This is the first multiple chapter fictional story I've ever written.
It is based on a memoir I once wrote for a writing class. If you've watched the film "Latter-Days," you may recognize experiences similar to the character "Aaron." I guess you might call this story another perspective of the same general situation, from an author who has lived through it.
Please e-mail comments/suggestions etc. to tnachiker@yahoo.com
Saving Me
Dedication:
"Being the One is just like being in love. No one can tell you your in love, you just know it -- through and through, balls to bones." -- The Oracle
I'd never watched the movie The Matrix until recently. Sci-Fi's never really been my thing. But, the movie was recommended by a friend. He said there were a few scenes that reminded him of me, but he didn't say which ones. I'd just know, he said. I did.
What is it like to LOVE? Not a pre-teen puppy love, an unvoiced crush, or a hollow lust, but LOVE. A LOVE that is all encompassing -- that agonizes and wounds and exalts and heals. A LOVE that connects you to another soul . . . and, through them, to the universe. A LOVE that raises you to immortality. A LOVE that let's you, if but for a moment, "slip the surly bonds of earth, to touch the face of God." Can you really describe it or can it only be experienced to be known? Can any words illustrate it save you will know it when you feel it, balls to bones?
I've been blessed to find that LOVE once in my life. Although events have caused us to be separated by thousands of miles, the connection, soul-to-soul, is as strong as ever. So many people believe that they can be happy without LOVE -- I used to be one of them. But, as I discovered, hell is not a pit of sin; it is being alone.
So, this story is dedicated to the man who completed me, the man you will meet in these pages. To the man who taught me what it is to know LOVE. I could never have known who I am and what life truly is without him. To him, the real Rian, I give all my LOVE - - through and through, balls to bones. Gnothi Seauton.
--JBH, June 2006
Chapter 1 - A Light in the Darkness
"Sometimes I hate that chaos surrounds me / When all the answers that I seek go around me / Am I drowning? Am I fading away? . . ."
Dylen really didn't listen to the radio that much anymore. Music had become more of a habit rather than anything he actually enjoyed. But, there was something in these lyrics that caught his mood. His fingers moved from the radio back to the steering wheel. Yeah, he was drowning. His whole life was nothing but a study in chaos. He pressed the gas pedal, accelerating his small, well-worn car further down the road. As was typical for him on the drive home, Dylen's mental automatic pilot engaged, causing the music from the radio to drift away with the rest of his surroundings. The dark, straight Colorado road that led to his home had claimed victims in the past, hypnotizing them as its endlessly flat ribbon never veered an inch to the right or the left. Dylen often mused that he was trapped into a destiny he wasn't sure he wanted. His life was unalterable - inescapable -- just like this road. But, tonight his mind was so far away that nothing, not even the endless road, registered to his senses.
Dylen's mind returned to its torrid conversation, depressed and lonely. The voice -- the fears and feelings that had become almost a second personality in the last year -- guided his thoughts, whispering to him. "It's just two weeks before high school graduation and what do I have to show for my life? What do I have that is really worth all this pain? Nothing," he decided, "nothing at all. I'm at best a worthless coward.
"Worthless? Yeah, just look at this piece of shit car. I had to pay for it on my own. It barely even qualifies as a car. I've got the pedal on the floor and can only manage 70. I worked so hard to get what!? This piece of trash! But, the damnable piece of trash matches me. It's just another symbol of my worthless life." he thought.
"Coward?" he continued. His eyes shifted to the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of a smooth, brown leather case in the back seat. Seeing that case silenced even the mental conversation. The instant and eternal moments that plagued Dylen flashed before his mind's eye. He felt a churn in his stomach. Desires that he'd been taught to believe were sinful and wrong, wrong to feel and wrong to be, were inside of him. He'd tried so hard to shake them, to ignore them, to bury them in "right" feelings. But, they were a part of him that -- try as he might -- he could not escape. He could admit them to no one; he could barely admit them to himself. A brave man is one that conquers himself on the battlefield of life, he'd once read. "So, what does that make me? Definitely a coward," Dylen spat out loud. Those desires were his greatest secret, the path that he foresaw leading to the downfall.
No one understood him. No one could understand. His parents could not grasp his dreams, even if he could relate them vocally. Not to mention, they'd call him deranged for even entertaining them. And so, Dylen's mind groped for any humiliating, degrading word his formidable intellect knew, and he invariably found examples from his past to prove that those words described him. As he lurched from one horrific thought to the next and proved his uselessness to himself, anger and desperation festered in his soul.
Of course, no one else on earth knew about this self-mutilation of soul save Dylen Mason. In fact, to every other human who knew him, Dylen appeared to have everything any 18 year old could want. Physically, most of the girls in his graduating class considered him to be the best unspoken for guy in the school. "Cute" was the word they always seemed to return to. His thick mane of light brown hair was just beginning to sun streak (as it did every summer), and his tan was now deep and rich. The daily chores required of him around the Mason's small family farm rendered him quite strong, beyond what his thin 5'10", 140 pound body would betray. His facial features were wholly masculine, but there was something soft and inviting about his youthful smile. But, everyone who knew him agreed his hazel eyes were his best feature. Those eyes seemed to shine with inner light, a fire sometimes fiercely blazing while at others softly, seductively glowing.
Behind those beautiful eyes shone Dylen's brilliant mind. As long as anyone could remember, Dylen was years ahead of his peers. He was reading simple sentences at 2, teen novels at 6, and tested at college level by 10. His parents never considered allowing Dylen to skip grades, so he was often bored. He made up for it by reading and learning anything he could get his hands on. He mastered playing the drums, including set, classical snare, and tympani. He'd even taken all-state honors on several occasions. Now that he was grown, the colleges sent him offers en masse. A stack of over 70 unsolicited recruitment letters from some of the most prestigious universities in the United States sat in piles in his room. Harvard, Yale, Johns Hopkins, among many others, personally invited his application. In fact, just yesterday, two letters arrived in the mail. The first was another congratulatory letter at being named as his class's valedictorian. The second was another in a series of communications with the University of Colorado - the school he'd cheered for and wanted to attend since childhood -- where he had secured a full Merit scholarship.
Dylen did have one obvious weakness, something that was common to children with his intellectual strength. He was hard to get to know socially. Everyone in school liked Dylen, but it was as if there were a buffer between him and his peers. Most of his school friends chalked that up to his Mormon upbringing, but, even so, at his core, he was an intensely private person. Dylen preferred the company of one or two close friends to any environment with large numbers of people. He had an almost impenetrable lack of external emotion, which hid seething passions underneath. He did have a few friends who pierced the barrier and who found him to be the best, most loyal friend they had ever known. But, even his parents admitted that, in some ways, they barely knew their own son. Despite the emotional seclusion, Dylen had always been the strength and support of those close to him as they endured the pains of adolescence.
Dylen always seemed happy, until the beginning of his senior year. But, something happened that particular August that no one understood. Seemingly overnight, Dylen withdrew completely. He stopped visiting his friends, instead choosing to spend virtually all his free time alone in his room. His once immaculately groomed appearance disappeared and was replaced by a sloppy, uncared for exterior. Even the girls who once marveled, however secretly, at his looks, could rarely see any part of it now. The cuteness, the fire, and Dylen himself, had been swallowed up by something.
At first, everyone thought it was a phase that would play out, but it didn't. Dylen's friends didn't understand why he never seemed to be happy anymore. Those close enough to read his complex emotions could tell he was overcome with sadness, sometimes even anger. The problem was that they did not know what they could do about it or even what it was over. Months passed and things only got worse. As winter closed in, a cold as formidable as any arctic blast gripped Dylen. Nagging fears about their son became the topic of hushed conversations between his parents. Paul and Kathi Mason even went so far as to ask their bishop to interview their son, but the bishop was locked out by the formidable emotional wall.
As spring dawned and graduation approached, Dylen's days seemed to be filled with syrupy sweet, but genuine complements. Dylen had won every award and honor that it was possible for him to win. Perhaps, with the pressure of winning finally off, Dylen may return to something akin to normal, his friends and family continued to vainly hope. Dylen was outwardly grateful for all the concern; however, he immediately dismissed it in the privacy of his own mind. The specter of that brown case and his desires was always there, overshadowing every action he made. Their love was all misplaced anyway, Dylen decided. If they knew what he really was, they'd be condemning him, not congratulating him. So, through every obsessed-over twist of fate, through every eternal moment, his once strong spirit wilted a little more.
The auto pilot registered something amiss. But, Dylen was so lost in his wandering melancholy that the dog in the road didn't register to conscious thought until it was just a few yards away. Time slowed and his senses accelerated as adrenaline rushed through him. His foot hit the brakes, and the wheel lurched in his hands. His breath restricted as the seatbelt snapped taut around him. Tires began to scream in protest. Dylen was strangely calm as he found he was losing control. Although he was going to miss the dog, he realized he was not going to stay on the road. The animal passed safely to his right, but it stayed in clear view through the front windshield. The car was spinning. Dylen heard the sound of scraping dirt and grinding metal under his car as he left the road.
It had been years since Rian had enjoyed as satisfying a week as this one was turning out to be. As he pulled off the freeway to drive to his parents home, he marveled at how good being successfully free of pressure could feel. Final exams week were much more difficult than he'd anticipated, and he'd pulled two all-nighters to get through chemistry and calculus. He had been rather worried about the calc exam because there were a lot of complicated formulas he had to get right. But, when he walked out of class for the last time that semester, he knew he'd done well. He relished the thought of the nights of freedom to come -- because he knew they would not last. Good medical schools were getting more and more difficult to get into. He needed good grades in classes that would be much more challenging than freshman intro courses. College was going to get a lot harder very quickly.
But, this week had one more satisfying moment -- perhaps even more satisfying than finishing the year had been. Rian finally moved out of the CU dorms. He'd scouted out his small, but very nice loft apartment weeks ago. Since then, he'd been moving things in, spending his small amounts of free time putting his new home together. It had taken all of the Thursday after the calculus final to get the last of the moving done; but, late last night, for the first time, he'd slept in a home of his own.
Rian May was the guy everyone envied in high school. Co-captain of the football team, contender for state in wrestling, smart in every subject. Rian looked older than his just over 20 years, but that seemed to work to his advantage. Every girl that ever crossed his path was tongue-tied when taking in his short styled blond hair, bottomless brown eyes, and ruggedly chiseled features. In fact, most people thought Rian was a model, despite the fact he'd never done a photo shoot and never intended to stand in front of a camera.
In addition to his classic features, Rian maintained a muscle model's body. But, unlike most of his athlete friends, Rian's gym experiences had always been a means to an end. Sometimes, the gym was for simple stress relief as he shed his cares on unrelenting iron. At other times, the gym helped him prepare for this sport or that; but truthfully, there was always another drive at the heart of his workouts. When Rian was 13, he'd watched a Discovery channel program on orthopedic surgeons. He had been mesmerized. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life from that day on. Since he expected he would need to know a lot about the body and body structure to be a surgeon, what better place was there to learn about them than the gym, his young teen mind reasoned. The then skinny Rian poured himself into his workouts and never looked back. What developed was a 5'11", 195 pound body that would be the envy any man. But, the dedication and drive to maintain himself at his best, was a reflection of his deeper drive to achieve in every part of his life.
Rian also had the good fortune to be born into a family with means. Rian's grandfather was an exceptional businessman, a state legislator, and a farmer. Rian's mom, his youngest daughter, was a remarkably beautiful woman, even having been a finalist for Miss Colorado in her youth. Rian's father was a bull of a man. The definition of corn- fed football beef, he'd played line at Colorado State. The young couple seemed the perfect match. Unlike the dreams of many of his player friends, Rian's father always had Colorado soil in his blood. All he ever wanted to do was return home and run the family farm. But, Rian's mother inherited her father's business instincts. The result was that the Mays had no worries for money, even when times for the other farmers were difficult. They lived a comfortable life in one of the finest homes to be found in Colorado farm country.
When Rian, the May's only son, turned 18, he gained access to a trust set up for him by his grandfather. Rian only knew of the trust's existence, and he always assumed it was enough to pay for his college. He was astonished when he learned that, under his mother's watchful management, the trust had grown from 250,000 to just under 3 million dollars. Now, at 18, he was a millionaire. For most teenagers, this windfall on top of a life of relative privilege would have been the ticket to extravagance and indulgent self- destruction, but not Rian. To be sure, he enjoyed the good things life had to offer, but he was always careful with his money. He never flaunted his money to other. He knew he had been blessed, and that blessing required responsibility. His goals in life were everything to him, and the gym taught him the discipline and work ethic to achieve them.
That fateful Friday started as so many normal days did for Rian. He got up at his usual 6 am and started his morning run. It ended an hour later at the Ward Athletic Center. A number of Rian's friends who were now CU athletes -- and a generous contribution from his mom to the athletic scholarship fund -- persuaded the athletic department to allow Rian to use the superior student athlete facility. In the end, the investment paid off more than the coaching staff expected. Over his years in the gym, Rian had turned himself into something of a conditioning expert. He had discovered and tested virtually every exercise technique, diet strategy, and legal supplementation to help him learn about the body and to develop his physique. In truth, Rian's knowledge rivaled the strength and conditioning coaches on staff. The fact that he was the same age as the younger student athletes led them to be much more comfortable in posing questions and getting advice from Rian. Since the advise came from a peer, it was usually followed more closely than if it came from "an old man." The gains made by several freshman athletes were a testament to Rian's ability to train others as much as they were to the athletes' work in the gym.
As soon as Rian arrived at the gym, he changed into his usual workout attire and threw himself into his routine. With the pressures of exams and the move finally off, he enjoyed an amazing leg workout. He'd been on a plateau for a month, not really making the strength gains he'd set for himself. But, today he felt so good; he believed he'd finally broken through it. He made careful mental notes of how he did on each group of sets, and ended the workout with a careful examination of his body in the mirror. Rian viewed himself with an almost clinical detachment, objectively noting any differences from the last time he'd thoroughly examined the muscle groups. As he reviewed his progress, he decided how to approach the differences he found, good or bad, in his next workout rotation. A number of the guys in the gym also stopped to watch Rian and his nearly 200 pounds of defined muscle go through the ritual. There were more than a few cheers and shouts of praise like "Fucking Awesome Rian." Rian graciously accepted the complements, but remained absolutely objective in his observations. His decision after he completed his last hamstring pose was -- not bad . . . not bad at all. He'd gained a couple of mental stress pounds, but he could take care of that quickly enough. In fact, the summer promised to be a great one for him -- in the gym and elsewhere.
Time began to accelerate as the car slowed dramatically, finally coming to a complete stop. For a moment the soft hiss and click of a hot engine suddenly stilled registered in the air. Then there was silence. Dylen remained frozen for a few seconds, his stunned brain still trying to sort out what happened. Almost in shock, his body began to function automatically to remove Dylen from the danger. A hand with a life of its own clicked the seatbelt and opened the car door. Legs removed him from the driver's seat. His steps were labored, nearly stumbling, as the legs moved him away from the machine. Slowly, as his feet made contact with the road, Dylen's conscious mind returned. He saw his car, turned 180 degrees. The rear wheels were at odd angles suspended a few inches off the ground and partially descend into a dry irrigation ditch. The exterior of the car didn't appear to be damaged, outside of some cosmetic scrapes. But, a portion of the undercarriage was deeply wedged onto a rise between the road and the canal, which was enhanced by several yards of scraped earth. The car was floundered, like a squat teeter- totter. Even if he could start it again, there was no way he could extricate the car by himself.
Perhaps it was the weight of this final, very real brush with death that caused it, but something inside of Dylen's self-tortured soul broke. It was as if his whole world finally collapsed. On top of everything else . . . EVERYTHING ELSE . . . there was this. He was still miles from home, he'd forgotten his cell phone that morning, and there were nothing but black, empty fields in sight. At no other time in his life had he ever felt so alone. Dylen's legs lost their strength, and he sank to the still warm asphalt. His emotionless exterior melted and tears of furious sadness began to flow. "Oh FUCK!!!" he wailed as a riptide of previously unspent emotion burst forth. He shook with despair, kneeling in the road of what he saw as his shattered life. "Why did this have to happen to me?" he cried. But, the accident was no longer in his mind. This was something much more. "It always overtakes me. Why should I fight it anymore?" he thought. "Maybe it would have been better for everyone if I hadn't walked out of that car alive. . ."
Rian opened his apartment door after the return jog home to find his answering machine blinking. The message was from his parents, inviting him to come home for the weekend to celebrate the end of a successful freshman year. It was this invitation that led Rian to drive down the sparsely traveled country road that evening. Rian loved classic cars, so by chance, when he located a '62 Corvette Convertible, he couldn't resist the urge to splurge. It was a beautiful night, so he put the top down. The convertible sped loudly down the road as he got the chance to let some of the power of the car emerge. He had a CD of Stone Temple Pilots, his favorite band, in a portable RF CD player (he refused to deface the car with a modern stereo), when he noticed another vehicle in the distance. It was far away, but it definitely looked like an accident of some kind. The lights from the other vehicle were pointed toward him, but at a strangely elevated angle. As he closed in on the car, Rian couldn't quite make out what was going on, but there was some movement that interrupted the oncoming headlights. Someone has just walked from the center of the road toward the shoulder.
A sound reached Dylen's ears. He had no idea how long he'd been there in the road -- a few minutes or a few hours -- but something was coming. Even from a distance it sounded powerful. A car engine. "Maybe there is someone or something looking out for me," Dylen thought. Then, he caught sight of the lights. The car was approaching him. He quickly, but shakily, stood up, and moved to the side of the road. He tried to compose himself. There was still a part of him that did not want to add further embarrassment into his situation, but he was sure his tear streaked appearance would be embarrassing enough. The car came to a stop a few yards behind him, and a door opened.
"Hey, you need some help?" The voice was a resonant, deep baritone, and it sounded familiar. Dylen squinted into the headlights, but he couldn't make out who it was. Then the shadow of a figure, wide and imposing, emerged from the glare. "Dylen? Jesus Christ, is that you?" Rian May asked as he emerged into the light.