Crush

by Laura Susan Johnson

  ...and by hated, unbidden visions of a life that I lived before a kindly man named Lloyd Tafford adopted me, repressed memories that I'd never before had to deal with during waking hours.

  I was afraid this would happen.

  When the phone rings that evening, I pounce on it like the fool I am for him. My heart thunders in my ears. "How's your Mom?"

  "She's right here, asleep. She's better. They're talking about letting her go back to your floor soon."

  Not having to look into his eyes is not making it any easier to talk to him. "I want to see you again," he breathes in a soft, singsong voice.

  All I can muster is a giddy, "Yes."

  "Last night was... God..." He chuckles. "You wore me out."

  "I did?" The living room is beginning to spin around me.

  "Yes, sir, you did."

  I flail my hand for a chair to sit in. "Tammy?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "Why do you like me?"

  After a long silence, he says, "That's a strange thing for you to ask."

  "Yeah, I guess so."

  "Why do you like me?"

  What do I say and not sound like an idiot? "Because... I... think you're really sweet."

  "Sweet?" I'm an idiot after all. "And you're good looking," I add hastily.

  "Oh yeah?" Now he's pleased.

  "And..." I'm trembling. I forget that he can't see me right now. I relive everything from yesterday, last night, early this morning. He's so good, so experienced, and I love it. I'm so afraid of him, and I love it. He's forcing me to abandon who I've been all these years without him. He's making me relinquish the fortitude that has sustained me, the refusal to be vulnerable, to let anyone into my heart, to be humiliated by love.

  I know humiliation. I was not the pristine virgin I wanted to be for him last night. I probably lost my virginity at a younger age than he did. The damnable, miserable shame of it is, it was my own parents, the two people who were supposed to love and protect me, who violated me, raped me, made me into pornographic entertainment for their friends.

  One by one, Tammy's making me drop the weapons I've been wielding. Every smile, every word, every touch, every kiss is collapsing the wall of armour around me and introducing me to a part of life that for years I believed I'd never get to experience, because I believed that my parents had destroyed that part of me.

  I'm wrong, and I'm happy. I've never been so happy. I've never been so afraid. I've been in a coma, and Tammy has awakened me. He has reached inside of me and awakened my sexuality.

  "And?"

  I blush hotly. "And you're sexy," I whisper.

  I love it when he whispers back, "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. You're so sexy." My mind's eye roves over his thick, dark hair and eyebrows, the incredibly long, pretty black lashes framing his kind, intelligent teal eyes, his olive skin under dark stubble, his handsome nose, his perfect chin, his generous lips, his strong neck and his Adam's apple, his wide shoulders, his muscled arms, the just-right amount of hair over his broad chest, the dark pink of his nipples, his belly button, his hipbones, his lovely hind-end, the dark diamond of his pubic hair, his beautiful, long, veined sex, the round red swell of his scrotum, his long, muscular legs, his wonderful hands and feet.

  A breath rasps out of him. "You're not being shy at all right now!"

  "I would be if you were here."

  "Why? We've... already... uh..."

  "Because you're so sexy I can't stand it," I gasp. "I feel like I'm going to die every time I look at you."

  "God, you're driving me so crazy. I wish I was there. Right now..."

  "Why do you like me? Your turn."

  He doesn't even hesitate. "Because you're the sweetest, sexiest, most beautiful little boy I've ever seen in my life."

  The house is melting. "More," I whisper.

  "I love your eyes, your face, your voice, your hair, your sweet, sweet body. I've never seen anything like you. I've loved you, I've wanted you, as long as I can remember. I want to live inside of you. I want to crush you against me and just feel you breathing. I want you so close there's nothing between us."

  I'm tingling, fluttering. "When you're not inside me, I feel a draft. I feel cold."

  "Yes," he moans. "I'm coming over, in just a while, and getting into your warm bed."

  "I'll be waiting for you."

  "I'm going to fuck you senseless. Be prepared."

  I'm afraid of him, deliciously afraid. We hang up, and I dash into my room and burrow under my bedcovers. I can't wait. I masturbate as I remember the wondrous things our bodies did together, the things he's going to do to me tonight. He's left me in a chronic state of sexual arousal. I'm already hooked on him.

  Early in my life, I'd been forced to have sex while being love-starved. I've been starved for sexual love, but Tammy's is the only love I would ever have accepted, and now, I've not only accepted, I've taken, selfishly, greedily, ravenously, of the pleasure he's given. Just thinking of his hands all over me makes me touch myself. Just thinking of the way he kisses me, hard, sucking, nipping, causes tiny orgasms to quiver through me.

  twenty-three:

  tammy

  (december 26)

  As I pretend to sleep, Jamie stares at me through adoring eyes that are dark and round, the pupils dilated. I watch him through the slits of my eyes as he touches my hair, nuzzles me, smells my skin, leaves feather-soft kisses over my neck, chest, shoulders, ears and even my eyelids. He bathes my face with kisses before releasing a gorgeous whimper and latching onto my mouth hungrily, sweetly. He tastes like the chocolate pudding pie he made for us a few hours ago.

  "I love you," he whispers over and over. "I love you. I'll never stop loving you. My love... my love." He uses his fingers to lightly stroke and tickle the back of my neck. Everything he's doing to me excites me and relaxes me simultaneously. It's impossible to remain unresponsive.

  "What are you doing?" I pretend to murmur sleepily, when in reality, I'm so turned on I can barely control myself.

  "I just love kissing you."

  He takes my love and gives his to me.

  It feels so good.

  "Let's make out until we come," he moans, his mouth brushing mine, his tongue teasing. We grind against each other through our underwear. I stop counting the kisses.

  At last he sighs and curls his body up beside mine, hugs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, and dozes off, his lovely mouth curved into a contented smile.

  In the morning, Jamie ignores his cell phone alarm signalling him to get up for a day shift at St. Paul's. When I blow a raspberry against the back of his neck he sighs, "Lord, I'm tired."

  "Don't tell me I wore you out. We only did it four times!"

  He sits up and moans, "I'm dizzy."

  He looks pale, his face lightly sheened with perspiration.

  "You have a fever?" I ask, feeling his face. Cold, clammy.

  My concern grows as he struggles to put on his socks and shoes. He keeps dozing while sitting up.

  "You should call them and tell them you're not coming."

  "No, I told them I'd do a double today. We're really short-staffed this time of year." His slender shoulders slump. "Why am I so tired?"

  "I'll go easier on you tonight," I tease, and kneel down to help him get his shoes on. "You really shouldn't go in if you're this tired. You might be coming down with something."

  "I'll be alright. I just can't seem to get myself going."

  "Because you've been pulling too many doubles. You work too hard, Jamie. You don't get enough rest."

  He rolls his eyes. "Stacy's been talking to you, I see. I told them I'd be in today. I can't back out now. I've gotta be there in less than two hours."

  "It ought to be illegal for them to make you work that many doubles in a week!" I frown.

  "They don't make me, they let me. I'm trying to save money to move to the coast, remember?"

  "Well," I say firmly. "It ought to be illegal to let you then."

  Stacy arrives to pi
ck up Jamie for work. That is, Ray has driven her here.

  Oh boy, how are we going to explain this?

  When Jamie teases Stace and asks about Ray being her chauffeur, she turns red and says, "I spent the night at his place last night. He's going to drive us in and pick us up later."

  Good. They can leave without Ray finding out I spent the night here.

  But when I wrap my arms around Jamie to give him a discreet goodbye kiss, it feels like he's melting in my arms. His body sags limply, his eyes half closed.

  "Stacy! Something's wrong!"

  "Shit!" Stacy hisses as Jamie's body becomes a dead weight, sliding to the floor. "I'll bet his blood sugar's dropped!"

  "All I did was kiss him!" My arms are under Jamie's, supporting him in a half-sitting position on the floor.

  Stacy runs to Jamie's refrigerator. "Of course! No fucking orange juice! Does he have anything around here with sugar in it?"

  "I doubt it," I sigh. "I brought Chinese food for dinner last night and he barely touched it. We had chocolate pie for dessert, but he only had a bite or two, then I ate the rest of it," I add guiltily.

  "Come on," Stacy says. "He needs to go to the hospital." We carry him out to Ray's car and speed off toward Sacramento.

  "Stop at McDonald's," Stacy orders Ray. "We've got to get him some OJ and sugar." When we get the juice and sugar packets, Stacy tears them open and stirs them in. "Come on, Jamie," she yells, leaning into the backseat and prying his mouth open with the cup. "Drink!"

  But he won't swallow. The juice spills over his chin and onto his blue scrub top.

  "Come on, Jamie!" She tries again, but he's incoherent. She slaps his face. "Jamie!"

  Ray's doing at least eighty on the interstate. "Guy charged a dollar fifty for the juice," he complains. What an asshole. I mean Ray, not the guy from McDonald's.

  When we finally get to the ER at St. Paul's, Stacy and Jamie are recognised by the nurse working there and she immediately takes Jamie behind a vinyl curtain to check his blood sugar. We follow and watch the nurse poke his thumb with a little needle thing. "Twenty-nine," she says, hurrying away and returning quickly with an armful of stuff. She squirts something into Jamie's mouth as another nurse arrives with a big IV bag and tubes. Blood runs down his arm and all over the sheets as the nurse starts the IV and pushes a syringe full of something into him.

  "I didn't know Jamie was diabetic," Ray says.

  "He's not," says Stacy. "He just doesn't eat, then he exhausts himself working double shifts. Tammy says he didn't eat more than a bite or two of dinner last night."

  "Last night?" echoes Ray.

  "I had Christmas dinner with him," I say.

  "I keep telling him." Stacy shrugs her shoulders like she gives up.

  Striving to ignore Ray's stare, I ask, "Why doesn't he eat?"

  She replies, "I don't know. He's been bad ever since Lloyd died. It's been hard on him. He's trying to get over it, but... this thing with his blood sugar... it's happened before."

  Ray steps out to have a smoke. It's been on my mind, and I seize the opportunity. "Stace, you know Jamie really well, don't you? I mean, you're his best friend."

  She nods.

  "Was he really a virgin until..."

  "Yes," she says.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, Tammy. I'm sure."

  "Why?"

  "Because, you're the only one he's ever loved." Her gaze is level.

  "I don't deserve him."

  "But you have him, and you'll have him forever if you want him." Her voice lowers, intensifies. "Just remember what I said. Don't hurt him. If you're good to him, you'll deserve him."

  "I'd never hurt him. I love him. I love him so much it scares me."

  "I know, Tammy. I've always known. You belong to each other."

  I watch Jamie's eyes slowly peeling open. The nurse says his blood sugar has risen to eighty. He drifts in and out of sleep, his back to me. "I've got such a headache," he complains to Stacy, who gives him a drink of what's left of the orange juice. "I keep telling you, you need to eat, dammit!"

  "I eat," Jamie slurs.

  "Yeah, a bite of food, once a day... maybe!"

  "How are you feeling?" I ask, strolling up to his bed, acting like I've been out of the room for a minute.

  He answers by smiling up at me so prettily that there's no hiding this from Ray any longer.

  Hell... I don't even care. I'm gay. Ray can accept it or fuck off.

  "Looks like you're taking today off, like it or not," I nod at Jamie, sitting beside him.

  "You win," he whispers as his bed sinks under my weight.

  I tilt his chin up with two fingers. "Give me a kiss," I growl.

  He's still pretty dazed, but he's alert enough to be nervous about Ray. "Don't worry about him," I say. Doctors, nurses and other hospital personnel are milling around as well. "Don't worry about any of them."

  "But I work here," he says anxiously.

  I lean forward and kiss him softly, in spite of his attempt to resist.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" is Ray's remonstration. "You guys are gay?"

  I straighten and regard him for a moment. "Yeah."

  "When did this happen?" Ray stuffs his hands into his pockets.

  I suddenly realise I've never prepped myself for this. "It just... happened," I stammer.

  "God, no wonder Jamie was never interested in any of the girls I tried to introduce him to!" The objection on Ray's face doesn't miss me.

  "I wasn't interested in guys either," Jamie says. At least one of us knows something to say! "I wasn't interested in anyone... just Tammy." He smiles up at me. My heart squeezes.

  Ray looks so uncomfortable I almost feel sorry for him. "Well... I don't know what to say..."

  "You don't have to say anything, Ray," I tell him.

  Stacy beams, "I swear, from the time we were in high school, I could see those cartoon hearts coming out of them every time they looked at each other!"

  Ray only frowns. "Since high school?"

  I'm sick of him already. "Yeah. Since high school."

  Jamie is released after several hours. Stacy has to stay and work, so the rest of us return home in Ray's car, in almost total silence. Jamie sleeps in the backseat while I sweat on the passenger side. I think I've just lost my first "friend" due to my choice to be true to myself and to Jamie.

  After we're dropped at my house, I carry Jamie inside. Ray offers no help, and I don't ask.

  I lay Jamie on the couch and wrap him in my chequered comforter.

  Then I do something I never do. I cook. I peel a bunch of potatoes and onions, I chop up a clove of garlic, and I cut up a chunk of the ham Mom bought for Christmas dinner the day before she fell and hurt herself. Might as well not let it go to waste. She doesn't even like ham. She only got it for Uncle Price, who still eats here at holidays like nothing ever happened. Since Mom is most decidedly out of commission this year, he won't be partaking of this particular ham.

  "Here," I nudge Jamie awake with a big steaming bowl.

  "What's this?" he smiles through sleepy eyes.

  "Potato soup. Made it just for you. Eat!"

  And for once, he eats, or rather, drinks every drop, every wedge of potato, every bit of savoury pink ham. It isn't long before his eyes are even droopier. "What'd you put in this stuff?" he asks. "I'm soooo sleepy."

  "Potatoes, onions, garlic, warm milk, butter, salt, pepper, and ham."

  "It was so good."

  "I'm glad. Is your headache gone yet?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  "Now, what do you want to watch?"

  "Something old. Funny."

  I put in a video of The Jack Benny Program. "How's this?" I ask, sitting him up and snuggling under the comforter with him.

  "Perfect," he murmurs and turns himself around to face me. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me once, twice, three, four times.

  "No. No fooling around tonight," I say sternly. "Tonight you need to rest. Go to s
leep!"

  He pouts, then resigns himself to watching the TV. "Man, Jack's so cheap he makes the Stolpers look generous!"

  I laugh, remembering Jamie's stories of how he slaved for the infamously rich couple who dressed like hobos.

  He goes to sleep with his head tucked under my chin.

  His chest swells against mine with each quiet breath. His warmth enfolds me even when I'm not inside of him. I am his. I've always been. I've been with a lot of people sexually. I've been with a lot of women and a few men too, but it means nothing. None of it. I love Jamie. We belong to each other. I never want this to end.

  I doze off listening to Jack arguing with Rochester Van Jones.

  twenty-four:

  jamie

  (december 26 and 27)

  Tammy's oath of celibacy for one evening doesn't last more than two hours. Before dawn, we've done it at least five or six times. He's insatiable, but I love it. I love him so much. When we're not fucking, we talk and talk and talk, about everything.

  I tell him all the stories I've told Lloyd. The sad, scary ones leave Tammy aghast. The funnier ones have him choking with laughter, especially the "Turd-pedo Episode".

  We cackle until we're in tears. "I love making you laugh," I say. It feels so good to laugh with him, to be this comfortable with him, to make small discoveries. He snorts between laughs like a pig!

  "I guess I can still make you laugh as well," he chortles.

  The conversation takes a left turn then.

  He asks, "Why, Jamie? Why me?"

  "At first it was just because you were so gorgeous." His eyebrows raise. "You're still gorgeous! But in high school, it was a crush. I couldn't stop looking at you. I loved everything about you. I loved watching you play football. I just loved you.

  "Then, the day those guys beat me up, and you helped me—I knew I really loved you. Because I knew you cared about me—enough to follow me home."

  He tries to deny it. "I was just in the neighbourhood."

  "Stacy told me, Tammy. You were following me."