Don't Touch Me! - 32

 

Cody slowly opened his eyes, trying to figure out why he was lying on the sofa. Then he saw Brent sitting across from him, a look of worry blended with relief on his face.

"What happened," Cody asked fearfully.

Brent smiled slightly. "You scared the shit out of me. We were in the cut-through. You said something about the man grabbing and threatening you, then you passed out."

Easing up, Cody frowned. "I did?"

"You did."

"I…" Cody began shaking as it all fell into place. "It was… I…"

Brent moved quickly to kneel in front of him. "What, Cody? Tell me."

"When he did that, I remembered…" He pulled back, looking fearfully at Brent. "I know why I'm like this. Why I can't…"

"Because the man attacked you?"

"No. That just brought it all back. Something I tried so hard to forget"—Cody grimaced—"and I did, until the guy grabbed me. I suppose"—he tapped his forehead—"I suppose, once I remembered, my mind said, 'If you don't let anyone touch you, it can't happen again'." He sighed deeply. "So I took it to heart then blocked him out, and my memories, if that makes sense."

"Very much so." Sitting back on his heels, Brent asked, "Do you think you can talk about whatever it was, now that you've remembered it again?"

"I can try. But…" Cody slid to the side to get up, avoiding bumping into Brent. "I need coffee first, I think."

Chuckling, Brent stood as well. "Our elixir of life." When they got to the kitchen, he told Cody to sit—"Since you're none to steady on your feet yet"—and made coffee, washing out their cups from earlier while they waited. When it was ready, Brent set one cup in front of Cody, then sat across from him.

Cody held the cup in both hands, staring into its dark depths. "This isn't—"

"Going to be easy," Brent replied, finishing his sentence. "Probably not, since it was obviously very traumatic. Just start at the beginning. If it gets to be too much, you can stop and we'll finish up later, when you feel up to it again."

Cody nodded. "I was eighteen, just about to go off to college, when I came out to my parents. Mother didn't like it but she accepted the fact. My father was less forgiving. Here's this burly factory worker who, when his buddies came over for a beer or a barbecue, made disparaging remarks about gays. They all did. It was just the way things were. Real men—" Cody made finger quotes, "—don't have gay sons or tolerate gays. Anyway, when I told him, he blew up. Almost kicked me out of the house. Mother told him not to be an ass and since he loved her, he sort of listened. Besides which, I'd be off to school in a few months, so he wouldn't have to deal with me except during the summer."