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"And if you knew him, you would understand just why. It was nearly 11:30 that night before David, Chris, and Thad left the hospital. Thad smoked a cigarette standing outside the ER door with David, who at this point didn't know what to say to Thad. David himself was grieving also; but for his brother, not for Thad's lost 'friend.' Chris went back to his car to change clothes from his 'bar' duds, back into his clerical collar, vest, and blazer, then reached into his glove compartment to retrieve his 'travel' sacrament kit. Inside were blessed communion wafers, two small glass containers, one with wine, the other with anointing oil, and some basic priestly vestments. Chri was almost too angry with Alex to bless him and sign Alex's forehead with oil. 'What a fucking waste... another young human tragedy!' were Chris' thoughts in between 'Hail Marys' and 'Our Fathers'. Why in hell, hadn't Alex gone to the Vane as they'd expected? Chris had been certain he could have talked Alex into going into rehab, but he had no idea that Alex's latest drug problem had reached this level of seriousness. Outside, Thad was blaming himself for not going to find Alex himself, rather than asking Father Chris to do it. Even if Thad had to arrest Alex; at least, he would still be alive. Thad cursed himself as he hit his fist against the post supporting the metal canopy over the doorway. David recognized Thad's anger and grief, since it paralleled what he himself had been experiencing all day, ever since he'd seen Mark's body that morning. David walked up slowly behind Thad and placed one hand gently on Thad's right shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Thad," David said, quietly and earnestly. "It's all right, David," Thad replied. "I'm only sorry you had to see this to add to your burden. I'm sure you've had enough to cope with today. Would you believe that Alex and Mark were friends... close friends? They... they even dated a few times before Mark became bedridden." "I... I had no idea. But if they were friends, and if there is a heaven or afterlife, they must be together right now looking down on the two of us." David said, comforting Thad, while choking back a tear of his own. "Do you believe there's an afterlife?" Thad's question seemed to be a desperate cry for some kind of hope. "I've had my doubts at times in the past; but right now, I'm hoping to God, there is." "David, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna radio into my commander and tell him I've got a stomach bug or something, and can't finish my shift. I... I don't think I could arrest any criminals tonight." "I understand." Leaving David standing alone under the canopy, Thad went back to his car to contact his squad leader. David felt sorry for Thad... and for himself... and surprisingly, for Chris, who now had two young deaths to contend with. David's mind raced---had anything physical happened between his brother and Alex? Could Alex have contracted hepatitis C from Mark? Was Alex's overdose a suicide?' No immediate answers came to mind, and David realized suddenly and finally, that there would never be any answers. Alex and Mark had taken those answers with them when they died. Earlier that day at Steve's when he had first met Chris, David had felt fascinated by the young gay priest, a fascination for which he couldn't account; but now though, having said less than a dozen words to Thad, he felt a stronger bond or attachment to Thad… they'd both experienced a common tragedy in their lives, and those dark happenings had been so close together. David felt a sudden surge of guilty anger, sensing that he might have had a tinge of latent homophobia all his adult life. He'd known Mark was gay, and David realized now that he had always avoided contact or conversations with gays... as if they were beneath him, something less than human. How stupid that sounded at this moment, but at least, there was some saving truth to his self-discovery. He had become a friend to a gay priest earlier today, and now to a gay detective. Neither was effeminate or 'faggy' … in lieu of a better word. They were both normal acting guys, guys that merited his respect - like the straight guys he'd always hung around with. God! He really had differentiated between straights and gays! His lifelong perception of gays was biased... and what was worse, stupid! Surely, without being aware of it, his dad's hatred toward Mark and toward gays in general had some influence on David's assessments. He suddenly hated his father even more for the way he'd treated Mark. David hadn't seen much in the past eighteen hours, but his eyes were now opening wider to Mark's world - a world that had always been totally foreign to David, and now he longed to learn more. Chris came out of the ER entrance at the same time Thad was returning, having made his call-off to work. "Father, you blessed Alex?" Thad asked somberly. "Yes, Thad," Chris replied. "The little troubled loved one is at peace now." "Thanks." Thad's reply was quiet, but intense. "Thad, would you like to go somewhere and talk?" Chris asked. "No. I know I should, but first, I have to deal with my anger! I swear to God, I could beat him to death! That sounds dumb, but that's how I feel!" Thad raged. "In that case, I think I should take David back to Steve's. I'm sure he's exhausted." "No, Chris, if you don't mind. I'll like to stay and be with Thad for a while. I'm learning a bit about Mark, and about myself; things I should have learned years ago." David said. Then he turned to Thad. "Would you mind some company? I promise not to talk, if you'd rather I keep my mouth shut." Thad was silent for a few moments, but finally said, "You know, I think I'd like that. Yeah, I'd appreciate the company." As a product of his training, Chris sensed that an instant bond had formed between the two grief-stricken victims, and he thought it might help both of them to spend some time together. "Would you two like to be alone... or would you want me to join you?" Chris asked. "Frankly, summing up the situation, it might be better if it were just you two. Thad, could you take David back to Steve's when he's ready?" "What? Oh… oh, yeah, sure." "Then I'll be off to begin my pre-breakfast chores for early meal delivery." "You deliver three meals a day to your... your... I don't know what you call them?" David inquired. "They're my friends," Chris smiled sadly. "No, usually one meal per day, but some get a big breakfast, some lunch, and others prefer a big meal at the end of the day. Money, food, staff, and transportation would never allow me to offer three-meals-per-day, though that's what I'd like to do." "Then I can expect to see you sometime tomorrow"? David asked hopefully. "I'd call you, but Steve doesn't have a phone. How about I pick you up around noon, and we can do whatever you decide you want to do concerning Mark's arrangements. And Thad, I'll see you tomorrow too, and we can see what's to be done about Alex. He has a brother in Chattanooga, who should be notified and involved with Alex's arrangements as well." "Thanks, Father. I'll see if I can contact his brother in the morning." "I'll say goodnight, then; and say that you'll both be in my prayers tonight. I know both of you are hurting, because I'm hurting deep inside, myself." "Goodnight, Father, and thanks," Thad said, hugging Chris. "'Night, Thad." "Me, too, Chris. Thanks for dinner and the show... and thanks for... well, for many things, which we'll talk about later." David said, hugging Chris. After Chris got into his car and drove away, there was a moment of awkward silence between David and Thad, as they were suddenly alone. They were two total strangers, each knowing next to nothing about the other… even while sharing such a common bond. "Thad, I've only been in Atlanta one day, and don't know anything about this city; but would you like to go somewhere for coffee or a drink?" David said, breaking the silence. "Yeah… yeah, I suppose we could," Thad replied. "Would you... would you rather have coffee or something stronger?" "I'll leave that up to you. I'll have whichever you want." "Would you feel uncomfortable going to my place? It's not far from here, and it's a helluva lot more private than some midnight restaurant." "Sounds like a good idea." David agreed. "Then if either of us wants to slam our fist into a wall, or bawl our eyes out, it'll only be the two of us to see it. Come on, get in the car. I'm not supposed to have riders, but if I ask you to ride in the backseat, I'll have to put handcuffs on you." This was the closest either of them had come to a light joking remark all night… and David appreciated Thad's attempt to lighten the mood. "I can hide in the floorboard of the front seat, if that'll help matters," David chimed in. "Hell, no! You might bob your head up at a traffic light, and some shithead will think you're on your knees giving me a blow job!" Damn! I completely forgot Thad was gay! David thought. I only hope he senses that I'm straight! Oh, Jesus! He knew Mark was gay. What if he thinks I am too, and invited me to his house for… well, for another purpose? "Well, if someone does think that, it'll be a first for me!" David said, hoping Thad would catch his meaning that he had not, and never would give anyone a blow job. * * * As David walked into Thad's apartment, it was as if he'd entered another world... a world set deep in the past. It seemed he had dropped back in time, and had awakened in 1940. Whether or not it had been Thad's intent to recreate the home of an Elmore Leonard sleuth, the decor of the three-room dwelling was dark and gloomy, as if some movie set director had decorated it for an old Mickey Spillane detective flick, complete with slipcovers over the sofa (in this case, a divan), table lamps with plain brown shades, similar to old wrapping paper. The drapes were dingy, as if they'd been hanging on the windows for forty or fifty years. It was obvious that Thad seldom, if ever, entertained guests. The room gave off a damp, mildewed aroma. The entire place exuding a feeling of dark mystery, which caused David to shiver. "Make yourself at home," Thad said, "while I go rustle us up a couple drinks." Home? This was Thad's home? A surge of curiosity filled David's mind--he wondered about Thad's rugged personality. How much of it was camouflage, and how much was real. This certainly was a far cry from the image of 'gay digs' that had presented itself initially to him. David sat down on the sofa, and instantly shifted to one side as he felt a coiled spring trying to force its way through the slipcover and into his ass. He instantly felt relieved of his fear at possibly being invited here for Thad's folly. Probably, Thad had never invited anyone over for sex, fun, or games. David felt uneasy, but still relaxed somewhat, knowing he was not going to be the object of Thad's physical affection... not here, and not now. "Thanks," David managed to reply, remembering the coming drinks. "Name your poison!" "Pardon?" "Scotch, bourbon, gin, vodka...?" "Oh, sorry, I... I've been drinking vodka most of the evening; so, I guess I'd better stick to that poison." "I have Vermouth, if you'd like a martini. I'm not much of a bartender, but I can finagle a pretty good martini. I... I don't have any olives, but I do have a jar of pimentos in the fridge that I bought to make pimento cheese." "No, hey, just a plain martini... no garnish necessary." "Dry or wet?" "Don't laugh, but when I moved out of my parents' house, and was able to drink on my own for the first time, it took me a while to conquer the evils of vodka, so I used to make a 'reverse martini' - all Vermouth with a splash of vodka. I was used to white wine, so I learned to like Vermouth with a bit of vodka." "That's a new one for me… never heard of anyone doing that before. I don't have many visitors, so my bartending is plain and simple, unless I'm invited to someone else's house for the evening. The guys I visit are all into Mimosas, or some other faggoty drinks." David was once again surprised by Thad's choice of words. Faggoty'? Wasn't Thad gay? "If I were to guess," David added, making conversation, "I'd say you're a bourbon man." "Right on... bourbon all the way... Jim Beam or Jack Daniels. How'd you guess?" "Just seemed to fit your personality." "Oh? You've known me for only a few minutes, and you've already pegged my personality?" "Hey, everyone forms a first impression, doesn't he? You being a detective, I'm sure you've formed one about me." "In spite of the fact that you're the spitting image of Mark, I can definitely see that you're quite different, personality wise." "Oh? How, for instance?" "Well, for starters, you're not gay. You might be a bit gay-friendly or bi-curious, but definitely not a patriotic friend of Dorothy's." "You got me! What's a 'friend of Dorothy's?" "I take it back! You may not be gay-friendly or bi-curious after all, if you're not familiar with that expression. Gays are known to be Judy Garland fans. You remember Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz?" "I should've been able to figure that one out." "My age group were friends of Dorothy's and friends of Fanny's..." "Barbra Streisand…? That one I get!" "Do you like her?" "My mom does." "Would you like me to put on an LP?" "Sure... a quiet one. It might help relax both of us." "I'm afraid I don't have a CD player - don't want one. My boss has even threatened, jokingly, to fire me, because I refuse to own a cell phone." "That's funny 'cause I don't own one either." "Then aside from our grief, we do have something in common... surprise, surprise." "Speaking of grief, Thad... I... I'm so sorry about Alex." "Your loss is as great as mine - probably greater. Mark was your brother for almost twenty years." "Well... we've been distant brothers for the past two years, Mark and I." "Since Mark had that 'problem' with your dad?" "You knew about that?" "Everyone who knew Mark, knew your dad had dismissed him from his house." "Thad, if you don't mind me asking, did you know Mark well?" "Are you asking if I was acquainted with him, or if I'd ever gone to bed with him? I'm sure Father Chris warned you that I was gay before he allowed you to come over here." "Chris mentioned something briefly, after we met you at the restaurant. I… I'm sorry, but I... I really didn't believe you were. I thought perhaps he was joking." "You mean because I don't dress gay, or wear my hair gay... whatever that means..." "I'm afraid my impression of gay men is based on what I've seen on Will and Grace... and once I did watch an episode of Queer Eye on Bravo. I guess I've been on a quest to learn more about gays since I found out about Mark. But my education is second-hand---picked up from books, TV shows… a few movies." "You must have a pretty shitty impression of us, then. TV only shows the flamboyant side of gay life. God, just once, I wish some producer had the balls to show the other side. Did you ever watch NYPD Blue?" "Every Tuesday night for years." "Bill Brochtrup, who played the squad assistant, is gay in real life; and he had nothing more to do on the show than say, 'Detective, you've got three new messages' or 'Can I get you a cup of coffee?' They thought they were being brave using a gay character. That was a load of bullshit! Why the fuck didn't they write Mark-Paul Gosselaar's character gay… let him take his clothes off and show his butt in bed with another guy? Why can't one fucking doctor on ER be a good old fashioned cocksucker? No, they only show gays as faggots - not like the majority of us. You know how many gay cops we have on the Atlanta force? The number would shake the capitol dome downtown. I'm gay and proud of it! I don't give a shit who knows. When I go out on a call to make a bust or an arrest, I don't use a purse to hit my perp over the head. He knows he's been collared by a real man... who just happens to love male sex." "I think, I understand what you mean," David said, "I'm afraid my concept of gays has been limited to the stereotypes I mentioned. Maybe it is time someone was brave enough to paint a true picture... show us what it's like to be gay, and still look 'regular.'" "Regular?" "Sorry, it was a poor choice of words, but I think you know what I'm talking about." "It's okay. Regular is better than most adjectives I've heard used. I'm sorry I got so wound up on that subject. You asked whether I'd slept with Mark... if you're still interested?" "It's not important--and it's none of my business... unless it's something you want me to know." "I'll be openly direct with you, David. It's not like I didn't want to go to bed with Mark. Shit! I used to dream about him as I lay in that room over there, jerking off while thinking about him. Lord knows, it wasn't that I didn't try. I thought Mark was attracted to me physically... damn, he was a sexual dream to me! I guess you don't know much about Mark's sex life..." "Little to none, frankly..." "Mark had this thing... a personal thing that I respected about him. He wouldn't go to bed with anyone just for sex! He had to really care about his partner... practically had to be in love with a guy, before the guy could get to first base with Mark. When I first met him, I wanted him immediately, but that wasn't right for him. He didn't know me well enough to feel anything for me back then... so I had to wait until the time was right... when he might feel something for me. That sure didn't stop me, though. I saw him a lot... spoke to him... talked with him... stopped by to see him... and after a while, we became friends... good friends. We'd gone past the sexual attraction stage... at least on his part. I became you, I guess... his big brother. Who knows... maybe even a dad to him?" "So, you're saying that you and Mark never..." "Nope... not once! Of course later, when he found out about his hep C, I guess it was just as well we didn't have sex. I used to think that he'd known all along, and kept putting me off for fear he'd infect me. That was another way he showed me love... or at least, I like to think that!" "Would you mind if I ask you about Alex?" "Yeah... sure! What do you want to know?" "You... uh... loved him?" "Yes, damn it! But not the way you think!" "You... you had sex with him, didn't you?" "Lots of it... good, hot sex! The kid was insatiable, and I couldn't get enough of him." "So? What was the problem?" "You just heard what I called him--'the kid.' Alex was a kid. I... I loved him like he was a kid... but there was more than just age that kept us from being real lovers." "Like what?" "In certain ways, we were on the opposite sides of the law." "You mean Alex's drug use...?" "For starters, yeah. I wanted to see him get off the shit. I thought he'd beaten his addiction, until a few days ago. And now… tonight... God! I swear… if he wasn't already dead, I'd beat him to death for doing what he did." There was an awkward silence between them. David didn't know how to respond to Thad's last remark, although he knew the reason behind it. Thinking it over, Thad was probably sorry he'd made such a statement... it was cruel, a bit insane, but totally honest. Thad broke the tension by saying, "Damn! Where are my manners? What's wrong with me? I invite you over for a drink, and all I've done is stand here talking! Let me go fix them!" "Thad, on second thought, maybe I'll skip the hard liquor. Do you have a Coke or something in your refrigerator?" "Yeah, Diet Coke, if that'll do!" "Great!" "I still want a drink, though." "Please go ahead. I've already had a couple to help me settle down. Fix yourself something, to do likewise..." Thad moved to the kitchen to get a Diet Coke and an empty glass, which he handed David. But the glass needed to be washed. It looked as if Thad must've drank milk from it sometime earlier, and instead of washing it with dish liquid, he'd apparently just rinsed it out and let the milk residue on the sides of the glass dry. Rather than make an issue of it, David took the can, popped the lid, and drank from it... 'like a man.' Thad poured himself a triple shot of Jim Beam in another 'clean' glass, and returned to the living room to join David on the divan. David had been surveying the room during Thad's brief absence, and had come to the conclusion that Thad must lead a sparse, lonely life. Everything in sight was badly in need of dusting or scrubbing. David wiped a finger across the end table nearest him, and collected an abundance of dusty dirt just as Thad reentered. "David, I... I've got to apologize for my lack of housekeeping." David realized he'd been caught inspecting the dust; but he quickly put his hand in his pocket to clean his soiled finger anyway. "I imagine you don't have much time for household chores... being so busy on the job and all..." "I guess you think my place is a dump... well, let's face it, it is. I sleep, eat, and shit here; and the closest I ever get to recreation is watching an occasional cop show on TV. Yeah, I know---a bus driver's holiday! No one ever sees the place except me... so, I just look at the dirt and say, 'what the hell' and ignore it." "I understand. I was always pretty much of a slob myself in my dorm room. I suppose that was rebellion towards my mom. She made Mark and me keep our rooms almost antiseptic germ-free. Our whole house was spotless. When I went away to college, if I wanted to drop my trousers and shorts in a pile after I took them off… I did. I just let them lie there. And now, the only time my apartment ever gets cleaned is when Jenny comes by." "Jenny? Your fiancée?" "Yes." "Any plans on getting married soon?" "Probably, but I'd like to finish grad school first." "Oh? What's your major?" "I... I have two majors... history and literature..." "With the idea of becoming...?" "I want to teach... either in high school or college." "I got my degree in criminology at Rutgers University." Thad's comment was a bit of a surprise to David. "In New Jersey?" "That's the place." "Then why…?" "Why did I wind up in Georgia?" Thad asked. David nodded. "Southerners think slower... they also move slower... so the crooks are easier to catch." "Are you kidding me?" |