Brought to His Knees-Tough Guys Laid Low By Love
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The two paramedics come running, and I force Vincent to lie back, not listening to his protests. Before the medics get to us, I say to him, “Fucking. Hospital. Now.”
He closes his eyes and I step back, letting the EMTs move in. As I head toward the SUV, I call out, “Rowlands, any pictures been taken yet?”
“Not yet Sarg.”
“Okay. Come and take a look for Mr. William’s cellphone please.” I’d do it myself, but I’m determined not to put myself into the report at all. If I don’t touch anything, stay at arm’s length, it’s doable. My log will show I attended and everything was under control when I got here. That’s it.
Rowlands finds the cellphone in the grass outside the car. “Probably had it in his hand or pocket when that asshole dragged him from the vehicle.” The constable makes a noise that makes me think if I weren’t standing beside him, he’d spit. “I want to add a charge under the Stunned Cunts Act to Jaroski’s sheet. I really do.” Turning Vincent’s phone over and over in his hand, he gives me a questioning look. “You think I should ask him to let me see if he was talking on the phone when the accident occurred?”
It’s one of those gray areas. If the phone had been on, and the information Rowlands wanted was easily seen, no one would object to him looking. But the phone is off and turning it on without permission would be seen as an invasion of privacy. Yet, with the charges being laid against the other driver, it would be wise to make sure there is no chance of the defense suggesting Vincent had been distracted while driving.
I can’t allow myself to think about the fact that my name will show up all over his phone. “Why not ask him when you go to take his statement?” Rowlands gives me a surprised look I pretend not to see. I’m pretty much telling him to go to the hospital and take Vincent’s statement instead of asking him to come down to the Accident Reporting Centre at a later date. “That way we’re covered, no matter what story Jaroski comes up with later.”
Rowlands nods. “Okay Sarg. I’ll make a note of the fact that I’m turning the phone back over to him, and ask him about it when I go to the hospital.” He glances past me to the ambulance, and I can hear the gurney moving. “Poor guy was freaking a little about having to leave his vehicle here. I asked him if he didn’t have someone he could call to help him deal with it and he said no.”
I look over my shoulder and see them putting Vincent into the ambulance, and feel like the biggest piece of shit ever. He wouldn’t call me, wouldn’t pull me into it. I turn back to Rowlands, glad I have on my shades, because I don’t think my eyes are completely dry. Forcing the words out through the tightness in my throat, making them sound normal, is one of the hardest things I’ve done in a long time. “Give the paramedics the phone to hand over to the nurses for him. Then, when the reconstruction guys are finished with the scene, let me know. I’ll contact him and let him know he can arrange for the vehicle to be moved then.”
Then, like the coward I am, I go back to work instead of to the hospital, hoping Vincent will give them the information to call his cousin but worried that he won’t.
Wishing I’d had the courage to get into the ambulance with him, and vowing to do whatever I can otherwise to make sure he’s okay.
Chapter Thirteen
Vincent
I’m stuck in the hospital for hours, not knowing what’s going on. The nurses give me my phone but I turn it off, not wanting to call Jenalyza and worry her, also afraid I’ll give in to my need to text Kyle for support. Constable Rowlands stops by to take my statement and, as he stands beside the bed writing down my version of the story, I’m struck by a sense of déjà vu. Different police officer, but the feeling of being on the cusp of another life–changing moment is the same as it was all those years ago when Kyle came to speak to me. Just like then, I’m hurting too much to figure out what the change is that’s coming, just cognizant of it on the horizon.
Eventually Rowlands leaves, having looked at my cellphone, I guess to make sure I wasn’t using it at the time of the accident. Man, I think, as he hands it back to me, I’m so glad I put Kyle in simply as “P”, for Pictou. I’d never forgive myself if I outed him inadvertently.
By the time the doctor finally comes and looks at me I’m beyond irritated. All I’ve wanted to do is doze, but the nurses won’t even let me sleep. Every time I nod off, one of them comes bustling in to check my pulse or blood pressure or shine a light in my eyes.
The doctor doesn’t seem to agree with my self–assessment that I’m fine, and orders a CT scan. More waiting and staying awake. I’m ready to rassclaat explode by the time they take me for the scan. When I get back to the ER, the staff nurse comes over to my bed.
“I know it’s been a long, frustrating day, Mr. Williams, but I promise it’ll be over soon, okay?” She has a nice smile, and kind of reminds me of Jenalyza although she’s obviously East Indian. It’s something about the shape of her face, and that no–nonsense attitude.
“Thanks,” I say, unable to resist her grin. “They sent you to calm me down?”
She laughs and shakes her head, her gaze going from machine to machine before coming back to my face. “You’re nowhere as bad as most of the other patients. I came to give you a message. Sergeant Pictou called to let you know your car’s been secured and towed from the scene of the accident. I thought maybe once you heard that you’d feel a little better. I know how you men are about your cars.” She winks. “My boyfriend treats his with a hell of a lot more care than he treats me.”
“He doesn’t deserve you then.” I can’t help flirting a little. I like women, just not in a sexual way, and this one’s cute. “If he’s detailing his car more often than he’s taking care of business with you, dump the bum.”
She giggles. “I’ll tell him you said so.” With a glance at her watch, she says, “Can I get you a couple of magazines or something? You’re going to be here for a little while longer.”
But I turn her down. My eyes hurt and I have a headache that won’t quit. I really just want to sleep.
By the time the doctor comes back to talk to me, I’m going crazy. Almost twelve hours in the hospital, just to be told I have a mild concussion and will be released on the understanding that I have someone stay with me overnight and check on me periodically. He also tells me to take it easy for the next five days–no work, no overexertion–and gives me a list of symptoms that if I experience I’m to call an ambulance and find myself back in the hospital immediately.
After he bustles off I’m ready to blow the joint, but it seems the nurses are taking forever to discharge me, fussing around until I want to ask if they don’t have any real sick people to take care of. Finally they stick me in a wheelchair and a porter wheels me out to the curb.
I get out of the chair, and my legs wobble. A hard hand clamps on my arm, steadying me, and I look up. It’s Kyle and, although I know it shouldn’t, seeing him makes the loneliness I’ve been trying to evade melt away.
“Hey,” he says, something in his voice I don’t recognize, although his expression is as stoic as always. “They finally let you out, eh?”
“Yeah.” The porter wheels the chair back into the hospital, and Kyle guides me over to one of the benches. “I was about to call a taxi and get the hell away from this place.”
“No need to do that. I’m here.”
Why? I want to ask, but I don’t. “Thanks. I’d appreciate a ride home.” I’d turned my phone back on as I was being wheeled out of Emergency, and it finally finishes booting. My head aches despite the painkillers, but I try to concentrate as Kyle lowers me to sit on the bench. He stoops down next to my knee, so he’s looking up at me.
“What did the doctors say?”
“Uh, mild concussion. Watch out for a bunch of symptoms. Take five days off. Don’t be alone tonight.” I could bite my tongue off for adding that last one. I’m not angling for him to take me home with him. I don’t want his pity. “I’m going to call Jenalyza and ask if either her or Anton will come pick me up.
I’ll stay with them since I can’t go to work anyway.”
“No.” He says it so emphatically I jump slightly. “You’re coming home with me.”
“I don’t want to impose–”
“Would I suggest it if it were an imposition?”
I can’t deal with this right now. I’m hurting, just want some peace. “Okay.” Just for tonight, I tell myself, as he gets up and says he’s going to get the truck.
But I underestimate my own weakness. It takes the last of my energy to gather up some clothes at my apartment, even though Kyle does most of the gathering while I sit on the edge of my bed and watch, and I fall asleep in the truck on the way to his place.
“Have you eaten?” he asks, as he’s helping me into the house.
“Yeah. At the hospital,” I mumble, and the next thing I know he’s stripping me down and tucking me into bed. And, besides vague memories of him waking me up periodically and asking me stupid questions like my name, his name, and where I am, that’s the last thing I know until my eyes open the following morning.
For a moment I think it’s still evening, that the weak sunlight coming in through the corners of the blinds is sunset rather than dawn, then it all comes back to me. As usual I’m sleeping on my stomach, but there’s a weight across my lower back and over my thighs. By turning my head on the pillow I can see Kyle’s face, close to mine, and realize he has an arm and a leg thrown across my body. His face is softened by sleep, his cheeks scruffy with morning stubble. The way he has me caged in by his body makes me feel safe, and I wish it didn’t. Knowing the impermanence of it makes me sad rather than happy.
I’ve already gotten in too deep. I should have known I would. You can’t take a lonely man and show him what it means to have someone to care about, to worry over–as I do every day Kyle’s on the job–and expect he’s not going to grab onto the feeling with both hands. I’m in love with Kyle, and now I know what my deal breaker in this situation is. I can’t go on being his piece on the side, a shadow in his life if I love him. It’ll kill me.
And yesterday at the accident site, when I saw him, knowing he couldn’t acknowledge our relationship was almost worse than the accident itself. Looking up and seeing him there had, for a second, been a relief. Then had come the realization that he couldn’t help me, not without jeopardizing everything he’d worked for, and I’d felt even more alone than I would have if we’d never met.
Closing my eyes for a second, I decide it’s time to walk. Better now than however much later it might be, when I’d be so tied to him I wouldn’t have a hope in hell of recovering from his loss.
But I’ll take the next few days for myself. Spend them with him and enjoy every minute, not holding back, just soaking it up. Then I think I’ll move back to Windsor, so I’m not reminded of him every time I turn around. I open my eyes, determined not to waste a moment more in my head when I could be looking at him.
As though hearing my thoughts, his eyelids twitch, then rise, and I’m trapped by his dark, searching gaze. He clears his throat slightly then, in a sleep–roughened voice, says, “How’re you feeling?”
“I need to take a piss.” It’s true, but I also need a couple of minutes to myself, to get myself better under control. “But I’m trapped.”
He rolls off me into a sitting position. “Go slowly. You got pretty banged up yesterday.”
When I try to sit up I realize he’s right. I ache all over, and my head immediately starts to pound again. “Bumboclaat. That hurts.” I touch my temple, finding the sore spot, then rub the back of my neck. “I’ve never been in a car crash before. Nobody told me it was like this.”
He gets out of bed and comes around to my side. “Let me give you a hand.”
I let him, not because I really feel like I need it, but because I want him close. “Thanks.” At least he allows me to use the bathroom by myself, although he’s right outside the door when I finish. Then he guides me back to the bed.
“Man, give me a break. I spent all of yesterday in bed.”
“And you’ll spend today in bed too.” He gives me the cop voice and stare, and my heart jumps. I love that so bad. “You need to just keep quiet. Believe me.”
I grumble like crazy, but before he’s even finished pulling on a pair of shorts I find myself drifting back to sleep.
Kyle
I can’t believe how shaken up Vincent’s accident has left me. Every time I remember seeing his SUV in the ditch I feel as if I want to puke. Shit, it isn’t like I’m not used to seeing tragedy and carnage. In the grand scheme of things the accident yesterday was minor, except that Vincent was in one of the vehicles. I can’t stop imagining how much worse it could have been. From the report, Jaroski pretty much performed a PIT maneuver on Vincent’s SUV. It was only skill on Vincent’s part that stopped him from spinning out or turning over. I’ll remember the yaw marks on the road, from where he fought to get the SUV under control, for the rest of my life.
Catching myself before I slam the frying pan down on the stove, I take a deep breath. It’s okay. He’s going to be fine, just sore and tired for the next few days. Taking care of him until he feels better will be my only job. Until he’s well enough to go back home.
My stomach cramps and I hang my head, forcing myself to just breathe. Breakfast, I remind myself, looking vaguely at the eggs I’ve taken out to scramble, the bread waiting to be toasted. Vincent will be hungry when he wakes up, and I can’t let him see me like this. I have to get a grip on myself. For him, if not for myself.
By the time I wake him up to feed him, he looks better than he had when he woke up the first time. Then he’d looked pale, still kind of shocked, as if it had all come back to him in those first moments after opening his eyes.
He gives a little grunt as he pushes himself up on the pillows. “I can come downstairs,” he says, as I put the tray over his lap.
“Did I stutter?” I ask, giving him a PORC glare, but I can’t resist lightly touching the slightly swollen corner of his mouth with one finger at the same time. “You’re staying right there all day. And I might have a surprise for you in a little while, but I won’t give it to you if you don’t behave.”
“Okay Mummy.” He’s laughing at me, and I smile back at him, just overwhelmed with gratitude that he’s alive and joking around.
“Don’t test, Vincent. You’ll lose.”
That makes him laugh out loud, and the sound lifts a lot of the weight off my chest. And an hour later when Pat comes by, bringing Bongo with her, and I lead them both upstairs to see him, the look on his face makes it all worthwhile.
Pat fusses over him and Bongo, with the kind of intuition I’ve come to expect from him, treats Vincent as if he’s fragile. No jumping on him, just a lot of sniffing and licking and then, finally, he curls up on the bed right under Vincent’s hand.
“Damn, it’s good to see you both.” Vincent’s grinning, his eyes bright with happiness, and I know asking Pat if she’d bring Bongo by, and leave him with us for the next few days, was a good idea.
Pat says she can’t stay long, and after she leaves I go back upstairs, having stowed all of Bongo’s paraphernalia in a kitchen cupboard.
“This is perfect.” Vincent has a strange expression in his eyes, but he’s smiling. “My two favorite males at my beck and call for a few days.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” I tease, easing down onto the bed beside him, trying not to jiggle the mattress too much.
“Oh, you know it.” Then he yawns. “Rass, why am I so tired?”
“A traffic accident, a fight, concussion, being woken up every two hours last night…” I raise my brows. “That’ll suck the energy right out of you. Take a nap.”
“Think I will.”
He rolls over onto his stomach, and I lie on my side facing him. Then he leans over and kisses me lightly. When he licks along my bottom lip, my breath catches and I pull back.
“Hey, none of that.”
His eyes sparkle, and the corner
of his mouth twitches. “Alright, boss. But only because I can’t keep my eyes open.” He snuggles his cheek into the pillow. “Later maybe?”
“In a couple of days, maybe,” I respond, moving in closer so I can put my arm across him, slide my palm over the back of his head. “Take it easy. Isn’t that what the song says?”
With a little huff of laughter, he stretches out his hand and rests it against my chest. And, since I was the one who had to wake him up every two hours the night before, I close my eyes and fall asleep beside him, more content than I’ve been in a long time.
Chapter Fourteen
Vincent
The next four days are perfect. Just a quiet time, not doing much more than lazing around, eating, walking Bongo. Refusing to think about what I’m going to have to do when they’re over allows me to just enjoy the time with Kyle.
And I’m glad I’d decided to end things with him before this time started, because I probably wouldn’t have been able to make that choice at the end of it. He completely devotes himself to taking care of me and I just lap it up. There’s a new level of…I’m not sure what…in the way he treats me. Tenderness maybe, although that’s not quite right, since he’s always been concerned with not hurting me in any way. Affection? But that’s not quite it either. I’m used to him touching me all the time when we’re together–running his hand over my head, caressing my arm, squeezing my shoulder–almost as if he can’t help it.
Whatever this new element is, it both soothes me and makes me restless with need for him. Makes me love him even more. I know this will be the benchmark for any relationship I have after this, and I’m afraid nothing will ever compare.
On Tuesday evening, as I watch him wash the dinner dishes, I ask, “What time are you working tomorrow?”
He sends me one of those unreadable looks. “I’m not.”
“How come?” It was supposed to be the start of another four–day rotation.