Hearts Repaired

by Caraway Carter

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Did you decide to leave this place and run away with me?” he whispered in her ear.

  The serious look traveled over her face again. “I’ve been here twenty years, Dr. Fielding. I’ve got a pension—I can’t run off to a new practice.”

  They walked down the hall. The bed in room one was gone.

  “They’ve taken him to X-ray,” Christine said. “Choose: the old man burn, or the older man heart attack.”

  “Is the heart attack stable?” Curtis asked. He was itching for something different, and a burn would do the trick.

  “He is. He was brought in stable. Mainly they’re just waiting to take him up to the cardiac unit. You know, the usual paperwork.”

  “Great, then let’s check out the burn. How are his vitals?”

  “Oh-two is fine, temp is okay, BP a little low but not badly. He’s not in shock anymore, but he was when his friend brought him in.”

  Curtis nodded. “So, there isn’t anything wrong with this one, except for the burn?”

  “As far as I could tell from a quick triage, nope,” Christine said as they reached bed four.

  They walked into the small room together, and Curtis reached for the chart at the end of the bed. The face looked familiar, and he stepped closer to get a second look. Just as recognition hit, the man’s eyes blinked open. “Curtis?”

  “Law, what have you done to yourself?”

  “It’s stupid, really.” Lawrence tried to get up, but Curtis placed his hand on Lawrence’s chest.

  “No, you need to stay put. This burn is pretty nasty.” He glanced at Christine. “Nurse, can I get some gauze and antiseptic wipes?”

  “Yes, Doctor.” Christine left the room, slipping out the curtain.

  “You really are a doctor? I thought I’d imagined that.”

  “As you can see, you didn’t.” Curtis looked down at the man who’d occupied his thoughts for the past week and more. “What happened?”

  “I was talking about you, actually,” Lawrence chuckled weakly. “And I got distracted while I was helping a buddy change the oil in his car.”

  Curtis picked up Lawrence’s hand. “What part of the car did this to you?”

  “The manifold,” Lawrence said. “I lost my balance and caught myself by putting my hand down. Stupid of me. I didn’t have gloves on.”

  “I’d have to agree, that was stupid,” Curtis said. “Should I write you a prescription for gloves?”

  “I’d probably forget, just like I did today.”

  “Let’s wait for my nurse to come back with those wipes.”

  “They already wiped it down. You should have heard my cussing, I think they wanted you to look at it, maybe?”

  “Maybe. I mean, I am a doctor,” Curtis said. “Okay. Apart from the burn, does it hurt anywhere else?”

  “It’s throbbing up to my elbow,” Lawrence admitted, tilting his head back. “Is that bad?”

  “No, that’s pretty normal. There are lots of nerves in the palm of the hand. I’m sure they’re complaining all the way up the line. But getting the pain settled down should help. Are you allergic to anything?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Lawrence said.

  “I can get some topical stuff that will help with the pain,” Curtis said. “Hang on.”

  He turned as Christine came back through the curtain with the gauze and wipes. “Thank you, Nurse. Could you get the topical analgesic gel? I’ll wrap this up after that.”

  “Of course, Doctor,” Christine said and left again.

  He turned back to Lawrence. “Can you wiggle your fingers?”

  Lawrence winced, but he was able to bend his hand into a loose fist and then stretch the fingers back out. “It hurts, but yeah.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” Curtis turned as Christine came back into the room with a small tube. “I’ve got it from here, Nurse. You’d better check on that cardiac patient.”

  “You don’t want my help?”

  Curtis leaned over and whispered in her ear.

  She grinned and left again, pulling the curtain behind her.

  “What did you say?” Lawrence demanded. “Why’d she look at me that way and smile like that?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Curtis smirked. “I mean, I might have told her I wanted to have a quickie with you, and that maybe she should leave before it gets too wild in here.”

  “You didn’t say that. Oh—no… did you?” Lawrence asked, aghast.

  “No,” Curtis reassured him. “I’m only teasing. I told her you were old-fashioned and felt better if only a man were in the room with you.”

  “Whew,” Lawrence said.

  Curtis grinned suddenly. “But I admit I really wanted to say the other thing.”

  “Well, this is you we’re talking about,” Lawrence said.

  Curtis raised an eyebrow and looked Lawrence up and down. “Did you do this just to make sure I was a doctor?”

  “No!” Lawrence said, but his face lit up with a blush. “I mean—well, not intentionally. There are easier ways to get to see you, you know.”

  Cutis grinned. “I just wondered about this.” He reached down to where a bulge was prominent in Lawrence’s coveralls. “I was wondering when I’d see him again.” He looked up at the blushing Lawrence. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t very professional of me.”

  “Professional?” Lawrence objected. “If you’re going to notice it, I’m going to ask you to do something about it.”

  It was Curtis’s turn to blush. “Let me take care of that hand, first.”

  Covering the burn with the analgesic gel and wrapping it with gauze was a matter of a few minutes. Then they looked at each other, the doctor-patient relationship disappearing in favor of the two-hot-guys one.

  Curtis found the zipper in Lawrence’s coveralls. “I should probably get your vitals. You know, for completeness’ sake.”

  “Oh, of course,” Lawrence nodded solemnly.

  “I’m going to have to open this to examine you.” Curtis’s eyes twinkled. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Not at all,” Lawrence said.

  Curtis glanced at the patch on the front of the coveralls. “LHEA? What’s that mean?”

  Lawrence looked at the patch. “I don’t know. I just borrowed this from my buddy.”

  Curtis drew the zipper down. “Aw, it wasn’t like I thought it’d be.”

  “What?”

  “I figured you’d be wearing more than just this.” Curtis motioned at the coveralls and briefs. “But with that hand, you can’t take them off—unless you want me to cut this away.”

  Lawrence cleared his throat. “No. I don’t know how I’d explain it to my buddy.”

  “Hmm, good point. All right, go ahead and sit up.” Curtis put the stethoscope against his back. “Breathe in… okay, again… and yes, it wasn’t a dream.”

  Lawrence leaned forward. “I knew it wasn’t a dream. We woke up to a blow job and coffee.”

  “And toast and a shower too.” Curtis grinned. “Damn, I forgot how sexy you were, Law.” He shook his head and stepped back. “I’m losing points on my bedside manner. I’m not this bad; it’s just – you make me horny.” He laughed and gingerly lifted Lawrence’s hand and placed it on the tray.

  “I see what you mean.” Lawrence pointed with his good hand at Curtis’s crotch.

  “Yes, I can’t deny it,” Curtis laughed again.

  “Yours looks to be bigger, but I’ll blame that on age.”

  “Christ, Law. You’re a healthy man.” Curtis unzipped the coveralls to reveal the top of the briefs, with the very obvious hard-on. His hand snaked inside to rest on the bulge. “Like I said earlier, it’s why I sent Christine away. I really wanted to make sure we still had a connection.”

  Lawrence laughed. “Curtis, I didn’t burn my hand to get you into my pants. Not that I’m not enjoying things, but this is going to cause me some difficulties.”


  “With your hand wrapped like this we’ll have to think of something else to do that won’t tire it, and you, out.” He zipped the coveralls back up and helped him into the right arm. “Sorry about the other side.” He frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Here’s my card. Call me if you have any trouble doing anything with that hand. And, well… maybe just call me?”

  “You had me on the first ‘call me,’” Lawrence smiled.

  “Are you going tonight?”

  “Going where?”

  “The Brass Lamp. We signed up for that art appreciation course, but you were pretty drunk Sunday night when you paid for everything.”

  “I was not drunk. I was… Okay, I might have been very tipsy. Not able to drive, for sure.”

  “Driving might be tough with that hand. How’d you get here? How’d you do this again?” Curtis asked, holding the clipboard.

  “My accountant brought me. I told him I’d change his oil.”

  Curtis pursed his lips and nodded.

  “What? Just because I like men doesn’t mean I can’t change the oil in a car.” Lawrence said, irritation crossing his face.

  “Whoa, calm down, Law… That’s not what that nod was about. Look, I’ll be there. Hope you can make it too, and I’ll take the notes for us. That hand should take about two to three days to heal. We’ll send you home with some waterproof bandages for showers.”

  “Sounds good. Are we through?”

  “God, I hope not.” Curtis helped him stand. “I’d like to see you again, even after tonight. If you’ll let me.”

  They hovered, stared at each other, and then their lips came together like some movie song that leaves you waiting for the words to be breathed out. They had a connection; they both knew it. They both felt it again, and their breathing quickened. At the sound of the curtains being pulled back, they separated. The nurse from earlier stood there. She handed Curtis the medication slips.

  “Head to the pharmacy and get these filled. Apply the cream before bed and then three times throughout the day, then wrap the hand back up. Christine will give you more gauze and tape when you’re ready to leave. Just follow the directions and you’ll be better in no time. You’ll use that hand in more ways than you ever thought possible.” Curtis grinned.

  They both adjusted themselves as Lawrence turned to go.

  Curtis stuck out his hand, then pulled it back. “It’s been great taking care of you, sir.”

  Lawrence smiled. “Me too.” He patted Curtis on the shoulder and walked out.

  Christine turned to watch him leave, before she pulled the sheet off the bed and remade it. “He was superhot.”

  “Yes, he was.” Curtis watched Lawrence walk away and out of sight.

  “Wait… him?” She hooked her thumb in Law’s direction.

  “Oh, yes, so very much.”

  “He’s gay? How do you know? You just checked his vitals and wrapped his wound.”

  Curtis turned to lean against the bed. “Well, I know because I had him in my bed last weekend, and I confirmed it was more than a drunk attraction today when I was examining him.”

  “Dr. Fielding, you could lose your license.”

  “Only if the patient complains, and trust me, that man is not complaining.” He smirked.

  “You’re terrible. He came here to get fixed up.”

  “I know, and I fixed him up a couple of different ways. He was very happy, and I’ll make sure he’s happy later too.”

  Christine slapped him on the shoulder as she stepped to the other side of the bed, pulling the sheet down to the foot. She cleaned the rest of the area and pulled the curtain back.

  “You know if you worked for me, you might have more variety of patients to ogle.” He signed off on the chart.

  “More variety than an ER?” She laughed and took the chart. “Besides, won’t you specialize in gay patients?”

  “I’ll be open to them, but the majority of Dr. Buchanan’s patients are probably heterosexual.” He opened the curtain.

  “I’m still thinking on it, Doctor. Are you ready to see bed one?”

  “The foot kid?” He followed her across the room, and before they opened the curtain, he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Wanna know something else about him?”

  “What?”

  “That man didn’t need Viagra.” He laughed and opened the curtain. “Well, hello there.”

  She shook her head and followed him in. “Here are the X-rays, Dr. Fielding.”

  4

  Lawrence

  Lawrence walked into the lobby holding a large plastic bag. Instead of heading toward Harvey, he’d popped into the gift shop, then walked to the bathroom and came out a few minutes later with the top of the coveralls tied around his waist and a Long Beach Memorial T-shirt on.

  “Lawrence, where are you going?” Harvey stood up and placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

  “My car?” Lawrence sighed, with a big goofy grin on his face.

  * * *

  “Why? I drove you. Weren’t you going to get me?” Harvey took him by the shoulders and looked at him. “Are you all right? Did they give you something?” Harvey said.

  “Nope, but you know what? He is interested in me. Can you take me home? I’ll let Mario close up for the night.” Lawrence sidestepped the hand on his chest and headed for the door.

  “Sure, but how’ll I get home?” Harvey turned to follow.

  “I’ll call you a cab. In fact, I’ll pay for a rental car and you can leave it at the garage when yours is ready…” He turned around and stopped Harvey. “He’s interested.”

  “Who’s interested? You aren’t making any sense.” They headed for the doors.

  “The guy from the Brass Lamp the other night? The guy I burnt my hand telling you about,” Lawrence said.

  “Where is he?” Harvey turned to look around the waiting room.

  Lawrence pointed through the ER doors. “He’s back there. My doctor.”

  “Jeffrey was back there?”

  “Jeffrey wasn’t ever my doctor—no, hell no.” The grin disappeared. “If it was Jeffrey, you wouldn’t have seen me. I’d be in felony orange. No, my doctor is Curtis… Hell, I don’t know his last name.” The grin reappeared.

  “When was the last time you went out with someone and you didn’t even know their last name?” Harvey said. “Are you having a midlife crisis now?”

  “No, it was real. He was really back there.” Lawrence rubbed his good hand down his body. “He felt me up, and I felt him up, and we made out.”

  “I think you must have hit your head on the hood of the car when you burnt your hand.” Harvey shook his head.

  Lawrence placed his hand on Harvey’s shoulder. “It’s real. Can we go so I can change into something for later tonight?”

  Harvey stared at him. “You’re seeing him again?”

  Lawrence headed out the sliding doors, nodding his head. “I’m taking a class with him.”

  Harvey followed. “You’re a little old to change careers now.” Harvey handed the valet stub to the guy at the parking stand. “It’s the oldest car in the lot, you can’t miss it.” He turned back to Lawrence. “What class?”

  “It’s an art class I guess I signed us up for at the Brass Lamp.”

  “You guess you signed up? What does that mean?”

  “It means that while I was tipsy Sunday night, I agreed to pay for an art class at the Brass Lamp with Dr. Fielding.” He grinned.

  “Do you even like art?” Harvey asked.

  “I might not enjoy all art, but I’m willing to see what art there is, especially if Curtis will be there.”

  The attendant pulled up in front of them. “Great ride.”

  Harvey offered a five.

  The guy refused. “Not allowed, but thank you.” He ran to the other side to open the door for Lawrence.

  Harvey pulled his door shut. “Okay, let’s head out.”

  The Metropolitan pulled into the driv
eway on Covina Avenue. The white/mist-blue mid-century modern matched the colors of the car. Lawrence walked to the front door. “Come on, Harvey, let me get you that rental car.”

  Harvey followed him into the house.

  “Hey, I’m going to put this stuff away. Can you get a pot of coffee started?” Lawrence said as he walked across the house.

  “Sure.” Harvey headed to the kitchen.

  Lawrence got out of the coveralls and pulled on a pair of jeans, leaving the T-shirt on. He placed the extra gauze and medication on the bathroom counter and felt something in the bag. He pulled out the business card. “Dr. Curtis Fielding—that has a very nice ring to it.” He admired himself in the mirror but frowned at the large bandage on his right hand. “His name is Fielding, Dr. Curtis Fielding.”

  “That’s a nice name. Where do you want your coffee?” Harvey had two cups in his hands.

  “How about on the back porch?” Lawrence leaned against the counter. “I burned my smart hand. It’s going to be hard to do anything.”

  “Yeah, I feel terrible. It’s my fault.”

  They stood in silence, watching the coffee fill the pot.

  Lawrence spoke first. “No, I shouldn’t have taken off my gloves. How long have I been a mechanic? That’s the number one rule.”

  “Still, I shouldn’t have even been in there.” Harvey poured the coffee.

  Lawrence pulled the sugar bowl to him, took the spoon out, and poured the sugar in the coffee. “Are you in a hurry?”

  “No, I canceled my meeting.”

  “That meeting was with me. We can go over the accounts while you wait for the car.”

  “Great. I left my briefcase at your shop.”

  “I’ll drop it off tomorrow. But first let me make a call. I’ll meet you outside.” Lawrence turned on the laptop and shoved his hand toward his pocket to get his phone – then winced and pulled it back. “Shit… dammit.” He lifted the receiver of his rotary dial phone and dialed the number. “Yes, it’s Lawrence Barnsdale. Can you have a car delivered to my home address? Yes, place it under the name Harvey Abernathy. He’ll be driving it for a few days. Great, thank you.” Lawrence placed the receiver back and stepped out on the patio.