An Uncommon Bond

AN UNCOMMON BOND

PART THREE: UNFORESEEN CRISIS

Chapter 7: ILLNESS CLOAKED IN MYSTERY Dothan, Alabama, 1995

Ben and Tom had been living together for three years. Inside their home, they were a devoted, loving couple, thoroughly dedicated to making every moment together one of joy. During weekdays at work, they played the role of a single heterosexual young man who seemed obsessed with achieving career success without the distraction of seeking and courting a potential wife. The demands of living two lives, was challenging and at times exhausting. But they both agreed that it was worth the effort because, first of all, they enjoyed extraordinarily satisfying lives when in the privacy of their home. Secondly, the consequences of being known as 'queer' would border on the catastrophic.

Tom had been uncharacteristically short of breath for several days and had recently developed a hacking cough. Both his father and Ben urged him to see a doctor but their pleas were met with "It's just a cold. It'll clear up. Besides, I have a busy schedule at work." He grew impatient with his father's nagging. "I'm not a little boy anymore, Dad!" he would snarl. He was a little more docile with Ben but still made it clear that he resented the 'constant harassing' about his health. His stubborn defiance of others' suggestions that he should get medical attention crumbled when, having canceled a late afternoon appointment, he left work to drive home. A particularly intense coughing spell caused him to pull off the road. He could hardly breathe between coughs. Ten minutes later he began to seriously worry because he had to fight to breathe. Five minutes after that the coughing subsided but his panic had not. He drove straight to Noland Hospital's Emergency Room. He was soon admitted to the Hospital.

As part of the admission procedure, he was asked who should be contacted. Tom supplied Ben's name and phone number at work. "Is he family?" the nurse asked.

Tom wanted to say 'Yes' but knew that would only require an explanation of the relationship, which, of course, would create problems. "No," he replied. He's my room mate and would worry if I'm not home for dinner. If you want a family member, my father can be reached at work. The number is 327-1932." The admissions clerk called Tom's father first but had to leave a message. She then called Ben. After gaining permission from his supervisor, Ben immediately left work and drove to the hospital.

"Can you tell me the room number for Tom Davis?" Ben asked the receptionist at the main entrance to the hospital.

She shuffled through some papers on her desk, pulled out one, read it, and asked. "Are you a member of his family?" she asked.

"No, a friend," Ben replied.

"I'm sorry, sir. Tom Davis is in isolation. Only immediate family is permitted to visit him."

Ben was distressed by the news. Isolation meant a serious infection, which meant that his lover was far sicker than he thought. "Why?" he blurted out. "Why is he in isolation?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Even if I knew, I would not be allowed to tell you."

Ben's fury escalated. "Who the hell can tell me?" Ben shouted.

Ben's violent reaction alarmed the receptionist. She picked up the phone and dialed a number. After a pause (during which Ben became even more distraught) the receptionist said, "Code seven at reception," and hung up.

The young woman at the reception desk, still intimidated and frightened, mustered her composure and said, "Please have a seat in the lobby. Someone will be here soon to talk to you."

Ben took her comment to mean that some official with authority to comment on a patient's condition would soon arrive. He sat in a chair in the lobby and waited. His concern for his lover's health only increased.

A security guard soon arrived. He looked to be in his forties and was clearly muscular under his uniform. The receptionist said nothing ... just nodded in Ben's direction. The guard approached Ben and said, "You got a problem, son?" the guard said with a tone that was tinged with unfriendly assertiveness.

A constellation of emotions merged in Ben's mind. His love for Tom - who was clearly very ill - and his concern over his health was paramount. The frustration of being denied the opportunity to visit Tom robbed him of any rational thought. Dark fears of Tom's potentially lethal illness left him frantically - although subconsciously - groping for some way he could alter the dreadful circumstances. All of these psychic forces in Ben's mind constituted a bomb that needed only a spark to make it explode. That spark was the guard's assertive and somewhat condescending 'You got a problem, son?'

Ben stood and growled, "Damn right I do! My best friend is captive in your hospital and I'm not allowed to visit him. Some bureaucratic rule about isolation, immediate family, and who knows what other bull shit."

"Settle down, son," the guard cooed.

Ben snapped back, "I'm not your son! And I'm not a little boy! You can call me Mister or Sir or Ben. But don't belittle me by calling me 'son'."

The guard, belatedly, adopted a friendlier tone. "Let's sit down and discuss the situation, Sir." They sat. "I understand your friend is in isolation. I'm sure the doctor has good reason for issuing that order. Perhaps it for your friend's protection again being exposed to bacteria that would make his condition worse than it is. Or maybe it's to protect the nursing and medical staff from being infected with whatever illness your friend has. Whatever the reason, isolation is the professional judgment of the medical staff. Your friend, you, anyone else who may be adversely affected must be considered in your friend's care and treatment. Can you see the possible reasons for isolation and for restricting visitors?"

Tom spent a few moments digesting what he had heard. "I suppose," he replied. "But how can I find out what the illness is? And when he will recover?"

"Ah, that's another problem, Sir. One of the things that we must do is to protect the privacy of patients. Let me use an extreme example. Suppose married woman is treated here for Syphilis, Gonorrhea, or some other sexually transmitted disease. Suppose we let that private information out. It would possibly destroy a happy marriage, cause her to lose her job AND her children. There are less extreme examples. If private health information becomes known, for example, it could prevent a person from purchasing health insurance or getting a job."

"Okay," Ben said. "I understand. And I apologize for being such an ass hole."

"I understand, too, Sir. You're worried about your friend. And can't do anything about it. But he's in good hands. We'll do everything possible to make him well again."

Ben stood and slowly walked to the exit. Just outside the building, he saw Tom's father hurrying toward the building. "Mister Davis," Ben called out. "They won't let me in to visit with Tom because he's in isolation. But immediate family is allowed. Would you please tell Tom that I tried to visit? And that I'm praying for his recovery?"

"Will do," the man replied unconsciously and continued hurrying toward the hospital entrance.

Chapter 8: TRUTH REVEALED

Ben sat in his car in the parking lot for a few minutes. His lover - the man who so enriched his life, the man to whom he had pledged unending love and devotion, the man without whom he would be no more than the shell of a person - was seriously ill. To confound the deplorable situation, he could not visit his lover, could not hold his hand, and could not reaffirm his unshakable love. Instead of starting the car and driving to an empty house, he broke down and sobbed.

Meanwhile, Tom's father, at the Nurse's Station on the second floor, was asking for directions to Tom Davis's room. The nurse explained that the patient had been sedated as part of the medical treatment and would not be responsive. "Nevertheless," the man insisted, "I want to see my son."

"Then you are his father?" the nurse asked.

"Yes."

The nurse gave him a mask to cover his mouth and nose and explained that it was a precaution against further bacterial infections in the patient. She then directed him to the proper room. A sign on the door warned, 'Authorized Personnel Only.' The man ignored the sign and entered the room. He expected to find his son peacefully resting and was not prepared for what he saw. His son lay in bed tethered to two IV drips - one in each arm - a catheter to evacuate urine, and a sensor on his chest with a wire connecting it to a display of heart beats. A humming respirator's face mask was strapped over his mouth and nose. The normally self-assured and 'in-control' type of guy was on the verge of tears to see his only son so thoroughly incapacitated. He pulled a chair to the bedside, sat down, and clasped his son's hand.

"I don't know if you can hear me, son," he said softly. "But I hope you know that I'm proud of you. And I love you. Since your mother passed, I've come to appreciate you more than I thought possible." After a long pause, he continued, "I pray that you will recover from whatever has infected your body. Which reminds me. Ben is also praying for you."

Tom, without opening his eyes, curled his lips into a partial smile and mumbled, 'Ben'."

"Yes, I saw him as I arrived at the hospital. He came to see you but they wouldn't let him in."

Still in an almost inaudible whisper Tom murmured something Tom's father could not quite make out but it sounded like "...love you Ben..."

Tom half-spoke no more. His father, fearing the worst, checked the instrument on the wall above the bed. It reassuringly displayed a line depicting a normal heart beat.

The distraught father silently held back his tears. That would be, in his view, 'un-manly'. With conversation impossible, the man tried to guess at the meaning of what his son had murmured. Was it really '... love you Ben...' as he first thought?

With no visible change in his son's unresponsiveness, the distraught man left.

During Tom's father's visit with his son, Ben regained control of his emotions and stopped crying. He thought of the recent experiences: the phone call, rushing to the hospital, being denied visitation, yelling at the receptionist, distress over Tom's condition and the unknown prognosis, the confrontation with the security guard that morphed into a conversation, and finally "losing it" in the car before driving home.

Suddenly, a now-familiar sensation enveloped his mind. Just at the moment Tom was mumbling Ben's name, he was mentally reaching out to him, to express his love for him, and to urge him not to worry. Ben was aware of Tom's communication. Their 'special gift' of connecting wordlessly had become relatively common over the few years they had been lovers. The 'messages' were never in the form of words. Rather, they were conveyed by mere thoughts, thoughts without any form that would be recognized by normal human senses. Yet the meaning of the current connection, like others before, could not have been more clear to Ben.

With the inexplicable connection made, Ben replied by thinking of how profoundly he loved his partner. He hoped that Tom would perceive the message. And that it would, hopefully, comfort him.

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Days later on a Saturday morning, Ben phoned the hospital and received some welcomed news: Tom had recovered enough to be taken off the respirator and the hospital had relaxed the visitation rules to allow visitors. Ben rushed to the hospital, eager to see his lover.

At one point, when they were alone in the room, Tom said, "Thanks for coming to see me when I was admitted to the hospital. I'm sorry we couldn't talk. They had me all doped up. I wasn't fully aware of what was going on. But I do remember that you visited even though I don't remember anything about our conversation."

Ben was confused. He had not visited. But had later sensed an expression of love from Tom through what they called their 'special gift.' Ben began hesitantly, "Ah ... Tom," He paused, not sure of how to correct Tom's memory. "I didn't visit you. They wouldn't let me. You were in isolation. Only immediate family members were permitted to visit. It must be your father's visit that you remember."

"Maybe so," Tom mused. "I thought it was you. Everything is so foggy in my mind because they kept me drugged."

"Do you remember connecting with me the first evening you were here?"

Tom didn't reply immediately; he was probing his fuzzy memory. Finally, he said, "No, Ben. I don't remember that."

"Do you remember my connecting with you?"

"I'm afraid not, Ben. The damned drugs have robbed me of five days."

Since the inability to remember what happened seemed to upset Tom, Ben changed the subject. "So what was the doctor's diagnosis? What made you sick?"

"Initially, it was pneumonia. That's what made me cough and gasp for air before I came here. But it turned into something they called septic shock. That's a very serious infection that can lead to shutting down bodily organs and, if untreated, death. But I'm lucky. They caught it in time. The doctor assures me that it's all cleared up and left no lasting damage."

"So what's the lesson here, Tom?" Ben couldn't help but to indirectly chastise his lover. "Are you going to ignore health problems in the future? Are you going to carry on and let a sickness get worse and worse?

"No need for the lecture, Ben. I've learned my lesson."

<><><><><>

Later that day, Tom's father came to visit. After a few minutes of conversation, Tom asked, "Did you come to visit me on the day I was admitted?"

The man failed to suppress his scowl. "Yes. I was here. But you were only half here. By that I mean you were heavily sedated. What you said - or tried to say - didn't make sense. You mumbled Ben's name. And then mumbled something that sounded like 'love you'. I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means."

Tom's defenses were instantly aroused. He wondered if in his state of stupor he had inadvertently exposed the nature of his relationship with Ben. "And what do you think it means, Dad?"

"Do I have to spell it out?" Displeasure (or was it anger) was evident in the man's tone and expression. "Must I accuse you of something terrible?"

It was fairly clear that his dad suspected what had been a secret for three years but Tom wanted to be sure. "Yes, Dad. Tell me what you think it means."

The man squirmed in his bedside chair. His face was contorted by an overwhelming disgust. "Okay. If you want details I'll ask you point blank. Are you and Ben queer?"

The confrontational nature of his father's blunt question launched a swarm of emotions in Tom, dominated by defensiveness. Tom briefly considered emphatically denying the nature of his relationship with Ben. That would be consistent with years of habitually taking every precaution to conceal their secret, of pretending to be interested in girls, of tolerating and sometimes joining others in condemning homosexual behavior, and being constantly on guard against inadvertently showing any admiration of or attraction to handsome males. The pretense was often a challenging burden. There was always an unsettling undercurrent of fear that their secret would be discovered and condemnation would range from subtle to intense. Living two lives - one as an upstanding member of the community and the other as a despised degenerate or contemptible sinner - was exhausting. The expression on his father's face and the poorly disguised disgust in the tone of his voice was tantamount to an aggressive attack. It was time to fight back against all the prejudice and discrimination that his father's words and attitude represented.

"Yes, Dad. Ben and I love each other as intensely as any man and wife couple does. It's not a sickness that can be 'cured.' It's not a crime against nature that must be punished. I'm sorry if you don't approve. But know this: Ben and I are very happy living together. We're deeply in love with each other." Having vented feelings that had been building for a very long time, Tom waited for his father's response. Would it be loving understanding or vicious condemnation?

"Disgusting!" The man spat out the word with unmistakable venom. He stood and angrily shouted. "It's sickening! And sinful! You've betrayed everything that I've taught you! I won't have a queer son! And what's more, I don't want a queer employee screwing up relationships with my clients." He stormed out of the room.

The Floor Nurse, upon hearing the shouting, immediately came into the room to find Tom on the verge of tears. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"No," Tom replied. "I think I've just lost my father and my job." The tears began to flow.

<><><><><>

Tom was eventually released from the hospital with firm instructions to rest for at least another week's recuperation at home. Tom's agony over his father's cruel outburst was only partially alleviated by Ben's compassion and loving attention.

Tom attempted several times to contact his father by phone. The receptionist who answered the phone was, contrary to her previous personality, decidedly unfriendly. She invariably said, "Mister Davis is not available." All requests for a return phone call were ignored. After a long week at home, he went to his office only to find that it was occupied by a stranger. Upon leaving the building, the receptionist called out, "Mister Davis." (Previously she had routinely called him by his first name.) "Here's a box of your personal items. And here's a check for your severance pay."

"Thank you, Linda," Tom said. "It's been a genuine delight to work with you and, I hope, to be your friend."

The woman did not return the compliment but broke eye contact and, in icy silence, returned to her desk. Tom left, surprised at Linda's uncharacteristically cold attitude. She had obviously been told the reason for his dismissal and was as homophobic as his father. He was saddened by her attitude but far more emotionally devastating was how a father-son relationship that had been satisfying - if not especially loving - could be so coldly and cruelly ended.

Upon arriving home, Tom found it difficult to focus his mind on anything other than the abrupt termination of both family ties and employment. He looked forward to Ben's arrival home from work. He desperately needed the affection that Ben so ably provided.

Dinner that night was delayed. Rather than feed their stomachs, they opted to feed their souls with a long period of snuggling on the sofa followed by some prolonged love-making in bed.

They held each other tightly after their orgasms, which, for Tom, was just the therapy he needed to dull the pain of losing a father and a job. But he couldn't erase the pain completely. Ben knew all too well the pain his lover felt because he too had suffered being expelled from his family. At age eighteen he was at football practice at school. His mother discovered a pornographic magazine under his mattress. She showed it to her husband when he got home from work. He was livid with rage. When Ben arrived home his father screamed threats of eternal damnation in the afterlife for his evil behavior. Accused him of betraying all the love, care, and teachings he had enjoyed growing up. He threatened extreme physical punishment to 'cure' him of the disgusting and unnatural behavior. Ben left the house and returned only to secretly gather a few of his things. He lived with a friend, quit the football team to get a part-time job, and never returned to his home. He suffered multiple problems as he lived in exile not the least of which was the rejection by his family.

Tom had heard Ben's story but never fully understood the emotional pain his lover had endured. "Now I can appreciate, Ben, how you suffered when you escaped from your father's bigotry and fearsome temper. But I have to accept that my father's attitude can't be changed." He stopped speaking and he let his mind wander into 'what can I do now?'

After several minutes of silently embracing his partner, Ben said, "I agree, Tom. We should sell this place and move away ... far away."

Tom had said nothing about moving but immediately understood that their 'special gift' of connection allowed his lover to know what was on his mind.

Chapter 9: THE END OF A NEW BEGINNING

Ben and Tom, having agreed to move, narrowed their choices to Texas or Florida largely because of the climate but also because of proximity to Gulf of Mexico beaches. Eventually, they settled on the Tampa, Florida area; it offered access to a number of beaches plus a sizable population would support many cultural, social, and entertainment advantages than were not available in Dothan.

Their move was made possible by the accumulation of three years of equity in their house. Together with improvements they had made to the house and property, there would be a sizable profit when their house was sold - more than enough to cover moving expenses and a down payment on another home. After extensive searching, they bought a two-bedroom condominium.

The eager anticipation of beginning anew was tempered by the task of finding jobs. The challenge would be significant for Tom; his father (and former employer) was not likely to give a positive recommendation. It would also be difficult for Ben whose education and job experience was highly specialized. Their worries were unfounded. Ben secured a job as a Quality Control Technician and Tom easily found work with a Real Estate Development Company.

The first months in their new home were filled with work, relaxing at the beach on weekends, and frequent, loving sex at night. They were blissfully happy for ten years during which time their 'special gift' of wordlessly communicating became more frequent and was accepted almost as normal. So much so that it sometimes proved to be a problem when dealing with friends and strangers. If distracted or thinking of something other than a current conversation, they might answer a question with a non-verbal though thought transfer. It took quite some time to master the discipline of using thought transfer only between themselves.

It was that merging of minds that made their wedding in twenty years later so deeply meaningful and satisfying Their own joy was intense and it was magnified by completely feeling their partner's joy. But their joy would too soon be abruptly terminated.

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It was late afternoon when Ben's employer sent all the employees home because a hurricane that had been predicted to make landfall on the western tip of the Florida panhandle unexpectedly took an eastward course. The Tampa area's weather advisory was upgraded to an emergency warning. Tom was working near St. Petersburg supervising the construction of a group of condominiums. Ben, unsure of whether his husband was aware of the threatening weather, called Tom to let him know of the impending danger. Tom sent all of the workers home and then took a final tour of the construction site to make sure no workers remained.

Tom got in his car and headed for the entrance ramp to the 275 freeway. But, upon entering the freeway, he was captured in dense, slow-moving traffic. He decided to take the next exit, hoping that surface streets would be more navigable. It was a smart but unfortunate decision. Ten minutes later, a strong gust of wind toppled a very large, very old tree which crushed Tom's car ... and Tom.

It had been almost three hours since Ben had phoned Tom but Tom had not come home nor, unlike Tom's usual habits, phoned to say he was delayed. Ben tried to reach him by phone again knowing that Tom never used his phone while driving but hoping that, given the circumstances, he would break his self-imposed rule. Ben heard the phone ring several times and then transfer to voice mail. "Tom. It's Ben. Let me know where you are and what's causing the delay. I'm worried. Lotsa love. Ben."

Three more hours passed without hearing from Tom. Ben called again. Again he was connected to voice mail. He hung up, his worry morphing into panic. He tried contacting Tom wordlessly through their mental connection. But there was no consciousness to connect to. After nearly twenty minutes of trying, Ben gave up and assumed his lover had been injured, was unconscious, and therefore out of touch. His worries became obsessive. He phoned all the hospitals and urgent care facilities in the area but none had any record of treating or admitting a Tom Davis. Ben, in an attempt to relieve his anxiety, convinced himself that one of the medical facilities was so busy that they were behind in their paperwork.

Well past midnight a thoroughly distraught Ben collapsed on the sofa and eventually fell asleep.

He awoke at half past seven and repeated what had been fruitless the night before: calling Tom's phone - no answer; calling the hospitals and urgent care facilities - no information on admission of a Tom Davis or any other man fitting his description.

Ben refused to accept the most logical explanation: that Tom had been in some kind of accident and had been killed. His self-deception was shaken when he answered a knock on the door and saw a deputy sheriff.

"Does Tom Davis live here?" the deputy asked.

"Yes," Ben replied. "Is he all right?"

Ignoring Ben's question, the deputy asked, "Are you a relative or a friend?"

"I'm his husband," Ben replied without any hesitation about revealing the nature of his relationship with Tom.

"May I come in, Sir? We need to talk."

Ben ushered the uniformed visitor into the living room, dreading what information might be forthcoming.

The deputy, abandoning his ultra-professional tone and demeanor, said almost reluctantly but with obvious compassion, "Tom Davis ... your husband ... was in a freak accident. A tree fell on his car."

"Is he all right?" Ben interrupted urgently.

The deputy paused, which was tantamount to saying, 'No, he's not.' Ben felt the tears coming but managed to hold them back.

"I'm afraid not, Sir. A tree fell on his car and killed him. Instantly, I would guess."

Ben lost control of his emotions and sobbed. The deputy almost cried in sympathy for Ben but managed to maintain his professional demeanor. After several minutes, the deputy asked, "Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?"

"No," Ben mumbled. "Wait. Where is Tom now?'

The deputy handed Ben two business cards - one of his own and one from a local mortuary. "Mr. Davis' remains are at this funeral home pending notification of kin. You can claim the body of your husband but..." The deputy paused. "I would advise you not to look in the casket. The body was severely crushed."

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The funeral was brief but well attended. More than a hundred friends and business associates were there. Ben made it through the emotionally debilitating service only because of the support of two gay men who had been friends of Ben and Tom for many years. They drove Ben home after the graveside service and offered to stay with him for a while. But he declined the thoughtful offer. Physically tired, mentally drained, and emotionally exhausted, he ate a light supper and went to bed early. Before getting into bed, he did something he hadn't done since he was a little boy. And he thought he would never do again. He prayed. He prayed for the soul of his lost companion. He prayed for himself. He prayed for relief from the agony of his loss.

He woke in the middle of the night. A by now familiar sensation permeated his mind. It was not unlike the sensation when he communicated wordlessly with Tom.

READERS' NOTE: Ben and Tom's gift of communicating wordlessly cannot be adequately represented by spoken or written word. What follows, therefore, is at best an accurate but inadequate representation of their silent dialogue. And devoid of all emotional content.

"Tom! Is that you?:

"Yes, my love. I have a message for you."

"I miss you. I ache for you."

"Do not grieve. I'm in a better place."

"A better place? What place?"

"Its name would mean nothing to you. Bright. Beautiful. Peaceful. A joyful place."

"I want to be with you."

"It's not time. Live your life."

"Are you whole? Well? Happy?"

"Yes. My trip here was instantaneous. No pain. Left my moral body behind."

"I love you, Tom. I miss you."

"I say again. Do not grieve. I'm in a better place. Happy. I wait for you."

"I love you. I want to see you soon."

"I repeat. Do not grieve. Live your life. I must go now. I have permission for this visit only. Do not grieve. Live your life."

<><><><><>

Ben lay in bed recalling the communication. "Strange," he thought to himself, "I'm no longer burdened with sadness. I feel at peace for the first time in almost a week." Then he fell asleep.

He woke in the morning with still vivid memories of his encounter with Tom. But, as the day wore on, doubt slowly crept into his analytical mind. Did he dream the connection with Tom? Was it a fabrication of a tormented mind? Was it nothing more than a protective response of his mind to shield him from the pain of losing his lover? Or did it happen as he remembered it?

In the end, he consciously chose to believe the former version: It was not merely a dream. If it was a delusion it makes living life alone more bearable!

The End