I pulled my jacket closer around me and blew on my hands for warmth, while Dane and my mother raked leaves into a big pile in the front yard. I could hear her teasing him and his answering laugh, and at that moment I was very content, and very grateful for the bond that my boy and my mother had with each other.
As I watched him pick up a handful of gold, red and brown leaves and drop them on top of her head, I thought about what an amazing person my mother really was.
I had friends who had horror tales about when they came out to their families, but luckily I had no horror stories to share. My mother, Jenna, was the boss in our family, always had been, and when she told my father he had to accept the fact that I was gay, he listened.
But what was really amazing about the lady who was frolicking in the leaves with my baby boy, was that she seemed to instinctively understand Dane. She also accepted whatever it was we had together, although she never put a name to it. I had never had to explain anything, and frankly Dane didn't want me talking about the particulars with anyone, and I had to respect that. it wouldn't have mattered to me if people knew, but then maybe that was because I was much older than Dane, and really was past the point of caring as much what people thought of how I lived my life.
I got a piece of chewing gum from my pocket and unwrapping it, stuffed it into my mouth then grinned as Dane took a flying leap into the pile of leaves that they had just raked.
I looked at mom to see if she thought he was as cute as I did, and I saw her put her hand to her chest. In another few seconds she had fallen to her knees. I heard Dane shriek as I got up and hurried out to her. "Call 911," I ordered Dane as I helped her to lie on the grass. She was panting, and still clutching at her breast as I cradled her head on my lap.
Dane practically flew toward the house, and when I heard the screen door slam, I tried my best to soothe her. "Help is on the way, Mama," I said reverting to what I had called her when I was very small. "You're going to be all right." I don't know if she heard me or not, because she lost consciousness around that time.
Dane ran back out and knelt down beside both of us. "They're on the way, Max. Is she still breathing?"
I nodded. "Yes, she's still breathing. Everything's going to be OK," I said numbly as I held my mother's limp body in my arms.
Relief rushed through me as I heard the wail of a siren in the distance
My mouth was dry and my heart thudded sickeningly the whole way to the hospital. I held her clammy hand in mine and searched her face as the paramedics worked around me. "I love you so much, Mom," I whispered to her. She was not conscious so I know she couldn't hear me.
In the spaces between watching her for signs of responsiveness, I glanced at the paramedic to see if I could see anything in his demeanor that would let me know what I needed to know. He was perfectly professional and the blank expression on his face told me there was nothing to gauge there.
And of course I held tightly to Dane, murmuring reassurances that I didn't feel and keeping my free arm around him the whole way.
When I looked into his face, it was pale and washed out, and I wondered if he was remembering his own mother's illness when he was a boy, or whether the shocked look on his face was because he was afraid of losing one of his very few friends in this world. I suspected it was both.
Even through my own terror and fear, having him next to me was a comfort. I squeezed him tight as the siren wailed, and his returning squeeze gave me strength.
He was beside me in a flash and bent over and kissed my cheek. "Max, she's going to be all right. I can just feel it."
I smiled as he sat down beside me, remembering him jumping in the leaves and my mother's pleasure as they had played together. It didn't really seem possible that it had been only a few hours before. "I need to tell her some things. I hope I get to do that," I told him.
He put his arm around me then, and it was the same comforting gesture I always used with him when he was having a hard time. I felt a lump forming in my throat.
"Max, I know these kind of things. I have feelings about things and it my sound lame to you, but I know Jenna's going to be OK.
I looked into his peaked face and he nodded sagely. "I promise."
"Do you know how much I love you, Monkey?" I asked, barely above a whisper and then forced a a smile for him.
He returned the smile and then rested his head on my shoulder. "Prolly as much as I love you," he murmured.
It was much later when the doctor entered the room and walked over to us, I searched his face, and I thought that he didn't carry that look of relief that physicians give off when everything is OK. I reached for Dane's hand and then started to stand up, but the doctor signaled for me to stay seated
"Mr Robbins, your mother has had a massive heart attack," he began. "She's still unconscious but we have her stabilized for now."
I nodded, tendrils of terror gripping my gut. "OK," I managed.
The doctor nodded and then continued. "We're going to need to take her to surgery as soon as possible, and she may have to have a bypass. We won't know the extent of the damage to her heart or what we need to do until we operate. We will need for you to sign some papers to allow us to operate and I need you to discuss the risks of the surgery before you do that."
I nodded, and then looked at Dane. He nodded steadily back at me.
I cleared my throat. "Can I see her before she goes into surgery?"
"Of Course," the ER doctor replied. "We've notified your father and he's on his way. We do need to get her into surgery quickly though, so I'll go get the papers and we'll go over them."
I pressed my lips together, hoping my father would arrive soon. "Of course," I finally said.
When I felt his body shaking, it was as if I remembered my responsibility to him for the first time in hours, and a sudden feeling of stength coursed through me. I couldn't tell if it came from him or from deep within myself, but, suddenly my mind was very clear. "Come on baby, stop trembling," I murmered as I held him tight. "She's going to be all right."
He laughed a little, a very small laugh. "I already told you that, Max. What are you deaf or something?" His attempt at banter made me smile and I slapped his bottom lightly and discreetly.
"Watch it, mister!"
"Ouch," he said and then looked deeply into my eyes. "She's going to be OK, Max. Don't worry."
"All right" I said I looked back into the soft darkness of his eyes.
"Let's go to the snack bar and have a little dinner," I said as I took him by the arm. "No arguments."
"Who's arguing?" he retorted. "Geeze Max, you're so weird sometimes."
I was tempted to swat him again but a nurse was passing by in the corridor, so I contained myself. Instead I pulled him along by the arm, whispering dire threats in his ear the whole way, while he laughed.
It was a nice break from the grimness of the situation, and for a little while, as we ate hamburgers and cokes in the snack bar, I could almost forget that my mother was in the operating room and that there was a chance she wouldn't come out of there alive.
My father joined us just as we were finishing our meal, and he looked old and ashen as he sat down beside me. I felt a twinge of grief at seeing him looking so frail. I told him what the doctor said and then got up to get him a cup a coffee.
When I returned to the table Dane wasn't there. "Dad, where's Dane?" I asked, feeling a little disoriented.
"He left a couple of minutes ago; he should be back soon" he replied as he took the Styrofoam cup from me.
"I'll be right back," I said over my shoulder as I rushed toward the door, chiding myself for not looking out for Dane's needs more, even in the midst of my own fear. He was much younger than me and more emotionally fragile. He needed me to look out for him all of the time, and not just when it was convenient for me to do so. As I strode down the hallway, looking in every room I passed, I remembered him telling me about the neglect he had suffered as a child during him mother's illness and death, and about the burdens he--at nine years old--had been forced to shoulder. They were horrible stories, and ones that haunted me late at night sometimes. He had had to endure much, and had lost his childhood along the way, and there were two pale scars running vertically up his wrists that attested to that lost childhood. Scars that only I and his drunk of a father knew about. I had vowed to protect him, to care for him, and to do whatever I had to do for him to feel what it was like to be protected and loved, something he had rarely experienced. And now tonight he had someone else close to him get sick. Even though he had seemed all right, and had seemed to be strong, what if it had been too much like his experience when he was a child. What if-
I quickened my pace even more and just as I was rounding a corner, I saw him, sauntering towards me. Relief filled me as I rushed over to him. "Where were you?" I demanded, my relief turning to anger as I roughly grabbed his arm.
He grimaced at my strong hold, then looked at me with obvious confusion. "I just went to the bathroom, Max. I told your father I was going."
Then his cheeks became splotched with color and his face crumpled, and I could see the sudden shine of tears in his eyes.
"Why are getting mad at me? I'm trying to be good, and I'm trying to help, but this is hard for me too! Jenna's my friend! You dick!" he choked out.
He turned his face away after the outburst as if he didn't want me to see him break down, but I could see his shoulders heaving, and I felt remorse. "I'm so sorry, baby. Dad didn't say you told him where you were going and I was really worried about you."
I tried to gently turn him toward me, but he resisted. "I don't know what I would have done without you being with me tonight Dane. You've been so strong and helpful and I will always remember that and admire you for it," I told him. "I'm so proud that you're my boy," I said, trying to gently remind him that I was still in control and that our places in the relationship were still intact, even though our world seemed to be collapsing in on us. "I know mom will be so proud of you too."
He sniffled and then turned around. When he did I wrapped him in a bear hug. He struggled slightly and then relaxed against me. "You should get at mad at your dad, 'cause I told him where I was going," he said sulkily as he nudged his chin against my shoulder.
I laughed a little. "Well, it's possible he could still tan my butt, just like he did when I was in college, so I don't think I'll chance it."
He chuckled. "He spanked you when you were in college? I'd like to have seen that!" he said a little too enthusiastically.
"Yes, he did once," I said feeling a little bit of resentment as the old memory emerged. And yes,I'll bet you would've liked to have seen it, but the fact is I don't want a repeat performance," I retorted as I gave him a squeeze and released him. "Now let's go back and sit with him so he doesn't have to be alone right now."
He agreed and as we walked back to the snack bar I glanced for the thousanth time that night at my watch. Mother had been in the O.R. for two hours. I sent a little prayer up into the sky, hoping that whatever Powers That Be could hear it.
Both Dane and I wanted to stay with her in the ICU, but Dad insisted we go home and rest a little. "You both look like hell," he said in his usual blunt way. "Go home and I'll call if there's any change. Tomorrow you can stay with her.
I was reluctant to leave, but a glance at Dane told me that he was absolutely exhausted. I agreed and after calling a Taxi, kissing my mother, and hugging my dad, Dane and I headed home.
He continued to try to escape from me, grunting and squirming, but I held on tight. "Do you need a spank to help you calm down?" I panted out threateningly, my own exhaustion taking it's toll on me and causing the muscles in my arms to tremble.
"Yes!" he spat out, while still trying to get away.
Surprised at his response, I tried to turn him so I could aim a whack at his behind but he was fighting me every step of the way. I finally had to whap the front of his thigh, instead, and the single muffled spank seemed to bring him to his senses, for he stopped moving immediately.
"Everything is OK, Dane. I've got you." I basically repeated my earlier words to him, but this time he seemed to hear them.
All the tension in his muscles relaxed, making him seem almost boneless, as he lay back against me, crying.
"Yes," I crooned into the back of his hair, as I rubbed at the front of his jeaned thigh where I had just hit him. "Let me prepare you a nice warm bath, and then we'll play video games for a while. How does that sound?"
He continued to sob, and I so waited while he released some tension.
"My dad never took care of me," he choked out, and I knew then that my mother's illness reminded him of his own mother's and the way his father had bailed.
"I know it," I said softly.
He whispered something I couldn't understand, then continued to cry.
"What did you say, monkey?"
"I never let him see me cry." There was real bitterness in the words.
"Mmmm," I murmured non-commitally, not wanting to say what I really thought about his old man.
"It wouldn't have mattered to him anyway," he said and I could tell at that point he was trying to pull himself together.
"Well, it matters to me," I said as I gave him a little shake while he lay against me.
He turned his head and gave me a watery smile. "Jenna will be all right, Max," he said between sniffles. "I wouldn't tell you that if it weren't true."
"I believe you," I said lightly, and then a sense of peace filled my entire being, as I started to truly believe what he said. I could see in his velvety eyes that he believed, and I so desperately needed his belief that I borrowed some of it.
I furrowed my brows. "You have a special way of knowing things like this, huh?"
"Yes Max, and I wouldn't say it if it weren't the truth." His dark eyes looked steadily into mine, and then he came nearer and kissed my mouth. His kiss was sweet and warm, just as it always was, but it was more tender than usual, and less desirous and desperate. I closed my eyes and we lay together for a while, clinging to each other for comfort.
We slept for hours on the couch, and when I woke up, the first rays of light were making their way through the curtains.
I gently untangled myself from Dane's warm body and quietly went to the phone to call the hospital. Mom's condition was stable but unchanged. I clicked off the phone, then went over to Dane to wake him. I could see he was frowning in his sleep, so I very gently patted his shoulder until his eyes eyes opened.
"What's going on? Did something happen?" he demanded as he got up and rubbed at his eyes.
"It's OK, Dane. It's just time to get up. I called and there's been no change since last night."
"OK, good," he mumbled sleepily and then stumbled off to the bathroom.
It took me about thirty minutes of his tight-lipped silence while we ate for me to figure out that it had been a huge mistake to just collapse onto the sofa last night. With everything so out-of-control, he needed something to count on at home. I looked over at his drawn features and unusually pale complexion, and I knew that it was my job to make sure that things were as normal and structured during the time of crisis.
I shook my head at my own stupidity. It wasn't like we had just started loving each other, we had been together for over two years, and yet, sometimes I didn't seem to grasp the most obvious and basic things.
"Bath time," I said cheerfully as we were carrying our plates to the dishwasher. "You go ahead and take one, and then we'll play video games for a few minutes before we head back to the hospital.
He looked at me like I had lost my mind. "No, we need to get back there, Max. There's no time to play right now."
His dark eyes stared steadily into mine, making me feel like an irresponsible child for some reason, and I cleared my throat and forced myself to gaze back just as steadily.
"All right listen," I said gruffly. "My dad is watching her, and I talked with him earlier and told him when we'd be there to take over the shift. So, I've handled everything, and you have time for a nice bath and then we'll play a game for a few minutes. Does that make sense?"
He continued looking at me and I could see the signs of mutiny in his clenched fists and drawn brows. I took a step closer to him. "I said, I'm handling things, Monkey. Now go take your bath."
"Yeah, but what if-"
"I'm handling it. Go take your bath," I interrupted.
He stood there stubbornly, glaring at me. "Max, I don't think-"
I interrupted again, calmly but firmly. "You don't need to think. Just do as I say, and everything will be just fine. I'm handling things, and it's bath time. Do you need any help getting into the tub?" I raised an eyebrow questioningly at him as I asked that last question.
"Fucking unbelievable!" he spat out. "I'm not going to take a bath, Max, and you can't make me!" he practically shrieked.
I wasn't particularly surprised at the challenge, and I wasn't particularly thrilled about the prospect of proving him wrong.
"Yes,I can." I set my jaw as I stepped forward to go through the dance of control that I had thought I had forgotten the steps of, and found that the movements were as familiar as ever.
His body jerked at my touch and as he tried to reel away, I moved with him, not against him, taking firm hold of him while he pulled and writhed. And even as we struggled, I could feel the power moving between us and through us while we continued our strange fandango across the kitchen and through the hallway.
We ended up at the bathroom door, both of us panting and out of breath, and my arms wrapped firmly around his ribcage while I stood behind him. "I guess I'm going to have to undress you and put you in the tub too," I husked out, my mouth only inches from his ear. "That's OK, I can do that. It's no problem."
As my fingers fumbled at his shirt, I felt his body relax in my grasp. "No, Max, you don't have to do that. I'll do it myself." he said quietly.
I stopped immediately and released my grip on him. "That's a good boy," I whispered gently. "We still have an hour to spare, so take your time."
He was pulling his shirt over his head when I said that, and as his head emerged, ebony hair tousled and sticking up on end, he jerked around to face me and stuck his tongue out.
I laughed at the unexpected and childish gesture and in a minute his laughter joined mine.
I didn't relax, though, until he had undressed and was in the bath tub scrubbing himself with a washcloth. I gave him a smile as I tossed him some bubble bath, and then went into the living room to wait.
A little tired out, I sat down on the sofa and rubbed at my aching biceps then called the hospital to let my father know we would be there in a little more than an hour.
He sounded very tired, when he answered, and agreed to let me drive him over to our house when we arrived. He said Mom was still sleeping but that her vital signs were getting better, and that she was stable. As I talked with him, I began to feel more at ease about Mom, and my apprehension lifted somewhat.
After I hung up, I went directly to the bathroom to let Dane know that things seemed to be going well, and he looked at me with tear-filled eyes and smiled. "I knew she would get better," he said with obvious relief.
Dane seemed very content when he came out of the bath and into the living room where I was sitting a doing a crossword puzzle to pass the time; content and still nude. There was an almost smug surety in the sparkle of his eyes as he plopped his wet butt down on my lap. "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier, Max. I should've known better."
I tossed the crossword book and pencil down on the coffee table and then nodded at him soberly. "Yes, you should've," I replied as I wrapped my arms around his damp shoulders, noting the lack of remorse I heard in his voice. "By the way, there's this new invention called a towel. I heard it's a remarkable way to remove water from the skin."
He chuckled, and then shut me up by planting his lips on mine. A few minutes later I stopped his roving hands with my own and held them firmly while I spoke. "I think you need to unwind with the video game for a few minutes, because we will be at the hospital for a quite a while, so go get dressed" I ordered.
"God, Max, You're Such a control freak!" He exclaimed. Frowning a little because I'd interrupted things.
I laughed a little at his stating the obvious. "Just go do what I told you, mister."
"He looked at me seriously for a minute, making me a little uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze, and then suddenly quipped, "I think it bugs you when I'm in control, like I am right now," he said as he moved provocatively across my lap, grinning hugely.
I pinched his butt and then followed that with a quick spank. "Oh yeah? Well I think you try to use sex, quite often, to gain back control after I've shown you who's the boss around here. What do you think of that?"
He yelped at my assault on his posterior then looked thoughtfully into my face as he rubbed his rear. "Um, I think that we're both right and we're both wrong," he said with an impish smile.
"That doesn't make sense, and you're just stalling. Go get dressed so we can play a game before we go." I smiled as I pushed him gently from my lap. "It's for your own good," I added in my most authoritative tone.
He smiled and then headed for the door. "Playing a game for my own good," he said over his shoulder with a touch of wistfulness in his voice. "I like that."
Back at the hospital, he stayed very close to me, seeming to need reassurance of some kind as we walked back to Mom's room. he seemed almost hesitant to walk with me.
I wrapped my arm around his shoulder as we entered, and when I heard him gasp, I quickly looked over at the bed. I was a alarmed when I saw the resperator that was hooked up to her, and for a minute the metallic hum and click as the machine breathed for her was the only sound in the quiet room.
I let go of Dane and went over to my dad who was asleep in his chair and shook his shoulder gently but a little urgently. "Dad, Why is she on a respirator? I thought she was doing better?"
He looked up at me and I could see the lines of exhaustion on his weathered face. "An hour or so ago she had some trouble breathing and they decided to put her on that machine."
He sounded like he was in a daze, And I realized how utterly lost he must feel.
"You must be exhausted, Dad," I said, "Let me drive you home."
He smiled weakly and grunted a little as he got up from the chair. "I guess I'll have to do that," he said in what sounded like defeat.
I felt a light tap on my shoulder and I looked around to see Dane looking at me with wide, almost black eyes. I felt my heart pounding. "What is it?" I snapped, becoming suddenly terrified for no reason.
"Max, can I talk to you in the hall for a sec?"
I looked over at Dad who looked like he was about to collapse and then back at Dane. I nodded. "Yes."
After suggesting Dad sit back down for a minute, I followed Dane out. "OK, monkey, what is it?" I asked as I once more looked into his eyes, and saw the shine of tears in them.
"Max, I'm always going to be with you. You know that, right?" His voice was very gentle.
I turned my eyes from him, feeling afraid but not knowing why. I made my voice stern as I looked at the wall. "OK, mister, Dad needs a ride home and we need to drive him. We...don't have time for this."
I felt him take my hand, and I looked once more at him and snapped out impatiently, "Do you have something you need to say to me? if you do, just say it!"
"I think I let you down, Max...I shouldn't have promised that Jenna would be allright, but I really felt deep down that-"
I knew exactly what he trying to tell me. I wish I hadn't, but I did, and I pulled my hand from his in outrage. "There's no way you can know that," I practically barked at him. "So, just stop this, right now, or you're going to get a hard spanking.
His eyes widened even more and his mouth fell open. "What?"
"You heard me. Not another word. You're not a psychic, Dane, regardless of what you might think, and we have to use all our energy to help her get well. If you say one more negative thing, I'm going to blister you right here in this hallway!"
His face crumpled at my words. "Oh god, Max," he choked out and then turned away.
I started to put my hand on his shoulder but stopped myself. "Please go down and sit in the car. Dad and I will join you in a couple of minutes." My clinical tone was frightening even me, and so I could imagine how it must be affecting Dane. I couldn't control it though, I was too afraid at that moment.
He turned, and with a tear trickling down his cheek, tugged lightly at my shirt sleeve. "Max, can I please stay here? I promise I'll sit in the chair until you get back."
"No, you need to be with me," I responded impatiently. "We'll be back here within ten minutes."
"Umm...I think I should stay-"
I reached around him and swatted his rear, not even looking to see if anyone was in the hall, and he reeled back against the wall, looking at me like I was crazy.
"I told you that you need to be with me! I can't leave you alone. Did you not hear what I said, mister?" I demanded gruffly.
He looked at the floor and nodded his head.
I calmed myself a little, realizing that I was behaving irrationally, and purposefully allowing the dread I felt, to wash over and through me. In another moment the primal aspect of my terror had lessened, leaving me feeling more like my usual self. "Come on now, baby boy," I coaxed, "Dad is so tired. Let's get him home so he can have a break."
He paused, and in that moment of pause came a loud, long beep from my mother's room, and then came the call for a "code blue" over the hospital intercom.
The response was quick, and Dad was quickly pushed from the room, by a doctor, who brusquely told us to go to the waiting room, and then disappearing inside, closed the door behind him.
I took my eyes from the road and looked back at him for a second and then looked into the rear view mirror. "Dane, are you OK?" I asked automatically.
"Yes, Max," came the muffled reply.
It began to rain, and I turned on the windshield wipers, letting the rhythmic sound lull me as I drove home.
Dad was settled onto the sofa and was sleeping fitfully while Dane trailed me around like a lost puppy. I felt like I was wrapped in a thick gray blanket of fog, and was not paying much attention to anything. I was walking around mindlessly straightening things, as if that would help something, when a vivid memory came to me.
Mom and I had been having lunch at a nearby Italian restaurant, about a year ago, and our discussion was lightly touching on different subjects. The family, Dad's golf game; just chatting basically. But then, she had looked seriously at me and said, "You know Maxwell, the true test of love is not when things are going well, because that's easy. You and Dane have a...special relationship, I can see that, but it's the same with any relationship. There will come a time when things are really rough, and I know you will be strong for him, because you have a stronger foundation to build upon. I am the one who must be strong for your father, because I have a more solid foundation to build on and it's the same with any couple. One has a more solid inner core than the other and must share that when times are bad."
I remembered at the the time being somewhat mystified by her words, but assuring her I would be strong if the time ever arose. It was at that lunch that I knew she understood more about us than I had thought she ever could. I also knew she wasn't saying Dane wasn't strong, or that my dad wasn't. It was more complicated than that, and I had instinctively understood that. My Dane was very strong in some ways, the kind of relationship we shared would have never worked if he wasn't a powerful person in his own right, but he didn't have the same foundation to work with that I had.
The memory jolted me out of my stupor, and I felt that I had remembered the lunch for a good reason.
Stopping my mindless wandering, I turned to see Dane a foot or so away from me. His eyes looked blank as he gazed at me, and I instinctively reached for him and held him close. "I'm sorry, baby." I said into his ear. "So sorry."
He began to sob convulsively as I held tight. "I'm the one who let you down, Max,I said Jenna would be OK and she wasn't. Why are you apologizing to me?" he finally choked out.
"You didn't let me down, angel. You told me something that you believed, that's all, and you helped me to believe for a while too. I had a little peace because of it, so I don't want you to think you let me down. You know, you're the dancing, laughing pixie, full of life and insight, and I am just the stubborn old hermit, who has lived in a cave for a long, long time. Every day you give me reason for hope, just by being you. Don't ever forget that, please."
I rubbed at his jeaned bottom, trying to erase the slap that I had unfairly delivered at the hospital. "You were just trying to prepare me and I hit you," I said with shame. "That's what I'm sorry for."
"Max, I understand. It's all right."
I held him out at arms length and gazed at him, thinking that in some ways he was stronger and more resilient than I, but also knowing it was time for me to step up to the plate for him.
I took his hand in mine and led him to the kitchen to make his favorite lunch of grilled cheese and hot chocolate. I was still in a haze as I cooked and we were both silent, except for the occasional sniffle.
We ate quietly, and I listened to the raindrops pattering on the roof as I tried to block out the reality of what had happened.
I looked over and saw Dane's lids drooping as he finished his mug of chocolate. "Come on, let's take a nap, monkey, you look like you can't hold your eyes open."
He folded his arms across his chest. "Make me," he said, sounding very apathetic.
"OK," I whispered, "no problem."
Grunting slightly, I lifted him and heaved him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then lugged him out of the kitchen, and past Dad who was was still asleep on the couch.
Once in our bedroom, I tossed him gently onto the mattress, and bending over him began to untie his shoelaces.
"I can do it," he said sounding impatient. "You're the one who needs looking after right now, Max"
"Shhh," I whispered as I continued to remove his shoes and then his socks, and then tossed them beside the bed.
He was watching me, his features strained with tension, while I slipped his shirt over his head, and he gasped slightly when I pushed him belly down onto the bed.
Grabbing a small bottle of cinnamon message oil from my bedside table, I warmed a little between my palms before rubbing it onto his tense back and shoulder muscles. Hearing him sigh, I massaged more deeply, losing myself in the feel of his skin and the spicy smell of oil that wafted up into my nostrils.
My mother was dead, and the part of me that was her boy was dying too. I thought about how people were always talking about when they really grew up, and I realized, as I looked down at her casket, that nobody can feel truly grown until they've lost one or both parents, because they are always a child in their parents eyes.
I had seen movies where people screamed and wailed and threw themselves on a loved one's coffin, but I never saw a movie where a son stood, dry-eyed, completely numb, exhausted to the bone, and without a scream to spare. That just wouldn't make a very good movie, I supposed.
Dane was sniffling, as he clutched my hand tightly, and I tried very hard not to remember the day that Mom had had the heart attack. Tried not remember the joy that had been on both their faces as they had played together in the leaves. It seemed like a million years ago, anyway.
"I love you," I whispered to him.
"I love you too," he whispered back, and then walked slowly up to the podium, pulled the few notes he had scribbled about Mom out of his shirt pocket, and then began, rather stiltingly, and softly, to talk about what his best friend had meant to him.
I shook my head in amazement at the love contained within the gesture, and even though the other folks in attendance didn't know how hard it was for him to talk to people or to even be around them, for any length of time, I knew, and my heart filled with pride as I listened to him.
The funeral lasted just over an hour, and then we drove my father home, since he stubbornly maintained that he didn't need to stay with us, and wanted to be where she had always been.
I watched him as he walked up to the empty house, his head held high even those his shoulders were drooping, and I finally understood the quiet strength he possessed.
"That could be one of us someday," Dane said softly as he climbed over the seat and settled beside me in front. "Why does life have to be like that, Max?"
"I don't know," I answered, not sure if his question was rhetorical or not.
I had promised Dane that things would be the same as far as the rules he had come to depend on, but one thing had changed: Neither of us wanted any physical discipline to be involved in our relationship for awhile. We were both too overcome by our grief to be able deal with that aspect; our bodies and minds were too overwhelmed at that point to be able to deal with the intensity of it and we both knew it. I knew some might say that it was at that point that keeping things the same was more important than ever, but we knew what was right for us.
Morning after morning, I would awaken to find Dane sitting in the window seat in our bedroom, gazing out at the bleak gray sky, and after weeks and weeks of it, I longed to wake up and find him jumping on the bed which was the unspoken code for when he wanted to be spanked in a playful way. I knew when that time came he would be ready to get back on our most intimate path together, and as much as I missed my mother, and as much as our lives had changed because of her death, I knew I would be ready too.
My eyes opened when I felt a tickling on my nose, and I tried to focus on the yellow shape wiggling in front of my eyes.
"What's going on?" I asked groggily, the confusion of sleep lingering.
Suddenly, Dane's face was inches from mine and I could see the sparkle in those rich eyes that I had almost forgotten. "It's Springtime Max. I got you this Daffodil from the backyard," he said as he pushed it at my nose again.
I smiled, and sat up, while he chuckled at something.
"What's so funny, Monkey?" I demanded as I reached out to tickle him.
He evaded my fingers. "The yellow stuff inside the flower..." he paused and giggled, before waving the flower at me again, clearly taunting me with it, "It's all over your nose, Max!"
I laughed and then wiped the pollen away. "You think that's pretty funny, huh?" I asked as I playfully grabbed the daffodil from his hand, and then looked carefully at it. It was a little worse for the wear and tear Dane had put on it, but it was still beautiful, and vibrant and...my mother had planted the bulb the year before.
I held it carefully as I got up. "Thank you for the present, monkey, I'll go put it in a vase."
I heard a chuckle as I headed for the door and when I turned my head at the sound, Dane was standing up on the bed.
I gave hin the sternest look I could manage. "Don't you dare jump on the bed, because if I come back and find you doing it, you know what'll happen."
He nodded, and grinned.
When I came back into the room a minute later he was jumping, his head only inches from the ceiling as he went up, and the bed groaning with his weight when he landed.
I watched him for a few seconds, waiting for him to see me and stop so I could grab him.
He finally did, and then stood completely still on the mattress, quivering with obvious delight as he stared smugly at me.
"OK, you asked for it," I said as I strode over to him, and taking hold of his arm, I gave him a tug and he tumbled onto the mattress.
A moment later he was snugly lying across my lap, having his bottom warmed very thoroughly, when he turned and looked over his shoulder with a devilish smile. He then let out a yelp as my hand landed especially hard on his sit spot.
"It's.. been... a long time, hasn't it?" he gasped out between swats
"Yes, a very long time indeed," I agreed as I rubbed gently at his very warm behind, before giving him another hard smack.
A few minutes later we sat side by side on the bed. Dane was sticking his hands down the back of the PJ bottoms I had pulled back up for him, and was murmering about my hand being so hard.
I just smiled at him.
"My bottom hurts, a lot," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement."
"Well, then don't do anything to earn a sore bottom and you won't have to worry about that," I told him and then winked.
He nodded at my words, becoming suddenly solemn. "I guess that means that things are going to be like they were before, and you're going to spank me when I break the rules from now on? For real punishment things, I mean?"
I gazed at him for a minute before answering him, trying to make sure that I was as ready as he seemed to be. "I think so, if you're sure you're ready."
He rubbed dramatically at his rump and then gave me a big smooch on the cheek. "Duh, Max, how long did it take you to figure that out?"
"Brat!" I said in mock exasperation.
He chuckled in response, and then nuzzled his head into my neck. "Do you think Jenna would have wanted it this way? I mean that we would just go on the way we were before she died?" he asked, and I could hear the sadness, lingering around the edges of the question.
I thought of my mother, and the way she had lived her life to the fullest, appreciating and reveling in at every turn. "I know she would have, Dane. She would have wanted her son and her best friend to be happy, and to be able to carry on without her. I know that more than I know anything else right now."
"I know it too," he said, his voice muffled from nuzzling. "I loved her so much, Max. Maybe almost as much as you did. She understood me.
I gently lifted his head and then stuck out my hand to shake. "So, we are agreed. it's back to life as normal."
He smiled sweetly and stuck out his hand, so we could seal the deal, then gave me a quick warm kiss on the mouth. "I guess we still have lots of living to do."
I nodded, then took his hand and pulled him up from the bed. "Speaking of which, after we eat breakfast, we have some Spring cleaning to do, and no whining or complaining about your chores, either. We have to work together if we're going to get things done. You hear me?"
"I'm not deaf, my ears are working-"
I gave him a stern look.
"Yes, Max, I understand," he said, pouting less than I had expected.
I took his hand and we went downstairs to start a new day, and having learned something that Dane had learned when he was just a boy--that new days are not guaranteed to us--I felt grateful at that moment just to be by his side.
Copyright ©2007 Tris