Omorphi (32 page)

“This is all we can ask of you.”

“How much security does Christy have?”

“Two in the day, one in the night.”

“Who pays for that?”

“Our family trust.”

“What about his parents? Where are they?”

Michael thought she looked at him funny again. “They are not here. In one way, this is good and in another, it is bad. Christy will tell you more when he wishes you to know.”

How freakin’ typical.
“Does he have any brothers or sisters?”

Again, she gave him that funny look. “No.”

“How long will you be in New York?”

“My mother and I will remain here until Christy leaves the States. However, I must travel for work. Next month I will be in France. This summer I will spend mostly in Italy. My mother will remain here. I have given Jacob all of the numbers. Also the numbers in Europe.”

“What about you and Jake?”

Her face softened. “I like him, Michael. Very much. Do you think he likes me?”

“I know he does.”

“Good. So, it will be like this. I will come on the weekends while I am in New York, and we will have fun!”

She was so carefree, so happy, and Michael longed to see Christy equally as happy. “We will,” Michael agreed.

No one noticed the unkempt, dark-complected man leaning against a tree thirty feet away.

“I’
LL
pick you up tomorrow morning.”

Christy fidgeted in Michael’s arms. “Are you angry with me?”

“I already told you I’m not angry with you. Is there anything I can do to help you? To, I don’t know, give you the strength to get yourself out of a situation like that if it happens again?”

Christy shook his head. “I must learn to react less.”

“Less?”

“Yes. The fear is large, and my bones turn to liquid. I cannot run, I cannot push away, I cannot speak.”

“Have you thought about boxing or kickboxing lessons, something to teach you how to push back?”

“Rob suggested this. I don’t like to be touched.”

“You let me touch you. You let the kids touch you all the time.”

“I am not afraid with you or them.”

Michael felt happy and sad at the same time. “Why weren’t you afraid of me?”

“I followed you and I watched you. I came to know you in my own way. The morning you tripped, I was following too close, and you turned very fast.” Christy shook his head at the memory. “You were kind to keep me from falling and you liked my eyes.”

That brought a smile to Michael’s lips. “I thought I bumped into an angel.”

Christy gave him a dubious look. “No angel. This is for certain.”

Michael stroked Christy’s long mane. “Don’t judge yourself by what others did to you.”

Christy looked up at Michael, eyes filled with raw pain. “How can I not? I live it nearly every moment of my existence.”

Michael fought not to cringe outwardly and won the battle, barely. “It isn’t who you are. You are a thousand things wonderful. Focus on that.”

“I am thousands of times used, afraid, and angry.”

“Okay, come on.” Michael led Christy by the hand up the spiral staircase to the loft. “I need a blank piece of paper. A big one.”

Christy led him to an easel of drawing vellum.

“Now, I need something to write with.”

Christy held a box of charcoal pencils out to him.

“We’re going to start a list. Every day you’re going to write something about you on the list. Today, we’re going to write ‘patient.’” Michael carefully printed the word. “And under it, we’re going to write how you were patient.” Michael wrote
DIDN’T CHOKE DETECTIVE FOR BEING A JERK.
“In fact, let’s make this a two-word day.” He printed the word “brave,” then numbered the words one and two. Beneath the word brave, he wrote
SPOKE TO POLICE
and
HANDLED STEPHEN
and
WENT TO PARTY
.

Christy took the pencil and drew a line down the center of the page. In perfect Greek script, Christy wrote a small paragraph on the other half of the page.

“What’s that say?”

“The thing I learned from you today.”

“Do I get to know what it is?”

“Forgiveness.”

Michael drew in a deep breath and tried to keep it quiet, soft. “A whole paragraph of forgiveness?”

“I explained my mistake, and I also say….” Christy swallowed hard, and Michael waited for him to continue. “I say it is the first time I have ever been forgiven for anything. I am new to this.”

Michael hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry. No one should have to go through life without forgiveness. It’s essential.”

Christy’s arms encircled Michael’s waist. “I want to write another thing.”

“What?”

“That you forgive me for liking women’s things.”

“Screw that.” Michael took the pencil and wrote number three, “pretty.” Beneath it, he wrote
PRETTY IN EVERYTHING YOU ARE AND DO.

Christy looked up at him, as if to inventory Michael’s honesty. “You truly don’t mind?”

“No, Christy. I… I like it. Though, unless you’re planning to walk in a gay pride parade, I’d keep it low-key in public.”

A smile flickered across Christy’s lips and disappeared. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“Sophia did makeup for me one time. I was beautiful like her. It made me feel…. I felt free of the ugliness that I am.”

“How can you see yourself as ugly? You and Sophia could be twins.”

“Because I know what men see in me.”

“Christy, those men were criminals. I see nothing but beauty in you.”

“This is so… so unbelievable. I never thought anyone could care for me.”

Michael smiled. “Surprise.”

A smile threatened Christy’s lips again. “I never thought I could tell anyone my secret.”

“When I was five, I stole my mom’s red lipstick. I wore it as often as I could and believed that only I could see my ruby red lips. When Dad asked me where I got the lipstick, I was shocked that he even knew I had it, and I lied and said I got it from a neighbor. My dad just smiled, and my mom’s only comment was that she thought a more burgundy color would go better with my skin tone. When I told them at twelve that I liked guys, they said ‘we know’ at the same time. I was waiting for this whole big freak-out thing, and it never came. I grew up with tons of understanding and loads of forgiveness and have lots to spare. So, don’t be afraid to talk to me, okay?”

“Okay.” Christy’s voice cracked again, but the word came without its usual hesitation.

“You used your voice too much again. Make sure you have your pad and pen with you tomorrow.”

Christy nodded.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“You will call me with the hospital results?”

“No, nothing’s wrong with me.”

Christy glared at him with angry eyes.

“All right, I’ll text you that I’m okay.”

Christy’s kiss was soft and sweet and made Michael think twice about leaving. Fifteen minutes and another shower?
Shit
. He needed to get out of there before he did something stupid. “See you tomorrow, my pretty Christy. Wear your watermelon lip gloss.”

A smile burst across Christy’s lips. He looked as radiant as Sophia had looked on the picnic bench beneath the tree.
That
was what Michael wanted to see on Christy’s face all the time.

M
AC
shook his head at the MRI screen as he manipulated images.

“What?” Michael asked.

“No running, no sit-ups, nothing.”

“Okay. How long does it take to heal?”

“Six months, a year.”

“No way.”

“We’ll do another scan in a month.”

“Dad, I have the USA Track and Field meet in a month.”

“It isn’t perforated, Michael. That’s your blessing.”

“What about practice?”

“Let’s do another scan next weekend.”

Michael hopped off the table and pulled his shirt on. “Okay, I’ll take it easy this week.”

“Have you had any trouble breathing or eating?”

“Only stretching.”

“Is the pain dull or sharp?”

“Sharp and gone within minutes.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“Blood in your urine?”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

“No stomach aches?”

“Oh my God, Dad, stop. Just stop. I’m fine. I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.”

“How about sex life?”

Michael stared at his dad, speechless. He began to say he didn’t have one, but he could no longer make that claim.
Whoa.
The revelation alone was a rite of passage. “Everything’s fine.”

“No discomfort?”

“What does sex have to do with my diaphragm?”

“Jason hit you hard enough to bruise other organs. I only want to know that you’re all right.”

“I’m fine, Dad. Really.”

“Nero said Detective Davis was very inconsiderate today.”

Oh my God, now the shrink thing
. “He was, but it’s all good.”

“Michael—”

“Dad, you already told me Christy needs….” Michael fought for diplomatic words. He didn’t want Christy portrayed as a care package. “Things that are… that are a little outside of the box. I have it under control.”

Mac sighed, and Michael couldn’t help but notice how much his dad had aged since Jason first hit him. He silently cursed himself for not considering the toll on his parents. “Sorry, Dad.” Michael hugged him. When his dad wrapped his arms around him and gave him a powerful squeeze, something he hadn’t done since Michael was probably five, he realized how absolutely awful this weekend had been for them despite the championship win. “Everything’s okay, Dad. I talked to Stephen. Christy and I are okay. This thing with Jason will blow over as soon as the police catch him, and everything will be fine from here on out.”

Michael couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I’
M
going to check on Mom before I start my homework.”

“I gave her something to sleep,” Mac said as he set his valise on the table in the foyer.

“I’m going to check on her anyway.” Michael glimpsed his dad smiling to himself.

“Are you hungry, son?”

Michael looked at his dad with concern now. His dad was trying to take care of everyone and everything. “Let me check on Mom, and then I’ll make us something to eat. Set the oven to 450 and take a load off. I’ll be right back.”

Michael stroked his mom’s cheek with the back of his fingers, and she stirred awake. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said softly.

“The MRI?” she asked sleepily.

“Not perforated, only bruised. I’m fine.”

From her expression, a large weight seemed to lift and float away from her heart. “Very good.”

“Sleep, Mom. I’m okay.”

She gave him a warm smile before drifting back to sleep.

“M
OM
would kill us if she knew we were splitting a beer and eating pizza snacks for dinner.”

“She might forgive us just this once. It’s been a tough couple of days.”

“I told her I was okay.”

“Good.”

“Are you going to tell her that I need to be careful?”

“I told you. That’s enough. Though I’m unsure how much good it will do. You know she’ll snoop in the records, and she’s a damn fine MRI reader.”

“She believes you when you say I’m okay.” Michael admired how strong his dad was and knew how much they relied on him. How much everyone relied on him. “We both do.”

Mac ate another pizza bite. “These are addictive and have no nutritional value.”

“Don’t tell Mom. I love ’em.”

“Wouldn’t think of it. Tell me how you’re really doing after last night.”

“Okay if I don’t think about those five minutes with a gun to my head or the fact that he’s still out there. How are you doing?”

“Ditto.”

Michael smirked. “Mom’s not doing so good.”

“As rational as she is, she can’t quell her fear until they catch Jason. She’s more than a little tempted to go out and find him on her own. When Jason aimed the gun at her and you moved in front of her, it was all I could do to keep her from trying to protect you. A mother’s instincts and all that.”

The thought horrified Michael. “Glad you did and she didn’t.”

“Let me know if you have trouble sleeping or eating.”

“I will.”

“Now, tell me how you and Christy are doing.”

Michael paused midbite. No reason not to be honest with his dad, he supposed. “Not so good.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know what happened to him, and it’s a huge part of him. I feel like I can’t help, can’t do anything for him.”

“Let’s assume, for a moment, that Christy lived at home with his parents and had never been abused. Would it be any different? You’d still have to get to know him, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t have him saying ‘I don’t want you to know certain things’ and other people saying ‘Sorry, I can’t tell you about that part of Christy.’ It’s like you trying to get to know me without knowing that Jake’s my best friend.”

“Let’s assume that you know everything about Christy. Does it change anything?”

“Yeah. Me. I would be better able to help him.”

“How do you know that not knowing isn’t better for him than knowing?”

“That’s a hard question. I have to think about that.”

“If you knew the specifics of Christy’s history, it’s inevitable that your attitude would change, and you’d likely pity him more than you do. From the little I know of him, I suspect pity is the last thing he wants to see in your eyes. Don’t focus on the past. Teach him how to live.”

“How do you teach someone to live with so many stumbling blocks in the way? Here’s an example. I asked why he didn’t take boxing lessons so he could learn how to defend himself. He said he doesn’t like to be touched. I said ‘you don’t mind it when the kids or I touch you.’ He said that was because he came to know us in his own way and wasn’t afraid. I mean, he’s terrified of everything. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Of course you do. Think on the simple things that brought you joy growing up, even if they were painful or frightening in the learning. Everything from your first skinned knee to your first drunken experience at twelve.”