by J. C. Allen
The words were relieving, but all the same, seeing Derek like this was emotionally overwhelming. I was used to seeing my brave man look like a stalwart, a warrior who would ride into battle at a moment’s notice. And now? He needed the work of medicine to make sure that his wounds healed. He probably couldn’t hurt me if I tried.
Not that I would ever. God, never.
I went to his side and held his hand.
“I’m glad you’re gonna be OK,” I said.
But just as Derek had become emotional when Matty did not respond to him, so too did I suddenly feel a great deal of despair when only the steady breathing, beeping, and pumping fill my ears. I did not hear Derek’s manly voice; I did not hear him gently tease me about how I should never doubt his health; I did not hear him comfort me and tell me I’d be safe.
I just heard the sound of silence.
My eyes welled up. I squeezed his hand. The nurse left the room, and I began to cry. I didn’t try and hold back the tears now; there was no reason to hold them back.
The only comfort was how certain the nurse sounded about his condition—only Matty, who I still wasn’t sure would make it through. But even then… what if complications happened? What if surgery was needed and things took a turn for the worse? What if he got an infection? What if… what if… what…
My mind raced out of control for what seemed like an hour. A couple of times, I stole a glance outside the window at the distant storm clouds and felt like cursing at mother nature for giving us this storm that had caused Derek to crash. But…
I would never say it was Derek’s fault. But Derek would have said it was his fault when he woke up. He just took ownership like that, no matter how much I wanted to say it wasn’t really his fault.
At some point, I heard footsteps of heels walking in, a definitive sign the nurse had not returned.
“Oh, God,” I heard Tara say. “Damn, Eve, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
She rubbed my shoulder gently and leaned forward to hug me. I took her embrace, still sniffling and pushing back tears, and kissed her on the cheek when she got close enough.
“Docs said he’ll be fine,” I said.
“Course he’ll be fine, you think he killed Rock and saved us just so he could go out to some sissy rain? Girl, you know your man better than that now!”
We both again shared a much needed laugh, but even Tara seemed to show signs of having to fight back emotion. Her words came with much more wavering than usual, like she wasn’t expecting to have to bring out such humor from before.
“Rough week for the Saviors, huh?” I said.
“You kiddin’ me, girl? I’d bet your ass that both Roost and Derek here would take a couple of days of vacation from life for having killed Rock!”
“That’s one way to look at it,” I said.
But my sense of humor was waning quickly and I was losing energy. Even with the nap, the emotional drainage of the last half hour or so had sapped whatever chance I had of gaining my energy back, and it didn’t help that I’d be without Derek’s conscious presence for at least a day or two.
I stood up, leaned forward, and whispered in his ear.
“I’m coming to visit you every day, Derek,” I said. “I love you. I love you more than anything and anyone I know. I’m not going to let you go without hearing my voice daily. You’ve done so much for me, and now I’m going to do everything I can for you.”
With that, I leaned forward, kissing him on his lips. I felt a gentle exhale—not much, but enough that I chose to believe it was some sort of conscious reaction on his part. I stepped back, looked at Tara, and hugged her.
“Let’s go back,” I said.
“To where?” Tara said. “Lord knows I ain’t goin’ back to that corner, but don’t know if you’re aware, but we ain’t got a home!”
“Derek’s,” I said. “Derek’s place is home.”
“Aww, hell, you’ve become a homebody,” she said with a chuckle. I’m not sure she knew what that meant, but I got the meaning all the same. “Yeah, I feel ya. Let’s go.”
We departed with our arms slung over each other. Tara called the Uber this time. I leaned against her the whole ride home—without Derek, she truly was the closest thing I had to family and to a loved one. It was obviously a different love, but if not for Tara, I would truly have only had myself.
When we got there, the security guard, perhaps having recognized me from the night before, was nice enough to give me entry to Derek’s apartment. It wasn’t like I was going to rob him, anyways—at most, I might have “stolen” a shirt of his so I could smell him, but I’m pretty sure Derek would have gladly forgiven me for such a move.
We rode the elevator to the top. Tara made some comment about ordering fresh food, but I really didn’t have the energy to. I didn’t have energy to do much but turn on the television, let Tara pick some random show, and just lie there until Tara fell asleep.
When that happened, I stayed up mostly because I was just awake enough to not fall asleep, but too tired to move or do anything productive. Eventually, probably around 2 a.m., I felt tired enough to go to bed and headed to Derek’s bedroom.
I did eventually fall asleep. But the constant reminders of Derek’s scent and presence only served to push that knockout time that much later.
My body must have known how badly I wanted to see Derek, because I woke up just barely after sunrise, probably around 7 a.m. I tried so hard to go back to sleep, but given that my mind still went back to Derek over and over again, that sure as hell wasn’t happening at this point.
I kicked off the covers and moved like a zombie physically, even as my mind would not stop thinking. It was such a stark and unfortunate contrast—my mind wanted to do everything and anything, but my body just wanted to curl up on the floor and go back to sleep; it barely had the energy to get from the bathroom back to the bed.
I forced myself into the living room. Tara was snoring loudly. I wasn’t hungry at all—maybe I could have a glass of milk, but that was about it. I poured myself a glass of whole milk, had about two gulps of it, and then lost all appetite for anything edible or that could be imbibed.
There was nothing left to do but head to the hospital. And so, that’s exactly what I did—I left Tara snoring on the couch, still rubbing the eyes from my sleep, as I called an Uber and headed straight over.
It probably shouldn’t have surprised me that Derek had not yet woken up when I got there. But that didn’t stop the most morbid thought from coming to mind almost immediately.
He’s never going to wake up.
Face it, girl, he’s gone.
He’s never, ever, ever coming back. Maybe if you’d woken up and kept him home… maybe if you’d helped him better in those dark moments when he was contemplating Roost…
Maybe, maybe, goddamnit… maybe…
I cringed at the thoughts as the voice of my depression forced itself upon me. Depression, in some ways, felt like a personal mind-rape; no matter how hard I fought, it just dug deeper and deeper. Ignoring it only worked as a short term solution. I could fight it in the early stages, but when it got as deep as it had, no matter how much rational sense I tried to make of it, no matter how much logic got thrown my way about Derek only needing another day or two to wake up, I was spiraling.
A ghost from my past asked me why I should care about being raped by my own mind—you a whore or not?—and my throat tightened and my eyes burned. It’s not like you haven’t been raped in the past. How is this any different from anything you’ve dealt with before?
Whore.
I’d almost forgotten that depression liked to act like a worm in my mind, too deep to dig out without also causing a lot of surrounding pain.
At least around Derek, he had such a presence and such care for me that I didn’t worry that much. Derek was both the guardian against those who would physically rape me and my own mind which would mentally rape me.
And now he’s dead.
No, he�
��s not.
But he will… might… could be very soon.
Eve, goddamnit!
I was about to start crying once more, but then something close to miraculous happened.
No, Derek didn’t wake up. It was too soon for that—if it would ever happen.
But…
I heard slow, thunderous footsteps behind me. It sounded like a man who’d just been shot…
And then I realized how literal that simile was. I realized that the absolute improbable had happened.
Not only had Matty awoken, he had known I was here and had come to me.
The big, outwardly terrifying-looking man paused to look around, spotted me, and then resumed his massive, slow stride to me.
“Matty,” I said, almost in awe. “You’re…”
“Alive?” he said with a smirk. “Ya sound surprised.”
I just stared, slackjawed at the sight. A mixture of emotions flooded me at the sight: relief at seeing a friendly face as the front runner, but I couldn’t deny the narrow-but-deep well of spite and bitterness to myself. I was the sole reason these two were in the comas they’d gotten into, and all I’d suffered was some smoke inhalation and a few minor burns!
Matty, meanwhile, had been shot, burned, and sucking in God-only-knew how much poisonous smoke… and yet here he was, the picture of being alive. Perhaps not health—he moved slowly and he still had several bandages.
But for him to be alive…
“Of course I’m surprise!” I said, still in disbelief. “You got shot and were face-down in the fire when I got you! You’re… a walking miracle.”
“That’s me, girlie. A big, gay walking miracle… an’ war machine. Like a tank with a giant fuckin’ rainbow painted ‘cross the side.”
I still couldn’t believe it. Matty… alive. And with the same old smartass yet comforting mouth that he always had.
I did the only thing I could think to do. I went up and hugged him as best as I could—which wasn’t much, given that with his size, I’m not sure my arms even reached halfway around his circumference. I also let up a bit when I heard him inhale sharply, perhaps the result of a few too-sharp wounds.
“How ya doin’, girlie?” Matty said.
“I mean, I’m fine,” I said. “But how did you know… Derek… me being here?”
He just shrugged.
“Spidey-sensed that shit, ya know? I gots’a sixth sense a sorts for when Derek needs my help. Which, ya see, is pretty damn frequent!”
He let out a loud guffaw that seemed both out of place for the situation and yet incredibly comforting all the same.
“Ya boy’ll be fine. Derek’ll come through, just ya wait. He might look like a frilly little faggy-boy, but he’s tough as week old steak, ya’ll see.”
Matty then set one of his large heavy hands over my shoulder, giving what for him was probably a soft squeeze but to me felt like a grizzly bear tightening its paw on me.
“But he wouldn’t like seein’ ya this way.”
I glanced down at his hand, marveling out how it seemed to swallow the entirety of the area. It was like seeing a bear rest a paw over a child; it seemed so outwardly threatening and yet, in the moment it happened, it was too awe-inspiring and captivating to draw away from.
I guess if anyone’s going to survive, it really would be the “big, gay war machine.” Probably has enough meat and bones on him to take a shotgun to the face.
As little as I knew of Matty, I couldn’t help but understand this to be just the sort of person he was: bizarrely simple in his staggering complexity. Seeming to read my mind, he gently squeezed my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. It was caring and sympathetic, but there was something else there that it seemed he hoped I would pick up on. Good luck figuring it out, though.
Just then, I got a buzz on my phone. Tara was calling me.
“You went to the hospital, didn’t ya?”
“Of course,” I said. “And guess who’s awake? Matty!”
“What?? Let me talk to the big show.”
I looked at Matty, who just made a remark about how he was only a big show for other men, and then took my phone.
“Hi Crystal.”
I had to remind myself that that was her street name—and that Matty’s street name was Roost, and that not everyone shared my belief in going by their real name. Some, I suspected, even liked their street name more than their real name.
It quickly became obvious why Matty, err, Roost had taken the phone, though; it gave me a chance to go back to Derek and spend some time with him. Perhaps Matty suspected that I’d only just arrived and not had the chance to spend time with Derek.
Which was kind of true, but in a fucked up way. My depression had prevented me from spending time with Derek and instead had forced me to spend time in my own head, with myself.
“You can’t die now if Matty’s awake,” I said, sitting next to Derek and squeezing his hand once more. “You hear me?”
I forced a laugh. It actually felt more real, more genuine now, especially since the person most likely to die between the two of them wasn’t actually going to die.
“But I know you won’t,” I said, leaning over to kiss him. “I love you, Derek Knight. You just need some time to come in.”
I squeezed his hand once more before Matty returned, an aw-shucks grin on his face.
“Ya won’t believe what that gal just roped me inta,” he said.
“What?” I said, slightly nervous, knowing Tara’s adventures would get us in trouble sooner than Derek driving a bike in the rain.
“She said she gon’ start scouring the city, practically takin’ to the damn streets like some kinda big-tittied superheroine—saving all the whores she can find. Apparently, good number of ‘em bailed on the Falcons when ya two slipped through the cracks, but some were too scared to even try.”
I stared in astonishment at that, imagining Tara putting herself on the line like that for our old… what? Colleagues? Sisters?
Was it better to think of fellow prostitutes as co-workers or as members of some sort of sorority of sex-merchants?
Except they weren’t my co-workers anymore and weren’t my sorority. I wasn’t a prostitute anymore. I wasn’t!
You a whore or not?
Nope.
You sure?
… sure enough.
“Guess she’s taking this new job seriously, huh?”
Matty nodded, shrugged, and stared off at a bland bit of hospital wall art, still shaking his head.
“Whorin’s what she knows,” he said. “Least that’s what she says. Says that she wants t’see them girls in a good place—makin’ good money and bein’ takin’ care of.”
He smiled and cleared his throat, saying in a not-very-good Tara-esque falsetto, “‘Those fine-ass bitches work their asses off—literally!—to show the dick-swingers of this here city a good time! I owe it to them to make it worth their while!’”
Finished with the mock-quote, he looked back at me, seeming to wait for my assessment on his impression. I gave him the kind of smile that applauded the attitude, if not the result—I was too nice and a little too tired to critique his quality.
“So how did you get roped in?”
“Oh, yeh, well, turns out the shop n’ my place gonna be her HQ.”
Oh, Tara, I thought with a smirk and a shake of the head. This felt like the kind of problem that Tara had dived head-first into with her solution, not really thinking of the consequences of them… but it was kind of sweet. She really did care for her brethren, unlike what Rock might have suspected of us.
I could only offer a smile, punctuated with a gentle giggle that was slightly muffled by the grieving I still felt.
He gave a teasing scowl, knowing I was politely telling him that he was about to have his house turned into a sorority home of sorts—that he may have been a big, gay, friendly teddy bear, but even teddy bears would have breaking points.
“Well, sheeeet,” he said, realizing what
my look said. “Either way, the girl’s motivated. The promise of overseeing a privately-owned brothel has put the very spark o’ life into her; done lit a fire in her panties that I’m sure no John ever had.”
Although I knew Matty was gay… there was something I couldn’t quite help but wonder.
“You sound like you’ve got a little crush,” I teased.
Matty let out such a loud laugh, I worried that he was going to awaken the entire floor… and if it got Derek up, I wouldn’t mind one bit.
“Not likely, girlie,” he said. “‘Less she’s hidin’ at least eight inches o’ spicy sausage in them fishnets, of course. And believe me when I says that I’m not sure there’s much room in what little she wears to hide much o’ anything. I’d be damn lucky to fit a pinky in them shorts if I was so inclined, which I ain’t. I’d be too scared I’d touch somethin’ I shouldn’t.”
He paused then, drawing in a heavy breath and groaning. It occurred to me that he was putting a lot of effort into keeping me relaxed—keeping me laughing and staving off my depression in Derek’s absence—and forcing himself not to worry.
Or at least not to show it, because I had a feeling that he figured neither of us were really succeeding at this point.
“But… yeah,” he finally said, seeming eager to keep the silence from getting too thick around us. “That Tara… she’s a feisty girl, ain’t she?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” I said. “Let’s just say you may want to give us back to the Falcons by the end of the week.”
“Never,” he said, followed by a pause when he realized I wasn’t testing him. “… But dependin’ on how much yer gals make noise, I might hafta consida it.”
“Too bad Derek will wake up by then,” I said. “It’ll get worse for you. The one sane girl, me, will be gone, leaving you with about a dozen Taras.”
I loved that girl to death, but a dozen Taras was not the same as a dozen donuts. That was not going to be twelve glorious friends.
“Ye, well, shit,” Matty said with a laugh.
I laughed too, but a brooding silence filled the room when we both looked back at Derek.
Poor guy.
Could you at least have gotten like this because of a fight, I thought, gently teasing him, but then I just felt cruel for mocking a man in a coma, no matter how much it seemed like he might recover.