A Special Love
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I've managed to get all my stuff unpacked and my half of the dorm room arranged to suit me, all the while wondering what my new roommate is going to be like. I just hope he's going to be as great a guy as the one I had last year. Tom was a year ahead of me and graduated last spring, but for the year we roomed together life was the best. We made each other study, did our laundry, shared clothes, and did everything else together, well almost everything.
The door slams open and I see a tall blond guy scowling as his eyes sweep the room and come to rest on me.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" He snarls.
"This is my room, why shouldn't I be here?" I ask quietly, hoping to calm him down.
"Because I'm rooming alone," he snaps back.
"Housing must have screwed up then, because this is Akers 211. Want to see my assignment form?"
His scowl deepens. "No. I'm going over there now and get this straightened out." He wheels around and slams the door behind him.
What a shit head, I say to myself, at the same time wishing the impossible because he's so beautiful I can hardly believe it.
Twenty minutes later he's back, scowling even more deeply if it's possible. Without a word he drops two large suitcases by the foot of his bed and turns to leave again.
"Need some help?" I ask.
His glacial blue eyes come to rest on me. "You really want to help?"
"Sure, be glad to."
"Then leave me alone."
I shrug and go to my desk to bring up my computer to check for mail and browse the web.
A few minutes later he staggers in carrying a footlocker and drops it with a crash, muttering under his breath. He makes more trips for his computer and a box of books and other stuff. He never looks at me as he unpacks and puts his things away, then makes his bed.
I look at my watch and make one more hopeful attempt. "Time for dinner, want to walk over to the chow hall with me?"
"Hell no!"
I shrug and go to eat. He's gone when I return. I read for the rest of the evening and have just turned the light out when he comes back in. He leaves the door open for light from the hall until he switches on the light by his bed, then closes the door softly. At least he's that considerate, I think to myself.
He sits on the edge of his bed and begins to undress. I move my head on my pillow so I can watch through practically closed eyes, hoping he won't notice and blast me again. I have to sigh when he removes his shirt, because he's got a six-pack that reminds me of an old fashioned wash board. Perhaps it's because he's so blond or I'm squinting, but he appears to have practically no body hair, definitely an appeal for me. I'm no fuzzy bear, but my hair is black and what I have shows up strongly.
My eyes open wide when he takes off his left shoe and sock, then pulls his slacks down. His right leg is prosthetic from below the knee. I feel myself begin to drool, so I swallow hard. Amps have fascinated me from the time I was a little kid. The man who owned the farm next to ours lost his left leg below the knee in an accident with one of his corn pickers. He quickly made an old-fashioned wooden peg leg. His knee rested on the top, two leather straps holding it in place. He was kind and answered my child's questions about it, saying it was better than his fake leg for working around the farm. From that time on I wanted one, but I was scared to ask if he'd make me one. Besides, my parents would have found out, to me an idea worse than having them know I'm gay.
I'm so fascinated I lose my pretense at sleep, for he glares at me and snarls, "What the hell are you looking at?"
"Aaah, nothing."
"Then turn over and go to sleep. I hate people looking at me."
I do, hoping he's just out of sorts because he's tired, that tomorrow will be better.
He's still asleep when I get up, so I'm as quiet as possible while I grab a shower, shave, and go for some breakfast. He's gone when I return to get my books and set off for my first class wondering what his name is. I'm not the most sociable of people, but I've always gotten along well with my former roommates and it would be nice to at least know the name of the guy you're rooming with. I'm also curious as to why he's so hostile.
It's after three when I get back to the room. I deliberately set up my schedule so that I have only MWF classes, leaving Tuesday and Thursday free for study. Not so difficult as it sounds since a lot of students like light MWF schedules so they can leave early on weekends and have Monday to recover. I stop by our mailbox in the foyer and remove the few pieces. One letter bears the university's medical centre logo and is addressed to Halston G. Carruthers, the rest is mostly junk. I sort mine out and lay his on his desk.
He comes in about five and spots the mail. "You bring this up?" He asks.
"Yeah."
"Well in the future don't. I don't like anyone else going through my mail and stuff."
"Whatever," I reply. "I'm Cam McCabe. I guess you're Halston."
"Geof, if you have to call me something." His tone is as sharp as it was yesterday.
"Hey, if I've done something to piss you off, I'm sorry."
"Your being here pisses me off, but there aren't any single rooms so get off my case."
"Suits me." Looks like I'll be living in an armed truce, but I'm thinking: damn, here I am sharing a room with the guy of my dreams and he hates me.
He goes his way and I go mine without any words between us, a hell of a way to live, but I manage. I have my computer and pleasure reading to keep me happy and, fortunately, a headset for my small stereo.
Several weeks into the semester he comes in late one afternoon barely able to walk. He makes it to his bed and drops down. To me he looks sick as hell. "You okay?"
"No!" He snarls and rolls over.
A half-hour later he staggers into the bath and I hear him puking his guts up. A few minutes later he comes out looking like a ghost, sheds his clothes and leg, and crawls under a blanket, though it's already quite warm in our room.
I'm really concerned now. "You "
"Get off my ass!" He yells weakly, so I shut up.
So far as I know, he hasn't gotten out of bed since he came back into the room, and the next morning he looks like death warmed over. He stays in bed, so I spend my time studying, then surfing the net until lunchtime. I get up to leave, remembering he hasn't had anything to eat that I know of. "You want me to bring you something to eat?"
I've no more than said 'eat' before he's out of bed and crawling toward the bath. I reach down to help him, but he snarls "no," so I walk out with a guilty feeling.
I put a bottle of chilled sparkling water on his night stand when I get back from lunch, but he says nothing to me the rest of the day, staying in bed, getting up only twice to take a leak and to swallow a few pills. He tries to refuse my help each time, starting to crawl to the bath on his hands and knees. When I realize he's too weak to put on his leg, I lift him and all but carry him bodily.
He's gone when I return from breakfast the next morning to get my books and go to class. The empty water bottle is in the trashcan so I take time to replace it. He's in bed reading when I come in from class about three and looks a little better to me, so I guess he's gotten something to eat.
Our relationship settles into a routine and he finally begins to speak on occasion, mostly to thank me when I take his clothes to wash along with mine. The few times I mention that I need something from downtown, he tells me I can get the same thing from Wal-Mart a lot cheaper and, knowing I don't have a car, drives me to the shopping plaza out on the edge of town. I'm wondering what's wrong when he struggles to lift the case of bottled water he buys on one trip, then lets me take it to his car for him while he carries my few purchases which weigh practically nothing. I keep longing for a time when Geof will be laughing and joking with me as we ride along together.
A week later he again comes in late one afternoon looking as sick as before. He falls into his bed, only to be up a few minutes later throwing up. I wonder what's going on because I never detect the odor of alcohol, so I know he's not boozing it up. He tries to refuse my help as usual, but protests less than before when I insist. The next two days are a repeat of what happened six weeks before, but even as he seems to recover he displays a complete lack of energy. I do what I can for him without making him too angry. Why, when he resents it? Because I've always been a sucker for the underdog, trying to rescue homeless animals and all that when I was a kid, much to my parents' dismay.
It takes a few days for him to return to, what for him, is normal. I'm playing around on my computer one evening when he says, "Cam?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for your help when I'm sick. I know I'm not nice to live with at best. You're a good man to put up with me."
"I wish I could do more. What's going on with you?"
He shakes his head. "No need to worry you with my problems. You're here for an education; I'm here, well because I have to be. My classes are just to pass time."
I go sit next to him on his bed and put my arm around his shoulders. "I wish you'd tell me, but I'm here for you, buddy."
"You always are." He squeezes my hand. "Is that why you are always looking at me when you think I won't notice?"
"Truth?"
"Yes."
"Even if you may hate me after I tell you?"
"I could never hate you, Cam. You're too nice a guy."
I take his hand in mine and squeeze it lightly. "You're the most handsome guy I've ever seen."
He looks into my eyes and tries to smile. "Your eyes need checking. There's nothing good looking about me, especially with one leg."
"The way I like to see a stud, especially one I'm in love with."
I'm surprised to see a tear to two. He wipes them away and looks at me again. "God, you're making it harder for me, Cam. I wish I could return your love, but I doubt there's going to be enough time."
He looks so near to crying, I say, "I love you, Geof. I don't know why you say there's not enough time, but I'll never forget you."
He lies back down, turning away from me.
Knowing now that he comes in sick every six weeks, I've marked my calendar so I'll be here to help him, especially as he hasn't recovered very well from the last time. Though he tries to keep up appearances, he seems listless.
A couple of days before he's due to spend a day out, wherever he goes, it's a perfect Indian summer day, sunny and warm. He looks at me when I come in from class.
"Cam, I feel so cooped up and it's beautiful out. Let's take a ride with the top down. I don't care where, just somewhere out in the country."
"Great idea. Class was boring as hell."
He gets up, but when he tries to take a step, his leg comes loose. Fortunately, I'm close enough to catch him. While I hold him up, he drops his jeans and tightens the strap that holds his leg in place.
"You losing weight?" I ask.
"A little. I'm damn glad I don't have a suction socket because I'd never keep this thing on."
Even so, I keep my arm around him when we go down the stairs. My mouth drops open when he hands me the keys and gets in the passenger side.
"You drive and let me relax. Find somewhere out in the country where it's pretty."
"Okay."
When I drive off campus toward the highway, he looks at me and nods. "You were made for this car, Cam. You didn't clash gears once."
I grin at him. "My dad's truck is straight shift. I've had plenty of practice."
A few miles out of town I turn down a county dirt road. He makes no comment, just takes in the scenery until I park in a small overgrown lane.
"Think you can walk a little? This is my favorite place."
I have to help him walk up the slight grade, but it isn't far to a spectacular spot. I lower him to a large rock and he looks around. The old water mill leans precariously toward the stream, where the wheel lays on the bottom, the crystal water gurgling around it. A grove of young evergreens makes a background.
I see him silently, reverently taking in the isolated beauty. "God, Cam, I wish I were an artist. I'd love to paint this. Thank you for bringing me here. The quiet is wonderful."
Sensing his mood, I smile and say nothing. For the first time since I've known him, Geof looks completely happy and at peace with whatever demon he's fighting. I open a couple of bottles of water and, after loosening the top, put one in his hand. He takes a long drink, then hands it back to me.
We sit in silence until the sky begins to color. "It's time, buddy," I say.
I have to help him up and keep my arm around him until we're back at his car. As soon as he's in the seat, he closes his eyes, not opening them until I park in the dorm lot. When we're back in our room, he hugs me with what little strength he has. "That's the best thing you could have given me, Cam." He gets into bed with my help and we don't speak again that evening.
The next evening as I'm at my computer working on a paper for one of my classes, I hear someone at the door. When it doesn't open, I get up and open it. Geof falls into my arms; I help him to his bed. He accepts with no protest as I undress him and manage to get his leg off, then cover him with a couple of blankets.
I'm hardly back at my computer when I hear him and look around to see him struggling to get up without much success. "Sick," he mumbles. I put my arm around him and practically carry him to the bath just in time. I hold him until he's finished throwing up, then wash his face and help him back to bed. He sleeps for a while, then wakes. "Cam ," he says so softly I'm not quite sure I heard him, but I look up to see him point to his desk. I open the drawer and take out three bottles of pills, taking them to him. He points to one, which I open and hand him the pill. He swallows it down with a sip of water and falls back with a feeble, "Thanks."
By the time I'm ready to hit the sack, he's struggling to get out of bed again. I help him to the bath where he takes a leak, then back to bed. If possible, he looks worse than before, his complexion pallid. He looks at me and whispers weakly, "Hospital."
I call emergency and the crew is in our room almost instantly, our dorm being just across the street from the hospital. They check him over, load him on a gurney, and wheel him out. Since I have tomorrow free, I gather up his dirty smelly clothes along with mine and take them down to the laundry room. While they're washing, I clean up our room. He may not like it, but I doubt he'll notice. I don't miss the chance to look closely at his leg, wondering how he feels being dependent on it. He's so proud or sensitive, I don't know which, he hasn't a pair of crutches. I'd love to see him on them just once.
On my way to the cafeteria for lunch, I stop at the hospital to inquire about him. They give me his room number after I tell them I'm his roommate and I go up. He's lying there so still and colorless I'm afraid for a moment he's dead, but I can see the slight movement of his chest rising and falling. A doctor comes in, checks all the equipment hooked to Geof, and shakes his head without saying anything to me. I can't begin to describe the feeling I have. We've never talked that much, and if we've had any real feeling for each other it's been mostly my attraction to a beautiful amp, but I have to wipe a tear before I leave.
After I've eaten that evening, I stop by to see him again. A nicely dressed man is sitting by Geof's bed, holding his hand. He looks up as I enter and speaks softly. "Who are you?"
"Cam. I'm Geof's roommate. How's he doing?"
I'm surprised when he gets up and hugs me. "I'm Geof's father. Thank you for being so kind to Geof. He roused for a few minutes just after I got here and told me how wonderful you've been to him. He tried to say more, but he lapsed into a coma." He wipes his eyes with a snowy handkerchief. "He's losing the battle."
"What's wrong with him?"
He slowly shakes his head. "I'm not surprised he hasn't told you. It's cancer. It got his leg two years ago and we had hope that was it, but it came back. I didn't want him to come to school, but he's so damned independent he came anyway. He's been taking chemo since he got here."
"Oh, my God! I had no idea. He never told me he was so sick."
"He wouldn't; Geof hates weakness. I guess that's what's kept him going. You'll never know how thankful I am that he had a caring man like you to room with. No one else would have done what you have for him."
By now I'm wiping a tear myself. "I just wish he had let me get to know him. He's such a beautiful guy."
"Thank you for saying that, though I know how surly he gets when he doesn't feel good. He's always been that way, and I doubt he's had many good days since you've been living with him. It must have been hell for you."
"Not really. He never would talk much, but he was considerate."
I start to leave, but Geof's dad stops me. "Please stay a while if you've nothing more important to do."
He sits back down and takes Geof's hand in his again; I pull up a chair next to his. Words seem superfluous, so I sit with him in the same silence I've gotten used to with Geof.
Some thirty minutes later Geof opens his eyes and looks at us. We stand, and Geof motions to me. I lean over to hear him whisper faintly, "Thank Bud. Love ya ." He looks at his father. "Love ya ," then his eyes close.
His father kisses him on the forehead, as do I, then I ring for the nurse. She rushes in followed by a doctor. His father and I embrace for a few moments before the doctor asks us to leave. I lead Mr. Carruthers into the hall, looking back into the room to see the doctor beginning to remove the tubes and wires, and the nurse draw the sheet up over Geof.
Mr. Carruthers composes himself, takes a card from his billfold, and writes a phone number on it before handing it to me. "Call me when you're out of class tomorrow and I'll get Geof's things from your room."
"No need for that, sir. I'll drop the key to our room off at the hotel on my way to class so I won't hold you up. I have a break at ten."
"Thank you, Cam. Please come by your room then."
Mr. Carruthers has everything of Geof's packed and is sitting at Geof's desk when I get back to our room at ten.
"I couldn't leave without telling you once more how grateful I am to you for all you did for Geof. Is there anything of his you would like?"
"Do you have a picture of him I could have, sir?"
He pulls out his billfold and removes a small photo of Geof. He's standing on crutches in a beautiful garden. "I have another like this at home, so please take it."
"Thank you, sir. He looks so happy here."
"He was. It was his first time out of doors after losing his leg. He loved being outside." He fishes in his pocket and holds out a gold chain with a tiny zodiac emblem on it. "I want you to have this. It was his birth sign and he always wore it. I know he'd want you to have it. I just wish you could have known the Geof I love, because you would have loved him too." My eyes tear up as he places it in my hand.
Then he drops a ring with two keys on it in my hand. "Geof told me you don't have a car and I have no need of his. It will bring back too many memories if I keep it, but I know I could never bring myself to sell it. Whenever you're out enjoying a beautiful day, I hope you will perhaps think of him sitting beside you enjoying the ride."
I hug him and dissolve in tears. "I can't take it, sir. It's far too expensive and I certainly haven't done anything to deserve it."
"You do, Cam. The expression on his face while he told me where you took him yesterday was that of a man seeing heaven. This is far more than I, or anyone else, could have given him when he needed it most. I know the past weeks have been difficult for you, especially after he returned from a chemo session, but you made him happy as he could be under the circumstances. I'll have the paperwork mailed to you as soon as I can."
"Geof never told me where he was from, sir."
"We live in Eden, why?"
"That's not so far. I want to come to his funeral now that I have a way."
"God bless you for that, Cam, I would like to have you with me. I'll let you know in time." He hugs me. "And plan to stay the night with me, and any other time you can get that way. You'll always be welcome, son."
I help him carry down Geof's footlocker and other belongings to his Bentley. He points to Geof's racing-green Jaguar XKR sports convertible. "I hope you find the same pleasure in it that Geof did, Cam. I I left his leg in the boot. I couldn't bear to take it any further, so dispose of it as you wish."
I remember something I've seen recently in the campus newspaper. "Some of the doctors at the hospital make trips to South America to help young amputees there. If you don't mind, I'll give it to them. Some poor kid will be happy to have a new leg, and a part of Geof will live on in him."
Mr. Carruthers turns with tears in his eyes again. "No wonder Geof loved you, Cam, what a kind and loving thought. If they accept it, bring me more information on their work when you come."
"I will, sir. Thank you so much for everything."
He kisses me on the forehead. "No. Thank you, Cam McCabe for being a man Geof admired." He turns and walks slowly away from me, both of us in tears.
To be continued...
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Posted: 10/12/07