“I don’t want to,” I repeated, somewhat more firmly (possibly because “need” touched nerve, eroded conviction). “At least not yet. I don’t doubt that one day I may want to — at the very least, I will cooperate to the extent necessary to rebuild the population.
“But I don’t have a need yet — and I bet you don’t either; though I’ll grant you’ve probably got a pretty urgent want, the same as any adolescent male. We’re both too young — certainly I am. But even if we weren’t, I’ve never heard of celibacy killing anyone, so I don’t think we’re in any immediate danger; at least not from that quarter. And if it’s physical tensions you’re bothered with, you know the solution to that just as well as I do.
“For Heaven’s sake,” I finished impatiently; look at me — I’m almost still a boy…!”
“I have looked at you,” he replied with a knowing grin; “in the most minute detail, for six long days while you were comatose; while changing your diaper, bathing you, and maintaining your catheter. No one would mistake you for a boy anymore. You are somewhat unfinished here and there, but you’re very pretty. And I’m beginning to regret having been such a gentleman while I had you at my mercy. Did I miss my golden opportunity?”
“I thought you weren’t into snuggling with corpses, and found catheters unromantic.”
“I’m not, they are, so I didn’t. But looking at you was very pleasant, in spite of your condition. And you aren’t unconscious now, and there’re no tubes in the way. Frankly, I don’t understand your attitude — I’d think gratitude alone would be enough to motivate you, if not compassion for a suffering fellow survivor…” This last delivered in tones of hurt puzzlement; wearing a trusting, wide-eyed, cocker-spaniel-puppy expression.
(Adam shrewd at picking apart others’ arguments, but reckless about leaving opening for riposte. Always a mistake: No one who knows me would doubt willingness to snub slack once victim has rope enough to hang himself.)
“I’m glad you feel that way. That means you do understand how I feel about it, and you’ll be happy to quit pestering me — if not from compassion, then out of gratitude.”
“Gratitude…?” Adam’s expression fell. Belatedly realized he’d violated logic matrix, blown argument; but too stubborn to admit it, change tack, quit with grace.
“Yes, ‘gratitude.’ Who pulled you out of that fire and stitched up your leg?”
“Who got in the way and made me crash in the first place?”
“Who was driving like a lunatic?”
“Oh, yeah…?”
“Yeah!”
(Have been several conversations like that since then; all revolving around oldest disputed topic; all concluding in same general vein.)
Apart from that, though, Adam seems pretty neat so far. Which is part of reason have not taken sterner line with him regarding nonstop campaign against my “virtue.” Could, certainly, and would bring results. Knows my karate ranking from reading journal; knows am well able to enforce wishes, if so choose.
But don’t choose. Yet. And truly hope never becomes necessary. Only five when Momma Foster died, but had managed by then to impart to me her appreciation for fragility of male ego; care required to preserve from unnecessary bruising. Have encountered nothing during subsequent years to suggest wisdom of altering view (indeed, quite to contrary).
Key word, of course, is “unnecessary”; would not hesitate to warn of impending consequences, employ force as required. But ever been possible for perceptive, intelligent woman to avoid direct confrontation while still getting own way: Merely question of discerning where buttons located, cataloguing effect of each, pushing in proper sequence — without getting caught at it…
To that end, am studying Adam: Feeling out responses to subliminal suggestions; learning what psychological knee jerks exist, where kept, how triggered; reactions to my emotions, etc.
But proceeding carefully. Not uncomplicated lad, nor at all stupid (difficulty compounded by political psychology absorbed at mother’s knee); will spoil everything if suspects manipulation attempt in progress. At least two probable consequences foreseeable: One, will realize am trying to avoid controlling him by force; and two, thereby have nose rubbed in very fact that I can.
Heart of problem, of course, is fact that Adam, while surely hominem, not member of AA group — I know: All names, addresses in Tarzan File. And everyone else alive today on planet, by definition, must be considered AB — must be regarded, absent substantial evidence to contrary, potential hazard to own life, limb, property. Wherefore, despite uniformly favorable data accumulated to present — including Terry’s opinion — still reserving judgment; maintaining slightly watchful attitude where Adam concerned.
(True, beginning to feel something of an ingrate by this point; but learned through experience: Teacher not busybody; not in habit of volunteering superfluous suggestions. On rare occasions when did go to trouble of offering advice [particularly when so unambiguously phrased as to constitute, unmistakably, Considered Opinion], proceeding notwithstanding recommendation almost inevitably followed by Consequences, usually regrettable in nature.)
Have known Adam (consciously) only two days. Most of what have learned thus far limited to hearsay (his) or adduced evidence (own conclusions, based on observations). Have not, with own eyes, seen anything concrete enough to justify abandoning caution entirely — or confirm, for that matter. But preliminary impression favorable; rather suspect will cancel alert shortly; embrace (figuratively speaking) new acquaintance as companion, friend, partner — perhaps even (conceivably, someday, should events so devolve) mate.
Which will be distinct relief: Paranoia most wearing perspective for extended use; tiresome way to go through life. Trust more comfortable outlook — except when blows up in face, of course.
But doubt this apt to. Have often, during brief lifetime, entertained self by “people-watching”; plus always took advantage of opportunities to meet, get to know, as many people as possible. Thereby acquired something resembling competence at picking friends (at least those whom so labeled never betrayed trust). And while do perhaps weight Terry’s judgment more heavily than should when forming own impressions of strangers, am not myself totally helpless in that regard.
And without being able to put finger on any specific event or reason why, feel comfortable around Adam. Have from first meeting postcoma. Almost as if have known him forever…
(Note to Significant Discovery Department: Just this moment realized — have felt this way with precisely three other people in whole life: Daddy, Momma, Teacher. Wonder what that means. Sounds like sort of question probably best not delved into too deeply just now. Or resolved in haste.)
Well, haste unnecessary; will have ample time to debate imponderables. Expect to be here several weeks at least, resting, eating prodigiously, exercising: Rehabilitation after physiological burnout amounts to substantial project; side effects no joke — not kidding when said almost died; did really bang-up job on self. Adam weighed me as part of initial diagnostic procedure; and, based on his data, had lost nearly 20 percent of total body weight, between water, tissue.
No, not sort of experience one bounces back from overnight. And still long way from even first bounce.