Chapter 11 The hall erupted in a frenzy as the townspeople suddenly remembered the lessons they learned in the church pews every Sunday. They poured out into the streets anxious to hide their faces, to deny their shameful deeds, leaving  Lou and his gang to stand alone. Lou, ever the southern bigot, stood with puffed out chest, muttering slurs under his breath, a watchful eye on Jim Bass. Lou's men stood shifting from one foot to the other wondering if the twenty large men still eying them with disgust would attack. To a man they wanted to be far way from these hulks since they were only brave when the enemy was defenseless. But they knew that Lou's wrath would be a very unpleasant alternative and after everyone was gone, they had to live here. So they waited for a sign of dismissal. When the EMS attendants from the neighboring town arrived, Lou realized how it looked and gestured for the group to disperse, the men disappearing quickly, anxious to put distance between themselves and their victims. Shock registered on the faces of the paramedics as they took in Justin's condition. The youngest stuttered, "What happened?" Lance shook his head. He wanted to scream, `They tortured him.  For what! They took the sweet, naive boy who believed it was OK to love me and fucking tortured him for that." But he didn't. He ran his hands nervously through his hair and shrugged because he couldn't say that out loud. They took the younger boy's vitals and they loaded him on a stretcher and being the narrow-minded boys that they were, their lips curled in a sneer when they saw the soft touches and the loving glances. Lance got into the ambulance with them. "Dad, get my car please." His father nodded watching the scene, praying that Lance would notice the looks. They were still NSYNC and even though they were miles from a pop radio station, they all knew it only took one person to recognize them. Jim hoped he would be discreet though he was sure it was the last thing on Lance's mind. Sighing, he sought out Andre and together they planned their next moves. Andre thought it best to guard them in the hospital but Jim thought it would only bring unwanted attention to them. He was in favor of the lowest profile possible, trying to avoid explaining the injuries. So, in the end, they compromised. One or two guards, posing as friends, would remain available in the lounge along with Jim. In the emergency room, Justin received all of the attention until one of the young doctors noticed Lance, biting his lip in pain, trying to ignore his own injuries.  After too much poking and prodding that only added to their humiliation, they lay in adjacent beds. Justin's face was like alabaster, his lashes dark against his face. His bruises stood out in contrast, horrific, dark purples against white. He was still, only small whimpers occasionally breaking the silence. Lance needed to touch him, to assure himself that Justin would be all right, so he pulled up a chair and took Justin's hand in his own, tears bathing the long fingers, the rough palms. Justin's eyelids moved but the medication prevented him from swimming to the surface of consciousness. Lance didn't care as long as he had the physical contact. He didn't know when he fell asleep but he woke up when he felt warm touches on his neck. He sighed but didn't move, wanting the sweetness to continue. Eventually he needed to move, the crick in his neck becoming too painful to ignore. He sat up, rubbing the tightness away. Justin's eyes locked on his and the woundedness in those blue pools made Lance gasp. He was having a hard time breathing.  Had it only been 48 hours since Justin had been the laughing, sexy, beautiful lover?  The younger boy wore a mask of pain, his lips trembled, and tears leaked out sliding silently down his hideously bruised face. But worse, the innocence was gone. Instead, Lance saw fear, raw and stark. Would it ever disappear or had his own prophecy come true---- that some essential piece of Justin had been destroyed? Justin sucked on his lower lip. "Lance, do you....do you ...?" Lance gave him a questioning look. "What, baby? Do I what?" Justin's eyes slid away to focus on a spot on the wall and his next words came out in a hitched sob, "Do you...can you....still love me?" His arm covered his face and the sobs came in earnest. He had already heard the answer in his own head and the answer was no. Lance knew what was going on in Justin's head. It was the same voice that he had heard after his own rape long ago–that self hating voice that said you were damaged goods, too dirty for anyone to love. Lance sighed knowing it had taken —how long? —for that voice to fade, to become a whisper, finally to only surface when his self esteem was really low. Even now after his own violation, it wasn't there. Maybe it was just drowned out by the voice that worried that Justin was not going to be all right. Lance had continued to stroke Justin's other hand all this time and he was encouraged that the younger man hadn't pulled away. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But when Lance stood up and leaned over him, he winced to see Justin visibly pull back. He sat back down without a word. "Justin, look at me," he said in a low voice. His heart filled with despair when Justin obeyed from habit but in those pools he saw the shame, the self hatred. "Justin," he said searching for the right words, the words that would mean something, " I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. I can't imagine my life without you in it." Justin listened, his head shaking, not believing a word. When Lance moved forward to kiss him, Justin turned his head. "What do you want me to do, Justin?" Lance asked in a strangled voice, "I'll do anything. Tell me, what do you want?" Justin bit his lip, "How can you look at me?" "How can I not? You mean everything to me----corny shit, huh?" Lance smiled gently. "Just let me stay, Jus." "I'm tired, Lance," he said without warning, "let me sleep, OK?"  The reliable escape, sleep, except that from experience Lance knew non- drugged sleep would be no escape. The dreams would be there continuing the waking torture. But for now, it would work. "Sure," Lance said softly, "I love you, baby boy." He watched the tears slide out from under the closed lids. God, please help us. He sat there then until Justin was breathing evenly and the sweet face smoothed in rest. He pushed back quietly and went to look for his father. He found the three men talking quietly in the lounge. Jim's face twisted in pain as he saw the slow shuffle Lance's injuries forced on him. His hands clenched in fists thinking about the suffering of the two young men and the reasons for it. He shook himself, forcing his attention to the child standing before him looking for comfort, for strength, for love, for reassurance. His arms drew Lance into a safe circle and free from the need to be strong for Justin, he allowed himself to feel his own feelings, to release them in a flood of tears and moaning recriminations. The two security men silently melted from the room and Jim pulled Lance onto the sofa next to him. The sobs continued, Jim simply holding him gently as he had all of his life. The flood slowed and eventually Lance looked up with swollen red-rimmed eyes and found what he wanted—acceptance of who he was, of his love for Justin, understanding of what he was experiencing. Jim started, "Talk to me, Lance. Don't keep it inside." Lance hesitated only for a moment. "Dad, it's all my fault. It's my fault that Justin's hurting so much now." Jim was stunned. It wasn't what he had expected. "How can you say that?" Lance reminded him, "I've been here before, remember? I was raped at that club? I knew how people could be and I still stayed at that motel and let him sleep with me. He was so innocent, Dad, he didn't know. He's always been protected and I...I didn't protect him. And then when they hurt him, he looked to me for help and I couldn't help him." "Lance, this isn't your fault. You had no way of knowing what..." Lance interrupted him angrily, "Yes, I fucking did. The waitress in the morning and the clerk at the motel ....." he trailed off. His fists beat on the sofa, the anger at himself pouring out in waves. "Stop! Listen to me!" Jim said sternly. The tone reminded Lance of Lynn's and he was shocked into silence. "You are not responsible for this. Hatred and bigotry exist everywhere. How could you possibly know that this would happen?" He could tell from Lance's face that he had made little impression but he didn't know what else to say. He had read the police report and knew that Justin had borne the brunt of the beatings. But Lance was suffering too.  Healing would take time.  All he could do for now was listen, try to comfort, and try to help Lance see reality. "Dad, he's so lost. He'll barely let me near him. He thinks I can't love him anymore. And it's so not true. But he doesn't believe me. I'm terrified that he'll leave me, push me away when he gets out of here.  And I deserve it, for not making the right choice, for not being there for him. What can I do?" "I don't have the answer to that, Lance. I do know that if you really love him, you'll do whatever it takes, no matter how much it hurts." He wanted to have all the answers and he didn't. So he pulled his son to him and they sat in silence. Once again, Jim remembered the night Lance had told them he was gay. It hadn't been a real shock. There were clues all along. He talked more enthusiastically about Jimmy Johnson than about Beverly Mills, he didn't date much and then it always seemed to be in a group. Occasionally, he cried about hurtful remarks made in gym class. He had a sweet sensitive nature that seemed oddly out of place among his testosterone driven friends. So when he finally said it out loud both he and Diane had already guessed. The part that was difficult was reconciling his sexual orientation with a religion and a culture that clearly rejected it. They had quoted the bible and collected articles that they left discreetly on his pillow and dropped evidence of discrimination into their dinnertime conversations. He listened politely and never mentioned the articles but after awhile, they could see his shoulders droop when the subject came up and he would stare at the floor and wait for them to finish. Then he would excuse himself quietly and when Diane went to find him, she would see that he had been crying. The last time, she had knocked gently. "Lance, baby, can I come in?" When there was no response she turned the knob and when it gave easily, she slipped inside. He was on his stomach on the bed, his face buried in his pillow. She could see his shoulders shaking with sobs so she sat down beside him and made circles on his back until she felt him relax. He turned his head to the side and she ruffled his hair. "Want to talk?" "What can I say, Mom? Do you think I want to be gay?  It's not like I can say from now on I'll like girls." "I know, baby," she said softly. He rolled onto his back and met her eyes, "Do you? If you did, you and Dad would stop leaving those articles or mentioning AIDS statistics at dinner or inviting Beverly and her family over all the time. Even though you do it in a loving way, it hurts." Diane gasped. They had never meant to hurt him . They thought maybe, just maybe, he hadn't thought through his choice. Choice----as if a light had flashed, she knew that it wasn't a choice. It was who he was or at least a part of who he was. And every time they tried to change that, it screamed that he wasn't good enough for them. And that would never be true. "Oh my God, Lance, I am so sorry. I—we— never realized what we were doing. We just wanted to save you from unhappiness. But I guess that's something we can't do, is it?" "No," he said softly, "you can't. But please promise me you'll always be here when I do get hurt." "Absolutely, honey, always," she said hugging him to her tightly. Jim, who had been listening just outside the door, came in then and joined the hug. It had gotten easier then but he still had been wary of talking about his dates. Once he joined NSYNC, he tried to hide his sexual orientation, afraid of their reaction.  It had been hard for him and he leaned heavily on his parents.  Then Justin's name popped up more and more often. They left the door open for him to tell them but he didn't and this time they wisely left him alone. Diane was bursting to ask but Jim calmed her every time she wanted to ask Lance point blank. The night they came in together, Justin staring at the floor after a brief greeting, Jim and Diane welcomed them both. It was so cute to see Justin's hand searching for a resting spot as he sought Lance's strength. Finally, as cautiously as possible, he laid his hand on Lance's waist and sighed in contentment.  Only then had he been able to meet their eyes, ready to face whatever he found there. It had gone well and it was clear that they loved one another, that they were best friends, and that this was not a casual relationship. On the one hand, his parents were happy that Lance had found someone like Justin, who had so much in common with him. On the other, Justin was even less inclined than Lance to deal with the reality of the obstacles to their life together. He just kept repeating that they loved one another enough for anything and Lance's loving looks said he believed the same thing.  That had been tested when they came out to the other boys, but it had all worked out, friendship stronger than fear. Since then, they had a few close calls with the press but they had wonderful PR people and nothing had come of it. This though, this was reality times a million. This was what he and Diane had feared. But they were there for them and things would work out somehow. Jim sighed. How? That would be was the big question. continue menu