WATCHING BRAD
Part 115
We talked, then, Dr. Davis and I, going over my dreams about Warren and the coffin, dissecting them and understanding them. They made sense now, and the messages in them were clear. Warren had told me that it was his decision to make. I could give all the advice I wanted, but Warren didn't have to take it. Everything made sense.
Well,
almost everything. I saw it clearly in my mind once more:
"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."
I told Dr. Davis about it.
"Why do you think he told you that?" Dr. Davis asked. "Remember, your dreams are what you're telling yourself."
I thought about it and could come up with only one reason. "Guilt, perhaps."
"Yours or his?"
"Mine."
"Why would you feel guilty?"
"I don't know," I replied. "Maybe because I wasn't being as good a friend as I should have been. I mean, I always knew Warren was gay. Well, we didn't know he was gay, really. We just knew that he liked boys and wanted to do things with them."
"And you didn't?"
"No. I never wanted to do anything with another guy. Not even with Warren, and he was my best friend."
"Yet you experimented with him."
"Gee-sus, Murphy," I said, "all guys do that when they're kids, don't they? But it was just masturbation. Warren wanted to do other things, but I didn't."
"And now you do."
"Yes."
"Let me ask you something, Ted. If Bill and Brad were suddenly removed from the picture today, would you want to have sex with Warren?"
I knew the answer immediately, but I could barely say the word. It came out of my mouth more as a breath than a sound. "Yes," I said.
"Is it because he's handsome and thin now?"
"No," I replied. "Warren is a kind, gentle, wonderful person. He's my best friend."
"So, being a fat, ugly kid had nothing to do with your reluctance to have sex with him before?"
"Of course not. That has nothing to do with it. Warren was always chubby, but he certainly wasn't fat and ugly. He's always though he was, but he really wasn't. And that wouldn't matter anyway - not when you love someone. It was the one thing Warren always wanted, but it was the one thing I could never give to him."
"And now you feel guilty because you can."
"Yes, I do."
"I can't help you with your guilt, Ted," Dr. Davis told me. "That is something you must deal with yourself. It may never go away. I think I can tell you with some certainty, though, that the guilt has been with you most of your life. It only became an issue when you met Brad and decided that you were gay. Tell me. Did Warren
ever try to take advantage of you?"
I shook my head. "No, never. Not even when I was drunk or stoned."
"It would have been easy for him to do it when you were."
"Warren would never do anything like that," I told him. "He's not the type of person to take advantage of people like that."
"Not even now, knowing that you're gay and receptive to the idea?"
"Especially not now. Warren would never betray me like that."
Dr. Davis nodded. "As I said a moment ago, I can't help you with your guilt. You've been dealing with it most of your life. You may, indeed, be dealing with it for the rest of your life. It has never interfered with your friendship. I doubt that it ever will."
Before I left at the end of our session, I mentioned that I had promised Warren that I would be in Toronto for his operation. "Do you think that would be advisable?"
"Not only do I think it's advisable," he replied, "I think it's imperative that you be there, as much for your own sake as for your friend's sake. I'll talk to Dr. Blair for you."
"I have another appointment with him on Tuesday morning."
"I'll phone him before then," Dr. Davis said. "Rest assured. Now, with that being said, remember yesterday when I told you that I thought I knew the source of your anxiety?"
Ah, yes. The
second thing he'd told me which had made me so happy to hear. "That was it?" I asked expectantly. "That I felt responsible for Warren's decision?"
"Yes," he replied. "I believe everything else - the parole hearing, your parents moving in, your children - are simple aggravations which have compounded and brought on the anxiety attacks. They are minor aggravations, and temporary at most. Except for your children, of course. I believe you've recognized the heaviest burden, the one which was bringing on your anxiety. I truly believe you have taken the biggest step on the road to recovery."
"Is that why I'm having problems with Brad, too?"
"Partially," he said, "but I sense that your problem with Brad goes much deeper than that. We'll start working on it on Monday. I want you to write down the dreams you've had as clearly as you can recall them. If you have any more of them, write them down as well, and in as much detail as you can remember."
"Even the ones with Warren?"
"Yes. Understanding those dreams will help you to understand the others."
"Okay. I can do that."
When I left Dr. Davis' office, heading for the car where Nathan was patiently waiting for me, I had a smile on my face, a bounce in my step, and an entirely new attitude. I knew I had to be supportive of Warren, not feeling responsible for his fate. Come Hell or high water, I would be in Toronto for him on Thursday morning.
Nathan was smart enough not to question the extra hour he had to wait, nor did he question my progress. We didn't say much to each other, actually, except for the fact that I was looking happier and more relieved, but a lot more tired. I was, in fact, very tired, and emotionally drained. But my mind was stuck on Warren. There was something I felt I had to do.
"Nathan," I said, "pull over."
"Where?" he asked as he quickly began to slow down.
I pointed. "Up there, near those benches." It was a small city garden park barely five metres square. Nathan pulled into a parking space as close to it as he could. "I'll just be a few minutes," I told him.
I got out of the car and headed for a bench, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket as I walked. As soon as I was seated, I phoned Warren.
"Hello," he said cheerfully.
"Hi, Warren," I said. "It's Ted."
"Teddy? It's so good to hear your voice. What's up?"
"Look, Warren, I need to ask you two questions, okay?"
"Okay," he replied. "Shoot."
I took a breath and asked, "First of all, when we were out on the balcony last week, you told me you had decided not to have the surgery. Is that true? Is that what you really decided?"
"Sure it's true," he answered quickly.
"Warren, listen to me. This is really important. Please, I need to know this."
Warren was silent for a few moments before he asked, "Does this have anything to do with your breakdown?"
I sucked in a quick, hard breath. "Yes."
"Okay, Teddy, I'll tell you the truth. I was scared to death to have the surgery, but I was more scared
not to have it. I don't want to die, Teddy. I wasn't lying when I told you
that, but I don't think I could continue living the way I am now. I'm not living. I'm existing. When we talked that day, I knew I might die from the surgery, but I knew I had to have it. I can't go on living like I am now. I'd rather be dead. I needed to hear you tell me that you'd rather take the chance to get the old Warren Michaels back." He paused for a short moment. "I guess what I'm saying, Teddy, is that I wasn't sure I'd made the right decision. When you told me to have the surgery, I knew I had made the right choice. That's why I lied to you. To get you to tell me."
My elbow was propped upon my leg, my head cradled in the palm of my hand. I gulped at the lump in my throat, trying to force it down. I had been right in my assessment. Dr. Davis had been right. Warren had made the decision - not me.
Warren paused for a few more moments and continued softly. "I'm scared, Teddy. I'm terrified about next week. But I want to be around to see Lindsay walk down the aisle, and I want to be around to see those boys of yours grow up. I want to be there beside you when you and Bradley get married. I want to see you happy, Teddy. I want to live."
I closed my eyes against the tears. Warren didn't know about my ‘problems'. He didn't know that Brad had moved out. I hadn't told him. I didn't want to tell him in his condition. He certainly didn't need worry about me as well as worrying about staying alive.
"I want that, too, Warren," I said finally and with great effort. "I want all those things for you, and much more."
"I'm sorry I lied to you, Teddy," he said. "Really, I am. Did this help you?"
"More than you know, Warren. Some day I'll tell you how much you've helped me."
"Thank you, Teddy," he replied. "Now, what was the second thing you wanted to ask?"
My mouth wouldn't work suddenly. I knew what I wanted to ask, and my brain was telling my mouth to do it, but it simply would not comply.
"Teddy?" Warren said when I was silent for such a long time. "Are you still there?"
My mouth worked so well when I didn't have to ask the question. "I'm here, Warren," I told him. "I don't know how to ask it."
"Take your time, Babe," he replied.
I drew in a deep breath and held it a few moments before letting it out again. "Okay," I said. Then, after another deep breath, I repeated, "Okay. I need to know if you ever hated me because we never. . . you know. . . had sex together."
"Hated you? Because we never. . .? Oh, God, no, Teddy. Why would I be hate you for that?"
"Well, you're always talking about wanting to."
Warren's laugh surprised me. "I want to look like Ben Browder and be married to Michael Shanks, too, but that ain't gonna happen, either."
"Still watching Stargate, eh?"
"Yeah. Sue me!" he said, still laughing. His laughter quickly faded away, though, and he became very serious. "Listen, Teddy. Next to Bill, you're the most important person in my life. You mean a helluva lot more to me than a cheap blowjob. There's no-one in this world I admire more than you. I would never jeopardize that, and I'd never do anything that might harm our friendship. I may have some regrets about it, but I could never hate you because we didn't do it."
"Not even now that I'm gay?"
"Honestly, Teddy!" Warren suddenly exclaimed. "I love you dearly, Sweetie, but sometimes you drive me nuts!" Then, just as suddenly, he said, "Oh, God, Teddy, I'm sorry! Please, forgive me!"
"That's okay, Warren."
I could hear Warren breathing hard to regain his composure. "Okay, look. Let me put it this way," he offered. "If you hadn't met Brad, would you be gay now?"
I thought about that. The answer was very clear. "Probably not."
"Then your question is moot. If you weren't with Brad, you'd be with some other woman, and I'd still be married to Bill. Nothing changed, Teddy, except for the fact that both of us are happier than we've ever been."
I don't know why I said what I said next. It surprised even me. "Warren, I. . Um. . ." I paused for a long time before the words came out. "If it's any consolation to you, I've had regrets, too."
"Really?"
"I know what it meant to you, Warren. Who knows? Maybe I was stuck in the closet and afraid to come out. Maybe somewhere deep in my mind, I was afraid I would enjoy it too much. I don't regret many things in my life, Warren, but I
do regret that."
Warren's voice was hushed and strained after my confession. "Thank you, Teddy," he said softly. "That means a lot to me."
"It means a lot to me, too, Warren. God, I love you so much."
"I love you, too, Teddy.
There were too many emotions flooding me at the moment to try to sort them out, but they were overwhelming me and I knew I had to get off the phone as quickly as I could. "I've got to go now, Warren," I said urgently. "I'll see you Thursday morning."
"Okay, Teddy. See you then. Bye."
I disconnected and then I cried. I vaguely remember Nathan's arm around my shoulders, guiding me carefully and slowly toward the car. He drove me home and led me right into my bedroom. My brain stopped the moment my head hit the pillow and I slept.
* * * * *
I ate dinner that evening with my family and friends, sitting at the head of the diningroom table and enjoying the delicious dinner which Nathan had prepared for us. I was feeling good - too good to sit alone in my room and to eat my dinner from a TV tray beside my bed.
My family noticed the difference in me right away. Even the boys smiled sincerely when they saw me walking into the room and Lindsay sighed in obvious relief. We didn't talk about me or my session or the breakthrough I'd experienced except for me to look at Dad and to say, "You were right." Dad simply gave me a smile which I barely noticed, a tiny wink, and a single nod.
I was feeling better, but I was still both physically and emotionally drained. After dessert, I sent all three kids off for their baths with the promise that they could select a movie they wanted to watch and we would all watch it together in my room.
Nathan helped Mom clean up the table and load the dishwasher as Dad took the twins in for their baths. Lindsay, of course, bathed alone. Barry joined me in my room. He was going to sit on the computer chair, but I told him to sit on the bed with me.
"Are you and Nathan going home tonight?" I asked.
"I'm don't know," he replied. "He's washing my uniform for me just in case we stay, though. Where would we sleep?"
"Well, the twins can sleep here with me and you can sleep in their bed, or I'll sleep with them in their room and you and Nathan can sleep here." As an afterthought, I added, "Or, you can sleep here with me and the twins can sleep in their own room."
"I'll talk to Nathan about it."
"As long as you decide before the boys go to bed," I told him with a smile.
"We will," he said, his own lips curling up in a little smile.
My smile disappeared. I needed to be serious to ask Barry what I needed to ask him. My voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Sure," he replied, nodding.
"How do you feel about the age difference between you and Nathan?"
Barry replied with a shrug. "It's no big deal. Not to me, anyway. I love Nathan and he loves me. Age doesn't enter into it. Why? Is that why Brad isn't here now?"
"No," I answered. "I had a dream about Justin. Please don't tell anyone. Not even Nathan, okay?"
"I won't."
"Justin was grown up and in college. He told me he was gay and had met an older guy in his thirties. They were in love with each other. I'm afraid I didn't handle it too well in my dream."
"What did you do?" Barry asked with genuine interest.
"Apparently I broke them up."
"Why would you do that?"
"I don't know," I replied honestly. "Maybe it was just father's instinct kicking in. You know, a need to protect my son."
"Protect him from what? Someone who loved him or from being gay?"
"Gee-sus, Murphy!" I said loudly. "I never even thought of that!"
"What? Justin being gay?"
"Yeah. I never even thought about having a problem with that."
"Do you have a problem with it?"
I was quiet for quite some time as I thought about it. Finally, I replied, "I don't know. I don't think so, but it's certainly something to think about. Makes sense, too."
"Or, it could just be a dream." He smiled when he said that. "Wasn't it Freud who said ‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar'?"
"Sounds like something he would say." I smiled back and thought about what he'd said. "Yeah, it could," I told him. "It could be nothing more than just a dream." I would have to do more thinking about that, though.
In the end, Nathan and Barry stayed the night and slept in the twins' bedroom. The boys slept with me.
Nathan remained home with me on Sunday while Barry was at work and Mom and Dad returned to their new house for the day. Terry helped Nathan look after the kids until Brad and Lori Smith showed up with Andrew just after lunch and invited everyone to the park. Terry went with them, but Nathan stayed with me. I spent most of my free time writing down all my dreams and thinking about what Barry and I had talked about the night before. Dealing with Justin being gay seemed to be the best answer for the dreams. Now, I had to find out why that would bother me.
My kids didn't return until it was time for all the boys to have their naps. Andrew went home his mother and father, of course. Justin and Jeremy sat on my bed, telling me all about the fun they'd had at the park before curling up beside me and using my shoulders as pillows. My boys had their afternoon naps in my arms.
Once again, Nathan cooked us a delicious dinner and, once again, I ate at the diningroom table along with everyone else. The kids all surprised me with a special cake they had helped Grandma Hayes to make the day before. All three carried it from the kitchen to the diningroom. It wasn't anything fancy - just a simple, single-layer white cake with lemon pie filling spread over it for frosting. Lindsay had made the pie filling and spread it. The boys had written ‘GET WELL DADDY' on the top with Smarties they had stuck in the lemon spread. All three had decided that one birthday candle had to be stuck in the top as well. "You can't have a special cake without blowing out a candle," Lindsay told me.
After dinner, I retired to my bedroom for what I hoped would be my last night confined to my bed. Getting plenty of rest is all well and good as long as you're not the one getting it. It gave me too much time to think and accomplishing nothing by doing it. After all that thinking, I still had no idea what the twins' ‘grown-up' dreams really meant. I knew what they were saying, but I couldn't understand why they were saying it.
Nathan and Barry returned home that night after things had settled down and the children had gone to bed. Mom and Dad went to bed early. Dad would be returning to work the next morning and Mom would be spending the day at Maple Grove.
I locked up the house, turned out the lights, set my clock radio alarm, took my sleeping pill, and went to bed. Mom already knew that I was going to be in charge of breakfast for the kids on Monday morning and I'd warned her that she'd better let me handle it. She could cook for Dad and me if she wanted to, but the kids were all mine.
I don't think I really needed to take the sleeping pill. I was asleep before it had time to start working.
I had the strangest dream. . .
To Be Continued