Date: Fri, 16 Mar 2007 18:35:26 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lusty <lustyville@yahoo.com>
Subject: Starving For Love-Part 4. Baby Steps

     Being hated is not a good feeling. I have been hated by so
many different people for so many different reasons and for so
long that I have stopped feeling most things. I beg for the
smallest inkling of hope, but I'm never surprised when nothing
changes because I never really expect anything else. Tom and his
family are the bright spots in my life. I know its okay to feel
around them and I am grateful to them for that. Knowing about
Isaac has answered a lot of my questions in regards to their
motives and I know for sure that the only thing they want from me
is my existence, which is good because I doubt if I could live up
to any real expectations.

     I broke my vow not to eat that day and ate dinner at Tom's
house. I couldn't pass on the opportunity because dinner with
Tom's family was always like dying and going to heaven. His
parents took an active interest in me and my life and that made
me feel good on the inside, like maybe I really was worth
something. When I was around his parents, I forgot to be self-
conscious, I forgot that I was a walking blight and I forgot who
I was. It was different with Tom because I was attracted to him
so I was always on edge around him and overly aware of my
awkwardness and insecurities, but just being in his presence made
the world a little better. Tom was my sunshine.

     I tried not to focus on Tom when I was eating, even though I
felt his eyes watching every bite I took. I think he would have
swallowed the food for me, if he could. After dinner Tom and I
went to his room to watch movies, or so I thought. We were in his
room before I realized he had other intentions. He closed his
room door and locked it as I sat on his bed.

     "You know we haven't really talked about last night. I mean
we mentioned it, but we haven't talked about it," he said as he
sat down next to me on the bed.

     "What do you want to talk about?"

     "Well, you know how I feel but I don't know how you feel.
I'm sure the kiss caught you off guard and you might be confused.
I wasn't going to say anything because you made it clear in our
talk earlier that you didn't wan to discuss it, but then you
kissed me on the cheek in the car and it got me to thinking. I
can see on your face that you're trying to hold something back,
so what is it? Are you repulsed by me but you're too afraid to
tell me, or do you love me too?"

     "I can't answer that."

     "Yes you can."

     "No I can't."

     "You can. You just don't want to."

     "I'm going to lose you no matter what I say, so why say
anything?"

     "Is that really what you think? Nothing you could do or say
could change how I feel about you. You're a part of my life and I
can't imagine not having you in it, so just tell me."

     "How can I tell you?" I asked him.

     "I tell you what, I'll tell you what it is and you tell me
if I'm right. Is that okay?"

     "Are you going to let me out of the room if it isn't?" I
asked sarcastically.

     "Yes, I'll let you out if you don't want to tell me, but I
know you do, you're just afraid."

     "Well, since you know everything, go ahead and tell me how I
feel about you."

     "You love me and not just as your best friend. You love me
the same way I love you. You don't want to tell me because you're
afraid that we won't work out and you'll lose me. I can promise
you that will never happen, you'll never lose me. You think I'm
so strong but I'm not. I would be crushed if I lost you and it
would probably devastate me for the rest of my life because I
don't know who I am without you. Yes that scares the shit out of
me, but sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind and just
live. Don't be afraid to love me. I'm not afraid to love you."

     His sales pitch was dead on but I wasn't ready to tell him
he was right. "When are we going to watch the movies?" I asked.

     "Did you really just ask me that?"

     "Yes. I'm ready to watch the movies now."

     "Fine. I won't force you to do anything. You know me better
than that." His face fell and I wanted to kill myself for hurting
him.

     I lowered my head and tried to hold the tears at bay while I
listened to Tom walking around the room. He didn't ask which
movie I wanted to watch. He put one in then he sat on the floor.
"Why are you sitting down there?"

     "I didn't want you to think I was pushing you," he replied
in a voice much lower than his usual.

     "Pushing me how? We always sit on your bed. It's weird with
you down there." He ignored me for a minute and I thought he was
planning to keep his distance and stay on the floor, but as soon
as the previews ended, he silently pushed up off the floor and
sat on the bed then he pressed play. I was usually uncomfortable
when we had our moviefests, because his presence on the small
twin sized bed made me think of sexual things, but suddenly his
presence did not bother me, instead, it made me feel safe and my
heart stood still as he sat back on the bed and leaned against
the wall. "Thank you," I told him without looking at him.

     "You're welcome."

     The movie was halfway over before I realized I didn't have a
clue what was going on. My mind was in the throes of an intense
debate between two distinct voices. One voice was saying I
shouldn't get involved with Tom because it wouldn't work: I was
too much of a loser for anything to work between us. The other
voice was telling me to let Tom know I liked him because there
was no reason not to since I already knew where he stood: I had
nothing to be afraid of because he certainly wasn't going to
reject me.

     His hand was resting on the bed. I kept looking at it and
screaming at myself to try something. My breathing slowed as I
decided to take a bold step. I sat my hand on top of his soft
blanket and slowly inched my hand towards him. My hand lightly
grazed his and he jerked his hand away. A few seconds later, his
hand was placed about a millimeter away from mine. There was a
painstakingly awful wait as his hand crept closer. His movement
was tentative. I was careful not to move when our hands made
contact. Soon I felt his hand on top of my hand. When I didn't
pull away, he intertwined our fingers. I pushed up against his
hand and he quickly took his hand away. I turned my hand over
with my palm facing up and left my hand on the blanket. His hand
returned to mine and I felt his eyes staring at me so I turned to
face him. Our eyes had a short conversation before he smiled and
squeezed my hand and we returned to watching the movie. Holding
his hand felt nice and gave me a rush that I had only previously
felt when I hurt myself. The feeling was amazing. Who would have
known that something as simple as holding hands could mean so
much? We had held hands before, but never when both of us was
distinctly aware that there was something going on between us and
fully aware that the other person knew. My breathing was labored
as I tried to keep track of the thoughts running around in my
head.

     We held hands for the rest of the movie and in that time, I
think my heart ran a marathon without telling my body. The closer
the movie got to the end, the more I started sweating and
wondering what I was doing. I couldn't cross the line with Tom,
but I knew sitting on the bed with him the way we were, was as
good as erasing the line completely. The movie ended and the
credits started rolling, but neither of us moved. Our hands
remained stuck together.

     "Are you going to take out the movie?" I asked.

     "Yeah, but not right now. I just want to sit here for a few
minutes." We sat in silence and when I finally thought he wasn't
going to ever move, he announced, "I'm going to let go of your
hand."

     `Reading my mind again,' I thought. "Okay."

     He was slow to let go of my hand and when he did, I wanted
him to hold it again, but I pretended like I didn't care. He took
out the dvd and put it in its case. "Do you want to watch another
movie?"

     "Sure."

     "Which one?"

     "It doesn't matter." I knew I wasn't going to watch the
movie.

     While he was up putting the movie in, I decided to stretch
out. I was about to sit up when he was walking back to the bed,
but he said, "Just stay." He stretched out on the bed with his
back to me. "I'm not blocking the tv am I?"

     "No."

     His body provided a new distraction as my eyes traveled up
and down his back. All of him could have been mine and I turned
it down. I yearned to reach out and touch him. The back of his
neck and his exposed arm were both calling to me. My fingers were
rubbing his arm before I had a conscious thought to persuade me
otherwise. He stiffened at first but then he relaxed and moved
his head in a position that made his neck longer, which
tantalized me. My body continued to move without my permission
until my lips were hovering over his neck. My lips parted
slightly and I could feel my breath as it bounced off his skin. I
was breathing heavily and my chest hurt from the panicked
thumping of my heart. My lips brushed against his neck and my
tongue came out to taste him. He tasted salty. He moaned.

     I felt a stirring in my pants and my insecurities came
rushing to my head. "I'm sorry," I whispered in his ear as I sat
up and stopped our contact.

     "Why did you stop?" he asked. He turned around and sat up so
we were face to face.

     "I love you," I blurted out. His entire face seemed to smile
at me and I finally understood what it meant for a person to
beam.

     "I know, so why did you stop?"

     "Because you were right, I'm scared."

     His left hand caressed my cheek on its way to wrap around
the side of my face and pull my head closer to his. He started
leaning forward, "There's nothing to be afraid of." He was almost
close enough to kiss me when I moved my head.

     "It won't work. We wouldn't make it."

     "Why not?"

     "Me, it's me. I'm too messed up."

     "I don't care what you think is wrong with you, you're not
messed up. I love everything about you."

     "Really? What is there to love about me?" My eyes stung as
volcanic tears escaped and burned my cheeks.

     Tom put his arms around me and pulled me down on the bed. I
buried my face in his shirt and cried. "I'm scared, too," he
whispered. "I'm scared that I won't be able to give you what you
need and I'm scared of watching you hate yourself. It hurts to
know that you can't see yourself through my eyes because if you
did, you would know why I love you. You're so giving and sweet
and innocent. You're a genuinely good person and you never put
anyone down, well other than yourself. I look in your eyes and I
feel like I have a reason to live. Loving you is my purpose. I'm
sure of that."

     I was crying so hard that I made myself sick and I started
coughing. My whole being seemed to shake as my mind and body
battled for control. I wasn't sure what was happening to me but I
knew something was wrong because I couldn't open my eyes.

     "Sam. Sam. Sam!" Tom's voice seemed to get more distant each
time he called my name. I opened my eyes and Tom was looking down
at me. I wanted to sit up, but my body wouldn't listen to me.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I managed to nod my head. He put his
hand on my forehead. "You're warm. I'm going to go get you some
water and tell my parents what happened."

     I felt his absence the instant his body left the bed. I
wanted him to come back as quickly as possible because I was
lonely and I felt lost. I was extremely tired so I closed my eyes
for what seemed like a second. "Sam." My eyes fluttered and Tom
shook me.

     "Don't shake him," his father said.

     "Yeah, don't shake me."

     "Are you okay?" Tom asked again.

     "I think so. I'm just really tired all of a sudden."

     "Dad, I think he had a seizure."

     "I didn't have a seizure," I protested.

     "Well whatever it was, we need to get you to a hospital so
they can check you out," his father said.

     "That won't be necessary. I'm fine," I said.

     "No you're not, son. You need to see a doctor."

     Him calling me son made me feel better. "Your wife is a
doctor. Can she look at me?" I didn't want to go to the doctor
and force my parents to come to a hospital to get me. Somehow, it
didn't seem fair to them. They were probably enjoying their day.

     "She went to the store and you need medical attention now."
He lifted me in to his arms before I had chance to protest.

     "You never pick me up like that anymore," Tom joked.

     "You weigh too much," his father told him.

     "No, Sam weighs too little. He probably weighs what I did
when I was ten."

     I knew Tom was trying to cheer me up by teasing me as usual
about what he considered a lack of size on my part, "Yeah, that's
funny," I told Tom. "You can put me down. I can walk."

     "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

     "I won't. I'm fine. Right Tom?" I looked to Tom for back up
but he betrayed me.

     "No he's not Dad, but I want to carry him." He put his arms
around me and practically ripped me from his father's arms.

     "Put me down."

     He laughed at me. "Are you going to make me?" He knew I was
no match for him, he was all muscle and I was all fat.

     "Dad would you give us a minute? I'll bring him right down,
but I need to talk to him."

     Tom's father smiled at him and I wondered how much he knew
about Tom's feelings for me. "I'll go start the car," he said.

     "Thanks Dad." As soon as his father was out of the room, he
kissed me on my forehead. "I love you and I'm going to save you
if it kills me. Now come on, let's get you some help."

     He carried me out to the car and put me across the backseat.
His mother pulled in the driveway before he shut the door. I
heard heels running towards us. "What's going on?" she asked.

     "Sam had a seizure," Tom said.

     "Oh my god, is he okay?"

     I sat up. "I'm fine."

     Her hand was on my forehead. "Well you don't feel hot, but
I'm going to have to go inside and get the thermometer to be
sure."

     "Honey we were taking him to the hospital," Tom's father
said.

     "Okay, but let me check him out first. You know he hates
hospitals." My heart smiled when I heard her say that. It almost
sounded as if she really cared about me and respected my wishes.

     "Do you want me to take him back inside so you can examine
him?" Tom asked.

     "Thanks sweetie. Take him to the guest room."

     Tom reached in and tried to pull me out and I lightly kicked
him away. "I can walk."

     "No you can't. You might have another seizure and then fall
and hit your head or something." He grabbed my legs and pulled me
out then he threw me over his shoulder.

     "What the hell are you doing? Don't be so rough with him and
don't hold him like that," his mother ordered.

     "Sorry," he said as he slowly flipped me in to his arms so
he was carrying me like I was a baby. He walked me back in to the
house and took me to the guest bedroom. He lowered me on to the
guest bed and adjusted the pillows behind me so I could sit up at
an angle. He stole a kiss on my cheek before his mother walked in
with her doctor's bag.

     "We're going to need a little privacy," she told Tom.

     "Okay." Tom left the room and closed the door behind him.

     "What happened earlier?" she asked.

     "I think I fainted."

     "Usually I would ask if you've eaten, but you ate dinner
with us so I know you have. You didn't purge did you?"

     `Thanks for asking me if I threw up. Nice to know you have
so much faith in me,' I thought. "No."

     "Have you ever fainted before?"

     "A few times before I went to the clinic but nothing like
today."

     "What made today different?"

     "I felt myself shake for a few seconds before I passed out.
That's never happened before."

     "Okay. I need to have a look at you, is that alright?"

     "Yes."

     His mother performed a few tests on me which made me
uncomfortable, but I would rather have her examine me than some
random doctor with cold hands. "I know your body has been through
a lot these past few years," she told me after she finished
taking my blood pressure. I looked away from her. She finished
examining me and said, "Well your vitals are fine but you seem a
little underweight"

     I immediately became defensive, "My doctor said I was doing
well."

     "Perhaps you are, but you still need to gain weight. Now
you're going to need some more testing so we can figure out what
caused your episode earlier. I'll give your mother the name of a
specialist."

     "Please don't tell my mother."

     "You're her child, I have to tell her. She needs to get you
a checkup as soon as possible."

     "As soon as possible? Am I sick?"

     "I don't know that's why you need more tests. When was the
last time you had a physical?"

     "I had one when they let me out the last time."

     "That was about a year ago, wasn't it?"

     "Yes."

     "You need a new physical."

     "Can't you give me one?"

     "No, but I can recommend a great doctor for you."

     "I have a doctor."

     "Okay, I'll tell your mother to schedule an appointment for
you."

     "I don't want her to know about this," I whined.

     "Why not? She's your mother."

     `She hates me,' I thought. "I don't want to bother her."

     "I wish you knew how much she worried about you. Trust me,
you won't be bothering her. You never bother her. She loves you."
I rolled my eyes and bit my tongue. I knew if I opened my mouth I
would tell her that my mother hated me and any perception
otherwise was severely misled so I kept my lips sealed. "You do
know she loves you, don't you?"

     "Mm-hmm." I felt dishonest for letting the lie come out but
I couldn't tell her the truth about how my mother really felt, no
one needed to know that. `What I wouldn't give to cut myself
right now,' I thought.

     She kissed me on my forehead, "I'll tell Tom he can come
in."

     "Thanks," Tom said as he walked in.

     "Were you listening at the door?" she asked.

     "Of course not." His grin told us otherwise.

     I pulled a pillow from behind me and threw it at him but it
landed on the floor before it reached him. "Does patient
confidentiality mean nothing to you?"

     He picked up the pillow and smiled. His mother stood, "Tom
make sure Sam stays in the bed and rests for a little while."

      "Okay." She left the room and he walked to the other side
of the bed and jumped so that he landed on the bed in the same
position as me. The whole bed shook and I felt dizzy for a second
but I tried not to show it. "You really had me worried," he said.

     "I'm sorry."

     "It's fine, as long as you're okay."

     "I am."

     "So, um, do you want to sit in here and hold hands while you
relax?"

     I laughed. "Okay."

     He placed his hand facing up on the bed and I placed my hand
in his. We sat like that, connected in silence, until his mother
came to ask if I was spending the night and to tell me that she
had talked to my father because my mother wasn't home.

     I was completely embarrassed about the whole situation and
all I wanted to do was go home and cut myself, so I told Tom I
needed to go home and talk to my family. I was pretty sure he
knew I was lying. I offered to take the bus; he said he had to
drive me since we were technically more than friends and he would
worry unless he watched me arrive safely at home with his own two
eyes. I thought it was sweet.

     The drive to my house was strange. Tom drove with one hand
and we held hands the entire way. I wasn't sure why we were
holding hands. Each time we stopped at a light, he would squeeze
my hand. My voice was trapped in my heart, but it was okay
because he was quiet until we reached my house.

     "Do you want to do something tomorrow?" he asked.

     "I have a lot of work to do."

     "Oh, will you have time to talk on the phone?"

     "Don't I always?"

     "Yeah, you do." He let go of my hand. "Do you want me to
pick you up on Monday?"

     "Don't you have to get up early so you can workout with the
team?"

     "You're right, how did I forget?" his eyes twinkled when he
looked at me and I felt the urge to jump out of the car and run
but something held me there.

     "So I'll see you at lunch. Hopefully I make it there in one
piece." I laughed.

     "That's not funny. You better be there."

     "I will."

     I got out of his car and closed the door. No one said
anything when I walked in my house. I went to the kitchen to get
a cold bottle of water. My mother was standing in front of the
microwave waiting for a bag of popcorn to finish popping. She
looked at me and I looked at her, and then we both finished what
we were doing.

     I was surprised to find a note on my door that read: "I'll
call Dr. Thomas on Monday -Mom." She hadn't said one word to me
in the kitchen. I went in my room and closed the door. My mind
was focused on getting the knife and relieving some of the
tension from the day and the embarrassment of passing out in
front of Tom. A few minutes later, I was on my bed, preparing to
make some fresh lines. For the first time in a long time, the
cuts didn't help at all.

     I looked at the picture on my nightstand and I knew what the
problem was. My family was staring back at me and I could feel
the hatred emanating from their eyes. Usually I could tune out
the sadness, but every now and then, I was overwhelmed by it. I
turned the picture down so I didn't have to look at their faces,
but I could still feel the coldness coming from them. I cut a few
more times than I intended and a little deeper than usual. I
watched the blood, my red tears, as it oozed from the cuts. I
closed my eyes and tried to think about Tom, but not even my
thoughts of him were enough to take away the empty feeling that
swallowed me.

     I focused on the pain. Once my emotions reached their usual
equilibrium of no real feeling, I cleaned myself up and tried to
go to sleep. My inner thigh hurt when I moved certain ways, but I
was grateful for the pain because it reminded me that I wasn't
worth loving.


c Lustyville 2007
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