The Principle (Legacy Book 2)

by Rain Carrington

  At the mention of Matt, he sighed, “If I still have a man.”

  Stacy sat by him and gripped his shoulder until it hurt. “What’s that mean? Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, of course. He’s fine, well, as far as I know. I’ve heard from him very little, and I know that is part of the program, to keep them on track not to have a lot of outside contact, but he gets to call once a week, and so far I’ve gotten two calls. I’ve gone there twice too, and he saw me, but it was short, polite, and nothing like I thought. I think I lost him the second he found out about the girls and the sex parties. He’s eaten up with guilt.”

  Stacy didn’t try to pep talk him, which he appreciated. Charlie, however, said, “He’s got so much to work through, man, it’s gonna take time. Shit, a year in that place at the least, they said. That’s four times more than fucking rehab for addicts! That tells you something, that this shit is worse than drugs and alcohol. Well, I guess that is to be expected, being it was from the time they were little. Breaking those thoughts, those teachings, then the guilt on top of that. It’s going to be fine, though. He’s a strong guy, and from what Stacy said, and what I saw, he loves you, man.”

  “Is that enough?”

  ****

  When Ben came into the room, worried about him, Matt didn’t say a word, simply rushing out with the notebook clutched in his fist and fresh tears in his eyes.

  On the outermost line of The Center property, he found a tree that he lay under with the notebook. It wasn’t hard, the trees were so thick around the place, and he sometimes felt suffocated by them. Compared to where he’d lived all his life, the country in upstate was beautiful but cloyingly so.

  The notebook open on the dry grass, he read. He read until dark and he couldn’t see the scribbled writing any longer, so he hid the book and went back to his room. Sunup, he left before breakfast and lay under the same tree until his stomach hurt from hunger and he jogged in for lunch, sitting by himself at the end of a table while Ben cast worried glances his way.

  For three days that went on, missing most meals and all groups, even his sessions with Tom. Cigarettes filled the soda can he’d taken outside for an ashtray as his new habit helped along his old stresses. The notebook became an obsession to him, needing to hear the words that were never spoken aloud from Josh, who became his most trusted friend, sadly after he’d already died.

  The words, it was like they came from him. All of them were of longing for relief from the pain, from the guilt and sorrow. He related to each page enough that he’d lay a hand over them after he finished reading every single one, then closed his eyes, like he could absorb them into his body.

  Ben tried to ask him what was going on with him, but he didn’t want to say a word. He was living and breathing the things he read, and for the first time, he didn’t feel alone. No matter what he’d heard in group, or from individuals talking, it took the notebook to get through the fog of his own pain.

  The night he finished the journal, he went to the bedroom, hearing the soft snoring of his only bunkmate. Tired to his bones, having slept so little during those days he was devouring the notebook’s pages, he lay on his bed, thinking of Steve.

  The iPod was in his suitcase, never taken out once. He leaned over the side of the bed and pulled it out, getting the iPod from the inner pocket along with the earbuds.

  Cycling through the songs, he saw one that was called “Right Here Waiting” by Richard Marx. Matt had never heard of the song or the singer, but the title drew him.

  As he lay his head on the pillow, he heard the words, and knew without a doubt that Steve wanted him to know they were his as well. He was telling Matt things in the songs he had added to the iPod. He’d figured that, which was why he’d yet to pull it out, but this one was vibrating through him, telling him what he’d needed to hear.

  Steve would wait. He’d wait, and he wasn’t lying. He knew the worst of Matt, and yet, he still wanted him. The tears fell to the pillow as he listened to that song a few times, falling to sleep with the pictures of the times he’d shared with Steve flowing through his mind. It was the first time he hadn’t gone into a fitful sleep, beating himself over his past. For the first time, he could consider the future and all it might hold.

  When he woke, however, he knew it wasn’t that easy. He had a lot of work to do, and one thing was to get back to the program. To do what Josh hadn’t done, and left his own thoughts to join with the others.

  Josh had kept his all to himself, writing in the journal all the things he couldn’t say aloud to the groups or to Tom or the other therapists. Matt knew those thoughts ate him alive and killed him every bit as much as the pills he’d found had done.

  Taking the notebook with him, like security blanket, he left the facility once more, to the tree, only he didn’t read. He wrote.

  Page after page, his own journal started to fill. At lunch, he ate, but he went back to the tree to write more when he finished picking at his food.

  At three, he noticed the time, scurrying up to his feet and running. He was late, of course, the group already gathered, and Gary was talking, as usual. He ran into the room, and Tom’s brows rose high on his tall forehead as he said, “Welcome back. I thought we lost you.”

  Gary grimaced at him, but Matt apologized and asked, “Can I take a minute here?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Gary grumbled as he retook his seat.

  Matt nodded to him, then to Tom, who waved a hand to the chair that he’d left vacant for Matt. Matt didn’t sit, however, taking the spot in the center of the chairs to make his first share.

  “I’m not good at this. I hid so much from myself, couldn’t even share with myself for so long, that sharing with strangers felt like trying to climb over a wall of broken glass with no shoes on.”

  Tom chuckled and most of the men nodded in agreement.

  “When Josh died, it hit me hard. Not because I was close to him or anything. Of everyone here, I knew him the least. He didn’t share either, not with us, anyway. He felt, like we all do, that what he saw as his shame was so bad that other people were going to judge him. And he was so busy judging himself that he didn’t feel he could handle anyone else doing it. And that is exactly how I felt.”

  He had their attention, every face gazing at him, some with eyes that were wet, others with fear reddening them. Tom, he was patient, waiting for everything Matt would finally reveal. It wasn’t easy, like he was walking through drying cement, but he pushed on, and the more he shared, the easier it got.

  “In his journal, I found my own words. I know, it was probably really wrong to read it, but I did, and I’m not sorry I did. Everything he wrote could have come from me, and I’ll bet from each of you too. I’d like to share it, and let other people read it, not only to see we’re not alone in our messed-up thoughts, but to get to know the guy. To let him live on with us, and maybe help someone else so his death wasn’t in vain.”

  Ben got up and was the first to reach for it out of Matt’s hands. Their eyes locked and they shared a moment of understanding Matt never thought he’d feel.

  Once he sat, with the journal in his lap, Ben nodded to him, and Matt went on, “There was one line in the journal that maybe hit me the hardest. It was so true and so hard to read, but it was something I think I needed to see. That it made me see better than anything that I am not alone.” Choking up, fearing his voice would break before he could say it, he swallowed, cleared his throat, and then swallowed again before he quoted, “He knew that I trusted him more than anyone else on earth. He used that trust to tear apart my innocence.”

  That line had hit him in the gut, so much that when he’d read it, he’d bent over and cried in physical pain. It did the same for many of the men in the group, a couple getting up from their seats. One walked to the window, another left the room entirely.

  For the next few weeks, the journal, written by a boy who couldn’t say with his voice all the words his heart carried, was read by everyone at The Center. Matt wor
ked hard, went to all the sessions, and had even started in the mixed groups, uneasy at first with seeing the girls, but it got easier.

  When he finally called Steve, he was afraid it wouldn’t be answered, or when it was, Steve would tell him it was over. That was a real possibility, but a chance he had to take. There was no one he wanted to share with more than him.

  “Matt? Is that you?”

  “Y-yeah, it’s me. I’m…I’m sorry I haven’t called, Steve. I’ve been…I’ve been healing.”

  Steve’s sigh didn’t sound like he was angry or set against hearing from him. It sounded relieved. “That’s so good to hear. I’ve missed hearing your voice, but if you are getting what you need, that’s all that matters.”

  “I’ve been listening to the music you gave me on the iPod. I have every song memorized,” he admitted, chuckling into the phone. “I hope they are all…that you meant them and maybe…maybe still do.”

  There was a long silence and he thought it meant that Steve was getting prepared to say that they no longer were true, that he hadn’t waited, but then, a broken voice came back, the emotion cracking it. “I meant them then, and probably more now, baby.”

  He felt his knees go weak, so he sat on a chair near the community phone and let out a long breath. “Good. I mean…I was worried.”

  “I told you I’d wait. I’m, uh, not in Eagles Nest anymore, though. I had to sell the house. It killed me to do it, being that was where you and I fell in love. It wasn’t safe.”

  With his heart in his throat, he clutched the phone tighter and asked, “Safe? What do you mean?”

  “The people your father was selling the girls to took offense to us stopping them. They knew where I lived, so I moved. It’s a good thing, though, baby, so don’t worry. I’m with Stacy and Charlie now. Stacy has been good enough to give me a job, and I’m not all that far away from New Mexico. I’m in San Antonio, and your cousin and Leo have come to visit twice now. Stacy…she’s pregnant, honey.”

  Elated, Matt bounced on his chair and squealed, “Pregnant?”

  “They eloped after she found out and bought a house close to the offices that Charlie heads up here. Stacy is laying low on investigating, but I do what she can’t. We’re hoping…I’m hoping that you’ll be okay to come here after. I mean, if you don’t want to, I understand, but I am hoping.”

  Matt’s smile hurt his cheeks as he said, “Of course. I want to more than anything. I miss you. And, I’m hoping when I get out of here, you might have a whole person to love, instead of that one that was only bits and pieces.”

  He heard sniffing, and then his own nose ran as his tears came, so when they could both stop that noise, they talked about Matt’s therapy and Steve’s move. Then Matt gave him more good news, though he didn’t know how he’d eventually explain who Josh was. “This guy that was here, he wrote a journal. It’s kinda what got me out of my shell and let me start the healing process. Anyway, this journal is being published. One of the doctors, they know a publisher and he went nuts over it. He said it’ll make some money, so some of that will go to The Center, of course, but most of it will go to smaller organizations doing this same work. Like Helen. She’s always taking care of other people and trying to hold down jobs, even though she has to move so much. This will help her a lot.”

  “Baby, that’s just great. You sound…you sound so much better. I can’t tell you how good that makes me feel. I was worried. We all were.”

  He’d given them reason to, but for once, he wouldn’t let the guilt take him over and leave him an empty hull. “I’ll make it up to you. If you still want to get married and have sex and stuff.”

  “All of the above.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  After the first call, he took every opportunity to call Steve. Steve wanted to fly out to see him, but Matt told him to stay where he was and take care of Stacy. As much as he wanted to see him, he was afraid that if he did, he’d want to leave when Steve left. He couldn’t fathom letting Steve out of his life again.

  He explained, and Steve understood, though he was audibly disappointed. What it did, however, was cause him to work that much harder. He shared every group, at least a little, and his one on one sessions brought more out of him than he thought was there. He was empty, ready to be filled with good things, all the good things that Steve, his friends and family could give him.

  He called Stacy nearly as much as Steve. She’d become his best friend and confidant, and with her being pregnant, he wanted to share that with her, though he wasn’t there.

  “I’m getting so big, I think Charlie is regretting marrying me.”

  “Oh, please. I hear him when I call in the background, asking you if you’re hungry.”

  “He’s pushy. But I guess I must like pushy.”

  Matt laughed, and it was free of anything but happiness. “I miss you. All of you. How’s my Steve?”

  “Oh, my Steve, well, isn’t that possessive of you,” she teased. “He’s miserable without you but still walking on air that you love him. It’s a strange combination, but he makes it work.”

  His face, smiling, went through Matt’s mind and he leaned back in the chair, sighing. “I want to marry that guy, Stacy. I know that I need to finish here, and keep up after, but it’s getting harder and harder to stay away from him. I want to start our life.”

  Stacy, as always, put things to him bluntly. “He’s right here, and he’s waiting. The guy is crazy about you, honey, but he understands you need this. He is only concerned about you, about you getting well from everything you’ve gone through. And I know he won’t tell you this, not on the phone, anyway, but he started seeing someone too. He realized after he was shot, and almost died, that he hid himself away at that house in New Mexico. You brought him out of that and made him want to fix his issues too.”

  Matt knew his mouth was hanging open, but the shock of that threw him for a complete loop. “He’s perfect. He’s…really?”

  “Yeah. You did that. You are willing to confront your issues and get the help you need. He saw that, and thought he was a coward for hiding all those years. Matt, you’ve done a lot for a lot of people and you may not understand that, or want the credit, but you did. I doubt Charlie and I would have ever reconciled if it wasn’t for you, and this baby,” she said, her voice breaking, “this baby that is a little me and a little him would never be born.”

  Matt felt elated, like he could fly, though tears fell to his lap as he bent his head over, and he managed, “I love you, Stacy. I miss you as much as Steve, but don’t tell him that.”

  “Are you kidding?” she croaked, sniffing. “I’m going to lord this over him.”

  “You’re awful,” he teased. Getting serious, he asked a question he didn’t expect a serious answer to, “How do I do this? Marry him, I mean. I don’t know anything about San Antonio, or Texas at all. I’ve talked to my mom, and she’s not thrilled that I am with a man, you know, the whole gay thing.”

  “Is she still living on the…I don’t even know if I should mention it, and chance sending you backwards or whatever.”

  He smiled at her thoughtfulness, but quickly alleviated her concerns. “The compound. You can say it, I can. I was the biggest part of most of my life. I face things now, Stacy. I don’t hide from them or run anymore. And no, she’s not there. No one is. Once everything came out, and the feds went through and busted people, no one wanted to stay there. All that’s left is the houses and…and that wall.”

  “That wall has always bugged you, deep down, huh?”

  He thought of it, and it wasn’t simply a barrier, it was a symbol. Hiding inside, hiding behind it, hiding, hiding the things that happened behind them. Keeping people bound and obedient, invisible chains on them. Yeah, he hated that wall and every single thing it symbolized.

  “I want to bulldoze it. I’d like to bulldoze it until it’s nothing but a pile of rubble.”

  “I understand, honey. Well, not completely, because I can’t quite com
prehend everything you’ve gone through, but I do get it somewhat.”

  “Thanks, Stacy. Now, help me with this! How do I marry my guy?”

  She laughed out loud and then told him, “I’m sure, between the two of us, we can think of something.”

  Another two weeks went by, Matt working hard to get through some of the rougher sessions he had with Tom. The compliments he was given didn’t help, and in fact, made it worse. He told Tom this at one session. “Please, stop telling me how great I’m doing. What am I doing that is so great, Tom? I mean, I’m spilling my guts,” he said, clapping. “Good for me. I’m dealing with the crap from my past, bravo! I may not be giving into the guilt anymore, but I did nothing to cheer about!”

  For the first time in ten months, he saw Tom get angry. Such a mild-mannered, sweet and understand man he was, and never so much as ruffled, but at that moment, Matt saw his eyes flashing, his face draw into a hard thing, then he said through gnashing teeth, “All this work, and you still don’t think you’ve done anything?”

  Suddenly afraid to answer any question he may pose, Matt sat silently.

  Tom’s eyes closed for a moment, and he seemed to struggle to compose himself. Once he did, he was climbing back to the normal Tom, but with a definite sharp edge.

  Coming around his desk and sitting on the edge, he held onto the lip, knuckles white, revealing his composure was mostly for show. “Tell me about the girls you got to Helen. What lives, if any, they would be leading right now if you hadn’t helped them.”

  Still speechless, those faces went through his mind and he sunk low in his chair. The lecture continued.

  “You didn’t give in to your pain, burying it in alcohol and drugs, you kept trying to do good. You were beaten, your life almost taken from you, but you didn’t stop. You went on to find a love and a life! A real life! One that, if you’re not completely stupid and self-sabotaging, you’ll go back to once you are through here.”