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LUSH LIFE
by
Ritch Christopher
Chapter Five
"THEY SAY IT'S WONDERFUL"
"To hold a man in your arms
Is wonderful, wonderful
In every way,
So they say."
Irving Berlin
"Annie Get Your Gun" 1946
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The plane returning Clay to Briarwood left at 2:17 PM Sunday. He'd had a total of two hours sleep since he learned Dave had mysteriously vanished from St. Vincent's Hospital. He had gone to the Greenwich Village Police Precinct at least ten times and called them another two dozen times. Before his last call, they had already started to recognize his voice, even before he spoke his name. Boarding the plane, he thought back on the past hours. Was there anything he could do that he hadn't already done? As well as he could remember the order of things, as soon as he learned Dave was missing , he called Tom, who let him know that he could speak openly in front ot Rachel, since Tom had told her about Clay's lifestyle.
Tom asked exactly what Clay had done already and then the three of them formed a New York posse and, using three separate phones, they had scouted every hospital, clinic, morgue, halfway house, and cheap flop house in a five mile radius of St. Vincent's. No one gave them a hint or a clue to Dave's whereabouts.
Leo, Rick, and Ray had joined in the search and had called every club, restaurant, and Broadway orchestra where Dave had played. They got out their musicians' union list and called everyone they knew with whom Dave had played during the past three years...but again--nothing! No word! No sign of Dave!
Clay, Tom, and Rachel, all being doctors, knew how dangerous it was for Dave to leave the hospital after such a serious surgery. Quite easily he could have fallen in a park, a subway station, or even a gutter and bled to death. Time was of the utmost essence in finding Dave and continuing his medical care. Tom and Rachel had practically moved into Dave's apartment to be with Clay while they made their calls or awaited Dave to return or to receive some word of his whereabouts.
Clay knew he had to return to Briarwood, if only to give his two weeks' notice and get back quickly to New York. There was no secret about Clay's boss, Dr. Ed Middleton, being Father Cliff's lover, so Clay hoped that Dr.Ed would be sympathetic and understanding about Clay's problem.
So, drained of energy, Clay arrived in Briarwood at 5:00 PM. He had left the keys to Dave's apartment with Tom and Rachel who promised to check on it twice a day until he returned or until DAVE returned. After his plane landed, Dave called Tom six times Sunday night and early Monday morning before he went back to work at Cole.
As much as Clay loved his father, John's death had not been as heartbreaking for Clay as losing Dave. Clay had never known how to love--a partner, a mate, a boy- or girlfriend. This kind of love, he realized, was totally different from the love of a parent. He had tried to sleep Sunday night out of sheer exhaustion, but in vain. He didn't want a drink and he dared not take a sleeping pill as, with most people in the medical profession, he could be checked 24/7 for narcotics in his urine or blood.
Music was not the answer for soothing his nerves either. Every song on every CD in Clay's collection reminded him of Dave. It was like taking a hot shower after you'd received a Florida sunburn. He found no relief anywhere, even in his tears.
The only feeling swirling around in Clay's mind was desperation, knowing the shame and embarrassment that Dave must be going through. He tried to put himself into Dave's situation and wondered how he would feel if he had been raped by three or four strangers. Both he and Dave had shown pride in revealing they were virgins concerning anal sex. They had both been 'saving' themselves for a special person with whom they would finally consummate their new relationship. Now Dave must feel dirty, tarnished, and violated...not only his masculinity but what he had wanted to give to Clay, the lover he'd searched for all his life...gone. Clay empathized with Dave and decided, in a similar situation, he'd probably disappear as well.
The fact that Dave had been raped made no difference to Clay in his feelings for Dave. He wanted to hold Dave, comfort him and somehow convince him that what happened was not Dave's fault and it didn't matter to Clay.
What made matters worse was that probably Dave had no idea that the charges against him had been dropped. As far as he knew, by running away from the hospital, he was now a fugitive from justice. If he was tried and convicted for drug possession, his sentence would now be lengthened for flight from prosecution.
In the length of time Clay had worked at Cole, he'd treated or gotten to know many gay patients, mostly infected with AIDS or HIV. They were all ages, from teens to middle age. Quite a few had had their relationships ended by a frightened lover and it was a known fact that many of them, trying to flee from a traumatic confrontation, often attempted suicide. Having only known Dave for a few short days, Clay didn't know if Dave was the type of person who might attempt suicide or not. Jesus Christ! With the likelihood of Dave hemorrhaging to death, suicide shouldn't even be an option.
It was 4:00 AM, two hours before Clay had to leave for work. He was still wide-awake and picked up his remote control to turn on a cable channel. He surfed the menu for several minutes, trying to find something to stop his mind from racing into darkness, and finally got to the high-numbered channels which had no picture but a multitude of musical choices...country, classical, rock, rap, standards, salsa, jazz, etc. He clicked from channel to channel hurriedly, stopping on Channel 936, the Broadway Music Channel. He had almost no original cast recordings in his collection, so he paused to catch the next tune.
Suddenly, he heard the voice of Broadway's best, Ethel Merman, singing an Irving Berlin song from "Annie Get Your Gun". Merman could belt a song two miles away but when she sang a ballad, she could tear your heart out. Clay knew he shouldn't listen to the song, but he did anyway---
Ethel sang, "Don't ask me just how it happens,
I wish I knew.
I can't believe that it's happened,
And still it's true.
I got lost in his arms
And I had to stay;
It was dark in his arms
And I lost my way.
From the dark came a voice
And it seemed to say,
There you go,
There you go.
How I felt as I fell
I just can't recall.
But his arms held me fast
And it broke the fall.
And I said to my heart,
As it foolishly kept jumping
All around,
I got lost,
But look what I've found."
By the time the song ended, Clay had buried his face into his pillow, weeping out loud.
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At 5:00AM, he showered and tried to work a miracle by doing all he could to hide his tired and bedraggled look. He'd seen a make-up trick on some TV talk show and applied Preparation H. to tighten the bags under his eyes due to his lack of sleep.
Upon arriving at Cole ER, all his fellow staff members greeted him cheerfully, posing lots of questions about his weekend in New York. What places had he visited? What shows? Did he meet any women and have an all- night rendezvous?---questions that Clay would have dodged even if his Big Apple visit hadn't been so goddamned traumatic! He wasn't rude to his work mates, he was non-committal with his replies and busied himself looking at medical charts and assessing the condition of the patients he hadn't seen in four days.
Helen Riggs, the ER charge nurse, who on more than one occasion had made a pass at the handsome Clay and all but thrown herself at him for a night of sexual bliss, vamped over to him and said, "Good morning, Doctor, I hope you don't mind my saying this, but you look like shit! You must've screwed yourself silly the whole weekend!"
Clay sloughed off her remark, replying "I...I had an interesting weekend."
"She must've been something special."
"'She' was, as a matter of fact!"
"Sounds serious! Don't tell me that the good doctor finally met his match!"
"I won't!" Clay said, walking briskly away from her grand inquisition. He saw a fellow physician, Dr. Joe Cambri, and called to him, "Hey, Joe, do you know if Dr. Ed is here yet?"
"Yeah, Clay, I saw him going into his office about fifteen minutes ago."
"Thanks!"
Clay left the ER and headed down the hall into the next wing to see Ed. Ed's secretary, Clare, was glad to see Clay but didn't bother to ask any questions about his trip.
"Clare, do you think Dr. Ed could see me for a minute?"
"Sure, Dr. Clay, go on into his office. He's missed you and I'm sure he'll be happy to know your back safe and sound!"
"Thanks, Clare."
Out of his respect for his superior, he tapped on Ed's door lightly with his knuckles.
"Come in," Ed said.
Clay entered and Ed rose from his desk to greet Clay and offered his hand to shake.
"Hey, big guy!" Ed greeted. "God, it's good to see you."
"Thanks, Dr. Ed...You gotta a few minutes...?"
"For you...always! Sit down. Getting a closer look at you, my diagnosis is that something appears to be troubling you."
"Dr. Ed, I'm sorry about my appearance, but that doesn't even begin to tell you what I've been through since I left here last week!"
"Jesus, son!" Ed exclaimed, "What in the world happened?"
"Think of yourself operating on a patient, doing exploratory surgery. You assume he has cancer, but when you make an incision, you're horrified to learn every organ in sight is metastasizing. You don't know which area to attack first. What I'm trying to say is that so many things happened in four days...I have so much to tell you...I don't know where to start---which part to tell first. They're all equally important."
"Clay, I don't have a staff meeting scheduled until nine o'clock, so I have three hours I'll dedicate just to you. So why don't you start by telling me what happened when you got off the plane in New York." Ed said. He got up from his desk to pour two cups of coffee and handed one to Clay.
"Dr. Ed..."
"Clay," Ed interrupted, "we're talking about personal matters now, so let's skip the formality and just call me 'Ed'. I mean, I just called you, 'son' which is beyond the realm of professionalism."
"Thanks, Ed." Clay took a deep breath. "You see, my problem began before I left for New York. It began when I was just a teen."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I know this shouldn't bother you, but all my adult life, I've hidden,...or tried to hide, the fact that I'm gay!"
"Really? Then I must admit your hiding your feelings has been quite effective. You know that I'm openly gay and never did I assume that you were gay too. I guess my 'gaydar', as the kids call it, must need some tweaking."
"All through high school, college, and med school, I didn't act on my feelings, my impulses. I wrapped myself in my studies and pushed all forms of socialization to the back burner. I'm afraid my sex drive has never been important to me."
"I often wondered if you had someone away from your work. I mean, it's no secret how extremely handsome you are. I just thought you were dating lots of women but no 'one' in particular. You look like someone who would enjoy 'playing the field'."
"Way out in right field, to be exact."
"Okay--so you're gay. That's fine! It doesn't change our relationship in any way" Ed assured him. "Now what happened in New York?"
Clay began telling Ed his long saga, beginning with his first trip to hear the sexy saxophonist; the meeting in Washington Square; spending the night with Dave; the tour of New York, the following day. During this part of Clay's story, he talked with excitement and with a bit of wonderment. Ed had little trouble realizing that Clay had been smitten and had fallen in love.
Then Clay's demeanor became very serious as he told Ed about Dave's arrest, about finding out the next day about Dave's rape and the ordeal of his surgery. He relived the verbal confrontation with the police and with the staff of St. Vincent's when he learned Dave had disappeared. What started as a weekend of wonder had become a weekend of desperation, trying to find Dave.
Ed grew more interested and concerned at each new detail that Clay revealed.
"Jesus Christ, Clay! Why didn't you call me and tell me how important it was that you stay in New York?"
"Ed, this is the part I didn't want to say to you," Clay said, dropping his head. "You see, before Dave disappeared, it was my intention of coming back to Cole and working out a two-week notice and moving back to New York to be with him and see if I could practice medicine there."
"You were afraid I'd be upset and try to get you to stay at Cole?"
"Very frankly, yes."
"Clay, let me tell you something. When Walter Clayton interviewed me to take over the Cole Institute, I had kept my homosexuality hidden, just like you...only I'd kept it hidden from myself. As soon as Cliff walked into the room to join Walt's and my meeting, I fell head over heels, lock, stock, and barrel in love with Cliff at first sight. I would've taken a janitorial position just to be near him. He was all I wanted in my life, at any cost. I had a big position at another hospital in another city...but that didn't matter to me. All I wanted was this strong, handsome, gay priest! I didn't even take time to ask Walter about my duties or salary at Cole, I accepted the position right then and there! It didn't matter how much my former job meant or who would be angry with me if I left. I only wish you had been determined enough to assume my same attitude. If you're sure that Dave is the 'one', leave today! Leave as soon as you can pack your belongings! Hell, leave your belongings and see about booking the next flight to New York. As a doctor, you know what kind of trouble Dave is in, medically speaking, but as his new lover, he needs you for other reasons as well!"
Tears formed in Clay's eyes, "Ed, I had no idea that..."
"Hush! I don't want to hear any excuses or apologies from you. I want you to call me the very instant you find him...and listen--if for any reason, you ever want employment back here at Cole, you'll always have a job waiting for you...although, for your happiness, I hope you never do."
"Ed, I..."
"Clay, don't sit there trying to come up with some 'goodbye' speech-- go clean out your locker! Go home and pack whatever you have to and get the fuck back to New York. Even if you stay, you won't be able to do your job properly, your mind will be on Dave, as it SHOULD be...and for crying out loud, don't give your New York medical license another thought, I've got enough people in high places in New York that owe me hundreds of favors, I can have your license legal by the time your plane arrives. Not only that, I can get you any job you wish...private practice with a group of specialist; hospital shift...you name it!"
"But--"
"Scoot!" Ed shouted and softly added, "Doctor..."
Clay wasted no time to say 'goodbye' or 'fuck you' to any member of the hospital staff. He rushed to his locker, grabbing a plastic bag for contaminated debris and piled all his books, spare clothes, and personal medical equipment into it. He ran out the door, started his car and was at his apartment in ten minutes flat.
Once inside his flat, the first thing he did was call Delta Air Lines and booked a flight to New York for twelve noon. His rent was paid through September, so he could always take a quick jaunt back to Briarwood to get his CD's, medical books, and whatever personal belongings he wouldn't need immediately. Remembering the chilly nights he'd encountered over the past weekend, Clay packed all his fall and winter clothes. He made a quick call to Tom to ask if he or Rachel could meet him at JKF airport and told him the flight number.
Tom had nothing new to report concerning Dave, but he was overjoyed to hear Clay was making the 'big move'. He didn't know how Clay finagled waiving the two-week notice, but then, Tom didn't know how understanding and sympathetic Ed had been toward Clay's dilemma.
With everything possible packed, Clay took a cab to the Briarwood airport. He left his car locked in his driveway. He could either return and get it later or sell it cheaply to one of the Cole interns because after spending four days in the city, Clay knew he had no need for a vehicle in New York. The taxi had only gone about a mile when it struck Clay that this was the bravest, yet the dumbest thing he'd ever done in his entire life. He was leaving his position at Cole, for which any doctor in the world would gladly trade his right testicle; leaving financial security and the chance for experimental study and advancement in his chosen field of Hodgkin's disease...and all for what? Love? A whim? A lover whom he might never see again...who was---perhaps even dead?
It had been Ed's long speech to him about letting nothing stand in the way of happiness that had convinced Clay to make this improbable move. Ed understood how Clay must feel about Dave, for he had felt the same way about Cliff. Love such as this only comes once in a lifetime.
Clay was unaware of his nervous condition until he made his third trip to the bathroom on the plane. He hadn't eaten properly in three days and had an horrendous case of diarrhea. Being a physician, he knew he would have no trouble getting a couple of Dramamine tablets or some Imodium from the flight attendant, but the antihistamine in them might make him sleepy and the last thing he needed was to fall asleep and shit his shorts.
The plane had to make only one stop...in Washington, D.C. and it landed in NYC at 2:34. By the time Clay was checked through Ashcroft's new 'Internal Immigration', it was nearly 3:30 before he and his four suitcases made it into the main JFK rotunda. Tom and Rachel both were there, waving their arms at him.
"Welcome to your new home," Tom said as the three of them hugged, heartily. "Are you planning to stay with us?"
"No, Tom, thanks, but as long as Dave's apartment is available, that's gonna be my home...at least temporarily."
"That's what we thought. On the way to the airport," Rachel added, "we stopped at the Fairway Supermarket and bought you a week's supply of food."
"You guys are too much!" Clay said. "I hope you bought something the three of us can eat for dinner tonight!"
"Steaks, lobsters, salad, baked potatoes...and of course, red AND white wine! How's that?" Tom said.
"I...I've been sick to my stomach all morning. What I need is a good meal."
"What medical journal did you get that from? You've been ignoring your body like it was a fat lady's cellulite!" Tom mused.
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The three of them had a wonderful dinner which Rachel prepared. Tom, who was now familiar with Dave's apartment, went into the kitchen to get another bottle of red wine. The first bottle with dinner had relaxed Clay somewhat, although he still had a strange feeling about having a cheerful meal with Dave being mising.
"Clay," Tom called from the kitchen, "you still haven't told Rachel and me about your meeting with your boss at Cole. Did he blow his lid and fire you? Or exactly how much did you tell him?"
"I told him EVERYTHING!" Clay replied, "I left nothing to his imagination! He wasn't the least bit angry."
"You didn't tell him you were gay, did you?"
Clay laughed, "I think telling him I was gay did the trick!"
"What do you mean," Rachel asked as she held out her wine goblet for Tom to fill.
"It's no secret, nor am I telling tales out of the schoolroom. Dr. Ed, my boss...my FORMER boss, is openly gay himself!"
"Good God! You've got to be joking! I wonder if that fact was the thing that kept him from winning the Nobel Prize for Medicine?"
"I doubt it. The Swedes are quite open-minded toward all kinds of sex."
"Does EVERYONE at Cole know he's gay?"
"Those that don't, suspect anyway."
"Does he have a partner? Is he a doctor, too?"
"Yes, his 'husband', if you want to call him that, is a priest. He has one of the most famous Anglican Churches in the entire world."
"My God! I suppose it takes royalty to meet royalty...and I suppose this priest's congregation knows about him as well."
"Hell, from what I've heard, half of his parishioners are openly gay. I don't know how he gets around his bishop or the scrutiny of his diocese, but he even performs gay marriages there."
"Fuck!" Tom exclaimed, "Why didn't any of this make the news when they were trying to crucify that gay bishop?"
"I think it's because Dr. Ed's lover gives more money to the diocese than any other church member. I've heard that the St. Genesius annual contribution runs up into the millions of dollars. Now what archbishop is going to raise a stink about a few gay marriages and risk losing a small fortune that otherwise is donated every year?"
"Money...even God's money, has a way of talking its own language!" Tom added. "Speaking of money, Clay, how are you fixed for cash? I really don't know anything about your financial situation...I remember your telling me that you called your mother to borrow enough to pay Dave's bail."
"I'm fine, Tom. My real dad...well, when he died, Mom and I had to scrimp every penny we had just to get by...but when she married my stepfather, I became like a real son to him since he had no children of his own. He paid for my tuition at Vandy and for my med school. I won't, but if I had a need to, I could call him and he'd send me a seven-figure check and never miss it! The night I called my mother about Dave's bail money, he took the phone from her, long enough to hint to me that he's leaving me a small fortune in his will."
"Well, Doctor Lawson, how would you like to go into a partnership with me?"
"Don't think I haven't thought about it since I talked with him, Tom. It's just...I can't even think about work as long as I don't know where Dave is."
"I know that, Clay, I was only joking about the partnership..."
"I wasn't! Once I know Dave is all right--once we get everything back to normal, I'll talk with you seriously about going into practice with you."
Tom poured himself and Clay another glass of wine and said, "Clay, I know I'm changing the subject, but now that everything is out in the open... or at least YOU'RE out in the open, I'd like to pry into your private life a bit more."
"Go ahead. PRY! You and Rachel are my two closest friends." Clay replied.
"The whole time we were at Vandy together...the three of us...did you ever once have a gay affair with someone we went to school with? Maybe a one night stand? Perhaps a secret crush?"
"Nope, only you, Tom!" Clay said, lying with a serious face.
"ME!" Tom shouted, "Why, you son-of-a-bitch! I had no idea."
"I used to time my nightly last pee when I knew you were in the shower, just so I could spy on your naked body!"
"YOU WHAT?"
"I used to watch you jerk off in the shower and wonder if Rachel was having her period."
"You didn't! Did you?"
"Sure, and watching you would get me so excited, I'd rush back to my dorm room just to get myself off!"
"Why the fuck didn't you ever say anything to me about it?"
"What would you've done, invite me into your shower and give me a quick blowjob?"
"Of course not, silly!"
"Then that's why I never said anything to you."
"Clay?" Tom asked, pointedly, "Are you lying to me?"
"Bigger'n hell!" Clay laughed out loud, trying to relieve his tension.
"Then you didn't spy on me in the shower?"
"Why should I, Tom? You weren't my type!"
"What WAS your type? I don't seem to recall you being with any guys at Vandy."
"I wasn't with any guys at Vandy...EVER!"
"Out of thousands of medical students, there wasn't at least ONE who attracted you?"
"Nope, not a one!"
"Jesus! No wonder you fell so hard for Dave!"
"Are you beginning to understand what he means to me?"
"I do now. God! Where the fuck can he be?"
"I don't know Tom, but if he's alive, I'll find him."
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By ten o'clock, Clay, Tom, and Rachel had all mellowed after the second bottle of wine and Tom and Rachel decided to call it a night and go home to their apartment. Clay appeared relaxed and they thought it would be all right to leave him alone at Dave's. He was still tired and exhausted from the hasty trip back to New York. They made plans to meet the following evening at Tom and Rachel's for spaghetti, meatballs, and antipasto. They promised to touch base several ties the following day since Tom and Rachel had their daily work schedule, leaving only Clay to play sleuth. The night air was blowing a chill, so Clay decided to put on a jacket to go outside and wait with his two pals until they caught a cab. A couple of hugs and kisses later, they were off on their merry way, leaving Clay outside.
He turned to climb back up the stairs of the brownstone, but instead decided to go for an early autumn stroll. He headed south toward the Village. To even a "new" New Yorker, blocks are short and pass quickly. Inside of fifteen minutes, he was only a block away from the Rustic Inn. Clay thought he might get lucky and catch Ray, Leo, or Rick on a break between their sets and see if they had heard any word about or from Dave.
As soon as he entered, Tony, the bartender, gave Clay a nod and held up an empty glass, signaling to see if Clay wanted a drink. Clay mouthed "red wine" to Tony and went closer to the bandstand where the band was playing its second set. Dave had been replaced, at least temporarily, by a young trumpet player. Thank God, he didn't play sax; that would have been too much for Clay to tolerate at present.
Clay later learned that the trumpet player's name was Benny Stillwell. His trumpet was mellow, a la Chet Baker, or Jack Sheldon, whose greatest claim to fame was the fantastic solo work he'd played on Johnny Mandel's soundtrack of "The Sandpiper" which featured multi-versions of "The Shadow Of Your Smile".
The Rustic Inn Quartet was in the middle of Thelonius Monk's immortal "Round Midnight" and Benny's second ride was reminiscent of Miles Davis' early sound. Clay and his dad used to discuss Miles' trumpet work and compare it from Davis' beginning, sounds such as "Birth of the Cool", the concerts at the Black Hawk, Carnegie Hall, or his "Sketches in Spain", to his last recordings which were "way far out". Toward the end of Miles' career, even Carmen McRae stated in an interview, that Miles was so far out, he couldn't find his way back to the melody. But "early Miles" was special.
Benny's sound was pure, more like Chet's, with long sustained tones which bled over into the next two or three measures and yet taking time for a slow vibrato to end the phrase. He was very talented and his true, yet mournful tone, seemed to soothe the savage hurt in Clay's chest. God, how he missed hearing Dave play...but come to think of it, he'd only heard Dave play the last part of his final set the night that they met. He'd looked forward to hearing Dave play a full four hours but then Dave's arrest occurred, ending Clay's chance to hear him.
Even though "Harlem Nocturne" had been written primarily for a saxophone lead, Benny did a marvelous job with the tune while wailing softly on his trumpet. His next three tunes was merged together nicely into a medley, "The Night We Called It A Day", "End Of A Love Affair", and "Then I'll Be Tired Of You." Rick picked up the tempo of the next number with "Deed I Do" and Neil Hefti's, "Cute".
As the band played, memories of Clay's dad and their afternoon jazz sessions overpowered his thoughts of Dave. Perhaps it was due to Clay's third glass of wine, Benny and the combo's playing, or maybe a combination of the two. Regardless, Clay was relaxing a bit, unwinding from the stress of the past four days. The newest and best trumpeter on the jazz scene was Chris Botti, that blonde, handsome hunk who had been Caroline Rhea's bandleader on her afternoon talk show. Chris would occasionally sing a ballad, a la Chet Baker, "My Funny Valentine" in particular. Matt Damon had tried his hand in imitating Chet's version in the movie, "The Talented Mr. Ripley", so as Clay watched Benny in awe, he wondered if Benny sang as well? Clay soon got his answer even though he wished he hadn't.
Benny sat his horn down and grabbed the mike as Rick played an intro and Benny began to sing..."The moment I saw him smile,
I knew he was just my style.
My only regret is we've never met,
Though I dream of him all the while.
How can I ignore the boy next door..."
Clay was stunned. Why was Benny singing this song out of thousands in the ASCAP songbook? But even more astonishing, why wasn't Benny singing the boy's lyrics? Why hadn't he sung 'The GIRL next door', the way all men sang it?
Benny continued. "I love him more than I can say.
Doesn't try to please me...
Doesn't even tease me...
And he never sees me glance his way."
Clay's first and only impulse was to get up from the table and run out of the Rustic Inn, but since Rick, Ray, Leo, or even Tony, the bartender, knew nothing about Clay's and Dave's new relationship, he didn't want to create a scene because, in all probability, none of the employees at the 'Inn' had an inkling that Dave was gay.
Clay tried as best he could to hold back his tears as Benny sang the next remaining bars of the ballad.
"And though I'm heart-sore, the boy next door
Affection for me won't display.
I just adore him
So I can't ignore him
The boy next door."
'Damn it to hell!' Clay said to himself. 'Benny WOULD have to be a singer...and yes, goddammit! Benny has that tearful Chet Baker singing style.'
Fortunately for Clay, that was the final song of the second set and the band took a fifteen-minute break. Rick had noticed Clay when he came into the bar and sat down. So, instead of going to the back room with Leo, Ray, and Benny, he stepped off the bandstand to join Clay at his table.
"Hey, Clay!" Rick greeted him. "I thought you were in Briarcliff, Briar Woods, or some place like that!"
"Hey, Rick...no, I went back yesterday and came back today as quickly as I could."
"Any word from Dave?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing...You? Or the other guys?"
"Clay, that cat has just vanished off the face of the earth. We spent three days calling everybody we knew that Dave knew...and there ain't NOBODY heard a fucking thing about him."
"Rick, you KNEW about what happened to him in jail?"
"I heard he got beat up pretty bad and they had to take him over to St. Vincent's to get some stitches in his face. That's all I know, except when you called me and told me he's skipped out from the hospital and was missing."
"That was only part of it, Rick?"
"Whadya mean?"
"While he was in the holding tank, a couple of guys held Dave down while another bunch raped him!"
"Holy Christ! You mean up his ass?"
"Yeah, they bruised him and cut him up internally. He had sutures in the first ten inches of his colon."
"Good God Almighty! Why didn't you tell me that when you asked if me, Leo, and Ray would look for him?"
"I didn't think Dave would want you to know all the vivid details!"
"Jesus Christ! No wonder he's missing. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but I knew this trombone player once...a great 'bone' player...played like Brookmeyer. He was mugged in an alley one night. They stole his money, his watch, and even his wedding ring. But that wasn't enough for these fuckheads; they decided to rape his ass as well. The police found him a couple of hours later. He was bleeding real badly and they took him to the hospital to patch him up...and he never played again. He was too embarrassed to face any of his friends or the fellows he'd played with for years. "
"What happened to him? Did he move to another city...some place where no one knew him?"
"No, Clay. He stayed home. Locked himself up in the guest bedroom and wouldn't even talk with his wife. She had to take a job as a secretary just to pay the rent and the monthly bills. And then she came home one day and found out he had killed himself. Put a gun to his temple and blew his brains out. I know it's bad when a woman gets raped...but a man? Shit! He can't face NOBODY the rest of his life. I'd probably do the same thing to myself if that happened to me."
Rick was saying all the things he didn't want to hear. The thought of Dave committing suicide had always been present in Clay's thoughts.
"Listen, Rick, I don't mind you telling Leo or Ray about Dave, but please don't mention it to anybody else. I know you're his friends and will keep his secret. And when and IF he comes back to play here at the 'Inn', just don't let on you know anything about what I told you unless he, himself, tells you."
"Clay, I swear to you on Dave's and my friendship, it'll remain a secret. Jesus! I can't get over it!"
"Thanks, Rick."
"As long as we're being 'open' about everything, can I ask why you got so concerned over a musician you apparently met last week? I know you told me you were a doctor, but even doctors don't get this upset over a patient...at least, no doctor I know."
"Rick, if I tell you, will you keep this secret even from Leo and Ray?"
"As long as you want to tell me, I will."
"I'm really revealing things I shouldn't, I know," Clay said, reticently, "but, you see, Rick, I'm...gay...and so is Dave!"
"You're shittin' me!"
"No, I'm not. I know it sounds like something out of a storybook, but the other night, when Dave and I first met, we walked over to Washington Square and we had a private talk. It only took a few minutes for the each of us to realize our attraction to one another...to admit our gay feelings for each other....and I went home with him to spend the night. And here's the crazy part...after one night, we knew we were right for each other, that we had both fallen in love at first sight."
"You know, I had a funny feeling something was going on the other night. I saw you looking at Dave while he was playing and I saw the way he looked at you...and...listen, I've been playing professional piano for nearly all my life...I've played gigs with some mighty big name musicians, but Dave started playing like I'd never heard any sax player in my whole life. Even Ray and Leo noticed the difference in Dave's sound. His horn sounded so pure, so sweet...like he was playing from his soul....He was sending his message to you, wasn't he?"
"Yes, Rick, that's what Dave told me later."
"Well, God damn! I thought he must've been playing for some hot chick, but his eyes were focused on you. Had I known you were both gay, it would've made total sense to me...and it DOES now!"
"That's why I've spent night and day trying to find him."
"Fuck! No wonder!"
"So will you keep Dave's and my secret?"
"On my life, I will! Jesus, Clay, we just gotta find him for both your sakes. I love him like a brother! I'll keep looking high and low...and so will Leo and Ray, for a different reason, though."
"Thanks, Rick. I'll be staying at Dave's apartment, so call me if you hear anything?"
"You know I will...and why don't you come by here every night and listen to us play? You've probably got no friends to be with...you might as well make Ray, Leo, and me your close friends."
"I appreciate that...and I WILL come by every night."
Leo, Ray, and Benny came out of the back room to begin their third set.
"Listen, Clay, I gotta get back to work...is there some special song I can play for you?"
"No, Rick, but thanks. I need to get back to Dave's and crash. It's been a long day and the days are going to get longer each day Dave is missing."
Rick returned to the bandstand and started playing the intro to, "I'll Get By" and Benny took the lead. Clay walked over to Tony and laid a ten dollar bill on the counter for the wine and left.
While Clay was in the bar, it had rained and the streets of the Village were shiny, the street lights and the neon lights falling on them. The rain had seemed to warm the chill from the air as Clay walked back to Dave's. Clay was not a singer, but he wasn't tone deaf and he COULD carry a tune. He had memorized the lyrics to hundreds of old standards from his dad's record collection and in his memories, he could hear Ella Fitzgerald singing:
"No tears, no fears,
remember there's always tomorrow.
So what if we have to part,
we'll be together again.
Your kiss, your smile,
are memories I'll treasure forever.
So try thinking with your heart,
we'll be together again
Times when I know you'll be lonesome,
times when I know you'll be sad
Don't let temptation surround you,
don't let the blues make you bad.
Someday, someway,
we both have a lifetime before us.
For parting is not good-bye,
we'll be together again."
He entered Dave's apartment, went to the bathroom, removed his clothes and lay in Dave's bed. He took Dave's pillow and hugged it while he fell asleep.
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A week had passed since Clay had left Cole Institute in Briarwood. Cole was the leading hospital in the USA for treating and curing HIV, AIDS, and many other diseased classified as chronic or terminal. Whereas many other medical facilities dismissed their patients with palliative treatments, Cole always managed to attack the impossible illnesses with aggressive gusto.
However, this particular Monday morning had proved to be one hell of a start for Dr. Ed Middleton. Over the weekend, in nearby Schofield, a large gay party had been given by its most handsome and popular gay stud, Ron Messing. He had invited everyone he'd gone to bed with during the past six months to officially announce he had been diagnosed with Hepatitis C. Perhaps this was a dirty trick to play on his sex partners, but it was one way of notifying as many as possible that they may be infected as well.
Hep C is a mean, sneaky, and serious illness. Most often, a victim shows no sign of the affliction for several years, thus making it almost impossible to treat. There is no known vaccine as there is for Hep A or Hep B. Sometimes, a patient can live twenty years without suffering any ailment, but at other times, it can quickly lead to cirrhosis of the liver and one could die in a matter of days, depending on how fast the bacteria had spread. There is no cure, but it can be treated with chemo and diet. Many herbalogists believed strongly in taking mega-doses of milk thistle.
A condom is no defense for Hep C, since it can be contracted easily from oral sex, a kiss, and most predominantly, anal/oral sex. It's been known to infect someone by drinking from a contaminated drinking glass, a toothbrush, or even all three--blood, sweat, and tears.
The attendees at Ron's party were horrified, angry, and feared for their lives, especially when they began to recall all the other partners they'd had in the same length of time. The chain links could spread across thousands of gays and a multitude of cities and states. Those who seemed most irate were the ones who had taken special care to perform safe sex, but Hep C bypasses most precautions.
So this was Monday morning after Ron's announcement and literally hundreds of guys had lined up at Cole Treatment Center and ER for blood tests.
Ed had to call in the next shift of his staff four hours early, plus he contacted many private doctors in Briarwood to handle some of the patient overflow. Ed didn't panic, but he felt desperate from the deluge of young men wishing to be tested.
By 4:30PM, everything seemed under control and almost back to normal schedules and procedures. Ed had skipped lunch and hadn't been to his office since 6:00AM earlier that morning. Finally he did make his way back to his private sanctuary to relax and drink half a pony of brandy. Clare, Ed's secretary, had a number of phone calls and messages for him when he entered the outer office.
"How's it goin', Clare?" Ed said, slightly joking. "And what have you been up to today? I've had a rollercoaster ride all day myself."
"I heard what happened," Clare replied. "My God, those young men must've been scared to death to pile in here the way they did!"
"Hep C is a scary little--well, not so little--a scary BIG disease that just creeps up on you. Often, it's too far advanced to treat when either the victim or his physician ever notices it! Did you know that the mortality rate of Hep C is now higher than AIDS or HIV combined? It's like no one ever heard of it and yet, it's such a dangerous killer!"
"Doctor, Father Cliff called to say Jay wanted to know what time you'd be home for dinner. I did my best to explain the crisis you had confronting you since you arrived this morning."
"I guess I'd better give him a call," Ed said, "Any other really important calls I should handle immediately?"
"No, not really, Dr. Ed, but some man, sounded rather young, has called for you three times. The first time he called was around nine this morning. He wanted to speak with Dr. Lawson."
"Clay?"
"Yes, I didn't tell him that Clay hadn't worked here in a week. I just said he wasn't here. That's when he asked to speak with you."
"Hmm,"
"Then he called back around one and again at three. He wouldn't give me his name or number so that you could return his call. He said that he'd keep trying to reach you."
"That's strange. I don't know any of Clay's friends. If he calls back, put his call through. I'll take it."
No sooner than Ed turned to go into his private office than the phone rang again.
"Dr. Middleton's office, this is Clare, his secretary, may I assist you?"
It was the same voice, the same stranger asking to speak to Ed. Clare stopped Ed before he reached his door. She placed her hand over the mouth piece of the phone and whispered, "Doctor, it's he...the young man I was just talking about."
"Put him on hold and I'll take it at my desk."
Clare put the stranger's call on hold and Ed picked up the line in his office.
"Hello?" Ed answered.
"Is this Doctor Middleton...Doctor ED Middleton?"
"Yes, it is. May I ask who's calling?"
"My name is...my name is...is...Dave...Dave Banks," Dave said.
"How do you do, Mr. Banks? Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes sir, I was trying to reach Dr. Clay Lawson."
Ed still hadn't put two and two together to make the connection. "Are you a patient or a friend of Dr. Lawson?" Ed asked.
"I'm...I'm...his friend. We met in New York a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh, you're THAT Dave! I hope you don't mind, but Clay told me all about you."
"Dr. Middleton, is Clay there?"
"No, Dave, he left here last Monday to go back to New York. He's been frantic, trying to find you. As a matter of fact, I believe he's taken residence in your apartment."
"In New York?"
"That was his plan. You haven't seen him? Do you mean he's not at your apartment?" Ed was alarmed thinking Clay had not reached his destination.
"I...I wouldn't know. I...haven't been to my apartment. I didn't know he was there."
"Dave, do you mind telling me where you are so I can relay the message to Clay?"
"It doesn't matter where I am!"
"Pardon?"
"I said it doesn't...hell, I was calling for you to give Clay a message."
"Of course I will, Dave! What is it?"
"Just tell Clay...tell him...TELL HIM I'm OK and don't try to find me. He won't be able to. I don't want to see him ever again!"
"Dave, if I deliver that message to Clay, it will kill him. He loves you! You must know that! He's been worried sick about you!"
"I thought that he might be...that's why I want him to know I'm OK...but be SURE and tell him...I never want to see him again. Got it?"
"Yes, but I don't understand."
"It's all right, I UNDERSTAND!" Dave slammed down his phone and broke the connection with Ed.
Perhaps it was the long harrowing day that Ed had gone through or maybe it was Dave's call, but Ed was trembling...something a doctor never does. He slowly replaced the phone receiver back in its cradle and whispered to himself, 'God Almighty! What should I do...?'
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(To be continued in "Lush Life" chapter six.)