Rehabilitation - 7. Brett Loses It

Was it all just a beautiful dream?

Oh, I didn’t want to wake up. The bed was so perfectly comfortable and so warm and soft. Everything felt so perfectly right, so of course it couldn’t last.

“Wake up. We’re going to be late,” Brett informed me.

I stirred in my bed in the guest bedroom and woke up from the most beautiful dream. Brett and I were married and living on a beautiful island by ourselves where we could be naked and have all the sex we wanted all the time. It was like heaven.

But that was just a dream.

The reality was that it was Sunday morning and for some reason Brett was fully dressed in a nice shirt and tie and I was now being pulled out of my comfortable bed and into the real world.

“School’s over,” I whined. “Why are we getting up so early?”

“I need to get to the church,” Brett replied. “Come on, I can’t be late.”

“I thought you Catholics went to church on Saturdays. This is Sunday. And why are you so excited to go?”

“We have church on Sundays too, dumbass. Come on, get dressed. I have to get there early so I can play.”

“Play what?”

Brett sighed. “I get to play the organ today. Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t know you could play the organ. Second of all, I didn’t know you were going to drag me to church so I didn’t bring anything to wear.”

Brett laughed. “Dude, you have a giant cast on your arm. Nobody’s going to care how you’re dressed. Just wear the nicest thing you brought.”

“And the organ playing?”

“I thought you knew how good I could play an organ,” Brett replied. “But seriously though, our organist is about a hundred years old and looking to retire. She was looking for people to help fill in for her and I volunteered. I figured it would be more fun than sitting in a pew the whole mass. This is like the third or fourth time I’ve done it. It’s really fun.”

“I didn’t know you could be helpful,” I joked.

Brett laughed. “Shut up. Come on, let me get you dressed.”

I knew Brett and his mom were Catholics, of course. Brett never was one for talking about his religion which was fine with me because I wasn’t sure about it myself. I really didn’t know what Brett believed about God and faith and stuff like that. That was a side of him that was still a mystery to me. My mom had been dragging me to church for years, but never to a Catholic church. I was kind of nervous about what to expect.

I found a clean pair of jeans but I couldn’t find a shirt that seemed appropriate so Brett lent me a polo shirt and helped me put it on. I looked in the bathroom mirror and thought I looked at least presentable.

“You’re going to comb your hair, aren’t you?” Brett asked as he joined me at the sink in the bathroom to look in the mirror for himself. It felt kind of neat to be sharing a bathroom with him.

“I’m thinking about it,” I replied. In all honesty, I wondered what good it would to do comb it. It would be a mess again as soon as the wind got ahold of it. If everything hadn’t gone to hell, my mom probably would have mowed my hair down with the shears at the start of summer, but since we were separated my hair was free to run wild. Nevertheless, I did manage to untangle a few of the knots in my dark blond mess and quickly brushed my teeth before I joined Brett and his mom in the living room. Brett slipped on a blue blazer and then we made our way to the car. I couldn’t help but notice that Brett was walking a bit gingerly. And because Brett was hobbled a bit, I managed to beat him to the car and claim the front seat.

“Hey, now. Don’t get used to sitting in the front all the time,” Brett said.

“Hey, one of us is six feet tall and the other is three inches shorter. So if anyone deserves the front seat it’s me. I’ll try to leave you some room though.”

“So that’s the way you want to play, huh?” Brett laughed.

I felt a knee press into my back through the seat as we rode along toward the town of Monongahela, or Mon City as we called it. It was about a ten minute drive north along the river from Donora. Along the river, the remnants of the steel industry obscured the view of the river. Abandoned factories and old mills were all that remained of the once thriving steel trade. It had been a long time since the days when there were billowing clouds of smoke rolling from the tall smokestacks. The days when you could wake up dead from a poisonous death cloud were long past us.

Mon City is bigger than Donora, but not by much. Both of them combined are not even close to the size of Pittsburgh. Dr. Reilly drove us to St. Anthony’s Roman Catholic Church. I had no idea what I was going to do during the service. Brett said that his mom would tell me when it was time to sit or stand, and that whatever I did, not to try to take communion because I was a dirty sinner bound for hell and was undeserving of Jesus bread. We laughed.

When we walked in the door, Brett and his mom did the whole holy water and cross thing. I just walked in and looked around. It was a nice building, far nicer than any church I’d been to before. Dr. Reilly went into the confessional booth while Brett and I milled around. Brett kneeled toward the altar before getting into the pew with me.

“So this is your church, huh?” I asked. I looked around at the pictures in the stained glass windows, the marble floor, and the highest ceiling I’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” Brett whispered. “I’m sorry we had to drag you along. I told mom we could have left you at home, but she wanted to bring you with us because she wants to go to lunch after we’re done. Don’t worry. I already turned you gay, I won’t try to turn you Catholic. You’ll only be bored for an hour or so. I have to go confess about the reason my butt is sore this morning and then I’ll be right back.”

I snickered as I watched Brett hobble off and take his mother’s place inside the confessional booth. I had to admit that until Brett said it, I was beginning to wonder if I had just dreamed what had happened or if I had really had sex with him yesterday. It was taking some getting used to. I’d had sex. Me, Billy Roberts! I mean, seriously, who would have guessed that I, Billy Roberts, one of the biggest dorks in school, with braces and glasses and a broken arm and stupid messed up dorky dirty blond hair and all, had totally fucked the hell out of Brett Reilly, the cutest boy in school? I could still hear his cries of passion in my head as I’d fucked him. I was still wrapping my head around the fact that I could now say that I got laid. I wasn’t some loser virgin anymore! I mean, sure, I was still a loser, but not a loser virgin! No, I had totally had sex and it was so awesome that words could never explain it. And now that it had happened, I couldn’t wait for it to happen again. It was better than a drug, and I wanted more.

Brett left the confessional booth smiling and after kneeling again sat down tentatively beside me. His mom was off talking with some of the other church members.

“Dude, you are totally hard right now,” Brett whispered, noticing my obvious predicament.

“I was just thinking about all the sins you had to confess and it did this to me,” I whispered back. “You tell him how sinful you were yesterday?”

“Yeah right! I just told how much I like to masturbate.”

“You did?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he snickered. “I confess that every time. It’s sort of a running joke between me and the father. I figured I’d better leave out the whole gay sex thing. They frown on that here. My butt hurts like heck by the way.”

“Yeah. It’s so funny to not hear you swear, by the way. It’s like some sort of alternate universe Brett. I’m so used to you saying the f-word in every sentence I didn’t realize you could talk without using it.”

“Yeah… I swear too much. I confess that every week too. Anyway, I better get started.” Brett left me in the pew and after a few minutes the sound of the organ began to fill the church. I had to confess, it was absolutely beautiful. I had no idea that someone so ornery could produce something so heavenly. I grabbed a bible and left it open in my lap so that it wouldn’t be so noticeable that I had such a raging boner in the middle of church.

Dr. Reilly joined me in the pew and we sat there together listening to Brett’s music. As I sat there alone with her I couldn’t help feeling very uncomfortable with her now. After all, I had just had sex with her little boy. I couldn’t help myself from thinking more and more about Brett and how good it felt when we made love. My teenage mind had dwelt upon sex before, but now that I’d actually done it, I was almost completely obsessed by it. I couldn’t go more than a few seconds without thinking about it. Just sitting next to him gave me a hard on. When I closed my eyes, I could still envision the scene. But now there I was sitting next to his mom in church with a Bible in my lap like nothing had happened.

More and more people were coming in. An elderly lady walked up to our pew and greeted Dr. Reilly. “Jenny! How are you today?" she asked.

"Helen! I'm doing really well, thank you! I lit a candle for John this morning. How's he doing?"

"Oh, he's not feeling well today. How's that boy of yours?"

"Ornery, as usual," Dr. Reilly replied. “He’s the organist today.”

The lady laughed, then noticed me sitting there. "And who is this handsome young man?"

"This is my second son for the week," Dr. Reilly said laughing. "This is Billy Roberts, Brett's best friend. Billy, this is Helen Franklin."

I extended my right hand and she shook it. I didn’t stand. I couldn’t in my predicament.

“Are you Paula Roberts’ boy?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. I knew exactly what was coming next…

"You look just like her,” Helen said, stating the obvious. “I knew your grandmother. Of course, we shared the same name. Looks like you share her eyes. She had the prettiest green eyes. If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to your arm?" Helen asked politely.

"I broke it playing basketball," I lied.

"Oh dear!" Helen said. As she talked with Dr. Reilly about the dangers of sports these days, I went back to listening to Brett’s playing of the organ. I had to admit, he was actually quite good at it. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was impressed. Brett was really talented.

But my mind was still dwelling on the events of yesterday. Now that I’d officially been inducted into the non-virgin club it was all I could think about. It wasn’t so much that I was different. I was still the same dork I was yesterday. The only difference was that the dork from yesterday had only dreamed about sex. Now I’d actually done it. I kept hearing Brett’s moans of pleasure in my mind. I wondered what it was going to be like when he did it to me. Would I moan in pain and pleasure and beg for more like Brett had done? Or would I beg him to stop because it hurt too much? Having finally broken down the barrier, it was only a matter of time until I let him do it to me. Even though it fascinated me it still kind of scared me too. Even though Brett was shorter than me his dick was a little bigger and thicker than mine. It looked like it would hurt.

The service was one of the longest hours of my life. I missed Brett, even though he was in the same room with me. I could barely even breathe without him! I had to be with him again, and soon! Being separated from him was torture! The priest was boring, the service took forever, and I felt like a total dick when everybody went up front to take communion except for me. The only thing that was the least bit interesting to me was the music, and that was only because I got to listen to Brett really play instead of just fooling around.

After the service ended. Brett played some music while the people began to file out of the building. When the song ended, Brett joined us at our pew. Several people complemented Brett’s playing as we waited in line to leave. The priest shook Brett’s hand and told him he did well. Then he inconspicuously wiped his hand off on his robe. I had to laugh.

“And what’s your name, young man?” the priest asked, he seemed quite friendly, like an old friend.

“This is the infamous Billy I’ve told you about, father,” Dr. Reilly introduced me.

“Ohhhh! This is Billy! Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard good things about you, young man. Any friend of Jen and Brett is a friend of this church,” he said. “Do you attend somewhere?”

“Uh, I think we’re…” I blushed. Baptist? Methodist? Lutheran? One of those? “Baptists or something?” I guessed. “Maybe Methodists?”

The priest laughed. “Not sure, huh? Nowadays seems like a lot of the Donora folks are going to Pastor Stevens’ church. At any rate, it’s wonderful to have you here. Feel free to come again anytime.” He smiled. I’d be lying if I said my horny mind didn’t totally twist his words sexually in my head.

I walked with Brett and Jen toward the parking lot. Brett’s tie was already crammed into one of his pockets and his blazer was slung over his shoulder.

“Are you a Baptists?” Brett asked as he unbuttoned his shirt. He was only wearing a wife beater under it exposing his nicely tanned shoulders and Dr. Reilly insisted he leave his nice shirt on at least until we ate.

“We keep changing. We were Methodists until they closed the church. Joey’s church pretty much sucked all of the people out of the little churches. I think we’re supposed to be Baptists now,” I replied. “I’ve never been, though.”

“You’ve never been baptized?” Dr. Reilly asked.

“Well, I was when I was a baby. I don’t think mom’s church counts it though.”

“If you were baptized then you were baptized. It’s not rocket science. Religion is so stupid,” Brett sneered.

“Anthony Brett Reilly!” Dr. Reilly scolded. “Watch your mouth before a lightning bolt strikes you! You just left church!”

“I didn’t say God was stupid. I said religion is stupid and it is,” Brett replied. “I like God and God likes me. That’s all that matters. Everything else is just stupid bullshit.”

He was struggling to keep up with us because he was walking so delicately. I must say that seeing that he was still feeling the effects of what I’d done to him was really funny. We were the only ones who knew why he was in such discomfort. As we were walking, we passed the sign for the church and I started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Brett asked.

“I just realized you go to Saint Anthony’s,” I giggled. “What did you have to do to get them to name the church after you?”

“Oh shut up, Willy!” Brett scowled. “Don’t think I haven’t heard that before.”

Dr. Reilly laughed. “Honestly Billy! Brett? A saint? That’ll be the day!”

“Shut up mom!” Brett grumbled, becoming a bit upset by our two-on-one assault on his sainthood. He made sure to claim the front seat when we got into the car. Our conversation continued as Dr. Reilly drove us north along the Mon toward the South Hills of Pittsburgh.

“So, I know you named him Anthony after his grandfather. How did you come up with the name Brett?” I asked.

“Why did your parents give you stupid initials?” Brett sniped, thinking I was still picking on him.

“What’s wrong with my initials?” I asked.

“W. A. R.” Brett explained. “War.”

“And?” I asked.

“You never noticed?” he asked.

“Of course I’ve noticed. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Your initials spell the word ‘war’ and you don’t think that’s stupid?” Brett asked.

“Your initials spell aber,” I replied.

“What does that even mean?” Brett asked.

“It means shut up about my stupid initials!” I laughed. “They’re just letters.”

Brett crossed his arms and grumpily sighed. “Whatever.”

“So why did you name him Brett?” I asked again.

Dr. Reilly smiled. “I named him Brett because I wanted him to have a unique name in our family. He’s about the hundredth Anthony, but he’s the only Brett. I wanted Brett to have a name that was just right for him.”

“Does it mean anything special?” I asked.

“Well, it’s special to me,” Dr. Reilly replied.

“Oh please!” Brett scoffed. “It means ‘from Britain.’ Honestly, mom, how is that supposed to be special?”

“Well if you must know, grumpy-pants, it’s also the name of a very special boy I knew when I was girl who died about a year before you were born,” Dr. Reilly blushed.

“Aw, isn’t that cute?” Brett sniped. “Yet another important man in my life who I’ll never meet.”

“Why are you so grouchy today?” Dr. Reilly asked. “You’ve been a bear since we left church.”

“Well sorry I can’t be all lollipops and unicorns every goddamn day, mother,” Brett complained. “You guys have been picking on me since we left church. Can’t I just be in a bad mood and be left alone without people asking me if I’m okay?”

“It’s just not like you,” Dr. Reilly soothed. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Jesus, didn’t I just say I’m tired of you asking if I’m okay! I’m just in a bad mood. Can you two just please shut up and leave me alone? Honestly, why do you have to be such a bitch?” Brett snapped.

Then I saw something I thought I’d never see. Dr. Reilly slapped Brett on the cheek. It wasn’t hard. She barely touched him. But it caught Brett by surprise. He opened his mouth, but for perhaps the first time ever, nothing came out. “Don’t you use that language with me young man,” Dr. Reilly warned. “I don’t care what kind of mood you’re in, you don’t talk to your mother like that. You understand me, mister?”

Brett didn’t answer. First he held his hand up to his cheek where his mom had slapped him, then he crossed his arms again and scowled out the window. “You bitch…” he muttered under his breath.

“You live such a horrible life, don’t you?” Dr. Reilly said, the anger in her voice betraying her calm demeanor. “I’m so tired of your attitude. Sometimes I think I should have used an ‘a’ instead of an ‘e’ when I spelled your name.”

“Ha ha ha! Brat Reilly. You’re such a great mom,” Brett said, his voice oozing with teenage sarcasm. “Stupid bitch.”

“Oh, I’m stupid?” She asked, her anger now clearly visible. She was trying very hard not to lose her cool, but Brett could be persistent when he wanted a fight. Dr. Reilly looked in the mirror at me. “I’m sorry Billy. I think it best if we just go back home for lunch.”

“Don’t be mad at him, Dr. Reilly,” I said. “It’s not his fault.”

“Nobody asked for your opinion, William Aaron,” Brett snapped. “Just shut the fuck up back there and stay out of it!”

“Brett, I swear!” Dr. Reilly warned. “You’re about one more smart comment from walking home.”

“Hear that Billy? Mom thinks I’m smart now!” Brett said. “I went from stupid to smart in one minute. It’s a fucking miracle!”

“That is it!” Dr. Reilly shouted. “I swear, if I hear one more word I will throw you out of this damn car! I’ve had it with you. Now just sit there and shut up!”

“I…”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

I was stunned. In all my years of knowing Dr. Reilly I’d never seen her lose her temper. Brett scowled viciously at his mother, and I knew he wasn’t going to speak to her for at least a month until she would buy him something to make up for yelling at him. The rest of the trip home, Brett sat there staring out the window, sniffling, with his arms crossed and looking wound so tightly that the slightest touch would set him off like a mouse trap.

As soon as we got to their house, Brett sprang up out of his seat and slammed his car door. “I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME! I HOPE YOU GO TO HELL, YOU FUCKING GODDAMN CUNT! DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME AGAIN YOU FUCKING CUNT!!!” He stormed through the garage and into the house. We could hear his bedroom door slam from the garage. Dr. Reilly closed her eyes and sighed.

“Wow…” I said in quiet shock. I’d seen Brett’s temper many times, but I’d never seen him so furious.

“Billy I am so sorry you had to see that,” she said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him today. Maybe it would be better if you stayed someplace else for the evening?”

“Where else would I go?” I asked.

“Do you have any other friends who might like to have you? What about the Smith boy?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ve seen Brett angry before. He’ll get over it.”

“Well, if you don’t mind staying… I just don’t want you to get caught in the middle of a war.”

“It’ll be alright,” I said. “He’s just letting off some steam.”

We went into the house. Music was blaring from Brett’s room so loudly through the house that I could feel the bass trembling in my teeth. It was shaking the dishes.

“Sure you don’t want to change your mind?” Dr. Reilly asked. “This is what he does. He just goes up there and pouts like this for days.”

“Dr. Reilly…” I said. “I mean… Jen. Don’t you think… I mean, maybe he really does have a problem? I mean, who hasn’t thrown a temper tantrum and locked themselves in their room? But this…”

A loud scream echoed over the music and a loud crash followed it. Brett had certainly broken something expensive in his room.

“But really… Do you really think this is just a phase? I’ve known Brett a long time. And sometimes I think there’s something really wrong with him.”

“CU-U-U-U-U-U-U-NT!!!” We heard Brett screaming above the music. “CUNT!!! CUNT!!! CUNT!!! CUNT!!! CUNT!!!!!”

“Why do you let him get away with that?” I asked.

“Billy, I know you are just trying to help and I know you love him. But this is just how Brett acts sometimes. It’s nothing personal. He’s very angry because he feels abandoned by his father, and he takes it out on me because he knows that I’ll forgive him and because I’m here for him to get angry with and his father is not. It’s a simple case of transference.”

“But he gets so angry,” I said. “I think he might have a real problem.”

“I know he’s a little immature sometimes, but I know that inside he’s really a sweet boy. Trust me, I’ve seen a lot worse in my patients,” Dr. Reilly explained.

The loud music finally ended, only to be replaced by the screeching of Brett’s own electric guitar turned up to full blast. The sound of Brett singing a song about how much of a bitch his mom was echoed through the house.

“YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING CUNT!!!!!

YOU’RE A FUCKING BITCH AND I HOPE YOU DIE…

IN A CAR CRASH LIKE YOUR FUCKING PARENTS!!!

I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNT!!

CUNT! CUNT! CUNT! CUNT! FUCKING C-U-U-U-U-U-UNT!!!!!!

WHY DON’T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE!!!”

“Oh yeah… That’s perfectly sweet normal behavior,” I remarked.