All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language, please exit now.
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"THE PASSION OF MATTHEW"
Copyright Ritchris 2005
A story by
Ritch Christopher
literary enhancement by
Les Martin
Chapter Two
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The fields of Philemon were a colorful riot of blossoms, wildflowers of all kinds. As far you could see, stalks of larkspur, hollyhocks, and heather, brought by someone's ancestors to Georgia from Scotland centuries ago, were bending in the gentle summer breeze. Hank stooped to pick a small bouquet of violets. He gave them a deep sniff and tried handing them to Matt. When Matt refuse to take them, Hank threw the little florets up in the air and they landed on Matt's head and shoulders.
"I guess you're not familiar with the movie musical, 'Oklahoma'," Matt said.
"Of course I am...Gordon MacRae and Shirley Jones?"
"Then do you remember the first duet they sing together?"
"I'm afraid you've got me with that piece of trivia," Hank replied.
"It doesn't matter. It's just that your action, just now, reminded me of the first line."
"What is it, Mr. Jeopardy? Or do I have to supply the question?"
"Forget it! It's not important!"
"It MUST be or something as simple as tossing a bunch of flowers at you reminded you of it."
"All right, but don't take this personally. I didn't write the song. Rodgers and Hammerstein did."
"OK, asshole! I WON'T take whatever it is, personally, so what are the fucking lyrics?"
"Laurie sings to Curly, 'Don't throw bouquets at me...people will say we're in love'..."
"Why would 'I' take that personally?"
"It's just that if Uncle Mike or some of his men saw you throwing flowers at me, they might get the wrong idea."
"Would it be so wrong if they thought you and I were in love?"
"Shit! I wouldn't be able to face any of them. It's hard enough as it is with me being crippled. I'd die if they thought I was a crippled faggot."
"All right, I won't throw anything at you but rocks from now on. Is that manly enough?"
"I'd prefer you didn't throw ANYTHING at me, but I'd rather it be rocks than flowers."
"Where do we look for honeysuckle or do I have to call Martha Stewart on my cell phone to ask her?"
"You got a cell phone?"
"It was in that UPS package I got last night."
"Your mom sent it to you?"
"My mom's dead."
"Sorry, so is mine...but I'm sure you already know about the car accident that took her and my dad at the same time."
"Your Uncle Mike DID mention it."
"So, your DAD sent you the cell phone to keep track of you?"
"No, the cell came from a friend."
"Damn! You got a friend who cares enough about you to buy you a cell phone?"
"We're just close buddies. When I'm at home, he and I talk about the day's events nearly every night," Hank lied. "I expect he'll call me some time tonight."
"Oh," Matt replied with a little disappointment in his voice. "Now about the honeysuckle. It's like a climbing bush...a predator that likes to lean up against another plant or tree. We'll probably find some in that shaded glen over there."
Hank looked a saw a small patch of trees appearing in the distance like a tiny forest. "Is that too far for you to walk?"
"I've had this dummy leg for years. I can practically run with it. NO! It's not too far for me to walk. LOOK, HANK! Let's get one thing straight. I may look like a cripple, but for God's sake, don't treat me like one!"
"Sorry..."
"No, I'm the one who should be sorry for saying, 'for God's sake'..."
"That wasn't taking the Lord's name in vain, not the way you used it."
"I could care less whether I took his name in vain or not. I don't believe in God. So why should I say, 'for God's sake'?"
"You don't believe in God?"
"Nope!"
"What about heaven and hell?"
"Nope! So don't try to convert me! I'm beyond religion of any kind!"
"You don't have to worry about that. Converting you is the last thing I would do to you or to anyone."
"You don't believe in God, either?"
"Let's just say, I have my questions about God, heaven, and hell. The universe is so vast. You can go for millions of miles which would take thousands of years to reach the nearest star and the preachers on TV talk like you die one minute and in the next minute, you've traveled outside this galaxy into a far away galaxy, where there's God, golden streets, and angels sitting on white clouds. Hell, supposedly, there are no clouds on any other planets in our solar system, so where the fuck IS heaven?"
"I'm glad we see eye-to-eye on that subject."
"See, we've found something else we have in common. I'll bet there's plenty more things, too."
"Just don't pry!" Matt said firmly.
"OK, OK, I won't!"
"OK. Let's go find some honeysuckle..."
The two young men started walking at an average pace toward the glen, then Matt began picking up their pace to a jog. After going twenty-five or thirty steps, Matt decided to go at break neck speed to race Hank to show him how proficient he was with the prosthesis. Hank didn't hold back, but Matt was actually faster than he. Hank was amazed at how well Matt had adjusted to his 'fake leg'. However, both of them were out of breath by the time they reached their goal. Breathing deeply, Matt leaned over, putting his hand on his knees. As he panted he pointed straight in front of Hank.
"See? I told you! HONEYSUCKLE!"
"God, smell the aroma. Matt, it's beautiful."
"Pluck off one of the blossoms and remove the calyx," Matt said.
"OK." Hank did as Matt instructed.
"Now place the tip of the horn in your mouth and suck on it."
Hank placed the flower between his lips and sucked. He smiled. "Matt, that's sweet as honey."
"Dumbass! And I thought you knew about wildflowers. That's how it got it's name, suck on the blossom and you taste honey...HONEYSUCKLE!"
"That's an old wives' tale. That's not how it got its name."
"Well, since I don't know any old wives, my explanation is as good as any."
"Want me to pick you a few?" Hank asked.
"Please...just don't throw them at me."
"You dumb shit! No one can see us in this patch of woods. People are NOT going to say we're in love."
Matt received Hank's remark as a joke and for the first time, he smiled at Hank. Hank snapped the ends of a couple of the honeysuckle blossoms and handed them to Matt. who put the first one between his lips and sucked on it slowly. Just as he was about to swallow the nectar, Matt began to cough as if he were choking or strangling. Matt's cough brought on another and then a series of coughs, each one louder. Hank became alarmed. There was no water in sight and Matt hadn't swallowed anything solid to restrict his air passage, so Hank couldn't decide whether to perform the Heimlich maneuver on Matt or not. Hank didn't want to pat Matt on the back and while Matt was all but bent over, Hank felt helpless in not knowing what to do.
A few seconds later, Matt fell to the ground. He WAS choking and his eyes were rolling back into his skull so that only the white part of his eyeballs were showing. Hank rolled Matt on his back. Hank's dad luckily made Hank go to the Red Cross to learn CPR. The first thing Hank did was to put his hand under Matt's neck and arch it a little to open the air passage, if possible. Matt's face was already turning gray, deepening into a shade of blue. Hank knew he should do mouth-to-mouth on Matt, but Hank hesitated because Hank was reticent about placing his lips on Matt's scarred mouth. The idea almost made Hank sick to his stomach. Matt's facial deformities DID have an effect on Hank, in spite of all he could do to avoid showing it. But then, Matt was dying perhaps. Hank had to quickly overcome his inner disgust and place his mouth over Matt's in order to puff fresh air into Matt's lungs. Slowly, Hank moved his head down, covering Matt's mouth with his own and blew two quick breaths. Hank thought he would try this before pressing on Matt's sternum to keep his heart pumping.
Hank raised his head to assess the situation, then lowered his mouth over Matt's for a second time. Quickly, as Hank finished the second puff of air, Matt recovered, opened his eyes and began screaming loudly. Matt's good arm began to hit Hank in his face while Matt's amputated stump pushed Hank away. Soon Matt's screams put him in a state of hysteria. It seemed to Hank that Matt had gone into a seizure until Matt's yells transformed into words.
"GET OFF! GET OFF ME, YOU GODDAMNED FAGGOT!"
"Matt, I was only..."
"I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU WERE DOING! YOU WERE TRYING TO KISS ME! DO YOU WANT MY COCK NEXT?"
"No, Matt, you were...you got strangled sucking on the honeysuckle and you sorta passed out..."
"SHUT UP AND GET ME THE FUCK UP!"
"Why don't you lie still until your breathing returns to normal."
"Wouldn't that be a joke if something about me could return to normal!!!"
"I'm sorry, Matt, it's just that..."
"LOOK, I don't think I can make it back to the house."
"Want me to try and carry you?"
"NO, I want you to go back to the house and see if my uncle or one of his men can bring a truck out here to pick me up."
"You'll be all right?"
"What help can you be? If I die, all you can do is stand there and watch me."
"Ok, I'll run and get help. Just try not to move."
"That's a new one. For three years, EVERYONE has been telling me to move!"
"You know what I meant," Hank snapped, as he was losing his patience due to Matt's attitude and false accusations.
Hank ran out of the shaded glen and across the wide fields that he and Matt had traveled only minutes before. When he got to the house, just as he expected, Hank found no one there. He ran to his bedroom to pick up his cell phone. Once he had it, he realized this was a stupid idea. How could he reach Mike or any of the crew? THEY didn't have cell phones where they were working. Hank had no one to call. So he quickly ran outside the house, jumped into his own jeep, and headed across the flowery fields toward the glen.
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There was only one medical clinic in Philemon. It housed three doctors, an intern, Simon Carter, who answered most emergency house calls and an EMT, Jeff Colby, who doubled as the only ambulance driver.
As soon as Hank brought Matt home, he rushed to the project to find Mike and tell him what had happened to Matt on the wildflower outing. Mike used Hank's cell phone to call the clinic. Thirty minutes later, Simon (Dr. Carter) arrived with Jeff. Simon ran into the house to see if Matt needed to be hospitalized and to assess his condition. All three doctors of the clinic, Doctors Meade, Carlton, and Livingston had examined Matt at one time or another since he had been in Philemon. They and Simon were aware that Matt had been diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis due to his burn injury. His lungs were filled with scarred tissue and it took very little effort for Matt's condition to acerbate into pulmonary edema. This had to be monitored at all cost as Matt could easily die from the swelling.
While Matt was being examined by Simon, Mike stayed outside Matt's bedroom asking Hank a series of questions.
"How did this happen, Hank?"
"Mike, I don't know. We were out in the fields picking flowers. Matt appeared to be happy and was having a good time. Then he spotted a small glen where he said we would find honeysuckle. We started walking toward it and suddenly, Matt decided to race and show me how fast he could run on his prosthesis."
"Did he run fast?"
"Very."
"That's what did it."
"What do you mean, Mike?"
"Matt is NOT supposed to run or exert himself. His lungs were damaged during the explosion. One of the VA doctors told me that Matt's lungs were charred black in spots and the lower lobes were as hard as leather."
"I...I didn't know, Mike."
"Of course you didn't, but Matt knew better. He's fully aware of his condition."
"Then why would he take such a chance with his life?"
"Hank, you've seen Matt. Hell, you spent the day with him! What kind of life do you think he has? What has he got to look forward to?"
"I thought the VA was supposed to pay for plastic surgery."
"They DO, usually. They pay for women to get breast implants, but in Matt's situation, when he was examined at the VA hospital, most of the doctors agreed it would be almost an impossible task to repair all the damaged areas on his body and face. Besides, even if there was something they could do, it would take twenty or thirty operational procedures and Matt said emphatically he wasn't up to that. He said he'd rather live out his life as a hermit rather than go through months, perhaps YEARS, of surgery."
"Can anything be done about his lungs?"
"The VA doctors weren't too hopeful."
"Mike, please don't take this the wrong way, but...the way Matt ran earlier and the fact that he knew he SHOULDN'T'VE...do you think there's the possibility he was trying to kill himself?"
"It wouldn't be the first time. When he first came back from Iraq, I had to watch him day and night. He overdosed on drugs twice. He cut a big gap in his bad arm, but somehow the wound was cauterized and where Matt sliced, there was no blood. It's so strange, today is the first day in literally months that I could concentrate on my job, knowing someone was watching Matt and I had nothing to worry about."
"Looks like I fucked up, real bad, Mike. I'm sorry."
"It really wasn't your fault. Early this morning, Art, John, Bob, Jim, and I were all talking about you and your being here. They saw the change in Matt at the breakfast table and all of us were amazed at him. I know I told your dad that I would pay you to help with the surveying, but we all agreed that even THEY could work at ease without having to worry about Matt. They even suggested that I raise your salary if you'd just stay and be a companion to Matt while the rest of us worked on the project."
"You'd pay me forty dollars an hour to...to babysit?"
"Fifty!...and not to babysit. Just watch Matt, make him believe you're his friend even if you don't want to be friends with him. I know how demanding he can be. Hell, it's worth MORE than fifty bucks an hour. I realized that this was not the job you came down here to do, but I also know that you're here to make money for your college tuition because your dad's too fucking cheap to pay for his own son's education. Sorry, I didn't mean to say that about Martin..."
"But fact is fact, Mike! It's OK that you said it. Is there anything I should know about, other than not letting Matt run?"
"No smoking, no drinking, no physical exertion...take his medications and watch his diet. His very life depends on his pills and what he eats or doesn't eat."
"How about short walks? You know how much he loves wildflowers..."
"Just so long as the journey is not too far and he doesn't overtire himself.?"
"Mike, there's one more thing to consider."
"What's that?"
"Matt has his pride in spite of all that's wrong with him. If I'm here day after day with him, he'll know that you're paying me to watch over him like an infant and it'll either embarrass him or make him very angry."
"The guys and I discussed that too," Mike said. "You two are about the same age and if you can, just get him interested in some of the things which interest you. You know, an idle mind is the devil's playground and as long as Matt is entertained or occupied with...hell! I don't care. Buy some girlie magazines or send off for some of those female porno movies...ANYTHING to keep his mind occupied. It'll be a full-time job for you...IF you're willing to try it."
"I don't know if I can, Mike."
"Think about it! Is it possible for you to try it for a couple of weeks just to see how things go?"
"Maybe, for a couple of weeks."
"Then, if it's not working out, you can start surveying with me and the guys. I can contact the VA or run an ad in the local paper and see if I can get a sitter for him."
Before Hank could give Mike an answer, Simon came out of Matt's bedroom.
"How is he, Dr. Carter?" Mike asked.
"He's sleeping. Without an X-ray or an MRI, I can't be sure if he's developed any edema or not. I couldn't hear much fluid in his lungs with my stethoscope."
"Then you think he's gonna be all right? I mean you're not going to have to put him in the hospital?"
"No, Mr. Sawyer, unless he takes a sudden turn for the worse, there's very little we can do at the hospital that the VA hospital hasn't already tried."
Hank interrupted, "I know I shouldn't ask this, but is Matt's conditional terminal?"
"More than likely. I think the doctors at the clinic are really surprised at Matt's surviving as long as he has."
"You mean he's not treatable?" Hank continued to probe.
"Treatable in a palliative sense, but not aggressively curable. His lungs are in horrific shape and can only get worse, not better."
"Excuse me, Mike, but Doctor, are you saying that Matt is dying?"
"Slowly, yes."
"And there's nothing that can be done for him?"
"Just keep him quiet and happy, if that's possible. The quieter he is, the longer he'll live."
Hank felt a sinking feeling inside. The last time he'd felt it was when he found out his mother was dying from cancer when Hank was twelve. At that time he had felt lost and helpless since he was too young to do anything for his mother. Now he was an adult, almost twenty-two and here was Hank's chance to give someone else, someone in his mother's situation, a little love, kindness, and companionship. As soon as Simon left, Hank looked at Mike and said, "Mike, I think I'd like to try to be with Matt on a two-week trial basis as you suggested."
"Are you sure you can cope with him?"
"Well, I'll do the best I can. I...I should tell you something, though."
"What, Hank?"
"Today, when Matt collapsed, I tried to do mouth-to-mouth on Matt to clear his air way and somehow Matt got the impression I was trying to kiss him and he screamed and called me a faggot."
"I'm sorry, Hank, but I noticed that Matt had become homophobic after he returned from Iraq. He wasn't that way before he left. I don't know if someone tried to put the make on him in the Corps or some place else, but his attitude toward gays changed one-hundred and eighty degrees."
"I'll guess I'll just have to convince him that I was only performing a life-saving procedure and nothing else."
"I'll reinforce your explanation of the mouth-to-mouth action and try to make him understand what you were actually doing."
Hank was not brave enough to admit to Mike that he was gay because Mike would probably mention the fact to Hank's dad, Martin, during a conversation. So to find out Mike's stand on homosexuals, Hank asked, "Are you homophobic too, Mike?"
"Hell, no! I shouldn't be saying this to you or anyone, but I've always felt that Bob and John were more than just best friends and college roommates. I know they're both married and both have kids, but I've heard sounds coming from their bedroom that were different from snoring and sleep sounds. Ha! Not many guys say, 'oh, baby', in their sleep while the other guy keeps saying, 'yes, yes, yes'. PLEASE don't breathe a word to either of them about what I just said, I was just trying to prove my point. If they are both gay, I have no qualms about having either of them around me. Shoot! At one time or another, I've slept in the same bed with both of them...one at a time, of course...and neither ever tried to do anything with or to me."
Hank smiled. "I promise I'll keep your secret, but thanks for telling me just in case I hear sounds coming from their room."
"Look, Hank, if Matt's resting and you feel you have everything under control now, I'll go back to the site and do some more work."
"Mike, why don't you take my cell phone and if I need you, I'll call you from your phone in the kitchen."
"That's awfully nice of you, Hank, just show me how the damned thing works."
"I only got it yesterday and I had to read all the instructions myself. Hell, I'd never used a cell myself."
Hank took a few minutes to show Mike how to answer a cell phone and how to make a call. Mike tried out the cell by calling his home phone number. When the kitchen phone rang, Mike was pleased that he had conquered this new technological gadget. Then Mike left.
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Hank looked in on Matt from time to time for the remainder of the afternoon while Matt continued to sleep. Mike and his men were due back at the house around six. So, for want of something to do, Hank looked in the refrigerator and pantry cupboards for items he could use to fix dinner for Mike and the guys. Hank found several packages of ground beef which Mike had bought for grilling hamburgers. He also saw cans of tomato sauce, canned tomatoes, and plenty of spices. There just happened to be quite a few boxes of spaghetti and linguini. Though Hank wasn't too proficient as a cook, spaghetti with meat sauce was easy enough for him to fix and that became the entrée for the evening.
When Mike, Art, John, Bob, and Jim arrived, they were pleasantly surprised to see the table set with plates, glasses, and silverware. Tossing a salad of lettuce, tomatoes, and scallions was also an easy task for Hank. He had placed an individual salad bowl by each plate. He had even gone to the trouble of sifting garlic salt over the buttered toast to make garlic bread and he'd brewed a large container of iced tea. Mike was pleased with Hank's efforts and gave him a pat on the back to thank him.
"How's Matt been the rest of the afternoon?" Mike asked.
"Sleeping soundly like a baby," Hank replied.
"Since you didn't call me on your cell phone, I just assumed everything was all right."
"So far, so good, Mike," Hank said.
Then Mike returned Hank's cell to him.
"Thanks, Mike, but for the next few days, you might want to take that with you on the job just in case I need you."
"Thanks, Hank. That's a good idea. I thought you might want to call your dad or someone tonight. I'll take it with me in the morning."
Hank had almost forgotten that Lance told him in his letter that he'd be calling tonight and every night while they were separated. All the men washed their hands and sat down at the table while Hank served the meal. Hank had overloaded the sauce a bit too much with oregano and basil, but the hungry men liked it all the same.
"Hank, excuse me, but I've forgotten your last name," Art said.
"It's Lazarus, Art."
"This spaghetti tastes so good, I'd swear you were Italian."
"I'm afraid not...I'm also afraid that my cooking skills are very limited. I'm used to cooking only for myself and sometimes for my dad. So I've learned to live on soup and sandwiches," Hank replied.
"Cooking is easy, Hank," Mike said. "All you need to be a good cook is to be able to read and follow instructions. There are several cookbooks out there in the kitchen. Pick up one or two of them when you go to bed and see what looks easy for you. Then let me know and I'll order whatever you need. You don't have to make fancy food, just plain old ordinary cuisine will do. All of us like home cooking...beans and ham, steak and potatoes, hot biscuits with butter and honey! Of course, making biscuits can be mighty disastrous the first few times. This weekend, I'll show you how I make mine. All it takes is a little loving care, patience---and buttermilk!"
"I'd appreciate that. It's just that since I'm gonna be here all day with Matt, I might as well make myself useful and earn my keep."
"Don't you worry about earning your keep. You're taking a load off me and the rest of us by just knowing Matt is being looked after."
"AMEN!" Jim said. "Watching over Matt is a helluva lot harder any day than surveying."
"Hey, Hank!" Bob interrupted, "Do you play poker or pinochle?"
"Can I be frank?" Hank said.
"You'd better be if you're gonna live with us the whole summer," Bob replied.
"Well, I...I've never had friends to learn how to play poker OR pinochle. It's a game you can't learn from your dad when you're the only two at home."
"Knowing Martin as I do," Mike interjected, "I'll bet there's lots of things your dad didn't teach you." Hearing this remark made Hank wonder about its deeper meanings.
"You gotta girl back home?" John inquired.
"No, not really. There was a couple I used to take to the high school dances but there wasn't one in particular that I became attached to."
"That can put a strain on your social life, can't it?" John asked.
"Don't you mean his sex life?" Bob added, more loudly.
"Now, guys, and you, too, John, don't start prying into Hank's private life," Mike said. "Just because you're hornier than a Texas steer, doesn't mean the rest of us are."
"Who said I was horny?" John joked.
"I DO!" Art, Jim, Bob, and Jim said, all at the same time. Then they all laughed.
"You fuckers!" John exclaimed. "All I was tryin' to do was to invite the kid to play cards with us after supper."
"Hell, we knew that, you asshole!" Bob remarked, then he looked at Hank. "So how about it, wanna play a few hands with us? We play penny-ante, so if you lose, it won't be more than a dollar or two."
"I'll try," Hank said, "but ONLY after the dishes are washed and the kitchen is cleaned."
"Uh oh," John said. "Mike, you've turned the boy into a maid on his first day at his new job."
"I don't mind," Hank said. "I used to clean up my own house while Dad was at work. I can sweep, mop, dust, make beds, do all kinds of things like that..."
"Just don't start wearin' no aprons!" Art said. "We just told you how horny John stays, he might come home and mistake you for a woman."
"THAT I'd never do!" John said. "I can certainly tell a man from a woman even if I've had too much to drink."
"I could speak..." Bob said, jokingly.
"You do, and you'll be having my fist for dessert."
"Oh, God! I forgot to make a dessert!" Hank said, trying to change the topic of conversation.
"Dessert is NO problem, Hank," Mike said. "There's always ice cream in the freezer and I can pour some blueberries or strawberries on top."
The men continued to chaw and jabber during the rest of the meal. Hank liked all the guys and liked being around them. If it weren't for having to watch over Matt, this might become a pleasant summer for Hank after all.
Soon, Mike served ice cream, only with canned peaches and everyone ate until they were full. Then, to Hank's surprise, Bob and John began gathering the dirty plates from the table while Jim and Art began cleaning the spaghetti pots and pans in the kitchen. Mike put away the ice cream and wiped off the table and began setting it up to play cards. Fifteen minutes later, everything was washed and cleaned and the men sat down to deal a little poker. Almost at the same time, Hank's cell phone buzzed. He looked at it to see that it was Lance calling.
"Would you guys excuse me for a few minutes?"
"One of those girls you took to the dance?"
"Uh, no...it's just a friend."
"Why don't you go outside on the porch and talk privately?" Mike suggested. "We'll deal you in when you get through."
"Thanks."
Hank went outside on the porch and sat on the top step and answered Lance's call.
"Hello?"
"Hi, sweetheart! How are things going?"
"Not bad. We just finished eating."
"I was hoping you'd be through by now."
"Lance, would you believe I cooked dinner for EVERYONE!"
"My, my, aren't you getting domesticated!"
"Ah, it was just spaghetti and some meat sauce."
"Forget the spaghetti and tell me about the meat sauce you made. Was it MY favorite?"
"No, you idiot!"
"You'd better not serve them the meat sauce you served me every Wednesday. That belongs to me and me alone."
"Don't worry. I'll save that for you when I see you in September."
"It might not be that long. I told you that I might get away for a weekend or two and come visit you. You know I can't stand the thought of not holding you in my arms for three whole months. I even took a break at work today to go into the men's room and jerk off just thinking about you."
"I miss you, too, babe," Hank said.
"So, tell me about my competition."
"What do you mean?"
"Are there any handsome guys you're working with that might catch your eye?"
"No, they're much older. A couple are Dad's age."
"That's a relief. So tell me how you did surveying on your first day?"
"I have to tell you about that."
"Didn't do so good, huh?"
"I...I'm not surveying."
"Damn! Don't tell me they've got you digging ditches for the dam?"
"No...I'm not working on the site. Mike, Dad's friend, who's also the foreman, changed my position. I...I'm working here at the house..."
"Not as a cook and a housekeeper, I hope."
"Not really..."
"What do you mean?"
"You see, Lance, Mike has a nephew that he takes care of. He's my age."
"Uh oh! I knew it! I knew there would be SOMEONE to get your mind off me."
"It's not like that, Lance. His name is Matt...Matthew. He's an ex-Marine who came home injured from the Iraqi war."
"God...a Marine!"
"Let me finish. He came home with many injuries. He had one leg amputated at the knee and one of his hands is missing."
"TWO reasons for you to feel sorry for him and get your sympathy."
"Lance, he has burn scars from head to toe and his lungs were burned severely. He's become sort of a recluse. He doesn't like to be around people...ME included. I'm afraid he doesn't have long to live. He doesn't WANT to live."
"So should I be relieved that you're not going to fall in love with him or have sex with him, at least?"
"Far from it. He has suicidal thoughts all the time...and I can't say that I blame him. If I were in his condition, I'd've already killed myself."
"And so what do you have to do for him? Shave him? Bathe him? Feed him? Wipe his butt?"
"No, he's self-sufficient and does everything for himself. He doesn't like to be treated as a handicapped person. He manages to do everything just about."
"So, are you acting as a suicide-watch monitor?"
"I guess you could say that."
"Does he talk to you? I mean, he DOES speak, doesn't he?"
"Yes, we...Matt and I took a walk today to pick wildflowers. He loves wildflowers."
"You went posey-picking with a Marine?"
"Yes...and don't make snide remarks, please! Matt got tired and collapsed and I had to drive my jeep to go pick him up and bring him back to the house. Then the doctor came to see him and said he needed some rest. He's been asleep all day."
"Well, as long as he's asleep, you don't have to worry about his committing suicide."
"Lance, I don't like it when you talk this way. I'm earning my college tuition watching Matt. Heck, his uncle even gave me a raise to take the job."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I guess I just miss you and I'm jealous to think you're with a Marine, a guy your age."
"Matt is not the kind of person I could fall in love with. No one could fall in love with him. Most people would scream or get sick to their stomach just taking a first glance at him."
"He's that bad, huh?"
"It's worse, Lance."
"Do you think you can stick it out for three months?"
"I'm not sure. I told Mike, Matt's uncle, that I'd try it for two weeks and if it didn't work out, he said I could start surveying on the site. So it's just for two weeks and then I'll know."
"Is it all right if I call you every night?"
"You'd better. That's more than I talk with you when I'm at home. THERE, I only see you and talk with you every Wednesday."
"I know, Hank, and I HATE IT! But maybe soon, we can be together every day. I want you in my life all the time. I want to be able to come home after work and find you here waiting for me with open arms...naked, of course, so I can devour your body from head to toe."
"I miss you, too."
"I'm glad you got the cell phone and I trust you'll only use it to call me."
"Quit being so jealous, Lance! You sleep next to Lois seven nights a week. What am I suppose to do Thursday through Tuesday when I can't even call you?"
"I told you that will all change, real soon. I promise."
"Lance, the guys are waiting for me. They want to teach me how to play poker."
"Not STRIP poker, I hope."
"No, silly. So I guess I'd better get back."
"All right, my little darling. I'll call you tomorrow night about this same time."
"I'll be waiting."
"You'd better be."
"I love you, Lance."
"Thanks, baby, I love to hear you say that. I think of your cute little butt all the time.."
"Good night, Lance."
"Good night, sweetheart."
Hank pushed the 'end-call' button on his cell phone and went back inside the house to play poker. Bob dealt everyone five cards for draw poker, including Hank this hand. Hank had no sooner looked at his cards until they all heard a blood-curdling scream coming from Matt's room. Mike and Hank jumped up and ran down the hall to see what was wrong.
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(To be continued in "The Passion of Matthew" chapter three.)