Sleepy Days

Sleepy Days, Come No More Chapter 15

Steven,

You have been gone for four weeks now. Marie has given me the letters and cards that you sent for me. I have wanted to write you so many times, but I don't know what to say. I miss you, I miss you very much.

It is hard to describe how I feel. I mean one minute I am extremely happy, I think that we are solid, only to wake and find you gone. Being away from you is agony. It sickens me.

I constantly wonder what you are doing, how you feel. At night I find it hard to sleep and when I do my dreams are of you. Sometimes the dreams are so real that I wake and expect to find you next to me, but you aren't. I have been living in your apartment, sleeping in your bed. I haven't washed the sheets because I don't want to lose the smell. Some nights I just pull the covers over my head and breathe you in.

I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. I want to hold you in my arms. I want to talk with you and have you tell me how your day went. I want to cuddle on the couch and watch bad movies. I want to lay you down and make love to you. I just want to be near you.

I know that you believe that you are doing the right thing and I want you to be happy and to get the help you need, I just don't understand why I couldn't have been able to help you, to support you. Why didn't you talk to me about your problems? I knew there was something wrong, but every time I asked you about your troubles you would shut down on me.

I know that this has to be hard on you. I know that it must be hard for you to trust people, but baby, why couldn't you trust me? I don't want to be angry with you or to upset you. I want you to get well.

I love you,

Blake

I brought the letter to my face and inhaled deeply. It was soaked with his smell, woody and spicy. I lay there for a while and imagined Blake in my bed. I imagined us there together. I remembered being nestled against his hard body, with his strong arms wrapped around me. The way he kissed my neck and whispered in my ear. How his cock would press against me in the night.

I missed looking in his emerald eyes. I missed his touch, his voice. Thinking about Blake had excited me in the most intimate of places. My nipples were hardening and my cock was throbbing. I took a bottle of lotion from the night stand and released my cock.

I lubed myself with my hand and started to stroke. I had not been touched in over a month, not even by my own hand. I was so tense with desire. I closed my eyes and thought of Blake. I imagined him there with me. Pleasing me with his hands. Licking and sucking every inch of my eager body.

I started to writhe as a surge of pleasure coursed through me. My head had become light and I was spinning. My breath became sporadic and my toes curled. I stroked harder and faster as I was approaching the end. My balls were tightening and I began to moan. Then I shoot a huge load that soiled my clothes.

It was incredible. I was left completely limp and exhausted. It was as if all the energy was drained from my body. I lay there in a state of complete satisfaction. I wiped my hand on my shirt and drifted off to sleep. It was a peaceful sleep. Actually, the best sleep I had had since I arrived at the clinic.

My blissful slumber was broken by a knock on the door. It was Ricky. Due to my compromised appearance, I spoke to him through the door. He wanted to know if I was going to the sexual abuse group, and if so did I want to go together. I told him yes, but that I needed five minutes to get decent.

I went to the bathroom and freshened up and changed my clothes. Ricky was sitting in the hall waiting for me when I exited my room.

"Hey." I said.

"Hey, are you ready for another amazing group?" Ricky asked with a smile.

"It's what I live for, healing." I said with a laugh.

We arrived just before the group started. It was the normal group experience, I just listened and observed. Someone was telling their personal experience with sexual abuse and how it had affected their life. This particular person had become addicted to drugs and had lost custody of their children. It was a very sad story.

Some of the other attendees were giving the person support and encouragement, and then something out of the ordinary happened. Someone directed a comment to me. His name was Chuck and he was an active member of the group, always sharing his experiences and so forth.

"What about you?" Chuck asked. I looked around, thinking that he must be speaking to someone else. "You Steven, what is your story?" He demanded.

"My story, it isn't anything special. I will allow someone else to share. I can wait." I said with a smile.

"No. You should go today." Chuck insisted.

"Excuse me." I said in surprise.

"You have been coming to this group for weeks and you have hardly said a word. You haven't shared your story with us; you only listen to others'. It is unfair. You should share your story." He said sternly.

"I understand your position, Chuck, however, it is my understanding that we progress at our own pace and that we reserve the right to share when we are ready." I said.

"Bullshit. You sit there and observe us like you are at the zoo, and then when one of us dares to challenge you to do what all the rest of us have already done, you refuse, with a smug smirk on your face, like you are better than us." Chuck exclaimed.

"I am sorry, but that is your own perception. I was assigned to this group; I am just following my schedule." I paused. "There was no smugness to my comment; I was simply stating my position. Now, I understand that we are all under some difficult circumstances, but it seems that you are displacing your anger." I said.

Chuck laughed violently, "No my anger is with you, strutting around in your cardigans and loafers, acting like you are beyond reproach." Chuck exclaimed.

"Chuck, Steven has the right not to share if he is not ready." The group moderator said.

"It is obvious that Chuck is upset, and frankly I am too, so I think I will leave." I said as I stood and headed toward the exit.

"Steven, you should stay." The moderator said.

"Yeah, you should." Ricky agreed.

I thought for a moment, "Fine." I said.

I sat in the group in complete silence for the remainder. I was quite upset by Chuck's little confrontation. I did not appreciate him trying to bully me into talking or criticizing my conduct. After the group everyone started to leave. Ricky and I were about to exit, when the moderator asked to speak with me.

"Steven, I am sorry if you were upset about the situation with Chuck. Sometimes these sessions can get emotional and these things can happen. I appreciate the fact that you did not exasperate matters." She said.

"Certainly, I am familiar with these types of issues." I said.

"Steven, actually, I am glad that this happened today, because I had intended to talk to you anyway." She said.

"About what?" I asked.

"Well, the things that Chuck said about your lack of participation, has been brought up by other members also." She said.

"Really." I said.

"Yes." She paused. "Steven, I can't force you to share, it has to be your decision, but I will say that I think that you are doing a disservice to yourself. This group, your time here, will not be as productive if you don't open up." She said.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Yes, Steven. That is all." She said.

I smiled and walked away. Ricky was waiting for me in the hall.

"Was everything okay?" Ricky asked.

"Yeah, it's fine." I said.

"How do you feel?" Ricky asked in a concerned.

"I am fine." I assured.

"It is just if Chuck had confronted me like that I would be a little shaken up." Ricky said.

"Well, I understand that this is a stressful time for the clients here. I can sympathize with his frustration, he was simply venting." I said.

"That is a positive attitude to have. I would be so upset." Ricky said with a laugh. "So, do you want to play cards or pool?" He asked.

"No, I have a session with Dr. Meltzer in about an hour, so I'm going to go for a walk first. But do you want to have dinner later?" I asked.

"Yeah, 6 o'clock?" Ricky asked.

"It's the plan." I said.

We parted ways and I went outside for a walk. I walked for a while and then stopped to take in the sea.

I stood there looking out on the water as a breeze swept past my face. I watched the sunlight dance across the gentle waves as they passed back and forth from the sand. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Sea air has a distinctive smell, a combination of death and life. The combination of decay and the saltiness of the water, create a tangy, fishy smell that is so comforting.

Being near something so large, so timeless makes you feel small. It humbles you, makes you feel more hopeful. I stood there and for a period I was not Steven, I was not troubled, I just existed and this moment was all that mattered.

Then I was over taken by the presence of someone else. The eerie awareness of being watched shot through my body and snatched me from my temporary haven. I opened my eyes and turned to find Chuck, the guy who confronted me in group.

"Hello." I said.

"Hey, Steven." Chuck said.

"Is there something that you want?" I asked.

"Can't I enjoy the outdoors too?" He asked with a smile.

"Certainly, but the outdoors is such a vast area that I'm sure we don't have to share this small radius of space." I said dryly.

He laughed, "I guess I deserve that." He said.

"Did you follow me out here?" I asked.

"No. Well, sort of. I was in the conservatory and I saw you out here so I decided to come and attempt to clear the air." He said.

"You don't have too. You said what you felt. No need for false apologies." I said bluntly.

"Wow. Well, at least we have established that you are capable of expressing yourself." He said playfully.

"Look Chuck, I meant what I said, there is no need for apologies and honestly I don't want to chat." I explained.

"I meant what I said. I don't think it is fair for you to attend group and not participate, especially when the rest of us are working so hard to be open, but I shouldn't have expressed my concerns in that way. It was wrong." He said.

"Okay." I said.

"Well, do you accept my apology?" He asked.

"If that will help end this conversation." I said sarcastically.

"Have a good evening; I hope to see you in group tomorrow." He said as he started to walk away.

I closed my eyes and tried to return to my aquatic bliss, but the moment had passed and I couldn't recapture it. It was nearly time for my next session so I decided to go back inside. I watched television in the recreation room until it was time for my appointment.

I was greeted at the door by Dr. Meltzer. We entered the room and took our usual places.

"How are you doing?" Dr. Meltzer asked.

"I am fine doctor. How are you?" I asked.

"I am well, thank you. I know we have been focusing primarily on the issues with your uncle, but today I want to talk about your parents, your home life if you will." He explained.

"Okay. Where should I start?" I asked.

"Start as early as possible, give me the complete story." He instructed.

"Well, my parents had me when they were teenagers. My mom was 16 and my dad was 18. My grandmother was not pleased with my mother's pregnancy, apparently she put her out and my mother had to live with relatives. After I was born we lived at my grandmother's but things were still tense between my mother and grandmother." I paused. "Sometimes my mother would be locked out of the house and my grandmother would refuse to give me to my mother. Eventually, my mother moved out and lived with her Aunt and I went to live my dad and his family. I rotated between them for a while. Then when I was about 4 they got an apartment." I said.

"I don't remember much about this time. I know it was a small one bedroom apartment and I slept on a pallet on their bedroom floor. They argued and fought a lot. My dad's mom was overly involved; she didn't really care for my mother, so they fought about that. To be honest I don't remember their arguments, most of the knowledge comes from their recounts." I explained.

"You said they fought, was it physical?" He asked.

"Yes. There was violence. I remember one night my dad came home really late and he was drunk. My mother started to yell and curse at him. They argued back and forth for a while and then he told her to leave him alone, but she didn't relent. She just kept yelling at him. I remember coming out of the room to see what was wrong. I was standing between them and my dad was about to hit her. I told him to stop and she slide down behind me. He didn't hit her, he just left." I explained.

"I would like you to think about what you felt when this was happening." He directed.

I thought about it for a minute, "I guess I was scared, I mean that would be the logical emotion." I said.

"Steven, I want you to own your feelings. I don't want you to evade them." He said.

"Evade them?" I asked.

"Steven, I think you know what I mean. Instead of stating that you were scared you say that it was the probable emotion. I just want you to declare, not suggest." He said.

"Alright. I was afraid; I had never seen my dad that angry before. He had always been nice to me, it was the first time I had seen his violent side." I said.

"Very good. How did this affect your view of your mother?" He asked.

"I don't know." I paused. "She was my mother. I had always seen her as strong, but then when she was so scared and crouched down behind me, she seemed so pitiable. I felt sorry for her and I wanted to protect her." I said.

"Were there other instances when your father became physical with your mother and you intervened on her behalf?" He asked.

"Yeah, I always intervened on her behalf, even when I thought that she had provoked him." I said.

"How did your mother provoke your father?" He asked.

"They would have an argument and he would want to drop it or try to walk away, but she would be relentless. She would get in his face, belittle him, and hide his keys if he wanted to leave. It was just crazy." I said. "I remember once, I think it was my 9th birthday, we never really celebrated my birthday, but this time my dad took me to Chucky Cheese. I was very excited, but they had an argument so my mother refused to go. Later when we returned home, my mother wouldn't let us in the apartment." I said.

"My dad was calling inside but she would not answer the phone and she refused to open the door, so my dad kicked the door in. Then it turned violent, he had pent her against the bed, my dad's younger sister was there with us, she was only 2 years older than me, we intervened. It was horrible." I paused. "He left and the door was broken, so we couldn't really rest." I said.

"How did you feel, especially since it was supposed to be a special day?" He asked.

"There were no special days, holidays, birthdays, graduation, they usually ruined them all. They were just so fucking selfish. They couldn't care less about our feelings, I mean why would she lock us out and since she had, why couldn't he just take us with him. They just ruined every moment." I confessed.

"How did you feel about your mother provoking your father?" He asked.

"It upset me, because if it turned violent I was always in the middle, it was like I was always siding against him. Then the next day or so she would return to treating me like crap, they would be back in love and now my dad would be upset with me too." I explained.

"Were you often in the middle of your parents' problems?" He asked.

"Well, when you live with someone it is hard not to know what is going on, but they purposefully involved me in their problems. My mother used my brother and I as a kind of weapon over my dad. If he didn't come home or spend time with us she would say how horrible a father he was and so forth, but when he was around she would try to monopolize his time. She would also say we needed things we didn't really need, or try to pressure me into asking for things. She would say closed mouths don't get feed and say what things he was doing for his other children." I paused. "And if they got into an argument they would both try to convince us that it was the other's fault. Over time my mother stopped doing this but my dad continued." I said.

"How did this make you feel?" He asked.

"It just made for a very chaotic life, I felt a certain level of responsibility to each of them and like always had to pick between them." I explained.

We talked more about my parents. I explained how my mother had been sexually abused by her stepfather and that her mother battled alcoholism and would belittle her and would beat her. I told him how my dad's father had had little involvement in his life and his mother had boyfriends, one of which beat him severely and locked him in a closet and his mother did not intervene. How his mother was often abused in front of him.

He asked me how I felt about my parents' pasts. I told him that I felt bad for them. That it made me sympathize with them and excuse a lot of the treatment that I received; I would just tell myself that their behavior towards me was a result of their own pain.

We ended the session with a brief discussion about the relationship between my father and I. That evening I talked with Cassie and Ricky for a while and then we went to dinner together. After that I went to a music therapy session and then I went to my room.

The next morning, I slept later than usual. As a result Cassie and Ricky were leaving the cafeteria as I was going in. We greeted each other and chatted for a few minutes, and then I entered. After I collected my breakfast I sat down and started to eat. I saw Tristan and Chuck sitting together a couple of tables over. I tried not to look their way, as I didn't particularly want to speak to either of them.

As I was continuing to consume my meal, Chuck came over to my table and said good morning.

"Good morning." I said.

"We missed you in group yesterday." He said.

"I had a scheduling conflict. Besides, according to you I don't contribute much anyway, so I am sure my absence was not a hinderince." I said.

"You were missed. That stoic silence of yours has become quite a fixture." He said as he sat down.

"Please, don't let me take too much of your time. I know a delightful person like you must be beloved by many, so please go and spread the joy." I said sarcastically.

He smiled, "I thought you could use the company, it is always sad to see someone eating alone." He said.

"Solitude builds character and honestly if the alternative to your company is being alone, guess which I would choose?" I said with a grin.

"You really don't like me do you?" He asked.

"I don't even know you. Besides why would you even care?" I said.

"Because friendship is important." He said.

"I hope you have a wonderful day Chuck." I said as I stood, grabbed my tray and left the table.

Later that morning I attended my next session with Dr. Meltzer. He greeted me at the door as usual and he proceeded to tell me the topic of the day.

"Okay, Steven, during our last session we discussed your relationship with your father. You mentioned that you had told him about the abuse that you were receiving from your mother, but you didn't discuss his reaction. I would like you to talk about that." He said.

"You mean when they were separated?" I asked.

"Yes." He said.

"As I told you, um, I told him that she had become very mean toward me and that she was angry all the time and yelling at me and hitting me," I paused, "that she was never home and when she was it was horrible. I asked him to let me live with him." I said.

"Continue." He instructed.

"He promised that things would get better, that he would come around more, but he never did, and every time I told him, he would confront her about it and once he was gone it would just get worse for me." I paused. "So, eventually, I realized that he was not going to help me and I better try harder not to upset her." I said.

"How did you modify your behavior in attempts to appease your mother?" He asked.

"I just tried to make sure the apartment was always clean, that I did the laundry correctly, I just tried to stay out of her way." I explained.

"Did that work?" He asked.

"Sometimes. There might be two or three day stretches were she would be nice and everything would be calm, but it never lasted long. She was constantly upset, either from work, at my dad, with her mother, it was just always something and when she was upset it was bad for me." I paused. "But in a way, after I accepted it as the norm and I adjusted to it, it became tolerable. Honestly, when I realized that my dad wasn't going to take me away, it just made me appreciate my mother." I said.

"Appreciate her?" He inquired.

"Well, she was still there. She was going to work and supporting us, my dad was always the sole financial provider, even when he was not around, but she was actually there, and that was something." I said.

"Do you feel that her presence was cause for loyalty, I mean since she stayed did that make you feel more indebted to her?" He asked.

"I don't know." I paused. "Yes, her being there gave me a sense of continuity. I felt that I could depend on the fact that she wouldn't abandon me." I said. "But I felt a certain level of responsibility for my mother. She just always seemed so sad and pitiable. I always wanted to make her feel better." I explained.

"What about when your parents reconciled, how did that change things?" He asked.

"As I told you before, early in my life I was really close to my dad and always wanted to be around him, but after he, well abandoned me, I just didn't feel the same about him. I had wished that they wouldn't reconcile." I said.

"Why?" He asked.

"We all had settled into a routine. My mother could be horrible but I had adjusted, things were less chaotic because I only had to deal with her personality, but when my dad came he just brought so much chaos." I paused. "They fought and argued all the time. He changed our whole routine and would just blatantly undermine her at every turn and she would undermine him, it was just always tense." I said.

"My father had to be the center of attention at all times. He is the kind of person who needs to tear you down to elevate himself. As long as you give him constant reverence and adoration than he is happy, but if you don't then he could be cruel." I said.

"Was he cruel to you?" He asked.

"Well, when he returned I wasn't his pal anymore, I didn't think he was so great, so he would make negative comments about me. They would be presented as jokes but they were just mean little jabs. In fact he would do the same to my mother. Eventually, everyone was making jabs about me." I admitted.

"How did you respond to this?" He asked.

"I would smile; act like it didn't bother me. As time went on I became wittier and sarcastic, but I was often punished or criticized for my responses to their jabs." I said.

"Did your brother receive the same type of treatment that you did?" He asked.

"No. He was the favorite. He was constantly in trouble at school and mischievous at home but he was never really punished and he was never belittled like me." I said.

We talked more about my family dynamics. He said that he felt that I was making some progress with expressing my feelings and told me that he wanted me to consider journaling my feelings regarding my childhood. He said if I thought about them alone and wrote it out that it might make it easier during the sessions.

A couple more weeks had passed. Dr. Meltzer and I were still focusing on the molestation and my parents, but we alternated between them and occasionally discussed other issues as well. I had received a `thinking of you' card from Blake and I continued to write him and send him cards also.

On this day I had just completed a mediation class and was sitting in the conservatory, looking out on the water. I was actually in a relatively good mood; my day had been very pleasant. Then I was joined by Chuck. Since he confronted me in group he had been nicer to me, though I tried to keep our interactions as brief as possible.

"Hey, Steven." He said sitting next to me.

"Hello." I said.

"So how is it hanging?" He asked cheerfully.

"It is hanging fine. How is it hanging for you?" I asked in a flat tone.

"It's hanging a little to the left." He said with a laugh.

"Well, I guess I walked right into that one." I said.

"So, what are you up to?" He asked.

"Chuck, we aren't pals. I don't understand why you insist on these pointless conversations." I said.

"Are you still salty over what happened in group that time?" He asked.

"I didn't appreciate that, but in truth you were always giving me a mean look before that too, and it is okay I didn't come here to make friends." I said.

"I wasn't giving you dirty looks, I was just enamored." He said.

"That is terribly flattering but I am not interested in any clinic romance." I said.

"No, not like that. You are just different from the other people in the group; you just carry yourself with a certain level of dignity. I like it." He said.

"Well, you certainly have an interesting way of displaying your appreciation." I said.

"That day in group, I was just having a bad day. I mean, I was feeling down on myself, and when I saw you there, always seeming unfazed by everything, always seeming to be above the rest of us, it pissed me off. You are the type of person that I wanted to be when I was growing up. Smart, successful, instead I took another course and sometimes it is hard to live with." He confessed.

"I am nothing special, I assure you." I said.

"No, you are something special. You are." He said.

"They are just clothes, Chuck." I said.

"It is not about your clothes." He paused. "I ran away from home after my father and brother kept raping me, and I have been hustling for most of my life. Selling my body for pennies, you know. I gave up all my dreams, all of my hopes. I am a junky and a whore." He proclaimed.

"You made the best decisions you could at the time. You were in a terrible position." I said.

"Yeah, but if I could do it differently I would, I would have wanted to go the route you went. Look, I know you don't want to be bothered, but I just wanted you to know." He said as he stood and left the room.

After Chuck was gone I found myself a little shaken by his words, so I decided to go to my room. Once, I made it to my destination, I turned off the lights and lay across the bed. I thought about Chuck's perception of me, dignified and regal. It was exactly the image that I wanted to portray, but I was a fraud. I was no better than Chuck. I had been a prostitute too. I was nothing more than a whore myself.

Special thanks to Oscar, Arch, Clayton, Gary, Khalid, Fred, Vern, Joseph, Jake, Zak, Jim, JT and Mikal for their encouraging comments, I am extremely grateful.

Sincerest thanks to Nifty and all of the wonderful participants who make this site possible, from the generous donors to the archivists and administrators, you all are truly appreciated.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think, please forward any comments or feedback to bonotorros@yahoo.com.