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"BRIARWOOD"
aka "Whence Cometh My Help"
Revised Version
A dramatic saga
by
Ritch Christopher
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BOOK FOUR
"FAR FROM THE CROWD"
Chapter Forty
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"I chose and my world was shaken--
So what?
The choice may have been mistaken,
The choosing was not.
You have to move on.
Look at what you want,
Not at where you are,
Not at what you'll be,
Look at all the things you've done for me.
Opened up my eyes,
Taught me how to see,
Notice every tree--
Understand the light...
Concentrate on now--
Let me give to you
Something in return.
We've always belonged
Together!
We will always belong
Together!
Just keep moving on.
Anything you do,
Let it come from you,
Then it will be new.
Give us more to see...
"MOVE ON"
from
"SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH GEORGE"
by
STEPHEN SONDHEIM
Copyrighted 1984 by Mr. Sondheim
Johnny loved his new job and he loved being in love with Jeff! Johnny had never known much happiness in his life. He had spent most of the past five years trying to bring happiness to others. Like the people that don't know how to just say "Thank you", he didn't know how to accept love, happiness, the security of a high-paying position at the Center, and being "adopted" by a whole new family that honestly seemed to care about him. Inside of two weeks, Johnny was calling Walter and David, "Daddy Walt" and "Daddy Dave". He almost immediately became "brother" to Ryan and Kyle.
He sat at his new desk at the Center going over in his mind all the changes that had occurred in his life within two months. Nothing bad! No drawbacks! No negatives. Although he had never gotten to know Ted, he reasoned that Ted must be one hell of a guy for Alex to leave all this that he, Johnny, had inherited due to Alex's departure to California.
There were lots of responsibilities that went with his new emplacement. Many of them were trivial, but every time one of the phone lines lit, there was the chance that you were taking someone's life in your hands. Suicides were on the rise, especially in America's young population. Johnny was too young and too inexperienced to be able to compare today's youth with the baby boomers of a couple of generations ago. People who were Walter and David's age were always talking about how rough they had had it while growing up. Movie prices were under a dollar. Popcorn was twenty-five cents for the small bag or fifty cents for the large buttered box. Gasoline at the pump was almost thirty cents a gallon and fifty bucks could buy a week's supply of groceries for a family of four. The increase in the cost of living over the past twenty-five years had been incredible.
Teen suicide had been almost unheard of, except in cases of severe mental illness. But now, with the onslaught of recreational drugs... cocaine, crack, Ecstasy, etc., and the society's introduction to AIDS, the constant fear of terrorism or worse, suicides or attempted suicides were at an all time high. Since Lyndon B. Johnson had ushered in civil rights for all individuals, progress had been made toward tolerance of minorities. Blacks and Hispanics gradually found their way closer to equality. Much had been done to improve life and working conditions for women. But the one thing that the right-wing wouldn't let up on was the discrimination against gays. Maybe, in the eyes of the Jerry Falwell's and Jesse Helms's, the gay population was a bunch of sissies, too weak to combat the attacks that were constantly being launched on them. Every gay wore an invisible banner around his neck proclaiming, "Accept me as I am".
"Acceptance". "That was the key", Johnny thought. If every gay kid was accepted by his family, his peers, fellow-students, and co-workers..., then nearly three-quarters of all crisis center phone lines could be shut down. It was, and is, almost impossible for a non-gay to realize that being gay is not something that is chosen or some adopted lifestyle. No one would choose it, knowing the hate and harassment that he would have to encounter every day.
Johnny was reminded of Jeff's debate at the high school. The abomination referred to in Leviticus might be more accurate if we said, "Leviticus is the abomination"!!! Of the ten sins mentioned, homosexuality ranked "number ten" NOT "number one". But no one knew about the other nine that Moses wrote about.
Johnny took the time to invite each of his staff into his office for a private conversation to get to know them and for them to learn his goals for the center. It would be impossible to re-educate the world, but if they could save one kid's life; make him see his purpose; and know that all is not hopeless; then his "end" could be a new beginning.
Thursday evening of Johnny's first week, he had arranged a seminar for the phone counselors to meet with Dr. Middleton who was going to give them an update on the AIDS treatments and the progress that had been made in research developments. The best time to schedule this seemed to be between 5:00 and 7:00 PM. No one could explain it, but during these hours, the center received the fewest number of calls. For some unknown reason, fewer people tried to commit suicide during the supper hours. Johnny asked Jeff if he would come over and help man the phones while the staff went to the training class. This was a bit risky with only two people in charge of over 100 phone lines, but the two of them felt confident they could handle it. A lot of the calls came from women or young girls asking for links to abortion clinics. Several abused wives might call for help, looking for shelter for the night. These calls were merely referral calls and could be answered briefly by giving the clients the phone numbers to various agencies that could help them.
The first hour and fifteen minutes went smoothly for the two, except for the times that Jeff would leave his phone to sneak a kiss from Johnny or give him a quick grab in the crotch. Then, about 6:20 PM, Johnny received one of 'those' calls...the kind you dread and hope you never get. It came in on the Teen Hotline number.
"Hotline," Johnny answered.
"Who is this?" asked the anonymous caller.
"This is Luke," Johnny replied. One rule at the center was that a counselor never revealed his true identity.
"Luke?" asked the voice. "That's a strange name. How old are you?"
"About your age." Johnny said. "Is there something I can do for you or do you want to talk to me about something?"
"I want to know if there's a God," the voice announced blandly. This was one of the most difficult pleas to respond to if you're a counselor. You never knew if the caller was manic/depressive or a schizophrenic with a "God fixation".
"First of all, let me ask you...do you think there's NOT a God?" Johnny replied.
"NO!", the voice said, "I just wanted to know if you were stupid enough to believe in a God, before I talked to you any further."
"OK. Then there's NOT a God, if you say so. Now what do you want me to talk with you about?"
"Death...and what comes next..."
"Death? Are you ill...or do you think you're dying?"
"Not yet...but soon."
"Would you like me to call an ambulance or get you some help?"
"NO! GODDAMMIT!", the voice screamed. "I WANT YOU TO LISTEN TO ME!!! GOT IT???"
"Yes, but I think you have one advantage over me." Johnny said, in a calming tone.
"What's that?"
"I told you my name, but you didn't tell me yours."
"It's...Steve!"
"Thank you, Steve, for telling me. I think we can talk on a more even level now."
"Sure...Luke...I still don't believe that's your real name. Nobody names their kid 'Luke'!"
"Tell me, do you go to movies?"
"Yes."
"Did you see, 'Legally Blonde', 'My Dog Skip'. 'Charlie's Angels' or 'Scream 2'?"
"Yeah, I seen all of them."
"Well, the good-looking guy in those films was Luke Wilson. He's got a blonde brother with a funny shaped nose...Owen Wilson."
"Oh, yeah, I remember him."
"And I'm sure you remember Luke Perry on 'Beverly Hills, 90210'."
"Oh, yeah, that's right! I forgot about him."
"Well, those are guys named 'Luke' and now you know three...me!"
"OK, OK, so I believe you! Your name is Luke, too."
"Thanks. Where are you and have you had your dinner?" Johnny continued.
"I'm home and I don't want any dinner. It's funny but I used to lie in bed at night and wonder what I would order for my last meal if I was sittin' on Death Row in prison somewhere...and now I know...I wouldn't want anything."
"Did you have lunch?" Johnny asked, trying to avoid the idea of "last meals".
"Oh, yeah! My dad bought me a huge meal for my birthday!"
"Today's your birthday?"
"Yeah...seventeen!!"
"Happy birthday, Steve!" Johnny offered.
"It could've been...except for my dad."
"Did something happen to your dad?"
"Nope!...But I wish it had! He ruined the whole day for me. The asshole ruined my life...in just one day!!!"
"Would you like to tell me what he did?"
"He...uh...almost got me a present. That's what he did!"
"What do you mean 'almost?"
"He showed me what I COULD have...!"
"OK, Steve you've evoked my curiosity. Are you saying you almost got something but there were strings attached?"
"You're pretty smart, Luke!" Steve blurted out. "He took me down to Hobson's Jeep Showroom and told me to pick out the Jeep I wanted...and I found it! The VERY one I had my heart set on."
"Then what happened, Steve?"
"He let me take it out for a spin. Man, it had four-wheel drive...synchronized gearshift...even a built-in CD player. I felt like King of the Hill. And then I drove it back to Hobson's for Dad to make the deal."
"And...?"
"Dad went inside the dealer's office and I could see him signing the papers through the windows. It was like all my dreams coming true at once!"
"So...?"
"Then my dad came out, smiling and almost parading tossing the keys up in the air and catching them. He walked over to me and dangled the keys about four inches from my eyes...and he said, 'You like it?'...'Gosh, yes!', I said. 'You want it?' was the next thing he asked me and I said, 'More than anything in the world, Dad!' Then he closed his fist around the keys and said, 'Good! It's yours...free and clear...all paid for...'. Then he added the big, 'IF'! 'IF you give up all this homosexual nonsense and IF you promise NEVER to see Tommy again, then it's yours!'"
"Is Tommy your boyfriend?"
"...uh...yeah..."
"For how long?"
"A LONG time, ever since we first started playing around as kids...when we were both thirteen."
"Would you say you love him?" Johnny asked, delicately.
"I guess."
"But you don't love the Jeep enough to give Tommy up! Is that it?"
"Yeah."
"What did you say to your dad?"
"I told him he wasn't being fair! That I would NEVER stop seeing Tommy! And then I told him he could take those keys and shove them up his ass!"
"Those were pretty powerful words, Steve."
"Yeah, but I meant 'em!"
"What did your dad say then?"
"He told me I had twenty-four hours to either get Tommy out of my life or I could find a new place to live."
"You mean he's gonna throw you out of your house?"
"That's what he said."
"Do you live with your mom, too?"
"...yes."
"Does she know what your dad said?"
"Yes...and she agreed with him and took his side!" It was at this point that Steve burst into tears.
"I...I'm only a junior in high school. I don't have a job. I have no place to go. I can't imagine living my life without Tommy...and very frankly, I don't want to go on living, period!"
Johnny knew now where the conversation was headed. He had heard this theme repeated time and again when he took calls at the center in his own hometown. The old "It's time to make a man out of my son and I know just the way to cure him" syndrome. When Johnny realized what Steve's problem was, he relaxed a bit. How often had he heard this story from different people? Parents could be ruthless in getting what they want without ever considering what kind of stress they are putting on their children.
Johnny's next problem was to get Steve to talk in order to evaluate just how serious he was about taking his life. Did Steve have a plan? Did he have a weapon or the implements to go through with it? Was he willing to listen to advice and accept it? Would Steve consider going to a shelter or a safe place until he calmed down enough to discuss the problem rationally? God, it was so tough for a kid to be gay at an early age without any support, especially from his family, the people that supposedly loved him the most. Why do parents think their kid just one day decided to become gay? Would society never come to terms with truth and understand in that a person could be or is born gay and accept him that way?
There was THAT word again, 'acceptance'! It swirled around in Johnny's head. Steve had accepted the fact that he was gay. Apparently so had Tommy. Johnny tried to reason with Steve, mentioning how hurt Tommy would be if Steve were to "leave" him without an explanation.. if their love was real and "meant to be", wouldn't it be better for the two of them to talk and try to work it out together. Johnny said he would be happy to sit down with the two of them and see what three heads could work out together.
For the next half hour, Jeff took all the other calls while Johnny guided Steve, step-by-step, through the process of calming down, finding the right words to soothe him in his embarrassed and tortured state. Thank God, Steve had had the courage to make the call to the center. So many kids never did and their parents wondered the rest of their lives why their child had chosen to end his life for no apparent reason.
Johnny was pleased, relieved, and convinced that his one-on-one with Steve seemed successful. Steve was out of immediate danger of harming himself since, luckily, Briarwood had a place like Gramercy House in New York where gay kids could stay when their parents shut them out of their lives as well as their homes. So Steve packed up as much of his belongings as possible and Johnny sent him a cab to take him to his new "home". Steve promised to bring Tommy to the Center on Tuesday night to meet him and audit a meeting of a group in which many of them were facing the same kind of problem that faced "Steve'.. The groups were managed by "Fred" (not his real name), a young psychiatrist who spent most of the hour observing, listening, and evaluating the degree of help each of the members needed.
Johnny had met with Fred during his orientation. Fred had worked with neo-gays and lesbians for years. As each new group was assembled, Fred always seemed to figuratively scratch his head in perplexity from the occurrence the same age-old problems. A parent whose son or daughter drank, smoked marijuana, snorted cocaine, skipped school, or even stayed out all night, could forgive his child and sometimes pay thousands of dollars for doctors, psychiatrists, mental hospitals, or housed rehabilitation. Hell! All the kids did it! It was part of growing up in the twenty-first century. But let the same parent find out that his son or daughter was gay or Lesbian, then the matter at hand became embarrassing for the parent, causing rage, shame, throwing the kid out of the house or even disowning him or her.
Since the son or daughter had been given everything that the parent could buy for him, quite often the child had no sense of independence or responsibility and, in many cases, suicide seemed the only recourse. Acceptance of a gay son or daughter was one subject that had been left out of most parenting manuals, and because the parent didn't know how to cope with it, the teenager was usually at a total loss as to what to do. Run away! Escape! Hide! Kill yourself! Those were the answers! But then...that's why there are crisis centers in all the major cities.
By 7:00 PM, the staff meeting was over and within fifteen minutes the Center was back to full and normal operation. There would be many more "Steve's" to call later on in the evening with similar problems.
Johnny motioned for Jeff to join him in his office. Jeff entered and locked the door behind him. Jeff knew the stress that Steve had just put Johnny under and he walked over to hold his lover with reassurance that he was there for him...now and always.
"You OK?" Jeff asked, easing away from the kiss he and Johnny had just shared.
"I'm fine," Johnny replied, quietly.
"I love you," Jeff said, tenderly.
"And I love you too." Johnny quickly added.
"Glad you're here?"
"More than you'll ever know," Johnny said. "Each day with you gets better and better than the ones before it. I never knew true love or happiness until I met you."
"You'd better get used to it, big boy! 'Cause you're in for a lifetime of it!"
"That's what's so difficult to believe. You don't know what it's like...just the thought of knowing I'll have you tonight, and tomorrow, and the next day, and the next..."
"And the next month and the next year and for always."
Johnny kissed Jeff this time and both of them felt themselves getting aroused.
Once again, it was Jeff who pulled away from the kiss. He smiled and had that gleam in his eye, which could only mean one thing..
"Think we can be quiet enough for a 'quickie'?" Jeff whispered.
"How quick?" Johnny asked, joking in a low voice.
"I don't know about you, but I'll bet I can climax in about three strokes."
"Hell, that's not even worth getting undressed for."
"All right, four!" Jeff concluded. " Now, drop trou, bro, and you see how long you can hold off!"
It took more than four strokes for both of them. They were both experienced and knew how to make their passion last as long or as short as they liked.
At 7:45, the two of them walked out of Johnny's office with huge smiles on their faces. They were content, but most of all they were in love.
Ed drove home from Chris' feeling more relaxed than he had been since arriving in Briarwood. Chris had been correct; he did need more time for relaxation and respite from the treacherous grind of the Institute. He didn't know exactly what he was feeling nor could he describe his mood...perplexed?,...confused? Had he actually kissed Chris? Was it the alcohol; was it Chris' alluring charisma, or a combination of both? Ed knew that he had never had the desire for a homosexual experience, even in his early teen years and later, with his acceptance---well, it was more like 'toleration', of his brother, Royce or Roy, being gay. He couldn't fathom why Roy couldn't be turned on by any number of attractive girls in school who would have done anything to him or for him, just to get him in bed.
A couple of times, he and Roy had had the usual brotherly masturbation sessions late at night, but it was never mutual jerk-off, he never touched Roy, nor Roy, him. It was not until Ed's second year in med school that he ever touched another penis other that his own, He had had a professor who liked to indulge in "hands on" medicine and each med student took turns with his classmates, examining them for lumps, growths, hernias, etc. But there was nothing erotic about it...strictly medical and professional.
Ed's first cadaver to 'dissect' was a young man just a few years older who had died of testicular cancer. Ed had no qualms about using his scalpel to open the scrotum or making a huge incision down the icy cold hardened shaft of the once healthy organ. He learned all about the insides and outside of the penis and it did absolutely nothing for him sexually. He had no interest in the male anatomy beyond learning how to detect fallacies in the phallus, should he have to treat them.
During his and Chris' one kiss, Ed had not noticed any sign of his being aroused, but he was glad that they HAD kissed. What made it so thought-provoking was that Ed had had an urge to kiss Chris again...and maybe even passionately. Chris was like one of the angels that Ed had learned about at an early age in Sunday school where he was taught that angels were not male or female. They had no sex organs, but he could never understand why all the angels had men's names...Gabriel, Michael, even Lucifer. But that was it! Kissing Chris was like kissing a non-sexual or unisexual entity...not that Chris wasn't sexy. He was! He was very sexy...but their kiss...their kiss...had evoked something above and beyond physicality. It was as if their souls had met. There was nothing unmanly in the way they had embraced or held each other as their lips touched. It was like a child's first taste of divinity icing when his mother let him lick the scraped bowl. The sweetness filled your mouth and, instantly, your palate wanted more.
Ed wondered if he hadn't left when he did...how much farther he... and Chris would have gone before their actions crossed over into the Verboten area, where normal, 'straight' men dare not tread? Being one of the most prolific experts on HIV infections and AIDS had made him tolerant of gays and their lifestyle. Gays were normal people who ate, slept, became sick, got well, laughed, cried, hurt, and died the same as everyone...but most of all...they loved. In the thousands of AIDS cases Ed had treated, he had seen more support, devotion, and dedication from their lovers that he could ever forget. Gays seemed to love more deeply. When they were rejected or suffered the loss of a loved one, the hurt was deeper, too.
He was reminded of how Roy used to say that he wished the whole world was gay and in the same breath would add, "Deep inside, everyone in the world probably IS gay. They just won't or can't admit it! The so-called conservative Christians accept a man as their Lord and Savior and he never married or had a girlfriend. He ran around with twelve guys that ate and slept together, doing God knows what! It's those verses that weren't recorded in the Bible that I always wanted to read!"
Then the memory of Chris' kiss consumed his mentations once again. Would the kiss affect their working relationship? Would he ever accept a dinner invitation from the handsome priest again? Would the two of them ever be alone in a darkened room listening to Mahler ever again? Would the moment and the occasion ever be "right" again to even attempt a second kiss? His first mental response was..."I hope so." Then he was disturbed that he had thought that. Had Chris awakened some concealed emotions he had never felt before? Like Roy had said to him many times, "Every man has a secret affinity for the same sex."
As Ed pulled his car into his driveway, he had concluded that it had been a wonderful night...and like an adolescent coming home from his first date...he would never forget his first kiss. Ed smiled. He was just over 30 years old and tonight he had just had his 'first'...and yes, he would never forget it!
Ed locked his car and entered his lonely darkened house. He had almost decided to go straight to bed and not let anything spoil the contentment he was experiencing. His first tendency was to ignore his phone answering machine. He would be back at the Institute in a few short hours and whatever had happened there could wait until he arrived. But, Ed being 'Dr. Middleton', duty always called. He could not or should not shirk his responsibilities. He flipped the switch and saw that he had received five calls. That wasn't bad...not too many. He pushed the button to hear the first message.
"Dr. Middleton, this is Laura Killian, the night nurse on 'H' wing. I'm calling to tell you that Thad Hanley in 80H, bed one, succumbed at 8:02 this evening."
"Goddammit!" Ed yelled at the machine. "There WERE three, today! I knew it! I knew it!"
Thoughts of dinner, Chris, and the kiss vanished from Ed's mind as he was suddenly brought down back to earth's realities. Fuck! There were four more calls on the machine. He slowly sank into a leather easy chair by the phone and he braced himself for the next message with three more to follow.
Jeff was doing Chris' nightly rounds at the hospital while Chris was meeting Dr. Middleton for dinner at a French restaurant, Johnny was working late at the Center, and with Alex and Ted in California, it looked like dinner at Walter's house would be for just two--him and David.
David, being the loving new husband that he was, had learned so much about Walter...his moods...his concerns, both family and business, and did everything possible to make their life together happy. He inwardly speculated that Walter might be lonely for his kids tonight, so he took it on himself to go over to Ryan's and Kyle's and invite them to join him and Walter for dinner.
Ryan and Kyle were exhausted after a long day at the Center and the hospital and relished the idea of not having to cook, so they accepted gladly. Kyle raced down to the liquor store to buy a couple or three varieties of dinner wine as his and Ryan's contribution.
When the four of them assembled at Walter's large table, Walter was pleased that he still had his boys with him. David had charbroiled two Chateaubriands for the two couples to divide between them with all the trimmings, including the customary and obligatory broccoli dish for Kyle.
The first part of the dinner conversation was a few brief questions for the boys about the Center and their jobs there. Walter didn't want to dwell on the subject too long because he knew how much he hated talking about his legal matters at the dinner table. Dinner was supposed to be filled with light cheery family topics, movies, music, friends they had seen, etc. It was the time of day to divorce one's self from work, stress, or superfluous problems.
"How does it feel to be a bit more financially secure?" Walter asked the boys.
"It's something I've never known before." Kyle replied.
"I guess I'm still in shock," Ryan added. "I mean, we both KNEW Roger...but not ten million dollars worth!"
"Unh uh," Kyle broke in, "We don't have ten million dollars yet! You have to stay with me for five years. You heard what he said."
"Good Lord! I almost forgot!" Ryan said, cutting their steak in two. "In that case, ten million's not enough! Five years?!! With YOU?!! I'll spend that much money on booze and pills at just the thought of spending five more years with you."
"You'll stay...and you'll earn it, whore! I'm gonna make love to you every way except sideways...unless I learn how to do that too." Kyle joked, as Walter and David laughed.
"I don't want to think about you guys leaving or moving out. The little house is yours for as long as you want it, but with your income from the interest of Roger's legacy, you could buy your own place if you like." Walter said.
"We've talked about it," Kyle said, "but we have no plans to move right now."
"Please don't take this the wrong way, boys, but I'm relieved that you said that. I love having you so close...and with Alex gone now...well, let's just say, you've become real sons to me and I love you almost the same as Jeff and Alex."
"Walter, you know Kyle's and my backgrounds. Neither of us had a dad that was a real dad to us and we've enjoyed having you be the father both of us always dreamed of having...and that includes our newest dad, too." Ryan said, making David drop his head, his face blushing.
"There IS one thing we want to talk to you about," Kyle said, "and it involves you and our staying here. I mean, you might not WANT us to stay."
"Now, don't try to convince me that either of you is in trouble. You know there's no legal matter that I can't handle."
"There might be," Kyle added.
There was a long moment of silence while Kyle and Ryan stared at one another, trying to decide which of them would break their "news" to the "dads".
David became a bit edgy and stopped eating as he braced himself, quietly waiting for whatever the boys had to say.
"Walter...David," Ryan began, "Or rather, `Daddy Walter'... 'Daddy David', how would you feel if you were to become grandfathers?"
"What?!!" Walter and David exclaimed in unison.
"Kyle and I want to adopt a kid...or maybe two."
The look of relief on the two 'father's' faces was almost audible.
"That's wonderful!" David said.
"Nothing could please us more." Walter said, smiling at all three of them.
"We don't know about the legal ends of adoption, but we thought you might know of a good lawyer who could advise us and handle the matter."
"You bet your life I know a lawyer who would handle his own grand-kid's adoption. Just say the word and I'll get to work on it." Walter said, almost choking with glee.
"This is something that didn't just occur to us, we've been thinking about this for some time," Kyle said. "And then we saw the guys on 'The Rosie Show'. You know, the ones in Florida that aren't allowed to adopt because of the state's law, and then we got on the computer and did some investigating and found out that here, in our state, gays CAN adopt. So the next thing we did...we called the '800' number that Rosie gives at the end of her show and we got several good leads."
"What would you like to adopt...a boy...a girl...both? How old?" David asked.
"Right now, it doesn't matter, but I think we stand a better chance with an older kid or kids. There might be some kind of problem if we tried to get a baby, what with the HIV positive tag around my neck," Ryan said.
"But you're practically well. You're numbers are WAY in the normal range now," Walter said. "You've almost reached what we call the 'status post' stage."
"I know," Ryan continued, "but it's one thing to have status post tuberculosis, hepatitis, or other STD's. The stigma still exists for AIDS."
"We'll worry about that if and when the time comes," Walter said. "But in the meanwhile, leave everything to me."
"I think this calls for a toast, Grandpa!" David said to Walter.
"'Grandpa', I never thought I'd hear that word," Walter replied. "Boys, you don't know the joy in my heart or how happy you've made me. I can't wait to tell, or rather for you to tell Cliff. He's going to be as pleased as I am. Of course any child, or children, will be spoiled rotten by their 'Uncle' Jeff and 'Uncle' Johnny. Oh, my Lord, I just thought of something. You know Jeff's competitive spirit. When he hears about what the two of you are doing, he's gonna want to adopt, too...Oh, well, why not? We'll just have to build a dormitory to accommodate all the new grandchildren!" Walter smiled and wiped his eyes. "You're right, Dave, this DOES call for a toast."
David filled each of the four goblets with fresh wine and Walter held his glass high. "Here's to our family and here's to the birth of a new dawning in the new century. Here's to unbiased laws that enable gays to enjoy parenthood,...AND grandparenthood, with the rest of society!" Walter proclaimed, emulating Patrick Henry.
They all drank and sat down to finish their 'Thanksgiving' meal.
Ray Heffron was from the old school of police investigation. He still used a typewriter to write out his reports. So this was a world of cyberage, of computers and the internet, a world that he was not, nor would be, a part of. He hadn't made up his mind whether he totally liked his new partner or not. Ray had been around a long time and he could spot a "fag" with his eyes closed. He hadn't approached John Larkin with the subject yet, but it had to be discussed soon. Ray didn't want his fellow detectives or the members of the police squad wondering what was going on every time he and David went out on a private call.
"Jesus!" Ray thought, "There's not enough money in the world to make me put my dick up an asshole. Assholes are for shitting. They smell like shit and who would want their dick to smell like shit? Then some of the idiots put the same dicks into their mouths after it comes out of the poop chute. Goddamn! It makes my stomach turn over just thinking about it! No, give me a woman's pussy any day of the week over a shitty dick. A woman's pussy may smell like fish when your chewing on it, but at least fish are edible!"
Ray had raised a suspicious eyebrow at John when he was questioning David, the victim's roommate. John had asked several inaudible questions of David, almost whispering in David's ear. "What's that all about?" Ray wondered. He especially didn't want to question Rob in the adjoining room and leave Ray alone with David. "Only God knows what'll happen if I leave..." Ray continued to think.
When David and Rob's interrogations were finished, John offered to drive them back home while Ray remained at the station to begin the paperwork on the case. Ray looked askance when John said he was going on home after he returned Rob and Ray to their apartments. Since David's apartment was sealed off as an on-going crime investigating scene, Ray assumed that David would spend the night at Rob's. Ray would have been tremendously upset if he had known that John had invited David to spend the night at his own apartment. Not only was it against the rules, Ray would have thought it downright immoral!
Rob didn't find out that John had offered David a place to stay until he arrived back at his brownstone. Rob, like Ray at the station, had seen the two of them in a huddle, whispering. Rob had never seen an interrogation on TV where the detective and the witness talked in such low voices. When he got out of the police car, it was then that Rob suspected that David had been offered more than just a bed for the night. John Larkin, NYPD detective, junior grade...gay? Rob gave the two of them a "knowing" smile of approval and bid them goodnight. He was drained, physically and emotionally, but he knew all would soon be well as soon as he had Timmy in his arms. He was shocked and surprised when he opened the door to see Timmy about to serve coffee to the strange female who called herself, Dorothy.
When it was settled that she would spend the night, Rob and Timmy went into their bedroom, relieved to finally be alone with each other. They were both too tired for their usual nightly sexcapade. Tonight, or rather this morning, would be spent in a deep sleep.
Timmy undressed and went to bed while Rob showered and brushed his teeth. He didn't bother to dress since they always slept in the nude. He crawled into bed next to his lover and they embraced as tightly as they could. For the first time in hours, they both felt safe, wrapped in each other's arms. Fifteen minutes later, they were both in a sound slumber. They didn't hear the door open because Dorothy entered their bedroom in total silence.
She stood at the foot of the bed and surveyed Rob and Timmy's naked bodies, only lit by the streetlight outside the window on the south wall. She was disgusted by the sight and an immense anger began to rage inside her. She had brought the shiny object from her purse with her. It was a ten-inch butcher knife with a wooden handle. She observed the way the two of them were facing each other; their bodies clutched tightly together. She knew she was in total control of the situation. They had not heard her come in, nor did they know that she was standing above them making her plan, deciding which would be her first victim and which would be next. If she went to the side of the bed, she could probably slice their throats with one quick sweep. They would quickly pass out with their jugulars cut and then she would perform her surgical ritual on them, as she had on Stan and Gene.
Killing for the Lord had been easier that Dorothy could ever have imagined. It had taken less than twenty minutes each to do the "deed" to the other two. The idea of killing two queers at once created a new excitement in her. Rob and Timmy were just "two more" that she would add to God's chosen roster for the damned. She felt that with all she had suffered as a child and with her religious upbringing, she had finally found her purpose in life...to rid the world of these...these...ABOMINATIONS!! It had cost her the life of her beloved son, Clarence, before God revealed His plan for her.
These faggots were going to Hell anyway. She was just helping by speeding up the process. She had said a prayer before she gave Stan and Gene their crushing blows. She knew that God had guided her hand because it happened so swiftly. Dorothy was so pleased to be in God's favor once again, doing His work. She would continue with the "Homo Holocaust" for as long as she lived.
As she had twice before, Dorothy closed her eyes and prayed silently for guidance before she made her move. When she felt she had received the "spirit" she tiptoed around the corner of the bed to take her place, even with Rob and Timmy's heads.
Timmy stirred a bit and spoke to Rob, "Honey, could you move over a bit? My leg has gone to sleep."
Dorothy took a large step backward when she heard Timmy's voice in the darkened bed...and also, she was alarmed by him calling the other man, "honey". This was disgraceful to her.
"Hmmn?" Rob managed to reply. "What is it, babe?"
"My leg, You're lying on it and all the blood has stopped circulating."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Rob replied, turning over onto his other side to face the wall. Timmy moved next to him in a spoon position, which naturally caused Timmy to get aroused and slide his penis into Rob's crack.
"Oh, no, baby. Please, I'm just too tired." Rob said in a baby-talk plea.
"I'm not going to. It just wants to sleep there."
"Oh, that's OK. I like it sleeping there." Rob said, smiling. He must have been dreaming when he rolled over, there had been a quick flash to catch his one eye that had opened. Slowly, and very sleepily, he opened both eyes and saw a shiny object about three feet from the bed. The light from the street was hitting the object as his eyes began to focus on a dark figure standing there holding it. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? WAS someone standing by the bed? A jolt of fear suddenly hit him and woke him up fully. He didn't move. He didn't want to alarm Timmy until he was sure he was seeing it and not just imagined it.
"My God," he thought to himself. "Gene's killer has come back to kill Timmy and me." Had he seen Dorothy in the living room? Had he killed her too? Whatever he was going to do, had to be done quickly because the killer was ready to make his move. Rob could think of nothing nearby to defend himself with. He slowly let his arm drop from the bed to the floor. He let his hand explore and feel, but all he could find was his shoes. He couldn't see the face of the killer in the dark, but he COULD see the shiny object coming closer to him on the bed.
Rob held his breath as he watched the intruder raise the object over his head to pound downward on him and/or Timmy. Rob had a quick thought. With the killer's hand raised, he'd left his crotch vulnerable for a blow from a heavy shoe. And that's what Rob did. He grabbed his shoe and swung it with all his might, landing just below the midsection of his slayer.
Dorothy wasn't expecting to be attacked first, at least not by Winken and Blinken. Rob's shoe hit her solidly in the vagina and the pain was piercing. She fell forward with the blade in her hand and was aware she had made contact with a human body. The knife had missed Rob entirely and pierced Timmy's shoulder, going through to the mattress.
Timmy yelled as Dorothy screamed. They both had been surprised by unexpected anguish. While Dorothy was falling, Rob rolled out of bed onto the floor grabbing her legs with a tackle. She began to struggle by kicking Rob anywhere and everywhere she could. The toe of her shoe caught him in the balls and Rob thought that HE would pass out.
Since her knife had lodged into Timmy's shoulder joint, Dorothy had no weapon, no recourse except retreat. She stumbled her way in the dark back to the door, opened it, ran to grab her purse and raincoat and hurriedly exited out the front door of the apartment.
"MY GOD!" Timmy wailed. "What happened? MY ARM! MY SHOULDER! ROB! HELP ME!!"
Rob grabbed his agonized scrotum and staggered to the wall to turn on the light. That's when he saw the pillows and bed covered in Timmy's blood. The knife had apparently snipped a major artery, because he was bleeding profusely!
"TIMMY!! OH, MY GOD!!! OH, BABY! I AM SO SORRY!" Rob shouted, running in pain, to do what he could for his lover. It looked bad! Timmy was losing a lot of blood. Rob made it to the living room as fast as he could to dial 911. He was so excited that the operator had to calm him down before she could understand where to send the ambulance and the police. Then he ran back to the bedroom to apply pressure to Timmy's wound, He didn't move. He stood there naked until the paramedics and police arrived. Timmy was unconscious when they loaded him onto the gurney. The police stopped Rob and handed him a pair of pants and a coat before they would allow him to follow.
One patrolman was still hollering, "Hey, Mister, what happened!" as Rob ran out the door.
"I gotta go!", Rob screamed at the policeman.
"Hold on, not so fast!", the policeman commanded. "Stay and tell us what happened, then we'll take you to the hospital in a squad car as fast as we can!"
Rob was torn between devotion and duty. He knew that the police had a dangerous culprit to catch, while at the same time, Timmy might die before he reached the hospital. And, "WHERE WAS DOROTHY?" Had the killer gotten to her first? Rob remembered he hadn't seen her while he was talking to the operator. Everything had happened so fast! Rob replayed the events in his mind and suddenly realized that the legs he had tackled were those of a woman. FUCK! It was Dorothy! They had taken the killer in, given her a place to sleep, and made everything convenient for her to kill both of them!
"Officer, can we talk in the squad car?" Rob blurted. "I HAVE to get to the hospital!!!"
"Oh, all right," the patrolman said, reluctantly.
With red lights flashing and siren blaring, the cop took Rob down Amsterdam Avenue, getting as much information as possible from the handsome actor who was half crying and half in shock. Rob didn't know what all he had told the officer, but he had given him a good description of Dorothy and a quick account of what had transpired. The policeman had enough info to call the 20th Precinct to put out a "bolo" on the dangerous blonde assassin.
By the time Rob arrived at St. Luke's Hospital, Timmy had already been rushed from the emergency room into surgery. Now, Rob had to wait. Wait and pray was all he could do. He COULDN'T lose Timmy now! Not when they had everything they'd ever wanted. God, he wished he weren't alone. He would've given all his money, career, and worldly goods if Father Cliff were here beside him. The time was approaching 6:00 AM; Maybe Cliff would be awake and getting ready to make breakfast before going to St. Genesius. Cliff wouldn't mind if he called him. Cliff would probably be angry if Rob DIDN'T call him. Just hearing Cliff's voice would help Rob. Roger once said that Cliff would've calmed the Roman lions in biblical times with the sound of his voice.
Rob found a pay phone in the waiting room and nervously he placed a call to Briarwood. Cliff answered on the second ring.
"Hello?" said the soothing voice.
"Cliff?"
"Rob, is that you?"
"Yes, Cliff."
"It's good to hear from you, but why are you...?"
"It's Timmy, Cliff!" Rob screamed through his tears.
"My God, son, what's wrong?"
"Timmy's been stabbed. I'm at St. Luke's hospital. He's in surgery and I...I...don't think he's gonna..." Rob couldn't finish his sentence.
"Would you like me to come to New York?"
"Yes, Cliff, I know it's asking a lot from you, but I..."
"Hold on, son. Slow down, take a deep breath and tell me what happened."
Cliff had only said a few words, but Rob already felt a bit of relief. He motioned to the policeman and signaled he would like a cigarette if he had one. The policeman was a smoker and offered Rob a Marlboro and a light. Rob inhaled one puff of smoke, relaxed for a second and began telling Cliff all the details of the night. When he finished his story, he waited for Cliff to respond.
"Rob, just relax. Go have a cup of coffee. In all probability, Timmy will be in surgery for a long time. I'll get Jay to take me to the airport. If I can get the nine o'clock flight to New York, I can be at St. Luke's before noon." Cliff said.
"Cliff, do you think you can? I mean, on such short notice... and I know you have things to do at the church on Thursdays."
"Rob, now listen to me. There's nothing more important to me than my boys. Just stay there and I'll see you in a few hours. Don't worry. Timmy's going to be all right. I can't see God calling him just yet. You two have many more shows to do. God didn't give Timmy or you all the talent you have just to take it back before you've used it fully."
"I want to believe you, Cliff."
"I'll have Jay reserve me a limo at JFK, so I can come directly to the hospital. Now, buck up! Timmy needs you...and so do I."
"Thanks, Cliff. I love you."
"And I love you, Rob. I'll be there soon."
Nothing had changed. Timmy was still in the operating room, but somehow, after talking with Cliff, Rob knew that everything would be all right.
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(To be continued in "Briarwood"--BOOK FOUR-chapter-forty-one)