Page 34 of Torn
“But for me, I like to believe that, yeah, we’ll call and write. I hope you’ll come up to Boston and see me before it gets cold. I hope that visit will be so special that we will immediately have to make the time and the funds available for a second visit. Then a third. And so on and so forth until we at last are busy trying to figure out a more permanent way of being together.” He cocked his head. “What’s the harm in believing that? We can think your way or my way, but the future will play out as it will. So why not believe that the positive might happen? Why not choose hope over despair?”
He grabbed my hand again and squeezed it. I looked up to see tears standing in his eyes. “Why not believe that love can last? And then do everything we can to make it happen.”
I think that normally I would have been cheered, roused by his heartfelt speech. But this damn fatigue was only deepening, despite the doses of optimism and caffeine. I couldn’t meet his hope with despair, so I forced myself to smile, even though my gut was beginning to ache. “I’m sorry to be such a downer. It’s the pragmatist—no, the cynic in me. I’ve been unlucky in love more times than you know. My default setting is to go for another heartbreak, because that’s how it always ends up for me.” My smile softened, turning sad. “You’re right. Maybe we can make something of this if we have hope. If we’re committed. I’ll come see you. I’ll look into it as soon as I get home, okay?”
Walt’s smile nearly broke my heart. It was full of so much joy and relief. “Really?”
“Yes, Walt, really.” I squeezed his hand.
Finally, I realized that my fatigue was more than exhaustion. I worried that I was getting sick. Perfect.
I got to my feet, as surprised as Walt was by my move. But I needed to get out of there, get back to the flat and a bed. “Forgive me, but I don’t feel so good.”
Walt stood.
I motioned him back down. “Stay. Have your tea and scones, maybe get yourself some dinner.” Just saying the words made my stomach churn.
Warily, he sat back down. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t think so, but it’s not to do with you.” I wanted to smile, but it no longer seemed possible. As much as I wanted to deny it, I realized I was getting ill. “I just need to get back, lie down. I’m sure it’ll pass after a little rest.”
I didn’t want to kiss him, both from not wanting to give him whatever it was I’d contracted, but also because I still had a fear of how others would react to a public display of affection between two men.
“Stay. I’ll be in touch, okay?”
He nodded, looking glum. I’m sure he believed I wouldn’t.
I hurried from the diner. I couldn’t wait to get home. And by home, I meant the good old US of A.
Chapter 12
I WOKEearly from troubled sleep. I’d tossed and turned, sweating, throughout the night. When I did manage a few minutes of sleep, I was tortured by the same dream. I was walking alone in Lincoln Park, back in Chicago. I went into one of the tunnels that run beneath Lake Shore Drive. Once under, in the light of the opening ahead, all I could see was a lone male figure. I tried and tried to get to this figure, but the more I walked, the more I ran, the more elusive the figure became. It was as though I was running in place. As much as I moved, the distance between me and the silhouette never closed.
I was still alone in the double bed when the sunlight streamed into the room. Boutros had told me the night before, “You look like hell, my darling. I know you’re not used to hearing that, but it’s true. I donotwant what you’re having.” Even sick, I was surprised Boutros would make a reference toWhen Harry Met Sally, if that was indeed what he was doing. “I’ll sleep on the couch again.” He stretched and yawned. “It’s actually quite comfortable. And I have the TV and VCR. I’ll just pop inTaxi zum Klo, have a wank, and drift off into heavenly sleep.”Taxi zum Klo, orTaxi to the Loo, was a 1980s German film on VHS Trevor had lying around. It was about a sex addict elementary school teacher, and it contained some very graphic sex scenes, although in its day it hadnotbeen considered pornography.
Boutros had stared at me after making the crack about masturbating. If he was expecting me to laugh, he was sorely mistaken.
“Thank you” was the best I could muster. I’d turned and headed toward the bedroom. My hopes of getting into bed and pulling the covers over my head were at last about to come true.
Boutros halted me in my tracks by putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turned and was surprised to see the concern in his brown eyes. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged. “Just a little off. Probably need a good night’s sleep. I think it’s all catching up with me.”
“Okay, then. Our flight isn’t super early. But if you’re not up by nine, I’ll knock.”
NOW Ilay there with the sun streaming in. I should have been cheered by the golden rays. Today was the day I would go home. Despite leaving Walt behind, I was eager to get back to my own little apartment in Rogers Park, my cat, AJ, and even my job as a catalog copywriter for an office-products company. The break had been wonderful, mind-expanding even, but home was home.
And yet I felt almost too weak to get out of bed. My joints ached, and the fatigue was like a heavy, soaked blanket pressing me down.
As any sexually active gay man would back in the mid-90s, I worried that this was my initial warning that my body had been infected with the HIV virus. In spite of my harlotish ways, I’d always been a stickler for condom use, whether I topped or bottomed.
Still, accidents happen. About a year ago, I had been at the Unicorn, the bathhouse on Halsted, and had let a Tom Selleck lookalike fuck me in the steam room. We had an amazing time, until he pulled out a dick with tattered latex clinging to it. The tip of his bare cock glistened with come.
We’d both looked down as he grinned and said, “Looks like I fucked right through it.”
To him it was funny, a little accident, but I’d been horrified, certain my next test would turn up positive. But it didn’t. And neither did the one I had right before embarking on this very trip.
Still, there were things like windows when the virus wouldn’t show up on a test. There was a margin of error. In everything.
