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| Part 7 by Castgimp |
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| Our trip back down from New Hampshire to Boston was uneventful. Ben sat in the backseat where he could stretch out and keep his leg up on the seat. I adjusted my rear-view mirror so that I could see his cast while I drove. I kept replaying the events of the morning and the previous night in my head, trying to make sense of them. I tried to make conversation, but Ben was quiet and met most of my questions with one-word answers. I was reluctant to refer directly to our three-way with the park ranger, and Ben didn't seem willing to talk about anything at all. I didn't know if he was tired, or in pain, or embarrassed to suddenly be alone with me after our escapades with Jasper. I had a sense that Ben had said things and done things in front of Jasper that he would not have said or done if he and I had been alone together. I was still puzzled that Ben had initiated the sexual games that morning-as he had initiated our first sexual contact in the tent two nights before. Who the fuck was this guy sitting in my backseat? I wondered too if Ben had been awake in the middle of the night when I chased Jasper down the hall on his crutches in the dark. I wondered if he had heard us fucking, or for that matter, whether he knew somehow that Jasper had fucked me on the side of the mountain. And if he knew, I wondered, would he care? Then there was the fact that he still hadn't called his wife. Technically, we weren't supposed to be down off the mountain for two more days, so maybe he thought that it would be pointless to worry Jill until after he'd been to see the doctor in Boston. I certainly wasn't about to bring it up. And what about his parents? He hadn't called them either. They lived in Roxborough, and his original plans had been to spend the weekend with them after our camping trip, before he returned to Seattle. Now I wondered if he would stay with them tonight, or stay with me... We hit some pretty heavy traffic on the way down, and the trip ended up taking much longer than it should have. It was backed up on the merge getting onto Route 128 and the Big Dig construction project downtown had things backed up all the way to Woburn. The construction traffic I should have anticipated, but I hadn't. I had thought we would have time to stop at my place, unload our gear, get a bite to eat, and get cleaned up before taking Ben to his appointment at the orthopedic clinic at four, but as it turned out, we drove straight through and barely got to the doctor's office on time. The clinic was in a medical arts building in Brookline. It looked like it was a pretty big orthopedic practice, with a number of doctors sharing office space. There were six doctors listed out front, all with the initials M.D, O.S. after their names. It was a Harvard related practice, and I knew the visit would be an expensive one. I hadn't thought to ask Ben about money or insurance until we were walking up from the parking lot to the office. "You've got good insurance, don't you Ben?" "Yeah. Pretty good I guess. Most of this should be covered. Wouldn't you think?" "I have no idea. I hope so." I was admiring the way Ben moved on his crutches. Even now, after just 24 hours, Ben moved on his crutches with a practiced grace. I could tell from the way that he carried his leg that the plaster cast was heavy. If nothing else, I thought as we went inside, they'll probably give him a different cast. I knew this was an orthopedic clinic, but somehow, I wasn't prepared for what we would find inside. As Ben signed in, I scanned the crowded waiting room. Everywhere there were people with casts and braces and crutches of every imaginable type. We found two chairs next to each other where we could take a seat to wait. Next to me there was a young guy, maybe 20, in a neck brace. Next to Ben there was a guy a little older, maybe 40, handsome, in a suit, with what looked like short arm casts on both arms. Directly across from me there was a guy in jeans, looked like maybe he was a construction worker of some kind, with a cast on his leg that went all the way up to his hip. And that was just the three people sitting closest to us. I was fascinated and turned on, but also overwhelmed. It was sensory overload. And it wasn't just handsome guys. There were women, and kids, and old folks-people with canes and walkers-and a couple of people in wheelchairs. Some of the people sitting around us were definitely not sexy. I tried to filter out the things I didn't want to see, and focus on the ones that turned me on. I started making up stories in my head about what had happened to each person. I tried to imagine how they had gotten hurt, and what the nature of their injury might be. We didn't have to wait very long for Ben to get called in for his appointment. I watched him disappear on his crutches through a set of automatic glass doors. With Ben gone I felt freer to look around the room with something like reckless abandon, staring shamelessly at the men who interested me, or turned me on. At one point I made eye contact with a scruffy looking guy in a red leg cast that went all the way up. He was handsome, or at least good-looking, in a sexy, scrappy, punk, street-kid kind of way. I couldn't tell how old he was, but he was probably somewhere either in his late twenties or his early thirties. He was thin, and wiry. He had a short beard that might have simply been the result of not shaving for a few days. His jeans were split all the way up the side, revealing the whole length of the high red fiber cast. The cast was soiled and looked well worn. He'd either been in it for a long time, or he'd been hard on the cast, or maybe both. He was really turning me on and I kept looking at him but then he caught me staring at him and I looked quickly away, embarrassed. When I looked back he was staring at me. Our eyes locked and he grinned in a lecherous sexy way and cupped his balls with his hands, pulling on his jeans. I mirrored him, cupping my balls and pulling on my jeans. I was hard as hell and it looked like he was too. He was moving him thumb slowly up and down over the crotch of his jeans, rubbing his hard cock below, and I did the same, leering back at him. When he curled his toes sticking out of that dirty red cast I almost creamed in my pants. I think we both would have cum sitting right there in the waiting room, but our sexy reverie was interrupted when he was called in to see the doctor. As he stood up on his crutches I could clearly see his erection poking through his pants, and we both laughed as he stood there trying to rearrange himself so that he could walk across the waiting room. He seemed to be there alone, and I was hoping I would see him again before we left, but I never did. Ben was gone for a long time and I had started to get worried. I was also starving. I'd been waiting for nearly three hours when they wheeled Ben out in a wheelchair, his left leg propped up in front of him. He was holding his crutches beside him. Ben pointed toward me from across the room and the orderly pushing his chair wheeled him toward me. It looked like his foot and ankle were encased in a fiber cast. The cast was built up thickly around his ankle, thicker than the plaster cast he'd had when he went in. I couldn't tell how far up his leg the cast went because his sweatpants covered everything except his ankle and foot. His knee was bent, and his leg looked rigid, and for a fleeting moment I entertained the unlikely possibility that the cast went all the way up. He had a dark brooding look on his face. I stood up as they approached. "Ben," I said. Just that one word, his name. "Get the car," he replied gruffly. Three, short, clipped words. His face revealed nothing, and clearly with the orderly standing there listening we were not going to have a conversation, so I left the waiting room and went to the parking lot to retrieve the car. When I pulled up at the front doorway, the orderly had wheeled Ben out and they were waiting for me. I jumped out of the car and ran around to open the back door on the passenger side for Ben. The orderly helped him stand up, and for the first time I could see that the cast did indeed go all the way up. With his sweat pants pulled tight I could see the top edge of the fiber lip where the cast ended at the top of his thigh. Ben leaned on the open car door for support and hopped awkwardly on one foot to turn around. Together the orderly and I helped him ease himself into the car, butt first, his casted leg following. Once Ben was sitting down he slid himself across the seat to that he was sitting behind the driver's seat, his leg stretched out on the seat next to him. I handed his crutches in after him, and shut the door. I shook the orderly's hand and thanked him and then went around to my side of the car and climbed in. "Jesus Ben that's some cast," I was pulling out of the clinic parking lot and into traffic. "Yeah." "I didn't expect one so big." "Me neither." "What happened?" "I don't want to talk about it." "Ben, come on buddy. Don't be like that." I wanted to reach into the back seat and touch him, to reassure him, to reassure myself, but I was driving in heavy rush-hour traffic and I couldn't. "Well it turned out to be worse than that doctor in New Hampshire thought." "Shit." "I mean he was basically right. When I fell and turned my ankle over I broke my medial malleoulus. That's the bottom part of the tibia that extends down and forms the inside part of the ankle. That's what the first doctor told me too. Only this guy found some displacement. They took the old cast off and x-rayed me again...took like six pictures. Then the doctor came in to see me. He showed me where there was a space between the two pieces of bone. He said about a centimeter and a half. He also showed me on the other side where there was a fracture in my fibula. He said it was very common with a fracture like mine...when the ankle rolls like that the bottom of the tibia gets sheared off, and as the ankle goes over, the fibula buckles as well." "Shit." "I also tore my deltoid ligament pretty badly I guess. That's what most of the swelling was from." "Fuck." It was all I could think of to say. My cock was hard as a rock and I was trying desperately not to wreck the car. I was trying to keep my eyes on the road and on Ben's cast in my rearview mirror at the same time. I had one more burning question that I had to ask him. "So how come you ended up with such a big cast?" "It was that or surgery. I picked the cast." "Surgery? Shit." "The doctor said that with a fracture like mine the most common practice is to use a pin to hold the two pieces of bone together. But since the displacement on mine was pretty minimal, he said he could manually reduce the fracture, and then put this cast on. If it heals like this without the bones moving the result is supposed to be pretty good. If it doesn't heal, or if the bones move, he'll have to go back and do the surgery anyhow." "Shit Ben." "He thought this was worth a try, and I told him I didn't want to have surgery if I didn't have to. He knows I'm a runner, and he said in the end it would be better if I didn't have hardware in my ankle." "Shit I'm sorry Ben." "It's not your fault Mike." "What did you mean by 'manually reduce?'" "He moved the bones around with his hands. It was awful. He basically twisted my ankle the opposite way it twisted when I fell. To realign the bone fragment that got sheared off. It hurt like a motherfucker. I thought I was going to pass out." "Shit!" I thought for sure I was going to wreck the car, or cream in my pants, or both. "Then he used this wet plaster wrap to bind my ankle. He called it a plaster matrix. He really molded the plaster to my ankle. He said he wanted to make sure there was no way for the bones to move. Then he had to wait for the plaster to dry before he could put the fiber cast over the top. The plaster is just around my ankle, almost like an ace bandage. They put me under a heat lamp to dry it. That's what took so long. I was sitting there for two hours while it dried...more like baked. As it dried the plaster got tighter and tighter, like it was constricting. Then he put this fiber cast over the top of the whole thing. He said he wanted to immobilize my whole leg to minimize the chances that the bones would move. He wants me to stay off it completely for the first week...like in bed. I have to keep it elevated too. He made the cast tight to keep the bones from moving, but he said the swelling from the torn deltoid ligament would make it throb unless I keep my ankle elevated higher than my heart. He advised me against travelling home to Seattle too. He wants to see me once a week for four weeks, to make sure there isn't a gap developing between the bones. If there is...then he'll have to pin them." "So you have to stay in Boston?" "I don't know if I have to. He advised me to. I'm sure there are good orthopedic docs in Seattle." "What will you do?" "I have no fucking idea." "I know your parents live here. But you're welcome to stay at my place. As long as you need to Ben." "Thanks Mike. I appreciate it. I don't know yet. I have to think...and I have to call Jill. And my boss. I am so fucked. I don't even have my laptop with me." "We can solve all those problems Ben. For tonight let's just pretend we're still on vacation. We'll put you to bed...put your leg up...I'll order some pizza...get some beer...put on some music...and just...I don't know...hang out together...and we'll solve all of these problems tomorrow." "Well the pizza part sounds good at least. I'm starving." "Me too man." So we made it to my apartment and I got Ben situated. I live in an old brownstone with a fireplace in the bedroom. I got Ben situated comfortably on the bed with his leg on a pile of pillows, and then I built a fire. I was hoping desperately to recapture some of the vacation vibes we'd shared in New Hampshire, and I thought the fire would help. Then I ordered pizzas, two big ones, more than we could ever hope to eat, and ran down to the corner to pick up some cold beers. My mind was reeling. Having Ben in my house, fuck, in my bed, with his leg is that long sexy cast, was driving me wild. I didn't want to fuck this up. I could tell Ben was kind of on the edge. He seemed depressed, and a bit unpredictable. He still hadn't called his wife or his parents. I didn't know if we'd be sleeping together or not. I'd offered him my bed, of course. It was the only one I had. I assumed I would sleep with him, but I hadn't asked him. Having him in my house with his leg in a cast was like a dream come true, but it scared me too, and I knew it could all slip through my fingers and he could disappear. I made it back to the house ahead of the pizza, and was popping two beers open just as the pizza guy rang the bell at the front door. I carried the hot pizzas and the open beers back to the bedroom where Ben was ensconced, staring morosely at the fire. "Food's here," I announced. "Thank God. I'm famished!" "Naked pizza dude?" "What?" "It's hot in here man. Too hot with the fire. What do you say we get naked to eat our pizza?" "You're crazy Mike." "I know it. Always have been. Come on. I'll help you out of your clothes." I set the pizza boxes on the bed and pulled my own shirt over my head. I knew I was pushing my luck, but I couldn't stop myself. "Come on dude. Humor me. This is the last night of our vacation, remember?" "OK," he agreed, reluctantly pulling his shirt over his head. "Naked pizza it is." I helped him pull his sweatpants down over his cast, and because we'd never managed to get underwear on him that morning, Ben was suddenly naked except for his cast. I quickly pulled the rest of my clothes off and jumped up on the bed next to him. Ben was a vision of loveliness with the fire light on his face and his cast stretched out in front of him. I was so in love with this man. So we ate our pizza naked, and drank our beer naked, and laughed together just like old times. It felt like the first time since he'd arrived that we were both completely relaxed with each other. We ate and drank way more than we should have, and in the end had to lay belly up on the bed while we digested. I wasn't drunk, but I was loose, and happy, and warm. My belly was full and I was naked in bed next to my best friend in the world, and he had an enormous cast on his left leg, and the whole scene was making me exceptionally horny. I wanted to touch Ben. I had to touch Ben. I looked over at him. His face was rough with dark whiskers and his eyes were closed. Cautiously, I reached over and put my hand on his chest, resting it there. He didn't respond. Slowly I moved my hand up, reaching for a nipple. Still he didn't respond. I began to slowly circle his nipple with my middle finger, feeling it go erect at my touch. I felt Ben tense the muscles in his chest, and I took his nipple between my thumb and forefinger and gently squeezed. "Jesus Mike, stop it!" "What? I'm sorry..." I said, pulling my hand away fast, like I'd been burned. His reaction completely surprised me. There was a tense silence between us. We lay there breathing audibly. His cast was resting on two pillows not two inches from where my leg was stretched out on the sheet next to him. Slowly I moved my hand back toward him, this time touching his naked hip. "Mike, stop it!" he said, pushing my hand away. "I'm not..." "You're not what?" I was disappointed, and embarrassed. "I'm not...Mike I'm married." I was stunned. I had expected him to say he was not in the mood. Now I knew he had meant to say that he was not gay. I found myself growing suddenly and unaccountably angry. "I know you're married Ben," I said, dripping with sarcasm, " I was in the wedding." I was furious and I could feel my face burning. Ben had humiliated me. I was trapped in the position I had always guarded so carefully against. Here was Mike the fag hitting on his straight friend Ben, and Ben was rejecting him. I started to yell at him, my face close to his. "You were married when you had your dick in my mouth yesterday morning in the tent, and that didn't seem to bother you!" "Mike, stop." His voice was low and quiet. "No. I won't stop. I never would have touched you Ben if you hadn't touched me first. I never would have risked our friendship. Don't give me this married bullshit. And another thing. My cock is not the first cock you've ever had in your mouth!" "Fuck you Mike!" he said, swinging at me with his fist. "No. Fuck you Ben!" I yelled back, jumping off of the bed, beyond his reach. "You were married when you raced Jasper and me back to bed this morning and that didn't seem to fucking bother your conscience. And if you are so fucking married, why the fuck haven't you called Jill?" I was screaming at him, my rage exploding to cover my embarrassment. "Mike stop..." "I won't stop! Ben I've loved you for eight goddamned years, but I never, never, would have started something with you. Never! You started this. You rolled over in the tent and grabbed me. You came in the back of my throat. I know you're fucking married Ben. You need to figure out what the fuck you fucking want and then live with it!" And with that I stormed out and slammed the bedroom door. I was shaking. I had fought tears the whole time I was in the bedroom, and now I could feel them hot and wet on my cheeks. "Fuck you Ben Nahigian," I whispered under my breath. "I love you, you shit." I spent the night on the couch in the living room, heart-broken, angry, lonely, humiliated, and cold. I had only one extra blanket in the house and it was not enough. I slept off and on, fitfully. At one point I woke up and I thought I heard Ben crying softly in the bedroom, but I did not get up to investigate. The next time I woke up it was clearly morning. Sunshine was flooding the room, but there was a shadow across my face. I blinked and turned my head. The shadow was from Ben. He was standing, leaning on his crutches, looking at me. He had my bathrobe on. I stared at him. |
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