Texas Rain

The Texas rain was relentless; a lightning storm as I had never seen began. My ears hurt from the seemingly ceaseless thunder. My view of the driveway was obscured. I strained to see whether the black Trans-Am was still there as I had strained to see through those surrounding that bed.

-- -- --

Lightning and thunder had increased as did the rain. I stared at Richard Morgan as he took a step closer. I could feel Tyler’s penis continue to stiffen. The machines surrounding the head of the bed began beeping more loudly.

Richard shouted, “What are you doing to him? Leave him alone.”

I leaned my face closer to Tyler; I wanted to protect him from the shouting and anger. He seemed to stir. Was it my imagination? “Tyler?”

Several men and women came into the room. Dressed in scrubs, two of them pulled me away; the others crowded around Tyler’s bed. I couldn’t see what what happening.

“Get him out of here.” It was Richard again.

I was being dragged from the room. I heard Elliot’s voice; I wanted to get away from him, but I was held in place. A searing pain began in my ass cheek and seemed to spread. I tried to look toward Tyler, and the world when white.

-- -- --

I woke up in my bed in the gray room. At first, I wondered whether everything had been a dream. But I was restrained. I could feel the strap across my chest; although I couldn’t see it. A gray blanket covered me. I knew then that I had seen Tyler. I heard someone walk into the room about ten minutes after I woke up. I lifted my head, but the curtain surrounding my bed blurred my view.

“Who’s there,” I called out.

A hand reached out and pulled open the veil surrounding my bed. It was Scott Morgan, Tyler’s brother.

“Darwin, I just got back. I didn’t realize that they hadn’t let you see Tyler. Sometimes my father makes me so angry. I’m sorry; do you need help sitting up? What can I do?” He bent forward as though he were going to help me reposition myself.

“Well, first of all, it’s good to see you. Second of all, you can get these fucking restraints off me.”

“What?” His tone told me he was genuinely surprised that I had been tied to the bed. “What the hell?”

“Let’s see. First, no one would let me know anything about Tyler. They tried to act as though they had never even heard of him.”

Scott released my arms and chest and helped me sit up.

“And it wasn’t until last night,” I continued. “Was it last night? I think I was drugged then tied to the stinking bed.”

Scott’s mouth fell slightly open, but he just shook his head. “What the fuck is going on here?” He untied my legs and help me stand. “I want you to come with me.”

Elliot came into the room. “He needs to stay in bed.”

“He’s coming with me.”

“Your not his doctor,” snapped Elliot while grabbing my left arm.

“Maybe not, but his doctor is on my father’s payroll, and actually, so are you. I’ve had enough of this.” Scott pushed Elliot away. Turning to me, he said, “Let’s go see Tyler.”

Elliot came around to block our path. “Tyler’s a vegetable. Everyone knows that. Now you do, too.”

“No. He’s not. I could tell by the way he responded to me last night. Now get the hell out of my way.”

“I was told that Tyler’s coming out of his coma,” added Scott. “That’s why I flew back. Let’s go see him.”

Scott had a key card to the elevator and we rode up one floor. It only took moments to get to Tyler’s room, but I found myself hesitating at the doorway. I’d seen Tyler last night, in the dark. What would I find in the light of day? Scott must have sensed the reason for my hesitation. “It’s ok.” We walked into the room.

Tyler's was still bandaged, but his one uncovered eye was open. And the bandages around his head seemed loose.

“Tyler?” I tried to say it calmly.

Tyler began to make noises like those of Frankenstein’s monster in the Boris Karloff movie. I could tell that he was struggling to move.

Richard Morgan turned to look at me. “You’re agitating him. Get him the hell away from here. He's upset. He's seen what he looks like.”

“No!” It was Scott. “Let him get closer.”

As I neared Tyler, there was a change. I could tell he was looking at me. He stopped moving, and the sounds he made were more like noises resembling "no".

I began to weep. I grabbed Tyler’s free hand and repeatedly told him how much I loved him and had missed him.

“Love you,” came from his lips. The words were distorted, but I could understand them, but there was an angry tone in them.

I bent forward and kissed him.

“No,” he said. “Go home. I’m ugly.”

“That isn’t possible,” I told him. “I’m going to stay and help you get better.”

Tyler’s mother came into the room. She stood next to his father.

“He doesn’t want you here,” said Richard. “Don’t you get it. He’s been disfigured. He’s ugly. He doesn’t want you to look at him.”

“He could never be ugly,” I said to Richard. Then I looked at Tyler. “You could never be ugly.”

“Show him.” Tyler spat the words.

The physician at the head of Tyler’s bed leaned forward to uncover what Tyler had seen earlier that day. He slid the bandages from Tyler’s head.

Tyler’s mother gasped by sucking air into her lungs, and she struggled to keep looking. Tyler’s brother tensed and his skin grew pale.

I saw the eyes of the man I loved. His hair was short stubble; it was growing back after having been shaved. His left eye was not as open as it had been before. But it was still Tyler, still my beautiful, handsome Tyler. “You’re not ugly. You’re my Tyler.” I touched the short stubble on his head.

“No,” Tyler screeched. “Go away. Leave me.”

I began to sob. How could he not want me? I was the same; he was the same. I didn’t understand.

Scott took me back to my room. “Maybe he’s just in shock and doesn’t realize what he’s saying. Maybe there was some damage to his brain. The doctors said it will be about six months of therapy for him to get back on his feet. He had a lot of broken bones, and his muscles need to regain their strength and flexibility.

“He doesn’t want me.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Scott. He's upset about all those scars on his face. Who wouldn't be."

"What are you talking about? His face is a little swollen, that's all. He still looks the same."

Scott slapped me. "Face reality. His face looks like it took a ride in a food processor. Your denial is only making it worse for him."

“I want to go home.”

“I’ll take you. And this is what I want you to do. Are you listening to me? I love you Darwin. Partly because you're a great guy, but mostly because you love my brother, and I think of you as family. You're another brother to me. But I need to do what's right for Tyler whether it hurts you or not."

I bit my upper lip. It helped me focus. I nodded.

"After a week, I want you to write a letter to Tyler. You’ll be calmer. He’ll be calmer. Tell him you want to help him get better. I bet by then, he’ll realize how much he wants you. And I’ll come get you.”

-- -- --

I wrote that letter, but no letter came in return. Nothing came. I cried every night as I went to bed alone. When I walked to town for supplies, people asked me what they could do to help me. I lied. I told them I was fine; there was nothing I needed. I wanted to die. Every time it rained, I remembered the day I left.

So I stood on the porch and watched it rain, and I watched the black Trans-Am get closer, until it stopped next to the house. The door opened, and Scott Morgan stepped out. He was alone. Of all the cars in the world for him to be driving, I thought.

Scott stepped onto the porch. “I’m sure that this is not how things were supposed to go,” he said to me.

“What do you mean?”

“First of all, that car is for you. It’s a gift from my dad. He’s realized what an asshole he was to you. He realized that you’re the reason Tyler came out of the coma.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Scott looked back at the car.

“Did you…”

“Here it is,” he interrupted me. “My ride home.”

A white, four-door sedan covered in mud followed by a large black car made their way down the driveway.

Richard Morgan got out of the white car and walked up the porch steps.

“What?” I said looking at him, “You’re giving me two cars?”

Richard looked down at his feet. “Nothing I say can make up for how I treated you. My wife, and Scott,... well, they helped me realize that."

The sound of another car door opening drew my attention. A man with crutches got out. It was Tyler. I ran to him, almost knocking Scott down.

Looking right at me, he stood by the car door. “I’m going to need your help getting into the house.”

My lip began to quiver.

“I’ve always known you loved me, and I always knew I love you. This has been the second time that I’ve been really, really stupid. You forgave me the first. Will you forgive me again?”

“Without even asking,” I told him.

EPILOGUE

Tyler continued to grow in his recovery, and by the next year, he no longer needed the crutches to help support him. The pain of his rejecting my help was healed by his love. I even forgave him for the black Trans-Am. While telling his brother stories about us, he got confused and thought that it was my favorite car. We exchanged it for a Jeep 4x4. We replaced the bad memories of my grandmother’s house with good ones. We spend four years in Cambridge and another four in Minnesota. Two more in Dallas, and then we were back in my grandmother’s house. Tyler opened up an office in town as a general practitioner, and I raised goats. I never understood what everyone saw when they looked at Tyler's face. To me, it was the same face I saw that first day, maybe just a few more laugh lines. Life could not have been any better.