story: Draining the Humor (2)

2- Finding comfort

Three weeks from their wedding, and Orion felt ravaged by his wife. In a good way.
He was tired but he had an excuse to go to bed early and he enjoyed the exhaustion she pushed on him. His only complaint was the tension in his back, seemingly unrelated to the marriage. Brigid Salud had been more than the best choice for a spouse, she was the object of Orion’s deepest affections.
That is why he was so puzzled at the pain in his back. He called on the local doctor for advice and was met instead with some scathing remarks.
“Perhaps you should take a break in the weeks following your honeymoon.”
“A break from what exactly, doctor?” Orion asked, seated in his arm chair. His back was bothering him again. “I don’t do heavy lifting of any sort.”
“From heavy lifting?” the doctor grunted. “Yes, a break from heavy lifting.”
Orion narrowed his eyes at the man. He could not comprehend the amount of disdain people often channeled in his direction. He had never wronged any of the people of Constance, and yet his melodramatic teen years haunted him still.
Sodomy. Transvestite. How I loathe the words.
“For your records, doctor,” Orion spoke up, protecting himself with a layer of coldness. “I have not been heavy lifting and nor have I lifted anything heavy in a while. Assumptions are the twin of ignorance.”
Nor did Orion see how ‘heavy lifting,’ as the doctor called it, would have to do with his back.
“What is wrong with my back, doctor?”
“Tension then,” the older man spoke quickly. “It is tension. It is best to relax for a while. Perhaps you have overstressed yourself.”
“I have been on honeymoon for the past two weeks. What would I be stressed about?”
“That is for you to answer,” the doctor’s tone dropped again, condescending.
“I believe then, I must nip it in the bud and find out the cause.”
“That would be best.”
“Very well.”
“Good.”
Orion hit a bell on the desk, causing the doctor to jump.
His apathy towards medical men sometimes swayed into disgust and right now he did not wish to see the man. The butler appeared at the office door and Orion told him, “Please show the good doctor out.”
He did not even wish to escort the man out. He took a seat back at his desk as he recovered from the doctor’s accusations. He returned to his paperwork but was unable to follow his own strain of thought. As he set the quill back to paper, Bri’s laugh made him jump.
“The doctor was useless, wasn’t he?” she laughed.
He collected himself. “Quite useless. Most of them are…”
“Oh dear. What did he say?” she leaned over him, her face next to his.
“Essentially he accused me of being unfaithful to you and of being a sinful, dirty sodomite.”
“Oh,” she frowned. “Darling, there’s nothing sinful and dirty about you.”
He put his face in his hands and allowed himself to sigh loudly. He felt his wife’s hand in his hair and it calmed him a bit. “I have kept my vow.”
“I know, darling. But there is no need to. I know you love me. I have my own theories about your tension.”
“Enlighten me,” he told her.
To most, it would have sounded cold and sarcastic. But Bri knew Orion and his odd ways of communicating. He was sincere when he asked her opinion.
“You are trying far too hard to prove yourself to be something you are not.”
He thought this over. The shadow of his late father loomed over him daily. The “mad earl,” the deviant and the lunatic. His own youth added to the weight of what it seemed he must disprove. He knew that Bri was making a valid point.
“In any case, Brigid,” he cleared his throat. “Even if I had not made the vow, Lawrence has moved to London and—“
“Bloody Lawrence!” Bri spat.
Her unconscious laugh exploded and she removed the warmth of her body from him. She began to pace.
“Really, Rion! Lawrence! He is bloody ugly and unpleasant!”
Orion righted himself and watched her calmly. He felt the serpent of indignation uncoiling in his stomach, but for now he was quiet. He would allow her to ramble and rant about his former lover.
“You could have any man you want, Orion! And you choose Lawrence! The bugger is worse than me! His teeth try to escape his face! He is mean-spirited and ugly. He is a donkey!”
“Brigid—“
“A Donkey, Orion! A donkey!”
“That’s quite enough!” he stood and pushed the desk chair in.
He was remaining quiet by an act of will. This was a fresh wound and he did not feel up to inspecting it right this moment.
Bri hung her head, her large eyes full of guilt. “I’m sorry…I just don’t like him. He talks to you as if you are an idiot. And you could have any man you want.”
He did not want to dwell on it.
You have chosen the SAFE path, is what Lawrence had told Orion when he asked his lover, in person, to attend the wedding. Lawrence had sneered at him and cut off all contact.
Orion rushed to the privacy of his own bedchamber and locked the door. Bri knew better than to follow right away. He wanted the silence.
“The safe path…” he breathed, leaned against the door. “Sodomite. Safe path.”
The dualities struck him like dissonance on a harpsichord. Either he was a filthy degenerate or he was the coward.
**
An hour passed and Orion felt ready to speak to others again. His momentary melancholy usually lasted and hour or so, sometimes a day, and on bad times up to weeks.
Today, he was fortunate.
He immerged outside for fresh air and found Bri seated at the pond, feeding the swans. Her favorite drake, Muffin, was seated beside her like a loyal dog. His mate Crumpet was waddling about with her gaggle of babies. One of them Bri had in her lap.
When she noticed Orion, her brow was furrowed, “His wing is hurt, Orion. Look at it. It is crooked.”
The funny-looking baby animal stared up at Orion. He knelt down beside his wife. “Mini Muffin…perhaps he needs a cast. We have books in the library about animal care. I have heard their wings can heal.”
“It looks deformed.”
Muffin nipped at Bri’s ear, as if grateful. Orion stroked the birds head softly. “Do not fret, Bri. We will make him comfortable…”
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©2011 Luz Briar.