Eternal Sunshine of the Smithers Mind
Chapter 7
The next morning, Smithers awoke to an empty bed. He tried again in vain to read the time off his phone, his vision still blurry from not wearing glasses. He pressed the servants' call button. "Hello? What time is it?"
"It's 12:46 p.m., sir," said a man, the same one as before, he thought. "Is there anything you want?"
"Yes, three eggs, sunny side up, and a plate of hash browns."
"And to drink?"
"A glass of orange juice."
"Right away, sir." Smithers liked the ring of that – he could get used to people calling him "sir," and he quickly was getting used to it.
His breakfast arrived shortly after noon, and Nurse Jason helped him drink his juice, though he mostly had success in eating his eggs and potatoes. Just as he finished eating, his phone started the Facetime ring. When he picked up the phone, he saw it was Burns calling him. "Oh, it's Monty!" He accepted the call and held the phone up to his face. "Hi, Monty. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine. I finished my lunch, and I thought I would check up on you."
"I just finished my breakfast."
"At this hour?" he chided teasingly. "What did you have?"
"Three fried eggs and hash browns."
"If you keep eating like this, you'll eat me out of house and home," he said, humming a giggle.
"I thought you'd be happy to have me eat you out at home."
Burns cocked an eyebrow in confusion, and then his face went white, except his cheeks, which turned an ever rosier pink. "Smithers!" He quickly rubbed the back of his neck, rapidly repeating the motion. "You'll have to learn not to joke like that if you want to return to work. Th-that kind of talk isn't acceptable in the workplace."
"But I'm not at the workplace now, am I?" He picked up a stray strand of fried potato off his plate and held it between his face and the camera, then licked it seductively. "Are you sure you don't want to come home early? I'm still hungry," he said, popping the piece of potato into his mouth and making a show of moaning in savor.
"Quit it now, before the phone sexting police come to carry you away!"
Smithers laughed at the paranoid notion. "Monty, there aren't any 'phone sexting' police. I remember that much."
"You really shouldn't – you don't want to be putting ideas in people's heads."
"Relax, I wouldn't talk like that with anyone but you."
"Waylon, you're missing the –"
"Your cheeks are as red as tomatoes," he said bemusedly. "Aw, honey, I won't embarrass you anymore."
"Then don't call me 'honey'!"
"Okay, Monty B. Get it, like 'honeybee' but with your name?" He chuckled, but slowly stopped as he saw Burns was not so amused. "Okay, then."
"Yes, well, I'll see you when I get home in a few hours. Take care, and don't forget to rest up! I need you back on your feet as soon as you're able."
"I will. Thanks for calling me. You're my sunshine on a rainy day."
"Yes, well, you too." He ended the call. "Those pain meds must be getting to his head."
Burns left his office at five o'clock for his home, and when he opened the door, he saw Smithers sitting in his wheelchair at the entrance, facing him with a plate holding a pair of chocolate cupcakes, each decorated with the classic atomic symbol in blue frosting, a bit wiggly and inelegantly applied, on top of the chocolate frosting. "I frosted them myself after my physical therapy."
"You did well, considering you couldn't even wipe yourself two days ago." Burns raised his eyebrow. "You, ah, did clean your hands before decorating these, didn't you?"
"Yes, Monty, of course!" he said playfully.
"Good, good, then," he said, taking a cupcake and sitting at a nearby chair.
"I had the servants get a glass of milk ready for you. It's on the coffee table there," he said, pointing to it and wheeling himself closer.
Burns took a bite, then sipped his milk. "It's good," he said. "So, this is how you occupied your time without me?"
"Yes, along with the physical therapy. I also called my mother again. She worries about me, but I keep telling her not to worry, because you take such good care of me."
"Yes, well, she loves you. It's her prerogative to worry about you."
"Did you miss me?"
Burns sighed, then looked wearily to Smithers. "Yes, I missed you."
"I missed you, too."
"I'm so tired. You wouldn't believe what morons I have working under me," he said, putting his feet up on an ottoman and kicking off his shoes, revealing his royal purple socks as he flexed his toes. Smithers wheeled himself even closer and began to rub one of Burns' feet with his good hand. "Mmm..."
"You know, I'd have an easier time rubbing your feet if I didn't have to lean over to get to them. If you put your feet on my lap, it'd be a lot easier."
"Hm? Oh, yes." He turned to face Smithers, and he put his feet on Smithers' lap. Smithers resumed rubbing his foot, and Burns closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Oh, yes, that's wonderful." After a few minutes, he shifted his feet, directing Smithers to give attention to his other one. "You have a marvelous touch."
"You do, too," he said, smiling in reminiscence of Burns' fingers running across his hair in the bath.
They dined side by side again at the long table of the dining hall that evening, Burns helping Smithers cut his steak into pieces and lift his glass. When they had finished their dinner and their conversation had wound down, Smithers said, "I guess we should get ready for my bath, now."
"We? What do you think I hired that nurse for?"
"He can help me get out of my clothes and into the bath, but I thought you would still help me wash my hair."
"And why would you think that?"
"Because I don't think anyone could do it as gently as you did."
"Very well. I'll help you bathe."
Smithers called Nurse Jason, and they went to the bathroom, Nurse Jason helping Smithers disrobe as Burns drew the bath, then Jason helped him inside the tub. Smithers dismissed Jason, then felt himself melt as he looked tenderly into Burns' eyes, and when Burns started rubbing the bar of soap around his back and shoulder, he melted even more. As Burns rubbed the soap under his arms and across his chest, his gaze lingered on Smithers' chest and sometimes strayed lower, and Smithers said, "Enjoying the sights?"
Burns sheepishly said, "You are easy on the eyes," as he submerged Smithers' chest and arms, then rubbed the soap off. "Now, close your eyes," he said, as he squirted some shampoo in the palm of his hand, then gingerly worked it through the short hair down the middle of Smithers' head. He cupped water in his hands, then poured it over the top of Smithers' head a few times, then, running his fingers down Smithers' head as the shampoo washed out of his hair, his spindly fingers reaching past his hair and tickling the nape of Smithers' neck.
"This must be the best feeling in the world."
"I can think of something better," said Burns, running his fingers through Smithers' hair a final time.
"That reminds me..." said Smithers, biting the tip of his tongue for a second as he considered the phrasing of his question. "With us, who... who was top, and who was bottom?"
"Well, of course I've always been on top."
"Sounds good to me."
"Yes, you were always quite happy to be below me, and I quite happy to have you underneath me. You do an excellent job."
"I think I'm ready to... resume my job duties."
"Oh, nonsense! With your hands like that? Give it another week."
"Okay, Monty."
Burns rubbed the towel around Smithers' hair, and they summoned Nurse Jason to help him out of the bath and into his wheelchair and robe. Jason said, "Did you have a nice bath, sir?"
"Oh, yes. Very nice," he said, looking over at Burns.
"Good to hear."
Nurse Jason brought him to his bed and helped him on top of it. He reached for the covers to pull over him, but Burns stopped him. "I'll do that," said Burns, taking the blanket into his hands and pulling it over Smithers' chest. Jason gave Smithers his medications and helped him sip water to swallow them. "You are dismissed," said Burns to the nurse, and he left them alone.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous of him."
"That's preposterous. What have I to be jealous of?"
"Well, he does spend time with me up close."
"Please, you make it sound like something sordid."
"It's nothing like that, but you seem awfully keen to keep us apart whenever possible."
"You have an active imagination."
"I think it's you who has an active imagination, to think even a little bit there's anything not... chaste between us."
"Yes, I suppose that is all in my head."
Smithers took Burns' hand in his and waited until they locked eyes to say, "Goodnight, Monty."
Burns stared into his eyes, curling his fingers around the back of Smithers' hand and dragging back, then repeating the motion a few more times as he said, "Goodnight, Waylon," then let his hand slip away as he headed for the door.
"No kiss goodnight?"
Burns rolled his eyes and said under his breath, "It's not fair of you to play head games with me like that." He retired to his bed and snuggled Bobo in his right arm while his left arm stretched out to the empty side of the bed, his fingers digging into satin sheets, wanting someone to hold. He thrashed around under the covers and flipped himself onto his other side, but he couldn't find comfort this way, either. What was Smithers' game, anyway? What was his objective, making dirty suggestions over the phone, then teasing him in the bath, then telling him there was nothing unchaste about any of it? Did he just get off on making him sweat? No, Smithers wouldn't toy with me like that. Not the Smithers I know.
But he's not the Smithers you know. Except he did behave very much like he expected Smithers to, most of the time. He can't be completely himself, though. He doesn't even remember who I am. He flipped himself onto his back and dug the fingers of both of his hands into the blankets, an image of Smithers in the bath surfacing as he closed his eyes again. Why do I find him so suddenly compelling? Ever since the week before his accident... When we were lounging by the fire...
Smithers sipped from his glass of brandy in a red armchair beside Burns."Is this how you thought your life would turn out?"
"What are you prattling on about, Smithers?" It unnerved Burns that Smithers had changed the subject so abruptly from lighthearted chatter about their Saturday of leisure.
"I mean, when you were five years old, you must've had some idea of what you wanted to do when you grew up. Something tells me it wasn't to run a nuclear power plant."
"I always knew I would run a business, maintain and expand the family wealth."
"Is that what you really wanted, though? I know you're happy being in charge now, but when you were five, what did you dream about then?"
Burns swirled his brandy and chuckled as he stared into the vortex. "You would laugh if I told you."
"No, I wouldn't." He set his brandy down on the end table beside him and stretched his arm over the armrest so his hand hung near Burns', stopping short of taking his hand. "Monty, you know me better than that."
"Well..." Burns set his brandy down on the same table besides Smithers' glass. "My fondest wish has always been for one person to truly love me."
Smithers' lips wobbled a bit, as though he were struggling to say something. "I wish and dream and pray for the same thing every single night. Sometimes, that hope is all that keeps me going."
"What makes you think you know so much about my longing?"
"N-nothing, sir. I wish you knew more about my longing, though."
"You may be single, but your parents loved you. I never had even that. My parents shed no tears when I left them, and when I came back to visit, I overheard them say they preferred me gone before they knew I was there. Loving parents indeed. The women I've fallen for have been indifferent at best, even when we were betrothed. Nobody ever gave a damn about me, only my money. And yet, without it, I couldn't even exact retribution."
"Oh, Monty..." Smithers reached over his chair to hug Burns, who began to cry. "They don't deserve you."
Burns gratefully welcomed Smithers into his frail arms as he tried to regain his composure but still began blubbering as he collapsed into Smithers' arms. "Who cares what they deserve? I'm the one who's left alone. I just... want..."
Smithers held him tighter, some tears dripping out of his eyes as he shut them and onto Burns' cheek, his heart rended by Burns' anguish. After some minutes hunched over in this awkward position, Smithers said, "Do you want to lie down?" At Burns' nod, Smithers stood and scooped him up and carried him to a nearby burgundy settee, then knelt at his side, stroking his forehead down to his sideburns and behind his ears. "You know, I'll always be here for you."
"Oh, shut up," he said, turning his head away and burying his face into the cushions. He mumbled, "Stop fishing for a raise."
"No, sir, that's not what I'm after, at all." He gently turned Burns by his nearest shoulder to face him. "Monty, I care more about you than you'll ever know, and all those other people who've spurned you – to hell with them! You're not missing anything. As far as I'm concerned, you've been dodging bullets."
"Do you believe there's someone out there for me?"
He absentmindedly stroked Burns' shoulder. "I believe that with all my heart. If I didn't, I don't know how I'd get out of bed every morning." When Smithers' fingers grazed his neck just above his collarbone, Burns let out a short giggle. Smithers brushed his fingers against the same spot again, eliciting the same giggle. "You have the most infectious laughter, sir," said Smithers, who couldn't help but smile when he heard Burns' laugh.
Burns pursed his lips. "Don't tell me you're going to –"
Smithers answered by tickling behind both of his ears, then moving down his neck to his chest and belly, taking immense satisfaction from the unabashed joy of the giggling Monty Burns who lay writhing in pleasure before him, playfully pleading for him to stop only to look at him expectantly when he did.
"Oh! Waylon... You're killing me..." Smithers stopped tickling him, allowing him a moment to catch his breath. Burns stared into his eyes and smiled. "Waylon..." He leaned forward and kissed his lips, a playful peck lasting just a second but feeling as natural and nonchalant as a kiss shared between an old married couple. "I believe... I believe..."
Smithers stroked his cheek, his eyelids lowered as he gazed into Burns' eyes, his cheeks burning a bright red. "Yes?"
"I believe... I've had too much wine. Smithers, help me to bed."
"Oh. Yes, sir."
Burns snapped his eyes open from his reminiscence. "Good heavens! Smithers, I believe..." He stood, set Bobo gently against his pillow, then left his room and opened Smithers' door a crack to peer into the darkened room at the sleeping Smithers. "I believe I'm in love with you."
When the hell did this happen? Sure, there have been times I've noticed him and had a passing unchaste thought, but I haven't felt this kind of heat from someone since I was a handsome young man myself. Then why did he tell me it's all in my head? Is he trying to make me crazy? Well, two can play at that game.
He tip-toed inside, leaving the door open a crack, casting a sliver of yellow light over Smithers' cheek and across his blanketed leg. Burns sneaked to the other side of the bed and slipped under the covers.
Smithers fluttered his eyes open, and just as he said, "Monty...?" Burns hooked his arm around Smithers' and kissed his cheek.
"Goodnight, Waylon," he whispered in his ear. Smithers smiled, and Burns whispered into his ear, "Are you still hungry?"
"Am I what?" He processed the question, then said, "I could go for a BLT."
"What about a Monty?"
Smithers furrowed his brow, then grinned. "I'm hungry for you any time of day or night."
"Good, then," he said, reaching his hand down Smithers' robe to feel his chest. "Tell me exactly what you want, again," he said, surreptitiously reaching around Smithers' back with his other hand.
"I want you, Monty," he said, breathing heavily.
"You want two Monte Cristos, sir?" said a woman on the other end of the call button Burns was holding by Smithers' jaw.
"What?" said Smithers, and Burns burst into laughter.
"Sir?" said the woman on the line.
Smithers pressed the button and said, "Never mind," then released the button and set it back on the nightstand. "What is going on?"
"Strictly a platonic prank, my dear friend."
"Ugh. You got me."
Burns cuddled up against him, his right arm looped around Smithers' left arm while Burns' left arm held firm around Smithers' waist, and they soon fell asleep.
