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Them nightmares of his, are gettin' worse. He almost belted me the other night, when I woke him up from one of them. He won't tell me nothin' about 'em, either. Just says he don't wanna talk about it and tries to go back to sleep. He never does though. I know, 'cause I don't either.^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I gotta tell 'im somethin'. He's gettin' like a dog with a bone. I know he ain't gonna let up. I gotta tell 'im somethin', or he's gonna start thinkin' its somethin' he done. That ain't fair. It ain't got nothin' t'do with 'im.
I had these fuckin' dreams a long time now. It ain't that I'm ashamed o' what I done. Ya git hungry enough and you'll do damn near anything t'eat. 'Specially when yer a kid and ain't got nobody lookin' out fer ya. Ya gotta do things y'ain't proud of or ya'll die.
It ain't that I'm ashamed - - not exactly.
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First time, he had one of them dreams, I didn't think much of it. Fact is, the first few times, I didn't pay 'em no nevermind. Hell, I've had more'n a few bad dreams myself. But, the thing is, these dreams ain't just bad dreams. They eat at him. Them eyes of his, are so full of hurt, I can hardly stand to look in 'em.
That's when he needs me, but he won't let me help 'im. He turns over where I can't see him. I can see 'im tremblin', but if I touch him, he freezes up. I ain't gonna force 'im t'tell me. Don't even know if I could.
I ain't a patient man, but this is one time, I gotta be. When ya live like he's lived, ya do lots of things, y'ain't proud of. I reckon whatever's causin' them dreams is one of the things he ain't proud of. I gotta let him come to it in his own time. Reckon, he'll get there sooner or later. I just hope he don't beat the shit outta me, before he does.
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No use puttin' it off no more. I gotta face 'im. Still don't know what I'm gonna tell 'im. Whadda ya say ,when ya almost punched yer best friend's lights out, 'cause he woke ya up? Whadda ya tell somebody, who's seen ya shakin' like a newborn colt, 'cause ya had a dream?
Why the hell am I havin' these dreams again, now? I ain't had one of 'em in better'n a year, not 'til we started fuckin' each other. I thought I got past all that. Maybe it was them workin' girls comin' here, that set 'em off. Maybe, I got too close t'bein' happy. I don't know. I don't know much of anything anymore. Except Chris. I know I want 'im.
I gotta go back in now. It don't take that fuckin' long t'take a piss.
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He's comin' back in. Jesus he looks, like he's goin' t'the hangman. FUCK!! Is that why he won't tell me what's goin' on in his head? Is it Eli Joe? 'Cause I killed 'im? DAMN!! I thought, he was past that.
Past that? How the fuck is he gonna get past, me killin' his only chance of clearin' his name?
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I shuck my clothes and drop down on the bed, like I'm goin' to that hangin' they got planned fer me. I feel so fuckin' tired. But, I know I ain't gonna sleep. I can't never sleep after one o' them dreams.
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Fuck that bein' patient shit. If he's holdin' Eli Joe against me, I gotta know it now. I wait for him to settle on his side of the bed and then I ask 'im plain, "Me killin' Eli Joe, what you're dreamin' about?"
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Eli Joe?
Where the fuck did that come from? We made our peace about that when he killed the son of a btich. Jesus, I knew he'd think it was his fuckin' fault. Aw hell. I reckon I gotta tell 'im. If he can't live with it, fuck 'im.
That's just the thing that's tearin' me up. If he can't live with it, then I ain't never gonna fuck 'im again.
"No. It ain't got nothin' t'do with Eli Joe," I say and our eyes meet and I can see he knows I'm gonna tell 'im now.
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When he says it ain't about Eli Joe, I can see he means it. I can see that whatever it is, he's gonna tell me about it too. I can see a lot more than that too. I can see that it hurts him. Not just whatever it is, but tellin' me about it. But, he's gonna, 'cause he ain't lettin' me bear a burden that ain't mine. And, I can see he's afraid, of what tellin' me's gonna cost him. He's afraid it might cost him me.
Hell, don't he know, that I don't give a shit about anything he did, before he came here? Reckon some of the things I did, before I came here, might make him think twice about bein' with me.
That ain't true. 'Cause I know surer than I'm sittin' here, that there ain't a damn thing I ever did, that would shake 'im off.
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I know where he keeps his bottle, so I go and get it out. I gotta set 'im straight, but I sure the hell ain't gotta do it sober. I sit back on the bed and take a drink and then offer it to 'im. He takes a drink and hands it back. I take another drink and start t'give it back, but he shakes 'is head. I knew he would.
That's the best thing about 'im. I can let down my guard a little, sometimes. It wears on a man never being safe. Always havin' t'sleep with one eye open. Since I started spendin' my nights in his bed, I been able t'sleep easier. 'Cause I know, if I do, he'll watch my back. Just like he's gonna do t'night.
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Whatever it is, he needs the whiskey to loosen his tongue. He hands me the bottle and I take a drink. Reckon the whiskey might make it a little easier to hear too. I don't take another drink though, when he hands it back again.
Most nights, I know he's ready to bolt up at the slightest sound, no matter how tired he is. But there's a few nights, that he really sleeps. And those nights, he knows I'll watch his back. Hell, he's watched mine enough. Tonight ain't no different. He needs to get a little drunk and I need to let 'im.
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A few more drinks and I hear myself talkin'. I ain't lookin' at 'im though. I can't stand the thought o' the things I might see in 'is eyes after he knows. Reckon, I'll have t'git a lot more drunk, 'fore I'll look 'im in the eye.
"I was 10 years old when I started workin' in a stable. Fella who owned it, needed a hand, so he made a deal with th'head of th'orphanage. He'd feed me and gimme a place t'sleep and clothes and I'd work it off. Worked out real fine fer ever'body. I didn't mind it. There was enough times, livin' with all o' them kids, none of us got enough t'eat, so that gettin' fed regular, and plenty of it, seemed like a fair trade fer a day's work. "
"I stayed there, 'til 'e died. I was about 13 or 14 and the man who took over, had his own kids t'do what I'd been doin'. He let me sleep in the stable, but he couldn't harldy feed 'is own kids, let alone some kid he didn't even know. I couldn't go back to th'orphange neither, 'cause they said I was too old."
I gotta take another drink, b'fore I can tell 'im the part I hate.
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I let 'im talk and I let 'im stop for another drink, without sayin' anything. I know there's somethin' real ugly comin'. I ain't real sure what it is, but he ain't a man who holds back his words, and he needs the booze to say this.
He ain't lookin' at me neither. Whatever it is, it's bound to be ugly. I can see he needs a little help tellin' it, so I say, real quiet, "Go on."
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'Go on.'
Those two little words get me talkin' again.
"I found another job."
Another job, that's a real simple way o' sayin' it. I take another swig outta his bottle. I can't help it. I can see myself back then and I hate it. I wish I could drown in that whiskey.
I can't though, so I start talkin' instead.
"I got me a job workin' in a saloon. Sweepin' up and stockin' and such."
And such. Yer a fuckin' coward Tanner, tell 'im what and such really was.
"I tried findin' some other kind o' work, but there weren't a hell of a lot o' people wantin' t'hire a boy, fer what they could pay a full grown man t'do."
I look at 'im then, 'cause it might be the last time I see 'im, he ain't lookin' at me, like I'm dirt. He puts a hand on my cheek and I close my eyes and lean inta it. God, I don't want 'im t'hate me.
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'And such.'
They ain't big words, but they're big enough t'hold a world of hurt. So much hurt, that he's gotta take another drink just to say 'em.
I can hear what he ain't sayin', when he tells me he tried to find some other kind of work. He's ashamed of whatever it was he did find.
I don't give a shit what he did. He looks at me then and I can't stand it no more. He's scared to death, I'm gonna hate him for it. I ain't, but he's gotta tell it, or he'll never know how much it doesn't matter.
I can't stand the way he's hurtin' though, so I put my hand on his cheek. His eyes close and I can feel him rubbin' against my hand. I hate the way he's feelin'.
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One more drink and I'm gonna tell 'im. I swear. I just need one more drink. My hand's shakin' when I lower the bottle. I can't stand the thought o' what I'm gonna see, so I don't look.
I can hear myself talkin', but it's like it ain't me. It's somebody else sayin' the words. I'm someplace else. I used t'go there, back then. Never thought, I'd go t'that place again.
"He wouldn't just gimme part o' the job. Said there was other boys out there, would do th'whole job and I could take it or leave it. He didn't care neither way. I took it. Like he said there were other boys out there and I needed t'eat."
"It wasn't all the time, neither. Just when somebody'd come in, wantin' somethin' differen't. There's men out there'll pay fer a boy, just like a woman. It wasn't all the time, maybe once or twice a week. But, when one o' them men come in, that was part o' the job."
His hand's on my arm. Squeezin' it. He's lettin' me know with his eyes, that he knows. That, I ain't gotta tell 'im the rest. I do though, I can't help it. It's all gotta come out and both of us be damned.
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I can see his hand shakin', but then this calm comes over him. He's sittin' there starin', at somethin' I can't see, and his voice ain't got no feelin' in it at all, when he starts talkin'.
It all falls in place, when he tells me he had to take the whole job. I know what he's gettin' at. And, then he tells me there's men'll pay for a boy and I know why he's scared of tellin' me.
I look him right in the eye and squeeze his arm. I let him know he ain't gotta tell me. And, he looks me back in the eye and lets me know he does.
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"There was a back room and every once in a while, he'd come over and tell me t'go in there and wait. After a while, a man'd come in and I'd do whatever he wanted."
"I'd suck 'em or I'd lay over this table he had back there just fer that reason and let 'em fuck me. I didn't like bein' mounted, so I'd always ask 'em if they wanted a blow job. Most of 'em did."
"I'd kneel on that floor and suck 'em and they'd use my hair t'get deeper in my mouth. I hated the feel of their hands - -"
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I knew what he was gonna say. I been around enough t'know what goes on in back rooms of saloons. It's still hard as hell to listen to him layin' it all out though. But, I gotta, 'cause he's got a need to tell it.
At least I know now, why he hates me touchin' his head when he's suckin' on me. I'm surprised he doesn't hate me touchin' him. I can't stand listenin' to that damn flat voice of his anymore and I surprise us both by coverin' his lips with my hand.
"You didn't have no choice," I tell him, so's he'll know, I ain't holdin' it against him. He surprises the hell outta me then.
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I feel his fingers cover my lips real gentle and then I hear him say, I didn't have no choice. He's got no right t'take that from me. No fuckin' right at all.
"Fuck you!" I snarl at 'im and jerk my head back away from his hand. I know it ain't fair, but I'm tired o' bein' fuckin' fair. I'm so mad, I'm shakin'. I need another damn drink.
The drink calms me a little, and I look at 'im. I know he don't understand, why I went off, but he's ain't askin'. He's waitin' fer me t'make it clear. He knows I will, soon as I can get it straight fer the tellin'. I offer him the bottle, and this time he takes it.
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That was the wrong damn thing to say. Pissed him off good. I ain't got no idea why, but he'll tell me, in his own time. He has another drink and it seems like its calming him some.
This time, when he hands me the bottle, I take it. I take a drink and hand it back though, 'cause I still gotta watch his back tonight. I gotta feelin', he's gonna be real drunk, before this night's over.
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Another couple o' drinks and I'm feelin' pretty stupid fer gettin' riled at 'im. He don't know it matters. I do though, and I gotta make him understand. I reach over and put my hand on his cheek this time, and I can see it s'prises 'im. I smile at 'im, as best I can, bein' half drunk.
I gotta make him see. It's mine. I held onta it all o' them years, when I didn't have nothin' and th'whole time I was runnin'. I went hungry, and I went without a place t'call mine, more times than I like t'think about. And, I done a lot o' things I ain't proud of. But, all that time, I made the choice on what I could live with, and what I couldn't. If he takes that away, then I got nothin'.
"It was my choice," I tell 'im. And it was. "I never had much o' anything that was mine. Nothin' but the chosin'. Nobody made me do it. The man run that saloon, never forced me t'do nothin'. And, none o' them fellers did neither. I got paid what I was s'posed to and he never let nobody hurt me. He was real good about that. Warned 'em about that ahead o' time. And, when I wanted t'go, he didn't try t'keep me there."
I'm drunk enough and torn up inside enough, that it comes out desperate, "Don't take it away from me."
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Jesus! I hear the hurt in his voice, when he pleads - - that's the only word for it - - with me, not to take it from him. It ain't fuckin' right. He's holdin' on to choosin' those things, 'cause it's the only fuckin' thing he had. Jesus, how the hell did he keep from turnin' into a sorry son of a bitch?
And then it hits me. He made the choice. He's right, it was his choosin' all along. I might not like all o' the things he did, but he had the choice of it and he was the one who decided. I got no right to take that from him.
So, I give it back, and I let 'im know how much it doesn't matter. I put my hand on his cheek again and I whisper real soft, "Choose me."
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'Choose me.'
I see it in his eyes. He knows it all and he don't care. He ain't lyin' t'neither one of us, about any of it. And, he's givin' me the choice. And, I'm makin' it.
I put my hand out and we grip each other's arms. And then I give 'im 'is bottle back and lay down in his arms and let 'im watch my back.
THE END