Caregiver

by Rick R. Reed

  “On Columbus?”

  “Yeah, you know. You loved that place.”

  Mark sounded hesitant. “I just thought I could come over. I have a lot to tell you.”

  “Itll be fun. Noisy. Lively. I need a change of pace. Ill treat!” What Dan wasnt saying was that he didnt really want to be alone with Mark. What Dan didnt want to probe too closely in his own mind was why he didnt want to be by himself with the man.

  “I guess its okay. I havent had real Cuban food in ages. But can you make me a promise?”

  “Whats that?” Something with sharp teeth began to gnaw at the inside of Dans gut.

  “That if we need more time to talk, we can come back to our, I mean your, place after we eat.”

  “Lets just play it by ear,” Dan said quickly, and just as fast added, “See you around twelve thirty? Meet you out front?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  They disconnected.

  JUST as Dan had hoped, the bustling Cuban restaurant with its horseshoe-shaped counters was crowded with post-holiday patrons, hungry for the kinds of food that didnt appear on most American Thanksgiving tables—Puerco Asado (roast pork that melted in ones mouth), ropa vieja (shredded beef) and arroz con pollo (chicken with rice). They had to wait for about fifteen minutes for two side-by-side seats to open up at the counter. Dan ordered a Cuban sandwich, with a side of fried plantains, and Mark simply asked for a couple of ham croquettes and a bowl of chick pea soup.

  When their food had been put before them, Dan asked the question foremost on his mind. “So where the hell have you been?” He smiled to soften the query and took a bite of his Cuban.

  “Where do you think?”

  “Rehab?”

  “Bingo. In Rhode Island. It was a place my mom knew, well,

  knew intimately. As you know, shes had her own troubles and she had a relationship with the place and was able to get me in at a reduced rate. I still owe. Lots.” Mark took a bite of his croquetta. He chewed for a moment and said, “It was the best thing I ever did.” He looked at Dan. “Other than meeting you, of course.” He smiled, and Dan busied himself with the fried plantains.

  Over lunch, Mark told Dan about his three-month stay at Hope Rises, the rehab facility where, he said, he “confronted his demons” and realized “he was not the one in the drivers seat.” He smiled at Dan as they drank their cortiditos, the thick, black coffee syrupysweet and delicious. “Letting go and accepting that there was a higher power in charge of my life made it a lot easier to get off the coke. The Twelve Steps saved my life.”

  “Are you still going to meetings?”

  “Oh yeah, the first thing I did when I got back down here was to find out where the meetings were.” Mark shoved his empty plate away. “Its been rough! Especially those first few weeks, I was so tempted to just walk out of that place. I had it up to my eyeballs with what I thought were their cornball platitudes and shit, but now I look back and I know it was the coke demon inside me making me think that way. Once I was able to „let go and let God as they say, things started to get a bit easier.”

  Dan toyed with the paper napkin in front of him and finally balled it up and set it on his plate, where all that remained were a few crumbs. “So you think youre clean now? Cured?”

  Dan was surprised when Mark shook his head. “Oh no. It doesnt work that way. If I started thinking I was „cured or not an addict any more, that would just open the doors to a whole world of temptation and, eventually, acting out. No, I think Im recovering and I hope and pray that I will continue to recover for the rest of my life.” Mark met Dans gaze with earnest eyes. “Thats what I ask my higher power for every morning when I start my day.”

  Dan wasnt sure he knew the person sitting next to him. He was glad Mark had gotten clean, and even though the man had kept the more serious aspects of his addiction a secret (mostly) from him, he had this odd feeling of sitting next to a stranger. Mark definitely looked better—there was a vibrancy and vitality about him now that caused him to practically glow, yet Dan couldnt help but feel suspicious and wonder where the real Mark was hiding—and when he would pop out again.

  Mark interrupted Dans reverie. “One of the things, as you probably know, about recovery, is making amends to the people your selfish and reckless behavior harmed.” Mark covered Dans hand with his own for a moment and Dan snatched it away, surveying the traditional Cuban restaurant to see if anyone had seen. This was not the place for many things. Dan started to feel a racing of his pulse as he considered how Marks mea culpa might affect him. “I do want to apologize to you, honey.” He caught himself. “I mean Dan. Im genuinely sorry for the lies, the sneaking around, and the just not being there for you.”

  “Its okay,” Dan said, feeling more nervous and flustered than he rationally thought he had a reason to.

  “No, its not okay. I hurt you and not only do I say Im sorry for that, but I want to make it up to you.”

  Dan nodded. He didnt know what “making it up” to him would mean. Suddenly, the noisy restaurant and all the strange bodies pressed so close made him feel claustrophobic, as though he were working to take in air. “Listen,” he said, a little breathless, “I really need to get out of here.”

  “Is it okay if we go back to your place?”

  Dan briefly considered a drive, perhaps even parking somewhere off the Courtney Campbell Causeway, but then thought how earnest his former boyfriend was and that such a suggestion might minimize what he was trying to offer him. So he simply nodded.

  They settled up with their waitress and left.

  AFTER they got home, and had gotten comfortable on the patio with glasses of iced tea, Mark continued with what Dan thought of as his “heart-baring.” He listened, while staring out at the water of the pond in front of them, as Mark described his journey, the people he had met in rehab, the realizations he came to about himself, the group therapy sessions and how much he had learned.

  “I know I can cope now. The drugs were an escape.” Dan didnt know what to say. He watched as sudden storm clouds gathered on the horizon. Marks voice became a drone, competing with the darkening, gathering clouds, with their bruised hues of purple and gray. Finally, something Mark said shook him out of his reverie as much as the first, fat raindrop landing on his forearm.

  “One of the things I learned was that my addiction was an escape. I know now that, for a long time, things werent right between us.” The rain started coming down harder as Mark turned to him. “It was my fault, mostly, but I understand myself better now. I want to try again, Dan. I need you.”

  Were those tears on Marks cheeks or simply raindrops? “We should get inside before we get drenched.” Without waiting for a response, Dan got up from his chair and hurried to the door, not looking back to see if Mark followed.

  In the living room, they sat down next to one another on the couch. Dan didnt know what to say, so silence reigned for several minutes. What was there to say, anyway? Words did not rise up in Dans mind in response to Marks proclamation, but an image—of Sullivan.

  After Dans silence lingered for an uncomfortably long period, Mark finally spoke again, his voice soft. “Did you hear me?”

  Dan didnt want to play coy, so he ignored his impulse that told him to claim he hadnt heard, so he simply nodded.

  Mark touched his face. “Of all the shit that went on in my life— an alcoholic single mom who never met a man she didnt like, the dead-end jobs, the dead-end boyfriends, you, Dan, were always the shining star.” He laughed. “I know, I know. That sounds corny, but I mean it. You were the one good and decent thing that let me know I wasnt just damaged goods. Your loving me let me know I counted; that I was worth something.” Marks lower lip quivered, but he took in a deep breath and held it together. “You were kind of like a mirror that threw back a reflection of a man who was good, or at least could be.” Mark swallowed. “And that scared me, I think. Made me afraid I couldnt live up to the expectation in your eyes. Made me wonder if I was really deserving of th
e love of a guy like you. Thats where the drugs came in. They let me stop thinking I wasnt worthy. They made me feel good. But it was an empty good, a big, fat, fucked-up lie.

  “I see now that I can be the guy you fell in love with. I can give you the good you saw in me.” Mark removed his hand from Dans face—he had been gently stroking his cheek as he spoke.

  Mark quieted and Dan knew he was waiting for a response. And Dan, surprising even himself, was torn. Here before him was not a strange Mark, but the Mark he had fallen in love with way back when. Here was the Mark he knew, he always knew, hid inside the user and abuser, damaged by pain inflicted by a mother who didnt care and a society who had never really seen his worth, not as Dan had. Here was the decent Mark, the whole Mark, the one who was capable of giving and receiving love.

  Dan closed his eyes and let his head loll back on the couch, unable to speak. Oh my God. The thought hit him with the force of a brick to the face. I still love this man. He needs me. What am I going to do? I cant just turn away from such soul-searching honesty. How can I be so heartless as to say something like, „Sorry. Theres someone else now? Dan opened his eyes and looked into Marks dark brown ones; the irises had always reminded him of dark chocolate, rich, mysterious, and maybe even a little bitter. Without thinking, he leaned toward Mark, with his lips parted, ready to kiss him. He jerked back. No! No. No. Dont let the physical enter into this. Not right now. It will only confuse things. He stood suddenly, going to the sliding glass doors and staring out at the storm.

  The rain came down in sheets, the dark skies illuminated every couple of minutes by flashes of lightning that gave the day a bluewhite intensity. Does life never quiet? Do the conflicts never cease? Ive had so much to contend with these past few months—meeting and losing Adam, losing Mark, my own AIDS scare, meeting and working things out with Sullivan. Just when I think things are settling into a somewhat comfortable groove—a nice boyfriend, a boring but stable job, an apartment I like—God has to say, “No, no, no! Youre getting too complacent down there. What can I do to shake things up? How can I knock the pins out from under this guy?” and He sends Mark careening back into my life, bringing up feelings I thought were as dead and buried as Adam.

  Dan turned back to Mark, simply looking at him for several moments—his stocky build, the hair once blond, shorn close to his scalp, that now seemed dark enough to qualify as brown, the waiting, hopeful expectation written large all over his handsome features. Dont say it. Dont say it, Mark, please.

  But Mark did. “I love you, Dan. I never stopped.” Mark smiled and it was a guileless, innocent expression, one filled with remembered joy. It nearly broke Dans heart because he knew he was the source of that joy. “The one thing that kept me going all through rehab was the belief that you were down here, waiting for me to come back.” Mark laughed. “I even kept a picture of you above my bed. You remember the one? I took it of you when we went canoeing on the Hillsborough River when we first came down here. Remember that day?”

  “We saw a nest of baby alligators,” Dan recalled. “And another alligator, about six feet long, came swimming near our canoe. You wanted to get closer so you could take a picture. I was terrified.”

  Mark grinned, nodding. “Anyway, the picture was taken before you saw any of that, when you had just gotten in the boat and you were smiling and holding the paddle up, like you couldnt wait to get going.”

  All at once, the warm, perfect day on the river rushed back to him and Dan recalled Mark taking the picture. It was a good photo, not so much because his smile was just so and the lighting was perfect, reflecting off the rivers green water, but because it represented how he had felt that day. Back then, they hadnt even found their apartment yet and were staying in a cheap motel off the highway. They had just come down from Chicago, leaving the cold threat of winter behind as though they had traversed time as well as distance. Dan had thought they had left all of Marks demons behind in the city, and the canoe ride and the trip south represented a new start. Dans soul had felt clean, refreshed. That day had been a new beginning.

  He understood why Mark loved the photo.

  But Dan couldnt help but also wonder how much he could trust this new beginning, the one thrust in front of him right now. Just for arguments sake, what would happen if Dan did take him back? Would Mark find a job?

  He blurted it out without thinking. “How are you fixed for work, Mark?”

  “I already got a job, youll be happy to know. Im selling cars again, at a Honda dealership in Temple Terrace. Ive only been working a few days, but Ive already sold two and the place does a great business.”

  “Wow, thats great.” One obstacle down…. But how would Dan know Mark wouldnt start using again? What guarantees did he have that Mark wouldnt one day, in a moment of weakness, call up that same dealer again and begin the cycle anew? Didnt addicts relapse all the time?

  You dont know. You dont have guarantees. Love is about trust. Its about faith. Its about believing in the person you love.

  Dan got up and moved over to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and began rummaging around in it, not knowing what he was looking for. Something inside him ached, something he didnt want to acknowledge or face. He realized he had grown these past few months. The old Dan would have been in Marks arms now, making forgiving sounds and perhaps even urging Mark into the bedroom.

  But Dan was no longer the same person he was when Mark had gone out of his life just a few months ago. Pain and loss had forged growth—and so had knowing an incredible man who stayed strong until his very early and premature end.

  Dan knew what ached inside. He closed the refrigerator and leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at the back of Marks head until the man turned and looked at him. Oh God! I do love that face. That hope I see there just makes me want to melt.

  “What?” Mark asked, grinning.

  How can I break his heart? Hes worked so hard! Hes clean. He has a job. Hes a beautiful man.

  But what aches is the answer to my thoughts of a moment ago. Love is about faith. Its about trust. And as much as I want to believe, I dont have those things for Mark anymore. He broke my trust too many times. He risked my own life with his careless behavior, his partying, and infidelity.

  He may be in a different place now. Good for him. But its not a place I can be.

  Dan crossed the room and sat down. He took Marks hands in his own, gripping them tightly. He made sure their eyes met and locked. “Mark. Im so proud of you. You did the right thing.” He stopped, not sure he could go on, not sure he had it in him to wound the optimistic face before him. He had to. “But things are different now. I didnt just sit here while you were gone, in a vacuum, waiting. I grew and changed too. And what we had, when it was good, was very, very good.” Dan grinned. “But when it was bad, it was horrid. You know that.” Dan drew in a deep breath, shaking his head. “And the sad truth, my sad truth, is I dont know if I can just forget everything. Can I forgive you? I can and do. I probably did that a long time ago, just so I could move on.” Dan touched Marks face as the hope began to flee from it, to be replaced first by wariness, then despair. “But I cant forget and I dont know if I can ever trust again.”

  Marks brow furrowed and he didnt say anything for a moment, thinking. “I get that. But couldnt we just try? Couldnt we start over?”

  Dan was not at all sure they could, even if Sullivan was not in the picture. His trust—his faith—had been too badly broken. Yes, there was a kind of love still present for Mark, but it was a nostalgic, brotherly affection, one based on remembering the good memories and forgetting the bad; it was love without a spark. Dan didnt want to tell him that. What would be the point? It would only wound Mark even more. Instead, he said, “Mark. Theres someone else. Sullivan. You met him on Thanksgiving. I—” Dans voice trailed off for a moment. “I love him.”

  Dan expected rage. He did not expect tears.

  Mark simply crumpled, wordless. His head dropped into his hands and he began to weep,
softly, his shoulders shaking. This display of anguish was almost enough to cause Dan to renege on everything he had just said, to make a promise to get rid of Sullivan and be there for Mark.

  Almost.

  But Dan clung tightly to his newfound inner strength and knew he couldnt jeopardize his own happiness to take care of Mark. That wouldnt be, he realized, nurturing someone, but enabling them.

  Things were over between him and Mark. They were over the day he told him to leave. Yes, a part of him wanted Mark to find a way out of the hell he had created for himself with the drugs, but that hope was not based on him coming back to Dan whole. That hope was one Mark had nurtured on his own. Dan felt bad for that, but he couldnt take responsibility for it, no matter how much a tiny, whining part of him continued to tell him he should.

  He placed a hand on Marks shoulder, trying to peer into the face Mark hid with his hands. “Im sorry. I really care for you, Mark, and I want only good for you. But what we had…what we had….” He sighed, blowing out a big breath and staring up at the ceiling. “Its over.”

  The words only made Mark cry harder, so Dan did what any good friend—and not lover—would do: he took the man in his arms. Mark clung to him desperately, pulling him close and sobbing. He choked out the words, “I love you so much, Dan. The whole time I was away I kept thinking this will all be worth it because Dan is waiting at the other end. My Danny….”

  Dan made slow circles on Marks back. He whispered, “Thats romantic and sweet to hear, but we both know that isnt quite true. And it shouldnt be. You didnt get clean for me, did you? I hope not. I realize I entered into it, but I hope you got clean for yourself. Thats the only way its going to stick.”

  Mark kissed his neck, nuzzling his face into the hollow. The wetness of his lips, along with the contrast of the stubble on Marks face, was causing Dan to get excited in spite of himself. He could not, would not, let this lapse into a moment where something he knew hed regret might happen, all because the flow of blood moved from one head to another.