Chance Encounter, Chapter 3
Our new life together was great, but it wasn't always a bed of roses, well it was if you allow for a few thorns. As I had predicted, there were adjustments that both of us had to make in order to live under the same roof.
I was too obsessive about being neat and tidy, and he too often let things fall where they might – especially his underwear. I have to admit that there were times when I ripped them off of him and threw them in my haste to get him naked and into my bed. Once a pair of his briefs landed on the ceiling fan and circled round and round until we noticed them and both collapsed into a giggling fit.
One of the unforeseen problems in our developing relationship involved PTSD. Chance had kept a lot of his reactions to the horrors of war bottled up inside. Thank God, he hadn't attempted to use drugs or alcohol to escape, but he was messed up in other ways that didn't show on the outside.
The nightmares began shortly after he moved in with me. I did my best to calm him down when they awakened him in the middle of the night. Often that worked and he'd go back to sleep in my arms. Sometimes, however, he'd thrash around and hurt me physically in the process. After bruising me two nights in a row, he insisted on moving into the guest room. That prevented me from being injured, but seemed to make him more despondent.
Fortunately, his job didn't suffer. In fact, he asked for more hours because burying himself in work kept him from having time to think. He, of course, also wanted to earn more for his college expenses.
With the extra money he made, he managed to buy a used car suitable for commuting to school and his job. The vehicle was too old to be worth much, and too ugly to be a classic. He purchased it at a very low cost for a couple of reasons. The owner of one of the dealerships his company did a lot of business with made him an offer he couldn't refuse. The man liked him, and knew he was in need of something reasonable and reliable.
The second reason for its low cost was that they'd taken it in on trade and realized it wouldn't bring much at auction because of its pale lilac color. The salesman who had made the deal was colorblind and thought it was gray. Repainting it would have been more expense than it was worth. But for Chance, it was a good answer to his needs.
The manager at Allied Glass was disappointed when Chance told him he was returning to school in January and would have to quit working fulltime. Fearing that he'd lose his one of his best employees completely, he worked out a flexible part-time schedule. That kept both of them satisfied, but didn't do a hell of a lot for me. With all that he would be doing, I felt like I was being shut out of his life.
The stress of working a lot and trying to cope with his PTSD was really getting to both of us.
On Christmas Eve, after a much-needed afternoon of making love, I discussed it with him. He felt even worse about everything, realizing how much it was affecting me as well.
"I know I'm not the lover you expected. I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd have these mood swings and nightmares when I moved in with you. I'll understand if you want me to leave. Max always has empty rooms available."
"There's no way I want you to move out; I love you! I'll admit that it was mostly a strong physical attraction at first, but I've come to have deep feelings for you. I want you to be happy! Please consider getting help. I called the VA Center to inquire about their services, and I set up a tentative appointment for you to see a counselor. Please don't be angry with me for doing it without talking to you beforehand."
Chance looked at me for a moment before his spoke. In that brief span of time, I wondered if I'd gone too far in trying to intervene. Thankfully, he didn't lash out at me; instead he held me close and began to cry.
"I didn't want you to think I was a wuss by asking for help. I've always been able to work things out myself, but I'm at the end of my rope. Thanks for doing what you did. I know you really do love me."
He couldn't continue talking for the next several minutes because his body was wracked with sobs of anguish. To me, it seemed like a good thing that he was finally letting his feelings out and admitting he needed help.
Eventually, when he was all cried out, he fell to sleep in my arms. It was an awesome feeling having him back in my bed, at least for the time
being.
Even though he now had transportation, I took him to his appointment the following Wednesday and sat with him through the parts of it where I was allowed. The counselor said that it was not unusual for symptoms to come on months after a soldier was released from active duty. It could be triggered by many things; a car backfiring, a violent scene in a movie, and even becoming emotionally attached to someone.
When the counselor asked if there could be any correlation between the onset of his nightmares and falling in love, Chance grinned and took my hand in his. I was particularly proud of him in that moment.
I was excused for the last twenty minutes to give Chance the opportunity to discuss private issues. He shared everything with me later because he didn't want to have any secrets between us.
The very fact that Chance had finally accepted help and quit trying to do it all on his own seemed to improve his outlook. He moved back into my bed with fewer nighttime incidents. There were still occasions when I got up to sleep in the recliner for part of the night to avoid being kicked, but those were increasingly fewer and farther between.
Because of his weekly sessions with Arthur and his medication (which was called a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor), Chance was feeling better by the day. His mood improved, but mine didn't always match.
My problem was that I felt resentful because I wasn't ready to share him with all the new people in his life. He had study sessions with other students in his classes, and seemed to have an emotional attachment to his therapist.
The possibility that he had a crush on Arthur reared its ugly head one day when I saw them embrace as he was leaving his session. Reason told me that if there had been anything improper about their contact, surely they would not have done it with the door open at a time when I could witness it. Nonetheless, it caused me to worry and treat him differently than I should have.
After dinner that evening, Chance asked me to come into the bedroom with him and I followed. He stripped, handed me his wide leather belt, and lay on our bed face-down.
"What's this?" I asked.
"I want you to whip my ass until all your resentment is gone. I'm not sure what I've done, but I must need punishing. I'd rather face the physical pain because I can't stand the emotional kind," he said softly.
I wrapped the belt around my hand, keeping the buckle inside so as not to do damage to his perfect butt. I raised my arm and brought the belt down sharply on the bed about two inches from his bottom. Then I threw it across the room and lay on him, using my legs and elbows to lessen the pressure of my weight.
"I'm so sorry," I sobbed. "It's jealousy plain and simple. I feel like I'm losing you."
He turned over beneath me and pulled my lips to his. After we'd kissed, and I stopped crying, he unbuttoned and removed my shirt so our chests would be skin to skin.
"You'll never lose me to anyone else," he whispered. "I know I'm gone a lot and I have a wider circle of acquaintances than I had when we met, but not one of them means one tenth of one percent of what you mean to me. I LOVE you, damn it! It's not for the roof over my head or the food in my belly. You're my soul-mate!"
He offered his ass, and I was tempted, but felt that I was the one who needed to feel him fuck me hard to exorcise the demons in my heart. Interestingly, instead of taking me like a bull in heat, he made gentle love to me that kept me on the edge of an orgasm until the last possible moment.
In the afterglow, I repeatedly asked his forgiveness until he was probably tired of the subject, but he never chastised me for it.
From that night on, we both tried harder to be sensitive to what the other was saying and feeling. It required a bit of work, but isn't a loving relationship worth it?
The next several months passed quickly. I got used to the idea that our hours apart were necessary to hasten the time when he'd be through with schooling and we'd have more time together. He had loaded his schedule heavily in order to graduate early.
I did my part to ease that load by always having a hot meal on the table when he had the time to eat it. I also kept up the laundry and took over the other duties he'd originally taken on when he moved in.
He, in turn, tried always to be available when I was feeling in need of his love, physically. I suspect there were times when he'd rather have rolled over and gone to sleep, but he never once turned me down because of a "headache."
We had been living together for nearly 10 months at this point, and I can honestly say that I could no longer imagine living without him. I loved him more than anyone or anything. Little did we know that our lives were about to take a dramatic turn.
I didn't recognize the number of the call that was coming in on my land line, so I let the machine pick it up. The message was brief; the voice was a husky, two-pack-a-day, female one.
"I'm calling for Chance. I hope you get this, dirt-bag. You've polluted your little brother and I'm throwing his ass out today. If you want the piece of shit you'd better be in Worthington by 5:00 this afternoon because I have no intention of feeding the little faggot ever again.
Love, Mom..." (Click)
I hastily texted Chance hoping that I could make contact without interrupting him in the middle of a job.
My cell rang almost immediately. Chance wanted me to replay the message so he could figure out if it was real or a prank.
"That bitch!" he exclaimed, after listening to it. "I can't get him by then. I'd have to leave right now and that's impossible. I'm sure my car would make it fine, but I'm in the midst of an installation that can't be put off. Damn it!"
"Don't worry, Babe. I'll go. Give me the address and I should be able to get there close to 5:00 if I don't waste any time. I'll show him photos of us together so he'll know he can trust me. By the way, what's his name and what does he look like?"
"It's Gavin, and he resembled me when he was a little boy. But I haven't seen him in six years, so who knows? I wonder how the hell she thinks I have anything to do with `polluting' him. He was only eight and I never touched the boy in any improper way! Sorry, I'm holding you up with my ranting. I'm glad you can get him. Thank you; I owe you!"
"No charge! You'd do the same for me."
I drove the 80 miles in under an hour and a quarter despite the drizzle, arriving at 4:55, just under the wire. When I pulled up to 558 Crescent Street, I saw a forlorn looking skinny teenager sitting on the front porch with three black trash bags which, I assumed, contained the sum total of his earthly possessions.
"Hi, I'm Matt. Chance couldn't leave work in time to pick you up, so I'm your ride. Here, you can check our pictures together on my phone so you know I'm not some pervert trying to kidnap you."
"It wouldn't matter if you were. I'd be better off with a child molester than in this place," he muttered.
I popped the trunk lid with the remote and we squeezed two bags in. We had to drop the top momentarily to set the other one in the back seat, putting it up again because of the light mist that was still falling.
"We'd better call your brother to tell him we're on our way and that we'll grab a burger from a drive-in. He'll need to forage for himself if he wants to eat on time."
I spoke Chance's name and the phone connected us. After a brief conversation detailing our supper plans, I handed the cell to Gavin. He gave a timid greeting and broke into tears at the sound of his brother's voice. He couldn't talk for several minutes. I'm not sure what Chance said to him, but it must have been comforting because he had a slight smile on his face when he ended the call, telling his brother he loved him.
We went to the drive-up window at Mickey D's and got our "dinner." Gavin was hesitant to order anything too expensive, so I took charge and got us each a Big Mac deluxe with large orders of fries, a soft drink for him, and an iced mocha for me. It was like a heart attack in a bag, but we didn't have a lot of options.
We rode in silence while we ate, but he began to come out of his shell after he got his belly filled.
"Thanks for supper and especially for coming to get me. Are you married to my brother?"
"You're quite welcome, and no, we're not married yet. Chance wants to wait until he graduates from college, but I hope to wear him down on that issue before then. We've lived together since last August and we're more in love each day."
"That's cool. What are you going to do with me?"
"Well, that's a good question. We haven't had time to talk it over, but I assume we'll give you a home unless you don't want to live with us.
"You'd take me in without even knowing me?"
"Of course. You're Chance's bro, and so you're like my bro too."
"I can see why he loves you," Gavin said with a catch in his voice.
"Son, it's okay to cry if you need to."
"No, I don't want to. I'm such a wuss!"
"You sound just like Chance! You're not a wuss! You've been pitched out of your home without knowing where you'll end up; you have a right to feel sad."
"Actually, I'm relieved. It was a choice of leaving or going to one of those `Christian' camps where they turn you straight. I don't want anyone fuckin' with my head. Oops, sorry about the language."
"Chance and I are pretty clean-spoken, and I'd appreciate it if you would try to be too. However, there are times when those words are appropriate and I think this is one of them because those bastards would be fuckin' with your mind in the name of God; the assholes!"
He actually cracked a smile when I showed him that I could cuss too when it was needed to call a spade a spade. I felt that his grin was a positive sign.
We talked about school for a bit. His term had ended on Friday, so we would have plenty of time to get his transcript sent and enroll him in a high school close to us before fall. I wasn't really up on which schools had good reputations, but I'd find out. I wanted him to have every opportunity to succeed. I found it humorous how quickly I'd mentally taken him under my wing, and was trying to do what was best. I was suddenly assuming the role of a parent, I guess.
Chance must have heard the garage door opening because he was out there before I'd shut the motor off. Gavin sprang out of the passenger seat and hugged his brother fiercely. There were tears all around, including from my eyes. As soon as they'd pulled apart, Gavin came over to me and embraced me with as much ardor as he had Chance.
"I love you too," he said. "You saved me!"
We each carried a bag of Gavin's things and settled him in the larger of the two extra bedrooms. The small one had become my office with a twin sized trundle bed in case of extra guests. In all the time I'd lived there, Chance had been my only overnight company and he was now firmly entrenched in my room and bed.
Gavin looked his new room over in amazement. Given the condition of the exterior of the house where I'd picked him up, I could imagine what it must have looked like on the inside.
"I even have my own bathroom?" he exclaimed.
"Yup, and you'll need to keep it clean," Chance informed him. "I will expect you to keep your room tidy and help around the house too."
(This coming from a man who used to drop his underwear on the bedroom floor until it looked like we had a new carpet?)
"I'll do whatever you ask me to do. I was so afraid that no one would show up and that I'd be on the street. I don't know how I'd have survived. I have no street-smarts." Gavin shook his head.
"You'll never be on the street if I can help it," I chimed in. "I'm sure you're exhausted and would like to hit the sack, but would you like a bowl of ice cream before going to bed? We didn't have any dessert after our `wonderful' meal."
Gavin nodded in a very animated manner to my offer. The three of us sat at the kitchen table eating our "moose tracks" and having Oreo cookies with it.
"May I take a shower before I go to bed?" Gavin asked. "I feel kinda sweaty with all the worrying I was doing."
"It's your home too," I stated. "You're welcome to shower whenever you want. It's great that you have good hygiene habits. I have a spare toothbrush and a sample size of Gillette deodorant if you'd like them. I'm sure there's toothpaste in the drawer of the vanity."
"Thanks! I can use those. I don't want to smell bad."
After a hug and a kiss on the cheek from both of us, Gavin went off to his room to get ready for bed.
Chance and I sat up for a while discussing the kid.
"I feel really bad for you," Chance shook his head slowly.
"How so?"
"First you took in a veteran without a dime, and a screw loose to boot. Now you're extending you home to his little brother. We have no idea what kind of kid he is. He could be a pot-head or worse. It's going to cost money to feed and educate him. You're not obliged to do either. I'll drop out of school and go back to working fulltime. I can find a small apartment for the two of us."
"You'll do no such thing!" I insisted in a commanding voice. "I'll not have my soul-mate move out on me and mess up his future by dropping out! I'm committed to you for richer or poorer, better or worse even if we don't have a signed document to prove it."
"Oh Matt..." he began to cry.
"Baby, you're exhausted and your world has been rocked again, but you're gonna be okay; we're gonna be okay. I'll see to it. We have each other and now we have a boy to raise. I'd bet my life that he's a good kid. When we stopped to eat, he was going to order off the dollar menu and pay for it himself. He's no punk."
"I hope and pray that you're right."
"Trust me, I'm a good judge of character and he's a good kid."
"Okay. You want some lovin' tonight?"
"Only the kind that involves holding your naked body in my arms," I responded. "We both need our sleep."
Author's notes: Thanks to all who emailed since last posting: Tim E, Wayne, Jim M, JCH, Az L, Jeremy R, Bill K, Geoff S, Charles G, Jim W, Walt S, Dick M, Lonnie R, Jim L, Bill T, John L, Norm W, Mendy D, Zero, Peter M, JJ, Jon, TAC, and Nick P.
The last three names are of guys whose emails went into the "junk" file. It's good that they put the story title in the subject line so I knew they were safe to open.
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