WATCHING BRAD
Part 114
It felt strange waking up alone. I automatically looked to my left, hoping to see Brad lying there, but he wasn't. He was gone, and I had sent him away. I could still smell him there, though, and that made it even more strange. I didn't like waking up alone. Sure, I'd spent those two weeks waking up alone when Brad was in Thunder Bay, but that was different. I could count the days until he returned. There were no days for me to count now.
I wanted to cry, but somehow I managed not to do it.
A sealed envelope was sitting on the bedside table when I awoke that Saturday morning. On it, in Dad's handwriting, was the single word, ‘Ring'. I smiled inside myself, knowing that Dad was putting his trust in me that I would make another correct decision. I picked up the envelope, squeezing the ring between my thumb and finger more to assure myself that it was there than to feel it. Still, I squeezed it and traced its outline for awhile before I opened the little drawer in the table and dropped the envelope inside.
Mom was preparing my breakfast when I came out of the bathroom. The kids were watching cartoons as they usually did on Saturday morning and Dad had already left for the new house. I'm sure Mom was wishing she was there. The painters were working now and I'm sure Mom would rather be there to make certain they were painting the proper colours in their proper places. The floor and carpet guys were there as well, I was told, finishing up the carpeting in the downstairs rooms whilst the painters worked upstairs.
Terry was here as well, helping Mom with the kids as she'd promised. I loved that girl dearly and didn't know what I would ever do without her if she found employment somewhere else. She had been a life-saver on more than one occasion.
As Mom prepared breakfast for me, the twins helped me to gather all their skates and pads and helmets. Of course, they wanted to put them on, but I insisted that they leave them off until they were ready to go skating. Brad would help them get dressed over at Grandma's place.
Mark arrived as we were sorting out the pads and went immediately to my room to change the sheets on the bed before I returned there for the day. Mom liked Mark. Heck, everyone liked Mark. He truly was a sweet kid and worked so hard to please people. Mom had objected to me paying someone to do the housework when she was there, but she had never really experienced a houseful of kids before and had no idea how much laundry could pile up in only a few days. In the week she had been in my home, her attitude had changed significantly. She no-longer felt guilty sitting back and enjoying a cup of tea to the sounds of a vacuum cleaner working away in some other room.
At Mom's insistence, the twins left me to eat breakfast by myself. My bedding had been changed and the room tidied and cleaned before I returned there to eat. Mark was a whirlwind of energy when it came to doing his job. As I ate, I thought about all the support I had around me. There was so much of it available and I had tried to keep them away so I could do it all myself. So many people were willing to help me. I just had to let them.
More support came my way a I was eating. The doorbell rang and I could hear voices, and then I could hear footsteps in the hallway. A moment later, the twins appeared, each holding one hand of their Uncle Nathan.
"Nathan," I said as they approached. The twins were grinning enormously, but Barry had a reserved smile on his face. "What are you doing here?"
"Don't be angry," he said carefully. "Brad called me and told me what's going on. He asked me to come over."
I set my knife and fork down on the bed tray and told the boys to go back to the livingroom. They objected, of course, but I was insistent. "Please don't argue. Go back to watch television. When Brad comes to get you, you can come back here to kiss me goodbye, okay?"
They didn't like it, but they did as I had told them. Nathan pulled the computer chair close to the bed and sat down.
"He shouldn't have called you," I told my friend sternly.
Nathan sat back in the chair, drawing away from me slightly. "You're not going to flip out on me or anything, are you? I mean, I know all about your moods."
"No, I'm not going to flip out on you. Brad shouldn't have called you in, that's all. We're managing."
"Then I'll stay here as a friend and keep you company."
"Suit yourself," I said as I picked up my fork and knife and began eating again. I was angry at Brad and I should have sent Nathan away, but I didn't. To be honest. I didn't want to be alone more than I was angry. His company would be welcome. "Where's Barry?"
"He's on a weekend shift," Nathan explained. "He's working from Saturday until Wednesday this week so he can be off next weekend to help your parents move. He swapped shifts with a friend of his."
"Mom and Dad might be staying here longer than that anyway," I told him. "I doubt if Mom will leave if I'm not back to being myself by then."
"It's her job," Nathan said.
That made me smile. "Yeah, it is. No matter how old you get, you're still Mama's little boy."
We chatted then. Nathan let me pick the topics. That way, he could avoid the topics I shouldn't be talking about. I finished eating and Nathan took the tray away to the kitchen. When he returned, he told me that Mom had changed her plans now that he was here and she had asked him if we would take her to Maple Grove before my appointment with Dr. Davis.
I had no problem with that.
Brad arrived precisely at ten to pick up the kids. If the doorbell ringing wasn't enough to tell me he'd arrived, the screams of excitement from the twins certainly did. The voices soon quieted down and tiny footsteps came thumping down the hall. Justin arrived, squealed to a stop at my bed, and plopped his arms down on the mattress.
"Daddy," he said, "Brad needs something on the pooter. Can he come in?"
I smiled at him. "Sure," I said. "You can tell him it's okay."
Justin turned his head toward the door. "Brad! It's okay!" he shouted at the top of his itty-bitty lungs.
I started to laugh. "Well,
I could have done
that."
Justin looked at me with a surprised look on his face. "But you told
me to do it, Daddy."
"Yes, I did, didn't I?" I held out my hands to him. "C'mere," I said. "I need some hugs." I picked him up and hugged him to me. He hugged me back and gave me not one, not two, but three kisses - and they were loud and wet, and I enjoyed them enormously.
I looked up to the doorway when Brad appeared there. He was holding Jeremy in his arm and Jeremy had his own arm securely around Brad's neck. "Can I come in?" he asked.
"You don't have to ask, Brad. Come on in."
He entered saying, "I want to burn the garden plans and a few other things onto CD if that's okay. I have the program on my laptop and I forgot to take the plans."
"Whatever you need." I hated the look on his face. There was such a pleading there, such despair. He looked as if his entire life had ended and he was simply moving through time with no goal, no hope, no future. All I could see were the dreams I had dashed.
"I'll. . . um. . . wait in the kitchen," Nathan said, and he stood up to leave. He pushed the computer chair back to the desk for Brad. He left without saying another word.
Brad sat at the computer and booted it up as Jeremy sat in his lap and watching intently.
"Daddy," Justin said, "are you going skating, too?"
"No, Justin," I said to him. "I have to go talk to the doctor soon, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. I forgot." His finger flew to his mouth, hooking over his teeth the way it always does when he's thinking. He looked back up to me. "Is the doctor going to make you better?"
"I certainly hope so," I told him as I hugged him again.
"I do, too, Daddy," he said almost sadly. "We miss you."
"I miss you, too." This time, I gave him both a hug and a kiss.
We sat there in silence after that, watching Brad working at the desk. As he finished burning his CD and began the shutdown, I made a decision. I said to Justin, "Will you take your brother and go out with Ouma and Terry, please? I want to talk to Brad."
"Okay, Daddy." He gave me one final hug, then climbed out of my lap and off the bed as Jeremy climbed down from Brad's lap. Together, they headed for the door.
When Brad was finished, I asked him to close the door and to come sit down on the side of the bed.
"I'm not even supposed to be here, Ted," he said. "I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be talking to you, either."
"Please," I said.
He closed the door, then sat on the side of the bed, looking at me and waiting patiently. His impatience got the best of him, though, and he spoke before I could.
"I hate not being here, Ted."
"I hate not having you here," I replied, "but we don't have a choice, do we?"
He hung his head and shook it slowly. "No, I guess not." Brad looked back up at me. "It's hard trying to think of you as just a friend, though. I haven't been able to do that yet. I don't know if I can."
I swallowed the lump growing in my throat. I was breaking all the rules talking to him like this, but I felt I had to.
Brad glanced at the bed beside me, the spot where he used to sleep, and his gaze caught mine once more. "How did you sleep last night?"
"Good," I told him. "Those sleeping pills knock me right out."
"Any nightmares?"
"None. They were all good dreams." I paused to take a deep, calming breath. "Look, Brad, this isn't easy for me, either. I hate not having you here, but I think Dr. Davis was right. I'd rather lose you for a little while than to lose you for the rest of my life. Until we figure out what my problem is, I really think we have to do this."
"Do you still love me?"
"Gee-sus, Murphy, Brad, do you even have to ask? That's why it's so difficult for me."
"Then why can't I be here so I can help you?"
"You have to trust me, Brad," I told him firmly. "Until Dr. Davis can figure out why I've been pushing you away lately, why I can't respond to you the way I used to, we can't have any attachments. It has to be like we're just friends. That's why I had to give you back your ring. The problem isn't with you. It's with me, and I'm the one who has to find a way to fix it."
"The sex isn't that important, Ted," he said. "I can deal with it."
"You shouldn't have to deal with it, Brad, and that's the point. We didn't fall in love because of the sex, but it's still important. Heck, even watching you jerking off through the window last year was having sex of sorts, but right now I wouldn't even do that."
He looked skeptical. I forged ahead. "Brad, look. I still get erections. That's not the problem. I don't get them because of you anymore and I have to know why. Something's blocking them."
Brad took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He turned his gaze to the floor as if in search of answers which might be there.
"Face it, Brad," I forged ahead. "If we hadn't done this and kept on going the way we were going, one of two things would have happened. Either you would have walked out on me or I would have kicked you out. This way, we can fix it before it comes down to that."
His gaze turned to me, his lovely green eyes glinting dimly in the morning sunlight. "Was it really that bad for you? I mean, did I turn you off that much?"
"As bad as you think it was, it's a lot worse."
He stared deeply into my eyes, looking for the truth in my words. He found it. Then he nodded. "Okay."
He took another deep breath, then stood up, getting ready to leave. I stood up as well. "I can't wait until I can come back home again," he said, his voice a sad, forlorn whisper.
"Neither can I, Brad," I told him. I held out my arms to him. "Come here."
He came easily into my arms as if he belonged there. He did belong there, and I wanted him there, but that simply was not possible at that time. Brad lay his cheek against the top of my left shoulder and held onto me, desperate not to let me go. I held onto him as long as I could, hiding my face in his hair and searching for all those things which used to excite me so much, but finding none of them.
Brad sensed this and, despite his desire to hold on, let me go instead. He leaned away from me so he could look into my eyes. "There's nothing there, is there?" he asked quietly.
"No," I said, my voice quivering in pain and disappointment. I swallowed hard and blinked the moistness from my eyes. "I have to trust Dr. Davis. I've built a wall around myself and when you're around me, I keep adding more bricks. No-one can tear down that wall except me, but I have to find out why I'm building it in the first place. I can't do that with you here."
"I know," Brad said.
"I
do love you, Brad. Don't ever forget that. And I'll do everything I can to get you back. But you must do everything
you need to do. That's the only way we can fix this."
"I know that, too. Whatever it takes, Ted. However long it takes. I'll be waiting."
I smiled comfortingly, reassuringly as it were. I don't think it helped much, though. "Now, I need you to leave, Brad." I released him and he stepped back.
"Okay. If you need anything, Ted. If there's anything you need me to do. . ."
He didn't have to finish the sentence.
"Right now, I need you to take care of my kids for me."
Brad smiled then, and his chipped tooth peeked through his lips. "I will," he replied. "Take care of yourself, eh?"
"You bet."
Brad turned and walked toward the door. "Hey, Tiger," I called after him. He turned and I nodded toward the desk.
"Oh, yeah," he said as he retrieved his CDs. "Thanks, Pops."
He left the bedroom without looking back.
* * * * *
Nathan drove Mom into Maple Grove, came back, and drove me to Dr. Davis' office. "I'm cooking supper tonight," he said. "I've got some shopping to do, but I'll be back by two. Would it be okay to invite Barry? His shift finishes at five and he needs something more to eat than Kraft Dinner. That's the only thing he can cook besides hotdogs."
"Sure," I told him. "I'd like to see him again anyway. It's been awhile."
"I'll go home and get some clothes for him, then. He can shower and change at your place."
"Sounds good," I said. "I'll see you in awhile."
Nathan waited until Dr. Davis let me into the building before he drove away. Dr. Davis greeted me with a smile and a handshake, glanced at my left hand, nodded, then locked the front door before leading me to his office.
"I've made coffee," he said. "Would you like one?"
"I'd love one," I said. "Thanks. Black with one sugar."
"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."
I sat down and waited. He returned a few minutes later, carrying two mugs of coffee which he set onto the table where the tape recorder rested. He sat in his chair across from me, leaned forward for a moment to punch the ‘Record' key, then settled back, crossing his right ankle over his left knee and entwining his fingers over his stomach, his thumbs pressed together.
"Tell me about Warren?" he said.
I took a deep breath. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything," he replied. "Everything. Start with how you met."
I started talking then, and the words came easily. Dr. Davis sat quietly, listening intently. His eyes never left mine. He moved only to take a sip from his coffee mug. I talked, telling him as much as I could about us, from our childhoods together, to our sexual explorations, to his meeting Bill. I was telling Dr. Davis about my wedding to Connie where Warren had been my Best Man when the recorder suddenly clicked off.
I glanced at my watch. It was two o'clock already. "Gee-sus, Murphy," I said. "That was fast."
Dr. Davis leaned forward again, opened the recorder and turned the tape over and reinserting it before closing the cover. "Would you like another coffee before we continue?" he asked.
"No, thank you," I answered. "I'm allowed only one. It's two o'clock though. Aren't we finished for the day?"
"No, we're not," he said. "I haven't heard what you need to tell me yet." He punched the ‘Record' button again and sat back. "You really love him, don't you?"
"Yes," I admitted. "He's the best friend I could ever hope to have. If anything happens to him next week. . ."
"Let's talk about that. You mentioned earlier that he had surgery last year. Tell me about that."
I related the story, remembering it as if it had happened yesterday. I told him about the day I discovered that Warren needed the surgery - the same day I had driven Brad to Toronto so long ago. I told him about the hours sitting beside the phone, waiting for it to ring, and I told him of the joy I felt when I finally heard that he had survived. I told him everything I could think of.
"And now he needs more surgery." Dr. Blair said it as a statement rather than a question.
"Yes," I responded. "If he survives it, he'll be able to live a normal life. If he doesn't have the surgery, he might live for ten more years or so, but it won't be much of a life for him."
"He didn't want to have the surgery."
"No, he didn't. He's scared to death to have it. He's afraid he'd going to die. But I talked him into it."
"And now you hold yourself responsible for what happens to him."
"Of
course I do. If I'd kept my big mouth shut, I wouldn't be sitting here now talking to you about it."
"You're not responsible, Ted."
"Like hell I'm not," I told him almost angrily. "Warren didn't want to have the surgery and I talked him into it. If he dies, it's all my fault!"
"Why did you tell him to have the surgery?"
"Because I don't want him to die, damn it!" I was surprised at how angry I was getting over this. "Because of me, Warren's is going under the knife next Thursday and he might not come out of it alive and it will all be my fault if he doesn't! I'm responsible and there's not a damned thing you can say that will make me feel otherwise!"
Dr. Davis simply smiled and said softly, "Perhaps there is." He uncrossed his legs, stood up, and went over to his desk. He opened one of the drawers, retrieved a small bottle of mouthwash, and returned to his chair, setting the mouthwash on the table.
"Let's play a little game," he said calmly as he settled back and crossed his ankle over his knee once more. "Pretend I'm Warren. You're here talking to me because Dr. Blair diagnosed you as having ingested a very rare poison and I'm the only person who can help you. Now, this poison is virtually unknown and it doesn't work like other poisons. It will kill you, but it works over a long period of time. It can take up to ten years to kill you, but it
will kill you eventually. In the meantime, as it works its magic, your quality of life will become less and less. You won't be able to do any of the things you did before. You will have to be conscious of every single step you take, every single thing you do. Any of them could end your life suddenly."
He nodded toward the bottle of blue mouthwash. "That is the antidote. There is a four out of five chance that it will negate the poison immediately and you'll go on living your life as before, but there is a one in five chance that you will have a serious reaction to it and it will kill you immediately. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I replied. All my anger was gone now, replaced by the intrigue of this scenario.
"Good," he continued. "Now, I don't want you to say anything. Keep it to yourself. I want you to make a decision right now. Do you forego the antidote and live what life you would have for ten years or do you take the chance and drink the antidote so you at least have a chance of living a normal life? Remember, keep it to yourself. Tell me when you've made your decision."
"I already have," I said.
"It was an easy decision to make, wasn't it?"
"Yes, of course."
"Now, pretend that you're asking Warren - me - for his advice. You've just told him you decided not to take the antidote. Remember, I'm pretending to be Warren, so you've just told me. What do you think my response would be?"
"Well, if you were any kind of friend, you would tell me to take the antidote."
"You would be correct, and I'm quite certain Warren would give you the same advice. In fact, that is what you had already decided to do, isn't it?"
I was puzzled. "Do I tell you my decision now?"
"Yes."
I nodded. "Yes, I had already decided to take the antidote."
"Why?"
"Because I would rather have the chance at a normal life than to live a few years without actually living."
"So, why did you tell Warren you had decided
not to take the antidote when you had already decided that you
would?"
I sat there for a long time, staring down at the bottle of mouthwash on the table, thinking. The realization crept up on me so slowly that I didn't even recognize it until it smacked me right in the face.
"Oh, God," I said, then repeated, "Oh, God!" I looked up into the Doctor's kind and smiling face. "I needed Warren to tell me that I had made the right decision!"
Dr. Davis said nothing.
"The dreams!" I shouted. "The coffin! Everything he said! That's what he's been telling me. It's not my fault! He had already made his decision and accepted the responsibility! He just needed me to tell him it was the right one to make! Oh, God!"
The weight of responsibility lifted from my shoulders and allowed the tears to come. I cried hard, burying my face in my hands and letting all my emotions come out. Dr. Davis let me do so, moving only to retrieve a box of tissues from his desk and to stuff a handful of them between my fingers.
I cried for about ten minutes, I suppose, before the tears finally stopped flowing. I settled back into my chair and drew in a deep breath. On the floor beside me, a small trash bin had magically appeared. I dropped the soggy tissues into it and grabbed a few more from the box, dabbing at my eyes and wiping my face dry.
I drew in a few deep, calming breaths again before looking up at Dr. Davis. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"You haven't believed anyone else," he replied. "You couldn't even believe your dreams when you tried to tell yourself. You wouldn't have believed me, either. It's not my job to give you the answers, Ted. It's my job to help you find the answers which you already know."
I looked back down at the table - at the mouthwash - and I shook my head slowly in disbelief. "It's not my fault. It was his choice all along. I'm not responsible."
I glanced back up to Dr. Davis. He was still smiling.
To Be Continued
,Neil!! 
wonderful as always, but also terrible, ted and brad are so beautiful...
