Note: Usual disclaimers apply. Don't read this if you are underage, object to gay sex or gays in general. This is a work of fiction, but I sure wouldn't mind dating a cop!
Officer Ken -- Chapter Three
I woke up the next morning, doing my usual routine of lying in bed listening to NPR for half an hour before forcing myself from the bed and into the shower. Some days, it's quite the struggle, after listening to disheartening political and world news. It's enough to make someone roll over and hide under the pillows. Today was no different, and to add misery to the equation, it was a heavy, cold driving rain that was awaiting me downstairs.
I went ahead and hopped into the shower -- okay, perhaps a better description would be zombie walked over Trixie's scattered toys in the hallway to the bathroom, and stood in the warm water trying to revive. I knew I had a faint smile on my face as I lathered up, thinking about the sweet and sexy cop and his remarkable kissing and dancing eyes that I could almost see as I kept my eyes shut.
Shattering my warm water dream came the sound of insistent screeching from Trixie, demanding her bowl be filled at once. Damn pushy cat! God, I love her!
She flopped down after I gave her a chin a good scratch while I dried off, and she chased a Q-tip I tossed into the hall to distract her while I shaved and brushed my teeth. She wasn't gone very long before returning to insist that I escort her to the kitchen and do her bidding -- it's almost like hearing Audrey II in cat form crying "FEED ME!"
I happened to look out into the dismal weather from the kitchen window, and noticed a cop car was sitting under the awning at the front door.
I eagerly dressed, practically stepping on Trixie's tail, anticipating a ride in a squad car with my favorite hunk cop -- not that I know any others, but I just had to get moving so I could find out if the siren tolled for me!
Trying to get downstairs quickly, I had to make about 4 trips in and out of the apartment door -- "bag, check. Umbrella -- check. Cell -- damn!" Trixie just sat on the living room rug, watching me run back and forth like a madman trying to pull it all together for another joyous day in the office.
Finally, I got on the elevator, and when I got to the lobby, I could see the cop car was occupied, but I couldn't see who was inside. The rain was coming down in sheets, obscuring the windows. I walked to the lobby door, and there sat hunky Ken, except he looked a bit odd.
I tapped on the door, and something inside me froze. He didn't look right. I banged harder, and no response. I ran around to the other side, and pulled the handle, and was almost in a panic as soon as I saw the blood on the side of his uniform. I didn't see any wounds, just the blood on his uniform shirt. Nosebleed?
Quickly, I remembered my cell phone and dialed 911 and frantically tried to communicate with the operator. Damn, what a dumb Dora! I decided with my limited first aid knowledge from college 20 years ago that I didn't have time to wait for someone to respond -- his eyes were dilating and his breathing was shallow. I was blessed that my local hospital was only about a half mile away at the most, and I managed to shove Ken's bulky body to the side and wedged my way into the driver's seat. It wasn't easy, but I quickly made it to the hospital ER without stopping at the stop signs. Who is going to stop a cop car except another cop?
As soon as I arrived, I jumped out of the car and ran inside for help, leaving the driver's side door open. Quickly, two guys came running out with me, to get Ken up on the gurney and into the ER.
Now, all I could do is wait. I called Pat and left her a frantic voicemail.
A kind nurse came over to me, seeing me pacing back and forth in the lobby, bringing me a cup of coffee, and took me into a private waiting area. "Honey, sit here and the first moment I hear anything, I'll let you know." I sat down, and tried to hold it together. My nerves were rattled -- I had just met the guy! Ken was undoubtedly waiting on me, and I imagined my handsome knight driving me to work, letting me play with his lights and siren like a little kid.
About 20 minutes later, the nurse (Maria was on her name plate) came back with a golden smile and said the magic words, "Are you Paul? Ken is stable and is asking for you -- come with me."
I followed Maria down the corridor, and passed a few patients in treatment areas separated by curtains, and finally she stopped and turned to me with a wink and a smile and said "Ken, Paul's here. I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes."
Ken was lying on his back, no longer in his uniform shirts and Kevlar vest, with electrodes on his chest monitoring his vitals, an oxygen mask on over his bearded face, his head slightly propped up on a pillow. I cautiously approached, feeling a range of emotions from elation that he was stable and alive, thankful that I had made the right decision, anger that he scared the hell our of me, and fear that I had stolen my first police car.
I sat down on the stool next to the bed, and took his hand. It was obvious he was groggy, and I still didn't know what had happened. All I could do was hold his hand, look at his beautifully sculpted, handsome face, and thank my lucky star that today wasn't the day he would go gently into that good night.
Maria came back a few minutes later, and explained that apparently Ken had been stung by something, and when he had the allergic reaction, he hit his head and that was the cause of the blood. She also said "Honey, if you hadn't brought him here right away, I `d be calling the morgue. He was in bad shape by the time you got here -- I don't know how long he'd been in shock. You saved this man's life."
Ken obviously heard what she said coherently, and squeezed my hand and then lovingly rubbed it with strong thumb. "Paul..." I shushed him to be quiet, and said "Quiet, you numbskull!" in my best `Moe" voice, and kissed his hand.
I told him I would be right back, and went outside to call Pat and let her know what had happened. She was relieved to hear my voice - "You scared the hell out of Rick and I -- when I played your voicemail it sounded like you were freaking out!" She told me to take the day off, that I wouldn't be much use to the office considering the drama of my day. She also said to tell Ken she couldn't wait to meet him.
By the time I hung up and returned to the ER and Ken, the police Captain was there, along with an older woman, who was sitting on the stool holding Ken's hand. Doing what I wanted to be doing.
"Are you the guy that saved his life?" she said. I sheepishly shrugged my shoulders, and introduced myself "My name is Paul. I think Ken was planning to give me a ride to work." I told the rest of the story while his mother was trying to hold back tears, and the Captain took notes of my story. "All I know is, you saved my son. He's all I have since his father passed away. Anything you want, it's yours - my house, my car, anything!"
"Ma, don't be so melodramatic..." I could hear Ken trying to say, in his oxygen muffled mask. I had to suppress a grin, cause while I wanted to say "I WANT YOUR SON!" I knew it was neither the time nor place, even to joke. All I could say was, "I am sure you are very proud of him, and I'm glad I happened upon him in time."
I didn't know whether he was out or not, and to whom, so it was the safest thing I could say. "Ken, I need to get moving -- call me when you are well again, and we'll get some coffee. Ok?" Ken gave me a wink and thumbs up. The Captain generously offered a ride back to my building, and I accepted.
Shall I continue? Email me: wooflix@yahoo.com