Kept Boy to Made Man - 5. Dazed and Confused

“We’re both in new territory here, Thomas.” Now that the trial was over and he was outside the safety of the courtroom, Roger was finding difficult to cope with whatever it was his life had suddenly become.

He knew he was doing the right thing. He felt a deep need to protect Thomas beyond the trial, but he didn’t know how to move forward. Roger’s own life experiences had left him with painful memories and often debilitating self-doubt. He had been wrestling with those doubts from the moment Judge O’Malley had ratified his hurried plan by emancipating his client.

“This morning, I walked into that courtroom wondering if I even had a future. What do I do now?” Thomas felt so tired and alone, despite sitting closely to the man who had done so much for him.

Thomas had no anchor apart from his lawyer who had suddenly become his… Thomas wasn’t sure what their relationship was. He found himself in a world he simple couldn’t understand and didn’t know how to navigate. He couldn’t go back, and he couldn’t go forward.

The exhausted and overwhelmed teen started to cry. Roger couldn’t decide if he should comfort the boy or cry along with him. They sat in Roger’s brand new BMW 850i. It had yet to move from the place he had parked it early that morning.

Roger realized that he didn’t know how to lead outside of the courtroom. It had been Melissa who had gotten them this far, but she left for her own car several minutes before. He knew his assistant had been a driving force in his personal life for years, managing the small decisions he was often incapable of making for himself. He wondered what she would do in the current moment.

“We need to pick a direction,” he finally decided out loud. “If you could do anything you wanted right now, what would you do?”

Roger was suddenly inspired as he imagined Melissa’s probable action. What they both needed was a place to start, a path forward.

“Hug Brendon.” Despite the almost insurmountable fear of rejection he felt, Thomas realized that Brendon was the link between who he had been and who he wanted to be.

“Okay. Let’s start there.” Roger carefully backed the sports car out of the parking spot before turning towards the hospital.

They were silent as Roger drove, each barely registering the sights and sounds they passed. Rush hour traffic made the seven-mile drive feel much longer.

Now that Thomas had allowed himself to think of Brendon, he could think of nothing else. The need to see him was offset by the anxiety he felt, however. He thought back to their last day together. Their Valentine’s date was supposed to be special, had been special, before it had become the single worst day of his life. The mental tape from that day had played so many times in his fragile mind over the past four months. It was now impossible for him to separate the memories, emotions, and sensations.

He remembered the feeling of Brendon’s soft lips on his, the excitement of new exploration, the sight of Brendon turning blue, the sickening sounds of crushing blows and broken bones. Thomas shivered as he recalled the heat of Brendon’s most sensitive and secret parts and the cold, smooth hardness of the wooden bat. The excitement of watching his boyfriend undress was ruined by the sight of gore leaking from his father’s skull. Brendon’s looks of longing and love morphed into pain and terror as the events flickered in his head.

“What if he hates me?” He said shakily.

“He doesn’t.” Roger said simply.

“He almost died. He watched me murder my own father!” The pitch and volume of the teen’s words rose steadily as he began to panic.

“Stop. Breathe.” Roger risked a quick look at his passenger. “He didn’t die. You saved his life, Thomas. And you didn’t murder anybody, remember?”

Roger pulled off the freeway, following the blue hospital sign. Thomas consciously took in his surroundings for the first time.

“Where are we going?” His confusion temporarily overrode his anxiety.

“Mercy Medical.” Roger silently berated himself as he realized Thomas hadn’t been privy to Timothy’s revelation.

“They said he was going to be okay. Oh, my God! What’s wrong with him?” Thomas was suddenly frantic.

“Thomas!” The small body froze at the tone in Roger’s voice, and tension filled the small car.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for yelling, Thomas. Listen to me. Brendon was supposed to be at your trial. I think his parents were pressuring him to sacrifice you for his own future, but he refused. He’s in the hospital now because his father is an asshole, too. It isn’t your fault, or even your father’s this time.” Roger felt out of control; things were moving too fast for him to remain out in front.

Thomas tried to absorb Roger’s words, but nothing was making sense. He couldn’t seem to focus on any one idea long enough to understand it. He tried to imagine Brendon’s dad attacking him. The memory of his own father’s hands around his boyfriend’s neck returned. Thomas felt small, afraid, and confused. Everything wrong with his world seemed to somehow be his own fault.

“I’m sorry.” Thomas sounded small.

“Why are you sorry, Thomas?” Roger was spoke softly.

“I don’t know.” The teen turned to look out the passenger side window.

Roger braked for a stop light, slowing his thoughts along with the vehicle. He took a deep breath as he analyzed their situation like he would in court. He was grateful for the pause and the clarity it provided.

“It’s tempting to believe that the trial was the end to your problems, but it wasn’t. Your life has been on hold for four months. You’ve had nothing to do but worry. Now you are free, but life is moving too fast. I feel it too. I don’t have all the answers, Thomas.” Roger moved his hand from the shifter and placed it gently on Thomas’ thin knee. “Let’s make a deal, okay?”

“A deal?” Thomas asked, as he concentrated on not pulling away from the older man’s touch.

“Honesty. I’ll be honest with you about how I’m feeling. I want you to be honest with me. Even if it’s difficult or ugly.” He felt the teen stiffen. “I’m scared, Thomas. I’m overwhelmed. I can only imagine how much worse it is for you.”

Thomas didn’t say anything. He had seen several glimpses of Roger’s vulnerability. He knew they were alike in many ways, even if he didn’t completely understand why. The man was intense and strong in court, but sometimes weak and uncertain in private. Roger could be scary, but he made Thomas feel safe in a way that nobody else ever had.

. . .

“I need the room number for Brendon Mack.” Roger Cicero informed the receptionist at the first-floor desk advertising patient information. “Please.”

“Are you family?” The receptionist asked as she began typing into her computer.

“No, ma’am. My name is Roger Cicero, attorney at law.” He didn’t claim to be Brendon’s attorney.

Fortunately, the woman didn’t seem terribly concerned with patient confidentiality or security.

“Very well, Mr. Casio. He is in room 619.” Roger bit back laugh as he reflexively looked at Eddie’s insanely expensive watch; Casio indeed, he thought wryly.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, deciding not to correct her.

He expected some sort of remark about the receptionist from Thomas, but none came. He could feel anxiety radiating from his small frame as they entered the elevator.

“How are you doing, Thomas.” The teen had put several steps between them as the doors slid shut; Roger pushed the appropriate button.

“I know what you said, but I’m scared.” His moist eyes met Roger’s.

“Will a hug help?” Roger asked genuinely.

“Maybe.” Thomas was nervous. He had hugged Roger without thinking in the courtroom, but the idea of pre-meditated physical contact with a man was frightening.

They both took a hesitant step, which brought their bodies and insecurities close. Roger opened his arms reading the teen’s fear. He paused to allow Thomas to control their contact. The teen was hesitant, but as soon as their suit covered chests met, they automatically wrapped their arms around the body before them.

“We will figure everything out, Thomas. Honesty, remember? Brendon will be glad to see you. I believe that. Have I ever, in the three days I’ve known you, steered you wrong?” He tried to gift the boy with confidence while also trying to lighten his mood.

Roger found himself wanting to kiss Thomas’ forehead, but he didn’t. The older man wasn’t sure he trusted himself. Eddie had used moments like this to manipulate and control, and Roger didn’t want to treat Thomas like Eddie had treated him.

The smaller teen fit neatly in his embrace. It was good to hold him, to protect him. It felt right to love him even if Roger wasn’t sure he knew what real love was. Honesty. He had promised.

“I’ve never had anyone to protect and love like this before, Thomas. I am terrified I will screw it up.” Thomas pulled back slightly to look up into Roger’s eyes.

“You won’t.” The words felt surprisingly true to Thomas as he heard himself say them.

Roger wanted to ask how he could be so certain, but the elevator dinged. Their bodies separated even as the elevator doors slid apart, revealing the sixth-floor hallway. Roger looked at Thomas who was suddenly small once more. The man naturally took the lead again.

Knowing the room number, Roger bypassed the nurses’ station and counted his way to the correct door. It was closed, but not completely. Roger knocked lightly and waited several seconds. He didn’t hear any acknowledgment or movement from inside the room, so he gently pushed the door open and peaked in.

The room was small, with only one bed which Roger could see was occupied. He also saw a thin and gaunt woman sleeping in a large, teal-colored vinyl armchair. He stepped in and quietly cleared his throat, uncertain of the reception he would receive. Brendon’s mother, he assumed, began to stir. Roger could feel Thomas hiding behind him even as he strained to see Brendon in the bed.

“I’m sorry, I must have dozed off. Brendon finally fell aslee-” The woman, who was clearly still wearing yesterday’s clothes stopped mid-word as she took in the handsome, well-dressed man before her. “You’re not the nurse.”

“No ma’am. Mrs. Mack, I presume?” Roger did his best to seem charming.

“Yes. Who are you.” So much for charm, Roger thought as the small, suddenly suspicious woman began to grow before him.

“Mom?” The woman stared through Roger, trying to locate the small voice that hadn’t come from the bed.

“Thomas?” The woman’s rising bluster was immediately replaced by a deep concern.

Roger stepped aside, revealing the equally handsome, and almost as well-dressed young man. Thomas absentmindedly held onto Roger as his tear-filled eyes looked from the woman to the bed and back again.

“Is Bren gonna be okay?” The woman fought back tears as she looked at the boy she had assumed lost to her.

She had watched Thomas grow from a small boy. She had claimed him as her own almost as soon as the boys became friends in an attempt to fill the obvious void left by his own mother’s early death.

For a time, she had hated Thomas, however. She blamed Thomas for endangering Brendon, for corrupting him, for driving her son away from her. Various emotions flitted across her mind, but it was a mother’s love that won out.

Roger and Thomas were both caught off guard by the speed with which the thin woman moved. One second, she was seated in the chair and the next she had pulled the startled blond teen into a bone-crushing embrace.

“Thank you, Jesus!” The woman whispered. “How are you here? I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”

Thomas made a small grunting noise, which she took mean he couldn’t breathe. She stepped back, holding him at arm’s length. Thomas smiled despite the anxiety he was still feeling.

“I’ve missed you, Thomas,” she said quietly as she motioned to several folding chairs stacked in the corner.

Thomas wasn’t interested in sitting. He moved slowly to the side of the bed as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He gasped as he got a good look at the boy he hoped was still his boyfriend.

He took in the familiar body hidden by a thin white blanket. Brendon was tall, or taller than Thomas at least. He was thinner than Thomas remembered, however, which made his head look just slightly too big for his body. His dark brown hair stuck out in every direction, which would have made Thomas giggle if not for the hideous bruises and swelling that covered his face.

Roger watched as Thomas slowly brought his hand to Brendon’s face. He didn’t allow his fingers to make contact, instead tracing the air above the worst of the damage.

“Is Bren gonna be okay?” Thomas asked again.

“Yes, honey.” The woman said tearfully, as she too watched Thomas interact with her battered son.

She turned as Roger unfolded a chair and sat beside her.

“Are you with social services?” The woman asked carefully, causing Roger to laugh humorlessly.

“No, ma’am. I am Roger Cicero. I’m Thomas’ Lawy- No, I’m Thomas’ friend,” he corrected.

“Thank you for bringing Thomas here, Mr. Cicero. Brendon will be so happy to see him.” The woman was looking at the teens with obvious affection. “Is Thomas safe?”

“The state dropped the charges, if that is what you are asking.” Roger said as the woman turned to stare into his eyes.

“Who’s going to take him,” she asked, already trying to figure out what she would need to rearrange to care for her second son.

Roger could anticipate where the woman’s questions where headed. He had not known what to expect from Mrs. Mack. It was her husband, after all, who had put Brendon in the hospital. He didn’t yet know her personal beliefs about the boys’ relationship, but the woman appeared to be a loving mother first. He was grateful for the reception they had received.

“Thomas has been emancipated. That means he is legally an adult. He’ll be living with me for as long as he wants.” Roger felt dirty as he saw the suspicion return to the woman’s expression; Memories of Eddie again made him question his motives as he tried to stand up to Mrs. Mack’s penetrating gaze.

Thomas was overwhelmed. He was scared, sad, confused, but mostly he was angry. His whole life, he had felt powerless and afraid. The world, and the people in it seemed intent on his misery. He hated feeling helpless and trapped. Roger Cicero had showed him that it was possible to fight back; He had also said it was okay to cry. Thomas felt a shift in his perspective as he took in the damaged boy he loved.

“Why can’t people just leave us the fuck alone?” Thomas was almost shocked to hear his hidden thoughts leave his mouth.

He could feel the adults’ stares on his back. A part of him knew he should apologize for his anger, but a larger, newer part felt that his feelings were justified. He remembered Roger unleashing his own anger toward his uncle in the courtroom. It had been done with purpose, but his emotions were real and powerful.

Honesty. Even if it’s difficult or ugly. I want to be free.

He slowly gathered up Brendon’s hand into his, carefully avoiding the IV and other wires. He was expecting Brendon’s mom to rebuke him like she always did when one of them grew angry or swore. He heard her inhale and braced himself. When she spoke, however, he was surprised by her soft tone.

“Brendon has a concussion. His brain swelled a little and the doctors want to keep an eye on him in case it gets worse. He should be released sometime tomorrow morning.” Her upbringing screamed at her to scold the boy for his language, but as a mother, she wanted to burn down the world that was causing so much pain and misery in the lives of her kids.

She also felt the guilt of knowing that she had contributed to Brendon’s pain. It had been easy to hate Elijah for attacking her son. It had been easy to hate Thomas for making her boy gay. It had been easy to agree with her husband that their boy needed to straighten up. It had been easy to let her pastor tell her how to be a mother. Yet here she sat looking at two boys that simply wanted to love and be loved. She was learning that the easy route wasn’t always the best one.

Her thoughts and attention returned to the stranger beside her. She could both feel and see the love he had for her boys in his expression. He obviously wasn’t bothered by their relationship. In fact, he seemed to cherish it. She knew what her brain was screaming, but her eyes didn’t see it. It was this man who had apparently stepped in to help Thomas, when everyone had abandoned him. He cared about him when nobody else, including her would.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cicero.” she finally said. “He’s been through hell. They both have. I couldn’t stand to see anyone else hurt one of my boys.”

“That is at least one thing we can agree on Mrs. Mack.” Roger was confused by her sudden warmth but wasn’t given the time to dwell on it.

“Tommy?” The battered boy tried to open his swollen eyes as Thomas’s tears turned into sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Bren. Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry!” Four months of anxiety poured out of Thomas as he gave voice to his biggest remaining fear.

“Don’t be stupid, you twit.” Brendon’s words were a little slurred but perfectly clear.

“Brendon!” His mother hissed.

“Sorry, mom, but Thomas is being an idiot.” He didn’t sound sorry. “How are you here, Tommy, I thought I was dreaming when I heard your voice? I’m sorry I didn’t make the trial. I was going tell the judge everything. I guess you didn’t get sent to prison?”

Thomas laughed, partly at the string of thoughts and questions that rolled awkwardly out of Brendon’s mouth but mostly from overwhelming relief. Roger had been right again. Brendon didn’t hate him.

“Mrs. Mack, would you let me escort you to the cafeteria for a cup of watered-down coffee?” Roger asked with a raised eyebrow and a small nod towards the door.

“That sounds good,” she said unconvincingly, but she got the message; The boys needed some time alone.

. . .

The conversation down to the hospital basement had been light, but Mrs. Mack had quickly demanded the details of Thomas’ trial once they were seated in the back corner of the cafeteria. He covered the salient points quickly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cicero. A part of me can only think of one reason a man would want to take in an abandoned child. Especially considering you’ve only known him for three days.” The woman was clearly fighting conflicting emotions.

The man sat back and closed his eyes. He wanted to be offended by her suspicious mind, but he thought of Eddie. He wanted to run away, but he thought of Thomas. Roger wanted to be free.

“Please, call me Roger,” he told her.

“Roger it is, as long as you call me Sandra,” she replied.

“It hurts deeply to know that the world will judge us simply because of who we are instead of by what we do,” Roger said softly.

“I’m trying not to, Roger. I have a lot to unlearn, it seems. I know now that many of my reactions are wrong, and unfair. I have some long-held beliefs and habits that are hard to break.” She couldn’t shake the guilt she felt for abandoning Thomas and rejecting so much about her own boy. “I clearly haven’t been the best parent to either of the boys. I don’t have room to judge anyone else. I’m sorry.”

Roger could hear her pain. He suddenly knew he didn’t want to write this woman out of his life. She was trying to change in order to better understand and support her son. Sons, he corrected himself. He couldn’t stop the tears that fell as he thought of his own mother. He would have given anything for her to be more like Sandra.

“Whatever it takes,” he whispered as he looked once more at the disheveled woman across the tiny table from him; she raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask him what he meant.

“I promised to protect Thomas, and by extension, your son as well. Are we on the same team, Sandra?” When she didn’t respond immediately, he elaborated.

“Thomas has lived with awful abuse his whole life. That’s his to tell when he is ready. I will do everything I can to make sure he has a brighter future than the dark past he was dealt. I won’t let the system, your husband, you, or even myself get in his way if I can help it. Are we on the same team?” Roger watched as Sandra took her turn to sit back with closed eyes to consider his words.

“We’re on the same team,” she replied after several seconds. “I knew Thomas’ home life wasn’t great. I’ve tried to be a mom to him, when I found out what Elijah had done to my boy, I was livid. I blamed Thomas.

“I thought Brendon could just choose to be normal. My husband and our pastor said it was our duty to lead Brendon back onto the narrow way.

“I thought I had almost lost my boy four months ago, but these past four months without Thomas, well… Brendon doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep. He barely passed his classes last semester. He’s a shell of the kid he was when he and Thomas were together. Sitting here in this hospital, I can see what our views have done to him. We’ve fallen in love with a son that doesn’t exist instead of the one we have.” Sandra's voice trailed off as she was convicted by her own words again.

“What have I done to my babies?” Sandra stared through Roger and into the distance; It was clear that the woman had cried all her tears long ago.

Hearing Sandra struggle with her beliefs was a new experience for Roger. He had always assumed people either accepted or rejected homosexuality, but he could see that there were several shades of grey in between. She was sharing something deep with him. He couldn’t explain why, but he needed this woman to see him. To see his pain as well. Honesty.

“My father couldn’t stand that I was gay.” Roger said bitterly. “What would all the other poor Italians in Little Italy think. He was a bit like Thomas’ father and talked with his fists. The night before my seventeenth birthday, he caught me in my room, wearing one of my mother’s dresses. It was harmless curiosity, especially compared to some of the things I dreamed of trying. He beat the shit out of me.

“That night, I ran away. I likely would have died on the streets of Manhattan if it wasn’t for an older man who promised to help me. When you doubted my intentions with Thomas, it hurt. That man saw me as his property. I can’t help but worry that I’m no better than he was, helping Thomas because it’s best for me.” Roger couldn’t believe he had shared so much of himself with this woman he didn’t even know.

Sandra held Roger’s eyes for several long seconds. He began to wonder if he had made a terrible mistake. His insecurities caused him to look away.

“Roger.” He didn’t hear the disgust of hatred he expected and found himself looking at her once more.

“What kind of man would tell a mother struggling to accept her gay sons that he was afraid of hurting her kids.” Roger felt suddenly trapped and frightened. “A good one, Roger. I thought our home was safe, but look at what my husband and I have done to our boy. Please don’t run away from them.”

Roger was suddenly sobbing. It had been a long and emotional day. He felt so drained but also lighter than he could ever remember feeling before. He had always believed that he was unloveable by anyone who knew who he really was. He wasn’t prepared for Sandra’s unexpected acceptance and compassion.

“I don’t care who my son loves, Roger. Well, I’m trying not to. The fact that he has chosen Thomas makes it easier. I just want them to be safe. I worry about the hate. I worry about AIDS. And as much it shames me, I too am worried about what people will think.” Sandra took several breaths as she looked into the future. “In many ways, you know my boys better than I do. I think, perhaps we all need each other. So, same team?”