Omorphi (11 page)

Christy nodded.

“Well, if you’re going to hang with me, don’t get used to it. I don’t think I’ll ever have this kind of money,” Michael all but guaranteed.

Christy held his gaze for a long moment. A long,
long
moment. He scribbled
You don’t care about money
?

“Well, yeah, I want to be able to pay my bills and live reasonably, but do I want to be rich? No. I see what it does to people. Jake hates it.”

Christy’s brows shot up.

“Seriously. He hates the public functions, the fund-raisers, the standing on ceremony. He doesn’t like the club kids at school and absolutely detests the girls who are out to get a degree in Mrs. so they can marry a rich guy.”

Christy set the pad and pen down ever so slowly and, in an imitation of Darien, suddenly jumped into Michael’s arms. He enveloped Michael in arms and legs holding Michael hostage. Michael sighed into his thick mane and wrapped his arms around him. “Today was a big day for us.”

Christy nodded against his neck and squeezed tighter.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

Christy squeezed tighter yet, almost to a point that it was uncomfortable. He was a lot stronger than Michael would have guessed. Recalling Darien’s need for reassurance, he sought to reassure Christy. “I promise.”

Christy’s clutches eased, and Michael set him on his feet.

“Seven?”

Christy nodded.

“See you then.” Michael brushed the tip of Christy’s nose with a fingertip. “Stay out of trouble.”

Christy gave him a sly smile.

Michael laughed before leaning in and kissing him chastely once, twice, and then thoroughly. Christy’s hands brought Michael’s hips to him, and they met from knees to waist or, in Christy’s case, from thighs to belly. Michael’s body blossomed, and Christy’s responded in kind. The kiss deepened and, when Christy’s hand worked its way down into the front of Michael’s jeans, Michael could hardly contain himself. He drew back with a groan and gently withdrew Christy’s hand before something more than a little embarrassing happened. “Man, Christy.”

Christy looked away.

Michael guided his face back with gentle fingertips, and their eyes met, both of them remembering the intimate moments of the afternoon. “Today was nice,” Michael said softly.

Christy studied him intently and nodded.

“You are an incredible kisser.”

Christy’s eyes filled with uncertainty again.

Michael stroked a gentle hand down Christy’s soft mane and hugged him carefully. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Christy’s smile reappeared, and if Michael had to guess, he looked smug.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams.” Christy drew XXX in the air with a finger. Michael chuckled. “Ditto. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

M
ICHAEL
entered the quiet ranch house and strode down the hall wondering what it would be like to live in a place like this. Though fancy, it was still a facility. A
group
home
. An
institution
. When he reached the great room, he looked for Rob and didn’t see him. He headed for the front door and looked to lock it on the way out.

“I’ll lock it.”

Michael turned to find Rob leaning casually against the rim of the fireplace.

Rob seemed to size Michael up before speaking again. “I took the liberty of pulling some materials together for you.” Rob approached and handed Michael a manila envelope. “Christy’s history is complex. You may have difficult moments, and I would like you two to have a fighting chance. I thought the information might be helpful.”

Michael was immediately irritated. He wasn’t sure whether it was because Rob divulged information about Christy or because he cast doubt on their burgeoning relationship. “Okay. You’re a doctor?”

“Psychiatrist.”

“I know you have to be an MD before you can be a psychiatrist, and you don’t look old enough.”

Rob smiled. “Smart man. I finished high school at sixteen, undergrad before twenty, and did med school, my residency, and specialty by thirty-two. All of it at the speed of light.”

“Because you were abused?” The voice in Michael’s head shouted a rude
Hey!

Rob paused perceptibly at the question. “No. I come from a healthy, if a bit boring, family, and I wanted to help.”

Michael nodded. “How was Christy…?” he let his words trail off. He knew Rob couldn’t answer the question.

“The literature speaks for itself.”

“My dad told me some of your residents are his patients.”

“Your father is an excellent physician, and we’ve known each other since I began my residency.”

Michael tried another question. “Is Christy okay? I mean….”

“Is he violent? Insane? Do the voices only speak to him? Absolutely not. Christy is brilliant, artistic, and has three very important things going for him. He doesn’t want to wallow in the victim mentality, he’s extremely resilient, and of course, he wants to be loved for who he is.”

“Is there anything that I can do to help him?”

Rob’s smile returned. “The fact that you ask tells me that you genuinely care for him.”

As odd as it seemed after only knowing Christy for a whopping forty-eight hours, he did care about him. “Yeah, I do.”

“He needs consistency, security, boundaries, patience, and, of course, to be cared for. If he’s mistreated….”

“I get it. Can you….” Michael’s question tangled in his mind. “Christy seems really afraid, as if someone hit him a lot.”

Rob remained silent.

“He doesn’t like to be touched, but he… he isn’t afraid to touch me. What’s up with that?”

“Many abused people don’t like to be touched but crave love and affection, and they seek to have control as they struggle to reorganize and process what’s happened to them.”

“Should I just, I don’t know, follow his rules?”

Rob smiled again. “Follow them to the extent that you’re comfortable. Read the literature. My card is in the envelope if you have questions.”

“Okay. I made the mistake of trying to look at one of the covered paintings in the loft.”

“How did he react?”

“He got angry and stopped me with a pretty strong grip on my wrist.”

“He physically restrained you?”

“Restrained is kind of harsh but, yeah, he stopped me.”

“Interesting. Was he angry when you left?”

Michael shook his head. “He did some sort of breathing exercise to calm down.”

“Excellent.”

“Can I ask what’s in those paintings?”

“We use something called Trauma-Focused Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It requires that you write or draw about your experiences and feelings, and Christy is an exceptional artist. The depictions of what he endured are quite graphic. If he shares them with you, please try not to overreact.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“You’re welcome. Call if you have questions.”

“Can I talk to my dad about this?”

“Certainly. I would encourage you to.”

M
ICHAEL
left the ranch, drove half a mile down the road, and pulled over. He turned the car off, the overhead light on, and reached for the envelope. Flipping through the literature, he read:

N
ATIONAL
S
AMPLE
OF
A
DOLESCENTS
. T
WEENS
AND
T
EENS
IN
SAME
-
SEX
RELATIONSHIPS
: 1
IN
4
REPORT
ABUSE
IN
DATING
…. A
GES
11
TO
14
REPORT
ABUSE
IN
DATING
.
Eleven-year-olds dated? Holy crap.

He flipped to the next pamphlet. W
HEN
Y
OUR
P
ARTNER
W
AS
A
BUSED—
F
IVE
M
USTS
: S
UPPORTIVE
E
NVIRONMENT
, N
URTURING
, S
TABILITY
, B
OUNDARIES
,
AND
M
ONITORING
H
EALTHCARE
.
Definitely on point.
He set that on the passenger seat in a “read” pile.

T
RAUMA
, V
IOLENCE
& A
BUSE
,
A
G
UIDE
.
Sounds like a guide on how to do it.
He set that one in a “read later” pile.

O
BSESSIVE
-C
OMPULSIVE
R
ELATED
D
ISORDERS
. Michael rolled his eyes to himself.
I shower at least three times a day when I practice. Does that make me OCD?
He set that one in the “read later” pile.

L
ONG
-T
ERM
C
ONSEQUENCES
OF
C
HILD
A
BUSE
.
Interesting
. The “read” pile.

D
ECISION
M
AKING
, I
MPULSE
C
ONTROL
,
AND
L
OSS
OF
W
ILLPOWER
.
Sounds like it might be good.
He set it in the “read” pile.

A
RCHIVE
OF
C
OURTSHIP
D
ISORDERS
.
Courtship disorders? What the hell? File that sucker away for now.

S
EXUAL
A
ROUSAL
, M
OOD
,
AND
S
ENSATION
S
EEKING
.
Sometimes I have great showers. Does that mean I need therapy?
He threw that one in the “read later” pile.

D
ESPERATE
C
ONSEQUENCES
: P
ROMISCUITY
, C
OMPULSIVE
S
EXUAL
B
EHAVIOR
,
AND
A
PPROVAL
AND
A
FFECTION
S
EEKING
IN
S
EXUALLY
A
BUSED
C
HILDREN
. An alarm clanged loudly in Michael’s head as realization set in, and horror slammed into his mind. Christy
was
sexually abused.
Fuck.
His throat constricted, and he swallowed hard. He leafed through the pages and stopped at D
RAWING
N
EW
L
INES
IN
THE
S
AND
. He read on. Boundaries destroyed… relearn through monitoring, guidance, and approval….
No wonder Christy had no problem kissing right after we met.
He flipped through a few more pages and stopped at T
EEN
D
ATING
AFTER
S
EXUAL
A
BUSE
. He read on… sexual or romantic encounters as reaffirmation… refusal of sexual contact perceived as rejection….
That’s what happened in the locker room.

He flipped to another section. S
EARCHING
FOR
L
OVE
AND
THE
R
ECONSTRUCTION
OF
H
UMAN
W
ORTH
. Michael skimmed the section. Healthy romantic love is a unique experience… encourages bonding, intimacy, and an opportunity to play and explore with that special person. With or without sex, it encourages growth as each relationship forces new insights and self-knowledge. Healthy intimacy is… learning new self-worth, lessening the need for superficial, sexualized attention… discover themselves in new and unexpected ways…. Self-redefinition allows a clearer understanding of healthy partnerships… recovery of self-esteem…. Hope and honesty slowly replace despair and superficiality… allow for deepening maturity and a sense of choice they may never have known.
Choices he may never have known
. The simple sentence echoed loudly in Michael’s mind.
Good touch/bad touch.
He never knew. He never knew he could say no.
Michael couldn’t imagine it. It was inconceivable. It was monstrous. It was vile. It was unspeakable. This literature was going on the top of the “read” pile.

He sifted back through the articles and organized them by reading preference. He’d start reading tonight if he wasn’t too tired after his homework. He looked at the time. Nine thirty. Strike that. He’d start reading tomorrow.

He turned the overhead light off and started the car. As he shifted into gear, he began to wonder if he was in over his head. His choices were simple. A, walk away or B, care for Christy and handle everything that came with him.

He sure as hell wasn’t going to walk away.

M
ICHAEL
closed the front door quietly and found his dad asleep on the living room couch. He only waited for Michael in the living room when he wanted to talk. He could hear it now
. Do you know what you’re getting into? Are you sure you want to be in a relationship with someone who’s been mistreated? How are you going to handle it when you’re outed at school?
He might as well get it over with. He shook his dad’s shoulder gently, and he stirred awake.

“Hi, son,” Mac said as he sat up. “Christy get home okay?”

“It’s all good.”

“Did you meet Rob?”

Michael dropped into a wingback chair and set Rob’s envelope on the coffee table. “Yeah. He said you’ve known each other for a long time.”

“We have, and he’s one of the best pediatric psychiatrists in the country.”

“He gave me some stuff to read.”

“Good.”

“You’re not going to give me a lecture?”

“Would it do any good?”

Michael met his dad’s even gaze. “No.” He shook his head slowly. “The idea of abuse, any kind of abuse, is just sick.”