Patrick

I had quickly learned that it takes a lot of patience to allow others to take care of me since I couldn't do a damned thing for myself. The move from the hospital to Carla's took a hell of a lot of it. I wanted so badly to yell at them to leave me alone and let me do it myself, but of course I couldn't, so I just bit my lip. Thankfully, John, the one calm person in the bunch, was big and strong enough to simply pick me up and put me in the back seat of his pickup.

I don't know how many times Carla turned and asked if I was doing okay. After a while I just wanted to scream, "Shut up and don't ask me again," but I held it in, smiled each time and said I was fine. It was so good getting out of that hospital room, even if all I could see was industrial dinginess most of the way up 101. No one ever thought that if I'd been stuffed in from the driver's side, I'd at least have gotten to look at the bay most of the way. But then I'd have settled for anything other than more time staring at the walls of the hospital room.

My daily routine at Carla's soon became as monotonous as the hospital. I quickly got tired of Dad trying to do everything for me, plus I could see that it was taking a physical toll on him as well. He and Carla jumped on my suggestion of hiring a nurse to take care of all my needs during the day. I shouldn't have had a preconceived idea of what he would look like, because George was the biggest, manliest nurse I'd ever seen. This man made John look little.

Television soon became something I couldn't stand; the inanity was enough to make me want to commit hari-kari. To make matters worse, I couldn't even hold a book to read. George quickly solved that the next morning by bringing an attachment for my chair that holds the book open in front of me. That was a big improvement, but he still had to turn the pages for me, which wasn't too bad since he spent a lot of time sitting beside me reading, too.

At one point I'd succeeded in pushing him to his limits with my whining. He stood over me - hands on his hips - arms akimbo - intimidating as hell. "I have the patience of Job," he rumbled, "but you, Mister, are really wearing it thin. It's time you started acting like an adult instead of a whiny spoiled brat. Now… tell me what you wanted with no whining."

For a moment I thought of firing his ass, but then I saw how ridiculous I was behaving, and something about this big butch man being bitchy right back at me struck me funny. Thank God, my ribs were mostly healed, because I started laughing. My laughter flustered him. In his deep baritone voice, he demanded, "What's so fucking funny?"

It took me a bit to calm down enough to say, "You're too big and butch to come off all bitchy like that."

For a moment he looked indignant and then he saw the humor in it and laughed, too. We started becoming friends and talking to each other. It was good. I realized as the days went by that I didn't really have any friends outside of my family and the firm. Even then, the members of the law firm had only sent flowers and get well wishes. How had I gotten to this point? I'd had lots of friends in high school and college - none of them really close, but I had friends.

As I healed, the days became easier to get through and I looked forward to George's arrival each morning. Carla quickly saw that my attitude had improved. One morning she commented to him, "Patrick is so much more pleasant recently, and I know it's all your doing, George. I don't know what you've done, but please keep it up."

The big man looked at me, raised an eyebrow and smirked.

I frowned and growled, "Don't give me that kind of attitude; I get enough from my brothers."

He simply grinned.

After Carla left and we'd settled into our morning routine, which meant he got to torture me while calling it therapy. He said, "So, tell me about your brothers. Are they anything like you?" He grinned as he said that - good thing.

"No, they're gay like you."

With a mock frown and arms akimbo, in a gruff voice he asked, "What makes you think I'm queer?"

If I could have put my hands on my hips I would have mimicked him. "Why I have no idea. Now what would make me think you're gay?" I responded.

"I said queer," he gruffed.

"I caught that, but it's not nice for me as a straight man to use that word, and I'm trying to learn not to be an ass." I was on my back with him holding my right leg in the air while I tried to lower it.

After twenty attempts, he bent my knee and pressed my doubled up leg down against my belly, stretching my glutes. "Keep trying. You may yet get there," he said.

"Fuck you," I grunted, as he pressed down again.

"Nope, only my husband gets to do that." He rolled me on my side, slapped my butt and urged me to close my legs while he held my ankle. "

"You're incorrigible. My brothers are in monogamous relationships, too."

"You're speaking of two brothers?"

"Three. Two live in Gilroy and the third lives nearby. He has a vintage lighting store over on Guerrero"

"You don't mean F.R. Bailey's, do you?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

"I've seen him around. Never dreamed the little man would be your brother. But now that I think about it, there is a family resemblance. He's got quite a reputation."

"Reputation?"

"Tough little bugger. Put the squash on a dude twice his size recently."

"That sounds like Frank."

"The two in Gilroy. Are they small like Frank?"

I laughed, "They're farmers - bigger than me. I'm not really sure they're gay. But they sure are queer for each other."

"Incest?"

I shrugged. "Since they can't have babies, what does it matter? The people down there just accept them as two bachelor brothers living together."

"Intriguing."

"Whatever floats your boat."

A couple of evenings later George called and told Carla he couldn't come the next day - family emergency. She called Dad, but he and Rich were in Gilroy. She decided that since the two boys were out of school for a Teacher's Day, she'd ask Matt to spend the day with me. I was well aware that the proper thing for her to do was to call the agency and have a substitute come in. I began to wonder if she was intentionally manipulating the situation between her son and me. She'd never asked what had happened that day I went down to Gilroy. I suppose my condition had a lot to do with her forgetting about it. At least I hoped that she'd forgotten about it. It wasn't my proudest day.

But then, she and Frank were quite buddy-buddy. I could see him taking glee in telling her all about that meeting with Matt.

I had grievous doubts about anything good coming from throwing us together, but didn't say anything as I covertly listened to her end of the conversation.

"Matt, I need you to do this. … I know you two don't get along, but Patrick's changed. I think you might even like him, if you'll give him a chance. … Please, Honey, do this for me. Look, GP will be back around two. If Patrick's giving you a difficult time, you can call him to relieve you. … Don't tell Patrick I told you this, but with three casts he's at your mercy. … I know you'd never take advantage of a helpless man. … Maaaatt, it's impossible to talk to you. I didn't mean it like that and you well know it. … So, you will? You are a sweetheart. I'll make it up to you somehow."

She closed her phone and came back into the room. "Okay, Matt's agreed to stay with you tomorrow. I really don't know what the problem between you two is, but if you'd give each other a chance I'm sure you can at least get along."

"We just got off on the wrong foot. I'm sure you're right," I assured her, "and I'll do my best to make things right with him."

Matt

I couldn't believe Mom. I moved out of the house because of Patrick, and now she wants me to babysit the creep. Jeez, she must be desperate if she had to turn to me.

I can't believe he'll be anything except antagonistic towards me after the hoop I'd made him jump through the day he crashed his car. I never expected him to actually do it - fall to his knees and beg me to forgive him in front of his brothers and GP. 'Oh well,' I thought, 'he's at least incapacitated and can't attack me.'

Patrick

I haven't been left alone for more than a few minutes at a time since I woke up in the hospital. The only time I seem to have to myself is late at night after everyone else is asleep. Even then I'm usually so exhausted I fall right to sleep. But with physical therapy and daily exercise, I now have more energy, so some nights it takes me a long time to get to sleep.

Last night was one of those nights. As I lay in the dark staring at the invisible ceiling, I began to recall Dad talking to me. I can't remember him ever saying to my face a lot of the things I was recalling. It was as though he were carrying on a monolog, so it must have been while I was in the coma. He'd certainly given me a hell of a lot to think about.

I thought about how to approach Matt. It's ironical that I've been playing around in my daydreams with the thought of being his dad. I'm well aware that I will probably never meet Matt's standards in the dad category. His real dad had been a big brave marine who gave his life more than ten years ago fighting in Iraq during Desert Storm. How could I ever compare to that? No, it would be best to forget the dad angle. And the buddy angle was out, too. So, where did that leave me? Just a friend? No, I was certain even that was a no go.

I sighed, wishing I could turn over. There was just no way with these damned casts that I could get totally comfortable. At least I was in bed by myself. Carla had tried sleeping with me the first night and I'd hit her with my right arm cast. Since then she spends the evening with me, but sleeps upstairs.

We've even managed to make love. I jokingly told her that she rides me so hard that by the time the casts come off I'm going to be a broken down ol' nag. She laughed and said, "No way, you're too much of a stud … even with the casts." She does know how to feed my ego.

When morning finally came, I was looking foreward to being out of bed and back in my chair. With George pushing me to strengthen my free limbs, I can - with a good bit of help - manage to stand and then sit in the chair. There's no way I can sit up by myself.

And dressing is a whole other matter, but George came up with some special clothes that make me halfway presentable. I suspect that the man altered them himself, but he won't admit it. The shirt has large snaps up the left side which is sleeveless, and the one legged pants snap together at the seam on my left side. The problem is I can't put them on by myself.

Mornings, Carla is always on the run from the moment she wakes up. She does take time to make coffee, which she carries with her out the door. Then I wait in bed until George arrives, and since he's always so solicitous of my every need, I was apprehensive of what a day with Matt was going to be like. I mean I'm completely at his mercy. I wondered if Carla had really thought about that. Then I remembered what she'd told Matt, and I wondered again if she'd possibly engineered this situation. I wouldn't put it past her. I had half an hour to be antsy after Carla rushed out the door admonishing me to be nice to Matt.

While I lay there waiting for Matt to show up I thought some more on the things Dad had said.

Matt showed up fifteen minutes early, and was polite in greeting me when he found me still in bed.

"So what's the agenda?" he asked.

I blinked. I was on -- this was my moment to make or break any future with Matt. I took a deep breath and said, "Matt, I want you to know I really appreciate you doing this. I know you're only doing it because your mom asked, but it means the world to me that you are willing to be my nurse for the day."

Matt looked askance, then looked me in the eyes. "You be nice, and I'll be nice. Now what's first? Do we get you dressed, or would you like breakfast first?"

I gulped. "I - uh - need to use the toilet first, then get washed up. But if you don't want to, I can wait until your mom gets home and let her do it."

"I'll do whatever you need done, Patrick. You'll have to tell me though."

He lifted me off the bed and gently sat me in my chair. It's always good to be back in it since I can at least control its movements with my right hand fingers. I don't feel quite so helpless.

"Okay," I sighed, "follow me." I turned my chair and headed for the bathroom. I maneuvered into position next to the toilet, then said to Matt who had followed me, "Help me stand, then move me over where I can sit on the toilet."

The boy was as strong as George, and had no problem lifting me to stand on my good foot and seating me gently on the commode. He stepped back and waited. I glanced up at him and he almost smiled. "I take it you now need some privacy."

I nodded, feeling … well, quite humbled. I mentally noted that this was a lesson I needed to learn. Matt left and closed the door while I did my duty. I sat there naked except for the three casts, gathering courage to call him back in to clean me. 'Oh God,' I thought, 'I'll never live this down.' I couldn't even flush the toilet.

Matt came back in and asked, "How do we go about this?"

I know I turned the brightest red of my whole life as I explained that maybe the easiest way was to go in from the front. "Get several wipes ready, lay them on the cast and then you have to hold my stuff up with one hand and wipe with the other."

Matt closed his eyes a moment, then prepared the wipes. He knelt and looked me in the eyes. "Neither of us is ever going to speak of this, right?"

I was chewing my lower lip. I curtly nodded and said, "Please, just get it done."

I was surprised that I didn't bite through my lip as he touched me. Thank God he didn't look up at me until he finished and let go.

"Thank you, Matt," I whispered. He nodded, got to his feet, flushed the toilet and washed his hands.

"I guess bathing you is next?"

I nodded. Not having gotten over the previous indignity, I couldn't yet speak.

"If I lay you over the counter here, I can wash your backside," he said. George always laid me on the bed to do this, but if Matt wanted to do it that way, I wasn't going to object. He laid a towel over the counter, then stood me up and leaned me forward until I rested on the counter. He lifted my casted leg and rested my foot on the toilet lid.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"It's okay. Do your thing."

Matt chuckled, but made no comment. My mind was filling in the blanks and I know I blushed, but he ignored it, soaped up a cloth and washed my back and buttocks. There was no hesitation as he spread my cheeks and washed there, too. "If there is a next time, I think it would be easier on both of us if I clean your butt in this position." I gulped and hoped he didn't ask how George did it.

After rinsing me off and drying me, he helped me back into the chair. Again, taking the soaped cloth he washed my chest and belly. I just lay my head back and watched him. A tiny little twitch at the left corner of his mouth was the only reaction he showed as he very carefully washed my genitals. After that, he did my right leg, then stood back and nearly smiling, said, "That's as clean as you get."

I smiled back and reminded him that he forgot my face and neck. He turned pink, but got the washcloth soaped again. As he wiped it over my face, he whispered, "God, this is more intimate than doing your cock and balls."

We both blushed. I wondered what made it not intimate when George did it.

When he dressed me, he found the shirt easy to figure out, but I had to explain that he had to slip the pant leg on my good leg first, then stand me to pull them up and snap the other side. He did it efficiently.

Once we were in the kitchen, he asked if I wanted coffee. I smiled and nodded. "You haven't had breakfast either, have you?" I asked.

"I ate earlier with John, but I'm starved. What do you want to do while I fix us something to eat?"

"I'll just scoot up to the table and sip my coffee." Stop and think about it. A straw stuck in the cup was the only way without someone holding the cup to my mouth.

Matt soon had softly scrambled eggs, crisp bacon and buttered toast ready. He set the table for two and then returned with two plates of food. He set one in front of me and paused. "Oh, I forgot." He moved my plate to the side and set his next to it and pulled a chair around to sit next to me. I moved my chair to partially face him. As he lifted a forkful of egg to my mouth, he said, "I've never done this before."

I took the mouthful, chewed and swallowed, doing my best not to laugh. "You haven't done any of this before, have you?"

He smiled for the first time and shook his head. "I thought we agreed not to speak of it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's alright. I've just never been that intimate with another person … well, except Luke."

"Luke's a neat young man," I said. "So much like my baby brother."

Matt grinned. "I'll bet Farr really likes being referred to that way."

I laughed again. Things were going good. I prayed I wouldn't say something to fuck it up.

We got through breakfast easily. Matt would feed me a bite, then take a bite of his own breakfast. We chatted lightly, school, the farm in Gilroy - that kind of thing. Then I asked how he liked living with Farr and John. He sat back and just looked at me a moment. I mentally kicked myself in the ass.

Then he said, "I don't mean to make you feel bad, Patrick, but it's probably one of the best things that's happened to me since my dad died. I never really liked living here. I was alone most of the time with Mom working all the time. She was at least home most evenings … until she met you. Of course I was pretty much out on my own by then, so….." He trailed off for a moment. I couldn't believe the kid was actually talking to me after what I'd done to him. Maybe I could really apologize and make amends. He stared out the window for a moment, then said, "John is like a dad to me - doesn't let me slack off. Farr tries to play dad, but he comes off more as an older brother. I never had one, you know." He glanced at me with a bit of smile, then stood to clear the table. I watched him rinse the dishes and put them in the washer. He wiped down the stove and counter tops, then the table.

"Would you like more coffee?" he asked, picking up my empty cup.

"Sure," I said. He set the mug of fresh coffee in front of me and stuck my straw back in it. I asked him to sit back down. He looked at me, his face a question.

"Matt, I've had a lot of time to think recently. Part of becoming a lawyer seems to be taking on an attitude of superiority. I seem to have done that with alacrity. Until I woke up in the hospital, I hadn't realized what an ass I had become. A lot of that realization came from Dad talking to me while I was in the coma. I think he was just talking to keep himself busy while he sat there waiting for me to wake up, but I could hear what he said, and once I awoke and had a chance to think about it, it brought me to my senses. I'd become a lawyer that several firms were vying for… big deal. But I lost myself in the imposed image.

"Matt, the one thing I feel worst about… is my dealings with you. I really do regret the attitude I took with you. I'd like to somehow make amends for the way I've treated you, and if possible start over."

He stared at me like he was examining my most private thoughts, then he nodded.

"Frank told me, Matt," I continued, "that you are one of the most decent people he's known. This morning has proven that he's right. You could have taken advantage of the situation and totally embarrassed and degraded me. I wouldn't have blamed you if you had. I certainly would have deserved it. Yet you helped me keep my dignity instead. I thank you for that."

"Was nothing," he muttered.

"You're wrong, Matt. It was everything. I admire you and my respect for you grows the more I know you."