Hadrian's Lover

by Patricia-Marie Budd

  As they walk over the threshold of the cabin door, they pass Jason Warith entering. He smiles, “Hello, Stephie, Mattie.” Matthew remains silent; Stephie smiles, “Hello, Jason. Your little boy is waiting for you.” Stephie nods in Todd’s direction as he pulls Matthew through the cabin door.

  * * * * *

  Salve!

  Spotlight: Jason Warith

  HNN—Melissa Eagleton Reporting

  “As I am sure you have noticed, viewers, we have been following a theme these past few weeks. With such a rash of exposures occurring this spring—the most shocking being that of Pride’s b-ball star, Todd Middleton—we decided to do a thorough exploration into reeducation. Our focus has been on the most successful of the four male reeducation camps, that being the Northeast Reeducation Camp under the tutelage of Mr. Gideon Weller. Well, tonight we have another guest for you to meet. Before I bring him out on stage, I would like to give you a little background into this extraordinary individual. Jason Warith, now nearing thirty, has just completed his doctorate from Antonius Uni. With a Ph.D. in human sexual orientation, Jason Warith is considered the ‘golden boy’ of reeducation. Having recently finished his internship at the Southwest Reeducation Camp, located on a farm ten miles east of New Augustus City, Adrian Adams, the camp warden, claims Jason Warith is going to change the way we approach reeducation. ‘His methods,’ Adams says, ‘are innovative and humane.’ Warith’s approach, Adams maintains, completely dismisses corporal punishment and concentrates on accepting the young man for who he is while simultaneously helping him accept homosexuality as a loving alternative. And on that note, I would like to bring out the man said to be the future reformer of reeducation, Mr. Jason Warith.

  “Mr. Warith, welcome and thank you for being on Salve!”

  “Thank you for having me, Ms. Eagleton.”

  “Please, Melissa. Tell me, Jason, you don’t mind my calling you by your first name, I hope?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Tell me, Jason; what inspired you to pursue reeducation as a career?”

  “My mama, Helena, spent three of her teenage years inside a reeducationcamp for women. It took a long time for me to get her to open up and tell me what reeducation was like, speaking about what had happened to her was akin to her reliving it all over, but one day she opened up and shared her story.”

  “Would you mind sharing your Mama Helena’s story with my viewers?”

  “Yes, I would mind. This is her story and not mine. I cannot share it with the world. What I can say, though, is that her story inspired me. I knew if the way Mama Helena was treated is any indication, the reeducation process needs some serious reformation. It was then that I decided to make the study of human sexual orientation and the ways in which we reeducate our youth my life’s vocation. I knew I could not work with young women; the reeducation of females is clearly the domain of our women, but I also knew that if the way my mama was treated is any indication, then our young men must also be brutalized.”

  “Brutalized?”

  “Yes, Ms. Eagleton, brutalized. Think about it. Whom do we hate more—the heterosexual male or the heterosexual female?”

  “I—I don’t think hate is the right word.”

  “Really, how many people like barbarians? Hordes? Pedophiles? Rapists?”

  “Well, when you put it that way, but really, I think you are over-exaggerating a little.”

  “Am I? How many times have you referred to the heterosexual male as a barbarian? And you cannot deny that the prevailing attitude toward heterosexual men is that they are violent and dangerous.”

  “You have to admit there has been a lot of evidence against them.”

  “Perhaps, coming from those men outside, men who are desperate enough to attack our wall. But I do not believe we should be comparing our young men to fraught and starving marauders.”

  “I see your point.”

  “Our boys are merely confused. They are experiencing, what for them, are natural sexual feelings toward women. If, as we believe, many of them are twos on the Kinsey scale, then their heterosexual urges are a lot stronger than their latent homosexual desires. There is nothing wrong with that. The only reason our founding families rejected heterosexual behavior—or rather, I should say the main reason they rejected it, and why we the citizens of Hadrian continue to do so, was and still is, due to the need to quell overpopulation. Rather than punish our boys and girls for their natural feelings, we need to educate them to reason beyond their initial sexual instincts. Once they come to understand the need to avoid procreation, we can then work with them to embrace the latent homosexual inside. It is incumbent upon us to help guide them toward the very same choice we have all made: to be homosexual for the protection of our planet. The key difference here is that these youth need to make this choice consciously, whereas the rest of us have subconsciously agreed to this lifestyle by merely accepting our upbringing.”

  “Well, this is very interesting. I understand that your first position is to be at the Northeast Camp.”

  “Yes, I was originally offered a position at the Southwest Camp, and I am sorry to pass that opportunity by, but my services have been requested at the Northeast Camp so I agreed to go.”

  “Yes, you will be amazed at what you find there. Gideon Weller has done incredible things with his wards. He has the highest success rate in all four male reeducation camps.”

  “Yes, so I’ve been told.”

  “You must look forward to working with such a dedicated and successful man.”

  “I am certain working with Gideon Weller is going to be an eye-opening experience.”

  “Indeed it will be. Gideon Weller impressed me as a remarkable man. Reeducation is one of the most commendable of professions. I wish you the best of luck in all your endeavors.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Eagleton.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Warith, for if what they say about you is true, then you are the future of reeducation.”

  Vale!

  Warith vs. Weller

  Todd is stunned. Matthew, someone Todd is certain is highly intelligent and was very likely once a vibrant young man, has clearly been twisted into something morbid and broken. Lost in contemplation, Todd doesn’t even notice Jason Warith until he sits down across from him.

  A tall man of mixed Arab and Irish descent, Jason’s skin is golden brown. His hair is a rich black, his eyes a very dark brown, and his smile kind and gentle. Jason’s calming demeanor had helped him to win over the wards under his guardianship at the Southwest Reeducation Camp. Jason’s work during his residency earned him a reputation as the most likely of his graduating class to achieve success in the field of reeducation. Some even hailed him as the future of reeducation.

  Not wanting to alienate Todd immediately, Jason chooses to sit on Matthew’s bed across from him. In this way, Todd can avoid close physical contact, helping him feel more at his ease. Jason has come to accept that these youth are fearful of men who come on too strong. The best way to win a young man over is to give him a lot of personal space and only enter into his zone when invited. Jason holds out his hand for Todd to shake. “Hello,” he says with his famous smile. The sight of Jason’s hand repulses Todd, as if it were a cobra ready to strike. “I won’t hurt you, I promise,” Jason adds reassuringly. When Todd pushes back, Jason lowers his hand. His smile dissipates. This is not working out. He knew meeting his first charge wasn’t going to be easy. The file on this boy suggests a hostile youth; yet everything about the young man suggests otherwise. Of course, he is just coming off the effects of the tranquilizer drugs, something else Jason hopes to phase out over time, but still, Todd’s reaction is more like a scared child than an angry young man.

  Jason crosses his legs and studies Todd. He sure looks young. While studying his chart to make sure he got the age correct, he asks, “How old are you, son?”

  “Seventeen,” Todd answers, but he stares away, avoiding Jason’s eyes.

  That’s his age all right, Jas
on reaffirms as he shakes his head wonderingly. Fear, he muses, has a way of making a man look younger or older. And, in the case of Todd Middleton, fright has reduced him into the image of a small child. As well as ensuring the boy’s age was accurately recorded, Jason was hoping his question would open the door for further conversation. It hasn’t worked. Todd remains despondent, staring first at the wall, now the ceiling, and now the floor.

  “My name’s Jason.” Pausing briefly, a little uneasy about what he has been instructed to say, he adds, “I’m told to call you Tabatha.”

  Finally eye contact, but glaring hate and anger. I should have expected as much, Jason sighs inwardly, but I have to mark that down—no wait; they can’t hear a facial expression, only if he—

  “My name is Todd! I won’t wear one of your stupid gay names.”

  Damn, Jason closes his eyes briefly. He knows he has to jot this down, give the boy his first demerit. Mr. Weller is just outside the cabin door, hanging on their every word. “Listen…” he is about to say, “Tabatha” but decides not to call the boy by any name for the moment. The last thing this kid needs is for me to exacerbate an already dangerous situation. Jason knows Mr. Weller seriously hates this boy. He has close ties with Elena Stiles, Crystal Albright’s second mother. How to word this? he wonders. Jason Warith does not subscribe to the need to change the ward’s name. Yet Mr. Weller made it very clear in their first meeting that this is the way things are done at the Northeast Camp, and under no circumstances is Jason to bring any of his high and mighty radical notions inside his camp. Indeed, Jason’s first meeting with Gideon Weller was more than just an eye opener. He was read the riot act and informed beyond a shadow of a doubt that he, Gideon Weller, had not hired him. The only reason Jason Warith is a member of his staff is due to the political clout of one Destiny Stuttgart, Dean’s grandmother. Aged eighty-four, Destiny Stuttgart is the last surviving original founding member. For the past twenty-three years, Destiny Stuttgart had thought her grandson dead, so when Dean voc’d her, she had almost refused to listen, thinking he was some sick pervert. It wasn’t until Dean had called her Mimi, Dean having been the only grandchild ever to call her Mimi, that she turned on her voc camera and looked into the eyes of the gentleman who had once been the child she had deeply loved. When he explained his and Todd’s current circumstances, she decided to take action. She had placed a personal voc to Adrian Adams at the Southwest Camp and asked him for the best man for the job. He had reluctantly recommended Jason Warith. When Jason learned the details of the case, he agreed, knowing full well he would be up against a battle. Rumors abound regarding the treatment of wards at Gideon Weller’s camp and Dean Hunter’s account only proved to Jason that his presence there was essential, not only for Todd Middleton, but it was critical if real steps were to be made in the reformation of reeducation. Cut out the malignant tumor first; then bombard the body with radiation if you truly hope to kill all the cancer. But the tumor is still deep inside the brain, Jason reminds himself. I haven’t dug it out yet, and until I am able to, I have to tread carefully for this boy’s sake. At the moment, this is Gideon Weller’s camp. He is in charge and his word, for the time being, is law! During their meeting, Gideon Weller made it perfectly clear, almost too zealously, that the Northeast Camp abides by the demerit system, and as soon as five demerits are given, punishment is swift and brutal. When Jason refused to commit any act that would physically harm a ward under his care, Gideon Weller vowed to be the man’s shadow. “Punishment,” he stated unequivocally, “will be administered whenever I deem necessary—and I will step in to administer it if you lack the courage to act when necessary!” Jason knows Gideon Weller to be a man of his word. He is standing outside the cabin door, waiting patiently for the opportunity to punish the Middleton boy. Focusing now on Todd, Jason continues, closing his eyes briefly to remember Weller’s exact words, “The reason Mr. Weller insists we give you boys new names is to help…to help you transition from the perception of being heterosexual back to a normal gay state.”

  “Why is being gay normal and heterosexual is not?”

  It is a fair question, and back at the southwest camp, Jason would have ignored the fact that it was expelled with such venom and force and answered the boy honestly. Unfortunately, Gideon Weller also heard the question and would only hear the aggravated taunt. Jason knows that the tone of Todd’s voice means a second demerit. There is no doubt in Jason’s mind that Gideon Weller has added that to the count. Grimacing, Jason knows only too well what lies ahead—how Gideon Weller will emerge as soon as Todd hits the deadly number five. “Neither state is unnatural—” he begins but is cut short by Todd.

  “Then why am I forced to be here?”

  Three—damn! “Please, stop speaking and just listen!” Jason had hoped to make a connection with his charge before Mr. Weller came in with the discipline. If he doesn’t reach the boy first, he won’t have any hope of ever getting Todd to trust him.

  “Fuck you!” Todd expostulates.

  Four! Jason places his face in his hands. He hasn’t even had a chance to explain the demerit system and what is about to happen. Frustrated, he begins rubbing his hands down his face as if to ease tension. Suddenly, like a silent explosion, he grabs the back of Todd’s head and gags his mouth with his other hand. “Shut up and listen,” he whispers. “Mr. Weller is listening to everything you say. He wants to hurt you, and I’m the only thing standing between you and him. You have to let me help you. Will you please just let me explain to you about this institution—” Jason yelps as Todd bites into his hand. Although no blood is drawn, there are some pretty deep teeth marks.

  “Fuck you! And fuck this whole fucking institution!” Todd shouts.

  “That’s five,” says Mr. Weller. Before Jason can even think the number, the man is standing inside the door of the cabin grinning.

  “Mr. Weller,” Jason intercedes, “give me a minute. I haven’t even had a chance to explain the rules to him.”

  “He understands enough to know that his place is to obey, to listen…” Weller pauses, noting Jason cradling his hand, and having heard the yelp, inferring the damage done, adds with a cynical smile, “and be respectful.” Now standing at the small table in the room’s center, rubbing the table softly with his hand, Mr. Weller demands, “Bring him here.”

  “You have five demerits, Tabatha,” Jason begins. “You get a demerit every time you are unruly, disobedient, you swear—”

  “Enough explanation!” Mr. Weller’s voice is dry and curt.

  “He should at least be told what is about to happen and why.” Jason has never ascribed to the demerit system. At the Southeast Camp, he was able to pilot a new, more gentle approach, one that invites the young man back into the homosexual fold, rather than berates and beats him there. Although he knew the Northeast Camp advocated corporal punishment, Jason was disappointed to learn that Gideon Weller actually utilizes it on a daily basis.

  Staring straight ahead at the wall, Todd struggles not to shake. He remembers Matthew’s face when Stephie threatened him with a fifth demerit. It doesn’t matter, he thinks. I’m not giving in!

  “Bring. Him. Here.” Each word is punctuated harshly with a soft tap of his index finger against the table.

  As Mr. Weller’s order is not to be gainsaid, Jason motions for Todd to stand. When Todd refuses to acknowledge him, Jason grips his arm. Todd yanks it away, looking up at the man with sullen hate. Jason can’t bring himself to do this. “No,” he insists. “It’s too soon after his arrival to punish him. All the research shows that a softer, gentler approach works better than—”

  Mr. Weller is having none of this. “We do not pamper our wards here, Mr. Warith!” Then turning toward the door, he yells, “Darrell!” A tall muscular man emerges through the cabin door. Watching as his henchman walks over, Mr. Weller tells Jason, “I knew you were too soft for this job, but it appears Dean Stuttgart has some pull after all.”

  Just as Dean Stuttgart’s name begins to
register in Todd’s brain, it is yanked away instantly when Darrell reaches across the bed and grabs him by the hair. Todd yelps as the large hand pulls him backwards. In one swift motion, Darrell lifts the youth off the bed and tosses him face first over the table.

  Smiling sadistically, Mr. Weller adds, “Fortunately, Dean Stuttgart is still an embarrassment to his family so his hand only extends so far.” Jason turns toward the door. Arresting Jason with the shot of a finger, Mr. Weller orders, “You stay right where you are, Mr. Wraith! This boy is your charge, and you are expected to be present for all his reeducation treatment.” With a judgmental air, he states, “It should be you doing this, but as you are not up to the task, I shall take over.” Mr. Weller takes a moment to enjoy watching Todd’s hands flail fruitlessly at Darrell’s grip before ordering him to undo his pants.

  Todd screeches out, “Fuck you!”

  Mr. Weller doesn’t reply. He merely crosses over to the wall behind the table to retrieve the paddle hanging there, only to return instantly to slam Todd’s backside with it. Appreciating the boy’s howl, Mr. Weller waits patiently for it to diminish into a whimper. “Nine more with your pants down, Tabatha. Twenty more with them up.”

  Crossing over to the table, bending down level to the boy’s ear, Jason implores, “Please, Todd, I can’t stop him.” Closing his eyes briefly, he begs, “Let’s not make this worse.”

  Todd’s mind is reeling with pain. Worse? How can this possibly get worse? Fumbling for his pants button, he fails to release them fast enough for Mr. Weller. Another smash of the paddle hits his backside. Todd’s body convulses as he shakes and screams. Then, wailing out in agony and frustration, he pleads, “I can’t. I can’t. You won’t let me.”

  Jason stops Mr. Weller from delivering a third blow by grabbing his wrist mid-swing. He stares directly into the warden’s eyes. Both men threaten the other. “I’ll help him,” Jason insists. Mr. Weller struggles against Jason’s grip.