Omorphi (20 page)

“You’re dressing me?”

“Yes, I’m dressing you. Stop talking. Your voice is almost gone.”

Christy pulled the jeans up, buttoned them, and slipped into a pair of royal-blue suede loafers.

“Cool shoes.”

“Fratelli Rossetti.”

Michael wanted to ask who that was, but decided he’d only aid and abet Christy’s near-criminal use of his voice. Michael pulled the gray T-shirt over Christy’s head, and Christy finished pulling it on. “Your hair is wet. You need a jacket.”

Christy brushed his hair until it was slick to his head and braided it. He wrapped a pink-and-gray silk scarf around his neck, straightening it so the string tassels hung perfectly.

Michael thought Christy looked very European. And very freakin’ beautiful. “You look great. Let’s go.”

Michael pulled Christy into a fierce hug when they reached the front door. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

Christy hugged Michael tightly in return but remained silent.

T
HEY
entered the great room, and Michael saw, for the first time, just how many residents Wellington Ranch had. When the littlest ones saw Christy, they swarmed him, calling his name, asking him to sit with them, play with them, and read to them. Everyone clearly adored Christy.

An older boy of perhaps twelve approached Christy slowly. Christy held a hand out, and the boy ran to him and took it, sidling close. Christy held his other hand out, and Michael followed it to see another boy of near same age curled amongst the pillows on the floor. The boy stood, and Michael realized he’d been wrong. It was a girl. Michael watched as she approached and took Christy’s outstretched hand. Michael realized he was wrong yet again. He studied him closely and honestly couldn’t tell whether he was a girl or boy.
Androgynous.

“Christy!” Darien raced between furniture and pillows.

“Slow down, Darien,” Rob called.

Darien slowed but was no less determined to get to Christy. He wended his way through the children, ducking and weaving to make his way to Christy.

“Darien, please wait your turn.”

“It
is
my turn, Dr. Rob. I have to get a shot!”

Rob caught Darien and swept him into his arms. “It isn’t your turn to greet Christy yet. You must share him. Remember?”

“It’s a dumb rule.”

“No, it isn’t. If you want people to share with you, then you must share with them.”

“’Kay. It’s still a dumb rule.”

Michael felt a small hand grasp his. He looked down to find a boy of perhaps five looking up at him with large green eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi,” the boy said softly. The boy continued to look up at Michael, as if to commit Michael’s face to memory. “My name’s Kevin.”

“I’m Michael.”

“Darien said you don’t hurt Christy.”

“I would never hurt any of you.”

“’Kay. Do you want to do a cube puzzle?”

“I can’t right now, but I’ll tell you what. We can do a cube puzzle on Sunday at the barbecue.”

Kevin’s face brightened, then suddenly fell. “What’s your seat?”

Michael looked to Rob for help.

“He’ll pick his own seat, Kevin. I’m sure it will be near Christy’s seat.”

“He earned it already?”

“Michael is Christy’s friend. He’s a visitor.”

“Ohhhh.”

To Michael, Kevin sounded fascinated by this declaration.

Rob turned to the milling children. “Okay, everyone, supper in an hour. Get back to it!”

The children scattered, save Kevin, who held fast to Michael’s hand. “It’s time to get back to what you were doing,” Michael encouraged.

“’Kay. I have seat twenty-three.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“’Kay. My name’s Kevin.”

“I know.”

“What’s yours?”

“Michael. I’m Christy’s friend.”

“’Kay. Bye.” Kevin ran off.

Michael glanced at Rob. “What just happened?”

“Kevin has some brain damage. He’ll remember you by Sunday. I’ll work with him on association. That was the most comprehensive conversation that he’s had in a month. Have you considered becoming a psychologist?”

“Thanks and no. Not my gig.”

Rob chuckled. “Christy?”

Christy nodded, and Rob set Darien on his feet. Darien launched into Christy’s arms with a squeal.

Christy mouthed, “Hi,” and hugged him.

“Rob says you can whisper now! Do it to me! I want to be first!”

Christy whispered something that had Darien cracking up.

“Are you ready to go, Darien?” Rob asked.

“Yup. Got my jacket and bracelet in case of the mergency.”

“Supper will be ready when you get back. Are you going to put on a brave face?”

Darien faltered. “I will give it the best shot.”

“No pun intended.” Rob chuckled and raised a hand for a high five, and Darien slapped it.

“Mind Michael, especially in the car.”

Darien turned to Michael and saw his bruised chin for the first time. His eyes went wide with fear. “Someone hurt you.”

Michael smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I fell at school.”

Darien looked down at Michael’s knees. “On the playground?”

“On the playground.”

“You have a Band-Aid on your knee?”

“No, I fell on my face.”

This stumped Darien for about three seconds before he decided it clearly wasn’t his problem. “’Kay, let’s go.”

“Y
OU
’
RE
lucky, Michael. He could have broken your jaw,” Mac lectured.

“Your coach mentioned that Jason left without speaking to him,” Bobbie said.

“Lately the guy’s been out of control. I don’t know what’s with him.”

“Anywhere else?” Mac asked.

“Stomach.”

Mac made a “take the shirt off” motion with his finger, and Michael slipped the sweatshirt over his head.

Mac sighed what Michael knew was a sigh in irritation, and he looked down. He hadn’t noticed the bruise beginning on his stomach.

“Your diaphragm is probably bruised. Have you had any trouble breathing?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Mac palpated Michael’s diaphragm area, and Michael pushed his hands away. “Damn, Dad, I’m not your crash-test patient.”

Mac gave him a look. “Stand and touch your toes.”

Michael did and groaned when he straightened.

“No sit-ups for a week.”

“I’ve been traumatized by having to come here. Now, no sit-ups for a week. If my ab definition goes, you may as well put me on suicide watch.”

Christy smiled, shook his head, and turned away.

It was Bobbie’s turn to sigh. “How do you put up with him, Christy?”

“Answering that could be hazardous to my health,” Michael said quickly.

“You may have trouble breathing tomorrow. Perhaps you should reconsider whether—”

“There’s nothing to reconsider. It’s the state championship.”

“If you pass out on the track, I’m going to leave you there to suffer.”

“I knew I could count on you to be my inspiration before the
most important
meet of my life, Dad. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for pain?”

“Not yet. It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”

“True.” Mac made a note in the chart and turned to Darien. “Darien, thank you for bringing Michael here. It was very responsible of you.”

“’Kay. Is it my turn?”

“It is. What are we doing for you today?”

“Shot.”

Mac studied Darien’s chart. “A booster shot. That’s an easy one.” He lifted Darien from Christy’s arms, laid him on the table, and examined him. Michael saw concern in Mac’s eyes, then watched it bleed away, his face returning to that of an affable pediatrician once again. “Thank you, Darien. You’re a good boy. Can you sit up for me?”

Darien sat up with effort, and Mac smiled. “All right. Ready for your shot?”

“Can I have the numby stuff first?”

“Certainly.” Bobbie held a Q-tip out to him. “Do you want to pick the spot and do it yourself?”

Darien took it from her and scrutinized his upper arm as she held his shirtsleeve up. “Here?”

“Looks like a perfect spot to me.”

He touched the Q-tip to his arm.

“Rub it around so it gets good and numb. Very good. Ready?”

Darien reached a shaky hand out to Christy, who took it and held it. “’Kay.”

Bobbie withdrew a syringe from her pocket, removed the needle cap, deftly injected him, and slid the syringe into the disposal container. She did it so quickly and smoothly Darien nearly missed it.

“All done. You were very brave. Do you remember where the lollipops are?”

“Yeah.”

She lifted him from the table and set him on his feet. “Why don’t you get two?” She opened the door, and Darien tore down the hallway.

“Christy can whisper now,” Michael said as he slipped his sweatshirt back on.

Mac smiled wide. “That’s wonderful, Christy.”

Christy flinched as Bobbie gave his arm a gentle squeeze. If she noticed, she didn’t show it. Again, Michael wanted to hug Christy but refrained.

She turned to Michael. “Would you please remove the lasagna from the freezer when you get home and put it in the oven on two hundred degrees?”

“Okay. See you around seven?”

“Give or take. Christy, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all.” She patted his shoulder, again ignoring his flinch.

M
ICHAEL
squeezed Christy’s hand as he drove and didn’t receive the usual squeeze in return. He glanced at Christy to find him staring out the window and wondered if he was still upset over what had happened earlier. Michael could only surmise that shutting down was a defense mechanism for him. Still, he longed for Christy’s smile.

He parked, climbed out, and went around the car to open Christy’s door. Christy was already out, gathering a sleeping Darien into his arms. Christy carried Darien to the door, opened it, and went inside without even saying good-bye. Michael stood at the bottom of the steps and decided, at the very least, he should check in with Rob. He climbed the steps and went inside. Christy stood with his back to him, and Michael knew from the set of his shoulders that he was angry again.

Michael went to him. “Put Darien to bed. I’ll talk to Rob.”

Christy looked up, eyes filled with frustration.

“I won’t leave without saying good-bye,” Michael reassured.

Christy carried Darien from the room, and Michael waited until the door swung closed before he turned back to Rob.

“What’s he upset about?”

Rob ignored his question. “Thank you for taking Darien to see your father. Did he do all right with the vaccination?”

“Great. Mom let him have two pops. I think he picked grape for both.”

“And your injuries?”

“I’m fine.”

“The altercation wasn’t over Christy, was it?”

“No.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you leave things with Christy? Will you still be seeing each other?”

“I don’t give up that easily.”

Rob smiled appreciatively.

“Did he tell you that his cousin is coming to stay with him this weekend, and we have a double date tomorrow night? Sophia is going out with my friend, Jake.”

If Michael hadn’t been practiced at reading doctor face, he would have missed the subtle surprise in Rob’s eyes.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t, but it certainly isn’t a problem. I’m only surprised. Christy has steadfastly refused to leave here unless it is to go to school. His visit to your home was his first independent outing. Clearly, you’re a good influence on him.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.” Michael made it halfway to the oak door before Rob called him back.

“Did you read the literature?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any questions?”

Michael wondered how forthcoming he could be with Rob. He didn’t really know the man, and he didn’t want to betray Christy in any way, especially after what had happened this afternoon. “I want what happens between me and Christy to stay between me and Christy.”

Rob nodded. “Fair enough.”

“But….”

Rob waited patiently.

“I’d feel terrible if I accidentally did something to remind Christy of what has happened to him. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want advice, but I don’t want to give up our privacy to get it.”

“Understandable. Do you have a specific question?”

“I don’t understand what happened this afternoon. Christy said he was angry because he thought you told me things he didn’t want me to know, but he seemed more upset about….” How did Michael phrase this? Well, there was no easy way to put it. “I told him I wouldn’t care for him any less if we didn’t have sex, and he flipped out.”

Rob nodded. “Sex is the—” He stopped abruptly, and the lines around his eyes creased ever so slightly. “Did you read the portion of the literature that discusses perceived rejection?”

“Yes.”

“Sex is the solitary means by which Christy has received approval and acceptance in the past, and he likely interpreted your statement to be a rejection rather than the considerate offer it was.”

“Solitary? That’s pretty extreme.”

“It is,” Rob agreed.

That didn’t sound right. Rob had to be overstating things. “Okay. Every article you gave me says to respect personal boundaries, so I asked if I could hold Christy while he cried. You know what he said? He said, ‘You want to touch your pathetic, dirty, little Christy? The willing, little whore? You need not ask. He will do whatever you like because he must.’ What did he mean by that?”

Sadness swept Rob’s dark-chocolate eyes and was gone before it came to fruition. Like his dad, Rob was an expert at doctor face.

“Did someone make him—” The question pained Michael, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.

“He wasn’t a sex worker, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Frustration crept up Michael’s spine.

Rob gave him a long, considering look before he spoke again. “Victims often blame themselves for what has happened to them and, as a result, view themselves in a very poor light, if not a hateful one.”

“I read that in the stuff you gave me, but it’s stupid. You can’t blame a victim for being a victim. Especially a kid who has no control over a situation. What about the ‘because I must’ part?”