That Friday night, traffic through Birmingham had been much worse than usual.  Some event was happening at the Civic Center, which always causes a traffic backup right through the heart of the city.

I did finally make it through the delay and braved Malfunction Junction to enter Birmingham’s West End.  Traffic passed more quickly once I got past Arkadelphia Road, helping me to make up any time lost downtown.

As I passed the I-459 interchange, I began to feel a little rumbling in my stomach.  It wasn’t because I was hungry or thirsty, as I had Chicken McNuggets in a bag on the passenger seat and a Dr. Pepper in the cup holder.  It wasn’t because I was ill with some type of virus or something.  It was because it was the first time since April that I’d gotten the balls up to actually go to Tuscaloosa.

I passed the Mercedes plant in Vance and then a rest area just a few more miles down the road.  I passed the first exit for Cottondale, then a second, before coming into Tuscaloosa proper.  Since the football team had a game in Athens, Georgia, that weekend, there was virtually no traffic coming into the town, but a substantial amount headed away from it.

Normally, I would have taken the first Cottondale exit and gone through the woods to get to the condo, but this time, I didn’t want to.  Change is a good thing, I thought as I drove down McFarland Boulevard.

It was all surreal, so very surreal.  But it wasn’t unnerving at all.  It wasn’t upsetting.  It wasn’t hurting, other than my slightly queasy stomach.  Perhaps that was a result of the McNuggets and the Dr. Pepper.  I was stopped by a single red light at the intersection of McFarland and 15th Street, but since there was no traffic crossing, I turned right.  I went up a couple of blocks and began to feel slightly anxious as I turned left onto 13th Avenue, in the opposite direction from Home Depot and Target.  Almost immediately I turned to the right, dropping myself off at 1600 14th Street, East, Unit G, a ground level condominium whose owner had left it several months before, neglected and quite possibly unclean. 

As I pulled into a parking space, I looked around.  The trees, all of which had been a vibrant green the last time I left, were showing signs of yet another changing season, as autumn had crept up almost without warning.  I took my suitcase out of the back and shuffled around until I found the key that worked on the metal front door.

The place was spotless.  There had been blood stains all over everything the last time I entered, there was nothing but cleanliness there this time.  I walked into the kitchen.  It was a little musty, but it was most likely because the place had been virtually closed up for months.  I looked in the fridge to find a couple of beers, but there wasn’t anything in there that would have spoiled.  All of my plates, dishes, pots, pans, and mismatched silverware were in their places.

In the living room, everything was just where I had left it.  The TV was sitting there; my desktop computer was also sitting there, gathering dust as I realized I should probably take it home upon my departure the coming Sunday.

I turned and walked down the little hallway with a degree of trepidation.  I was nervous to see what had become of my place, what was still there and what might be gone.  I soothed my nerves first by going into my closet.  It was still filled with my winter clothes.  I looked at a couple of pairs of jeans, jeans that were too big for my newly redefined swimmer’s frame.  The two pairs of Carhartt pants that hung there were also a little big, but I would make them work if for no other reason than they were some of the most comfortable pants that I owned; plus, I could wear them to work. 

I walked from there into the bedroom.  The bed was still turned down from the morning that I was attacked.  I remember climbing out of bed that morning and helping Kristina and Noelle get a few things together for my departure, a departure whose end took more time than assumed to come about.  On one wall were all my hats.  I loved my hats, including the very redneck-ish camouflage hat bearing the UA logo.  All of my flat-billed hats were there, too, hanging on the wall, waiting for their chances to be worn again.  On another wall I had some pictures hanging on a cork board.  There were several of me and Noelle.  There were a couple of me, Noelle, and Armando.  There was one of me and Catherine, Noelle’s sister and my cousin, who chose Auburn over Alabama just to be different.  My very small circle of gay friends was represented in another picture.  I remembered fondly that weekend in 2007 when Jason, Gerald, David, and I went to Southern Decadence in New Orleans.  I remembered being the one who was getting hit on the most and the one who didn’t accept any offers for blowjobs on the crowded streets of the French Quarter where on that weekend anything was possible.  In fact, I saw more of Gerald’s dick than my own.

The one room that was still likely to bear the markings of that fateful April morning was the bathroom.  I was a little hesitant to enter at first, realizing my own fear was founded in a past even from which I’d emerged somewhat victoriously as I was standing there, in that moment.

As I opened the door, however, I found that room was also free of any blood, just like the rest of the house.  In fact, it sparkled as I turned on the light.  It was almost a relief to see that I didn’t have to clean any of it.

“KNOCK! KNOCK!” Noelle yelled as she entered the apartment in her usual fashion, without much warning.

“HEY!” I said as I walked from the bathroom into the living room.  I picked her up as I hugged her.  It was so good to see her there.  It helped the nervousness that somehow continued to fester as I walked around inspecting the one-bedroom condominium.

“PRIMO!” Catherine said as she walked over, wrapping her arms around my neck as tightly as Noelle had.  “So, guess what?”

“What?” I asked her.

“I’m braving this town just ’cause I found out that you were coming down!”

“And I love you all the more for it,” I answered as we hugged.

“So... what are we doing tonight?” Noelle asked.

“I don’t know.  Pizza and some local TV, probably,” I joked, having turned off my cable months before, since I didn’t know when I would be back down there.

“Try again!” Noelle said.

“Um… Dinner out with two of my cousins and a movie at that crappy theater at the Skyland Mall?” I asked.

“First part is right,” Catherine said.

“Then we’re going to see strippers!” Noelle joked.  “We ditched our boyfriends so that we could take you out to see all the mangina you want to check out.”

“Y’all,” I joked, blushing a little bit.

“Okay.  We’re just joking.  We’re going out to dinner, and then, if you’re up for it, we’re going to The Bar,” Catherine explained.

“I don’t know about that…”

“Come on, Ry.  You need it.  You haven’t been out in a long time, and if you don’t feel like staying, we’ll leave,” Noelle explained.

I was nervous, but I’d never been able to say no to either of these cousins, or our cousin Val.  I ultimately agreed.

“Great!” Noelle and Catherine said together.  “We’ll be leaving shortly, so go get changed,” they said as they looked at the clothes that I’d worn to school that day.

A little while later, after I’d showered and gotten dressed, I emerged from the large walk-in closet wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt to find them watching something on the TV as they waited.  I walked into my bedroom after getting their approval for my attire and grabbed my black-on-black flat billed hat.

I felt as though I’d traveled back in time as I looked at myself in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door.  I felt like I was getting ready on any random night before the attack as I arranged the hat perfectly on my head and made sure that the rest of me looked good.  The only difference was the scar above my eye.

I emerged and we left in Catherine’s SUV.  We went to a relatively new place on “The Strip” called “El Rincón Latino Bar and Grill.”  It was a quaint little restaurant that served a plethora of Latin food beyond just Mexican, as well as more traditional American fare.  Our waiter flirted with the three of us the whole time, working the table to hopefully augment the tip he’d receive at the end of the night.

With our bellies full, we left and went toward The Bar.  It was a place that I remembered with both fondness and trepidation.  As we pulled up, Efran was standing outside with Armando and Carmen.  Melissa, a friend and the owner of the The Bar, was standing with them, as was Brian, Kristina, Savvy, and several regulars.

“RYAN!I!” they all yelled as I climbed out of the car and began walking toward him.

“Hey, guys!” I said as I walked up and started hugging people once again.  Even the straightest of guys was standing there, waiting to give me a hug.  Brian was standing toward the back of the group, though.  When it came to the moment when he was the last person that hadn’t been hugged, I walked up and wrapped myself around him.  “So... you know that since I’m betrothed, I can’t invite you to spend the night,” I said.

“Where is he, by the way?  I’ve got to approve of him,” Brian said as we broke away from one another.

“He’s visiting his family in Tennessee,” I answered.

“You have to bring him down as soon as possible!”

“I will,” I told Brian as we both started to get a little bit emotional.  A friendship long ago placed on a backburner was again in the front of our minds, like a pot that continually simmered.

We went into the bar itself after a few minutes.  The guy working the door, Jay, the guy whose mohawk was bright red, like Crayola red, let us pass without charging us the cover or stamping our hands.  The bartender, Britney, began fixing us drinks that had been concocted just for that night.  It was a version of a Tom Collins, but with Puerto Rican rum.  Regularly, that drink would be called a “Ron Collins,” but that night, they were called “Ryan Collins.”  I was honored to have a drink named after me for that night.

The whole party proceeded toward the exterior of the building to the smoker’s patio, where more regulars were camped out around the several tables that were there.

I would be lying if I said anything other than it felt amazing to be there, among friends that missed me, among people that loved me.  I felt safe.  I felt secure around them, especially since Josh and Chris, two regulars that were always there together, came up to me and offered to be my bodyguards that evening.

It was as if nothing had ever happened to me, but I knew some things were indeed different.  We’d all grown out of what happened to me; it was as if some of them there (namely Brian) no longer took the presence of friends for granted.  I know I felt that way, at least.

At around eleven that night, my cell phone started ringing.

“I want to make out with you right now,” I said after realizing that it was Brand on the other end.

“That would be nice,” he said.  I could hear the smile on his face.  I could hear the concern for me in his voice.  It was almost as if I could see him sitting on the front porch of his grandparents’ house, in a small swing.  “I won’t bother you too much, but I wanted to call and make sure that you were okay.”

“Number 1, I’m great.  Number 2, you never bother me, Brand,” I said, catching the attention of a couple of people, including my cousins and Carmen were making raucous noises and singing children’s songs about us sitting in a tree and Brand pushing the baby carriage.

“Hey!  I want to talk to him,” Brian said as he walked over.

“Who’s that?” Brand asked.

“That’s Brian,” I answered.

“Let me talk to him for a second,” Brand said as I handed the phone to Brian.

Brian walked off from the group with my phone, talking to Brand for a second.  I had no clue what he was saying, but I was sure that Brian was apologizing for letting it all happen when he had nothing to do with any of it.  I could almost hear Brand asking him to make sure that nothing happened and that I was okay.  A few seconds later, Brian walked back over to me with a smile on his face.

“Here’s your man back,” Brian said as he gave me the phone.

“Thank you,” I said as Brian walked back over into the circle.

“He sounds so fucking cute.”

“He is.  I used to joke that he was my ‘straight boyfriend.’”

“Ah!  But now you have a gay one.”

“I KNOW!” I said.  “Brand...  I kinda wish that you were down here.”

“I was just thinking that I wished you were up here,” he said.  “But alas, fate separated us for a few days.  It will make us all the happier to see one another on Monday morning.”

“This is true,” I said.

“So, go have fun; enjoy your friends.”

“Even Brian?” I asked jokingly.

“Ryan!  You perv!” Brand responded, his voice resounding with laughter.

“I thought that’s why you like me.”

“Hmm… It is!” he proclaimed.

“Yay!” I drunkenly expressed.

“All right.  I love you, babe.”

“Love you, too, Brandito,” I used a pet name.  We hung up the phone after a second, and I returned to the party.

At around one, the crown began to thin.  Savvy and Kristina went back over to Kristina’s apartment to pass the evening; most of the regulars left as well.  I was also getting tired, as were Noelle and Efran.  Catherine decided that, since we were all weary, she would start taking us home.  Noelle and Efran first went back to his place for the evening.  She then took me back to my house.

“Mind if stay with you tonight?  It’s kinda weird to stay at Noelle’s without her there,” Catherine explained.

“That would actually be awesome,” I said.  “I was a little nervous about staying here by myself anyway.”  I didn’t know it at the time, but Noelle, Catherine, Kristina, and Savvy had all arranged it earlier in the evening so I wouldn’t be by myself in my apartment.  Brian knew about the plan, and that’s what he was talking with Brand about on the phone.

Catherine took my bed that evening, as I didn’t really want to sleep there.  I grabbed the pillow that I’d laid on that April morning, though, and took it into the living room with me, along with a light blanket that I retrieved from the closet as I was changing into a pair of shorts.

As I lay on the sofa, with the light from the TV illuminating the living room, I fell asleep.  Perhaps it was the liquor, perhaps it was the place, but I didn’t sleep well.  It could have also been that Brand wasn’t there, as I’d grown quite accustomed to having him next to me at night.

When I was at last able to get to the level of sleep that produces dreams, I dreamt of everything.  I dreamt of all my friends assembled at the bar.  I dreamt of what life would be for them, for my cousins, for my brothers, for everyone, if I’d not survived the attack.

To be continued...