William Walter Williams - 2. A Little Horse, Part 2

When Will arrived at the police station he was escorted into an interview room where supposedly he expected an officer would come to interrogate him. It was small, with pale gray walls, and an overhead light protected by a wire cage. The once padded chair was hard from having too many people sit on it. He was hungry, but figured food wasn’t going to pass between his lips until sometime tomorrow morning. He turned his head at the sound of the doorknob clicking and saw a woman in a dark blue skirt and light blue blouse come in. She was followed by a man in a uniform.

“William, I’m Detective Oliver,” the woman said as she sat in the chair across the small table. “This burly guy is Deputy Wilson; he’s here in case you act out inappropriately. How are you doing this evening.”

“Okay, a little hungry.”

“Maybe we can do something about that,” Detective Oliver said. “We just spoke with the staff at Green Meadows and, to say the least, they are a little upset you chose to attempt to get drugs on your visit to Warnton. Have you ever used heroin before?”

“Yeah, lots, Lew kept me on it,” Will said as an image of the trucker injecting the drug in his arm crossed his mind. For some reason he tried to smile, something that was becoming easier for him.

“Who is Lew?”

“He was the trucker who kept me with him from when he bought me from my parents.”

“Do you know where we might find Lew if we want to talk to him?”

“He’s dead,” he said. He stared at the metal ring of the handcuff that kept his right hand fastened to the table as thoughts of Lew passed through his mind. “He was killed when the police rescued me.”

“Where and when was that?”

“At the Sanitaria Springs exit from I-88 about a year and a half ago.”

“I thought I recognized you,” Deputy Wilson said. “That was when I was working for the Broome County Sheriff’s department and I was on that little endeavor. William here was coming off a high. He was pretty messed up for a couple weeks until they sent him to Green Meadows. How have things been going there?”

“Oh, okay, I guess,” he said with a bit of sadness in his voice. “They’ve been trying to help me, but I guess this doesn’t look like it’s been working all that well.”

“You realize, William, that you’re probably not going to be able to go back to that facility,” Detective Oliver said.

“Yeah, you guys will be putting me away for quite a while now,” he said. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek and wiped it away with the back of his left hand. Why cry now, he thought, they had him and he was going to juvie at the very least.

“Not necessarily; who gave you the idea you could get heroin by calling that number?”

“Who gave me the idea? I was addicted to heroin for nearly six years. I don’t need somebody to give me the idea. I know the code word. My mistake was assuming it was real. Earlier, when I first saw it I thought it might be a setup, but when I had a chance to call, I did.”

“We don’t see heroin use very much in children your age range. When did you start?”

“Lew started me when I was six; the night he first had sex with me,” he said as the memory of that night crept into his consciousness.

“That’s an awfully early age to be using heroin. Are you certain you were six?”

“Look, I’ve been in psychotherapy for over a year going back and forth over my life with Lew and as best as I can figure Lew gave me something when he raped me,” he said adamantly. “I have to assume it was heroin because that was what I remember. Maybe it was something different, but he injected it in my arm, so what else could it be? I know how to get heroin ready and inject it.”

“Do you see yourself always trying to use heroin?”

“Sure, Dr. Fisher says I have substance use disorder and will seek it to feel good. Weed makes me feel okay sometimes, but it definitely isn’t as good as heroin.”

“That’s unfortunate William because a boy your age only has one future if you keep using.”

“Detective, I don’t have a future. I’m never going to be anything, do anything, or meet anyone to have a future with. I might as well get me a big hit and just go away permanently.” Another tear trickled down his cheek, but he tried to ignore it. This weeping wasn’t doing him any good and why wouldn’t this person just accept the fact that he was a junkie. All these adults, those at Green Meadows and here, now, always saying he’d never amount to anything if he didn’t get his head right. Well, fuck them!

He sat there staring at her and then looked down at the table. He didn’t like her smile. It was as if she could look right into his mind and see what a pathetic kid he really was. He wanted to go back to the school and bury his head under the pillow, but suspected that wasn’t going to happen. No, these people were going to keep him here until Monday and then send him to a higher security juvenile facility where he would be turned into a criminal or killed and never have a chance to grow into a normal teen. They were going to keep him away from drugs until he finally got a chance to kill himself or be murdered by some crazed inmate.

“William I need to ask you one question,” Detective Oliver said. “How much money did you give the officer for the heroin?”

“Money? I didn’t have any money,” he said blankly. “He was going to give it to me for free. Isn’t that what dealers do to get new users hooked? I walked up to their car and the passenger got out, we had a few words, he gave me the horse, and suddenly I’m thrown up against the car and cuffed. No money exchanged hands. This was a freebie.”

“Oh, shit!” Deputy Wilson exclaimed. “Okay, kid, let’s go to a holding cell where you can wait until we decide what we’re going to do with you. Anything you need?”

“Like I said earlier, I’m kinda hungry. I haven’t eaten since lunch. A sandwich would be nice. Tuna or bologna is okay. A piece of bread and a glass of water might do me, too, if that’s all you got.”

“I’ll see what I can find.”

They put him into a single holding cell and Will used the steel toilet before lying down on the bed. He didn’t expect them to bring him anything to eat, so he concentrated on sleeping. When you don’t have something to do sleep is usually the most satisfying function you can expect. Plus, he didn’t want to think about his empty stomach. He shut his eyes and meditated for a little while just to ease his troubled mind back into some state of normalcy.

After nearly an hour, the cell door opened and Deputy Wilson walked in with a paper bag and tall paper cup. Will could smell the hamburger in the bag.

“I got you a cheeseburger and some fries. I hope you like Coke because that’s what I got. We contacted your DSS worker and she will be taking you to Green Meadows in the morning.”

“Oh, yeah, her,” Will said thinking of Ms. Bannister and how pissed she probably was right now. Too bad a deputy couldn’t take him back because he was positive there were going to be words between him and Ms. Bannister.

“Yeah, kid, her, and she didn’t sound too happy, either. If we don’t get to talk again, stop trying to use drugs, they’re not good for you.”

“Yeah, that’s what everybody says.”

Will knew he wasn’t going to do that, but being civil would maybe make it sound like he might do as Deputy Wilson said. He watched the deputy leave the cell and turned his attention to the burger which was pretty big and obviously wasn’t from a chain. With his first bite he was almost sorry he wouldn’t be staying longer.

* * * *

 

The following Monday Will was in Dr. Fisher’s office waiting for the berating to begin for fucking up his first chance to prove he might be qualified to leave this place. It was inevitable, of course, because what else could Dr. Fisher say. He’d seen a chance to score some heroin and when opportunity presented itself he made his stupid move. Unfortunately, it was a setup and he got caught by the police. Although he never spoke with Detective Oliver or Deputy Wilson again, he assumed he was going to have a record follow him out of here, if he was ever going to get out of here. Maybe, they would just keep him until he was eighteen and let him go his own way in the world looking for another chance to score some heroin.

“Well, Will, how was your weekend?” Dr. Fisher asked calmly.

“How was my weekend?” Will asked, puzzled by the doctor’s seeming obliviousness to what happened to him. “I spent it here after being brought back by Ms. Bannister.”

“And, why was that?”

“Didn’t you hear? Don’t you know? I was caught trying to get some heroin.” What was Dr. Fisher’s game? This wasn’t going according to his script. He looked across the room and saw a painting. He’d never noticed it before and wondered if it was something Dr. Fisher just put up. There were four boys in various states of dress with one playing a guitarlike instrument. Will couldn’t quite figure out why Dr. Fisher would have it in his office. “What’s that painting?”

“Huh? Oh, that, it’s a reprint of Caravaggio’s The Musicians. Do you like it? My wife gave it to me.”

“Yes, it’s nice. Are those boys gay?”

“Well, that was Caravaggio’s style. A lot of his work supports the view of homoeroticism he seemed to strive for. He never married, though it is reported he had female lovers and male lovers, too. At the very least he was a libertine who painted some splendid images of young boys.”

“You sound like a pervert,” Will said and then smiled.

“Ha! Will, only you of all my patients would say that, but considering the time you spent with Lew I can understand your feelings. Do you like the painting?”

“Yes, that boy on the left, the one behind the red cloth looks pretty, maybe like a boy I would want to know, maybe a boy I wouldn’t mind going to bed with. Does that make me sound horrible?”

“Will, we’ve discussed your sexuality before. It’s fine that you see the boy in that painting as desirous. It’s a perfectly normal reaction.”

“Good,” Will said and smiled. His mind wandered a bit as he felt an unfamiliar tickling in his groin. For the past number of months puberty was beginning to tear him apart and his body was definitely changing, especially down there.

“Now, Will, what do you want to happen?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, shocked that they were suddenly in session.

“Do you want to get out of here in nine months to a year?”

“Well, I did, but that certainly isn’t going to happen.”

“And, why is that?”

“Because they hauled me in for possession of heroin, that’s why,” he said as he looked at Dr. Fisher and wondered what was going on. “I’m surprised they didn’t put me in jail.”

“Will I spoke with the district attorney’s office this morning and there won’t be any charges brought against you. Possession has to be a bit more involved than just handing a young boy some heroin. The officers offer to give it to you for free could be seen as entrapment. No, Will, you’ll be staying with us for only a little while until you’re ready for another foster placement.”

Will couldn’t believe what Dr. Fisher was saying or was he missing something? Was it true those narcs were so incompetent they tried to stick him with possession just by handing him that heroin. “Here, put this in your hand. Oops! Gotcha!” Cops could be so stupid sometimes.

“So, what happens to me?” Will asked.

“Obviously you’re not going to get out for a weekend visit anytime soon. I truly suspect that family that was willing to foster you is having second thoughts; and, maybe you won’t be going to any placement in Wayne County. Although, quite frankly I would recommend that option remain on the table only because now the police know you and can be on the lookout for your stupid acts involving drugs. You keep telling me you want to be a normal teenager, but what happened on Friday is not an example of what normal teens do.

“Starting today we’re going to put you back to where you were when you first arrived, meaning all special privileges are hereby revoked.

“And, I want you to write me a paper on what you were thinking when you first thought you might be able to score some heroin and what you did to see that that thought came into being. Will, I want you to look deep inside your memories and discover why you want drugs so much. I do not want a simple answer that you just wanted to get high. That’s too easy and not appropriate in a therapeutic setting. Now, go along to your class.”

“Yes, sir.”

What was he going to write about? Of course he wanted to get high. That was the whole point on using drugs. How was he going to go deep into his mind and pull out a solution to a problem that affected him for nearly six years?

About ten minutes later Will sat at a computer staring at the empty screen. Why had he tried to get a hit of heroin knowing he didn’t have any money? What was going through his head when he saw that little note offering some horse? Why was he such a fucked up kid? Lew, that’s why; it all boils down to that man and his need for sex, money, and to keep Will in line. Was there a time a few years back when he realized that Lew was using him and it was going to end some day? Of course it was going to end and when Will got to what would’ve been eleven Lew basically stopped fucking him, but Lew kept the heroin coming because Will had to go to other trucks to entertain perverted drivers who enjoyed fucking little boys, even though at eleven and twelve, Will was no longer a little boy. Lew wasn’t getting Will high for Will’s pleasure; he was doing it to him for his own sexual or monetary purposes. It was always for Lew.

But, why did he make that call? Lew wasn’t there and he knew Lew was never going to be in his life again, yet he made the call and got caught. The only way he was ever going to get out of all of this heroin shit was to come to the realization Lew no longer mattered.

“Will what are you doing?”

“Oh, Ms. Bennett, I’m supposed to write a paper for Dr. Fisher and was trying to formulate my thoughts.”

“Okay, Will, just checking.”

That was the way Ms. Bennett, the English studies instructor, was. She didn’t have to do much except monitor the students so they weren’t goofing off because all of the lesson material was computerized. Now, how was he going to word this so that it sounded like he had some intelligence?

My problem with drugs is that I base all current actions on what I was taught to do by Lew. I saw that note and phone number and knew …

“Will, it’s been over an hour; how are you doing?” Ms. Bennett asked. “You need to get back to your lesson now.”

“Can’t I have just a few more minutes? I’m almost done.”

“Okay, thirty minutes, but no longer.”

Will went through the whole paper looking for obvious mistakes. He liked the system because it had a spell-checker that made it easy to find misspelled words. Basically, he blamed everything on what Lew had done to him for those six years he kept him on heroin; and, as he read through it, he got a feeling that it was the best he could hope for unless Dr. Fisher thought he was just trying to get out of the assignment by not taking personal responsibility for his actions, but how could he do that when he didn’t know how to do that.

He hit the “print” button and went to the printer to pick up his paper. On his way back to his computer Ms. Bennett stopped him and offered to read it for clarity, but he declined her offer preferring to have Dr. Fisher do the critique. The paper was for him anyway.

* * * *

 

“Good morning, Will, how was your day, yesterday, did you get your paper done?” Dr. Fisher asked.

“Yes, here,” he said as he handed the folded paper to the doctor.

“I wasn’t expecting anything until tomorrow or Thursday at the earliest.”

Dr. Fisher started reading and Will began wondering what he was going to say. Was he going to accept his interpretation that Lew’s influence on those years of his life had scarred his perception of right and wrong? Of course, if he was ever going to get his mind straight, he had to stop acting like an idiot. Was that all there was to it or would he have to do something special? Maybe there was something Dr. Fisher could teach him; some trick, a sleight of hand, a way to make his mind give up its demand for chemical relief when in reality there was no need.

He looked over at the doctor as he read through the paper. It was barely two pages long so he didn’t expect it to take him very long to read the whole thing, but unexpectedly Dr. Fisher stopped and took a pen from the desk. He wrote something on the second page and then turned the paper over and wrote some more. Will wondered why the doctor was writing on his paper. He didn’t expect that to occur. He simply expected the doctor to discuss it with him. Maybe he was going to reject what he said and want him to go back and write a new paper. Dr. Fisher finished writing, looked at Will, and smiled.

“Very good,” he said.

“It is?”

“Yes, you’ve clearly identified your problem, but now we have to discover how you’re going to solve it. So, we’re going to use this paper as the basis for your future treatment until you can help yourself deal with all the evils Lew put into your head.”

“How do I do that?”

“First, we’re going to discuss how you handle yourself here, so we’ll continue to meet as we have been. Second, I want to discuss this with Ms. Hidalgo. I believe she has the skills that can assist you with your spur of the moment behaviors. One moment and I’ll call her. Maybe she’ll see you right now while this is fresh in your mind.”

While Dr. Fisher made his phone call Will wondered what more than meditation Ms. Hidalgo could do for him. Then he got the idea of reading what Dr. Fisher had written on his paper. It was right there and Dr. Fisher wasn’t paying a bit of attention to it. Will figured he could just reach over and slip it away from the doctor, so that’s what he did.

“What are you doing?” Dr. Fisher asked as he grabbed Will’s hand just as his fingers touched the paper.

“I wanted to read what you wrote,” Will said nervously.

“We’ll talk about this when I’m finished,” Dr. Fisher said severely.

He pulled his hand back when the doctor let go and heard him say, “Sorry about that Bonnie, but Will seems to be getting a bit more impetuous these days. Maybe adolescence is finally starting to take hold and all those new neurons are starting to develop. Do you have anything right now? Oh, good, I’ll send him over after I’ve discussed a few things with him. Oh? Sure, I think Sally would be thrilled. I’ll talk to her tonight and call you tomorrow.”

He hung up and turned to face Will.

“Is Sally your wife?” Will asked.

“No, my daughter. Bonnie, uh, Ms. Hidalgo’s daughter will be ten on Friday and Ms. Hidalgo asked if Sally might want to attend the birthday party on Saturday. They’ll be having a sleepover.”

“What’s a sleepover?”

“That’s when you have your friends come over to your house and you party until it’s time for bed and then you sleep at that friend’s house. Children like doing things like that.”

“Will there be boys at the sleepover or just girls?”

“Oh, just girls. Now, what was your idea of trying to read what I wrote on your paper?”

“I just wanted to see,” Will said defensively.

“Are you afraid I might have written something derogatory?”

“What’s that mean, derogatory? I don’t know that word.”

“Something bad, unwanted.”

“Maybe,” Will said, suspicious now.

“I commented that the paper showed how you have finally come to the conclusion that all the things that Lew put in your mind were erroneous and not suitable for a child growing up. Plus, that you realize you have to learn how to be a normal person because of what he did to you. Is that about what you wanted me to say?”

“I didn’t expect you would see it that way, but I suppose being suspicious is part of my nature now. Maybe I’ll always question what people think of me even when they’re thinking good thoughts.”

“And, is that why you called that number even while you suspected you might be calling the police?”

“Yes, I was acting stupidly. I hadn’t had any heroin in such a long time that what the officer gave me might in all likelihood have caused me to OD. And, just now, trying to get the paper to read it was doing something stupid. When does it stop, Dr. Fisher?”

“When does what stop?”

“Acting stupid.”

“Will, it’s simply a matter of teaching your mind not to do such things. To take a moment and think what could happen and if you want that to occur. So far you haven’t demonstrated the ability to think through your actions. You saw the offer for heroin and a phone number. You thought, ‘hey, maybe it’s a plant by the police,’ but you still went and called when you had the chance. You didn’t suspect the stuff was going to kill you, but if you had thought it through a little bit more maybe you would not have called. Maybe you would’ve noticed you didn’t have any money to make the purchase. There were a lot of variables that you didn’t consider because you were raised by Lew not to think about those things. Pure and simple, Lew ran your life and you never had to think because he did all your thinking for you.”

“It’s not going to be very easy, is it?”

“No, life is never easy, but I think in the weeks and months ahead, with work we can help you work to a point where you can begin to think for yourself in a responsible manner. Now, go see Ms. Hidalgo. Oh, and let me write you a note for your teacher.”

In a few minutes Will was sitting in his usual chair in Ms. Hidalgo’s office. He gave her a weak, half smile and said, “Dr. Fisher wanted me to come over, but I don’t know what you can do for me.”

“Well, Will, first off how are you doing today?” Ms. Hidalgo asked.

“Okay,” Will said as he sat in his chair. He looked about the room and noticed the picture of Derek was now on the wall by the bookshelf. In its place there was a picture of a young girl. Will figured it was the daughter who was going to be having the sleepover.

“So, Will, a slight change in the direction of your therapy, is it? I think I can help you and for you I think you’ll find it to be familiar. Have you been meditating in your room before bed each night?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I agree with Dr. Fisher that your brain has begun to change and now we have a real chance to save you from yourself.”

Will thought about this and wondered how they were going to do that. Was it going to be more of her meditative mumbo-jumbo concentrating on his left toenail to free his mind of his daily struggles at Green Meadows? Or, maybe she had some secret spell to cast upon him that might help him to see the light of salvation. He looked across the room at the picture of Derek and wondered if the boy was good in bed.

“Will? Were you listening to me?”

“What? When?”

“Just now as I was explaining how I want you to meditate now. Were you paying attention?”

“No, sorry,” he said as his mind wandered back to Derek and wondered how he had done it. Did he slit his wrists or hang himself? Maybe he jumped off a bridge somewhere. People were always jumping off overpasses and getting hit by 18-wheelers. What did it matter? Did it matter?

“Ms. Hidalgo? Can I ask you how Derek committed suicide?” Will asked innocently.

“Why do you feel you need to know?” Ms. Hidalgo asked quizzically.

“I don’t really know; I was just wondering that’s all. He doesn’t look happy in that picture and I kind of wanted to understand what he was feeling when he offed himself.”

“He hung himself in his bedroom closet one morning before getting ready to go to school. When he didn’t come down for breakfast my husband went up to check on him. We called 9-1-1, but he was gone before they arrived.”

“Do you think it hurt?”

“What hurt?”

“You know, having something tight around his neck. Do you think that would hurt? Do you think he tied it so tight that it choked him before he hung himself?”

“No, I think his mind hurt so much from the bullying he was experiencing it simply overwhelmed him.”

“I wonder though what it would feel like to kill yourself like that. I know you’d have to be pretty far gone to off yourself by slitting your wrists, that must hurt a lot, but hanging must be kind of like OD’ing on horse. Isn’t it? Don’t you just fade away?”

“Will, stop talking like that,” Ms. Hidalgo said abruptly.

“Stop talking like what?” Will asked, startled.

“Talking like you might want to commit suicide.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that. Maybe I want to commit suicide. My life is so fucked up right now, maybe it’s a good time to go away, permanently.”

Ms. Hidalgo picked up her phone and dialed a number. She spoke quietly for a little bit occasionally looking over at Will. He smiled back at her and then went off in his own thoughts again. He knew she was calling for support. The men in white would be there soon and escort him to center for suicide watch. He gave into the eventuality of an injection of sedative and a night on a plastic mattress.

Sure enough there was a knock on the door and two aides dressed in white shirts and pants walked in. They sympathetically looked at Will and he stood up to go willingly. It would look better on his record if he volunteered to go with them.

“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Hidalgo. I’m sorry about talking about Derek, but I just had to know.”

“That’s okay, Will, you take care of yourself and we’ll get together tomorrow.”

* * * *

 

Dr. Fisher started Will out on an SSRI, but after a few months decided he needed to go on a mood stabilizer. The thoughts of suicide were getting worse and Will was cycling between extreme elation and deep depression. Although there was a serious chance that Will would gain weight, Dr. Fisher put him on a low dose of a medicine that might cause that. After a few weeks for the drug to take effect, Will told his doctor the medicine made him feel like he was “out of it” and Dr. Fisher said that was the whole point and to get used to feeling that way because that was to be his treatment for the rest of his life. It’s kind of startling for a fourteen-year-old to be given a life sentence, but Will felt he had to accept the treatment as life at Green Meadows wasn’t going very well at the time.

It started a little over a four months after he turned fourteen. He had just come out of group, which had been worthless as far as he was concerned. One of the older boys, a lughead named Damon, was mouthing off and generally acting like the jerk he always was when Norm, an equally deadweight lughead, must have had enough and got out of his chair and punched Damon’s lights out. Just like that, wham! So there Will was walking across the south quad to the building where he met with Ms. Hidalgo. Instead of going straight he turned right and headed toward the barns. When he first arrived at Green Meadows he had been told you had to be at least fifteen and have an ag job to go out to the barns, but for some reason he wanted to look at the livestock that day. Just like that he made a decision and was soon standing in a field where there were some goats, actually quite a few goats. They were busy doing goat things so he squatted down next to a big wooden fence post and lost track of time.

After a while the goats slowly wandered over to where he was, but they seemed to mostly ignore him, except for this big guy who came up and just stood there in a seemingly menacing way. There was a clump of grass beside Will so he grabbed a bunch of it and held it out to the big guy. The goat was munching it out of Will’s hand when he suddenly bolted and ran to the far side of the field taking most of the other goats with him. While Will wondered what had happened a man climbed over the fence and squatted down next to him.

“William Williams?”

“Yes?” Will looked over at the young man and smiled. He had learned it was always best to start with a smile.

“You know, that was a rather stupid thing to do. He doesn’t know you and could very well have done you serious injury.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought they were domesticated.”

“He thinks this is his field and your presence could have been taken as a threat. As top goat it’s his job to keep out intruders. If you would’ve stood up to pet him, he probably would’ve butted you just because he didn’t know who you were.”

“Who are you?” Will asked. The goats had calmed down and some were working their way across the pasture toward him.

“I’m Dave; I’m one of the farm workers.”

“I thought residents worked on the farms.”

“Oh, they do, but they need supervision. When the call came into the office that one of the residents was missing it was my luck to check the pastures over on this side of the barns. Come on, I’ll escort you back to the center.”

“The center?” Will was shocked that security would want him back at the main building. He expected to be taken to his cottage and locked down there.

“That’s where they want you.”

“But, why?” It was a mystery to him. Sure he was in an unauthorized area of the facility, but to have to go to the center for such a minor offense was unconscionable.

“Because you didn’t go where you were supposed to and you came out here. Two violations of the rules. Look I’m not a counselor so if you have a problem with going back to the center, I’ll have to call security to take care of you. You want to go peaceably with me or not?”

“I’ll go with you.”

What else was he to do, Dave had him dead to rights. When they arrived at the center building an aide in white put Will into a room where there were two chairs facing each other and a one-way window on one wall. He didn’t know what to expect. After a while a man in gray slacks, a navy blue blazer, and a red, green, and blue vertically striped shirt without a tie came in and sat in the other chair.

“Good evening, William, I’m Dr. Widmark, the night psychiatrist. What do you have to say for yourself.”

“I don’t know why I did it,” Will said.

“No, I suppose you don’t. I looked through your file a little bit and can see that you have a problem acting impulsively. I could give you an injection, but don’t really see the point in doing so. Are you hungry?”

“Why do you ask? Did I miss dinner?”

“Yes, it was an hour ago.”

“An hour? I got out of group at two and would’ve met with Ms. Hidalgo until three and then gone to afternoon classes. So, you’re saying I’ve lost four hours this afternoon out in a goat pen?”

“Is that where you were? You know you’re not authorized to be out there, don’t you?”

“Yes on both counts, I suppose,” Will said as he looked into the doctor’s eyes. There was a certain familiarity about him that gave Will some comfort. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

“Until you figure out how to make correct decisions about your life. Why did you go out there?”

“I don’t know; I just did. I got to the path that led that way and I turned away from going to see Ms. Hidalgo. And, I just kept walking out there. I remember seeing some horses, cows, and sheep, but for some reason I went into the goat pasture. Maybe I’m too curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Is that some old saying or something?” he asked, surprised that the doctor could say something as simple as that.

“Yes and it seems appropriate right now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes and now I won’t have anything to eat until breakfast. That should teach me to do stupid things around dinner time.”

“Well, William, you’re lucky today because when we found out you were missing the kitchen staff prepared you a little something in case we found you on campus.”

“If you see them tomorrow, say thank you for me,” Will said unhappily.

“Oh, you can thank them in the morning when you have breakfast. It’s not like I’m going to lock you up tonight, though I could. I don’t think it would do any good anyway. The important thing right now is for you to recognize that you made a bad choice of actions and repeated them until you got into trouble.”

“But, what trouble am I in?”

“You’ve lost all your privileges, so you’re back to square one.”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose that’s to be expected from doing something like this. What happens now, right now?”

“I’ll have one of the mental health aides bring you your dinner and you can eat it here. When you’re finished he’ll escort you to your cottage and you’ll be locked in for the night. No TV, no music, no computer access, no social media.”

“Just me and a good book.”

“That’s what you get. I’ll go get the aide and you have a good night, William.”

“Sure, thanks, maybe an injection would’ve been better.”

“Consequences, William, you have to realize behaving improperly results in consequences.”

“Yes, sir, I’m not blaming you. I just wish there was something I can do to stop myself from doing stupid shit.”

“Look before you leap.”

“Another old saying?”

“Yes and maybe one you should remember, too?”

* * * *

 

Ms. Bannister came to see Will when he was a month short of fifteen. Things had settled down in his life, his sessions with Dr. Fisher were finally bearing much needed fruit; though group therapy was generally boring, he participated when he felt he had something to offer; and, his sessions with Ms. Hidalgo were finally calming his mind and enabling him to “look before he leaped.”

“Good morning, Will, how are you today?”

“Okay,” he said without a smile.

“Just okay?”

“Yes, it doesn’t get much better than that. Things are going good with my mental health, but this drug I’m taking makes my mind have a dull feeling most of the time.”

“I haven’t seen you a quite a while. You look like you’ve been working out.”

“It’s mostly the medicine I take. It made me gain a bunch of weight and I had to take up an exercise program to battle that. I’m finally turning the flab into muscle.”

“Do you think you’ll be going out for sports when you start high school in Warnton?”

“What?” Will could believe what he just heard. Did he have a chance for a new placement or was it the Roberts. He hoped it wasn’t them. He knew if they forced him to live with those people he’d run away.

“I have a couple out in the lobby who want to meet you. They’re an older couple and we believe they will offer you much needed experience only they can offer.”

“What do you mean?”

“The man is a former addict.”

“He is?” Will asked, surprised Ms. Bannister would admit such a thing.

“Yes and the woman has used marijuana. They’re clean and speak at middle and high schools in the area to students who are at risk. Do you think this sounds like something you might be interested in?”

“Do they know I’m an addict?” he asked, suspicious of Ms. Bannister’s offer.

“No, privacy laws prevent me from revealing the details of your life.”

“But you told me that they were. Why is that?”

“Because their former drug use is a matter of public knowledge. They’re public speakers on the dangers of drug use by youth. I just want you to know that I contacted them about the placement rather than the other way around. Would you like to meet them, now?”

“Sure.”

They walked out of the conference room and down the hall. Out in the lobby there were two adults who, to Will, looked like grandparents. The man had balding gray hair, but his tall body was quite slender. He was wearing a blue flannel shirt, dark blue Wranglers, and black Doc Martens. The woman had straight gray hair that was pulled back and braided into a long ponytail. She was heavier than the man, but not fat, though her breasts were large; motherly was the word Will thought. She was wearing a flowery dress that hung down below her knees and over-the-calf yellow stockings and leather sandals. The only thought that came to Will’s mind was these people looked like hippies Lew was always disparaging when they ran into them in truck stops. He figured they drove a VW coffin filler.

“Will, this is Arthur and Sylvia Jenkins,” Ms. Bannister said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Will said as he remained on his side of the room.

“Uh, uh, not going to work young man, come over here, we give hugs,” Sylvia said.

With great trepidation Will slowly walked over to them. Sylvia wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tight against her breast. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be feeling, but for some unknown reason he wasn’t ready for her to let go when she did. Arthur was next, but Will had similar contact with other adult men and steeled his body against the contact.

“What’s wrong Will?” Arthur asked. “Don’t you like hugs?”

“I, you see, it’s, well, no, you see, it’s, I, I, um, I, I can’t do this. I’ve got to go. I, I can’t.”

“Will,” Sylvia said as she came up to him and pulled him into another hug that he welcomed. He began to weep.

“Ms. Bannister, what’s going on with Will?” Arthur asked.

“He had bad experiences with men in his young life,” she said. “I wish I could say more, but I have to leave that to him to tell you when he’s ready.”

“Oh, okay, no problem, I understand some boys just aren’t raised to hug other males; shame though, Will seems to be a good boy,” Arthur said. “Will would you like to go for a walk outside with us?”

“Okay,” Will whispered. He knew Arthur was trying to be nice, but he just overreacted to the man’s touch. Too many memories of other men came to mind and he couldn’t deal with getting a hug from Arthur just now, so soon in their relationship.

They came back to visit on their own over the next four months as Will continued to improve. His formal diagnosis had been changed to type II bipolar disorder compounded by substance use disorder. He was taking the mood stabilizer, but nothing else. He hadn’t had a suicidal episode in months and looked forward to his first chance to have a weekend visit with the Jenkins.

* * * *

 

Will wasn’t paying much attention when Ms. Bannister turned left off Highway 104 in Warnton and went down a side street. After a few blocks they turned right, passed a synagogue, and three houses later there was a large two-story house with a broad, covered front porch. It was painted light green with dark red trim. In a way it reminded Will of a doll house he’d once seen for sale in a truck stop in Kansas. They got out of the car, Will retrieved his bag from the trunk, and they headed up the front walk.

After they rang the doorbell, the front door opened and Arthur Jenkins stood there as if he’d just woken from a nap. He said, “Will, Ms. Bannister, come on in, we were just relaxing a bit before dinner. Here let me get your bag Will.”

Will gave up his bag and allowed Ms. Bannister to precede him into the house. Sylvia Jenkins came out of a room with a smile across her face and said, “Ah, Will, Ms. Bannister, welcome, come into the parlor and let’s talk. Artie go get Ms. Bannister a cup of coffee.”

“No, thank you, I must be on my way. I just need to know if you’re ready to have Will this weekend and to let you know I’ll be by here Sunday afternoon at three o’clock to pick him up.”

“Oh, no, we’ll take him back,” Arthur said. “It’s not far and it’ll give us more time with Will.”

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

“Yes, we’ve got it all planned out,” Sylvia said. “When do we have to have him back there?”

“They have dinner at five-thirty, but if you feed Will before, you don’t have to check him in until no later than seven,” Ms. Bannister said. “Will, you be good this time, got it?”

“Yes, Ms. Bannister,” Will said. “I’ll behave.”

Arthur escorted Ms. Bannister out to her car and Sylvia just looked at Will. She smiled and then said, “What was that all about?”

“Well, the last time I was here for a placement I tried to score some heroin, but it turned out to be a setup by the police. They hauled me in, but the cops screwed up and I got off without so much as a warning.”

“Heroin, huh? That was Artie’s problem back in the eighties when Bobby died. Will go ahead and have a seat on the sofa. The recliner is Artie’s and I sit here in this antique, overstuffed side chair. Oh, here’s Babs, our orange tabby. If you’re an animal lover Babs will end up in your lap. She can tell who will like her and who won’t.”

“Was Bobby your son?” Will asked.

“Yes, our youngest, he died of AIDS,” Sylvia said calmly.

“I’m sorry; was he gay? I know that heroin users can get AIDS, too, so I was just wondering.”

The cat jumped up on the sofa and slowly came up to Will. He put his hand down so she could smell him and she wasn’t having any of that. She nudged his hand until he started to scratch her head and then she climbed into his lap. She got up in his face for a minute and then she snuggled back down into his lap. He put his hand on her and softly petted her back.

“Yes Bobby was gay, but we didn’t know until it was too late. He was afraid to tell Artie and it tore his father up.”

Will heard the front door close and watched Arthur come into the parlor with another boy about Will’s age. Babs looked up, jumped down off of Will, and ran over to Sylvia.

“Oh, hello, Jeremy, this is Will, we might become his foster parents,” Sylvia said. “Will this is Jeremy Fleischer he lives next door. Artie why don’t you show Will up to his room. Take Jeremy with you. They can get to know each other.”

Will followed Arthur upstairs while Jeremy followed along behind. He didn’t know what was going on, but was willing to go along with it. Maybe the Jenkins wanted him to have someone his own age around while he was here. That made sense considering how old they were. At the top of the stairs they went down the hall to the end where Arthur opened a door.

“This will be your room, Will, while you’re here this weekend and if you decide to come and live with us,” Arthur said. “The bathroom is directly across the hall. I’ll leave you two and you can get acquainted.”

When Arthur left Will didn’t know what to do with Jeremy. Well, he was cute, but they didn’t even know each other. Who was Jeremy? Will took his suitcase and put it on a chair while watching Jeremy walk about the room. He would stop at a piece of furniture and touch it almost as if he was petting an animal in an affectionate manner. Will turned and stared at Jeremy until the other boy stopped and looked back.

“This was Bobby’s bedroom,” Jeremy said. “The other bedrooms belonged to the other children.”

“Bobby was their son who died of AIDS,” Will said. He went over and sat on the bed and was somewhat surprised when Jeremy came over to sit beside him.

“Did Syl tell you?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes; are you family?”

“No, just a neighbor. My dad sometimes rides to work with Artie. Both of them are professors at Warnton College. Though Artie is mostly retired and only teaches maybe one class a term. Can I ask where you’re from?”

“I’ve been living at a youth behavioral health home and school over toward Rochester called Green Meadows.”

“You do? My dad goes there sometimes to interview residents. Maybe he’s interviewed you.”

“No, I don’t think so. I only see Dr. Fisher, Ms. Hidalgo, and whatever therapist they have running group, it changes every few months.”

“You see Uncle Felix? He and my dad go fishing every summer on Lake Ontario. Uncle Felix is my favorite uncle. But, where are you from? Rochester?”

“No, I honestly don’t know where I’m from. A trucker bought me from my parents when I was six and I lived with him until I was twelve.”

“Were you addicted to heroin and had to have sex with men?”

“Yes; how do you know that?”

“My dad and Uncle Felix did a paper on you. You’re famous at least in the psychological crowd.”

“Oh, fuck!”

“Was it bad?”

“Worse than you can imagine,” Will said as memories of his past suddenly began to fill his mind. He didn’t want to cry, but he did. There was no stopping the tears and he soon fell into uncontrollable sobbing. He didn’t notice when Jeremy took him in his arms and held him tight. All of the heroin, all of the sex, all of the despicable behavior of Lew, it all came back in never ending waves of horror.

“Hush,” Jeremy whispered. “Come on Will it’ll be better. Stop crying. It’ll be dinner time soon and you’ll have to be decent to eat with Syl and Artie. Come on Will hush.”

Slowly Will became aware of Jeremy’s arms around hold and felt himself relax into the comfort offered by the other boy. Who was this boy who was so willing to help him like this as no one ever had? At Green Meadows every time he broke down the men in white showed up and took him to a quiet room, sometimes giving him an injection, sometimes not. But, now he had the warm embrace of a young boy who was willing to comfort him no matter what his past.

“You know, you might want to let go,” Will whispered, “because, you know, I’m gay.”

“So I am,” Jeremy said, but he did pull back from the other boy. They looked into each other’s eyes and without hesitation Jeremey leaned in and kissed Will.

For his part, Will took the opportunity of not having Jeremy’s arms around him to lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Soon that view was blocked by Jeremy’s face that came closer until their lips met, again. Will shut his eyes and let his mind wander until it focused on a young man he didn’t recognize. Then he felt a hand on his erection.

“No, not now,” Will said after pulling himself away from Jeremy’s lips.

“Not now what?” Jeremy asked.

“I don’t want you to touch me down there, yet. Not until we’ve gotten to know each other more.”

“I wasn’t touching you, honest.”

“But I felt a hand.”

“It might have been Bobby. He’s in here.”

“His ghost?”

“Yeah; he’s nice, too; and, he’ll beat you off, if you let him.”

“Oh, shit, that’s weird.”

“Yeah, but he won’t do anything you don’t want. Will, can we be friends?”

“I don’t see any reason why we can’t.”

“Good.”

Will smiled at the thought of having a friend here in Warnton as it would make being Sylvia and Arthur’s foster child so much better. And, now, with the news that the ghost of Bobby was here in this bedroom was another thing to consider.

* * * *

 

When Will woke the following morning he slowly became aware of two things. First, there was an arm draped over his side and, second, there was the definite sensation of a hard-on throbbing against his upper thigh. The warm breath on his neck wasn’t as disconcerting, so he simply lay there trying to decide if he should get up and take care of his morning need or just wait until the person behind him moved. In the back of his mind he couldn’t quite picture who that person was. Well, he could be Jeremy because he was the only other boy on the floor and he had stayed overnight, but was Jeremy the kind of boy to come to his bed in the middle of the night?

Not quite knowing what to do, Will decided he needed to get into the bathroom more than trying to be nice this early in the morning, so he said, “Jeremy, I need to get up.”

He tried to move, but the arm pulled him back into the body behind him. He reached down to grab the hand holding him, but was surprised to find that there wasn’t a hand there. It was just the sensation of a hand.

“Jeremy, I have to get up to use the john,” Will said, not trying to sound too desperate. He made to move just a little, but the arm held him tight. Then he heard a sound. Could it have been a voice or just moaning? There seemed to be a substance to the sound like the person was saying “no”, but the semblance to what was said and the meaning to what was heard was lost in the moment.

“Jeremy, please, let me go,” Will said as he tried to pull himself out of the embrace. The release was sudden as if he hadn’t been held by anything, but when he turned to look, there was no one there. A shiver went through him, but the need of the toilet far outweighed a necessity to question what had just happened.

When he returned the bedcovers had been smoothed out and his side was pulled back. With much trepidation, he got in the bed, lay on his side as he had been before, and tried to go to sleep. Soon he felt the presence behind him again and wasn’t too surprised when the arm draped over his side and pulled him back into a warm embrace. He knew it wasn’t Jeremy who was doing this, but he refused to admit the only other possibility.

After all this bedroom had belonged to the Jenkins’ youngest son, Bobby, who died of AIDS and, more than likely, right here. Could the presence behind him be the physical manifestation of Bobby’s spirit? Well, there was only one way to find out. With much apprehension, Will whispered, “Bobby, is that you?”

The arm across his chest tightened slightly and then relaxed. Will was at a loss to know what to do about this. Obviously, he was in the presence of a ghost, but was it just in his mind or was there really something holding him against the supposed physical body of a dead man who had a considerable erection pressed against the back of his thigh? Without any logical conclusion to his predicament, Will emptied his mind and slowly succumbed to the comfort offered by Bobby’s embrace.

The electronic whine of his alarm clock snapped Will’s consciousness out of an undecipherable dream full of images of naked men, erections, and the pain of anal intercourse. His cock was hard and he felt the firm grip of another’s hand around it. When he put his own down there, the sensation of that grip disappeared. He suddenly sat up and turn to looked at the empty bed behind where he had lain.

Will got up, left the room, and went into the bathroom. The first thing in his mind was whether Arthur or Sylvia had encountered Bobby’s ghost because if they had maybe they could say whether he had to be afraid or not. It wasn’t that he was afraid because Bobby hadn’t done anything this morning other than try to be as close to him as he could, which was something that Will didn’t know if he wanted or not because of all those years as a child prostitute. After finishing his ablutions, he went back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

In a moment of distinct clarity, he said, “Bobby, are you okay with me being here, sleeping in your bed? I mean I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

He immediately felt a warm sensation enveloped his entire body and in his mind’s eye he saw a partially clad young man, probably not more than twenty-five, standing before him in a field of summer flowers. Will pictured himself walking through that same field toward the beckoning young man. The closer he got the more distinct the man’s features became. He was maybe six feet tall, with sandy brown hair that formed an unkempt mop on top of his head, the face was long and narrow with dark eyebrows, blue eyes, an unremarkable nose, a two-day old beard, and inviting full lips. The arms were not those of an athlete and the hands ended in bony fingers. The torso was bereft of hair whether by natural or artificial means was unknown. The tight blue jeans hung low on the hips. The feet, partially hidden in the daisies, were bare and just as bony as the hands. Will approached the apparition and held out his hands. Seeing them grasped by the other’s, he felt himself being pulled into an embrace. He turned his head and their lips met; the kiss was all that Will imagined it could be and then, unexpectedly, he was alone and simply sitting on the edge of the bed. Whatever had just happened was beyond his ken. All he could do was accept that Bobby was okay with his presence in what had been his bedroom.

When Will got downstairs Sylvia was busy putting breakfast together. He selected a coffee mug out of the cupboard and filled it with fresh coffee. As he walked over to the table to sit down, Sylvia said, “Go upstairs and wake up Jeremy. When you get back down here you can set the table for breakfast. We’ll be having applesauce, scrambled eggs, beef links, and hotcakes with maple syrup.”

“Sylvia can I ask you a question first?” Will asked. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Did Bobby come to you?” she asked calmly.

“Yes, I think it was him. He was sleeping with me and when I got up I had a vision of him in my mind. Do you have a picture of him as a young adult?”

“Come with me,” she said as she walked out of the kitchen. He followed her down the hall to a small room that looked like where Sylvia kept her yarn and other material for kitting and sewing. She went over to an old oak chest of drawers and opened the top drawer; inside there were a number of photo albums. She pulled out one and leafed through the pages until stopping at one. “Here, is this what you saw?”

“Yeah,” Will whispered, suddenly afraid what this meant.

“He was already HIV positive, but he had gone on a trip to Switzerland with a friend and sent me that photo when he got back. Are you okay with sleeping in his room. We can move you if you want.”

“No, I asked him if he was okay with me being there and I think he said it was. I just wanted to know. He was a very handsome young man; I wish I could’ve known him.”

“Within two years of that picture being taken he was dead. Would you like to visit him; he’s buried in the town cemetery?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

“Good we’ll do it this afternoon; now go up and make sure Jeremy is awake.”

When Will got back upstairs he knocked on Jeremy’s door, but didn’t hear an answer so he slowly opened the door and slipped inside. He saw Jeremy wearing only some yellow and green checked boxers lying on his side with the bedcovers down below his waist. Will went over and carefully sat down behind Jeremy. He jostled the boy’s shoulder until Jeremy turned his head and looked up at Will.

“Good morning,” Will said. “Guess who woke me a little bit ago.”

“Bobby?”

“Yes and you’re right he’s someone a boy could love,” Will said.

“He’s just a ghost, a figment of your imagination,” Jeremy said, smiling.

“Yeah, but that hard-on certainly felt real. Do you think he could fuck me?”

“It wouldn’t be real.”

“No, it wouldn’t. Sylvia is taking me out to his grave this afternoon. Do you want to come, too?”

“No, I don’t think Bobby would want me out there. He’s your ghost, now. Will? When you were having sex with those men, did it hurt?”

“Yeah, but that is what I was supposed to do. That was my job. That kept the heroin in my veins. Would you like to fuck me?”

“I don’t know you, how could I do that?”

“Well, first you put on a condom, then you lubricate my hole, and then you get me in the position you want and push your cock inside me. You can fuck me fast or slow, it doesn’t matter. I prefer slow, but I’ve have men fuck me fast.”

“You make it sound so academic, like you aren’t participating, just there with some other guy’s cock in your ass.”

“Jeremy, I started having sex with adult men when I was six years old. It’s all academic, now.”

Jeremy rolled onto his back and looked up into Will’s eyes. Will, for his part, watched what was happening, but was reluctant to do anything further than being there. Jeremy smiled in a way that made Will want to lean down and kiss the other boy, which he did.

It was a lingering kiss with an open mouth and heavy tongue work between the two boys. Will wasn’t surprised when he felt his nipples being pinched, but he pulled back and sat up.

“Jeremy I was sent up here to make sure you’re awake,” Will said.

“Maybe we can resume this later,” Jeremy said.

“Maybe we can do this again, maybe we can get to know each other and be friends, too,” Will said.

“Will, will you be my boyfriend?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes, forever.”

“To death do us part?”

“To death do us part.”

“Kiss me to seal our pact.”

Will leaned down and pressed his lips against the other boy’s.

To death do us part.

To Be Continued