Those Cerulean Eyes - 8. Chapter 8

FRIDAY AFTERNOON, DAY 17

Eight days later, I walk out of my Constitutional Law class to find Mickey waiting in the hallway for me. Since it’s been more than a week since I’ve seen or heard from him, I just assumed that he had hooked up with Sean, and I put him in the past where he rightfully belongs. But now…

“Hey, Mark. How have you been?”

How have I been? I haven’t seen or heard from you for over a week, Mickey, and you approach me with how have you been? “Well, I still work at Starbucks and I’m still a regular there,” I coolly reply. “In fact, I added to my hours when I suddenly found myself with so much free time on my hands.”

“Hey, about that—”

“Look, Mickey…” I pull him down the hall a ways where hopefully no one can hear us talking. “I’m not going to put you in the position to have to make excuses or lie to me, so I’m going to come right out with it. I know that you’re with Sean. I’ve known it since last Thursday night when I saw you two leave work holding hands. I saw him kiss you on the way to Armstrong Apartments, which is where I presume that he lives. I saw you enter the building with him, where I also presume that you spent the night, although I didn’t hang around long enough to ascertain that for sure—”

“Were you spying on me, Mark?”

“Spying? Actually, when my shift ended at Starbucks, I went to Barnes & Noble to walk you home, the good boyfriend that I thought I was. I waited for you, and during that time I saw you and Sean acting more than a little friendly with each other. Hell, I watched him pawing all over you, obviously intending to get into your pants, which I assume he did once he got you home. Actually, I assume that once he found his way into your pants, he found his way into you, as well. Anyway, those were my thoughts as I walked home broken-hearted that night.

“But to be fair and impartial like every good lawyer should be, I’ll give you an opportunity to defend yourself. Am I wrong about anything that I’ve said, Mickey? Is there anything of what I just said conjecture on my part?”

To his credit, Mickey looks me in the eyes and says, “No.”

“So, am I also right to assume that he didn’t wear a condom when he fucked you?”

“Yes.”

By now the hallway has emptied and it’s only Mickey and me. “How can you be so naïve, Mickey? Maybe stupid is a better word, though. Sean is a player; he’s been around, and it’s not going to end with you. I’m sure that he’s sown his seed with many more guys than just you.”

Looking sad and embarrassed, he looks down at the floor. “Yeah. Anyway, it’s over now, Mark. You were right about Sean.”

“So, how many times, Mickey? How many times did he cum inside you?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “I honestly don’t know, Mark.”

“Well, once is enough, Mickey. It only takes one time to get HIV, which can become AIDS. You need to get tested. You know that. So any future sexual partners can take precautions if you have it and you’re going to have intercourse with them, which isn’t going to be me.”

He is near the point of crying now. I don’t know if it’s because he hurt me or if it’s because he’s genuinely scared because of the risk that he’s taken by having unprotected intercourse with Sean. But it really doesn’t matter at this point because our relationship is over.

“Get tested, Mickey.” Then I leave him standing there alone.

SUNDAY EVENING, DAY 19

“Hello, may I please speak to Mark?” I barely recognize the voice as Mickey’s mother’s.

“Marilyn?”

“Mark, it’s Mickey. He’s alive, but barely. Oh my God, he’s all that I have, Mark!” She’s crying now. “He told me everything. About having unprotected sex with Sean Carmody, his concern about HIV and AIDS as a result, and how much he had hurt you. After he told me, he went to his bedroom and overdosed on sedatives. I’m sick, Mark, and so, so afraid.”

“I’m on my way, Marilyn. What hospital?”

“Good Sam ICU. He needs you, Mark. I need you.” She’s crying harder now.

I pull into Good Sam Hospital parking lot a little after 7:00 pm, then race up to the ICU lounge where I’m immediately surrounded by Marilyn’s arms. “Thank you so much for coming, Mark. They pumped his stomach, but it might be too late. I’ve been praying that it isn’t. My God… I don’t know what I’ll do without him.”

“I’ll pray too, Marilyn,” I say, hugging her tightly in my arms. “How long after he overdosed did you discover it?”

“I don’t know, Mark. He was in his bedroom all weekend. He had barely eaten anything since Friday. Every time I asked what was wrong, he just lay there on his bed alternately crying and staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t until this afternoon that he finally opened up to me. I had a feeling, an intuition, that he might do something drastic because he was so devastated and depressed by what he had done; that he had hurt you and destroyed his relationship with you as a result. You mean so much to him, Mark. But in his defense, it isn’t entirely his fault. Throughout his life I’ve sheltered and protected him to the point that he couldn’t distinguish between what was good and what was bad for him when he had to make that decision for himself. For that I take full responsibility. I should have allowed him to make the mistakes that normal boys his age make rather than trying to constantly protect him from them. He’s really a good boy, Mark.” She sighs. “There I go again, referring to him as a boy when he is a young man now.”

“It’s okay, Marilyn. Right now none of that matters to me. I just want him to come through this and be the Mickey that I’d grown to love before all of this happened. I’m at fault too, you know. I should have talked to him instead of coldly walking away from him, tried to understand rather than abandon him after what he’d done.” I sigh. “Should have, would have, could have… I’m so sorry, Marilyn.”

She pulls away just enough to look up into my eyes and weakly smiles. “I told them about the possibility of his having HIV, Mark. His blood work came back okay, though, so at least we don’t have that to worry about.”

I sigh. “Thank God for that. Now we just have to pray that he gets through this, and without any complications or long-term effects. I’ve really missed him this past week and don’t know what I’ll do if…” I stop, refusing to consider the possibility that Mickey won’t survive this. Mickey has to survive!

“If he doesn’t make it. You can say it, Mark. As horrible and as scary as it is, I’ve already considered that possibility.”

“I just don’t want to put it out there, Marilyn. Mickey has to make it. He’s going to make it. Both you and I will see to it that he does, with no complications or long-term effects.”

“You’re a strong young man, Mark. You’re very good for Mickey. With you he can conquer any mountain.”

But can I conquer this enormous mountain of my own making if Mickey doesn’t survive this? My dear Mickey, I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.

2:00 AM MONDAY, DAY 20

Mickey’s doctor enters the ICU lounge with good news. Although Mickey is still unconscious and not out of danger yet, he made it past the crucial point and has stabilized. His vital signs—brain function, heart function and lung function—are within acceptable ranges. When he regains consciousness they will be able to determine if there is any permanent damage, and if so, how much. Then he suggests that if we have connections with the man upstairs, we should use them to rally Mickey out of this with no physical or mental complications. Then he invites Marilyn to visit her son’s bedside in ICU. Since I’m not family, the offer doesn’t apply to me. So, while I’ve never been much into praying, I make an exception and pray my heart out in the ICU lounge, assuming that Marilyn is doing the same at Mickey’s bedside.

“He is still unconscious, Mark,” Marilyn says when she re-enters the ICU lounge an hour or so later, “but I told him that you’re out here praying for and pulling for him. I think he might have heard me.” Then she hugs me and says, “Just knowing that you’re here will give him the impetus to fight this. I’m sure of it.”

“I hope you’re right, Marilyn. I so hope that you’re right…”

A while later, she goes back to ICU to be with her son again. When she comes back, she is accompanied by Mickey’s doctor who tells me that he is making an exception to the family members only rule and takes me into ICU to Mickey’s bedside. I don’t know what Marilyn said to him, but I’m appreciative for whatever it was. It’s scary seeing Mickey innocently lying there looking so fragile and helpless with so many sensors and tubes attached to his body, the sound of the constant, steady beep monitoring his vital signs in the background. I want to cry for him, and I do at first as I gently take his hand in mine and lightly stroke the back of it with my thumb, feeling it cool to the touch. “Hi, Mickey. It’s Mark,” I begin. “Your doctor was kind enough to make an exception to the family members only rule and allow me to see you and talk to you. I’m so happy that he did because I can see that you’re in really good hands. I kind of feel like a member of the family, though, because I love you so very, very much and I miss you. I miss your smile, I miss having coffee and scones with you at Starbucks, I miss walking to classes with you, I miss seeing you in the hallway, waiting for me when I walk out of my class, I miss kissing you…” I look around to assure that I’m not overheard. “…And I miss holding you dearly in my arms as I make love to your precious body with all my heart and soul. I miss all those things, Mickey, but mostly I just miss you. So please, please come back to me so we can enjoy all those things again, and more. I want to talk about what happened, why you felt like you needed someone else when you had me. And I want to apologize from deep within my heart and soul for callously abandoning you when you needed me most. I love you, Michael James Hodges. Please heal for me so everything can be like it was before Sean and all this happened. Please, Mickey, do it for your mother and for me, the two people in this world who care most about you.

“I expect that they’ll want me to leave soon, so I’ll gently kiss your cheek, then go back out into the lounge with your mother and patiently wait for you to come back to us. Okay?” It’s at that moment that I feel the faint squeeze of his hand in mine, telling me that he’s heard me. My heart beats wildly with excitement and I squeeze back and kiss him again. “Thank you so much, Mickey. I really needed that,” I whisper. “I love you and I’ll be waiting for you. Okay? So please come back to me.” And with that said, a nurse suddenly appears to take me back to the ICU lounge.

“I talked to him as I held his hand, Marilyn,” I announce as I re-enter the lounge, “and he heard me because he squeezed my hand. Mickey’s going to be okay. I just know it.”

“Of course he is,” she smiles. “Mickey is going to bounce right back and be just as good and whole as he ever was. Even better. I wish you could have heard him when he poured his heart out to me yesterday afternoon. He loves you so much, Mark. You are his world. I’ve never seen nor heard such anguish in my son as I did then.”

I deeply inhale to avoid a burst of emotion. “I truly love him, Marilyn, with all my heart and soul. When I saw him lying there looking so fragile and vulnerable, I just couldn’t imagine my life without him.”

She enfolds me in her arms. “Which is another reason that Mickey will fully heal, Mark. He loves you just as much as you love him.”

“Thank you for whatever you said to the doctor for him to allow me in to see Mickey. I really, really needed to see him and see with my own eyes that he’s going to be okay.”

“I just told him the truth, Mark; that you love him just as much as I do, but in a different way. He understood what I didn’t say.”

“I can’t wait to see Mickey’s smile, Marilyn. Suddenly, it’s the most important thing in the world for me.”

“For me too, Mark. For me too…”