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"Unnatural Tendencies" - Chapter 2

By: Ty the Fox

All-in-all, he'd been lucky. A minor concussion, a sprained ankle, two broken ribs, and a compound fracture to his elbow were the full extent of it; no internal hemorrhaging or neurological damage was apparent. I didn't know what any of that meant, so I wasn't exactly put at ease by the doctor's reassurance that Darryl would be okay. He just looked so frail and helpless as he lay in the hospital bed, his breathing faint and irregular beneath his oxygen mask while an IV dripped clear fluid into his arm.

I hadn't been allowed inside the ambulance, but Mr. Davis, the school principal, offered to give me a ride to the hospital. It was a lonely trip. He tried to console me - I must have looked like a real mess with Darryl's (and perhaps a bit of Charlie's) blood spattered on my shirt - but I was in a different place, the events of the afternoon playing through my mind like a broken film reel. The still that lingered, though, was that of Darryl crumpled against the oak tree, half-conscious and bloodied, with the torn pages of his reading book strewn about him like withered autumn leaves. The righteous anger that had boiled over in my fight with Charlie still simmered and hissed softly in the background, but an ever-growing feeling of compassion was quickly beginning to overtake me. The injustice of it all was too cruel considering how impossible it was for the small otter to defend himself from a three-man assault. I'd been raised to think - and indeed I'd believed - that the obstacles placed before you are meant to be overcome, all of the trials and tribulations of life simply opportunities to become a stronger person. But, in light of the events of this afternoon, it was hard to hold fast to that optimistic outlook. Darryl had been beaten half to death by three guys who'd attacked him without provocation. Where's the life-lesson in that?

I wanted to stay by Darryl's side in the cold emptiness of the hospital room, at least until his parents arrived, but I was soon shooed away by a nurse for not being a blood relative or a significant other, or something like that. Outside, Mr. Davis was talking to the doctor, who was giving him the same spiel he'd given me; perhaps he understood better than I did why Darryl was going to be fine.

I started to head into the waiting room as instructed when the principal placed a paw on my shoulder. "Robbie, wait. I need to call your parents to let them know where you are. Can I have the number?" He gave me a kind smile that quickly faded as he said, staring past me, "I'll have to contact Darryl's folks as well..."

"My dad has to work late tonight and our other car is in the shop," I replied mechanically. "They're not going to get here anytime soon."

"Fine, fine..." Mr. Davis trailed off, continuing to stare blankly. Finally, he shook his head and blinked a few times, then flashed the same genial smile up at me again. "Then I guess I'll just have to stay here until they get here!" He chuckled and pulled out his phone, though he paused for a moment before flipping it open. "Umm...Robbie, why don't you sit out in the waiting room while I take care of this? I'll be in there in a minute."

I simply shrugged and took my leave. I was barely listening to anything he was saying anyway, still distracted by the image of Darryl's broken body in the courtyard. There were many broken bodies here: an old woman on a respirator, shriveled and sallow-skinned; a kit writhing and shrieking while several white-coats tried to restrain him; a fox in a wheelchair whose fur had fallen out in several large patches on his face, replaced by bulging red blotches. The waiting room of the ER wing was also filled with an assortment of sick-looking people, each anxiously awaiting their turn to be seen. As for me, I took a seat in the far corner of the room and stared down at my feet for a while. In the back of my mind, I knew I should have already called my parents with my cell phone to let them know where I was - Mom was probably already worried that I hadn't walked home already - but I couldn't bring myself to talk to anyone at the moment.

I don't know how long I sat there by myself, but Mr. Davis did eventually join me. He patted me on the shoulder and took my number down, then made the phone call to my father. To me he seemed a little frazzled, his posture uncharacteristically stiff and tense, but he remained composed and soft-spoken as he talked, gently assuring my dad that I was 'fine but a little shell-shocked.' He handed the cell over and I parroted back what the principal had just said, not that I felt fine at all. Dad said, "I'm sorry son, but I'm not going to get there for another half hour. Just be sure to stay with Mr. Davis until I do." I replied that I would, said goodbye and hung up. Nothing to do now but wait.

"Robbie?" Mr. Davis pocketed his phone and turned to face me, a concerned expression on his face. "I know this is probably the last thing you want to talk about right now, but I have to know what happened. I doubt Darryl broke his own ribs." He reached out and touched my shoulder reassuringly, but I shook it off and kept staring at the floor.

After a few moments went by, I said, "They almost killed him. Those assholes almost killed him."

"Who, Robbie?"

Again I paused, my irritation growing. "Look, do we really have to talk about this?" I snapped. "Fuck them. I hope his jaw stays broken." I balled my paws up into fists and started to shake, my anger beginning to take hold of me again.

Mr. Davis let out a deep sigh before probing, "I know you didn't do this to Darryl, but if you don't tell me what happened, I can't do anything to help. As long as you tell me the truth, I won't punish you. Who did this?"

He clearly wasn't going to let this go, so I tersely replied, "Charlie and Brian and some kid I don't know. They were...they were..." - my shaking got worse as I felt hot tears roll down my cheeks - "He was just sitting underneath that tree like he always does, and they came after him with a bat. I-I had to stop them..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." Mr. Davis calmly reassured me, putting his paw on my shoulder again; this time I didn't shake it off. "What happened then?"

I turned my head to face him, unable to keep myself from crying. "I-I told them to stop, but he wouldn't listen. Charlie attacked me, but I..." I paused; in a moment of clarity, I considered the consequences of incriminating myself. He had said that he wouldn't punish me, though, so I took him at his word and continued, "I broke his wrist and his jaw. I didn't mean to; it just happened. I was...stronger than I thought." I looked up at him, hopeful, but he took his paw off my shoulder and sighed. I knew what that meant: suspension. Maybe expulsion. He couldn't not punish me; I silently cursed myself for not keeping my mouth shut.

After a moment of thought, Mr. Davis said, "Robbie, I promise you that Charlie and the others will be severely punished for what they've done. I'll speak on your behalf in front of the school board. I have no doubts they'll be lenient given the circumstances." He gave me a wistful smile. "I'm sorry. Life's not always fair. But know this: you did the right thing. You may have saved that young boy's life, or at least kept him from serious harm. In the years to come, that's all that will matter to anyone."

It looked as if he had more to say, but he suddenly started to look past me at the couple who'd just walked through the sliding glass doors at the entrance to the ER. Soon everyone in the room was looking at them; their heated arguing was hard to ignore given the otherwise placid environment of the waiting room. What really captured my attention, though, was that dull, menacing look in the big otter's eye. Immediately I recognized that as the precursor to drunken rage. I'd seen it only a couple of times at the parties I'd been to in the past two years, but it was hard to forget the fistfights that had broken out amongst some of the more violent drunks in our group. One time a chair got thrown across the room and made a huge hole in the wall - the host of that party had to work at a nearby fast food joint for almost 6 months to pay for the damage. To my surprise, Mr. Davis got up and quickly strode over to them. These were Darryl's parents? That pang of deep caring welled up within me again as I stared at the father. Slovenly, fat, and mean-looking, he was practically frothing at the mouth as Mr. Davis explained the situation to him. His mother was the complete opposite: she crying hysterically, mascara dripping and clothes wrinkled as her slight little body quaked with emotion. I couldn't hear most of the conversation, but Darryl's father kept yelling and yelling, sometimes at his wife, sometimes at Mr. Davis. The receptionist finally stepped out of her booth to try to break the confrontation up, and when she angrily pointed at the door, all three quieted down. Temporarily at a truce, they made their way down the hall towards Darryl's room.

I was about to get up and follow despite myself, but just then my dad walked in, headfur mussed and looking winded. He clutched his chest and gaped in shock when he saw me; with my clothes bloody and sweat-stained as they were, he must have thought the worst. I quickly strode over and assured him I was fine, giving him a firm hug to prove it. It was a real pet peeve of mine to have my parents gushing over me, but with all that had just happened, that hug felt really comforting. Mr. Davis must have heard us, because he turned around briefly and gave me a swift nod before turning a corner with Darryl's parents. It was finally over.

At least, that's how I felt when I got home and slipped into the comforting heat of my shower. Now I know better. It had only begun. If life can be viewed as a road filled with junctures, with each one splitting off into more roads headed in every direction, each with their own manifold junctures splitting off into roads in every direction, that afternoon had shunted me onto a path I had no choice but to follow: a path with no forks, no exits, and only one end. It's all so clear in hindsight with all of the pieces laid out in front of me fitting neatly together to form a seamless whole. While you're trudging through the walk of life, though, things aren't ever so clear; only after the fact can you be truly omniscient. Now I can see the end of my journey. There are no more paths, no more choices - only black nothingness all around as far as the eye can see. There's no salvation waiting for me when this road finally ends. And yet...

Three days suspension and detention for two weeks. Mr. Davis didn't follow through on his promise, but it could have been a lot worse. Apparently Charlie's dad was a pastor with strong ties to the community, and he didn't take too kindly to the two weeks of recuperation time his son needed or the threat of his expulsion over what he called 'an overblown misunderstanding.' The school board did eventually relent and allow Charlie back into school, but fortunately they stood their ground when he demanded that I be expelled and put into police custody for assault. It was hard to draw any other conclusion about the incident when Darryl, after three days in the hospital and still unable to get out of bed unaided, gave his side of the story. For the week that followed, though, there were a lot of hate-filled messages on the answering machine, and occasionally we'd hear a loud car horn honk angrily from the road. Our house even got egged once, probably by one of Charlie's goons. However, all that died down when Charlie returned to school, and, with Darryl was on the tail end of his recovery, it was all but forgotten as all of us neared the end of the year and became consumed by the mounting pressure of finals.

Unfortunately, the fight did cost me my popularity. Charlie's friends all rushed to his aid and launched an unofficial smear campaign against me, and since Darryl was a nobody to begin with, it was as though he didn't exist in the hive-mind of the student body. All that mattered was that I was the brute who'd broken someone's wrist with one hand and didn't have a mark to show for it. I couldn't walk twenty feet without seeing someone give me a dirty look or hearing people whisper behind my back. It was an inconvenient turn of events, but I'd had such little respect for most of my classmates in the first place that it didn't bother me too much on a personal level. It took a little while to adjust to the coldness of rejection and acclimate to being alone most of the time at school, but I wasn't about to let that stop me from continuing to honor the pact I'd made to myself to strive to excel. None of the teachers treated me any differently either, and with my parents were completely on my side and supporting me, life wasn't much that different for me all-in-all...save for one thing: Darryl.

His image and the events of that afternoon lingered in my thoughts for weeks. I saw him everywhere I went. Every day in math class, I stared at his empty desk. Every time I went to work out, I saw his limp body beneath the oak tree. Every night before I fell asleep, I felt his paw in mine before he was rushed to the hospital. The connection we'd made, circumstances aside, felt so very real. I, like so many other students at our school, knew almost nothing about him, and yet I felt compelled to be a part of his life. He needed me. I wanted him to need me. I didn't have his phone number or his address - Mr. Davis had refused to give them to me - so I was left spinning for the entirely of his convalescence, obsessing over what to do and what to say How could I convey my feelings to him? I imagined the countless potential interactions we'd have when he returned and fantasized about our future together. For years and years, my desire for companionship had been dammed up behind thick walls of self-protection and scorn, but somehow Darryl had breached that barrier, allowing those emotions to gush out through the cracks and flood my mind.

He returned to school two weeks before classes let out for the summer, unassumingly taking his seat in the back of math class while Ms. Paxton droned on about sines and cosines. He looked more or less the same, save for the sling supporting his heavily plastered left arm. With Darryl actually here, I paid even less attention to her than usual; today would be the day that marked the beginning of our wonderful friendship. Finally the bell rang and I excitedly made my way to the door, preparing to intercept him as he left.

As soon as he took his first step out of the classroom, I was there tapping on his shoulder. Smiling broadly, I said, "Hi, Darryl! I wanted to say, umm..." I immediately started to stammer, my anxiety already getting the best of me, but I silenced myself as he turned to look at me. To my surprise, his sky-blue eyes were filled with anger; shoving my arm aside, he gave me a long, hard glare. "Stay. Away. From me." Without another word, he stormed off, leaving me not just a little confused. Of all the reactions I'd expected from Darryl, anger at me wasn't one of them. Dumbfounded, I just watched from the doorway as the little otter turned the corner and was enveloped by the throng of students swarming to their next class. As I finally snapped out of it and started to make my way to English Lit., I ran through my extensive mental list of interactions and outcomes, trying to figure out what I'd done to infuriate him. I mean, I hadn't even said two words to him before he...wait. An idea occurred to me that sent a chill down my spine. Had he been expecting me to call or come over to his house? If only I'd had that address...I could have easily ridden my bike over to him to drop off his classwork. Fuck, if that was the case, then...

I didn't get much out of any of my classes that day.

While my mind continued to spin and whirr over the next few days, trying to find that key mistake I'd made since the trip to the hospital, I couldn't help but notice that Darryl was making a conscious effort to avoid me. Our school really wasn't all that big, so bumping into any given student over the course of a day was pretty likely. Whenever I bumped into Darryl, though, he'd quickly turn around and walk in a different direction. There were other weird things, too. For instance, the next day in math class, there were several times I caught him looking at me intently from his seat in the back of the room, but each time I turned my head to check he'd quickly go back to watching our teacher scratch out equations on the chalkboard. Then there was also a time at lunch when we happened to be on line together; as soon as he saw me, he dropped his tray of unpaid-for food and ducked out into the cafeteria. I couldn't figure out what was going on.

Finally, after about a week of frustration over Darryl's odd behavior and the fact that I couldn't find a reason behind it, I decided to ambush him after school and force him to explain himself. His behavior was keeping me in agony and it just had to stop. He didn't frequent his previous spot in the courtyard anymore, unsurprisingly, but after tailing him for a few days, I found out that he now went to the school library as soon as classes let out.

I caught him perusing through some reference books about Egyptology, but he was so absorbed that he hadn't noticed me approach him. I took a deep breath. This was it. With a soft but insistent throat-clearing noise I was able to get his attention; when he whirled around and faced me, he looked mortified, as though I'd just caught him committing a crime. There was a certain sense of satisfaction to be had in that: we'd been playing a game of cat and mouse all week long and I'd finally cornered him. Not wasting any time with small talk, I said, "Look, I've seen you avoiding me everywhere I go and we've barely said two words to each other since you came back to school. What's up?" I gave him a hard stare and he averted his eyes, wincing as if he'd received a punch to the stomach.

After a long pause, Darryl looked up and calmly replied, "I'm sorry for avoiding you. You did a nice thing for me, Robbie. I appreciate it. That's it though. You just go back to your life and I'll go back to mine."

I blinked at that; I hadn't expected someone as shrimpy as he was to be so assertive in conversation. Still, I wasn't going to be deflated so easily. Raising my voice slightly, I pressed further: "That's crap and you know it. You think that both of us can just walk away from something like that without even discussing it?"

Darryl's eyes flashed for a moment, then he snapped back, "Yes, actually, I do. What's changed between us?" The volume of our conversation was escalating higher and higher. "You think that's the first time I've been beaten up? Do you honestly think it'll be the last?" A librarian at the circulation desk gave us both a dirty look and Darryl quieted down, though the intensity of his voice remained the same. "I got lucky last time because you fought off those creeps, but what did you did honestly think would happen after that?"

Now it was my turn to wince; he'd just asked the question I'd obsessed and pondered over for the last month and I felt incredibly insecure about revealing my feelings, especially with Darryl as irritated as he was. Still, I had to try. "Darryl, I...I realized that I cared about you. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you went to the hospital." My voice started to tremble softly as I continued, "I...I think I love you."

For the briefest moment, I thought I saw the hard expression on his face melt, but it was so fleeting that it could have been just my imagination playing a trick on me. The angry glare quickly returned, followed by an equally angry reply: "You _love_me? You don't even know me! You think that a single blip in time makes up for the years you and everyone else laughed at me, treating me as if I'm not even a person with feelings?" He let out a cold laugh as a tear rolled down his cheek. "I can't believe how arrogant you are. To think you could possibly understand what I go through every single day...that takes a special kind of asshole, Robbie." With that, he pushed me to the side and walked away, body shaking slightly as he left.

I didn't do anything for a few seconds, brain working frantically to try to process everything that had happened in the last minute. He was right. It was pigheaded of me to even entertain the thought that Darryl would feel about me as I felt about him. But...he was wrong too. Just as I was quick to judge him, he wasn't giving me the credit I deserved. My feelings were real. And I had to make him understand.

I dashed out of the library and caught a brief glimpse of him just before he turned a corner. Catching up to him in a few quick bounds, I grabbed his one free wrist firmly from behind, holding him in place as I pleaded, "Darryl, wait..."

"Dammit Robbie, get your freaking paws off of me! I told you to leave me the fuck alone!" He tried to wriggle his hand out of my grip, but his attempts were so feeble compared to the raw strength I was using to keep him still. Once again I was reminded just how powerful I was; it gave me a queasy feeling. Of course, I wasn't going to hold him here forever, just until I'd had my say. Even that justification didn't allow me to completely shake it off, though.

"Darryl...I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, exactly..." I quickly trailed off, Darryl's expression of incredulity robbing me of my resolve. How did I mean it, exactly? How can you care so deeply about someone you barely know? Unsatisfied with my lack of follow-up, the otter once again tried to break free and again I tightened my grip, being as mindful as I could about not using too much force. "Look...I really don't know how to describe it to you..." I continued, still trying to collect my thoughts. "After seeing what they did to you, and what you had to endure, I...well, I..." Again I struggled to come up with the right words.

Despite this second long pause, Darryl had stopped struggling and was now looking at me intently; at least I had his interest now. Even as I gazed into his eyes, his beautiful, sparkling blue eyes, I still couldn't come up with anything further to say. Dammit, why was this so freaking hard? What can I say to make him understand? Why did I even have to try and explain what I was feeling anyway?

My body answered that last question for me. Before I could stop myself, I suddenly pulled Darryl into a tight hug, tucking his frail, boyish frame into my brawny one. In the same fluid motion, I bent down and pressed my lips to his in a warm kiss. For that one second, time seemed to freeze and space disappeared completely: there was simply 'us', Darryl and I, bodies and souls locked together and mingling as one. I could feel the moist smoothness of his lips as mine pressed against them more deeply; the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat resonating in my chest; the wonderful heat radiating from his core to mine. For the first time in my life, I felt truly free. All that mattered, all that was and ever would be: all of it was here, in this moment. With Darryl.

I finally did open my eyes again, though reality was sluggish to return. Mind in a fog, I released his lips with a soft puckering sound, slowly pulling away from him. I gradually released my hold around his waist as well and took a small step back, staring hazily at Darryl while still waiting for all of 'me' to reassemble from the jumbled puddle I'd melted into. He looked quite as dumbstruck as I was, gazing at me with wide eyes as his chest heaved in and out. That's how we remained for few minutes, looking at each other blankly as we tried to sort out what had just happened. I couldn't speak for him, obviously; for all I knew, he'd been so disgusted and weirded out that he'd tell the principal that I'd sexually assaulted him. As for me...well, it was still very confusing. This wasn't my first kiss, of course - I'd made out with several girls at the parties I'd went to - but never had a kiss left such a profound impact on me as this one. The 'love' I thought I felt for him was mostly emotional; in all of my fantasies, I saw myself as a protector, a caretaker...none of them even addressed the possibility of having a physical relationship with Darryl. Hell, I hadn't ever entertained the possibility of having a physical relationship with anyone, male or female, after my encounter with Beth. And yet, that kiss had finally awakened that latent desire within me; like the glow of a flame, my heart fluttered and flickered with a hot excitement that quickly spread throughout my entire body, leaving my skin tingling and my chest aching for more.

I was the one who finally broke the silence. "Darryl, umm, I'm really sorry. I don't know what came over me." I stared down at the ground sheepishly, the embarrassment and the fear of Darryl's rejection quickly dousing the fiery passion that had been lit a moment before. Forcing myself to look up and make eye contact, I continued, "I know you're probably not interested in me, because I have been a real jerk to you. I can't imagine what your life has been like. But...but I want to change that. I...can help." My tone gradually softened into a plaintive plea as he continued to stare back at me with a vacant expression on his face. "You're the first person I ever cared about..."

Trying to hold back my tears, I turned and left, walking out the front doors without looking back.

That night I was inconsolable. I didn't even think anyone could possibly feel so utterly distraught, much less me. I'd blown my one shot at talking to Darryl, and how? By acting on an impulse, an impulse I didn't even know I had. It was the same thing I'd succumbed to with Beth, though that time at least I could put some of the blame on the alcohol for my lack of forethought. Also, she had been just as willing, if not more so, as I was that night. I'd violated_Darryl, held him against his will while I lustfully pressed myself into him. I mean, fuck, I didn't even know if he was even gay. Well...actually, strike that; he's definitely gay. Still, he'd never said or done anything to suggest that he was open and receptive to being _with me or anyone else, and why would he? He'd gotten himself beaten up just for looking at someone the wrong way. I felt so dirty for doing something that might have hurt him yet again.

But...at the same time, kissing Darryl was one of the most richly satisfying experiences of my entire life; even now that warm, tingling feeling persisted, feverish chills running up and down my body. This exciting feeling, though, was overshadowed by the immense amount of doubt and shame it caused. Did this mean I was gay, too? I supposed it did. I'd never thought of myself in terms of 'straight' or 'homosexual' before; my sexuality had been so far out of the realm of 'normal' that I considered myself an anomaly. Still, I remembered Beth and how, despite its overall impact on me, there were little things I actually enjoyed about that experience: the gentle curves of her body, the warmth of her bosom against my cheek, the pounding of her fast-beating heart as I satisfied her. Maybe that made me bisexual, then. I didn't know. More disturbing to me than the label and its implications, though, was that although I may have given Darryl yet another emotional scar, I couldn't say I regretted it. In fact, I probably would have still kissed him even if I'd had the ability to go back and change the events of this afternoon. Was I that weak that I couldn't resist my own impulses? Or - I shuddered as a chill ran down my spine - was I so cold that I cared more about fulfilling my desires than the people I'd harm in the process? How 'unconscious' was my advance on Darryl, anyway? And...and, what if I hadn't stopped at just kissing him? My immense strength was enough that I could have held his still-healing body to mine indefinitely, or smashed his head into the brick-lined walls of the hallway, or forced him to the ground while I stripped him down and mounted him. If I was twisted enough to think up these fantasies and powerful enough to make them real, could I trust myself not to? What kind of monster am I?

And thus my whole night was spent tormented by these thoughts. I did have to come out of my room to eat dinner with my parents, but I wasn't hungry in the least. After idly picking at my food in silence, I excused myself and went into my room, shutting the door behind me quietly and turning my stereo up. My parents weren't dumb and I didn't doubt they knew something was up, but I didn't care. I knew they'd leave me alone and that's exactly how I wanted it. Even if I did want to clue them in, how would I even begin? How could they possibly understand? No, everyone was better off this way. They could go on believing whatever they wanted to believe about me and I could just cope as always, alone. Today, that meant sobbing softly into my pillow behind the shelter of Boston's Greatest Hits. Rock from the '70s and '80s could always lift my spirits at least a little bit. With someone singing about love and heartache and loneliness in the background I at the very least felt there was a kindred spirit out there somewhere, a person who could relate to the almost physical pain I felt in my chest.

More than anything, I just needed to hold Darryl in my arms. And I'd ruined my one chance to make that real.