Chapter Two – Peaceful Dreams?
Steve pushed the button on his watch and scowled at the time the light displayed. It was now 3am, just fifteen minutes past the last look. He was lying on the couch, having given Jesse the only bedroom. Sleep had not yet claimed him and at this rate he doubted if it would. After a fairly relaxed dinner they had settled down with a beer and that was when things had become awkward. Jesse, looking pensive, had jumped at every sound. Steve had over-reacted by investigating each noise. In the end they had parted ways, Jesse to the bedroom, Steve to the couch. It was too difficult to be together. Steve allowed his mind to wander back to the discussion that had brought them here. They had all been at the beach house eating, or in Steve's case tolerating his father's latest food creation. The meal complete the four friends had settled on the deck, for what in the past had been a peaceful time. It was not to be the case at this gathering.
"I want to go back to the cabin," Jesse voiced quietly.
Steve had been shocked and had felt a touch of anger. "Why on earth would you want to do that?" A gentle squeeze on his arm had swung his attention to his father.
"Take it easy, Son."
"Take it easy? You heard what he just said," Steve responded as he jerked a thumb towards Jesse.
"Steve, that's enough!" Mark ordered as he pointedly looked towards Jesse.
When Steve looked back at his friend he was reminded of a turtle retreating into its shell. Though small in stature Steve never thought of him that way, his personality seemed to make up for the lack of size, but the figure at the table seemed absolutely tiny, that of a small child. The face was pale, eyes brimming with unshed tears that threatened to spill over at any moment to glide down cheeks that were gaunt. His anger cooled instantly. "Jesse, I'm sorry, I just don't understand, please tell me why."
It seemed to be an eternity before Jesse responded. "Because if I don't, I will never get over it."
"But you are over it; you are back at work...."
"Am I over it?" Jesse had snapped, his eyes now glittering with something other than tears. He had paused and taken a deep breath. "Steve, I don't remember a lot of what happened, I do however, remember threatening you with a baseball bat and taking a shot at Mark."
"Jess, Son, those things weren't your fault, we know that and besides I've wanted to hit Steve with a baseball bat a time or two," Mark offered with a smile.
Jesse responded with a genuine but haunted smile. "I know, Mark, you have all told me that a hundred times and I know you don't hold it against me, but you see I hold it against me. You can forgive me, but I can't forgive myself."
Amanda, who had been silent up to that point had joined the conversation. "Jesse, Honey, we will help you in any way we can, and if it means going back to that cabin then that is what we will do."
Jesse had turned his sad eyes towards her and offered a grateful smile. "Thank you, Amanda, and I appreciate the offer, but I would like for Steve to be the one to take me."
"Me? Why me? I'm not a doctor, I'm a cop!"
The response had been voiced so quietly that Steve had barely heard it. "Because, you are my best friend." His anger had been deflated in that moment, the discussion had continued but not in Jesse's presence. After he had left Mark, Steve and Amanda's conversation had at times been heated, but in the end Steve was going to the cabin with Jesse.
A noise from the bedroom brought him back to the present and he cocked his head slightly. It had been muffled at first, as he had listened more closely he identified the sound. Jesse was having a nightmare. He jumped off the couch and ran to the bedroom, pushed open the door and stopped dead in his tracks. Jesse lay writhing on the bed, the covers thrown asunder. In the pale moonlight from the window he could see the sweat staining his brow and the eyes closed tight in agony. A whimper and a low voiced comment spurred him to action.
"Please, don't hurt me anymore." Jesse had whispered.
Steve felt his stomach tighten and he moved and sat on the bed. The movement of the bed dipping seemed to propel Jesse into action. He immediately began flailing his arms and legs around. Steve, caught by surprise, failed to avoid the fist that caught him square in the left eye, he was equally unprepared for the foot that caught in the stomach or the next one that caught him on the right side of the head and sent him reeling off the bed and onto his knees. Though stunned, the sounds of agony coming from his friend penetrated the fog and he pulled himself up and spoke gently. "Jesse, Buddy, it's just a dream." Talk about an understatement. He thought to himself. It's the mother of all nightmares. He risked placing his hands on the young man's shoulders and winced at the bones he felt protruding through his shirt. Why didn't you notice? You surf with the guy. His inner voice asked. Because you didn't want to see.The voice responded back. "Jesse, please wake up for me." The struggling slowed then ceased and slowly the eyes opened.
"Steve? What's wrong?" A clearly confused Jesse had asked.
"Nothing, you just had a bad dream."
Jesse reached a hand up to wipe his brow. "It's hot in here," he said as he pushed himself up and rested his back against the headboard and turned on the light. It was then that he caught sight of the trickle of blood on the right side of Steve's face.
"Steve, what happened to your head?"
Steve had reached his fingers up and been surprised to feel the sticky wetness. "I guess I need to work on my reflexes, I didn't quite dodge your foot."
Jesse's expression was horrified. "I kicked you! I did that?"
"Yep, and that," Steve said as he pointed towards his already swelling left eye, "it should be real pretty by tomorrow morning."
"Steve, oh, God, I am so sorry…, he broke off as a sob tore through his body. He pulled his knees up tightly to his chest and laid his head on the arms he had folded across them.
Steve watched in pure panic as the slender shoulders began to shake as Jesse was consumed by tears. Steve had no idea what to do. He himself was emotionally subdued, you didn't show them in public, oh anger was ok, it was a manly emotion, but tears and sadness? Those were to be kept private, not to be shared with anyone. He hesitantly reached a hand and grasped a boney shoulder.
"Jess, hey man, it's alright, no harm done, you know how hard headed I am."
The crying had only intensified; it was as if every bad thing that had happened to the young doctor was now being expelled through these tears. Sighing deeply Steve had moved up on the bed until he rested against the headboard right beside Jesse. He then reached an arm around the heaving shoulders and pulled him tightly in to his side. Much to his surprise Jesse had turned and immediately buried his head into his shoulder, one hand had latched on to the soft fabric of his t-shirt in a death grip. That was how they had spent the rest of the night. At some point and time, Steve didn't know when, the tears had stopped and Jesse had snubbed like a baby before releasing a sigh and snuggling deeper into Steve's side, dropped off to sleep.
