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 Eight
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The furor that Mike, Art, Bob, and John raised at the nurses' station was something to behold. They all demanded immediate word of Matt's condition, and also insisted on seeing Matt 'right here and now'. Initially, they were told that Matt was no better, but fortunately, no worse than he'd been when he arrived at the hospital. But, insofar as visiting Matt, since Mike was the only blood relative of Matt, only he was allowed to accompany Hank back into the examining room where Matt was lying. Art, Bob, and John wren left to puzzle out, if only blood relatives were to be allowed, then why Hank? They soon forgot to ask this question, being totally involved in their concern for Matt. Dr. Carter had gone to another examining room to see about a young woman who was about to give birth to her first child. Only a nurse stayed with Matt to monitor his condition.
"Is he in a coma?" Mike whispered to the nurse.
"Not really sir, he's just unconscious from lack of oxygen. We're forcing O2 in his lungs right now and hopefully, he'll be coming to very soon. And there's really no reason to whisper, though I appreciate your concern."
"His brain wasn't deprived of oxygen, was it? I mean, he's not brain dead, is he?"
"No, sir, I think he should be all right. You see, the human body needs both 'A' breath and 'B' breath to survive. The 'A' breath is what feeds your body and supplies it with oxygen to keep you alive. The 'B' breath when inhaled, supplies air for speaking and to keep the brain cognitive. He wasn't totally deprived of oxygen during his black out, but he just didn't have enough intake to remain conscious."
"Then you think he's gonna be all right?"
"Well, not exactly, sir. I mean, he should return to his original condition, but I'm sure you know how damaged his lungs are from whatever tragedy damaged his pulmonary system."
"Thank God for that!" Mike exclaimed. Then he looked at Hank. "Hank, can I talk to you outside in the hall for a few minutes?"
"Sure, Mike."
Hank followed Mike out of the examining room, into the hall, and eased th4e door shut behind him.
"Hank, I'm not blaming you for what happened, but just WHY in God's name was Matt in your Jeep with you?"
"I don't know, Mike. I swear," Hank replied, feeling rather uncomfortable, as he considered how much he was going to say to Mike. "You see, as I told you at the house, I had plans to meet a friend from back home at the Philemon city limits. Just as I arrived, I heard a noise behind my seat and when I looked around, I found Matt hiding under a blanket. I had no idea he was with me."
"That scamp! He's never tried anything like this before. It'd almost appear that he was trying to escape from the house or something."
"Mike, I don't believe Matt was trying to escape. I think he just wanted to know where I was going and perhaps he felt a bit left out when I didn't invite him along."
"Didn't he know you were going to see your friend?"
"Well. I...I told him..."
"Then why would he want to tag along and invade YOUR privacy?"
"Mike, I'm sure there are a lot of things Matt does for which he doesn't offer an explanation. Maybe he just wanted to be friendly and, since I was seeing an old buddy, maybe Matt just wanted to meet him. That's all."
"Did he get to meet your friend?"
"No, just as I was about to introduce him to my friend...uh...Matt just, I don't know, maybe because he was afraid I was mad at him for hiding...he just..."
"Became afraid and started coughing?" Mike said, finishing Hank's sentence, which relieved Hank, leaving him momentarily glad that he didn't have to stretch his lie further.
"Yeah, that's it! I guess he was afraid. SURE, I hardly mentioned his name before he started having one of his fits, like the one in the woods."
"I'm glad you thought to bring him to the hospital. You probably saved his life."
"I certainly didn't know what to do. All I could think of was getting him professional help."
"Good thinking, Hank!"
"Thanks."
"Your friend? Where is he?"
"Oh, he's staying at a motel just outside of town. He...he took a cab back to where he left his car parked."
"Since we know that Matt's gonna be all right, why don't you go see your buddy and enjoy your weekend, just as you had planned?"
"I might, Mike...maybe a little later..."
"I'll go back in and stay with Matt. Why don't you go back out to the waiting room and tell the guys what you know. I'm sure they're all on pins and needles!"
"THAT I can do."
"Thanks, Hank."
"You're welcome, Mike."
Mike went back into the examining room while Hank went to the anteroom to see the other three guys. None of them had taken a seat. All three were standing just outside the double doors.
"HANK!" Art said, anxiously. "How's Matt?"
"He's still unconscious, but they have him on a breathing apparatus to supply him with oxygen. The nurse just told Mike that Matt should be all right as soon as he wakes up."
"Were you taking him to meet your friend?" Bob asked, eagerly.
"No, Bob, I didn't know he was with me until I got to the city limits to meet up with my friend. Matt was hiding on the backseat floor under a blanket."
"What on earth obsessed him to do that?" Bob asked.
"Do I have to draw you a picture, Bob?" John asked, showing his upper handed knowledge.
"What do you mean?" Bob asked.
"You were going to meet your boyfriend, weren't you, Hank?"
Hank blushed, being baldly asked by such a question in front of Art.
"Well, a friend, at least..." Hank replied, sheepishly.
"Don't you see, Bob, Matt was jealous and he wanted to see what Hank's boyfriend, or rather, his friend, looked like!"
"Is that true?" Art asked, turning back to Hank.
"I think it must be, Art," Hank replied.
"Why, that jealous young whipper-snapper! You mean Matt's got a crush on you?" Art pressed.
"I...I suppose he does, Art."
"By God, I knew it! I mean all that homophobic talk Matt did before you came here, Hank. Now, for the past week or so, he's been dressing up and coming to eat meals with the rest of us. I knew something was up to bring about such a drastic change in him!", Art exclaimed.
"Maybe that's also why he's been helping cook dinner every night, Art. Maybe he's been using it as an excuse to spend more time with me."
"Did you tell Mike?"
"No. I...as a matter of fact, I've told Mike nothing about my private life for fear he would tell my dad."
"Hank," Bob interjected. "You...you've done nothing to encourage Matt, have you?"
"No, Bob. I realized the situation was getting out of hand and I didn't know how to cope with it."
"You must be under a terrible strain, boy."
"A bit."
"I think I might as well tell you, although this is something I haven't spoken to Mike about...but, lots of Matt's coughing episodes are fake."
"Hell, we've all thought that," Bob said. "He has DDT!"
"DDT is a poison, asshole," John sneered.
"Then what is it then, smart ass?"
"ADD...Attention Deficit Disorder, dummy!"
"OK, so I reversed the letters and put a 'T' where an 'A' was supposed to be!"
"Good grief!" John replied.
"Bob, John...Matt even told me a couple of lies about you two?"
"What?"
"Early this week, remember when he had that big coughing spell and I went into his room to stay with him until the episode subsided? Well, I found out he had faked the seizure. It was a ploy to get me to lie down on the bed with him...then he asked me to jerk him off...!"
"You didn't, did you?" John asked.
"No, but I almost did, after he told me that the two of you had jerked him off before."
"Jesus, Hank! Are you serious?"
"That's what he said!"
"Hank, believe me, Bob or I, NEITHER of us has ever..."
"I know. He later confessed to me that he had lied to me about you two."
"Dear God! Don't tell me he's becoming mentally ill, too?" Bob said.
Art spoke up. "Now boys, calm down. All of us here know the truth. You just have to look at the situation from Matt's perspective---he's lonely. Whether he's gay or straight is immaterial. Who the heck is he going to have sex with for the rest of his life? Maybe in his mind, he's fantasized about the two of you masturbating him?"
"Maybe so, Art," Bob said. "But that doesn't make it right for him to tell stories and lies like he did to Hank. Why, Hank almost believed him! What if he should tell Mike what he told Hank?"
"Bob, Mike wouldn't believe him," Art said. "So, Hank, are you going to go see your friend now?"
"I'm not sure, Art. I'm rather pissed at him right now."
"Oh...?"
"The part I didn't tell you and the part I DON'T want Mike to know is that, as soon as my friend saw Matt rearing up in the backseat, my friend thought I was about to be attacked and my friend yelled...and when he did, he called Matt a freak!"
"Oh, God!" Art said, shaking his head. "And that's what brought on Matt's attack, wasn't it?"
"I'm afraid so, Art."
"Christ! Well, if Matt doesn't tell Mike what your friend did, WE certainly won't!"
"No, we won't!" Bob and John said, together.
"Thanks, I appreciate that!"
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After his conversation with the ranch hands, Hank left the hospital to get into his Jeep. From his pocket, he retrieved the paper with the name of Lance's motel scribbled on it. Hank was mad, really pissed, but he still loved Lance, regardless of what had happened. During the past days, Hank had even been afraid to masturbate at the house for fear Matt would catch him. Hank was horny and knew it. He needed sex and Lance was waiting for him. So he pulled out of the hospital parking lot and headed toward the highway which led to the city limits and from there, on to the motel just a few miles beyond.
Arriving in a cloud of dust, Hank parked his vehicle next to the empty space where Lance's car was parked. He got out and walked to Lance's room, knocking lightly on the door.
"Yes?" Lance's voice replied.
"It's me...Hank."
Lance opened the door. He was fully dressed and Hank could plainly see that Lance had been crying. Lance's eyes were red and puffy.
"Hank! I...I didn't think you'd come."
"I didn't either for a while."
"Please come in, Hank, and let's talk."
"All right."
"I...I haven't opened the champagne if you'd like a glass."
"No, thanks."
"Sit down, please..."
There were two double beds in the motel room. Lance had been lying on the one farthest from the door, so Hank sat on the edge of the closer neatly-made bed.
"All right, Lance. You want to talk? Well, here's your chance."
"First of all, Hank, if I thought it would do any good, I'd take a knife and cut out my tongue for calling Matt a freak. But what's said is said and can't be taken back. I tried to explain to you at the hospital that I thought you were in danger of being attacked. How was I to know that it was Matt in the back seat?"
"I didn't know myself that he was there, Lance. Driving from the hospital to the motel, I tried to relive the scene and the situation and I can see where you were trying to protect me, so I won't hold that against you...in spite of the damage it did."
"Then you'll forgive me?"
"For what you said to Matt?...Yes."
"So you're not mad any more?"
"I'm plenty mad, Lance---I have every right to be!"
"Why, for God's sake?"
"Jesus Christ! Didn't you hear a word I said to you at the hospital? Are you so dense or so wrapped up in yourself you don't even listen to me?"
"Hank, what are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that you've NEVER ONCE told me that you love me."
"Oh, that..."
"Yes, THAT!"
"Is it that important to you?"
"It sure the fuck is! For the past few months, since we've been meeting every Wednesday, you undress me like some big production number from an MGM musical. Then you kiss me from head to toe. You suck my toes! You lick my legs! You put my balls in your mouth! You suck my dick until my eyes are ready to pop out until I fill your mouth and then I lay down and you tell me how beautiful my body is and how much you're attracted to it. Then you mount me and fuck me. When you're finished, we kiss and cuddle until it's time to leave and not one word about love comes from your lips. I've never talked to you on the phone or in person that I didn't tell you how much I love you, but you don't respond and tell me the same thing...the words, the dumb, stupid words that I so desperately want and need to hear from you."
"I told you at the hospital I loved you...a short while ago."
"After I forced you, Lance. But even a deaf person could hear the insincerity in your voice when you said it. You didn't mean it, Lance. You DON'T love me, do you? I'm just your Wednesday afternoon boy-toy. Do you have another boy-toy for Thursday afternoons and another for Fridays? Christ! You make me feel USED, Lance, like a cum-filled Kleenex...something you can just throw away after you've gotten off!"
"God! I see now why you feel as you do..."
"How else SHOULD I feel, Lance?"
"I guess I owe you a lot."
"You don't OWE me anything, Lance. Telling someone you love him is not like paying off a debt. It's not something you OWE. It's a spontaneous verbal expression of how you feel about someone. You might as well have said to me, 'Hank, you're a great fuck!'. I'm sure that's what you're thinking when we're finished."
"Hank, I've tried to explain to you that, without Lois' money, I'm poor as the pied pauper. Unless she and I get a divorce with her money being divided between us, I can't support you. Hell, I can't even support myself! The house and both our cars are in her name. This is embarrassing, but even the bills for the credit cards I use are paid through her bank account."
"Lance, what if Lois finds out that you're having a gay affair? She would have grounds for divorce, but you have nothing on her to sue her for half her estate."
"That's not the way the state law reads. When a couple divorces, she gets half of what I own and I get half of everything she's got."
"That sounds cheesy, Lance. Don't you have an ounce of masculine pride?"
"Not really---I know how much Lois and I hate one another."
"Then why the fuck did you marry her in the first place?" Hank retorted, then thought for a second and continued. "Oh, I get it! She was the innocent victim of your master plan. You wined, dined, and plied her with your lies until she agreed to marry you and all the while, it was just a ploy to get her money."
"I could deny that accusation, Hank, but actually, that pretty much sizes up the whole situation."
"Good God! What did you see in me? I'm not rich. I might be if my dad ever dies, but I have no assurance that he'll leave me anything in his will. So are you waiting around to see what you can get from me? I don't believe when two gay partners break up that there's a law which states you get half of whatever I have!"
"I'd never take a dime from you, Hank."
"Did you make the same promise to Lois?"
"Hell, no! With Lois, it's different than between you and me."
"How so?"
"I don't make love to Lois, but I DO with you."
"THERE! You just said it yourself. You MAKE LOVE to me, but you don't LOVE me! I know how you cheat on her, so what confidence do I have that you won't cheat on me? Tell me, Lance, in the two weeks I've been gone, have you had sex with another guy?"
"You...you want me to be honest?"
"I sure as hell don't want you to lie to me!"
"Well, without our Wednesday meetings, I've been somewhat horny."
"AND?"
"I...I had sex with two other guys!"
"God damn, Lance! What the fuck am I doing here? Why did I drive out here to be with you? You're the most insipid asshole I've ever met!"
"Hank, what if I swear to you that it won't happen again?"
"Ha! You SWEARING to anything is a joke. You'd better hope you're never called to testify in court because any jury in the world will find you guilty of perjury without taking a vote!"
"OK, what if I said, 'I love you' and mean it?"
"I'm sure you must have told Lois you loved her before she agreed to marry you. At least SHE heard something I'll never hear!"
"But, Hank, I DO love you. I didn't know if you'd show up at the motel tonight or not and I lay on the bed thinking about you and I realized how much I DO love you. I should have said it to you long before now...a thousand times or more!"
"One lie...told a thousand times in a thousand ways. That must come rather easy for you, Lance.
"Hank, I have never cried over anyone in my entire life...no woman and no man, but I found myself crying uncontrollably over you before you arrived."
"Then you can begin right where you left off, crying uncontrollably when I leave. Perhaps your tears will be real when you miss me, but I doubt that as well!"
"Hank, will you at least kiss me goodbye?"
"Why?"
"Because, damn it! This might be the last chance I have to convince you that I DO love you."
"Do you believe kissing me would convince me of that?"
"I could try."
"OK. Come kiss me! Convince me! You cheating hetero cocksucker!" To Hank's amazement, Lance took the intended insult without a word.
Lance stood up from his bed and crossed over to sit beside Hank on the other bed. Lance kept his arms to his side and he leaned his face in and kissed Hank very gently on the lips...no more than a small peck. This surprised Hank as he actually expected Lance to throw his arms around Hank and poke his tongue halfway down Hank's throat. Slowly, Lance pulled his head back about two inches, just enough that each could feel the air exhaling from the other's nostrils. Lance didn't try to go any farther. He waited to see if Hank would respond in kind. Hank also waited for Lance's next move, but nothing happened. Both just sat there feeling the other's breath brushing their lips.
The mood between them was no longer hostile, but remained charged in its intensity. In all of his heart and with all his might, Hank wanted to believe Lance. Lance was the first man Hank had ever loved. Was it too much to believe that Lance could ever feel for Hank what Hank felt for him? After an eternal moment, Hank leaned forward to press his lips to Lance's once more. Again, the kiss was very delicate and both men could feel the tension mounting in their loins.
Lance pulled back from Hank again and quietly whispered, "I love you, Hank. I really do." There was a desperate sob in his voice.
Hank's reply was also whispered, "Oh, if you only meant that, Lance. What I wouldn't give..."
"Please, give me one more try and I'll make it up to you. I swear...no cheating. Hell, I won't take a nickel of Lois' money if I can just have you..."
"Lance, don't say something that you don't mean..."
"But, I do, baby. I'll find a job away from Lois' company. If you're willing to live in a one-room shack with me, then I'll live there with you...as long as it IS with you."
"Do you think you can remain faithful to me until I return home at summer's end?"
"Totally, but why don't you just come home with me after this weekend. I have a few contacts at the university. I'll do all I can to get you a scholarship or at least a partial scholarship. We can make ends meet if we're both working. I mean, I realize a part-time job won't make you as much money as you're getting working here in Philemon, but if we're together as a couple, that won't matter, will it?"
"Lance, if I say 'yes', can we agree to a trial period?...say, two weeks from now?"
"I don't think I can live without you for two more weeks!"
"You'll have to. If I'm gonna quit working for Mike, being that he's a friend of my dad's, it's only fair that I work out a two-week notice."
"You really are a decent person, Hank."
"Did I ever give you a reason to think otherwise?"
"No, of course not. But you're so grown up---you make me feel immature when I'm around you."
"You do have a lot of growing up to do, Lance."
"I know and I'm ready."
"OK, if you're really being honest, and IF I can believe you and you don't give me a reason to doubt you...I'll give my notice to Mike when I go home."
"Are you going to stay and spend the night with me?"
"I suppose...for TWO reasons. First, I want to see if you love me after sex..."
"And reason number two?"
"My dick is so hard, it's about to bust through my jeans!"
"Then let's take care of the second reason now! Would you like me to undress you?"
"No, I want to switch around and undress YOU this time. If I'm the stronger of us two, it's time I took control of the relationship."
"Then do what you want. I'm yours, baby, for now and for always."
"Do you love me?"
"Yes!"
"Then say it!"
"I love you, Hank. God, I love you...heart and soul!"
"Stand up! I want to undress you. Tonight, Lance, you're gonna know what it feels like to be really fucked!"
Within a few minutes, Hank was inside Lance's butt and was making Lance cry out, 'I love you' with each forward thrust from Hank's loins. Lance must have said it a thousand times before Hank was finished.
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Meanwhile at the hospital, Mike was still hopefully waiting for Matt to regain consciousness. He told Art, Bob, and John to go on home, that he would spend the night at Matt's side. He thought Matt would feel safer when he awakened if he saw his uncle beside him.
All the way home, Bob and John discussed what Hank had said about Matt's lies, saying they had jerked Matt off. Art, the eternal peacekeeper, kept trying to explain away Matt's actions, emphasizing the reasons behind them. Jim was still in the living room watching TV when the three of them arrived. Since no one had bothered to call Jim, he was rather anxious to hear about Matt's condition.
Jim's home life and relationships had always been a mystery to Mike and all the guys. Jim had never specifically anything to anyone about his having a wife or a family. Usually when it was his turn to talk about himself at the table or at work, Jim would just quietly walk away without revealing anything about himself. Mike and Art always assumed that Jim was married. He was around twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, not especially handsome, but he had nice features with an average look. Bob and John were in their thirties while Art was somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties. Aside from Hank, Jim was the youngest member of the crew.
The one subject that Jim ignored or refused to discuss was the military or the current war in Iraq. This topic, too, would cause him to walk away or leave the table. Mike and Art suspected that Jim must have lost a relative, a brother, perhaps, or a close friend in the war and that was the reason Jim shied away from the topic. Jim showed little emotion when he heard Matt was going to be all right, but it did appear that he was pleased with the news because, almost immediately, he left the living room and went to bed.
"Would you guys like a drink or some coffee or hot chocolate before you go to bed?" Art asked.
"God, no! It's too hot for a hot drink. I WOULD like something cold, though," John said.
"Spiked or plain?" Art inquired.
"Plain for me, Art," John replied.
"What are you gonna fix, Art?" Bob asked.
"I could make a pitcher of cold lemonade. There's a bottle of Stolichnaya in the cupboard."
"Vodka and lemonade?" Bob asked, then thought about it for a second..."Sure, why not?"
Art went into the kitchen to start cutting lemons while John and Bob sat down on the living room couch.
"You're gonna have vodka before you go to bed?" John asked Bob.
"And why not?"
"You know damned well why not!"
"No, I don't...why not?"
"Because, you idiot, every time you drank vodka while we were living together in the dorm, you always crawled in bed with me."
"So? You always liked it, didn't you?"
"I didn't say that I didn't!"
"Well, did you or didn't you?"
"Well...I did, I suppose."
"So?"
"So am I to expect you to crawl into my bed tonight?"
"Would you mind...even after all these years?"
"Things are different now than they were in those days. You're married now, with a kid, and so am I."
"Well, my cock still works! Doesn't yours?"
"It works fine when I'm with Gayle!"
"It used to work pretty good with me before you married Gayle as I remember!"
"I...I've never been unfaithful to Gayle in my life."
"No, but you sure were unfaithful to me after you met her."
"That's my point. I'm married to Gayle and not to you. We were...well, we were a long time ago."
"I bet I can still turn you on...lots quicker and lots harder than Gayle ever has."
"That's ridiculous. How would you know?"
"Because Gayle doesn't have a dick to poke up your ass like I do...or DOES she? Don't tell me that you make her wear one of those strap-on things just to keep you happy!"
"God damn! I can't believe what you're saying! You haven't even had a drink and you're acting as if you're half-plastered."
"John, don't tell me you're not horny! When you wake up in the morning, your sheet is sticking up like it was on the flagpole the marines raised at Iwo Jima."
"That's because I have to pee, you idiot!"
"Bullshit! That's because you've been lying there all night wishing I'd come put my dick up your ass."
"I NEVER think about that!"
"But you DO miss my blowjobs, don't you?"
"Maybe...from time to time..."
"How about tonight? I don't think Hank's coming home and we'll have the room to ourselves."
Before John could reply, Art came back into the living room with a pitcher of lemonade, three glasses, and a bottle of vodka.
"OK, boys, here it is!" Art announced. "I wonder if Jim would like a glass?"
"No, Jim's gone to bed. He's dead to the world by now," Bob answered.
"He might have gone to bed, boys, but he doesn't sleep soundly at night," Art said. "He talks and mumbles in his sleep all night."
"Can you make out what he's saying?"
"Nope, he talks deep in his throat. One night, I think I DID hear him call out for 'Pat'. I just assumed that was his wife's name."
"Does he have a wife?" John asked.
"Don't know, John. I really don't know anything about Jim except he's young, stout, and a hearty worker. Mike likes him a lot and so do I," Art said.
"How did Mike come to hire him?" Bob asked.
"Some friend of Mike's recommended Jim as being one of the best topographers in the business. He graduated number one in his class at Poly Tech."
"He's smart all right," Bob replied, "but he just keeps to himself too much."
"Maybe I should room with Jim," John jeered.
"Why?" Art asked, puzzled. "Aren't you two getting along?"
"Almost too well, when Bob has a drink of alcohol!" John retorted.
"You mean you're a fighter when you have a drink, Bob?"
"Far from it," John said, quickly. "He thinks he's Casanova."
"Whoops! I don't think I'll pursue that topic any further!" Art said, sipping his lemonade with a smile.
Bob gave John a look, followed with a smirky grin.
"Well, the morning's just over the horizon, so I 'spect I'd better turn in and sleep what I can," Art said, getting up. "Be sure and turn off the lights and lock the door before you two go to bed."
"We will, Art," John said. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Art," Bob echoed.
"Night, boys, have a fun evening!" Art said, laughing his way down the hall.
"Jesus Christ, Bob! You'll have Art believing we're gay lovers!"
"We were, once!"
"Yes, but..."
"Shush! Art wouldn't care if we were. That old guy has a gay streak in him. I can just tell..."
"I've never seen it!"
"That's because you don't WANT to see it."
"You're right! I DON'T!"
"John, wouldn't you like to share a bed with me, for old time's sake?"
"We both have to get up early and go to work."
"We'll still have time for a little quickie?"
"Your 'little quickies' used to cause me to miss my early classes at college. I almost didn't graduate because I almost missed my final after one of your 'little quickies'!"
"Then how about a really quick, 'little quickie'?"
"Shut up and set down your damn glass while I lock the front door. YOU turn out the lights and we'll feel our way down the hall to the bedroom!"
"Oh, boy!" Bob exclaimed. Then he stared to sing, "Seems like old times, dinner dates and flowers, just like old times, staying up for hours, making dreams come true, doing things we used to do! Seems like old times, being here with you..."
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Shortly after 2:00 AM, Matt's head started to move from side to side and he began blinking his eyes. Mike was half asleep. He had pulled up a chair next to Matt's bed and was holding Matt's good hand. As Matt tried to remove his hand from his uncle's light grip, Mike 'came to' the same time that Matt did.
"Hey, son," Mike said to his nephew. "How you feelin', boy?"
Matt's voice was weak when he answered, "Like I was underneath a Humvee, checking the motor and the jack tipped over, letting the Humvee fall on my chest. It's hard to breathe."
"Then don't talk, Matt. Some nurse taught me all about 'A' breaths and 'B' breaths. You see, 'A' breaths are..."
"I know all about them, Uncle Mike. I learned everything there is to know about breathing from the doctors in Germany."
"Then you know you shouldn't be talking, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"You had us worried, Matt. It seems like every new attack you have is worse than the one before it."
"Maybe I'll soon have a real big attack and get out of your way."
"Matt, I won't listen to talk like that. I've told you time and time again that I love you and you're no burden on me at all. If I'd've had a son, your dad would have done the same for him as I'm doing for you. You're my family, Matt. Families don't turn their backs on kin."
"Where am I?"
"You're at the Philemon city hospital."
"How did I get here?"
"Hank brought you. He saved your life once again. You're lucky to have him around."
"Where is he now?"
"He left the hospital to go meet a friend of his from back home. I won't ask you now, but I WOULD like to know why you were hiding in the backseat of Hank's Jeep."
"I don't think I'm quite ready to answer that, Uncle Mike."
"I just told you that I wouldn't ask about it now."
"So Hank went off to see his friend?"
"I suppose."
"Good. I hope he has a wreck on the way and kills himself. I never want to see him again, as short a time as I have to live."
"Matt, why are you saying that? Hank saved your life twice in two weeks!"
"Maybe that's why I don't want to see him. I'm sorry he just didn't let me die."
"I can understand you saying that--God knows you've said it many times before, but why would you wish Hank would kill himself in a wreck?"
"Because I hate him!"
"You couldn't possibly hate Hank, Matt. Why, for the past few days, Hank has brought you out of the shell you were hiding in. You've been dressing up, shaving, combing your hair, and I might as well add that your cooking has been terrific! Hank's done a lot for you!"
"He's hurt me more than he's helped, Uncle Mike."
"Why? What's Hank done to you?"
"He's done nothing physical to hurt me."
"Has he called you names or made fun of you?"
"No, of course not. Hank's not that kind of person."
"Then I don't understand! Why do you wish he was dead?"
Matt paused a long time as tears were welling up in his lower eyelids. He held his breath as long as he could and finally burst loose crying. "Because I love him, Uncle Mike. I love him and he can't love me!"
"WHAT?"
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(To be continued in Chapter Nine of "The Passion of Matthew".)