Jonathan's Hope

by Hirschi, Hans M.

  After dinner, Dan needed to take Rascal out for a walk, inviting Jonathan along, but the boy declined. It was too early to get out yet. He was still unconsciously afraid that he might not be able to return, and no matter how much Dan tried to assure him it was only a walk, Jonathan couldn’t, wouldn’t budge. Eventually, Dan left. Rascal was grateful for getting any attention that day, forgiving Dan the minute the door to the house closed behind him and he started chasing snowflakes.

  When they returned to the house after forty-five minutes, Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t in the kitchen nor in the living room. For a split second, Dan was afraid that he had left. But when he went to check in the bedroom, he found him asleep in bed, on Dan’s side of the bed, again.

  Dan smiled. He quite liked seeing the boy lying there. The man, he corrected his thought process. Given what Jonathan had been through, how he had survived the past two weeks, the past eighteen years, he’d gathered more life experience than most adults do in a lifetime. He may be young, but he certainly was mature. Dan wondered how long it might take for Jonathan to heal. Would he ever? Oddly, Dan was surprised when he felt that he indeed hoped that Jonathan would heal, quickly. And for the first time since he met him the night before, that thought didn’t scare him.

  Dan returned to the living room, leaving the bedroom door open, just in case Jonathan had another nightmare. He went back to work, suddenly inspired to research child abuse, and maybe find a clue about Jonathan’s life. Maybe even a note about his disappearance.

  He couldn’t find anything though, at least not about Jonathan. The papers did not mention anything about a young man’s disappearance. There was nothing, which Dan found slightly worrying.

  On the other hand, he found plenty of research on the subject of child abuse, the physical consequences, the psychological consequences, various factors that could lead to child abuse. He particularly found one article linking oppressed homosexuality noteworthy, and how that often led to extreme homophobia. He found it interesting enough that he printed the article. Dan wanted to have that in case Jonathan started asking questions. He obviously didn’t know if Jonathan’s father was a closet case or if there were other reasons. Jonathan hadn’t mentioned anything to that effect. If anything, he’d seemed at a loss as to the reasons for the beatings.

  The journalist in Dan was in full-blown research mode, browsing through psychological articles at various libraries, trying to assess the potential damage to Jonathan’s psyche, and what he could do as a layman to help. He quickly realized that Jonathan would need professional help. Dan was a journalist, not a shrink. But how can I convince him to go to a shrink? And how will he pay for it? Once he’s an adult, the state won’t cover any treatment. We’ll have to drive back into the city. I wonder how he’ll react to that? I’ll need to go grocery shopping tomorrow. Will he join me?

  Dozens of questions raced through his mind but he couldn’t really answer them, not without learning more about Jonathan. A lot more. He would have to move slowly, he didn’t dare risk losing his trust. That fragile trust that they’d started to build. And fragile it was, given Jonathan’s reaction to joining him on the walk with Rascal...

  Dan got up from his desk and stretched his body. He was tired. It was way past midnight. He turned off the lights and moved to his bedroom, where Rascal had taken up the space he’d normally sleep in, on Sean’s side of the bed, next to Jonathan. My side, Dan mused, seems it’s my side now...

  He brushed his teeth, making a mental note to buy some toiletries for Jonathan, he’ll want to shave, too, before moving back into the bedroom. He whispered to Rascal to get off the bed, and climbed in, on Sean’s side. No, his side. He lay on his back for a while, listening to Jonathan’s even breathing, and he fell asleep that way, content that he had been able to help that day, even if it was only a beginning.

  Sleep always came quickly to Dan. He could fall quickly into a deep sleep that would last for an hour or two before he would experience his first REM-stage for the night. Sleeping so deeply, he never noticed that he had turned around, moving his body closer to Jonathan, locking his right arm around him, snuggling against his body.

  When they woke up the next morning, he found his own morning wood poking at Jonathan’s ass cheeks, while holding him tightly. This was not what I had in mind...

  Chapter 9

  BACK IN THE city, Jonathan’s mother had survived a second night of beatings. It hadn’t been so bad, they were worse in her memories. It was Monday morning and Jonathan’s father would be back to work.

  She wondered a little bit, as she lay awake next to her husband, how they’d explain Jonathan’s disappearance. School was not yet out for Christmas, there were still a few weeks to go, and it would be difficult to explain that he had suddenly disappeared. Or so she thought. She hoped that her son had made it somehow. That he had miraculously been rescued, and was okay, alive and well. She also wished that somehow, some day, the same might happen to her, too. That she’d escape from her nightmares. Truth be told, she wasn’t so sure, but you know what they say, hope is the last thing we hold on to.

  After her husband left the house that day, she went about her usual routine. She made the beds, did some laundry, and cleaned the house. She also had to run to the store to buy some groceries. She had to at least try to make her husband’s life as comfortable as possible, to not tease him, not offend him, not give him any cause to lash out at her. She had to be the perfect wife. She had to at least try.

  At the store, she ran into Mary, of course, who asked about Jonathan. What am I going to say to her? I’m not very good at lying. She was about to open her mouth and mumble something when Mary’s mother walked into the aisle. She greeted her coldly and pulled her daughter away. It had been a close call, but she was grateful for the fact that Mary’s mother despised her enough to have saved her from answering a question to which she had no good answer. She was grateful that Mary’s mother was still angry about Jonathan’s attempt to seduce her daughter, however lame that attempt had been. She’d make sure that Mary never saw that boy again, if it was the last thing she did.

  She didn’t realize all that, of course. She assumed Mary’s mother hated her because she was such a lousy mother. A mother unable to protect her son, but for this one instant, Jonathan’s mother was happy that she’d gotten off the hook so easily. She did, however, text her husband about the incident, asking him to make sure the school didn’t ask questions. She wasn’t sure she could handle a call from Jonathan’s principal or any of his teachers asking for his whereabouts. Lying was just not something she did very well.

  His response was simple enough. “Taken care of already. See you tonight!” No explanation, no reasoning given, but she knew. She felt the rage in those few words and knew she’d hurt again tonight. No matter how squeaky clean the house would be, no matter how delicious the food, no matter how well dressed she’d be, tonight was going to be painful.

  She gathered her groceries and left the store, her mind preoccupied with the physical and verbal abuse that would be unleashed upon her in just a couple of hours. She never saw it coming. By the time the car hit her, the screeching of the brakes, the sound of her breaking bones, the cracking of her skull, must’ve been the last thing to register in her brain. Jonathan’s mother was finally safe. She would never hurt again.

  When Jonathan’s father received the phone call, he wasn’t sure how to react. Just last week he’d “killed” his son, abandoning him in the large forest, and now the police had called to inform him that his wife had been hit by a car, killed on impact.

  In eight days, his entire family had been wiped out, and he knew he was the one to blame. Not that he knew exactly what his wife had been thinking when she walked into the street without noticing the traffic, but he felt it had been his fault. He was right.

  He left the office to go down to the morgue to identify his wife, her face badly bruised by the impact on the street. The car literally mauled her, scraping wou
nds covered her body. She looked terrible, yet peaceful. Her mouth was curved up slightly in a smile and her closed eyes looked oddly calm, as if she was sleeping. He started crying at the look of her, never really having seen her, how petite she was, how fragile. He had never once looked at his wife the way a man would look at a woman. He had never really seen her small breasts, her nice figure. He had never really noticed her beautiful face, her long, thick, brown hair. He didn’t, because he couldn’t. To him, she was merely a tool. A way to make partner at the law firm. A tool to procreate and start a family. A prop so to speak, his personal Potemkin village. A prop to make him appear straight, normal, decent. His wife had been a prop, along with the house, the cabin in the woods, and their limited social life. It had all been designed to create an image of normalcy, of heterosexuality. It had worked. She played her part well, so had Jonathan, at least for a while.

  Over the next days, Jonathan’s father busied himself with the arrangements for her funeral, using her one last time as a tool to help him set the stage for his next performance. He was now the grieving widower, who, at the age of 48, would never look at another woman again. The widower who would forever idolize the memory of his irreplaceable wife. He played his part well, for now, and no one dared to question why his son, Jonathan, didn’t attend his mother’s funeral.

  Oh, there was gossip all right. There was talk at the firm, people wondering about him, whispering. Why he would suddenly start crying in his office, then close the door. Neighbors and friends wondered quietly why Jonathan’s new boarding school, to which he had been sent after he’d apparently assaulted a young girl from school, wouldn’t allow him to attend his mother’s funeral. It was cruel and heartless, but they accepted the official explanation, that the school was very strict about attendance and that it was only Jonathan’s second week there, so they wouldn’t excuse him. There was chatter, of course, but people knew better than to approach, to confront him.

  At some point, a paralegal at the office even thought he acted weird. Like he’s gay or something. But he was hushed, quickly silenced, although quite a few of the secretaries agreed with him. There was something amiss with Jonathan’s father, but no one could quite put their finger on it.

  After the funeral, he took a short leave of absence to travel back west to see his parents. He needed to get away, and so he joined them for the holidays. His mother insisted on it, her poor boy, having lost his wife so tragically, and the boy was off to a boarding school, and could not come home for the holidays. It was all so horrible, she had said.

  Chapter 10

  “GOOD MORNING,” Jonathan mumbled, his voice coarse, still half-asleep. He didn’t mind waking up with Dan holding him like that, not at all.

  “Sorry about that,” Dan responded, rolling away from him, as if he’d been caught with both hands in the cookie jar. He quickly got out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats and a tee. “I’ll go make us breakfast,” he said, dashing out the door, blushing.

  Jonathan rolled onto his back, a smile on his face. The bed, the pillows, the covers, they all smelled of Dan, and that smell conveyed security, safety, and comfort. All things Jonathan had been missing for years. He pulled up the covers in a ball and took in a deep breath, hugging them as if it were Dan himself.

  Later, at the breakfast table, there was an uneasy silence between the two. Dan was embarrassed at having been ‘caught’ red-handed, wanting Jonathan, although he’d said the opposite. Jonathan didn’t want to push the issue, afraid of how close he was to the door. And, although the winter storm had subsided, it left behind well over a foot of snow and it would be impossible for him to survive out there by himself.

  Instead, both men ate their food in silence. Dan drank his tea, Jonathan relished his coffee. When Dan noticed with how much love Jonathan drank his coffee, he couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, listen, I need to go out and buy groceries today. If you’d like, I’ll get you some fresh coffee so you can taste and smell how it’s really supposed to be...”

  The look on Jonathan’s face was priceless, yet scary at the same time. There was lust, want for the coffee, but immediately after, he noticed the fear, the terror in his eyes. “I take it you don’t want to tag along?” Dan wondered, not sure if he’d interpreted Jonathan’s look correctly.

  “I...” Jonathan trailed. “I’m scared. I don’t know why. What if someone recognizes me? What if the police are looking for me? What if...” He didn’t finish the thought, but Dan could see it would be useless to pressure Jonathan.

  “Listen, tomorrow is your eighteenth birthday, right? Starting tomorrow, you are an adult. You’ll be able to make your own decisions, so you won’t have to worry about your parents any longer. And, if it makes you feel any better, I can push the shopping until tomorrow. Deal?” Dan looked at Jonathan, hoping that his words would relax the young man.

  “Thank you,” Jonathan responded, relieved. “I don’t know why I’m so scared. I just feel that I don’t want to leave the house ever again. Here it’s warm, cozy, sheltered, you know. But when I look out the window into the cold, the snow, it’s so scary...”

  Dan couldn’t help himself any longer. He got up and walked over to Jonathan, hugging him. “I told you yesterday, you’re safe here. No one is going to touch you, hurt you. I promise. You may not know me very well, but I’ll make sure you’re safe here, whatever it takes...”

  Jonathan looked up at the man standing behind him, the man draping his arms around him, and smiled. Then he asked the inevitable question. “What about us?”

  Dan’s arms dropped instantly, his resolve weakened. He sat down again. “That... I guess we need to talk. I, uh...” he started, not sure how to tell him about his conflicting feelings. His want for Jonathan, his reluctance to engage in anything physical with a minor, the demons chasing him, and Sean still lingering in his memories, his life.

  “Can you just give me some time? You’re very perceptive, and I’d be lying if I denied that you are a very attractive young man. Yes, I find myself oddly drawn to you but you’re still seventeen. I would be committing a crime if I were to do anything. But that’s not all, not really. I, uh...” Dan didn’t really know how to tell him about Sean, about their life together, and how he’d never really recovered from Sean’s death. He never really allowed Sean to die, not in his mind anyway. For Dan, Sean was still alive, a ghost, living in their house. There were pieces of Sean everywhere. In every cup he’d ever held, the coffee that Jonathan was drinking, the side of the bed that had now become Dan’s, the clothes that were still hanging in Sean’s closet. There were so many memories of his lover that Dan just couldn’t let go of him. Not yet, not after a year. Maybe not ever.

  They’d had a good run together, Sean and he. They dated for a year before making it official, and when Sean moved in with him they had another four years of bliss and happiness, working together on the cabin, making love, working hard, playing hard.

  Dan had always been a bit of a recluse, and it had only been a freak incident that brought him to the club that night. Actually, he’d been asked to write about the growing gay scene in the city, and he figured he had to at least step inside a club once to know what he was writing about. At least that’s what the owner of the bar had told him on the phone. “You’re gay and you’ve never been to a gay bar? And now you’re doing a piece on gay life and you’ve never been to a gay venue. Dude, how do you expect to pull that off?” Dan really did not have anything to say to that, so he went. He ordered a beer and sat in a corner of the bar, watching guys come and go. He’d picked one of the exclusively male bars, although he wasn’t sure why. There were two more places he could’ve gone to that also catered to lesbians.

  Maybe it had been a sign, because had he chosen Roxy or the Lantern that night, he might have never met Sean. Instead, he chose to sit in the corner of the basement bar “Cave” while silently drinking his beer, when a group of young men walked into the bar. They were his age, maybe a couple of years younger, loud, outgoin
g, drawing stares and appreciative looks. They were all very handsome, obviously gym goers, the type who cared more about their looks than their intellects. Dan looked away. While he enjoyed looking at the naked male body, particularly the good looking, well trained type, having jerked off to such imagery ever since he was a teen, he had learned over the years that such beauty usually came shallow. The only commitment they were capable of was to their own satisfaction. They were usually miserable in bed, and would invariably leave before breakfast. Dan didn’t need that. Oh no, I’m fine by myself. I’d rather jerk off for the rest of my life than be jerked around by some jerk...

  That’s why Dan never noticed that one of the guys in the group, a tall, brown-haired guy with a pleasant smile had taken notice of Dan, excusing himself from his mates, beer in hand, to walk over to Dan’s table. Sitting down without asking for permission, he introduced himself. “Hey, my name is Sean. I don’t think we’ve met...”

  Dan looked up, and into a couple of eyes that were completely and utterly fixated on him. Once their eyes met, Dan fell. For the first time in his life, Dan fell, freely, and he didn’t seem to mind.

  That may sound cliché but it’s exactly how Dan was feeling. No tether, no line to stop the fall. Oddly, Dan was perfectly fine, falling as he was...

  The two men started up an easy conversation, about work, being gay, the “Cave,” coming out. The kind of conversation you have when you talk to a perfect stranger over a beer in a bar you’ve never been to before. Dan had this strange out of body experience. He was hovering above the table, just under the ceiling, watching himself relax. He watched himself laugh, smile at Sean, and just talk to this young man, this beautiful specimen of man. He watched himself fall, fall, fall.