Disclaimer:
The following piece of fiction contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between consenting adult males aged over the age of 18. Please do not read further if the subject matter might offend you. If you are aged under 18 (or 21 if that is the law in your state or country) please leave this site without reading further.
Patronising things you should read:
Fictional characters cannot get hurt and do not feel pain. Real people can and do. Actions have consequences, and the author does not in any way condone suicide, self-harm, self-mutilation, or any form of self-abuse as a coping mechanism.
Note from Author:
This part of the story is told by Abby, who is Brad's cousin. I thought it would be nice to hear her version of events of this chapter, and also take the opportunity to reveal a little more about Brad's past. To read the full chapter from Brad's perspective, go back to the main `Geeks Get Hot' folder.
Geeks Get Hot (part 7) - Abby
"Can I get you guys anything else?" I asked, putting on the politest voice that I could.
"Dad-deeeeeeee! I want another ice cream!" The little girl who must have been about six years old, dressed in pink with a large gap in her bottom teeth where she had obviously recently lost her first tooth, whined at her father. He looked up at me, ignoring the pleas of the brat sat across the table from him.
"No, just the bill please." I felt a little sorry for him. Evidently it was his turn to have his kid for the weekend, and she was trying her best to guilt-trip him for the rest of the week when he wasn't around.
I fetched him their bill, glancing at my watch as I set it down on the table for him. It was about the tenth time I'd looked at my watch in the last five minutes. My cousin Brad was due to arrive when my shift finished and I was looking forward to seeing him again. He had just started his freshman year at the nearby university, and we had resolved to keep in close contact and meet up regularly. We had talked on Skype a couple times since he arrived, but this would be our first face-to-face meeting since his arrival, and, in fact, the first time we'd seen each other in the flesh since our families got together for Thanksgiving last year.
I checked my watch again and found only thirty seconds had passed. This shift was going so slow!
Brad was my favorite cousin. He was the only cousin I had who was younger than me. When we were growing up, he used to dote on me, follow me around everywhere at family parties, forever wanting me to play with him. I was an only child, as was he, and I think he saw me as a bit of a surrogate sister. Certainly, when I was in my early teens and he was maybe six or seven, it was kind of cute to have him think so highly of me, and neat to be so influential to a younger kid. Kind of like having a little brother in a way, though it was nice that at the end of the party or wedding or whatever, he went back home with his own parents - Brad was best taken in small doses, even back then.
I collected the banknotes that the harassed father and spoilt daughter had left on their table, and rang them through the cash register, checking my watch again as I did so, willing the minute hand to hurry up, to let me know my cousin's arrival was imminent. I wondered, as I had been wondering and worrying all week, how he was finding college life. He had seemed happy enough to me when we'd been speaking on Skype, but then he had seemed happy enough when he had been at high school whenever we'd spoken on the telephone, and as it turned out he blatantly hadn't been.
I could still remember that terrible day when I'd gotten a call from my Mom telling me Brad was in the emergency room at the hospital, that he'd taken an overdose and might not ever wake up. That had been the biggest shock of my life, and one of the most upsetting days ever. If only he had spoken to me about how he'd been feeling, I would have tried to help him. Hell, I'd have suggested he drop out of high school and come and live with me if it would have prevented that. I'd managed to speak to my aunt on the telephone and she'd been in tears, hyperventilating, completely in shock about the whole thing. Apparently she'd gotten home from work a half hour early and had happened to walk into his bedroom and found him passed out on his bed. The doctors told us that if she had gotten home at her usual time, then there would have been no hope and they wouldn't have been able to save him.
He had left a suicide note of course. I was never told entirely what the contents of it were, but I'd heard enough of it to know he'd been totally miserable at his high school, and relentlessly bullied. Looking at him, you could kind of see why (and I know as his cousin I'm not supposed to say things like that, but it was true!) He wasn't streetwise at all, he wore glasses, his clothes weren't fashionable, he was smart - really really smart, and he preferred reading and computer games to playing football or baseball. He was a soft target, and the bullies must have recognised that. I knew myself from having been through high school the types that the jocks and the hard kids picked on and teased. Of course, his parents, (my aunt and uncle) were clueless about it all.
They had had Brad very late in life, had had all kinds of trouble conceiving in the first place. It had been a very anxious pregnancy, and Brad had finally been born severely premature and spent the first several months of his life in an incubator in hospital, for the first few weeks of his life, teetering on the brink of not surviving. I vaguely remember, as a seven year old girl, being taken to see him, my new baby cousin, and being scared by the loud noises of all the machines in the room, seeing this baby inside what looked at that age to me, to be a giant fish tank with enormous tubes coming out of it.
When he'd finally grown strong enough to be allowed home, Brad had been kept under constant surveillance by my aunt and uncle, who were terrified that they were going to lose the baby they had longed for for so long. And as he grew, this fear, dareIsay paranoia, continued, to the extent that he was mollycoddled and sheltered from reality, not given the opportunity to play in the street properly or fight with other kids his age, not really allowed to make any friends as such, in case he hurt himself. But for all they were trying to protect him from the big bad world, my aunt and uncle were actually making things ten times worse for him for when their protective bubble finally burst.
I looked around the coffeeshop. The lunchtime rush was over now, and there was only one customer left, an elderly gentleman drinking his coffee on his own, sitting next to the window.
Brad would be here soon.
I checked my watch again. Yes, probably in under ten minutes. He had grown up a lot since that day. October 29 2007. I could still remember the exact date. It was etched on my memory forever. The day I'd almost lost my favorite cousin. What had happened to him on that one day to make him so upset that he thought his life wasn't worth living any longer? I often longed to ask him, but figured he would tell me in his own time if he ever wanted me to know. Maybe it wasn't any specific event per se, but just an accumulation of the bullying getting to him, wearing him down so he couldn't take it any more. I often wished I knew who the main perpetrators were, so I could make a visit to them and punish them for what they'd done to my kind and gentle and wonderful human being of a cousin. Punish them for how they'd been instrumental in turning him from a shy, smart, always smiling, harmless and inoffensive nerd, into a panic-attack-prone, depressed and miserable, quivering wreck.
I realized I was dwelling on unhappy times, and tried to switch my thoughts onto happier memories of him, as I began wiping the table recently vacated by the father and daughter with a damp cloth. Oh yes, our cousin Ashley's wedding! How could I forget?! All the adults had had a few drinks and had been dancing, and at eleven years old, I was too old to join in playing party games with the five and six year olds, and too young to be sitting in a giggling group with the fourteen and fifteen year olds sneaking surreptitious sips from glasses of champagne. I was sitting by myself feeling bored and lonely. Then Brad had come over to me, this little four year old, skinny dark-haired little kid, dressed in a black suit and cute little bow tie and carrying a moth-eaten teddybear under one arm, just sat down next to me and started talking about how when he got married, he wouldn't have a boring dance like this, he would take everybody to Disneyworld so they could meet Mickey Mouse, and I had just curled up with laughter at him!
I felt a smile creeping across my face at the memory, and then I had looked up from my cleaning to see him standing there in front of me, a smile on his own face. I was a little taken-aback - he looked so different to how I remembered him looking last time I'd seen him face-to-face. He looked...as I remembered him looking as a kid - happy, smiley. The dark circles that had been under his eyes had faded completely, and his complexion was no longer deathly pale as if he spent every waking hour shut away in a curtained bedroom. He looked as though he had filled out a little, still skinny, but not skeletal any more, and his black hair had lost the unkempt greasy look it had once had, and shone with health.
I opened my arms wide forgetting for a moment that he didn't like being hugged, but then I remembered and, as usual, ended up patting him a little awkwardly on the top of his arm.
"Hey Abby, how are you?" he greeted me cheerfully.
"I'm good Brad. Wow, you're looking so mature these days! Like a proper college student! Can I get you something to eat or drink? Let me guess, frozen yogurt?!"
We both laughed, as this was his favorite food and he always chose it when he went out if it was on the menu. Of course, he was probably too young to remember when he was four years old and had categorically refused to eat anything other than strawberry or raspberry flavored frozen yogurt for about four solid months. It had worried my aunt and uncle almost to death, as he had lost a lot of weight, and they thought he was never going to eat normally ever again.
I checked with my boss that it was alright for me to finish, which it was, since my shift was just over, and then fetched Brad's frozen yogurt for him, and fixed a coke for us both. We sat down at one of the tables I'd just finished cleaning and started talking. I couldn't get over how healthy he looked, and he seemed to be brimming over with happiness. I was so glad. I had been worried that beginning college would be too much for him, too big a step, that he might struggle with making friends, that he might find the pressure of the new environment too much to cope with. But it appeared the exact opposite seemed to be the case and that this move had caused him to become the happiest and the best adjusted he had been for years.
I felt really really pleased for him. I had argued and I mean really argued, pleaded, begged, with his parents, (my aunt and uncle) to try to persuade them to let him come to college here. They had been all for having him live at home, confined to his bedroom almost, and attending college in the city a short drive from them. I had just had a feeling that somehow getting him away from home, getting him away from them and their suffocating protectiveness would do him the world of good. I had offered to have him come live with me if he couldn't cope with living in the dorms, but so far (and I know it's early days, it has only been a couple weeks if that, but still, the first two weeks are always the hardest) he seemed to be coping just fine with everything.
He was still chattering away. Just like the old Brad, actually. Once you got him started talking, he carried on and it was very difficult to shut him up! He finally paused for breath, and took a sip of his coke and I took the opportunity to get my burning question in.
"So, what's your roommate like?" I asked. It was really important for even normal people to get on well with their roommate. For Brad, I would say this was absolutely crucial for his coping with being in college, semi-independent at last and on his own in the wide world.
Was it my imagination or did Brad's cheeks color slightly as he answered me?
"Oh he is just the best. He's from England, and his name is Anthony, and you pronounce it with a "tuh" sound in the middle, not a "thuh", that's how they say his name in England, only I got that wrong when I first met him, but he didn't mind, not really, anyway, and he's on an exchange program where he studies here for a year and takes our courses and exams, and it's really difficult to win a place on the scheme, so he must be like really really smart, smarter than me even, and, and..."
Whoa! Slow down Brad! As usual, when he got excited or overenthusiastic about something, he had started gabbling away barely pausing for breath. But I was content to just listen as he continued telling me all about his wonderful, exotic, English roommate.
"He sounds great." I said, as he took another sip of his drink.
"Oh he is, he truly is. He is just the best roommate I could ask for," came back the reply.
"You're very lucky to have been allocated to room with him then," I said.
"I know," Brad replied. "He's just awesome, and makes me feel so at home here." Brad smiled shyly, and I wondered what he was thinking.
"So did you go out to any bars or parties yet?" I asked him.
"Yes, we went to a couple bars with some other guys on the corridor, and next time me and Anthony are going to join them in going to a nightclub as well."
Wow! I was not expecting that at all. It seemed as though my shy geeky cousin was really starting to come out of his shell, and throwing himself into college life in all its forms. I was suddenly curious to know more about what he had done in the last two weeks since breaking away from the confines of his parents' home. I wondered if he had discovered the joys of alcohol yet, if he had gotten stoned, if he had met anybody he planned to ask out on a date. Then my mischievous side took over, and I found myself actually asking him if he'd gotten laid yet! I expected him to blush bright red, and I wasn't disappointed! Evidently he hadn't gotten that far yet.
"Relax Brad," I said to reassure him, as he was stammering with embarrassment. "I wasn't expecting an answer, I only asked to wind you up and see what shade of red your cheeks would go!" He gave me a mock-pissed look and started laughing. I joined in, and took a sip of my drink.
"Seriously though," I said. "You ought to try it some time, it feels great!" I was kind of wanting to let him know, in case his parents hadn't ever explained to him, that casual sex happened, that it was okay, that if an opportunity came along while he was here at college that he ought to grasp it with both hands, be like a normal guy and get his rocks off and enjoy doing it...
I was all set on beginning my little speech and pep-talk, but he looked so embarrassed and like he wanted the floor to swallow him up rather than hear his ancient, twenty-six year old cousin mentioning sex and talking about his sex-life (or lack of!).
"Shall we change the subject?!" He asked, his eyes darting left and round, his cheeks still enflamed.
I laughed and started telling him about the new job I'd got, serving in a new bar that had just opened downtown. I could save my little speech for later. Brad listened as I talked, nodding every now and again to show he was following me, but as I continued, a glazed, far-off expression came over his face, and I realized he was no longer listening to me and had retreated into his own thoughts. I wondered what he was thinking about, whether my question about whether or not he'd gotten laid yet had hit a nerve and he was now over-analyzing what I'd asked, questioning himself, wondering whether or not he was "normal".
"You know, it's alright not immediately getting laid in your first week at college," I said to him to reassure him. "I know it seems as though everybody is doing it, but probably not everybody is. How about Anthony? Does he have a girlfriend?"
There was silence.
"Hello! Earth to Brad!" I said.
He gave a little jump, as if he had been daydreaming and suddenly returned to earth with a bump. I wondered, not for the first time, what thoughts really had been running through that brain of his. You could read so many of his raw emotions in his face, but when it came to specifics about what he was actually thinking, Brad was very good at covering that up.
"Sorry Abby," he apologized to me. "What did you just ask me?"
"Oh it doesn't matter," I said. "It was nothing important." I looked at my watch, and noticed it was a lot later than I had thought it was. I would have to be getting ready for my next job soon. It sucks being a writer. It doesn't pay well, so you end up working two or even three jobs at a time just to earn enough money to pay the rent and bills on some crummy apartment. I wouldn't have it any other way though. Writing was my life, and I was determined to hit the big time one day. Would just have to be patient and continue with my endless waitressing and bartending in the meantime.
"Come on," I said to Brad, standing up from the table. "I need to go get showered before going out for my next job." He got up too and we left the coffeeshop together. We walked along the sidewalk together, and Brad was still talking animatedly about his classes and his professors and his new friends living on his dorm corridor.
We were nearing my local store, and I decided I wanted to treat him, to let him know how proud I was of him. And, (the rebellious side of me chipped in), I wanted to give him the opportunity to break a dorm rule, discover the taste of alcohol if he hadn't done so already, and arrive back at the dorms with the means to firm up his new friendships by offering all the guys a real drink, one that they were sure to appreciate.
Telling Brad to wait outside, I quickly darted into the store, and, finding the liquor aisle, grabbed several packs of cans of beer from the shelf. I had to show my ID when I paid (26 years old and I still get asked for ID! I expect I'll be glad of looking young when I'm 50, but these days, it's a little annoying, and somewhat embarrassing!) and left struggling slightly under the weight of all the cans.
Brad was still waiting outside on the sidewalk, and his face lit up when he saw what I had bought for him.
"Be sensible with it though," I told him. "Oh, fuck it, do whatever Brad, you're a college boy now! Who cares if you're not sensible, but just remember that barfing is not a good look!"
"Thank you Abby, thank you so much!" He said, and before I knew it, he had put his arms around me and given me a big hug. I was shocked. Brad had never liked to hug or be hugged. Maybe college really was changing him.
"You're welcome," I said. "Just don't tell your mom or dad I encouraged you!"
He grinned. "No way, it will be our secret. Scout's honor. Or cousin honor. Or something!"
I laughed, and watched as he picked up the cans and turned and started making his way up the road in the direction of the university campus. A thin, dark-haired figure dressed in shirt and jeans, laden down with beer cans, but not struggling under their weight, and thought to myself how much Brad had grown up and matured, even since our last Skype conversation.
And I hoped he would continue to adjust and mature over the months to come while he was here at college, to become the well-rounded individual I knew he could be.