Hearts Repaired

by Caraway Carter

  “You think of me as a kid? I don’t think you can do the types of things we did last night if I were a kid.” Curtis placed the cup on the side table, then lay alongside Lawrence’s naked body. “I’m glad I’m not a kid at all.”

  “Oh, me too, Cur.” Lawrence placed his cup on the nightstand and turned when he felt the kisses moving up his left arm.

  Curtis lifted his head. “You called me that last night too. No one’s ever said it like that before.”

  “I figured with you calling me Law, Cur just felt right. You don’t look like a Curt, but sometimes you act like a cur.” Lawrence lifted Curtis’s chin up with his fingertip.

  He laughed. “A cur? I was a perfect angel last night.” Curtis batted his eyelashes and tilted his head.

  “I can see how you’re having a hard time keeping that innocent look on your face.” Lawrence leaned forward and kissed the cherubic smile away.

  “I tried. Thank you for kissing me before I lost the look.” They both laughed. “What sorts of businesses?”

  “Places my accountant tells me I should invest. I don’t go to them very often. He’s told me I’ve worked long enough, it’s time to retire. And look, I run into you, and my life flips overnight. Really, I’m not that interesting. I mean, you’re a doctor in an ER. That’s interesting.”

  Curtis shrugged. “I just fell into it. I’ve got a mind that remembers patterns, and I’m a little obsessive. I’ve got a bad reputation for being a goof-off, but I get the work done. Makes the administrators pissed off at me, but the patients and the nurses love me. Besides, my last day is Friday night. I’m on the late shift, twelve to twelve. Today I’m seven to seven. I could take you home, so that Friday I’ll drive straight there and sleep in your bed for a change before we head to the Getty.”

  “You don’t have to take me. I can get a taxi so you can head to work.”

  “I don’t want you to leave. Where is Belmont Park?”

  “Just above Belmont Shore.” Lawrence tried to remember when he’d last cleaned the house.

  “Let’s hop in the shower and get on the road. If I’m a little late this morning, what are they going to do? Fire me?”

  Lawrence got up and headed to the sink.

  “Leave them. It’s nearly five-thirty. Let’s get that shower.” Curtis waited for Lawrence to come up to him.

  “Was it too early? I usually get up when I did.” Lawrence tossed the apron on the counter before slipping his arm around Curtis’s waist.

  “No, it was perfect. I hate getting ready while a lazy ass is still in the bed. It’ll be nice leaning against you in the shower instead of the tile.” Curtis placed his hands on top of Lawrence’s.

  Lawrence kissed him just below the ear and nudged him forward. “Just a quick one?”

  “A real one, though. You scrub me and I’ll scrub you.” Curtis flipped the knobs closest to him.

  Lawrence twisted the ones on the other side as he walked in. He could live with a shower like this forever. It was obvious to Lawrence that Curtis had no issues with modesty, and when he stood under the rain head, Lawrence felt a pang of desire in the pit of his stomach.

  Never in a million years had Lawrence believed another doctor would fall for him and vice versa. But then, Curtis didn’t know what he did for a living, and it was a sure bet he’d never find out. For the first time in a decade, he was embarrassed about his mid-century life.

  Any other thoughts in his head vanished as he was pulled into the water.

  “Scrub me down?” Curtis handed Lawrence a blue washcloth full of soap suds.

  “What about my hand?”

  “It should be fine. I’ll rewrap it before we leave; I’ve got a bag in the trunk.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lawrence stood at attention. His hand moved over the contours of the flawless body in front of him as he slid the cloth up Curtis’s back. Lawrence stopped washing and slid his finger along the S-shaped scar on Curtis’s left shoulder. His eyes focused on the raised skin, the bumps and the discoloration surrounding it. “How’d you get this?”

  “I wish it were because I was in a serious accident. It’s stupid, but I suppose since you’re looking at it, you’ll have to hear the entire grisly story.”

  “If it’s going to be too hard for you to tell me, you don’t have to. It just looks really painful.” Lawrence continued scrubbing.

  “It was more humiliating than painful. But don’t get me wrong, it hurt as bad as your hand did. I was a sophomore in high school, not into football as much as I was into the players. And people knew it. I was the experimental guy, you know… There are so many guys who aren’t sure they’re gay. I was the test.” He laughed.

  “Oh, Cur… don’t put yourself down.”

  “Law, I’m not. It’s something I offered. I really loved giving blow jobs, so I told guys who were happy with my skills to look me up.”

  “Your back is finished. Turn around and I’ll get your front.” Lawrence turned Curtis around. “Continue.”

  “So, I was kneeling where I always knelt, under the bleachers. There was a building right against the back of them, so you couldn’t see under unless you were walking along the side or down from the seats. Anyway, in front of me, his cock hanging out, waiting for my lips to wrap around it, was the star quarterback, and it was a nice cock. And just as I slipped my lips over the head, we heard a whistle blow and Coach Kerns stomping above. The bleachers rattled, and I let him slip out. We both panicked; he turned and stumbled out the side, stuffing and zipping up. I stood up too quick, hit my head on the underside of the metal seats, and snagged my shirt on an exposed bolt. It scraped deep into my shoulder blade.

  “I screamed and cussed and made my way out the side. Coach caught me in that bad shoulder, pulled me to sit on the bench in front of the stands. It was only after he got me seated that he noticed the blood on his thumb.”

  Lawrence pulled his hand up to stop his laughter. He had squatted and was getting ready to move up.

  “It’s okay to laugh. It was stupid. It only gets worse from here. I give you permission to laugh.”

  “I’m not laughing at you, Cur. I’m laughing at the situation.”

  “I know. I told you it was fucked up. So, the coach called the nurse to come out and bandage me, but as we waited there, he called the team to sit in front of me. Coach says, ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’ I looked in front of me at the guys—the smiles, the blushes, and the guys who were looking at the sky. ‘I’m here to take care of the team’s needs, sir.’”

  “Jesus, Cur, what did the coach say?” Lawrence laughed.

  “He didn’t say anything, but a couple of years later I ran into him on the Promenade. We talked about old times, and I came out and told him what I was doing under those bleachers.”

  Lawrence chuckled. “And?”

  “He apologized for the injury. The star quarterback and I are still friends—he’s my accountant, helping me set up the business.” Curtis looked at his scar and then back up at Lawrence.

  “Did you finally get to suck him off?” Lawrence pulled him toward the rain head.

  “Plenty of times, but he’s engaged now. He’s totally off-limits, been that way for years.”

  “Okay, rinse off.”

  Curtis rolled his neck as the water sluiced the suds away. He turned to Lawrence. “And now it’s your turn.” He began scrubbing, and the soft circular movements of his hand made Lawrence tingle. “Do you have any stupid stories?”

  “Not really a stupid story. I had this boyfriend. Well… not even a boyfriend, but he’d call me up and ask, ‘What’s up?’”

  Curtis looked at him. “Okay…?”

  Lawrence chuckled. “If I was horny, I’d say my dick, and if I wasn’t, I’d say nothing.”

  “Oh… you were racy.” Curtis laughed.

  “You know, back then that was racy,” Lawrence said. “I mean, this was the late sixties. He’d call from the payphone at the gas station. It wasn’t until I found West Hol
lywood in the late seventies that I finally felt comfortable.”

  “Okay, so I’m going to teach you to be racy. Turn around.”

  Lawrence did, and he placed his hands on the top of Curtis’s head. “Yeah… you don’t even need to ask what’s up, do you?”

  Lawrence remembered to gather his clothes this time, unlike the first night when pieces were thrown everywhere. He dressed as quickly as he was able with the bandaged hand, made another cup of coffee, and waited for Curtis to get ready.

  “This stool is nicer in pants,” Lawrence said.

  Curtis walked around the corner laughing, a toothbrush in his hand. “So, what are your thoughts about me crashing at your place tomorrow night, and then we can carpool to the Getty on Saturday?” He slipped the toothbrush back in and brushed before turning back the way he came.

  Lawrence was trying to come up with an excuse. It wasn’t as though his house was a piece of shit; it had been in a few architectural magazines in its day, but still. He had to remember what was there that would reveal who he really was beneath his newfound sexy exterior. Anything that would out him as a lowly mechanic?

  “Law? Are you still here?” Curtis poked his head out from the bathroom.

  “Yeah, sorry. I mean sure.” He sipped his coffee. “We could do that.” He pulled out his phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling a cab.” Lawrence held up his phone.

  “Put that phone away. I’ll just drop you off at your place before work. I’m almost ready.”

  “I don’t want to make you late.” Lawrence slipped the phone back in his pocket.

  “I’d only be late if we weren’t dressed yet. I’ve got my work shoes on, my stethoscope, my white jacket.” Curtis pointed to each thing as he named it and tugged on the drawstring of his pants. “My dark blue scrubs.”

  Lawrence laughed as he moved up to Curtis. “I love these pants. They cup your ass in the right way, and when I was lying in that bed…” Lawrence sighed. “They look just right in your crotch.”

  “Law, you are making it difficult to not play hooky and rip off this getup,” Curtis said.

  Lawrence finished, held his hands up, and backed off. “Just gives me more time to think of unwrapping you tomorrow night.”

  “All right, I’m almost ready. Let’s get this show on the road.” Curtis looked around the room, slipped a wallet into his back pocket, and picked up a set of keys from the counter.

  Lawrence drained the cup and placed it in the sink. “Lead the way, sir.”

  Curtis laughed. “I’m not the sir, I’m the cur.”

  Lawrence chuckled and placed his arm around Curtis. “All right, Cur… lead the way.”

  It felt so right. Curtis wasn’t a boy; he was a man, and a man who felt perfect in Lawrence’s arms.

  In the underground garage, they came upon a black 2016 SL Roadster, something Lawrence saw every day. The lines of the car were amazing. He ran his hand along the perfect polish of the chassis. It was such a well-built car, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d had to repair the device that retracted the hard top. Lawrence slid into the black leather seat, and he noticed that Curtis had spared no expense and got all the add-ons. It was a pristine car. Not one thing out of place.

  “The weather is perfect today. Do you mind if I take the top down?” Curtis asked as he slipped into the seat behind the wheel.

  Lawrence wondered if he should act surprised, as though this was the first time he’d been in a car like this. “No, go right ahead.” He chose to fib. “I’m not used to such new cars.”

  Curtis smiled as he pushed the button that would extract the roof. “On days like today, it’s a shame not to have the top down.”

  “I actually drive a Metropolitan. It’s pretty vintage.” Lawrence whistled as the roof disappeared from overhead and slid into the compartment in the back.

  “I had you pegged for vintage, but that’s a car I’ve never heard of.” Curtis grinned as they left the dark garage and drove out into the morning sunlight.

  The acoustics in the car were good. They were able to keep up the conversation without having to yell at each other. Lawrence pointed out the best bars and restaurants along the way as he directed Curtis to his little mid-century modern home.

  “Just pull in the driveway.”

  In the driveway, near the backyard, sat the little blue-and-white Nash Metropolitan. The same number of seats as the Roadster SL, but not nearly as classy. As Lawrence sat there contemplating the house and car, he realized he needed a change in his life. Maybe… maybe Curtis would be that change.

  “Law, this house is beautiful. I see what you meant by vintage. Does that car run?” Curtis grinned.

  “It does. It was my mom’s car. I always loved it.”

  “The color matches the trim on your house.” Curtis smiled again.

  “I know, I had that painted… It’s pretty dated. I’m sorry.” Lawrence turned to look at Curtis. “You know, I’ve been trying to place the color of your eyes. And I finally realized they are mist blue.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” Curtis tilted his head. “Mist blue?”

  Lawrence blushed. “That’s the color of my car.” He pointed at the two-toned car. “I’m old.” He laughed.

  Curtis leaned in and kissed Lawrence. “This is who you are, and what I find very interesting about you.”

  “So, do you think you’ll remember the address?”

  “I do. I’ll put it in my GPS. I’m off at midnight tomorrow. The hospital is about twenty minutes away. Give me your cell number, and I’ll text you when I’m leaving.”

  “All right.” Lawrence pulled out his phone.

  After an exchange of numbers, Lawrence got out of the car and stood on the doorstep, watching Curtis drive away. He should have walked in the moment he’d gotten there, but he waited.

  As he was getting his mail, his neighbor, the shrew who had lived next to him as long as he’d been there, stepped out of her house, grabbed her hose, and began watering her rosebushes. “Oh, I didn’t know you had kids, Mr. Barnsdale,” she said in an offhanded manner.

  “I don’t. You know I’m gay. You know I’ve always been gay.”

  She looked upset. “He’s so young. Is that one of those taxis?”

  “No, Mrs. Biddy, that was my new guy.”

  She gasped. “It’s Biddle!” She huffed as she moved closer to water the hedges, her hand clutching the pearls at her neck. “He’s so young, I’m surprised he’s old enough to drive.”

  “He’s old enough to drive me! He drove me all night.”

  To her shocked gasp, Lawrence walked inside and slammed the door.

  7

  Curtis

  Curtis meandered to the nurse’s station, logged onto the computer and checked his email, and turned when he felt a fingertip tapping his shoulder. Curtis looked at the perfectly manicured white-painted fingernail.

  “Who’s looking for me, Christine?” Curtis turned back to the computer.

  “About time you could make it,” Christine said. “Dr. Buchanan called for you twice, Dr. McKissick asked after you, and HR called about needing to finalize some paperwork,” Christine answered.

  “Look, do you need this headache? You’re already acting like my assistant, why not come and work for Dr. McKissick and me and get paid more?” Curtis smirked.

  “I’m telling you, I’m this close.”

  He turned to see her laughing, with her arms stretched out. “But seriously, are you planning on burning bridges before skipping this place? You’re two hours late. The only thing that saved your ass was that ex of yours, Dr. Gibson.”

  “Jeffrey’s here?”

  “Yeah, he had a shift last night, and he stayed over. He’s with a patient in bed one. You know how he is since he became chief of staff.” She stood beside him. “Why are you so late?”

  “Law and I were talking. I gave him a ride home,” Curtis answered dreamily.

  “That ma
n is old enough to call a taxi,” Christine responded sternly.

  “I know, but I had to know where he lived. I’m spending the night tomorrow.”

  “And you can’t pull up Waze? Or check Google Maps?” Christine asked.

  “It’s not that. We were talking about stuff, and it just seemed the nice thing to do. Besides, what are they going to do, fire me?”

  “No, but you can’t slack off like this. It’s not professional.” Christine looked over her shoulder and shook her head.

  “Curtis, it’s nice of you to show up,” a commanding voice from across the station said.

  Curtis controlled a wince and fixed his eyes on the screen. He’d look up when he decided to, not when ordered.

  * * *

  “Dr. Gibson. Great to see you, it’s been forever.” Curtis eventually looked up from his email.

  “It wouldn’t be, if you remembered to make the staff meetings.” The fake smile spread over Dr. Gibson’s face.

  “Dammit,” Curtis muttered.

  Dr. Gibson made his way around the station, maneuvered his hand between Christine and Curtis, and pushed between them.

  “Oh, okay, Dr. Gibson. I’ll just step out of your way,” Christine said, as she walked to sit at the computer opposite Curtis.

  Curtis looked up and sighed as he mouthed, “I’m sorry,” to her. He turned to see that Dr. Gibson hadn’t moved an inch. “I guess I need to thank you for taking over while I was late this morning,” he said.

  Dr. Gibson was everything Law was not. The only thing they had in common was their age and height. That’s where the resemblance disappeared. Dr. Gibson had let himself go over the years as he moved up the hospital ladder. His wining and dining the higher-ups showed in the potbelly that hung over his belt, and he needed his monthly dye job, as the gray was starting to seep in.

  Where Law was gentle and compassionate, Dr. Gibson was rude. He thought his shit didn’t stink and that a nurse was just another candy-striper. He thought of himself as a god because he held patients’ lives in his hands, and he let those around him know it. They’d dated for three months when Curtis was still in med school. Everyone warned him, but Curtis was thrilled that this surgeon who’d saved thousands of lives was operating on him.