TheyCallMeJ


Views: 532 Created: 2012.08.28 Updated: 2012.08.28

Clear History?

Chapter 3

It wasn’t long before I arrived at the second hospital Luke was taken to, and despite it having a larger, brighter atmosphere, the air still felt heavy there. It only got heavier the further into the building I went, too.

Inside the waiting room, Mrs. Thompson had her head on her husband’s shoulder, while Mr. Thompson did his best to comfort his wife. Judging by the look of the makeup smudges on her face, she’d cried all the tears she possibly could. She and Mr. Thompson smiled briefly as they saw me, and I asked how Luke was doing. Mrs. Thompson said there weren’t any updates and she started crying again. I felt funny being there, mostly because Luke’s parents had no idea that I’d just waltzed into their house and fiddled with their son’s computer. Still, I did the best I could to not show it and sat down in the chair, my head lowered towards the floor.

What may have been minutes, or hours, or even an eternity later (time didn’t matter at that point; there was too much on my mind to give a damn), the doctor finally entered the room. I don’t remember everything he said, but through the pounding of my own heart, I managed to hear him say, “He’s going to be okay, but it will take a while for him to recuperate.” A collective sigh left the waiting room, and I cried even more, only this time, they were tears of joy, thanking God for sparing Luke’s life, and simultaneously damning Him for making me go through with my promise. Perhaps it was a test of faith as to how far I’d go to fulfill my best friend’s wishes, even though I sort of bent the rules…okay, so I completely bent the rules. But nothing could’ve been so bad that Luke felt the need to hide it from me.

The Thompsons and I followed the doctor down a bunch of hallways, until we reached Luke’s room. And there in the room, was Luke, resting peacefully, an IV attached to his wrist and the heart monitor beeping quietly. Despite looking like a train wreck, Luke appeared to be at peace. My poor, poor friend. It was an image that I would never forget, and something I didn’t think I would ever understand. What divine intelligence would make Luke, a wonderful guy, be the target of someone else’s stupidity, one that almost cost him his life? I’d have gladly taken his place if I had the power to; his loyalty as a friend is that deep. I grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed it gently.

You jerk…making me think you were going to die! I thought to myself, imagining Luke responding in a sarcastic tone, “Oh yeah, because I knew I was going to get in a car accident.” I briefly smiled to myself and couldn’t wait for Luke to recover so we could go back to the way things were.

I hugged Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, who then told me I should get home so not to miss Christmas with my family. Reluctantly, I agreed, and they assured me they’d be staying with Luke tonight and would let me know if anything changed. I told them I’d be coming back the following afternoon to check on him and bring him his gifts.

Leaving the hospital, I felt extremely drained and wondered when I would wake up from the surreal series of events. At the same time, the contents on my flash drive lingered over my thought process, begging me to read them. That’s when I hit a crossroad. Luke had promised me he’d tell me his secret someday, and yet, there I had his secret at the mercy of my curiosity.

The entire drive home was a constant battle of “should I or shouldn’t I?” with the former overpowering the latter. Something about those file names enticed me to look into them. It wasn’t long before I made the decision that as soon as I got home, I would read one of Luke’s files. Just one, and then I’d go to bed. I figured as soon as I knew what he was hiding, I wouldn’t be up all night guessing. I needed something to stop all of the questions.

When I arrived home, my dad was putting some gifts under the tree. I told him how Luke was doing and he responded with a “What a relief. Are you okay honey?” I nodded and told him I was too tired to think anymore. He gave me a tight hug and told me to try to get some rest. We’d be going back to see Luke sometime the following day; after all, if he came to soon enough, he’d be able to open my gifts I got for him. If there are two things Luke loves, it’s music and photography. He’s big on seeking out bands that nobody’s ever heard of and has a knack for trying new things with a digital camera. I bought him a new lens and a few albums he wouldn’t stop talking about for months.

I kissed my Dad goodnight and headed to my room. It wasn’t long before I had my computer turned on and changed into my fuzzy pink pajamas. Fumbling through my purse, I found the flash drive I used at Luke’s house. My conscience begged me to reconsider what I was about to do, and I swore my hand was shaking as I plugged the device into the USB port. Immediately, the folder popped up on the screen. I was tempted to right-click on the folder and delete it, but my curiosity only worsened, and before I knew it, I’d clicked on Great Tunes.

I couldn’t tell you how many files and other folders were there, but it was a ridiculous amount, to say the least. Some of them were pictures, others were read only texts, and some of the folders had nonsensical names to them. One of the folders was literally called “fdwncowfheow” for some reason. Another folder was named Feelings. Still, something even more unusual stuck out from the rest of those things, and that was the fact that most of the file names had some type of association with the words “diaper” or “baby.” It didn’t take long before I found the two files that I’d first noticed while at Luke’s house, so with a deep breath, I clicked on “diapers.jpg” and “baby days,doc,” deciding that I’d first see what the picture was all about…and boy was I in for a surprise. There on my screen was a comic strip without any dialogue (a very well done comic strip, I might add) of a man and a woman. They were both shown in a bed, with the woman cuddling the man, holding him in a way that a mother might hold a small child. The next few images in the strip then revealed that the man was wearing nothing but what was no doubt a rather babyish looking diaper, and the woman was depicted giving the man’s diaper a few soft pats, which were complemented with onomatopoeias in large black ink and surrounded by asterisks. The couple looked very peaceful.

“What the…?” I whispered, my brain unable to process what I was staring at.

A grown man, in a diaper, being held by a woman? What was the meaning of this? Before closing the file, I looked at it a few more times, once again trying to get my brain to logically figure out who would draw such an image and why. It was then that I looked at the”baby days.doc” file. The surprises didn’t let up there, either.

The document was actually a story about a grown man who had a lifelong desire to be taken care of as if he were an infant. I shook my head in disbelief as I skimmed through the story, which had rather detailed depictions of the man at one point being talked to, fed, and even diaper-changed, like a baby, all by a woman whom I assumed was supposed to be the love interest in the story. Now call me dumb, but it wasn’t until that point that I’d realized what exactly Luke was hiding.

You’ve got to be kidding me…this is fucking sick! Really, Luke? I thought to myself as I scrunched up my face and closed the document.

This was it. This was what he was so afraid to share with everyone, and with (what I thought at the time was) good reason. I couldn’t believe what I was reading and seeing. There was something in my brain that simply would and could not put the pieces together. Sure, I’d heard of people being into some weird stuff, but never in my life had I read or viewed something like this before. A memory of a conversation I’d had with my Mom a few years before my parents’ divorce rang loudly in my brain.

“If you ever find yourself with someone who’s into that weird stuff, turn the other way. It usually means they’re sick in the head or had some really horrible childhood.” my Mother had said to me.

But Luke was neither. He was (and still is) a fantastic friend, and all the years I’d known him, he never once brought up anything about having a rough upbringing. Still, that conversation with my Mother in combination with overhearing relatives talk about their sexual escapades while growing up really nailed down the idea that I wasn’t supposed to associate myself with people like that. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Luke, and yes, I had even hoped and saw in the future us being together, but at that point in time, this was a complete game-changer.

Was he into just the whole babying thing? Did he want more from it? Would it affect his ability or desire to deal with or have kids of his own? Would this develop into something that would turn him violent? Television always portrays people with odd kinks or fetishes as violent or downright unable to be sociable with others. This wasn’t the case with Luke, though. Or, if it was, he was extremely good at hiding it. Not in a million years would I have figured out that Luke was into this kind of thing!

While I told myself earlier that I’d only read one file, I continued onward, looking at more pictures and stories, but avoiding the Feelings folder. It was all more of the same; stories, drawings, and even actual pictures of real grown men wearing or being put into diapers, and being babied. With every click, I grew more and more appalled, and for the first time ever, in all the years of knowing my best friend, I told myself that I would never look at him the same way again.

* * *

Everything was black, but I could hear a rhythmic “beep” sound in the background. Had I died? What was the strange vision I’d seen of Molly and the computer? I could then hear myself breathing, and every breath hurt like hell.

Jesus, I hope I’m not paralyzed. I thought to myself as I forced my eyes open.

Another bright light met me, but this time it was a fluorescent light. It ached my body to move, but as I looked around, I realized I was in a hospital. The heart monitor was the source of the beeping sound, and I saw an IV bag dripping some type of liquid into my arm. What had happened? The car accident. I remembered.

My left arm was in a cast, I had bandages around my chest, and my face felt puffed up. The flashback of the car accident jolted through my brain again, making me freak out. The heart monitor beeped a little faster momentarily. I groaned a bit as I tried to move a little more, but realized it wasn’t exactly in my best interest to do so.

“Luke? Oh my God, honey?!” my Mom’s voice came from the corner of the room.

“I looked over to see my parents rush up from their chairs, both coming over and crying softly. My dad grabbed my hand and said, “Hey son. How are you feeling?”

Both of them smiled, but I could tell it hurt them to see me in such a state.

“Like I was hit by a car.” I groaned, making a weak smile as I did so.

“I’m so glad you’re awake! The doctor said you almost didn’t make it!” my mother cried.

“We thought we’d lost you.”

Both my parents continued to smile and weep. It was the first time I’d ever seen them that way, and will hopefully be the last time. They looked rattled, their eyes were bloodshot, and seeing them cry didn’t make me feel any better than I did. I told them I’d be okay, and it wasn’t long before a nurse entered the room.

“Look who’s finally awake!” the nurse exclaimed with a smile.

I probably blushed from the response, but I doubt she’d have been able to tell, as I would later find out my eyes were black and blue. Still, the way she said it and the smile she had on her face made me feel slightly infantile. Such is the thought process of an infantilist.

As the nurse checked my IV and vitals, I looked around the room to see where Molly was. She was nowhere to be found. I remembered asking her to delete my files, as I truly thought it was the end for me. I asked my mom where she was.

“Oh, honey, Molly went home a few hours ago. She says she’s coming by tomorrow to see you, though. She’s got some gifts to give you.”

Damn it. My gifts! They were in the trunk of my car! I’d bought Molly some books she’d asked for, as well as an eight-pack of movie tickets. You see, Molly is a huge movie fan. Chick flicks, action, horror, comedies. You name it, she loved it. We’d go to movies almost every other weekend, even if the movie sucked, which in that case, we’d either heckle the film until we were told to shut up or we’d just leave and do our best to ask for a refund. And finally, the last (and what I thought would be the best) gift, a letter to Molly explaining everything about being an infantilist. And I mean everything. Explaining the psychology behind it, how it came to be, and why I couldn’t explain it to her sooner. It was sealed in a vanilla-colored envelope and hand written, but I had originally typed it up and saved it on my computer as a draft to refer to.

“C-can you tell her I’m fine?” I lied through my teeth, knowing I was quite battered and bruised.

“Sure, Luke! I’ll send her a text message.” My mother walked over to the corner of the room and pulled out her phone.

The nurse asked me if I felt any pain, and I nodded, telling her it felt the worst around my ribs and face. She offered to administer some painkillers through the IV, and I accepted. I felt terrible!

“What time is it?” I asked my Dad.

“It’s about 2 in the morning. Merry Christmas.”

“What a way to spend the Holidays.” I mumbled. “I’m guessing my car is wrecked?”

“They told me it’s FUBAR’d, “ Dad replied, “but we haven’t even seen the pictures yet.”

“Some of Molly’s gifts were in there.”

“I’ll find out where they towed it to. Maybe some of the gifts can be saved.” Dad assured me.

I thanked him and the nurse, and it wasn’t long before the painkillers kicked in, and I fell back asleep. I couldn’t wait to see Molly. I loved (and love) that woman, and I knew seeing her would make me feel a little better. I needed her to know that I was going to be okay; especially after making her think there was a possibility that I was going to die.