Hadrian's Lover (31 page)

To every child, it is revealed what life is like for the unfortunate living outside Hadrian’s walls: Images of emaciated bodies lying on desert floors. Children starving. Mothers’ breasts bereft of milk. It is truly unfathomable how humanity is still thriving. It is amazing how the words of Dr. Oscar Baumann, written in the late nineteenth century, depict what is happening all over the planet today. “There were women wasted to skeletons from whose eyes the madness of starvation glared…warriors scarcely able to crawl on all fours, and apathetic, languishing elders. Swarms of vultures followed them from high, awaiting their certain victims.” The image was frightening enough back then when the calamity of famine only hit one area in Africa, but knowing that this painting of horror is found daily, and in every country but ours, is demoralizing.

Sometimes, I believe it is better not to witness the slow agonizing death throes of humanity’s suicide. For, as much as we dearly wish we could do something, anything, to help these wretched creatures, the reality is that providing food, shelter, water, and warmth for the billions dying outside our walls is impossible. We cannot cure the illnesses mankind has festered upon itself. We cannot hope to save those other twenty billion or more individuals. All we can do is cling to the knowledge that we, in Hadrian, are rebuilding humanity’s future, that Hadrian is maintaining the necessary balance to help humanity survive.

Vale!

When Todd awakes, Frank is clutching his right hand. Having fallen asleep, Frank has his head lying in Todd’s lap. Todd sighs when he sees his friend.
Finally,
he mutters.

This is not the first time Todd has risen since his failed suicide attempt. When he first discovered that he was still alive, Todd screamed as best he could through his damaged throat while simultaneously ripping at the bandages around his neck. His intent was to dig his nails deep into his wound, effectively ending his life once and for all! Fortunately for Todd, or perhaps not so fortunately from his perspective, he is under twenty-four hour supervision. The mirror on the right wall is a one-way window for the nurse assigned on observation duty, which explains why his first attempt to kill himself failed. Mia Ocampo, the nurse in attendance his first night at the hospital, managed to call the doctor and effectively stem the flow of blood, saving Todd Middleton’s life. It was Gordon McAlister, the second nurse in attendance, who circumvented Todd’s second attempt. Although Todd managed to remove most of his bandage, he never got his fingers into the wound. Since then, Todd has been strapped to his bed, has a catheter fitted, and since he refuses to eat, drink, or take any medication, is attached to an IV unit.

When Jason Warith came to visit Todd, he had tried unsuccessfully to reestablish the tenuous bond he had begun forging with the boy. Not that he had any hopes that ties could be rebuilt after what Mr. Weller had done. Since the rape, Todd had completely shut himself off from the rest of the world. Before leaving Todd the last time, Jason had asked the young man whether there was anything at all he could do for him. When Todd asked to see Frank Hunter, Jason smiled. “I can do that for you, son.” He had heard that Todd and the Hunter boy were close friends, that prior to
Mr. Weller’s interference, they had even begun forming a boyfriend relationship.
Why,
he questioned irritably,
did Weller not leave him with the Hunter family? No,
he reminded himself,
I can’t waste thoughts on “what ifs.” I only have “what is” to work with.
So, as soon as Todd returned to an induced sleep—an unfortunate necessity as his continued struggles, even with the restraints, caused life-threatening damage to his wounds—Jason Warith contacted the Hunter household.

Frank, having waited at Todd’s bedside for over two hours, is now sleeping. Todd would shake his own head, but he can’t because it is belted down. All he can do is roll his eyes as his friend snores.
Friend
, he wonders,
can I still call him that?
Studying Frank’s profile, Todd considers Frank’s motivation.
Would I have done the same if our situations were reversed?
Todd is unable to provide an answer.
I guess I’d only know if I were in his place. At least,
he figures,
he did it because he loves me.
“Frank,” he whispers. His voice still hasn’t recovered from his suicidal knife attack. When Frank fails to respond, Todd wakes him by shaking his right hand. As soon as Frank stirs, Todd rasps again, “Frank.”

Sitting up, rubbing his eyes and face before running his fingers through his hair, Frank mutters, “Todd.” Frank leans forward to kiss Todd on the lips; Todd, with closed eyes, remains unresponsive. Frank pretends not to notice.
Keep things cheery, upbeat,
he reminds himself. “Hey, babe. Welcome back.”

Todd doesn’t waste any time, “Help me.”

“You know I will,” Frank promises. “I’ll do anything for you.” Although he remains silent, Frank can see the promise he made to Todd that morning so long ago when they sat hidden (or so they had thought) behind the girl’s locker room stairwell. It is like a giant neon sign flashing out of Todd’s eyes.

Enunciating each word carefully, lest his voice, hindered by his attempt at self-slaughter, should slur his words, Todd slowly demands, “Help me die.” Frank pales. His mind refuses to register what Todd has spoken. Sensing Frank’s refusal, Todd insists, “I’d do it for you,
Bob.”
Todd says no more. He simply waits for Frank to reach an understanding.

At the beginning of their grade ten school year in their language arts class, Frank and Todd had held a heated debate as to the meaning of Earle Birney’s poem “David.” Frank had insisted the boys were lovers, making Bob’s act of euthanasia a much more powerful moment. Todd took the
stance that the boys were just good friends, no sexual innuendoes existed, and Frank was just reading into the poem what he wanted it to say. Frank proved his point, though, by quoting line fourteen, “Then the two of us rolled in the blanket,” using the fact that it comes just prior to the pines thrusting up into the sky to emphasize his point. The teacher agreed with Frank and pursued this interpretation.

Now, though, as he lies strapped to his bed, Todd is not thinking of David or Bob’s sexual preference. Rather, his thoughts focus on David’s request and Bob’s agreeing to do it. David, having fallen and broken his back, had begged Bob to push him over so he could die. Bob did not want to comply. He had hoped to find a way to save his friend, but as the poem says, Bob knew that more than a day and a night would pass before he could make his way back down to the camp and bring men “unknowing/The way of mountains” back to rescue David. “And then, how long? And he knew…and the hell of hours/After that, if he lived till we came, roping him out.” Todd thought now of his after hours, the hell of living, if Frank were somehow successfully to “rope him out.” He could never go back to thinking that he could be gay now. He could never hope to find that spark somewhere inside now. Looking at Frank, Todd reminds him again, “For Christ’s sake push me over!/If I could move…or die…” Another of David’s lines. Another desperate plea to die with dignity.

Frank shakes his head sporadically. It is all coming back to him now. Todd wants him to help him commit suicide. “No.” His head shake quickens with his heart rate. “No, Todd. No!”

“You promised!” Todd reminds him.

“Never promised this!”

“To do anything!” Todd’s brown eyes harden like frozen earth.

“Never. Never this.” Frank, unable to bear the accusation in Todd’s eyes, turns to leave.

Todd punches him in the back of the head with his words. “You owe me.” Frank stumbles. He knows exactly what Todd means. Bitterness strikes like a whip against Frank’s heart when Todd spits out, “You’re no better than Weller!” Aghast, Frank quickly opens the door and rushes out of Todd’s room.

Jason Warith is demanding a thorough investigation be held at the Northeast Reeducation Camp, insisting that the administration there be held accountable for abusive treatment of its wards. “The lax approach to the investigation thus far is unacceptable,” an enraged Warith stated yesterday at the Reeducation Camp Wardens’ Review Board Meeting. It is the responsibility of this board to determine whether or not to press official charges against the Northeast Camp Warden. Jason Warith has laid two very specific charges against Gideon Weller: 1) the over, and unnecessary, use of corporal punishment, and 2) rape. I find these charges extremely hard to believe, having met with Gideon Weller and toured his camp.

These shocking accusations surprise many, considering the numerous accolades hailed upon Gideon Weller over the years. Statistically, the Northeast Camp reeducates more wayward youth than any other. Although Gideon Weller admits corporal punishment is administered at his camp, it is also administered at every other reeducation camp. He believes it is unavoidable when dealing with angry, aggressive youth, particularly young heterosexual males. According to Jason Warith, the success rate of the Northeast Camp does not indicate real success, but rather, young men desperate to escape in any way they can. Jason Warith also pointed out that the Northeast Reeducation Camp has the highest rate of attempted and completed suicides.

Gideon Weller claims that is because his files are accurate; he does not attempt to dissemble. “Every act of self-mutilation discovered in my camp is identified as a suicidal act. Thus,” he reminded us, “it only appears as if there are more suicide attempts at my camp. Other camps,” Gideon Weller explained recently in response to these charges, “dismiss self-mutilation as suicidal. We, at the Northeast Camp do not.”

I, for one, do not believe these accusations. Having met with Gideon Weller and having toured his facility, I am convinced that these charges are unfounded. We even witnessed a sample of his great success when we aired “Happily Married After Reeducation.” It was at the Northeast Camp under Gideon Weller’s tutelage that Geoffrey and Dean Hunter met. These two men have been happily married for over twenty years! It is unthinkable that a man of such honor and nobility as Gideon Weller would ever stoop to such abusive strategies to rein in unruly youth. It is my sincere hope that the accusations laid against Gideon Weller are unfounded and that the impending investigation unearths the truth.

Vale!

“Todd.” Papa Dean’s voice is soft, soothing, enticing enough for Todd to surrender to it.

“Papa Dean?”

“Yes, son, it’s me.” Todd’s eyes open. It takes a moment for the image of the man looking down on him to come into focus. Todd is heavily sedated to keep him from thrashing around, even bound the way he is. “Hey, you,” Papa Dean says quietly.

“Hi, Papa,” Todd mutters. Closing his eyes again, he mumbles, “I’m tired.”

“I’m not surprised,” Papa Dean replies, “considering all the drugs they’ve pumped into you.”

Todd tries to shake his head. He can’t. The leather strap holds him securely. Reopening his eyes, he glances over to the man sitting next to his bed, the man holding and caressing his hand. Papa Dean. Not Papa Mike. “No, Papa Dean, tired of life.”

“Please, Todd, no,” he whispers softly. “Don’t talk like that, son. You’re only seventeen years old.”

I could just as easily be sixty.
Todd sighs fretfully. There is no room for equivocation with the boy. “Do you want me to lie to you?”

“No,” Papa Dean answers resolutely. “No, Todd, I don’t. Only the truth between us.” Sighing deeply, Dean braces himself for the worst. “Only the truth.”

“The truth is,” Todd says matter-of-factly, “I want to die.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Todd is skeptical. How can anyone know? Anyone who hasn’t—but, he remembers,
Papa Dean has.
Frank said Papa Dean was straight. “You were in reeducation camp, too, weren’t you?”

“Yes, Todd. A very long time ago.”

“Tell me the truth, Papa Dean. Why did this happen to me?”

“Because the world is scared.”

“Scared of
strais
.”

“Hadrian is. The rest of the world—out there—they’re scared too.”

“Scared of me?”

“No, son. Not you. Scared of living. Scared of dying. Scared of abject poverty, starvation, disease. Twenty billion people battling for life on a planet incapable of sustaining even ten billion. Earth is overburdened, son, overwhelmed with the human virus. They are scared of themselves and of us.”

“Us?”

“Hadrian is a haven—we have land—we have clean water—we have space in which to breathe—we have love of our fellow man—”

“Do we?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Love our fellow man?” There is a moment of silence. Papa Dean knows there is no answer he can give to a boy who has had his entire life ripped out from under him—who has been brutally raped.
How,
Dean asks himself,
can Todd possibly believe Hadrian capable of loving man? He can’t.
Waking Dean from his reflection, Todd asks, “Don’t they?”

“Who son?”

“The outsiders. Don’t they love their fellow man?”

Dean ponders this for a moment. All of Hadrian National News’ propaganda would have him say no. All he has ever seen of the outside world are the harrowing images of skeleton bodies rushing up against Hadrian’s wall, and the images of the starving, dying babies captured from above by Hadrian’s satellite camera. Even so, he can’t believe them all to be barbarians. “I suppose some of them must. It’s just—they have so little food, so little water left that, well, we have to protect ourselves from—” He stops himself from using the now clichéd expressions—
the barbarian heterosexuals; the crazed, insane, and dangerous outsiders.
“Well, from the threat that they’ll break through Hadrian’s walls, take and destroy all we’ve managed to preserve.” Looking down at the child, he says, “Not just for us, Todd—for the future of humanity. Hadrian is man’s last hope for posterity.”

“Why can’t we share?”

“There just isn’t enough.”

“Not enough land? Not enough food?”

“No, Todd. Not for twenty billion.”

“Is that why we have to be homosexual, Papa?”

“I don’t know Todd. That’s what we’re taught. I mean there are so many ways to prevent pregnancies. But even with all those available, the world is still overpopulated.” Shaking his head in wonder, he states, “I may not like all of Hadrian’s laws, son, but I don’t condemn them either. I mean, if heterosexuals could control procreation, then why is the world so overburdened now?” Looking down at his hands, he remembers the words Geoffrey used to convince him: “Only Hadrian has a stable population. A fully homosexual state may seem drastic, but we are living in an extreme world—even so…” Dean’s voice trails off.

“Even so, Papa?”

Trying not to sob, Dean says, looking down on Todd, “What they did to me… What they did to you.” Shaking his head, tears flowing. “It all seems so wrong.”

“Did you try to die, too, Papa?”

“Yes.”

“What stopped you?”

“Geoffrey Hunter.”

“Frank’s father.”

“Yes. Without him,” Dean says, closing his eyes in order to shut in the tears, “I don’t think I could live.”

“Did he rape you?”

Dean is stunned. “No. Of course not.” Knowing what happened to the boy has skewed his perspective. Dean adds reassuringly, “Weller is different, Todd. Most men aren’t like him.” Dean tightens his grip on Todd’s hand. “Geoffrey Hunter was good to me. Kind. Gentle. He waited. Like Frank waits for you.”

Todd closes his eyes.
Papa Dean doesn’t know then.
Memories swirl Todd’s stomach. The pounding of fists, his split brow, bruised cheek, and swollen lip; Frank’s black eye replays itself in his mind. And then, the stunning blow to his temple, leaving him senseless long enough for Frank to bind his wrists securely to the front bedpost. Todd squeezes his eyes shut. No matter how hard Todd had begged, Frank wouldn’t listen. Frank’s only words were, “You need to relax, Todd; relax into it or it will hurt.” And it did hurt. It had felt as if his backside were being ripped in half. If he could,
Todd would shake his head, but all he can do is say, “No, Papa Dean, Frank can’t save me.”

“He loves you Todd.”

“I know, but—”
I can’t tell him,
Todd suddenly realizes.
Knowing the truth about Frank would shatter Papa Dean.
It is evident to Todd that Papa Dean envisions Frank as a duplicate of his father, and although Frank looks exactly like Geoffrey Hunter, Todd knows the two men are as radically different in personality as they are in height. Changing the subject, Todd asks, “Tell me about Frank’s father—how he saved you.”

“He never tried to turn me. He just—became my friend. He listened, never judged, understood as best he could. He never even tried to kiss me.” Smiling, he shrugs, shaking his head wonderingly. “He married me, knowing we might never—”

“Did you? Ever?”

“Yes,” he confesses. “Eventually. But he never pressed. I mean, there were times when he thought I might, but he always let go when I said no. But one time, I guess, I no longer had the heart to stop him. I don’t know whether I wanted to or not, or whether I felt like I owed him, but when he leaned in, I let him kiss me. For weeks, we just kissed.” Dean shakes his head in wonder. “We’d been married two years then. Where he found his patience, I’ll never know. And then finally, I went to him, told him I was ready. I knew I wasn’t, not really, but something inside me said I need to do this—that Geoffrey loves me and I love him. He was good to me; so gentle with his touch. Even so, I cried. He apologized, but I said, ‘No, we needed to do this—I needed to do it—I—’” Dean, now looking at Todd, explains, “I needed to let go. It was cathartic.”

“Is it—I mean—do you enjoy it?”

“Sometimes.” Sighing a little humph, Dean admits, “Sometimes, I even initiate now.” Considering his life with Geoffrey Hunter, Dean adds, “It took me a long time, but now I really do want to be with him.” Speaking more hopefully than assuredly, he adds, “I know if you take your time with Frank, you’ll feel that way about him someday, too.”

He really doesn’t know,
Todd muses.
I wonder what Frank really told him.

Sensing the doubt in Todd’s eyes, Dean persists, “It’s not so bad when the man you’re with loves you. When you honestly love him back. Besides,” he sighed, “I’d never really been with a girl. We had only just kissed.”

“Tell me what happened with the girl, Papa.”

“High school,” he begins, “grade twelve. Jessica and me—she was one of my best friends. I guess like you and Crystal. We did everything together; always holding hands; always laughing. Then one day at lunch, it just happened. It wasn’t planned or nothing—it just happened. We were laughing so hard, and our faces got—well, we just sort of came together. Our lips touched. I burst into flame and started kissing her. Next thing I knew, she was standing up, screaming and pointing my way. Two teachers grabbed me and hauled me into the office. They locked me inside the Vice Principal’s office and left me there for over an hour. I didn’t know what they’d do or were planning. Then my father came. He was outraged. I had shamed the family name. Me, the genetic offspring of a founding family! They never fiddled with founding family genes in those days.” Shaking off sad memories, Dean concludes, “Anyway, he signed me over to the state and disowned me.”

Just like Papa Mike.
“I’m so sorry, Papa Dean.”

“Don’t worry about me, Todd; I’m all right. My life’s been good, thanks to Geoffrey.” Hoping this is the right moment, he adds, “Let Frank help you—I know he can—” But Todd only closes his eyes again.

“What was reeducation camp like for you, Papa?”

“Torture.” A sad smile blossoms; Dean knows Todd will understand. “I was Weller’s first ward.” Todd opens his eyes and gasps. “Yes,” Dean admits, “it was horrible.”

“Did he…” Todd doesn’t finish—he can’t finish. “You, too?”

“He tried—he might have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Geoffrey.”

“Frank’s father.”

“He walked in just as it was happening. I mean, I tried to fight, but Weller was the stronger man.”

“I know.” Todd truly does understand.

“Geoffrey was enraged when he saw what Weller was trying to do to me. He pulled him off before Weller could—”

“Weller,” Todd interjects, “he had his man grab Jason—throw him out of the room—he locked him out.” Papa Dean’s story resonates so for him. “Jason would have saved me if he could…”
But it’s too late now,
Todd reminds himself.
It’s too late for me now.
Shifting his eyes so he can look into Papa Dean’s crystal blue orbs, he says, smiling weakly, “Thank you for sharing with me.”

“I’d like to tell you more, Todd.” Dean takes a moment to brush his fingers through Todd’s hair. “About your father, if you’ll let me.”

“Dad?” It suddenly dawns on Todd. “Was my father…” He whispers now so no one outside the room can hear. “Was my father like me?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” Todd’s voice is near pleading. “Tell me, please.”

Dean recalls, “I met your father two months after we began high school.”

“Grade ten,” Todd mutters.

“Yes,” Dean’s mind begins to drift back into the memory. “Two months into grade ten. I was sitting alone in the cafeteria…” Feeling the need to explain, Dean adds, “I often sat alone in those days.”

“Why?” Todd asks.

“I knew—I knew I was different—and was afraid of interaction—afraid of anyone getting to know the real me.” Todd’s head nods slightly in understanding. “I never had a childhood friend like you. Anyway, Will had been watching me for some time. I often caught him staring at me. I avoided him, thinking he was attracted to me.” Dean smiles a little. “Then one day, he just up and joined me at my lunch table. Gave me quite a start.” Dean gets lost inside his memory and the words tumble off his lips as if in the moment.

“Dean Stuttgart, right?”

A startled young Dean looks up from his studies. With an egg sandwich poised in his left hand and his computer slate at the ready in his right, Dean freezes at the sight of Will Middleton, the most popular boy in school, smiling down at him, hand extended in greeting. Dean pointedly ignores the offer of friendship and looks back down at his slate. Always studious, Dean throws himself into his studies with fervor because it helps him to avoid interacting with others. Mostly, it is to keep him from staring at girls. If not careful, Dean would be the recipient of many an angry glare.
Study,
he often reminds himself,
study and forget about the others. Study and become a doctor like Dad wants!

“That’s not going to help you this time,” Will rejoins.

Dean looks up amazed. He is resorting to talking out loud to himself now. He is going to have to watch out for that. “What?”

“Let’s start again, shall we?” Will says with a smile. “Dean Stuttgart, right?”

“Yeah, so?” Dean responds briskly. This man is nothing if not persistent.

Extending his hand again, Will says, “Will Middleton.”

“Everyone knows who you are,” Dean mutters disapprovingly.

“And,” Will adds, “everyone knows who you are.” Dean rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his slate, though he cannot focus. Laughing now as he retrieves his unwanted hand, Will remains undaunted and persistent. “Mind if I join you?” he asks as he sits across the table from Dean.

Speaking to his slate now, Dean says, “I’d rather be alone, thank you!”

“That’s your problem,” Will remarks.

Dean’s eyes dart up, first in fright, then sparking into anger. “What?” When he gets no response from Will Middleton, he retreats back into the safety of his slate. “I’m studying!” When Will still refuses to take the hint, Dean adds, “Sit there all you want. That doesn’t mean I’ve got to talk to you.”

“You’re talking to me now,” Will adds with a laugh. Then, taking on a serious note, he says, “Yes, you do—we do.” Dean sighs, staring intently at the blurred words of his biology text. His left hand is squeezed tightly around his sandwich, having turned it into mulch while his right hand threatens to snap the pencil it is holding. “You see,” Will sighs, “I think I know you.”

Dean looks up startled, angry. “You don’t know me. No one here knows me.”

“True, enough,” Will replies. “And yet,” now waving to the students surrounding them inside the cafeteria, “they all know who you are. You are a Stuttgart.” Smiling grimly, “That makes you the most popular unpopular boy in school.”

“What do you care?” Dean snaps back.