Caregiver

by Rick R. Reed

  By the following Saturday, Dan was surprised he still had not heard from Mark. He fully expected, all week long, to hear the sound of his key in the front-door lock and to see his contrite face before him. He played and replayed conversations in his head, with Mark returning, begging forgiveness, and how those talks would play out. In some versions, Dan even forgave him.

  But that outcome occurred less and less as more and more time passed.

  Dan was still wounded, still too bruised by the betrayal to think with any seriousness of forgiveness. Yet, the bed seemed awfully empty with only him in it. He missed the nights where they would do something as simple as lie on the couch together, arms and legs intertwined, watching Roseanne or some other inane sitcom. He longed for, sometimes, just the sound of someone elses voice in their home.

  Then he would realize that what he was longing for was someone else, someone to simply keep him company… and not Mark. Mark was an asshole; he had betrayed him and maybe, just maybe— God forbid—put his life in jeopardy. So much for thinking you were in a monogamous relationship and it was okay to do away with the rubbers! I wont make that mistake again! Oh God, please give me the chance.

  He thought about visiting the pound and getting a dog, or going out to the bars and getting laid. Both of those options required too much trouble in the end, and Dan wasnt sure if he was ready for the commitment even a one-night stand would require, let alone a pet. And the idea of sex, at this particular point in his life, simply didnt have the same appeal. Gee, I wonder why. Dan shook his head at the sarcasm he was just barely holding in check.

  But on this particular Saturday morning, with the prospect of work on Monday facing him, Dan realized he needed another person around. He wanted to talk to someone—and not just on the phone or in an AOL chat room. He needed the real live presence of someone, somehow.

  The day outside demanded it—sunny, glorious, with actually somewhat cooling Gulf breezes to buffer the suns brilliant rays.

  There werent many people Dan could think of to call. He wished Adam wasnt holed up in that prison! He could go see him, have a couple Mai Tais and listen to some Barbra. What the hell had happened with him, anyway? None of it made any sense.

  You could go see Sullivan.

  The thought popped into his head, almost unbidden, and it chilled him. Could he really drop by the house of the man Adam had allegedly tried to strangle? What kind of reception would he get? Did he need to prepare himself to have a door slammed in his face? Would there be guilt by association?

  You know what? Im not going to worry about it. Its a gorgeous day for a drive. Sullivan might not even be home. If he is and doesnt want to see me, so be it, Ill just turn around and drive over to Passe a Grille beach, see what boys are hanging out at the south end, get myself a beer at that Lighted Tree place Adam told me about. And if Sullivan does want to see me, maybe Ill get some understanding of just what the hell happened last Sunday.

  Dan threw together stuff for the beach and, in minutes, was on the road and headed toward Brandon.

  “WELL, this is a surprise.” Sullivan stood facing Dan, talking to him through the screen door. Dan glanced briefly down at his toes, which were curling over the edges of his flip-flops. He hoped he hadnt done the wrong thing. Sullivan seemed neither pleased nor displeased to see him. Through the screen and to Dans sun-affected eyes, he was, in fact, little more than a dark shape through the screen.

  “I was in the neighborhood, thought Id drop by and see how you were doing.”

  “In the neighborhood?” Sullivan laughed and Dan noticed his voice had an edge of hoarseness to it. He wondered if the cause was the attempted strangulation. “Who the hell is just passing through Brandon, Florida?” He shook his head. “Far as I can tell, people only come to Brandon because they live here.”

  “Okay, I lied. I wanted to see you. Can I come in?” Dan had nothing to lose. The man could close the door in his face or he could let him in. Either way, Sullivan had the power to resolve the situation quickly, if not painlessly. And Dan very much wanted to get this awkward moment over with.

  “Of course.” Sullivan reached down and flipped the lock on the screen door and opened it so Dan could come inside. The beauty of the man once again struck Dan. There was something unusual about his looks, which were handsome enough, but there was another thing, an attribute he couldnt quite put his finger on, that made him stare into Sullivans hazel eyes and notice the way his deep brown, almost black hair, glistened.

  Perhaps it was as simple as a sense of grace, a quiet confidence that rose up from within Sullivan.

  Stop it, Dan. This is not why youre here.

  Dan followed Sullivan into the living room, remembering for a moment doing the same thing with Adam, when he was clad in his 1960s matron ensemble. He snickered.

  Sullivan turned. “Something funny?”

  “No. Im sorry. I was just remembering when I came over here the first time and Adam greeted me at the door in drag. I was stunned.”

  Sullivan sat down on the couch. “Adam likes to stun people. Dont think youre special.”

  Dan sat down in a chair across from him. Sullivan wore a pair of thin, gray cotton shorts and Dan couldnt help but take in his wellmuscled legs, crowned with coarse, black hair, and—he thought shamefully—the outline of the mans cock through the thin fabric of his shorts.

  Stop it, Dan. This is not why youre here.

  “Hes quite a character. I went to see him, you know, at the jail.”

  Sullivan nodded. He didnt say anything for a while. “Is that why youre here?”

  “What?”

  “Did he send you?”

  “No. No! Not at all. Coming here was my idea.” Dan felt a fluttering in his gut and a thin line of sweat break out at his hairline. What the hell was he doing, anyway? What purpose would this visit serve? If Adam had indeed assaulted Sullivan, might he not be dealing with a very resentful, even enraged, man? Dan blathered on, feeling more and more anxious. “Ive heard some weird things and I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay.”

  Sullivan cocked his head. “Why? Youre Adams buddy—right? We only met for a minute, why would you care about how I am?”

  Part of Dan simply wanted to get up and leave. This had been a big mistake. Had there been a graceful way to simply back out now, he might have done it. When confronted with a fight-or-flee situation, Dan had always chosen flee.

  “I guess because I care about Adam, already.” Dan racked his brain for the right words. “Even though I havent known him a long time, I think hes a bit of a lost soul, in spite of the fact he wants the world to see him as this tough, kind of free spirit.” Dan looked at Sullivan. “It makes me feel a bit protective of him.”

  “So youre here to protect him?”

  “No. Im here because I dont understand how a man who I got the impression was essentially decent and kind could have done what he said he did.”

  “Oh, he did.” Sullivan leaned forward and pointed to a faint necklace of bruises that looked exactly like the impressions fingers would have left, encircling his neck. “Its kind of rich that youre here visiting the guy Adam tried to strangle because you feel sorry for Adam.” Sullivan snorted.

  Without thinking, Dan reached out and touched Sullivans neck, feeling his heat and the pulse of his blood. “Oh, Im so sorry.”

  They were quiet for a while, and then Dan persisted. “I still dont understand how this happened. The Adam I thought I knew wasnt someone whod hurt another person.” Dan shrugged. “I guess my instincts were off, huh? And maybe I shouldnt be so quick to trust them when Ive only known the guy for a week or two.”

  “Do you want something to drink?” Sullivan stood suddenly, reminding Dan again just how tall and imposing a figure he made. How in hell had Adam—a little sprite or imp—overpowered a big lug like this enough to get his hands around his neck? Dan still couldnt believe he knew all there was to know about this mystery.

  “Sure? Mai Tai?” Dan quipped. />
  “Sorry, dude, Im a beer man. Ive got Michelob.”

  “Actually, that sounds really good.”

  Sullivan went into the kitchen and came back with two cold bottles. Even though it was still early in the day, the cool bottle felt good in Dans hand, and the beer tasted better. He hadnt realized, until his first sip, how dry his mouth had become.

  Sullivan took a deep breath. “You really want to know what happened?”

  Dan set his beer down on the glass-topped coffee table. “Yeah.” Dan wasnt sure at all he did, though. He felt like he was venturing into strange and dangerous territory.

  Sullivan shook his head. “I dont know that theres some easy explanation and Im not sure I understand just what the hell happened myself.” He stared down at the floor and when he lifted his head again, his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

  “We were fighting.” Sullivan shook his head and his gaze went faraway as he remembered. “That, in and of itself, wasnt so unusual. Matter of fact, lately it was par for the course. Ever since he joined me down here in Florida, we havent gotten along.”

  Dan hated to interrupt, but he had to ask. “Join you? I was under the impression the two of you moved down here together.”

  Sullivan smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes, where sadness and regret lurked. “No. Adam came down from Chicago after I begged him to come.”

  “I dont understand.”

  Sullivan blew out a sigh. “I broke up with him.” He held up a placating hand. “Before you think Im some kind of monster, dumping a guy with AIDS, let me explain.” He paused for a minute, thinking. “He made it impossible. There were times when I thought he didnt want my love, didnt need my care. Adam can be funny as hell, in a kind of biting, sarcastic way—and thats a lot of fun, until he turns that bite away from being humorous and uses it to wound.”

  He sighed. “Adam was drinking a lot the last few weeks we were together in Chicago. He would disappear for days at a time and I would be worried sick. I mean, hed had pneumonia more than once. He wasnt well. And then there was the drinking, and Im sure he went home with guys he met in the bars.” Sullivan drew in a deep breath and Dan had the sense he was willing himself not to cry. “I worried, too, that hed crashed a car or gotten mugged. He may be a perfect little bitch, tough as nails, but hes not strong. The image of him wandering around in some alley behind Halsted Street after the bars closed scared me, made me see all too easily how this guy I loved could be harmed, maybe even killed.

  “I gave him an ultimatum after his last three-day bender—„do it again and youre on your own. Ill try my best to help you and love you, but what I wont do is sit back and watch you destroy yourself. That seemed to shake him up. All the following week, things were good. Then the next weekend came, he found another KS lesion on his stomach, and bam—he was gone again. This time until Tuesday. When he came back, I had my bags packed.”

  Sullivan swallowed hard, eyes bright with unshed tears. He took a swig of beer. “You know what he said? He told me to get the fuck out. That I had never loved him, not really, anyway. He said he was better off without me.

  “That made me just mad enough that I went through with it and did it. I threw my stuff in my car and drove, without stopping, all the way down here. This house belongs to my parents and, lucky for me, it was empty, because they spend their summers up in the mountains, in North Carolina.” He took another sip of beer. “I found a job right away. Back in Chicago, I was a systems analyst for a steel company on the south side. It wasnt hard to find myself something similar and as mind-numbing right away.

  “So I was all set. A house—at least for the summer and early fall—and a job.

  “And then I got miserable. I started to miss my Adam something terrible and worried about him, scared that something awful would happen to him with no one up there to look after him.

  “I started to call him, just to check in. Make sure he was alive, make sure he was taking his AZT and seeing the doc. The calls, I realized, were just as much for me as they were for him. I couldnt sleep without him beside me, even if he had treated me like a shit. What does that say about me, huh?”

  Dan didnt have an answer, but on an instinctive level, he understood.

  “I dont think it says Im some kind of glutton for punishment, if thats what youre thinking. Or that Im some enabling sponge, hungry for the abuse I profess to hate.”

  Dan wasnt thinking that at all. But he didnt want to say anything, he wanted Sullivan to continue. He had a feeling these words had been building up in the man for a long, long time.

  “I love Adam. I still do, in spite of everything. See, I knew the Adam before AIDS came in and wrecked him. The virus did more than ruin his health. It crushed his spirit. That Adam could be a bitch too, but he was funny and kind. Hed send roses to me at work in the middle of the week. Hed pick me up on a Friday and have a getaway to Door County all planned as a surprise. Hed make a date to meet me for lunch at Thai Star and would bring a bottle of good champagne. He could be the most incredible lover, imaginative, tender, and nasty as hell—all rolled into one. I loved it.

  “Then AIDS came along and everything changed. Not just his health, but his mind. I knew he was depressed and I just didnt know what to do. I urged him to see a counselor, but he wouldnt go. I tried to talk to him. I tried to cheer him up.

  “But after a while, it seemed his only friend was the bottle—and we drifted apart.

  “When I got down here, I realized that, for better or worse as they say, I couldnt live without him. Long story short, we talked a lot on the phone, we wrote, and eventually, I broke down and urged him to come down here.

  “At first, he didnt want to.” Sullivan shrugged. “He said Id hurt him too much and that he didnt think he could be the guy I wanted him to be. In a very kind, lucid way, he said Id be better off without him, that things were only going to get worse. It broke my heart when he said something along the lines of he didnt want me to be the guy who changed his diapers.

  “And he was firm about it. He would not come. I had just about given up on ever seeing him again when, one weekend, it all changed. He called and said hed had a change of heart and wanted to come down here after all. It was weird. He was evasive about changing his mind when I asked him about the sudden shift. Suddenly, it seemed like he couldnt get down here soon enough.

  “I was too happy that he was coming to look at that move seriously, to question it.” Sullivan looked at Dan, who sat, rapt, at the edge of the couch.

  “He was down here and moved in within two days.”

  “What do you think made him change his mind?” Dan asked, looking at Sullivan and thinking that he understood—how could anyone let this beautiful and kind man slip through his fingers?

  “Thats what I dont know. I do know something happened. Probably something bad. But I didnt dare ask him… not until last Sunday.”

  “You asked him.”

  Sullivan nodded and drained his beer. He got up and got another one. Dan heard the pop of the cap and the hiss of the beer as the pressure in the bottle released. He came back in and sat down. “Yeah. He didnt want to tell me anything, but I knew there was something hed been keeping back.”

  “I dont understand.”

  “I knew he was running from something or someone. The way everything happened, his evasiveness, all pointed a finger at it—that something up there in Chicago had gone wrong.”

  Sullivan sighed. “So we were fighting. And I pressed him on it. I didnt scream. I just asked him to be straight with me, to tell me the truth, because I knew there was more about his sudden change of heart about coming down here, about us, than met the eye.

  “But he wouldnt tell me anything. The more I pressed, the quieter he got. And then I noticed a shift, something weird happened. It was like Adam left. One minute we were talking—and yes, my friend, it was heated—and the next, he was coming at me, his hands around my neck.

  “I could have batted him away. Ive got about fifty po
unds on him and, lets face it, Im in much better shape, a lot stronger. But I was afraid if I defended myself too hard, I might hurt him.” Sullivan laughed bitterly. “In the midst of him attacking me, I was looking out for his welfare! How pathetic is that?”

  Dan didnt think it was pathetic at all. Noble, maybe, caring certainly, but not pathetic. Before he had a chance to say so, Sullivan went on.

  “Well, Im not such a martyr that I was going to just lie back and let him kill me, so I did finally have to push him away. Hard. I called the cops when it looked like he might come at me again.”

  Sullivan stopped talking for a while. Dan watched him, imagining this awful night replaying in his mind.

  “You know the rest. The cops came. When Adam saw the lights outside the house, he knew it was over. And the weirdest thing? It was then it was like he came back into himself. Does that make sense?”

  “Im not sure. What do you mean?”

  “It was like it wasnt Adam attacking me. It was as though he went somewhere else. There was this weird intensity and distance about him that didnt compute, you know?”

  Dan thought about Adam telling him at the jail how he couldnt remember what had happened. Now, he believed him. “I think I do. He sort of… snapped?”

  Sullivan pointed at him. “Thats it exactly!”

  Sullivan then said something that surprised Dan. “And thats why Im not going to press charges.”

  Dan sucked in a breath; this news surprised him. “Really? Can you do that?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I can. I can just go down there today or tomorrow and retract my statement, tell them it was all a misunderstanding. They wont care. Theyve got bigger fish to fry than worrying about two battling fags. Domestic abuse is a low priority, especially where our people are involved. Sad but true.”

  Dan shook his head. “Arent you afraid hell do it again?”

  “Im not really sure he will. As you said, I think he snapped. I dont think that was typical behavior for my boy. He can be bitchy and sharp-tongued, but hes not violent, in spite of what happened.”