Aaron and Andreas

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Author's Comments

This story is the outgrowth of an event which resulted in a very long story, A Special Place, and its parallel sequels, The Concord Five and The Oberlin Five, although it has no direct connection to those. A Special Place was written at the request of a gay student who said, "Doc, you ought to write a story which includes the things you have told us and we have talked about," us being gay students for whom I was a shoulder to cry on, a counselor and, most importantly, friend. One afternoon, I found myself imagining what might have been the story of that young man's acknowledgement of his sexuality. "Aaron and Andreas" is the result of that imagining. It is in no way the real story of that young man's life. It is pure fiction. It is, however, presented in tribute to him. This is for you, D, with thanks wherever you are. May the gods smile on you.

Sequoyah

If you liked this story, you might enjoy A Special Place, posted on Nifty-High School and at http://go.to/gaywritersguild. A note is always appreciated: sequoyah@charter.net.

Andreas and Aaron

I was making my last round, checking everything after the park had closed at 11:30. I was running late as it was well past midnight when I headed to my last checkpoint. Nearing the duck pond--cussing because there was no way you could get close without stepping in duck shit--I saw a figure sitting on a park bench at the edge of the pond. No-one was supposed to be in the park after closing, but homeless men often tried to stay in the park overnight as there were many places where they could, at least partially, get out of the weather. In spite of the fact it was late March, the evening was chilly and the slight breeze made it feel colder than it was. I felt chilled even though I had dressed warmly. The figure on the bench was in shirt-sleeves and had to be cold. "Another homeless person," I thought as I walked toward the bench, trying to avoid as much duck shit as possible.

The bench sat in a pool of light from the street lamp over it. When I reached the bench, I could tell the person sitting there was a young man--late teens I suspected--from the way he was dressed in the latest teen fashion. He was dressed too well to be homeless--I mean aside from the fact that he needed a jacket on. "Young fellow, the park is closed. You need to run along home," I said as I touched him on the shoulder. When he didn't respond, I started to shake him, thinking he was asleep. When I did, he fell over. "Just what I need," I thought to myself, "a dead teenager. By the time I get this taken care of and all the paperwork done, it will be long past the time I should be home."

As I walked around to the front of the bench where the young man was now lying, I took down my shoulder mike and, just before calling for the meat wagon to pick up the body, pressed a finger against the young man's neck and felt a weak pulse. I identified myself and said, "Get an ambulance here on the double. There is a kid here who is barely alive... down by the duck pond," I responded when I was asked where I was in the park. I didn't want to move the young man any more than necessary, so I covered him with my jacket. "Damn! It is too cold for this time of year," I muttered as the breeze found its way through my shirt.

It was only a few minutes before the Grady Ambulance came rushing toward the duck pond, cutting across the grass to reduce the distance between us. When it came to a screeching halt beside the bench, the two members of the EMS practically fell out of the vehicle with bags in hand and quickly started working on the young man.

After they had him all stabilized, one of them said, "We'll talk with you later to complete the paperwork. Right now we are in a race to save this kid's life." With those words, he hopped in the back of the ambulance and it sped away, siren blaring.

"So much for hitting the bed early," I thought. I had planned to get to bed early enough to get up at 7:00 and do my Saturday errands Friday morning--this morning as it now was--so I'd have Saturday and Sunday free to go hiking with Jerry Coghill, a good friend from my police academy days. I was a city boy, having grown up and lived all my life in Atlanta, but Jerry was, in his words, a north Georgia hillbilly, who loved to hike in the north Georgia mountains. He had been married, but his wife and five-year-old son were killed in an automobile accident the year before he started at the academy. They had been hit head-on by a drunk driver. The drunk was going the wrong way on I-285 at speeds in excess of one hundred miles an hour trying to elude the police. All three were killed instantly. Jerry had chosen to go into police work hoping to get some of the drunks off the road. We got paired up for an exercise during the last weeks of academy and I learned about his family and told him about mine. I had lost a girlfriend, my sister and mother, all the family I had, to crack. I was out to put all the drug dealers in jail.

Although we were in the Academy at the same time, I was a year and a half younger than Jerry, just barely old enough to join the police force.

I suspect it was wise of those who made the assignments to put me in the park, where I might pick up a small-time drug dealer occasionally, but not on the Red Dog Squad--a sharp drug-busting team. Jerry, likewise, got put on foot patrol where the only way he'd nail a drunk driver would be if he could outrun him! The first weekend we had off after we met, Jerry invited me to go to Blue Ridge to meet his family.

I tried to get out of going without telling Jerry why. See, no African-American goes to north Georgia and especially off the main highways. We have a thing about putting ourselves in situations where we are not wanted. Finally I realized there was no easy way out and told Jerry of my fears. "Not to worry," he had said, "you'll be under constant police protection," and laughed.

Jerry was one of six brothers, being number four. There were two younger and three older, but from oldest to youngest there was only eight years difference in age. Edward, the youngest, had graduated high school the year before and was attending a small college in the next county. Joseph, the second youngest, was a sophomore in the same college. Jerry was twenty-three. John, the twenty-five-year-old, planned to set up practice as a family doctor in a clinic a few miles from the home place when he finished all the requirements. Junior and Wilson, the oldest--and twins--had married shortly after high school and had taken on the family business--apple orchards and a plant nursery--after a couple years in college.

There were only a couple hundred acres of the place left. A year or so before he died, when Jerry was twenty, Mr. Coghill was offered a great deal of money by a developer for a tract of land. Mr. Coghill was no dunce when it came to business, and decided if his land, undeveloped, was worth what he had been offered, he'd develop it himself. He hit a good time when yuppies in Atlanta were earning money hand-over-fist and looking to "get away from it all" so long as they could take it all with them. They were building vacation places in north Georgia like mad. Since he owned the land and could finance the vacation places being built on it, he made a pile of money. But you'd never suspect Mrs. Coghill and her six sons were all millionaires. They still lived as they had always done--as good, solid mountain people. They lived well, but no-one would have accused them of being extravagant.

Anyway, we went at the weekend and had a grand time. I almost lost it at Sunday dinner when one of the boys--Edward--asked me something, I don't remember what, and said he was really interested in the Negro's point of view--except Negro came out pretty close to the "N" word whereupon Mrs. Coghill, who was sitting beside him, hit him upside the head with the spoon she was using to fill small bowls with blackberry cobbler. His face dripping blackberry juice, he said, "Ma, you know I didn't mean nothin'".

"If you don't mean nothing then don't say nothing, and if you intend to sit with your feet under my table, you will keep a civil tongue in your head. Nobody, but nobody, insults a guest in my house. Now go to your room!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson, I know better and I didn't mean for the word to sound the way it did." From the look on his face, it was clear Edward hadn't meant anything. Nonetheless, he said, "Excuse me," and headed for his room. Mrs. Coghill told him he could come out when we finished our dinner coffee. It was very clear that tiny mountain woman had long ago put the fear of God in her male brood.

"Don't worry about it, Edward," I said as he left the table.

"He better worry about it," Mrs. Coghill said. Her body language and tone of voice made it very clear she was not kidding. She had been far more insulted than I had.

I smiled as I recalled that and a hundred other things that had happened in my almost-monthly visits to north Georgia. In the last few months, when I didn't have a weekend, I'd go up during the week by myself. But this weekend we were both off and had planned to go together to hike, which we hadn't done since last fall, and now it was all messed up.

When I reached Grady, I filled out all their paperwork, as well as my own, as best I could before I learned anything about the young man's condition. It was early morning, almost time I should be getting up rather than not having been in bed, when the doctor came by to talk with me.

"Officer, you can chalk up saving a life for your work last night. The young man has been severely beaten. I suspect he was kicked numerous times while he was on the ground, so there is internal damage. He was bleeding internally and had lost a lot of blood when you found him. We got the bleeding stopped and closed the cuts on his body and a bad one on his face. He really is lucky. In another half-hour, hour, he would have been beyond help. He had a student ID card in his pocket, so we know his name is Andreas Jackson and he is a student at Lakeshore in College Park, but that's it. Thought you'd need to know."

I thanked the doctor, went to the station house and turned in my report, and went home to bed after I called Jerry to tell him I'd not be going hiking. I was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.

I slept until mid-afternoon and when I got up, I showered, shaved and got dressed. I looked over the Saturday paper and saw nothing of interest. There was no mention of the kid from the park, which was not surprising. After I had made an arrest of a drug dealer the police had been trying to nab for months, I looked all over the paper for an article about it. When I didn't find it, Jerry had said, "Person'd think you were from the mountains. In Blue Ridge, catching someone with a couple leaves of weed would be news. In Atlanta it'd take a couple tons to make an impression."

I was at loose ends since my plans had all been shattered. I called Jerry on the off-chance he had decided not to go home, but I guess he had, so I talked to his machine. After a while, I decided to go downtown, grab lunch and then find something to do. After lunch, I went by the station house--I don't know why--and learned that the kid had regained consciousness but no-one had talked to him. "Since you found him, why don't you go talk to him, Johnson? You have nothing better to do, do you?"

Really I didn't, and I was interested in what had happened to the kid. "Sounds like a passable idea to me," I said. "Besides, I'll probably need the comp time one of these days." Even the first weekend I had off in ages was going to end up with me doing police work.

"Yeah, like the next time you have a hot date."

"Yeah, something like that." There was always some reference around the station to my having little or no social life. I had even overheard two guys talking, wondering if I was gay. I pretended I didn't hear them for a lot of reasons, one of which was that was a question I had asked myself. I had dated in high school and even had a steady girlfriend until she did herself in with crack, but after that? Now? The questioning of my sexuality was the one thing I had never shared with Jerry. At one point I thought I might be falling in love with him, but he started dating again and I realized what I had known all along: Jerry was straight as an arrow. I was happy for him and that ended any romantic ideas I had. I was sure it was just that I did love the guy like the brother I never had. Since we spent a lot of time together and I was horny, I thought I had developed some sexual feeling for him, and probably had, but that ended when Susan came into his life.

I went to Grady and asked at the desk about Andreas Jackson, and was told he had been upgraded from critical to serious condition. He was in room 653. "Are you a member of the family?" the desk clerk asked.

"No, I am the officer who found him," I said as I showed her my badge. "I need to talk with him if that is possible."

"You'll have to talk with the nurse on the floor," she told me.

"Thanks," I said, and walked over to the elevators and punched the button for the sixth floor. When I reached the nurses' station, I saw LaTonya Helms, who was in nurses' training, looking at charts. "LaTonya," I said, "I haven't seen you in ages. How's it going?"

"Fine. See you are the one who found Andreas Jackson," she smiled. "Proud to know one of our College Park boys is on the job." LaTonya and I had been in high school together--not Lakeshore, but College Park High. As a matter of fact, we had been very close friends. She stood by me and gave me a shoulder to cry on when one by one the people in my life chose crack over me. She dated a guy a year ahead of us who had gone in the military as soon as he finished high school. After that she and I used to talk a lot and we did things together, but just as friends. DeWayne, her soldier boy, was not available for the senior prom so she asked me if I'd be her escort. I went all out to give her a prom night to remember and she had said it was the next best thing to having DeWayne.

"How's Andreas doing, LaTonya?" I asked.

"Lot better than expected. I understand the doctor said in another half-hour he would have been beyond help. He's conscious, but probably sleeping. He's under pretty heavy sedation because of the pain. Have any idea who might have done this to him?"

"None. That's what I'm hoping to find out."

"He's in room 653. If he's asleep, you can wake him if you feel it is necessary."

"Fine. How about coffee after I see him? Haven't talked to you in ages."

"I have a break in half an hour. Come by then."

"Sure thing."

When I got to room 653 I found Andreas asleep. He was hooked up to all sorts of things. His face was still badly swollen and he had butterfly bandages holding several cuts together, a really bad-looking one on his left cheek covered by that clear "artificial skin". But, in spite of that, I could see he was a handsome young man. Even with his blood loss, he still had an amazing complexion. It was smooth as could be where he had not been beat on, and was the color of milk chocolate, a warm, soft, smooth brown, not "bright", but rich brown, beautiful--skin a woman would die for.

I thought if I could awaken him easily I would, otherwise I'd let him sleep. "Andreas," I said softly. His eyes fluttered open, eyes which were dark, dark brown with flecks of gold--wide, beautiful eyes surrounded with the longest lashes I think I had ever seen. When I saw he was awake, I said, "I'm Officer Johnson. Want to tell me about this?"

He turned his head away from me and I could see his chest heaving as he tried to hold back the tears. "Andreas, I'm here to help, but I need to know who did this to you."

He turned back to me, tears running down his face, trying to choke back sobs. I took a tissue from the box on his bedside table and blotted away his tears, since I was sure wiping them away would be painful.

"Can I tell you something and you keep it between us?" he asked. "I need to talk to somebody, but I don't want what I have to say spread around."

"Ok, when you finish, I'll let you tell me what you want kept secret and unless it is something that could cause hurt to you or someone else, or causes me to violate my oath as a police officer, it'll stay between us. Is that ok?" Andreas nodded. "I know you are a student at Lakeshore in College Park so I assume you live there. Is that correct?" Andreas nodded again. "Well, that's it. That's all I know. I think someone is trying to get your address from the school authorities, but that's taking time. Can you tell me where you live? Who should be contacted? That sort of thing?"

"You're right, I am a senior at Lakeshore. I lived in College Park, on Rugby, believe it or not." It was kinda hard to believe, because Rugby was THE street in College Park and I would have thought no African-Americans lived on it. "I lived with my mom, stepfather and half-sister."

I noticed, without comment, Andreas was using the past tense.

"I am my mom's school baby: you know, born before she finished high school. Mom told me who my father was and I went to see him three-four years ago when I was in middle school. He is a big lawyer in Macon and didn't want anything to do with me. Even denied I was his. I never saw him again until last year when I started getting write-ups in the paper about my basketball playing. Newspapers seem to think they have found a rarity when they have a an athlete who is also an honors student. Anyway, he suddenly became the proud father."

"Much the same thing happened with my step-dad. He has always made it very clear that the only reason I was around was because Mom came as a package, which included me. He grudgingly bought my clothes, paid my school expenses, provided room and board, but that was all. Ever since I can remember, if I wanted money for a movie or ice cream cone, I had to earn it. Anyway, when I turned out to be the star student last year and was selected for the All-State Basketball team, he suddenly decided he was my father. The two men tried to outdo each other and suddenly I had the latest designer clothes to wear, shoes which cost more per pair than what had been spent on a year's shoes before, that sort of thing. For the first time, I had money for dates and use of the car." Andreas smiled, "I had to get a friend to teach me to drive because I was never allowed to touch the car before."

I was wondering where this was headed. I mean the kid hadn't stopped talking, but he sure wasn't answering my questions. I got the feeling he thought that if he could keep talking, he wouldn't have to answer them. I hadn't the foggiest idea what was going on here.

"That's how things were until last Thursday. When I got home from school Mom was acting strange. I'm not sure why I knew it strange, the way she was acting I mean, but I did. When I got upstairs to my room--I had a room in the attic, unfinished before I became the favorite son. After the second or third article in the paper I came home from an away basketball game, to discover my stepfather had managed to get a bunch of his beer-drinking buddies together and they finished it. It was away from my kid sister and I liked that. Anyway, when I got upstairs, it was clear that someone had been in my room. I went downstairs and asked Mom why she had allowed my half-sister, Octavia, to go in my room--that was strictly forbidden. I knew she would have had to let her in since I had a lock on my door. I put it on even before the room was finished to keep my half-sister out, as she was constantly messing up my things. Mom and my stepfather both insisted on having keys. Since that was the only way I could keep my half-sister out, I agreed. That's the reason I knew if anyone had been in my room, Mom had to have let them in.

"'Octavia hasn't been in your room,' Mom said. 'I decided to give it a good cleaning.'"

"Now that was strange because Mom hadn't cleaned my room in years. She didn't have to. I may have things piled here and there, but my room was always clean and 'most always orderly. I didn't question what Mom said, but went back upstairs. It was obvious Mom had gone through my things." Andreas became very quiet and, before I could say anything, he said, "I think I need to sleep now". I suspected he had said all he intended to say, at least for now. So when he closed his eyes, I said, "Fine. I am going to the cafeteria with Ms. Helms, one of your nurses. We can talk some more when I get back." I sensed that might or might not happen. Andreas was definitely holding back something.

I found LaTonya at the nurses' station and the two of us went downstairs for coffee. We caught up on what had been happening since we last talked. She asked if I had found someone and I told her no. She told me she and DeWayne were getting married in June. He'd have finished this tour of duty and they would get married before his reenlistment took effect.

"He is going back into the military then?"

"Yes, I don't think he would be happy anywhere else. I just hope I like being a military wife. Of course, I can still nurse wherever we show up, as my two-year nursing program will be finished then," she said. "Find out anything from Andreas?" she asked.

I told her I had learned very little. "I think he's hiding something, but I have no idea what," I concluded.

When we finished our coffee, I went back upstairs with her. When I reached Andreas' room, he was turned away from the door. I walked over to his bed and saw he was not asleep, but staring vacantly out the window. Six floors up there was little to see, only the backs of some building. "Andreas, I know your parents are worried about you and wonder what has happened to you. I really need to know how to contact them," I said, hoping a more direct approach might get me further along in finding out about this situation.

"No need to worry about that," he said, turning his head toward me. "They know."

"They know you have been beaten up to the point that you nearly died. They know that?" I couldn't believe what I had heard.

"Yeah, they know. They were there when it happened."

"When what happened?" I wasn't getting anywhere.

"When I was beat up," Andreas answered. "When I got back upstairs, I started putting things back where they belonged. Mom may have straightened up my room, but her idea of straight and mine were not the same." Suddenly Andreas got a strange look on his face, giggled and said, "Yeah, her idea of straight and mine were not the same at all! Anyway, when I had everything back in its place--you did promise not to tell anyone what I tell you without my permission, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"Officer Johnson, I'd like to trust you but I'm not sure I can. Right now I have a real problem with policemen."

"I know telling you 'you can trust me' will accomplish nothing," I said, "because you'd have to trust me to believe that."

Andreas giggled again and said, "I don't know why that's funny since it's true. I think that shot I got just before you came back gave me the sillies." That explained why he was giggling and relaxing. "What the hell, I don't have a hell of a lot to lose," he said.

"You know those large, low boxes on wheels for storing things under the bed? Well, I had one which I was sure Mom hadn't bothered to look at. Why would she? It just held summer clothes and it wasn't time to get them out yet. Nonetheless, I pulled the box from under the bed and immediately realized she had at least had the box out and moved things in it. I carefully took out the summer clothes and looked at the collection of National Geographics I had stored there. Don't you hate to throw away a National Geographic?" I nodded. "I took them out and got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had several stroke magazines in the bottom of the box, under the National Geographics..." Andreas paused.

"So what's the big deal? I mean your mom might have gotten upset, but I'm sure your dad..."

"Step-dad," he corrected me.

"Your step-dad had a collection of Playboy, maybe even Hustler when he was your age. Most guys have stroke magazines when they are your age."

"You don't understand," Andreas said, turning toward the window again. "I didn't have a single copy of Playboy in the stack."

He was silent, still gazing out the window. It took a minute or two for the implications of what he said to sink in. "But you did have a copy of Playgirl," I said slowly.

"Yeah, and Blueboy, Inches, Unzipped. Yeah." Andreas had not turned toward me and was still looking out the window.

"And there are no gay black men, right? At least that's the story."

"Yeah. I sat in my room scared shitless. When Mom called me down to dinner, nothing was said. It was as though she had not discovered my dreadful secret. I was beginning to think I had gotten excited for nothing. When dinner was finished, I cleared the table--it was my turn--and as soon as I started the dishwasher, I turned to go upstairs and, as I did, my stepfather hit me across the face with his open hand. 'Get your candy ass in the den, Boy.'"

"When we reached the den, my step-dad shoved me onto the couch and waved the magazines in my face, then started hitting me, first on one side of my head and then on the other side, with the rolled-up magazines. 'Just what the fuck do you mean having this faggot shit in your room? You know damn well there are no gay son-of-a-bitches in the real black community. It's something you have learned from whitey. Now some white bastard has done gone and made a candy-ass nigger out of you. You fuck some other candy-ass boy? You get fucked? You suck cock? Who you be fucking, Boy? Who be fucking you?' All the time he was shouting at me, he kept hitting me with the magazines. I had no answer because, regardless of what I said, he would get even more violent. I had gotten enough beatings from him to know that."

"See, Kumba Richardson, my step-dad, is a member of the Red Dog Squad. You know the Red Dogs?" I nodded. The Red Dog Squad is a crack team responsible for major drug raids and most were part of the SWAT team as well. They were all big bruisers. "Kumba is one pumped-up dude. He has been on steroids so long Mom says that's the reason she has had no more kids. He gets drunk and starts shouting at her for only giving him a daughter. It gets loud after that since Mom tells him he has no real juice because he's on steroids. Sooner or later his temper gets the best of him and he slaps her around. Several times I have pulled him off of her. I wanted to call the police, but Mom said, 'No, he might lose his job'. Well, he should. Anyway, he kept screaming and shouting at me. Finally, he grabbed me by the shoulders and got right in my face, 'Answer me, Boy,' he spit out. You know how I took to being called 'Boy'. 'Speak. Tell me what is going on.'"

"Stop shaking him so he can," Mom said.

When he stopped shaking me, I took a deep breath. "Kumba, no-one made me anything. I mean, yeah, I think I am gay. It's just the way I am. Women don't turn me on and men do. But no-one made me that way. I just am that way and, by the way, I am still a virgin."

"Black men ain't 'just gay'," he said. "You have to be turned into a candy ass by whitey or some Uncle Tom working for whitey."

"I shook my head, but Kumba started shaking me again. Mom made him stop and then said, 'Andreas, we just want to help you. Tell Kumba who you have been with. Who made you a faggot? You got to tell us, Son.' Again, I told them no-one had made me any way other than the way I was. I also told them, again, that I had been with no-one. I was a virgin."

"That really made both of them mad. They completely lost control. Kumba grabbed me by my shirtfront and started hitting me. Several times he hit me in the face. Mom was shouting, 'Tell Kumba what he needs to know. Tell him now!' Of course there was nothing to tell. Mom's shouting inflamed Kumba even more. He was slugging me in the gut and when I fell, he started kicking me. I finally passed out. When I came to, I was in the street, lying in the gutter. I was in terrible pain and my face was cut and bleeding. I didn't know what to do. I don't know why, but I caught MARTA* and went downtown. I didn't know how bad I looked, but people on the train kept staring at me and no-one bothered to say or do anything. I had spent time in the park and most times when I was upset about something I went there. It was a peaceful place. I guess that's why I was drawn there. When I got to the park, I went to the duck pond and collapsed on the park bench where you found me. That's it. Now I guess you have everything you need to know. Now you can hate me too; I'm just a candy-ass nigger."

I sat in silence, trying to decide what to say next. "Andreas, I am very sorry you have been beaten and put out of your house. You are a human being and, regardless of what else might be true, you have the same rights as any other human being. You have the right to be free from fear and being put down. I don't hate you. I need to know what I can't tell as I have to write a report."

"You can't tell who beat me up," he said. "If you do, Kumba will lose his job. I can't be responsible for that. He may have thrown me out, but he is the only support my mom has."

He was right, but could I hide what Kumba had done to Andreas? While I was thinking, Andreas reminded me of my promise to keep secret what he had told me. I finally decided that my promise to him outweighed my obligation to report Kumba. I told him I would not report Kumba. What I didn't tell him was that I was going to make sure Kumba knew I had him by the balls and I felt free to squeeze anytime he stepped out of line.

Monday, when I reported to the station house, I asked the desk sergeant if he could find Kumba's address. He did and gave it to me. I didn't know what I was going to do with it, but I definitely planned to do something.

When I finished my shift Monday night, I went home intending to just fall into bed, but when I got in bed, I was wide awake. I could see Andreas' face before me. He was a handsome young man, even his bruised, cut and swollen face could not hide that. His eyes had captivated me. In spite of telling myself it was something I dared not think about, I found myself strangely aroused by Andreas. I was experiencing feelings I had felt before, but never so intense, and they filled me with both fear and fascination. Clearly something was going on with me and I didn't know what I should do about it. Troubled, I finally fell asleep.

Tuesday I kept thinking about Andreas and what he had told me about his stepfather. I hadn't given it any thought before, but he had said even his mother joined his stepfather in disowning him. He was all alone in the world so far as family was concerned. Well there was his biological father. He was a prominent lawyer in Macon, but that wasn't a big help. Macon was no Atlanta, but it was large enough to have several prominent African-American lawyers. I needed the man's name and I was sure Andreas wasn't about to give it to me.

I finally decided I would go to College Park and have a talk with Mr. and Mrs. Kumba Richardson. I debated walking from the train, but when I looked at the street address I saw their house must have been a mile or so from the College Park station and I knew I would be cutting it close since I was trying to catch Kumba at home before I went to work. I had checked the Red Dog schedule and saw he wasn't on duty, but I was. I'd take a taxi to and from the station and, even at that, I'd be late signing in. I called in and told the desk sergeant I was working on the case of the young man I found in the park and might be late signing in. He was easy with that.

When the taxi pulled up to one of the nice houses on Rugby, I wondered how Richardson could afford the place. Real estate in College Park was not as expensive as real estate uptown, but it was not cheap and Rugby certainly was not cheap. I knocked on the door and a young girl--eight or nine I guess--opened the door. "Octavia?" I asked and when she nodded, I said, "I'm Officer Johnson. Is your father at home?" She nodded again. "Would you tell him I'd like to see him?" She nodded a third time and closed the door. I didn't know whether or not she was going to get Kumba. I waited several minutes and was about to ring the bell again when a giant of a man came to the door. "Kumba Richardson?" I asked.

"Yes, what can I do for you, Officer?"

"Officer Johnson, Mr. Richardson. I need to speak with you concerning a matter I got involved in last Thursday night. May I come in?" Kumba stepped aside and showed me in to the living room. He indicated a seat and before I sat down I said, "I think Mrs. Richardson should be involved as well."

"Irene, get in here. Police business." Mrs. Richardson came in, drying her hands. "Officer Johnson, Mrs. Richardson," I said, holding out my hand. She shook hands and also indicated a seat. As soon as we three were seated, Octavia came into the room. "Octavia, I think it would be best if you went to your room and played for a few minutes so I can talk with your mom and dad."

"Do what the man says, Octavia," Mrs. Richardson said.

As soon as the child was gone I turned to the Richardsons and said, "I would like to say I have a warrant for your arrest, the both of you, for aggravated assault or attempted murder and, if it had not been for your son, I would have. He may yet charge you. I wanted a chance to tell you that at his request I am holding my report. I know that's against regulations, but I am sure it is not something you will rush right out and report. Your son came within half an hour of dying last Thursday night. If he had been somewhere else or I had not been late making my rounds, he would be cold meat in the morgue right now. He's not out of the woods yet, but I think he will make it. I wanted you to know that, but even more I want you--both of you--to know that I have you by the short hair. I don't think you will ever see Andreas again unless you catch him on TV playing basketball. I just wanted you to know that if you ever, in any way, seek to harm him or do him dirt, you will both be in Fulton County jail in a heartbeat. That's all I have to say and I don't care to hear anything you might have to say except I do want the name and address of his biological father." As I said that I took out my note pad and said, "His biological father's name and address?".

Mrs. Richardson looked at her husband. He nodded and she gave me the information. I wrote it down and said, "I'll show myself out and please, for your sakes, remember what I said".

I went from College Park directly to the station house, signed in and went on duty.

I had deliberately stayed away from Grady after I got off my shift. I needed to get some perspective on the effect Andreas was having on me before I went back. When I got up Wednesday, I placed a call to the office of Jason Stanley Story, attorney-at-law in Macon. He had a good secretary who was well-trained in keeping callers from contacting the man himself. I had just identified myself as Aaron Johnson, so she very nicely told me the big man was too busy to talk with me but she would take a message. "Miss, I am Officer Johnson of the Atlanta police department and I need to speak to Mr. Story directly concerning his son."

That got me through to the big man at once.

I started explaining the situation to him when he cut me short. "I have talked to Irene," he said, "so I know all about the situation. You need to know that Andreas is not my son. I have helped him out a bit because Irene and I had been good friends, but he is not mine. Given the fact that he's a faggot, I can't have him dragging my name through the mud. I don't approve of what Kumba did, but neither do I approve of candy-ass faggots. I have sent a check to Grady and will send more if it is needed to pay his hospital bill, but that's it. I don't want to hear from him or the Richardsons or you again. I hope I make myself clear."

"You do and I hope you rot in hell for what you have done to your son." Story slammed the receiver down, giving me a pain in the ear to match the pain he had given me in the ass.

I looked at my watch and realized I had time to go by Grady before I had to sign in. I had mixed feelings about going, but went.

When I reached Andreas' room, he was awake and looking much better, although his bruises were now multi-hued. "Hi," I said. "I'm Officer Johnson."

Andreas gave me a crooked half-smile and said, "Yeah, I remember that much. I guess I owe you for saving my life, although I'm not sure. I'm not sure I have a life worth saving."

"Stop the shit, Andreas," I said. "You have plenty to live for."

"What? Honestly, what?"

"For starters, you told me yourself you are one of a rare breed--a true scholar-athlete. You are a good-looking, handsome dude. What else? That's a heap more than a lot of guys have going for them."

"Yeah, well I guess I'd trade handsome for a roof over my head, good-looking for a bed..."

"Not going there," I laughed. Andreas gave me a real smile and actually blushed.

"Yeah, well I guess I can trade being an athlete for a table to put my feet under and scholar for clothes on my back. Look, Officer, I have been kicked out of my house. I guess you don't know Kumba Richardson. He wasn't playing when he beat the shit out of me."

"I hate to admit it but, yes, that was pretty obvious from the moment I first saw you."

"I'll bet he or my mom have already talked to my biological father and he has disowned me--again."

"I hate to admit that as well, but you're right."

"So what have I got to live for?"

"Everything. I mean it, everything. I need to check out some things. Who do you trust at school? I'll get the school on your team."

"Ms. Allen, the senior counselor, has always kinda looked out for me."

"Does she know you are gay?"

"No, no-one except you and my parents know."

"Ok if I tell Ms. Allen? It would help if she knew, since you've got to get everything squared away. Or is there a gay teacher you rather I talk with?"

"Mr. Stenson is gay and everyone knows it, but right now I don't think he'd be much help after the Smith affair."

Lakeshore was a science-magnet school and Bob Smith, a chemistry teacher, had recently been jailed for sexual shenanigans with six of his students. I'm sure every gay teacher in the county was on edge as a result. "Ok, but Ms. Allen is all right?"

"Yeah, but kinda check it out as you talk to her. You can ask her for my work if you would. The doctor says I am definitely here for several more days and I don't want to get too far behind."

"I'll get by and see her tomorrow," I said." I had smiled inwardly when Andreas said Ms. Allen was someone he trusted. Mine and Andreas' first lucky break. She hadn't been a counselor when I knew her at College Park High School where I graduated. She had been a business teacher working on her counselor's certification. We had gotten to know each other very well. It was not the counselor's shoulder I cried on as drugs took a toll on my life; it was Ms. Allen's. She had a nephew who had lived with her at one time, who was into crack, and she understood what I was going through. My girlfriend and he actually died together, both overdose victims.

Thursday night I shuddered as I walked by the duck pond thinking how close Andreas had come to dying. I had tried to imagine how a parent, even a step-parent, could hate their child enough to beat him to within an inch of his life and I couldn't.

I finished my shift and when I checked out, found a note in my box telling me I had an appointment with my commander, Friday morning at eight. More comp time, but time I needed to get to Lakeshore to see Ms. Allen. The note gave no hint of what the meeting was about, but it must be pretty important for the commander to come in Friday morning at eight. He was generally on a strictly nine to five schedule. I guess that messed up my getting to Lakeshore and seeing Andreas.

I got to sleep quickly and, before I was ready for it, the alarm went off. Since I wasn't officially on duty, I dressed in jeans and a knit shirt and showed up at the station downtown promptly at 7:45. Even at that the commander was waiting for me.

"Good morning, Johnson. Hope you got a good night's sleep in spite of getting called out early."

"To tell the truth, sir, I could have done well with a couple hours more, but duty calls, I guess."

"I hope what I have to tell you will make it worthwhile. I have an offer to make. Ralph Hicks is a twenty-year veteran who has just lost his partner to retirement. Ralph is a super cop and all around nice guy. He asked if he could select his new partner and the chief, who is a personal friend of his, said he didn't see why not. He has asked for you. I'm not sure why, but I do know he has looked at your file, going through it with a finetooth comb. He said he has known you for a couple years, which I didn't know."

"Neither did I," I said, puzzled.

"Well, regardless of how he made the decision, he asked for you to be temporarily assigned as his partner. That way either one of you can get out of the arrangement just by saying you want out. Ralph is a detective, but of course you won't be given that rank... well, technically you will have detective rank, but at your present pay scale plus a small increase. You'll also be working days, starting Monday morning. In the meantime, enjoy your weekend."

"I guess I have nothing to say about this new arrangement."

"Frankly, you don't until you have had a week or two with Detective Hicks. But, I can tell you, I would have given an arm and leg to have been picked when I was a rookie like you."

"Don't get me wrong," I laughed, "I'm happy with the assignment. I just wanted to make sure I knew where I stood. Well, since I've the weekend, I'm off to see one of my high school teachers."

"I'm sure she will be pleased. My wife's a teacher and she gets all carried away when a student comes back to see her. Few do. Good luck, Johnson. I think you'll thank your lucky stars for your new assignment."

I left and drove to Lakeshore, signed in at the desk and asked to see Ms. Allen. The secretary rang the counseling center and told the secretary there was a Mr. Johnson wanted to see Ms. Allen.

Ms. Allen came to the front office and as soon as she saw me broke into a big smile, walked over to me and gave me a big hug. "I'm glad to see you, Aaron. I was thinking about you last week. Come on to my office."

When we reached her office she wanted to know how I was doing and was delighted about my new assignment. I also told her I had seen LaTonya at Grady and had coffee with her. We talked a bit about where I was living, the fact that I wasn't dating anyone, that sort of stuff.

"Well, this is great, Aaron, "but I sense you didn't just drop by for a social call. What's up, Mr. Policeman?"

"I'm here to talk about a student, one who thinks an awful lot of you," I said. "Andreas Jackson."

"I have tried to get in touch with his mom since I noticed he has been absent a week without calling or anything. That's very unlike him. The one time I got his house, his mom refused to talk to me, having his half-sister tell me he didn't live there any more. Do you know what's going on?"

"Yeah, I do. His step-dad beat him so bad he almost died." I then told Ms. Allen all I knew about the situation except I didn't tell her why he had been beaten.

"His step-dad beat him because he found out he was gay?" she asked.

I really didn't know how to answer that. I mean, Andreas had said it was ok, but I wasn't sure. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"You don't know he's gay? He is. He, of course, doesn't 'act gay', whatever that means, and he has never said so, but I'd place money on that."

"Not with me, you won't. Yeah, you're right. He's gay and when his step-dad and mom found out, his dad beat him to near death, with his mom egging him on."

"What's he going to do?" she asked. "He obviously can't go back home and that's all the family he has so far as I know."

"It is. Well there's his biological father. I called him and he disowned him as well. What can he do?"

"He could live with you," she said. "Seems a nice arrangement to me. He only has a couple months left in school. He has an internship this summer at the Center for Disease Control, which will more than pay his keep. Next fall he has a full academic scholarship at Emory or Georgia State--his choice. He's talked about going into premed and, if he does, Emory would be the better choice. He has a basketball scholarship at Georgia Tech where he could go as well. He's really good and basketball may take him far. But if not, his academics will. He'd cost you practically nothing and I think you'd enjoy his company. He really is a great kid. Of course, you'd have to shoot straight with him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you are going to have to be honest with him. For one thing, he will know you are lying if you are--he has an uncanny knack that way--and, for another, he needs to know he can be honest with you and the only way that is going to happen is if you are honest with him. That's all I mean." I didn't think so, but then I had no way of knowing what she meant if she meant more than she said.

"I don't know. I mean with his parents knowing he is gay, they may come up with some weird idea about why I asked him to live with me."

"If they do, have their asses thrown in jail," she laughed. "Isn't that how you'd say it?"

"Yeah. Well, I'll give your suggestion some thought. I have some time since Andreas won't be released for several days. Which reminds me, he asked that I get his assignments."

"I have them right here. I got them ready to give to his mom when I thought she'd be coming by when I contacted her. I guess his books and things are still at his place."

"Sure. Something else I hadn't thought about. I need to call and make arrangements to get his things."

"Don't think you need to show up there."

"I won't. Kelly Moore and his two big bruisers at Buckhead Movers owe me big time. I don't think even steroid Richardson will take those three on."

"Aaron, Andreas is too good a kid to lose. Take care of him, ok?"

"Sure."

"And keep in touch."

"Will do. Thanks."

"Thanks to you as well."

Before I left the school, I called the Richardsons and told them to have ALL of Andreas' things ready by three o'clock. "I'm sending movers around to pick up his things. Make sure you have everything that belongs to him ready to go. And don't give the movers any trouble and don't hold back anything that is Andreas'. You wanted him out, he's getting out. I'll remind you that you don't want to piss me off."

I then called Kelly at Buckhead Movers. I had pulled Kelly's ass out of a crack a few months ago when he got caught in a bad drug deal without even knowing what was going on. He owed me big time and knew it. "Kelly? Aaron Johnson. Need some help." I explained what was up without going into why Andreas had been kicked out and Kelly didn't ask. I gave him the Richardsons' address and asked him to take a truck and a couple of his all-brawn-and-no-brain helpers with him. "You need muscle who won't question anything you say in case this Richardson guy decides to cause trouble. If he does, get out of there and call me.

I went by Grady to see Andreas. "How are you doing, kid?" I asked Andreas when I met him walking in the hall.

"Pretty good considering I was about dead this time last week. Now I'm up walking around and really to roll, except I don't have a place to roll to. Depending on finding a place to live, I can get out sometime next week."

"That's why I am here," I said. "Ms. Allen had a suggestion which I'd like for you to think about. She suggested you move in with me. I mean my place is no palace. It's nice, but small. Only one bedroom."

"You'd let me live with you?" he asked as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Yeah, if you want to."

"Even though I'm gay?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"The doctor told me I could get out Monday morning if things kept going well. And I can stay with you?"

"Yeah. I'll get your things and have them for you."

"How? Kumba is not going to let you have anything. He claims it's all his. He even said that before... before he knew."

"You let me worry about that, ok?"

"Yeah, well, ok," Andreas gave me a huge smile. There was going to be a real problem here, I could tell. Just what had I let myself in for?

I left Grady and when I got home, took a real look around my apartment. It was fine for a single guy, but what was I going to do with Andreas? I had a king-size bed that just about filled the bedroom. The living room couch made a bed, but I had slept on it a couple times and, I can tell you, it was far from comfortable. I laughed to myself when I thought that if Andreas was a woman I'd probably have no problem sharing my bed with her. She'd be perfectly safe, but a good-looking stud like Andreas? No way. Sharing a room with him would be hard--in more ways than one. Suddenly I said, "Damn! That Allen knows me better than I do." She definitely sensed I was attracted to Andreas. I came as close to admitting I was gay as I had ever done, but I couldn't think the word.

"He'll be asleep when I come in from work and that would help," I thought. "Whoa, not with my new assignment. Big problem. It just would not do." I finally decided the only way out was to get rid of the king-size and get two double beds. They might take up a little more space than the king-size, but that would work. I'd look on the bulletin board at the station house. Maybe there'd be something there. I really didn't have money to run out and purchase two new beds.

As I was standing in the middle of the bedroom thinking about my dilemma, the phone rang. "Aaron, Kelly. We have the kid's things. Thought that hunk would give us trouble, but he left and the wife made sure we had everything. She kept saying she wanted all the evil stuff gone."

"Thanks, Kelly. I think she wanted to make sure you thought the kid was some terrible jerk. He's not, he's just a kid whose step-dad decided to beat the shit out of him." Kelly was satisfied with that and I started to hang up the phone and as an afterthought, asked, "By the way, Kelly, happen to know someone who would like to trade two double beds for a king-size one?"

"Matter of fact, think I might. Had a gal moving in her boyfriend and both were complaining they had double beds. Of course they were planning on sleeping together, but a double bed was too small. Guess they don't cuddle in bed. Dumb, dumb, dumb."

"I have a king-size I'll trade. If they are willing, you can pick up the king-size when you bring the kid's things, and bring the doubles back. I'll leave the key with the woman in number one if I'm not here." The woman in number one was a retired school teacher I kinda looked out for. She had broken a hip shortly after I moved in to number three, so I did her shopping and took care of things she couldn't do until she recovered. I made a friend for life.

Getting Andreas' things and maybe two beds was a big accomplishment. Pleased with myself, I decided to go back to Grady. Andreas was up, walking down the hall again when I arrived. "Hey, great to see you're still vertical," I said. "How you feeling?"

"I have felt better, but I'm ok. I'd just like to get out of here."

"Release still scheduled for Monday?"

"Yeah, provided I can give them an address. Something about having to have a place where they can send the bill, I guess," he laughed. The kid did have a sense of humor and that was definitely a plus in my book.

"I'll take care of that when I leave," I said. "Buckhead Movers are bringing your things as we speak," I told him.

"I hope they were prepared for trouble," he responded, and got a frightened look on his face.

"No problem. I told Kelly, who is in charge, to take a couple no-brain, all-brawn types with him and give me a call if there was a problem. There wasn't--I guess because I reminded Kumba that I still had a report ready to turn in. His balls are in my hand and I squeezed a little," I laughed.

"According to Mom, you hardly have a handful. These are my balls," Andreas laughed, making a sphere of both hands. These are my balls on drugs," he laughed as he made a small circle with thumb and forefinger.

We talked a while longer before I decided I had to tell him the sleeping arrangements. "Maybe I can afford a larger apartment later, Andreas, but for now we'll have to share a bedroom. I don't think we'll be sharing a bed." I told him about the trade I hoped Kelly was pulling off. "Well, I've got to get to the apartment and see how things are coming. I'll see you in the morning about ten or so."

Andreas reached out and gave me a bear hug and said, "Thanks for everything. Even for saving my life." I knew he meant exactly that. I remembered to give him a card with my home phone and cell phone number and left.

When I got back to my place, Kelly and two huge hunks were taking two beds upstairs. They set them up and there seemed to be about as much room in the bedroom as before. They had left the boxes with Andreas' things in the living room. While the two guys were getting the beds set up, Kelly came into the living room with a box with no top. I thought it was clothes because that was what was on top. Kelly sat it down in front of me and lifted the clothes to show me there were magazines beneath, a Blueboy on top. "That asshole bitch at the house in College Park kept trying to get that box picked up by those two in there"--he motioned toward the bedroom with his head--"they didn't see what was in the box and when I did, I tossed some clothes over the magazine and took charge of the box myself. I don't know anything about what's going on, but it was clear to me that asshole bitch was trying to get someone in trouble."

"Thanks, Kelly. Yeah, she's trying to get her son in trouble, can you believe that? Take the magazines with you when you go and do what you please with them. They are not needed around here," I said and thought, "Andreas can get new ones, if he likes".

I thanked Kelly profusely and he and the two bruisers left. The living room was covered with boxes and I decided I'd see if I could re-arrange things to make space for Andreas. He said he had never had clothes before he became a basketball star, but his "dads" had made up for it. That was obvious from the boxes of clothes I put away. His backpack and school books were about all that was left when it was time for me to think about dinner. I decided I had had a wild enough day to warrant going out, but I hated to eat alone. Jerry was with Susan, I was sure, and I didn't feel like listening to her. I thought about LaTonya Helms and looked up her number. "LaTonya," I said when she answered the phone, "Aaron. Just finished a wild day and don't feel like cooking and don't want to go out alone. You up to dinner with me?"

"Can you give me half-hour, forty-five minutes?"

"Sure. Probably take me that long to get to College Park. You think of a good place. You deserve a grand dinner for taking care of the kid. See you in forty-five."

I showered and got dressed. I looked around the apartment again and made myself a note to be on the lookout for a desk. I had a computer desk in the corner of the living room, but Andreas would need more than that for studying.

LaTonya had decided we should go to Showcase, a jazz cafe in College Park. The food was really great and the music grand. No-one rushed us and we had drinks, ordered and took our time eating, all the time talking about what we had been up to. I told her about my new assignment and she was thrilled for me. There was a tiny dance floor and we danced between dinner and dessert. It was a wonderful evening.

We were on the way to her place before she said anything about Andreas. "He tells me he is moving in with you," she said.

"Yeah. I went to see Ms. Allen today. She's his counselor and he trusts her. She said he needed a place to stay and suggested I take him in. What do you think?"

"You know he's gay?"

"Yeah. That's why his step-dad beat the shit out of him."

"And you don't mind?"

"No. Why should I?"

"Don't pretend you don't know about the black macho attitude which says there are no real black men who are gay."

"Yeah. I also know about there being only winning tickets in the Georgia lottery. I sometimes wonder if whites have as much shit they believe as we do."

"Take it from me, neither blacks or whites have a monopoly on fantasies. Sure you having a gay kid living with you won't cause trouble in your job?"

"It better not. It's not like I'm planning on having sex with the kid."

"Just keep your ears open. I'd hate for both of you to get hurt because you're being the kind of guy you have always been. You know, sometimes I almost--notice I said almost--wish I had never met DeWayne. You can make a girl feel real good about herself."

I felt myself blushing as I pulled into LaTonya's drive. "Come on in," she said as I opened the door for her. "You know you are not going to get away from here without speaking to my mama. She'll have both our heads."

Mrs. Helms was waiting up for LaTonya, just as she had done in high school. LaTonya was her baby and she was proud of her and rightly so. I chatted with her for a while and then left. It was almost two when I got home and the new bed felt good. I didn't even feel cramped. I fell asleep almost at once.

I went by to see Andreas Sunday afternoon after sleeping until ten. I told him his things were at my place and I had put them away. "Got two beds so there'll be no bed sharing."

"Afraid I'd jump your bones?" he laughed and winked, then said, "Thanks. The doctor will be by in the morning and should release me."

"I'll try to get by and pick you up. I start on day shift tomorrow so I'm not sure when I can get by. I've been partnered with a veteran detective."

"Sounds like a promotion."

"Yeah, I guess it is." We talked about first one thing and then the other. I had brought his books and assignments. "You can keep yourself busy with school work, I guess."

"You are not kidding. I'm behind a week and that is major behind in the science-math program."

"Well, I'm going to run so you can get busy."

"Thanks again, Mr. Johnson."

"I think since we are going to be roommates, you can call me Aaron."

I had just got back to the apartment when Jerry called. "How about we catch an early dinner," he said. "I don't have to sign in tonight until eight."

"Sounds good. I've got a lot of news."

"So have I," he said. "Buckhead Diner at six?"

"Sure."

I went home and gathered up a batch of laundry--socks, underwear, that sort of thing. Uniforms and my slacks and shirts I had done--and took it downstairs. By the time it was finished, it was time to head to the Diner.

As soon as I walked in it was obvious Jerry's news was good. He was beaming from ear-to-ear. We did the whole hand greeting bit and I sat down. "Don't tell me. You won the Big Game."

"Even better," he replied. "Bro, I am engaged."

"Susan finally got tired of saying no, I guess," I laughed and gave him a high five.

"Matter of fact, she asked me. So there!" He then told me the whole story and, sure enough, Susan had asked him. Jerry was real hung up about having been married and was afraid Susan would think he was comparing her to Linda, his first wife, and somehow or other Susan just came out and asked him. He told me about their plans and he asked if I'd be his best man.

"Don't you think one of your brothers should do that?"

"No. Because I want you. Honest to God, Aaron, there are times when if it hadn't been for you I'd never have made it. You were a real rock for me, something I had not had in Atlanta after Linda and Mikey were killed. No, you are my best man, if you'll do it."

"Sure I will. Good news, Jerry, really good news."

"And you have good news too?"

"I have news and I think it's good." I told him about my new assignment and we talked about that. Then I said, "And I'm getting a roommate."

"Who?"

"Andreas Jackson, know him?"

"Who doesn't? I mean you'd have to know nothing about basketball not to know Andreas Jackson. You don't mean THE Andreas Jackson, though, do you?"

"Jerry, you need to remember I am the only black man under sixty who knows nothing about football or basketball. So I don't know whether he's THE Andreas Jackson or not." I then told Jerry all that had gone on while he was wandering in the hills.

"Aaron, you have to be the nicest guy I know. Yeah, you are one nice dude. But I can tell you, you better start paying attention to basketball because you have the makings of an all-star player moving in with you.

Monday morning I showed up at the downtown headquarters to get with my new partner. I met Ralph and he said we had some routine work to do as we walked out to our car. Ralph told me he had asked for this assignment after his partner retired following a shoot-out with some drug dealers. "I'm too old for that shit," he said. "I asked for you because I wanted a young partner to keep me honest and I asked for you because I think you have something special. A kind of real concern for people. Don't find that often enough in today's police," he said as we headed toward Midtown.

"Hear you saved a kid's life out here last week," he said as we drove through Midtown, skirting the park.

"Not sure about that. Hell, that's a lie. I was just lucky enough to find him before it was too late." I told Ralph about Andreas, including why he had been beaten.

"They ought to hang that kid's step-dad up by his fucking balls," Ralph said. I was surprised because in spite of Atlanta's supposedly gay-friendly atmosphere, the police were certainly not known as gay-friendly, especially the old timers. "Sure learned my lesson about gays several years ago when my son came out. Made a real ass of myself, but he didn't give up on me. Kept asking how he was different after he told me from how he was before. Try as hard as I could, all I could come up with he was more honest after. 'Guess you like liars better,' he had said. That was like a real kick in the ass. He's the same son I've always had and I'm really proud of him. Finishing med school at Emory this year. Working at Grady now. Where's this kid going?"

"He's coming to my place."

"Old enough not to get you in trouble?"

"He's eighteen." Ralph nodded. "And I told his mom and step-dad I was holding my report back at his request. Kumba, his step-dad, is on the Red Dog Squad and would be out like a shot if I turned in the report or the kid charged him."

"Red Dog Squad is in a lot of hot water right now anyway, over use of excessive force and steroid use. I guess that bunch does some good, but at times I wonder. Every one of them is a big steroid user and that spells trouble--excessive force on the job, uncontrollable tempers, spousal abuse. So you are taking the kid in?"

"Yeah. Think that's ok?"

"He has no place to go? Sure it's ok unless you are planning on making him your candy-ass boy. But even as a lover, I think it's ok. He's eighteen and no-one's forcing him to do anything."

Ralph had been around the block a few times. He had a gay son so he must have something to say on the subject. I had already decided I could trust him so I said, "Ralph, that's the only thing that worries me."

"That you might make him your candy-ass boy?"

"No, I think I can handle that." Ralph looked at me out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing. "It's what people might think."

"None of their damn business. So long as you can live with your decisions, you're ok. Just be sure you don't just drift into something. You both can get hurt real bad if you do."

I thanked Ralph and that was the extent of our conversation about Andreas and he never asked if I was gay or made any assumptions about me then. But I was sure he knew, probably more than I did.

We had to go check out a burglary reported in Vine City and after that bit of business--Ralph asked some strange questions I thought--when we got back in the car he said, "Burglary my ass. That woman's grandson who lives with her sold stuff to buy drugs and she wants the insurance to pay for it. All she wanted was a police report to turn in. I'll bet my next pay check on that."

We rode in silence for a few minutes. I don't know where my thoughts were and I was surprised when I realized we were parked outside my apartment. I was puzzled, but all I said was, "Can we park here?" Ralph had parked in a no parking zone in front of the apartment building.

"Yeah. I don't see any cops around. Do you?" he said and laughed. "You did say the kid is getting out of the hospital today, didn't you?"

"Yeah. But why are we here instead of Grady?"

Ralph laughed and said, "You might like to see his nice ass hanging out of a hospital gown, but I don't think he'd believe it was the latest fashion."

So help me, I blushed. "Guess you're right," I said. "Come on up."

When we got to the apartment I said, "Ralph, take a look around and give me any suggestions you might have to help make the place comfortable for me and a teenager."

"Aaron, it's been a few years before I had a teenager in the house." He did look around while I got an outfit together for Andreas. When I had the clothes together, Ralph was standing in the small dining area, rubbing his chin. "Well, what do you think?"

"You asked me about a desk, and the kid will need a place to study. But I was thinking, you have this dining area with a very small table. Ok for your meals and probably not at all too small for the two of you. But if you had a larger table... well, you could have a place to eat and the kid would have a place to study, a large place. Most of the time, he could just leave his stuff on one end and you'd still have a place to eat. I think we still have a table with six chairs. The ends drop down and it has a leaf. Without the leaf and one end dropped, it would be just about half again or a little more than what you have. Then, should you have people in, you could swing it around, put in the leaf and raise the other end and seat six. I'll check on that and let you know. Otherwise, I think this is a fine place. Who's in it and how they treat each other is what's important anyway."

Ralph looked at the clothes I was holding and asked, "His shoes weren't messed up?".

When he asked, I had a flashback to Andreas lying in the park and got sick at my stomach and very light-headed, and the room started spinning. "Whoa! Take it easy!" Ralph said, as he pulled a chair from the dining table and eased me into it. "Head between the knees. You know the drill." The next thing I knew, he was washing my face with a wet cloth.

A few minutes later, I raised up and said, "I think I'm ok now. Don't know what got into me."

"You don't?"

"Yeah, well, I guess I do. I suddenly had an image of Andreas lying in the park all beaten and bloody. I guess it was the mention of the shoes that did it. That night while I was trying to find out if he was dead or alive, I was staring at his shoes which looked as if they had been dipped in blood. He has shoes in the second closet to your right," I called to Ralph who was headed for the bedroom.

When we reached Grady, Ralph parked in the tow away zone out front, winked and said, "The salary's not so hot, but there are perks."

When we reached the sixth floor, Andreas was sitting in his room using his tray table for a desk and busily working on something. "How you doing today, Kid?" Ralph asked. Andreas looked up, saw the uniform and got a frightened look on his face.

When I saw that I stepped out from behind Ralph and said, "Andreas, this is my new partner, Ralph Hicks. Ralph, Andreas Jackson."

"Didn't mean to give you a scare, Kid," Ralph said as he extended his hand to Andreas. "Got something here to cover your hinny," he said as he took Andreas' things from me. "Scoot in the bathroom and get changed and we'll be out of here."

"Thank you, Officer," Andreas said with an ear-to-ear smile. "Back in a sec."

"Nice-looking kid," Ralph observed. "Seems to have some manners as well. Yep, you are doing the world a good turn, Officer Johnson." As he spoke, he reached out and rubbed my head. I guess he would have messed up my hair, but hair a sixteenth of an inch at the longest doesn't do a whole lot of anything regardless of what you do to it. "Good job. By the way, while it's on my feeble mind, we don't have to wear uniforms. I did today because I was sure you would. Only if there's someone important involved or some other reason to wear a uniform... a neat shirt and pants is fine. I keep a uniform at the station and a tie in the car. Otherwise it's button-downs and khakis. And if you're not hung up on labels, Penney's outlet in Forest Park can probably fix you up for what you paid for one uniform."

"Shirts are no problem as I wear button-downs a lot when I am off duty, but usually with jeans."

"Jeans won't do," Ralph laughed. "I think it's because the commander might have to wear them some time and his ass is so flat it sinks in instead of sticking out!" We were both laughing when Andreas stepped out of the bathroom.

"Well, I can't say much for your make-up kid. I never did think purple, green and yellow looked good on a young kid but, otherwise, you look great." Andreas' face was still multi-colored from his bruises, and he still had that fake skin holding healing wounds together, but he did look great. "Ready?" Ralph asked.

"Let's roll," Andreas answered with another huge smile.

When we got to the nursing station, the charge nurse said, "I have called for an orderly to take you down, Mr. Jackson. Checkout has called up and you are free to go. Everything's been taken care of. Take care of yourself," she said and hugged the young man to herself.

When the elderly black orderly showed up with a wheelchair, Andreas told him he didn't need it. "Son, you knows dat and I knows dat, but Mr. Grady, he don't knows dat so you either sits or you stays a guest of Mr. Grady." Andreas smiled and sat down in the wheelchair.

When we got to the car, Ralph helped Andreas into the front seat. "You get the back seat, Johnson." After Ralph had buckled himself in the driver's seat, he turned to Andreas and asked, "Where to? Your new home or an eating establishment?"

"After a week plus of Grady food, you can ask that?"

"Landmark Diner coming up," Ralph said as he pulled away from Grady.

When we were seated, Andreas seemed ill-at-ease as he picked up the menu. "Kid, I can recommend the Landmark burger. It's a half-pounder with whatever you want on it along with the 'comes with it' bacon, two kinds of cheese, mushrooms. I don't know. I've never been able to handle more than one but, after Grady, maybe you need two. Large fries, what to drink? Coke? Hey, take advantage of this," Ralph said. "It may well be the last time I treat you."

I could see Andreas visibly relax. Only then did I realize he was concerned about not having money. We'd definitely have to work on that.

Andreas handled the burger, fries and Coke and when Ralph asked if he had space for dessert, Andreas smiled and nodded. Ralph ordered three hot fudge sundaes which, I knew from past experience, were worth dying for. Andreas polished his off as well as part of mine I couldn't eat.

It was about two when we finished. Ralph got the check and when I protested, said, "Get the tip," which I did.

By the time we were back at my place and Andreas had walked up the stairs it was obvious he wasn't in the best of shape. I showed him the bedroom and suggested he take it easy. "You have my cell phone number and the lady in number one knows you are my new roommate and will do anything you ask her to do if she can. I'll be back as soon as I can after work."

"Take it easy, Kid," Ralph said. By now it was clear that "Kid" was going to be Ralph's name for Andreas. "If you can't get a hold of either one of us, call the station and someone will be right here. As of now you are a police brat and we do take care of our own." In the weeks to come Ralph and my colleagues made that abundantly clear.

After we left the house, Ralph wanted to go back to Vine City. "There's a pawn shop there that's more than a little shady and I suspect we might find some of the stuff the old lady claimed was stolen from her." Ralph walked into the pawn shop and the man behind the counter was immediately nervous. "How's business these days, Waldo?"

"No good, Ralph. No good at all. What can I do for you?"

"Got a list of items here I want you to check." Ralph handed him the list he made of missing things from the woman he had questioned earlier.

"Sure, Ralph, sure. Anything you ask. Is this stuff stolen?"

"Old lady Jefferson claims it was. That worthless grandson of hers pawn anything recently?"

"I'm not sure, I'll have to check."

"You do that, Waldo.

Waldo--I guess that was his name, but I had already learned you could never be sure with Ralph--took the list, looked at it and said, "Think I might help you here, Ralph. Think there are a few items here the kid did bring in. He said someone had given him the stuff for working for them."

"And you believed him, of course. Just get the stuff together and I'll take it home. It's up to you to get your money back. Or you can press charges and we'll pick up the kid."

"I'll handle that, Ralph. Here's the stuff." Waldo handed Ralph a box with some silver and other things in it. "Glad I can help out."

"Thanks. Waldo. 'Til next time," Ralph said as we walked out the door.

"He buys stolen goods often?" I asked, wondering why he got off easy.

"Sometimes. I could bust him, but he's a good source of information. Any new dealers around, anyone selling who hadn't been into drugs before, he lets me know. Sometimes I can get to them before they are really hooked. Well I guess Mrs. Jefferson will have to find a way to get her money since there'll be no insurance check. She would have gotten a lot more than the stuff was worth. You can bet on that."

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as we had little to do except drive around town. Ralph was a firm believer in keeping in touch with the man on the street and I would soon learn it paid off.

He dropped me off at my place at five and said he'd be home around six if I wanted to come pick up the table and chairs. I told him it would depend on whether or not I could get one of Kelly's trucks.

When I got upstairs, Andreas was sitting at the dining table, his head on his arms, fast asleep. I didn't want to disturb him, but I thought he must be uncomfortable. I considered picking him up and taking him to bed, but thought better of it since I might pull something loose or hurt him. I touched his shoulder and he opened his eyes slowly, looked confused, then saw me and his face became one huge smile. The kid had a smile that could melt the heart of anyone. The two big dimples didn't harm his looks either.

"Not a very good place for a nap," I said.

"Right. Especially since I drooled on a calculus problem that just about drove me nuts. Guess I wasn't as strong as I thought."

"Ralph has offered us a table and six chairs to replace the dining room table so you can have one end for studying, but I think we'll wait to pick it up. I'll get dinner and you can go to bed early."

It had taken me about a month to realize that there was no way I could live on frozen dinners, so I had worked out a system. On the my days off I prepared main dishes that could be frozen so I didn't have a lot of work to get dinner ready. Last weekend I had been pretty busy, but did manage to make a batch of meat sauce. I usually made enough for six meals. All I had to do was take out a frozen packet and add chili powder and beans for chili, mushrooms and Italian seasoning for spaghetti, cheese for lasagne. "You up to spaghetti tonight?" I asked Andreas.

"You'd think I was still full from lunch," he answered, "but I think I can put away some pasta, Yeah, I sure can."

I popped two packets of sauce in the microwave to thaw, put water on to heat for the spaghetti, took a loaf of French bread I had picked up yesterday and put garlic butter on it. The sauce was thawed so I put it in a pan, added some mushrooms I had cooked in butter and Italian seasoning and let it simmer while I fixed a salad. I put the bread in the oven and in a few minutes we had a grand meal. "I'm having a glass of red with my meal, Andreas. You're underage, but if you'd like one, you can have it."

"Thanks, I'd like that," he said. Andreas removed his books and papers from the table while I was preparing dinner and asked where the china and silver were. He set the table and when I had the food ready, lit candles he had placed in the center of the table.

"I'm surprised you know how to set a table, Andreas. Most people don't know how and don't these days."

He blushed and said, "I wouldn't have, but when I was invited to a big dinner downtown after being named to the State All-Star basketball team, Ms. Allen gave me a crash course in how to eat with more than a spoon. I started doing it at home. Mom liked it, but Kumba thought it was a waste of time."

"Not me. I set the table when I am eating alone just to remind myself that I am civilized." I sat down and filled the wine glasses, and was about ready to dive in when I noticed Andreas was sitting, head bowed. "Just who's the adult here?" I asked myself. "Andreas, would you say grace?"

I expected a quick kid's table grace, but I was surprised. Andreas offered thanks for friends who help someone in need, for me by name and the food. When he looked up, he was misty eyed as he said, "Aaron, thank you very much for not letting me die. I didn't want to live when you found me, but now, I'm glad I'm alive."

"So am I, Andreas, so am I."

Andreas thought he was up to returning to school Tuesday, but I vetoed the idea. "Not until you have been checked out by the doctor," I told him emphatically. "Maybe you don't know how close to death you came, but I do. Call Grady and see when you can get checked out and we'll see about school after that." I knew that Andreas had been in absolute tip-top shape when he had been beaten. He was young, so healing could be expected to proceed rapidly, but I wanted no surprises. "You might call Ms. Allen and get any new assignments and work on those this morning. I don't know whether I will get by at lunch or not. If not, I stocked the fridge Thursday so you should find something to eat. I'll see you at lunch if possible, if not when I get off work. Promise me you'll take it easy."

"Yes ma'am, Mama," he laughed. As soon as he said that I realized that he didn't know how right he was! I sounded exactly like my Mom before she decided to check out of my life. I gave Andreas a careful hug and went to work.

About 11:30 Ralph said, "Got anything to eat at your place?".

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"Why don't we see what we can come up with at your place and check on the kid?"

I told him we might be able to do that. "He seems fit and wanted to go to school today, but I nixed that until he sees the doctor again."

When we got to the apartment, Andreas had books and papers spread all over the dining table and was so busy he didn't hear us come in. "Hey, Kid," Ralph said. "Time for lunch."

Andreas was startled and let out a yelp. "You guys must be real gumshoes. I didn't hear you come in. I'll get this mess straightened up shortly."

While Andreas cleared the table, I got out stuff for sandwiches. By the time I had everything on a large tray, the table was clear and the three of us sat down to eat. Andreas again bowed his head and I was surprised when Ralph said, "Good friends, good meat, good God, let's eat. Amen."

Andreas got a case of the giggles and when he got himself in hand enough said, "Kinda funny, but it says it all."

He had called Grady and the doctor who called him back asked a lot of questions and said he'd like to see him Wednesday morning. He had told Andreas to get in some walking, but nothing strenuous, and definitely no lifting and no running, jumping or twisting his body. "He said he sure didn't want anything inside to tear loose and start bleeding again."

When we were ready to go, I gave Andreas fifty dollars. "You need to go to Five Points and get a MARTA card. There's only a week left of this month. I doubt that they have the new month's cards ready. If they do, get one. Otherwise, just get the week's card. You'll be riding MARTA to school, I guess. You'll have to ride the train to College Park and take the school bus from that. Going to make a long day but, until we can figure something out, I'll have to have my car, at least most days."

"I had to ride the bus from College Park before," he said. "The only difference will be getting up early enough to get to College Park in time to catch it. Ok if I fix something for dinner?" he asked as we were ready to go out the door.

"Sure, delighted," I said.

Wednesday after work, I didn't have to invite Ralph up when we arrived at the apartment. "Got any cold beer?' he asked.

"Sure, want one?"

"Wouldn't have asked otherwise."

When we got upstairs something smelled very good. Andreas was working at the stove, but when he saw us, walked over and gave both of us a hug. "Stay for dinner Ralph?"

"Better not or I'll be in the doghouse, but I could use a beer."

Andreas took two beers out of the fridge and three mugs from the freezer. He gave us the beers and filled his mug with iced tea. When he sat down with us he said the doctor had released him, but told him to call if anything, anything, concerned him. He also told him he'd like to see him in six weeks. "Guys, I'm afraid my basketball career is over. The doctor didn't say so. In fact, he just grunted when I asked him, but I think I can hang up my shoes. Good thing I hit the books. Also I got two MARTA cards--one for the week and one for next month--so I'm all set to catch the train in the morning."

"I was just thinking about that, Kid. I think you need a police escort your first day in case someone gives you flack for laying out of school," Ralph said in his "Officer Hicks" voice. "My partner and I will take you to school."

Ralph arrived Thursday morning, in uniform, well before either Andreas or I were ready to go. When I opened the door, he walked in, said good morning and headed for the coffee pot. He had brought the morning paper and took it and his coffee and went out on the small balcony off the living room. It didn't take long before I expected him to do that. Even if he came after Andreas left for the train, he still came in, got coffee and headed for the balcony. He had never said anything about it one way or another until one morning it was raining and he had to stay inside. When we got in the police car, he said, "I hope you know you have a excellent place for just relaxing with the morning paper." Over the next three or four years Ralph became a regular part of our morning routine.

When I went to the bedroom to get dressed, Ralph called after me, "Uniform today, I think". I put back the pants and shirt I had taken out and got my uniform.

We got to school early and Ralph walked up to the receptionist and said, "We are here for the Jackson conference". Andreas looked at me and I looked at him and we both shrugged.

"Andreas, the conference is in the counseling center," the receptionist answered. I could see the wheels spinning. She could hardly wait until she spread the news that Andreas Jackson came in the office with two police officers.

As we walked toward the center, Andreas whispered to me, "I wasn't told about a conference".

"Neither was I," I whispered back.

A group of teachers were gathered in the counseling center reception area and all started asking Andreas how he was doing, telling him they were sorry he had been hurt, generally making it known they had been concerned about him. He, in turn, introduced Ralph and me. Ms. Allen arrived, opened the conference door and ushered everyone inside.

"Officer Hicks called yesterday and requested this meeting. Of course, we will need to find out where Andreas stands with school work and all that, but first Officer Hicks has something for us." Ms. Allen smiled and turned toward Ralph.

"Ladies and gentlemen, most of the time when I show up at a high school, someone is in trouble. I'm here today, not because Andreas is in trouble, at least not with the law, but because you have an outstanding young man in your hands. I wanted you to know enough to be a help to him, not only with his education, but also with his larger life."

"I know Andreas has been working hard since he got out of the hospital, but I am sure he is still behind some. I ask that you give him time to get all his back work in. Don't short-change him by letting him slide by. While I am not at liberty to go into all the details, I will tell you that Andreas was severely beaten. His beating was so severe, had he not been found when he was, you would have been attending a funeral. I hope you don't think I am exaggerating. Officer Johnson was late making his final rounds and found Andreas, passed out. He was sure the young man was dead. When he felt a faint pulse, he called Grady and, as I'm sure you know, Grady is the best place in Georgia to be when trauma is involved. It was a close call, but Andreas made it." Ms. Lisco, Andreas' AP English teacher, was sitting beside him and she reached over and started rubbing his back.

"Andreas is doing well. However, he MUST NOT run, engage in any strenuous activities or lift anything heavier than a book. He suffered internal bleeding and almost bled to death. His insides are back together--we think--but he dare not risk tearing anything loose."

"Again, I am not free to go into details about how all this happened or why. In time I am sure Andreas will tell you some of his story, but right now it must not be told. I know there will be speculation and I am sure wild tales. Andreas did nothing wrong. He was not and is not involved in any criminal activity. He is safe and well cared for. At least until he completes high school, he will be living with Officer Johnson who, for all purposes, is his guardian and any communication concerning Andreas should be addressed to him."

Ralph nodded to me and I took out my card case and passed out cards. "Here is my card. My home, the police phone where I can be reached and my cell phone number are all on it. Feel free to call me anytime, day or night."

"If for any reason you cannot reach Officer Johnson, call me." Ralph gave everyone his card as well. "Thank you for coming. Any questions?"

"Officers Hicks, Johnson, Coach Roberts. I'm sure you are aware of Andreas' athletic abilities, especially in basketball. I know he's a senior here and won't be playing for us again, but will he be able to play at all?"

"Coach, the prognosis is not good, but it's really too early to tell at this point," Andreas answered.

There were other questions, some pretty prying, which Ralph handled well. When the meeting broke up, Andreas hugged both of us and left with a teacher. I was surprised that he had hugged us, but liked it.

"Officer Hicks, do you think you can keep two of my boys on the right track?" Ms. Allen asked.

"I'll sure try," he laughed. "Thanks for setting up the conference. I hope it prevents some of the speculation. Especially any that might try to find out the reason for Andreas being beaten."

"Happy to oblige. And I will stay on the teachers who might want to give him an easy time, at least those in subjects that count. But I think he will take care of that himself. He's a really good student, one of few I have ever known, and a real athlete. Do you think he will play again?"

"I talked to his doctor and he is afraid he won't be able to--well, he might be able to play, but either would run a serious risk, or be so cautious he wouldn't be good. His insides took a real beating. But we'll see. I don't think I'd push the Georgia Tech scholarship too hard just yet. I hope it is an option, but it may not be," Ralph answered.

When we were back in the car, I said, "Man, you have been busy as a bee".

"Just wanted to make sure the kid got all he could going for him."

"And you did speak with his doctor?"

"One of them. Look, there's no use to worry the kid any more than he will from what was said in the conference, but his doctor doesn't hold out much hope that he will be able to play basketball again and certainly not as well as before. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

To be continued...

*MARTA==Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority (I think). It is Atlanta's rapid rail part of the public transit system.

**"Deliverance": novel by James Dickey set in north Georgia mountains. The major characters are city boys, most of whom suffer at the hands of north Georgia rednecks, including a homosexual rape. All of the characters except one die during the weekend outing. Made into a movie with Burt Reynolds. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A note will be appreciated: sequoyah@charter.net