My Deathbed (Chapter 7 / 8)
Part 1: dpracket.livejournal.com/11215.html
Part 2: dpracket.livejournal.com/11658.html
Part 3: dpracket.livejournal.com/11434.html
Part 4: dpracket.livejournal.com/12222.html (this was my favorite part)
Part 5: dpracket.livejournal.com/12393.html
Part 6: dpracket.livejournal.com/13675.html
And Part SEVEN: dpracket.livejournal.com/14025.html
I want to thank PLAYINGWITHCAKE for the inspiration in the very last scene of this chapter? Who's saying what to who? I don't know. It can be up to the reader to decide whatever works best for them. :)
Reid and John sat on the back patio, playing a game of chess after dinner. The evening sun gave both men a healthy glow.
"So, Dad..." Reid began. "Luke and I put an offer on a house in Braintree on Tuesday. Our realtors have gone back and forth a few times, but it looks like it's going to work out."
"BRAINtree...of course..." John laughed. "You want to stay in Mass, eh?"
"Yeah, that last trip back to Oakdale kind of sealed the deal. Lucinda's all settled back in, and we thought that maybe we'd move into her cottage for awhile, but being back in Oakdale...I don't know...it didn't feel like home to either one of us, and that's saying a lot for Luke. He never thought he'd leave."
"There are people you both miss though."
"True, but Dad, it's been almost two years now since the accident. We're at home here. Things are going good for Luke running the foundation from here, and Mass General has been very good to me with the consulting job; lots of people there want to see me back in the operating room eventually. And then the grant that I got from UMass for that study...things are good."
John smiled. "What's the house like?"
"It's a 3-bedroom with a finished basement. It was built in the 50s, so there's a lot of solid wood. It's completely updated though. It has both formals. Breakfast area. MEDIA ROOM in the basement! You'll have to come over on Sundays to watch the Pats play."
"Big yard?"
"Not too big...maybe half an acre, but it backs up to the woods, and the realtor said there's a small lake back there."
"That'll be great for my future Cambodian or Korean grandchildren." John tapped the chess board. "Your move."
Reid moved his Bishop. "Dad...cut it out..."
"When can we see the place?"
"Well, let's make sure they accept our offer first. If it doesn't go through we'll look elsewhere. It's time for us to be in our own space."
"I know. I'm actually surprised it's taken you this long. It's no secret you hated me when you first moved in here. No one is more suprised than me that you stuck around for so long."
"I didn't hate you." Reid gave his father a serious look.
"Don't lie. You had reason to hate me."
"Dad, stop. Don't. It's done. Water under the bridge. Whatever happend with us prior to Sept. of 2010, it doesn't matter. It's weird...it's like there was that life before the accident, and there's my life now, and those two worlds are drastically different, where I don't even recognize who I was before the accident. I mean, I thought medical school was hard, but it was nothing compared to learning how to walk, learning to need people...learning to forgive. Dad, it's done. I've let it go. Forgive yourself. Life is too short to hold onto that shit."
John just nodded. "Your move...again." His voice cracked. "Pay attention."
Reid studied the board.
"So, you and Luke are buying a house...you do know gay marriage is legal here, right?"
Reid let out a breath and ran his hand over his face. He stood up, leaned over the chess board, and kissed John on the cheek.
"Boy, what the hell was that for?" John laughed, wiping his cheek.
Reid moved. "Check...and mate. You know, they're going to make you turn in your Republican card if you keep on like that."
"Never! The damn liberal yahoos in this state will have to pry it from my cold, dead hands" John laughed. "Damn, you beat me again."
Reid was laughing along with him. "Hey, Dad..."
"What?" John said, wiping at his tears of laughter.
"Look at me."
"What?" John repeated, looking at Reid.
"I love you."
John stopped laughing and cleared his throat. He nodded. "C'mon, set the board back up. We have time for one more game..."
**********************************************************
"C'mon, gimpy, get a move on," Luke joked as he walked ahead of Reid in the deparment store. Reid muttered obscenities under his breath and intentionally slowed down.
When Luke realized Reid wasn't directly behind him, he walked back to Reid. "You really hate shopping with me, huh?"
"Not just with you; I hate it in general. Actually, no...I don't mind shopping when I can get in and get out, but you...and all of this browsing and going from store to freaking store looking at the same crap...ugh...on second thought, YES, I do hate shopping with you."
"But don't you want to make decisions about the decorating of *our* house? Our house, Reid. Ours. Five days from now, we'll be sleeping under our own roof." Luke was practically floating.
"No, Luke...really, I don't care. As long as there is a couch, a plasma screen, an extra large fridge, and a big ass bed for us to fuck each other in, I'm happy. Art and window treatments? Really, I don't care. You can pick it all."
"You trust me with it?"
"Yes, you can be the Queer Eye for this queer guy. My feng shui is in your hands."
"Okay, but wait until you see this bedding. It's going to go so well with the paint we picked out."
Reid put his arm around Luke's shoulders. "Can't wait...lead the way..." he moaned, rolling his eyes.
*******************************************************
"Dr. Oliver?"
"Hey there, Mark. How are you?"
"Good..." the 12-year-old boy, replied, his eyes down.
"You're not due for your allergy shot for another two weeks, so don't look so sad," Reid said, tapping the boy on the chin, "Two weeks from now though...look out, Dr. Evil is coming your way with the biggest needle he can find." Reid smiled and held his hands up like a monster. He knew he could joke with Mark about needles because Mark took his shots like a man. Reid liked Mark as far as kids went. He was matter-of-fact and always got Reid's sarcasm.
"You don't scare me," Mark laughed, but then his face turned serious again.
"What's up, Mark?" Reid asked.
"Nothin'...you need any help in here?"
Reid looked around the room, looking for something for the kid to do. "Ah, look. This jar is almost out of tongue depressors. Here..." Reid reached under the cabinet and pulled out a box of 1,000 wooden tongue depressors. "You can refill the jar, and then you can do the same with the cotton balls, but first you have to wash your hands, WITH SOAP...you small humans always forget the soap, and then you can put on some latex gloves."
"Cool!" Mark exclaimed as he walked to the sink. He washed his hands, and Reid helped him get the gloves on properly. Mark set about refilling the jar, while Reid filled out paper work on the counter next to him.
Reid and Luke had been volunteering at the group home two Saturdays a month for the past five months. Luke's foundation had been providing partial funding for the group home for a few months more than that, and when Luke asked Reid if he would visit the home every other week to provide medical care for the kids who needed it, he had reluctantly agreed...like he really wanted to spend his Saturdays wiping snotty noses that belonged to even snottier kids. As it turned out, Reid enjoyed it most Saturdays. Once he was done with checkups, and telling kids to suck it up about their minor cuts and bruises, he had a couple of good sports who he was teaching the game of chess to and who didn't mind losing to him. He didn't believe in letting anyone win. Mark was one of those kids. He was a smart kid and had caught on quickly.
"Dr. Evil?"
"Yes, Mark?"
"Mr. Snyder's nice. He came to my school on Monday to see my presentation in history class."
"Yes, I know...he told me. He said that it was very good. Did you get a grade yet?"
"I got a 97 on it."
"Fantastic. I'd high five you, but I don't want to contaminate your gloves."
"You're funny," Mark laughed.
"I'm dead serious, Mark-O."
"Whatever..."
Mark continued to work.
"Doc?"
"Yes? again..."
"Are you friends with Mr. Snyder...I mean, outside of work?"
"Uhhhh...ya know...yeah, we're friends. You could say that. And this isn't work. My real job is at Massachusetts General Hospital."
"What do you do there?"
"I clean the toilets."
"Dr. Oliver! Nuh-uh...you're a doctor! But what do you do?"
"Well, right now I consult on neurological cases...that means patients who have things wrong with their brains...with the way their brain talks to the rest of their body."
"What do you mean by consult?"
"It means giving my opinion, explaining things...deciding things with the other surgeons."
"You're a brain surgeon?"
"I am. Well...I used to be. I got in an accident a couple of years ago and fu...injured my brain." Mark gave him a surprised look. "Yeah, I know...the irony, right?"
"Mrs. Templeton taught us that word in English. Irony."
"Good. So, you get the irony in my situation then?"
"Yeah. Is that why you kinda limp?"
"Yes, it is. And that's why I have this thing." Reid tapped his hearing aid. "And well, when you have that kind of injury, it takes a long time to heal. It's been over a year since I woke up, and I still haven't been cleared for surgery yet."
"Woke up?" Mark looked confused.
"I was in a coma for over seven months."
"Holy shit! I mean...uh...holy cow."
"I have no aversion to cuss words, Mark. They're just words. And sometimes they're really fucking good at getting your point across." He smiled slyly and Mark's eyes got big. "But watch yourself around counselor Smith. She doesn't tolerate it, even from me." Reid rolled his eyes. "And don't curse at school because you'll get in trouble. And don't tell Mr. Snyder I cursed in front of you, 'kay?"
"Okay...So, is your brain okay now?"
"For the most part. But, look, Mark..your brain is very important. You have to protect it. Do you wear a helmet on your bike and skateboard?"
"Yes. I don't have a skateboard, but I wear one on my bike."
"Always?"
"Yesssssss, Dr. Oliver!"
"I'd make you pinky swear with me, but I don't want to contaminate your hands."
Mark laughed. "You're weird."
"So are you."
"So, will you get to operate again, someday?"
"I hope so. That's the plan. I'm hopefully going to be scrubbing in and assisting in the next few months, and my goal is to be cracking open my own skulls again by next year sometime."
Mark stopped working and picked at the latex on his opposite hand.
"Dr. Oliver?
"Yes, Mark..."
"Is Mr. Snyder your boyfriend?"
Reid stopped writing and answered without looking at Mark. "Yes, he is. How did you figure that one out?"
"I don't know...you just...I don't know..."
"Well, it's not a secret, so don't get all weird about it."
Mark was quiet for a few mintues and watched Reid writing in another chart.
Reid looked at Mark. "Are you okay?"
Mark nodded but didn't look up. "So, you're...like...gay?"
Reid sighed, not really sure this was a conversation he wanted to have with a kid, but there was really only one way for him to answer. "Yes. I am."
Mark looked up at him, and Reid was shocked to see tears forming in the boy's eyes. "How did you know?"
Shit. "Hey, Mark-O, wanna know the best thing about being a doctor?"
"What?" Mark said, blinking rapidly.
"The balloons." He pulled Mark's glove off his right hand and blew into it and tied it off.
Mark laughed and followed suit with the other glove. "Cool."
******************************************************
"I don't want to be a gay mentor, Luke..." Reid was lying in bed, his head propped up on his elbow and hand, watching Luke brush his teeth. "I'm not an activist. I don't feel like being gay is my plight. It's just part of me. Honestly, I don't even think about it until someone points it out."
"Reid..." Luke spit in the sink.
"No! Rainbow flags? Parades? No. I have no problem with pride...got plenty of it, but gay pride specifically? I don't feel any pride in it because it's not something I chose. It just is. I don't know how to talk to this kid about it."
"He trusts you, Reid, and believe me the kid has trust issues."
"Yeah, he got dealt a lousy fucking hand. Father molests him, mother goes to prison for drug dealing, grandmother offs herself. What a bunch of scumbags. It's amazing that he's even functioning."
"All the more reason to help him, Reid. He needs someone he can talk to. He's confused. He clearly wants to talk about it because he brought it up with you, and he admitted it to his counselor. Don't you remember how hard it was? Feeling like a freak? Wondering why you couldn't just will yourself to be like other boys?"
"Don't get me wrong, I like the kid, but Luke, you know me. I don't talk, especially not about feelings. Ugh. And, yes, I do remember all that shit. And I didn't have anyone to talk to...and look, I still turned into the brilliant, socially well-adjust individual you see standing (laying) before you today."
Luke scoffed. "Yeah, and it only took an 18-wheeler almost annihilating you to get you to this point. And socially well-adjusted is not a way I would ever describe you, by the way."
Reid sighed and rolled over toward Luke as Luke slid into bed. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. "So, see...why the hell would you want my screwed up ass talking to him? Why can't you talk to him? You've had the gay experience. And you're good at feelings. You do it."
Luke ran his fingers through Reid's hair. "I've tried. You're the one he wants to talk to. He got pissed off at his counselor a couple of days ago, pushed over a chair, and told him that he didn't get it. Then he specifically asked for you. He looks up to you. He's almost 13. You know the statistics for gay teen suicide. Both of his parents are drug addicts. He's got a lot stacked against him. But he's sweet, and he's smart, and he's intuitive. You have the chance to help him capitalize on those great qualities. I can't believe you're even having to contemplate it!"
"Why would he want to talk to me? He already knows I"m not very compassionate."
"Reid, you're ridiculous. You don't even know how damn compassionate you are. You put up a hard front, but you and I both know you feel a lot. There are certain types of people who are lucky enough to fight through your walls of obnoxiousness and GET you. Mark is one of them. He thinks you're funny. He told me that. And I've seen him around you. Everyone else is standing around with their mouths agape at your rudeness, and he's sitting nearby with a smirk on his face."
"He's clearly a bad judge of character..."
"Reid, stop. I'm being serious. All I'm asking is that you take him out for ice cream or whatever one day a week...food, Reid...food...and just talk about whatever it is that he wants to talk about, whether it's football or algebra or the fact that he's gay and doesn't know what the hell to do with that. Be someone who builds him up when everything else in his life keeps tearing him down. You'll be his big brother of sorts."
Reid rolled his eyes. "I'll be his big, gay brother..."
"Show him what it takes to be a confident, successful, happy gay man."
"Happy and gay. That's redundant, Snyder." He kissed Luke's neck.
"Shut up, please. The very least you can do is help him adopt your I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude, so that he can call upon that resource the first time someone calls him a fag."
"Yeah..." Reid rubbed his eyes, "I'll give him a few choice words he can give them in return."
"You'll do it?" Luke smiled and kissed Reid's shoulder.
"Yeah, OK. I'll hang out with him. But I'm not hugging the kid, and if he starts crying, I'm calling you. I can't handle tears."
************************************************
They relaxed on the couch in front of the fireplace. Luke had his back in the corner of the couch, his legs stretched out on the cushions, and Reid leaned back against him, the back of his head resting on Luke's bare shoulder, his eyes closed. The fingers of their left hands were intertwined. Luke's right hand caressed Reid's chest in slow strokes.
"I love our house."
"Me too."
"I love our life."
"Me too."
"I love our stupid dog."
"Me too."
"You wanna get married?"
"Yes."
"Me too."