Date: Wed, 19 Apr 2006 20:16:53 -0700 (PDT)
From: sanclemente1 <sanclemente1@gay.com>
Subject: Seal Rocks Part 8
I hope people are reading and at least somewhat
interested in this story - I've gotten no e-mails over the
past few sections. Hope I'm not a total flop at this.
Please write, tell me what you like, don't like, etc.
All the usual disclaimers (you know what they are) apply.
* * * * *
Mike and Jesse rode back to town in complete silence.
Neither knew what to say, or do. They pulled into the
driveway of Mike's house, and Jesse parked the extra bike
they had that he'd used that day. He went inside and
called his mother to come pick him up.
They sat on the front stoop next to each other. Neither
looked up. Someone had to say something. Jesse felt
responsible: he'd met Ernie first, he'd brought them back
to the spot where they'd been filmed. "Mike, I - "
"Don't. It's OK. It'll just - it'll just be a coupla
weeks, they'll replace it, and we'll be off the hook. Make
some money, too. Pretty cool." He spoke in a low monotone
that belied his casual words. He ran his fingers through
his hair. Jesse, stirred by the gesture, glanced about to
see if they were visible to anyone else, then reached to
stroke his hair as well. "Don't," Mike said tonelessly,
pushing his hand away.
Jesse felt his heart sink. "Mike, please, I - "
"It's OK," Mike said, his voice still dead. "Just
don't, OK?"
Jesse's mom pulled up in her red Tioga. She waved,
smiling with what seemed to be forced joy. "Well, I'm outta
here. I'll call, see what you wanna do tomorrow."
Mike shifted a little. "I, uh, I think I'm busy
tomorrow. Let - let me call, OK?"
"Mike?" But he just waved, stood, and retreated into
his house, leaving Jesse alone on the sidewalk with his
backpack dangling from his hand.
His mother seemed agitated, though she tried to make
light conversation. "Well, did you have a nice time, baby?
What did you do today?"
The last thing Jesse felt like discussing was today.
"Ya, good time. Went, um, went to San O today and hung
out." He shrugged. "Nothing much."
"That's wonderful, dear." She paused, as if collecting
herself. "Jesse, your father's been laid off from NevaCal.
He's very upset."
Jesse felt his face blanch. "Is he - are we - "
"It'll all be fine, Jesse. He knows so many people
from the Corps, he just needs to make some contacts and
he'll be back to work in no time. In the meantime, I think
the brokering business will really take off soon - I mean,
there's so much happening down here, and prices are so high!
Why, only one or two listings and sales, and -
and we'll be just fine." She turned to him, her face
shining. "It's just one of those bumps, dear. Don't worry
about it."
"How did the deal work out yesterday?"
"Her face darkened a bit, despite her best efforts to
conceal it. "Well, you know, someone just starting out in
the business like me needs to make a reputation. Build a
name, so people know you and - and trust you. It's all
about trust, Jesse. And it seems that Marcy Giese's name
and - reputation, well, they're better than mine right now.
So they decided to go with her instead." She shifted her
weight in the driver's seat. "Like I said, one of those
bumps. We'll be fine."
Jesse's stomach was knotting. He flashed back to his
early childhood, before his dad had left the service. He
remembered, dimly, the seemingly constant moves, the never
having friends, the boxes always just behind the door. Their
settling in San Clemente, when he was not quite seven, had
ended that. Was their whole life now in jeopardy?
His dad's car was on the street in front of the house.
Unlike him - he usually demanded that the cars be kept in
the garage to protect them from the sun. His mother frowned
worriedly as she pulled inside to park.
His father was seated in front of the TV, exactly where
he had been the night before, when Jesse had left for his
sleepover with Mike. The screen still blared Fox News.
"Hi, Dad!" Jesse shouted with as much enthusiasm as he
could muster. His father didn't turn, just lifted a hand in
greeting. It held a highball glass.
Jesse retreated to his room, unpacked, and showered.
He slipped the contract, and the folder of pictures, out of
his backpack and hid them between his mattress and box
spring. He'd figure out a better place later; this would do
for now. He logged on to his computer and looked to se if
Mike was on AIM. Nothing. He waited for a while, idly
surfing while keeping an eye on the friends list to see if
anyone appeared. He soon ran out of things to look at,
restless. Well, what the hell, he thought. He Googled
"Voyeur Video" and in seconds was looking at the intro
screen for the site, with its circle of available feeds. He
glanced at them, seeing that he and Mike were not among
them, and sighed with relief.
Then he looked at the center of the screen,where the
pitch to sign up was. The wallpaper for that
section was a washed out shot of Mike and him, on their
sides, naked, limbs entwined and mouths together. The words
"NEW!! Surfer Boiz in Action!! Sign Up NOW and Get These
Twink Studs on YOUR Computer!!!" flashed over their image.
Jesse felt sick. He hit "home" on the toolbar and watched
as the screen dissolved back to Cox.net.
He deleted the site from his history file, from Google, and
dumped all his cookies in the internet history file.
That'll be good enough; they don't know how to search any
better than that, he thought. He stood and walked aimlessly
around the room for several minutes, then grabbed his cell
and dialed.
It took several rings for Mike to answer. "Ya?"
"Hey yo." It was their usual greeting.
"Hay yo self," Mike answered. His voice was still
flat.
Jesse swallowed. "Dude, I just - it's up already. I
looked."
"I know."
The silence stretched out for an agonizingly long time.
"Dude, I'm sorry. Please don't -"
" `S nothin'. `S OK. Look ,I gotta go,
K?"
Jesse's eyes began watering, despite his best efforts.
He forced his voice to be casual. "Ya, sure. Later."
He felt more alone than he had in a long time.
Dinner was a somber affair. His dad said
nothing, wolfing down food while staring directly at his
plate. He kept the drink with him at dinner, and refilled
it at least twice Jesse was so nervous he lost count. His
mother, by contrast, sat straight-backed, pale, and
completely composed, eating delicately. The silence got
spooky. Tina sat trembling slightly in the far corner of
the room.
Jesse finally decided to break the mood.
"I'm gonna go down to the surfing outlet tomorrow,"" he
announced, "and see if I can get hired as a clerk there.
I'll get discounts and stuff on things, it'll be cool." He
had formulated this plan during the meal.
His father looked up sharply; his eyes seemed a bit
bleary. "What, you think we need you to work now?" he
snapped.
"No, no," Jesse protested weakly, "I just
thought it'd be a good idea. You've been wanting me to get
a job all summer, and I just think you're right."
His father looked at him a moment, then
snorted quietly and went back to his dinner.
"Jesse," his mother said quietly, "I think it'd be
wonderful for you to do that. You'd learn some
responsibility, and to manage money for yourself -"
"I earn the money around here," Jesse's father
interrupted in a tense voice. "I'm not going to be a
Gad damned charity case for anyone."
"Walter, you know that's not what I mean. Or Jesse.
This is a good opportunity for him, and if it does help us
out, so much the better." She leaned in, her hand now
resting on his forearm. "He's a good boy, Walter. He loves
you."
His father looked at her for a minute, swallowing
hard. Jesse thought he was almost crying, a sight
he'd never seen. His father turned and tousled Jesse's hair,
a soft, loving touch that was very out of his usual
character. "Yes, he is a good boy," he said in a cracking
whisper, looking contemplatively at Jesse. Then he came
back to himself; the hand dropped to his fork, and he
resumed eating. "And weak," he muttered as he filled his
mouth again.
Jesse's mom stiffened visibly, her cheeks reddened.
"That is not fair, Walter, and it's also untrue. Jesse has
different interests, that's all. He's a San Clemente boy
you have to expect he'll be interested in surfing and -"
"And in not doing a God damned thing with his miserable
second rate excuse of a life!" his father snarled, looking
hard at his wife. "I worked two jobs at his age and still
pulled down honors grades and did sports -"
"Jesse's grades are fine," his mom interjected, her
calm deepening to steel. "And the point of living here was
to give the boys a better life than either of us had - the
moving and all the uncertainty of the Corps."
"Don't you disrespect the Corps to me, woman!" Walter
barked, waving his fork at her.
"Dad, you wanted me to get a job, I thought you'd be
happy -"
"Happy?? You call that a job?? Hanging out in a cheap
store with a few of your no-account idiot surfing buddies is
a job?"
"It's ten dollars an hour to start, Dad," Jesse fired
back.
"And that makes it better?? This isn't work, it's a
paid vacation. You need something real - loading crates on
a dock, digging ditches, something to get your God damned
head out of your butt and teach you the value of real work."
"Walter, stop it. One day you pick on him for being
lazy, now you pick on him for getting a job -"
"That's not a job, I just told you!! Doesn't anyone
God damned listen to me around here? And you need to stop
babying him - that's more than half his God damned problem."
Jesse's mom stood up, folding her napkin precisely and
placing it on the table. She picked up her plate. Jesse
could see her hands shake ever so slightly. "This is not a
discussion to continue now," he said curtly. "When you
haven't had half a bottle of Scotch we can continue this.
Until then," she turned for the kitchen, "I think you need
to go wallow some more."
Jesse's dad opened his mouth to speak, then apparently
thought better of it. Jesse was tingling all over, dreading
being alone with his father in this mood. "So, you've got a
job."
"Yes, sir. I'll look for another if you want I can
quit there any time."
"And what sort of job are you going to get?" his
father sneered at him. "You with your God damned hair and your
surf talk and your t shirts and flip flops. You don't
understand the God damned world." He looked down into his
glass and took a long pull. "Not like Ben."
Jesse flushed. "I'm sorry I'm not Ben and I'm not at
Berkeley and in Naval ROTC and majoring in shooting people
and all the things you like, Dad." This was harsh - he
loved his brother dearly, but he'd had Ben's life choices
thrown at him one too many times. "I guess I'm your great
family fuckup, huh?"
"Don't you swear at me, young man - your mother's just
in there!" He passed a hand over his brow slowly. "I know
you're not Ben, Jesse," he said quietly. "I'm just - just
disappointed."
That was it. Jesse stood, red faced. "Thanks a lot,
Dad. I'm your great disappointment. And you're the great
role model, right? Lose your fucking job and sit in a pool
of Costco booze and piss on the world?"
His father was out of his chair in an instant. "Don't
you EVER speak to me that way!" The blow was open handed,
but brutally hard. Jesse fell backwards over his chair,
landing heavily on the wood floor. His nose was bleeding
badly, it felt broken, his head was spinning from hitting
the floor. His father had him half hauled up and was ready
to hit him again when his mom grabbed the raised arm.
"Stop it, Walter, stop it now!"
His dad shoved him back to the floor and turned. By
the time Jesse's head cleared he realized to his horror that
his mother was lying on her face on the other side of the
dining room table, a small pool of blood forming around her
cheek. He tried to get up, wobbling badly, and bounced
against the china cabinet. His father's hand grabbed him
by the collar, first pushing him back against the cabinet
so hard that its glass shattered over his back, then pulling
him upwards. "No pity from either of you two God damned
leeches!" he snarled into Jesse's face before hitting him
again, and everything went very black.
When he awoke it was almost dark. His mother was over
him, wiping his face with a cool wet cloth. "It's OK now
baby, it's OK," she repeated over and over in a trembling
voice. Jesse tried to focus, and knew he wasn't doing it
right, because his mother's face above him looked all
distorted and puffy. He closed his eyes hard, listening to
her uneven breathing, then opened them again. His mother's
right eye was swollen shut, her lower lip puffy and bloody.
Bruises covered both cheeks and areas of her throat. Jesse
started and tried to sit up, but a white pain shot through
his head. "It's OK, baby, just lie still. It's all going
to be all right, they're coming."
He reached a hand upward to his mother's face. "Mom?"
he tried to ask, but the word came out muffled. He felt a
slight spray of warm liquid on his face as he spoke.
"You're hurt, Mom."
She smiled at him, a beautiful loving smile through the
disaster. "No, baby, I'm fine, I'm just a little banged up.
You just lie still now, everything's going to be fine. Try
not to talk, OK?" She was tearing up, and the sight made
Jesse do so as well.
"Mom?" Jesse mumbled. "Did Dad do this?"
Her breath caught as she nodded, the tears running down
her cheeks now. "Yes, baby, he did. He was very angry. He
did awful things, but it's going to be OK."
Jesse blinked, his eyes starting to water now. "W -
why?" he asked, the spray stronger on his face now. Jesse
realized it was his blood.
His mother blinked - or tried to, anyway - and wiped
his face again. "SSShhh," she soothed him. We'll talk
about it when you're better, baby. Just be quiet now." He
could hear loud steps in the entry hall now, a jumble of
voices and radio static. Faces appeared over his mother's
shoulder, looking down, and as he slipped back away he
thought he heard, "Son? Can you hear me? What's his name,
Ma'am? Jesse??"
Sleeping was very peaceful. It lasted a long time, it
seemed, and was without the pain he had felt while awake.
When he finally did have the urge to open his eyes again, he
instantly regretted it. He was beneath a harsh overhead
light that dazzled his eyes. He raised a hand to shield his
face, and saw a tube running into a vein on its back. He
flexed his hand slowly, examining this new phenomenon with
curiosity. "Get his hand down before he pulls out the hep
lock!" someone shouted, and a gloved hand gently pulled it
back to his side. A woman's face appeared over him, the
features hard to distinguish between the mask she wore and
the bright light her head barely blocked. "You rest now,
Jesse, you're going to be fine. It's not that bad, really."
"Wh - whrth ma MMmm," he tried to say - something was
in his mouth.
"She's being patched up too. You're both going to be
fine. I'm going to put you to sleep for a little while, OK?
You relax."
Jesse nodded. Sleep was a lot better than whatever was
happening. He slept.
The light when he awoke again was much dimmer, more
soothing. He was grateful. He tried to move his head, but
it hurt horribly to do so. He satisfied himself with
looking around the room with is eyes. He was behind a
partition, people were talking on the other side. He heard
his mother's voice.
". . . over the poor dog. I think that was the last
straw for Walter, when Tina went after him after he had hit
Jesse so hard. I always worried he had a gun from the
service, but he always denied it." She sniffed. I wish I
hadn't been so angry with him over that."
"You've got nothing to apologize for, ma'am," a voice
answered her. It seemd canned, emotionless, however comforting
the words it said were. "We'll find him, and he'll have a lot
to account for. You do want to press charges here?"
There was a pause, and he could hear his mother crying.
"I have to," she finally snuffled. "Look what he did to
poor Jesse.
"He'll be fine, Ma'am," another, kinder voice interjected.
"He has a concussion, and his tongue got cut open some, but he'll
be fine, and sooner than you think. Please," he said quickly,
"I'm not trying to minimize this - I just want to be sure you
don't have any long term worries about him."
He'd heard enough. He made the loudest noise he could,
which was roughly "MMMMMfffffff," and the curtain he was
behind opened.
His mother was bruised, her eye covered by a patch,
and her cheeks streaked from her tears. She fairly
pounced on Jesse, her hands caressing his face and chest.
"Baby, oh my baby," she whispered over and over again,
and she cried into the sheets covering his belly.
Jesse put his right arm around her shoulder
as best he could. "Kuh mmm," he grunted. " 'm kuh."
He smield at her - he thought- as she looked up at him.
He winked.
His mother smiled weakly, wiped her face, and
stood over him. "Now you just be quiet - you cut your
tongue, and they had to stitch it up. You'll have a
restrainer in your mouth until tomorrow morning at least,
so don't try to talk." She handed him a pad and pencil.
"If you really need anything, write it out, all right?"
Jesse took the pencil in his left hand, pausing
a second to look again at the hep lock, through which
some clear liquid seemed to be flowing. He wrote,
"Where's Dad?" and showed the pad to his mother.
His mother blanched and turned away. A man in
a suit stepped forward - it was the first time he had
noticed him, or the other man, obviously a doctor, on
his mother's other side. "We're looking for him now,
son," he said evenly. "Do you have any idea where he
may have gone in these sort of circumstances?"
The question seemed so stupid he wanted to laugh.
Based on what would he answer that - his experience with
getting the shit knocked out of him by his own father? All
sorts of sarcastic comments played in his mind to use on
this snotnose, but he couldn't say any of them, so he
satisfied himself with rolling his eyes a his mother and
shaking his head no. It hurt to move his head, and he
winced. His mother put her hands on his temples. "Don't,
baby, I know it hurts."
Jesse blinked at his mother and tried again to smile.
The doctor stepped forward now. "Jesse, I need you to
follow my finger with your eyes, all right?" he moved his
finger slowly back and forth before his face. The finger
seemed to waver and vanish at times, and the concentration
hurt. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes.
He could sense his mother's tension. "It's OK,
ma'am," the doctor said calmly. "He did better than I
thought he'd do. You OK there, Jesse?" He nodded.
"Good." His hand tousled Jesse's hair. "Mrs. Sullivan,
why don't you go rest in your room now. I'm going to do
some simple tests on Jesse, and then we'll let him rest.
He's doing fine, aren't you Jesse?" He nodded back to
the doctor, looked at his mother and nodded again.
His mother, again loking teary, petted his face
one more time, bent down to kiss his forehead, and
allowed a nurse to lead her away. "Sleep tight, baby,"
she said in a forcedly cheerful voice. "I'll be here
when you wake up in the morning."
Jesse nodded. "Mmm?" She turned. He worked
hard to form the words. "Uh lvv yuh." His mother's
face cracked for a second before she beamed at him, waved,
and vanished through the door.
The doctor spent several minutes poking and
prodding him, testing reflexes, responsiveness, vitals.
He smiled at Jesse throughout, offering words of
encouragement and explaining the reason for everything
he did. When he was done, he spoke with the nurse at
his side for a moment, then sat on the edge of Jesse's
bed. "Well, Jesse, I think you're pretty lucky. Everything
looks like pretty superficial injuries in the big picture.
You're going to have a hell of a headache for a few days,
but you'll be fine. Now, I need to look at the tongue
sutures, so please open your mouth real wide, OK?"
Jesse complied, feeling an odd plastic contraption
come loose from his teeth as he did so. he flashed on
Hannibal Lecter's mouth thing for an instant and chuckled
to himself. "I know, it's weird feeling," the doctor
said soothingl;y as he lifted whatever it was from his
mouth. Jesse breathed in sharply; it seemed like the
first breath he'd taken in years. "Thittt," he muttered,
sighing.
The doctor laughed. "I understand that. I'm Dr.
Stassi, by the way. Sorry, I should have told you that
right off." He smiled at Jesse; Jesse decided he liked
him a lot.
"Is he able to talk a little now, doctor?" the
other man asked in an official voice. "i'd liek to take
advantage of this if I can."
Dr. Stassi looked at Jesse inquiringly. "What
do you think?" Jesse nodded. "OK than, he said to the
other man. "Just a little."
"Thank you, doctor, the man said, though he didn't
sound grateful at all. "Jesse, I'm Tony Manuel of the Orange
County Sheriff's Department." He smoothed his small moustache
before continuing. "I need to know what happened."
"Dad got angry," Jesse managed to say. His tongue hurt.
Hit muh."
"What did he get angry about, son?"
Jesse shrugged. "Juth thorta went off," he said.
"Lotht hss job, wath drnkn."
"Jesse," Manuel said softly, leaning closer, "did you
tell him anything that might have gotten him angry? Not," he
added quickly, palms outward, "that anything justifies what he
did, but was there something you told him that maybe set him
off?"
Jesse was puzzled. "He wuth mad at muh," he answered,
"becuth I wuthnt like muh brthr Bnnn."
"In what way, son?" Manuel's eyes had an odd glitter.
"I think that's about enough for now, detective," Dr.
Stassi said in his kindest voice, stepping betwen them. "Those
sutures need a little more time before he talks more. I
think late tomorrow things will be better, all right?" He
placed the plastic thing back into Jesse's mouth. "Just
close over that, Jesse, and it'll protect your tongue, all
right?" jesse nodded, happy somehow to be rendered mute again.
Manuel looked disappointed for a moment, then looked at
Dr. Stassi. "I'll need to continue this tomorrow."
"I know."
Manuel looked a moment at Jesse, then turned quickly
and left. Dr. Stassi waited until the door had closed behind
him. than pulleed the curtain closed around Jesse and sat on
his bed. "We need to talk, too," he said to Jesse. He looked
back at the doctor, puzzled. "We did a thorough exam when
you came in, Jesse," he said calmly, but with grvity in his
voice. "We discovered a couple of disturbing things.
Jesse had no idea what he was talking about. He
looked questioningly at Dr. Stassi, who continued while handing
the pad back to Jesse. "We discovered evidence of recent
trauma, Jesse. Some teeth marks on odd areas of your body."
Jesse felt his face redden. "And evidence of very recent rectal
trauma." He leaned closer to Jesse. "We know what happened,
son. It's all right. He'll be held responsible for everything.
You don't have to be afraid, all right?"
Jesse wanted to vomit. he shook his head as hard as
he could, the effort making his eyes tear up. "It's all right,
son, everyone understands. It's not your fault, you don't
have to feel ashamed or guilty. Calm down, now." Jesse
couldn't - he starteed thrashing about angrily, making
inarticulate noises of protest. He tried to tear the plastic
thing out of his mouth, to complain, to protest. Dr. Stassi
grabbed his wrists. "Nurse!!" he shouted, andin an instant
several people were holding him down, a needle was injecting
something into the catheter running into his wrist, and his
eyes suddenly felt very heavy. As he slipped off, he heard,
"It's an undersandable reaction, it's such an awful thing -"