and he looked up at me. "It's not your fault, mon ami," he said in a hush.

"But I made you have the surgery, Warren," I said to him. My voice didn't sound like my own. It sounded very different and very far away. "If I had kept my mouth shut. . ."

"If you had kept your mouth shut," Warren interrupted abruptly, "I would still be alive, yes. But what sort of life would I have? I'd spend the rest of it sitting around and doing nothing except dying for the next few years."

"I'm sorry, Warren," I said, my different, far-away voice crackling with effort and pain. "Please forgive me. Please don't hate me."

"I don't hate you, mon chèr," he said as he smiled up at me. "And there is nothing to forgive. It was my decision in the end. I rolled the dice and they came up snake eyes. That's life, Teddy, and that's death."

I tried to cry, but I couldn't.

"Don't grieve for me, Teddy. I'm dead and I'm happy. I can help you from here now, and I can be with you always, just like I was meant to be with you."

"But you and Bill. . ."

"Bill was nothing to me, Teddy," Warren said firmly. "He was there only because you weren't. It was always you that I loved, Babe. Only you. All my life, I dreamt that it was you who loved me - you who made love to me. And you have, Teddy. So many thousands of times in my mind. I could have been the best thing that every happened to you if you had let me."

"Warren, please."

"It's alright, Teddy. I don't hold you responsible for that, either. It's not your fault. It was my fault for being such a big, fat, ugly little brat who no-one could love. I could never expect you to love someone like me."

"Warren, I. . ."

"Don't grieve for me, Teddy," Warren repeated. His lips curled up at the corners into a tiny smile. "I'm happy for you. You have a beautiful family and you have Bradley. How could I compete with someone like him?"

"I've always loved you, Warren."

"Perhaps, mon petit, but not in the way it should have been. I was made for you, Teddy. We could have been very happy together."

"Don't do this, Warren," I begged. "Please don't torture me like this."

"I'm not trying to torture you, Teddy." His eyes told me nothing. They were blank - void of any expression. They were dead. "Please don't think that I am. I'm trying to tell you that it's alright. I'm happy. I had a good life, and it was better because you were part of it."

My arm separated from my body, reaching out to him and brushing the fingers across his cheek. It moved by itself and I could not control it.

"I'm so sorry, Warren."

"Don't be sorry, Teddy. Don't feel sorry for me. Feel happy. Je t'aime, mon ami. Toujours et toujours."

My arm returned to my body, reattaching itself and becoming part of me once more.

"Would you kiss me ‘goodbye', Teddy?" Warren asked. "I would like that very much."

My lips were suddenly pressed against Warren's lips. They felt cold and lifeless. They did not react. I stood up quickly, looking down at my dead friend once more.

"Thank you, Teddy," Warren said. His voice was as farther away now and I had to strain to hear it. "I have to go now."

His smile disappeared as his eyes closed. I began to cry, my tears falling onto his face and washing away the mask. Slowly, the features of Warren's face changed, melting away before my eyes. Another face revealed itself. It was that of my grown-up son. Justin.

"It's not your fault, Dad," a sad voice said beside me.

I could feel a hand holding mine. I turned my head to see my other son standing beside me. His head leaned against my shoulder. "Jere?" I said. "What happened? What are we doing here?"

"Justin loved you very much, Dad," Jere said. "Don't hate him. It wasn't your fault."

"Jere, please! Tell me what happened!"

My Jeremy looked up into my face, his saddened gaze holding mine with a strength I could not avoid. "He couldn't live without Derrick, Dad."

"Derrick?" I asked with astonishment. "What about Derrick? Where is he?"

"You sent him away, Dad," Justin said.

My head spun around to look at the body of my dead son, lying there in the coffin.

"You couldn't deal with me being with him," Justin continued, "and you sent him away from me. You said he was too old to love me. I couldn't deal with being away from him."

"Sleeping pills, Dad," Jere added. "Your sleeping pills. He'd rather be dead than have to live without Derrick."

"Justin?"

"He loved me, Dad," my son said sadly. "And I loved him. I wanted to marry him and he wanted to marry me, but you sent him away."

"Oh, God!" I screamed.

"It's alright, Dad," Justin said soothingly. "It's not your fault. I understand why you did it."

"Oh, God, Justin! I'm sorry!"

"I'm happy, Dad," Justin continued speaking to me from his coffin. "I couldn't be happy without Derrick, but I'm happy now. I'll wait here for him to come to me."

"It's your fault, Pops," Brad said. "You killed your best friend, and now you've killed your own son."

"No!"

"Why, Daddy?" Lindsay said. "Why did you do it?"

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," I cried, "but I don't know what I did."

"You killed them, Daddy," she said. "You killed them both."

"You killed them, Ted," Brad said. "They're dead and it's all your fault."

"No-o-o-o-o-o-o!!" I screamed, and my arms flayed about, clawing at bodies that weren't there.

"Ted!!" I heard Brad's voice fighting its way into my brain. "Ted! Wake up! For God's sake, wake up!"

I thrashed about, trying desperately to fight off the hands which were trying to hold me still.

"No-o-o-o-o-o-o!" I screamed again. I felt powerful hands grab my wrists and then I felt myself being pressed down onto my back. A leg straddled my waist and a heavy body settled itself on me, holding me down.

"Damn it, Ted! Wake up!"

I fought against the voice and I fought against Brad, refusing to give in to either of them. Light suddenly shone into my clenched eyes and I opened them. Brad loomed over me, his beautiful face hard and distorted from the effort of holding me down in the bed. Four long scratches were dug into his cheek, the blood dripping along the skin and blending with the sweat. Made by my fingernails! More scratches marred his powerful chest.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Lindsay said quietly. I looked at the doorway of my bedroom. Lindsay was standing there, looking at us. "Why are you so upset when it's all your fault?"

Jeremy was standing there as well, stepping out from behind Lindsay. "Why did you hurt Justin, Daddy?" he asked sadly. "I thought you loved him."

Mom entered the room, followed by Dad, who held the limp, lifeless body of my little boy in his arms. "Why, my Sonskyn?" Dad asked. "Why did you do this?"

A surge of power swept through me and I sat up in bed, pushing Brad aside as if he were a feather. I felt arms come around my body, hugging me gently.

"Ted?" It was Brad's voice, soft, yet urgent. "Oh, God, Ted. Are you okay?"

It was dark in the room, but there was enough light from the nightlights in the hallway to allow me to see Brad at my side, holding me. His arms felt slick and slippery against my damp, clammy skin. I could feel perspiration dripping down my face.

We were alone in our bedroom, sitting up in bed. No-one was standing at the doorway. No-one was accusing me of anything. There were no coffins. There were no dead friends or sons. My heart was pounding in my chest and my breathing was laboured and difficult. My stomach churned and I could feel the contents beginning to rise.

"Brad," I said urgently, "I'm gonna puke!"

Brad was out of the bed in a flash, pulling me to my feet and dragging me to the bathroom down the hall. He bent me over the toilet just in time as my stomach began to empty itself into the bowl. I retched and I heaved and I vomited until it felt as if there was nothing left inside me. Brad's strong, young arms held me in place, keeping me on my feet.

When I finished vomiting, Brad flushed the toilet, lowered the lid of the toilet, and turned me around and sat me down upon it. He left me there as he grabbed a washcloth and soaked it under the running faucet. The sound of the splashing water stopped and I felt the cool, wet cloth gently washing my face.

I knew I was really awake this time. I didn't have to ask Brad if I was dreaming. I couldn't possibly dream the feelings I was feeling, nor could I dream the foul taste in my mouth or the pounding pain in my head. My breathing had calmed, but my heart still thumped inside my chest. It felt like a beast inside me, trying desperately to burst free from me. I felt very much like John Hurt, sitting at the dining table aboard the Nostromo moments before the Alien exploded from his chest.

My eyes opened slowly and I looked up at Brad. His face was full of concern and tender caring - and it was scratched.

"Oh, God, Brad," I said as my fingers moved to his cheek and gently caressed seeping wounds. His blood was warm and moist against my fingertips. "I'm sorry."

Brad's hand moved briefly to his cheek as he glanced at his face in the mirror over the vanity. He turned back to me, wiping his fingers on his chest and leaving red smears there. "Forget it," he said as he turned his attention back to my welfare.

He soaked the washcloth several more times and washed away the sweat from my chest and thighs and arms. When he was finished, he tossed the cloth into the sink, grabbed a towel, and wiped me dry.

"Can you stand?" he asked quietly.

I nodded. Brad dropped the towel and put his arm around my back, guiding me to my feet. He moved me to stand in front of the sink. I leaned my hands against the vanity top as I hung my head and fought back the feelings of nausea which swept through me again.

Brad held me close to him, using one arm to hold me up and the other to gather my toothbrush and toothpaste from the cabinet. I fought the nausea, but I was losing the battle, and I knew it.

"Puke!" I said as I started to turn.

I was too slow. Just as I turned away from the sink, I vomited all over the floor and all over myself. My legs turned to jelly, but Brad held me upright. He didn't try to move me. He simply held me there and let me do what my body had to do. I closed my eyes, avoiding the mess I was making. It was over soon enough although the dry heaves and retches continued for some time.

My legs slowly regained their strength as the nausea left me and I was able to stand with Brad's support. Another arm came around me from the other side and I opened my eyes to see my father standing to my left, holding me as well.

"Are you going to be ill again, Son?"

I shook my head ‘no'. "I don't think so, Dad," I told him. "I'm pretty empty now."

Mom's voice came from the bathroom doorway. "I shall clean this up."

I glanced up in time to see her disappear out of the doorway and down the hall toward the utility closet in the entryway.

"Come, Bradley," Dad said. They guided me backwards a step and I leaned my butt against the vanity, concentrating on my breathing. "Start the shower," Dad told Brad.

"Sorry I woke you up, Dad," I mumbled.

"You did not. Your mother awakened me."

"Huh," I grunted. "Mom always knew when I was sick."

"Always." Dad's hand was rubbing my back in small, slow circles. "Are you feeling better now?"

I nodded.

Brad returned. The shower was running and the temperature had been properly set.

"Come, Son." Dad lifted me to my feet. "Undress him, Bradley. I shall hold him aright."

Brad stripped me of my underwear, lifting my feet one at a time to pull them away.

"You get in with him," Dad continued. "I do not wish him to be in the shower alone." Brad nodded. "I shall retrieve your robes and clean briefs."

"The robes are in our closet," Brad explained. "The underwear is in the top drawers of our dressers. Mine is near the computer desk." Without another word, he stripped off his own underwear. Dad looked politely at the wall. With his arm supporting me, Brad led me to the shower and we stepped inside as Dad sidestepped the vomit on the floor and left the bathroom.

The water felt wonderful, and Brad let me stand under the spray for a few minutes. I wasn't aware that Mom had reentered the bathroom and was cleaning the floor as I stood there. Brad stood beside me, one arm still wrapped around my waist and supporting me. Slowly, I was able to stand on my own and Brad was able to wash me properly. I would have preferred to do it myself, but Brad insisted that I concentrate on keeping myself propped up against the tiled shower wall.

A knock came to the frosted shower door, then Mom's voice. "Teddy," she said over the splashing water, "come out to the kitchen when you're finished, Dear. I'll make tea."

Typical British mother. Tea fixes everything. I watched her shadow pass by and then I heard the door clicking closed behind her.

Brad finished washing and rinsing me, and I let him do it. I leaned against the shower wall with my eyes closed, enjoying the rainy-day feeling of the water cascading over me.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

I shook my head slightly. I was trying very hard not to think of the dream. "Not right now. It was just a dream, Brad."

"It was serious enough to make you puke all over the floor."

"Brad, please."

There was a pause while Brad stopped rinsing me off and said nothing. I kept my eyes closed, afraid to meet his gaze. "Okay," he said finally and finished his task.

Our robes and underwear were lying on the vanity. We dried, dressed, and spent the next ten minutes brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth with mouthwash to get rid of the foul taste. I was feeling almost human again and Brad's scratches were barely noticeable anymore when we walked to the kitchen.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost five-thirty. "Why don't you go back to bed, Brad," I suggested. "You can get a few more hours of sleep at least."

"Not without you, Ted," he said stoically. "Where you are, that's where I am, too."

"But your exam. . ."

"My exam will be written this afternoon, whether or not I get a few extra hours sleep. I'm not leaving you alone."

Mom interrupted our little stalemate. "Sit and have some tea, Dear," she said quietly. "It will make you feel better."

We sat down at the table as Mom poured tea for us. Dad was already sipping at his. "Was it your dinner which upset you?" he asked.

"He had a dream," Brad offered.

"Ah," Dad said as he picked up his tea cup and took another long sip. "I understand." He looked at me then and I could see in his eyes that he did.

"You know, don't you?" I told him.

Dad nodded and set his cup back onto its saucer. "Yes, I do." And then he added as he stared into my eyes, "Well, most of it. There are still things that I am not to know yet."

"What are you talking about?" Brad asked, more out of concern than of curiosity.

"Theodore will tell us when it is time to be told," Dad said calmly. "For the moment, it is a nightmare which he alone must face."

"I don't understand," Brad said.

"Nor does my son," Dad concluded.

We sat quietly after that. Dad did his best to keep the conversation going and managed to keep it away from my problems. Right on cue, the twins were awake at six-thirty. Mom refused to allow me to help making their breakfast and set about doing so with Brad's help instead. Dad went to Lindsay's room to wake her.

It was a quiet morning. The children knew that something ‘was up' and they offered no resistance when Mom suggested they eat their breakfast in the livingroom. The sounds of cartoons reached us in the kitchen and the sounds of the children laughing lifted my mood slightly. Still, I was deeply concerned with my appointment and what might follow. I thought of my house and my family and everything I had given them, and I had the sudden fear that all of it might suddenly disappear - that it might all be taken away from me.

I sat at the table, staring at my cup and swirling my finger around the rim. The emotions bubbled up inside me and I wasn't even aware that they were doing so. Dad was aware, though. "Bradley," he said in hushed urgency. "Quickly!"

The next moment, I was being dragged out of my chair and to my feet, and then Brad was marching me swiftly down the hall to our room. With the door securely closed behind us, he took me in his arms and the tears came forth once more. They were plentiful this time, and I cried for almost twenty minutes, during which time Brad led me to the bed so we could sit.

He soothed and calmed me as best he could, but, for the most part, the only thing he could do was to let me cry against his chest. When I was finished and had regained myself, Brad dressed to help Mom with the kids until Terry arrived, leaving me alone in the bedroom. He came back later to help me get ready for my appointment. Dad had already left for Maple Grove and Lindsay had gone to school with her friends.

Shortly after nine, we left for the doctor's office. Brad drove, of course. Since mine was the first appointment of the day, I was sent to the examination room immediately. Dr. Blair had been our family physician since Lindsay was only two years old. He was only twelve years older than myself, but he was good and he knew us. I quickly explained my situation to him, including all my problems and concerns, my moodiness and the anxiety attack, and even the nightmares I'd been experiencing. I didn't go into specifics, though. Only that I had been having those dreams.

"Well," he said when I was finished, "let's see what it's doing to your body."

I stripped to my briefs and he examined me thoroughly as his nurse measured my blood pressure, recorded my heart rate, and took a sample of my blood for testing. They weighed me and measured me and tapped here and poked there. I stepped into the bathroom to pee in the bottle. Apparently that needed to be tested as well.

He left me alone then, taking his notes and ECG readings, and went to his office to study them and to sort them out and put them together to come up with the entire picture - his diagnosis and my prognosis.

Brad came into the room as I was dressing. He told me that Dr. Blair had told him and Mom that they could be with me if I wished.

I wished.

Brad waited for me to get my pants on and done up before he went to the door and motioned Mom inside. There were only two extra chairs in the room, so I sat on the examination table after I'd finished dressing.

We didn't talk. We waited.

It seemed like forever, but, after only ten minutes or so, Dr. Blair returned. Brad stood beside me, holding my hand, as Dr. Blair took his seat. He opened the folder he carried and set it on his lap.

"Well, Ted," he said, "I hate to sound cliché, but I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?"

Brad squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.

I took a deep breath, dreading the next few minutes which could resign me to my fate, but I had to know. "Bad news first, I suppose."

"Very well," Dr. Blair said.

I prepared myself for what he would say to me. At least I thought I did.

To Be Continued​

 

[chris0626]

Even though I knew it was a dream, I know those utter-panic feelings all too well... excellent excellent job! Thank you!

 

[sheep]

Here we go with those famous Neil cliffhangers. Ugh!

 

[Kyanimal]

Neil!

I do believe this may well be your most POWERFUL chapter so far!!

AWESOME!!

Is it Wednesday yet????

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[botboy03]

Thanks for that chapter Neil. I agree that this as one of your most powerful chapters.

Zac

 

[justdoitinnj]

If Neil dictates, I'll take shorthand and we'll get these chapters up here for all to read alot faster....Wednesday is SO far away....I won't have any fingernails at all by then....GEEZ !!!

 

[GrayFox]

Even though I felt dream all along, I was horrified. Way too real, Neil.

GrayFox

 

[dave_63]

Neil,

I'm left speachless.....Powerful!

Dave

 

[caddymac]

Okay, I have only read the first line of Chapter 110 and I am scared to read on, but I must. I hope it turns out better than it sounds. My heart is already on the edge.

 

[Fiorino]

Those nightmares were too realistic. Can't wait to hear the doctors report, thanks for the great story.
Fiorino

 

[sshaffer15]

Neil, I'm sorry I have not commented lately, but I am still following the story. I almost forgot today was Monday and when I started reading my first thought was... "Holy, s**t!" As the previous people have stated it is a very powerful chapter. Now I only hope the "bad news" isn't as bad as our imaginations can make it. Thank you again for a wonderful story.

Steve

 

[dlf0001]

Brain tumor?

 

[botboy03]

Brain tumor?

God, I hope not.

Zac