Hadrian's Lover

by Patricia-Marie Budd

  “He tried. He failed.”

  “Thank Hadrian for that!”

  “You can thank me—or rather, Jason Warith.”

  “Who?”

  “Todd’s facilitator.”

  “Oh.”

  “I arranged for him to work with Todd—to protect him.”

  “?”

  “Because I knew!”

  “Please tell me who you are.”

  “Will you help Todd?”

  “How?”

  “Tell the truth.”

  “I can’t.”

  “We have nothing left to say.”

  “No, please—”

  Crystal pauses, recognition of her character dawning: “Mama Elena—she’s VP Stiles.”

  “We mustn’t do anything to hurt one of our founding families.”

  “Please, you don’t understand.”

  “No. You don’t understand! I will not sacrifice Todd on the altar of your stupidity!”

  Frightened, knowing herself to be the personification of all that is selfish, Crystal asks: “Will you denounce me?” There is no answer to her plea. She types again, “I’m scared.”

  “Imagine how Todd feels.”

  “I can’t help him.” Her fingers shake before she types in the next phrase. “I can only help myself.”

  “I DO understand.”

  Crystal’s immediate response to that line is to shut off her phone. Without thought or precaution, she races back into her mothers’ personal washroom. She returns her cell to the locked drawer and swears never to touch it again. Back in her bedroom, Crystal hides herself under the covers, shivering uncontrollably. Frightened and alone, she realizes she forgot to erase all evidence of their conversation. And although she knows with absolute certainty the mystery man at the other end hasn’t deleted his version, she still goes through the motion of retrieving her cell and deleting all contact made with Todd’s mobile.

  * * * * *

  Salve!

  The World Outside our Walls

  HNN—Melissa Eagleton Reporting

  To every child, it is revealed what life is like for the unfortunate living outside Hadrian’s walls: Images of emaciated bodies lying on desert floors. Children starving. Mothers’ breasts bereft of milk. It is truly unfathomable how humanity is still thriving. It is amazing how the words of Dr. Oscar Baumann, written in the late nineteenth century, depict what is happening all over the planet today. “There were women wasted to skeletons from whose eyes the madness of starvation glared…warriors scarcely able to crawl on all fours, and apathetic, languishing elders. Swarms of vultures followed them from high, awaiting their certain victims.” The image was frightening enough back then when the calamity of famine only hit one area in Africa, but knowing that this painting of horror is found daily, and in every country but ours, is demoralizing.

  Sometimes, I believe it is better not to witness the slow agonizing death throes of humanity’s suicide. For, as much as we dearly wish we could do something, anything, to help these wretched creatures, the reality is that providing food, shelter, water, and warmth for the billions dying outside our walls is impossible. We cannot cure the illnesses mankind has festered upon itself. We cannot hope to save those other twenty billion or more individuals. All we can do is cling to the knowledge that we, in Hadrian, are rebuilding humanity’s future, that Hadrian is maintaining the necessary balance to help humanity survive.

  Vale!

  Todd Awakes

  When Todd awakes, Frank is clutching his right hand. Having fallen asleep, Frank has his head lying in Todd’s lap. Todd sighs when he sees his friend. Finally, he mutters.

  This is not the first time Todd has risen since his failed suicide attempt. When he first discovered that he was still alive, Todd screamed as best he could through his damaged throat while simultaneously ripping at the bandages around his neck. His intent was to dig his nails deep into his wound, effectively ending his life once and for all! Fortunately for Todd, or perhaps not so fortunately from his perspective, he is under twenty-four hour supervision. The mirror on the right wall is a one-way window for the nurse assigned on observation duty, which explains why his first attempt to kill himself failed. Mia Ocampo, the nurse in attendance his first night at the hospital, managed to call the doctor and effectively stem the flow of blood, saving Todd Middleton’s life. It was Gordon McAlister, the second nurse in attendance, who circumvented Todd’s second attempt. Although Todd managed to remove most of his bandage, he never got his fingers into the wound. Since then, Todd has been strapped to his bed, has a catheter fitted, and since he refuses to eat, drink, or take any medication, is attached to an IV unit.

  When Jason Warith came to visit Todd, he had tried unsuccessfully to reestablish the tenuous bond he had begun forging with the boy. Not that he had any hopes that ties could be rebuilt after what Mr. Weller had done. Since the rape, Todd had completely shut himself off from the rest of the world. Before leaving Todd the last time, Jason had asked the young man whether there was anything at all he could do for him. When Todd asked to see Frank Hunter, Jason smiled. “I can do that for you, son.” He had heard that Todd and the Hunter boy were close friends, that prior to Mr. Weller’s interference, they had even begun forming a boyfriend relationship. Why, he questioned irritably, did Weller not leave him with the Hunter family? No, he reminded himself, I can’t waste thoughts on “what ifs.” I only have “what is” to work with. So, as soon as Todd returned to an induced sleep—an unfortunate necessity as his continued struggles, even with the restraints, caused life-threatening damage to his wounds—Jason Warith contacted the Hunter household.

  Frank, having waited at Todd’s bedside for over two hours, is now sleeping. Todd would shake his own head, but he can’t because it is belted down. All he can do is roll his eyes as his friend snores. Friend, he wonders, can I still call him that? Studying Frank’s profile, Todd considers Frank’s motivation. Would I have done the same if our situations were reversed? Todd is unable to provide an answer. I guess I’d only know if I were in his place. At least, he figures, he did it because he loves me. “Frank,” he whispers. His voice still hasn’t recovered from his suicidal knife attack. When Frank fails to respond, Todd wakes him by shaking his right hand. As soon as Frank stirs, Todd rasps again, “Frank.”

  Sitting up, rubbing his eyes and face before running his fingers through his hair, Frank mutters, “Todd.” Frank leans forward to kiss Todd on the lips; Todd, with closed eyes, remains unresponsive. Frank pretends not to notice. Keep things cheery, upbeat, he reminds himself. “Hey, babe. Welcome back.”

  Todd doesn’t waste any time, “Help me.”

  “You know I will,” Frank promises. “I’ll do anything for you.” Although he remains silent, Frank can see the promise he made to Todd that morning so long ago when they sat hidden (or so they had thought) behind the girl’s locker room stairwell. It is like a giant neon sign flashing out of Todd’s eyes.

  Enunciating each word carefully, lest his voice, hindered by his attempt at self-slaughter, should slur his words, Todd slowly demands, “Help me die.” Frank pales. His mind refuses to register what Todd has spoken. Sensing Frank’s refusal, Todd insists, “I’d do it for you, Bob.” Todd says no more. He simply waits for Frank to reach an understanding.

  At the beginning of their grade ten school year in their language arts class, Frank and Todd had held a heated debate as to the meaning of Earle Birney’s poem “David.” Frank had insisted the boys were lovers, making Bob’s act of euthanasia a much more powerful moment. Todd took the stance that the boys were just good friends, no sexual innuendoes existed, and Frank was just reading into the poem what he wanted it to say. Frank proved his point, though, by quoting line fourteen, “Then the two of us rolled in the blanket,” using the fact that it comes just prior to the pines thrusting up into the sky to emphasize his point. The teacher agreed with Frank and pursued this interpretation.

  Now, though, as he lies strapped to his bed, Todd i
s not thinking of David or Bob’s sexual preference. Rather, his thoughts focus on David’s request and Bob’s agreeing to do it. David, having fallen and broken his back, had begged Bob to push him over so he could die. Bob did not want to comply. He had hoped to find a way to save his friend, but as the poem says, Bob knew that more than a day and a night would pass before he could make his way back down to the camp and bring men “unknowing/The way of mountains” back to rescue David. “And then, how long? And he knew…and the hell of hours/After that, if he lived till we came, roping him out.” Todd thought now of his after hours, the hell of living, if Frank were somehow successfully to “rope him out.” He could never go back to thinking that he could be gay now. He could never hope to find that spark somewhere inside now. Looking at Frank, Todd reminds him again, “For Christ’s sake push me over!/If I could move…or die…” Another of David’s lines. Another desperate plea to die with dignity.

  Frank shakes his head sporadically. It is all coming back to him now. Todd wants him to help him commit suicide. “No.” His head shake quickens with his heart rate. “No, Todd. No!”

  “You promised!” Todd reminds him.

  “Never promised this!”

  “To do anything!” Todd’s brown eyes harden like frozen earth.

  “Never. Never this.” Frank, unable to bear the accusation in Todd’s eyes, turns to leave.

  Todd punches him in the back of the head with his words. “You owe me.” Frank stumbles. He knows exactly what Todd means. Bitterness strikes like a whip against Frank’s heart when Todd spits out, “You’re no better than Weller!” Aghast, Frank quickly opens the door and rushes out of Todd’s room.

  * * * * *

  Salve!

  Shocking Allegations!

  HNN—Melissa Eagleton Reporting

  Jason Warith is demanding a thorough investigation be held at the Northeast Reeducation Camp, insisting that the administration there be held accountable for abusive treatment of its wards. “The lax approach to the investigation thus far is unacceptable,” an enraged Warith stated yesterday at the Reeducation Camp Wardens’ Review Board Meeting. It is the responsibility of this board to determine whether or not to press official charges against the Northeast Camp Warden. Jason Warith has laid two very specific charges against Gideon Weller: 1) the over, and unnecessary, use of corporal punishment, and 2) rape. I find these charges extremely hard to believe, having met with Gideon Weller and toured his camp.

  These shocking accusations surprise many, considering the numerous accolades hailed upon Gideon Weller over the years. Statistically, the Northeast Camp reeducates more wayward youth than any other. Although Gideon Weller admits corporal punishment is administered at his camp, it is also administered at every other reeducation camp. He believes it is unavoidable when dealing with angry, aggressive youth, particularly young heterosexual males. According to Jason Warith, the success rate of the Northeast Camp does not indicate real success, but rather, young men desperate to escape in any way they can. Jason Warith also pointed out that the Northeast Reeducation Camp has the highest rate of attempted and completed suicides.

  Gideon Weller claims that is because his files are accurate; he does not attempt to dissemble. “Every act of self-mutilation discovered in my camp is identified as a suicidal act. Thus,” he reminded us, “it only appears as if there are more suicide attempts at my camp. Other camps,” Gideon Weller explained recently in response to these charges, “dismiss self-mutilation as suicidal. We, at the Northeast Camp do not.”

  I, for one, do not believe these accusations. Having met with Gideon Weller and having toured his facility, I am convinced that these charges are unfounded. We even witnessed a sample of his great success when we aired “Happily Married After Reeducation.” It was at the Northeast Camp under Gideon Weller’s tutelage that Geoffrey and Dean Hunter met. These two men have been happily married for over twenty years! It is unthinkable that a man of such honor and nobility as Gideon Weller would ever stoop to such abusive strategies to rein in unruly youth. It is my sincere hope that the accusations laid against Gideon Weller are unfounded and that the impending investigation unearths the truth.

  Vale!

  Heart to Heart

  “Todd.” Papa Dean’s voice is soft, soothing, enticing enough for Todd to surrender to it.

  “Papa Dean?”

  “Yes, son, it’s me.” Todd’s eyes open. It takes a moment for the image of the man looking down on him to come into focus. Todd is heavily sedated to keep him from thrashing around, even bound the way he is. “Hey, you,” Papa Dean says quietly.

  “Hi, Papa,” Todd mutters. Closing his eyes again, he mumbles, “I’m tired.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Papa Dean replies, “considering all the drugs they’ve pumped into you.”

  Todd tries to shake his head. He can’t. The leather strap holds him securely. Reopening his eyes, he glances over to the man sitting next to his bed, the man holding and caressing his hand. Papa Dean. Not Papa Mike. “No, Papa Dean, tired of life.”

  “Please, Todd, no,” he whispers softly. “Don’t talk like that, son. You’re only seventeen years old.”

  I could just as easily be sixty. Todd sighs fretfully. There is no room for equivocation with the boy. “Do you want me to lie to you?”

  “No,” Papa Dean answers resolutely. “No, Todd, I don’t. Only the truth between us.” Sighing deeply, Dean braces himself for the worst. “Only the truth.”

  “The truth is,” Todd says matter-of-factly, “I want to die.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” Todd is skeptical. How can anyone know? Anyone who hasn’t—but, he remembers, Papa Dean has. Frank said Papa Dean was straight. “You were in reeducation camp, too, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, Todd. A very long time ago.”

  “Tell me the truth, Papa Dean. Why did this happen to me?”

  “Because the world is scared.”

  “Scared of strais.”

  “Hadrian is. The rest of the world—out there—they’re scared too.”

  “Scared of me?”

  “No, son. Not you. Scared of living. Scared of dying. Scared of abject poverty, starvation, disease. Twenty billion people battling for life on a planet incapable of sustaining even ten billion. Earth is overburdened, son, overwhelmed with the human virus. They are scared of themselves and of us.”

  “Us?”

  “Hadrian is a haven—we have land—we have clean water—we have space in which to breathe—we have love of our fellow man—”

  “Do we?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Love our fellow man?” There is a moment of silence. Papa Dean knows there is no answer he can give to a boy who has had his entire life ripped out from under him—who has been brutally raped. How, Dean asks himself, can Todd possibly believe Hadrian capable of loving man? He can’t. Waking Dean from his reflection, Todd asks, “Don’t they?”

  “Who son?”

  “The outsiders. Don’t they love their fellow man?”

  Dean ponders this for a moment. All of Hadrian National News’ propaganda would have him say no. All he has ever seen of the outside world are the harrowing images of skeleton bodies rushing up against Hadrian’s wall, and the images of the starving, dying babies captured from above by Hadrian’s satellite camera. Even so, he can’t believe them all to be barbarians. “I suppose some of them must. It’s just—they have so little food, so little water left that, well, we have to protect ourselves from—” He stops himself from using the now clichéd expressions—the barbarian heterosexuals; the crazed, insane, and dangerous outsiders. “Well, from the threat that they’ll break through Hadrian’s walls, take and destroy all we’ve managed to preserve.” Looking down at the child, he says, “Not just for us, Todd—for the future of humanity. Hadrian is man’s last hope for posterity.”

  “Why can’t we share?”

  “There just isn’t enough.”

  “Not enough land? Not enough
food?”

  “No, Todd. Not for twenty billion.”

  “Is that why we have to be homosexual, Papa?”

  “I don’t know Todd. That’s what we’re taught. I mean there are so many ways to prevent pregnancies. But even with all those available, the world is still overpopulated.” Shaking his head in wonder, he states, “I may not like all of Hadrian’s laws, son, but I don’t condemn them either. I mean, if heterosexuals could control procreation, then why is the world so overburdened now?” Looking down at his hands, he remembers the words Geoffrey used to convince him: “Only Hadrian has a stable population. A fully homosexual state may seem drastic, but we are living in an extreme world—even so…” Dean’s voice trails off.

  “Even so, Papa?”

  Trying not to sob, Dean says, looking down on Todd, “What they did to me… What they did to you.” Shaking his head, tears flowing. “It all seems so wrong.”

  “Did you try to die, too, Papa?”

  “Yes.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “Geoffrey Hunter.”

  “Frank’s father.”

  “Yes. Without him,” Dean says, closing his eyes in order to shut in the tears, “I don’t think I could live.”

  “Did he rape you?”

  Dean is stunned. “No. Of course not.” Knowing what happened to the boy has skewed his perspective. Dean adds reassuringly, “Weller is different, Todd. Most men aren’t like him.” Dean tightens his grip on Todd’s hand. “Geoffrey Hunter was good to me. Kind. Gentle. He waited. Like Frank waits for you.”

  Todd closes his eyes. Papa Dean doesn’t know then. Memories swirl Todd’s stomach. The pounding of fists, his split brow, bruised cheek, and swollen lip; Frank’s black eye replays itself in his mind. And then, the stunning blow to his temple, leaving him senseless long enough for Frank to bind his wrists securely to the front bedpost. Todd squeezes his eyes shut. No matter how hard Todd had begged, Frank wouldn’t listen. Frank’s only words were, “You need to relax, Todd; relax into it or it will hurt.” And it did hurt. It had felt as if his backside were being ripped in half. If he could, Todd would shake his head, but all he can do is say, “No, Papa Dean, Frank can’t save me.”