Hobo's Blues
Jul 19, 2011 15:02:38 GMT -5
Post by Dr. Sean Neville on Jul 19, 2011 15:02:38 GMT -5
((OOC: This takes place a couple of days after July 4th. I was merely slow in writing it.))
It was one of those nights. Sean had them every so often; there wasn’t a pattern and they didn’t constitute a quantifiable cycle the way that hormones ran their course. He hadn’t had those nights in childhood: before the emergence of his abilities, he had been a relatively happy-go-lucky boy, albeit particularly mindful of sinning and being good. Then the telepathy had manifested and everything fell apart; his personality was turned inside out. He became shy and depressed and felt that he would never have another moment of solitude for the rest of his life, assuming that he actually lived long enough to grow up. But then he’d met Robert and slowly he learned to control it, and his old personality reasserted itself.
Sometime during adulthood – he didn’t try to analyze the exact timeline since it had been decades at this point and was a fact of life – he started having those nights. He was already used to the insomnia from years before that, as well as the nightmares (his mind’s manifestations of what other people’s dreams should be based on tossing their thoughts together, and his own subconscious fears playing out. Drowning was a frequent theme) – but these were a new element. During those nights, he just wanted to be alone. This differed from when an external supervening cause resulted in bad nights, because this was wholly internal.
He never drank when having one of those nights. Not even a glass of wine with supper.
The Yankees were playing that night in California, and rather than call Charlie and ask if he wanted to watch baseball, he settled into the den with a glass of iced tea to watch, relax, and weather the night.
Unfortunately, the telephone rang, disrupting those plans.
Not answering it wasn’t an option. He had to be on call for work, and what if it was one of his friends in a crisis? What if it was anyone who simply felt a little worse than he did and needed a sympathetic ear?
Instead, it was Kathleen.
For a brief moment, he worried that something terrible had happened. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know where Ryan was the other weekend?”
Sean highly doubted that his nephew had run away, not when he’d just graduated from college. Even if it was understandable that he’d want to get away for a bit. However, he replied, “I haven’t the foggiest, but he hasn’t been here.”
“He was at that...that awful parade up in the City.”
“The Pride parade?” Sean wanted to be sure that his sister was actually insisting on having this conversation, and that a trip to the Pride parade was the triggering event.
“Yes, that one.” The distaste was palpable and Sean could envision her expression. It would be a long night.
“So he was at the Pride parade. It’s a big party, he’s young, and it was something of a historic occasion. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. He got home safely, didn’t he?”
“That isn’t the point! It’s not natural.”
Sean let that slide for the moment. “He’s young; it’s a party. I wouldn’t be too concerned about it.”
“Well of course you wouldn’t be. There aren’t photos of your son dancing with half-naked men floating around.”
“He just graduated from college; I’m sure he’s been to more revealing parties than that before. Did Shiya go with him?”
“Yes, and some friend of theirs who looks a little effeminate.”
A dull throb began behind his temples, and the telepath closed his eyes. He didn’t need this right now, not tonight. “So he was with a friend and his girlfriend at the parade; this isn’t a problem.”
“And he wasn’t enthusiastic at all during the barbecue this year.”
Sean didn’t have to ask what barbecue she meant; it could only refer to one barbecue. Her annual July 4th barbecue, the one he hadn’t been invited to in eight years. “Most of the guest list consists of family members and your work friends. He’s 22 and just had to leave behind most of his friends in Boston. Why would he be enthusiastic?”
“He should be mindful of family and proud of this country. There’s something wrong with a boy who would rather spend time with...people like that than with his own family, celebrating his independence.” At least she was more polite than some others, such that she didn’t voice some of the less flattering terms; still, she conveyed them all the same.
“It sounds like he was celebrating his independence in his own way.”
The silence on the other end of the line told him that it had been the wrong response. Honestly, he’d known that when he’d spoken, but he didn’t have the energy right now to coddle her, not when every word was a thinly veiled insult against his own life.
Finally, she broke the silence. “You don’t think he’s...” She couldn’t finish the question.
The telepath sighed wearily and throbbing increased. “Of course not. He has a girlfriend.” A girlfriend Kathleen couldn’t stand, but that was another matter entirely.
“You dated girls.”
It was a valid point, one that under other circumstances might make Sean think that Kathleen had learned a bit about human sexuality and tolerance. However, he knew his sister, and he also realized the point that she was actually attempting to make. He frowned to himself. “I’m not gay.”
He heard her scoff into the phone. Followed by, “And what do you call Mister Bernstein?”
Sean’s frown deepened. “My dearest friend.”
“And the man with wings?”
“His name is Alex, and he’s perfectly nice. If you’d gotten to know him, I think you would have gotten on well. And I didn’t deny dating men.”
“You did.” Apparently the original purpose of this telephone call was apparently forgotten. “You just said you aren’t gay.”
“I’m not. I didn’t date women as a cover; I date women because I find them attractive. I like women.”
“But you date men.”
“I’ve dated a couple over the years.” He fought the impulse to point out that he’d dated far more women than he had men, that there was about a 6:1 ratio there. Perhaps 5:1 if he factored in the night with Danny, although that had been wholly out of character; not that he regretted it - Danny was so gentle and kind. But that night had resulted in a mess of drama and no further dates. He’d already factored in Griff, and in better spirits, he would smile at the thought of the Welshman. But counting his recent escapades, the scales were still tilted heavily towards experience with women.
The fact that he hadn’t had recent dates with women spoke more to the available dating pool than to his inclinations shifting. But he didn’t like discussing his personal life with his sister. Just as he knew she wouldn’t be comforted by hearing the sheer number of women he had dated over the years. She already thought he was a bit of a wanton.
Which was a ridiculous proposition. While the telepath had dated many people over the years – due entirely to his relationships not working out and not a wandering eye on his part - he was monogamous by nature; he liked the feeling of being settled down with someone else. He attributed it to the telepathy and the merge instinct. But he couldn’t explain any of that to Kathleen.
As it was, she’d been married for so long and with no difficulty; she likely thought that his inability to settle was due to restlessness on his part. Or stereotypes.
He was getting depressed, because it was one of those nights, and he was alone in this big, empty house; L.C. had moved out so it was truly empty. And instead of watching his baseball game, he had to argue with his sister about his relationship history, which was nothing more than a mausoleum to his inability to keep another person interested.
God he didn’t need this tonight.
“I wouldn’t worry about Ryan,” he said, bringing the conversation back to its original purpose. “He’s very much in love.”
The redirection worked...momentarily. For better or for worse. He heard her sigh in exasperation. “I don’t know. Some days, he reminds me of you.”
At any other time, he would be delighted to hear that. But not in this context, not with how he knew his sister intended it. He repeated, “I wouldn’t worry about that.”
“But that friend of his-”
“Is just a friend. He’s not radioactive, affecting Ryan through exposure. Attraction isn’t an airborne virus; it’s innate.”
“If it’s inborn, why did you when I didn’t?”
The throbbing worsened. “Why did you get red hair and I didn’t? Why can I read minds and you can’t? You know better.” His sister was a smart woman, smart enough to grasp this concept if she wanted to; the problem was that she was willfully ignorant in this regard, willfully blind, and that bothered him more than the underlying prejudice. He was tired of having this same discussion. “We’re different; it doesn’t make it less natural.”
“We’re different.” Pride and disgust in her tone. “I didn’t fall in with the wrong crowd.”
He inhaled sharply through his nose. “My closest friends in college grew up to be an attorney and an architect.”
“One of them was indicted on murder charges and the other one damned your soul.” Her tone was that mixture of smug and accusatory that only his sister could pull off.
“Everything I’ve ever done, I did willingly or by necessity.” Some of the acts born from necessity he couldn’t discuss with Kathleen; he could only imagine her reaction to some of those stories. “I’ve never been coerced. And if anything, I damned him.”
He’d certainly ruined Josh. There was no other reason that someone as capable of affection and loyalty would have such spectacular withdrawal from intimate relationships. Except that he’d destroyed the pattern early on, by burning it out of him.
By suffocating it out of him.
Because it was one of those nights, the thought weighed more heavily on him than usual. He couldn’t dismiss it as he otherwise might. He’d destroyed someone wide-eyed and innocent because of the intensity in him, had marked him and ruined him for anyone else. And yet she was accusing Josh of damning his soul?
The migraine threatened to go nova with that train of thought, and he didn’t want to hear any further argument on this topic. “I don’t call you up and insult your friends or your husband.”
“This isn’t about Colin.”
“I know. This is about me. Even the parts about Ryan are about me. I wish you could appreciate how lucky you are to have a son like him. But I can’t talk about this anymore; I have a headache.”
“You always have a headache.”
“Think about why that is. Goodbye.” Then he hung up the phone and went back to the sofa.
Because of the headache, he had to turn off the lights in the room, and he brought his glass to his forehead, icing it in an effective fashion. The darkness wouldn’t do him any favors, not in one of these moods, but he couldn’t do anything about that. At least the darkness and the headache could keep him company.
It was one of those nights. Sean had them every so often; there wasn’t a pattern and they didn’t constitute a quantifiable cycle the way that hormones ran their course. He hadn’t had those nights in childhood: before the emergence of his abilities, he had been a relatively happy-go-lucky boy, albeit particularly mindful of sinning and being good. Then the telepathy had manifested and everything fell apart; his personality was turned inside out. He became shy and depressed and felt that he would never have another moment of solitude for the rest of his life, assuming that he actually lived long enough to grow up. But then he’d met Robert and slowly he learned to control it, and his old personality reasserted itself.
Sometime during adulthood – he didn’t try to analyze the exact timeline since it had been decades at this point and was a fact of life – he started having those nights. He was already used to the insomnia from years before that, as well as the nightmares (his mind’s manifestations of what other people’s dreams should be based on tossing their thoughts together, and his own subconscious fears playing out. Drowning was a frequent theme) – but these were a new element. During those nights, he just wanted to be alone. This differed from when an external supervening cause resulted in bad nights, because this was wholly internal.
He never drank when having one of those nights. Not even a glass of wine with supper.
The Yankees were playing that night in California, and rather than call Charlie and ask if he wanted to watch baseball, he settled into the den with a glass of iced tea to watch, relax, and weather the night.
Unfortunately, the telephone rang, disrupting those plans.
Not answering it wasn’t an option. He had to be on call for work, and what if it was one of his friends in a crisis? What if it was anyone who simply felt a little worse than he did and needed a sympathetic ear?
Instead, it was Kathleen.
For a brief moment, he worried that something terrible had happened. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know where Ryan was the other weekend?”
Sean highly doubted that his nephew had run away, not when he’d just graduated from college. Even if it was understandable that he’d want to get away for a bit. However, he replied, “I haven’t the foggiest, but he hasn’t been here.”
“He was at that...that awful parade up in the City.”
“The Pride parade?” Sean wanted to be sure that his sister was actually insisting on having this conversation, and that a trip to the Pride parade was the triggering event.
“Yes, that one.” The distaste was palpable and Sean could envision her expression. It would be a long night.
“So he was at the Pride parade. It’s a big party, he’s young, and it was something of a historic occasion. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. He got home safely, didn’t he?”
“That isn’t the point! It’s not natural.”
Sean let that slide for the moment. “He’s young; it’s a party. I wouldn’t be too concerned about it.”
“Well of course you wouldn’t be. There aren’t photos of your son dancing with half-naked men floating around.”
“He just graduated from college; I’m sure he’s been to more revealing parties than that before. Did Shiya go with him?”
“Yes, and some friend of theirs who looks a little effeminate.”
A dull throb began behind his temples, and the telepath closed his eyes. He didn’t need this right now, not tonight. “So he was with a friend and his girlfriend at the parade; this isn’t a problem.”
“And he wasn’t enthusiastic at all during the barbecue this year.”
Sean didn’t have to ask what barbecue she meant; it could only refer to one barbecue. Her annual July 4th barbecue, the one he hadn’t been invited to in eight years. “Most of the guest list consists of family members and your work friends. He’s 22 and just had to leave behind most of his friends in Boston. Why would he be enthusiastic?”
“He should be mindful of family and proud of this country. There’s something wrong with a boy who would rather spend time with...people like that than with his own family, celebrating his independence.” At least she was more polite than some others, such that she didn’t voice some of the less flattering terms; still, she conveyed them all the same.
“It sounds like he was celebrating his independence in his own way.”
The silence on the other end of the line told him that it had been the wrong response. Honestly, he’d known that when he’d spoken, but he didn’t have the energy right now to coddle her, not when every word was a thinly veiled insult against his own life.
Finally, she broke the silence. “You don’t think he’s...” She couldn’t finish the question.
The telepath sighed wearily and throbbing increased. “Of course not. He has a girlfriend.” A girlfriend Kathleen couldn’t stand, but that was another matter entirely.
“You dated girls.”
It was a valid point, one that under other circumstances might make Sean think that Kathleen had learned a bit about human sexuality and tolerance. However, he knew his sister, and he also realized the point that she was actually attempting to make. He frowned to himself. “I’m not gay.”
He heard her scoff into the phone. Followed by, “And what do you call Mister Bernstein?”
Sean’s frown deepened. “My dearest friend.”
“And the man with wings?”
“His name is Alex, and he’s perfectly nice. If you’d gotten to know him, I think you would have gotten on well. And I didn’t deny dating men.”
“You did.” Apparently the original purpose of this telephone call was apparently forgotten. “You just said you aren’t gay.”
“I’m not. I didn’t date women as a cover; I date women because I find them attractive. I like women.”
“But you date men.”
“I’ve dated a couple over the years.” He fought the impulse to point out that he’d dated far more women than he had men, that there was about a 6:1 ratio there. Perhaps 5:1 if he factored in the night with Danny, although that had been wholly out of character; not that he regretted it - Danny was so gentle and kind. But that night had resulted in a mess of drama and no further dates. He’d already factored in Griff, and in better spirits, he would smile at the thought of the Welshman. But counting his recent escapades, the scales were still tilted heavily towards experience with women.
The fact that he hadn’t had recent dates with women spoke more to the available dating pool than to his inclinations shifting. But he didn’t like discussing his personal life with his sister. Just as he knew she wouldn’t be comforted by hearing the sheer number of women he had dated over the years. She already thought he was a bit of a wanton.
Which was a ridiculous proposition. While the telepath had dated many people over the years – due entirely to his relationships not working out and not a wandering eye on his part - he was monogamous by nature; he liked the feeling of being settled down with someone else. He attributed it to the telepathy and the merge instinct. But he couldn’t explain any of that to Kathleen.
As it was, she’d been married for so long and with no difficulty; she likely thought that his inability to settle was due to restlessness on his part. Or stereotypes.
He was getting depressed, because it was one of those nights, and he was alone in this big, empty house; L.C. had moved out so it was truly empty. And instead of watching his baseball game, he had to argue with his sister about his relationship history, which was nothing more than a mausoleum to his inability to keep another person interested.
God he didn’t need this tonight.
“I wouldn’t worry about Ryan,” he said, bringing the conversation back to its original purpose. “He’s very much in love.”
The redirection worked...momentarily. For better or for worse. He heard her sigh in exasperation. “I don’t know. Some days, he reminds me of you.”
At any other time, he would be delighted to hear that. But not in this context, not with how he knew his sister intended it. He repeated, “I wouldn’t worry about that.”
“But that friend of his-”
“Is just a friend. He’s not radioactive, affecting Ryan through exposure. Attraction isn’t an airborne virus; it’s innate.”
“If it’s inborn, why did you when I didn’t?”
The throbbing worsened. “Why did you get red hair and I didn’t? Why can I read minds and you can’t? You know better.” His sister was a smart woman, smart enough to grasp this concept if she wanted to; the problem was that she was willfully ignorant in this regard, willfully blind, and that bothered him more than the underlying prejudice. He was tired of having this same discussion. “We’re different; it doesn’t make it less natural.”
“We’re different.” Pride and disgust in her tone. “I didn’t fall in with the wrong crowd.”
He inhaled sharply through his nose. “My closest friends in college grew up to be an attorney and an architect.”
“One of them was indicted on murder charges and the other one damned your soul.” Her tone was that mixture of smug and accusatory that only his sister could pull off.
“Everything I’ve ever done, I did willingly or by necessity.” Some of the acts born from necessity he couldn’t discuss with Kathleen; he could only imagine her reaction to some of those stories. “I’ve never been coerced. And if anything, I damned him.”
He’d certainly ruined Josh. There was no other reason that someone as capable of affection and loyalty would have such spectacular withdrawal from intimate relationships. Except that he’d destroyed the pattern early on, by burning it out of him.
By suffocating it out of him.
Because it was one of those nights, the thought weighed more heavily on him than usual. He couldn’t dismiss it as he otherwise might. He’d destroyed someone wide-eyed and innocent because of the intensity in him, had marked him and ruined him for anyone else. And yet she was accusing Josh of damning his soul?
The migraine threatened to go nova with that train of thought, and he didn’t want to hear any further argument on this topic. “I don’t call you up and insult your friends or your husband.”
“This isn’t about Colin.”
“I know. This is about me. Even the parts about Ryan are about me. I wish you could appreciate how lucky you are to have a son like him. But I can’t talk about this anymore; I have a headache.”
“You always have a headache.”
“Think about why that is. Goodbye.” Then he hung up the phone and went back to the sofa.
Because of the headache, he had to turn off the lights in the room, and he brought his glass to his forehead, icing it in an effective fashion. The darkness wouldn’t do him any favors, not in one of these moods, but he couldn’t do anything about that. At least the darkness and the headache could keep him company.
