by J. P. Oliver
“Sir, please, take a seat here,” said one of the nurses. “I would advise you to call his family. Sir? Are you listening?”
Mason’s family. I’d totally forgotten. They probably didn’t want to get this call, and I was dreading making it.
If you hurt him, I will end you myself.
“Liam?” came a voice.
I looked to my side to find Isabelle standing there, clipboard in hand and a concerned expression pasted onto her elderly face. Her eyes widened when she saw that I was covered in blood. Rushing over, my mother knelt down beside me and immediately cupped my face, looking me over to see where I was hurt.
“My God,” she gasped, “what happened? Are you okay?”
“What…” The words died on my tongue. My voice was raspy from crying. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here, darling,” she answered softly. “Don’t you remember?”
“You… What?”
“I’m the hospital administrator.”
“Where are we?” I asked, not quite understanding.
“You’re at St. Mary’s Hospital, darling. Did you hit your head? Please, tell me what happened.”
I was too overwhelmed to form coherent sentences. Instead, like a grown-ass man, I cried. Isabelle circled her arms around me and pulled me into a tight, comforting hug. She stroked the back of my head and cooed in my ear, just like she used to when I was a little boy. The scent of her peppermint body wash and rose oil shampoo sent me back to simpler days, when we were happier and oblivious.
“Mason,” I whined.
“Who?”
“My boyfriend. He–”
I thought she was going to push me away, make a big scene. She’d probably look at me with disgust, be repulsed by the words coming out of my mouth. But she didn’t do anything of the sort. Isabelle held me tighter, our differences momentarily set aside.
“It’s okay, darling,” she whispered. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“N-no, I’m not.”
“Good. That’s good.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a uniformed officer walk in. It was the same one who first responded at the scene. He walked over, hands folded respectfully in front of me.
“Excuse me, sir?” he called. “I know this may be difficult for you, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to come with me to make a statement.”
“But Mason’s still–”
Isabelle patted my cheek and gave me a small, encouraging smile. “He’s in good hands, darling. This nice officer needs your help.”
“We won’t go far,” assured the officer. “I just wanted to ask you what happened while it’s still fresh in your mind. We can talk right here, if it’s okay with you.”
I took a deep breath, filled my lungs until they were about to burst. I nodded, swallowing at the terrible dryness in my throat. The officer was right. There was nothing I could do for Mason right now. Nothing except tell our side of the story. There was no doubt in my mind that the evidence would result in a guilty charge for Shawn, but I wanted everything on record so that there was no way that slimy bastard would ever see the sky except through prison bars. I glanced over at Isabelle, who had been surprisingly supportive.
“Okay,” I finally managed. “What do you want to know?”
19
Liam
Isabelle managed to find me a fresh scrub top to throw on, but unfortunately couldn’t find me a pair of clean pants. I sat in one of the green waiting room chairs, resting my elbows against my knees as I stared at an imaginary spot on the tile floor. The officer had been nice enough. He informed me that although it was early, Shawn would likely be pressed with a wide assortment of charges –violating the parameters of his restraining order, harassment, assault with a weapon, possessions of an illegal handgun, assault causing bodily harm, and so on.
But none of it mattered to me. None of it mattered if Mason didn’t pull through.
Mrs. and Mr. Neal were the first to arrive, Rick in tow. They were still dressed up from our dinner together. They probably just arrived home when I gave them a call to let them know their son had been shot. Rick came over to me, obviously furious.
“What the fuck, man?” he sneered. “Where is he? Where’s Mason?”
“Still in the operating room,” I said flatly. I didn’t have the energy to match Rick’s accusatory tone.
“What the fuck did you do to him?”
“I didn’t–”
“Rick,” cautioned Mrs. Neal. “It wasn’t his fault. I know you’re angry, but Liam had nothing to do with it.”
Rick bit his lower lip, ran a hand through his hair. He calmed down a bit, seeing his mother’s logic. Mrs. Neal sat down next to me and placed a tender hand on my back.
“Have the doctors said anything?” she asked softly, trying to hide the tremble in her words.
I shook my head wearily. “They haven’t told me anything.”
“Oh, dear,” she muttered, pressing her fingers to her lips in worry.
“It’s going to be all right,” said Mr. Neal. “He’s a tough kid.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Steven,” hissed Rick. “I didn’t realize tough kids were immune to gunshots.”
“Rick, please stop,” whimpered Mrs. Neal, distressed.
At that very moment, our friends rushed in through the emergency room’s sliding doors. Drew led the way, followed by Christian, Philip, and Tommy. They all rushed over to me, greeting me with anxious, but sympathetic expressions of worry.
“Where is he?” asked Drew, breathless. It sounded like he’d ran here.
“Are you all right?” worried Philip.
“Did they catch the guy?” questioned Tommy.
“Who the fuck are you guys?” exclaimed Rick.
“Watch your mouth, young man,” warned Mr. Neal.
“Oh, dear,” repeated Mrs. Neal, quivering.
I buried my face in my hands, overwhelmed by the commotion and the sudden lack of space. Our group took up half of the waiting room, which left me feeling claustrophobic and frustrated. I knew they were trying to be supportive, but this line of questioning was starting to feel old and useless. No matter what answers I gave, I knew there would only be more questions to follow.
“Excuse me,” came the shy voice of one of the emergency room nurses.
We all turned to face her, like some well-orchestrated dance. I stood, fighting to keep my stomach from rising into my throat.
“Yes?” I said.
“Mason’s out of surgery,” she informed us. “He’s steady and should make a full recovery.”
“Oh, thank God!” exclaimed Mrs. Neal, burying her face into Mr. Neal’s shoulder.
“Can we see him?” asked Drew.
The nurse took a quick scan of our merry band, a concerned look in her eye. She immediately shook her head. “I’m afraid I can only allow immediate family members.”
My heart sank. Did that include me? Sure, we’d only been dating for a few weeks, but surely that meant something, right?
“What room is he in?” asked Rick.
“We’ve put him in a private room. It’s on the third floor at the end of the hall.”
“Private room?” I echoed. “We can’t afford that, miss.”
The nurse shuffled through the documents on her clipboard, looking something over. “It looks like it’s already been paid for by the hospital’s administrative department.”
I raised my eyebrows, curious.
“Dude, why are you questioning it?” spat Rick. He waved with his hand for his parents to follow. “Come on, let’s hurry up and see him.”
I watched as the Neals left down the hall, leaving me in their dust. I turned to my friends, forcing a weak smile onto my lips. I didn’t want them to worry. All I’d heard all night was are you okay? Are you all right? I’d had enough of it.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” I said.
“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Christian as he balanced his hands on
his hips.
“What?”
“Go with them,” he said, gesturing down the hall.
The nurse browsed through her documents again, and then looked back up at me. “Are you Liam Porter?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re listed as the patient’s husband. You’re more than welcome to visit him, if you’d like.”
Philip made a sassy little ooh sound, while Drew tried to hide a giggle behind his hand.
“What? I didn’t–” I started to protest.
“Are you two trying to steal my thunder?” joked Drew.
“No, I–”
“Yeah, it says right here.” She pointed at a spot on the form. “Filled out by the hospital administration. Feel free to go on up, Mr. Porter,” said the nurse.
I was flabbergasted, but decided to say nothing. If this meant I could go and see Mason, I was going to go see Mason.
When I finally reached the correct floor and found the right room, Mason’s family was already huddled around him. He was conscious, but obviously drained. The color had started to return to his cheeks, but there were dark circles beneath his eyes. Luckily, he didn’t look to be in too much pain, many thanks to the morphine drip he’d been hooked up to. I leaned against the open door’s frame, fumbling with the keys that were in my jacket pocket. The last thing I wanted to do was crowd Mason, but I also wanted to trap him into a tight hug and never let go.
Mrs. Neal brushed her fingers through Mason’s hair so that loose strands no longer fell before his face. She spoke softly into his ear –something comforting, no doubt– as she dragged the thin hospital blanket up to tuck just beneath his chin.
“Where’s Liam?” were the first words out of his mouth. His voice was raspy, the familiar light lilt of his words entirely absent.
My body froze at the mention of my name, followed by a terrible wave of guilt that threatened to drown me. As much as I wanted to be here, I didn’t want to be here. This was all my fault, I realized. If I hadn’t asked Mason to go along with my stupid plan to make Drew jealous, if I hadn’t fallen for him so fast and so hard, if I had spotted Shawn sooner, he would have been okay. Mason would have been perfectly fine had it not been for me pretty much elbowing my way into his life. He would have been better off without me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling.
Rick turned to face me, almost expectant. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tapped his foot, tilting his head in his brother’s direction as if to tell me hurry the hell up. I took a hesitant step into the room, weirdly aware of how loud the click of my shoes were against the polished floor. Mr. Neal took a step back to let me through, retreating into a corner to collect his thoughts. Mason immediately raised a hand and reached for me, clinging to the fabric of my sleeve with all the strength he had. A rush of relief left me winded when I saw just how happy and relieved he was to see me.
“Hey,” he whispered, the faintest smile on his lips.
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was simply too overwhelmed with relief and guilt that I felt I’d be sick if I opened my mouth to speak. Instead, I took his hand in mine and brought his fingers to my lips and breathed slowly. I felt my breath quiver, and before I knew it, I was fighting to hold back sobs.
“Let’s give these two some privacy,” suggested Mrs. Neal sweetly as she ushered Mr. Neal and Rick out of the room. “We’ll be just outside if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Mom,” said Mason.
They closed the door behind them. When I heard the door click, I started to cry in earnest.
“You idiot,” I huffed. “You absolute fucking idiot.”
“What did I do?” scoffed Mason weakly. The corner of his mouth ticked up into a small grin. I supposed it was better than nothing, but it was obvious that the action drained him of his energy.
“Why did you do it?” I asked, shoulders shaking and chest burning. “You idiot. Why’d you do it? It should have been me.”
“Come here, baby,” Mason hushed, reaching out to hold me.
I sat down on the edge of the hospital bed and leaned forward, allowing Mason to circle me with his arms. I propped myself up on my elbows, scared that the weight of my body would hurt him. He kissed my cheeks as he wiped at the tears streaming down my face with the pad of his thumb.
“I’m okay,” he assured me. “I’m okay. And you’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
“Mason, I–”
“I love you, Liam,” he said firmly. He pressed his lips to my forehead, and suddenly everything was right with the world. I gave in, gingerly pressing myself against him and buried my face in the crook of his neck. My body was twisted in a bit of an awkward position, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Mason was all right, and that fact was more than enough for me.
“I love you, too,” I finally answered. And boy, did I mean it.
“Did they catch him?” he asked after a moment.
“Yeah, cops showed up almost immediately.”
“Good,” Mason sighed. “Good.”
“Tommy and Philip are downstairs. I’m sure they’ll handle everything. And Drew and Christian are here, too. They’ll probably want to see you when you’re feeling up to it. How do you feel, by the way? Do you want me to go grab a nurse? Are you in any pain? That pillow doesn’t look very comfy. I can go ask someone to–”
“Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you be a dear and just shut up and hold me?”
I chuckled, realizing just how exhausted I really was. I nodded as I climbed onto the bed with Mason, lying stiffly on my side. I stretched my arm out beneath Mason’s head and threw my other arm across his chest. We remained silent, listening to each other’s steady heartbeats and calm breaths. We stared into each other’s eyes, mesmerized and locked in a trance-like state. I pressed kisses against his temple as I listened to the gentle beeps of the heart monitor strapped to Mason on the other side of the bed. Before long, Mason started to snore softly, lulled into a deep and well-deserved sleep.
Just as I was about to follow suit, there was a soft knock at the door. Looking up, I saw Isabelle open the door an inch to take a quick peek inside.
“May I come in?” she asked quietly.
“What are you doing here?” I started to move to get up, but Isabelle shook her head, holding her hand out to gently indicate that I could remain where I was. She entered the room, closing the door behind her.
“I wanted to see you,” she said softly. Her voice was as sweet and kind as I remembered it. It was a bit bizarre, in all honesty. The last time we’d actually spoken to one another was the day after high school graduation, the day she and Frank found out that I was gay. There’d been a lot of yelling, a lot of screaming and cussing. So to have her here before me, quiet and reserved, had me in a state of unease.
“Thank you for… Well, this,” I said, gesturing around the private hospital room.
“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, dear,” she replied calmly.
“Mason’s not a friend, Isabelle. He’s–”
“I know. Sorry, I misspoke.”
An awkward beat passed between us. I didn’t know what she wanted, if this was some sort of ploy. But I knew, deep down, that this couldn’t possibly be the case.
“How’s he doing?” she asked.
“He’s okay. Tired.”
“That’s understandable.” After another beat, “And what about you? How’ve you been?”
“Aside from being shot at today, not too bad.”
Isabelle nodded, her thin lips pressed into a concerned line. “That’s… I’m glad to hear it. That you’re doing well.”
“What about you?” I asked. I felt like I was talking to a stranger.
“I’ve missed you,” she admitted. “I… I regret how we left things, all those years ago. Running into you the other day was… Well, it was weirdly nice. Even if we did all leave in a bit of a huff.”
“Frank started it.”
Isabelle s
hook her head. “I’m not saying he didn’t. We may not understand your choice–”
“Being gay isn’t a choice,” I interjected.
“Right. You’re right. Sorry. I’m not… I meant nothing by it. I’m just… I’m trying to understand.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I know what real love looks like, and it’s obvious you love this man. I figured how could that ever be wrong? I wanted to help somehow. I don’t know if this will ever be enough to make up for everything, but I think it’s long overdue on my part. I’m really happy to see you. I guess I just… I wish we hadn’t lost so much time. I wish your father and I handled things better.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
Isabelle sighed, braced herself for what she was about to say next. “Frank and I got into a huge fight after our encounter at the restaurant. I told him I wanted to reach out to you, to maybe make amends. I’ve missed you, Liam. You’ll always be my baby boy. But Frank, he wanted none of it. I very quickly discovered that it wasn’t just his son he didn’t appreciate.”
“What are you saying?”
“I regret nothing more than when you left. And while I’m not entirely familiar with…” Isabelle gestured awkwardly at Mason and I. “I’m trying. To be familiar. To be tolerant, I guess. And I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but I swear I’ll do anything to earn your trust back. I’ve been complacent for far too long, and it cost me my son.”
I was stunned by this news. I had been angry at my parents for so long that I forgot what it was like when we actually got along. Isabelle was definitely making an effort, which I was more than grateful for. With time, maybe she’d come to fully accept who I was. But for now, this was more than enough. After damn near losing Mason to that maniac Shawn, I was more than happy to walk away with the love of my life and a mother who was more than willing to change.
“What about Dad?” I asked cautiously.
Rather unsurprisingly, Isabelle shook her petite head. She kept her eyes cast down to the floor. “He needs more time, darling. I hope you understand.”
