Too Much Rain, Chapter 51
Nov. 12th, 2014 09:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yes_2daySo here is the famous "Lost Chapter". The one I saved over, and freaked out over, and talked to Apple help over, and found an early version on my Time Machine. So then I went in and revised it and filled it out, and I think it's good to go now. Life is so exciting, don't you agree?
In this chapter: Paul interrogates John about his embarrassing injury, they got back to London, where John meets with Dr. Sid, who recommends a procedure.
Hope you enjoy.
WARNINGS: Frank discussion of various bodily functions, and some sexual terminology.
Chapter 51
Paul sat back on his heels and stared wordlessly at John for a few seconds. John’s arm was covering his eyes. One painful thought had occurred to Paul at that moment. John is only faking his attraction to me; I was right all along - he no longer wants me. Paul’s arousal died completely, and he moved over until he was sitting next to the still recumbent John on the bed. Paul searched his mind for something to say that wouldn’t sound pathetic or weak. Several silent moments went by.
“Paul?” John’s voice was plaintive. He still had the arm over his eyes.
“Did I hurt you in some way?” Paul managed to ask, still feeling rejected but trying to get past that.
“I’m very sore down there,” John said.
Paul sat silently for a few moments, digesting this information. Why on earth would he be sore down there? It didn’t seem to Paul that there could be too many innocent explanations. Of course, he had heard that hemorrhoids were very painful... Well, only one way to find out: “Why? What’s happened?”
John moaned a little to himself, although Paul didn’t really hear it. Still, there was nothing for it but for John to tell the truth. “I had this ... encounter ... a few weeks ago, and I got hurt pretty bad.”
Paul was struggling with John’s sentence. It made sense, in that it contained all English words put in the proper order, but Paul couldn’t make sense of it. “’Encounter’?” Paul finally asked, realizing at last that this was the word that had made the sentence difficult to understand.
John swallowed hard. Suddenly his mouth had gone dry.
“You know, we had this deal...” John started. He cleared this throat. “...That I could see other people when we are apart.”
The penny dropped for Paul, and he suddenly felt a little sick in his stomach. If John had ‘seen’ another person and had ended up with a sore asshole, it was unlikely to have been a woman. Of course, there were sex toys that a woman might have accidently misused...
John felt Paul’s silence (incorrectly) as a rebuke. He became a little defensive. “I followed the rules...”
“’Rules?’” Paul repeated. He was still in a state of confusion. At this moment he only seemed able to repeat words.
“I wore a condom, it was at a hotel, and it was a one-night stand.” John’s voice sounded quick and defensive, but the arm still across his eyes was kind of a dead giveaway that he was ashamed of what he had to say.
Paul didn’t know any other thing to do but to ask the billion-dollar question about the one part of the rules John had left out. “And it was a woman?”
John heard the hope in Paul’s voice, and his heart fell. But again, whenever John started to feel guilt coming his way he always had to find a new target for it; John’s guilt was sort of like a heat-seeking missile. “I don’t remember you requiring it to be a woman - you only said you preferred it not to be a woman because of the whole publicity thing. You left it up to me.”
The worse thing was, Paul was not surprised. That was the most amazing thing. As he sat there, he was not at all surprised. Of course John would remember the ‘rules’ that way. For John to remember them otherwise would mean he’d have to resist temptation. The ability to resist temptation was just not in the list of John’s personality traits. Lots of emotions were racing through Paul’s head, but only two words came out: “I see.”
John’s arm came down off his eyes, and he allowed himself to get a little angry. “’I see’? That’s all you have to say? I was hurt by this man, and all you can say is, ‘I see’?”
“He hurt you?” Paul asked. Somehow that information hadn’t yet percolated in Paul’s brain. “Did he do it against your will?” Paul’s feelings were whirling out of control now, but the dominant one was rage: Who had dared to hurt John in this way?
“Yes!” John declared.
“John! Oh my god, John! Why didn’t you tell me? How did this happen? Who is this person?” Paul had turned towards John, and although still sitting down, he was now leaning over John in a comforting and protective manner.
John took Paul’s response as full forgiveness for his “encounter”, so of course he didn’t guard his tongue as he answered Paul’s question. “He wouldn’t stop when it started to hurt! I asked him to stop, and he just kept fucking me!” There was outrage in John’s voice.
“Wait a...so you agreed to have sex with this bloke?” Paul was now backing off his earlier immediate protective reaction.
“Yes! I told you that. It was a hookup in a club, and we went to this hotel...”
Paul’s eyes closed, and he felt himself withdrawing back into a kind of shell. “Who was this bloke, John?” Paul’s voice sounded blank.
“His name was Brad. I don’t know anything else about him.”
Paul couldn’t believe his ears. How could John be so stupidly reckless? That bloke could have kidnapped him, killed him, or mutilated him, and he might still blackmail him! And John didn’t even know where to track the guy down! And what if the guy had some kind of disease? How could John know if the condom would work?
“I’m not surprised you got hurt in this ‘encounter’, John. You picked up a complete stranger in a club!” Paul’s voice was censorious.
“You don’t even care that I’m injured?” John’s voice actually held a drop of outrage in it.
Paul prayed to himself, Lord give me the strength... Then he said, “Of course I care. What did the doctor say about it? How were you injured?”
John was not satisfied with Paul’s calm, logical voice. He had hoped for a slightly more dramatic reaction. “I haven’t been to a doctor,” John admitted.
“John! What the...! You mean you’ve been walking around...how many weeks?” Paul’s voice was plenty worried now, which caused John to feel a little better.
“Two weeks,” John answered.
“...For two weeks and you haven’t done anything about it? What if it is some kind of serious injury?”
John hadn’t allowed himself to think that. In fact, he hadn’t done very much thinking at all for the past 2 weeks. He had just been wandering around in a self-pitying daze. His eyes filled with tears. Soon he began to sob softly.
Paul moved back into comforting, protective mode, and lay down next to John, and pulled him into his arms. “Johnny, what on earth am I going to do with you?” He whispered this, but there was love and affection in his voice, along with the obvious irritation and disappointment.
“I was so scared,” John said under his voice. “He could have done anything to me; I was helpless.”
Paul began to rub John’s back and made soft, comforting sounds.
“It really hurts - not just on the outside, but really bad on the inside,” John confessed. “It felt like rape to me.”
Paul flinched at the word ‘rape’. He could be mad at John for betraying his trust again, and for doing something so stupidly reckless, and for not taking care of himself afterwards. But what would be the point? It wouldn’t change anything, and he’d still have to deal with the fallout. John was his friend, and he didn’t want to compound the injuries John had sustained by visiting upon the man a whole load of anger and guilt. So of course he did the ‘Paul’ thing. “Tomorrow, we’re going to the doctor.”
“I don’t have a doctor here!” John whined.
“We can ask Gerry and Jason for a reference,” Paul suggested. “Or I can ask John and Jody.”
“No! They’ll want to know why!”
Paul was a little exasperated. He couldn’t help himself. “Well, what about Dr. Sid?” Paul had remembered John’s close relationship with his doctor from the cancer ordeal.
John was silent for a moment, and then pointed out, “But he’s in England.”
“Yes, which is where we can be tomorrow, and we can make an appointment for the day after. Would you prefer to go to Dr. Sid?”
John felt tremendous relief course through him. “Yes, I would. But my apartment...”
“John - please! The fucking apartment will still be there!”
“We’re back on tour in 2 weeks, and I still have so much to do...” John petered out, eventually figuring out he was putting his foot in it again.
“This is the thing John. You’re either going back to England with me tomorrow, and we’re going to see Dr. Sid, or we’re going to get a reference and see a doctor here in New York tomorrow. Which one is it going to be?” Paul’s voice was firm, and John recognized the tone. John never won an argument with Paul whenever Paul reverted to that voice.
“I’d rather see Dr. Sid,” John finally accepted, in a rather childlike voice.
“So, tomorrow morning I’ll make our air reservations, and I can get Linda to make an appointment with Dr. Sid for the day after.”
“Don’t tell Linda! Promise me! I don’t want her to know!” John was panic-stricken at the idea. It would of course be humiliating for John if Linda knew, but John also believed that Linda would be beyond outrage if she knew what he had done, and he didn’t want to face the Wrath of Linda.
“I’ll just say you need a check up before we go back on tour for the insurance, which happens to be true. I actually had mine last week, coincidentally.” Paul’s calm voice settled John. “Now, let’s try to get a few hours’ sleep, and we can sort things out a bit more tomorrow.”
The next morning, Jason and Gerry were pleasantly surprised to learn that Paul was taking John back to England. They figured this was just what the doctor ordered for John - to be with Paul. Hopefully, Paul would be able to figure out what was wrong with John, and get him back into therapy and on the right track. So, it was with a lot of happy tears and hidden giddiness that Jason waved John off on his way.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Gerry said, “Let’s not make babysitting John a habit, okay?” Jason couldn’t even disagree with Gerry, and that was a sad commentary.
Linda was amazed when she’d received Paul’s call. While she had expected Paul to be back with John in advance of the European leg of their tour, she hadn’t expected Paul to be on his way back to England only a little over 30 hours after he had left. Still, she was glad the whole John thing turned out to be just another one of John’s red herring desertions. She had picked up the phone, and dialed Dr. Sid’s number and made the appointment for John.
Later, she had gone to pick them up at the airport. Part of this was habit, but the other part was curiosity. But nothing unusual was said in the car back to the house. Linda had asked if everything was okay, and John had said from the backseat, “Yes”, and Paul had said something about both of them getting anxious about the tour.
She had dropped John at Cavendish, and Paul had surprised her by getting out too. “I’ll come home in an hour or so,” he told her as he kissed her through the car window. He then followed John into his house. Now she sat at the kitchen table waiting for Paul to come over and explain what the hell was going on. It had been a little over an hour, and while Paul had never been the most time-conscious of husbands, he rarely had made a specific promise and not kept it. Just as she had this thought, she heard Paul approaching through the dining room.
“Hey, baby, there’s hot water for tea on the aga,” She said casually, trying to hide her rampant curiosity.
Paul grabbed a teacup, and did the usual ministrations to it, and then sat down across the kitchen table from Linda. “That was a quick trip, wasn’t it?” Paul asked her, his eyes dancing with understated amusement.
“So, don’t just sit there. Tell me what happened! It’s killing me!” Linda’s curiosity got the best of her.
Paul laughed with affection. “It’s no big mystery. It’s just the usual John and Paul nonsense,” he chuckled. “I thought he was through with me, and he thought I was through with him, and both of us too stupid or too proud to pick up the phone and be the first one to say it.”
Linda smiled. Paul was being very charming and funny, but Linda had seen the naked pain in his face when she had kissed him goodbye at the airport just the other day. “What was John up to? I know you thought he was going out a lot, and maybe doing drugs.”
Paul sighed, and a more serious expression came over his face. “Yeah, well... I’m pretty sure he was whooping it up, that’s for sure. I haven’t really got into the weeds yet about the drug use. Hopefully his therapist will talk sense to him.”
“I really don’t want him to be doing serious drugs around James,” Linda said firmly. “I’m assuming you’re making that clear to him?”
Paul felt a little defensive for John, but managed to overcome that feeling because he agreed with Linda about protecting James. “I get what you’re saying. I’m not wanting him to do drugs other than pot at all, but it is something his therapist will have to help with, because if I tell him to stop he’ll just do it more to show me who's boss.” Paul chuckled a bit at his own comment.
Linda shook her head. “You’re both mental, you know that, don’t you?”
Paul laughed and squeezed Linda’s hand. “I think that eventually I’m going to have to break down and go back to that therapist with John,” he said in a low voice, and then he held his breath as he awaited Linda’s response to this revelation.
Linda was surprised, but managed to hide it. “Well, Paul, if you’re sure that will be okay for you. Last time...”
“Last time I let it get to me. This time it will be all about John. For whatever reason, he needs me to be there with him, and I shouldn’t have shut that down. But I really don’t want to start until after the tour ends. I don’t think it is something we can do long distance.” Paul looked and sounded like a man who had decided to turn himself into the police. He obviously didn’t want to do it, but had come to the conclusion that there was no other option available to him.
Linda hoped that this whole therapy thing would end well for Paul.
“So, John. What are you doing here?” Dr. Sid was leaning against a cabinet, with his arms crossed, regarding John, who was sitting on the examination table.
“Just need a check up,” John muttered. He was struggling with an inner voice that wanted to get up and scram.
“And I didn’t even have to call you endlessly for several months to persuade you to come in? Somehow I’m finding that hard to believe.” Sid had a smart-ass expression on his face.
“I don’t know why I bother with you, Sid. Your bedside manner sucks.”
“You’ve said that before, if I recall correctly. But you still haven’t said. Why. You’re. Here.”
John sighed heavily. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Of course it is,” Sid deadpanned. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
“Having to do with my ass.” John continued, while trying to make light of it so he wouldn’t be overcome with humiliation.
“So you finally did get a sex toy stuck up there, did ya? Or is it a gerbil?”
“Haha, very funny, Sid. No, I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I shoved a gerbil up there.”
“That’s what Richard Gere said, I understand...”
“It’s not a gerbil,” John chuckled.
“Well, if it’s not a gerbil, it has to be something less embarrassing, right? So what’s wrong with your ass, John?” His voice was not unkind.
“Well, it happened during sex,” John admitted.
Sid knew about John and Paul’s relationship, but surely (he thought) they were very familiar with each other’s sexual limits after all this time. “So what happened?”
“The bloke who was fucking me got out of control, and I got hurt.”
The bloke? Sid would have thought John and Paul had broken up, if he hadn’t seen Paul in the waiting room just moments earlier. “John, just tell me the whole story. This 20 questions thing is fun, but I haven’t got all day.” Sid was keeping it light in order to make John’s disclosures easier on him.
“I was in New York on my own for a few weeks. I had a one-night stand. The sex got out of hand, and I’ve been sore ever since. I mean, really sore.”
“Describe the soreness.”
“It feels like an ache deep inside, and it really hurts.”
“Have you had any rectal bleeding?”
“No. Well, maybe a few traces of blood in my crap, but I thought it was because the BMs were so painful...” John said.
Sid felt terrible. How horrible for Paul! Did Paul have any idea why John had come to his office? If so, why on earth would he come with him? Sid was straight, but he could analogize to his wife. If she’d done something like that, he’d have let her go by herself to the fucking doctor’s office! Sid signed heavily. There was a lot in John to admire, but there was a lot to despair of, as well. “Did your...partner...wear a condom I hope?”
“Yes. But he came inside me, and I’m a little worried that maybe the condom failed?” John’s face expressed genuine worry. “Could I have a STD?”
“Well, we’ll do some tests for sexually transmitted diseases before you go, just to be sure,” Sid said. Then he snapped on some surgical gloves. “Ok, John, let me take a look.”
Reluctantly, John got up from the table and unzipped his pants, turned around, and pulled his pants down. He leaned over the examination table.
“You’ll need to spread them further than that,” Sid said.
John painfully complied. He was already anticipating the pain. Consequently, he was biting his lip, holding his breath, and coaching himself not to jump to the high heaven when he felt the first touch. This did not escape Sid’s notice.
A few moments later Sid said, “Okay. I do see redness, and a few abrasions around your anal sphincter. But it is clear to me that it is too tender for me to examine you further without at least local anesthesia.” With that pronouncement, Sid stood upright again.
John did the same and quickly re-zipped his pants. He turned around to face Sid again, his face worried. “What’s wrong, Doc?” He asked, his voice tremulous.
Sid felt bad. John didn’t call him ‘doc’ often, so he must really be scared. Sid smiled. “It’s probably just sore. There may be an interior tear or infection, and so it will require an anoscope to check it out.”
“What’s an anoscope?” John asked.
“Oh,” Sid said expansively, allowing a ‘mad scientist’ look to come over his face, “you would know it as an ‘anal probe.’”
John chuckled at Sid’s face. But then: “Will it hurt?”
“I will make arrangements for you with a gastroenterologist, and you will be anesthetized, so you won’t feel a thing. But you will have to drink a boatload of yukky tasting bowel cleanser tonight.”
“Are you sure this is necessary?” John asked. He wasn’t liking the sound of these plans.
“John, the thing is, if you only had bruises and abrasions, you’d be a little raw on the outside, but it should have healed in 2 weeks if there wasn’t something else going on. And you shouldn’t have the kind of soreness inside that you tell me about. I’m thinking it may be an infection, and if I’m right, you will need medication.” Sid also worried it might be a tear in the anal tissue - a fissure. “So, can I have my assistant set you up for a procedure tomorrow?” Sid had turned his back to John and was washing his hands.
John looked worried. “Can you ask Paul to come in here?” He asked. This was a sincere request; there was nothing of the tough guy about John any more.
“Sure. I’ll get him.” Sid walked down the hall towards the waiting room. He felt awkward. Talk about fissures! He felt as though he had been a witness to a personal fissure in the two men’s relationship. He opened the door and gestured Paul in.
“What’s up?” Paul asked, as the door closed behind him. “Is he okay?”
“He needs a procedure in order to see what is going on inside. He is in far too much pain for me to do a rectal exam right now.”
Paul looked worried. “John is kind of a wimp when it comes to pain. I guess I was hoping he was dramatizing the whole thing.”
Sid chuckled. “I know what you mean, but I believe he is genuinely in internal pain.”
“What could it be?” Paul asked. “That is, if you can tell me.”
“I’ve got John’s medical waiver for you, so yes, I can talk to you. Let me just say that there are a few possibilities, since I don’t see a hemorrhoid from the visual inspection. It could still be a hemorrhoid, but unlikely. But there is no serious rectal bleeding. We’ll need a stool sample, by the way, and I’m going to take some blood for tests. But I am thinking it could be an infection in the rectum, or perhaps a tear in the anal liner.”
“Good God!” Paul responded. “From a dry fuck you can tear your anus?” He couldn’t believe it.
So Paul did know about John’s extracurricular activities. But he seemed pretty sanguine about it, if Sid did think so himself. “The answer to your question is: yes. Anyway, John wanted to talk to you about the procedure. He’s waiting for you.” Sid watched as Paul entered the examining room. He would never understand those two as long as he lived. Shaking his head, he wandered over to the nurse’s station to give her instructions about the blood and stool tests.
Meanwhile, Paul entered the examining room, and saw a dejected John swinging his legs from the height of the examining table. He looked up as Paul closed the door.
“Hey, Paul,” John said in a dull voice. He looked worried and guilty.
“John...Sid says you want to talk to me?” Paul moved towards John, and stood directly in front of him, his hands on John’s shoulders.
“They want to shove an anal probe up my ass!” John declared with indignation.
Paul couldn’t help it; he laughed. And then he laughed some more. “I’m sure it won’t be nearly as invasive as the stuff you’ve had shoved up there before,” he quipped, his eyes dancing with mischief.
“Yeah, yeah,” John half-chuckled, acknowledging the hit in remarkably good humor. “So what do you think? Should I do it?”
“Of course you should, you daft ass! You won’t feel a thing; you’ll be out of it.”
“He said I’d have to drink some nasty drink tonight,” John grumbled.
“Sorry ‘bout that mate, but don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”
John looked up sharply to see Paul’s face. “You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?” John asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.
“Yes, I guess I am,” Paul said evenly. “If I’d done this, wouldn’t you be pissed?”
John blinked several times and then sat there in silence with this unwelcome truth for a few seconds before saying, “So is this going to be a ‘thing’ between us forever?”
Paul sighed. “I doubt it. You’ve said it to me before - I can’t stay mad at you.” Paul removed his hands from John’s shoulders, and brought one of his hands up in order to examine his fingernails. “But the main thing right now is to get you better. Then we can deal with the aftermath.”
John felt anxious, and he hated feeling anxious. And part of him was feeling like Paul had pulled a bait and switch on him. In the past, Paul had never been this matter-of-fact about John’s various stupid mistakes. He’d just brushed them off as if they didn’t even touch him. Of course, as he had these thoughts, John didn’t point out to himself that he had been clamoring for Paul to be honest with him about his feelings. No doubt it would take Fiona to point that out to him - but that would be later.
“So let’s tell Dr. Sid to set you up, okay?” Paul asked. John nodded his assent, and Paul went down the hall to talk to Sid’s assistant.
The procedure went without a hitch, of course, and Paul waited in a private staff meeting room inside the clinic so that he wouldn’t be the sinecure of all eyes in the busy waiting room. John had been fit in as an emergency case. Of course, the night before Paul had listened to John’s endless complaints about not being able to eat or drink, and then to his endless dry vomits each time he took a drink of the gross liquid he’d been given. In a way, Paul was pleased about the nasty liquid and the anal probe. Serves him right, he’d told himself several times. Of course, he was smart enough not to say that out loud.
Dr. Sid had come to the clinic to consult with the doctor who had conducted the rectal exam under a local. She had thoroughly briefed Dr. Sid on the results before Paul was invited in to her office. John was too high on the valium they had given him to participate in the meeting, and was instead sleeping off the drugs on a cot in the recovery room.
“There are a few fissures in the anal canal,” the doctor explained to Paul. “There is also some redness. I see no signs of any infection.”
“So what’s the treatment?” Paul asked.
“Time, mainly,” she answered. The woman was East Indian, and had a beautifully precise delivery. “80% of fissures fix themselves within 6 weeks or so. Mainly, we try to relieve the symptoms with stool softeners and diet.” The doctor handed Paul a list of instructions. “The one remaining issue is that once a patient has suffered from fissures, the likelihood of recurrence is increased to about 70%.”
Paul wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. He looked to Dr. Sid who winked at him. That wink told him that Dr. Sid would explain it all to him later. And indeed, as they left the clinic, Sid said, “No anal sex, Paul. Not for weeks. Not until it entirely heals.”
Paul had expected this, although it was kind of embarrassing to have Dr. Sid talk to him about it so openly. He hid his embarrassment and said, “I don’t think that will be a problem. John shrieks at the very thought of it...”
Sid laughed. “I’ll bet he does. What a pussy!”
Paul then went to get John. He had managed to put his clothes on, but his shirt buttons were all wrong. Paul undid the buttons and then buttoned them properly. John was way too happy for a man who’d just had a probe up his butt. He was also a little too affectionate. Too affectionate, because they were in quasi-public, with only curtains to separate them from the other inhabitants, with the risk that a nurse might suddenly yank the curtain aside and come barging in.
Despite all this, Paul managed to get the artificially happy, good-natured John into the car park, where the limousine driver was waiting for them. Soon they were on their way back to John’s house. Halfway there, John turned to Paul and was trying to give him kisses. “I looovvvve you Paaauuul...” he drawled.
“I love you too, John,” Paul said in a low voice, looking nervously towards the front of the car. He had put up the glass barrier, and theoretically the driver shouldn’t be able to hear anything they said. But Paul was overly cautious by nature.
“Give me a kissss, baabeee,” John begged, making kissing sounds in the air around him.
“When we get home, I’ll kiss you all you like,” Paul said, trying to divert John with his flip cell phone. There was a game on it, and Paul turned it on. John grabbed the phone and began clumsily pushing buttons. Paul smiled. It reminded him of when his children were babies. Just hand them a watch, or some car keys, and the babies would entertain themselves for several minutes at a time.
It was just as they were driving up the mews to John’s back door that John said, “I’m such a fuck up, aren’t I?” Now his eyes were filled with tears. The drug-enhanced emotions were making a 180-degree turn, apparently.
Paul didn’t answer, he just helped John out of the car, thanked the driver and waved him off, and then unlocked the back door, while leading in and setting him at the kitchen table. He then went back and locked the kitchen door. Now all he had to do was get John comfortable on the sitting room sofa. After he tucked a blanket around John, he sat down on the edge of the sofa and said, “Can I get you anything, John?”
“Just sit here with me, Paul. Tell me you don’t hate me.” Now tears were rolling down John’s cheeks.
Paul smiled, and softly wiped the tears away, off John’s face. “I don’t hate you, Johnny. I could never hate you.” He kissed John on his forehead, and a beatific smile covered John’s face. John closed his eyes, and within moments was sound asleep.
In this chapter: Paul interrogates John about his embarrassing injury, they got back to London, where John meets with Dr. Sid, who recommends a procedure.
Hope you enjoy.
WARNINGS: Frank discussion of various bodily functions, and some sexual terminology.
Chapter 51
Paul sat back on his heels and stared wordlessly at John for a few seconds. John’s arm was covering his eyes. One painful thought had occurred to Paul at that moment. John is only faking his attraction to me; I was right all along - he no longer wants me. Paul’s arousal died completely, and he moved over until he was sitting next to the still recumbent John on the bed. Paul searched his mind for something to say that wouldn’t sound pathetic or weak. Several silent moments went by.
“Paul?” John’s voice was plaintive. He still had the arm over his eyes.
“Did I hurt you in some way?” Paul managed to ask, still feeling rejected but trying to get past that.
“I’m very sore down there,” John said.
Paul sat silently for a few moments, digesting this information. Why on earth would he be sore down there? It didn’t seem to Paul that there could be too many innocent explanations. Of course, he had heard that hemorrhoids were very painful... Well, only one way to find out: “Why? What’s happened?”
John moaned a little to himself, although Paul didn’t really hear it. Still, there was nothing for it but for John to tell the truth. “I had this ... encounter ... a few weeks ago, and I got hurt pretty bad.”
Paul was struggling with John’s sentence. It made sense, in that it contained all English words put in the proper order, but Paul couldn’t make sense of it. “’Encounter’?” Paul finally asked, realizing at last that this was the word that had made the sentence difficult to understand.
John swallowed hard. Suddenly his mouth had gone dry.
“You know, we had this deal...” John started. He cleared this throat. “...That I could see other people when we are apart.”
The penny dropped for Paul, and he suddenly felt a little sick in his stomach. If John had ‘seen’ another person and had ended up with a sore asshole, it was unlikely to have been a woman. Of course, there were sex toys that a woman might have accidently misused...
John felt Paul’s silence (incorrectly) as a rebuke. He became a little defensive. “I followed the rules...”
“’Rules?’” Paul repeated. He was still in a state of confusion. At this moment he only seemed able to repeat words.
“I wore a condom, it was at a hotel, and it was a one-night stand.” John’s voice sounded quick and defensive, but the arm still across his eyes was kind of a dead giveaway that he was ashamed of what he had to say.
Paul didn’t know any other thing to do but to ask the billion-dollar question about the one part of the rules John had left out. “And it was a woman?”
John heard the hope in Paul’s voice, and his heart fell. But again, whenever John started to feel guilt coming his way he always had to find a new target for it; John’s guilt was sort of like a heat-seeking missile. “I don’t remember you requiring it to be a woman - you only said you preferred it not to be a woman because of the whole publicity thing. You left it up to me.”
The worse thing was, Paul was not surprised. That was the most amazing thing. As he sat there, he was not at all surprised. Of course John would remember the ‘rules’ that way. For John to remember them otherwise would mean he’d have to resist temptation. The ability to resist temptation was just not in the list of John’s personality traits. Lots of emotions were racing through Paul’s head, but only two words came out: “I see.”
John’s arm came down off his eyes, and he allowed himself to get a little angry. “’I see’? That’s all you have to say? I was hurt by this man, and all you can say is, ‘I see’?”
“He hurt you?” Paul asked. Somehow that information hadn’t yet percolated in Paul’s brain. “Did he do it against your will?” Paul’s feelings were whirling out of control now, but the dominant one was rage: Who had dared to hurt John in this way?
“Yes!” John declared.
“John! Oh my god, John! Why didn’t you tell me? How did this happen? Who is this person?” Paul had turned towards John, and although still sitting down, he was now leaning over John in a comforting and protective manner.
John took Paul’s response as full forgiveness for his “encounter”, so of course he didn’t guard his tongue as he answered Paul’s question. “He wouldn’t stop when it started to hurt! I asked him to stop, and he just kept fucking me!” There was outrage in John’s voice.
“Wait a...so you agreed to have sex with this bloke?” Paul was now backing off his earlier immediate protective reaction.
“Yes! I told you that. It was a hookup in a club, and we went to this hotel...”
Paul’s eyes closed, and he felt himself withdrawing back into a kind of shell. “Who was this bloke, John?” Paul’s voice sounded blank.
“His name was Brad. I don’t know anything else about him.”
Paul couldn’t believe his ears. How could John be so stupidly reckless? That bloke could have kidnapped him, killed him, or mutilated him, and he might still blackmail him! And John didn’t even know where to track the guy down! And what if the guy had some kind of disease? How could John know if the condom would work?
“I’m not surprised you got hurt in this ‘encounter’, John. You picked up a complete stranger in a club!” Paul’s voice was censorious.
“You don’t even care that I’m injured?” John’s voice actually held a drop of outrage in it.
Paul prayed to himself, Lord give me the strength... Then he said, “Of course I care. What did the doctor say about it? How were you injured?”
John was not satisfied with Paul’s calm, logical voice. He had hoped for a slightly more dramatic reaction. “I haven’t been to a doctor,” John admitted.
“John! What the...! You mean you’ve been walking around...how many weeks?” Paul’s voice was plenty worried now, which caused John to feel a little better.
“Two weeks,” John answered.
“...For two weeks and you haven’t done anything about it? What if it is some kind of serious injury?”
John hadn’t allowed himself to think that. In fact, he hadn’t done very much thinking at all for the past 2 weeks. He had just been wandering around in a self-pitying daze. His eyes filled with tears. Soon he began to sob softly.
Paul moved back into comforting, protective mode, and lay down next to John, and pulled him into his arms. “Johnny, what on earth am I going to do with you?” He whispered this, but there was love and affection in his voice, along with the obvious irritation and disappointment.
“I was so scared,” John said under his voice. “He could have done anything to me; I was helpless.”
Paul began to rub John’s back and made soft, comforting sounds.
“It really hurts - not just on the outside, but really bad on the inside,” John confessed. “It felt like rape to me.”
Paul flinched at the word ‘rape’. He could be mad at John for betraying his trust again, and for doing something so stupidly reckless, and for not taking care of himself afterwards. But what would be the point? It wouldn’t change anything, and he’d still have to deal with the fallout. John was his friend, and he didn’t want to compound the injuries John had sustained by visiting upon the man a whole load of anger and guilt. So of course he did the ‘Paul’ thing. “Tomorrow, we’re going to the doctor.”
“I don’t have a doctor here!” John whined.
“We can ask Gerry and Jason for a reference,” Paul suggested. “Or I can ask John and Jody.”
“No! They’ll want to know why!”
Paul was a little exasperated. He couldn’t help himself. “Well, what about Dr. Sid?” Paul had remembered John’s close relationship with his doctor from the cancer ordeal.
John was silent for a moment, and then pointed out, “But he’s in England.”
“Yes, which is where we can be tomorrow, and we can make an appointment for the day after. Would you prefer to go to Dr. Sid?”
John felt tremendous relief course through him. “Yes, I would. But my apartment...”
“John - please! The fucking apartment will still be there!”
“We’re back on tour in 2 weeks, and I still have so much to do...” John petered out, eventually figuring out he was putting his foot in it again.
“This is the thing John. You’re either going back to England with me tomorrow, and we’re going to see Dr. Sid, or we’re going to get a reference and see a doctor here in New York tomorrow. Which one is it going to be?” Paul’s voice was firm, and John recognized the tone. John never won an argument with Paul whenever Paul reverted to that voice.
“I’d rather see Dr. Sid,” John finally accepted, in a rather childlike voice.
“So, tomorrow morning I’ll make our air reservations, and I can get Linda to make an appointment with Dr. Sid for the day after.”
“Don’t tell Linda! Promise me! I don’t want her to know!” John was panic-stricken at the idea. It would of course be humiliating for John if Linda knew, but John also believed that Linda would be beyond outrage if she knew what he had done, and he didn’t want to face the Wrath of Linda.
“I’ll just say you need a check up before we go back on tour for the insurance, which happens to be true. I actually had mine last week, coincidentally.” Paul’s calm voice settled John. “Now, let’s try to get a few hours’ sleep, and we can sort things out a bit more tomorrow.”
*****
The next morning, Jason and Gerry were pleasantly surprised to learn that Paul was taking John back to England. They figured this was just what the doctor ordered for John - to be with Paul. Hopefully, Paul would be able to figure out what was wrong with John, and get him back into therapy and on the right track. So, it was with a lot of happy tears and hidden giddiness that Jason waved John off on his way.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Gerry said, “Let’s not make babysitting John a habit, okay?” Jason couldn’t even disagree with Gerry, and that was a sad commentary.
*****
Linda was amazed when she’d received Paul’s call. While she had expected Paul to be back with John in advance of the European leg of their tour, she hadn’t expected Paul to be on his way back to England only a little over 30 hours after he had left. Still, she was glad the whole John thing turned out to be just another one of John’s red herring desertions. She had picked up the phone, and dialed Dr. Sid’s number and made the appointment for John.
Later, she had gone to pick them up at the airport. Part of this was habit, but the other part was curiosity. But nothing unusual was said in the car back to the house. Linda had asked if everything was okay, and John had said from the backseat, “Yes”, and Paul had said something about both of them getting anxious about the tour.
She had dropped John at Cavendish, and Paul had surprised her by getting out too. “I’ll come home in an hour or so,” he told her as he kissed her through the car window. He then followed John into his house. Now she sat at the kitchen table waiting for Paul to come over and explain what the hell was going on. It had been a little over an hour, and while Paul had never been the most time-conscious of husbands, he rarely had made a specific promise and not kept it. Just as she had this thought, she heard Paul approaching through the dining room.
“Hey, baby, there’s hot water for tea on the aga,” She said casually, trying to hide her rampant curiosity.
Paul grabbed a teacup, and did the usual ministrations to it, and then sat down across the kitchen table from Linda. “That was a quick trip, wasn’t it?” Paul asked her, his eyes dancing with understated amusement.
“So, don’t just sit there. Tell me what happened! It’s killing me!” Linda’s curiosity got the best of her.
Paul laughed with affection. “It’s no big mystery. It’s just the usual John and Paul nonsense,” he chuckled. “I thought he was through with me, and he thought I was through with him, and both of us too stupid or too proud to pick up the phone and be the first one to say it.”
Linda smiled. Paul was being very charming and funny, but Linda had seen the naked pain in his face when she had kissed him goodbye at the airport just the other day. “What was John up to? I know you thought he was going out a lot, and maybe doing drugs.”
Paul sighed, and a more serious expression came over his face. “Yeah, well... I’m pretty sure he was whooping it up, that’s for sure. I haven’t really got into the weeds yet about the drug use. Hopefully his therapist will talk sense to him.”
“I really don’t want him to be doing serious drugs around James,” Linda said firmly. “I’m assuming you’re making that clear to him?”
Paul felt a little defensive for John, but managed to overcome that feeling because he agreed with Linda about protecting James. “I get what you’re saying. I’m not wanting him to do drugs other than pot at all, but it is something his therapist will have to help with, because if I tell him to stop he’ll just do it more to show me who's boss.” Paul chuckled a bit at his own comment.
Linda shook her head. “You’re both mental, you know that, don’t you?”
Paul laughed and squeezed Linda’s hand. “I think that eventually I’m going to have to break down and go back to that therapist with John,” he said in a low voice, and then he held his breath as he awaited Linda’s response to this revelation.
Linda was surprised, but managed to hide it. “Well, Paul, if you’re sure that will be okay for you. Last time...”
“Last time I let it get to me. This time it will be all about John. For whatever reason, he needs me to be there with him, and I shouldn’t have shut that down. But I really don’t want to start until after the tour ends. I don’t think it is something we can do long distance.” Paul looked and sounded like a man who had decided to turn himself into the police. He obviously didn’t want to do it, but had come to the conclusion that there was no other option available to him.
Linda hoped that this whole therapy thing would end well for Paul.
*****
“So, John. What are you doing here?” Dr. Sid was leaning against a cabinet, with his arms crossed, regarding John, who was sitting on the examination table.
“Just need a check up,” John muttered. He was struggling with an inner voice that wanted to get up and scram.
“And I didn’t even have to call you endlessly for several months to persuade you to come in? Somehow I’m finding that hard to believe.” Sid had a smart-ass expression on his face.
“I don’t know why I bother with you, Sid. Your bedside manner sucks.”
“You’ve said that before, if I recall correctly. But you still haven’t said. Why. You’re. Here.”
John sighed heavily. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Of course it is,” Sid deadpanned. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
“Having to do with my ass.” John continued, while trying to make light of it so he wouldn’t be overcome with humiliation.
“So you finally did get a sex toy stuck up there, did ya? Or is it a gerbil?”
“Haha, very funny, Sid. No, I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I shoved a gerbil up there.”
“That’s what Richard Gere said, I understand...”
“It’s not a gerbil,” John chuckled.
“Well, if it’s not a gerbil, it has to be something less embarrassing, right? So what’s wrong with your ass, John?” His voice was not unkind.
“Well, it happened during sex,” John admitted.
Sid knew about John and Paul’s relationship, but surely (he thought) they were very familiar with each other’s sexual limits after all this time. “So what happened?”
“The bloke who was fucking me got out of control, and I got hurt.”
The bloke? Sid would have thought John and Paul had broken up, if he hadn’t seen Paul in the waiting room just moments earlier. “John, just tell me the whole story. This 20 questions thing is fun, but I haven’t got all day.” Sid was keeping it light in order to make John’s disclosures easier on him.
“I was in New York on my own for a few weeks. I had a one-night stand. The sex got out of hand, and I’ve been sore ever since. I mean, really sore.”
“Describe the soreness.”
“It feels like an ache deep inside, and it really hurts.”
“Have you had any rectal bleeding?”
“No. Well, maybe a few traces of blood in my crap, but I thought it was because the BMs were so painful...” John said.
Sid felt terrible. How horrible for Paul! Did Paul have any idea why John had come to his office? If so, why on earth would he come with him? Sid was straight, but he could analogize to his wife. If she’d done something like that, he’d have let her go by herself to the fucking doctor’s office! Sid signed heavily. There was a lot in John to admire, but there was a lot to despair of, as well. “Did your...partner...wear a condom I hope?”
“Yes. But he came inside me, and I’m a little worried that maybe the condom failed?” John’s face expressed genuine worry. “Could I have a STD?”
“Well, we’ll do some tests for sexually transmitted diseases before you go, just to be sure,” Sid said. Then he snapped on some surgical gloves. “Ok, John, let me take a look.”
Reluctantly, John got up from the table and unzipped his pants, turned around, and pulled his pants down. He leaned over the examination table.
“You’ll need to spread them further than that,” Sid said.
John painfully complied. He was already anticipating the pain. Consequently, he was biting his lip, holding his breath, and coaching himself not to jump to the high heaven when he felt the first touch. This did not escape Sid’s notice.
A few moments later Sid said, “Okay. I do see redness, and a few abrasions around your anal sphincter. But it is clear to me that it is too tender for me to examine you further without at least local anesthesia.” With that pronouncement, Sid stood upright again.
John did the same and quickly re-zipped his pants. He turned around to face Sid again, his face worried. “What’s wrong, Doc?” He asked, his voice tremulous.
Sid felt bad. John didn’t call him ‘doc’ often, so he must really be scared. Sid smiled. “It’s probably just sore. There may be an interior tear or infection, and so it will require an anoscope to check it out.”
“What’s an anoscope?” John asked.
“Oh,” Sid said expansively, allowing a ‘mad scientist’ look to come over his face, “you would know it as an ‘anal probe.’”
John chuckled at Sid’s face. But then: “Will it hurt?”
“I will make arrangements for you with a gastroenterologist, and you will be anesthetized, so you won’t feel a thing. But you will have to drink a boatload of yukky tasting bowel cleanser tonight.”
“Are you sure this is necessary?” John asked. He wasn’t liking the sound of these plans.
“John, the thing is, if you only had bruises and abrasions, you’d be a little raw on the outside, but it should have healed in 2 weeks if there wasn’t something else going on. And you shouldn’t have the kind of soreness inside that you tell me about. I’m thinking it may be an infection, and if I’m right, you will need medication.” Sid also worried it might be a tear in the anal tissue - a fissure. “So, can I have my assistant set you up for a procedure tomorrow?” Sid had turned his back to John and was washing his hands.
John looked worried. “Can you ask Paul to come in here?” He asked. This was a sincere request; there was nothing of the tough guy about John any more.
“Sure. I’ll get him.” Sid walked down the hall towards the waiting room. He felt awkward. Talk about fissures! He felt as though he had been a witness to a personal fissure in the two men’s relationship. He opened the door and gestured Paul in.
“What’s up?” Paul asked, as the door closed behind him. “Is he okay?”
“He needs a procedure in order to see what is going on inside. He is in far too much pain for me to do a rectal exam right now.”
Paul looked worried. “John is kind of a wimp when it comes to pain. I guess I was hoping he was dramatizing the whole thing.”
Sid chuckled. “I know what you mean, but I believe he is genuinely in internal pain.”
“What could it be?” Paul asked. “That is, if you can tell me.”
“I’ve got John’s medical waiver for you, so yes, I can talk to you. Let me just say that there are a few possibilities, since I don’t see a hemorrhoid from the visual inspection. It could still be a hemorrhoid, but unlikely. But there is no serious rectal bleeding. We’ll need a stool sample, by the way, and I’m going to take some blood for tests. But I am thinking it could be an infection in the rectum, or perhaps a tear in the anal liner.”
“Good God!” Paul responded. “From a dry fuck you can tear your anus?” He couldn’t believe it.
So Paul did know about John’s extracurricular activities. But he seemed pretty sanguine about it, if Sid did think so himself. “The answer to your question is: yes. Anyway, John wanted to talk to you about the procedure. He’s waiting for you.” Sid watched as Paul entered the examining room. He would never understand those two as long as he lived. Shaking his head, he wandered over to the nurse’s station to give her instructions about the blood and stool tests.
Meanwhile, Paul entered the examining room, and saw a dejected John swinging his legs from the height of the examining table. He looked up as Paul closed the door.
“Hey, Paul,” John said in a dull voice. He looked worried and guilty.
“John...Sid says you want to talk to me?” Paul moved towards John, and stood directly in front of him, his hands on John’s shoulders.
“They want to shove an anal probe up my ass!” John declared with indignation.
Paul couldn’t help it; he laughed. And then he laughed some more. “I’m sure it won’t be nearly as invasive as the stuff you’ve had shoved up there before,” he quipped, his eyes dancing with mischief.
“Yeah, yeah,” John half-chuckled, acknowledging the hit in remarkably good humor. “So what do you think? Should I do it?”
“Of course you should, you daft ass! You won’t feel a thing; you’ll be out of it.”
“He said I’d have to drink some nasty drink tonight,” John grumbled.
“Sorry ‘bout that mate, but don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”
John looked up sharply to see Paul’s face. “You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?” John asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.
“Yes, I guess I am,” Paul said evenly. “If I’d done this, wouldn’t you be pissed?”
John blinked several times and then sat there in silence with this unwelcome truth for a few seconds before saying, “So is this going to be a ‘thing’ between us forever?”
Paul sighed. “I doubt it. You’ve said it to me before - I can’t stay mad at you.” Paul removed his hands from John’s shoulders, and brought one of his hands up in order to examine his fingernails. “But the main thing right now is to get you better. Then we can deal with the aftermath.”
John felt anxious, and he hated feeling anxious. And part of him was feeling like Paul had pulled a bait and switch on him. In the past, Paul had never been this matter-of-fact about John’s various stupid mistakes. He’d just brushed them off as if they didn’t even touch him. Of course, as he had these thoughts, John didn’t point out to himself that he had been clamoring for Paul to be honest with him about his feelings. No doubt it would take Fiona to point that out to him - but that would be later.
“So let’s tell Dr. Sid to set you up, okay?” Paul asked. John nodded his assent, and Paul went down the hall to talk to Sid’s assistant.
*****
The procedure went without a hitch, of course, and Paul waited in a private staff meeting room inside the clinic so that he wouldn’t be the sinecure of all eyes in the busy waiting room. John had been fit in as an emergency case. Of course, the night before Paul had listened to John’s endless complaints about not being able to eat or drink, and then to his endless dry vomits each time he took a drink of the gross liquid he’d been given. In a way, Paul was pleased about the nasty liquid and the anal probe. Serves him right, he’d told himself several times. Of course, he was smart enough not to say that out loud.
Dr. Sid had come to the clinic to consult with the doctor who had conducted the rectal exam under a local. She had thoroughly briefed Dr. Sid on the results before Paul was invited in to her office. John was too high on the valium they had given him to participate in the meeting, and was instead sleeping off the drugs on a cot in the recovery room.
“There are a few fissures in the anal canal,” the doctor explained to Paul. “There is also some redness. I see no signs of any infection.”
“So what’s the treatment?” Paul asked.
“Time, mainly,” she answered. The woman was East Indian, and had a beautifully precise delivery. “80% of fissures fix themselves within 6 weeks or so. Mainly, we try to relieve the symptoms with stool softeners and diet.” The doctor handed Paul a list of instructions. “The one remaining issue is that once a patient has suffered from fissures, the likelihood of recurrence is increased to about 70%.”
Paul wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. He looked to Dr. Sid who winked at him. That wink told him that Dr. Sid would explain it all to him later. And indeed, as they left the clinic, Sid said, “No anal sex, Paul. Not for weeks. Not until it entirely heals.”
Paul had expected this, although it was kind of embarrassing to have Dr. Sid talk to him about it so openly. He hid his embarrassment and said, “I don’t think that will be a problem. John shrieks at the very thought of it...”
Sid laughed. “I’ll bet he does. What a pussy!”
Paul then went to get John. He had managed to put his clothes on, but his shirt buttons were all wrong. Paul undid the buttons and then buttoned them properly. John was way too happy for a man who’d just had a probe up his butt. He was also a little too affectionate. Too affectionate, because they were in quasi-public, with only curtains to separate them from the other inhabitants, with the risk that a nurse might suddenly yank the curtain aside and come barging in.
Despite all this, Paul managed to get the artificially happy, good-natured John into the car park, where the limousine driver was waiting for them. Soon they were on their way back to John’s house. Halfway there, John turned to Paul and was trying to give him kisses. “I looovvvve you Paaauuul...” he drawled.
“I love you too, John,” Paul said in a low voice, looking nervously towards the front of the car. He had put up the glass barrier, and theoretically the driver shouldn’t be able to hear anything they said. But Paul was overly cautious by nature.
“Give me a kissss, baabeee,” John begged, making kissing sounds in the air around him.
“When we get home, I’ll kiss you all you like,” Paul said, trying to divert John with his flip cell phone. There was a game on it, and Paul turned it on. John grabbed the phone and began clumsily pushing buttons. Paul smiled. It reminded him of when his children were babies. Just hand them a watch, or some car keys, and the babies would entertain themselves for several minutes at a time.
It was just as they were driving up the mews to John’s back door that John said, “I’m such a fuck up, aren’t I?” Now his eyes were filled with tears. The drug-enhanced emotions were making a 180-degree turn, apparently.
Paul didn’t answer, he just helped John out of the car, thanked the driver and waved him off, and then unlocked the back door, while leading in and setting him at the kitchen table. He then went back and locked the kitchen door. Now all he had to do was get John comfortable on the sitting room sofa. After he tucked a blanket around John, he sat down on the edge of the sofa and said, “Can I get you anything, John?”
“Just sit here with me, Paul. Tell me you don’t hate me.” Now tears were rolling down John’s cheeks.
Paul smiled, and softly wiped the tears away, off John’s face. “I don’t hate you, Johnny. I could never hate you.” He kissed John on his forehead, and a beatific smile covered John’s face. John closed his eyes, and within moments was sound asleep.