Hugh's Pain - 2. Chapter 2

Hugh sat at the kitchen table as Jessica placed a large bowl of stew in front of him. The scent of the dish caused him to salivate and he swallowed reflexively before turning to thank her. She replied with a smile and nod as she gently squeezed his shoulder. He reached out to the center of the table and lifted the cloth keeping the bread warm and almost groaned as the smell of the fresh baked sourdough filled the surrounding air. He pulled a chunk of bread off the whole and dipped it into his stew. He sighed in contentment as he took his first bite.

It was what he needed right at that moment, and as Jessica took a seat across from him he began to realize she always seemed to know. It was the little things. Things like the meal in front of him and the studio apartment he knew that she had talked Pat into building. They gave him a small piece of family without taking away the solitary life Hugh had chosen for himself.

Hugh watched his sister-in-law as he ate. She, in turn, watched him. Her face and demeanor were like the calm of a sunlit lake―so soothing, almost mesmerizing to Hugh. He always marveled at the polar opposites between Jessica and himself. She was sunlight, sky and warmth to his night, earth and blood. Blond, almost white hair versus black, light blue eyes versus the darkest of brown, and creamy, fair skin versus the red clay of dirt. They were so completely different, yet other than his brother, Jessica was the only one in the world he’d felt comfortable with―at least most of the time. In his darkest moments, Hugh trusted no one.

When Hugh finished eating, he broke eye-contact with Jessica and stood to take his bowl and spoon to the sink. He paused in his movements just before turning on the water to clean what he’d used.

“How do you do that, Jess?”

The water drowned out any answer she could have given, although he pretty well knew that she hadn’t said a word. She’d wait until he came back to the table and sat down again before trying to talk to him.

It took him a moment to settle his nerves before going back. But he’d asked the question. It was only fair that he listen to the answer.

Once he was settled into his seat, he glanced over to the door that led down a short covered walkway and into Pat’s medical area. He wondered―worried more than anything else―what was happening to the boy. It had been a couple of hours since Pat had taken him into what Hugh could only imagine was surgery.

The sound of his bubbling breath was still loud in Hugh’s ears. He remembered hearing that sound as he’d held someone else seven years prior. Someone that had been closer than a brother. Someone he’d loved… and failed.

Hugh was shaken from his dark thoughts when Jessica spoke.

“I like your hair long like that. I can’t get Pat away from his brush cut.”

“It’s easier for him to keep it short,” Hugh mumbled, trying to pull himself back to the present but not quite able to tear his gaze from the closed door. “He always hated pulling it back.”

“Yes, he’s told me. He said something about arguing with your mother for months before she agreed with him.”

Reluctantly, he forced himself to turn his head toward his sister-in-law. She hadn’t moved from her chair and her focus was completely on him. He waited.

“What is it you want to know?” she finally asked.

Hugh took a deep breath and let it out slowly before asking her again, “How do you always know?”

Jessica cocked her head in question.

“The food”―Hugh motioned toward the bread still sitting in the middle of the table―”the apartment, all the things we talk about―how do you always know what to say, serve, the things you do to make me comfortable?”

Hugh’s attention went back to the door. He thought he heard movement behind it. He waited for the door to open, but instead, he heard the outer door close and the start of an engine.

The nurse was leaving.

He listened as the small car moved away from the house. It didn’t leave in a hurry, which he supposed was good news. Now, he just had to wait for Pat to come into the kitchen.

“You know, people always assume we are the ones that commune with the spirits. But I’ve never done so. Fair-skinned blondes, such as yourself, are supposed to be shallow.”

Hugh heard her snicker. “We don’t fit the stereotype, do we, Hugh?”

He sighed and turned in his seat, rubbing his eyes.

“I feel too much,” he said as he reached for the glass that had held water earlier. He rolled it between his hands using the glass as a distraction while trying to order his thoughts.

“I never used to, you know. When I was growing up, things were… I don’t know, simpler. It didn’t seem like there were as many things trying to get in. Now, I can’t seem to keep them out.”

“Are you talking about feelings, or memories?”

Jessica stood and walked around the table as Hugh stared at the blank wall behind her. He let her take the tumbler from between his hands. The stark white that filled his sight changed as his mind began to go back to a different wall. A wall splattered with blood, a single gaping hole torn through the plaster. And in his arms… He saw the bubbles form on his lips. He heard them as they burst even as the gurgle came from his chest.

It was all wrong. They were supposed to grow old together. He shook his head and focused on Jessica as she set a full glass of water in front of him. She stood a couple seconds letting her fingers comb through his hair before pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down.

“I don’t feel things like you do, Hugh. And it isn’t that I always know anything in particular. I just pay attention.” Jessica shrugged and sighed. “Momma used to call me a silent watcher. She said it was always hard to hide things from me when I was little because I always seemed to see everything.

“I know that probably isn’t the answer you wanted, but that’s all I have for you. I watch and I listen. You, Pat and Toby are my world and when one of you hurts, I hurt.”

A stifled groan passed Hugh’s lips and Jessica reacted to the sound, sliding closer and rested her hand over one of his as it lay on the table.

“No more tonight, okay? I can see that you’re about done so why don’t you go get some sleep.”

Hugh shook his head and looked back to the door. “There won’t be any sleep for me tonight. Not for a while anyway. I need to know that he’s going to be okay.” He glanced down at Jessica quickly before returning to the door. “I can’t fail him. Not again.”

“Hugh.”

Her gentle whisper hit him like a slap in the face. “No! I know you and Pat think I’m some innocent waif with all that went down, but I’m not.” He forced himself to look into her face, knowing that what he would see would be pity. “I’m not, Jess.”

Hugh stood and went to the door leading out to his rig. “If you would, let Pat know that I’ll be in the fifth wheel.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and she didn’t call for one. The waking nightmare that so often made its way known was already crawling across his mind. And there was no way that he would allow her to see it in his face.

Jason was Hugh’s best friend from the time they were only two years of age. By the age of twelve, Hugh began to realize that he was one of a severe minority. He’d also come to realize that it would be necessary to hide his inner self from most everyone around him―especially, his father.

At the age of seventeen, Jason told him a secret. Jason was gay. In a fit of fright and self-loathing, Hugh had stormed off, leaving his best friend shocked and alone. He didn’t scream at him, or call him names. He just turned and went home to his room, where he shut himself in and refused to come out. His fears of being found out before he was ready had been compounded. If Jason was comfortable enough to come out to him, then it would only be a matter of time before he’d want to be free to come out to the world. That would put Hugh in danger by association.

Hugh had done fine up until then keeping to the “straight” and narrow. He’d kept his feelings about other boys, in general, and Jason, specifically, firmly buried. He’d never even considered that Jason might be available to him. He’d spent all of the afternoon in his room, contemplating, imagining the worst things that could happen.

Then the pounding on the door came with his brother’s angry voice behind it.

A light tapping on the trailer door brought Hugh out of his memories. He glanced at the clock sitting on the counter in the kitchen area and was shocked to see he’d been sitting in the dark for four hours.

“Hugh?” Pat quietly called.

“Yeah, Pat. I’ll be right there.”

He rubbed his eyes and stood. He was shaky and took a moment to stabilize himself before leaving the rig and going back inside the house. He’d never let anyone else inside his space and his brother hadn’t ever tried to sway his mind. It was his place of refuge, or punishment, however he chose to look at it at the time.

He found Pat sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of hot coffee. The steam from the beverage wafted up as he sipped, making it look as though he was watching Hugh through murky fog. Pat’s eyes were bloodshot and his face sagged with fatigue. When Hugh saw his brother looking like this, it made him wonder why he’d chosen his profession. It took so much out of him.

Hugh sat down near his brother and waited.

“It was bad, Hugh.” Pat sighed and set his cup down. “Not as bad as it could have been, I suppose, but still…

“How is he?”

“He’ll live. He’s got five broken ribs, one of which punctured his left lung. His legs are good, but his right arm is broken in three places. Two fingers, collar bone, right cheek”―Pat sighed and wiped at his eyes with one hand―”cracked skull, all on the right side. Man, Hugh, he was worked over good. I’d say probably by two or three guys, but one of them got carried away.” Hugh watched Pat’s eyes glaze over for a couple seconds. When they cleared, he looked directly into Hugh’s eyes. “I don’t think it was meant to be this severe.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think he was supposed to be bruised but left intact.”

“What makes you say that?”

Pat looked away and stared through the glass of the patio doors into the night. His eyes looked as though he was searching the dark for something. Hugh waited patiently for an answer. He flinched when Pat finally turned his attention back to the table.

Pat picked up his coffee, took a sip, and put it back down. He looked at Hugh with eyes filled with compassion.

“They can’t get their money if he’s dead.”