Divine Punishment - 2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

There were birds singing, the sound of a peaceful brook streaming somewhere close and angelic singing.

“Wake up.” A sweet voice said. I desperately wanted to see the angel to whom the voice belonged.

“Wake up already, shithead!”

Wait, that’s not right. What kind of a potty mouth angel…Oh, the fucker slapped me. I opened my eyes and stared up into my sister’s face. Damn it, why must she ruin my dreams, on top of my wakeful state?

“The hell happened to you?” she asked.

“The lack of proper nutrition has had an immense effect on me in these past 24 hours, as any loss of energy during tedious physical exertions has not been counterbalanced with proper protein or any type of nourishment, for that matter, so I lost consciousness”. She just stared down at me for half a minute.

“Physical exertions? What, like walking? Or do you still insist that you are a Master Bater of the 13th level and that is strenuous activity? Though, I must admit, your right arm does seem more…defined.”

“I use my left, thank you very much.”

“Uh huh. Sounds like you fainted to me.” Her eyes roamed across my body and I remembered that I was naked, so I jumped to my feet and pulled the duvet off the bed, trying to cover myself. “Oh, relax, my little big bro. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” What?! What the hell did she mean by that? Did she…? Was she…? God, I don’t wanna think about that! “And you certainly have nothing to be ashamed of…” Okay, this was starting to be all kinds of weird. Then again, she was my insane sister, and this was probably her way of teasing me.

I tried to regain my dignity and went into full-on big brother preaching mode. “Fern, you really need to respect my privacy. You can’t just barge in like that.”

“But you were passed out! What, I have to wait for your permission to save you, in case of a fire or something?”

“Yes, knocking is a common courtesy. If I don’t answer within a minute, then you can assume I’m not in…Or dead. In which case you can’t have my computer.” She pouted. “After all, how would you feel if I walked in on you naked?”

“Ha! As if I’d ever worry about you perving on me.” Err, I really didn’t like where this whole conversation was heading.

“Well, of course not, I’m your brother.”

“That’s not what I mean. You know, you really should keep your diary in a safer place than your desk.”

“It’s a journal!” I protested. “Wait…WHAT?!”

“I’ve read all about your inner turmoil. ‘Oh, God, I just want to be normal. Why do I feel like this? I don’t want to be gay!’ Boo-friggin-hoo. Cry me a river already and get over it.”

I felt the walls close in on me. My sister knowing my deepest, darkest sister could have potentially world-ending consequences. Well, MY world, anyway. But a sudden thought stopped me from feinti…I mean, losing consciousness once again. “How long have you known?”

“About a month, give or take.” She replied. Well, that was strangely reassuring. I mean, she hadn’t told anyone about it. I stared into those not-so-innocent eyes. Crap!

“Who’ve you told so far?” I asked, sighing.

She batted her lashes at me, knowing full well that her act had no effect on me. “Well, just a few of my girlfriends…” I groaned. “They seemed awfully pleased with the idea. When Mrs. Courich, Virginia’s mom, heard, she wanted to get you to go shopping…”

“WHAT? You told Mrs. Courich?”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly. I told Aunt Mia, and she brought it up at brunch one day, with her friends…”

Now I was starting to get those murderous feelings again. “How…Why…I don’t even know what to say.”

“Oh, relax, you drama queen. All my friends said they’re cool with it and they’d keep their mouths shut at school and Aunt Mia said she’d make sure mom wouldn’t find out before you had a chance to tell her yourself. But I do think you should do that soon…” she said, shifting from one foot to the other, in an almost nervous manner.

“Oh, God, what now?”

“Well…err, I told my girlfriends about two weeks ago and, since no one has said anything about it to you, it’s obvious they’ve been keeping their mouths shut. But…Umm, well, I talked to aunt Mia this past Wednesday. And the brunch was Thursday…”

“Oh, hell, it took all of one day for half of mom’s friends to find out?”

“Yeah, and, well, tomorrow at church…”

I cringed. You’re probably wondering why someone as free-spirited as my mom even goes to church in the first place. Well, beats me. I blame the drugs. I mean, seriously, there must have been some SERIOUS drug use at some point, because…come on, my mom’s not normal. Anyway, whatever the reason for her love of Church and whatnot, Sunday mass would be followed by an extremely unplanned and unwelcomed coming out. Have I mentioned that I hate my sister?

“Anyway, you’ll just have to deal with that.” she said. “Did you hear about Terry?” That certainly brought my mind back to what really mattered. Namely, my ability to kill people with my mind. Either that or the insanity. It was a coin toss, really. So, I kicked my sister out of my room, dressed and retrieved a business card out of my wallet. I promptly dialed the number.

“Doctor Watkins? I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but you said I should call you if I ever had any trouble, no matter the time…”

Remember how I said I’d spent some time in a mental hospital a few years back? Well, Dr. Watkins is the therapist I’ve been seeing ever since. I’ve made progress, so I only see him once every two weeks, but this situation could be deemed an emergency. Anyway, the reason I was in the crazy palace was because - hang on to your hat, Bruce Willis – I could see dead people. See, when my dad died, I kinda lost it. I could talk to his ghost. Of course, that’s crazy, I know that now, but back then, I used to talk to him all the time. My mom thought it was a normal part of the grieving progress, talking to him, but like I said, she’s nuts as well, so what does she know? But even she became unsettled once it had extended beyond dad. No need to go into details, but I will say that it all came to a head when I was on the front porch, sharing a coke with my dead 13-year-old neighbor(car accident), while discussing baseball. Yeah, after that, Hightower Institute it was. But hey, I’m all better now. Aside from the killing people with my brain part.

The Doc decided to meet with me at his office that afternoon. So, I called Sharon and told her how I killed Terry. In hindsight, I probably should have put that off until after I’d talked to the Doc. Needless to say, she was not amused. Let’s face it, we’re all okay with having a potentially lunatic friend, until said friend actually exhibits traits of insanity. The thing was, though, deep down, I knew I wasn’t crazy. I know, I know, all schizos say that, but ya have to believe me!

“Sharon, I’m serious. I think I’m some kind of psychic killer.”

“Well, you’re some kind of psycho, that’s for sure!” she replied, before hanging up on me. Honestly, the lack of support from friends and family never helps the mentally unstable. If I were truly crazy, her reaction might have unsettled me deeply. Doesn’t the poor girl realize that?

Anyway, I finally made my way downstairs, where breakfast was already cold. And I’d lost my appetite. Until I actually saw the bacon, at which time I remembered I was a bottomless pit and wolfed down the whole thing.

“I trust this has served to teach you a valuable lesson.” My mom said as she entered the kitchen.

“Yeah, store some chips in my bedroom for emergencies.” I mumbled.

“Not a bad idea. It would show resourcefulness, as well as initiative. Too bad you weren’t prepared for the possibility this time around. But I’m proud you got something out of this whole mess.” She said, coming over and kissing me on the forehead. My mom is always so sweet…

“So, any plans for today?” she asked.

“Well, I’m meeting the Doc before lunch, but nothing else this afternoon.”

My mom grew concerned. “Why do you need to see Doctor Watkins? Your session isn’t until Thursday.”

“I just felt the need to talk to him, is all.”

“What about?”

Well, I knew I HAD to answer, so I decided to tell her the truth, not the whole truth, and something aside from the truth. “Well, there’s this guy in school, who died last night.”

“Oh, I heard about that on the news. But they haven’t yet confirmed that it’s him.”

“Oh, it is. Trust me, I know.”

“Okay, but I still don’t understand.”

“Well, he’s the guy who beat me up yesterday.”

“The one you picked on?” I rolled my eyes. “My God, you must feel awful, and probably a bit guilty as well, knowing you were mean to him on his last day on Earth.” What could I say to that? Pointing out the absurdity of the whole thing would probably only serve to starve me some more and it’s not like I actually had the weight to spare. As it was, I needed rocks in my pockets when the wind was strong, for fear of emulating Mary Poppins sans the umbrella.

“Yeah, mom, I feel awful about him dying.” So not true. I’d be dancing on his grave. “And I do feel partially responsible”. Totally true. Psychic murderer, remember?

“Well, I hope you have a good session. But don’t make any plans for dinner.” Darn, and I had my mind set on a night of wild partying, drunken revelry and naked men. “We’re having family dinner tonight. “ Uh-oh. Always bad news. My mom had decided about a year previously that it was time to move on and started dating. Every once in a while, she’d bring a guy home for “family dinner”. I suppose it was a test, both for him and for us, to see how we interact. Considering that she was still single, I suppose they had all failed the test so far. Either that or we did. But we’re so darn perfect, so that certainly couldn’t be it. “Trevor will be joining us.”

I grunted in the affirmative. I had no idea who this Trevor was, nor did I particularly care to find out, but it seemed inevitable. I decided to go back to bed until it was time to go see the Doc.

It took me a while to get to sleep, thinking about what I would tell Dr. Watkins. Starting head-on with my wild theories might be enough to guarantee a one-way ticket to Hightower. I needed to play my cards just right. Then, of course, my mind wandered to Sharon and how she was now convinced I was a nutter. Then there’s the whole coming out thing. God, I was having an awful weekend. But at least the weather was nice…

And as such I just wore jeans and a polo shirt to my meeting with the good doctor. When I entered the waiting area, it was deserted, as expected, the two leather couches sitting unoccupied, the decades-old magazines on the glass table in the middle of the room gathering dust. I knocked on the door to his office and I was beckoned inside.

The doctor was sitting behind his metal-frame desk, stuffing his mouth with what looked like a Big Mac.

“Hello, Hudson. Sit down. Please excuse me while I finish lunch. I permit myself one fast-food meal per month. Or rather, my wife does. And I thought this was as good an opportunity as ever to break the rule.” He smiled, a piece of cow hanging from the corner of his mouth.

I sat in one of the two leather chairs facing each other in front of the desk and passed over the offer to indulge in some fries. I drummed my fingers on my thighs as I waited for the Doc’s cholesterol to rise. Finally, his meal finished, he joined me, sitting in the other free chair.

“Okay. Spill.” He said, taking a gulp from his large Coke.

“Well…See, a guy from my school died last night.”

“Oh, yes, I heard something about that. Isn’t he…”

“Yes, Terry. THAT Terry.” Yes, I bitch to my shrink about bullies. So, sue me.

“I see. And how do you feel about this? Obviously, you were affected by his death, otherwise you wouldn’t have contacted me.”

“Well, it’s strange. I’m happy in a way. I know how that sounds, but the guy was an asshole, and I won’t miss him one bit. But still, I feel somewhat responsible.”

“How so?”

Okay, moment of truth. “Well, I’ve been fantasizing about his demise for quite a while now.”

“Well, you must realize that a lot of people dream about their enemies being punished in one form of another. While not exactly healthy, it’s not really unusual either. It’s human nature.”

“Yes, but…Well, last night, as I went to sleep, the last thoughts that ran through my head were of Terry drowning.”

“And he was found in the lake…”

“Yeah. I mean, I know how crazy it sounds but, come on, I used to talk to dead people. Leaping to wild conclusions, such as me actually being responsible isn’t all that crazy by comparison.” He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe it is and, deep down, I realize that, and I know I’m not responsible, but, well, I just feel like I am.”

“The fact that you’re not indulging in this delusion is good enough for me, Hudson. And the fact that you actually sought me out to talk about it is very encouraging. You’re not bottling things up, the way you used to when you thought your mom betrayed you for getting you help after your father’s death. As for Terry’s death, considering the impact he’s had on your life, it’s only natural for his death to also affect you. Again, I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to talk about it. I think what we need to do now is discuss Terry and his interaction with you. Vent, as it were.”

Oh, boy, did I ever vent. I called Terry every mean name in the book, plus a few the Webster people missed. Then we moved onto the whole gay thing.

“I’ve known about you for quite a while, Hudson.”

“Huh?”

“Well, sometimes, you pace around my room when we talk and whenever you do, you always stop to look at the picture of my son on top of my desk.” I turned crimson and started to stammer, so the Doc started laughing. Are shrinks supposed to laugh at their patients? Isn’t that counter-productive? “Oh, don’t worry. He is quite handsome, but he’s 5 years older than you. And straight.”

“Yes, well…”

“Don’t worry about it. But, tell me, will you tell your mother?”

“I don’t know. I know she’ll be okay with it, but I’m still anxious. Maybe letting her find out from her friends won’t be so bad.” I proceeded to fill him in on the whole thing.

“But even if she is okay with it, finding out from a third party won’t be good. She may feel hurt, because you trusted pretty much everyone else except for her.”

“But I didn’t! If it weren’t for my stupid sister…”

“Well, that’s beside the point now. The fact is that your mother is bound to find out about it and I’d like you to avoid an argument. If she were to confront you about it, you’d get defensive.”

“What? I would NOT! I’d no such thing. Why are you saying that?”

Again with the raised eyebrow. “Okay, okay, maybe you have a point.” I continued.

“Well, at the end of the day, it’s up to you, Hudson. Do what you think is right. And if you need anything, call me, okay?”

And that was that. All in all, a waste of time and money.

I went back home and found it deserted. So, even if I did want to talk to my mom, she wasn’t there. I debated the possibility of doing it via text messaging. I immediately pictured her response. “LOL WUT?!” I shook my head in frustration. A letter? “Dear mom, I’m a poofter. Love, your gay son.” It had its merits. Then I tried to think outside the box. My mom was an art teacher, maybe she’d appreciate some type of presentation involving some kind of art work. I suppose I could do a clay penis or something. Maybe paint a closet with a hand trying to come out? Too metaphorical, I decided.

I tried to call Sharon for advice, but apparently she wasn’t quite ready to deal with her lunatic friend, so I just gave up and tried to relax. So, I went on the Internet, in search for porn. What? Exactly what do YOU do in order to relax? A couple of hours and a box of tissues later, I heard the front door slam. Fern.

She ran upstairs and burst into my room. “Hey, queer. You gonna tell mom? She’s gonna be home from shopping soon and time will be slowly ticking away.”

“Thanks for reminding me. Fern, why did you have to tell everyone?” I whined. “Do you really hate me that much?”

She considered my question and, for once, decided to answer me in a serious manner. “Hudson, you’re my brother. I love making you miserable, because I’m a bitch. But I love you and I’d never do anything to hurt you. If I thought for even a second that people finding out would be bad, I wouldn’t have said anything. But everyone’s been okay with it and so will mom. You just need to grow a pair and tell her!”

“You already saw my pair this morning.” I said, and we both started laughing. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but I still wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear. My sister may be a bitch, but she’s my bitch. She’d make one hell of a fag hag.

When my sister left me alone, I went back to the book I had abandoned the previous day and decided to wait until after dinner to talk to mom. That way, she and Trevor could enjoy a nice meal, without this hanging over our heads.

Soon enough, the door bell rang and I realized it was 7 PM. That must be Trevor. I decided to be fashionably late in meeting him, so I showered and changed into a pair of khaki cargos and a snug black t-shirt, then finally descended the stairs and went into the living room, where my mom was engaged in conversation with a middle-aged guy. Even sitting, he appeared to be huge, definitely over 6’5” and broad shoulders. His hairline was receding and what he had left was turning gray, but it somehow suited him fine. He had high cheekbones and a thick nose and his skin was wrinkled at the corner of his eyes and mouth. He definitely seemed to be a guy who smiled a lot. And he had kind, brown eyes. I decided my mom could definitely do worst.

My sister was lounging on the couch, staring at the TV, obviously not interested in the conversation.

Trevor noticed me and stood up, extending his paw for a handshake. He almost pulled my arm out of its socket. Damn, I definitely needed to see this guy arm-wrestle Mr. Ferguson. Or Mrs. Ferguson. Or Sharon…

“Ah, Hudson, I presume?”

“I prefer Xander.”

“Tough luck. Your first name’s Hudson.” My mom cut in. “Hudson, this is Trevor.” She went on.

“Charmed.” I replied, rubbing my aching arm.

A few minutes of meaningless chit-chat later, we moved into the dining room, where we sat for dinner. Coq au vin. I was thinking that the coq part was definitely a sign I should talk to my mom. Little did I know that my sister interpreted it as such as well.

When we had finished, my mom and Trevor settled down with a cup of coffee each.

“Kids, you should eat some fruit.” My mom said. That was her idea of desert. Fruit, for cryin’ out loud! I wanted ice-cream!

I sighed. “Yes, I suppose I could go for a banana.” I said.

“I bet you would.” My sister said, the double-entendre obvious. To me, at least. I shot her a murderous look. I was thinking that if I did posses psychic killing abilities, now would be a good time for them to kick in. Naturally, nothing happened, so I started on my banana, while mom and Trevor sipped their coffee.

Apparently, my sister was back to being full-on bitch, so she decided to make things interesting.

“Mom, guess what? Hudson likes cock!”

I chocked on the banana, while Trevor spat out his coffee. My mom continued to sip her carefully, then put the cup down and stared at my sister. “Grounded for a week, I think.” She told Fern.

“What? Why?” my sister replied.

“Because whether or not your brother finds penises more appealing than vaginas – God knows I don’t blame him, vaginas are scary – it is not your place to tell. Certainly not while entertaining company and using such language.”

I was dumbstruck. “Err…So, I suppose you’re okay with me being gay, then?” I asked.

“Well, of course, dear. I already knew, I was just waiting for you to tell me. I’ve read your diary half a year ago.”

“JOURNAL! And do I have no privacy?”

My mom shrugged and went back to drinking her coffee, my sister fuming and Trevor fidgeting nervously in his seat, glancing from me to my mom. Finally, he gathered up the courage to speak.

“Umm, I don’t understand, about homosexuality, I mean. I don’t understand why one would want to have sex with a man.”

“Quite.” My mom said, staring at him. Uh-oh. Guess that meant Trevor wouldn’t be getting lucky. He clamped his mouth shut.

“Well, as entertainingly awkward as this has been, I think I’d best retire for the night.” I said, before scampering off to my room. Lying on my bed, I realized things had gone pretty damn well. All that worrying for nothing. I started giggling. My mom was awesome!

I played around on my computer for a while longer and then went to bed. In the morning, I felt a warmth wash over me, like a soothing presence. I smiled and felt content. I reached down, saying hello to my morning woody. Then the warmth turned to terrible coldness and someone yelled at me.

“Stop yanking and start yakking!” My eyes flew open. I recognized that voice. “Mind telling me exactly why the fuck I’m dead, dipshit?” Terry asked me, standing at the foot of my bed, his eyes cold. Then I fainted again, like a little bitch.