“He must be fucking with me.” I thought.
So, I pushed his arm and noticed how cold his arm felt, which was very strange. After living with the man for three years, I know cold was not what he feels like. I put my hand over his mouth to feel any warm air.
Nothing.
That’s when the panic started to set in. I start to shake him. Harder, then, even harder. No response.
“Mitchell, don’t do this to me. Come on, wake up.” I say out loud.
Everything I did was to no avail. Then I stopped. With the realization that he may be dead; tears start to run down my face as I vainly shake Mitchell with so much force that the bed starts to rock. I suddenly stopped shaking him, but then my body starts to shake uncontrollably.
And then I stop breathing.
“Breathe, Trevor, breathe.” I tell myself. After taking a few quick breaths, my stomach turns against me. I jump off the bed and run directly into the bathroom. As I try to make it to the bathroom in time, I slide on a floor rug and fall. Everything I ate from the night before came right on out and all over the floor.
I don’t believe this shit. I sit in a daze in my own vomit for what seems like hours. “Get a grip Trevor, c’mon you candeal with this. You’ve dealt with worse.” I said trying to psyche myself into getting up, but my body wouldn’t let me.
And I had dealt with worse. But, truth be told, I always had a problem dealing with death. You would think after the many dead bodies I’ve seen on my years on the force, I would get a little thick-skinned.
There were bodies in far worse condition than this. Bodies plastered all over the wall from drug deals gone bad. Bodies destroyed by their own hands. Bodies destroyed by vehicles. Bodies destroyed by drugs. Bodies destroyed by fire, acid, bullets, and knives. But, I guess nothing can compare to the lost bodies of the ones you know and love.
Love, hunh, I guess that’s what it is, love. I’ll be damn, I’m still in love with this man. I can’t believe this. How can this be? After all the shit he put me through and I’m still in love with him. But, what does it matter now? He’s gone.
I get up slowly to wash my face and rinse the film out from my mouth. I turn on the faucet. After splashing my face with the cool water, I decide to jump back into the shower to fully get the effect. I turn from the sink and slip and fall again in my regurgitation. “Fuck, Goddammit! I scream. As disgusting as it was to fall in my own vomit, it was just the thing to get me out of my daze. I get up immediately and wipe the excess vomit from my body with a towel. I run downstairs to the kitchen to get a mop and pail to clean up this mess.
When I get downstairs I notice that the living room windows were opened. “I didn’t remember leaving the windows opened.” I think to myself as I walk over to the windows and peer through the curtain. I stare out the floor to ceiling windows watching the ducks play in the pond in front of my condo complex. I just stand there in a daze letting the cool morning air wash over me. “This feels so good.” I say to myself.
A car door slams and I hear a baby start to cry. “Well enough of this.” I say out loud. I close all three windows and walk into the kitchen. As I walk past my kitchen divider I notice a crack pipe. I did a double take.
“Oh no he didn’t” I yell. That motherfucker knew how I felt about this shit. I look into the garbage pail next to the counter and see a vial, which I assumed contained some crack. I start to pick up the pipe, but then the “detective” in me thought better of it. I better leave everything like it is. No need to add my fingerprints to it.
“Oh shit!” I say. The realization that Mitchell probably overdosed on this crap hit me like a ton of bricks. I had to sit down. I walk back into the living room and sit down on my sofa.
This was a major problem towards the end of our relationship; Mitchell dealing and using drugs. Needless to say I was enraged when I found out he was into the shit. I let him know immediately, it was either me or the drugs. I felt sorry for him in the beginning because he said he was hooked; he just couldn’t stop. I did love the man; so I told him I would be there for him if and only ifhe got help.
After spending six months in rehab, he swore up and down that drugs and alcohol would never be a part of his life again. And, I, like a fool, believed him. I’ll admit, as good as I am at being able to tell if someone is lying to me, he fooled me.
After seeing him cleaned for what seemed like months, I was totally caught off guard when I received a call from John, one of my old partners on the police force.
It seemed that the department just broke up a major crack ring in Queens and one of the suspects they gathered up happened to be Mitchell. My heart fell. I made it my business to keep my private life and my professional life separated. I never wanted either to interfere with the other. Up until then I was very successful, but this was bound to draw everything that I worked so hard for to an end. I felt my dreams were about to go up in smoke.
As soon as I walked into the station, John immediately drew me into the locker room. “Listen Trevor, we’ve got ourselves a sticky situation.” he said. “This guy’s saying he’s your roommate and he won’t talk to anyone except you.”
John just so happened to know my “business”; meaning he knew I was gay. Since we were partners in the very early stages of our careers; we spent a lot of time together. We became very close; discussing our dreams, fears and other personal things. When I came “out” to my family, I felt close enough to John that I told him too. When I did tell him; he handled it pretty well. His reaction to my confession? “Well I hope you don’t try to grab my ass, cause I’m kinda sensitive there and you may just turn me on.” We both burst into laughter.
I told him that I didn’t want anyone else on the force to know. Homophobia was running around the station like a bush fire and I wanted to keep my ‘.’shit” discreet. He promised that no one would find out from him.
“The problem, Trev, is that the DA wants this guy bad. They say that they’ve been after him for at least 3 years.”
I couldn’t say a word.
After a couple of minutes of my silence go by John asks, “Hey Trevor, are you okay?” “What? Oh yeah, listen, um, thanks John.” I say. “And, uh, thanks a lot for keeping this under raps. Do me a favor. Could you bring his ass into the “grill” room?”
As John walks towards the door he turns and says, “No problem T. Look man, you’ve saved my ass more than once out there. And you know we got each other’s back. But, uh, Trev, just make the right decision here.”
“The right decision, huh?” I think to myself. “And what the hell is that?”
I sit on the bench in front of my locker with my head in my hands. I get up quickly and slam my fist against my locker. “This shit is totally ridiculous. How did I get myself in this?”
The dilemma was; I knew Mitchell was expecting me to use not mine but my father’s pull and influence in the judicial system of New York City.
My father, Stephen A. Morrows, is a Superior Court Judge for the borough of Manhattan. And like everyone else, Mitchell seems to think I always run to him when I needed to be pulled out of a jam.
About everyone on the force assumed that just because my father was a judge, he used his influence to make me one of the youngest detectives in New York history. Which is total bullshit. I busted my ass like the rest of them. But, I still got grief from the other detectives when I got promoted. But you know what, I was not going to let that or anything else for that matter stop me from becoming the best damn cop on the force. And I got plenty of awards to prove it.
Though, now it does look like I will have to run to good ol’ dad for this one. This was totally out of my hands. There was nothing I could do. I mean I couldn’t just let his ass rot in jail, could I.
But, how in hell do you tell your father that your gay lover is in jail for drug charges and you need his help? Especially my father, who never could understand how I became gay. As a matter of fact, it took him a good six months just to speak to me after I confessed
my true sexual orientation. But that’s another story.
Mitchell had his head down on the table when I finally made it to the “grill” room. He looked up slowly with the most pitiful look on his face. All I could do was shake my head. I sat down across from him. When he didn’t say anything. I quietly said to him, “Well Mitchell, you realize that this is it. I might have been able to deal with you fucking around on me, but now you’re fucking with my job, my career and my life and that I will not tolerate. I just can’t.”
He looks at me with tears starting to form in his eyes. “Baby, I’m so sorry. You’ve got to forgive me, I really need you right now.”
I get up quickly and let the chair fall. “Don’t baby me.” I yell. I inhale deeply and let the air exhale slowly. I place my hands on the table and look at him intently. I grow quiet and say with as much professionalism as I can muster. “Listen Mr. Urbans, I will see what my father cando for you, but I’m not making any promises. Furthermore, as far as we are concerned, it’s over.” With that I walk out of the room and slam the door.
Fortunately for Mitchell, my father was able to pull a few strings with one of his judge friends. Mitchell was let off with a suspended sentence, down from 15 years in the state pen to five years probation, if he came forward with names of his drug contacts. What happened after that I have no clue. I washed my hands of the whole thing.
But things at the force weren’t the same for me after that. I could sense a change in attitude towards me. And since, it got out that Mitchell was my lover, everyone knew I was gay. I had my suspicions as to who leaked out that piece of juicy gossip. I started to get dirty looks whenever I would go into the locker room to shower. As if I would want any of those tired-ass dicks in there.
I then proceeded to get hate letters on my locker, like, “Faggots are not wanted on the force” and “Queers don’t belong in the NYPD”. Even Captain Jamesway, who I was actually pretty close to, made it very clear to me that the predicament with Mitchell may have its repercussions.
Which basically meant that, though they couldn’t force me out legally, my stay at the “Hotel NYPD Blue” would not be a pleasant one. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to run away from anything. But good ol’ dad had plans on running for mayor and the last thing he needed was to see on the front page of The Post or The Time’s “Supreme Court Judge’s Son in Drug and Sex ScandaI’’. So I felt the best way to handle this was to get out while the getting was good.
But not only did I let that asshole back in my life and bed, here he was dead from what I assumed to be an overdose in my home and now I needed to figure out what to do next. The phone rings and jolts me back to reality. “Hello.” I grumble into the phone.
“Hey chile, what happened to you last night? I couldn’t find you anywhere.” It was Marcus.
“Marcus, I can’t talk right now, let me call you later.”
“Oooh, who you got in your bed?” he laughs. “Wait, Ms. Thing don’t tell me Mitchell’s there. After all the shit he put you through.”
I breathe in deeply. “Marcus, I neither have the time or the energy this morning to deal with your shit.”
Marcus immediately fires at me with his trademark rapid tirade “Damn Trevor, what the fuck’s wrong with you, there’s no need to get nasty with me, shit, the only reason why I called your ass in the first place was to find out if you were OK. That’s what’s wrong with you black people today, you never appreciate when anyone shows a genuine concern.” And he says this all in one breath.
“Okay, okay, okay, I’m sorry, really.” I said apologetically. I could tell he was really hurt.
But Marcus being Marcus, let his attitude change from one extreme to the next. “OK, OK, you’re sorry, so what’s the dish bitch?”
Again, I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly. “Marcus, my love.” I say very carefully. “This is deeper than anything we’ve ever been through together and I would appreciate it if you would let me handle it and we’ll speak at another time, preferably tomorrow.”
Marcus grows very quiet and I almost think that maybe we were disconnected or something.
“Alright Trevor, if that’s what you want, then call me tomorrow, but if you need me, just let me know. Ok?”
“Ok. I respond. “I promise to call you first thing tomorrow.”
I hang up the phone. But I am totally surprised that Marcus let it go so easily. Usually he will try anything short of a crowbar to pry information from me.
Wondering what to do next, I suddenly came up with a brainstorm. Since the last thing I needed was attention or publicity, I decide to call John, my old partner on the police force.
Though I left the force two years ago, John and I still kept in touch. Since the last time we talked, John was promoted to Senior. Detective in homicide, so I knew he would be able to help me with this little problem I’d gotten myself into and I also knew he would keep it quiet.
I pick up the phone to dial the station’s number.
“Homicide, this is John.” I hesitate a little, wondering how he would take the news. “Hello, is there anyone there?” John queries.
“Hey John, what’s up? It’s Trevor.”
“Trev, what’s going on man? It’s been, what six weeks since I heard from you? How you feel.”
“Oh I guess I’m doing OK, but, uh, listen John, I need a huge favor from you, man.” “Anything for you, big guy. What you got?”
I sit back down on the stool in front of my kitchen divider. “Well John, I think it may be best if you come over here so we can talk face-to-face. Do you have time to come over now?”
Chapter Two
I am now sitting on my white leather sofa with my head in my hands facing John. I just filled him in on what happened last night. Beginning with me meeting Mitchell at the club; to Mitchell and me leaving the club to go get coffee and just talk; to the both of us coming over to my condo; and then finishing up with me waking up, finding Mitchell dead in my bed.
“Whew, you sure got yourself in some shit today, buddy.” John says between sips of coffee.
I look up and say, “No shit, Sherlock!” Just as I said it, I knew I was wrong. “John, I’m sorry. As you can tell this is causing me much stress and I’m snapping at everyone. I even told my mother off before you came by.”
“Hey man, don’t sweat it, I can just imagine how you feel. If I woke up with a dead body beside me I guess I would be a bit bitchy too.”
That’s one thing about John, no matter what we’ve been through he is always on my side; he never judges me. It’s something I’ve always appreciated about him.
“Well T, the first thing we’ve got to do is get the coroner to get this guy out of here. I’ll assign one of my best boys to the case and keep close tabs on it so not a word leaks out to the press.”
I begin to relax a little, knowing that there was someone on my side to help me.
“Listen John, I really appreciate your helping me out here. It really means a lot to me.”
“Like I always say buddy, don’t sweat the small shit.” Then he says with a smile, “You might want to go back up stairs and take a shower and put some clothes on.”
“What?” I say and look down to see I’m still in my briefs. “Oh yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll do that now.” As I proceed to walk upstairs John gets up and walks towards the kitchen.
“Look Trevor, don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. Hey why in the hell haven’t you been shopping, it looks like my fridge in here.” He laughs while peering in my refrigerator.
Lord knows I don’t need this today. I’m back in my bathroom for my second shower of the day and I am so numb that I can barely feel the hot water coursing over my body.
I think to myself that maybe my life would have been better if I had played the “safe” and “straight” role and married Kasha. Yeah right, oh that would have been a smart move.
Kasha and I were engaged to be married a year after I entered the force. I mean, though I loved Kasha w
ith all my heart, my being gay would have been a marital problem that no counselor on this earth could have helped us with. Though I knew for the longest time that I was sexually attracted to men; it took me awhile to accept the fact that I was gay. I realized, though, that if I was going to fully accept and love myself then I needed to accept my sexuality and not “play undercover”, like a few people I know.
When I did finally accept it; like anything else regarding my life, I refused to have to explain myself at every turn to Kasha, my mother, my father, or anyone else for that matter. And that was what I ended up doing. There were so many fucking questions.
My father wanted to know how could I do this to him. My mother wanted to know if my being gay was caused by her breast-feeding me for too long, and Kasha wanted to know what she was doing wrong, what I was doing wrong, why I didn’t find her sexually attractive, why I prefer men over women. I mean didn’t these people watch television? There’s always some After School Special about gay lifestyle. You’d think I was the spokesperson for homosexuality or something. And it was just pissing me off. It got to be more than I wanted to deal with, which is why I called off the wedding three months before the actual day.
Kasha still wanted to marry me however, even after I told her I prefer “beef’ instead of “fish”. God knows she tried to change my mind. I mean the woman actually showed up at the door wearing nothing but Saran Wrap. I really didn’t mean to hurt her, but what do you do if Mr. Winky doesn’t stand at attention. And why is it that women think that their pussies are so powerful anyway. I know I hurt a lot of people, but I was not going to be miserable just because some people happened to not like the way I live my life. I mean, it is my life, isn’t it?
There is a knock on the bathroom door. “Trevor? Hey man, the guys are here. I thought you might want to come downstairs while they take him out.”
I exhale heavily. “Uh, sure, I’ll be right out. Give me five minutes.” Oh boy, let’s get this over with. I jump out of the shower and quickly dry myself off. I really didn’t want to go back into my bedroom, so I just put the same briefs back on and reached behind the door to get my bathrobe and used the other door that leads to the hallway and walked downstairs.
The Loss of Love and Truth Page 2
