Two

            Spending a week at your best friend's house is pretty great, until they betray you.  That's when you end up in a psych ward, uncertain of your future and your dreams. Before I ended up here, I had a full ride scholarship to a culinary school in Nashville.  Now, I don’t know if they’ll accept me since I’ll be missing school so close to graduation and the court proceedings on.  I’ve never done anything wrong. 

           

Here at Somerset Resort, ‘a place for healing and health’, they encourage writing and art as a means for therapy.  The first day I was here I spent the day in solitary confinement�"out of choice. I didn’t feel like being sociable.  I stayed in the same room and the same spot for three days straight, reminding me of when I was five and left at the park. 

        

    “You need to eat,” Linda says; she’s one of the nurses here.

        

    I put away the notebook and looked at the tray she brought me.  There’s really no privacy here.  The doctors and nurses come and go unannounced. 

        

    “I’ll pass,” I mumble.

        

    “You really do need to eat.”

        

    “I don’t want to/”

        

    “You sure?”

        

    “Positive.”

        

    I went back to my sketchbook, and she left.  That’s the way it’s been around here lately. My therapist, Dr. Lee, reminds me every day that there are people with the same issues as me�"that I could learn from them.  Honestly I don’t really feel like changing my scenery.  These white walls and tile floors and bright lights are fine for me.  Besides, the last thing I want to do is talk about my problems with complete strangers.  I’m surprised I ever told Matthew, actually.  Sure, this has been my secret for seventeen years, but it came out so easily.  Even so, I’m not necessarily ready to tell the world, if you know what I mean.  I should have seen this, or something like it, coming.  Matthew always said he was worried about me.

        

    My parents are going to hate me even more, after this.  I’m scared of what they’ll say.  Tomorrow is my first family therapy�"you have on every week with your therapist and your parents.  I’m not excited; in fact, I’m terrified.  I know my dad won’t even look at me, and my mother will have that disgusted look on her face that she gets whenever I end up upsetting my dad.  I just don’t think I can take it. 

        

    Next week, the doctors are forcing me into group therapy.  You get a week, at most, to adjust; then it’s on to group therapy and one on one sessions and the like.  Again, I’m not excited.  The door opens.  I look up, and see my therapist, Dr. Lee.

        

    “Hello, Rick.”

        

    I give a half smile.

        

    “You know, you’re hurting yourself by staying in here; and you’re hurting other people too.”

        

    “Gee, thanks,” I say, closing my notebook and sitting on the floor.

        

    “I don’t mean to be a downer, but people want you to get better.  Especially Matthew and his family.”

       

     Guilt trip all over again.  I close my eyes and sigh.

        

    “I don’t see the point in talking to other people about my problems.”

        

    “You told Matthew.”

        

    “But I don’t know why.  Besides, he wasn’t a complete stranger.”

        

    “I think I want to talk about that today,” Dr. Lee said, crossing her legs and getting comfortable in the chair.  “Why did you start crying while you were talking to Matthew.”

         

   “Well who wouldn’t?”

        

    “Rick…please try to answer the question and not avoid it.”

        

    “Okay.  Honestly, I don’t know.  It seemed like I was doing a lot of crying lately.”

        

    “It was quiet for a while.”

        

    “Was it easy to tell Matthew?”

        

    “It just kind of all came out�"the words, the tears, everything.”

        

    “Rick, let me ask you something.  Do you trust Matthew?”

        

    “Yeah, always.”

        

    “Even though he’s the main person who helped you get here?”

        

    I had to think about that.  There’s nothing like having your best friend’s mom sit you down after dinner and tell you to pack a bag because the next morning you’re going to be taken to an inpatient facility.  Of course, Mrs. Reese assured me it would be for the best, and that it would be good for me.  I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe her when she said that.  I’m still not sure if I believe her, honestly.

        

    “I still trust him,” I said firmly.

        

    Matthew was too good to me to wish me any real harm.  Besides, we’d been through a lot together�"rather, I’d been through a lot and he was always there to distract me. 

         

   “Honestly, I did feel betrayed at first,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. “But I guess it makes sense why he did it.  I’ve already forgiven him, anyway.  He wouldn’t wish me any real harm.”

        

    Dr. Lee smiled encouragingly.

        

    “That’s great, Rick.  You have the ability to keep things rational, and that will help with your healing.  I think you can make great progress if you want to.  Actually, I know you can.”

        

    “Thanks…” I said, half smiling.

        

    “But, you have to want it, Rick.  You have to want to get better.”

        

    “What’s wrong with me, anyway?”  I blurted out.  “Why am I here?”

        

    “I think you should be able to answer that question, Rick.” Dr. Lee said quietly.

        

    I sighed. 

        

    “Tomorrow you have family therapy.  Are you ready for that?”

        

    “Absolutely not.”

        

    “What do you want to talk about, tomorrow?”

        

    “Do I have to talk?”

        

    “It would be more beneficial to you and your parents if you did.”

        

    I sighed and thought it over for a few moments.  Talking to my parents has never really been a part of my life.  It’s always been talking at them, them talking at me�"or worse, all the screaming and yelling and hitting.

        

    “I guess we can talk about why I’m here…”

        

    “That’s a good place to start.”  She stood up.  “I want you to work on eating, Rick.  The nurses tell me you haven’t had anything since you got here.  I don’t want to have to hospitalize you.”

        

    “Okay,” I mumble, half-coherently.

        

    “All right.  See you tomorrow, Rick.”

        

    I nodded, and she left.  Retreating, to my bed, I lay down and blew out a sigh.  It was tiny and uncomfortable, but it was better than the floor.  Who knew what went on here?

~///~

            I woke up with a headache today, although it’s probably just my nerves.  I couldn’t eat if I wanted to.  I can’t stand the idea of sitting in the same room with my parents for an hour, trying to talk through my problems.  It’s going to be a disaster.  I know it.  I walked down the hallway to use the restroom, but ended up just throwing up instead.  I’ve never been so nervous in my life.

            “Rick?”

            Dr. Lee probably sent Zachary, the male nurse, to look for me.  Who knew what time it was.  I leaned against the back wall and wiped the sweat off my brow.

            “Rick, your parents are waiting.”

            “I can’t go in there.”

            “I can’t promise it won’t be bad, but I can promise that Dr. Lee will be with you every step of the way.”

            “I still can’t go in there.”

            “You really don’t have a choice, Rick.”

            I banged my head against the wall twice, and Zachary quickly pulled my hands around my back and said sternly,

            “Let’s go.”

            We walked down the hall like that---me with my hands behind my back and him with his stern demeanor.  Zachary was big and tough, more like a bodyguard for this place in case any fights broke out.  I wouldn’t know about that, though.  When we got to the room, I took a seat in the chair farthest from anyone else. 

            “Hello, Rick.”

            “Hi,” I mumble.

            The tension in this room is so high, my breath catches in my throat.  I can’t even think clearly right now.

            “Now that we’re all here, let’s get started,” Dr. Lee said professionally.  “Mr. Luttrell, what 

brought you to kick your son out of your house?”

            “The twerp is a f****t!  I can’t believe I ever called him my son.”

            I feel tears pooling in my eyes, and the shame covered my face like a blanket.

            “Please refrain from insults and degrading terms, if you please, Mr. Luttrell.  We try to be as constructive as possible here.  Now, what makes you think your son is gay?”

            “An e-mail I found on his computer.  He sent it to his friend, saying how much the kid meant to him and all that.  At the end, he wrote ‘I love you’.  How lovey-dovey is that?  Totally unnecessary.  I don’t want either of those boys in my house ever again!”

            Tears were streaming down my face, but I didn’t make a sound.  I can’t believe I’m reacting this way to my dad insulting me.  Usually I can keep a straight face, but ever since I told Matthew what had happened to me my whole life, I can’t seem to keep myself together.  I mean, I cried all the time before, just when no one could see me.  Now it seems like I cry in front of everyone.

            “Mrs. Luttrell, what do you have to say?”

            “He can’t be gay.  How could he do something like this to us?  Soon he’ll be a child molester and a perverted freak!  I didn’t raise that kind of son.  He’s been a disappointment to us his whole life, especially the way he gets his father’s nerves up and everything.”

            “Has it ever occurred to either of you that perhaps Rick was just expressing himself?  That maybe he was just telling Matthew how much he meant to him and how much he appreciated his friendship?”

            “They wouldn’t have made it so mushy though.  Boys don’t talk like that.”

            My father nodded in agreement.

            “It is possible to express a friendly love between two people.  I want you two to think about that as I ask Rick a few questions.”

            Suddenly I was terrified.  I wanted to throw up again.  This couldn’t really be happening could it?

            “Rick, what were your intentions in sending Matthew that e-mail?” 

            “I just wanted to tell him I appreciated him.”

            I was surprised by my coherence, though I did mumble most of my words.  I felt small and insignificant, and I knew my dad could squash me like a bug any time he wanted.

            “What about Matthew’s reply?  How did that make you feel?”

            “Well…special I guess.  Loved.”

            “See?  They say they love each other. They’re gay!”

            “Let’s not make assumptions, Mr. Luttrell.  Rick, were you intending to have a romantic 

approach when you sent that e-mail.?”

            “I…I don’t know.  I just wanted to say how much he meant to me.”        

            “That’s perfectly fine.”

            My dad huffed out a sigh and muttered something under his breath.

            “Rick, I want you to know that here at Somerset Resort, we accept all types of people, no 

matter what.  I also want you to know that it’s perfectly okay to not have all the answers.”

            I nodded, feeling my face flush beet red.  I could hug Dr. Lee for saying that.

            “Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell, I want you two to know that the way you’ve treated your son has left him feeling very ashamed.  Throughout the next week, I want you to focus on trying to come up with a plan for how you’ll deal with this situation.”

            They nodded, but only slightly.  I knew my parents wouldn’t take what she said to heart.  They were too stubborn to ever listen to anyone.  I could still feel the tension in the room�"it made my skin feel tight and stretched.  My parent’s pointed and disgusted gazes made me feel like crawling into a hole.

            “Well, I think that’s enough for today.  Thank you, Mr., and Mrs. Luttrell, for your time.”

            We all stood up to leave.  Dr. Lee held open the door for us, then ushered my parents out. 

As I walked back to my room, black bats started to haunt my vision.  The last thing I remembered was Matthew’s face, looking so troubled and worried.  I hated myself more than ever.