Elpida

by C. Kennedy

  “He seems pretty normal to me.”

  The lines around Rob’s eyes creased, but he said nothing.

  “I hate when you do that.”

  Rob glanced at him from over a shoulder. “What? Look in cupboards?”

  “Give me that I know something you don’t look.”

  Rob laughed aloud, a rare event indeed. “I do.”

  “Oh God! I knew it!”

  Christy terminated the call. “Knew what?”

  “Rob knows something I don’t!”

  Clearly confused, Christy turned to Rob, who continued to search the cabinets.

  “Michael is upset because I won’t say anything about Zero,” he said as he picked up the phone on the kitchen counter and dialed.

  Christy tucked his chin in disbelief and turned to Michael. “This is not your business.”

  Michael went to him and pulled him into his arms. “I’m kidding.”

  Christy looked up at him, not sure what to make of the situation.

  Michael bent and kissed the tip of his nose. “What did Sophia say?”

  “They finish the shop, and they come back now. Jake said the motorcycle people from Mr. Smitty are with them.”

  “Good.”

  “Did something happen?”

  Oops. Christy hated it when Michael forgot to tell him things. “Ah, yeah. Nothing major. One stopped in front of Jake this morning on the way to the track. That was it.”

  “If this is not major, you do not need the motorcycle people from Mr. Smitty.”

  “I called Lisa to let them know what happened. It’s only a precaution.”

  Christy withdrew from his arms.

  “Come on. Don’t be mad at me. It’s my unawareness thing again,” Michael pled.

  “You must repair the unawareness.”

  “I’m improving.”

  Christy gave him a dubious look.

  “Hey, I texted you when we decided to stay at Jake’s house. Give me some props.”

  Christy relented. “This is true. Okay, I give you one prop.”

  Michael couldn’t help it. He cracked up. “Stingy with the props, babe.”

  “What is stingy?”

  “You’re holding back. Like a miser.”

  Christy smiled. “I cannot spoil you. You will expect many props.”

  Michael went to Christy again and tickled him.

  He burst into hoarse laughter. “Do not do this!”

  Rob hung up and watched them, a smile filling his face.

  “No more!”

  Michael laughed and hugged Christy.

  “Oh, the ribs.”

  Shit. Christy’s ribs were still healing, and he needed to remember to be careful. “Crap. Did I hurt you?”

  Christy shook his head as he held his side with his hands.

  “I did, didn’t I. Dang it. I’m sorry, babe.”

  Christy shook his head. “No. They do not bother me so much now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It is nothing.”

  “Okay. Let’s arrange the living room,” Rob announced. “How do you want it, Christy?”

  “I wish it to be the same as my cabin.”

  BY THE time Sophia and Jake returned, everything was in order, and they unpacked the many bags of purchases.

  “Everything is purple,” Michael said.

  “It is the favorite color of Thimi,” Christy said as he folded three pairs of purple sweats.

  “We need to wash everything before you put it away,” Rob said.

  “Oh, yes. Okay. We do this in the main house?”

  “I’ll have the house staff do it tomorrow morning.”

  “It must be now!”

  Everyone turned to Christy’s raised voice, and Rob’s brow knitted. “What is it, Christy?”

  Christy fidgeted with the edge of the bandage on his hand.

  “Babe?” Michael prompted.

  “It is important we have the organization tonight.”

  “Ah, okay. Why?”

  Christy rubbed his temples with fingertips. “I must have the time to decide the changes. Thimi will have—” He abruptly stopped midsentence, rose from the couch, and went to the bathroom.

  “Can I buy a clue?” Jake asked.

  Michael looked to Rob for help.

  “No idea.” Rob rose from the chair he sat in, went to the bathroom door, and knocked. “Christy?”

  Christy didn’t respond, and Michael rose from the couch to join Rob.

  “Babe? Can I come in?” He tried the door handle, and it was unlocked. He peered inside to find Christy sitting on the commode lid with his head in his hands, sobs shaking his small frame. Immediately concerned, Michael went to him, squatted, reached for him, but then thought better of it. “Talk to me, babe. We can do whatever you want to do for Thimi.”

  Christy only cried harder.

  Michael put his hands lightly on Christy’s shoulders and gently pulled him to him. Christy came willingly and fell against Michael’s shoulder. Michael put his arms around him and drew him into his lap as he dropped down to sit on the floor. “It’s okay.” He petted Christy’s thick ringlets and looked up to find Rob, Sophia, and Jake watching from the doorway. He waved them away, and Rob closed the door softly.

  Christy had endured much in his short lifetime, and so much more in the past few months, it broke Michael’s heart. Christy still had a lot of healing to do, and Michael wasn’t sure how much more Christy could take. He wasn’t sure Thimi coming here was a good idea either. Yet, as he smoothed slow strokes down Christy’s back, he swore another silent promise to do whatever it took to help him. Even if that meant helping a kid he didn’t know.

  When Christy’s sobs died away, Michael tucked his chin and kissed his cheek. “I’m here, babe. I’ll do whatever you want to help Thimi. All you need to do is tell me what you want to happen.”

  Christy sat up and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his T-shirt, something Michael had never seen him do. He reached for the toilet paper and handed a wad to him.

  Christy blew his nose and tried to wipe his sleeve clean.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll wash it with all the other stuff.”

  Christy looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  Michael smiled a small smile. “You gotta give yourself time to deal with all you’ve been through. Tell me what I can do to help, okay?”

  “It is hard to explain. When you first come from this terrible place, everything is new, and it is very…. What is the word when you are scared?”

  “Afraid?”

  “Yes, this word. Thimi will be afraid of everything. The new place, the new clothes, the people, the weather. Nothing is like he knows.”

  Michael tucked a rebellious ringlet behind Christy’s ear. “Think back to how you did it.”

  Christy blew his nose again. “It is not the same. I am eighteen when I leave the terrible place. Thimi is twelve. He does not know the same things.”

  Michael thought back to when he was twelve. He thought he’d known everything back then, but life had often turned out to be damn bewildering and sometimes very frightening. He could only imagine what Thimi would feel after twelve years in captivity. “Well—” He cleared his throat. “—we’ll just have to get him through it step by step. I’ll help, okay? Just promise me that you take care of yourself too, or you’ll be no good to him.”

  Christy nodded as he wiped his nose again. “I will do this.”

  “Okay. Are you hungry?”

  Christy shook his head.

  “I need to eat. So let’s order some food and do some laundry.”

  “You will stay with me tonight?”

  “Yep. I need to call Mom and tell her, and I have to be up early for practice tomorrow with Jake. We only have two weeks left to practice.”

  Christy’s face crumpled again.

  “What?”

  “This is very important, and I forget this.”

  “Would you
believe I forgot about it until last night too?”

  “No.”

  “I did. The last couple of days sucked, but we handled it. And you did what it took to put that bastard away.”

  “I did this. Very much sucking.”

  Michael smiled. “Serious suckage. But you did it. You’re my hero.”

  A smile threatened at the corners of Christy’s mouth. “You are the hero. You rescue me from the Ferris wheel.”

  “You didn’t need rescuing. You needed to know that what happened with Yosef changed nothing for us. That’s all.”

  Christy looked at him, the look in his eyes a discrepant combination of fear and wonder. “It does not bother you?”

  Michael cupped Christy’s face again, put his forehead to Christy’s, and looked into his beautiful aquamarine eyes. “My heart breaks for you and what you had to do to stay alive. I can’t imagine it. I just can’t. And it makes me love you more, not less. But it also makes me hit a level of rage I can’t describe, and if I ever get my hands on Yosef again, I’ll kill him. I’m not used to feeling that white-hot anger. So these feelings are weird for me and make me feel that part of me is out of control. That’s not normal for me. I don’t like it. I’m not sure I can explain it any better than that.”

  “It is this anger for me too. But I do not have the feeling I can do anything. I feel as if I am the small bug under the foot.”

  Michael brushed a wisp of white-blond hair back from Christy’s forehead with a fingertip. “I’ll help you get your confidence back, babe. Just give yourself time to heal. I want you to be happy and live life. And I will be there to help you do it every step of the way.”

  Christy suddenly reached up, put his arms around Michael’s neck, and hugged him in one of his too-tight hugs.

  Michael hugged him back and prayed Christy never felt the rage he felt. It made him feel impotent, frustrated, incapable of action, but it also made him acutely aware of how easily one could lose control in moments of fury. And that scared the hell out of him.

  “HEY, MOM,” Michael greeted when she answered the phone.

  “How are you doing, champ? I heard it was a rough afternoon.”

  “Did you talk to Rob?”

  “Jake.”

  “Christy has a load on his shoulders. He’s dealing with everything over Yosef and now he’s freaked trying to make sure everything’s perfect for Thimi. In some ways it’s weird.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I don’t know. He was a wreck in the hospital until I told him Thimi was coming here. Then it was as if someone flipped a switch. It was like, boom, okay, done and over with trauma, gotta make sure everything is perfect for Thimi.”

  She was quiet for a long moment before she spoke. “Sometimes we protect ourselves by doing for others. It helps us pay less attention to our own pain.”

  “You think that’s what it is?”

  “I think so. It’s a form of transference.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  She was quiet for another long moment. “Sometimes, if we’re not terribly self-actualized—”

  “What’s that?”

  “Self-actualization means we know ourselves well. We take the time to be introspective, and we know what drives us, what motivates us to do what we do. We come to know what our limitations are and what our potential is.”

  “Okay, everyone does that.”

  “Sadly, not everyone does. Some choose to place the responsibility for their feelings on others. However, those who are introspective spend a lifetime being so. We can learn something new about ourselves every day no matter our age.”

  “Okay, so go on. If we don’t know ourselves well—you could have just said that—what’s transference?”

  “Transference is when we redirect our emotions to a substitute and try to deal with them through that person or thing.”

  “So, what? Christy is transferring his emotions to Thimi and trying to… to, I don’t know. What?”

  “I would guess that Christy is in extraordinary pain, and his way of dealing with it is to try to help Thimi.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “It isn’t necessarily, but it can be. Here’s another example. Someone blames his mother for the way he feels. He transfers that blame to another figurehead. A teacher, a boss, even a friend. And he begins to take his anger out on that figurehead as if he or she were his mother.”

  “Oh, so yeah. Just blame someone else for everything. Like Jason blamed me for what his mom did because I’m gay and she’s gay.”

  “That’s right. So, transference can be a good way to deal with things, and it can also be a bad way.”

  “So wait. I want to make sure I got this right. Christy helps Thimi, and he’ll feel better about himself?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that, but you get the idea.”

  “Okay, so back to my other question, is that bad?”

  “In Christy’s case, I don’t think so. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and only wants to help everyone. But at some point, Christy needs to come to terms with his own pain. Rob will work with him, and he is very good at what he does.”

  “Okay, what can I do?”

  “Be yourself. You’re utterly normal, Michael. You’re so normal you border on bland.”

  Michael laughed. “You always know how to make me feel great, Mom. Thanks.”

  “It’s true.”

  It was true. He’d lived a normal life, with a normal family, had everything he ever needed or wanted, and had the best friend in the world. He wasn’t spoiled, but he had led a charmed life. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “For what?”

  “Me. My life. I have a great life.”

  She laughed softly. “It wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

  “Yeah, it would. You and Dad are great.”

  “We are. But that’s beside the point. Some people are born unhappy and stay that way no matter what they receive because they choose to stay unhappy. You’ve contributed to your life far more than you realize and certainly as much as we have.”

  Michael smiled to himself. “Okay. You win. I’m going to stay at Christy’s. Will you ask Jake to pick me up at seven?”

  “Why don’t you meet him at the track?”

  “I don’t have my car. We went from the hospital to home to Jake’s in the limo. Then Jake brought me here.”

  “I forgot that.”

  “I’m going to need my car at some point, but I’m okay for now.”

  “I’ll remind Jake to pick you up. How’d your first practice go?”

  “Good. Real good. It’s like nothing ever happened to my knee.”

  “That’s great to hear. Be sure to continue your exercises.”

  “I will. Night, Mom.”

  “Night, honey.”

  Michael entered the bathroom to find the most gorgeous guy he’d ever known looking even more gorgeous in a bubble bath.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MICHAEL WOKE to the rude sound of his six o’clock phone alarm and sunlight streaming through the windows. Memories from the night before cascaded through his mind, and he thought for the millionth time that it was great to be in love with Christy. He rolled over to find Christy gone from the bed and was disappointed. He sat up and looked around. No sign of Christy, and the cabin was utterly silent.

  He climbed out of bed and checked the bathroom. It was empty. He called up to the loft, received no response, and began to worry. He checked the paper cup beside the bed that held Christy’s medication. He hadn’t taken it. His worry began to mount. He reached for the phone, called Christy, and only succeeded in filling the room with the sound of Christy’s ringing phone. Worry began to morph into fear. Where in hell is he?

  He dialed Rob.

  “Hi, Michael.”

  “Christy’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “He isn’t here!”

  “Did you check Thimi’s cabin?”
>
  “Hang on.” Michael trotted out the front door, down the steps, and up the steps to the cabin next door. He tried the door handle. “The door’s locked.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Rob hung up.

  Michael banged on the door. “Christy!” No answer. He banged again. “Christy, are you in there?”

  Rob jogged up behind him as he sorted through keys on a ring until he found the one he wanted. He slid it into the lock and opened the door. “Christy?”

  “Christy! Are you in here?” Michael shouted.

  As he began to climb the staircase, Christy peered over the loft railing, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I am here. Why do you yell?”

  Michael swallowed his fear in one agonizing lump. “Oh my God, babe! You can’t disappear like that!”

  “I did not disappear. I test the place to sleep for Thimi.”

  Michael climbed the remainder of the stairs and took Christy into his arms. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “It was before the sunrise, and everyone is sleeping,” he said, continuing to rub sleep from his eyes.

  “Next time tell somebody. You scared the crap out of us.”

  Christy looked up at him, uncertainty filling his eyes. “You are angry?”

  “No! No, just worried. Just seriously worried when I couldn’t find you.”

  “You know you can contact me any time, night or day, Christy. Next time let someone know where you are,” Rob said from below.

  Christy peered over the railing again. “I am sorry for more problems. I will make the text next time.”

  Rob sighed. “Good. Are you ready to eat?”

  Christy nodded. “In the few minutes.”

  “I’ll send breakfast over.” Rob left, closing the cabin door softly behind him.

  Michael looked at the disarray of purple blankets and quilts on the mattress. “Looks like you had a blanket party.”

  Christy looked at him, confused. “I did not. I test the blankets.”

  Michael chuckled. “Do you approve?”

  “It is the very nice space for him. I look up at the stars to sleep.” He gestured to the skylight, then bent and picked up one of the blankets. “But this is not the good blanket. It has the itchy.”