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LUSH LIFE
by
Ritch Christopher
Chapter Four
"Where Or When"
"Some things that happen for the first time,
seem to be happening again..."
by Lorenz Hart
from "Babes In Arms" 1936
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"But why can't I see him now?" Clay pled with the desk sergeant at the 6th NYPD precinct in Greenwich Village.
"You can see him tomorrow morning when the amount of bail is set for him," the mustached policeman replied to Clay.
"How much is that going to cost?"
"Let's see..." the officer checked the arrest sheet..."mmm...first time offender, but there WERE two gram packets of cocaine found in his possession..."
"But, officer, I was with him the whole day. I'm a doctor. I would know if he'd been using or not."
"You'll be very helpful to his defense attorney."
"And who IS Dave's defense attorney? I want to talk with him."
"It seems no one has been appointed yet."
"Didn't he call for his OWN attorney?"
"Said he didn't have one...so one's being appointed now as we speak."
Clay became more impatient. "OK, LOOK! USUALLY on first time offences, how much does the bail run?
"Well, since his urine was negative and there were no outward signs of him having used in the past 24 to 48 hours, I'd roughly estimate his bail at around ten thousand bucks.
"Wow!" Clay exclaimed.
"You...you mentioned you were a doctor?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any ID on you?"
"Of course."
"Do you mind showing it to me?"
"Sure!" Dave said, fishing into his back pocket for his wallet before handing it to the sergeant.
"It says you're Clayton Lawson from Briarwood. The picture on your ID looks authentic..."
"Are you gonna arrest me, too?"
"No, but your friend, Dave Banks, left word that if you should come by, I was to give you his wallet, keys, and other personal effects. He said for me to tell you to get his keys and go to his apartment and stay there."
"...And how soon will his bail be posted?"
"Oh, around nine in the morning or thereabouts."
"FINE! I'll be here WITH ten thousand dollars!" Dave said, picking up the manila envelope on the desk and shoving it under his left armpit.
Outside, the night air seemed chillier than the night before or maybe the icy feeling Clay had inside him made it feel that way.
'Ten thousand dollars! I don't have that kind of fucking money!' Clay said to himself. 'I sure as hell can't ask Tom or Rachel! Then I'd have to admit to Dave's and my relationship.' For all practical purposes, Dave had probably lost his job at the Rustic Inn and it was futile to go back and ask Jay, the owner, to post Dave's bail.
Clay's emotional depression got the best of him and he began to cry as he walked northward from the precinct toward Dave's apartment. It was almost midnight as Clay watched lovers, both straight and gay, walked around the streets of the Village arm-in-arm. He imagined Dave and himself walking home just like them.
Spending the night alone in Dave's apartment promised to be the longest and loneliest night of Clay's life. He also realized that if he planned to give Cole ER two weeks notice on his return, then calling Dr. Ed, his boss, was not the route to follow either.
As in life or in fiction, when one is in trouble, the best place to go or to call is "mother". When he arrived at Dave's place, he raised the three windows enough to let some night air in, and sat down to dial Weston, Florida. As luck would have it, Elizabeth Lawson Haskins was still up when the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Mom?"
"Clay?"
"Yes!"
"Darling, how wonderful to hear your voice!"
"Thanks, Mom, it's great to hear yours too. I thought you might still be up."
"Yes, darling, I was watching the House and Garden channel. They had this delightful show on bougainvillea and philodendra. It was telecast in high-definition and the colors were magnificent!"
"Where's Daddy Bob?"
"Oh, he's in the den surfing his computer, reading up on this one pill that's been made to substitute the three pill cocktail for AIDS. How are things in Briarwood?"
"They're going great...only I'm not in Briarwood, I'm in New York!"
"Good heavens! Whatever for?"
"I...I had a few days vacation I HAD to take and...you remember my two old pals at Vandy, Tom and Rachel Weiss?"
"Certainly, Bob and I met them at your graduation."
"Well, the two of them invited me up to their home to see the Big Apple!"
"That's wonderful! Are you having a good time?"
"Yes, and no."
"Clay, is something wrong? I seem to hear a nervous quality in your voice..."
"Yes, Mom, something's wrong and I don't know where or how to begin."
"Son, we've never kept secrets, not even when your father was alive."
"Mom, maybe there was ONE secret I kept from both of you...AND Daddy Bob."
"Oh?"
"Mom...do you think I could borrow ten thousand dollars?"
"If you need it...yes!"
"Thanks, I DO need it!"
"Clay, are you in some kind of trouble? Please don't tell me you need the money to pay for some young girl's abortion. I mean there are clinics which perform that procedure for practically nothing."
"It's...not quite like that...only abortion is not the option in this case...nor ever could be!"
"Then you'd better explain. I'm curious and worried about you."
"Mom, do you remember the kid next door, Scott?"
"Clay, I'm not senile nor do I have Alzheimer's. Of course I remember Scott."
"Well, Mom, I don't know how to say this but...well, Scott and I were MORE than just friends or next door neighbors."
"You mean he was your lover or sex partner?"
"Never my lover, Mom."
"Don't you think your Dad and I were aware that you two were having sexual experimentation behind the locked door of your bedroom?"
"You knew?"
"Of course, your dad and I always knew and never said anything so that you COULD experiment with our unspoken approval."
"Holy Jesus!...Then I was afraid for no reason during those years?"
"Clay, had we known you were afraid, we'd have told you that we saw nothing wrong in what you were doing."
"Well, Mom, after Scott went off to college, my feelings remained the same..."
"You mean...toward guys..and not girls...?"
"I'm sorry it took so long to tell you, but...yes. I'm gay, Mom!"
"I'm glad you told me...and I'm happy that you're gay! But surely, you don't want ten thousand dollars for your partner to have a sex change operation?"
Clay laughed. "No, Mom, I like everything about him just the way it is."
"Then why are you calling me for money?"
"Listen, Mom, do you have time to hear the whole story?"
"All night, if needs be."
Clay started telling her about his going to the Rustic Inn and what had happened later in Washington Square and at Dave's apartment. He described his tour of New York, leaving out none of the details. Then Clay's voice became shaky when he told his mom what had happened earlier that evening when Dave went to work, following with an account of Dave's arrest and his own experience with the desk sergeant.
"My God, Clay, I'm so sorry! I know how lonely you must feel in his apartment...but I also think of how lonely and frightened Dave must be in jail."
Hearing his mother's sympathetic remark brought a fresh reality to Clay. He had only been thinking about himself without ever giving much thought as to what Dave must have been going through right now.
"Mom, I'm scared, but I'm even more frightened for Dave."
"Son, do you think ten thousand dollars is enough? I can have Bob get online and transfer as much as you need into your Briarwood account!"
"Ten thousand should do it. Otherwise, I'll call you the very minute I find out and you can send me more money if it's needed."
"Tell me, Clay," she asked quietly, "are you in love with Dave?"
"Very much, Mom...and he feels the same about me."
"Then you know that Bob and I are going to have to meet our new son-in-law as soon as possible."
"Mom, I love you. I've never doubted that you were in my corner."
"Clay, when your real father became ill and we couldn't afford to give you all the things other boys like yourself had, I felt guilty as hell. I always wanted to make it up to you. Never did you ask for anything too high-priced for our budget. And now, with Bob's practice being so successful, I can finally give you anything your heart desires."
"Mom...the ten thousand dollars...it's just a loan. I'll pay back every cent."
"You'll do no such thing...call it a 'marriage gift' or a dowry, but whatever you ask for is yours to keep. It's a gift from Bob and me."
"Daddy Bob isn't anti-gay, is he?"
"Honey, we live in Weston which is like a suburb of Fort Lauderdale, probably the gayest city in the world. Do you think that Bob asks on his treatment survey if a person's gay or not? I would bet over half his clientele is gay. Bob'll be thrilled when I tell him you've found someone to love."
"Gee, Mom, I don't know what to say..." His voice started to break.
"Tell Dave NOT to worry. I don't know if his real mother is alive, but tell him I'm his new mother and I'll do all I can to help. I know you told me that he's a jazz saxophonist, but there are dozens of recording studios in Miami where he can cut his own CD. Bob might even produce it!"
In the background, Clay heard his stepfather's voice.
"Liz, who's that calling at midnight? Is it one of my patients?" Bob asked.
"No, sweetheart, it's Clay, calling from New York. Would you like to speak with him?"
"Of course."
Elizabeth handed her cell phone to Bob.
"Clay?" Bob said.
"Daddy Bob?"
"How are you? Is everything all right at Cole?"
"I...I...Mom will explain everything to you when I hang up."
"All right, I can't wait to hear everything."
"Daddy, Bob, I...I'm thinking of moving to New York and applying for a medical license here. I only hope I can find some place that needs me for work."
"Good Lord, son, I have contacts all over that city. Don't you worry about a thing. I'll find you a job...and a good-paying one at that!"
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it! You're the only son I'm ever going to have and I have too much money for your mother to spend once I'm dead and buried. You're gonna have quite a bundle and you won't ever have to worry about money. If you need some now, you know, to get started, let me know...and hell, you can BUY your own apartment if you decide to."
"Maybe most kids don't grow as close to their step-fathers as you and I...but I DO love you."
"I love you too, son. Now, I'll let you go so's you can say goodbye to your mother."
"Thanks, dad!"
Elizabeth came back to the phone. "See? What did I tell you? He loves you, Clay, and always will."
"Thanks, Mom, I'll call you from the precinct tomorrow."
"OK, son. In the meantime, I'll transfer your money right now."
"Good night, Mom. I love you."
"Good night, son. I'll be waiting for your call."
Clay hung up the phone and felt a bit more secure. The money problem was solved! That was one less thing to keep Dave and Clay apart.
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Practically, his entire life Clay had played a musical game to pass time. It began the first time Clay drove by himself from Fort Lauderdale to Disney World. The distance was around 225 miles or average driving time 3 and 1/2 hours, so if he picked out five good CD's to play on his automobile CD player, by the time the last cut had played, he would arrive at his destination. This game worked ever better with Broadway Original Cast albums. It took "My Fair Lady", "Camelot", "Brigadoon", "Gigi", and "Paint Your Wagon" to complete his trip.
It was 12:30AM in Dave's apartment, eight and one/half hours before Clay could go to the precinct to see Dave, or in another calculation, eleven jazz CD's, when finished playing would end at the exact time Clay should leave. Luckily, Dave had a twelve disc cartridge on his CD player and Clay picked out eleven soothing jazz recordings which he could sleep by as well as while away the time.
With Dave in jail, Clay picked all recordings of sax players...Bud Shank, Paul Desmond, Stan Getz, Ted Nash, Branford Marsalis, Gerry Mulligan, Johnny Hodges, John Coltrane, Lester Young, Chris Potter, and of course, the quintessential one, Charlie "the Bird" Parker. Some sounds were mournful; others seemed to wail in despair that one of their brothers was in trouble. Each different sax solo, varying from alto to tenor sax, seemed to want to comfort Clay's grief with their musical condolences.
Morning light spilled across the apartment. Clay hadn't slept a wink. He was still tired from yesterday's tour of New York, desperate about having his new lover away from him in some dark dank jail cell. Clay rushed to Dave's Compaq desktop computer and logged onto his bank account and saw the $10,000 transfer and deposit his mother and step-dad had put into his checking account.
Before leaving to go to the Greenwich Village precinct, Clay took time to shave, shower, and pick out a shirt, slacks, shoes, socks, and a cardigan from Dave's closet. He opted for a cab instead of walking or taking a subway. He even tipped the taxi driver ten dollars when they arrived.
The evening shift at the precinct had been replaced by the day shift at 7:00 AM. A new desk sergeant was now in charge as Clay approached him.
"Excuse me, sir," Clay said to the ruddy redheaded Irish-looking cop. "I've come to post bail for Dave Banks...David Banks who was incarcerated here last night."
"One moment please while I punch up his name on the computer. I'll see how much bail has been set," the officer replied as he typed Dave's name. He read the screen and looked at Clay. "Are you a relative of Mr. Banks?"
"No, sir, I'm a close friend."
"Then I can't tell you what it says here."
Clay quickly thought and said, "Would it help if I told you I'm his personal physician?"
"Then you're in luck...more important, your client is in luck."
"Pardon?"
"It says here that Mr. Banks was transferred to St. Vincent's Hospital at five this morning."
"For what, for God's sake?"
"There's no reason written here, but it appears an emergency unit was called to transport him."
"Jesus Christ! Is he alive?"
"It seems he was when the EMS arrived."
"How do I get to St. Vincent's?"
"Go outside and flag down the nearest cab and it'll get you there. It's only a few blocks from here."
Clay felt a nervous knot in the pit of his stomach. Dave was all right and showed no sign of illness when he saw him last night at the Rustic Inn, just before he was about to play. There were several cabs with their 'vacant' lights on and the first one stopped to pick up Clay. The desk sergeant was right--St. Vincent's WAS nearby and it took less than five minutes for Clay to arrive.
Rather than go through the same rigmarole Clay had encountered at the police station, Clay decided he would cut to the chase and tell the person at the hospital desk that he was Dave's physician and had received an emergency call to come to his side to assume his care.
"You're Dr. Clay Lawson?"
"That's what my ID says..."
"Then you might want to rush to the fifth floor, scrub up, and put on a set of greens. Your patient is in surgery right now."
The knot in Clay's stomach broke and as an onslaught of fear spread through his entire body. "Surgery??? Why, for God's sake? Appendix? Heart blockage? Intestinal disorder?"
He rushed to the assignment desk on the surgery floor, asking which operating booth contained David Banks. He lied, saying he was there to assist in the operation. The desk clerk pointed to Operating Room "D" and Clay ran to put on a pair of "greens" and scrub to his elbows. He all but flew into Dave's room where he saw two surgeons, an anesthesiologist, two nurses, and two surgery techs. He saw Dave lying on his stomach on an operating table.
"Who are you?" one of the surgeons asked.
"I'm Dr. Clay Lawson, Mr. Banks private physician. I'm here to oversee your procedure, although I've been kept in the dark about his diagnosis."
"Well, Dr. Lawson, your patient is in pretty bad shape. It seems he was raped while incarcerated and his anal aperture has been split open and he's received extensive lacerations in his colon, complicated by several hematomas. We're going to have to repair the lining of his colon and lower intestine, not to mention a rupture one inch inward from his anus."
"He was raped?"
"Several times, it appears...and not only with penises. The damage is so deep I can only imagine some long foreign objects were used, maybe a long wooden stick."
Clay suppressed a scream, but began to cry.
"You're sure that you're his doctor and not more than that? Usually personal physicians don't display the kind of emotion you're displaying right now."
"No, it's just that in addition to being my patient, he and I are...close friends."
"He's gonna have a lot of pain and rehabilitation once we're finished. I even considered a temporary colostomy procedure as normal bowel movements are going to be difficult for him for many weeks. I also believe your patient and friend is going to need extensive psychological therapy during recovery since the emotional trauma in cases like this outweigh the physical discomfort."
"Thanks, Doctor, I'll see that he gets counseling."
"Now, if you wish to assist, we'll continue with the operation and patch the damaged tissue."
"Thank you, Doctor, I'll follow your lead and instructions. Do whatever you feel you have to."
Tired, drained, physically and emotionally exhausted, Clay remained by Dave's side until the final suture knot was tied. Then, after two hours in a post-op room, Dave was transferred to a private room to a flat bed, which allowed him to lie on his stomach. Clay knew it would be a few hours more before Dave regained consciousness. The longer Clay waited, the angrier he became.
He remembered the way back to the police precinct and, not waiting to catch a cab, he all but stormed his way back to the station; his rage was growing as he walked up to the police desk.
"EXCUSE ME, OFFICER!" Clay bellowed. "I just witnessed a six hour surgical procedure due to an injury inflicted on David Banks who was jailed here last night under you supervision. I want to know what the fuck happened to him."
"Are you an attorney?"
"No, I'm his physician and friend. His lawyer will be here shortly to investigate and press charges against the jailer and the officer on duty last night."
"Sir, I'm afraid I don't know..."
"Don't give me that bullshit...EVERYONE here knows what happened. It would benefit his psychological treatment if I had an idea of just what the fuck happened."
"Sir, it...it happened so quickly. Mr. Banks was in a...what we call, a holding tank, before we transferred him to a private cell. It seems that another detainee in the same holding tank made some inappropriate remark to Mr. Banks and Mr. Banks took offence and struck the other detainee."
"And then?"
"Two other detainees took hold of Mr. Banks to keep him from attacking the first and...somehow...they held him down and stripped him and proceeded to perform anal intercourse on Mr. Banks...and before we became aware what was happening, he had been raped by several detainees."
"NO ONE WAS SUPERVISING?" Clay shouted.
"Sir, as I said, it happened so fast."
"Just how the fuck long does it take to be attacked by three or four detainees? One minute? Two? A half hour? Or did they all rape him at the same time? I think that's highly unlikely! What it suggests is that no one here was doing his job for at LEAST thirty minutes or so!" Clay raged.
"Dr. Lawson, I can assure you that..."
"LISTEN TO ME!" Clay interrupted in a loud voice. "He was raped after being arrested with some trumped-up drug possession charge? Did anyone even bother to take a urine sample for testing? What's the matter? Is your arrest quota down for the month? You have to arrest innocent people to get your Christmas bonus four months early?"
"Sir, if you'll give me a chance to fill you in on what's happened this morning. You see, when the ADA came by to charge Mr. Banks, I sent an officer down to the Evidence Locker to retrieve the two packets and I guess either they had been misplaced or mysteriously disappeared. We searched high and low and they can't be found. So, for lack of evidence, the ADA had no option but to drop the possession charge. Also, the ADA interviewed the owner and the bartender where Mr. Banks worked, not to mention his fellow band members who all vouched for him. They all said that, if he'd been using, they would have known it. The owner stated that he's been a model employee for all the two years he's been playing there."
"Possibilities of a lawsuit helped get the possession charges dropped, I presume?"
"You'll have to talk to the ADA about that, Doctor. All I know is that I was ordered to erase the arrest charge on my computer."
"Well, I'm certainly glad to see you're all earning your pay, serving and protecting", Clay said sarcastically. "My friend's life is ruined, thanks to your 'protection and service!"
Clay bolted out the door of the police station in a fury of hatred and hurt. If he had had an Uzi, in his anger he would have mowed down everyone in sight.
Now Clay had another problematic scenario to face. He was scheduled to return to Briarwood in two days. There was no way on God's green planet that he could leave Dave alone in his condition. My God! How would Dave feel or react when he learned what had happened to him? Clay tried to imagine how HE would feel. Clay had revealed to Dave how important his virginity was to him, and surprisingly, Dave felt the same way. Both were saving their first anal sexual experience for someone special, only to discover that that special someone was each other. Dave would be traumatized when he awoke to find out his first time had been spoiled, ruined, and taken away from him. Clay suddenly felt they should have kept this secret from each other.
Clay also realized he was being rude to Tom and Rachel by avoiding them. Had they gone to the Rustic Inn last night and how much had they learned? Had Jay or the bartender told them he had rushed to the Greenwich Village police precinct to see about a saxophone-playing drug user? In their wildest imaginations, could they think that there was more than just fan worship between Clay and Dave? Did Dave's date arrive early and the two of them split to have another sexual encounter? Dave knew he had to call Tom and offer some explanation, even if it was a lame one. In spite of his misgivings, he called Tom and asked if they could meet for lunch, but only with Tom and not Rachel.
The lunch date was set for noon at Jim Downey's at 49th Street and Eight Avenue where Clay and Tom arrived early. Downey's was always busy during lunch, but somehow, luckily, they found a table for two way in the back of the restaurant, which allowed them to have some privacy.
"Hey, Dude!" Tom said as they met. "Your dick get a good workout again last night?"
"Hi, Tom. No, I'm afraid there was no repeat performance last night."
"Rachel and I waited until midnight and you didn't show, so we left hoping you were having another wonderful night. You really didn't miss much; the saxophonist wasn't on last night. It was just a trio."
Their conversation was interrupted while the waiter took their orders, after setting the table with silverware, napkins, and water glasses. Once the waiter left, their talk continued.
"Tom, there are so many things I have to tell you. I only hope you have time to hear them all."
"Buddy, the rest of my afternoon is yours if you need it."
"I just might!" Clay replied, drinking his water.
"What's up, bub? Don't tell me your new girlfriend decided you knocked her up in just two evenings?"
"Tom, I wish it was that simple."
"Hey, something's really bothering you, isn't it? You haven't cracked a smile or a grin since we sat down. What gives?"
"I guess I'd better tell you the worst first, then if you want to get up and leave, I'll understand."
"Jesus Christ! Don't tell me that Ashcroft and the Feds are after you...!"
"That might even be a relief compared to the real story."
"Clay, I'm dying from suspense and you keep running around Robin Hood's barn instead of coming right out and telling me what's wrong!"
"OK. I did have a date night before last..."
"And you DID get laid, I hope!"
"Well, kinda..."
"Oh, shit! You settled for a hand job?"
Clay smiled for the first time. "Not exactly."
"You came early before you got it in? Is that it?"
"NO! Please give me a chance. This is rather difficult for me to say to you."
"All right, my lips are sealed!"
"My date was...was with a guy..."
"Now I know you're joking. This is all some sort of a gag, right?"
"It's no joke. I went to bed with Dave Banks, the sax player at the Rustic Inn."
"Good God! Were...were you both high on something?"
"High on emotions and nothing else."
"Clay, are you trying to say you're gay?"
"I'm afraid so...and always have been...even at Vandy."
"Jesus Christ! That explains so much to me. Why didn't you tell me before this? Were you afraid I'd think you were trying to hit on me?"
"No, nothing like that. I love Rachel as much as I love you. You're my friends and I would never do anything behind your backs."
"So you..you went to bed with Dave, the sax player...and then what?"
Clay spared himself from telling the intimate details of his and Dave's night together. He described their tour throughout New York and everything that led up to Dave's arrest. Then he depicted his long night at Dave's apartment and detailed what happened at the police precinct, St. Vincent's Hospital, Dave's surgery, and ended with a vivid account of how he told off the entire police unit which pretty much brought Jay up to date of the past two days. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at Tom.
Tom let Clay's story sink in and then shook his head, "God damn! Clay, you've been through sheer hell. Was the operation successful? Is Dave going to be all right! Fucking cops! Were they doing? Eating 'Dunkin Doughnuts' while Dave was being pulverized? What's his prognosis as you see it?"
"Physically, I'm sure he'll recover but mentally and emotionally... I'm not so certain. I've known him less than 48 hours and I don't know how he's dealt with crises in his past. I don't know what to do. I need to be here with him, and yet I have to go back to Briarwood day after tomorrow."
"Welcome to New York, kiddo!"
"I'm in love with Dave, Tom. He loves me...only I don't know what to say to him. I can't leave him in the state he's in...even if it's only for two weeks to work out a notice at Cole."
"Clay, speaking of that, if you don't mind me changing the subject for a minute...I've lined up several job prospects for you. Rachel has found half a dozen herself. You can almost take your pick of locale and salary."
"Thanks, Tom, that's some good news anyway."
"Rachel and I could check on Dave daily and call you with a report every night...only we've never met him and he doesn't know that we're aware of yours and his relationship."
"I'll have both of you come by St. Vincent's tomorrow, if you're available and introduce you. He's not ashamed of our relationship, I know, so he'll probably be "open" about it to the two of you."
"We'll be there...just name the time," Tom assured him. "I just can't get over how dumb I've been all these years. I'm a doctor; I'm supposed to recognize symptoms. NEVER did I think you were gay. Rachel and I both just assumed you were dedicated to your medicine at Vandy and didn't want to socialize. Jesus! No wonder!"
"Thanks for being so understanding, Tom."
"Fuck, we're your friends, aren't we? I suppose we should be angry as hell that you didn't tell us before now. Listen, should I tell Rachel or do you want to in your own way?"
"I think it's best if you tell her...I can't look at two startled faces in one day."
"I'm not startled, buddy, I love you and you damned well better know it."
"I love you and Rachel as well...and you know that, too."
"The three of us have just got to put our knowledge-filled heads together and come up with a silver lining inside this cloud of doom you're under."
"Thanks, Tom."
"Now, first thing's first. You say you've had no sleep? I suggest you go back to Dave's apartment and take a nap. It'll be hours before Dave will feel like seeing you. Besides, you can't think straight with your mind and body ready to keel over. Call me from the hospital after you've seen him and tell me what time you want us to come visit tomorrow."
"I COULD use some rest, come to think of it."
"Thank God you still know what medical advice to adhere to."
"I feel so much better talking with you now that everything's out in the open."
"Clay, it wouldn't have mattered to me OR to Rachel if you'd fallen in love with a Martian or a bearded lady at the circus. I'm just so happy you've found someone to love...and maybe, as a straight man I shouldn't say this...but God! He IS good looking! All us guys have a feminine side and I'm afraid to admit that several times when Dave was playing last night, I felt a stir in my OWN shorts. I mean, there are certain guys that automatically turn straight guys on...the same as gays. What man in the world wouldn't like to run his hands down Brad Pitt's 'pecs' as they appeared in "Troy"? Call it penis envy or repressed homosexuality, all men DO feel something. I used to laugh when I was a kid. I'd see a Rock Hudson flick on TV and find out I had a raging hard on in the middle of the movie...and it sure as shit wasn't Doris Day that did it! Then, when Rock Hudson revealed he was gay, I even worried about myself being turned on by a gay and not the he-man I thought Rock was."
"That's funny!" Clay said. "I remember one old movie, "The Postman Always Rings Twice" and I got an erection while Jack Nicholson fucked Jessica Lange on the kitchen table. I got one look at her snatch and the front of my pants were bulging straight out. I knew it wasn't Jack who excited me...it was Jessica."
"Maybe that was your masculine side overpowering your feminine side."
Somewhere in the middle of their deep discussion, the waiter had brought their lunch and without noticing, they had eaten every bite on their plates.
"Want some cheesecake for dessert?" Tom asked.
"No, I just want to go back to Dave's and crash."
"Good idea. Here--let me get the check and you tip the waiter," Tom said.
They both got up from the table and Clay laid a twenty-dollar bill down for the waiter.
"Jesus! Had I known you were that big a tipper, I'd've waited on you myself." Tom joked.
The two old schoolmates said goodbye in front of Downey's. Tom went back to work while Clay walked all the way back to Dave's, giving him more time to think of what to tell Cole and what he was going to say to Dave later that evening.
Since it was midafternoon, it was pointless to raise Dave's windows for cooler air because there WAS no cool air this time of day. He went to the CD player and put on 'Paul Horn With Strings' to soothe himself to sleep. This CD was his dad's favorite 'sleeping pill' for he never seemed to get past the third band before falling into a deep sleep. Clay barely made it through 'band #2' before he dozed off. His mind was more at ease after talking with Tom. He would think about Cole when he awoke or maybe later when he returned from the hospital.
Clay was more tired than he assumed because he slept for nearly eight hours straight. It was nearly ten o'clock at night. Dave was surely awake by now, alone, and worried where Clay was. So Clay skipped the shower and shave, only taking the time to apply fresh deodorant and a couple of splashes of Calvin Klein cologne and rushed outside to hail a taxi.
The taxi trip took over twenty minutes due to the usual nightly New York traffic. As he got out of the cab, he grabbed several five-dollar bills out of his pocket and pitched them to the driver as he hurried into St. Vincent's lobby. It was almost two hours since visiting hours were over and Clay walked up one of the night desk clerks and showed his ID and his Briarwood medical license and told the clerk he was an attending physician to a patient on the fourth floor.
The clerk accepted Clay's credentials and Clay ran to get an elevator. He showed the same two cards in his wallet to the night nurse and all but ran to Dave's room. Slowly he cracked the door. There was only a night light turned on, causing a lot of darkness and shadows across the room. He looked at Dave's bed and Clay's heart sank to his lower abdomen. Dave's bed was empty and the mattress was folded up voided of sheets and blankets. Had they moved Dave to another room or...or was he dead?
Clay's legs were frozen. He couldn't find the strength or courage to walk back to the nurse's station for an answer. But he must!
Slowly, he walked down the dimly lit hallway and cleared his throat to get the nurse's attention.
"Uh...excuse me...?"
"Yes?"
"The patient in room 411, Dave Banks? Where...where is he?"
"Oh, you're his doctor?"
"Yes."
"I heard from the earlier shift that you had visited earlier, but your name is not on his records. We didn't know your name or how to reach you."
"Why were you trying to reach me?"
"Dr. Lawson, Mr. Banks is gone."
The nurse's remark made Clay's knees buckle and he steadied himself by holding onto the nurses' station desk.
"You mean...he's..."
"He's gone, Doctor! Vanished!"
"You mean to say he walked out of here on his own volition?"
"Either that or some friend carted him out in a wheelchair while none of us was watching."
"But he had surgery today...with lots of stitches."
"I'm aware of that, Doctor. The entire hospital staff looked for him for over three hours and no one has seen him. He didn't sign an "AMA" waiver or say anything to anybody. Ms. Bartlett, the evening nurse's aide said she went to give him water and ice around 5:00PM and he was awake and cognitive. He asked her to bring him some juice and when she returned, approximately ten minutes later, his bed was empty. That's when we began our search. Dr. Lawson, you should know that the hospital is not responsible for Mr. Banks once he leaves the premises, ignoring medical advice. That's standard procedure."
"You looked EVERYWHERE?" Clay said, almost shouting.
"EVERYWHERE!" She replied.
"MY GOD IN HEAVEN! This is preposterous!"
"Those are MY exact feelings, Doctor. Having read his chart and reviewed his surgical procedures earlier in the day, Mr. Banks could easily hemorrhage to death!"
"Jesus Christ! What kind of city is this anyway? First, he gets attacked severely at the police station and now the hospital loses him as its patient!"
"Dr. Lawson, we can only watch so many patients...we're not babysitters."
"All I can say is that you're fucking incompetent nurses!"
"Do you wish to file a complaint?"
"Not now, but I intend to, once I find my patient!"
"As you wish, Doctor. I have the complaint forms here at my desk."
Clay gave her one more harsh glare and headed back toward the elevators. He ran out of the building, got another cab and sped back to Dave's apartment. Surely, that's where Dave would go. He climbed the stairs by threes and hurriedly went inside the apartment. Dave was not there. He had not been there. But where the fuck was he?
Clay went back downstairs onto the open street. He looked both ways. He was alone with millions of unanswered questions swirling inside his head.
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(To be continued in "Lush Life"-5)