Everything's Jake 3: Sam

By Dabeagle

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The porch light flicked on to illuminate the early morning hours. The clock in the kitchen read 3:27, in glowing red numbers. It was a new digital clock, a fancy one that attached to the underside of the cabinet. The kitchen light revealed a man in his bathrobe, no longer exactly a young man; but not a middle aged man yet either. Sleep still fought with his eyes, and his contacts had yet to hydrate making him scowl as he peered outside to see what the trouble was.

The doorbell and insistent knocking had fallen silent with the opening of the front door . The young man on the front porch was just that, a young man, barely old enough to avail himself of the name. He shivered slightly in the early morning air in a shirt torn in several places; some small amount of stubble grew on his face and the bags around his green eyes showed the lack of sleep he was currently receiving.

“Jake?” The older man asked, continuing to blink and trying to get his eyes to focus.

“Hi, Sam. Um, I’m sorry to wake you, but I…I needed someone to talk to and Connor is, ah... I…” he shivered again as if in punctuation of his statement. Sam sighed and stepped aside to allow Jake in the door, and the relative warmth of the kitchen.

Sam immediately picked up on Jake's ginger stride.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. Jake turned to face him, his face contorted with weariness and Sam pulled the younger man to him, holding him close and trying to quell the shaking that consumed him. After few moments, when Jake was no longer trembling as badly, Sam guided him to a chair at the cheap dinette set he was renting from the local rent to own place. With rotten credit he was forced to go to these vultures to get nice things, or decent things at any rate.

“I’ll make us some coffee,” Sam said as he turned from the broken young man in front of him. Jake merely nodded and rocked slightly in the chair while Sam went about the mundane task of coffee making in the wee hours of a Sunday morning. The task helped him to wake up a bit mentally and try to gird himself for whatever would bring Jake to his door in the middle of the night. The coffee maker set, Sam sat down opposite Jake and regarded the younger man who looked morosely at his hands, folded in his lap.

The coffee machine gurgled to itself in the silence of the slowly awakening day. Sam sat quietly, allowing Jake the space to collect himself.

When there was enough in the pot, Sam stood and retrieved two cups from the cupboard and, after filling them, placed them upon the tabletop. After a side trip for the half and half and the sugar, he sat down to fix his coffee. Jake slowly placed his hands around the warm mug and sighed deeply.

“I’m sorry to wake you Sam,” he repeated.

“What’s going on Jake?” Sam asked, not unkindly.

“It’s…” his breath hitched in his throat, holding back a sob, “I think maybe Paul and I are over.” Sam’s face betrayed no emotions, but relief flooded through him that perhaps Jake's long nightmare would be over. Watching that face, with a slowly darkening bruise appearing on his left cheek, his heart also broke for him.

“You want to tell me about it?” he asked. Jake poured half and half into his coffee, sipped it a time or two and then met Sam’s eyes.

“I’ve told you Paul is kind of jealous, he has always thought that everyone wants me and would steal me away from him if he lets his guard down,” Jake looked down into his coffee cup. Sam nodded, knowing full well the nature of the boy Jake was dating.

“Well, I didn’t know it but he got into a fight with Connor last week, and you know my history with Connor. Well, Paul does too and he is even more jealous of Connor than anyone else.” Jake's voice had trailed down to a near whisper. “Connor would never try anything like that, but Paul would never believe that we weren't fooling around behind his back.

“Then last night he was drinking before we even went out to meet everyone last night.”

“That’s always a mistake for you two,” Sam commented softly, “Paul always gets a little paranoid when he’s been drinking. It's our fault for trying to go to a bar in the first place; we should have taken you to dinner.” Sam asked.

“It wouldn't have mattered,” Jake looked at Sam with a guilty expression, “I pushed him to go out, even after he came back drunk. It was my birthday.”

Sam merely nodded for Jake to continue as he sipped at his coffee.

“So we went out, and we were dancing upstairs and Paul got this guy to get him drinks.” Jake looked at Sam, but Sam’s eyes had shut and he had a frown on his face. Paul’s jealousies were well known, and though Jake was a rare commodity, he was loyal and Paul had never been able to see that.

“Go on,” Sam said, though he was pretty sure he could paint the rest of the picture himself at this point.

“We were dancing like crazy, I was having such a good time and Paul was drinking and...,” Jake hesitated.

“He was flirting with everything on two legs, got it,” Sam replied while closing his eyes. Always seems to be the one who accuses their partner of cheating is reacting because they are doing the exact same thing.

“So we were really hot after all the dancing and we went over to the bar to get some water,” Jake said with tears standing in his eyes. Sam continued to observe dispassionately. “I leaned in and gave Connor a hug and was telling him how much fun I was having when Paul grabbed me and dragged me out of the bar, yelling at me and putting me down.

“So, he made us leave and in the car he kept putting me down all the way back to the apartment. He,” Jake shuddered and closed his eyes before whispering, “he forced me to…he raped me, Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes again and frowned deeply, anger boiling' but realizing too that the real decisions had to come from Jake, not him.

“Go on, Jake.”

“He yelled at me a lot, and I begged him to stop, I told him there wasn’t anyone else, but he wouldn’t listen, he was…rough on purpose, he was so mean, so mean,” Jake trailed off. “He made me bleed, and he hit me so many times in the face and kidneys. Then, after all that he said...” Jake broke down in huge gulping sobs, “he called me his baby and said he love...loved me!”

Sam placed a hand over Jake's, and held it softly. Jake gripped the hand and put the other over his eyes while he wept. Sam used his free hand to pull the napkins close for this weeping boy. At eighteen he may technically be a man, Sam thought, but right now he was a scared boy looking for shelter from the pain.

“He doesn't love you, Jake. You must realize that whatever it is he's doing, it's got nothing to do with love.”

“I’m scared, Sam. I just walked off…I can’t stay in the apartment, the lease is in his name. The car is his so I couldn’t go to work…” Jake gave a shuddering sigh. “He only let me drive it back and forth to work in nice weather when he'd walk, and he checked the mileage to make sure I didn't go anywhere else with it.”

“Jacob, are you saying the problem here is how you would be left if he weren’t part of your life? Is that all that's holding you back?” Sam asked.

“I think…I know need to get away from him, but I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared, and when Connor finds out…” Jake drifted into somber silence. Sam thought quietly, allowing Jake some space. “Connor is going to hate me, for letting this happen again.”

“Jake, listen to me. I know you love Paul, who knows why,” Sam started.

“He’s not really that bad,” Jake said feebly, but wilted under Sam’s gaze. “At least I thought so.”

“He has driven most of your friends away, and he hurts you and demeans you. Jake, you don’t deserve this. I know you feel some of what I am saying to you, but something made you decide to come here tonight.” Sam sighed in frustration, knowing he wasn't finding the right words. “I have a feeling that most of the times Paul had sex with you it was pretty close to rape, but nothing as deliberate as he did to you tonight.”

Jake seemed to debate, and finally stood and lifted his shirt. Fresh, ugly purple bruises raced up his ribs, overlaid on older bruises, yellow and reds interlaced on his flesh. Sam inhaled sharply in spite of himself and realized that Paul had progressed far beyond intimidation and demeaning comments and the rough sex that he and Jake shared. He was furious that Paul felt so secure in his domination of Jake that he could rape him with out fear that Jake would turn on him, as he obviously felt at this point. To show this outrage would only scare Jake away, Sam knew from experience, so he fought valiantly for control and even tones.

This new wrinkle underscored that Sam had to act, even if Jake didn’t agree with him in the end. He recalled how Connor had once felt forced to make the same choice.

“Jake, sometimes when you love some one you have to let them go. You have to do what is best for them, and sometimes that thing is also the best thing for you. The best thing you can do is get out of that situation, Jake and I won’t take no for an answer,” Sam said firmly.

“But he’ll…He’ll find me,” Jake whispered, “He said he’d kill me.”

“He has to go through me first, and I swear he’ll never touch you again Jacob.”

“Sam, I can’t, I…”

“Bullshit! I refuse to allow someone I love to suffer like that! Maybe you’ll hate me for it, but even if I have to tie you down in the spare room you won’t set foot near that maniac again!” Sam hissed in spite of his subconscious shushing him.

“But I love him!” Jake wailed.

“I should call the police!”

“No! No cops!”

“Why? He beats you! He rapes you! He tells you you’re worthless, just like that twisted bastard of a father you got stuck with! You are still in his shadow, letting him control you. Give your love to someone that loves you back, give Connor his due.” Sam sat back, but poised in case Jake felt trapped and tried to run.

Jake looked down into his lap, staring at his hands before he spoke. “I can’t even look at Connor now. What could Connor ever see in me? Something someone used as a f-f-f fuck toy,” Jake began to hitch his breathing as he became more unstable, “I feel like a whore, why would Connor ever talk to me? Sam, you should have seen the look on his face when Paul pulled me away from him.”

“Connor would love you if you were living in a dumpster, and you know it. But you want why’s and wherefore’s? Okay, let me tell you a story. Come on, let’s go in the living room and sit on the couch,” Sam got up and shepherded Jake further into the house and ensconced him on the couch so that he could block a sudden run attempt. Jake could turn up dead if he got away and back into Paul’s clutches this time.

“I was twenty-seven when I came out,” Sam began, “I had been with the same woman for six years, and married for almost two years when the wheels came off the whole thing. After an acrimonious period of time in which we couldn’t even be in the same room with out fighting, we slowly mended some fences enough to talk. I went to the gay bars for the first time, under the guidance of my father who showed me what people wanted when they offered to buy you a drink or worse.

“I was naive, and I made a few mistakes, had some close encounters with ugly guys, or at the very least overly plain guys,” I gave Jake a soft smile as he grinned at my choice of words through his troubled face. Oh god Jake, your poor face Sam thought.

“I met a few really good people, even fell in love with a few people. Love is a tricky thing, some people allow it to consume them,” Sam watched as Jake squirmed and knew he was dangerously close to losing his subject.

“I did it myself, once,” Sam stated and Jake stopped squirming suddenly. ‘Good’, Sam thought, ‘I have his attention now.’

“I met this great guy, he was sensitive and beautiful to my way of thinking. I wouldn’t say he walked out of a magazine or anything like that, but he was undeniably attractive for his combination of looks and an odd sort of charm. Well, I was head over heels in love with this boy and he could do no wrong,” Sam said as he sat back in response to Jake’s more relaxed posture.

“What happened?” Jake asked.

“I got my heart broken,” Sam replied. “I had to let him go, I wasn’t what he needed. He couldn’t be my boyfriend because I didn’t have the kind of love he was ready for, not to mention someone else whom I respect a great deal was already deeply in love with him.” Sam smiled at Jake's form, even after so much abuse, still so naïve about other people's feelings for him.

“So this beautiful guy, I had to let him go. At least as a boyfriend, I had to let him go and love him in what little ways he would allow me,” Sam leaned forward, supporting his chin on this layered hands, elbows resting on his knees.

“That guy sounds like an idiot, how could he walk away from that?” Jake snorted, shaking his head.

“People develop at their own pace, in their own time, Jake, you should know that of all people. When you were ready for your father’s abuse to end, you went to Connor and he defended you as I think you knew he would. People need different kinds of love, not just the romantic kind and this guy wasn’t ready for that. for all his beauty he couldn’t love. He was hurting too much inside,” Sam said softly. Jake sat in silence, appearing thoughtful.

“Well, he was still dumb.”

“He was you, Jake,” Sam replied. Jake sat in shock, obviously never having considered the idea that Sam had romantic interests in him.

“I’m not leaving Paul for you,” Jake said uncertainly.

“Jacob! I am not some predator after your ass! I am your friend, I have loved you for the beautiful things about you and tried to ease the things about you that hurt until you were ready to try and be happy for yourself,” Sam sighed and continued in a softer tone, “I’m trying to help you. Whatever your destiny is, it’s not as my partner, I know this. But I also know it’s not with Paul, or anyone else that doesn’t love you,” Sam said firmly.

The room sat in silence, only the ticking of the grandfather clock, so out of place with the worn out surroundings, broke the silence with its consistent ticking and tocking. The wind sighed outside the window like a tired old man and leaves chattered in the trees like the tittering of a crowd that waits for a decision.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” Jake said.

“I have a spare room, just needs cleaning,” Sam replied.

“I don’t have much there, just clothes mostly.”

“That’s good, I have a small car.”

“I’ll have no way to get to work.”

“The bus runs right in front of the house, and your office is on the bus line.”

Jake sat and chewed his lower lip, clearly the ball was in his court. Would he choose pain or some attempt to make his life better. The clock continued to monitor the minutes and bear witness to the events of the shabby living room, worn carpet and old paint acting as silent partners in its vigil. Jake pulled his legs up to his chest, looking for all the world like a vulnerable child. After what seemed to be an eternity he looked up at Sam.

“What would you charge for rent?”

“I want you to go to therapy, counseling for this inferiority complex. I want you to be happy.”

“I know,” Jake said with a tremble, “But I asked about rent, I don’t make that much.”

“You go to counseling and I call it even.”

“Sam, I couldn’t,” Jake began.

“Yes, you can. Your happiness is worth more than any money you could give me.”

“Sam,” Jake sighed.

“Jake, swallow that prideful thought and just say yes, thank you, and be happy that you have always had people that loved you, even if you didn’t always know it.”

Jake studied Sam, wondering what he had done right to have Sam give so much of himself.

“Okay, Sam.” He smiled, lopsidedly as his puffy face allowed, “Thanks.”

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