Abraham

My dad warned me about the swings on the school playground, but I didn't listen. As a young kid, I rarely listened to anyone in authority.

Besides, Rafe dared me to jump.

And so I jumped! Rafe usually never steered me wrong, so I trusted him. He gave me the encouragement I needed to make the leap. I'd hoped to brag about it to everyone at school.

In all fairness, it wasn't Rafe's fault. He did exactly what I told him to. Sprawled on the cold ground, I held my ankle and sobbed. It hurt like hell. Stricken with fear as day turned into night, I lay there, wishing Rafe would turn into a fairy godfather. His reassuring words did nothing but infuriate me. I hobbled home, each step a painful reminder of my injury, while Rafe's profuse apologies echoed in my ears. For an entire week, I ignored him, even though he stayed glued to my side, a constant, suffocating presence. Nonetheless, I felt a sense of comfort and security when he was around.

As I grew older, the fear of developing schizophrenia or dissociative identity disorder gnawed at me, realizing it wasn't normal for a twelve year old boy to still talk to his imaginary friend. But I didn't want to let him go, especially not when I discovered the harsh truth about myself.

Growing up in a conservative town with conformist parents wasn't easy. When my cousin, Janine married her wife, the family responded with despicable words and actions, ultimately shunning and ousting her. Dad's side of the family was the worst, although my mom's side wasn't much better.

Despite my fears of mental illness, I kept Rafe around until my freshman year of high school. With James's lips a breath away from mine, Rafe's sudden interruption sent a jolt of surprise through us, ending the tender moment and sending James quickly out of my room. The memory of that day haunted James and me, leaving us both too shy and scared to try again; it would be two years before my first kiss.

"I'd kiss you if I could," Rafe said after his intrusion, attempting to comfort me.

"But you're not real."

"I said 'if I could.'"

I decided that if I wanted to grow up, find a boyfriend and love, I needed to let Rafe go. He did nothing but hold me back and his presence was no longer comforting. And so I let him go and hadn't thought of him until today.

Before this bizarre work day started, I woke up to find Evan dressed and showered, waiting for me in the kitchen. Immediately, I knew something was up. Usually I was the first one up, often out of the house before sunrise, but today Evan was up before me. Suitcases and boxes blocked the front door.

"I won't be here when you come home tonight," Evan stated.

"You should have waited for me to leave for work, then leave a note or something. I'm not helping you bring your shit to your car."

"Of course you're not. I wanted to say goodbye to you in person."

"Yeah, okay. Goodbye," I said, making my way to the counter to make a cup of coffee that I so desperately needed. Evan and I had been dating for a year and a half but had only been living together for the past six months. Every time someone moved in with me it never worked out. By now, I figured out it was me.

I was messy and disorganized, too messy and disorganized for most people. People assumed my home would mirror the meticulous nature of my work, a notion shattered by the disarray of my home, shocking and annoying the few men who shared it with me. I'd gotten this far in life with my messiness and disorganization, I didn't see the need to change.

Evan and I had a lot of issues that went beyond my messiness and disorganization. He wanted more out of a relationship than I was prepared to give. Most notably, he was eager to meet my parents, especially since I'd met his family and he proudly introduced me as his partner. He didn't understand that my parents weren't like his parents. Despite my parents' awareness of my sexuality, they didn't want to acknowledge it. I lived in fear that they would disown me, like Janine's family disowned her. With no siblings and a practically non-existent support network, my parents were all I had.

But maybe I just hadn't loved anyone enough to introduce them to my parents.

And that was Evan's point.

I didn't love him enough.

"You have nothing else to say?" Evan said.

After endless arguments over the past three weeks, I just wanted him to get the hell out of my house. "Nope. Have a nice life." With my cup of coffee, I returned to the bedroom, slamming the door shut.

His last words to me lingered in the air, leaving a profound sense of loneliness. "You're a brilliant doctor, but a shitty partner."

I couldn't argue with him.

As if things couldn't get worse, my last patient of the day, Raphael Smith made me question my sanity. If I believed in God, I would have thought They were playing a trick on me. There was no explanation for what happened, except for the possibility that I was so overworked that I was on the brink of psychosis.

Just like the imaginary Rafe, this person also liked to be called Rafe. He continued to sit there, reading the appointment summary and treatment plan I printed out for him. I planned to begin aggressive treatment next week, scheduling his first round of chemotherapy for Monday.

"Do you have any questions?" I asked.

He shook his head, not looking up.

"Do you have any family?" I asked. It worried me that he came to this appointment by himself.

Again, he shook his head.

"Friends?"

He half-nodded.

"You shouldn't go through this alone. I recommend that someone take you to your future appointments, especially your first chemotherapy appointment as everyone reacts differently. Some people don't experience side effects until a day or two later. Some people experience side effects within twenty minutes of the drug administration."

He continued to stare at the papers, not reacting to anything that I said.

To get his full attention, I crouched down in front of him to make sure he understood everything. He was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. He made me completely forget about Evan and the many failed relationships before him. "Are you okay? Can I get you anything?" His eyes finally met mine again.

"When will I see you again?" he asked.

"Next Monday." I didn't want to wait for his state insurance to kick in because the longer we postponed treatment, the greater the risk of cancer spreading to other lymph nodes and possibly organs.

"I've waited this long to see you, what's another few days?"

I wasn't prepared to accept that this man was my former imaginary friend, no matter how much private information Rafe revealed about me. If I admitted such a thing, then I questioned whether or not I was fit to be a doctor. Right now it was important for me to see him as my patient and not even as a beautiful man or imaginary friend.

At the conclusion of the appointment, I accompanied Rafe back to the waiting room. He folded the papers and shoved them into his coat pocket. I didn't feel right sending him on his way by himself, but what else was I supposed to do? I let him go. "Don't hesitate to call me with any questions," I said.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll see you Monday."

My eyes remained on him as he walked through the double doors. He vanished like he did all those years ago.

"Are you okay?" Susan asked me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I feel like I have."

Fortunately, Raphael was my last patient of the day. Without Evan there, I was alone with my thoughts. Memories of my childhood and Raphael flooded my brain. Things I hadn't thought about it in fifteen years resurfaced. As I paced around my condo, I contemplated seeking psychiatric help, but I used the typical excuse of not having enough time.

I poured a glass of red wine and sat at my desk with my laptop, searching for a Raphael Smith in Boston, Massachusetts. There were many Raphael Smiths, but none in the Boston metro area. The Raphael Smiths I did find didn't fit the description of my Raphael.

I did something I shouldn't have done without a medical need to do so: I called the phone number Raphael listed on his medical paperwork. I assumed I had the wrong number when a woman answered. Nobody, especially someone Raphael's age, had a landline. Since Raphael didn't answer the phone, I assumed I called the wrong number. Still, I took a chance, in case this was in fact Raphael's number.

"Hi... um..." I started, sounding like a nervous teenager. "I'm looking for Raphael Smith. Is he there or do I have the wrong number?"

"Is this Dr. Brewer?" the woman asked. I used my personal cell phone, so it's unlikely my name showed up on her phone. It was as if I'd entered a strange dimension, unable to tell the difference between reality and fantasy.

"Um... yes. I'd like to speak to Raphael, please."

"Yes, of course. We hoped you'd call."

Within seconds, Raphael was on the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Rafe. This is Dr. Brewer. I mean, Abraham... Abi. I was just calling to see how you're doing." Damn, I sounded dumb.

"Fine. Do you want to get some ice-cream?"

Ice-cream? The invitation to go out for ice-cream totally caught me off guard. "Ice-cream in February? It's also 7 o'clock at night."

"So? We can't have ice-cream at 7 o'clock in February? Any time's a good time for ice-cream."

"Okay. Let's get ice-cream. I'll meet you at JP Licks in an hour."

I picked JP Licks because it was in the same town as where I lived and not too far from his address in Roxbury. I gave him more than enough time to get there, but he still hadn't arrived by quarter past eight. As the only customer in the store, I stared at my phone, pretending to be busy as I waited anxiously for Rafe. After more than an hour had passed, I was afraid he wouldn't show. In a gray, winter woolen hat with a giant pom pom on top and black Columbia coat, Raphael entered, his cheeks bright pink from the frigid weather. He smiled as he approached me.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, removing his hat. He instinctively combed his fingers through his messy blond hair. In a few weeks, I suspected his beautiful head of hair would be gone, along with his eyelashes and eyebrows. "I got lost. Can we get ice-cream now?"

He ordered a large chocolate bowl of ice-cream while I ordered a small cup of chocolate chip. He devoured the ice-cream, savoring every spoonful. At that moment, nothing mattered more than ice-cream. "I guess you like chocolate ice-cream, huh?" I said.

"Hmm-mmm," he said, licking the bowl. I'd never gone out with anyone who licked a bowl in public. It was childish, yet adorable.

"Where are you from?" I asked.

Rafe paused, contemplating a good response, or perhaps a good lie. "Far, far away."

"Where? Australia?"

"No," he laughed.

"No, I guess not. You don't have an Australian accent. Where were you born?"

"Isn't that the same question as where I'm from? Let's say I was born in Roxbury."

There were several hospitals in Boston, but none in Roxbury. "There are no hospitals in Roxbury."

"Can't we just spend time together without a million questions? Just accept that I'm from Roxbury, Massachusetts. Maybe I wasn't born in a hospital."

"You know way too much about me, so I have a right to figure out how and why you know so much about me."

"Some things you just can't explain."

That wasn't a good enough answer, so I persisted with my questions. "What do you do for work?"

"I haven't figured that out yet. Please, Abi, no more questions."

Leaning back in the chair, I folded my arms across my chest. The questions wouldn't stop coming. "What'd I get for my tenth birthday?"

"An acoustic guitar," he said without hesitation. "You discovered Bob Dylan and thought you'd be the Bob Dylan of the nineties, a young prodigy. Too bad you gave up after two months. You were too impatient and figured you'd instantly be a professional. I told you not to give up, but, by then, you started to ignore my suggestions. That's why I liked you so much. You were strong-willed, and you still are. But you still listened to me sometimes. I talked you out of committing suicide when you were thirteen, remember? You wanted to die just because you liked boys. Imagine if you went through with it... imagine all the people that would have died because you wouldn't have been around to save them."

My suicidal ideation at the most confusing, scariest time in my life was my deep, hidden secret. There was no way in hell I'd ever disclose that information to anyone.

"Excuse me," I said, running to the bathroom. By the time I got to the bathroom, I no longer had the urge to vomit, yet my stomach remained in knots. I splashed my face with cold water as the bathroom door opened. I didn't bother to look up, continuing to stay hunched over the sink. My body shuddered as Rafe rubbed my back.

"I've waited so long to touch you," he said. "I didn't think it would be easy... for both of us. It was so foolish... to think of destroying one of God's greatest gifts over something so stupid. People can't control who they love."

My legs trembled, my insides shook, as I slowly turned towards him. There was definitely something between us—a strong bond I'd never experienced with anyone before. Catching him off guard, I pinched his biceps as hard as I could.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, shoving my hand away. "What was that for? I'm real, Abi. Everyone can see me, and I can't ever go back. If I die, I don't know what will happen to me. I was hoping we'd grow old together."

"I think you made a terrible decision if you are who you say you are. What makes you think I want to grow old with anyone? I might be a brilliant doctor, but I'm a shitty partner and a not-so-great friend."

"You can choose to accept me, Abi, or you can choose to push me away, but I choose you as my doctor. I'm sick, remember?"

"I choose not to be your doctor."

"Then that would just be cruel and Abraham Brewer isn't cruel."

"Then you don't know me at all," I said, storming out of the bathroom. Raphael trailed behind me. I grabbed my coat and headed out of the store and down the street. Raphael did the best he could to keep up with me. His cancer symptoms became evident when he called for me to stop, out of breath.

"Wait, Abi! Stop! You're not cruel!"

I came to a halt and retreated, heading back to him. He clutched at his chest, his eyes wide with panic as he gasped for air. My feet pounded the pavement as I sprinted toward him. "Calm down. It'll be okay," I said, rubbing his back like he did to me in the bathroom. I wished I still had my inhaler.

After a minute, he had relaxed and was breathing normally again. "You may be distant and cold sometimes, but you're not cruel," he said. "You're honest and sometimes it's the way you deliver this honesty that makes you seem cool."

He had a way with words that both angered and comforted me. Overwhelmed with a barrage of confusing emotions, I gripped his shoulders and shook him as if that would either make him disappear or turn into someone else I'd never met and who knew nothing about me. "Don't fuck with me," I said, staring hard into his eyes.

"Fuck is bad, isn't it? I just want to be your friend," he said. "Like the way we used to be. What's the harm in that?"

"Yeah, but I'm not a little boy, and you can't be real. There's no way in hell you're real. This is just a dream. I'm going home. It's just a dream, whoever you are."

But I remained still, my eyes fixed with Rafe's. "Grown men need friends, too," he said.

Under the dim, yellow glare of the streetlights, I saw the color vanish from Rafe's face, leaving it pale and ashen. He wavered back and forth, unsteady on his feet. He tumbled into me, landing in my arms. If I hadn't been there, he would have fallen to the ground.

"I don't feel well," he muttered as I held him."Don't leave me here alone."

If he was real, I'd never forgive myself for leaving a sick man stranded alone in the middle of a street in Jamaica Plain. He certainly felt real in my arms. "I better drive you home."

With my arm around his shoulders, I escorted him to my car. "I'm all right," he said, breaking away from me as he opened the passenger's side door.

I plugged his address in my phone, taken aback when I discovered where he lived. "You live in a convent?" I asked as he leaned against the car door with his eyes closed.

"Yeah... the Carmelites. They're very kind. Don't tell anyone. It's a secret."

I'd never met any nuns before, nor had I ever seen a convent. I hadn't even realized they still existed. By the time I reached the address, Rafe was sound asleep, snoring quietly.

I spent a frustrating twenty minutes circling the block, searching for a parking spot. Rafe was sound asleep, snoring quietly.

I hesitated, my hand hovering over his shoulder, before waking him. As he stirred, he yawned loudly, stretching his arms. "Thank you," he said groggily. Opening the car door, he tumbled out, landing on the hard, cold ground. I ran to him and lifted him to his feet.

"Come on, let me help you," I said.

With my arm around his waist, Rafe guided me to a shadowy back entrance of the convent. As we climbed the three flights of stairs, the worn wood creaking under our weight, I held his waist firmly, making sure he wouldn't fall. As he placed his hand on top of mine, my heart leapt into my throat, and a nervous glance over his shoulder made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Smirking, Rafe clutched my hand as I always fell backwards. 

Once we reached the third flight, a long, dimly lit hallway stretched before us, reminding me of the hallway in The Shining. At nine-thirty, an eerie quiet hung in the air, the place deserted. Rafe's small room held just a narrow bed and a small dresser; the walls bare with one small lamp on top of the dresser. I helped Rafe out of his coat before he collapsed on the bed. He didn't protest or resist as I removed his sneakers and tugged off his jeans. In his underwear and t-shirt, he curled into a ball, welcoming the blankets over him.

Words: 3178

Total Words: 7421