The Curative - 4. Chapter 4

“Ryan.” Logan’s voice reverberated through my dream. We were walking through a field, well, I was walking, and Logan was riding on the back of a very large Mason. He was shirtless and sweaty, and he looked like an erotic Loki riding into battle on the back of Fenrir. He pulled me up to sit in front of him, caressing my sides with his large hands, leaning forward as if to kiss me, wiggling his finger into my bellybutton…

Wait, what?

“Ryaaaaan.”

“Wha-ah! Stop it, stop it!” I was yanked from my Norse Logan dream by real Texas Logan attacking my ribs. His fingers found all of my tender spots and soon I was a boneless panting heap sprawled across Logan’s lap and the couch.

I glared as evilly as I could up at his grinning face. He chuckled and planted a kiss on my forehead before disentangling himself and reaching for his wheelchair.

“Your mom called again.” I groaned. “Either tell her to fuck off or just let her visit, because I’m getting mighty tired of her calling every three fucking hours.”

“I’m sorry Logan, I haven’t seen her in 8 years, I don’t know why she’s being so insistent.” Thinking of the damned woman made every bit of playfulness I had felt with Logan drain away.

Why the fuck was she trying to get back into my life now?

Fingers drifted through my hair, calming me, and I instinctively nuzzled against them. Lips brushed across my forehead again before settling on my own. It was gentle, not the rough and desperate crush that had been our first kiss.

“I like this side of you, kid. I almost don’t remember the nervous idiot that walked in here with his damn girl dog asking for a room.”

“You like Bailey.” I reached up and twisted my fingers through his.

He smirked. “Nah, you’re just lucky Oscar has the hots for her.”

The subject of our conversation came bounding into the room, yipping excitedly. She leapt over Mason, lying at the base of the couch, and straight onto my groin.

“Bailey, no! Ohhhh.”I shoved Bailey off and curled around my poor organs. Logan was laughing hysterically, the bastard had no sympathy. I briefly considered giving him a glimpse of what twenty pounds of dog straight on your balls felt like, but thought better of it. Even in a wheelchair, Logan could run me down easily.

Instead I scooped Bailey up and settled her, gently, into my lap.

“What do you think I should do about my mom?” I asked, staring down at Bailey.

Logan’s laughter died down and I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “Will you tell me why you don’t want her here? I mean, she seems nice enough.”

I snorted, “She’s polite. Not nice. I don’t think she even knows what the word means.”

“Well, okay. Tell me, Ry. I wanna know more ‘bout you. You know about my ma and my brothers and Texas, but I don’t know hardly anything about you.”

I blushed at the reminder of the night we had spent on the couch. We’d been watching another one of his Arnold movies, and somehow I ended up curled against him, my head on his chest. I’d asked about Texas, and he’d regaled me with stories of his two brothers and how much hell they’d all put Logan’s ma through. I learned about how Oaks were the best trees to climb, and how to wrangle a rattlesnake without getting bit.

He told me about how their dad had left when his youngest brother was born, unable to deal with the pressure of three kids. His mom had raised them on her own from then on, and moved them all to Colorado when Logan had his accident.

I’d fallen asleep listening to his voice, and had woken up curled safely within his arms, though slightly uncomfortable from lying on the stiff couch all night long.

I felt guilty now, realizing that I really hadn’t told him anything about myself. He had kept to his promise and had trusted me with my prescriptions, but I had yet to give him anything in return.

I glanced up, nervously holding eye contact. “I… I came out when I was sixteen.” Logan nodded encouragingly. “I don’t know what I was expecting, I should have known it wouldn’t go well. My father didn’t even look at me. He j-just stared out the window while my mother told me how ‘Those people are disgusting’ and how she would n-not have any s-son of hers become one.”

I heard Logan’s intake of breath, “Ry….”

I waved away his hand when it reached for mine. “I’m not done.”

“They sent me to The Leviticus Curative, a homosexual rehabilitation camp in north Florida. I spent two months there, seeing counselors who swore they would ‘make me better’, and undergoing treatment after treatment of drugs to see which held my desires at bay. I had several treatments of ECT-“

Logan gasped, “Ryan!” He rolled towards me, ignoring my insistence that he stay away, and took my face in his hands. His fingers wiped away tears that I hadn’t noticed rolling down my cheeks. He gathered me against his chest kissed my face all over, then took my shaking hands and kissed them too.

I sighed and curled into him, letting him comfort me. Unfortunately though, I still wasn’t done.

“For the next two years, I went through continual drug treatments and random visits to the camp whenever my mom thought I was ‘acting too gay’. My parents set up rules so that I wouldn’t encounter any temptation, and so that they wouldn’t get humiliated in the press. I wasn’t allowed to go outside, they hired tutors to help me finish school, and they told all of my friends that I had decided to finish up school in Virginia with my aunt and her sons. I applied for CSU in secret with the help of one of my tutors. He helped me get everything I needed to get out. And the day I turned 18, I did.”

I could feel Logan shaking underneath me, his fingers clenching and unclenching my shirt rapidly.

“How-fuck! Ry, how could they do that to you?” Logan’s face was a picture of rage and confusion. “They’re your parents for fuck’s sake!”

“They weren’t so much my parents as they were rising stars on the political scene. When I left, my father was the Florida Secretary of State. Now he’s the governor. Next he’ll probably campaign for senate. He’s staunchly republican, and if my being gay had gotten out, his whole party would’ve laughed at him. So they kept me out of the way.”

Logan sputtered. “I don’t give a flying sideways fuck about senate or governor or any of that shit. They should be in jail!”

I laughed weakly and buried my face into Logan’s neck. “That’s why they haven’t contacted me for 8 years. They found me a few months after I moved, but I threatened to contact every media source in Florida and give them a full recount of my story if they called again.”

We sat for a few moments in silence, Logan’s arms never wavering in their tight hold.

Suddenly, our sad silence was interrupted, yet again, by the phone.

Riiiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing.

I moved to get up but Logan clamped me down onto his lap and rolled over to the phone. His face looked calm, but his eyes were unreadable. He picked up the phone.

“Who is this?”

“May I speak with Ryan?”

Logan’s face contorted and his hand clenched on the phone, his knuckles turning scary white.

“GO FUCK YOURSELF IN THE ASS WITH A CATTLE PROD, YOU FUCKING POLITICAL WHORE.” He slammed the phone back into its cradle and stared at it, nostrils flaring.

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me, and I couldn’t stop once I started. Logan looked down at me in shock, but soon he was laughing too, head thrown back and his chest heaving with great guffaws.

Once we calmed down, I resituated so that I could face him comfortably while still on his lap. “Thank you, Logan. I think I figured something out.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re the curative I needed this whole time. Of all the drugs I take, none has ever made me feel as sane as I do right now.”

Logan beamed so bright I thought he might have stolen some of the sun.

“I’m glad I take some of your shakes away, kid.” He kissed my cheek, then nibbled his way across my jaw to my ear. He chuckled when I gasped, and a hand teased its way under my shirt and up my ribs. I melted into him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

Riiiiiing. Riiiiiing. Riiiiiing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding!” Logan bellowed, and I barely managed to jump out of his lap before his hand slammed down on the table. His upper lip was pulled up in disgust, and he was practically vibrating with suppressed violence.

I took a deep breath and wrapped my arms around his shoulders from behind.

“Don’t answer it.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I just want to be happy right now. I don’t want to think about her.”

I felt Logan’s rigid muscles slowly relax, and his hand came up to rest on mine. He sighed, “I don’t think she’s going to give up.”

“We’ll unplug the phone. We each have cell phones anyways.”

He nodded, “All right.”