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Westpoint Tales

by Kiwi

Jon & Bobby's Tale - 11

They left him there. The boy obviously needed counselling. Dr. Fisher would arrange for someone to start working with him on Monday.

Dr. Lyons, chewing it over, decided that that was not good enough. Monday was a long way away. He had promised his sons that he would do everything that he could for this kid; so he made a decision and he made his own arrangements.

After school was over for the day, he went home and he took the boys into his office to speak to them.

"Sit down, Boys. Don't look so worried, you're not in trouble. On the contrary, I need your help."

"You need our help?" Billy grinned. "That's a change. We're the men now!"

"Shut up, Billy. This must be serious or Dad wouldn't ask. It's not like we don't already owe him for the hundreds of times that he's helped us. What can we do for you, Dad?"

"Thank you, Bobby. You don't owe me anything. Any time I can do something for you, that's just doing my job as your father. However, this time there's something I want you to do that I can't do myself. It's about Jon. I think that he needs help."

"Do you want the pearls?" Bobby got to his feet. "I'll go and get them."

Billy clutched at his chest.

"No, Bobby, sit down. It's not the pearls. There's something else that Jon needs from you - something more valuable than the pearls."

"More valuable than the pearls?" Billy was puzzled.

Bobby said, "What is it, Dad? Whatever it is, he can have it. Does he need a transplant? Some organs or something? Whatever we've got, Jon can have. Whatever he needs."

"You boys really love Jon, don't you?"

"Sure we do," Billy said. "He knows that. We told him."

"Well, I think that you need to tell him again. He needs your love, Boys. He really needs it."

Dr. Lyons told them about the worrying conversation that he had had with Jon.

"It's not that I think that he's suicidal. In his condition, there's not a lot he can do about it anyway. He can't even get out of bed. But I'm worried about his will to live. If he doesn't want to live, then it's going to be really hard, maybe impossible, for us to get him better.

This boy has got a reputation for being true to his word. He always does what he says he will, and now he says that he doesn't want to live. We can repair his body, but we need his help. If his spirit is broken, I can't fix that; but I think that maybe you two can."

"But, how Dad?"

"With love. Go and tell him that you love him. Tell him that you need him. Make him want to live."

"We do need him!" Billy exclaimed. "He can't die on us, that'd be awful.

"We do love him too," said Bobby. "If he loves us, he'll get through this. We'll go and talk to him. Thanks, Dad."

"Thank you, Boys. I know that this is a big thing to lay on you, but I really don't see any other way."

"We need him," Billy repeated. "He can't drop out on us. We won't let him."

"Boys, I knew a boy when I was your age. It didn't last, but for a while - well, you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Thanks Dad. You're great."

Billy and Bobby left and went straight to the hospital. On the 10 minute walk there, they discussed how they were going to go about this, but they didn't have a clue. When they arrived, they still hadn't made any decisions.

They walked into his room and stood looking down at the broken boy on the bed. He was uncovered in the warm room, and he was a pathetic sight. His legs, and most of his body, were enclosed in an off-white fibre-glass cast. Only a small portion of him looked human. His bare upper chest started from the padded top of the cast and his arms and shoulders were naked and looking small in proportion. The rest of him looked like a clumsy, detail-less statue with pins, wires and bolts protruding from the surface.

His stunningly white hair stood out around his head and his sad, but unmarked, face was turned away from them, looking at the wall next to him.

"Hey, Jon,' said Billy. He didn't answer, he didn't even look around.

Bobby stood quietly looking at him, and then he burst into tears. Billy put his arms around him and stood holding him while Bobby cried on his shoulder.

"Look at what you're doing to my brother, you selfish prick!" Billy snapped at Jon.

"What I'm doing?" Jon turned his head and looked at them. "What am I doing? I can't do anything except lie here like I'm dead already."

He got no answer. Bobby kept crying and Billy stood glaring at him.

"Billy," Jon sighed. "I really don't need this. Take your dramas somewhere else. I can't be bothered."

"Take our dramas? Don't tempt me, or I will and we won't be back either."

"Maybe that would be best. Take your brother and go. Goodbye, Billy, Bobby."

"No! Don't. Stop this, please," Bobby sobbed. "Billy, be quiet. This is going all wrong."

"What's going all wrong?" Jon asked. "I wasn't doing anything. I was just lying here, minding my own business when you two walked in and Billy started attacking me."

"Billy's upset. He's worried because I'm upset and I'm upset because I can't stand seeing you like this."

"Walk away then. At least you can. I can't. I may never walk again."

"Oh, Jon! How can we walk away when you're like this?"

"Well, excuse me. It's not my fault. I didn't do this on purpose you know."

"We know that you didn't do it on purpose. You're not that stupid. Accidents happen. Horrible accidents happen to good people, but that's not what is upsetting me. Your body is broken, horribly, but at least it's all there. You haven't lost any limbs or anything. You will get better, if you want to. That is what's upsetting; you don't want to get better."

"You think I like being like this? Who said that I don't want to get better?"

"Dad said that you don't. You told him that you want to die."

"Your dad said? I thought that doctors were supposed to keep their mouths shut about what their patients tell them."

"They are supposed to," said Billy. "But, more importantly, they are supposed to help people recover from what is wrong with them."

"And this is how he helps me? By sending you two in here to give me a hard time?"

"Jon, don't," said Bobby. "Please don't. We don't want to fight with you. That's not why we came here."

"Why did you come then?"

"To tell you that we love you. To tell you that we need you. Don't die, Jon. Please don't. I love you. I really, really love you and I need you. If you die, I don't know what I'll do. It would kill me too."

"Bobby," he sighed. "Bobby, don't think like that. You're a talented and beautiful young boy. You've got your whole life ahead of you - a long and happy life."

"It won't be happy if you're not part of it and it won't be long either. I love you, Jon."

"You do, don't you? I love you too, Bobby. I shouldn't, but I do. I love you."

Bobby stood up and leant across the bed, one hand on either side of Jon's shoulders. He lowered himself down and kissed him on the lips. A soft, gentle, loving kiss. He raised his head and smiled at him and a tear fell and plopped on his cheek.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too,' Jon whispered back. He brushed the tear from his cheek and grinned at the boy above him. "Damm, Bobby. Make up your mind. Are you laughing or crying?"

"I'm laughing if you're with me. I'm crying if you're not."

"I'll be with you. Always." He put his hands around Bobby's face, pulled him down and kissed him back. "I really do love you, Bobby. Thanks."

"Thanks? Thank you."

"Get out of it, Bobby. I've got something to say here." Billy pulled his brother back..

"What have you got to say?" Jon looked up at him.

"This." He leant over and kissed him. "I love you, Jon."

"Oh, Billy!" Jon pulled him down and kissed him back. "I love you too."

"Well don't go and friggin' die on us then!"

"I'm not dying. Not now. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Jon got better. Slowly, painfully and with a lot of discomfort and embarrassment, but he got better. The doctors knew what they were talking about. He didn't get any more counselling, he didn't need it. He'd had the best.

When Billy and Bobby went back to school on Monday, they found that things had changed - they were the popular kids now. That took a bit of getting used to, but it was cool., sort-of., they'd never known it before.

Not everyone, but most people wanted to talk to, and be seen to be friends with the best friends of the most famous kid in town - the Lord of the Seals.

That, however, was one thing that Jon refused to talk about. He would not discuss the seals, or the seagulls, or his peculiar relationship with the sea-creatures. Not even to the marine biologists who came to see him in his hospital bed. All he would tell them was that he grew up on a farm on an island. There were no people around, so he found his friends elsewhere.

The boy's grandfather, Face Lewis, came in and met him. Face was intrigued by what he'd seen that day. In a lifetime of working at sea around Westpoint, he'd never seen the seals behave like that. Nor the seagulls either.

"I don't know what it is, Boy. But you've got something. Those creatures really love you. I'm sure that some of those seals were crying. I've never seen anything like that. I didn't even know they could.

I'll tell you something else, too. They were determined that someone had to do something to save you. They wouldn't let us go in any direction except towards you."

Jon smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Lewis. That helps a lot. It means that I'm not a total loser then."

"Shut up, Jon." Billy said indignantly. "You're not a loser at all. You're a star!"

Face looked over at his oldest grandson. He didn't say anything, he just smiled to himself. He'd seen those sort of intense feelings before, a long time ago but some things never changed. People were people.

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