The usual disclaimers apply.
Chapter 6
"So, this is the guy who apparently occupies your dreams, eh, BABE?" Leslie asks sarcastically.
Mark, looking VERY uncomfortable, says "I think I better go."
"Yeah," I reply. "I'll catch ya later." I watch him go, and I must be stupid or something because I can't help but look at his ass. Funny, I hadn't noticed how good he looks in khaki Dockers.
"Well well...I guess now I see who my competition is." Leslie states. She walks over, but stands just out of reach, still in a defensive posture.
"Leslie, you're being ridiculous. Mark's just a guy from work who came to see me in the hospital. Why do you have to make a fucking big deal out of it?" I ask, angrily.
Keeping her sarcastic tone, she says "Lover, I heard and saw enough to know that's not the case. Jesse, I'm sorry your sick, but I think we have a bigger problem to deal with, and honestly I'm just not in the mood to deal with it." I start to speak, but she cuts me off. "I think maybe it would be a good idea if we separate."
"Leslie, no!" I say, suddenly gripped with the fear that my life as I know it is ending. "Come on, we can work through this!" I say, a little desperately, perhaps.
"Jess, I'm sorry. No. I've been doing a lot of thinking since I left earlier this morning." She begins pacing, as if giving a presentation at the office again. Business-like, never a good sign. "Can you HONESTLY look at me and tell me you're happy? I mean REALLY happy, Jess?"
"Yes!" I say, earnestly. "Yes, I can! We have a great life, a great home, two great kids...why are you DOING this?"
"Because I can't compete, Jesse. I'm sorry, but I wasn't given a penis." (I flinch at that word, for some reason.) Suddenly calm and speaking gently, she continues: "Jesse, I just don't think it's fair to me to have a gay husband, and I don't think it's fair to you to stay in a straight relationship."
"I'M NOT GAY!" I protest, a little too loudly. But inside, I'm wondering why I'm lying, especially since I had already "outted" myself to Mom.
Leslie sighs, and looks at me in--pity?! "Jesse, come on. I saw you look at Mark's butt on his way out the door. Honey, you know things have not been all that great between us. I have my career, you have yours, the kids keep us running around. I'm not BLAMING you for this. I'm angry, yes. I'm hurt, of course! But I'm not stupid Jesse. I don't have an MBA because of my looks. The reality is, whether you want to admit it or not, I believe you're a homosexual, and probably always have been."
"So, now you can read my mind, huh?" I ask, again angry and hurt. "I guess you can look inside me and tell me what I'm thinking. You're not asking me what I WANT. I don't want to lose my kids! I don't want to lose my home! And we make love, and we have a great relationship together!" Tears form, but they're angry tears.
Leslie takes my hand, silencing me. I look away from her, being unable to believe that this is happening to me. I've only known Mark for 1 day. Well, ok, technically that was 2 weeks ago, but to ME it was just yesterday.
Why would she throw it all away when she doesn't even know all the facts. The facts?! Oh god, I think...the fact is I screwed around on her...with VIC! And then again with Mark. I'm DIRT!
"Jesse, I'm not asking you to leave the country, or to stay away from the kids, or anything like that. Look, I know this isn't going to be easy, but, sweetie, we have to face facts. Yeah, ok, we have a great life together, but it's a business arrangment, Jess, not a marriage. Think about it!"
I have to admit, she has a point. She is my best friend, but the same as two straight buddies who do stuff together. We're.....roommates. No, MORE than roommates. We have children together.
I sigh heavily...you know the kind that shudder as you let the air out? I'm very dry-mouthed at this point, and feeling quite nauseous again. So much...too much...I get light-headed.
"Jesse, are you all right?" Leslie asks, concerned.
"A lot you care" I say bitterly, as I lie back onto my pillow, damp with sweat and tears.
"OK, Jesse," she says, resignedly. "I don't expect you to be 100% on-board just yet. Will you do one thing for me, please? Will you just think about what I said?"
I stare at the window, noticing that it's almost dark. I don't answer her. She stands there for a minute, no doubt studying my face to see some reaction, some indication of what I'm thinking. Then she sighs lightly and turns and walk out. I listen to her heels of her shoes as she walks toward the elevator. A "ding", then the doors shut. Symbolic, I can't help thinking. Shut off, and going down.
Now again the tears start, and this time there's no stopping them. I cry silently into my pillow, feeling very alone, and as if I'm the worst person in the world. Suddenly my boys' faces, smiling and happy, pop into my head, prompting me to cry all the harder. I feel a hand on my back...a male hand.
"Jess? Man, are you ok?" Mark asks, very concerned.
Whipping around (and regretting it instantly), with a low voice and through clenched teeth, I say to him "Get the fuck out of my life and don't ever come near me again or I swear you'll live to regret it!"
Mark recoils in shock. His beautiful blue eyes glow as moisture forms in his eyes. He hyperventilates slightly, then sighs as he realizes what must have happened with Leslie.
"OK, Jess," he says softly, his voice husky with pain. "I'll leave you be."
He turns and walks out sadly and slowly. I hear a sniff or two, knowing that I hurt him bad. Good, I think. It feels GOOD to hurt him. The son of a bitch just cost me everything.
That reality suddenly hits me again. Howling into my pillow, the tears come back, coming from the very depth of my heart and soul. Why, God? I ask. WHY?
I never heard the nurse come in, and I barely feel the stick of a needle in my hip. I just feel the bed tilt and sleep wash over me.
Darkness. No..there's light. I hear voices again. This time, they're intelligible. I hear a female voice talking. She's saying "He was pretty upset and we were concerned about the stitches getting pulled, so we gave him a sedative to help him sleep. Dr. Adams would like to recommend that one of our staff psychologists evaluate him today. His wife explained what is happening when we called her last evening to let her know. She advises it too."
"I don't care what that woman thinks," I hear a familiar voice say. "My son doesn't need this aggravation and I want her barred from this room." That's mom. She's my lion.
"Ma'am, I wish I could help you out, but she is his wife, she has every right to be in here." the nurse explained. "The only way I can accomodate this request is if Mr. Corey requests it."
"Well, I'll see that he does!" Mom says defiantly. "I'll not have him upset in his condition."
"Yes, ma'am." the nurse says, and asks to be excused.
I feel her hand on my forehead, brushing aside my hair. "Sweetie?" she asks softly. "Are you awake, honey?"
"Mmm" I mumble, too out of it to really speak yet.
"Honey, your breakfast is here. Can you wake up for me?" I want to tell Mom that I'm not a baby, but you know, somehow it just felt good to be cared for.
I open my eyes, and see her, red-eyes and all. She's been crying. "Mom, what is it?"
"Jesse, I'm so upset and worried over this whole thing. I've barely been able to sleep, what with you coming out and telling me that you might be having marital problems, and how on earth are Jake and David going to deal with this? I just don't know that I can handle this all, Jesse. I think you should talk with this psychologist and see what we can do about getting you cured."
"Mom!" I protest. "It's not a disease!! This isn't something I caught! And this isn't your fault! This is the way I was born. Period! I can no more change than YOU can. My eyes are green! My hair is dark blonde! I'm 5'8"! And I'm GAY. Period! Can you understand this?"
Mom cries out, "No! I can't! Jesse, I can't understand!! It's like you're a stranger now, and I just don't know how to deal with this!"
Frustrated, I let it slip out "Maybe I'M not the one needing a psychologist" I mutter.
Shocked, Mom looks at me, open-mouthed. "I cannot BELIEVE you just said that to me." She goes over, gets her purse, and looking back, "You want US to understand, little man (I'm 38!!!), you better start understanding US. I have to go now before I say something I'm going to regret. See you later." She said it like she doesn't mean it, though. And out she walks.
Boy, I think, you're just batting 0 for a 1000 now. Sighing, I push my tray away, and try to stand up. It's still hard to do. My back is still sore, but they assure me the bruising will clear up as I walk more. I shuffle over to the window, not caring that my naked ass is poking out the back of the gown.
"Well now, I'm glad to see you're showing your best side!" says a hearty voice from the door. I don't even turn around.
"What do you want, Josh?" I ask, wearily.
"Hey, bro, is that any way to talk to your older brother?" he asks, mock hurt in his voice. "Come on, I came in to see what's going on in this family."
"What's going on?" I ask. "I'll tell you what's going on, BRO, is that this whole fucking family is abandoning me."
"Really?" Josh asks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "From what I just heard, maybe YOU are the one running away?"
"Bullshit, man. Bull SHIT! I'm lying here in the fucking hospital, and all the women in my life have gone batty."
"Well, Jess, I can't speak for Leslie, but you hurt Mom pretty badly just now. I was outside the door. Look buddy, it's not that I am unsympathetic, but you have to give them time to get used to this."
"THEM?" I ask. "What about YOU? Aren't you upset that your little brother is a faggot?" I burn on that last word, hating the sound of it.
"Honestly? No." Josh says gently. He comes over to me, and gently turns me so I'm facing him. "Jesse, I've suspected for years. I wasn't blind to it, man." WHOA....news flash to ME!
Dreading the answer, I have to ask: "So,.....you're cool with it?"
Josh looks me straight in the eye, and says "You are my brother, and I love you. I don't see a gay guy standing here, I see YOU, Jesse David Corey, whom I have known for 38 of my 42 years. There is NOTHING you could do, except maybe hurt one of my kids or wife, that would make me EVER despise you."
Relief floods through me, and Josh pulls me into a hug and just holds me for a long time. I want to cry, but I'm cried out. Good thing, or they'd have to give me more fluids. I start to sag in his arms, and he realizes I'm getting weak. He helps me to the bed and sits next to me.
"Whatever you have to go through, you should know that Marianne and I are always here for you. Just don't shut me out, OK?"
I nod through tears. I'll be darned, if I did have some left.
"I'll call mom and apologize to her later" I say. Josh tells me that's a great thing, but has to get to the office. He writes down his pager and cell phone, so I have no excuse not to call him, then leaves. Funny, but as much as I looked up to him, I was always the tag-along. Then when I went away to college, we somehow became close in our distance apart. I love that man as any brother could.
Later on, the psychologist came along and we had a long talk. She suggests that we meet each day while I'm still in the hospital, then weekly at her office for awhile. She also offers some insights into how people might react and what would help them accept me. Time, of course, is the biggest factor. She echos mom's statement about how everyone is hearing this for the first time (except for Josh, but he was always intuitive like that). I feel better about the immediate family, but there's still the issue of my own.
Then there was Mark. I found it a little hard to believe he could be that hurt by my rejection of him. I mean, we barely really know each other. Susan, the psychologist, suggested maybe I talk to him, and would I be opposed to that? It was one of those questions that was more of an order, but made it SOUND like I had a choice in the matter. Clearly she wanted me to do it. Then she had to go to her next appointment.
I stare at the phone, wondering if he'd even talk to me. I couldn't remember his last name, or what office he worked in. How on earth could I call him?
Just then, Nurse Ratchet (or Lynn, as she preferred to be called) came in, and saw my perplexed look.
"What's wrong there, Mr. Corey? You look like you have a puzzle you're pondering." She asks, way too cheerfully.
"Uh, I need to call someone, and I am not sure how to get a hold of them." I say.
"By any chance, was this a hunky guy, brown hair, longish, bright blue eyes, wearing KILLER khakis?" she asks.
Marveling at her, I say "Yeah, that's him. Why would you think HE is the one I'd want to call?"
"Well, duh, Mr. Corey," she says, shoving the thermometer in my mouth. "Let's just think about that for a second. You KNOW your family's names, and they're pretty much the only ones who have come up here, except for Pretty Boy." She removes the thermometer, and starts other vital checks.
"Well, yeah, but...I've had other friends up here." I say defensively.
"Yeah, uh huh, but how many of them leave here crying after you tell them to get away from you and never come back?" she says, a knowing look in her eye.
"OK, Detective Ratchet" I say, prompting her to give an extra two squeezes on the blood pressure valve. "OW...UNCLE!" I say, laughing and then realizing how good that just felt to laugh! "OK, you figured that much out, but that doesn't help me now!"
"Ohhh, but it DOES, Mr. Corey, sir. For you see, Pretty Boy left his " and she whips something out of her pocket "business card with instructions that if you needed ANYTHING to give him a call. So maybe THIS will help you, wise guy!" She laughed gently, then strolled out, ready to torture some other poor male victim.
I stare at the card. It has our company name and logo, and beneath that in nice lettering "Mark Bradford, Senior Analyst". Taking a deep breath, I decide to give it a try. What the hell, what's the worse he could do? Hang up? Or get me fired. I sigh heavily, noting that it doesn't hurt as much now to do that.
I dial his number. "Mark Bradford" he answers.
"Uh, hi, Mark...it's Jesse." I say tentatively. A long silence...very uncomfortable.
"Yeah, hi, Jesse. What's up?" he says, half-heartedly, and yet, is there a glimmer of hope in his voice?
"Well, I called to say that I'm sorry for acting like a complete ass last night. No, let me finish. I think I blamed you for what happened with my wife and I, and that was wrong. See, I took it out on you, but I was really actually angry with myself. Does that make any sense?"
Silence, as if he's thinking. "Yeah, yeah, I think so. My timing probably sucked."
"No, Mark, it wouldn't have mattered. Sooner or later, I think something would have happened, and if not you, then someone else."
His voice lightens up a little. "Yeah, maybe. Who knows. I know what you're going through, though, since that slut of a soon-to-be ex-wife has filed for divorce. I told her she can have her divorce." He pauses, as if collecting himself. I'm sure he's still hurting, no matter WHAT she did. "So, what do we do from here?"
I know what he's after, but it's too soon. "Well, how about we just start out being friends. At least until the dust settles. Right now it's too soon for either of us to be thinking about a relationship."
He ponders that for a second, the sighs, resigned. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Hey, can I at least come visit you later? Maybe we can talk? It's kind of hard here, you know?"
Our company prohibits discrimination for sexual orientation, but I understand his concern. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that. Do me a favor and let me call you first, though, ok?"
I could practically hear his smile as he says "Yeah! Sounds great!" He gives me his numbers, then we say our goodbyes and hang up.
Just then, Dr. Adams walks in. "Jesse! How are you feeling today?"
"Well, not too bad for a broken down old man," I reply, trying to sound as cheerful as he. Dang that guy is gorgeous.
"Well, Jesse, this might help you feel better. I think you're ready to go home. How does that sound?"
Solid, brick-wall panic sets in. "Uh, are you SURE? I'm still kinda..."
He cuts me off gently. "Jesse, I know what's going on in your life. Oh don't look at me like that, these nurses hear everything. They told me so I was aware of your mental state. Anyway, you're getting the best care from Dr. Susan as you can get. Physically, soreness aside, I think you're ready to go home and rest there. There's nothing more we need to do for the body."
I sit back, blinking back what feels like the start of tears again. Dang my emotional state!! I'm scared to leave, I think. Out there, in the world, its unsafe. But, he's right, and the insurance company won't pay if the doctor thinks I should be discharged. Last thing I need is a huge hospital bill.
"OK, doc, you know best." I say, without much enthusiasm.
"Great! I'll start the paperwork and we'll get you out of here in a couple of hours. Do we need to call your wife to come get you?"
I pause. Where am I going to go? I can't go home, that much is clear, even though Leslie didn't say I couldn't. Mom's house is out, she's pissed.
"No, uh, that's ok. She probably would rather I not." LIGHT BULB! "I'll call my sister-in-law. She's home during the day."
"OK, my friend. Let me get this stuff rolling. You probably don't feel up to a shower. I'll have Chris come in and give you a sponge bath." And with that, he's out the door.
Great, I think. All I need is to have a woman in here, washing my...
In walks a young man, carrying a tub of warm water. "Hi!" he says. "I'm here to get you all cleaned up so you can get the heck out of here. I'm Chris."
And I'm in LOVE, I think to myself. Man, it never fails. You could be DYING, Jesse, and your dick would still do your thinking.
Chris pulls the curtain around, and helps me out of the gown. "Now, nothing to feel embarrassed about, I'm a professional, and I do this all the time." He drones on about what he's doing and such, probably to keep my mind off it. Unfortunately, something else has a mind of its own, and its coming to life. Chris doesn't seem to notice, though. Then I catch a glimpse of his left hand, and see a gold band. He doesn't look OLD enough to be married!
Just then, he comes to my groin, and without a word or even a break in his pace, he washes the equipment, then starts to dry me off. He exits through the curtain and I hear him dump the basin out. Then he brings me scrubs to put on. He helps me into the scrubs (because my clothes were ruined from my injuries, and they had to cut my clothes off me.) As he does, he notices that I'm still red as a beet.
With a low voice, he says, "Hey, don't worry about the erection, Jess. It happens all the time. It's cool." Little does he know that I know it's cool, and that I wish he had done something more about it!
Finally dressed, he helps me back into the bed. "The nurse will be in for you to sign some papers. Do you have your ride yet?"
"No, I'll call her now." I reply, and Chris exits my room, and my life. I sit for a second, staring at the spot he just left, then shrugged. I couldn't help notice him, but hey, maybe someday Mark will be able to finish what Chris started? I chuckle, then pick up the phone.
Marianne didn't even let me get the question out. As soon as I was being released, she asked me if I needed to come stay with them. In fact, she ordered me to stay with them until I could get back on my feet. She's wonderful that way...a lot like Leslie is. Despite the pain and misery I'm in, I just can't bring myself to hate her.
I sit and watch daytime TV, wondering just who the hell gets paid to write that stuff, when a knock comes at the door. A deputy sheriff walks in.
"Mr. Jesse Corey?" he asks. I reply that I am he, then he hands me an envelope. "Sorry to do this to you while you're in the hospital, sir, but this is from your wife's lawyer." He has me sign a paper, stating I got the envelope, and leaves.
I stare at the large envelope in my hands, which are shaking. I gingerly set it on that roll-about table and lean back in the bed, light-headed and nauseous yet AGAIN. My entire life is upside-down and my future is in that envelope. Would I ever have joy and happiness again in my life?
To be continued....