The Book of the Blue House

Stomping the cold from their feet and laughing like children, the friends returned to the warmth of the Blue House and prepared for bed. The White Door was always lit and attended, and tonight Lorne would stand as doorkeeper or Janitor. But the Red Door was closed and so was the Black, and their janitors were off duty, and everyone was heading to their rooms if not to sleep at least to bed down.

It was with love and affection the folk of Derek’s apartment parted from Matteo, Quinton and Brian and the other denizens of the first floor, which Matteo reflected, was actually the second floor, but the greeting was by no means final, for Conn had made it very clear that as much as he wanted to lay his head down and sleep, he would be up in an hour and drinking coffee. Brian went to the bathrooms at the end of the hall and when Quinton decided it was time for sleep, Matteo followed.

Down in his rooms, seeing the pain in Quinton’s foot, knowing he had used his leg overmuch, Matteo said, “Do you need help with your boots?”

Brian had helped earlier, but now Quinton said, “No, I’ve got…”

Then he said, “Yes, Matt, I do.”

In Quinton’s room, Matt sat his little friend in a chair, and then Quinton held out his leg and Matt unlaced the first boot and then the other, gently pulling them away.

“And now for your leg brace.”

“I can do that,” Quinton said, but Matteo said, “You could, I’m sure. But I’m right down here,” and he began to unlace the heavy metal brace, and as he did, Quinton sighed. Matteo pulled it off slowly and Quinton said, “If you would, just… under the bed. Thank you, Matteo.”

Quinton pushed himself up on his strong arms, and Matt saw the hard little biceps of the short man bunch, but as he landed on his wounded leg, his eyes shut tight and Matt said, “You shouldn’t stand on it right now.”

“I stand on it all the time.”

Quinton sounded angry or wounded, Matt wasn’t sure.

“And does it always hurt like it does now? And please sit down,” Matt said.

Quinton was visibily trembling with the pain and he took a breath as he lowered himself into the chair.

“I’ve been standing on it too long.”

But Matteo had never stopped kneeling and now he took Quinton’s twisted foot and began to massage it and he watched the pain move across the boy’s beautiful face.

“My Gran had bad legs,” Matteo said, “and she would say, Teo, rub me legs and I would,” Matteo said. “So I got good at stuff like that. Tell me when I should stop.”

Quinton’s eyes squinted and his face looked pained.

“You don’t have to do this Matt.”

“No, I don’t guess I do,” he said rubbing the ball of Quinton’s foot and pulling out the cramped toes.

“Oh, God it hurts,” he said. “It hurts, but the thing is this hurt is the hurt it needs. The other hurt… That hurts all the time.”

Matt sat, massaging Quinton’s foot and rubbing his ankle, knowing how to press down and how to make the blood flow. He took the young man’s leg in his strong hands and pressed the life back into it, watching Quinton’s face change.

“Thank you, Matteo,” he sighed.

“I just want you to feel better.”

“I do feel better,” Quinton said.

“I want you to not hurt.”

Quinton laughed and Matt said, “What?”

“You know what the good thing is about everyone in this house?”

Matt waited for Quinton to answer.

“We all want each other not to hurt, and we are all hurting just a little bit all the time.”

Quinton smiled and shook his head, and Matt noticed the redness of his lips.

“It always, always hurts and I just learn to live with it.”

Matt did not ask and Quinton wasn’t going to make him, so he said, “When I was a little boy my leg was run over by a trolley and the healers at the temple of Amana made it so I could walk again, but sometimes I wonder if the damn thing shouldn’t have just come off.

“No,” Quinton shook his head. “I don’t mean that. And I don’t even hate my pain. But sometimes I don’t do what I should . I want to prove to everyone that I’m just as strong as they are and so, I overexert.”

“You are strong,” Matt said. “You’re the strongest person I know. Physically for one thing, and then your face. You look like someone who is strong, who’s dealt with things and can get through them. I…” Matt continued while he massaged Quinton’s ankle, “I… you were one of the first people I saw when you came here. You looked so perfect.”

“A perfect cripple.”

“I didn’t care about all that,” Matt said, and added, “and if you think I did or you want to put those words in my mouth, then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

“Ouch,” Quinton said, then, “I’m sorry.”

They were both quiet while Matt’s fingers moved back to Quinton’s foot.

“It’s only in the bedroom, as a priest, being a Blue that most men think anything of me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Matt said, looking at the floor while he stopped rubbing.

“I’ll get you some new socks, and that’s not true at all.”

“I don’t want socks,” Quinton said, “and why won’t you look at me?”

Matt did.

“I… the other night,” Quinton began, “when we were with that man, and you left the room I got a little sad. I wanted you to stay, I…. part of me keeps thinking maybe you’ll come to me… When you’re ready.”

Matt’s mouth opened, and then closed.

“Me. With a voice like a foghorn and this funny face. I…”

“Me with my crippled leg, and short to boot.”

“Don’t say that,” Matt said, seriously. “I think you’re beautiful. I don’t know why you’d… I think you’re beautiful.”

Quinton looked at the floor, nad his dark eyes were hidden by his thick lashes. The lamplight shone on the copper highlights in the waves of his dark hair, on his red lips and delicate, long fingers.

“I’m just going to have to ask you, Matteo.”

“Yes,” Matteo sounded almost clueless.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Matteo opened his mouth and was surprised by the dryness in his throat. He needed to start all over again.

“Yes,” He said. “I will. Yes.”