Variations on a Theme

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Confidence

I will feel no pain. There is no pain but for what I allow, and I allow none. There will be no pain.

The ragtag band of Hammel staff was piled into three cars. Although they were in Sean’s van, the telepath wasn’t driving. He sat in the back with his eyes closed, acting as the group’s radio frequency. And meditating.

There were only so many ways to prepare for a fight. Isolated bar fights that he never initiated and protests turned violent weren’t the right type of experience for what awaited them all. And while the interlude with Chase and the one with Josh – against these same women but not her underlings – had taught him about them, he hadn’t actively participated in either. Not exactly combat training.

But they had to do what was necessary, and the attacks on Hammel, the faculty, and the students couldn’t continue. That was what led him to the back of this van.

“Aren’t you scared?” The voice interrupted his mantra.

“No.” He opened his eyes to look at Clarisse who had asked the question. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

He could have predicted the look she gave him, like he’d grown a second head.

“There’s nothing to be scared of?” She repeated in a whisper of disbelief. “You’re the one who’s been warning us about what a grave risk all of this is.” Nights spent in his living room discussing strategy and dividing up who would stay and who would go. The telepath remembered; he wasn’t senile.

“It is a risk,” Sean agreed. He’d experienced no change of heart in that regard. “But all they can do is hurt me, and I won’t allow that to happen.” While he might get injured, he would not allow himself to feel pain, not while his friends and colleagues – not while the students –were at risk.

The group had agreed to be realistic, because to be overly optimistic was to be cocky and that was to be careless and could get someone killed. At the same time, they had also agreed to give this their all and not to take on a defeatist attitude. That agreement didn’t prevent Clarisse from pointing out the obvious. “They can do a lot more than hurt you.”

“No they can’t.” Spoken calmly, a statement of fact no different from his birthday or the weather outside.

“What makes you so sure about that?”

Sean closed his eyes briefly, remembering that day decades ago.

It was the last day of school before the summer recess – Hammel hadn’t been a year-round school back then – the day before graduation. Ted was a senior, a precognitive, who had told everyone that he would give a reading as a farewell present. Sean, after his second year there, still had the curiosity of a young teenager, and he’d taken a turn.

And like all naïve people, he asked the obvious question. “How will I die?”

Ted had closed his eyes and touched his hand. A moment later, his eyes snapped open and sought Sean’s curious, if slightly fearful, ones. “An aneurysm. Reading the newspaper in your kitchen.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Only for a minute. It’ll be quick.”

“How old will I be?”

“Pretty old.”

Sean hadn’t asked for any more specifics than that. As an adult, he came to accept that “pretty old” to an eighteen-year-old wasn’t the same as “pretty old” to someone in his middle age, but that was the effect of youth. Every time he opened the newspaper with breakfast, he spent a moment wondering. Then he drank his coffee and got through the day.

Those split-seconds of uncertainty in daily life were what gave him confidence now. No matter what they did to him, he wouldn’t die. This wasn’t how he’d go.

To that end, he could cope with broken bones.

Opening his eyes again, he gave Clarisse an upbeat look. “It isn’t my time.”

The van came to a halt a moment later; they were on the outside of the M.S.A.D. compound. Clarisse gazed out the window at the house, looming over them. Sean unfastened his seatbelt and opened the sliding door, climbing out. The two in the front climbed out as well.

It was now or never.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The Inevitable

Josh had used “his” bedroom exclusively for two weeks. He came home late, always eating out in an attempt to avoid supper. Sean realized that, and as a courtesy to him, he awoke earlier, made breakfast, set it out for the other man, and then left in the mornings to spare Josh the discomfort of sharing that meal. It was only fair that if the attorney had to eat supper elsewhere, for whatever reason, that he could enjoy breakfast at a leisurely pace.

It was his hope that these accommodations would stave off the inevitable.

After nearly a month of this arrangement, Josh finally returned home while supper was on the table. His expression told Sean that the inevitable had arrived. “Can we talk?”

“Of course. Do you want me to fix you a plate?”

“No.” The word was rushed and while Sean wasn’t actively listening, he knew that was because Josh felt he was owed no favors.

The attorney sighed and looked down at his feet, his fingers curled in that way which meant he desperately wanted a cigarette. “I-” he began, but Sean cut him off.

“You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

Josh’s forehead creased in surprise. While he had expected the other man to have some awareness – his behavior this past month couldn’t qualify as subtle – he didn’t expect it to be this easy. Not after the last time, not after everything Sean had told him about last time when they had agreed to have another go.

And Sean knew his thoughts, because he said softly, “Thank you for trying again; it meant the world to me.”

“...that’s it?”

“I’ll help you move if you want. If you don’t, I’ll pay for the movers.” The telepath carefully set his fork and knife aside, pushing them out of immediate reach. The act was lost on his companion.

“You’re, ah, taking this really well,” Josh said with a sigh of relief. “I’d been worried.”

“I’ll be fine.” A fake smile was plastered on the telepath’s face. “After all, we’ll still be friends, won’t we?”

The question, the rhetorical question, was met with silence which caused Sean’s brow to crease. “Won’t we?”

The attorney didn’t meet his eyes, instead stared at his feet like a child who had to admit he’d been fighting on the playground. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but I think some time apart would be good for both of us.”

The telepath closed his eyes, forcing back the wave of emotions. His voice wasn’t as calm when he said, “I understand.”

“Please don’t be mad,” Josh begged, as he rushed to explain, “I just-I don’t want the cycle to start up again and maybe if we learn how to live without each other for a little bit, we’ll be better off. Like addicts, you know?”

“I understand,” Sean repeated softly. “Are you sleeping here tonight?”

“No. Janice said I could stay with her until I work everything out with the renters.”

The telepath nodded in acknowledgement and rose from his chair. His voice was barely audible. “Then I hope you don’t think it rude if I go upstairs now.”

“No,” Josh shook his head because he thought the other man should be able to do whatever he needed to cope. And besides, it was his house. “You’re entitled.”

“Thank you.” Sean walked away from the table, his shoulders hunched. As he reached the door, he turned around and added, “You’ve made me very happy these past few months, I want you to know. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do that for you in return.”

He left before Josh had the chance to reply.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The Day You Went Away

The second Break Up was worse than the first. The telepath had always wondered if it would hurt less had he known that it was inevitable. He had his answer, and it was “no.” If anything, it hurt more, because he saw the end so clearly, but he was powerless to change the path.

Perhaps it was that feeling of powerlessness that made him put up an argument this time. He had never put up an argument during the demises of any of his relationships, not once in over four decades. His general philosophy was that if someone was no longer happy, arguing would only make it worse; surely nobody should be forced into his company. The first time around, he had listened mutely while Josh had broken it off. He had put up no fight, and he made no attempt to stop the younger boy from leaving the apartment, as much as he’d wanted him to come back to bed with him.

This time, he found his voice while Josh was still in the same room with him. It hadn’t been much of an argument; in fact, upon reflection it had been downright pathetic, but he had no experience with these matters.

His turned those words over in his mind whenever he was alone in the big, empty house. “Why am I never good enough?”

Josh hadn’t given him an answer.