Throughout the night I was restless. I suppose the pain meds helped, but I was still hurting. At least I didn’t dream.
I tried to eat some of the breakfast I was brought, but I wasn’t hungry and even the thought of food made me nauseous. When the tray was taken away, I lay back and tried to think about why I had been attacked, but I came up with no answers.
Promptly at 10:00, my door opened and Peter and Christian entered. There was only one chair in the room, so Christian went to find another one while Peter and I talked quietly.
He told me that while they had been eating breakfast, the doorbell rang. Peter answered it, and the man standing there introduced himself as Major. He asked if Peter knew Richard Guthrie. “When I told him that you lived with us, he handed me a package neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string.”
“How did you know where to find us?” Peter had asked.
Major had told him that he had found my clothes and my wallet and school ID in a trash bin. He had said that there was no money in the wallet, and he didn’t want me to think that he had taken it.
Peter had assured him that nobody would think that. Apparently, Major had washed my clothes in the gym laundry facilities while he worked at the school, because they were clean and fresh when Peter opened the package.
“Did Major find my phone?” I asked. I was very concerned about my phone because it had a number of pictures of Mark on it which I hadn’t transferred to my laptop.
“No,” said Peter, “there was no sign of a phone.”
Just as Christian returned with a chair, a policeman in plain clothes entered the room. He introduced himself as Detective Collins. He asked me to go through what had happened.
I did, still omitting the names of my attackers.
When he asked about that, I told him that if I named them, I wouldn’t be safe.
“Do you think you’re safe now?” he asked.
Good point, I thought.
Peter told the officer about the return of my belongings, other than my phone. The officer was immediately interested in the phone, saying that it might be possible to trace it. I told him that I hoped he could find it, because it had some very personal pictures on it.
“Well, the technology has become pretty good. Your phone now has a GPS in it which can be tracked,” the officer said. “What’s your phone number?”
I told him and he thanked me, saying that he’d get right on it.
Peter and Christian stayed with me all day. They did leave my room when lunch came, saying they’d go to the hospital cafeteria to get something to eat.
The doctor came by a couple of times, asking me how I felt. I told her that my nose and my sides still hurt, but I thought the pain meds were taking the edge off.
The nurses were wonderful. They were caring without fluttering about, and they did all they could to make me comfortable.
Later in the afternoon, Detective Collins returned. Without saying anything, he handed me my phone.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“We were able to trace the phone to somewhere in the high school, but we didn’t know where. So we called the phone. When it rang in a classroom, an irate teacher immediately confiscated it. At the end of the class, she took it to the office and told the secretary who had had it.
“We checked the phone and the boys had been dumb enough to take a selfie. The secretary told us who the boys were.
“Of course, we couldn’t talk with the boys until their parents arrived at the school. We held the boys in three separate rooms, not letting them communicate with each other.
“When the parents arrived, we quizzed the boys, one at a time. In each case the parents insisted that their sons were innocent.
“Scott Gavin told us he’d found the phone and didn’t know whose it was. Phillip Warren said basically the same thing. But Tyler Warren broke down and began crying as soon as we asked him about it. He spilled the whole story.
“From there we took the three boys to the station. The two older boys are spending the evening enjoying the police department’s hospitality. Tyler was released to his parents.
“Just so you know,” he said, “I didn’t search any farther in the pictures because I know some of them are personal. If I were you, I’d download the pictures and remove them from your phone.”
Again, I thanked him gratefully.
I had thought maybe someone from school would visit me, but none came either that day or the next.
On the third day I was dozing when I became aware that someone was in the room with me. I looked up and was surprised to see Tyler Warren standing by my bed looking at me. He was crying.
“Oh God, Richard, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I went along with those two.”
“What did your brother say after you told the cops what happened?”
“I haven’t seen him since then. My parents have kept me away from him, but Dad was definitely not happy with me. Of course, I haven’t seen Scott either and I don’t want to. Now I’m scared that their friends are gonna give me hell.”
“Can you stay away from school for a few days until this all blows over?”
“No. Dad’s making me go. Mom says I shouldn’t, but Dad calls the shots in our family.
“At least Mom gave me a ride here so I could see you. I think what happened may split our family altogether. Dad hates homos. . .” A look of shock appeared on his face for a moment before he said, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “A lot of people seem to.”
“Mom says we are what God made us and we shouldn’t hate people because they’re different. I think Dad’s gonna move out.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I found I meant it.
“I’m not. I haven’t said anything to them, but I think I might be gay as well. Can you imagine if I am and I have to live with him?”
Because he was younger than me, I didn’t know Tyler. In fact, we’d never talked before. Not only was he younger than his older brother, he was considerably smaller and more slender. To me he seemed rather mousy. His hair was black and parted in the middle, his eyes were dark and still damp from crying. He wore black pants and a black and white long-sleeved shirt which seemed to set off his pale complexion. I didn’t find him at all appealing. Yet I couldn’t just dismiss him. He had the courage to come and see me. He had been brave enough to stand up to Scott and his brother. Perhaps he was a stronger person than he looked.
“No,” I said in response to his question, “I can’t even imagine that.”
He was silent for a moment before saying, “I guess I’d better go. I was told not to stay too long, so I wouldn’t wear you out.”
Without even thinking, I asked, “Will you come back?”
“Do you want me to? After what I did to you?”
I thought about that and found I did. “Yes,” I said. “I’d like you to come back.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll try to get another ride here.”
When he was gone, I thought about him. It must have taken a lot of courage to stand up to his brother and to come and see me to apologize. And he was willing to return. I knew I wasn’t attracted to him, and I wondered why I wanted to see him again.
I told Christian and Peter about Tyler’s visit. They were interested that he had come to apologize, but they didn’t express much sympathy for him.
In the end, Tyler didn’t return to the hospital. He told me later that he was unable to get a ride.
Two days later, I was allowed to go home. I could return to school but was not to take PE until the doctor had checked my ribs.
Joey was at the house when I arrived. He began to hug me enthusiastically, and I had to remind him of my ribs. He let up and said, “I was so worried about you. Are you really okay?”
I assured him that I was fine.
“I wanted to visit you, but by the time swim practice was over it was too late, and I had to go home to do my homework. I’m sorry. You were in the hospital longer than I expected, and I just blew it.”
“That’s okay,” I said. I was interested that he used the word ‘home’ for the Russells’ house. A good sign, I thought.
On Monday, I returned to school. Some of the students welcomed me back; others, probably friends of Scott, were more hostile.
Partway through the day, I saw Tyler in the hallway. He had a black eye and a bruise on his cheekbone.
“What happened?” I asked.
“My dad hit me,” Tyler replied. “He’d been drinking, and he called me a queer before he swung at me. I was too slow to avoid it.”
“Well, you can’t go home,” I said. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know. Mom told me she was going to throw Dad out or call the police, but I have no idea if that happened.”
“Okay. Meet me at the front door at dismissal time. You can come with me for tonight at least.”
“You sure? Even after what I did to you?”
“I forgave you for that, remember? Of course I’m sure. I’ll call the men I live with and clear it with them.”
“You don’t live with your parents?”
“No, but it’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Meet me at the exit at dismissal time.” With that we parted and went to our classes.
During lunch I called Peter and told him what had happened. He said that of course Tyler could visit for as long as necessary.
At dismissal time I went to my locker and got the books I needed for homework before I went to the school exit. Tyler was there, waiting.
When he saw me coming, he smiled and said, “I was afraid you’d change your mind.”
“Nope. It’s all set.”
We walked to the car, climbed in, and I drove out of the parking lot.
“Where are we going?” Tyler asked.
“To Osterville,” I said.
“Why are you in the Mashpee high school if you live in Osterville?”
“That’s part of the long story.”
On the drive I began telling him about why I lived with Peter and Christian. I told him my parents were dead without telling him why. I told him about living with my brothers and Grandma, how I’d been working for the men as a yard boy, and how, when Grandma died, I went to live with them.
“So they’re gay-friendly?”
“Not only that, they’re gay themselves,” I said as we pulled up to the house.
We went in and I made the introductions. The men welcomed him, and Christian said that Tyler could use the room where Tim had stayed.
Upstairs, I showed Tyler the room. “Wow!” he exclaimed. This is quite a place.”
“Yup,” I said. “Why don’t you take a little time to settle in and then come next door to my room.” I showed him how to enter my room through the bathroom.
I went to my room and a few minutes later there was a knock on the bathroom door, even though it was open. I told Tyler to come in and, like Cormac, he spent a little time looking over my room, examining my books, video games, and decorations on the wall.
He stopped in front of Mark’s picture. “Who’s this?” he asked.
This time I kept my cool. “That’s Mark Russell. We were friends . . . boyfriends, actually.”
I told him how Mark and I met, how we’d been together, and how Mark had died. Of course, by the time I finished, I was in tears. So was Tyler.
He reached out and gave me a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he took a tissue from the box by my bed and wiped my tears away.
While we sat on my bed and talked, I asked him if he’d been in touch with his mother. He said, “She’s thrown my father out, but she thinks it might be safer if I could stay somewhere else for a few days.”
I assured him that he could stay with us.
In the evening, I got a call from Cormac, who I’d only seen briefly in the school hallway. He said that he thought he knew enough to pass the citizenship test and that he didn’t think we needed to continue with the tutoring. During our chat he also told me that he now had a girlfriend. I supposed that he preferred spending time with her than with me.
I hadn’t had The Dream since I’d gone into the hospital, but that night, I had a different one. In it, Mark and I were sitting on the patio drinking lemonade when both Cormac and Tyler showed up. Mark seemed a little annoyed, perhaps because he wanted to spend the time with me, but he did greet the other two as though he knew them, and we all swam together. There was no storm, no lighting, nothing at all dramatic, but when I woke, I was confused, and again I wondered what my dreams meant.