My Best Man

by Edwards, Linn;

  “I’m Ian Kincaid,” Ian moved to meet the young doctor with Andrew and Mara in toe.

  “Has the next of kin arrived?”

  “They should be here by morning. Mr. Malone’s son and my sister were on their honeymoon.”

  “They were married just last evening,” offered Mara.

  “This son, does he understand the seriousness of the situation?”

  All three nodded their heads with Ian probing, “Has Mr. Malone stabilized?”

  The handsome doctor shrugged. “He’s resting and his blood pressure and respiration have improved. But it will be touch and go for the next day or two even if we are able to do the heart catheterization and if surgery is warranted.”

  “Has he been conscious?” asked Andrew.

  “He’s been in and out. But he seems fixated on whether or not Mr. Kincaid gave him mouth to mouth resuscitation.”

  Ian laughed, Andrew shook his head and Mara went back to lie down, muttering, “Always such an ass.”

  “Put Mr. Malone’s mind at rest and tell him my lips did not touch his and never this side of Hell,” Ian said going back to the—yes, damn it! Let’s call it a loveseat—and taking a big swig of coffee, wishing it were maybe vodka.

  “I told him mouth to mouth was no longer protocol,” came the confused comment from the doctor. “But if one of you is Andrew, he’d like to see him, if possible.”

  Andrew plunged his hands into his jeans and looked as if he was being led to the slaughter. “I’ll see what he wants.”

  Mara came over and sat next to her son. “Andrew seems a nice man.”

  “I suppose. If I remember clearly he congas well,” Ian said carefully.

  “A word of advice for both you and Andrew before Stephen shows up?”

  “Whatever are you getting at, Mother, dear?” asked Ian with a rueful smile.

  “Is the term ‘butch-up’? Because if your mother can tell Andrew is interested in you far beyond the bounds of friendship, so will Jessie and most certainly Stephen.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about, dear girl.” Ian included a sniff with the indignity of the statement.

  “My thirty dollars outflanked your ten, and I found out what room you came out of a few hours ago,” and Mara gave it her own significant sniff to punctuate as well.

  Ian raised that one eyebrow over the right eye and laughed. “I’ll have to remember to tip better.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “Obviously, I wasn’t. Imagine my shock when I woke up in his bed?”

  “Does Stephen know about him?”

  “About last night?”

  “No, of course not. But about him? He’s gay or at least bi-curious but from the looks he gives you, I’d say gay.”

  “Where are you getting this terminology from? I thought Oprah retired.”

  “Since you never talk to me or your father about—- things, I’ve been going to the local PFLAG support group. I want to understand,” Mara looked away briefly and then returned her attention to her son.

  “Oh, Momma, there’s really nothing to tell. Did Jessie talk to you about her dates and love life?”

  “Ian, I am a woman and I understood what she was going through. I’d been there and done that!”

  “Mother!”

  “Oh, get over it. It’s just that you never bring anyone home and you never tell us what is going on in your personal life. I worry about you.”

  “Momma, I’ll be honest. Haven’t met anyone I’d want you to meet and I don’t have a lot of time for that stuff anyway. By the time I see the doctor’s overflow and do his rounds at the hospital and maybe a tour in the ER if they need someone, I’m too tired for anything other than bed—alone.”

  “So this with Andrew—I heard him say he was staying through the weekend and I guess you are, too?”

  Ian didn’t say anything and just looked at her squarely in the eyes. “I have a few days. He’s nice. And when we part, that will be it. I cannot be in love with Stephen’s best friend.”

  Mara looked at her son long and hard. “Don’t cheat yourself out of happiness because of Jessie’s first husband.”

  “First husband?” now Ian was confused.

  “Oh, did I say that out loud?” Mara giggled. “Sorry a little slip there. But honestly, Stephen is such a prig—do you see it lasting?”

  Ian fell back onto the two-cushion sofa—cannot be a loveseat with your mother sitting with you—in stunned silence.

  Andrew was led down through large double doors and into a round hall area with a large nurse’s station in the center. Cubicles and rooms circled the desk. From the desk, two people could see just about every patient in treatment as well as the equipment. Hospitals made Andrew nervous. Too many comrades didn’t make it out of such trauma centers on the battlefield.

  Dr. Angelos—according to his ID badge dangling from his jacket—didn’t say much as he led Andrew around to where he recognized Frank laying on an examining table with wires and tubes running over him and through him. Frank looked like a beached whale and even Andrew could see the labored breathing. Wasn’t the oxygen helping at all?

  “Just a few minutes, please. Keep him as quiet as possible,” and with that, Angelos walked away leaving Andrew alone, uncomfortable, and taking in the smells that reminded him of when his mother died. Taking a deep breath, he moved into the little examining room where the older man lay.

  “Frank?” Andrew called in a low voice and he saw Frank’s eyes flutter open. “How are you doing, there?”

  “They tell me I kind of died a couple of times. Although I overheard that, they’re really telling me nothing. So, I take it that this was the big one?”

  “I would say not the big, big one since you are still here,” commented Andrew.

  “I guess. But will you tell me something?” Frank turned his head and raised up to look at Andrew.

  “If I know anything, sure, I’ll tell you. What do you want to know?”

  “Did they call Stephen?”

  “Of course we called him. They landed in New York and will be here by morning.”

  Frank nodded, but shifted in the bed. “They tell me Jessie’s brother kept me alive.”

  “Yes, he saw you collapse and his training kicked in.”

  “Training?”

  “Ian’s a nurse practitioner and he knew what to do. Took the lead and kept you going till the EMTs got there.”

  “Did he give me—?”

  “Don’t finish that question. Just be grateful someone was there who knew what to do about your situation.” Andrew gave Frank a look that backed Frank down. He sighed and shook his head.

  “He and I have not been friends. Why would he do that?”

  “Because he’s a professional and he saw a need and even though it was you, he did his best for you. Cut him some slack, Frank.”

  “I don’t like being in debt to that fruitcake. He makes my skin crawl about what he is and does.”

  “You’re not his type, Frank, so relax.”

  Frank started to say something but he began to cough that deep racking cough sometimes referred to as a death rattle. Alarms went off and sent a team of people wearing scrubs running for the tiny room. Andrew stepped back into the hallway and watched as they worked over the father of his best friend.

  Andrew leaned up against the nurse’s station watching. They moved quickly and efficiently adjusting dials and trying to get Frank to respond. The desk nurse came by with a small cup of water and handed it to Andrew. The older woman smiled, the blinged out chain on her glasses swaying back and forth.

  “You might as well go back to the waiting room. He’s not going to be able to talk for a while.” She used that smooth, comforting voice they all used when people were dying, regardless if it was the ER here or in the MASH tent on the battlefield.

  Andrew shook his head and headed out to where he wanted to grab hold of Ian and cry, but couldn’t and wouldn’t.

  Chapter 4


  A nurse tech (the fancy new name for the old Nurse’s Aide classification) brought blankets and pillows for the throng waiting for word on the condition of husbands, fathers, mothers, or grandparents. Ian looked around the large room and watched the some fourteen people speak to one another in hushed tones or trying to sleep. Looking over at his own parents, Ian saw his mother tucking a blanket around his still sleeping father on the recliner. She glanced over as Ian claimed a pillow and blanket and curled up in his corner of—yes, it was a loveseat again—while Andrew sat straight up with his left leg crossed over his right leg, bouncing his knee absently and staring into the distance.

  He had been unusually quiet ever since coming back from seeing Frank. Ian had wanted to take Andrew in his arms and tell him it would be okay. But he didn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’t. This is what made Ian’s life so hard and lonely. Why shouldn’t he be able to comfort a friend? Why couldn’t he hold on to Andrew and draw strength from each other in this time of need? He knew why and it was unfair. He caught the look from his mother and pulled the blanket up under his chin, trying to disappear.

  Ian watched as Mara walked over to Andrew, put her hand on his knee, and spoke quietly to him. He smiled and nodded, stood, and, holding onto Mara’s elbow, Andrew stopped and leaned over to Ian. “I’m walking your mom to the cafeteria. She needs to eat to keep her blood sugar in check.”

  Mara smiled a meek smile as Ian gave her a look, since she didn’t have trouble with low blood sugar—or high blood sugar for that matter. Ian slumped back and hoped his mother was not going to embarrass herself, and more importantly, not embarrass him.

  Scrambled eggs, sliced tomatoes, an English muffin with a swipe of margarine across, and a cup of very black coffee sat in front of her. She hoped she could choke some of it down while she had a heart to heart with Andrew. But where to begin?

  Mara watched Andrew tear into a three-egg omelet, hash browns, dry rye toast, and his equally black coffee. Ian liked his sugared and creamed to the point you couldn’t taste the coffee anymore. The fact that Ian drank the black coffee from Andrew was another way Mara sensed the feelings between the two. How else were they different? And did it matter? Was this leading anywhere? She felt sure it was, if she knew human nature—and she was sure she did. They were acting like a couple already and Mara feared others would notice, too. And the fear of it made her angry at Stephen and Frank.

  Andrew paused from eating and took a big swig of hot coffee. “Go ahead, Mrs. Kincaid and get it off your chest.”

  Mara paused in eating and her musing and looked Andrew in the eyes. “So this didn’t fool you. I know from the look on Ian’s face he knew my plans.”

  “He gave you that universal, ‘Oh, shit!’ look, Mrs. Kincaid.”

  “Call me Mara. If we are going to be honest and open with each other than call me Mara.”

  “I’m promising to listen. I’m not promising open and honest, Mrs. Kincaid,” Andrew said as he scooped some omelet up with a piece of toast.

  “Fair enough.” And she put down her silverware and looked at the handsome Marine across the table. “I don’t know anything about Ian’s personal life. We see him four times a year when he comes home for special events and holidays. He’s had a hard time establishing his—his—identity within the confines of—oh, let’s call it polite society.”

  “He told me about the quarterback in high school.”

  “That put him back in the closet when he got to college and nurses training. He said the men in the class were always trying to out macho each other so they wouldn’t be thought of as gay. At the time being a male nurse was difficult. But he was good at his job and he travelled for a while as a part-time nurse. He volunteered and spent some time in Africa dealing with the AIDS epidemic there.”

  Andrew, too, had put down his fork and knife and listened intently to Mara describe her son. “Andrew, Ian has always been a remarkable person. Caring for others over himself, and taking the brunt of the hysteria over the quarterback incident to make sure the kid got his college scholarship.”

  Mara took a deep breath knowing she was in the home stretch of her comments. “The family and the people who care about him have accepted Ian and as his mother, I am proud of the man he has become. I do not want to see that destroyed by you or anyone else.”

  Andrew looked surprised to Mara. Had he been expecting the usual ‘do not hurt my son/daughter?’ Maybe destroy was a little extreme?

  Mara went on. “Obviously last night happened. And apparently, you both are in those precious hours of afterglow. But neither of you can afford afterglow here and now.”

  “I’m not sure I am grasping what you are leading up to, Mara.”

  “I’ll cut to the chase. Andrew, you seem a nice young man. I like you and can see why Ian does, too. However, now is not the time for you two to act like a well-established couple with Stephen coming in here in just a few hours. I am certain Jessie will pick up the electricity going between you. If I can, I am sure she will as well. Stephen is going to be upset and he has the genes in him to be as big a prick as his father. Here and now is not the time for Stephen to explode over the two of you.”

  “Stephen has issues…”

  “Yes, Jessie told us all about his mother. Boo-hoo! At what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine years old? Move on. He’s married now. Focus on making that family he didn’t have. I lost my mother at ten to cancer. I was devastated and angry for years, but I made the family I lost and worked at being happy, and I was and I am. It’s time for the man in Stephen to suck it up but not today.” Mara was on a roll and things were coming out of her mouth with more honesty than she had originally intended. It was easy to talk to Andrew and deep inside she was hoping it could work out for Ian and him but not right this minute.

  “Yeah, I understand. But I’ll need to talk to Ian before Stephen gets here.”

  “Privately somewhere. Not in the waiting room,” Mara countered. “Or the restroom.”

  Andrew smiled, and suddenly Mara felt hungry as she dug into the scrambled eggs in front of her.

  Chapter 5

  Andrew parted company with Mara on their way back to the waiting room. He needed to talk to Ian and agreed with Mara it had to be alone. But the question was: where? He stood and watched the organized chaos at the nurses’ station. People ran back and forth and seemed to be at odds with each other but things got done with a quiet efficiency amid the hub-bub of panic and emergency.

  He moved toward the older nurse he had talked to before and asked her if there was a private room where he and Ian could talk in preparation for Mr. Malone’s son and new daughter-in-law. He also asked if the doctor on call could go over the case with them so they could help when Stephen arrived. The nurse said she would ask but regulations on privacy may keep them from discussing the case. She did show him where the private counseling room was and said he and Ian could go in the tiny room with four chairs and a desk that swallowed more than half the enclosed cubicle-like room.

  Ian came as bidden by the nurse to the room and told Andrew since neither one was family, the doctor could not discuss the case. “So how much did Mom bend your ear?” Ian smiled.

  “She was helpful in establishing we needed to be prepared for Stephen. I thought discussing the case with the doctor would help.” Andrew shrugged and leaned against the desk.

  Ian was aware of the close quarters and the scent of Andrew’s aftershave. The very air in the small enclosure seemed saturated with Andrew’s essence. Ian sat down in one of the chairs, trying to concentrate on anything other than the man in front of him. Ian cleared his throat, “So what do we need to do then?”

  Andrew leaned forward and kissed Ian on the forehead, “Talk about things and do things we won’t be able to say and do when Stephen gets here?”

  Ian turned and saw that the door could be locked and twisted the little knob on the door and then turned to Andrew, “Just no moaning. These walls are thin.”

  “Maybe we should go o
ver behavior we need to restrict?” asked Andrew as he kissed Ian on the ear, then down the neck and then full on the lips, all gently and friendly. Not the frenzy it had been before.

  “Well, none of that for sure.”

  Andrew began rubbing Ian’s crotch, feeling the lump get hard immediately, “I suppose this is out, too, then?”

  Ian’s sharp intake of breath and the tight tones of his voice would tell Andrew everything, “Not even under the table.”

  Ian reached up under Andrew’s now loose polo shirt and twisted a nipple forcing Andrew to swallow that low moan. “I can’t see that being allowed either.”

  Ian stood and pushed Andrew back against the desk again, then unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, “Remind me to tell you not to wear button fly jeans next time.”

  Andrew laughed a long and guttural laugh and spread his legs as Ian worked to free his ever-growing member.

  Ian moved in and kissed Andrew as he stroked the lengthening cock in a slow and steady motion. Andrew wrapped his arm around Ian and placed his hands on Ian’s hard ass and massaged Ian’s khaki-covered globes of an ass. Andrew swallowed Ian’s piercing and darting tongue as they both rubbed each other into a coming climax state. Ian knew this was going too far and tried to pull back. “You are always trying to back off, relax a bit. Enjoy the moment.”

  But the moment was suddenly shattered by the explosions of phones in their pockets. Ian jumped back just as pre-cum ooze was glistening on Andrew’s cockhead. Ian leaned over and licked it from the slit in Andrew’s cock. “Hold that thought till we are alone again.”

  “I’ve bookmarked your place,” Andrew said as he answered his phone knowing it was Stephen just as he knew Ian was talking to Jessie. On the ground and in taxi to the hospital prompted immediate action on their part.

  Saying and doing no more to one another, they reassembled themselves and took deep breaths to recover from the sexual exchange.

  They were in such a hurry, neither one saw the knowing smirk on the older nurse’s face as she watched them stumble out of the counseling room. She’ll let it air out a bit before closing the door.