The Mating of Michael (17 page)

“Do Grandma and Grandpa have other little boys I can play with?”

His mother got a funny look. “Yes, James, there will be other children there. Now hush. Mommy has to focus on getting our tickets.”

I
T
WAS
a very, very long trip. James got cranky, tired, and so sore. People stared at him with pitying faces because his legs didn’t look right in his pants, and he didn’t have a wheelchair so his mom carried him around like a baby. He hated the stares. He put a blanket over his head in the airports to hide, but he had to take it off sometimes to breathe. He tried hard to be good, but he got too tired to care. He slept on his mother’s shoulder through a long line at customs to get into the United States. And he cried most of the whole last plane ride because he felt sick and he had to stay buckled in his seat even though he wanted her to hold him. Other people looked at him, and he knew he was being a baby, so he tried to cry quietly.

Finally, the last plane ride was over. His mom said they were in Oregon. It was dark and cold and raining hard. They took a taxi and got out at a big house that looked a little scary.

“Grandma and Grandpa live here?” James asked in wonder.

“No, you’ll stay here tonight. I’ll take you to see them later.”

“But why?” James demanded, getting upset.

“Just for tonight. Be good for Mommy a little bit longer.”

A woman greeted them at the door. James fell asleep on a couch while the woman and his mother talked in another room. He was barely aware as his mother carried him up some stairs and got him dressed in his pajamas. He woke up enough to realize they were in a room with three other beds. By the glow of the nightlight, he could see there were children sleeping in them. He sat up, awake.

“Who are those kids?” James asked his mother in a loud stage whisper. She was so pretty in the dim light, with her long brown hair and the red scarf she always wore tied around her forehead. But her face had a strange, pinched look, even though her words sounded bright and happy.

“They’re new friends for you. It’ll be fun playing with other children, won’t it? Go to sleep now, James, and you’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.” James didn’t like the look in her eyes. He frowned.

“Please, Sweetpea?”

“But why can’t I sleep in your bed? Why do I have to stay in this room?” he demanded loudly.

“Because this room is where all the good little boys sleep.” She hugged him tight, and he clutched at her dress.

“Will you be right here when I wake up?” He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. What if something happened? He didn’t have his bedpan. What if he needed her to pick him up and carry him to the bathroom? What if the polio came back and he couldn’t breathe? He had nightmares about that, about not being able to move his chest, not getting any air.

“Yes, I’ll be here,” she promised brightly. “Now lie down and go to sleep like a big boy. It feels good to be in a real bed, doesn’t it? We had a long trip, and you need some rest.”

He
was
sleepy. He could hardly keep his eyes open. And even though he wanted to ask more questions or try to get her to stay with him in the room, he was already sliding under.

The last thing he remembered was his mother laying him back onto his pillow and kissing his forehead.

In the morning when James woke up, his mother wasn’t there. Felicia was the lady who ran the home. She said his mother had decided to let him stay there for a while.

“Is she coming back? Is she coming back?” James remembered crying over and over as Felicia held him in her lap.

“I don’t know, James,” Felicia said, sounding sad. “But I promise you this—you’re safe here, and we’ll take good care of you.”

James had wanted to punch her. He didn’t want her to take care of him. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to run, to find the front door and run away, run forever if he had to, to find his mother. But James couldn’t run. He could do nothing but wait for his mother to come for him.

Mommy, please don’t leave me. I’ll be good. I promise.

But she never came back.

Ellensburg, Washington, 2014

“J
AMES
?” M
ICHAEL
’
S
voice made James blink, bringing him back to the here and now. Kathy had left, and the door was closed. Michael slipped out of bed and came closer. But James held up his hand.

“I’m really tired. Good night, Michael,” he said gruffly.

Michael stopped between their beds the minute James held up his hand. James couldn’t read his expression in the dark, and he was glad. He didn’t want to see the disappointment or the pity. He turned on his side to face the wall.

“Good night, James,” Michael said softly. James heard him slip back into his own bed.

His heart was still pounding, and his stomach felt as if it was filled with curdled milk. He’d come so close to giving in to a weak moment of sexual frustration, to letting Michael touch him. James’s chest was tight and hot, and he was so, so glad he hadn’t done that. He liked Michael, a lot, but that was precisely why he couldn’t do that. Once Michael saw and felt James’s legs, his rose-colored glasses would disintegrate and he would see James as he really was—a broken thing, a burden. And that memory of his mother had reminded James of precisely what happened next.

O
N
M
ONDAY
morning, Tommy wanted to hear all about Michael’s weekend. Michael told him about their trip to Steamboat Rock and Coulee Dam as they played their first round of rummy. He mentioned that James was in a wheelchair, and he told Tommy they were just friends, which was true. Tommy got a bit quiet, though, even as he whomped all over Michael’s ass, going out and sticking him with over a hundred points in his hand.

“You okay, champ?” Michael asked as Tommy shuffled the deck for the next round.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, though he didn’t look up into Michael’s eyes. “Hey. Do you think…?”

“What? You can ask me anything.”

“Do you think… you could ever love someone like me?”

The question came out of nowhere. Michael felt a catch in his chest, as if someone had put their finger on the trigger of a gun that was aimed at his heart, one he hadn’t even known existed. It felt… dangerous. Potentially lethal.

He spoke very, very carefully. “I care about you a lot, Tommy.”

“I don’t mean… I don’t mean you specifically, or me specifically, but in general. Do you think a guy like you could ever love a guy like me?”

Tommy’s voice trembled, and he looked down at the deck of cards in his hands, shuffling them over and over. Michael wasn’t sure if Tommy was really asking “generally” or not. He suspected otherwise. He mentally reviewed his training for what to do when client got overly attached. You were supposed to let them down kindly but firmly, keep the professional relationship clearly defined. Of course, Tommy had become more than just a client.

God, this was hard.

Michael leaned forward and put his hand on Tommy’s. “I think you could meet someone who will love you for who you are, yes. You’re a good person, Tommy, and you’re fun to be with. I’m your surrogate, so you and I have a different kind of relationship. But you’re also my friend, and I care about you as a friend.”

Tommy looked down at the cards for a long time, breathing hard. Then he pulled away and started dealing in a subdued fashion. Michael wanted to talk more about it, see if Tommy was really okay. But if Tommy was developing feelings for him, he would need some time to process what Michael had said.

When they finished three games and Michael asked, as he always did, if Tommy wanted to play some more, he said yes for the first time ever. They played a fourth round, Michael lost, and then Tommy stood and stretched.

“I’m beat. Not feeling great today. Maybe we can do a massage next week, Maestro?” Tommy said casually.

Michael felt his face burn. “Sure. Whatever you want, champ. Do you need some aspirin or something? Want me to ask your mom to come up?”

“Nah, just need to sleep it off.”

Michael left Tommy and found Mrs. Chelsey downstairs in the kitchen as usual.

“How was he today?” she asked hopefully.

“We played cards, but he didn’t want the massage today. He said he was tired and not feeling great,” Michael said worriedly. “So I won’t charge you for today.”

“Nonsense, you came over here. I’ll pay for your time.” But Mrs. Chelsey looked worried too.

“No, seriously. I won’t take anything for today. But there’s something else….”

Michael wondered if he should tell Mrs. Chelsey what Tommy had said. On the one hand, it seemed like an invasion of Tommy’s privacy. But on the other hand, Mrs. Chelsey paid his fee. She deserved to know if the surrogate she’d hired to help her son was causing difficulties for him.

“Tommy seemed melancholy today. I’m not sure he wants me to continue coming, or that it’s best for him if I do.”

Mrs. Chelsey looked upset. “Michael, Tommy is getting over a cold. I don’t think you should take it personally if he didn’t want… that today.”

“No, it’s not that.” Michael sighed. “I’m a little concerned that he might be getting emotional about this, and that he might… get hurt.”

“Why? What did he say?”

So much for diplomacy. Mrs. Chelsey clearly wasn’t going to let it go, so reluctantly, Michael told her what Tommy had said.

“Maybe I’m making too big a deal of it,” Michael said. “But I think you should talk to him, in a roundabout way, and see what you think is best. I’m happy to continue if you think it’s good for Tommy, but if not….”

Mrs. Chelsey shivered and crossed her arms. She looked a bit lost. “He looks forward to your visits so much. I can’t imagine he would want you to stop coming. But I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay. I just want to do what’s best for him. Let me know how I can help.”

Mrs. Chelsey nodded and walked him to the door. As she said good-bye, she looked… resigned. Michael wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay, but he wasn’t at all sure that was the case. He left feeling uneasy in his soul and determined to talk to Jack about it as soon as he could.

O
N
W
EDNESDAY
evening, Michael had a session with Lem Peterson. He was hoping it would go a lot better than his session with Tommy had gone, and he put on his most upbeat personality.

“Hello, Lem!” Michael greeted his client as he came in the door. Lem looked nervous today, though, thankfully, not as nervous as the first time he’d been here.

In the past three weeks, they had progressed from holding hands, to touching each other’s face, shoulders, and arms, to kissing lightly with closed mouths—first the hand, then the cheek, then the lips. That had been a very big deal. Jack had been working intensely with Lem and felt he was ready to be pushed a little harder.

“How do you feel about today?” Michael asked when they were seated on the couch.

Lem rubbed his chin. He no longer sweated as much around Michael, or got quite so red, but he looked jittery today. “I’m a little scared. But excited too. I mean, it would be good if I can… can make it through this.”

“I promise you will, okay? It’s all on me. All you have to do is tell me how you’re feeling as we go, just like always.”

“I can do that. Where, um….”

“Right here is fine. Just give me a minute, and I’ll go change. Okay?” Michael squeezed Lem’s arm. It was a mark of their progress that it didn’t startle him.

“Yeah.”

Michael went into his bedroom and stripped. He’d bathed very thoroughly earlier, and now he put on a thin black silk print robe that he’d gotten at a thrift shop—it was pretty and soft against his skin and he loved it. He wore nothing underneath.

Back in the living room, Lem looked at him as he walked in. He blushed and looked away. “Wow,” he breathed.

Michael sat down on the couch. He sat on the opposite end from Lem and waited for Lem to stop breathing quite so hard and look at him.

Michael smiled. “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” Lem said with only a little tremor in his voice.

“Good. So…. Dr. Halloran wants us to try some nudity today. You guys talked about that, right?”

“He thinks I’m ready.”

“What do you think?”

“I… I wanna try it. I told Dr. Halloran if I can handle you naked, then that’s a lot, right?” He laughed nervously. “Then maybe it won’t seem like a big deal when John comes in for his quarterly taxes fully dressed. Maybe I won’t get so tongue-tied. That’s in two weeks.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Dr. Halloran also wants us to talk about anatomy, to help you get more comfortable looking at the body and talking about it.”

Lem blushed. He was sitting forward anxiously, elbows on his knees, twisting his hands. He looked down at them. “He, um, gave me homework. To l-look at myself. With a mirror and all. I never have. Not since I was a kid. I always sort of… tried not to.”

“Yeah? How’d that go?”

Lem shrugged. “Weird. And kind of gross.”

Michael laughed. “I love how honest you are.”

Lem shrugged again, but he smiled, pleased.

“Well, I apologize ahead of time for any grossness.”

“No. That’s not what I… You could never be gross.” Now Lem looked stricken.

“I’m just kidding. Though if you think it’s a little gross, it’s okay. You can tell me. The human body is a little odd, when you think about it. Let’s see, shall we?” Michael untied his robe and pulled it open. He scooted around so his back was against the arm of the couch. He put his legs on the seat cushion and spread his thighs.

Lem was staring at his hands, but obviously he had excellent peripheral vision, because he sort of whimpered.

“Take your time,” Michael said quietly. He relaxed back and waited.

After a little while, Lem turned his head and looked at Michael’s crotch. He turned back to face forward, face red. He wiped some sweat off his brow and took a shaky breath.