Hadrian's Lover

by Patricia-Marie Budd

  The presence of his math teacher lets some of the wind out of Frank’s sail. “Sorry, Ms. Sterne,” Frank mumbles. “It’s just that Crystal—” He chooses not to continue.

  “Crystal what?” Ms. Sterne asks coldly. Crystal is the woman’s niece and clearly Ms. Sterne’s favorite. Frank also knows how much the woman detests Todd.

  “Nothing,” he mutters as he storms out of the room.

  “Frank,” Ms. Sterne calls out after him, “get back in here! Class is about to start.”

  “Would you like me to go fetch him?” T’Neal asks half-expectantly.

  “No, T’Neal, you sit down. One student missing from class is enough for today. Everyone, sit down.” Blinking up her attendance sheet, Ms. Sterne notices one other student missing. “Where is Todd Middleton?” Looking over her glasses and down her nose, she stares at Todd’s empty desk. Shaking her head, she mutters loud enough for the class to hear, “I just saw him downstairs. He’s not fooling anybody.” She blinks Todd Middleton and Frank Hunter absent.

  * * * * *

  Salve!

  Spotlight: The High School Counselor

  HNN—Melissa Eagleton Reporting

  Today, I wish to offer our wayward youth some advice. Teens, is your biggest fear that you might be heterosexual? Well, don’t worry. At the very most, you are a two on the Kinsey scale. That means you just need a little nurturing and more time to find the latent homosexual inside of you. The right man or woman is out there waiting for you. Do not despair. Do not give up hope. Remember, you are not alone. Inside every high school is a loving counselor who is willing to listen to your fears, concerns, and sexual confusion. These men and women have been trained by the finest in education counseling and psychiatry. They know what you are going through, and they can help guide you toward finding your inner homosexual. I know your instincts are to turn to your friends for advice, but they are not always the best ones to guide you. When struggling with sexual confusion, it is essential you turn to trained professionals. Hundreds of teens just like you are questioning who they are, and like you, they too need professional advice. Do not be afraid of your high school counselor; this person is there to help you.

  To encourage further both teens and parents to avail themselves of their useful high school counselors, let me tell you about an interview I had with Pan Zhang, Pride High’s counselor. According to Pan, he meets with five or six students each year to discuss their heterosexual concerns. Many of these students, he says, come to him in tears and begging for help. The cry he says he most often hears is, “Help me not be straight. I don’t want to be a strai.” It is a heartbreaking plea for aid and one Pan feels requires immediate attention. These youth become Pan’s top priority as he takes them under his wing and offers guidance. Parents and a professional psychologist are brought in immediately to help the youth conquer these abhorrent desires. Since these are youth who have never acted on their heterosexual desires, none are sent to reeducation camps except as a last resort. As we all know, the re-education camp is designed to help our active heterosexual youth find his or her latent inner homosexual. Youth who have heterosexual leanings but do not take action are much easier to reclaim through private in home and school measures. Nine times out of ten, Pan says, wayward youth who come forward before acting on their heterosexual impulses can be reclaimed before reeducation camp becomes essential.

  Please remember, no high school counselor has ever exposed a youth based solely on a confession of fear. Counselors are there to talk and listen and understand. Rest assured, your high school counselor will guide you in the right direction; help you discover your latent homosexual tendencies. Don’t delay. Visit your high school counselor today!

  Vale!

  Hiding

  Frank finds Todd exactly where he expected—behind the back stairwell leading up to the girl’s locker room. Ever since Crystal discovered the security camera in this hallway to be broken, it has become Todd’s safe place. As he is hidden under the stairs at the very far end, the first indication Frank gets of Todd’s presence is a continual banging of bone against brick, punctuated with the repetitive phrasing, “Fuck me.”

  “Hey, buddy,” Frank says as he turns the corner of the stairwell. Bending to fit underneath, he sits down next to Todd.

  Todd is no longer hitting his head against the wall. It is now lodged deep between his knees.

  “Leave me alone, Frank,” Todd mutters.

  “Can’t do that, buddy,” Franks says softly. “Not while you’re in this state.”

  Todd looks up, glaring hate shooting out of red puffy eyes. “You put me here!”

  Frank sighs, closes his eyes, and rests his head against the cold brick. “That’s not fair, Todd.”

  “Isn’t it?” Todd lashes out all his anger and embarrassment onto Frank.

  “I know you don’t mean that.” Frank hasn’t moved. His eyes remain shut, trying to hide the bleeding inside.

  “Well, I do!” Todd shouts. Standing now, he walks to the front of the stairwell and sits on the lower steps, using both his back and the stairway to protect him from Frank. He shouts out to the wall in front of him, “Everything, Every—Fucking—Thing is Your Fault.”

  Desperately fighting back tears, Frank pleads, “Todd, I came here to help you.”

  “Help me?” Todd looks up incredulously. Standing, he crosses back behind the stairwell, staring at Frank. “You can’t help me! Everything I said would happen is happening. They all think I’m a fucking idiot. That you dumped me—”

  Frank shakes his head. “I’m sorry Crystal said that.”

  “She didn’t!” Todd yells in her defense. “Your little boyfriend did!” Ripping at the hair on his head, Todd begins to wail, “How long, Frank? How long after I left you?”

  “Todd.” Frank finally opens his eyes. They are red and swollen, caused by a combination of anger and hurt. “We’re NOT dating!”

  “I know that!” Todd yells. “But Crystal thought we were, and then you go and hook up with—with—that fucking little tramp! That fucking little tinsel tart.”

  “Are you jealous?” Frank blurts without thinking.

  “I’m not jealous. It’s your timing. It’s your fucking timing that hurts.” Todd slams his back against the sidewall and drops to the floor. His knees knock against Frank’s since the two boys are now sitting at right angles. Todd quickly pulls his legs away.

  Frank grits his teeth at the gesture. “Todd, I had no idea Crystal was going to say anything. Besides,” he adds, almost a little too cruelly, “I wasn’t the one who kissed you.” Leaning his head back against the wall, he says, “After you left me—what the fuck did you expect?” He looks up at Todd, allowing his tears to flow freely now. “Seriously, Todd, what did you think I was going to do? I really thought we were going somewhere.” The pounding of bone against brick recommences, this time much louder, much harder. “Todd, stop that!” When Todd continues his act of self-abuse, Frank grabs him by the head and orders, “Stop that!”

  Todd is now mumbling through tears, “He called me a strai, Frank. A het’ro! A fucking cunt hammer! To my face!” His hand caresses his forehead. “Oh, Hadrian,” he weeps into the palms of his hands. “Help me.”

  “Todd. Todd,” Frank says lovingly. Wishing he could hold Todd, Frank settles for rubbing his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “T’Neal was jealous. Nobody believes a jealous man’s accusations. His calling you a strai is stupid,” Frank reasons. “Think about it—he thought you and me were a unit. That’s not straight.”

  Todd’s weeping is relentless. “Oh, Hadrian, I’m so sorry, Frank.” Todd’s voice is barely audible. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” Closing his eyes, desperately needing to confess. “Frank,—” his voice catches. “I think I’m—”

  “NO, YOU’RE NOT!” Frank is standing now, towering over Todd. “Don’t ever fucking say that!” He pauses to calm himself down. He looks away. For some reason, he can’t seem to look at Todd. “I know you’re n
ot. Not after yesterday. I felt you. You were hard, man. You were hard when we were going at it.”

  Todd wants to tell him it was Crystal who did that to him, but he is too afraid. All he can muster is, “Thanks, Frank.”

  Frank, now squatting down in front of Todd, takes his hands in his. “You’re just not ready.” He shrugs his shoulders, “So what? Who cares? Just because you don’t want sex right now doesn’t mean—doesn’t mean you’re straight—it just means—you’re not ready.”

  But I do want to, Todd laments internally. Just not with you.

  “What we did yesterday,” Frank smiles feebly, “we just did to shut Crystal up.” His anger for the girl resurfaces. “She had no right to say those things about you.” He spits out his vehemence, “Fucking bitch!”

  “She’s not a bitch,” says Todd, a little too defensively. “I mean, it’s not her fault either. It’s me.” Starting to cry again, he asks, “Oh, Hadrian, Frank. What’s going to happen to me?”

  “Nothing, Todd. Nothing. I’m here for you. I’m going to help you. I’ll do anything. Anything to help you through this.”

  “Anything?” Todd asks, wiping his nose against his sleeve. “Do you swear—”

  Frank answers before Todd can even finish, “I swear.”

  “Swear on the soul of Hadrian’s lover?”

  “Yeah,” Frank laughs, placing a hand over his heart, “I swear on the soul of Hadrian’s lover!”

  Suddenly, without thought, Todd blurts out, “I love you, Frank.” Recognizing what he just said causes Todd to start crying again. Frank pulls him in for a full embrace, holding Todd between his arms and legs: both boys end up in the fetal position.

  “I love you, too, Todd,” Frank says as he cradles Todd.

  “If it’s ever going to be anyone, Frank,” Todd blubbers, “it will be you.”

  “I know. I know. And I’m ready for you. I’m waiting. You and me, Todd,” Frank mutters softly. “You and me. But only when you’re ready.”

  “You promise?” Todd is shaking.

  “I give you my word.” Smiling, envisioning their future, Frank says, “After we graduate. After we register if that’s what you’d prefer.”

  Todd nods. Still shaking, he quivers, “Yeah, after we register.” He gives Frank a slight nudge to release him. “I’m okay now. Really.” He forces a feeble smile as he wipes his eyes and nose on his sleeve. The two boys separate and once again lean their backs against the cold brick walls.

  Even though Todd claims everything is copacetic, Frank still feels the need to lighten the mood. He laughs, reminiscing, “Hey, you remember when you puked down Ms. Singer’s shirt?” The mood becomes jocular as both boys collapse into each other in raucous laughter.

  “Oh man, she was pissed,” Todd sputters out between guffaws. He is forcing out the jocularity, though, since the Ms. Singer experience was the first stirring of Todd’s confusion.

  “Actually,” Frank counters, “she took it amazingly well. You only heard her initial reaction. She saw how sick you were.”

  This event happened in their grade eight class. Todd hadn’t been ill. He had simply awoken that day with a headache caused by too much crying through the night. It always happened near the anniversary of 6-13—the apocalyptic nightmares in which Todd watches his father explode in front of him. After rising, he had asked his Papa Mike for an aspirin and Mike, being hung over, grabbed the wrong bottle. Partying excessively of late (also brought on by the anniversary of his lover’s death), Mike had accidently given Todd one of his hallucinogens. By the time Todd got to school, the effects of the drug had started to kick in. Todd was sick and nauseous. His head was swimming; he was even drooling. During math class, Ms. Singer had stood by Todd’s desk, helping the student sitting across from Todd. She was bent over, showing the girl how to figure out that day’s formula. Ms. Singer was a first year teacher, young, slim, busty, and beautiful. Always delicately dressed in various shades of pink or purple. All the girls were a’titter whenever she was in the room. Her body curves were accented at their best in this position, and her behind was very close to Todd’s face. He became transfixed, following her spine from the small of her back down to her buttocks. Reaching up with his hand, he clutched her right buttock. Ms. Singer turned in horror, to stare down at Todd. “Mmm,” he whispered, “nice bum.” Fortunately for Todd, only Ms. Singer had heard him. More fortunately, she is a very empathetic young woman, seeing before her a very sick young man.

  “Oh, you poor dear,” ignoring the raucous laughter of the room, Ms. Singer bent down to feel Todd’s forehead. Her breasts were now directly in front of his face.

  “Boobs,” he murmured. Lifting his head to get a better look had caused Todd’s stomach to swirl. This, combined with the scent of Ms. Singer’s perfume, begot puke. His vomit shot up against the woman’s chest. After her initial scream of horror, she placed her hand to her mouth and uttered a soft cry. She looked over to Frank, who was sitting in the desk on the other side of the aisle and asked him if he could carry Todd down to the nurse’s office.

  Todd had very little memory of those events, but two images remain seared in his brain: Ms. Singer’s bum and the beautiful valley between her breasts. He relives, embellishes, upon those images in his fantasies every time he masturbates. He usually emerges from these moments feeling soiled and dirty, as if his mind and body have betrayed him, but he can never seem to stop himself from thinking about her—until lately. For the past year, it has been Crystal, with her burgeoning body, who has replaced Ms. Singer in Todd’s imaginings.

  “Crystal,” Todd mutters.

  “What about her?” Frank asks, trying to cover his annoyance. Things are finally feeling good between Todd and him again, so mention of Crystal is likely to resurface the strain.

  “You’ve got to make things right between you,” Todd reasons.

  “Why?” Frank wants absolutely nothing to do with that girl right now.

  “Tryouts for b-ball are in two weeks,” Todd reminds him. “If you and Crystal are going to be co-captains, you guys have to work things out.”

  “They only give co-caps to seniors,” Frank replies.

  “Not this year,” Todd responds. “Coach and I agree you and Crystal are our best.”

  “You’re our best,” Frank sputters. It has never dawned on him that he would ever be chosen as a co-cap over Todd.

  Todd silences Frank before he can protest further. “Uh, uh, I’m not co-cap material. The coach and I talked about it, and she’s right. You garner a lot more respect, so the job lands on your shoulders.”

  Frank smiles, pleased to have both Todd and the coach’s confidence.

  Sensing his co-cap role has yet to dawn fully on Frank, Todd warns him, “That means you need to work with Crystal, not against her.”

  “I can keep the sport and my personal feelings separate,” Frank insists.

  Todd isn’t so sure. “Maybe Crystal can’t.” Attempting diplomacy, he adds, “Couldn’t you put your pride aside and talk things out with her?”

  “Only if she’s willing to apologize!” Frank isn’t feeling very conciliatory. Crystal nearly destroyed his relationship with Todd today.

  “How about I talk to her? We’re planning on doing some initial training before tryouts.” Thinking of ways to make this work, he adds, “Umm, how about you join us after school? We’re meeting at three in the small gym. Coach is letting us use it. You could come ten minutes late—give me time to set things right and get her to apologize.” Sensing Frank’s mistrust, Todd reassures him, “She will; I know she will!”

  Frank sighs, pinching the crown of his nose with his fingers. “All right, but only if she apologizes.”

  “For the team, Frank,” Todd reminds him.

  “Yes,” he replies, “for the team.” They slap hands and grip fingers. Before they let go, the bell rings. Frank maintains his grip on Todd’s hand and the two boys stand. “We better not miss Mr. Reiner’s class. We’ve got that test to write, r
emember?”

  “Yeah,” Todd sighs. He never did any more studying after he left Frank’s yesterday. “Let’s go.”

  Together, holding hands, the two boys make their way down the hall toward Mr. Reiner’s class. This gentle act does not give Todd any sense of discomfort. It is perfectly natural for two friends, whether of the same or opposite sex, to walk hand-in-hand in Hadrian. If two individuals wish to denote an intimate connection, they will choose to walk with their arms wrapped around each other. Had Frank tried to put his arm around his friend’s shoulder or waist, Todd would have balked and walked away from him.

  * * * * *

  Salve!

  Remembering Will Middleton

  HNN—Melissa Eagleton Reporting

  Yes, folks, it’s that time of year again! Hadrian’s high schools and colleges are gearing up for b-ball season! Tryouts begin next week when high school and college coaches will be on the lookout for the best possible players for their teams. And speaking of the best of all possible players, who over the age of thirty doesn’t remember Will Middleton? Who could forget his graceful presence on the b-ball court during both his high school and college years? While attending Antinous’ Pride High, Will Middleton led the Panthers to win at the Quadrants three years in a row and the Nationals two years in a row! Until this past year, when his son joined the team, the Panthers had not been back to the Nationals since Will Middleton graduated. Tall, lithe, muscular, and highly skilled, Will Middleton could dribble, pass, shoot, and always score! High school b-ball was only the beginning for this man. His seven years on Antinous’ Centurions were award years, too, leading that team to its only ever seven-year winning streak! I remember his coaches thanking Hadrian profusely for his staying on for both a Master’s and Ph.D. in agricultural engineering. Having won both a sports and academic scholarship Will Middleton was eligible to play b-ball his entire uni career. To keep the game fair, no one over twenty-five is allowed on the b-ball court.