Underpants
Ben's room was empty when I returned to the rehab center, so I settled down in the chair by the window to wait for him to return from whatever test they were doing. I used the time to look more closely at the manuscript Heather had found at the museum this morning. The first section concerned geography, specifically a survey of uninhabited islands in Polynesia. The next section shifted abruptly to a general survey of various mythologies around the world surrounding extreme hunger and cannibalism.
I couldn't quite see what connected these two discussions, and was struggling to make sense of the juxtaposition, when they wheeled Ben back into his room. It seems that he had had to be anesthetized for the final test, and he was still extremely groggy. “He will probably drift in and out of sleep for the next few hours,” the nurse informed me once they had returned him to his bed. “The doctor will check in when he does his end of day rounds, in an hour or two, And he should have the results of the tests by then. Do you need anything while you're waiting?”
I declined and thanked her, then returned to the manuscript. After a few minutes I heard Ben stir, so I got up and sat on the edge of his bed to look at him. His eyes were still closed, but he wasn't asleep. He just seemed not to have the energy to open them. I brushed the disheveled red hair from his brow and kissed him on the forehead. Again he stirred, this time moaning a bit, and I saw his eyelids flutter as he tried to open them. “It's okay,” I whispered. “I'm here. No need to do anything right now, just get some rest.” I caressed the side of his face and he leaned into my hand, seeming to find comfort in it.
I held him like that until I was sure he was asleep, then I returned to the puzzling manuscript. The third section was just as much of a mystery as the first two In it Mr. Bouchard explored various forms of capital punishment, beginning with a global overview, but quickly focusing again on the South Pacific and Polynesia. I felt sure that he was working toward a thesis that would somehow draw these three topics together, but for the moment, the intuitive connection eluded me. I was so engrossed in this puzzle that I did not even hear the doctor enter.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, abruptly wrenching me from my thoughts.
“Oh...I didn't...I'm fine,” I answered blandly.
“Must be an interesting document.”
“More like a conundrum,” I offered with a smile. “Can't quite figure it out.”
“Well, at least it's a good distraction,” he smiled back. “I have the results of the tests, and it seems things are progressing faster than expected. Not only can he wiggle his toes, he has regained almost normal sensation almost all the way up to his knees.”
“What changed?” I asked, anxious to help the improvement spread.
“No idea,” he chuckled. “As you know, there is no physical damage to his spinal column, so we can see no visible changes to explain this sudden improvement. It may be that an area of swelling has subsided to the point of releasing pressure on a particularly important bundle of nerves. Or perhaps his nerves are just starting to remember how to work after an extended period of inactivity. Or maybe his fairy godmother just showed up and waved her magic wand.” He chuckled at his own joke, and continued, “Whatever it is, we can't explain it, but the improvement is real, and there is no reason to think he might regress. At this point I would say it is safe to spread the news to those who care about his condition.”
He took a moment to give Ben a quick examination, waking him briefly, then left to visit his next patient. I took the opportunity to tell Ben that I needed to head back to the boarding house to check on Phil, but I don't think it really registered before he nodded off again.
I considered what to make for dinner, but decided to just play it by ear and use whatever Phil had on hand. I was no master chef, but I was pretty good at improvising. I was surprised to see Helmut's truck in the driveway when I arrived, and even more surprised to see Phil, in full Miss McFierceson mode, busily preparing a rather elaborate meal which consisted of foods I knew to be Helmut's favorites. Miss McFierceson was surprised to see me, but I was not surprised that she didn't remember my promise from earlier. I was, however, surprised to see how quickly the effects of all that gin had worn off.
“Helmut, be a dear and come give me a hand in the kitchen,” she said to her ex. Then giving me a silent look that made it clear that I was to stay put, she led him out of the room.
Kevin was sitting on the couch flipping channels, and since I was not invited to be a part of whatever was going on in the kitchen, I decided to join him. “Anything interesting happen today?”
“Nah, not really,” he replied, not really paying attention.
“Weren't you supposed to go panty shopping with Mike today?” I asked. “How did that go?”
Kevin gave me a sideways glance and tried to be nonchalant. “Fine.”
“What did you end up getting? Any thongs?” I knew he didn't want to talk about it, but I couldn't help myself.
“Umm, no thongs,” he replied curtly. “Just briefs and jock straps.”
“Still, it must have been fun trying on all those sexy underpants. Where did he take you?”
“They don't allow you to try on underpants in the stores,” he moaned, rolling his eyes as if I were too stupid for words. “You just have to buy them and hope they fit. No returns once they've been opened.”
“Oh, I hadn't thought of that,” I played along. “I just had visions of Mike making you step out of the changing room so he could do an evaluation of each style and fit. I guess not.”
“No,” Kevin contradicted me. “He did that. It was kind of embarrassing at first, but I got used to it.”
“Wait, If they don't allow you to...”
Kevin glanced at the kitchen door to make sure we were alone, then in low tones added, “We weren't at a store. We were in the back room of his bar.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he had me come over this morning before he opened. He had already bought a variety styles and sizes, and had a screen set up in one corner for me to change.”
“Well,” I chuckled. “I suppose that's one way to do it. Was it just the two of you?”
“At first, but at about 10:30 the cook and the bartender showed up to prep for opening. They seemed to need an awful lot of stuff from the storage closet.”
“I bet they wouldn't have needed nearly as much if you weren't parading around in your skivvies.” I poked him in the shoulder and managed to get a laugh out of him.
“Yeah, it was pretty sketchy, but it's kind of fun getting guys turned on, even if they are old enough to be my...” He hesitated, giving me a sly glance, then continued, “...Uncle.”
“Yeah, You and Helmut deserve each other,” I chuckled. “If you're not careful you could grow up to be as much of an asshole as him.”
“I'll take that as a complement,” he grinned, and settled back into the couch.
“So what did you decide on?” I continued. “Are you wearing one of the new pair now? Can I see?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “No, not right now,” he stuttered.
“Why?” I asked. “Are you still wearing your old boxer briefs?”
“No, but..”
“Then what's the problem? I've seen you in your underwear plenty of times. Hell, I've seen you naked. No need to be shy.”
“It's not that.”
“Then what is it?” I asked in confusion. Why won't you show me your new sexy underpants?”
He hesitated before admitting, “Because I'm not wearing them.”
“What do you mean you're not wearing them? If you're not wearing your old ones, and you're not wearing the new...Oh.”
Kevin turned about ten shades of red as he muttered, “Mike wants me to go commando for a week. He says it will put me in touch with my own body and boost my self confidence. I'm just worried I'm going to end up sitting on my balls and hurt myself.”
I had to work to stifle a laugh, but I could see that admitting this made him very self conscious. So instead I offered, “There is some truth to that, although I can see how it would make you uncomfortable if you don't do it regularly.”
“Don't tell dad,” he suddenly pleaded. “He'll never let me live it down.”
“What's to live down?” I asked with a grin. “Who doesn't like to feel their dick swinging free from time to time?”
“Yeah, but you know how he is. The jokes will never end, and he'll probably end up saying something in front of someone and embarrassing me.”
“Yes, I do know him, and you're right.” I put a hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Your secret's safe with me.”
“I don't care!” Helmut's angry voice carried from the kitchen. “I don't want him to know!” His anger was tinged with sorrow, as if he were begging Phil to change his mind. Phil's response was softer and unintelligible, and after a moment of awkward silence we could just make out Helmut pleading, “I can't bear the thought of losing him.”
Kevin and I exchanged questioning looks as Miss McFierceson strolled out of the kitchen, carrying a large platter with the main course on it, and announced. “Dinner is served.”
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