Just Once

by Lori Handeland

  Drama, thy name is Heath.

  His cheeks were flushed with cold or anticipation, which made his eyes shine like he was on something.

  Her eyes narrowed. Was he on something?

  ‘I’m so excited to meet him,’ Heath said. ‘And so nervous I couldn’t sleep. I got up at five and took a walk.’

  Hannah’s skin prickled. At least he hadn’t been out all night. Though they lived in a very nice section of DC thanks to Aunt Carol, a gay man, out in the dark, alone … well, anything could happen. Anything could happen to anyone, anywhere, really, which she learned the truth of every day just by glancing at the news.

  ‘You probably shouldn’t—’ she began.

  ‘Contrary to popular belief, the man on the street can’t tell I’m gay just by smelling me.’

  Unfortunately – no, she corrected herself, fortunately – Heath was Heath. He didn’t hide who he was. He was who he was, and she was pretty sure anyone could see it. If that anyone was a homophobic, violent asshole …

  The prickle became a shiver. She spoke quickly so Heath wouldn’t notice. ‘Sweetie, could you humor me and play it super safe?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, ma’am. Now, back to Charley Blackwell. I’ll come to your office after work and you’ll introduce me, right?’

  ‘Of course. Charley will be thrilled to meet you.’

  She’d gotten to know Charley a little over the past several months. He’d been grateful for her help with his basketball essay. It had received great feedback. Those higher up had asked for more spreads like that. They called it ‘Americana’, which was probably as good a name as any.

  He’d told her several times how grateful he was for her help. Hannah had been equally grateful for Charley’s intervention, which had gotten her a job. The next time he’d been in the office, they’d argued over who would take whom to lunch.

  Hannah, who was usually painfully shy around men, wasn’t around Charley and she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because while he respected her talent, he had no interest in her except as his colleague.

  Should she be upset about that? She wasn’t. She was just glad that whenever Charley was in the office he spent some time with her.

  ‘There’s no way Charley will be as thrilled as I am,’ Heath said before he hurried to work.

  Later, after his meeting with the boss, Charley came searching for Hannah and found her in the sorting room.

  While Hannah might no longer be the summer intern, she was still a low woman on the totem pole and she got to edit a lot of slides. Today’s selection was for an upcoming feature on Eastern Europe.

  Charley leaned over her shoulder; she held very still. His breath puffed past her cheek and she had to fight not to turn her head. He was so close, she just wanted to sit and enjoy him.

  Despite her aunt’s warnings, Hannah had a little crush and she knew it.

  ‘You have an incredible eye, Hannah. I suspected it with the basketball essay, but I know it now.’

  ‘Guess Ray won’t fire you for convincing him to hire me.’

  ‘It didn’t take much convincing.’

  Hannah didn’t believe that, but further arguing would only make it seem like she wanted more kudos. She did, especially from Charley, but not enough to beg. She glanced at her watch.

  ‘You got an appointment?’

  ‘I …’ She frowned at the elevator.

  Heath had been bugging her to introduce him to Charley Blackwell since Hannah had met the man. Now he was late?

  ‘My twin brother was supposed to meet me here after work.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me you had a twin.’

  Hannah hadn’t told Charley much about herself. Why would she? Theirs was a business relationship and it always would be.

  ‘He wants to meet you so badly. He’s a fan.’

  ‘Of photography?’

  ‘Of your photography.’ She peered at her watch again. Over a half-hour late now. She was going to punch him in the nose.

  ‘Give him a call. Maybe he got held up.’

  Hannah used the phone on the light table to dial her brother’s extension at You. No answer. She disconnected and dialed her aunt’s.

  ‘He isn’t there yet?’ Carol sounded distracted, harried. In the background people shouted and more phones rang. ‘He went home to change. You know how Heath is.’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks.’ Hannah hung up, then continued to stare at the phone, biting her lip.

  ‘Find out anything?’

  ‘What?’ For the first time ever, Hannah had forgotten Charley.

  Her twin ESP was buzzing so loudly she was having a hard time hearing anything else, or thinking about anything but finding her brother. Something wasn’t right.

  She stood. ‘I need to go.’

  ‘I’ll go with you.’

  ‘No, I’m OK.’

  He took her arm. ‘You’re not. Anyone can see that.’

  ‘You have a flight, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ve always got a flight. And there’s always another one.’

  ‘You don’t have to—’

  ‘I want to. If your brother’s just late, no harm done, we’ll have a drink.’

  He didn’t mention what they’d do if Heath wasn’t ‘just late’ and she kind of loved him for that. Because she was thinking of all the things that could have kept Heath away from meeting the legend and none of them were good. She remembered having a conversation with him that morning about being careful, about not walking around alone after dark.

  She glanced at the window. Going on six o’clock in February. Definitely dark.

  Hannah grabbed her Chanel jacket, then her coat and left without turning off the light table.

  Charley was right behind her.

  She stepped on to Seventeenth Street and her breath caught at the cold. For the first time that winter the temperature had dipped toward freezing and she could smell snow.

  ‘This is going to royally fuck with the cherry blossoms,’ Charley said.

  Her laughter came in a startled burst, sounding so non-laughter-like she made herself stop. She had to think. Where could Heath be?

  ‘Did they say where he’d gone?’

  Hannah cast Charley a grateful glance. ‘Home to change.’

  They never got that far.

  As they turned on to the block where she lived, Hannah heard shouts down the narrow opening between two of the glossy high-rise buildings. She wouldn’t have given those shouts a second thought – all her thoughts were for her brother – but she caught one word in a jumble of so many others.

  Faggot!

  ‘Hannah, wait!’ Charley made a grab for her arm, but she ducked between the buildings and ran.

  There were three of them. Two were kicking, one was shouting, perhaps for them to stop, perhaps to urge them on. She wasn’t even sure the body on the ground was her brother. At that point she didn’t care.

  ‘Get away from him!’

  The kickers cast her a glance but kept on kicking.

  The shouter shouted, ‘Mind your own business!’

  She recognized Heath’s favorite Panama hat even though it had been stomped on until it was flat. Like his nose.

  ‘He is her business, boys.’

  The shouter rolled his eyes. ‘Get lost, old man.’ Then he kicked Heath too.

  Hannah cried out and stepped forward. She wasn’t sure what she planned to do. Hit them or help Heath?

  The sound of a camera motor whirring, of dozens of photographs being taken in an instant, permeated the silence. Everyone froze.

  Hannah hadn’t realized Charley had brought a camera.

  ‘I’d be getting lost if I were you. The authorities are going to love the mug shots I already took.’ Charley replaced his finger on the motor drive.

  The continued clicking seemed to confuse them. At least enough so they stopped what they were doing.

  Then the only one who’d spoken so far scowled. ‘Give me that, asshole.’

  ‘Get out
of the way, Hannah,’ Charley murmured, and she did.

  Charley swung the camera like David swung stones at Goliath.

  The device smacked the advancing attacker beneath the chin with a thunk, and he dropped to his knees.

  The other two ran.

  The man shook his head; blood splattered across the toes of Hannah’s pumps. He lurched to his feet.

  Charley began to swing his camera on the strap, back and forth, back and forth. ‘Care for round two?’

  That guy ran as well.

  Hannah fell on the ground next to Heath. He was coming around.

  He blinked at her as if trying to make the two heads she sported merge into one. ‘Hannah?’

  ‘Of course it’s Hannah, you idiot.’ Then she started to bawl.

  The scuffle of a shoe against the pavement made her spin, fists raised.

  ‘You need to get help,’ Charley said.

  ‘I can’t leave him.’ Hannah took one of Heath’s hands. His fingers felt funny – loose and spiky. Broken.

  ‘I can’t leave you here alone,’ Charley said. ‘I think they’re gone, but—’

  ‘He’s right.’ Heath patted her knee with his free, also bloodied hand.

  Charley helped her to her feet. ‘Go to the closest building and have the doorman call 911. Then run right back.’

  Hannah didn’t want to leave Heath, but she had to admit that she’d rather Charley and his camera stayed with her brother.

  She hurried to the closest building, wondering if the doorman would think she was pulling a prank. However, she hadn’t taken two steps inside when the man rushed to her.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I … me … what?’

  He pointed and she looked down. Her brother’s blood stained her clothes.

  ‘Not mine. My brother. Help. Please. They … he …’

  The doorman understood. Hannah wasn’t sure how. He called 911 and translated her halting explanation to the operator. Then she rushed back to the alley. As she approached she heard the two men talking.

  ‘I’m a huge fan.’ Heath’s voice sounded mushy and she thought she might cry. ‘The pictures you took of the 1977 march in San Francisco were amazing.’

  ‘You couldn’t have been very old in 1977.’

  ‘Old enough to know amazing.’

  ‘I bet you were,’ Charley said.

  Hannah wanted to hug Charley.

  ‘How you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘Everything hurts,’ Heath said.

  ‘You’re lucky, because if something didn’t hurt, I’d make it. What the hell, Heath? I told you to be careful.’

  ‘Do you think I corralled those assholes and asked them to beat the hell out of me?’

  ‘You shouldn’t walk where there aren’t a hundred’ – she’d actually prefer a thousand – ‘people.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Then why …?’ She lifted her hands to indicate the dark alley.

  ‘One of them stood at the entrance and asked for a light,’ Charley said. ‘When Heath came over to share, the other two dragged him down here.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think, Hannah?’ Heath asked softly.

  ‘Did you know them?’

  ‘No.’

  Would it be better or worse if he had?

  ‘They said one less fudge packer in the world would be one less case of AIDS.’

  Charley growled and his fingers tightened on his camera strap as if he wanted to swing it again.

  In the distance, a siren wailed.

  ‘If they were so worried about AIDS they shouldn’t have made you bleed.’

  ‘I doubt they were thinking much past kicking my ass.’

  A sob nearly escaped but Hannah slapped her hands over her lips to capture it.

  Heath’s eyes were swollen shut by now; he couldn’t see her, but she could tell by the way his poor bruised mouth tightened that he had heard the sound and her muffling of it.

  Charley touched her shoulder. ‘You want to meet the EMTs?’

  Instead of waiting for her answer, which would have been no, Charley gave her a little shove before crouching next to Heath.

  ‘So what do you do all day, my friend, when you aren’t getting your ass kicked?’

  Her brother actually laughed, then grabbed his stomach. ‘Ugh, what’s that saying?’

  ‘It only hurts when I laugh.’ Charley’s gaze met Hannah’s and he jerked his head toward the approaching siren.

  He was right. Heath needed his mind off this as much as it could be, and her choking back tears was not going to accomplish that.

  Hannah hoofed it to the street, where people had begun to gather at the entrance and peer into the gloom.

  ‘What happened?’ someone asked.

  Hannah ignored them, waving down the ambulance. A police cruiser pulled in right behind.

  Two burly EMTs jumped out and grabbed a gurney. One plopped a bag on top and they took off in the direction of Heath and Charley before Hannah could say a word. She followed so closely that when they stopped she bounced off the back of the one bringing up the rear.

  ‘Shit,’ he muttered.

  Hannah didn’t think it was because she’d bumped into him.

  ‘That’s a lot of blood,’ the other said.

  ‘Hence our call to emergency services, gentlemen.’ Charley backed away so the EMTs could do their thing.

  Neither one did.

  ‘He was unconscious before,’ Charley said. ‘He is again now. You should probably check the old noggin sooner rather than later.’

  Still, no one moved.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Hannah demanded.

  The EMT closest to her nudged Heath’s hat with his toe. ‘Is he gay?’

  ‘What difference does that make?’ Hannah’s voice went high and shrill, not a good sound for her but her throat felt tight, as if she might choke on every sentence she had to say to these men.

  ‘I’m not getting AIDS because of my job.’

  ‘He doesn’t have AIDS.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes!’

  Still they hesitated.

  ‘Don’t you have gloves?’ Charley asked.

  ‘Of course, but …’ The EMT cast another uneasy glance at Heath.

  ‘You know you can’t get AIDS from blood on your clothes or your skin, right?’ Hannah probably sounded like Sister Agnes teaching catechism, but right now she was having a hard time not rapping these guys with the closest thing she could find to a ruler.

  How about that two-by-four next to the dumpster?

  Hannah took one step toward it and Charley bent, scooped Heath into his arms and plopped him on to the gurney. ‘Do your goddamn job or I’ll make sure you lose it.’

  To punctuate his threat, Charley took several shots of the EMTs’ startled faces.

  The bright flare of the camera flash brought one of the officers in their direction. Charley kept taking pictures.

  ‘You need to stop that, sir.’

  ‘Sorry, no can do. I’m documenting the incident at the victim’s request. I’ll share my photos with you. I have at least a dozen of the assailants.’

  The cop, a man near to Charley’s age from the gray in what was left of his hair, tilted his head. ‘Well, those are gonna come in handy.’

  How right he was. Not only did Charley’s photographs lead to the arrest of all three dickwads – their mug shots matched almost perfectly – but they looked very nice blown up to poster-sized prints at the trial.

  Their court-appointed lawyers petitioned for the posters to be disallowed as evidence. Since the grounds for the appeal were that the evidence of their clients in living color, captured in mid-assault was damaging to their case, the request was denied.

  Charley accompanied them to the hospital. Hannah was never sure afterwards how she would have managed without him.

  Heath was in surgery – internal bleeding – when she heard Charley on the phone. ‘I’m sorry
, Fancy. I know I promised I’d be there but …’

  Charley’s wife’s name was Francesca. Apparently he called her Fancy.

  ‘I couldn’t just leave the kid.’

  Was he talking about Heath or Hannah? Didn’t really matter. If he thought one of them was a kid, by default he thought the other one was as well. They’d been born on the same day.

  ‘As soon as things are stable, I’ll be on the next plane, Fancy. I promise.’

  Would a man ever say Hannah’s name the way that Charley Blackwell said Fancy?

  Charley’s gaze met hers and Hannah’s cheeks flamed. He knew she’d been listening, but really how could she not? He hadn’t kept his voice down.

  What he didn’t know was what she’d been thinking and she had to make sure he never did. She was pathetic, but she didn’t want to be that pathetic.

  Charley sat next to her, then took her hand. ‘He’ll be OK.’

  Hannah nodded, but she didn’t know for sure if Heath would be and that scared her. ‘You don’t have to stay.’

  ‘I’m not going to go until he’s out of surgery.’

  Nothing she could say would make him.

  Several hours later, Hannah visited her brother in recovery. He appeared so pale, as if he had no blood left. She set her fingertips on the back of one splinted hand, hoping to feel, as she always had before, the essence of her twin, but right now there was nothing.

  Hannah had given blood, asking that hers be used for her brother, not because of any fear of AIDS in the blood supply – that fear had ended in 1985, when a screening test for all donated blood became available – but because she had an irrational belief that her blood would save him.

  She returned to the room that would be Heath’s once he was out of recovery.

  Charley was already there. ‘How is he?’

  ‘Alive.’

  The idea that Heath could have died tonight hit her so hard she had to close her eyes. What would she do if she didn’t have him? That empty place inside of her would expand and expand until it consumed her.

  ‘Are your parents coming?’ Charley asked.

  ‘Tomorrow. Father had a charity dinner. Mother had a book launch party.’