|notreallyme10 (notreallyme10) wrote,|
@ 2007-08-20 22:46:00
I had a dream… One of those terrible dreams that leave a pit in your stomach for days. I’m no stranger to bad dreams, but I especially hate this one.
Brian was dying. A long, painful death. Lingering long after it was time to go. Becoming everything he never wanted to be. And I had to watch, helpless, unable to stop it and worse, unable to let him go the way I know he would want.
It’s a dream I have occasionally since losing Ben and Debbie. Watching someone go brings an understanding of death I wish I didn’t have, makes death real in a way I wish I could forget.
Normally when I have these dreams Brian holds me tight, shows me that he is still here. Sometimes I wish he was the type to whisper bullshit in my ear. Tell me he’ll never leave me alone, never make me watch that happen to him. But that will never be Brian. He holds me though, and that’s enough.
This time is different. He’s pissed off and sleeping far away on the other side of the bed. I can’t bring myself to wake him because I certainly deserve his anger. It seems manipulative to force his hand with this.
So I lay awake letting the pit grow. Thinking about the stupid thing I did that has him sleeping so far away. Thinking crazy thoughts about death and family and love. Bombs and baseball bats and cancer. Moms and dads and kids. Letting the night time turn me into a scared kid again.
Brian’s always saying how melodramatic I am. If only he could see inside my head right now.
I roll on my back and feel the pain in my ass. I tell myself to focus on that. Only that makes me think about the last few days.
My stupidity, his anger and the sex remind me of what it was like to be seventeen.
Sometimes if we’re lucky we won’t hear from his fucking family for years on end. I’ve learned not to take that time for granted, because when they do show up its never a good thing- well except for that time his mom helped him get an erection, but that is just too fucked up to talk about. I can’t really imagine what it was like when his dad was still around. His mom and sister are more than enough trouble on their own.
I love the man that Brian is today, but there is no denying the fact that his family fucked him up. I wish I could say that I knew exactly what it was that they did to him, but I don’t, not even close. I do know that it isn’t just one thing, one moment. It was the culmination of a million shitty moments. The details of which have seeped out slowly over the years in the form of disturbing anecdotes told by both Brian and Michael, and much less often, in the form of quiet, heartfelt admissions from Brian. The latter cost him so much that I sometimes wonder if they are worth the value of the insight they provide.
My dad was the typical suburban father, uninterested in me until I disappointed him, and for a long time my mom was the typical suburban mother. She wanted us all happy, safe and together. At some point she realized that happy and safe trumped together. The point is, they weren’t perfect, my dad is far from it, but Brian’s family is in a whole different league.
When it comes to protecting Brian, I have been known to do some stupid things. I’m always telling Brian he can’t fix everything. I guess sometimes I forget that myself.
Mostly it works out, but this time it didn’t.
His sister called. A few times actually. I ignored it and didn’t tell Brian. But when I realized she wasn’t giving up I decided to deal with it. Turned out she needed money. Their relationship had deteriorated so much that that seemed to be the only type of request they made from him anymore.
I wrote a check. A big one. I told her this was it. We would help this one last time but then she was to fuck off, for good.
Somewhere in my mind I must have known Brian would find out. I think I thought he would be happy that maybe, just maybe, we were off the hook for good. I just didn’t want him to have to face them again.
Somehow the idea of facing his real family after losing such an important part of our real family would be too much. Like it was OK before when he had this other person that loved him and cared for him the way he should be loved and cared for, but maybe without her they could hurt him worse.
Its convoluted I know, but I felt there is some truth in it.
He was livid. I can’t say I have ever really seen him this mad before. And that’s saying a lot considering I write a comic called Rage based on him.
Brian has been pissed at me a lot of times over the years. Not as much recently, partially because he has mellowed, partially because I have grown up and partially because I’ve become more and more adept at dealing with him- the current situation not withstanding.
But this is a whole new area of anger I have never seen before. I remember what his anger feels like and this has that feeling but it also has a layer that I’ve never felt before… well maybe once. I betrayed his trust.
The worst is that I know I was wrong. There is no argument to be made. I didn’t act maliciously, but I sure as fuck acted stupidly, something I pride myself on not doing very often.
He yelled and ranted. He got in my face and told me what a huge fucking mistake I had made.
I remember being little and doing something stupid, hurting someone’s feeling or something, and wishing I could take it back to make the sick feeling in my stomach go away. That is how I felt and I told him as much.
And then he went cold and quiet. And sad.
That is what is fucking killing me, how sad he seems. Like I broke his heart and that is something I really never thought I could do.
He hasn’t really talked to me or looked at me in days, but he still fucks me. The kind of fucks that hurt everywhere.
I want him to do it and he knows it.
Somewhere inside he thinks fucking is the only way to exorcize the demons, whether those demons are anger or love.
The sex is hot. Hard, almost brutal, and yet, even with all of his anger, I always feel safe with Brian and he always makes me feel more amazing than I think is possible.
He holds me down and fucks me so hard I can’t breathe. So hard that I have tears running down my face. So hard that I know I am going to come any second.
And he does too. So he pulls out and comes all over my back. I feel it dripping down my sides and then I really want to cry, because I wanted it inside me and because I need to come and for just a second I’m afraid that he is more angry than I realized. That he is going to do the unthinkable for Brian and roll over and forget about me. It's strange but that might actually mean more than all the yelling and all the silence put together.
But than I feel his hand on my cock. So fucking gentle, and in this weird way, I know everything is going to be fine. He strokes me and I come for him. Screaming and crying and begging.
He does roll over then. And I lay down in my own mess and fall asleep.
And then we do it all again the next night.
We did it all again tonight. Which is how I ended up here with a sore ass and a head full of death and regret.
I realized something in the last few days that I don’t think Brian can say. Whether he just can’t verbalize it, or he doesn’t even know it himself, I’m not sure. He is terrified by the idea of them actually being out of his life.
He hates his mother and his sister, I don’t doubt that. But I think the idea of never hearing from them again is too much.
I hate to say it but there is some part of me that still hopes my dad will come around some day. I will never forgive him. I couldn’t anymore, he crossed the line too far. But I still want something from him. I can’t say I understand it, but it is there, and I think Brian feels that way too.
I imagine how I would feel if the tables were turned and that is the moment I figure it all out.
The most fucked up thing about all of this is that I know we will make it through. I ask myself if I am just deluded and the answer over and over is no.
I don’t see the solution, the resolution in my head.
I don’t know the words that would get through to Brian.
I don’t see how he can forgive me.
But I know, absolutely know, that he will.
In the morning I wake up to see him staring at me.
“You’re a mess, lets get you cleaned up.”
I look down at my body- a mess of our combined orgasms and instead of feeling embarrassed, I just feel relieved that he is speaking to me.
In the shower he pulls me close and speaks softly.
“I’m tired of being mad.”
It is all I can think to say. I said more before, but this is what it all comes down to.
“I had that dream last night.”
I don’t know why I felt the need to tell him.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
I don’t answer because it sounds stupid.
“Stop punishing yourself. I’ve been doing plenty of that.”
That catches me off guard.
“It was a fucking shitty thing to do, but we both know you didn’t do it to hurt me. I’ve been… pouting and its about fucking time I stop. I’m pissed, you’re sorry. End of story.”
He kisses me the way I love to be kissed and the way he loves to kiss me and holds me close to his body and touches me all over and it all feels better. Feels strangely like what normal people do when they fight.
Which I will never tell Brian.
That night after I fall asleep he wakes me. He strokes my belly and at first I think I know where it is going, but then I realize I’m wrong. I roll towards him and he is looking at me in the dark.
“I think I was upset because I knew you did the right thing, the thing I should have done a long time ago. Maybe not that way exactly… but I should have stopped leaving the door open for them.”