Ice Cream Man

by Charles Puccia

  Ben finished his wine and Dan poured him another glass.

  “I had a new training partner—and sexual partner—a gay bodybuilder. We were having sex, in the locker room, after a workout. I ignored my cell, lost track of time. Until two hours after the daycare had closed. I missed the pickup. The director gave Marianne an earful, threatening to inform Social Services. Marianne went to pick up Carl. She left me a message, cursing my irresponsible, selfish behavior.”

  Ben drank the entire glass of wine in one gulp.

  “Do you want to stop?” Ginny rubbed Ben’s shoulder.

  Ben shook his head. “A drunk driver ran a red light, broadsiding Marianne. Carl died instantly. Marianne was on life support without brain activity. I was her living trust executor—she had never changed it after the divorce. Her parents pleaded for me to pull the plug. I did. I watched Marianne die in seconds.”

  Ben finished his story with staccato sobs, which brought tears to Ginny and Dan.

  “I’m… I’m so sorry.” Ginny’s voice cracked on each syllable.

  “Me too.” Dan’s voice scratched his throat.

  Ben’s hands covered his face. Ginny and Dan both embraced him. Ginny brought a box of tissues and they all wiped their eyes in silence for minutes.

  “I… loved… them.”

  Ginny handed Ben more tissues. “You don’t have to say any more. I can’t imagine how you felt… feel,” said Ginny.

  “Feel? The aching is inside and out. Physical and emotional pain. I ask myself all the time what might have been instead of what is… and…” Ben bent, his head touching his knees.

  “Please, no more.” Tears washed Ginny’s face.

  Ben sat back. He folded his arms behind his head, his biceps crushing his ears. “Let me finish. I want you to know everything.”

  “Don’t torture yourself,” Ginny pleaded. Her hand slid along Ben’s arm.

  With only a drop of wine left, Ben reached for the water. Dan offered to pour more but Ben declined.

  Hands clasped together, Ben told them that he had never moved on after the death of his child. Marianne’s loss was different, although he’d never forget.

  He withdrew from contests for two and a half years after that. “I trained alone, acted mean. The owner tolerated me because of my trophies—and, I suppose, because he pitied me. Things changed the day Davis McGregor—to be precise, Davis McGregor III—joined the gym. Davis was tall, not a bodybuilder, but a hunk, and gorgeous. Like you, Dan.”

  With a turn, Dan smiled at Ginny.

  “He approached me, and I brushed him off. But Davis didn’t give up, and you can guess the rest. He brought me back to the living.” Ben paused. “We lived together off his trust fund. And the sex was unimaginable.” Dan shook his head, and Ben politely skipped the details. “Anyway, we became a couple. We were perfect.”

  “But?” said Dan.

  “Yeah, the ‘but.’ Davis’s playboy lifestyle didn’t match my monogamous one. I was his one true love—I knew that—but he had other needs. He’d be faithful for maybe three weeks at most. I accepted this, but I asked that he keep his trysts concealed. And of course I insisted on periodic HIV checks with full access to the lab results.”

  There was a pause as Ben stretched, cracking ligaments. Wine glasses were filled for Dan and Ginny.

  “Davis left one day for San Francisco. He called to explain that this would rejuvenate our relationship, which I knew was a lie. Davis was obsessed with sex. He believed that if he satiated his obsession, over time he could control it.”

  Ginny slapped her thighs. Ben asked if something was wrong, to which she barked no. Ben shrugged.

  “I waited for Davis to come back. I planned for us to become Massachusetts residents. It was the only state granting gay marriage at the time. But our phone calls went from daily to weekly, then stopped altogether. I trained, had casual sex.”

  Ben’s story finished with a call from a New York lawyer and the reading of Davis’s will. Davis had died of AIDS and had bequeathed his New York and San Francisco condos to Ben. He’d stipulated that the ground floor of the New York building be converted to a gym called UltraFit. The bulk of his trust fund went to Ben as well.

  “Can you guess how much?” Neither Ginny or Dan tried. “Two hundred and fifty million. Undeserved. He died because I pushed him away. If I hadn’t insisted on monogamy, he’d have stayed, and I would have seen his HIV reports and saved him.”

  Tears rolled down Ben’s red raw cheeks. Ginny’s and Dan’s eyes moistened as well. The tissues were passed around.

  “Don’t you see?” Ben said. “I caused your fight. I’m a selfish person with my… I’m so sorry… forgive me. Please forgive me…”

  Neither Ginny nor Dan answered. They both realized the plea wasn’t really directed at them.

  Dan reached for Ginny, and they both felt Ben’s arms surrounding them, his smothering fire blanket hold.

  Ginny gasped. “It’s a little tight.”

  Ben released and sobbed. “Dan, may I?”

  “Sure.”

  With a gravity pull, Ben crushed Dan to his chest, their two mouths sealed together. Ginny slipped on the edge of her chair.

  “Uh… well, that was different,” Dan said. The back of his hand rose to his mouth but he stopped halfway.

  “Dan Livorno!” Ginny said. “That’s all you can say? Well, I want in on this too.”

  Ginny mauled Dan’s lips, pushing Ben’s kiss down Dan’s gullet. She placed her hands on Dan’s cheeks. “I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused you tonight… and over the past months. I love you, and I never meant to hurt you.”

  Dan’s new tears came with a smile.

  Ben handed over the tissue box. “I’ll go now. I think you two need—err… what’s it called? Yes, makeup sex.”

  Ginny asked Ben to stay, but he declined, promising he’d call if he felt depressed or lonely.

  The makeup sex was slow-motion intimacy, not acrobatic passion. It lasted a long time before climax. Dan rolled on his side, and Ginny parked against his rear, whispering, “Everything will be good again. Vinnie will recover. Tomorrow will bring good things. Don’t you agree?”

  With one hand under his pillow and his knees curled, Dan fell asleep, his slow soft breaths warming the sheets.

  Chapter 32

  The BIZ Hospital

  A faint antiseptic smell permeated the hospital corridor. Dan could have walked blindfolded, he’d been here so often. He was uneasy on the Monday after New Year’s, that day which implied a new beginning. That idea was foolish to Dan’s rational mind; the day was nothing more than a dial marker for the Earth’s position relative to the sun—and an inaccurate one, too. But Dan’s apprehension was a result of the baggage from the disastrous evening he and Ginny had had with Ben. Each footstep made him think of another detail of Ben’s awful tale: his betrayal of his ex-wife; his irresponsible behavior; his son’s death; Marianne’s coma; her swift death. What would be the consequences of his and Ginny’s behaviors? Was Vinnie one of them?

  From the elevator to Room 1432 at the Belgravia Incare-Z, Dan carried his thoughts. I’ll never get used to this trip. Never.

  Along with learning the hospital routine, Dan had learned the rumor surrounding the bizarre hospital name Belgravia Incare-Z. As happens, rumors repeated enough times become believed, no matter how absurd. In this case, the hospital name derived from a failed merger between the Belgravia Incare, or BI, and St. Ambrose. The two hospital presidents had a dispute over handicap calculations at a Kiawah Island Golf Resort fundraiser, and the disagreement spilled over into which hospital name would be first in the merger. Drinks flowed on the 19th hole, tempers flared, and, ultimately, the merger dissolved. The BI president then took precautionary measures for future mergers by adding a placeholder spot at the end of the hospital name. And so the Belgravia Incare became the Belgravia Incare-Z. From BI to BIZ—the irony missed. Dan felt irony had been written into the BIZ bylaws.

  Arr
iving mid-morning, Dan saw two people at Vinnie’s bed. He recognized them as Nurse Betty Davis and physical therapist Jimmy Janks. Dan had already had a few unpleasant confrontations with them both. Their dismissive and condescending attitudes had rankled him. He’d liked the two doctors—Goldoni and Silverstein—but had only seen them once, and they’d explained that at this point, Vinnie’s life was in the hands of the physical therapy and nursing staff. They’d monitor his physical state, but they had no control over how, when, and whether Vinnie awakened.

  And Dan’s anxiety rose each day Vinnie remained in his coma. Perhaps this anxiety, his frustration, the waiting for Vinnie to awaken and for a full and complete recovery and recuperation prompted his action. Or, maybe that particular day, that particular moment, his tolerance for condescension had simply been breached, but whatever the reason Dan snapped at Nurse Betty.

  From the doorway of Vinnie’s room, he gestured for Nurse Betty to meet him in the hall. She stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her, leaving Vinnie in the care of Jimmy Janks.

  “Are you sure that physical therapist guy knows what he’s doing?” Dan asked.

  Nurse Betty’s voice was cold. “Unlike you, Mr. Livorno, we are trained staff. We know what we are doing.”

  Bullshit, thought Dan. Jimmy Janks was even worse than Nurse Betty. On a previous occasion he’d told Dan to stop asking him so many questions as it “interfered with him working.”

  “I’d like a word with Mr. Janks,” Dan said. “I want to know about alternative means to help Vinnie recover.”

  “Mr. Livorno, as you’ve been told many times, Mr. Briggs’s chance for recovery is slim, and I’m sorry to say it’s even less likely with each passing day. Your best hope, and what would be best for Mr. Briggs’s family, is that he doesn’t last in this state too long before…” She trailed off meaningfully.

  “Before…? Before what? He dies?”

  Nurse Betty had a faint smile on her face, or so it seemed to Dan.

  His face flushed and his throat became dry. “You’ve given up, haven’t you? Well, I haven’t. And I’m fed up with the defeatist attitude.”

  For Dan, a line had been crossed, as it has been for many who have learned that medical science admits defeat. Doctors and nurses work on statistics and evidence, not hope; family and friends, the opposite.

  “Have you told Vinnie’s family?” Dan was angry.

  Nurse Betty turned. “Don’t worry, we know what’s best. Now, I suggest we leave Jimmy alone. You’re in the way, and he has other patients to attend to. Mr. Briggs isn’t the only patient in the hospital.”

  Dan had been dismissed. Told to leave. He did, with his head on the boil. He stormed out, vowing to advise DV&N and the insurance company not to approve further payment. His new purpose in life had now changed: to remove Vinnie from the BIZ, Nurse Betty, and Jimmy Janks.

  ****

  “That’s unbelievable. It’s like a TV sitcom,” Ginny said after hearing Dan’s story of his hospital encounter. She tilted her head and slanted her lips. “Dan, we have to report her and BIZ to the New York City medical ethics board.”

  “And what good would that do for Vinnie? Our concern has to be Vinnie and his discharge to… well, I don’t know where he’ll go, but his discharge comes no matter what the cost. I’ll insist DV&N pays. And if they don’t agree, I’ll pay… if you’ll agree. I know we can’t afford all the costs, but we could supplement, and I’m sure others will help.”

  Ginny paced.

  “Don’t you agree? We have to move Vinnie as soon as possible. Tomorrow.” Dan walked across the room to the window overlooking Central Park.

  Ginny stopped pacing. “I agree something has to happen soon. I’m not sure we should pressure ourselves with unreasonable urgency though. Let’s aim for the end of the week.”

  “That’s too long. They’re crazy over there.”

  “Be realistic, Dan. A coma patient can’t be moved in a day. I’m not even sure one week is enough time. Let’s not focus on the time. Let’s start with what we need to know. Who can advise us? Do we have contacts with private nurses? Who do we know who’s used private care?”

  Dan turned. He had always admired the way Ginny organized her approach to a problem. He realized he was acting emotional and reactive. He took his cue from her.

  “Good idea. Let’s make a list of people that might have used private care,” he said. “Let’s start with elderly parents. We can expand to terminally ill spouses. Also children with genetic disorders or an incurable disease.”

  “Yes, that’s the idea. Keep going.” Ginny retrieved her laptop and began typing.

  Dan named a few more groups until his categories overlapped under different descriptions. “That’s it for me. How about you?”

  “There is one other that would be kind of appropriate to Vinnie. Well, not the same, but one common element.”

  “Gay men with AIDS.”

  “That’s right. How may AIDS victims went to special facilities or were set up with at-home care? We must know someone who knows.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “Okay, but before we talk to my mother I have another idea: Ben.”

  “Of course. Ben will have known gay men in hospice facilities. Call him. He’ll be at UltraFit now.”

  “I think we should go see him in person. This isn’t a telephone conversation. I’ll see when he’s available. He knows about Vinnie already, which will makes the explanation simpler. And after what we learned about Ben from our ‘special’ night together, we know that he’s familiar with knowing someone in a coma, his ex-wife. I hope this doesn’t upset him. We’ll have to tread very carefully.”

  Chapter 33

  UltraFit—Rescue 2

  The X-room assembly line churned, even at nine p.m. on the Monday after New Year’s. Iron-pumping addicts lived for sweat. Ben wasn’t finished with his current session, so Ginny and Dan crouched in a corner, away from the monsoon men. After a few minutes, Ben finished and came over to them.

  “Sorry for the delay. I added extra reps on my lats. What do you think?”

  Ben’s latissimus dorsi spread the way hangar doors open. Ginny and Dan made room.

  “Fantastic,” said Ginny.

  “Yeah, great,” said Dan, not knowing whether barnyard wide was the intended effect.

  “Do you need more time?” asked Ginny. “We can wait in your office.”

  “Nope. This looks like it’s important, so I’ll skip my shower if you can stand my rank odor.”

  The three entered Ben’s tidy office. Behind his desk stood a bookcase packed with trophies and an eclectic book selection: medical, bodybuilding, training, physiology, interior design, psychology, and philosophy. Wall photos portrayed a well-known bodybuilder handing Ben his first-place trophy and magazine covers promoting his routines.

  Ben settled behind his desk the way a semi-trailer moves into a loading dock. “What’s up?”

  Ginny spoke rapidly. “It’s about Vinnie. He needs private care.”

  Dan filled Ben in on the details of his Belgravia Incare-Z visit.

  “Fuck,” Ben said. “What a fucking disaster. Do you want a lawyer?”

  “No. Not that a lawyer didn’t cross my mind,” Dan said. “But that wouldn’t help Vinnie.”

  Ginny grabbed Dan’s forearm. “Ben, we’re here for suggestions. We thought you might have… er, this is difficult to express and sounds insensitive, but we thought you might’ve had experience with AIDS patients and private nursing care. Is that too much of a stereotype?”

  “It’s not a stereotype. I’d say most gays have known someone in hospice. Too many friends have died from that terrible disease… Davis among them, although I wasn’t there.” Ben stopped to wipe his mouth. “Too many. One guy from this gym.”

  Ben leaned over his desk. “I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t tell anyone. The membership would flee. There’s still a lot of ignorance around. Can I count on your secrecy?”r />
  Dan and Ginny nodded.

  With his hands holding the sides of the desk, Ben looked to Ginny, then Dan. “That was a stupid thing to say. Of course you’ll keep quiet.” He sat back, his hands in his lap, and with a smile he said, “I know the perfect person to help. I also know he’s available. He owes me a favor. His name’s Joe Malich. He’s not cheap, but he’s worth it.”

  Like a child in a classroom, Dan raised his hand. “We’ll find the money. If DV&N won’t pay, we will. We have savings, and we’ll find the rest. We’ll need to find a place big enough for Vinnie’s needs, a hospital bed, rented medical equipment, and a room for your friend… Joe, right?”

  Ben leaned forward. “First things first. Let me contact Joe.”

  “Thanks. This is great. We can’t thank you enough.” Dan shook Ben’s hand and prepared to leave. Ginny stood too.

  But Ben didn’t let go of Dan’s hand. “Wait. I’ll call Joe now. Time’s important, right?”

  Dan and Ginny nodded. Ben released Dan’s hand and dialed a number on his cell phone. After a moment he said, “Hello, gorgeous. How are you?”

  Ginny and Dan could tell that this was Ben’s intimate voice, rather than the instructional one they were familiar with.

  “Same back at ya. Joe, I’m with two friends who want your advice. I’m going to put you on speaker.” Ben placed his cell phone in the middle of the desk. “Joe, let me introduce you to Ginny and Dan Livorno.”

  “Hello. Nice to meet you, audio-wise,” said a melodious voice from the speaker.

  “Hi, Joe. This is Ginny.”

  “Hello, Joe. Dan here.”

  Ben spoke. “It’s a long story, Joe, and I’ll fill you in on the details later. The gist is that Ginny and Dan have a friend in the coma ward at BIZ. His coma came from a mugging, almost certainly a gay-bashing. Ginny and Dan have concerns about his treatment, and from what I’ve heard they have a right to be.”