Hadrian's Lover

by Patricia-Marie Budd

  “He loves you Todd.”

  “I know, but—” I can’t tell him, Todd suddenly realizes. Knowing the truth about Frank would shatter Papa Dean. It is evident to Todd that Papa Dean envisions Frank as a duplicate of his father, and although Frank looks exactly like Geoffrey Hunter, Todd knows the two men are as radically different in personality as they are in height. Changing the subject, Todd asks, “Tell me about Frank’s father—how he saved you.”

  “He never tried to turn me. He just—became my friend. He listened, never judged, understood as best he could. He never even tried to kiss me.” Smiling, he shrugs, shaking his head wonderingly. “He married me, knowing we might never—”

  “Did you? Ever?”

  “Yes,” he confesses. “Eventually. But he never pressed. I mean, there were times when he thought I might, but he always let go when I said no. But one time, I guess, I no longer had the heart to stop him. I don’t know whether I wanted to or not, or whether I felt like I owed him, but when he leaned in, I let him kiss me. For weeks, we just kissed.” Dean shakes his head in wonder. “We’d been married two years then. Where he found his patience, I’ll never know. And then finally, I went to him, told him I was ready. I knew I wasn’t, not really, but something inside me said I need to do this—that Geoffrey loves me and I love him. He was good to me; so gentle with his touch. Even so, I cried. He apologized, but I said, ‘No, we needed to do this—I needed to do it—I—’” Dean, now looking at Todd, explains, “I needed to let go. It was cathartic.”

  “Is it—I mean—do you enjoy it?”

  “Sometimes.” Sighing a little humph, Dean admits, “Sometimes, I even initiate now.” Considering his life with Geoffrey Hunter, Dean adds, “It took me a long time, but now I really do want to be with him.” Speaking more hopefully than assuredly, he adds, “I know if you take your time with Frank, you’ll feel that way about him someday, too.”

  He really doesn’t know, Todd muses. I wonder what Frank really told him.

  Sensing the doubt in Todd’s eyes, Dean persists, “It’s not so bad when the man you’re with loves you. When you honestly love him back. Besides,” he sighed, “I’d never really been with a girl. We had only just kissed.”

  “Tell me what happened with the girl, Papa.”

  “High school,” he begins, “grade twelve. Jessica and me—she was one of my best friends. I guess like you and Crystal. We did everything together; always holding hands; always laughing. Then one day at lunch, it just happened. It wasn’t planned or nothing—it just happened. We were laughing so hard, and our faces got—well, we just sort of came together. Our lips touched. I burst into flame and started kissing her. Next thing I knew, she was standing up, screaming and pointing my way. Two teachers grabbed me and hauled me into the office. They locked me inside the Vice Principal’s office and left me there for over an hour. I didn’t know what they’d do or were planning. Then my father came. He was outraged. I had shamed the family name. Me, the genetic offspring of a founding family! They never fiddled with founding family genes in those days.” Shaking off sad memories, Dean concludes, “Anyway, he signed me over to the state and disowned me.”

  Just like Papa Mike. “I’m so sorry, Papa Dean.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Todd; I’m all right. My life’s been good, thanks to Geoffrey.” Hoping this is the right moment, he adds, “Let Frank help you—I know he can—” But Todd only closes his eyes again.

  “What was reeducation camp like for you, Papa?”

  “Torture.” A sad smile blossoms; Dean knows Todd will understand. “I was Weller’s first ward.” Todd opens his eyes and gasps. “Yes,” Dean admits, “it was horrible.”

  “Did he…” Todd doesn’t finish—he can’t finish. “You, too?”

  “He tried—he might have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Geoffrey.”

  “Frank’s father.”

  “He walked in just as it was happening. I mean, I tried to fight, but Weller was the stronger man.”

  “I know.” Todd truly does understand.

  “Geoffrey was enraged when he saw what Weller was trying to do to me. He pulled him off before Weller could—”

  “Weller,” Todd interjects, “he had his man grab Jason—throw him out of the room—he locked him out.” Papa Dean’s story resonates so for him. “Jason would have saved me if he could…” But it’s too late now, Todd reminds himself. It’s too late for me now. Shifting his eyes so he can look into Papa Dean’s crystal blue orbs, he says, smiling weakly, “Thank you for sharing with me.”

  “I’d like to tell you more, Todd.” Dean takes a moment to brush his fingers through Todd’s hair. “About your father, if you’ll let me.”

  “Dad?” It suddenly dawns on Todd. “Was my father…” He whispers now so no one outside the room can hear. “Was my father like me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.” Todd’s voice is near pleading. “Tell me, please.”

  Dean recalls, “I met your father two months after we began high school.”

  “Grade ten,” Todd mutters.

  “Yes,” Dean’s mind begins to drift back into the memory. “Two months into grade ten. I was sitting alone in the cafeteria…” Feeling the need to explain, Dean adds, “I often sat alone in those days.”

  “Why?” Todd asks.

  “I knew—I knew I was different—and was afraid of interaction—afraid of anyone getting to know the real me.” Todd’s head nods slightly in understanding. “I never had a childhood friend like you. Anyway, Will had been watching me for some time. I often caught him staring at me. I avoided him, thinking he was attracted to me.” Dean smiles a little. “Then one day, he just up and joined me at my lunch table. Gave me quite a start.” Dean gets lost inside his memory and the words tumble off his lips as if in the moment.

  * * * * *

  “Dean Stuttgart, right?”

  A startled young Dean looks up from his studies. With an egg sandwich poised in his left hand and his computer slate at the ready in his right, Dean freezes at the sight of Will Middleton, the most popular boy in school, smiling down at him, hand extended in greeting. Dean pointedly ignores the offer of friendship and looks back down at his slate. Always studious, Dean throws himself into his studies with fervor because it helps him to avoid interacting with others. Mostly, it is to keep him from staring at girls. If not careful, Dean would be the recipient of many an angry glare. Study, he often reminds himself, study and forget about the others. Study and become a doctor like Dad wants!

  “That’s not going to help you this time,” Will rejoins.

  Dean looks up amazed. He is resorting to talking out loud to himself now. He is going to have to watch out for that. “What?”

  “Let’s start again, shall we?” Will says with a smile. “Dean Stuttgart, right?”

  “Yeah, so?” Dean responds briskly. This man is nothing if not persistent.

  Extending his hand again, Will says, “Will Middleton.”

  “Everyone knows who you are,” Dean mutters disapprovingly.

  “And,” Will adds, “everyone knows who you are.” Dean rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his slate, though he cannot focus. Laughing now as he retrieves his unwanted hand, Will remains undaunted and persistent. “Mind if I join you?” he asks as he sits across the table from Dean.

  Speaking to his slate now, Dean says, “I’d rather be alone, thank you!”

  “That’s your problem,” Will remarks.

  Dean’s eyes dart up, first in fright, then sparking into anger. “What?” When he gets no response from Will Middleton, he retreats back into the safety of his slate. “I’m studying!” When Will still refuses to take the hint, Dean adds, “Sit there all you want. That doesn’t mean I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “You’re talking to me now,” Will adds with a laugh. Then, taking on a serious note, he says, “Yes, you do—we do.” Dean sighs, staring intently at the blurred words of his biology text. His left hand is squee
zed tightly around his sandwich, having turned it into mulch while his right hand threatens to snap the pencil it is holding. “You see,” Will sighs, “I think I know you.”

  Dean looks up startled, angry. “You don’t know me. No one here knows me.”

  “True, enough,” Will replies. “And yet,” now waving to the students surrounding them inside the cafeteria, “they all know who you are. You are a Stuttgart.” Smiling grimly, “That makes you the most popular unpopular boy in school.”

  “What do you care?” Dean snaps back.

  “I’m like you,” Will replies. Dean snorts. “A lot like you,” Will insists.

  Speaking to his slate, Dean says, “You’re the school jock. Everyone looks up to you—”

  “And,” Will adds pointedly, “expects a lot from me, too. And,” he adds grimly, “from you, too, being who you are, who your father is. Who,” he adds with extra emphasis, “your grandmother is—one of our founding mothers. Everybody watches you.”

  Dean sinks deeper into his seat, trying to hide his face in his book. “Leave me alone, I’m studying.”

  Pausing to let the gravity of his words sink in, Will says, “People expect a lot from guys like you and me.”

  Begrudgingly, Dean asks, “Like what?”

  Will’s answer is matter-of-fact, “Like dating.”

  “I’m not dating you!”

  Ignoring Dean’s adamant rejection, Will continues, “You see, like you, I don’t date, and like with you, people want to know why. Like you, some even question if I’m…” in a low whisper, “a strai.”

  Flustered, Dean opens both hands, dropping sandwich crumbs and slate onto the table.

  “That’s right, Dean.” Will stares intently into his soon to be new boyfriend’s eyes. “People think you and I just might be…” Now just mouthing the word “straight.” After allowing for the reality of their situation to sink in, Will continues, “For the moment, the only thing saving you is your family name, and the only thing saving me are my skills on the b-ball court.” Squinting his eyes, planning now to play hard ball, Will says, “If you ever touch one of those girls you ogle—don’t try to pretend. I’ve seen you.” Shrugging, he admits, “I’ve been watching you watch them. I watch them, too, just not so obviously as you.” Paling slightly with introspection, Will adds, “At least, I hope not.”

  Dean is aghast. “How obvious have I been?”

  “Very.” Will’s crisp reply is a cutting reminder that even being a Stuttgart might not be enough to save him if he should ever falter. Finally, having consistent eye contact, Will persists, “The fact is, Dean, you need me, and…” almost a little begrudgingly, “I need you.” Holding Dean’s crystal blue eyes with his own stone gray orbs, he says, “Here is what I propose.” Standing now, Will crosses to Dean’s side of the table. “Shove over,” he commands. Will has frightened Dean into submission. Thigh snug to thigh, Will begins slowly, very gently to rub Dean’s arm with his fingers. So light is his touch that he only manages to caress his arm hair. “We date. You and I become a unit—a tight unit—the serious high school couple. The ones everyone expects to register.” Dean swallows hard. “If we can become inseparable, then we can escape the mistrusting, questioning stares, the behind the back whispers we both hear so often, and most importantly,” he adds, “we can escape something we both desperately want to escape.”

  “What?” Dean mutters.

  “Actually having to date.” Pausing briefly, Will stops his fingers from fluttering. “So,” he says coyly, now having his fingers walk up Dean’s arm, over his shoulder, and under his chin where he feigns tickling him, “laugh for me.” Dean chokes a giggle. Will grimaces and shakes his head slightly. “We’ll have to work on your playacting.” Will’s playacting is obviously exemplary. Using his finger now to turn Dean’s face in his direction, Will asks again, “So? Are you in?”

  Dean ponders the implications. Thinking back, he has never seen Will with a guy. Never heard of any boy dating him, just a lot of wishes and wants and desires expressed by every other boy in school but him. Even though Will is playing up the player right now, Dean does not mind. There are definite advantages to dating someone who doesn’t want to date. “No kissing or any—other stuff?” Dean asks, feeling awkward.

  “Definitely no other stuff. As for kissing,” Will pauses, “I don’t think we can avoid that, but it really only has to be a modest peck between classes.”

  Dean’s mind is highly active at this moment. “Can I—may I introduce you to my dad?”

  Will smiles that his plan is actually working. Approaching Dean Stuttgart was a gamble, a huge, extremely dangerous risk, but one he had been right about. Watching Dean ogle Rylie Wineman had made Will decide to act because it looked as if the girl were ready to expose Dean. “I’d be honored to meet the direct descendant of our founding mother.”

  Dean laughed—not a forced, choked giggle this time, but an honest laugh that piqued the interest of those around them. As Will had known all along, they were under the discreet but vigilant observation of their peers. “Mimi’s nice. I’ll introduce you to her, too.”

  “Mimi? I thought her name was Destiny.”

  “It is,” Dean blushes slightly. “Mimi’s a pet name for grandmother.”

  “Cool,” Will replies, considering his next move. “Let’s seal it with a kiss—just a peck.” After a quick meeting of lips, the two boys separate. Will, once he is halfway through the cafeteria, spins back gaily to call out, “See you tonight, then!” Dean blushes for the crowd and nods his head. They hadn’t actually made a date, but it was good for the rest of the students to think they had.

  * * * * *

  “Wow!” Todd’s eyes sparkle. “That was quite a story Papa Dean.” He had listened so intently to Papa Dean’s voice that Todd had almost felt as if he had been there with his father and Dean over twenty-five years ago. Turning his eyes back to Papa Dean, he asks, “Did he—did my father ever get caught? Did he go to reeducation camp, too?”

  “No.”

  “And he married?”

  “Yes, your Papa Mike.”

  “Did he love him?”

  “Your Papa Mike loved your father. That I know for sure. But whether your father loved Mike—I think so—but honestly, Todd, I don’t know.” Dean recalls, “Mike was a cheerleader. He doted on your father. He would do anything for him, and sometimes, your father took advantage of that. I guess that’s why he chose to marry Mike. There’s safety in marriage.” Trying to reassure Todd, he adds, “I’m sure he liked him, appreciated his devotion. Your Papa Mike was thoroughly committed to Will.”

  “But why would Dad marry if he didn’t love the man? Or want sex with him. I mean, marriage means sex.”

  “Marriage isn’t all about sex, Todd.”

  “I know that, but it is expected, isn’t it? That’s why you eventually gave in, right? Right?”

  “Yes, Todd, you’re right.”

  “Then why would he?”

  “Because I warned him—about reeducation.” Closing his eyes, Dean remembers the day Will Middleton came to visit him at camp. “You can have visitations after you’ve come out as gay. When your dad came to see me, I told him how happy I was to find my true self. I even tried to act festive. But it was evident by his eyes that he didn’t believe me,” Dean harrumphs. “And I didn’t blame him because at that point it was all a lie. Anyway, visitors had to sit behind chicken wire stretched up from the countertop to the ceiling. But there were a few inches available for our hands to reach underneath so when I put my hand through, he held onto it. That’s when I slipped him the note—a little old school perhaps, but a note is silent and can easily disappear. Anything put on the wave is easily reconstructed.”

  “What did the note say?” Todd asks in earnest.

  “‘Never get caught. Find a man you like. Marry him. Trust me. It’s better.’ He picked Mike Fulton. Your Papa Mike loved your father to distraction.

  I don’t think he could have picked
a better man.”

  “Except he changed,” Todd begins.

  “Yes, after your father died,” Dean agrees. “It was as if something inside Mike died when your father passed.”

  “He was never the same.”

  “No, you’re right,” Dean agrees. “He wasn’t.”

  “Papa Dean?”

  “Yes, Todd.”

  “Please ask Frank to visit me. He hasn’t been back since…” Since I asked him.

  Dean smiles, hopeful. “Sure, I will—of course, I will. And he can help you, Todd—I know he can. Like his father helped me.”

  No, he can’t Papa Dean. Todd closes his eyes so Dean can’t read his expression. Not the way you want him to. Frank’s not like his father. But he will help, Todd determines, with what I’ve asked of him. He owes me that much. “Papa Dean?”

  “Yes, Todd.”

  “I love you.”

  Dean, smiling through his tears, bends down to kiss Todd. “I love you too, son.”

  * * * * *

  Salve!

  Continuing Investigation

  HNN—Melissa Eagleton Reporting

  The continuing investigation into the alleged abuses reported at the Northeast Reeducation Camp is capturing the attention of Hadrian. Parents fear for the health and sanity of their children should they be found acting on their heterosexual tendencies. One mother noted that every one of our children has the potential to experience heterosexual desires. “Sexual education is a parental matter, not a state matter,” said one father, expressing his dissatisfaction in the current reeducation system. “Children should remain at home with their parents and a government counselor should attend to them on an as needed basis.” This sounds reasonable enough, but when put into the light of economics, only wealthier families could afford such luxuries. We are still left with the necessary means of reeducating the children of our poorer citizens. Such a dichotomic split between the treatment of the wealthy and the poor will only lead to resentment among our citizens. An increase in taxes is not likely to occur, not with another election so close at hand. Hadrian’s citizens and businesses already pay the highest taxes in the world to maintain the one remaining zoo as well as our four (and the earth’s only remaining) national parks.