Date: Sat, 24 Jun 2006 06:59:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lusty <lustyville@yahoo.com>
Subject: Lucas and Lionel-Part14. Baring the Burden

     The bus ride back was not at all as I expected. For
starters, I was afraid to mention Lionel's smell, so that made
things a bit awkward. Lionel told me he didn't do much during the
break and I did not have the heart to confront him with what I
knew to be the truth of his time at home. Our conversation was
strained, but we talked for a little while and he fell asleep
with his head on my shoulder. I watched him sleeping and part of
me felt like I should hold on to him and protect him from the
horror that was his life. I guess that's the magic of love. I
hadn't wanted to see him but after talking to him all I could
think about was making everything better for him, but I knew
there would be no kissing the booboo and taking away the pain. He
looked so peaceful as he slept. I couldn't imagine what he was
going through, but I promised myself that I would help him. I
reached for his hand just to feel his skin. `Still soft,' I said
to myself as I traced my finger along the backside of his hand. I
took my hand away, not wanting to draw any attention to myself.
"Why can't this be easy?" I whispered.

     I closed my eyes once to try to get some sleep, but the
images of Lionel and her wouldn't give me any peace. I gave up on
sleeping and let my mind wonder with thoughts about Lionel and us
and me and if it was really possible to help him. His damage was
much more severe than I ever could have imagined. I wondered if
some part of him knew the truth, but was blocking it out to save
him from the trauma.

     His situation broke my heart and boggled my brain. My heart
cried out for me to help him, my brain told me the situation was
too much for me to handle, so my eyes shed tears of confusion
that I wiped away with my shirt. I gathered myself and sat there,
burning a whole in to the top of his head. I stared at him until
he woke up. He moved his head and looked at me. He took off his
sunglasses.

     "What's wrong?" he asked.

     `Everything,' I thought. "Nothing," I said.

     "You've been crying," he whispered.

     "Just thinking. That's all."

     "Thinking about what? Your fam? Did something happen while
you were home?"

     His question made me sigh. I wasn't the one something
happened to. "No, it's not that. I don't know. I'm feeling
emotional, I guess." I sent up a small prayer that he would let
it drop.

     He scrunched his nose and sniffed the air. "Eww, what is
that smell?" He smelled me, and then he lifted his shirt and
smelled it. "Eww!" he exclaimed as he let go of his shirt. "I
stink. How can you sit next to me?"

     "The smell started to fade after the first hour," I told him
with a smile.

     "You must really, well you know."

     `Yeah,' I thought, `I must really love you.' He got a
devilish look on his face and I knew he was up to something. He
reached for me and I pulled away, "Don't do it," I warned him,
but there was no stopping him. He pulled my head in to his armpit
and I had a big whiff of his funk. I'm not sure he realized
exactly how ripe he was, but the smell made me want to vomit. He
released me and I was gasping for air.

     "It's not that bad is it?"

     "Worse," I told him as I waved my hand in front of my nose,
trying to drive away that awful smell. "Did you forget how to
shower?" I joked. His expression changed and I instantly
regretted saying anything, but he was the one who brought it up.

     "I woke up late," he said. His eyes had a sad look in them.
He quickly put back on his glasses.

     `He has to know something is wrong,' I thought. "Oh."

     "Are we almost there?" he asked, changing the subject.

     "I think so but I haven't been paying much attention." I
suddenly didn't want to talk to him anymore. "I'm going to try to
get some sleep."

     "Okay."

     I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes. I
saw those awful images again, so I had to weigh two options: suck
it up and see the images, or open my eyes and look at Lionel. I
decided to endure the images. I hated pretending like I was
sleep, but I feared looking in to his eyes more than anything. I
felt him lean his head on my shoulder. I finally managed to fall
asleep.

     "Wake up," a voice said. I opened my eyes and became aware
of Lionel's hand on my shoulder. "Wake up, we're there."

     The bus came to a stop and the driver said something, but I
wasn't paying attention. I was a little out of it as we got off
the bus and walked to the local bus stop. We rode in silence on
the bus and neither of us spoke until we reached our room. "We're
back," I said as I walked through the door.

     "Yeah."

     The room was just as we had left it, but nothing felt the
same. Lionel excused himself to take a shower and I sat at my
computer desk, thinking about him and her. A picture on his
dresser caught my attention and I looked up and saw them. They
were both smiling in the picture and it looked perfect, but I
knew it was all a lie, one big damn lie. I was so entranced by
the picture that I did not notice Lionel return. He put his hand
on my shoulder and scared the shit out of me. "Ahh." I screamed.

     "It's only me. Relax." Lionel walked to his bed and sat
down. "What's wrong with you?"

     I looked at him and what I saw made me want to cry again. He
had shaved and his brown skin was glistening. He only had on a
towel. Usually I loved to see him half naked because he had a
great body, but seeing him like that made me feel sick and I felt
my stomach churning. His nakedness was repulsing me. I put my
hand over my mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick."

     He jumped off his bed and came over to me. He touched my
forehead. "You feel sort of warm," he told me as I tried to
shrink away from his touch.

     I didn't want to feel that way around him and I didn't
understand why I felt that way. I wanted to help him, I really
did, but I kept seeing that image of him and her and I wasn't
able to cope with it. Everything was too fresh, and I was
starting to feel bipolar as my mind hurled between reaching out
to him and running away from him. He reached to touch me again.
"Don't touch me." I told him as I pulled away.

     "What the fuck is your problem?" I didn't answer him. He
backed away from me. "Are you on that shit again?"

     "What shit?"

     "Niqua."

     I honestly hadn't thought about that bitch since we left
campus. "No, not that shit," I told him. He looked away. I waited
for him to say something, but he didn't. He stood up and walked
to his dresser. As he was rummaging though the middle drawer, I
saw scratches on his back. "What happened to your back?" the
cruel part of me asked, trying to somehow force a confession.

     He turned around and looked at me. "You did it."

     "No, I didn't."

     "Yes you did!"

     "When did I do it?" I challenged.

     "I don't remember. You must have done it before we left."

     "No, I definitely didn't do it. So if I didn't do it, who
did?"

     "What the fuck do you want from me?" he asked as he took off
his towel and put on a pair of boxers. "I'm not cheating on you.
You're the one who's always talking to strange guys!"


"You know I would never cheat on you! Don't try to turn this on
me. Someone put those marks on your back," I told him. A tiny
part of me felt guilty for pushing him, but I thought it was what
he needed.

     He stood in front of me and looked down in to my eyes. "Well
I was at home the whole damn time, so if it wasn't you, who the
hell do you think it was?"

     "I don't know. Maybe someone you live with." I said.

     He lived with her, so it was obvious what I was insinuating.
He backhanded me and I fell out the chair, with the side of my
face crashing against the floor. "Don't say that kind of shit!"
he yelled.

     I stood up and touched the liquid oozing from my lips. I
held my hand up so I could confirm that the dripping stuff was in
fact blood. His reaction had caught me off guard. I knew if I
pushed him too far, he would lash out, but I wanted him to tell
me. I had to hear him explain what was going on, although a tiny
piece of me thought that I had no right to any explanation. I
looked in to his eyes, and he immediately averted his gaze, but
he was too late. His eyes told me he was caught. "You remember,
don't you?"

     "Remember what?" he asked.

     "What happened while you were at home? You know who put
those marks on your back, don't you?"

     The look in his eyes frightened me. I started backing away
only to run in to my desk behind me. He began walking towards me
and I feared what he might do. "What are you trying to say?" he
asked.

     His eyes pierced me, bursting my balloon and deflating the
bravery I felt. "Nothing. I'm trying to say nothing. I'm just
talking."

     "You're not just talking." He grabbed my arms and squeezed
them, but he was speechless for a few seconds. His grip was
starting to hurt. I could feel my body shaking. "Why'd you do
it?" he asked.

     "Do what?"

     "Come to see me."

     "I thought you didn't remember that?"

     "Ronnie told me you stopped by."

     "So why did you pretend like you didn't remember?"

     "I didn't want you to know how I lived."

     "How long has she been doing that?" I asked, feeling a
little braver.

     "What?" His grip was still hurting me.

     "I know what she did to you." I said.

     He looked bewildered like I was speaking another language.
He let go of me and backed away. "You don't know anything!" he
told me. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. It was
his turn to pull away. "Get away from me!" he screamed.

     "I just want to help you," I told him.

     "I don't need your help! You don't know shit!"

     I thought our conversation was going to end with him
admitting everything and telling me how she had been abusing him
for years, but he had other plans. He retreated back in to his
shell of denial. "It's okay, it's not your fault," I told him,
trying to use the tactics I had seen on television.

     "Just leave me alone!" He turned his back to me and walked
to his dresser. He put on a pair of pants and a sweatshirt. "I'm
going out," he said. I was still standing in the same spot. He
left and I broke down. I fell to the floor and I cried. I was
scared, I was confused, I was tired, I felt sick, and I was
wondering if Lionel would be back. I hoped he wouldn't run away
again.

     The room phone rang and I answered it, "Hello."

     "Put Jay on the phone."

     It was her. "He's not here."

     "Where did he go?"

     "I don't know."

     "What the hell did you say to him?"

     "Nothing."

     "I know you said something. You couldn't keep your damn
mouth shut, could you?"

     "What you did was wrong."

     "What happens in my house is none of your business."

     "Lionel is my business, and I'm going to make sure that he
never comes back to your house again!"

     "So you would take him away from his son?"

     "What? You had a child with him?" I suddenly felt woozy.

     "No! He did that all by himself and left me to take care of
the little bastard."

     `Ronnie,' I thought, realizing why the little boy looked
like a miniature Lionel. "Well I have to go."

     "No you don't. What happened to the days when we used to
chat?"

     "Those days flew out the window when I saw you with him.
Ugh. I don't even want to think about it." I wanted to hang up
the phone, but I couldn't.

     "Oh, thanks for the present," she said.

     "I bought that for Lionel!" I told her.

     "I know, but we share everything."

     The sick emphasis she put on `everything' was enough to
bring me back from the haze my mind was wondering around in.
Hearing that gave me the strength to hang up the phone. I
couldn't believe her nerve, to call me and talk trash and rub her
abuse of the man I loved in my face. I may not have wanted to
sleep with him anytime soon, but I sure as hell didn't want her
sleeping with him either. She was a sick person and he needed
help to get away from her. I vowed that I wouldn't let him down.
My goal that night became to save him from her and from himself.

     I tried to call Lionel to check on him, but he wouldn't
answer the phone. I wanted to find him and love him, I wanted to
swoop down like his guardian angel and save him. I wanted so many
things and that night I wouldn't get any of them. I called Lionel
all night, but he never answered his phone.

     I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the door unlock
early the next morning. If I had known what was going to happen,
I wouldn't have smiled when Lionel walked in.


c Lustyville 2006
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