Survivor Stories

by J P Barnaby

  “You are better every day.”

  “Sure,” Aaron signed as a little more of the light left his eyes. It broke Spencer’s heart to watch, but he let it go. He knew to pick his battles with Aaron, and that one just wasn’t worth fighting. Maybe by the time Aaron graduated, he would be ready to do something with the degree. God, he’d made such amazing progress, even in just the time they’d been together. Almost as quickly as it had come, the darkness left Aaron’s face and he smirked.

  “What?”

  “No distracting me. You promised me food after sex,” Aaron signed, and Spencer gently put a hand to the back of Aaron’s neck and drew him in for a slow, sweet kiss. Even a year ago, Aaron wouldn’t have been able to pull himself out of the mood. He would have let the darkness have him.

  “I. Love. You.,” Spencer said aloud on the force of a breathless laugh. Aaron slid a finger along Spencer’s jaw. Time hadn’t changed the structure of Aaron’s face, but it had lessened the tightness and the bruises under his eyes.

  “I love you too,” Aaron replied, and not for the first time since he’d fallen in love with Aaron, Spencer wished he could hear the sound of Aaron’s voice as he said it. Instead, he laced his fingers with Aaron’s and squeezed once before climbing off the bed.

  “It is ninety degrees outside. You want a different shirt?” Spencer asked as Aaron pulled the long-sleeved T-shirt over his scarred chest. Automatically, it seemed, Aaron shook his head. Then he paused, the shirt just covering his nipples. Time hung heavy in the air as Spencer waited, but Aaron must have reached his level of accommodation for the day because he just shook his head again. That he thought about it, considered forgoing the sleeves, lightened Spencer’s heart.

  They dressed side by side, with Spencer lamenting the loss as Aaron covered up his sweet, pale skin. Though he would probably never truly understand, Spencer had an idea what it must be like for Aaron to bare his body to anyone: a much more intense magnification of the feeling Spencer had when he had to talk aloud to someone who didn’t know him. So for him to do it at all—Spencer just didn’t have the words for what that meant to him.

  He slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans, and they padded down to the kitchen, Spencer shirtless and barefoot and Aaron in a long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and socks.

  “I wore a short-sleeved shirt in the backyard the other day when Allen and I went out to kick the ball around. He’s leaving for college at the end of the summer. We won’t have much more time,” Aaron told him, and Spencer nearly dropped the phone he’d been using to order wings over the Pizza Hut app. A twinge of jealousy flamed across his heart at the thought of Aaron being so open and free with someone else, even if it was Aaron’s brother. Those moments should be Spencer’s. He’d worked for them and cried for them. Then the flash was gone, and a dull heat slid up his neck at the thought he’d had it at all.

  “Was it the first time Allen had seen your arms?” Spencer set the phone on the counter and focused on Aaron rather than his own childish mental rant. It was the first time he’d even heard of Aaron wearing something that didn’t cover him completely. The scars on his face he couldn’t do much about during the summer, but his arms and legs he kept hidden. Spencer had teased him that very first summer about heat stroke, and the broken, tortured look he’d received in response ensured he’d never broached the subject again.

  “I’m sure he’d seen them at some point over the last five years, but that was the first time I’d ever let my freak flag fly like that.” Aaron smiled halfheartedly at his own joke, and Spencer frowned at him.

  “You. Are. Not. A. Freak.,” he said with more anger than he’d intended. Aaron stroked his arm lightly.

  “I know. He was fine with it. He didn’t stare like I thought he would. It was nice to feel the sun on my skin.” Aaron look startled when Spencer cradled his face between two warm palms.

  “You. Amaze. Me.,” he said simply and captured Aaron’s mouth in a tender kiss.

  “I won’t be pole dancing anytime soon,” Aaron said, making Spencer laugh and defusing the emotional tension between them. Spencer picked up the phone again with one hand and grabbed the front of Aaron’s T-shirt with the other, pulling him to the rec room so they could order their food.

  I LOVE him, Aaron thought as he watched Spencer sign the receipt for their dinner. I want to be better for him.

  The sweet, spicy smell of honey barbeque wings drifted up from the boxes he carried into the small breakfast nook in the kitchen. Sometimes they still ate in the rec room when Aaron came over, but usually they moved to the kitchen because Aaron felt more comfortable there. His mother drilled that into his head all his life. Food stays in the kitchen.

  I don’t want him to have to keep paying for dinner or stay trapped in the house because I can’t function. Aaron used to hate that Spencer always paid. Dinners and even the few movies they went to that had closed captioning, Spencer pulled out a card long before Aaron had a chance to think. It reminded him he couldn’t hold down a job. But when he’d brought it up in a session, Dr. Thomas advised him to choose his battles carefully. What Spencer chose to spend his money on was Spencer’s choice, not his. Aaron found that funny since it was actually Dr. Thomas’s money anyway, but finally he let it go. One day Spencer would get sick of all his shit and leave anyway. That thought made Aaron’s heart ache. Spencer saved his life. Had Spencer not entered his world and brought Dr. Thomas, he had no doubt he’d have found the courage to end his life. It might have taken another year or two, but another year or two of the insanity would have taken its toll.

  “Hey., I. Know. That. Look…. What. Ever. It. Is., Let. It. Go.,” Spencer murmured in his ear as he took the boxes from Aaron’s numb hands and set them on the table. He went to get paper plates and plastic utensils while Spencer grabbed a couple of cans of pop from the refrigerator.

  “I can’t help but think that one day you’ll get sick of my issues and leave,” Aaron signed when Spencer came back to the table. “I can’t have sex. Hell, I can’t even get a blow job without freaking out. I sure as hell can’t give one, and—” Aaron’s rant was abruptly cut off when Spencer grabbed both his hands and held them tight.

  “Stop. Please.,” Spencer said, and Aaron’s throat closed around the thickness in Spencer’s voice, the mist in his eyes. “You. Do. Not. Know. What. My. Life. Was. Like. Before. You. Were. In. It…. I. Would. Not. Give. That. Up., Not. For. Anything.” A smile crept across his face, and he let go of Aaron’s hands. “You. Are. Stuck. With. Me.”

  “Thank God,” Aaron murmured and sat with his hands folded in his lap. The terrible burning fear in his stomach didn’t allow room for food, even though he’d joked earlier about Spencer feeding him after sex. Rather than commenting, Spencer simply dropped half a dozen wings onto his plate and then another half dozen on his own. For so long, Spencer had dealt with his eccentricities. He knew Aaron better than anyone, maybe even Aaron’s mother.

  “Did you make a decision about tomorrow?” Spencer’s fingers, glazed with sticky-looking wing sauce, made the signs effortlessly, and Aaron wondered if he’d ever be that proficient. To avoid answering the question, Aaron picked up a wing from his plate and shoved the end in his mouth. The butterflies declared war on his stomach, and after a moment, he put the rest of the bit of chicken back down. He had made a decision, but even though he still had an entire day to prepare himself, the thought terrified him.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Spencer looked as if all his dreams had come true—the light in his eyes would be worth spending a few hours with Dr. Thomas and probably his mother, surrounded by thousands of people. He would lose himself in a sea of humanity with Spencer on the stage shaking hands with the president of the college. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck every time he imagined the scene. Jesus, he wouldn’t even go to his own graduation, but for Spencer….

  “Are you going to stay tonight, or…?” Spencer looked hopeful, but that pushed just a bit too far beyond his boundari
es. He’d need one of the pills he’d hidden in the back of an unused junk drawer in his room, one his mother would have no reason to look in. He’d put them there when Dr. Thomas took him off them completely. There were just a few left, and he only used them when he really needed them—like when he needed to sleep the night before Spencer’s graduation or to keep him from freaking out completely in front of thousands of people who would stare at him.

  It must be how animals felt at the zoo. But he had just agreed to go, so he’d suck it up and be a man.

  He had to.

  “ARE YOU okay?” his mother asked for the thirty-second time since coming to wake him that morning. He’d kept a running tally in his head to distract his brain from taking those next few steps. Dr. Thomas had taught him long ago to visualize the coming situation and see himself getting through it. He saw several different things when he dared to imagine the graduation in his mind. First, he saw someone bumping him and him going down, disrupting one of the most important days in Spencer’s life. Second, he saw the man with the scar coming out of the crowd and grabbing him. Third, he saw the man who had cut Juliette’s throat pulling Spencer’s head back by his beautiful curls, the graceful arc of his neck twitching as the blade slid across it.

  Aaron made it to the bathroom in his room just in time to throw up.

  “You don’t have to do this, honey. He will understand,” his mother said from the bathroom door with a towel clutched in her hand. The black terry cloth, a stark contrast to her white knuckles, scraped against his skin as she handed it to him.

  “He puts up with so much shit just to be with me, Mom. The least I can do is go to his damn graduation,” he muttered and wet one end of the hand towel. The cold water helped to calm the roiling snakes in his stomach, which had apparently eaten all the butterflies.

  “Aaron, Spencer loves you. If you don’t go to his graduation, he will understand.” She took the towel from him and threw it into the hamper next to the door. Aaron sagged against the sink, braced by hands gripping the sides of the small counter. He had to go, but more than that, he wanted to go. They had fought side by side for a couple of years through battalions of professors and bombardments of homework so Spencer could triumph and win the war. No way would he miss Spencer’s victory dance.

  Aaron nodded at the painting above the sink, and his mother took that as her cue to leave. With no room for argument, she had informed him at dinner last night that she would be standing beside him, watching Spencer graduate. Dr. Thomas had suspected as much and made sure to pick up four tickets for the event, one for himself, one for Aaron, one for Aaron’s mother, Michelle, and one for Spencer’s Aunt Nell. In the three years they’d been dating, Aaron had managed to avoid meeting Aunt Nell. More than just fear of meeting new people, Aaron was terrified Nell wouldn’t like him, and the woman held a place of reverence in Spencer’s life.

  His mother didn’t say anything when he came down half an hour later in a long-sleeved white button-up and dress pants. A tie hung at the back of his closet, bequeathed to him by the Aaron who used to stand up in front of a room and debate in it. There were days, maybe even like this one, when he wondered what that Aaron would be doing now. Surely he’d be away at college, drinking and partying with his friends, about to graduate himself. He would have no idea of the horrors that happen when you don’t protect yourself every minute of every day. That Aaron would be normal. That Aaron would be able to give Spencer the kind of relationship he deserved.

  That Aaron wouldn’t have looked twice at Spencer, the voice in the back of his head, the dark one that shocked him with its veracity, said in unwanted venomous observation. Aaron had been beautiful before the attack, with flawless skin, bright blue eyes, and stylish black hair. That Aaron could have had anyone. He wouldn’t have picked the deaf kid. You’re only with him because you’re fucked up. God, he hated that voice. He hated the way it needled into his consciousness when he was hurt or afraid. He hated the awful things it said. Mostly, he hated that he wondered if it was right. Aaron saw the contrast in old pictures. Old Aaron and new Aaron. Pictures of his father from college showed him the man Aaron would have grown into. Would that Aaron have loved Spencer? Would they ever have even met? He refused to believe that “everything happens for a reason” shit. It was all just a matter of circumstance.

  “Do you want something to eat before we go?” his mother asked, but he shook his head almost violently. Allen sat at the table next to Anthony, shoveling down pancakes. Their father was already working in his converted office upstairs. Even without Aaron’s night terrors, Anthony would continue to sleep in the basement once Allen went off to college, so John Downing decided to turn Allen’s old bedroom into an office.

  “I think I have a protein shake in there if you want it,” Anthony said with a careless toss of his head toward the refrigerator. It was the first time Anthony had said anything at the table in days, and their mother looked relieved. His long black hair fell into his face as he ate. At some point over the last year, Anthony had dyed it to match Aaron’s. Aaron should know what that was about, but he didn’t. Instead, he decided to give the snakes in his stomach something to focus on besides his gut and went to retrieve the protein shake.

  Before he really had time to pull himself together, it was time to leave.

  “I just need to grab something out of my room. I’ll be right out,” Aaron called as he ran up the stairs. The bedroom door knocked into the stopper as he threw it open. Kicking his discarded pajama pants out of the way, he jogged over to the dresser and pulled out the drawer he never used. The pills were in the back, tucked into an old pair of socks, completely out of place among batteries, broken pencils, and randomly multiplying electronic cords. He pulled out the bottle and opened it with shaking hands.

  “You haven’t needed those for a while,” Allen said as he leaned against the doorframe and watched Aaron drop a tranquilizer into his palm. His eyes met Allen’s for a long moment before he hid the rest of the pills back in the drawer and stalked past into the bathroom. He took a little paper cup from the stack next to the faucet, filled it with lukewarm water from the tap, and knocked back the pill.

  “Look,” Aaron said as he wiped excess water from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I just need something to get me through today without freaking out completely and fucking up Spencer’s day. You remember how bad it can get. I’m going to be surrounded by people touching me and bumping into me. I can’t… I just… I need to keep myself under control.”

  “No, it’s a good idea. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Allen said as he took a step into the room. Aaron sat on the bed and waited for the edge on his nerves to dull. The navy comforter, wadded up at the end of his bed, was soft under his clenching fists. He smoothed it and then clenched it again, avoiding Allen’s eyes until his brother spoke. “In fact, it actually makes me feel better about you going.”

  “Thanks. I don’t know why I wanted to hide it from Mom. It’s not like she won’t be able to tell.” Aaron shrugged and rubbed his sweaty palms on his dress pants. The room would soon start to take on that fuzzy feeling he used to associate with the drugs. The prescription was a little out of date, but according to the research he’d done in his online support group, they’d just be a little less potent. He hadn’t risked taking two but decided to grab another one and put it in his pocket in case he needed it later.

  Five minutes later, he climbed into the car next to his mother.

  “You brought the tickets?” he asked, and she nodded. He’d gotten the tickets from Spencer the night before so they could drive separately from Spencer’s family, just in case. Everything in his life consisted of that single phrase “just in case”—just in case Aaron had a meltdown, just in case he couldn’t control it, just in case his mother needed to get him out—pick one.

  The drive to the college flew by. It had never seemed that short when he had to get to class, but in no time, it seemed, they were pulling into the par
king lot. The sheer number of cars already overflowing the lot made the breath solidify in Aaron’s lungs. It felt thick around him, clogging the windows, pressing him back against the seat. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the floaty feeling in his head. With a quiet sigh, he palmed the pill in his pocket, brought it to his mouth so his mother couldn’t see, and then swallowed it dry. Since she was preoccupied with finding a parking space, he didn’t think she saw, but it wouldn’t have mattered at that point. If he wanted to get out of the car, he needed all the help he could get.

  Once she put the car in park, she hunted in her bag for a minute. Then she grabbed her bottle of water and took a long swallow. She handed him a second bottle without a word. Either she’d always planned to give it to him or she knew about the pill. It shouldn’t have surprised him—she always knew. Then she retied the little ribbon on the collar of her sweater. Finally, she pulled her hair out of its clip and brushed it before reseating the little piece of plastic. He didn’t know if she stalled for her sanity or for his. When she could find nothing else to distract her from the impending disaster, she looked over at him.

  “Do you want to wait here for a while or try to meet up with Spencer before it starts?” she asked, her voice even more understanding than normal, which was a feat in and of itself. He didn’t know how she could be more understanding. He’d have put himself in a sack and drowned himself in a river by now.

  Not the dark thoughts. Not now.

  “I….” The fuzzy feeling began to settle over Aaron’s brain, stronger and more powerfully after the second pill.

  “Is it kicking in?” She always knew.

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s try and find Spencer, then. Can you text him and see where he is?”

  It took Aaron a minute to be able to focus enough to text Spencer, who responded that he and his father were next to the statue where he and Aaron first met. He ran a hand through his short black hair, gelled artfully into place by Allen for the occasion, and rested his head against the headrest in his mother’s new Sentra.