by Jay Bell
“The office would go mad trying to compare every attendance record,” Allison continued, “so they just go by the one from second period. Mindy Scott was an office assistant last year and told me how it works.”
“So as long as I’m there during English I can skip the rest? Awesome!”
“Well, within reason. If you don’t show up for a week, a teacher will probably ask the office if you keeled over or something.”
This was still good news and made his future plans much easier to execute. “Can you find a ride home?” Ben asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car.
“I’m sure Ronnie wouldn’t mind bringing me,” Allison said with a smile.
“Yeah, well, just make sure he’s out of the house before your dad gets back.”
“Like you need to tell me that.”
Ben was resiliently happy during his morning classes. In P.E. a baseball hit him in the shoulder, giving him good cause to swear loudly and be sent on another jog around the school. He felt twice as daring as usual and made sure to stand out of sight until he heard the coach call everyone back in.
English was pleasant and the usual teacher was back in Spanish class. When Ben was called to the front for an exercise, a number of students made sure to try their new word, but mariposa failed to cause a reaction in the teacher. Maybe the substitute hadn’t given them the right word, or maybe Mrs. Vega chose not to hear. Ben didn’t know how aware the teachers were of his sexuality, but surely the faculty gossiped just as much as the students did. The name calling irritated him, but he was so close to escaping school for the day that he tried not to dwell on it.
When lunch break finally came, he had a hurried meal with Allison, his stomach bubbling with nervousness the whole time. Then he made a break for it. Ben had never skipped school before, at least not like this. He had previously feigned illnesses and had his mom call it in; who hadn’t? But this was different. He had imagined running into teachers or security guards on the way to the car and had a selection of excuses prepared. His best was to claim that he had forgotten some books in his car. That seemed reasonable enough. Once he was in the car he would simply drive away, or maybe he would retreat and try again between classes.
As it was, he had nothing to worry about. There were plenty of seniors who worked jobs the second half of the day, so he wasn’t alone in his excursion across the parking lot. He made it to the 3000GT, cautiously pulled out of the parking lot, and then went the exact speed limit all the way to the hospital. No sense in getting pulled over at this point in the game.
Ben entered through the emergency entrance, which was impractical in retrospect since it was no longer an emergency. A different receptionist, one even less friendly than the night before, gave him a vague idea of which direction he should head. He wandered the hospital halls for what felt like an eternity, wrinkling his nose at the sterile smell and trying not to stare at patients through the doors. After asking twice more and travelling two floors up, he finally reached Tim’s room.
The victim of his affections was stretched out on the bed, an ivory-white cast now covering his foot and lower leg. Currently an attractive young nurse was taking Tim’s blood pressure. At least, that’s what she was supposed to be doing. The cuff was still on his arm but so was her hand as she giggled at something Tim had just said. She sat down on the edge of the bed just as Ben cleared his throat, causing her to jump back up again.
“Benjamin!” Tim exclaimed happily. “And here I thought you had stolen my car and hightailed it to Mexico.”
“That’s the plan--” Ben smiled “--but I thought I’d bring you along. We’re checking out,” he said to the nurse.
“I’ll let the doctor know,” the nurse said as she left.
“Feeling better?” Ben suddenly wished he had brought flowers or a teddy bear or something. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do in such situations?
“A little, yeah. Did you call my parents?”
“No. Yes! Sorry, yes,” Ben backtracked once Dr. Baker’s shadow filled the doorway. “They don’t think they can change their flight, but they’ve arranged for a nurse to take care of you and everything.”
“They’re probably pissed, huh?”
Ben found this comment surprising. Why would they be angry at their son for getting hurt? “Not at all,” he replied. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you have their number handy?” Dr. Baker interjected.
“Oh! No, sorry,” Ben apologized. He had been prepared for this question. “I totally forgot it.”
“Well, as long as they were informed,” the doctor said meaningfully.
Ben gave him his best innocent, doe-eyed look and nodded. This seemed to satisfy the doctor, who began scribbling on his clipboard.
The nurse returned and began to help Tim dress. While she was doing this, Dr. Baker gave Ben some papers and went over instructions that were to be given to the in-home nurse. Ben tried to keep up and nod when appropriate, hoping to get through it as quickly as possible since the doctor was standing in his line of vision. By the time the droning had ended, Tim was dressed. The doctor and nurse helped Tim into a wheelchair and gave him over to Ben.
He couldn’t help but be reminded of when they adopted Wilford. Ben’s family had visited the animal shelter and picked him out from among his litter mates. Then there was a grueling waiting period of one week, during which the dog received his shots and was neutered before Wilford could be picked up. When they finally handed Ben the leash, he had felt proud, excited, even nervous. But mostly the experience had made him happy. Much like he was feeling now. He hoped that Tim would feel the same once he caught wind of his plan.
* * * * *
“So, no nurse?”
“No nurse,” Ben repeated.
The expression on Tim’s face was hard to read. He looked concerned, or maybe just confused. He leaned back on the peach living room couch and raised an eyebrow. “And you never called my parents? They have no idea I was in the hospital overnight?”
Ben started having second thoughts. What sort of monster intentionally kept parents in the dark about their son being injured? “They have no idea,” he admitted.
The worry scattered from Tim’s face as a broad smile appeared. “Thanks, man! That was really cool of you!”
Ben breathed out in relief. “I’m glad you think so! I was worried that I’d done the wrong thing.”
“Naw, they would have been pissed.”
“Really?”
“Really. A couple of years ago I came down with the flu the day before they were flying to Japan. It totally messed with their plans. They had to reschedule everything, missed out on some group tour thing. I don’t know.” Tim scratched at the skin near his cast. “They were so pissy the whole week after that I wished they hadn’t bothered staying.
“I’m a mistake you know,” he continued. “My parents are pretty cool and all, but it’s obvious that it was never in their plans to have kids. I’m an only child, and my parents have done everything in their power to keep going with the lifestyle they had before me.”
Ben wasn’t sure what to say to this. His own parents were always supportive, loving. In a way he wished he had some dirt to dish on them so he could commiserate, but there wasn’t a single bad memory that sprang to mind. “So you have two weeks to survive without them,” Ben said, guiding the conversation where he wanted it to go. “I’ll help you of course. That’s why I didn’t think we needed a nurse. I can come by a couple of times a day to cook, clean up, that sort of stuff.”
“You can cook?”
“Sure,” Ben lied. As much as he’d been stretching the truth in the past couple of days, it was practically instinctual.
“That’s good, because I’m hungry.”
“Well, let’s get you set up comfortable here, and then I’ll whip something up.”
“Not here,” Tim insisted. “I hate this room.”
With the assistance of his crutches, he stood an
d swung his way toward the back of the house, Ben following. He led them through the dining room, across a large, open kitchen, and down a hall that ended in a dimly lit room.
The den, as Tim introduced it, was his father’s stronghold. His mother was in charge of the rest of the house, but here his father had full reign. He decorated the room in typical masculine style. A big-screen TV dominated one wall with massive boxy speakers to each side. A number of bookshelves held everything but books--namely sports memorabilia, business awards, and an impressive video collection. Bar signs and beer advertisements hung on the ebony, wood-paneled walls that complimented the equally dark carpet. This combined with the shuttered windows kept the room cool and comfortable.
“I figure this is a good place to make camp,” Tim said, as he headed toward a brown leather couch. “There’s even a fridge to keep drinks in.”
Ben turned and found a wet bar in the corner. The unit was basically just a sink, shelves for glasses, and one of those tiny refrigerators that he always associated with college dorms.
“So what all do we need then? Blankets and pillows obviously… Um.”
“In one of the hall closets,” Tim said. “I want my pillow from upstairs. And some real clothes. Throw something in the oven too, will ya?”
“Right,” Ben managed to say just before the TV blared into life. His patient had certainly taken to the idea of him playing nurse!
Ben realized with some delight that he now had free reign over the house. With Tim settled in, he was now free to explore. He had been tempted to last night when he dropped the car off. He figured arriving home in a shiny new sports car would be beyond suspicious, so Ben had returned it to Tim’s driveway. As he had done so, the keys in his pocket had been a major temptation but the idea had felt too creepy. Now he was free to look around anyway.
He started with the kitchen. The refrigerator was well-stocked with frozen entrees, which meant cooking wouldn’t be too hard. He chose two pizzas and fiddled with the oven for a while before he got it running. Once that was finished he went upstairs and located Tim’s bedroom.
Ben entered and felt strangely intoxicated for a moment. The whole room smelled exactly like Tim, as if someone had bottled up his essence and sprayed generous puffs of teenage boy into the air. Being there felt so personal. In a way, everything present was an extension of Tim, representative of what he liked and the place where his private life took place. Adults had an entire house and maybe an office or workspace to spread their existence over. For their kids, personal life was contained to just one room. In this small space Tim lived, slept, talked on the phone, watched TV, jacked-off, and did whatever else he wanted to do.
Ben sat on the king-sized bed and looked around. Music and baseball posters covered most of the walls. He found all sports boring, but at least some of these featured pretty hot athletes. The only exception to the generic posters was an abstract painting, a collection of cool colors that might be depicting an ocean or waves. He stared at it for a while, wondering why it had been included. Did Tim choose it, or was it his mother’s idea?
Across from Ben sat a dresser that supported a medium-sized television and VCR. A closet door and bookshelves were to his right, this time actually filled with the intended content. Ben browsed the titles, hoping to get a hint of what Tim liked to read but unable to do so. They were a completely eclectic mix, some even written in Spanish. His music choice was easier to discern, the CD rack containing nothing but popular alternative music. Well, that and the Little Mermaid soundtrack. Ben mentally filed that one away as potential ammunition.
He paused to gaze out the bedroom window at the long, well-groomed backyard before returning to the dressers to collect a change of clothes. Socks were easy to find, as was underwear. He didn’t examine the contents of this drawer too carefully. Doing so felt like cheating, like peeking ahead at the end of a book, since he hoped to discover Tim’s underwear one by one over a series of hot encounters. Ben laughed at his own presumptions and went to the closet for a shirt and jeans.
He brought these items and the pillows back downstairs to his patient. The pizza was soon done afterwards and served. They ate together while flipping back and forth between MTV and VH1 to avoid commercials, laughing at most of the videos but genuinely enjoying a handful. There were quite a few songs that Ben wanted to sing along to, but for the first time in his life he was feeling too shy to perform. Finally the Fugees’ new version of “Killing Me Softly” came on, which was too perfect of an opportunity to show off.
Ben gave it all he had, belting it out along with the lead vocals and almost putting Lauryn Hill’s voice to shame. Tim sat straight up, his eyes wide in amazement. He clapped and raved when the song was over and spent the next hour trying to get Ben to sing along to some of the other videos. A few, like Beck, were a hopeless cause, but for some of them Ben was able to comply.
After a while Tim switched off the TV.
“So what’s it like being gay?” he asked, catching Ben off guard.
“Like anything else I guess,” Ben answered. “What’s it like to be whatever you are?”
“Straight,” Tim assured him. “Don’t you catch a lot of slack for it? I mean, everyone at school knows, right?”
Ben nodded.
“I’m surprised you don’t get beaten up every day.”
“I get a lot of crap,” Ben said with a shrug, “but I got crap before I came out for totally different reasons. It’s no different now. Not really.”
“I guess that’s true. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Like you would know. It must be hard being a jock with rich parents and a brand-new sports car. People must tease you unmercifully.”
Tim’s grin was cocky. “When you put it like that, I do have it good, but I still get crap from other people. Miss a catch or don’t make it to base and your team turns on you, especially if you lose the game.”
Ben made sure he didn’t look convinced.
“Well, all right, how about this then?” The smile dropped from Tim’s face. “At my last school my ex-girlfriend went around telling everyone that I raped her, just because I dumped her. I had every girl in the school coming up to me and saying the craziest shit. A few even tried to knee me. It was insane.”
“What happened?”
“What do you mean? Nothing happened. It was her word against mine, but she didn’t take it to the police or anything because she knew the truth. It blew over after a while, but people never treated me the same afterwards. You don’t know how glad I am to have a fresh start.”
“The idea sounds appealing,” Ben admitted.
“Would you still come out? If you moved to the other side of the country where no one knew, would you come out again?”
“Yeah,” Ben answered immediately. “Are you kidding me? What would I do otherwise? Pretend I’m into girls and start sleeping with them?”
Tim only shrugged in response.
“I’d definitely come out again. It’s the only chance I have at meeting someone else who is gay. It pays to advertise. That’s the theory at least.”
“No luck in the romance department?” Tim asked with an amused expression.
“Not really. Not love at least.”
A garish cuckoo clock came to life, the little bird popping out and returning to its little home seven times.
“Jesus, I should get home.” Ben hurried to leave, pulling a shoe onto the wrong foot before realizing it and reaching for the other. “Are you going to be all right? There’s drinks and stuff in the fridge and leftover pizza on the counter. Should I bring it in?”
“Naw, I can manage.”
“I thought I’d come by in the morning to make breakfast and check on you, and then again in the afternoon?” Ben didn’t mean to phrase it as a question. He wanted to say it like it was the obvious thing to do.
“Yeah?” Tim answered with his own inquiry. “You’d do that for me?”
“That and a hel
l of a lot more.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain could stop them. The only damage control he could do was a nervously little laugh, which probably made him sound twice as crazy. “Uh, so see you tomorrow then,” he said before he made a mad dash for the door.
* * * * *
The pancakes were the right shape--round and flat. They were also spongy like they should be. Only the color was off. The first few out of the pan were an albino version of the normal brown variety. The next three were almost black. Ben had no idea what he had done wrong.
He had read and reread the simple instructions in his mom’s Betty Crocker cookbook three or four times and had even written down the basics, but these didn’t look right at all. He shoveled the last pancake onto the plate with the others and poured a generous amount of syrup over them to conceal their inadequacies.
If Tim noticed that they weren’t quite right, he didn’t let on. It may have helped that he had taken a painkiller when Ben had shown up half an hour ago. His eyes had a certain glazed look about them when Ben presented his creation. Within five minutes the entire plate had been cleared and licked clean.
“A guy could get used to this,” Tim said appreciatively as Ben carried the plate back to the kitchen.
Next up was Tim’s request for a bath. This idea had already been the subject of more than one of Ben’s fantasies the last few days. In them he had to assist his poor, helpless invalid out of his clothing, place him in the bathtub, and sponge clean every delicious nook and cranny of his body. This, of course, would lead to an involuntary physical reaction on Tim’s part, one so intense that he’d beg Ben for relief.
The reality wasn’t anywhere near as exciting. Ben was asked to run the bath before he left for school, Tim insisting that he could manage the rest on his own. If this was true then it was also clear that Tim could have turned the faucet on by himself, but Ben let it slide. The more indispensable he became the better.