The Attack was over in Seconds

Tim and Sebastian are a young couple with their own occasional problems. But nothing as bad as this...

The attack was over in seconds.

Tim peered through his ratty dread, fallen over his eyes like a rat tail. He looked blurry-eyed at the wet LA boulevard. Rain streaked his face as he took in the long, dark road ahead. The blacktop glistened in the traffic signals’ light. The only yellow light shimmered from the rare passing headlights. Few and far between, puke puddles lined the sidewalks. His tears were indecipherable amidst rain drops.

“There you are.” Sebastian’s sneakers screeched as he turned to sit on the bus bench next to him. “Are you okay?” A look of concern overtook his face, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Tim said, slouching, wiping his nose while he was taken in gently for a hug. Sebastian’s arms were firm and strong around him�"comforting.

“You just felt upset?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Tim didn’t want to talk. It happened all the time. There was no need to explain. The all-too-familiar panic happened any moment, uncalled-for, and unprovoked. For some reason, usually in front of several people so that he had to cry like a baby and embarrass himself all the more in situations less than ideal. He didn’t know what could trigger it other than being chemically imbalanced. Maybe those hard liquor and beer binges weren’t helping anything.

“Poor babe,” Sebastian said, rubbing his shoulder. He hugged him tight again and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I love you. I’m glad you called me.”

Tim nodded, wiping the newly pouring tears from his cheeks. “I love you too,” he choked out.

A bus pulled up to the stop they were at. Sebastian stood and offered his hand. Tim took his hand and they walked onto the bus. Sebastian dropped change into the machine and they took a seat.

Buses were always crowded at 9 at night on a Saturday. Not surprising with the club scene going on just down the street. But when he needed some peace and quiet, Tim always hated to be surrounded by party-goers right when he felt he needed a drink most. And who could blame him? He didn’t ask for this malfunctioning body.

He sniffled to himself as he breathed deeply, trying to forget the feelings of yester-minute. A few rambunctious early-20-year-olds openly splashed around a brown-bagged pint of some miscellaneous liquor in the back of the bus. Obviously, the bus driver didn’t want to “give them s**t” but they were soon to be kicked off with the way they were behaving, loudly and vulgarly, much to the bus patrons’ dismay. Tim considered just saying ‘f**k it’ and asking them for a swig, knowing Sebastian would give him a disgusted look, but he was too shy and not in the mood for such an adventure, or a possible fight.

Tim was broke, and always money-less. Yet, he couldn’t get out of the mindset of asking and needing and wanting. He felt a little guilty for it, but mostly he just felt addicted.

Then, just as he was getting over the overwhelming urge to either ask for a swig or snatch their bottle up from them, a crazy erratic-looking man boarded the bus at the next stop. He was mumbling incoherently to himself and sat diagonally behind Tim. He couldn’t make out much of what he was saying besides that it was psychobabble and seemed to be an argument in the man’s own head. He felt a little intimidated because he’d seen schizophrenic people having delusions and also threaten others in public, and threats in crowded public places are equally if not moreso threatening than empty places where he’s one-on-one with the culprit. Some couple of drunk people behind Tim started to instigate a fight with the man out of pure idiocy.

This young cholo-dressed guy who looked superficial with snake bites in his lip and his hair pomade up like he idolized 50’s greasers and the Latin Hip Hop channel was saying to him, “Get some f*****g meds, you psycho.”

Tim felt almost like it was a personal attack on him, under the circumstances. Sebastian knew his discomfort�"he knew him so well�"so he squeezed his hand to say, ‘I know.’

The new boardee mumbled some nonsense ending with, “. . .f****n’ idiot punks” so, in turn, the young kid said, “Shut the f**k up!”

His girlfriend next to him laughed.

“You wanna f****n’ say that to my face?” the man said, fidgeting in his seat, but not looking in his direction more than a quick glance.

“I’ll f*****g spit it to your face, you old f**k!” The dumb kid was getting all intense, standing up in a threatening manner, with his muscles tensed, hands in fists.

The man waved him off with a grand sweep.  “Ahh!” he said, in a gesture that says he’s too old to mess with young‘uns and proceeded mumbling, quieter this time.

“That’s what I thought,” the kid said, and sat down with his girlfriend, as she giggled.

She said, “Oh my god…” with her hands covering her mouth, smiling.

“Eww!” A loud booming voice came from the back of the bus, as several people laughed loudly and applauded, saying “Oh, f**k!” amused. One drunk guy was sick and had created a new waterfall of puke for someone else to clean up and was trying to cover it up with a liquor store shopping bag, partially playing with the toe of his shoe in his own puke. He leaned over and spit into it.

“Oh, that’s gross…” the dumb kid’s girlfriend said.

Tim endured all of this and felt a little sick to his stomach. Soon enough, their stop arrived, and they exited the bus relieved. The crisp, cold, rainy air greeted them with wholesome arms.

They climbed the flight of stairs to their apartment and shut the door behind them with a boom, keys jingling. Tim plopped onto the couch, exhausted, the back of his hand on his forehead, damsel-in-distress style.

“Do you want some orange soda?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes please,” he replied. His throat was dry.

With bubbles popping on his nose, he sipped his glass of soda, propped up on one elbow. Sebastian sat under his legs and relaxed, turning on the TV with the remote. They picked a comedy movie on cable and watched until they fell asleep.

Tim and Sebastian got up the next morning groggy and ready for food.

“Do you want eggs?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes,” Tim replied, eagerly.

“Scrambled or over-easy?”

“Over-easy,” he said.

As Sebastian pulled out the milk carton and eggs and started preparing breakfast, Tim sat at their small convenient table, nestled in the little mini dining room, in a corner directly next to the open kitchen.

“I got a phone call last night while you were sleeping,” he said.

“Oh yeah? From who?” Tim looked through a book he picked up from the bookshelf next to him.

“It was my mother. I guess my grandpa died in his sleep yesterday. I didn’t know him well�"you know that. But I was fond of him, of course.”

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Tim was genuinely concerned, looking up at his love.

“Yeah! Don’t worry. I’m not that bummed, since I didn’t know him well. I’m sure if I did I would be more affected. I wish I’d gotten to know him…” his thoughts trailed off. He turned on a burner.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. My family isn’t close either, so I barely know people before they up and move somewhere across the country or whatever. I’m not even sure who’s lived and who’s died.”

“Yeah… Well, I wasn’t expecting I’d have any of that inheritance stuff,” Sebastian said. “He left me a lot of money. Something about it just seems off�"like it’s a mistake or something…”

“What!? Holy s**t! How much?”

“I don’t know yet, I’m going to receive it in installments. Like, intermittent deposits.”

“That’s so cool, babe! I’m happy for you!” Tim said. He sprung up and gave him a hug. “I don’t even know what to say! That’s so good for you!”

“Yeah… I don’t know what to say either…” Tim couldn’t admit it, but suddenly all his worries dissipated. He felt like crying. He felt like celebrating right away. Why weren’t they going out for breakfast? Why weren’t they getting plastered!?

He kept this to himself though. He didn’t want to ruin any perception Sebastian had that he was not a selfish indulgent glutton, hopefully proven in the past 2 years. They hadn’t been together way too long, but the trust they had for each other was unbreakable. It was as if they knew each other too well. Tim’s self-destructive behavior and sometimes spontaneous decisions to “f**k up” or get fucked up would never get past Sebastian’s watchful, guardian surveillance. Tim’s dependence on him was but a small hindrance on the true value of their relationship to one another. Sebastian needed to take care of someone, and who better than the only guy he’s truly loved thus far?

“You know what? Screw this. Let’s go out to eat!” Sebastian threw a plastic bowl in the sink and the spoon clattered in celebration.

“YES!” Tim hopped up with adrenaline.

In their shared ‘90 Civic, they decided where to get breakfast.

“I’m in the mood for grubby bar food!” Tim said, hopeful as ever.

“Are you sure? Not like a little café or something we haven’t had in a long time?"

“We haven’t had bar food in so long! Come on�"it’s a celebration day!” Tim was always down for a celebration day.

“O-kayyy,” Sebastian mock rolled his eyes and laughed.

They chose an American bar that served Mexican food. They white-washed their tacos, but they were sure as hell grubby. They were loaded with sour cream, special ranch sauce, drizzled like a culinary masterpiece, and paired with B*****d Ale, the strongest on the menu. Tim got to have as much as he wanted. He was a bloated glutton after only one taco.

“Damn, you can’t eat anymore, babe?”

“I’m just digesting for a minute. I’ll be ready to go in no time,” Tim said, holding his round stomach.

Over dinner they discussed money.

“I never thought of what I would need if I actually realistically could get it. Or achieve something new. It just never appealed to me as an option at all,” Tim said.

“I want to travel,” Sebastian said. “I’ve seen a lot of places in the western United States but not anything actually fascinating. Just some standard go-tos you have to see if you live on the West Coast.”

“Yeah, me too. I never thought of traveling but if it were possible, it’s definitely worth it to find the cheapest way to and from a place and get to see more of the rock we’re living on.”

“Exactly,” Sebastian said. “One of my co-workers talks about traveling like it’s totally possible and I’m like, “How are you gonna make it to Asia on minimum wage working as a salesperson? You can’t.’ He just laughs and seems to act like he has a few tricks up his sleeve.”

“Or turns a few tricks,” Tim said, while picking at his plate. Sebastian laughed.

“I want to put this money away and save for something amazing. We can indulge now and then like we always do, but I’m not quitting my job and building a cabin in the woods.”

Tim laughed. “I know.”

After getting their check, they got up and left a hefty tip on the table. Tim buckled into the passenger seat and as the engine started up, he uttered those expected words. “Can we go to the grocery store?”

“For what? We just got finished eating!” Sebastian laughed.

“I just want to pick up a thing.”

Sebastian pretended to be finding a song on his MP3 player. He sighed, not looking up. “I gueeess…”

Tim looked out the window, and then smiled slightly. “It’s not like I think you’re going to buy me everything now. I’ll be good.” He squeezed his hands together with his legs and smiled at Sebastian.

Before Sebastian put the car into gear, he touched his hand. “Believe me,” he said. “I love you too much to disappoint you anymore.”

When they arrived back home, Tim put his newly acquired 30 pack of beer next to the fridge and loaded 4 inside. One�"he took out and popped off the lid and wandered over to the couch. He pressed the power button on his Playstation and simultaneously clicked on the TV with the remote. Sebastian stood around and ruffled through envelopes on the ledge at the entrance. In 4 gulps, most of Tim’s first drink was gone. “Do you want one?” he asked his boyfriend.

“No,” he said nicely. “I think I have time for a shower before work.” He checked his phone. “Yup. I’ll be back.” He walked quickly to the bedroom.

Tim played a collection of Namco games for 5 minutes. One after the other, he was bored of each game and found them too difficult. The strategy and memorization skills that old classic games required was too much for him when his brain was in a fog. When he was finally able to indulge.

‘Finally. Alas. This beer I’ve been craving.’

He knew that drinking upset Sebastian unless it was normal adult situation like parties or even just a local show by one of their favorite bands. But if Tim drank at home alone, he knew he was being indulgent again and destructive. Tim knew it. There’s this thing called the cerebellum�"which is the primitive slop of matter at the base of your brain that didn’t evolve with your higher, more rational brain�"that makes addictive decisions for you and it’s hard to realize it’s irrational unless you’re very very strong-willed. And unless you get lucky. Unless you have a breakthrough amidst all that brain fog and catch on before it’s too late.

Tim has had pancreatitis before, but every time he panics about his health, it has always proven to be an inflamed pancreas here or an inflamed intestine there. Diarrhea from too much unhealthy food. It was always repairable and treatable or at least went away in time and allowed him to drink more and he was happy to have his bottle. Like a baby sucks on its binky.

When Sebastian exited the bathroom he was panicked and rushed. “S**t, s**t!” he said, running into the bedroom. Soon, he wobbled on one foot, putting a shoe on the other. “I need you to drive me to work,” he said frantically.

Tim lept up. “Okay! Why, what happened?”

“I f*****g forgot to fill out this paperwork for my boss and I need it in right away. He’s gonna be pissed.”

“Okay, I’ll grab the keys.”

In no time, they were out the door and flying down the stairs. During the drive, Sebastian paid no mind to the road ahead, as he scribbled with shaking fingers on a stack of several papers with no hard surface. Tim kind of disregarded his rush by playing music too loud, but Sebastian was used to it and he could tune it out.

In a hurry, as Sebastian’s work was 20 minutes away, Tim sped around corners with no mind to the law. He drove erratically, but Sebastian was too nervous to notice or care.

Having driven for 7 years, Tim felt he had it down pat. He had driven drunk before. He never got into trouble, except when he jumped a curb and hit a fence when he was 19. Then his car was totaled.

“I think I can finish this if I just write nonstop. I hope,” Sebastian said.

Not a minute later. A flash. A bang. People running. Flashers blinking.

A paralyzed dream.

Tim couldn’t move, and he was peering as if through a peephole. This must be what people suffering from migraines feel. They can’t see well, so everything around them is blackness, like in a video game, where you only have a narrow perception to try and find your way through the room.

Tim floated. He felt like the spirit from inside of him was detaching from his body and navigating the little light he could see, passing what he could make out to be doorways and cabinets, with little color to them, like he was interpreting their color in a room absent of light. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew what he was looking for. He needed to find the switch. To flip the switch and find his way out! He felt the essence of his soul trying to penetrate a door.

“Whoa… where am I?”

His heavy eyelids opened. Beeping and wheels rolling over cracks in the hospital building filled Tim’s sensory perception. He lifted his arm to look at the pulse monitor attached to his index finger. “F**k…” he said.

His face morphed into a wince as he realized what he must have done, slowly. Something was all his fault and fear filled his entire body as he realized people could be dead due to him. What he always feared worst�"that drinking would lead to death�"and not even his own.

He could see clean white pristine walls atop a mopped linoleum floor. He was in a room all his own on clean white sheets. His veins were magically apparent, looking fake, and his skin looked paler than he remembered it under the fluorescent hospital light.

He caught Sebastian’s eyes. A look of teary cheerfulness was on his face. Tim couldn’t smile.

“Oh my god. I’m so glad you’re awake,” he said. “They’re gonna be so thrilled to see you.”

Tim sighed. He tried to lift a hand to his face to wipe. It was the overwhelmed wipe he did when he was confused or nervous, but it was as if he had heavy weights on all his limbs.

“Who?”

People were talking outside the room but Tim couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was like he was too tired to even try.

“It’s okay. You’re tired and weak,” Sebastian said, realizing he tried to lift his arm, observing its tremble. “You don’t have to move if you don’t feel like it.”

“What happened?” Tim repeated his question. He realized his words weren’t coming out as he intended them. He sounded like he’d taken ‘ludes. His mouth felt lazy, like he couldn’t move the muscles to pronounce the A’s, to make the shape of an ‘O.’ But his brain didn’t feel like that. In his head he just wanted to talk normally and sit up and go outside!

“Well, you suffered some brain damage. Don’t worry! It’s not going to last.”

Tim looked down, his eyelids drooping, not making eye contact any longer. He was so tired.

“It’s not your fault,” Sebastian added. He knew what Tim must be thinking. His poor boyfriend always felt shame when something went wrong. In his mind, sometimes things had gone horribly wrong, but nothing was nearly as bad as he ever interpreted it. Nothing was ever as bad as this.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to drive. I shouldn’t have been late on my paperwork…”

It all came flooding back to him. He could picture the lurch he felt in the car. The fear that washed over him like a flood crashing through the windshield. His heart monitor beeped faster and he tried to breathe slower, closing his eyes. ‘Can’t afford heart problems now,’ he thought.

He hadn’t been careful when driving because he’d forgotten all about caution.

“You can’t imagine how happy I am that you’re awake. I’m so goddamn happy.”

Sebastian laid forward, his arms across Tim’s legs and torso. Tim reached his hand down to him. He clasped his hand and said, “It’s okay.”

Several days passed in which Tim learned more about what his condition entailed. Brain damage to the frontal lobe is inflicted in a car accident because the brain can physically hit the uneven parts of the inner skull. On top of whip lash and two weeks of healing, Tim suffered a traumatic brain injury to the neuronal axons that control communication within brain regions. The body shuts down in order to heal its vital injured parts to insure regular bodily functions can continue.

Sebastian printed out many articles at work and brought them to the hospital to show Tim so that he could learn about what happened to him. Nurses happily greeted him daily, happy to see this poor young man had some form of love. Someone in life remaining to be with him in this time of need.

“I came to see you every day,” Sebastian said. “I never once thought you wouldn’t make it.”

Tim suffered from amnesia. The events leading directly up to the accident were forgotten. The car ride came back, but the events prior were so diminished in the accident that it was like nothing ever happened.

As physical therapists worked with him hard to get him back on his feet quickly, Sebastian made payments on his hospital bill secretly.

“Don’t worry,” Sebastian said. “I’ll take care of it somehow.”

He never knew.