Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “And you never will if you don’t bite the bullet and just do it.”

  “I will, okay?” Cole replied, backing down a bit. “Give me some time.”

  “Cole, we’ve been talking about this for months. You’ve got to stop pretending that it’s not happening.”

  “Oh, believe me, doc, I know it’s fucking happening!”

  “Then you need to make the decision to stop acting as if you’re sighted and start acting like a blind man,” Dr. Butterman said gently. He hated to push, but Cole was a stubborn one.

  “I’m not blind yet!”

  “No, you’re not,” Dr. Butterman acknowledged, but he continued, “you may not be for years, or you may wake up tomorrow and be completely blind. Then what’ll you do?”

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

  “Son, we’ve gone over this many times, yet you continue to fight this every step of the way. You need to make a decision about whether you will use a cane or a guide dog if you expect to be self-sufficient and not burn up all your money on limousines and a car service.”

  “I have money.”

  “Yes, you do. But it won’t last forever.”

  “Look, John. My family has money, and I’m sure that I’ll always have enough to take private transport to wherever I need to go.”

  “What if you find yourself in a situation where you can’t get a car? Then what will you do?”

  “That scenario is highly unlikely.”

  “Cole, why are you even here? Why come to see me every week, when you insist on pushing away all our resources? Who are you fooling?”

  “I’m not tapping a cane in front of me,” Cole replied in a voice gruff with emotion. The sentence was punctuated with a sob as his voice cracked, and then he continued. “I’d rather die first.”

  “Cole, there’s no shame in being blind.”

  “There is for me, John. I’m Yonsei, a fourth generation Japanese-American who was destined to bring great pride to my family. All I’ve brought so far is heartache and shame.”

  “Through no fault of your own, Cole.”

  “I’m an only son, John. I was supposed to follow in my father’s footsteps, yet I had to give up his dream because of this disease. Now, I’m being pressured into marrying, into having a family, to carry on the Fujiwara name. All I can think of is that I have this gene in me, this flaw that will pass on to my child or grandchild, and I can’t do it.”

  “Is that the only thing stopping you from marrying? Hmm?”

  “I don’t want to discuss this anymore.” Cole stood abruptly, ready to escape.

  “Your choice, Cole,” John said, trying to calm him down by remaining calm himself. “I’m here to help you, not to judge in any way. Surely you know that?”

  “I said drop it!”

  “Very well.” John reached out for Cole’s hand and was relieved when he felt the warm hand pressing in on his. “Come back here and sit down, Cole.”

  Cole flopped down on the chair, taking back his hand abruptly. “Why?”

  “Isn’t all this stress about your dad and not you?”

  “A lot of it is, yes.”

  “What about Cole? What do you want to do for the rest of your life?”

  “Huh! How about seeing one foot in front of me?”

  “Beyond that, Cole. I know you’re getting your master’s in Asian studies. Are you planning to teach?”

  “I’ve thought about it; however, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable in front of a class when I can’t see anyone.”

  “What does it matter so long as they can see you?”

  “And what are they going to see? A pathetic blind man fumbling his way around his desk?”

  “You know what? This pity party of yours is getting really old.”

  “Tough shit, John! I haven’t had years to deal with this yet. It’s all new to me, so I’m entitled to feel sorry for myself.”

  “Well, when you decide to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start dealing with reality, come back and see me,” John said, standing up and getting ready to leave. He knew he was being unprofessional and should continue to be patient and cater to Cole’s fragile ego, but it had been over six months, and he was making no progress whatsoever. Maybe it was time for some tough love. The sad thing was that this wasn’t all about being blind. The man had other issues he was dancing around, which were just as critical.

  John had seen it all in this place and had learned how to work with different types of people. Men or women, rich or poor; they were no different. When the curtain fell and darkness surrounded them, the fear and the dread were universal.

  I HEARD the keys in the locks, and I straightened up from my reclining position on the sofa. I must have dozed off after all my mood swings, definitely lethargic from that orgasm on Cole’s bed.

  He walked in and looked terribly unhappy. His brows were furrowed and the beautiful eyes looked troubled.

  “Hey,” I called out, waiting to see what kind of reply I’d get.

  He sort of grunted, nodded his head, and went into the kitchen.

  I followed quickly, anxious to help with my groceries but wary of this sudden shift in temper. He’d been fine when he left a few hours ago. Now he looked like a stick of dynamite, waiting for the spark to set him off.

  “So, what’d you buy?” he asked, trying to appear interested but clearly bored.

  “I bought some peanut butter and jelly, some tomato soup, chips and salsa, oh, and some tuna for protein,” I added with a smile, hoping he’d smile back.

  He looked at me like I was some sort of bug. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. You were expecting filet mignon?”

  “Fuck off, Sloan.”

  “What is your fucking problem, Cole? You’re acting like you haven’t taken a shit in days. Are you constipated or what?”

  “I am not constipated, nor do I have a problem,” Cole said, every word more frigid than the next. “I’m just sick of being told how I should feel, what I should do, and where the fuck I should go next.”

  “Who’s telling you this?” I asked, taken aback by the vehemence.

  “Does it matter?” he screamed, completely out of control.

  “Whoa, dude, chill out, okay? You want some ganja?”

  “Fuck, yeah!”

  “Okay, come on… my bedroom, now.”

  5

  I WAS flying high… man… so, so high….

  “Cole, buddy,” I nudged him with my shoulder. “Want a rip?”

  He took it from my hand and inhaled deeply, coughing a little. For one brief moment I had a pang of guilt, remembering Cole’s asthma, but it was quickly forgotten as I watched him lie down on the floor and stretch out. His stomach was concave under his belt, emphasizing the bulge in his jeans, reminding me of what was underneath. I focused on his chest instead, wondering if he was hairy or not.

  “You have cobwebs,” he said.

  “What?” I tore my eyes away from him and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Can’t you see them?”

  “No.”

  “What’s the matter, Sloan?” Cole asked, starting to giggle, “Are you blind or something?” The giggle erupted into a loud laugh that was contagious, and soon we were both cracking up, filling the room with the sound of our laughter.

  I got up, walked over to the corner, and tried to get as close to the ceiling as possible. Not too hard given my height, but I still couldn’t see anything. I turned back to him and said, “No cobwebs, Cole. I think you’re hallucinating.”

  “Must be,” he said, smirking, “’cause I see a lot of cobwebs!” He curled up into a ball and broke out in another round of laughter.

  “Cobwebs?” Focus, Sloan… he was starting to lose me.

  “Get down here,” Cole stuttered, hiccupping for a breath.

  I got down on the floor and stretched out beside him. He was silent for a while, but then he grabbed my hand and clutched it tightly.

  “What do
you see from here?” he asked.

  “The ceiling,” I replied, a little freaked by what was happening. Was this some sort of a test?

  “No cobwebs?”

  “Dude, you’re so buzzed.”

  “No. That’s not it.” He turned on his side and looked at me, so I rolled over as well and stared at him, wondering what this was all about. He closed his eyes and frowned slightly, “Are your eyes still gray?”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.” His smile was tentative, sad almost, but he was moving on to the next topic. “Thank you for doing this with me,” he said. “I needed this.”

  “Hey, you can come in here anytime you want.”

  “Sloan?”

  “What?”

  I rolled over on my stomach and lifted my upper torso, resting my weight on my elbows. Cole was watching me the whole time, and I gazed down at his face, focusing on his eyes instead of his mouth, which was far too tempting. They were a dark blue; indigo was the perfect word, like the ocean at Half Moon Bay right after a winter storm. They were striated with brown and black around the iris. But that wasn’t what held my attention. There were tears in his eyes, and I didn’t understand what was happening. He seemed fine one minute ago and now he wasn’t.

  “Cole, what is it?”

  “Nothing,” he said, even as a tear overflowed and rolled down his cheek. “Sloan….” He said my name in a whisper, barely able to get it out, all the while looking at me with eyes that seemed tortured suddenly. “Would you kiss me?”

  “What?”

  “Please?”

  “But you aren’t….”

  “Just fucking kiss me,” he growled, grabbing my head forcefully and bringing his mouth up to meet mine. He attacked me with a bruising kiss, the likes of which I’d never experienced. He was hungry and aggressive and I moaned loudly as the heat licked at my groin with a gathering force. Cole was devouring me, making needy, begging sounds that only increased my desire. He held my face between his hands and pulled me even closer, exploring and sweeping the inside of my lips with his inquisitive tongue. I kissed back, meeting him with an equal amount of passion, loving his taste, the feel of him so right. He moaned when I rolled on top of him and pressed my groin against his. I could feel his erection, hard against mine, and we began to grind and rub, all the while kissing each other like there was no tomorrow. I was sure this was a dream courtesy of Northern Lights, the finest marijuana you could buy, but I didn’t care. I was going to ride this fantasy as far and as high as it would take me.

  “Make me feel, Sloan,” his voice came out strangled, his words slamming me in the gut, “please, make me feel something.”

  Shit, shit….

  I had no idea what was going through his head or why. I only knew that he wanted me, and I would be a liar if I said I didn’t want him back. He was the most beautiful thing I’d laid eyes on in my short and fucked-up life, and I was determined to make him feel, just like he asked me to.

  I fumbled with his belt and tugged at his zipper with a trembling hand until I wound my way into his boxers and wrapped my warm fingers around that rock-hard cock I’d been dreaming about.

  “So fucking thick,” I sighed into his mouth, listening to his heart rate speed up as he let me minister to him. I was lost in sensation, loving the feel of him in my hand, smooth as silk and pulsating with need. “Cole,” I begged, “let me suck you off.”

  “Yes.” He pushed me down and tilted his hips up. “Please.”

  I released him from the prison of his pants and wrapped my lips around the plump head that seeped clear liquid. He tasted like the sweetest honey, with a dash of spice and the musky smell I remembered from lying on his pillow earlier today. This was so much better than my imagination; I released him and buried my face in his crotch, loving the feel of the soft patch of hair surrounding his prick.

  I was determined to give him a blowjob he’d never forget. I had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but right now, he was giving himself to me, and I’d take any part of him that I could get.

  I licked up and down his shaft, tracing the veins and ridges with my tongue, bathing him with wet heat. I nibbled and sucked, making noises I wasn’t even aware of, but it didn’t really matter, as his noises were just as loud, and just as needy. He started to rut against me, fucking my mouth and groaning louder and louder with each thrust. I felt his fingers raking through my hair, pulling at each strand with the force of his need. Much too quickly, I felt his balls tighten up, and he cried out as he came in hot spurts, all the while thrusting and panting, trying to catch a breath. I came spontaneously without even touching myself. His sounds alone were enough to get me off, and I shuddered through it, feeling the wet stain blossom around my groin, ruining my jeans for the night.

  “Oh God.” I lay there with my head on his crotch, feeling his pulse beating rapidly. I turned and slipped him back into my mouth. His cock was still half erect and slick with a combination of my saliva and his spunk. I finished him off, licking and cleaning him with slow sweeps of my tongue, loving his taste and his smell.

  “Sloan,” he sighed, pulling me up to him and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Stay.”

  I fell asleep on top of him.

  When I woke up I was alone. I sat up, a little stiff from sleeping on the hard floor, and looked around, but Cole was nowhere in sight. I staggered into the bathroom and yanked off my jeans, which were stiff with dried cum, a visual reminder of what had happened a few hours ago. Everything seemed like a dream, but the reality of it was right here, in my blue jeans. Back in my room, I threw the pants in the hamper that Cole had provided for me, and I pulled on a pair of sweats, anxious to find my roommate and see if he was okay. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but a part of me was filled with trepidation.

  COLE HAD showered and changed an hour before Sloan stirred. He pushed himself into his normal morning routine, doing everything to take his mind off what just happened. He still couldn’t believe he’d given into feelings he’d harbored for years and successfully buried under layers of duty.

  He blamed it all on the weed and Sloan—who was a big queer and would probably fuck his own brother if given half a chance. He’d have to figure out a way to get rid of him. Sloan’s presence would only remind him on a daily basis that he had one more altered gene running through his body that was ruining his life, although this was something he could control. He’d managed to harness this need for twenty-six years, and he didn’t see why now should be any different.

  His hand was shaking as he poured one cup of rice into the automatic rice maker, followed by two cups of water. He plugged it in and turned it on, moving like a robot through the kitchen that he had memorized. He decided to have some tuna with his rice once it was done, and he moved over to the cabinet where he kept the packets of prepared fish. He pulled out the one that he knew would be a little on the spicy side because it was to the right, while the blander flavor was to the left.

  At about that time, Sloan stumbled in. Cole braced himself for whatever was about to happen, knowing that it would be unpleasant but necessary. He didn’t need a roommate or a friend or even an admirer, if he wanted to put Sloan in some sort of category. What he needed was to be left alone to live his life and do what he was destined to do. Marry Juliana, teach, and become active in the Japanese-American community. He was going to have a child someday, hopefully a boy who wouldn’t inherit the damaged gene. He’d teach him how to play baseball, like his father and grandfather, and see his life plan to fruition despite being derailed by his loss of sight. Sloan and his kind had no place in his world, a fact that he was all too aware of.

  Sloan came up from behind and put his hand on his neck and bent down to kiss him on the cheek. “You okay?”

  He spun around and pushed him away, disgusted by his proximity and touch. “Get the fuck away from me!”

  “Cole….”

  “Get away, Sloan!” Cole repeated, louder this time and with a look on his face that spok
e volumes. “Last night was a mistake, okay? Don’t think I’m a fucking queer!”

  “I don’t think anything, Cole,” Sloan replied in a whisper. “If you want to forget about it, we will.”

  “Yeah, we’ll not only forget about it, we’re going to find you a new place to live!”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because your father and mine will want to know what happened.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what they think.”

  “Oh, yes, you do,” Sloan countered, his voice rising as his anger began to surge. “What are you going to say, Cole? You kicked me out ’cause I sucked you off and you loved it?”

  Cole stepped forward and slapped Sloan on the face. “Fuck you!”

  Sloan hauled one off himself, hitting Cole square on the chin, knocking him back a few steps. “Don’t ever raise your hand to me again. You hear me, you motherfucker?!”

  “Leave me alone!” Cole yelled out, turning quickly so Sloan wouldn’t see the tears that were threatening to spill over. A moot point, really, because if he had turned, he would have seen tears streaming down Sloan’s face as well.

  6

  CAN ANYBODY find me somebody to love…?

  Freddie Mercury was singing to me while I sat on the bathroom floor, overdosed on Xanax and caffeine: a bad, bad combination. Each morning I get up I die a little. Can barely stand on my feet, take a look in the mirror and cry…. Somebody, somebody, can anybody find me, somebody to love... find me somebody to love.

  The blade was sharper because it was new. The cuts were clean and the blood oozed in bright contrast to my pale skin. Find me somebody to love, find me somebody to love, slash, cut, slash, slash—blood seeped out of me in rivulets, down my legs and onto the bathroom tile—red against white, splashes of color that would have been pleasing to the eye if it weren’t so macabre, and all the while Freddie blared in my ears, courtesy of my iPhone. I just gotta get out of this prison cell, someday I’m gonna be free. Find me somebody to love, find me somebody to love, find me find me….