My Life Is You

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THIS STORY FROM THE BEGINNING, YOU CAN PROBABLY SKIP THIS PART. SORRY TO MAKE YOU DEAL WITH IT EVERY TIME, BUT AT LEAST I MAKE IT EASY TO SPOT! FOR EVERYONE ELSE, MOST OF MY CHAPTERS DO NOT CONTAIN SEX. THIS IS ONE OF THOSE CHAPTERS. IF YOU READ THIS, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT. IF YOU DON'T ENJOY IT, AT LEAST I'LL KNOW IT WASN'T' BECAUSE YOU WERE EXPECTING SEX AND WERE DISAPPOINTED NOT TO GET IT. (NO PUN INTENDED)

Dillon felt as though he was going to expire from inactivity. He knew he was being overly dramatic, but after a week without leaving the house or speaking to another soul besides Nurse Sterning, he felt justified.

His new physical therapist had gone on vacation and unfortunately her clinic hadn't been able to find anyone to replace her. As a result, her patients were just told to keep doing their home exercises and eventually they would be worked back into the schedule once she returned.

Dillon had been incredibly disappointed the day Nurse Sterning informed him of the mix-up. Apparently, the phone had rung while he was running his bath, because he had never heard it. He had come eagerly down the stairs, anxious to get going. When he pulled open the front door and failed to hear Nurse Sterning's car idling in the drive, he had been confused. Nurse Sterning always had the car started and was waiting for him when it was time to go to the clinic.

He'd shut the door and walked back to the kitchen, which had become Nurse Sterning's realm. The spicy scent of the cinnamon tea she preferred had met his nose the moment he'd opened the swinging door to the kitchen.

He'd tried to politely remind her that it was time to leave if they were going to arrive at the clinic in time for his appointment. She'd responded briskly, "We're not going. Your therapist is on vacation and they don't have a substitute for her. You're supposed to do the best you can here at home until they get a replacement or she comes back."

"What?" Dillon had questioned in surprise. "When did this happen?"

"The clinic called about an hour ago. I don't know why you didn't hear the phone."

Dillon had sighed. "I was getting ready to take a bath. The water filling the tub would have kept me from hearing the ringing of the telephone."

He had gone up to his room and sat on the window seat. It was fast becoming his favorite spot in the house. Now, a week later, he hadn't gone downstairs again. Nurse Sterning continued to bring him his meals on a tray, despite his protests that he could eat in the kitchen with her. "It wouldn't be proper," was all she would say whenever he brought it up.

His own bedroom was quickly turning into a prison, one from which he could find no escape. He used the floor to do his workouts and therapy, slept in the bed, sat on the recliner or window seat, and even had a walk-in closet and en suite bathroom.

The day he'd bought this house he'd been ecstatic. He loved owning his own home. Now, though, he wished he were still existing in a cramped apartment with paper-thin walls. Then, at least, he could use the loud exploits of his neighbors as a distraction.

As night fell, a new determination grew inside Dillon. It was Saturday and his friends would be out. He'd find a way to join them. If they were unhappy he was there, he'd be able to tell no matter how hard they tried to hide it and then he could leave. But, at least it would get him out of the house, if only for a short amount of time.

For the first time since the accident, he showered instead of bathing. Previously, he had been scared of slipping in the shower and re-injuring his knee. Now, his recovery was far enough along that he believed it was an acceptable risk in the name of expediency.

After drying himself off, he stood and ran a hand over his body. He had to admit that he was impressed at how effective the exercises Seth had taught him were. Judging by what his fingertips felt, his chest was sculpted and his abs chiseled. Out of curiosity, he clenched his ass cheeks as tightly as he could and then he reached back to feel the result. They might as well have been molded from steel for all the give they had at that moment.

The temptation to linger and play at his back door was great. It had been a long time since his night with Dave and his body was demanding attention. He resisted, however, knowing that if he began to stroke that fire he wouldn't be leaving the house for a long time.

He took care of all the hygienic necessities and then walked into his closet. His clothes were perfectly organized, split into color categories. Seth had helped him arrange them on a rainy Sunday when they couldn't come up with anything else to do.

He started to reach for a basic pair of black slacks, but then hesitated. He hadn't been out in a long time and probably wouldn't go out again for an even longer amount of time. Maybe he should go for something a bit more daring.

He moved to the back of his closet where his one pair of leather pants resided. They were a dark brown and so tight that he'd barely been able to breathe in them before. Now, he didn't weigh as much but his ass was definitely fuller and firmer. When he slipped them on, they molded to his ass cheeks as if made specifically for his new body.

Dillon loved the smooth texture of the leather against his skin. Quickly pairing the pants with a white, silk shirt that had a loose tie at the throat, he grabbed a pair of boots. Luckily, his black boots were taller than his brown ones, so he could still easily tell which he held in his hands.

Upon completing all his preparations, Dillon made his way down the stairs. He slipped his wallet and house key into his pocket before walking back to the kitchen.

Tonight it smelled not only of Nurse Sterning's cinnamon tea, but also of the pot roast and potatoes she had cooked for dinner. The radio was tuned to an evangelical program. The clatter of dishes and splashing sounds told him that she was busy washing the pots and pans she had used earlier.

"Good evening, Nurse Sterning," Dillon said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Good evening, Mr. Marshall, was there something you needed?"

"Actually, yes, if you don't mind," Dillon said. "I wanted to go out and meet up with some of my friends, so I was wondering if you could look up the phone number for a cab company for me."

"Certainly, Mr. Marshall," Nurse Sterning shut off the running water and moved away from the sink. Dillon heard the sound of a drawer being opened and pages flipped.

After a moment, Nurse Sterning announced that she had a cab company on the phone and they wanted to know where he wanted his ride to. Dillon thought a moment, trying to remember which club his friends would be at on a Saturday evening, before saying, "Tell them I want to go to Achin', it's on the corner of Green River and Main."

"Yes, he wants to go to Achin', on the corner of Green River and Main. Approximately how much will that be?"

Dillon's heart sank in that moment. He didn't have any cash! He'd rarely carried it before because just about anything could be taken care of with credit and debit cards. He'd even paid all his bills online ever since his bank had started offering the service for free. Now, there was no way he could go there without taking a taxi, and without cash that wasn't possible.

"You know what, Nurse Sterning, I've changed my mind," Dillon said quickly. "Please tell them to forget about it."

"Yes, Mr. Marshall," Nurse Sterning said. For just a moment, he'd thought she sounded smug, but then he dismissed that thought. There was no reason for her to be pleased by the fact that he wasn't leaving the house. After all, they didn't ever really spend time together. He stayed upstairs, she resided downstairs. They had little contact throughout the day.

Saying a quick thank you and good night, Dillon left the kitchen. Once upstairs, he undressed and carefully replaced his clothes in the closet. He crawled naked into his bed and lay there, waiting for sleep or insanity to take him.

**

Seth considered backing up and walking away. True, Dave had seen him, but obviously that didn't make Seth welcome. The only thing stopping him was the desire to speak with Dillon.

Mentally preparing himself, he took the two final steps toward the table. There, he stopped and opened his mouth. He shut it again, realizing he didn't know how to start.

Dave had visually tracked his movements, but it took the others a moment to notice him. One by one, however, they did. All the eyes at the table came to rest on him.

"Hey, Seth, how are you?" Jeremy asked. The greeting was lukewarm, but Seth snatched at it. It was a rope; he was going to use it.

"Hey Jeremy. I'm okay, well, sort of okay," Seth replied. "I miss working with Dillon. How is he?" The moment the words left his mouth, he couldn't believe he had said them. What on earth was he doing?

A stony silence fell over the table. Finally, Dave spoke. "If you miss him, why did you leave him?"

"I didn't leave him, he kicked me out!" Seth exclaimed, defending himself. "As a physical therapist, I would never leave a patient before he was ready and as a friend I would never desert a friend."

Everyone at the table shared a glance before Carter spoke. "We're sorry, we believed you had left, not that you were told to leave."

"What did Dillon tell you?" Seth asked. Had Dillon lied about what had happened, made it seem like Seth had deserted him? No! He couldn't believe that of Dillon. He just didn't see Dillon as being that type of person.

"He didn't say much of anything," Jeremy admitted. "We've only seen him twice since the night you saw us take him out. When we picked him up the first time, Dave noticed you weren't there and asked where you were. All Dillon said was, 'He's gone.' He refused to say anything else, so we just thought it had been your choice."

"No, he wanted me gone," Seth admitted. "I guess he still does if he won't talk about me anymore." There was a defeated tone in Seth's voice.

Jeremy shrugged. "We wouldn't know. Like I said, we've only seen him twice since then and the second time was almost two months ago."

"Two months ago?" Seth was startled. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. I don't remember the exact date or anything, but it was early spring."

"That doesn't make any sense," Seth mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

"Why doesn't it make sense?" Dave spoke for the first time. His tone was slightly belligerent, but he was watching Seth carefully, seeming to search for something in Seth's face.

"It's just that Dillon was so happy any time he had a chance to get out of the house," Seth explained. "He was feeling very cooped up and I know he wanted to do as much as he could. Has he told you why he doesn't want to go out anymore?"

"We haven't talked to him at all," Jeremy said. "That nurse of his always answers the phone and all we can do is leave messages. Dillon just never returns them."

Seth walked away from the table without saying goodbye. Something wasn't right.

**

Lying in his bed, Seth watched the shadows chase each other across the ceiling. It was either very, very late or very, very early; Seth wasn't sure which one he wanted to consider it.

He had spent a sleepless night, lying in bed and thinking of Dillon. This wasn't the first time that had happened, but tonight was different. Before, he had been busy missing Dillon and imagining what it would be like to have Dillon lying here, next to him.

Now, worry was plaguing him. What he had been told just didn't make sense. It kept coming back to that. It didn't make sense and Seth could find no way to reconcile it in his mind.

One thing had occurred to him last night. Dillon could have fallen into a severe depression. It wasn't unusual. After all, the loss of one's sight was a major change in that person's life. Seth had expected Dillon to fall in and out of depression from time to time. In fact, Dillon would probably have really bad times the rest of his life. But this was different. This could be bad. This could mean he was suicidal.

No, he can't be, Seth told himself. The thought of Dillon's hurting himself was more than he ever wanted to contemplate. It was hard enough not having Dillon in his life, the thought of Dillon gone was unbearable and Seth just couldn't handle it. Resolutely, he turned his mind away from that conclusion.

Another problem had presented itself as well. Dillon needed to be evaluated. Someone should check and see how he was dealing with everything was going on. Seth was more than willing to do it. The thought of seeing Dillon, even in a professional sense, was exhilarating. But how to get Dillon to agree to it? They hadn't parted on the best of terms after all.

It was a windy day for summer and the curtains were being blown inward by each gust. Seth watched the shadows they cast upon his ceiling, seeing ominous shapes in them.

Turning away, he looked at the clock. 5:30 a.m. Seth groaned. It was Sunday and he didn't have much to do, but it wasn't going to be a fun day when faced with no sleep at all.

Rising, he padded naked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Unlike with Dillon, he was living at home on the weekends while helping Sprite. Her father had offered him a place to stay all week, a gorgeous suite of rooms actually, but Seth had declined.

Stepping into the shower, he closed the door behind him. The water beat down on him, pummeling his skin. Steam began to rise as he leaned his head back, water cascading over his scalp onto his face. He stood like that for a moment before reaching for the shampoo.

He needed a way to move on with his life. He needed to start dating. Hell, he needed sex. It had been a long time since he had felt someone touch his body.

Once the hot water ran out, he stepped from the shower. Briskly drying off, he shook the water from his hair. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and walked into the kitchen.

Turning off the timer on the coffeepot, Seth manually switched it to brew. Then, since he was up so early and had plenty of time to waste. He pulled out everything he needed to make an omelet. He whisked the eggs and poured tem onto the warm skillet before throwing crumbled sausage into a second skillet. He quickly rinsed and chopped some spinach and tomatoes. Draining the sausage, he poured it and the vegetables onto the eggs then it topped it all with shredded cheddar.

Seth went and grabbed the morning paper off his front step before sitting down to his breakfast. The headlines were filled with events in Iraq and economic predictions.

It didn't work. His breakfast tasted like sawdust and the paper didn't hold his interest like it usually did. He forced himself to eat his omelet and clean up the dishes before he wandered into the living room.

The clock on the VCR read 7:00 a.m. He had used up an hour and a half.

Sitting down on his couch, Seth turned on the television and flipped through the channels. Finding nothing captivating he settled for an infomercial on the Ronco Rotisserie.

Jerking awake two hours later, he groaned. His back ached from the awkward position he had been in as he slept. Stretching carefully, he felt his tight muscles protest.

With a muffled curse, Seth walked to the telephone. He dialed Dillon's number from memory. He had started to call many times before, but had always hung up before it could connect.

This time he let it go through. The phone rang twice before Nurse Sterning picked it up. "Marshall residence," she said in her businesslike manner.

"Good morning, Nurse Sterning," Seth said. "It's Seth Evans, may I please speak to Dillon?"

"Oh, hello Mr. Evans," she responded. "I'm sorry, he's doing his at-home exercises and you know how important it is that he not be disturbed before he is done."

Seth could have kicked himself. He should have remembered that Dillon always did a workout between and 8:00 and 10:00 a.m. each morning. "Thanks, Nurse Sterning, I'll just call back later," he hung up the phone.

**

Seth hung up the telephone for the third tie that day. The second time he'd called, Nurse Sterning had informed him that Dillon was in the shower and that she would have him call as soon as possible. This time, she'd said Dillon was taking a nap. Seth didn't buy it; Dillon was avoiding him.

Obviously Dillon was still angry with him. He started to walk away from the phone, but then he hesitated. So, Dillon was upset. Well, so was he. Dillon wasn't the only one that was hurting. He picked up the receiver and called for a fourth time.

"Marshall residence."

"Nurse Sterning, it's Seth Evans again. Please tell Dillon that I am going to arrive at 7:00 p.m. tonight to take him out to dinner and that I won't take no for an answer."

Seth hung up before Nurse Sterning had a chance to answer. Whistling, he strolled back to his bedroom, eager to start getting ready.

**

Dillon heard Nurse Sterning mount the stairs. The soft clink of dishes rocking against each other told him that she was bringing his dinner tray. He moved from the window seat to his recliner, pulling the wooden tray table in front of him.

Then he realized that it seemed awfully early for dinner. He pushed a button on his new watch and it announced, "The time is 5:02 p.m." Why was dinner being served so early tonight? Usually Nurse Sterning was a stickler about keeping to the timetable she had set up her first day on the job.

"I hope you don't mind eating a bit early tonight, Mr. Marshall," Nurse Sterning said as she walked into the room. "I just found out that my son is in town for the evening and I wanted to go out to eat with him if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind," Dillon assured her. "You're long overdue for some time off and you should definitely go see your son. I didn't even know you had any children. How long has it been since you've seen him?"

"It's actually been almost eight years," Nurse Sterning said. "It will be nice to have him with me again."

Dillon thoughtfully ate his dinner. Eight years without seeing her son? That was a very long time. Dillon wondered where the man lived that he had been away from his mother for so long.

Of course, Dillon couldn't talk. He hadn't even spoken to his parent in twelve years. The moment he'd turned eighteen, his parents had washed their hands of him. They'd told him they were law-abiding citizens and that the law said they had to care for him until he was an adult, but they felt no obligation to ever acknowledge his existence after that.

Dillon had almost run away more times than he could count. However, reason had prevailed each time. While his parents had ridiculed him for being homosexual, they had never raised a hand to him or deprived him of food or shelter. He'd used the time in their "care" to save money and earn grades good enough to get him a full-scholarship at a college far from where they lived so that on his eighteenth birthday he could leave without worrying about what would become of him.

His situation was entirely different, Dillon reminded himself. Nurse Sterning was obviously looking forward to seeing her son.

Dillon surprised himself by letting loose with a huge yawn. He was suddenly exhausted. He pushed the tray table back and stood up, swaying on his feet. He took a few steps in the direction of the bathroom, thinking to splash cold water on his face. Realizing he would never make it there, he turned and stumbled toward the bed. He was moving too awkwardly to count his steps properly, so instead he just propelled himself forward by sheer force of will. The moment he felt his knees connect with the bed, he let himself fall forward onto the mattress.