him.”
“I was looking out for him!” Ryan returned indignantly, his eyes flashing. “I always look out for him!” The smart of that accusation was beyond any that had so far been leveled at him, and he swiped bitterly at his cheeks. Steve looked down, and swallowed hard. He knew and understood how very seriously Ryan took his responsibilities as Danny’s big brother.
“I know you try to,” Matt acknowledged. His concerned eyes strayed in his little brother’s direction, but Steve would not look at him, and he sighed inwardly as he went on. “I know how very much you care about Danny; he is very lucky to have you for a big brother. I know that you look out for him the best way you can and I know how much you want to protect him from everyone and anything that might hurt him. It is the way you were looking out for him in this instance that we have to talk about.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan demanded throatily.
“These circumstances were one hundred percent foreseeable and preventable, Bud,” Matt scolded. “What on earth possessed you all to be talking about Kevin’s situation in the middle of the common room to begin with, huh?” Ryan bit his lip and bowed his head. That was a point he had never thought about. “I know that Danny was not thinking clearly, and that’s understandable. It was on you to stop that conversation, Ry. Instead you perpetuated it.”
“I’m sorry!” Ryan sobbed, swiping desperately once more at his cheeks.
“You know the rules about fighting, Bro,” Matt continued. “You lost your head and got right in the middle of a situation that should never have taken place to begin with.”
“Ok!” Ryan huffed, covering his face with his hands and hanging his head. “I know! I’m sorry!”
“The worst part, though, is that a few weeks later, when you already knew you were facing consequences for your part in the first fiasco, you went after Mcarthy again. That shows a blatant lack of respect for The Code, and a lack of self control that, as a quality in one who is in line for the presidency, is particularly disturbing. That is the part I cannot get over, Ry,” Matt reiterated quietly. “And,” he added softly, “that is what the council had a hard time getting past as well.” Ryan didn’t respond, so finally Matt continued in as gentle a tone as possible. “There were those on the council, Bud, who wanted to call another mandatory meeting, who thought you should be held publicly accountable. And then there were those who thought you should step down, that another junior should assume the presidency next year in your place . . . .”
“Fine by me,” Ryan fumed, finally looking up. “Who wants to be president, anyway? All it does is bring stress and misery, and I’m obviously going to suck at it so maybe that would be best. ”
“Nonsense, Bro,” Matt appeased. “You are not going to suck at it. Jay and I picked you for good reasons. What do you think he’d say if he heard you talking like that, huh?” Ryan couldn’t answer. “You have worked very hard to get where you are both on the team and in the house, and I think you are going to be a very good president. Neither Steve nor I were ok with either of the above suggestions, and it would have been a cold day in hell before we allowed either of those things to happen. Steve would have stepped down first,” he added quietly.
“You’re damn right I would have!” Steve seethed. Matt shot him a warning glance and Steve looked away. He knew getting emotional now himself was just about the last thing that would help Ryan, but this was so hard. It was so much harder than he had even imagined it would be. ‘If only Mcarthy had thrown a punch,’ he thought sourly, ‘just one fucking god damn punch!’ Maybe then he would have had a little more bargaining power. Maybe he could have been more help to his little brothers, more help especially to Ryan. ‘This is all my fault,’ he rebuked himself for the hundredth time. ‘It’s all my fucking fault! And I can’t do even one god damn thing to make it better.’ The bitter inner battle waged on and Matt cursed silently to himself as he returned his eyes to his chastened younger brother. He knew his own little brother well enough to know exactly what direction Steve’s thoughts were taking at the moment, but this was neither the time nor the place for him to address it.
“You and Danny have a lot of friends, Ry,” he went on at last in the same reassuring tone, “and we had to have more than one meeting, believe me, because the situation was so emotionally charged. There were those who felt that to punish the two of you without punishing Mcarthy was the very height of injustice, but he didn’t throw the first punch, did he?” Matt paused, but Ryan had drawn up his knees and hidden his face again by that time, and he got no response. “No,” Matt finally answered his own question, “nor did he return the punches that were thrown.” Ryan brushed surreptitiously once more at the tears that were streaking his cheeks, and Matt continued quietly, “This is the compromise, Bud, understand? It wasn’t my first choice, and it certainly wasn’t Steve’s . . . .” Matt glanced once more in his little brother’s direction. This time, Steve caught and held his eyes.
“No,” he agreed softly. “No, it was not my first choice, for sure. But . . . look at me, Bro,” he commanded. Ryan tentatively lifted his head, continuing to swipe futilely at his cheeks, and doing his best to meet his big brother’s eyes. “What you did,” Steve went on, looking earnestly into his little brother’s anguished face, “is very serious, Ry. It goes against everything this fraternity stands for. The council,” his voice cracked, “has placed you on probation.” Ryan looked down again, pressing his face into his knees. “This can’t happen again, Bud,” Steve admonished huskily. “If it does, you will be forced to step aside. Maybe that’s not a big deal to you, but it is to me and Matt, and you know it would be to Jay. That is why, after listening to the other alternatives, we agreed to do this. We have to make sure this doesn’t happen again, Ry, understand?” Ryan nodded into his knees, but he didn’t look up.
Silently, Matt and Steve waited once more, but at last, when it became clear that Ryan had nothing more to say, Matt got to his feet and turned with a reluctant heart to take the cane from the wall. As he did, Ryan dropped his feet to the floor and clutched the sides of his head. Steve stood then too, and pulled his little brother up and into his arms. “I’m here,” he whispered as Ryan laid his head against his shoulder. Ryan clung to him, rubbing his face on his shirt, and pressing into his chest as Matt turned to face them. “I’m going to get you through this, Bro,” Steve whispered. “I promise.”
Matt waited, cane in hand, until Ryan had calmed some, but finally he knew the best thing he could do for both his brothers was to get this over with. He did not have the heart to demand that Ryan turn completely and face him to receive the sentence as was the tradition. He, however, did feel it important to have some of his little brother’s attention. “Look at me please, Ry,” he directed softly, and obediently, Ryan did so. Steve tightened his arm, and brought his thumb up to gently wipe away the tears that were still streaking his little brother’s face. “Ryan Justin Sanderson,” Matt began in the same official tone Steve had used with Danny. “You have committed a serious infraction against The Code by attacking a senior member of this fraternity. Fighting at any time is not permitted, as you know, and as the president’s immediate successor your actions are inexcusable. The council has consequently placed you on probation. Any further incidents of this type will result in the loss of your position as well as possible expulsion from the fraternity. As punishment for this violation, it is the decree of the council that you shall receive twelve strokes of the cane, six for each attack, to be delivered on the bare. Over the table, Ry,” he commanded softly at last.
It was amazing how terrible and yet how calming those words were to Ryan. Twelve strokes was so much! It was so much, but in a few minutes, now, this whole big nightmare would be over. Ryan hid his face once more, balled his fists in Steve’s shirt, and then with one deep, shaky breath, he exhaled weeks’ worth of anticipation and guilt.
“It’s all right,” Steve whispered as Matt began pulling the chairs away. Ryan was still
clinging to him, and, sensing his little brother’s inability to process the direction he had been given, Steve turned him and gently guided him over the table. “It’s going to be all right,” he promised once more into his ear. With another deep breath, Ryan closed his eyes. He felt his brother’s soothing hand leave his back and his stomach began to churn as Steve made his way to the other side of the table. A moment later he felt his big brother grip his hands reassuringly, and he shivered as Matt lowered his shorts to expose his still vaguely pink bottom.
“Count the strokes, please, Ry,” his oldest brother directed firmly and Ryan clutched Steve’s hands harder as he felt the cool lithe wood against his skin. He thought of Kevin and Danny in the other room and bit hard on his lip. ‘I won’t cry, I won’t cry, I won’t cry . . .,’ he promised himself. His stomach knotted and he felt his buttocks clench as Matt drew back. He was trying to relax, he knew it would be better if he did, but it was so hard.
The next moment the cane hissed down and Ryan’s face contorted as it contacted him squarely in the center of his bottom. “One,” he hissed as he finally got his breath. It hurt more than he possibly could have ever imagined. With barely a pause, Matt aimed the next stroke below the first and Ryan inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth as it landed. “Two,” he managed finally. Whoosh Crack! The cane came down again. “AH!” Ryan grimaced. “Three!” Whoosh Crack! The cane snapped down, and Ryan threw his head back, trying his hardest to bear the excruciating burn quietly. “Four,” he uttered shakily, at last. Other than the silent tears streaking his face and the purple marks beginning to form on his big brother’s hands, there was nothing so far to indicate the agonizing pain he was in. He had, so far, kept his resolve. The next stroke, however, caught him just below his bottom and he screamed, frantically pulling at his brother’s hands. “Jesus!” he exclaimed. “That’s five! God! That’s five!” he yanked hard on Steve’s hands once more.
Determinedly, Steve held on. His throat and stomach tightened as Ryan crumpled in frustration against the table, and he squeezed his little brother’s hands consolingly, but he was resolved not to let go. He would not allow this horrible punishment to go on one moment more than was necessary, and allowing Ryan a break now would only make the rest of the punishment harder. “Hang in there, Ry,” he coaxed, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re doing great.” The genuine pride in his big brother’s tone caused Ryan to relax slightly and he clutched Steve’s hands tighter. He could do this. He took another little breath. With his big brother beside him, he could do anything.
Matt did not slow longer than was necessary for Steve to help still Ryan’s movement. He too was determined to get this over with. He was an experienced disciplinarian and he knew that long pauses only added to the anxiety and suffering of the one being punished. With his little brother on the receiving end, therefore, he was especially determined to keep things moving.
Whoosh Crack! “Ahhh!” Ryan threw his head back. “God!” he uttered through clenched teeth. “Six!” Woosh Crack! The cane whipped down again, catching him once more on the tender underside of his bottom and he shrieked. “Owww! Owww! Jesus Christ, OWWW! Matt, please! please! I’m sorry!”
Tears started to streak Steve’s cheeks as he tightened his hold on Ryan’s wrists. His little brother’s nails were digging into his hands, now, but he hardly felt that. “Hang in there, Bro,” he choked.
Matt bit his lip, but he pressed on, determined still to get his brothers through this. “What stroke was that, Ry?” he prompted quietly.
“Seven!” Ryan sobbed. Matt drew back again and panic set in. “No, Matt! Please! Please!” He tried to rise up but Steve’s firm grip kept him down.
“Stay still, Bro, stay still, I’m here . . .,” Steve encouraged brokenly. Ryan took a deep, calming breath and did his best to listen. The moment he became still, the cane landed.
“Eight!” he screeched. “Oww! Oww!”
“Hold him,” Matt directed firmly and Steve nodded as he took a firmer grip once more on Ryan’s arms. He was no longer capable of speaking in any comprehensible way. Matt’s heart beat faster as he tried hard to focus on the task before him. Tears burned his own eyes, but he forced them back and aimed the cane once more, doing his best to find a clean spot among the mass of stripes in front of him.
“No! No! Matt, please!” Ryan protested as he felt the cane press warningly into his torn and burning skin. “Please!” he pleaded desperately as Matt drew back. It was to no avail; a moment later the cane fell, and Ryan screamed. “Nine! OWW! God it hurts! It hurts!” Gone, now, was the resolve to bear the punishment quietly. Gone were his thoughts for Danny and Kevin. Gone were his thoughts for anything but the searing pain, now growing more intense with each angry red line that was raised.
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” Steve tried to soothe but his voice cracked as Ryan pulled once more at his hands.
Matt too was affected. His face was ashen, and his stomach clenched as he thought of his two youngest brothers in the next room. How were they handling this? ‘And,’ his brow puckered, ‘the soundproofing couldn’t possibly be blocking all this, could it?’ He took in the swollen, inflamed state of Ryan’s bottom, and paused as his younger brother’s choking sobs continued to fill the room. Steve was having an awful time containing him now as he fought to get his hands free, and as Matt’s eyes settled on his own little brother, he made up his mind. “Two more, Ry,” he encouraged, “just two more and then it’s over, ok?” Steve was battling now to keep his own emotions in check, and he looked up gratefully to meet Matt’s eyes. “Hang in there,” Matt mouthed and Steve nodded, taking a breath as he squeezed Ryan’s hands tighter in his own. Ryan too became calmer as he felt his big brother’s reassuring grip: two more, two more strokes. He could take two more.
He pressed his cheek hard into the table and gritted his teeth, determined to bear these final strokes quietly. The lithe wood grazed his skin briefly as Matt aimed. Then, as his big brother drew back his arm, Ryan tensed, and Whoosh Crack! The cane connected, his face contorted, and he inhaled sharply as the searing burn shot through his nether region. There was a long pause as he fought for breath. “Ten!” he eked out, finally. Steve squeezed his little brother’s hands hard as Ryan crumpled once more on the table, and Matt’s voice, when he spoke, was filled with potent empathy.
“Last one, bro,” he prodded gently. “Are you ready?”
Matt received no verbal response, but Ryan gripped Steve’s hands harder, and then gave an almost imperceptible nod. Once again, Matt aimed, fighting down the feeling of intense pity sparked as his little brother’s buttocks clenched. Determined, to get it over with, he drew back his arm again, and Whoosh Crack! The final stroke cut Ryan under his bottom and he reared up, nearly pulling Steve across the table as he grimaced, and struggled for breath. “Eleven!” he shrieked, finally. “Oh God! That’s Eleven!” he sobbed. Steve let go of Ryan’s hands, then, and as his little brother collapsed on the table in front of him, he buried his face in his hands.
Matt placed the cane back where it belonged and turned to face his
brothers. They had never needed him more. Ryan was spent. He was too emotionally exhausted and in too much pain to move. He had no energy even to try and soothe the overpowering burn in his bottom. Matt looked briefly at Steve, but he was faring little better than Ryan, and seeing the distraught state his little brother was in, Matt quickly took charge.
“Come on, Little Bro,” he coaxed, placing a soothing hand on Ryan’s back. “You’re all right. Come on, now.” Keeping his hand on his little brother’s back and pinning his t-shirt so it would not brush his tender bottom, Matt raised Ryan slowly to his feet and wrapped him in his arms. “That’s it,” he soothed as his little brother snuggled against him. “That’s it. You’re all right,” he whispered again as Ryan clung to him. “You ready to get out of here?” Ryan nodded against his chest. “Go on and step out of your shorts, then.” With slow, excruciating movement
s, Ryan did as Matt had directed, and, with the effortless movements of a well-conditioned linebacker, Matt lowered his shoulder and scooped his little brother up. Ryan’s 5’10”, 185 pound frame was nothing to his oldest brother who was 6’2” and nearly 250 pounds. The searing pain Ryan was now experiencing made him nearly insensible to this newest assault on his dignity, and he did not protest in any way. Matt, after all, was his brother; he trusted him, and as hard as Matt could be, Ryan knew how very fond his oldest brother was of him.
Matt carried Ryan towards a black curtained doorway at the end of the small room, and Steve followed close behind. The room they entered now, as Matt pushed aside the curtain, was even smaller than the one they were leaving. It had at one time been a tiny sun room connecting Steve’s bedroom with the sitting room. It had been closed in with the sitting room and soundproofed for use as a recovery room. Matt flipped the switch on the wall as they entered, shedding a dim amount of light on the room’s furnishings which were sparse, but comfortable. There was a long, somewhat ratty looking sofa against the far wall completed by an end table with a small lamp. There was a card table that looked as though it had seen better days, two overstuffed armchairs, and one or two other rickety chairs of varying sorts placed in no particular order around the room. A small half bath had also been added somewhere along the way, much to the relief of the countless numbers of young Rho Beta Chi members who had since found themselves in need of it. A sink, in moments like these, was a priceless commodity when one’s image was on the line. Those who had done without in the past, knew all too well just how priceless it was, and had contributed readily to give their younger brothers that luxury of which they themselves had been deprived.
Of all those who had benefited, though, from the generosity of the previous classes, no one had yet been more grateful for this particular item than Matt was now as he deposited his little brother carefully on the sofa. He looked at the angry welts that crisscrossed Ryan’s backside and turned quickly for the bathroom as Steve, who had recovered somewhat by now, dropped to his knees by Ryan’s head, stroking his hair and talking softly to him.
The Fraternity Files Page 28
