The Angel of Retribution - 1. Chapter 1

I despise calls in the middle of the night and by the ringtone of this call I suspected something unpleasant.

“Hello? Bobby?”

“No! This is Frank! Did Bobby tell you he was gay?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t my place. May I ask how you found out?”

“It doesn’t matter how I found out. Charlie, I’m throwing him out, tonight. If you don’t want the sinner to live on the street, I suggest you come down and get him.”

“I’ll be there in about forty minutes,” I said into a dial tone. I threw on some sweats and sandals and went out the door.

I hadn’t seen Frank Larson since the time of his wedding. He and June had been a lovely couple, but my life went one way and theirs another.

Then about ten weeks ago, I came across his Facebook page. He had a computer science consultancy and, surprisingly, a pizzeria in the town where he lived. He and June were still married and they had been blessed with Sybil, Constance (Connie), Robert (Bobby), and Stanley (Stan).

I couldn’t help myself driving down there that first day and making a reacquaintance. Frank was in the kitchen throwing a pizza. I walked up to the counter and said, “Frank, my man, what’s with the pizza?”

“Charlie! What hole did you crawl out of?”

“I made some money and bought a place in Twin Forks. I’m retired, but do a bit of writing.”

“Sounds good, how about a small, on the house?”

“You know, I might take you up on that, but I want to go over and talk to your son first. That is Bobby, right?”

“Yeah, he needs a good talking to. I’ve never seen such a mopey teen.”

I turned and observed my quarry. I knew he was nearly sixteen and a half, but he was slight of build and short, not much over five feet. Delicate came to mind. Maybe he had some muscles under his clothes, but his pants looked empty as did his sweater. Could he be starving himself? He was sitting on a bench by the door.

“Hi, I’m Charlie. I knew your dad when he was working on marrying your mother. Mind if I sit down?”

“It’s a free country.”

“You’re sixteen; that makes you a junior next fall, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And, you’re a Boy Scout. Going Eagle?”

“Probably not.”

“Don’t have enough merit badges?”

“No, something else.”

“And, you’re a Christian. Have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior?”

“No,” it was barely a whisper.

“Would you like some Mexican food? I noticed there’s a restaurant across the street.”

“I’ll have to ask my dad.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

I went up to the counter and said, “Frank, me and Bobby are going across the street to have Mexican.”

“Whatever!”

I immediately thought, a strange man is taking your oldest and you’re too busy to care. There was something going on between Frank and Bobby and I had to find out. I went over to the door where Bobby was waiting. I placed my hand across his shoulders and immediately felt the lack of flesh. “Come on, boy, let’s go have fun.”

I was surprised he didn’t shy away from my touch, but simply led me out of the pizzeria. We jaywalked across to the Mexican-American restaurant. Inside there were few customers at that time of day and we were able to get a booth out of the way. After we placed our order and received our drinks, I looked across the table and said, “Bobby, I’m not a professional counselor or mental therapist. All I am is an adult male who has been around a time or two. I was married, but my husband died of lymphoma three years back. Today I live alone with my memories. I look at you and I see a very troubled boy who is holding something close to his heart in fear someone will find out. I want to help you if you will let me.”

“You’re gay?” soft, barely audible.

“I’m proud to say I am,” I said.

“What’s it like?”

“Just like being straight, except you date guys instead of girls.”

“Oh, wow!”

“How long have you known?”

“I guess since I was eleven. Does that sound possible?”

“I was eleven when I took a liking to boys.”

“What do I do about my parents?”

“How religious are they?”

“Very.”

“Then I wouldn’t tell either of them until after college and you’re making enough money to live on your own or with another guy.”

Our meals arrived and I said, “Bobby, eat up, you’re barely skin and bones. Do you have an eating disorder?”

“You mean like bulimia?”

“Yes.”

“I just don’t eat a lot.”

“Well, eat up for me. If we’re to be friends, you need some meat on you.”

We ate and I convinced him to have some flan for dessert. We traded phone numbers and he asked me to take him home. They lived in the middle of one of those giant developments with streets sweeping around this way and that ending in blind cul-de-sacs. I silently hoped I’d be able to find my way out. We came to their house. It was a McMansion with garish siding, but had windows for what must be many bedrooms. I couldn’t say that I liked it.

“Some pile of lumber,” I said.

“Yeah, I think it’s ugly, too,” Bobby said. “I enjoyed myself for once. I’ll call you.”

“You do that, kid. I like you, for a teen.”

“Thank you, I think.”

And, that was the first day. Not too surprising, I didn’t hear from Bobby for five weeks, almost time for the new school year to begin. It was early on a Saturday when I received a text: “Can u come n get me? Bobby.”

I responded: “Be thr whn I can. Charlie.”

I was dressed a bit too casual so I changed into khakis, a light green polo, and my brown slip-ons. Contrary to what I drove the last time, I got in the S560 and backed out of the driveway as the garage door closed. Actually, there are two ways to get to the Larson’s: the slow way with four small towns, seven roundabouts, and the chance for slow moving farm equipment; and, then there were the freeways. Surprisingly, discounting the chance for farm equipment, both routes took about the same amount of time. Since I was driving the big Mercedes coupe, I decided to avoid the farm equipment.

As expected, I drove into the Larson’s driveway almost exactly forty minutes after leaving home. There was no one about. I got out of the car and went up to the door. The door chimes seemed quite loud standing there on the doorstep. Finally, the front door opened revealing a woman probably in her forties.

“Hello, June, long time no see,” I said.

She looked at me as if she had no idea who I was.

“I know it’s been a long time. I’m Charlie, Charlie Hughes.”

“Yes, but why are you here?”

“Bobby sent a message asking me to come down and take him off campus for a bit.”

“He’s studying his Bible right now.”

“I can wait in the car, if you want.”

“No, he can go with you. How long will you be out?”

“I’ll have him back by dinner time.”

“No, bring him back by eight,” she said and then yelled, “Bobby! Charlie’s here. Come down here.”

In a second, Bobby bounded down the stairs and stood beside his mother, who said, “Remember what your father said. You have those verses to memorize before tomorrow morning. Also, remember there are homosexuals out there who will do anything they can to lead you astray. Charlie, I pray you will keep my son safe.”

“Certainly, it’ll be my honor to ensure the safety of your son. Come on, Bobby, let’s go have fun.”

“Bye,” was all Bobby said. “Is this yours?”

“Yep; pretty isn’t she?”

“It’s huge,” he said as he got in.

I followed him in and said, “Yes, isn’t she?”

“Did you name it?”

“Of course; her name is Mattie.”

“Mattie; what kind of name is that?”

“It’s for Matilda.”

“Not Waltzing Matilda?”

“Could there be any other?”

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought we’d go to the mall. I’d like to buy you a bauble.”

“If you buy me too much, they’ll make me give it back.”

“Over my dead body.”

“You don’t understand. They’re not like regular people. They live through the Bible. If you give me too much of a gift, they’ll see the sin that put it in my hands.”

“That’s crazy. How can people believe that way?”

“They do. You’ll see.”

We fell into a tit-for-tat chit-chat as I drove to the mall. I was still having trouble believing his parents had become Fundamentalist Christians who twisted the words in the Bible to meet their unnatural beliefs. Bobby seemed to be accepting his gayness easier than that first day, but there still seemed to be some dark entity in his being. Maybe, it was just his parents’ darkly skewed Biblical beliefs. I pulled into the parking garage at the mall and we got out.

“Come along, Bobby,” I said cheerfully.

“Where are we going?”

“To buy you a bauble,” I said.

We walked into the mall and I directed us to the store I wanted to go. Bobby followed along, but when we got to the store he held back.

“You don’t have a watch,” I said. “Do you want one?”

“If it isn’t too much,” he said.

“What say I put a dollar limit on it?” I asked.

“Okay.”

We walked up to the watch counter and the sales rep asked, “May I help you, sir?”

“Yes, Bobby here wants a watch. Nothing too expensive, say $5,000 limit.”

“Oh, sir, that’s too much.”

“Phooey! You get a good watch. You deserve it.”

I watched the sales rep go about his way with Bobby, slowly leading the boy up to a TAG Heuer for $5,575. He put it on Bobby’s arm and the boy walked around the store holding out his arm with the watch prominently displayed.

“He seems to like it,” I said.

“It suits him,” the sales rep said.

Bobby came back and I said, “Well, does it fit your arm?”

“Oh yes, but it is terribly expensive.”

“Let me worry about the price. Do you want it?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

I paid the bill and we left with Bobby carrying the store bag containing the watch case and the watch on his arm. I wanted to go to some clothing stores, but Bobby said I’d bought him too much already. He asked to go to my house and I figured that was a valid request. We left the mall and after a few blocks through the city we were northbound on the freeway. We settled into our companionable chit-chat that was so easy between us. I remembered back when Bill and I were married and had the same ease with conversation. Eventually, I pulled into my driveway and turned off the car.

“Well, here we are,” I said.

“This isn’t all that big.”

“Well, it’s enough for Nana and me.”

“Who’s Nana?”

“Come, I’ll introduce you.”

We went up to the front door and I asked, “Do you have any problem with dogs?”

“No.”

“Good,” I said as I unlocked the door. Nana, my German shepherd was, as usual, right there. “Back up girl, we’ve got company. Come on in, Bobby, and meet Nana.”

He followed me inside and I directed him over to the table with the dog treats. “Here, hold out your hand and let her take the treat.”

Nana came up and calmly took the treat from Bobby’s hand. Then she went over and started chewing on her turkey leg toy. I sat down on the sofa and said, “Have a seat.”

Much to my surprise Bobby sat next to me. This was much too close considering the difference in our ages, but for some reason I didn’t say anything until he placed his hand on my arm.

“Don’t, it’s not right,” I said.

“I only want to thank you,” he said.

“No, it’s not right. Our relationship shouldn’t involve sex.”

“I only want to thank you for what you did today. I know what to do.”

“Bobby, I know you’re past the age of consent in this state, but I’m far past the age of someone who should be having sex with you. If you want to have sex, find another boy who’s interested in the same things as you.”

“I don’t want to have sex with another boy. I want to have sex with you.”

“I’m so sorry, Bobby, but that’s not going to happen no matter how much you might want it.”

He got up and went over to the recliner where he flopped into the seat and brought up his legs until he was practically stuffed in the seat. He stared at me for a moment and then took out his phone and started texting someone.

Defeated, I went over to my computer, started it up, and started work on my current story. In a few minutes, I noticed Bobby standing beside me.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Writing a story.”

“What’s it about?”

“A boy who lives in Montana who is sexually assaulted by some of his schoolmates.”

“He was raped?”

“Yep.”

“How can you write that filth?”

“It’s not filth. That stuff actually happens to boys. A lot more than you think.”

“What happened to this boy?”

“I haven’t decided whether he’s going to commit suicide or tell his parents.”

“How old is he?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve? Stan is twelve.”

“Gets you close to home, doesn’t it?”

“I hope he tells his parents.”

“They might not believe him. They might be religious like your parents and say that he asked for it.”

“That’ll kill him.”

“Likely as not.”

“How can you write stuff like that?”

“It’s what I do. Look, the world is basically a horrible place where shit happens to good people. I generally write about teens to young adults who are thrust into extremely stressful situations where their survival is always questionable. Likely as not there aren’t any happy endings to my stories.”

“Are you a sad person?”

“What an interesting question. I think I’ll have to think about that. Say, are you hungry? I think we should get something to eat and get you home.”

We had Italian. Bobby had something with penne and I had the lasagna. Afterward, we stopped in at the ice cream store and both of us had four-dollar, two scoop cones. And, then, we were in the Mercedes heading up the valley to South Fork. We chatted aimlessly until I turned into their development and I pulled up in front of their house. Bobby said, “I had fun today, Mr. Hughes.”

“Charlie, just call me Charlie.”

“No, sir, it’s not right I should refer to you as if I am an adult equal.”

“Okay, Bobby, we’ll do it your way. I hope your parents don’t make too big a deal about the watch.”

“I hope they don’t either, but I think they will. Goodbye, Mr. Hughes.”

“Goodbye, Bobby, see you next time.”

And, that’s how I left the boy earlier tonight. Now, I’m retracing my route in the Denali because it has lots of room in the back. When I got to their pile of lumber, I backed into the drive. Only Bobby was standing outside. I jumped out and ran around to where he stood.

“How’re you doing?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything, just stood there unmoving, staring at the ground.

There were six boxes, a large suitcase, a smaller one, and a backpack. I went about loading them in the rig. Finally, I finished and shut the door.

“Come on, let’s go,” I said, but Bobby didn’t move. “Bobby, are you okay?”

“Momma beat me with a broom handle, she hit the watch with a hammer. Daddy whipped me with his belt when he got home and then raped me.”

“Oh, Bobby, I’m so sorry for buying you that watch.”

“They forced me to admit I’m gay.”

“Bobby?” a soft voice whispered from over by the garage.

“Stan, you’d better get back inside,” Bobby said.

“I’m going to miss you, Bobby.”

“I’m going to miss you, too, little brother.”

They hugged for a moment and then the younger boy was gone.

“He seemed like a decent kid,” I said.

“I fear for him. They could utterly destroy him in the name of their religion.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I said, but Bobby didn’t move. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t walk,” he whimpered.

“Okay, let me help you.” He walked stiffly in short steps. I had no idea how I was going to get him into the Denali. “Okay, Bobby, you’re going to have to get in. Let me help you.”

“Ahhh!” he screamed as he bent his body and pulled himself into the rig. Silently, I hoped the neighbors noticed.

“I’ll be glad when we get to your house,” he said.

“I’m taking you to a hospital, first.”

“No, don’t, they get in trouble with the law.”

“Look, boy, you’re hurting and I doubt very much you’re thinking clearly. Now, you think about how you’re going to get out of the Denali.”

He started whimpering and I could see tears on his face. I couldn’t imagine his pain, so I drove as quickly as I could to the hospital. After about fifteen minutes, I pulled into the emergency room parking lot of Cross Lake Hospital. I parked as close to the emergency room door as I could and got out. Bobby had his door open when I got to his side.

“Come on, Bobby, it’ll hurt only for a moment.”

“Ahhh!” he screamed as he turned, put his feet on the ground, and stood up.

“Are you okay,” a voice called out.

“He’s been whipped and raped,” I said. “It’s difficult for him to move.”

“You stay there, I’ll get a gurney.”

Soon three med-techs showed up with a gurney. While two of them got Bobby up on the table, the other asked, “Are you family?”

“No, I’ve taken Bobby from his family. They threw him out.”

“Threw him out? I don’t understand.”

“Is it that difficult to understand what happens to LGBTQ youth when their families won’t accept them?”

“He’s gay?”

“Yes.”

“And, you’ve taken him in.”

“Yes, his father called me to keep him off the streets. Hopefully, when I call CPS in the morning they’ll agree to me being his foster parent.”

“Hopefully that will happen. Well, the police will want to speak with you. Have a seat in the waiting room.”

So, I sat and waited for the police while listening to Bobby complain about the pain the doctors were inflicting on his young body. I could only wonder what was happening. Then, somewhat unexpectedly, a doctor appeared.

“Are you Robert’s family?” he asked.

“As close to it as it comes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He was thrown out tonight. His father called me to take him in. Hopefully, CPS will see the logic in that.”

He sat down next to me and said, “The boy has severe contusions up the back of his thighs, across his buttocks, and ending in the small of his back. The skin has been broken open on most of the contusions on his thighs and buttocks. Plus, he said that his father raped him. We took a sample. Robert seems to be a small child. Do you know how old he is?”

“Sixteen, nearly seventeen.”

“No!”

“Yes; he tells me he doesn’t eat that much.”

“And, his parents went along with it. Oh, some people, you just have to wonder. We x-rayed his arm where the watch was broken. Unfortunately, the arm was broken, also. Not too severely, but we’ll cast it anyway. I’m worried about his diet, though.”

“He’ll eat at my house.”

“Good. They’re getting him ready to go home now. Does he have any clothes? I’m afraid we had to cut off what he was wearing.”

“I’ll go out to the car and see what I can find. Oh, the nurse said something about speaking with the police.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll get your home address and leave it to them to contact you.”

I went out and found some sweats and a sweatshirt. I went in and went to the counter. The nurse looked up and simply asked, “Yes?”

“I have some clothes for Bobby if he’s being released.”

“Oh, yes, the faggot.”

I wanted to climb over that counter and throttle the bitch, but held my temper and said, “That is a derogatory term that I’m surprised you still use considering your place of employment.”

“Whatever; you can go back and dress the little bastard.”

I went back to the wards and saw him, naked, lying on his stomach. There was a purple cast on his left arm, but it was the welts across his back that stopped me cold. Then I saw how small he was. He was literally just skin and bones; and, he was very slight of structure, too.

“Bobby, ready to go home?” I asked.

“I never thought you’d come for me.”

“It’s you and me from now on, boy. Come on, let’s get some clothes on you and get out of here. I couldn’t find any underwear or socks, so you’re going to have to do without until we get home.”

“That’s okay, sir, I just want to get out of here.”

He put the sweatshirt on and looked at me. I helped him off the table and, wincing, he pulled up the sweats. I found his shoes and helped him put them on. We went out to the counter where there was a different nurse.

“Here are your prescriptions,” she said. “There’s an all-night pharmacy over on Fifth Street. Here are your instructions. A sitz bath three times a day. Spread the ointment over the skin between baths and overnight. The boy has pain medication, but see that he does take too much. And, when he is taking the pain medication make certain he drinks plenty of fluids and eats enough roughage to ensure healthy bowel movements as the pain medication tends to cause constipation. We’re sorry we had to see you tonight, but hopefully your life will get better.”

I went down to the pharmacy and had the prescriptions filled. When I got out to the Denali, Bobby was sound asleep. I drove back home with the Beatles Blue Album CD playing softly. I got home and pulled into the garage. I woke Bobby and took him inside where I put him in the bedroom that was to be his. Nana came to him, but I shooed her away. I went out and brought in all of his clothes. Sleep was my only concentration. I went into my room, undressed and lay down for a good night’s sleep.

“Sir, can I sleep with you?” I heard Bobby say.

I looked up and saw him standing at the side of my bed in a loose-fitting T and whitey-tighties that were so loose they left little to the imagination.

“Bobby, it’s not right that we sleep together.”

“Please?”

“Okay, just this once.”

He climbed into the bed and draped his cast across my chest.

“Good night sweet prince, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Umm, I love you.”