Errors of Judgement

by

Kortpeel

When I came to I wished I hadn't. Every part of me hurt and I couldn't see properly. My groan of pain was cut off because it hurt my throat to make any sound.

"Derek, you awake?"

"Struth! It was my old man. He hadn't changed much in the eight years since I'd seen him. He got up from the chair and came over to my hospital bed.

It was good therapy. I forgot about the injuries and the pain. My mind went back to the last time I'd seen him. His very last words to me had been "Fuck off you lousy faggot. You're no son of mine. I don't want to see you ever again."

I hadn't tried to explain. How can you talk to someone who won't listen? I did as bid. Just as well he didn't hit me. He'd have liked to do so. He's an ex-marine, proud of it and he was still keeping up an exercise regime that met the marines' idea of being fit for active duty. My old man preached and practiced non-violence as a discipline. It didn't come naturally to him.

I'm as non-violent as you can get. I dislike violence, especially being on the receiving end of it. Which last thought made me remember my condition and the pain started up again.

I groaned. I couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry, Derek. Part of this is my fault."

My attempt at speech sounded even to me like something between a grunt and a croak. I'd been hurt more than I'd realized. I panicked as I tried to move my arms and neither of them would respond.

"Your arms are in plaster. They'll mend." The old man surprised me with his observation. He could be quite sensitive at times, in his own callous way.

He poured a glass of water and held it to my lips. He let me take only a small sip at a time. I'd have swallowed it in one gulp to put out the fire that was raging in my throat.

"Hello dad." At least I could speak.

He took my hands in his and would have squeezed them hard if he hadn't seen me wince in anticipation.

He stopped and gave a sort of helpless shrug. For some reason I felt sorry for him, perhaps the tears in his eyes that he was blinking back. Stupid. I was broken and helpless and there he was, late fifties and as fit and as strong as ever.

"How do you feel, son?"

"Not good. What happened?"

"You don't know?" What's the last thing you remember?"

Gee! What did I remember? Nothing much. My mind was fuzzy and I had to force myself to think. I'd been passing through on the train. It had stopped and I'd made a spur of the moment decision to get off, stay overnight and have a look around. I hadn't been back in eight years and I'd had a whim to see my old hometown. I'd grown up and gone to school here.

It was still Nowheresville. I'd always thought that and nothing had happened in the last eight years to change my mind. I remembered I'd decided to give up with it. I cut short my planned walk around and headed back to the mean little hotel to have a drink in its mean little bar. I'd be out of here on the 8 am train next morning.

I told dad that. He asked me a few more questions. Where had I walked? What time would that be?

I sensed he was stalling for some reason. "C'mon dad. What did happen last night?"

"Last night? Derek, you been in a coma for six weeks."

It took a moment for that to sink in. "Dad, I gotta make a call."

He set me up with a hospital headset telephone but it was difficult to dial with both arms in plaster. Dad disappeared saying that he was going to tell them I'd woken up. After all my effort to press the buttons the number was busy.

A doctor and three nurses came in. They all wore an expression like I was Lazarus back from the dead. Come to think of it I, Derek Stetler, was pretty well back from the dead.

I smiled back at them. They asked questions. How was I feeling? Where did it hurt? Wiggle your toes, your fingers and a whole lot more in that vein.

After portable X-rays on my arms the doctor declared the plaster could come off. There wasn't much improvement when it did. My arms were so stiff and weak that I could barely bend the elbows. It hurt like hell even to try. Knees seemed okay though.

"Can I get up?"

"Let's try," the doctor said. Two of the nurses helped me out of bed. My legs couldn't take my weight and the nurses stopped me from falling. It all started hurting again and I got faint.

"Get him back into bed," the doctor told them.

"No," I cried. "Let's keep trying."

We did keep trying with the result that not five minutes later I did faint but I had walked and I could bend my elbows. I didn't mind. It was just a matter of time and I'd be okay.

I slept right through until next morning. The old man was there when I woke up. For a guy who'd never wanted to see me again I thought that was dutiful. That's the marines for you. I got him to give me a spot of walking practice. It was a hundred times better than the first time. I could almost walk a few tottering steps and I didn't faint.

Then the nurse came in, crapped us both out and got me back into bed. She gave me a blanket bath and I was surprised that I didn't respond as appropriate. That nurse was pretty. Pain in the elbow was ignored as I put a hand down to the part that wasn't working as it should. Shit! My balls were gone. My scrotum was just an empty bag.

My life is over, I thought. I might as well have died. I was in black despair.

The old man must have known but he hadn't said anything. When the nurse left he came back in and I asked him.

"Yeah. Apparently they swelled up while you were in your coma. Nothing the medics could do. Then the blood supply must have failed and they just shrivelled up. Sorry son."

He saw how upset I was. "Look, it ain't the end of the world. They can give you something to make up for it. Stick on patches. You can be perfectly all right 'cept you won't be able to have any kids. I guess that don't matter too much."

Later that day my old man told the doctor that I was ready to go home. The doctor disagreed but dad persuaded him with the simple argument that he'd run out of money. The doctor's suspicion that dad was bluffing must have been allayed when dad pushed my wheelchair into the street instead of heading for the hospital parking lot. He proposed to wheel me the three miles home.

He made a slight detour. "This is where I found you son. You were in the road. I was on my way back from a Veterans Club meeting. Thought you were dead."

Nothing came back to me. "Did they catch the man who was driving?"

"Wasn't an auto accident, son. You got beat up." He paused then added "Nobody deserves what you got just for bein'... what you are." There was a cold anger in his voice. I didn't know whether it was against me or whoever beat me up.

"Look there's old Stetler with his queer kid. Give us a kiss, Derek." That was some of the local low life hanging around outside the hotel I'd intended to stay at. Eddy Faber and his two sidekicks had been the big jocks at high school in my time. I hadn't liked 'em much then and-- Now I remembered! The sudden assault: lying on the ground getting kicked. A kick to the head, a massive blow to my balls...

Dad was staring at them and there was murder in his eyes.

"Get going old timer. You don't wanna mess with us," one of them yelled across the street.

"Yeah. Fuck off with your faggot or we'll fuck you up too."

"Dad," I cautioned, frightened he'd fall for their provocation.

He turned and continued pushing the wheelchair.

"Chicken fag and father," came the jeer.

To walk away like that was costing dad dearly.

"It was them, wasn't it?" Dad said quietly to me."

"Yeah." It was. Eddy and ... who were the other two? Billy Barnet and Dave Wurzle. We'd all been at school together.

"Gay bashing I suppose?" Dad said.

I made no reply.

"They overdid it. Those bastards damned near killed you."

I wondered what would have been the right amount of beating up. Right then I was short on Christian charity. The wounds were healing but my balls weren't going to grow back.

We got home, or rather to dad's place. I phoned my home and arose from the dead all over again. Three people joyful at my resurrection made me feel a lot better. I went to bed early and slept right through. Felt funny waking up in my old room. It took me a while to remember where I was and all that had happened since the last time.

I had no trouble with dad's bacon and eggs. He asked me if I felt up to a short walk to help me get my strength back. I'd practically forgotten that I was still convalescing. To be up and about and non-institutionalized had caused me to feel normal. But I was weak. A walk would be a good idea.

Dad's house was on the very edge of town. Turn right at the end of the drive and you were in farmland. We strolled along, very leisurely. I found I was doing okay, better than I'd expected. We went off the blacktop on to a dirt road. There was an artificial irrigation lake along that road where we used to swim as kids.

The lake was smaller than I'd remembered but it was a pleasant place with rocks and trees around the water. We sat down for a while. I needed to rest my legs for the walk back.

The sound of the truck didn't register with me until it stopped by the lake.

"Company," dad remarked on seeing three men get out of the truck and walk towards us.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Eddy Faber said. "If it ain't the queer and his old man."

"I thought there was a funny smell in the air," Dave Wurzle observed.

"Yep, that's the smell of the asshole lover." Billy Barnet told his friends. "Shit comes out and Derek Stetler goes in. Ain't that sick?"

Eddy was standing quite close to me. "Fuck off pervert. This is our place."

Discretion being the better part of valor I made to get up. I just wanted out of there with no further trouble.

Dad thought otherwise. "Stay put Derek. This chickenshit can't hurt us."

I stayed put and stared at the lake. I was concentrating like hell on not shaking. I didn't want them to see how scared I was.

Maybe Eddy sensed my fear. It emboldened him. He bent down and whispered in my ear "Faggot, I told you to fuck off. Do you want some more of what we gave you last time?"

"And what did you give him last time?" Dad said.

"What he deserved. Six weeks in hospital for being queer," Billy Barnet bragged.

"Huh! The three of you together couldn't put anyone in hospital. Who else was helping you?" I wondered why dad was deliberately winding them up.

"No one else." Billy sounded indignant.

"You mean you did it all by yourselves?" Dad was acting impressed by this feat. "Just the three of you? You, Eddy and Dave Wurzle?"

"Yeah so fuck off right now or we'll send the faggot back again." Dave Wurzle must have felt that it was time he contributed.

"See Derek," dad said. "I told you there was nothing to fear."

I looked at him. What did he mean there was nothing to fear? I was scared stiff.

"If these lying assholes were going to do something they'd have done it by now. They're just talk." Dad looked up at Eddy. "Piss off scumbag. You're polluting the countryside."

I hadn't noticed it before. Eddy had a rubber mallet in his belt. He took it out. He held the mallet in his right hand and tapped the palm of his left hand with it as he looked at dad. "You had your chance old man. Now it's your turn to learn some manners, like your faggot kid. Get 'em."

Eddy swung the mallet at dad. I didn't see what happened. Dave Wurzle went for me and I was concentrating on damage limitation.

I hunched myself to guard against the blows he was aiming at me. Suddenly he stopped. There was a splash. Dad had thrown him into the lake.

Eddy Faber and Billy Barnet were face down in the grass, not moving.

"You okay Son?" There was a vitality about dad. He'd enjoyed the action.

He could see I was okay. He ambled down to the lake as Dave was crawling out. He frog-marched him to where Eddy and Billy were on the ground.

Dad said something to Dave. Whatever he said Dave went pale and his eyes widened. Dad had Dave in an arm lock and he gave the arm an upward jerk. Dave yelped and nodded to show he'd understood.

When dad let him go Dave rolled Eddy on to his back and took down Eddy's pants. He got 'em right off and shorts too.

Eddy was starting to wake up. "What the fuck--"

Dad pushed him down with the rubber end of the mallet on his nose. It wasn't hard but Eddy stayed down.

Dave fetched a stone, a big smooth pebble, and put it under Eddy's balls. They sat on the stone like it was a sacrificial altar.

"Hold his prick out of the way Derek. Else he'll lose that too."

I did so. To Eddy's mortifying embarrassment he began to erect.

"So who's the faggot now,' dad observed, handing the mallet to David Wurzle.

David held the mallet poised, trying to bring himself to strike. Only then did Eddy realize what was about to happen.

"Jesus Christ! No!"

The scream unfroze David. He brought the mallet down on Eddy's balls. There was a dull bonk sound as the rubber hit the stone. Eddy passed out.

Billy Barnet had been staring wide-eyed at this.

"Now it's your turn Billy," Dad spoke in a kindly gentle voice. "Get your pants off."

Billy was paralyzed with fear.

Dad nodded to Dave who started to unbuckle Billy's belt.

"No, please. I promise--"

"O heck! He's shat himself," dad said. "You really are a piece of shit, aren't you Billy. You'll never be a leader of men like Eddy. You don't have the balls for it. Not that Eddy does any more."

Dad sent David to clean up Billy's pants as best as he could in the lake. Then David had to clean Billy's ass with Billy's shirt.

Satisfied with the hygiene arrangements, dad got Dave to set up Billy's balls on the altar stone. Billy passed out before the procedure.

We stood back, giving him time to recover. When he came to, Billy, buck naked, made a bolt for it. He didn't have a chance. Dad tripped him up. Billy fell and banged his face against a rock. There was a mess of blood but nothing serious.

"See what you done to yourself, Billy Barnet? That's what comes of not doing what you're told. You spoilt your good looks and the girls won't like you any more. But that ain't gonna matter is it?" Dad had been speaking in a kindly reasonable voice. Then he barked "Get your balls on the stone."

Billy, in a total funk, obeyed. He even held his prick out of the way himself. Dave began his backswing of the mallet.

"Naa-" Again there was that bonk sound as Billy's balls were terminated. Billy too passed out.

I was trying to catch up with turbulent emotions. Predominant amongst them was the sense that justice had been done. The rubber mallet was healing balm to my psyche as it smashed through Faber's and Barnet's balls. Having seen that act of rough justice with my own eyes I knew that I'd never suffer psychological damage from what they had done to me. I felt no pity at all. The bastards had got exactly what they deserved. It occurred to me that the world would be a better place without them in it.

"Get 'em in the pick-up and take 'em to hospital," dad told David. David just knelt there vomiting, mallet still in his hand.

"Go," dad yelled, applying a forceful boot to David's rump.

"That's called motivational assistance with the foot," dad told me.

David was moving.

Neither of us made any effort to help Dave as he struggled to get his two buddies into the pick up. We watched them drive away.

"So what about Dave Wurzle? You left him intact."

"Dad grinned. "They'll do him themselves. With a bit of luck they'll kill him and that'll be all three of 'em done with."

The police sergeant who came around later knew dad. From the way he talked he too was a member of the Veterans' Club. They chatted a while over a beer before he got down to business. "So what happened up at Oswald's lake this morning, John?"

"Damned trash! I'd taken my boy up there, just out of hospital y' know. Thought an easy walk 'ld be good for him. We got to the lake. Derek was tired so we sat down for a rest."

"Yeah?" The Sergeant was listening carefully to dad's words.

"Three men arrived in a pick-up. Started making trouble. Threatened to beat us up if we didn't leave."

"So what did you do?"

"We left of course," dad said. "What else could we do? They looked like they meant it. There were biggish guys. Derek's unfit. He's hardly able to walk. Those guys were what ? Late twenties, thirty maybe."

"Were they armed?"

"No guns. They had a hammer they threatened me with."

"So you walked away. Did they come after you?"

"No. They jeered at us as we left. Made some remarks about Derek."

The sergeant nodded. He was sympathetic to dad at having an aberrant son.

"Funny though. Just as we got back to the house, say 20 minutes later, that pick-up came past going toward town. Going like hell. You'd have got 'em for speeding if anyone had been around."

The sergeant nodded. "It figures. I gotta ask you this. Did you in any way provoke or assault them?"

"Nope. They told us to fuck off and that's what we did."

"Do you know who they were?"

"No. I've seen 'em around but I don't know 'em."

"Okay John. Thanks for your time." The sergeant paused then added. "You're 60 next birthday?"

"Yeah. Time flies."

"Very sensible of you to walk away. You could have been badly hurt."

There was a tacit understanding between dad and the sergeant.

The sergeant finally looked at me and made an effort to be polite for dad's sake. "Go well, Derek."

"Last we'll hear of that," dad said with satisfaction after the Sergeant had gone.

Next day dad drove me home. It was a three-hour trip by car and it was at his insistence. I was the only family he had and he was lonely. Now that we'd met up I guess he wanted to play father again.

We were less than fifteen minutes from my place when I asked him. "Dad, how did you come to figure out I was gay?"

"Well, I was always worried about you, even as a kid. All that reading and stuff."

"Yes?"

"When you got older I saw you going around with that Lester Mathews guy. He made no bones about being gay. The last straw was that night I saw you with Lester and you were wearing a dress. That was just too much."

Dad paused, bracing himself for the difficult bit.

"Look Derek. I was stupid. I over reacted. I apologize and I'm sorry. I'd like for us to... well, keep in touch. Father and son, you know.

"Yeah, sure dad. I'd like that too. But dad, you ought to know --. Here's the house. Pull into the drive and hoot."

There was no need to hoot. My two little kids came pouring out and wrapped themselves round me. My wife Margaret, an attractive, tallish woman was close behind them. She was crying as she embraced me. "We thought you were dead."

None of us noticed dad, staring bemused at the scene.

Later I explained. "Margaret and I were childhood sweethearts, dad. Lester was around 'cos he's her brother. Must have been Margaret wearing a dress you saw with Lester. It sure as hell wasn't me."

End