A Love Story - 13. Chapter 13 - Going Home

Ben sat in the gray metal chair in the small room at the hospital. Next to him a graying middle-aged man in a brown suit a few sizes too big sat at a small table with a gray machine sitting on it. It didn’t look like anything he’d seen before, but he knew it wouldn’t be appropriate to ask what it was. Next to the table, sat a woman in a gray tweed skirt and matching jacket, a plain white blouse, and a bright blue scarf tied around her neck. Behind her a woman he’d seen during numerous interviews he’d had with the psychiatrist in-training named Dr. Victor. He didn’t know why she was here today, but he knew the other woman wanted him to tell her who he had sex with from when he was eight until he came to live in New York City.

“Raise you right hand and state your name,” the woman in the tweed outfit said.

The boy raised his hand in the Nazi salute he’d seen on a history program on TV the night before and said, “Ben.”

“That is the incorrect way to raise your hand,” the woman said. “Are you trying to make a mockery of this proceeding?”

“No, Ma’am, I don’t know what you want. Tell me how to do it and I’ll try to comply with your directions.”

“State your full name,” the woman said.

“Ben,” the boy answered.

“No! State your full name.”

“Ben.”

“That isn’t your full name. Please say Troy Benjamin Hensley as your full name.”

“Is that my full name? I only know that my name is Ben. Where are you getting this other name from? Is it written down somewhere?”

“It is on your birth certificate from Mississippi that your full name is Troy Benjamin Hensley. Please, state it for the record.”

Ben turned his head slightly toward the woman over by the wall so that he could look at the other woman only from the corners of his eyes. He didn’t trust her anymore and fully expected her to send him away to wherever it was boys like him went when they couldn’t answer questions according to official inquiry. The last thing he wanted was to say something that might be taken inappropriately. He knew what his name was, but he didn’t want to share it with this woman who only seemed interested, from her previous visits, in his sexual activities.

“Once more, please state your name,” the woman said.

“I don’t have to,” Ben said, “and you can’t make me.”

“Doctor, will you advise the patient to state his name.”

“Ben, please say your full name,” the psychiatrist said.

“Do I have to?” Ben asked. “Is she going to take it away from me and send me back to that place up by Albany?”

“No, she is not here for that purpose. Please state, for the record, your full name.”

“Troy Benjamin Hensley,” Ben said, not looking at the officious woman.

“When was the first time you had sex with another member of your sex?” the woman asked.

“My what?” Ben asked.

“You were sexually abused by someone in your immediate family,” the woman said. “Who was that?”

“The family I live with now? Or, the family I lived with in that foster home is Warnton? Or, when I lived with my mommy and all of the men she brought into the house to have sex with? Or, my cousin in Meridian, Mississippi? What family do you want?” Ben asked.

“You are purposefully making a mockery of this proceeding.”

“What is a mockery? Is it something you have sex with?”

“You’re turning this into a mockery of justice,” the woman said. “If you do not answer my questions correctly, I will be forced to incarcerate you until you can respect this proceeding in accordance with the laws of the State of New York. Now, when was the first time an older person had sex with you?”

“I think I was eight,” Ben said.

“When was the last time you had sex?”

“I can’t remember the exact date, but it couldn’t have been too long ago.”

“What is the name of this person?”

“Erik.”

“What is Erik’s relationship with you? Is he the older boy in your foster home? Is he an adult in the foster home? How old is this Erik person?”

“Erik doesn’t live with me. I don’t know where he is now. Something happened to him and he’s gone away.”

“How old is Erik?”

“I don’t know, but I think he’s a bit younger than me.”

“He’s what?”

“He’s younger than me. You see Erik almost became my boyfriend, but he’s gone away and I don’t know where. Did you take Erik away?”

“That’s it, I’m not going to put up with this any longer,” the woman said. “I’m having this child returned to Bellevue.”

* * *

A few months passed and Ernie escorted Erik out of the hospital out on the Island and down to his Camaro in the parking lot. It was a misty morning with damp clouds blowing in off the Atlantic.

“You don’t know what this means to me,” Erik said. “I’ve waited for this day for I don’t know how long. My first foster father adopted me because my grandparents, aunts, and uncles didn’t want anything to do with me. If it hadn’t been for Geoff, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me when he died.”

“You still have some of his estate to your name,” Ernie said as he guided the boy across the parking lot to his car.

“Yeah, but how much?”

“According to the Manhattan District Attorney, it comes to three hundred fifty-seven thousand, two hundred nineteen dollars, and sixty-seven cents.”

‘Yeah, but where is it?”

“The court has directed it be placed in a living trust accessible by you when you reach eighteen, if you’re going to go to college; or, if you choose not to pursue a higher degree, you’ll receive annual payments until you reach thirty-five years of age when you’ll have access to the total remainder.”

“That certainly means I’ll have to pursue some form of higher degree, but what am I going to do without eyes?”

“There are a lot of career opportunities you can pursue. Have you considered pursuing a professional career playing the guitar. I understand you’re quite good at it.”

“I’d be a freak act. ‘Let’s go see the blind boy play the guitar. I’ve heard he’s the cutest thing trying to play music without seeing anything with his eyes’.’’

“Erik, there have been a lot of blind guitar entertainers. I’m sure if you worked hard at it you’d have a chance at stardom, maybe even a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame or possibly a Grammy.”

They got to the car and Ernie opened the passenger door for Erik. After shutting the door, he went around to the driver’s side and got in.

“Yeah, but what about Ben?” Erik asked. “Where does he fit into all of this?”

“Where do you want him?” Ernie asked.

“In our bed, that’s where.”

“Then we’ll just have to find out if he has any musical talent.”

“That’s going to take a lot of work, since he’s barely lucid half the time.”

“Are you willing to work with him while working to achieve your own success?”

“But, what instrument could he play?”

“We won’t know until we get some instruments around him with an instructor, or two.”

“I think what we’ll need to do is make him think it’s his own idea; because, if I try to tell him I want a partner onstage, he’ll get all pouty thinking I don’t want him around anymore. I know he can’t help it, but sometimes Ben can be a real pain in the you know where.”

“Having doubts?”

“No, but I have my own problems with being blind and it’s kind of hard dealing with his mental challenges.”

“What does Dr. Goldmeier say about this?”

“Oh, you know, I need to be more patient and, something she brought up last visit, is I need to stop talking to Ben like he has the mind of a five-year-old.”

“Have you been doing that?”

“I didn’t realize I was doing it, but she caught on during group when I kept jumping in and trying to answer for Ben because he takes forever to answer on his own and I guess he thinks of me as some sort of older brother, you know, like he feels about Gerry.”

“You’ve been patronizing him, then.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Am I to assume we, as a family, are to help you become more independent of Ben?”

“No, we need to get Ben to be more independent of me.”

“That’s going to be hard on him.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh, did Dr. Goldmeier talk to you about Ben coming home permanently?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“She said it all depends on Ben. She thinks he’s become too dependent on me. She’s afraid in a family, work, or social situations I might not be there for him and he’ll mentally shut down, again.”

“I think we, as a family, need to help Ben become more independent.”

“Damn, growing up is difficult on your own, but to be blind and not know when Ben needs me just from a facial expression he might make is hard.”

“Don’t worry, Erik, all of us are there for you and Ben, too.”

“Where are we?”

“Long Island heading toward Brooklyn.”

“Yeah, but where. You know I can’t see over here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you wanted a tour commentary.”

“It’d be nice.”

“Okay, well, let’s see we’re currently heading north on Franklin Avenue toward the Jericho Turnpike. Oh, we’re stopped at Old Country Road.

Erik zoned out to the sound of Ernie’s voice. He didn’t really care where they were or how they were going to get to the townhouses in Park Slope. His only concern was Ben, the boy he loved. Ben had mental issues a college textbook could barely cover. Plus, he’d been wrung through the bureaucratic wringer so many times by social workers trying to find out who was the first person who abused him that the boy could barely respond when Erik wanted a little up close and personal time.

Ben, to say the least, was a walking zombie drugged out of his mind by psychotropic drugs and numbed by countless interviews with psychiatrists, psychologists, and social workers who had certificates attesting to their expertise in counseling troubled youth. Erik wanted only one thing: a boyfriend who was amiable to sleeping close when they had nights away from their individual psychiatric abodes.

It was only yesterday that the family court judge in Brooklyn County agreed to place Erik in Ernie’s family home, even though the Wilson’s had a daughter of their own. The judge only agreed to the placement because Erik was blind and was unlikely to make any untoward advances on the young girl. Personally, Erik thought it was funny because they hadn’t considered the fact that he was gay and had no sexual interest in the girl.

Erik thought again about Ben, his true love. Actually, Ben was more of a child than Erik. It always seemed difficult for Ben to accept Erik as a valid sexual companion, while he was older than Erik and felt he shouldn’t impose himself on the younger boy’s feelings. No matter how hard Erik tried, Ben always seemed aloof to the idea that they were lovers, even if they were only young lovers and may at some future time find lovers closer to their own age.

Now, with Ernie suggesting that possibly Ben could play an accompanying instrument to Erik’s guitar, it seemed there was a change in the dynamic of the relationship even though Ben wasn’t there in the Camaro with them. Erik thought of all the instruments that Ben could play in accompaniment and decided that rhythm guitar or bass guitar were the only two logical choices for Ben to learn. Now, all he had to do was get Ben to think it was his idea to play either instrument. Otherwise, Ben would go off into the proverbial corner and sulk until Erik was able to bring him back and focus on playing a supporting role in Erik’s professional guitar career.

* * *

“Well, Ben, we’ve finally come to the point in your treatment when I think it’s time to send you home,” the older woman in the navy-blue skirt, pale yellow blouse, and white lab jacket said. She was sitting in her usual chair at the desk, while Ben sat in the straight back desk chair at the side of the desk.

“Oh, okay, I guess,” Ben said nonchalantly.

“Don’t you want to go home?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

“Erik sent his wishes that you come home as soon as possible.”

“Erik? You’ve found Erik? Where was he? He’s been hiding from me for months.”

“He was here last week for group.”

“He was?”

“Yes, and you talked to him about going home so that the two of you will be living in the same house.”

“Erik, to think Erik still loves me. When can I go home? Are you going to call a cab?”

“No, your foster father, Ernie Wilson, will come and get you.”

“Why?”

“Because that is how it’s done.”

“You don’t trust me in a cab, you mean.”

“I didn’t say that. I only said that your foster father will come and get you. Then he’ll take you to his home where Erik is waiting for you.”

“Erik is gay, you know?”

“Yes, we’ve covered that.”

“Oh, okay, I guess.”

“Don’t you want to go back to your home in Brooklyn?”

“Well, you see, Erik goes to a private school in Manhattan and goes to the Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center. I went there once. That was the day Erik’s tailor abused me.”

“He did? You’ve never mentioned this before.”

“Oh, yes, and he did Erik, too. Erik said he blew him and then might have fucked him. Erik said it was quite an experience.”

“Do you remember what this man did to you?”

“No, I passed out; or, I think I passed out. You know how it is, Dr. Goldmeier, sometimes I just go away for awhile until the abuse ends. I remember that when I left the tailor’s shop my ass had the feeling that I’d been fucked. You can’t mistake that feeling, Dr. Goldmeier.

“And, now, you say I’m going home to be with Erik and Ernie and his family? I don’t know what to say other than that Erik is a good fuck. He is, honest. His young, tight ass is so welcoming to my dick it’s amazing how he responds. To think, some night soon I’m going to be fucking Erik. Yeah, I can dig this. That boy’s ass is mine, but don’t you think I’m not going to let him get off without satisfaction. No, Dr. Goldmeier, I’m going to suck Erik’s cock until he begs me to stop. Oh, god, to have that cock in my mouth and my cock in that tight ass, you can’t imagine, Dr. Goldmeier, what going back to Brooklyn is going to be like. I couldn’t have gotten better news in I don’t know how long.”

“Ben?”

“Yes?”

“Erik wants you to consider joining him in his musical endeavor.”

“What’s that?”

“Because he’s blind, he’s considering establishing a recording and concert career based on his playing the guitar. You do know he plays the guitar?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s good, too. And, he wants me to join him? What am I going to play?”

“Hopefully, you’ll come up with an instrument you’d like to play.”

“I don’t know nothing about any instrument except the banjo, but I haven’t played that for years; you know, back when my mommy was alive and she brought men in to fuck her and be my daddy, but all they ever did was rape me.”

“Well, maybe you’ll be able to pick it up, again.”

“I don’t know. It’s not something you can just pickup.”

“I suppose you can ask your foster father.”

“Why him?”

“Maybe he’ll know where you can get lessons.”

“I don’t know if that such a good idea. Those banjo teachers would probably just want to fuck me. No, playing the banjo is a bad idea. I only want to have sex with Erik.”

“Okay, Ben, are you ready to go home?”

“Well, if I have to go, I guess I might as well go now.”

“Very good, Ben, I’ll start the paperwork to have you discharged this afternoon.”

Ben sat in his chair in the interview room watching Dr. Goldmeier go about getting him discharged from the hospital. He thought he could leave, but he didn’t want to, expecting her to do something that might prevent him from leaving. He thought about Erik, but the image of the younger boy couldn’t come clearly to his mind. He didn’t know the why of this, but suspected if he asked Dr. Goldmeier, she might keep him in the hospital until he could see Erik more as a boyfriend than a sexual object. The only problem he could see was he saw Erik as the consummate object of sexual desire. In his mind he could only see himself having sex with Erik until he couldn’t achieve any higher degree of sexual satisfaction. The only thing he could see in his mind was a naked Erik lying under him as his erect cock thrust into the younger boy. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing else to their relationship.

Ben, as he tended to do, went away for awhile until his foster father came to the counter for the Adolescent Psychiatric Ward and asked if his foster son was ready to go home. Ben was down the corridor at the soft drink machine trying to figure out how to make it work. He knew he didn’t need a coin or a dollar bill because all he had to do was get the attention of the nurses in the cage and they would press a switch permitting him to make his choice for a drink, but, today, none of the nurses asked him if he wanted a drink.

“Can I have a soda?” Ben finally asked.

“No, you foster father is here to take you home,” a voice said out of the cage.

“But, why can’t I have a soda?”

“Because you can’t.”

Ben sat down at the table next to him and pondered that answer. He thought back over that past weeks and months, but never in any of them had he encountered the answer “because you can’t.” Something must have changed in his life for such an answer to enter his milieu. He started to think about his situation in the Adolescent Psychiatric Treatment Center in Bellevue Hospital. He remembered Dr. Goldmeier saying something about his going home, but he couldn’t quite remember where home was. He thought back to when he was living with his mother in Lyons, New York, and her doing smack, but for some reason he didn’t think she was alive anymore. He didn’t know why this was so, but the more he thought about it the more he was certain his mother had OD’d and was no longer among the living. He wondered what being dead meant.

“Ben, are you ready to go home?” a voice to his left asked.

He looked up and saw a nurse, one of the many nurses who worked the psych ward.

“My mommy’s dead, I don’t think I can go home to her,” Ben said.

“No, your foster family is over in Brooklyn and they want you to come and stay with them,” the nurse said. “Erik is living with them, now.”

“Erik? He’s my boyfriend, you know.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard. Are you ready to go? We have to go to your room first and get your clothes.”

Ben went away for a few minutes as his mind considered these new facts. He had some recollection of a foster home in Brooklyn, but he couldn’t quite jive that with the possibility of Erik living there. How would he and his boyfriend react to those people? He knew that some people didn’t like having gays around because for some reason he didn’t understand gays were against the teachings of God, whoever that was. Ben’s mind went through all these thought processes independent of conscious thought. Finally, he felt a touch on his shoulder and the sound of a voice saying, “Ben, we need to get you ready to go home. Please, Ben, you need to come back.”

Ben opened his awareness and looked around the room. A nurse stood before him and said, “Ben, you need to get ready to go home.”

“Yes, go home,” Ben said flatly. “Yes, have to get ready to go. I’ll wear what I have on.”

“No, Ben, you’re wearing a hospital gown over your hospital issue pajamas,” the nurse said. “You need to put on regular clothes. Come on, Ben, work with me here. Take off your hospital gown.”

Unthinking, Ben, took off his hospital gown and let it fall to the floor. He looked down as if expecting the garment to float up and resume its place around his arms and over his shoulders. When it didn’t do as expected, Ben took off his pajamas. Standing there in his underwear, Ben wondered what he was going to wear when he left. That problem was solved when the nurse handed him a pair of jeans.

“Put these on,” she said.

“Do I have a shirt to wear?” Ben asked.

“Yes, but get those pants on first.”

Ben dressed as directed and within a few minutes was ready to go. He said, “These other clothes of mine, are they staying here?”

“No, I’ve got a bag for you to put them in.”

“Oh, okay, I guess. What if Erik doesn’t want me to wear this,” Ben said.

“You wear what you want. It’s as simple as that.”

“But, he’s the leader of the band. Shouldn’t I permit him to specify what clothes I wear?”

“You’re not going to a show today, so I don’t think Erik should expect you to wear clothes associated with the band.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Okay, but if he yells at me, it’ll be your fault.”

“I don’t think Erik is going to yell at you. He’s too sweet of a boy to be mean to you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make the wrong impression.”

“Ben, you’re going home and Erik is waiting for you. Calm down, let go, don’t make so much out of this.”

“I wish I could believe you, but the man who is living with my mommy has intercourse with me and it hurts. You can’t imagine how much it hurts.”

“Ben, is this the same man who went to prison for killing your mother’s dealer?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s in prison, right?”

“At Attica.”

“Then he can’t force you to have sex with him, can he?”

“He can’t?”

“If he’s in prison, he’s not going to get out to cause you any trouble.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Well, okay, I guess everything is as it should be.”

“Gather up your clothes and put them in this bag,” the nurse said.

“Okay, sure, I guess.”

After putting all his clothes and belongings in to the bag he smiled at the nurse and said, “Okay, I’m ready to go, now.”

“Good, let’s go; I know your foster father is here to pick you up.”

“Do I know him?” Ben asked.

“I think you do. You’ve met him before.”

They walked out of Ben’s room and went up to the cage. The nurse spoke with someone inside and Ben started to wander off.

“Ben, come here,” the nurse said. “Your foster father is here to take you home.”

Ben followed the nurse out to the wire door where patients weren’t allowed to go without an escort. He saw a tall and rather large black man waiting in the lobby. Something deep inside him caused him to fear what he was seeing.

“Ben! It’s good to see you, boy,” the black man said.

“Do I know you?” Ben asked.

“I’m Ernie, your foster father; don’t you remember me?”

“Ernie, no, I don’t remember you.”

“Erik is down in the Camaro waiting for us. I brought him along in case you might not remember me.”

“Erik? Erik is with you? Erik. Oh, lord, I am saved.”

As they went down the hall to the elevator station, Ben kept ahold of his bag of clothes. He wasn’t certain what was going on, but the lure that Erik was down in the Camaro kept him going with this black man who was acting as if he should know him. They went down an elevator and walked out a door into a parking garage. He felt that something wasn’t quite right about this, but continued along a sidewalk marked out by paint stripes to keep pedestrians away from incoming cars. In a short time, they came to a red Camaro that Ben somehow recognized and that man named Ernie opened the passenger door and said, “Erik, Ben is here. Do you want to sit in the back seat or do you want Ben to sit there?”

“I think it’ll be a lot easier if Ben sits in the backseat,” Erik said. “Let me get out so he can get in.”

“Oh, Erik, you’re here,” Ben said. “I was wondering if this man was just leading me astray.”

“Come on, Ben, help me get you into the backseat,” Erik said.

“Oh, sure, I know what to do, I guess.”

“Step out of the way, Ben,” that man named Ernie said.

“Erik do you want to sit in the backseat?” Ben asked.

“No, Ben, we’re putting you there.”

“I thought we are supposed to be in a band or something,” Ben said.

“What instrument are you going to play?” Erik asked.

“I don’t want to say because if I do you’ll send me to an instructor who will force me to have sex with him like it was when I was living with all those men my mommy brought into the house to have sex with us.”

“What if we got you a woman instructor?” Ernie asked.

“Women can play the banjo?” Ben asked.

“In a city the size of New York, I’m sure we can find one.”

“Erik, is it okay with you if I play the banjo in the band?” Ben asked.

“Yes, Ben, it’s okay with me.”

“I’m going to need some picks in addition to a banjo.”

“I’ll get everything you need,” Ernie said.

“I have to go see Dr. Goldmeier,” Ben said.

“When is your appointment? I bet it is the same as mine,” Erik said. “Ben are you crying?”

“I have an appointment with Dr. Goldmeier,” Ben whimpered.

“I’ll check on your appointment when we get home,” Ernie said.

“It’ll be too late,” Ben cried.

“Ben! Stop crying this instant,” Erik said.

“But, Dr. Goldmeier.”

“Mr. Wilson said he’ll take care of it. Now, sit in your seat quietly until we get home.”

“Yes, Erik, I’ll be quiet,” Ben whimpered.