by Rick R. Reed
“See?” Mark whispered. “Youre right. Youre so smart—its why I love you.” Mark hugged him harder, practically pulling Dan onto his lap. Mark said, “Were not getting back together, are we?”
“No.” The simple word felt like a release for Dan and he was at last able to give Mark the simple physical comfort he needed at this difficult moment, holding him close, stroking his hair, running his hands up and down his torso. He allowed Marks head to rest on his shoulder.
Dan tensed as he heard a key in the lock and remembered all at once giving Sullivan a key just last week. Before he could disengage from his embrace with Mark, Sullivan had the door open and stood staring at the two of them, mouth open in shock and dismay.
Before Dan could speak—before, really, he could do anything— Sullivan had turned, gone back out, and softly closed the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“ SHIT.” Dan whispered, wriggling to free himself from Marks embrace. He glanced briefly at Mark, whose eyes were rimmed in red, glistening with the tears he had shed. Snot clung to his upper lip.
Outside, the rain had abated to a soft patter and Dans gaze moved to the closed door. He was still too stunned to know what to do, to put his feet into motion, or to at least say something.
Ironically, it was Mark who spoke up, motivating Dan. “Arent you going to go after him?”
Dan glanced at Mark, surprised that he would make such a suggestion—surprised and very touched. He reached out and gently touched Marks lips, whispering, “Thank you.”
He roused himself from the couch and ran outside into the now misty, humid day. It was like a blanket of warm damp out here, like a steam room, and Dan looked around desperately for some sign of Sullivan, despairing when he didnt see him. God, those few minutes I hesitated were critical. He sure managed to make a quick getaway.
Dan was about to turn back to the apartment when he spied Sullivan, standing by a kumquat tree across the small lake fronting his apartment. His arms folded across his chest, he stared out at the raindotted water. Dan wasnt at all sure he even noticed him.
Quickly, Dan traversed the curving sidewalk that would bring him to Sullivan. He looked at Dan as he approached, regarding him warily. He didnt smile.
Cautiously, as though he were coming close to an animal that might bolt, or worse, strike, Dan moved closer, so he was within earshot. “I know it sounds like a cliché, but its true—that wasnt what it looked like.”
Sullivan turned a little more toward him, but still didnt say anything. At least hes not running away. At least he appears as though he might listen. Still, I hate that frown—and the fact that I put it there.
Sullivan shrugged. “What it looked like was two hot guys locked in a passionate clutch.” He smiled, but there was only bitterness in it.
Dan took a step closer. “I know. I know. But will you just listen?”
“Thats what I was doing. And let me say right off the bat, dont insult my intelligence by trying to feed me some bullshit line. I can smell BS a mile away.”
“Will you come back inside? Where we can talk?”
“With him in there? No way.”
Dan felt the drip of the warm rain on his neck, wetting his hair, and decided it didnt matter. “Mark just got out of rehab.”
“Bully for him.”
Dan shook his hand. “Dont. Bitterness doesnt become you.” He went on. “He just got out of rehab, got clean, and got a job. He wants us to get back together.”
Sullivans grin stopped at his eyes. “Looks like you agreed.”
“Actually, no, I didnt.” Dan paused, thinking. “You know how there are times when someone betrays your trust one too many times and you just, no matter what, cant get back to where you were with them before?”
“It happened all the time with Adam! God rest his criminal, unfaithful soul. Yet I continued to love him—there was always something at his core that I believed in, that I knew made us a family, no matter how far out of line he stepped.”
Dan hadnt considered the scenario Sullivan laid out before him, and wondered for a moment why he didnt feel the same about Mark. “Maybe it doesnt work the same for everyone. And maybe I just cant explain this to you. You continued to love Adam—and perhaps thats all there is. No one ever said love was rational… or logical.” Dan took another step closer to Sullivan. He was now within touching range. “The truth of the matter—for me—is that I no longer love Mark, not in the way I did. I care about him. I want him to get back on his feet. I dont want him in my life.
“I want you.”
“So… what was that all about back there? What I walked in on?”
“Actually, I was telling him pretty much what Im telling you right now. And he was crushed. I know, I know—over me? Who knew? But he was. He cried. I put my arms around him to comfort him, as any friend would do.” Dan now did touch Sullivan, lightly, on his shoulder. “Thats all you saw.”
“Why should I believe that?”
“You dont have to. Its your choice. Weve gotten to know each other. I think you have a pretty good idea of who I am. You can believe or not. Nothing I say beyond what I just told you is really going to make a difference. Its all about faith. Trust. What you feel right here.” Dan touched Sullivans chest, just above his heart.
Dan turned and began to walk away.
He had gone only a few steps when he heard: “Dan? Wait.”
Sullivan rushed up to him and there, in the rain, he kissed him. It wasnt a long kiss—after all, it was daylight, 1991, and they were in the south and in public—but it was enough to let Dan know, within the seconds-long-duration of the kiss, that Sullivan did believe him. Sullivan pulled away. “I know. I should have realized there was an explanation. Im sorry.”
“I am too. I wish you didnt have to see that. It probably hurt! But now that you know what it was, and how innocent, you dont have to be jealous.” Dan did not mention, nor would he ever, his arousal at the feel of Marks lips on his neck.
That was physical. And what Dan had with Sullivan was so much more—already, they had built a history and a shared bond. It was fertile ground for love. “Come on, Sullivan, lets go home.”
Side by side, they walked back to the apartment. The rain was now only a drizzle. As they got closer to the front door, Dan thought of the two lost souls who had brought them together, men each of them had loved, men with demons. Without them, Dan and Sullivan would never have found the other… and maybe, never been able to give the kind of care that was mutual and born of love and not need.
At the door, Dan turned to Sullivan. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
They joined hands and went inside.
Epilogue
Three Letters from Dan Shoemakers Gmail
Me to Adele ODair show details 9:35 AM (1 hour ago) Adele,
Thanks for getting back to me so quickly about the
CAREGIVER manuscript. I have to say I was sorry to hear your response. Perhaps the book is a bit of a memoir and, yes, it does parallel my own life in many ways, but you know me personally and youre the only one who knows that. To my mind, the book is just what you asked me to send along in its stead: a love story.
Your response, unfortunately, demonstrated to me that perhaps its time for us to part company as author and agent. I appreciate all youve done for me and my career and will always be in your debt for creating a world where I can do what I love and be paid enough for it that I can live without resorting to an evil day job. I love you for that!
But I think our relationship has run its course. The fact that you could not see the worth of this book showed me you truly are, as you said, all about business. And thats fine. But as much as I appreciate being able to make a living off spinning yarns, I am also an artist.
That book is very dear to my heart—and its my hunch that it will be near the hearts of my readers, the ones who appreciate the romance that has played an increasingly larger and larger role in everything Ive written, especially over
the past couple of years.
The fact that you cant see that tells me youre really not right for me. I dont know what will be right for me—whether I forge a path alone or with another agent—but I do know its time to move on.
Again, Adele, many thanks for the hard work youve put in on my career. Because of that work, even though Im terminating our professional relationship today, you will continue to enjoy the fruits of my labors for many years to come, Im sure. And our contact will continue, only not in the same way.
It boils down to taking care of your clients, Adele. For the most part, you did a good job with me, but you failed me the one time when I think I needed you most.
If that sounds bitter, please know its not. I will always respect your business acumen and certainly will always consider you a friend.
Dear Adam, Its strange to be writing to you now, twenty years after youve passed into whatever constitutes heaven for you.
But its taken me that long to process what we had between us and just how significant a role you played in my life and—I hope—I in yours.
Its funny, when I mentioned heaven, I had an immediate image of you as an angel, looking down on me with a self-satisfied smirk, knowing just how much you contributed to my current life circumstances, but how knowing you shaped me as a person and made me stronger. But I didnt see your typical angel, which would have been much too cliché for you. No, the cloud youd be sitting on, for starters, would not be fluffy and white, but leopard print, or maybe zebra. And there wouldnt be some fellow angel sitting nearby, strumming a harp, but Barbra herself, whispering, over and over, “Papa, can you hear me?” And you, naturally, would not be wearing some celestial white robe or have wings sprouting from your back. Again, my Lord, far too unoriginal! No, youd be wearing something classic, perhaps a pink Chanel suit, à la Jackie Kennedy, and smoking a Benson and Hedges 100. Your legs would be crossed, dangling over the edge of your animal-print cloud, and your feet would be tastefully sheathed in patent stilettos.
God, I do hope you can see me and know how I think of you. It makes me smile to think that maybe I could make you laugh. I always wanted to make you laugh and you, in spite of your circumstances, made it an imperative to make those around you laugh.
Its twenty years later and I still remember you so clearly! And I miss you like hell.
If you had hung in there for just a few more years, my Adam, you would have seen the advent of protease inhibitors and drug “cocktail” combinations that would have allowed you, possibly, to live a much longer and healthier life.
I wish that would have worked out for you. Theres so much I wish would have worked out for you. Selfishly, I still pine for just a little more time with you, to bask in your wit and charm, to drink in your strength that was always there, even when you wore a little black dress and pearls.
Ill tell you a secret—I still read your letters, the crazy things you wrote me from prison, the spot-on caricatures you drew, the life lessons you issued to me even when I should have been sending them to you.
A casual observer from that time we knew each other might have said it was your life that was a mess, but it was mine all along. You—and only you—helped me see it and gave me the strength to see that letting people walk all over me was no way to live.
Wherever you are, sweet thing, I hope you are happy and at peace. I think you are. I feel it every night when I close my eyes. You touch me, dont you?
Yeah.
And you touch Sullivan too, lying next to me. Hes been there for the past twenty years now and neither of us is as pretty on the outside as when you left us, but your memory lives on in each of us, keeping us connected and keeping us young and beautiful on the inside.
Okay! Okay… I see the image youre projecting to me—the one of you sticking your finger down your throat.
So Ill just say it, simply: I love you, Adam.
Dear Reader,
The book you hold in your hands is a combination of memory, fancy, imagination, and the culmination of the authors realization about the elusive nature of love.
Its about me. Its about you. Its about all of us, especially if we are lucky enough to have loved someone, even if only briefly, who profoundly changed our lives, simply by example.
This book was not published, as you know, by some big New York City house. It has not been touted as the next best thing by Miss Oprah Winfrey. It most likely will not be reviewed by the New York Times. It is not coming soon to a theater near you.
But I do hope it will live on in your heart, as Adam truly does live on in mine.
And I do hope youll take the time to appreciate the small publishing house that took a chance with CAREGIVER and saw its simple, and I like to think, noble worth. They are the kind of publisher who recognizes a true love story… and knows that love stories cannot be confined to formulas.
What story in life runs according to formula anyway?
And if you, dear reader, have made it this far, Im hoping you, too, will appreciate that a good love story can be as individual as the people who comprise it.
I hope you recognize that my giving this story to you, and by extension, my publisher making it available to you, is a gift of love.
Just like Adam gave me that same gift….
Best,
Dan Shoemaker “Do you want an engraved invitation, honey? Lunch is on the table and its getting cold,” Sullivan called from the kitchen.
“Im on my way. Im on my way.”
About the Author
RICK R. REED is the author of dozens of published novels, novellas,
and short stories. He is a two-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). His work has caught the attention of Unzipped magazine, “The Stephen King of gay horror”; Lambda Literary, “A writer that doesnt disappoint”; and Dark Scribe magazine, “an established brand—perhaps the most reliable contemporary author for thrillers that cross over between the gay fiction market and speculative fiction.” He lives in Seattle.
Visit him at http://www.rickrreed.com or at his blog at http://rickrreedreality.blogspot.com/. You can contact Rick at jimmyfels @gmail.com, Twitter: http://twitter.com/RickRReed, and Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/rickrreed.
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