Moonrise by Hankster

Moonrise

by: Hankster

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I love the twilight hours, when the moon starts to rise in the heavens. For me it is the most romantic part of the day. For most of us, it marks the end of the work day. It is time to kick off your shoes and lie back, and show that special someone just how much he means to you.

I had left my office late that Friday afternoon, gearing up for a romantic evening with my partner Troy. In fact, I was gearing up for a romantic weekend. We had both agreed to turn down all invitations and spend the entire weekend at home, making love. We arranged to meet at our favorite gay bar for TGIF drinks before holing up for the weekend. Our Friday night dinner was in the refrigerator and all it needed was heating up. “All I need is heating up,” I thought with a smile.

I arrived before Troy, and had to fight my way to the bar, because the place was so crowded. Several friends grabbed me along the way and insisted on some sort of conversation. It took so long to get to the bar that I figured that even if Troy came late, he was probably here by now. Optimistically I ordered a drink for me and one for him. With drinks in hand, I started to fight my way from the bar. I looked for a couple of free inches to stand and wait for him. The few tiny tables in the place were all occupied.

I found a spot near the front door where I could place the drinks on a small ledge, built just for that purpose. I also had a partial view of the entrance so I could keep an eye out for my guy. I was a little worried because it was kind of late for him.

I was sipping my gin and tonic when I heard the noise. There was a screeching of brakes, followed by a very loud thud. Instinctively I knew that it wasn’t two cars colliding. I had never heard a sound like that before, because I had never before heard a human body being hit by a moving car.

Loud as the noise was in the bar, I distinctly heard screams from the pedestrians on the street. I put my drink down on the ledge next to Troy’s and pushed my way to the front door. I had a terrible feeling in my gut.

I could see the form of an adult male lying on the street and another man standing over him and sobbing. “I didn’t mean to do it,” the man cried. “He ran right out in front of me. There was no way I could stop and I was going so slowly. Oh God. Oh God.”

The form in the street was covered with blood, but there was something familiar about the tattered tweed jacket he was wearing. The dread in my stomach was taking over the rest of me. I began to panic and ran toward the dead man. Strong arms grabbed me and restrained me. I tried to break free but they were too strong for me. Finally I conceded defeat and stood with the army of rubberneckers in abject silence. It took about ten minutes for the ambulance to get there and I stood stunned, completely in a state of shock.

The EMT’s put the body on a stretcher and covered it with a plastic. “Does anyone know the victim?” one of them asked. I stepped out of the crowd sobbing. They tried to question me, but soon realized that I needed medical attention myself. They put me in the ambulance and I sat next to the body. One of the technicians sat next to me and tried to ask me questions, but I couldn’t process what he was asking me, and I was useless.

Finally he asked me what the victim’s name was. “Troy Farraday,” I sobbed out.

“I’ve got his wallet right here,” the EMT said. He looked in and said, “I’m afraid it’s a match.” My sobbing grew stronger.

“Are you related to the deceased?” he asked.

“I’m his partner,” I said barely above a whisper.

“Who is his next of kin?”

“I am.”

“I mean does he have any blood relatives?”

“Troy was raised in foster care. He never spoke of any blood relatives. I am his closest of kin.”

“Look, the EMT said. I’m going to list you as his first cousin. When we wheel him to the morgue, just follow me to make the identification. Let’s keep it our little secret. I’ve seen enough of these domestic partnership situations to know how unfair they are. I don’t mean just gay couples but unmarried heterosexual couples too.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I am truly grateful.” I resumed chest heaving sobs and the EMT put his arm around me.

We reached the hospital and I followed the EMT to the morgue. The man in charge filled out a bunch of papers and it seemed like hours until he was done. They put Troy on a gurney and eventually he would be put into a vault until the funeral home claimed the body.

The kind EMT removed the plastic from Troy’s face and I nearly fainted. He was so covered with blood and his face was so disfigured that I could not make a positive ID. I asked the EMT if I could see Troy’s fingers. He exposed both hands and the corpse was wearing the matching wedding band we had given each other after we had committed to one another. We had gone to a nearby church, kneeled down before the altar, read wedding vows to one another, and exchanged rings. Maybe government didn’t recognize our union, but we did, and so did God.

All the while the EMT was standing by me. If I could have thought clearly, I would have wondered why he wasn’t off again saving a life or two. The pathologist instructed me to make funeral arrangements ASAP and to arrange with the morticians to pick up the body. I was in a trance. I just nodded and started to leave when I fainted. When I awoke, it was I who lay on a gurney. Standing at my side, holding my hand was the EMT. He looked in my eyes and said to me. Hi Buddy. My name is Warren. What’s yours?”

“I’m Luke,” I croaked.

“You’re all right to leave, but I don’t think you should be left alone.” He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Look,” he continued. “My car is at the fire station. I just need to return the ambulance and I’ll drive you home, so you come with us.” I was too weak to object and I knew I needed help getting home. I needed to face the task of arranging the funeral and that would take all my strength.

“Thanks,” I said. “You are so kind. Why are you being so good to me?”

“I’m gay too. My partner was killed in Iraq and I know what you are going through. It’s the very least I can do.”

As we left the hospital, and Warren and his fellow EMT were helping me into the ambulance, another ambulance drove up to the emergency entrance. The EMT’s wheeled another bloody man out of the ambulance. At least this one was alive, but not looking too good.

Troy Farraday was just putting on his jacket, preparing to leave his office to meet his partner, Luke, for TGIF libations. Just then a west coast client called to get some much needed information. He realized the time difference and was apologetic, but he assured Troy that he would only be a minute. The minute became more than half an hour. After he hung up, Troy ran out of the building. He knew a short cut to the bar. If he ran through the alley way between his building and the one next door he didn’t have to go all the way up First Avenue and cross at 31^st Street to get to Second Avenue. He would already be at Second, and the bar would be just a few yards away.

He sprinted through the alley. None of the late afternoon sun filtered through either of the two buildings. It wasn’t black as night, but it was darker than twilight in the alley. Troy did not know what hit him. He was struck from the rear with a crowbar. His assailant hit him over and over again until he lost consciousness. The assailant then stripped off Troy’s tweed jacket, his gold wedding band and, of course, he took his wallet.

While the perpetrator was beating him, some of Troy’s blood sprayed on his forehead. He was not aware of it. When he had taken what he wanted he ran toward Second Avenue. Before he reached the street, he saw a clear opening in the traffic which would enable him to make it across the avenue without stopping at the curb. Just as he reached the curb, the blood on his forehead dripped into his eye. For just a moment he was blinded and so he failed to see the car that had just pulled away from the curb. He was hit. His body flew up in the air and landed several feet forward, moving with the car. By the time the driver could stop the car, he had run over the crook another time.

It was almost a half hour before someone else used the alley as a short cut and discovered Troy’s bloody, comatose body. He called 911. Another half hour passed before the EMT’s arrived and sped toward NYU Medical Center.

The ambulance carrying Troy arrived just as Warren was helping me into his ambulance. When we arrived at the fire station, Warren had to hand in some reports. He sat my robot like body on a comfortable chair. Finally, when he was ready to leave, he helped me to his car and started out.

“Where do you live?” Warren asked, realizing that he had taken his report so mechanically that he didn’t remember where the victim had lived. I told him where my apartment was and Warren commented that he lived a few streets away, and that I was actually on his way home. Warren was lucky enough to find a parking spot in the crowded street, and helped me up to my apartment.

“I’ll make some tea,” Warren said.

“I’ll make it,” I said, and I put water up to boil in a tea kettle. I also set the table. I placed a tea bag in each cup and sat down to wait for the water to boil. Suddenly my chest began to heave and I started crying again. Warren stood up and took me in his arms to comfort me. I cried more softly and finally said to Warren, “I have dinner for two in the fridge. It just needs to be heated. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Yes, I would. I don’t want to leave you alone. Come let me help you.”

Preparing dinner helped me get a hold of myself. The two of us busied ourselves setting the table and heating the meal of pot roast, roasted potatoes and creamed corn. I took some rye bread out of the freezer, and put it in the microwave to defrost.

I began to talk about Troy. I told Warren how we met, how we fell in love, how much we loved each other. My eyes were teary as I spoke but I didn’t cry again. Then Warren started to talk about his dead partner, Matt. Their love affair was equally torrid, but Matt was in the army. Matt had a two week furlough and went to New York where the two men met in a gay bar. After Matt was discharged, he relocated to New York and they moved in together. Unfortunately Matt was a reservist. His unit was reactivated and deployed to Iraq, where he was killed by a land mine less than two weeks ago.

We both began to cry and we held each other tightly.

“Troy was so fastidious about everything. I can’t believe he would be so foolish as to step out in front of traffic like that,” I said.

“Maybe he was so anxious to get to you, he dropped some of his guard. We’ll never know, will we?”

After dinner we cleaned up and sat down on the sofa. Neither of us talked much, but I kept sobbing. Warren held me tight. Finally he said, “I don’t want to leave you alone tonight. I’m off for the weekend. How about I camp out on the sofa?”

“Would you? I’d like that. I can give you a new toothbrush and some underwear and stuff that would fit you,” I said. “But the sofa is uncomfortable. I have a king size bed so there’s plenty of room for the two of us,” I told Warren. “You can sleep in the bed.”

“OK,” Warren said. He looked at his watch and said, “Holy mackerel. It’s past midnight. Let’s turn in.”

We went to the bathroom together. I have a double sink and we brushed our teeth standing side by side. We spoke a little. I can’t remember what was said, and Warren called me Matt and I called him Troy. We actually laughed at our Freudian slips.

I asked if he wanted to shower and he said he was too tired and suggested we shower in the morning. When we got to the bedroom, Warren stripped completely. I was surprised and I guess he noticed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I always sleep in the nude and I just didn’t think.” He reached down to get his shorts, but I said, “No don’t bother. I always sleep nude too.”

We both climbed into bed, but neither of us slept. I was sobbing as silently as I could, and I distinctly heard Warren do the same. Without realizing what we were doing, we turned toward each other and held one another tightly to comfort each other. Even if our cocks touched, we were unaware of it. We were both flaccid and sex was the last things on our tortured minds. We fell asleep holding each other in a comforting embrace.

At the hospital, they could find nothing on Troy to identify him. They labeled him John Doe and began a battery of tests. They were relieved to diagnose severe contusions on his skull, but there was no internal bleeding and as far as they could tell, there was no brain damage. They wouldn’t be sure of anything until he awoke from the coma. They couldn’t even be sure if he would ever awaken from the coma. They hoped that some family member would inquire after him and identify him. He was an obvious crime victim and the police wanted to interview him as soon as they could.

Warren and I tossed and turned fitfully. We slept a little bit, but the sleep was far from restful.

At about 2 AM Warren asked, “Are you asleep, Luke?”

“No,” I answered. “How are you feeling?”

“Sad, blue, you name it. Luke, I find that when I can’t sleep if I whack off, it helps me relax and fall asleep. If you think you would like to do it, I can go in the other room.”

“You need it as much as I do,” I said and my voice cracked. “Let’s do it together.” As I suggested that we masturbate together, I pushed the covers down with my feet. “Troy, my love, I miss you so much,” I cried out loud. I started to whack off, but I was crying so hard, my stroking was useless. Warren was doing the same with equally unsuccessful results.

“Here,” he said. “Let me help.” He reached over and started to play with my cock and balls. He stroked a bit and tickled a bit and I actually got aroused. When I was partially erect he began to stroke and I hardened even more. I reached over and took his flaccid cock in my hand and did the same to him. Soon he too was hard. We stroked for awhile and I was getting close. It must have been pure reflex because without any conscience intent, I leaned over and took his cock into my mouth. As I did that, Warren twisted around into a sixty-nine position and devoured me. It wasn’t long before we both came and drank every drop. Warren turned around and we lay side by side.

I pulled the covers up and leaned over and kissed Warren. “Thank you, Warren,” I said.

“Thank you,” he answered and we both fell into a peaceful sleep. Warren’s sleeping solution had worked for us both.

Troy remained in a coma all day. Late in the afternoon, he was bathed by a male nurse who was not afraid to really clean him. They changed his linens and gave him a fresh hospital gown. When they were satisfied that the coma patient was comfortable, the nurses left the room.

Troy opened his eyes. He had no idea where he was, but he knew he was in a bed, a hospital bed. He could see out the window. The moon was rising. “I’m going to be late meeting Luke,” he thought. “The moon is already rising.” Then he fell asleep. It was not the sleep of a coma, but an ordinary sleep. His body was so traumatized and exhausted that he slept until mid morning the next day.

Warren and I did not wake up until about the same time as Troy.

“Are you upset about what we did last night?” Warren asked.

“No, no,” I assured him. “We needed to comfort each other, and we did. I don’t believe either one of us is ready to start thinking about a new relationship. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Come let’s take a shower and I’ll make breakfast. Then please help me make funeral arrangements. I don’t think I can handle it alone.” We showered separately.

When Troy awoke, he immediately called for anyone to help him. Two nurses rushed in smiling.

“I need to pee,” he announced. The male nurse helped him out of bed and to the bathroom. When he was put back in bed, he barked. “What do you have to do to get something to eat around here?” Then he started to cry.

“How did I get here? Why does my head hurt so much?”

“You were beaten up and apparently robbed. The police will want to question you,” the nurse informed him.

“I’m afraid I won’t be much help. I don’t remember anything and I sure didn’t see who or what hit me,” Troy explained. “Oh God, did anyone inform my partner?”

“I’m afraid not. We don’t even know who you are. You had no ID on you,” the nurse said. “How about enlightening us while we wait for the neurologist.”

The nurse took out a pad and proceeded to get as much information as Troy could give him: name, address, social security number, Health Insurance Company, etc.

Warren and I were making arrangements at a local mortuary when Troy called home. He got the answering machine and left a message. Then he called my cell phone, but I had turned it off so as not to be disturbed during the preparations for Troy’s funeral.

When the arrangements were done, Warren volunteered to take me to lunch and I gladly accepted. As we left the funeral home, I turned on my cell phone. “One missed Call,” the screen informed me. I retrieved the message. I listened and I thought that this was someone’s idea of a sick joke. I listened again. It didn’t sound like a joke. I asked Warren to listen.

He turned white. “Holy shit,” he gasped. “We better get to the hospital and quickly.” On the way to the hospital, Warren pulled out his cell phone and called the police. Then he called the mortuary and put a hold on the funeral arrangements until an unexpected development could be verified.

Warren took us in through the emergency entrance where everybody knew him. We rushed up to Troy’s room. His head was bandaged, his eyes were black and his chin was blue, but it was Troy, for sure. I wanted to grab him, but he looked so fragile that I was afraid. Gingerly I embraced him and he hugged me back, but I heard him groan. Obviously he was in pain. Warren just stood by smiling at us.

When at last we could talk, I introduced Troy to Warren. I told Troy all that Warren had done for me when I thought he was dead and I couldn’t function on my own. I omitted that we had sex together.

Troy held his hand out to Warren and thanked him profusely for having cared for me. In a short while two police detectives entered the room and flashed their badges. They were wise enough not to interrogate Troy or ask too many questions. They just let him talk until he told them all he knew. While Troy was talking, I didn’t see Warren slip away. When he returned he had a plastic bag containing Troy’s wallet and gold ring. “I retrieved it from the morgue,” he said. “They have changed the corpse’s name to John Doe pending an ID. The police are going to finger print the body.”

Just as the police were leaving, the doctor arrived. “Hi,” he said brightly to all of us in the room. “I’m Dr. Ryan. I need to ask you a few questions. First of all, what’s your name?”

“Troy Farraday.” The doctor looked at me and I nodded.

The doctor then proceeded to ask a slew of meaningless questions like where Troy lived, where he worked, who was the Governor of New York, who was the President of the United States, etc.

“Good,” the neurologist said. “I don’t believe there has been any brain damage. We’ll keep you here for a day or two for observation and then you should be good to go.” He left abruptly.

I turned to Warren. “I’m staying with Troy. I’ll sleep on the chair, but you should go home and get some rest.”

“OK!” Warren said, but I’ll be back first thing in the morning. He gave me a big hug and said, “I’m so happy for you, for both of you, I really am.” Immediately, my brain, which was composed of romance cells, began to search my memory banks for a suitable someone to fix Warren up with.

I didn’t know where the time had gone to, but the commissary staff was delivering dinner to the patients. Unfortunately, Troy was stuck with a liquid diet. I wasn’t very hungry but I went downstairs to the cafeteria and got myself a sandwich and a coke. I gobbled down the food so I could get back to Troy. I sat down in the chair at his bedside, and held his hand. We looked out the window to see the moon rising.

“Beautiful sight,” I commented.

“I agree,” Troy said and tightened his grip on my hand.

I began to cry. “I thought I had lost you.” I lay my head down on Troy’s chest and he ran his finger through my hair. I could feel that he had put his ring back on. I sat up and kissed him full on the lips. Holding his hand, we both stared out the window watching the moon rise. “I love you,” I said.

“I love you more,” he replied.

Posted: 01/23/09