On the Edge of Wakefulness
Part 2 - Princess of Peace Chapter 1
Todd Manning heard the wheels on carts rolling down the hallway of Llanview's psychiatric ward, the howls of residents, doors opening and closing, and the calming voices of caretakers. He heard them like a grand symphony, the ding of the elevator the culminating bang of cymbals. A nurse spoke to him and he blinked through stringy hair, the world disappearing for the smallest instants of time. Licked dry lips. He could hear her but couldn't make out the specific words. Knew he was staring, knew he was on his bed, knew he wasn't moving an inch because the mantra in his head was an operatic accompaniment to the symphony. Because the story had taken shape at the foot of his bed and there was now a shadowy man with his mouth open and an aria falling out in cutting notes...
Phillip Manning killed Michelle Chant.
He wished the man would go away but no amount of wishing would cut off the singer. He needed money maybe, Todd needed to throw coins at his feet maybe. Phillip Manning killed Michelle Chaaaant! He remembered Phillip, those cold gray eyes. There were things about him that he did not remember. Knew he'd blocked out much of their dealings… like so many other things. Stone cold murder at the cliffs of the New River. He reached his hand out like he could catch her. All he got for his efforts was more singing.
Phillip Manning killed Michelle Chaaaaaant! There was nothing you could dooooo, nothing, nothing, nothing!
Words pressed through finally. We're going to bathe you, Mr. Manning, can you move? Knew time had clicked by. Knew it had been a day maybe or two or three even of what Tim called catatonia. The doctor didn't understand. Sat with Todd for hours trying to break through. He wasn't catatonic; he was thinking. Watching the singer.
Two orderlies were taking off his pajama pants and tee-shirt and he watched it happen without any reaction because his body had separated from his mind. The shadowy singing man laughed at his nakedness and Todd tried to cover himself. At least he thought he did. Probably not. The cold air then seemed to have cut off the song, disappearing the singer. Todd craned his neck, looking for him. Finding nothing. He groaned when strong arms got beneath him and he was moving through the room and being settled in an empty tub, a spraying shower head being aimed at him… his naked body vulnerable and exposed. He couldn't form any words, knowing he was making noise like an animal. He got that he'd wet the bed, or maybe even shit the bed because he was so paralyzed following the little chat with Kevin and Jedediah.
"Come on, Todd, we know you're in there… can you talk to us? Want the water warmer? Come on, big guy… come on…use your words…"
The stillness had come on slowly. When he returned to his room after seeing Jed and Kevin, the truth that Phillip had killed Michelle hit him low and sharp and the shadowy man started singing at the foot of his bed. Kept Todd as his frozen audience.
The shower did wake him up a little and he said pretty clearly in the middle of things, "I'm cold… the water is cold…," and the unfamiliar orderly seemed happy with it, crowing, "Great! Good job! Hell yeah, I can heat up the water…" The water warmed at that and Todd realized he was shivering pretty hard. Then when the unfamiliar orderly moved apart his thighs and started to soap his dick and ass he kind of went on the defensive and couldn't see through the mad kicking and hitting and knew he was screaming until all the touching finally stopped and he was huffing and hugging the side of the tub. Mind not so separate from his body anymore.
The hand-held shower head sat to the side, spraying all over the place. He heard a nurse tearing into the orderly, saying, "No, no, no! God! Touching has to be kept to a minimum! And don't ever wash the genitals directly!" She was now in his face, warm hands on his cheeks, a dimpled pretty face smiling at him, "Okay, okay… he didn't know, he's new… it's okay… you're safe, you're protected… you're okay."
He was soon in the bed again but he was much more present. Maybe the bath helped after all. He was sitting criss-cross applesauce. He was clean, the bed was clean. He remembered being in bed at home. At the Penthouse. Things weren't too bad before he found Georgie Phillips. He ran a newspaper, had a wife (sort of), and was raising his daughter. He picked at the vegetables on the plate. He once lived a semblance of normal. Such a very long time ago.
As he stared at the broccoli and rice, he remembered tripping over Georgie's body, how she was lying in her own blood, her ruined life on the floor of the Buchanan lodge. The sight of the blood had shaken him, letting loose the truth of her. He knew her. They both had been bled by Manning men and both grew up to take control of their lives in a raging, furious manner. He hadn't realized how similarly they'd been living. Georgie on the one side used surreptitious manipulation, taking, stealing, whatever she could, hoping for vindication. Ended up killing her. Todd's own weapon of choice, physical and sexual violence, had put him in jail, led him to screw up every relationship he ever cherished, and nearly killed him. Of course, he wasn't through yet. He had plenty of rage and pain left.
But in the end, what was it all for? Who would lose and who would win?
The pretty nurse returned. "How are you?"
"Been better," he murmured.
Her face brightened. "You're responsive! That's wonderful!"
"Is it?"
"Yes. Here are your meds. I'll wait."
He shook his head. "No."
"You need-"
"I said no." He pushed the plate and fell back on the bed. Broccoli and rice pilaf on the floor. Arms and legs splayed. Eyes on the ceiling. "Where is Doctor Graham? I need to see him." Todd suddenly felt like it had been many days that Tim had visited. He felt like he'd done something wrong. He shook his head. Doctor Graham. Saw the curls on his head. Felt lips under his fingertips back at the Penthouse. Imagined, remembered, pushing his fingers into an open wet mouth. There was something familiar yet not about that. Wasn't sure that happened. Rubbed his own mouth.
"Why don't you come out to the main room? Play a game with some of the patients. You like checkers?"
He glared at the nurse.
"Okay, no checkers."
Something was happening to him, he just didn't know what. Pain, he figured. Horror at the things that had happened to him. Not just to him, but to everyone associated with him. Too many to recount. Tim had said that he needed to feel this stuff. Why? What was the point? Those memories had all been forced out of him thanks to the drugs they were giving him, he was sure of it. Strange drugs. Vee have vays of making you talk. He laughed to himself, picturing Tim in a Nazi uniform, striking a baton at the palm of his hand. The image became not so funny when he started to compare Tim to Peter. Mind tricks, he kept reminding himself. But the blending wouldn't stop.
The nurse was there, offering the drugs again. "Mr. Manning, you really need to-"
"Go away. Where's the doctor?"
Before Georgie, things weren't bad. But ever since he stepped over her, things were bad. And now, Tim was drugging him, forcing the memories out. Tim put him in restraints several times, tying him to his bed. Tying him up. Todd cupped himself automatically. The doctor sometimes touched his head, his shoulder. What else did he touch?
"We called him for you, but he's not available."
"He's not available?"
"He'll come when he can."
Not available. Tim was punishing him by not coming when Todd needed him. What had he done to piss him off? Didn't matter. What had he done to piss Peter off but be himself? His mind then took a hard left and suddenly he raced along the obstacle course of his life, dodging love because it would always be the same. They would always end up giving him Peter's kind of love: vile and violent. Doctor Graham was now just another one.
What do you want me to do? What do I have to do to get you to love me?
All at once, an intense remembrance of being left behind swept through him. Flip-flop. He glanced around the room, searching for a blade, a rope. A way to end this nightmare. He had cut downwards on his arms. It should have worked. Maybe he should jump off the roof.
He took a breath to stop the ideation, Starr and Jedediah intruding on his end-of-life desires. His wanting to go home. Like the permanent home. He concentrated on Viki's asking him for more time. Felt her safe touches. Her words. Most importantly, her words: "Let me try to show you what love is. Let yourself feel it." But then all that safety turned sexual. Ugly confusion. Not so safe. He pictured Téa, but she was fuzzy, ill-defined. And suddenly he was not being safe with her and he was holding her down and... with a violent gasp, he woke up to a dark room. Checked for wetness. Relieved to see he hadn't come in his sleep.
The evening-shift nurse flitted in with that trusty cup of medication. He stared at the pills, different colors than the afternoon ones. Didn't know what they were. Are these the ones that forced him to remember, made him feel the pain? He swiped at the cup and she stepped back as he mumbled, "Don't want 'em." Sinking, he knew, deeper into the mire.
The same nurse came in about fifteen minutes later and said someone was calling for him. On the phone. Did he want the call transferred to his room?
"I don't want them – don't need them," he grumbled, eying his open door. His file was tagged. Every fifteen someone was checking on him.
Later, Michael the familiar orderly came in and asked if he wanted any dinner. "No. Get out," Todd whispered. His skin felt alive, hot. All of him was super sensitive. The linens rubbed every part of him.
"Come on, Manning. This isn't good for you. You need to eat regular, you need to take your meds. Can't just sit here and-"
"DON'T...don't tell me what to do!" Todd flew off the bed and got in Michael's face, his body quivering with pent-up emotion. "Nobody forces me to do anything! I make the decisions! I do!" Gritted his teeth. "Everything is at my say."
They're all out there. All the memories. All out. My insides are spread out on the floor in front of me. Like my blood was. Like Georgie's was.
"I didn't mean it like that, man," Michael said, pushing Todd back by taking steps towards him. "I'm just looking out for your best interest. That's all. It's cool."
Todd glared at him, turned back around and lay on the bed again. "Tim. Where is he?" He asked again and again, impatiently. Hot again. Pajama bottoms and boxers left him too free. He felt the cotton. He hunched over on his side. Back to Michael. Held himself. Keeping himself safe.
"Won't be here until later, if at all. At a meeting, I think," Michael said, words that made Todd tense up.
"Dad? You coming home?"
"What are you doing calling me here at my office. I've got a meeting."
"I kind of—"
"Don't ever, ever call and ask me my schedule. Got it? I can guarantee you Phillip doesn't ask his 'daddy' when he'll be home. Get off the phone."
"Get out," Todd growled, watching the windows. Seeing the reflection of Michael as he made his way out the door, noticing him shake his head at someone. Heard him comment, "Nothing's changed. Page the doc. I think we have real trouble." He hated when they talked about him like he was dead, like he was nothing. Deaf, blind, dumb.
Then he heard a nurse shoot back, "He said he didn't want to be disturbed - left specific instructions."
The voices faded. Trouble. He was trouble. Todd curled up, catapulted to an earlier time. One he didn't want to go to. But, it was too late. He was already there.
Tell me what it is I have to do to get you to love me?
You know what that is.
Tim Graham rubbed his face, tired from the seminar, and flipped through a stack of hard copies of messages that were connected to his pager. Supposed to be. He had just picked them up from the staff office and was headed to check on Todd. 11:00 p.m. Stopped in his tracks at seeing urgent notes on him. Damn, he thought. He hadn't gotten any pages about him all day and had assumed everything was good. Shit.
He picked up his step and went to the elevator, rechecking his pager and not seeing any of Todd's reference numbers. The hospital had established a message system specifically for pagers, specific patients being assigned a number along with the traditional 911 or 411. He had asked that Todd be given priority, especially for this afternoon. The elevator finally hit Todd's floor and Tim hit the front desk.
"What's going on with Mr. Manning?" he asked sharply as he reviewed the file. Todd had been catatonic for three days. He'd shut down hard when he left the meeting with Kevin and Jedediah. Tim had been so hopeful but the revelation about Phillip Manning proved too much. There was a lot of history there and tying it to Michelle's death was difficult navigation for Todd.
So apparently they tried a cool bath to get him to wake up and it worked. Granted, the responsiveness might have been triggered by a mistaken effort at cleanliness. A new orderly wasn't aware of the red flag regarding personal washing — no direct contact. Orderly now had a worker's compensation claim for his black eye.
"I got urgent messages, none of which got to my pager. What happened?"
The head nurse, always nervous around Dr. Graham, looked a bit flustered, "I don't know why the messages didn't get to you."
"Check on what went wrong with the system. I'll be in his room."
When he got there, the door was open with his file attached to it, an indication that Todd was being monitored on a fifteen-minute rotation. The room itself was lit by a small lamp in the corner, bathing the room in warm, low light. Todd was on the bed, on his side, with his back to his door. He'd gotten dressed this evening, getting jeans on and a tee-shirt, and his usual flannel shirt. He wore a heavy black cotton jacket with pockets. Bare feet today. Socks on the floor, next to the bed. Tim thought he was sleeping until he rapped the door lightly at which Todd visibly reacted to the sound, as if frightened. He partially lifted his head from the pillow then settled again. Tim moved into the room, closing the door. The room now became quiet. All the sounds of the hospital gone.
"Todd? It's me, Tim."
He remained quiet.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't able to get here earlier. Something went wrong with our message system." Todd did not turn around, only tightened his body a bit, curling up further. "The nurse told me you've had a rough day," Tim pressed. "You haven't taken any of your medications. No food. I'm glad you're out of your catatonic state though. Really glad."
"I know the rules. I know what I'm supposed to do."
Tim furrowed his brows, not catching Todd's meaning. "And what are those rules?"
"To not move. To not breathe. To not talk. I know what they are. You don't have to tell me."
"Those aren't my rules, not hospital rules. Whose rules are you talking about?"
"'Course they're your rules. You punished me today. I get it."
Tim walked over to the desk and pulled the chair away from it, turning it around so he could better see Todd. He was now facing his patient. His eyes were open and he had his hands more or less in between his legs. Protective. Knees up. He looked child-like. Not uncommon for Todd — he sometimes regressed into a vulnerable state of mind reflecting his pre-pubescent years. The years he was being abused, according to his own narrative.
The doctor sat down, crossing his legs. "What punishment did I give you?"
"You didn't come to me," Todd murmured.
Strange wording for him. Very personal. Too personal.
"I was at a conference today. Unfortunately, there was an error in our messaging system. I would have been here." Tim paused a moment. "What is it you think you did wrong?"
"I don't know, doc. You tell me. Maybe 'cause I lost it in front of Kevin and Jed. Maybe 'cause I wet the bed. Maybe because I got upset in the bath. Maybe because I didn't throw money at the singer. Maybe...maybe because I'm just me. Maybe you just hate me for me."
"First off, you didn't wet the bed. The bath was a method to shake you out of your passive state. Second, I don't hate you. I have great respect for you as a human being. As a person deserving of a good life. As a man who has the right to make his own decisions as to treatment, as to relationships, as to your ultimate existence."
All at once, his patient rolled onto his back and ran his hands down his thighs. Moved his hips as he did that. He then moved his hands into the pockets of the jeans, adjusting himself. He sighed softly and slowly rocked his head back against his pillow, his mouth slightly open. Tim knew immediately his patient was having an episode of some sort, this one marked by a sexual component. The pants did not do much to hide his partial erection. Tim would have to be very careful in how this went forward.
Todd sat up on the bed, swinging his feet around. His hands were next to him, flat on the mattress. He licked his upper lip from one side to the other, just a small show of tongue. His hair fell down the front of his face and he moved a few strands behind his ear. He sat still a few more moments.
Thinking, resting.
Todd stood up and studied the floor. He took his jacket off very slowly, letting it fall to his feet. The thing dropped from loose fingers. He took a step forward, closer to the doctor, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. Each undoing a skilled flip of his fingers. He kept his eyes down. The moves were delicate and… Tim swallowed hard at the realization… seductive.
Then, god, then Todd raised his light eyes directly to Tim's. Hazel hooded eyes full of intention and heat came at the doctor, Todd's lip lifting in the smallest way that gave him a combined expression of anger and abject desire. The sexual come-on was so powerful, so commanding, Tim closed his eyes a moment. Had to breathe to get his footing, had to remember to breathe. He did not expect this kind of seduction.
"Todd… what are you doing?"
He looked up in time to see the flannel shirt drop to the floor, leaving Todd in his tee-shirt and those low-slung jeans. "You don't have to do this," the doctor added, with no effect. "I'm here, I'm here for you, as your doctor," he said. Tim wasn't sure if Todd was in the present or in the past. Either way, it confirmed that his story was far more extensive than what he shared so far.
This was a man who knew how to get another man in bed. Jesus… the doctor's heart squeezed and he eyed his patient again.
Todd took another careful step toward the doctor, keeping his eyes firmly on Tim's own blues. Tim didn't move, staying in his chair. Found himself gripping the arms. He did not want to disrupt the delusion if it was one. He did not forget how fragile his patient was, how easy it might be to lose him. The doctor just couldn't read where this was all coming from. But for the intention in Todd's eyes, his features were relaxed, almost emotionless. No gritting of his teeth, not a grin at his lips…
"I know the rules," Todd said, his voice low and soft. He then whispered, "I know what I have to do."
"They're not my rules, kiddo. It's me, Tim. I'm not going to touch you, or hurt you in any way… I am your doctor. I'm here to help you."
Now directly in front of Tim, less than a foot away, Todd visibly swallowed, closed his eyes and took a breath. He slowly slipped his tee-shirt over his head, showing those abs, showing the cut of the oblique muscles… again, slowly he did it, purposefully seductive. He let the shirt fall to the floor. Now, he stood bare with his eyes cast downward, taking a bit of his lower lip in between his teeth. In this moment, Todd took on a cover of a shyer man, one preparing to be ravaged, like a virgin. Ready. Tim could just imagine the delicate shiver and the breathy gasp if he laid a hand on that tight chest.
But once more, the moment Todd set his gaze on the doctor, a whole other force came out. One distinctly not virginal. He then unbuttoned his jeans, showing brown male hair and the tip of an erect member. Healthy pale silken skin. He had planned this… no boxers, no briefs beneath the denim. He lifted a shoulder as he slipped his hand into his jeans and gripped his flesh, the head rising above a fist. His muscles showed up at that, flexing at the motion, the lamp's light just enough to show… just enough.
"I can do so many things to you… and you… can do them to me."
The sight was at once heartbreaking and terrifying. My god, Tim thought, my god. He had no words. If the doctor did not have the intelligence, the compassion, the love of broken men and women… and the ethics of Saint Theresa herself… he chuffed. He about got to his knees to thank GOD he did not sexually respond to his patient, thanking GOD, his own flesh stayed put like a well-trained seal. JESUS.
"Todd," the doctor sighed. A sound of regret that he did not intend. He cleared his throat.
Appearing not to hear Tim, Todd then offered words that were the equal to a machete in the jungle of his mental illness, words that told a very old truth, that perhaps represented the heart of his illness. He spoke in a faint, grievous voice, once more pulling his heated gaze from the doctor. He put both hands out, palms up, and said, "If you want me… I'm yours. I won't tell anybody what we do in this room."
Tim's heart broke into a million pieces. "Oh god," the doctor groaned, again so moved, his voice could not keep his emotion in check. "No, kiddo, no…"
Todd's eyes filled with tears, "You're tired of dealing with me. I can see that. So maybe I can make you want to see me more. So I'm here...anything you want. I can do it all. I know how to do it all."
You do, don't you, kiddo? How… to do it… all.
Tim stood up and smiled gently at Todd, speaking in a soft voice full of love, "I made promises to you that I would never hurt you, never abuse you, and that I would never have a relationship with you other than as your doctor. As beautiful as you are… and you are so beautiful, I will never cross that line with you. I PROMISE YOU. But, something else…"
Todd looked at Tim, his head tilting a little. He was the child again. The virginal vulnerable man…. "Wh-what?"
"I'm your friend. I care about you and your recovery. I care about how you see yourself. I care about the fact that you still hurt so much. I'm sorry if my not being here today upset you. I care about you. I am not abandoning you. I will never abandon you."
Todd looked at him for a moment and then turned, falling to his knees next to the bed, crumpling like the broken man he was. He whimpered pitifully into the bedding, grabbing it up into his fists. After a moment, he quieted, and only sniffling could be heard.
"Todd, tell me what's going on. I don't think you actually want me to have sex with you."
In a muffled voice, Todd responded, "Well maybe I do… maybe I need to know what we're all about here. Maybe I need the truth to come out. No more lies… no more. I'm not giving you anything and so you left."
"I'm not here to get anything from you. I'm here to help you so you can go on with your life. So you can be with your family again, your business, your life."
"Family? They're all gone! Don't you see that?! Viki, Téa… Blair refuses to bring Starr… Jedediah would rather me be actually dead. I'm alone… all alone…"
"They didn't leave you. Viki called to talk to you… but you didn't want to take the call. Téa left because she's respecting your privacy. She left you her number. Blair...well...Blair is Blair. What's going on, kiddo?"
Todd lifted his head from the bed and looked at Tim, "It always comes down to sex. You know Téa me left cause I wouldn't have sex with her...Marty screwed me over big time cause I wouldn't be with her more than just the fuck, you know. Cindy… she was the first one and she thought I couldn't k-kiss…" He momentarily closed his eyes, taking a quick, short breath, pictures teasing him about the first time…. first time… He shook them away.
"Téa left for reasons more than sex," Tim said. "I think you know that. Marty. I can't attest to what led up to your attack on her. Cindy. You've not mentioned her before."
"First one...first…" It teased him, pecked at him.
Tim wasn't sure what Todd was talking about. He noticed that his patient wasn't mentioning his experience with Michelle and he figured it was because that had been different. They had been violently separated as opposed to a rejection.
"What other times do you think someone left over sex or your inability to give what they wanted?"
Todd was quiet a long while. Head bedside, in his arms. He reached down and touched himself. No, he was cupping himself again. Protecting himself.
"Peter," said a soft voice. "He hated me because I… couldn't… give him what he wanted. And he let me know… for years he let me know. Wouldn't touch me… wouldn't do it anymore to me."
Tim heard that. It implied a wanting on Todd's part of the continued sexual relationship his father had forced on him. Common among victims to make it out like it was a wanted thing. A continuing theme for Todd he'd already expressed. Of course, Tim wasn't convinced he'd been left alone for much time by Peter, until Michelle.
"So I practiced. I got real good, you know...real good."
"What did you...'practice', Todd?"
"Coming… jerking off. I got good."
Tim breathed in deeply at this information spilling out, images of a child trying desperately to please his abuser. "Did you tell Peter about it?"
"I don't know," he answered softly, swallowing down tears. Todd closed his eyes and rubbed his face against the sheets. He could hear his own voice, talking to Peter, asking, begging. I know how to do it! Stop calling me that! Do you want me to show you? I can, I can. Let me. Show you.
"He...uh... didn't want me. Laughed at me, called me a faggot. He...he…"
"What did he do?"
"Peter made me feel like I HAD to learn and when I did, he fucking laughed at me! Called me those names...laughed at me…"
Immediately, his mind traveled to the first time. First time someone gets hurt. She laughed at his inexperience. Todd looked at the bedspread in his fists, shuddering, the memory of the first time perching right above him, cawing, squawking, clicking its beak at him. That disgusting, hurried orgasm dripping down onto him from the perch. His voice was strained, stuttering out his thoughts; he spoke in jerky, short spurts.
"Th-the others...didn't want me… either… so I had to… make them understand. I had to prove I was a man! Prove to them that I was in control, that they had to listen to me! They stayed then. Oh, I made them stay."
"Who, Todd, who did you have to make understand?"
"All of them! Marty, Cindy, the others… but all that time, it was always there… the dreams, the thoughts...the memories." He started to cry again. "Tim, maybe that's what I am… maybe he's right… maybe… I'm… a faggot… so I should just go with it… and maybe… you want that, too… and like the others, maybe you'll stay if… if… I let you have me." He then looked directly at Tim and with the saddest of eyes, the most broken of expressions, he said, "Don't you want me, either? Am I not good enough for you to fuck?"
"Oh God," Tim said under his breath, looking away. A bit of a collapse of his professionalism at seeing this cut-open kid. Because that's what he was looking at: an adult who got stuck emotionally at 13, 14, by being tortured when young. In the smallest part of his mind, Tim wished he could love this man to healthfulness. He wanted to grab him up into his arms and assure him over and over how beautiful he was, how fuckable, if that's what he needed. The other part wanted to hide him away from all the screwed up things in this world, hide him like a caveman would hide a prize.
As Tim gazed back down at the man on the floor with his long hair falling about him, those provocative eyes looking up at him, his bare chest and a face too handsome for his own good, it was hard to see Todd Manning, the successful publishing magnate, the multi-millionaire who pulled himself up from the grimiest of floors to bring others to their knees. He was nothing but a destroyed child begging his father to love him in the only way he knew. In a way that he'd been taught.
Just a little. Just this once. I can do what you want. Aren't I good enough for you?
And isn't that what all men wonder at one point or another, abused or not? Am I good enough?
Tim got down to Todd on the floor so he could talk to him at eye-level. "You aren't a fuck; you're a man. A good one, too. A strong one. A father. A warrior. You were abused by someone very close to you. He was very sick to do the things he did. The effects of that have been profound. But you fought to prove yourself, to move beyond what happened to you… beyond the damage you inflicted to get back at him."
Todd looked down again, trying to listen, trying to hear. It was all so hard. He wanted to grab onto his doctor and never let go. He needed him. He knew the lines though. Knew it would break rules… and yet, here he was, the dismissed child. It made no sense. A man? A warrior? Todd buried himself in the bedspread again, hiding.
"You don't understand," Todd said quietly. He balled his hand into a fist but then loosened it and slowly reached for Tim's warm hand. He pulled it to him, pressing it to his chest. Whispered, "It's okay. I was okay with what Peter did, so I'm okay with being here, with you."
"When, Todd, were you ok with what Peter did?" Tim knew there would be no answer because that reality was not in his conscious mind. That was a hidden part of his history. Todd had hidden it. As expected, the response was silence and a tightening of Todd's grip.
Tim gently pulled his hand back, ignoring the sweat that had popped up under his arms, on his neck, at feeling his patient's heartbeat, at feeling the smooth skin and delicate spray of chest hair. Thank god, thank GOD, for his ethics.
"It's not okay for me. I won't change our relationship. You are my patient. You are my friend."
"I can do this," he said quietly. "I have always been able to do this."
Tim rubbed his mouth, quiet. This was part of a much larger conversation that Todd was in no place to have yet. Too much healing left to do. "I know you can do what you say. It's really complicated. Sexuality, sexual orientation… it's complex thanks to your history."
"But I've never been able...to be...with Téa. I thought it was because I was afraid to hurt her, you know… but lately… I've not been so sure… maybe Peter was right about me. The things he called me."
"Um… well, I'm not surprised you're having these thoughts. In a sense, your break forced you to go back to where you started. Back to Todd as a seven-year old, a nine-year old, then a 14-year old. As you get better, as you talk more about the things that happened to you… you start growing-up. You are going through a sexual development now. You're thinking more about your wife, about sex with her. This brings all the confusion and power-playing right to the forefront, your original confusion, your mix-ups. It's not a surprise you direct it at… lots of people. Understand?"
He started to get weepy again and wiped at his eyes in frustration, head on the bedspread again. He was as vulnerable as Tim had ever seen him. He had to tighten his hands in fists to not touch him, to not hold him.
Tim sat back, sitting now on the floor, completely, "Todd, will you hold off on the judgments? Wait for this conversation? You were abused by a person who is the same sex. You had natural physical reactions. This is going to really confuse you. Rape isn't about sex and desire. It's about power and control. It was a violent intrusion. Your offer to me was about putting yourself in a familiar situation because you thought I left. Just like the others. All of them. It's not about being attracted to me or wanting me to be attracted to you. Do you get me? I'm not discounting anything… sure, you might have real feelings of attraction to men. But… save that learning… for when you're a bit less… wounded. Get a bit healthier… and we can have a full conversation about who you are."
"I am not very… patient." He glanced at the doctor.
Tim smiled. "Was that a joke?"
"A little," Todd whispered.
It was an echo of his old sense of humor. The doctor sighed heavily. He wondered if this was a gateway to something else. That gave him the permission to continue.
"Tell me about your… experiences with attraction. Tell me the first time you found yourself attracted to a woman. Or whoever."
"Michelle. I loved her the minute I saw her. Her pretty freckles. The way she…" Todd started to get weepy again, but he controlled it. Rubbing his nose with his hand. Sniffling. "The way she played with her hair when she was studying."
"M-hm. A nice memory. What did you feel?"
"Feel? I wanted to be near her. I wanted to play with her hair."
"What did it feel like to see her?"
He rested his head against the bed, touching the sheets. "My heart would jump when she looked at me. I got all… hot. And one day she talked to me. When she did that…. I loved how she looked at me… the way she smiled. And then the way she would… touch me." He buried his face, his voice muffled. "I always had… a… hard-on around her. God… I was so embarrassed… felt sick that… that it would happen."
"What happened then? Once the touching started?"
"She showed me it was something… nice? Said it was for making… babies… out of love. Love. I was confused. We started doing things together, secretly. I wanted to be with her all the time, I could barely sleep. Pictures of her in my head...would get me through the shit with Peter. The taunting, stupid games he would play. The beatings...the constant...shit."
"But no sexual abuse was happening… because you met her when you were thirteen."
The suggestion froze Todd. He barely breathed, eyes unmoving, unblinking. Tim looked at his watch. A full minute of disassociation. His brain was hiding things and it killed Tim. He touched Todd after the minute, a little shake and Todd sniffled and gazed a little disconnectedly.
"What happened after you started sexually engaging with Michelle?"
Todd shrugged, his voice a little softer, "It was amazing? I never knew love before… and I never did again… not like that. Not like that." Todd buried his face again in the bedspread, taking a bit of it into his mouth. Scraping the cloth with his teeth, repeatedly. Bite, scrape, let go. Bite, scrape, let go. Tim touched his head to stop him.
"It's okay, kiddo, you're doing fine. Did you find yourself attracted in that same way to any boys? Men?"
Todd looked at his doctor with open soft eyes, watery with emotion. Considering, thinking. There was something there, Tim realized. Then he shrugged, his voice dropping. "Sam."
"Your lawyer? Your coach." Not a surprise. Of course not. Sam was a strong able man with a family, someone who was kind, comforting, a strong leader. He'd have been quite the role model for someone like Todd.
"I had this compulsion to...to…" He stopped talking, staring at his doctor.
"Go ahead. Don't be afraid."
"A compulsion to… show myself to him."
Sam had not mentioned any such thing but now... "Show him what?"
"One time in the locker room. I went into his office. Everyone was gone. He was at his desk. I walked around to him. I dropped my towel."
"What happened when you dropped your towel?"
Todd's voice dropped to a whisper. "I got onto his lap. I kissed him. I don't know… I don't remember exactly."
Tim exhaled heavily. Bingo. The source of Sam Rappaport's ultimate guilt. His TRUE failure that was eating him alive. Not seeing what happened the night of the rape, or any other time before that, was not the only reason Sam Rappaport avoided Todd until he was well into his criminal entanglements. No, Sam probably never wanted to face his latent attraction to a male version of Lolita. He had been well-seduced by that naked child on his lap. A man like Sam would run like hell. It's why he never reported any of it. Christ.
"Did he abuse you, Todd? Did he react to your advances that day?"
He shrugged. "No… I don't think it got very far. Besides, I think if anyone was doing the abusing, it was me. I wanted to be his son."
"Of course you did. And you did what any son would do with his father. In Peter Manning's world, the way he taught you."
Todd closed his eyes, his whole body falling into itself. Heavy tears rolled down his face. Some minutes rolled by. Todd sniffled. Wiped his face hard. Indelicately. Still huddled against the bed.
"What was the next person you were attracted to?"
"I don't know...it's kind of a blur after that."
"Really? Why?"
Squawk! Peck...peck.
"Cindy?"
Todd visibly shuddered.
The doctor said, "A while ago, you told me and Viki that you'd raped some other women besides Marty and Carol...Swift. How old were you...the first time you raped a girl?"
All at once, the black, cawing memory about the first time flew off its perch and pounded down on him. Its black wings flapped forcefully, blinding him to everything else around him. He felt the girl biting his lip and he bit himself in response to the memory. "Oh God…," he groaned. Blood salted his mouth and he dropped his head, spitting out a few drops of bloody saliva onto his lap.
"Come on now, don't do that," Tim urged, not sure if Todd was with him or not. "Talk about it, kiddo."
Todd crawled up onto the bed and curled up, closing his eyes. He whispered, "Don't...don't...I don't wanna be with you… let go of me… that hurts… I'm sorry I laughed at you..." Those weren't his words, the doctor realized. The dialogue continued. "You have no idea what's coming to you, you little bitch." His face changed to one of pain, and he groaned. "Oh...fuck, Tim, I'm dying here...I want to get out...out...out...I gotta get out…" He rolled over onto his back, closed his eyes and his hands came up to block someone, something. He pulled his knees up a little, his whole body rocking from side to side.
Tim got close to his patient, "Todd, come on, buddy, you're all right… tell me what you see…" Todd only groaned, a low feral sound coming from him. Tim moved Todd's hair out of his face, as he lay shaking, fighting the pictures that had leapt out of nothing and had completely taken over his reality. His face was wet with tears. Too easily still he slipped into the flashbacks. "You're in the hospital, come on back."
Todd then rolled away from Tim and fell off the bed, inching his way to the corner of the room, muttering, "You're not gonna turn me down now, are ya'...you're not gonna say no now… uh-uh… not to me, bitch… not to me… I ain't no faggot… uh-uh… you're gonna do what I want… oh God… oh God… help her… stop him…" Todd crawled into the corner, begging for an end to the constant battle, "Tim...make it stop...please make it stop!"
"I'm trying, kiddo… concentrate on where you are." Tim kneeled in front of him. "Look at me, kiddo, right at me."
Todd reached out, trying to find Tim but only able to see the basement walls, only the terrified girl beneath him. Her eyes are what got to him. Those sea-green eyes she had. He could hear her crying; that terrified, rippling cry, which had eventually stopped, leaving only the sound of Todd's strained breathing, his choked grunt when he came. She had been holding her breath.
Grabbing onto the shoulders of Tim, he shuddered, keeping his head down, "Oh God...I didn't wanna do it… I didn't, but I was so mad. She laughed at me… I made her pay… just like Peter. I proved I was a man. I wasn't a faggot. She begged me… she did… God… she had to listen to me...oh… she bit me… bit my lip… to stop me… but I made her pay… I did…"
Tim didn't want to say it… but Todd just spilled another motivation behind his raping of young women who were vulnerable to him: to prove he wasn't gay. It broke Tim's heart utterly, completely. Again, whether he was gay or straight or anything in between mattered little right now. He needed to grow up first, he had go through those agonizing years in Peter Manning's household to get better first.
"Oh kiddo…" He just held Todd's head with his hand, Todd crying into his hands, restrained tears. He didn't want to cry.
"It wasn't sex...you know that. It was POWER; you had power over her because you were powerless against Peter. He was a monster in size and in conduct. So you took power and control over people you knew would be powerless against you. Women who were vulnerable to you."
"No...no… that makes me just as bad… worse 'cause I knew what it felt like. I knew… God… but I still did it… again and again. Four times… four." Todd opened his eyes to Tim, tears dripping down; hot, stinging tears. He gripped the doctor's shoulders, tightened his hold for dear life, almost painfully.
"Yeah… you had that much rage inside you. It drove you. Fear of being on the bottom again. And to let you know, Todd, you were not worse than Peter. Unlike your father, you have suffered tremendously for your errors, for your crimes. You continue to punish yourself...for those things. Repeatedly. You need to stop doing that, start learning from your past, start realizing the things you have learned. Accept who you are. Now. With all those imperfections you mentioned… what did you say at the penthouse? There is perfection within imperfection? You said that. Somewhere inside of you, you know this to be true. Understand? Huh, kiddo?"
All he could do was choke out these little sounds of held back cries, held back pain. Shaking and hot, it was too much. It hurt so much. He hurt.
"Why are you holding it back?" Tim asked. "You wanna cry? Cry. You've done it before. Why now are you holding it in?"
Why? Because this was the real thing, the real hurt. With capital letters. H-U-R-T. The killer, non-drugged, non-delusional, real genuine fucking article. And it was ugly. Huge. A bottomless pit. A God-forsaken wasteland. He couldn't let go of the cry because once he did, he didn't think he'd ever stop. He would cry until he died.
But maybe… maybe if he let himself feel the hurt, he'd forgive himself for what he'd done. For what Peter had done to make him this way. For the fucked-up rapist, sword-wielding warrior he'd turned into. Forgiveness from himself. Just himself. And he wasn't ready to forgive the ugliness inside of him.
So it stayed there, in his throat.
"Let it go, Todd. There is an end to that pain. You will get through this kind of mourning for your broken-ness. For this hurt."
Todd shook his head, whipping it back and forth, the short choking sounds continuing, the vice-like grip on Tim's shoulders intact.
"I'm here to catch you, kiddo. I'm here with a tissue and shoulder. At least what's left of it." He smiled weakly at his struggling patient. "Aww man, life is so shitty, isn't it?"
Todd didn't know what it was, what finally allowed him to let go. Perhaps it was those deep blue eyes of Doctor Graham looking at him, looking into his soul, or perhaps it was the fact that at one time, the doctor picked him up off the floor all by himself and carried him like a baby into his bed. Or perhaps it was all those times he called him, kiddo, like he really cared. Or maybe it was the fact that when Todd offered himself to him, he smiled so sincerely, eyes crinkling at the corners, and so gently turned him down. Not touching him, not letting Todd get any closer to him. Rescuing him from himself. Once again. Maybe, ultimately, it was because Tim believed in him and remembered the things he said.
Whatever it was, all at once, with a gasp, Todd finally let it out. He wailed into the chest of Tim, deep, soulful wails. Long cries of utter despair at his own losses, at those he caused, at those he didn't. Tim held him tightly, feeling hot wet tears on his shirt. Spit and wet mucous all along with it. He felt the heaving of Todd's whole body as he cried as hard as he ever had. Crying finally for the poor little boy that dreamed of flying away in that little red airplane that hung from the fan in the small bedroom. Who imagined every night of zooming into the blue in the fighter jet that sat frozen on the bookshelf. He cried as deeply and as hard as he ever had… for a boy who died in that same room.
He cried for the fact that he mutilated himself over and over again all in the name of Peter Manning. Mutilated skin, mutilated relationships, egos, dignities. Mutilated his life.
He cried for Peter Manning himself. That sick bastard who was nothing but a rotten human being, who could only exhibit power over the powerless. Who died a pathetic death in a hospital room with a son who looked over him and only felt a pittance of sorrow. Really, practically nothing.
Forgiveness.
"Yeah, kiddo. Yeah."
Hell.
Todd found himself walking on a path through Hell, the roar of the river, gentle and coursing next to him. A future at the end of its own path. He felt the spirit near him, comforting him as he stepped on the gravel road, the dirt gone. He was heading somewhere. A future maybe. Her whispers tickled his ear constantly, urging him on. Keep walking, she said, keep talking. Her flower petal hair brushed against his cheek and he smiled at the purple, yellow and pink wave. He looked down at the child whose hand he held in his. The child looked back up at him and said, "You are perfect."
Almost perfect.
A short while later, Todd lay on his side in a light sleep, interrupted with short bouts of crying every so often. Tim stayed on, sitting with him. Watching over him. He was so relieved that his patient was able to express this innermost pain, but he was also worried. For all the forwardness of the breakthrough, there was backflow: living with the sorrow.
Tim said a silent prayer that Todd would stick with the process. That he would stick with Tim's plan for him. Peace would eventually come. Problem was the doctor didn't have a lot of faith.
And that's what he really wanted: faith.
To be continued….