THIS STORY IS TOTALLY FICTITIOUS. IT CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE SEX BETWEEN MEN. IF THIS IS OFFENSIVE TO YOU GO ELSE WHERE. IF IT IS ILLEGAL FOR YOU TO BE READING IT, YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE TO BEGIN WITH, SO JUST GO AWAY. OTHERWISE ENJOY IT. JWS
DINING ALONE (PART 3)
fRANK'S TALE
by J.W.SMITH
Christmas was upon us again. The party committee had been busy for weeks planning tonight's party. Damn, I hate these parties. I hate Christmas. I would much rather be home with my Joe. I still, after all these years, get a warm feeling when I think about him. Hell, who would have thought that thirty-seven years later I'd still enjoy hearing him tell me he loves me every morning when I leave for the office I don't like going off and leaving him alone when I have to attend these parties, but I don't get my private life mixed into my work. So Joe has to pay the price by having to be alone on the night of my Christmas party.
I was ready to head out to work. Joe walked me to the door and held my briefcase as I dug for my keys.
"I won't be home until around midnight. I really hate having to attend these functions, you know."
"I know you do. Go enjoy it. And don't you dare come home with lipstick on your collar." Joe grinned at me. He's an imp. Damn, I love his sweet grin.
"What are you going to do tonight?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll go to Grover's for dinner. Haven't been there for a while. Maybe I'll just stay home. I hate eating out alone."
"Well, you know I would rather be with you."
"Yeah, I know. Luv ya. Drive carefully and don't drink."
"Right."
I opened the garage and edged around the big ugly black cruise ship Joe calls his baby. It's a l996 Cadillac. He loves it. God knows he could afford a new one or several, but no, he likes that ol' tug. Ever since the accident, he has insisted on having a big car. I've argued with him about the logic, like he wouldn't have been thrown from the car if he had been wearing a seat belt. He insists that he would have been killed if he hadn't been thrown from it. He might be right on that point, the steering wheel was in the back of his seat. I've also argued that the Lexus is built to absorb the impact with a front and rear end that crumple. That doesn't hold up with him, either.
I got into my new Lexus and backed out of the garage. Minutes later as I merged into the morning sludge on the 210, I thought about the way we had met. Joe had literally been thrown at my feet. I shuddered as I recalled that head on collision. And the horror of watching him fly through the air.
I was twenty-five and unemployed. I had been working for as an accountant in a 'going nowhere' job for three years. Just that morning I had quit. Euphoric, scared, happy, up, down, you name it I was probably feeling it.
I was on 7th Street. I was waiting for the walk signal to cross Wilshire when there was a screeching of tires. A big brand new Buick slid sideways into the oncoming traffic. An ugly little Toyota ran head on into it. The driver was ejected. He landed at my feet. He skidded across the sidewalk. His head collided with the light pole next to me with a dull thud. I was sure he was dead as I knelt beside him. He opened his eyes. He frowned trying to focus on my face. And then he smiled at me.
"Whasher name?" he asked.
"Frank" I whispered. He grimaced in pain, and whispered back.
"Hold me, Frank."
Damn. He was the cutest guy and I thought he was going to die right in front of me. I gathered him into my arms and sat there holding him.
"Promise you won't ever leave me."
I looked at him. His face was bloody. The head wound was bleeding into my lap. God, so much blood.
" Frank, promise you won't ever leave me." He repeated.
"I promise, if you promise not to die." I said.
He smiled at me again, closed his eyes and sighed. I thought he was gone. Tears washed down my cheeks, falling on to his bloody face. I knew that smile was engraved on my memory forever.
I stayed right there holding him, praying that he wasn't dead. The ambulance came. The medics loaded him onto a gurney; they didn't cover his head after checking him over, so I knew he was still alive. When they told me to move aside, I told them I was going with him, that he was my little brother. With blood all over me I'm certain they didn't even think of arguing with me.
I suppose I might have been a bit insane right then. I was certainly possessed. Hell, I didn't even know his name, but I damn sure had made him a promise, and if there was any chance that he might bestow that wonderful smile on me again I was for sure going to be there to receive it.
I sat in the hall outside of the emergency room while they worked on him, his smile imprinted on my brain. An attendant came and asked me for information. I remember repeating. "I'm his brother. I have to stay with him." Maybe I was in shock, I don't know. I was keeping my promise. That was the one thing I was sure of.
He was only in the emergency room a few minutes before they rushed him into surgery. I sat there numbly praying he wouldn't die. Hours later a lady came out and sat down beside me. She reached over and took my blood-crusted hand and studied me with intent eyes. I know I must have smelled like a slaughterhouse. I studied her hand. Finally she spoke.
"Yes, you are the one." She said.
Her voice made my hair prickle. It was soft and gentle as a breeze, but it was filled with my destiny.
"I'm Joe's mother."
I looked up at her and thought 'Of course you are you look just like him.'
"Frank Bannon." I said.
She smiled. It was his smile, different face.
"You're Joe's friend."
That was a statement. And somehow I knew it was true.I nodded.
"You haven't known him long."
She didn't ask questions, apparently.
"Just met him."
"Yes."
"He made me promise not to leave him."
"I know."
"I won't. I keep my promises."
"I see." She studied me some more still holding my hand. She patted it.
"Frank, it may be along time before he gets back to us."
"You mean before he regains conscience."
"Well, yes. There's that, too. Come. You need to get out of those bloody clothes."
If she had floated through the air dragging me with her, as we left the hospital, I wouldn't have been at all surprised.It was a long time. Six months, one week, four days and seven hours. Lorraine convinced me I could do him no good if I didn't take care of myself. That meant also finding a new job. I did. I now run the company. I think she had something to do with it. Things just went my way too easily. But every afternoon, until they chased me out late in the evening, I was in the room sitting next to Joe, holding his hand, some times praying, some times talking to him, but always holding his hand.
Lo, as she insisted on being called, began my education. She gave me to understand she was not a witch, although she has been called one. She told she was blessed with a gift, and Joe had it even more. She called it "knowing". She couldn't predict the future, but many times she would just know what was going to happen. She said that if I was to stay with Joe I had to learn to accept these "knowings" and not rebel against them. As the years have gone by Joe has made it easy for me by making them into Dreams. I learned that anytime he 'had a dream' that dream was going to happen. And it happened a lot easier if I just went along with it.
It was strange watching the color fade out of his hair. It turned pure white. I would check his body hair when I was alone with him. It all turned white within a couple of weeks. Weird but beautiful. They eventually took the bandages off his head. Lo cut all of his hair very short so it would grow in the same length all over his head. When it grew long enough she gave him a new hairstyle; parted it in the middle so it would cover the big C shaped scar where they had put in the stainless steel plate. It looked like a white lion's mane.
As the weeks grew into months his REM eye movements became steadily more active. The doctor told us to keep talking to him; he could possibly wake up at any time. Soon I noticed that his fingers would tighten slightly. Especially when I told him I loved him. He woke up on the eleventh day going into the seventh month. (There was no significance to the date, so don't try to figure it out.)
Lo had left for the day. She had been there for nearly fourteen hours. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window, while holding his hand and telling him about my day at work. The hair on the back of my neck suddenly crawled. I turned and looked at Joe. His eyes were open. He was smiling at me.
"Hi, Frank." He whispered.
"Hey." I whispered back.
I guess a monitor blew a gasket or some thing. Suddenly the door was flung open and the doctor and a covey of nurses flew in, pushing me out of the way as they started doing their thing. I ran to a telephone and called Lo. She was back at the hospital in twenty minutes. If one ran every light from her house to the hospital, it would still be a forty-five minute drive. You figure out how she did it, I can't.
They ran all kinds of test on Joe, checking his memory, his reflexes and every thing else. There was nothing wrong with him, except he could not remember the time from when he had left home the morning of the accident until he woke up in the hospital. But what was really weird was he knew me.
The closer I got to Pasadena the slower the traffic got. There was nothing to do but be patient along with all the other commuters.
A few days after he woke up they decided he was well enough to go home. I took the morning off to help Lo get him home. Of course he had to ride to the car in a wheel chair. I helped him out of it and into the car. When he was settled, I closed the car door and leaned my elbows on the sill. I reached in and ruffled his hair.
"OK, kiddo, I'll keep in touch." I straighten up and waved to Lo. She raised an inquiring eyebrow at me. I looked back down at Joe. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.
"You made me a promise." He said, his voice barely audible.
He might as well have slapped me. I knew I was committed and after six and a half months of living at his bedside I was pretty sure I loved Joe. With all my heart and soul I loved Joe. I didn't really know him. I mean he had been in a coma, except for the last couple of weeks, and we hadn't really spoken about anything personal since he awakened. Of course, during those six months sitting by his bed with Lo, I learned everything there was to know about his life from her viewpoint.
"Hey, you're well now. You're out of the hospital. You can get on with your life."
"You haven't accepted it yet?" He asked.
"What?"
"Frank, you are my life. We are one. We're meant to be together."
I glanced over at Lo. She was smiling. I remembered her telling me I'm the one that first night in the emergency waiting room. Istarted shaking. My whole body shuddered as though it were throwing off a shroud. I was experiencing a catharsis. I suddenly 'knew' he was speaking the truth. Why hadn't I realized it before now? Why would I have made a promise to him when I thought he was dieing and NOT kept it when he lived? Now I was crying, and I don't cry. Lo got out and came around the car and opened the back door.
"You better get in, Frank. You two have a lot to discuss and get settled."
I got in. She closed the door and went back to the driver's side. Joe twisted around in his seat and smiled. I reached forward and caressed his cheek. He grasped my hand and kissed my palm.
"We're talking a life time, you know." He said.
I finally got to the Fair Oaks Exit. I turned over to the Arroyo Parkway and wended my way towards the Pasadena Freeway and downtown L.A.
Life has been full of surprises, living with Joe. He enjoys every little thing life offers, the cool breeze that caresses on a hot day, the warmth of the weak winter sun on a cold day. A leaf skittering down the street delights him. One night, we'd been living together about a year; we were snuggling on the sofa. He had finished his studies. The TV was broadcasting its inanities, He turned and looked up at me and asked.
"Do you remember what you said you would like to do to me one night about two weeks before I woke from the coma?"
My hair stood on end.
"How would you know what I said? You were in a coma."
"I could hear you though, and I remember what you said. I think it was the one thing that helped me the most. I was having a hell of a time trying to find my way through the fog. Your voice was my beacon. And your telling me how you would like to make love to me made me fight all the harder to get back to you."
"You're kidding me. You can remember that?"
"Yes. I remember it very clearly. You said you wanted to start with my toes and kiss you way up to my nose. And then you went into very graphic detail."
"You got an erection, and when you had an orgasm you scared the peewadden out of me. I quickly cleaned you up so the nurses wouldn't think I had been playing with you. The nurse came in just as I pulled the sheet back over you. She commented that young patients in a coma often have wet dreams. She started to clean you, but I told her I had already done it. She told me I was a good brother to take care of you like that. I was so embarrassed."
We were both quiet for a few minutes.
"Frank?"
"Yeah, babe."
"You want to do it?"
"I've done it a hundred times. But, yes, I'd like to do it."
"This time it will be even more exciting, with you knowing that I know."
"Hey, every time is more exciting with you."
Damn, here I was just a few blocks from the office and I had a woody. Nearly forty years and I still get excited thinking about Joe.