It's Official Folks and This Is The Last Installment
Check out the avatar people. I am a NANOWRIMO winner! Okay champagne for everyone (Grape juice for the underaged amongst you). Here is the last installment of the novel and now I'm going to have a nice scotch and put my feet up while I plan how to tear it apart and re-write it.
Once again the cutline is to give you a chance to back out before you hit the smut, although there isn't a lot of smut in this installment.
Monday, May 18, 1987
I think I must be succeeding in becoming a total asshole on the outside. Today another doctor at the hospital told me she could not see how I could possibly treat patients since I obviously had no heart, no simple human feeling. She said she doubted I even knew what it was to feel.
I smiled and walked away, thinking to myself if only she knew. I have a heart and I do feel for my patients very much. It is one of the reasons that I am such a stickler for the rules. I want to assure them of the best possible care.
However, I cannot let anyone see that heart, know that I care. If they know you care, they get inside and if they get inside sooner or later, they hurt you. That young resident would be surprised if she could see Slokum, The Bastard right now, sitting over this journal with a scotch at my elbow and tears in my eyes. Fifteen years ago tonight, I was lying in a bed at the Ritz in Boston, making wild passionate love with Garret.
I know I will dream about him tonight. About being with him and making love with him all through that wonderful summer. I know that I will wake up from that beautiful dream to and reach for him, that I will be confronted yet again by the harsh reality that he is not beside me and that I am alone, but I still cannot wait for sleep so I can visit that summer again.
At least my time with Garret taught me how to drink without throwing up. I have now perfected the art of remaining drunk enough all evening to not run out the door and find him, throw my arms around him and beg him to come back. There are nights when that is all that keeps me sitting here, the fact that I am too drunk to walk to the door.
I keep hoping that tomorrow will be better that there will be less pain, that I will not feel so much. However, tomorrow comes and it is still there sitting in my heart like a cancer. Eating away at me slowly, killing me as surely as a cancer would, but much more slowly and with no end in sight.
Tuesday, August 18, 1987
Three years tonight since he finally said that he loved me and it still echoes in my mind and my heart. I can feel his arms around me, his hand in my hair; still smell his cologne and the sound of his low gravelly voice rings in my ears day and night. I wake in the middle of the night and hear him whispering in my ear, ‘I love you, Jack.’
My hands reach for him and I wonder what would have happened if I would have turned to him that night and begged him not to leave me, would he have stayed, given her up and chose me. Or would he have kept walking, choosing his pride over me yet again, even though he finally said what I had needed to hear years before.
If it were not for the fact that I know he is still with Maggie, nothing in heaven or hell could keep me from going to him. I wish that I could be with him one more time, one more day, one more hour, but then I know that I would want one more after that and then one more. There would never be enough.
Saturday, October 31, 1987
Happy Anniversary, Garret. I wonder if you still think of me, if I ever cross your mind. You are always on mine, every minute of everyday. Every breath I take reminds me, every song I hear on the radio reminds me. I see you sitting there at that drum set on Fire Island, so happy, so alive.
I feel your touch on my skin at odd moments through the day and close my eyes to savor the memory, to indulge in a moment of remembered love.
I remember every kiss, every touch, even when I would like to forget, I cannot. You are under my skin, in my heart, you possess my soul and I will never be free. I do not think I want to be free of you; I would give anything to be with you. If I were told I could be with you for one day the way we used to be but that I had to trade the rest of my life for it, I would call it a bargain.
I love you, Garret, I still love you.
Tuesday, November 29, 1988
Ambrose is dead. Why do I feel there should be a fanfare of trumpets or a choir of angels accompanying those words? I got the call from Thomas today, he woke this morning to find that sometime in the night ‘Brose had a fatal heart attack and was gone.
God, I will miss that old man. He was so funny and wise; his penchant for quotation hid a sharp intellect and a loving heart large enough to hold all his friends. He helped me enjoy what time I had with Garret and eased the pain afterwards, once I let him in to do so. I know my decision to close off from the rest of the world troubled and disappointed him but he called me to task on it only once.
Thank God, he had found Thomas. Ambrose went back to Savannah at the end of that summer only long enough to close his house and pack his things. He and Thomas had been together ever since and they seemed to be very happy.
I hope they have planned a huge ostentatious funeral, worthy of a Faulkner novel. Something amazingly Southern and heart wrenching with orations full of the quotations of Shakespeare and the sound of weeping virgins, the laying to rest of a conquering hero complete with laurel wreath and lyres. An epic spectacle that will linger in the mind and resonate through the heart for years, an event that people will tell their grandchildren about it and remember a man worth remembering.
Ambrose deserves to be born out of the church on the shoulders of well-built young men, whom he would of course prefer be clad only in loincloths and his body burned on a pyre. Someone should compose an epic poem, an ode to a lion of man whose life was lived with relish and joy, even when he lived it alone.
He should have a complete bacchanal of a wake, with rivers of wine and whiskey and dancing and song to celebrate his life. He would have some appropriate quotation for this moment I sure, something like:
What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.
Or:
No one's death comes to pass without making some impression, and those close to the deceased inherit part of the liberated soul and become richer in their humanness.
However, I think knowing ‘Brose he would probably quote Winston Churchill:
I am ready to meet my maker, but whether my maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.
I will miss you, ‘Brose, you old pervert.
Wednesday, December 1, 1988
Well ‘Brose managed to get me one last time. He told Thomas two years ago that he wanted me to give the eulogy, so I am sitting here trying to sum up the beautiful, devilish heart, the Southern charm, the rapier wit and the abiding wisdom and love that was my friend.
How do I eulogize a man like Ambrose Whitley? What words can possibly describe a man whose life was lived larger than life and yet who always had time for a friend. A man who fearlessly lived with his partner while the rest of us hid in the closet, who became an AIDS activist before he ever knew a single victim, a man who enjoyed every moment of everyday. A man who taught me that grand passion is worth the pain it brings.
Wednesday, June 14, 1989
Remind me to maim Jeannette when we get back to New York. This vacation has been a learning experience. I learned I should have booked passage on the Titanic instead. It would have been safer. I have been battered, bruised, scraped and nearly drowned. I lost my hearing from the roar of the water and the squealing of the New Jersey yuppie soccer mom who sat behind me. My Bausch and Lomb binoculars are in the Nantahalla River and I am lying in a two-bit country hospital with a broken leg and a concussion.
I have not had that much fun in years. I would not have believed that I would enjoy the whole experience, but I did. I have not stopped grinning since we shot the first patch of white water and I was even still smiling when they set my leg. The only bad thing I can say is that I hate lime jello, why do hospitals always serve lime jello.
Jeannette and I have taken a vacation together every year and usually I can say we had a nice time, but this year was amazing. I want to do it again as soon as they take off this damned cast.
Thursday, May 10, 1990 7AM
God what a dream I had last night, I dreamt I was at medical conference and Garret was there giving a presentation that I had to attend.
Afterward he walked up to me and asked if we could have dinner, as always I could not refuse him. One word, one look and I was right back where I started. I knew I was being a fool and I was enjoying every minute of it. After dinner, we walked back to the hotel and Garret walked me to my room. At the door he looked at me for a moment, I could see the question in his eyes. I knew I should have said good night and went in, but those eyes. God help me, the look in his eyes would tempt a saint to sin and I am no saint.
I invited him in and the minute the door closed, it was as if the last twenty years fell away. I was the same stupid smitten seventeen year old and he was the object of my adoration. He lifted his hand to touch my face and I melted. I took his hand, pulled him to the bedroom kissing him. When I pulled back, he pulled me close and kissed me as though we were still the same people we had been.
As he kissed me, he began pulling off my clothes and I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, my fingers were trembling like a virgin on her wedding night. He pulled back slightly and smiled at me the way he used to when we were happy and the future was an open book. He took my hand in his and kissed my fingers one at a time gently, walking me backwards to the bed.
I smiled at him and sat down on the bed; scooting back across it and watching him strip off the rest of his clothes as I wriggled out of my pants and underwear. He climbed in beside me and pulled me close.
‘Jack..’ I put a finger to his lips.
‘No Garret, no reasons, no excuses, no promises. The reasons don’t matter, the excuses would be hollow and pointless and the promises will be lies even if you mean them. Just tonight and this room. The rest doesn’t exist, past or future.’ I knew if he started explaining, I would have to tell him everything. The pain, the longing and eventually I would tell him about the botched suicide attempt and he would stay with me out of fear. I want him, but only if it is because he loves me. ‘We both had our reasons and I know things haven’t changed. You are still you, you still aren’t any closer to being able to be with me the way I need you to, and I don’t care right now. I want tonight, anything else is irrelevant.’
In my dream, we made love for hours, never tiring, never sleeping. We flowed over each other like water, changing positions with only a thought and we had a stamina we never had even when we were young.
After we finally finished and lay side by side, he spoke again.
‘Jack, I’m not going anywhere. I came to you to tell you that I’m divorcing Maggie and I’ve already come out to everyone I know.
If you’ll have me, I’m not leaving. I’m sorry I hurt you and I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.’
I turned to him to hold, to tell him I had always loved him but as I touched him, he faded and disappeared, my hands closed on air. I came awake with a start and cried. I could hear the words I had said to him in the dream and after so long of my mind telling me that it was true, he would never be able to be with me in the way I needed, my heart finally listened. I cried for hours, but I think that now I might be able to put the pieces back together.
Friday, February 28, 1992
I just received an RSVP invitation in the mail to attend my twenty-year reunion. Twenty years since we graduated from college, twenty years since that summer on the Island. Twenty Years.
That means almost eight years since I last saw him. At least eight years except in my dreams.
I threw the invitation away.
Sunday, November 1 1992 9:00AM
My family decided I should have a huge birthday party today, so I have to go and smile, when what I really wanted is to sit here alone.
Forty years old and alone. That is depressing, but it beats the hell out of trying to smile and be happy for my family. You know enough is enough. I don’t have Garret, I will never have Garret and I am tired of hiding who I am. I think I’m going to give myself a present this year and come out to my family.
This should be an interesting birthday party to say the least. I know they’ve invited everyone from both sides of the family, so I think it’s time to get it out in the open and tell them all.
I’m glad Jen is here for it, I will probably need the moral support after I tell them.
Sunday, November 1 1992 11:00PM
Well, I would have to say that was one of the livelier birthday parties, I’ve ever had. I waited until after the toasts had been made and everyone called for a speech. I stood in front of the mantle and talked about maturity and the need to be true to ones self. I talked about family and caring, I thanked my parents and my grandparents for the fine example they had given me through the years of being honest in ones dealings with others. I said that in the interest of that honesty, I had an announcement to make about my life and that I felt they had the right to be the first to know.
My mother looked speculatively at Jeannette; I think she thought I was going to tell them that we were getting married. Then I told them all that I am gay. The room was as silent as a tomb for almost a minute. Suddenly everyone was talking at once. I had my father yelling at me, I don’t think he was pleased. Something about the tone of his voice when he said pervert did not sound endearing.
My mother put a hand on his arm and calmed him down. She walked over to me and said, ‘You are still my son. I don’t agree with this, but I love you.’ Thanks Mother, thanks for taking the shock as calmly as you do everything, for loving me unconditionally and for soothing Father. I know you’ll bring him around eventually.
My grandfather was aghast, of course, he said very little to me but I doubt he is going to be joining PFLAG anytime soon. The only true surprise was several of my cousins’ children. They’ve never really been close to me, but most of them congratulated me on coming out.
I think, I started a trend however, my cousin Caroline the homophobe’s daughter, Amanda stood up and announced to the family that she and her roommate Kit were lovers and had been married in Vermont last year. Jeannette and I are having dinner with them tomorrow night.
Jeannette hit me on the way to the car. When I asked her why, she said I could have warned her that I was going to do that. I told her I didn’t want her hovering until I did and that she would have only tried to smooth the way and I wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun. She said I had a twisted sense of humor and then kissed me on the cheek and congratulated me.
The only problem I have now is that Amanda wants to fix me up with someone.
Sunday, October 29, 2000
I have spent the entire day reading through all my old journals, starting from the first day I saw Garret at BU. God, I was so young, so full of unrequited love and angst. As I read, I could see him, as he was, so handsome, so full of life and so passionate. I wonder if he still has that same passion for everything or if the day-to-day grind of life has crushed it as it does most passion, most love.
I sit here tonight and I cannot help but re-live those years when I was with him. All the love I had for him, love that I gave freely to him. I suppose I could hate him for being too much of a coward to let himself admit his feelings to me, to love me as freely as I loved him. But it was a very different world for us. There was fear and socially induced self-loathing; being gay in the seventies was very different from today.
We were not chic and socially acceptable, the closet door was barely beginning to crack open in spite of the Stonewall Riot. Now a man can be openly gay in most of America and still have a career, live openly with his partner and not be ostracized and vilified by his peers and colleagues.
Then we had to hide in shadows and I suppose I cannot blame the young man he was for seeking the safety of appearing completely straight. In those days bisexuals had it much easier than gays, they could live straight more easily and he chose the easy route.
I have never hated Garret for his choice, no matter the pain it causes me on a daily basis. I was right about the course of my life. No one has ever replaced him. A part of the reason was my decision to keep everyone at a distance. But despite that choice there have been times when I have opened up to someone, risked the pain again, only to find that there is no room in my heart for anyone. He still fills it and my feelings for him have not diminished.
I still find myself reaching for him in the night; it has been sixteen years since he lay in bed beside me and I still feel him there. Still find myself turning to him to comment on things that occur over the course of the day. Still find my pulse quickening in anticipation on Friday afternoons. This must be what an amputee feels, reaching for things with a hand that is no longer there.
I have run into him at charity functions from time to time since moving back to Boston. Seeing him, that first time was the most wonderful and painful thing I have experienced in a long time. He looked so different and yet so much the same. The beautiful brown hair was mostly gone but then he was losing it already before the end. He would complain about going bald but on him, it looks amazing. He still has almost the same build and the smirk is still exactly as it was.
There are differences though, he is more hesitant, quieter, less brash and bold, but then we all have gone through those changes. Life has a way of doing that to us; the confidence of youth is battered and bruised by the truth of living in the adult world and the spark is dimmed a little more each year. We learn to pick our battles as we mature; learn when to be bold and when to be more subtle. I hope that is what I have seen in him. I would hate to discover that life has been so cruel to him that he has become less than he was.
I had heard about his divorce through Jeannette, she never mentions him unless I ask. She has kept in touch with him over the years, coming to Boston to visit him at least twice a year. But until I ask her about him, she will not even mention his name.
I do ask from time to time, she will fill me in on what he is doing, how he has been, and then she will sit and watch me hopefully until she sees that it still hurts. I hate to see the way her shoulders slump and she sighs as she reaches out and takes my hand, holding it while I sit waiting for the pain to fade again. Its torture, but I have to know, know that he is all right, that he is still there somewhere.
I will admit that when she told me about his divorce, for just a moment, I hoped that he would come to me or that I could go to him, but I knew it was a foolish hope the moment I felt it. I suppose he has grown past any feeling he had for me and I am still here, right where I was; too in love with him to ever have any hope of breaking free.
When I found out that the job of Chief ME was coming open I talked to Yakura. She told me that unless Garret wanted the job it was mine. I wanted it but I wanted him to have it. When he decided he wanted it, I know people thought I was angry, but actually, I was happy for him.
Wednesday, October 31, 2001
Happy anniversary. I know he has probably forgotten, probably has not thought about it in years. I wish I could forget, for just one day, one hour. There are times I wish I had never met him, never loved him And then there are other times, times when I remember what we were like. What I was like then, back when we were good.
I know that things were not all perfect, but they were so very good. If only they could have stayed that way. If only we could have stayed together.
If only. I think those maybe the saddest words in the world.
Friday, September 19, 2003
Garret deserves the job and he is amazingly good at it. I just read about the Titleman case, he is brilliant. I know he chose medicine to avoid the draft and that he moved into forensics because he hated working on the living, but he is right where he belongs.
I do not think anyone else could do the job half as well, he runs that office in a very unorthodox manner but he is damn good, especially at keeping that whirling dervish Jordan Cavanaugh in line. I do not know how he does it; I would go insane dealing with her antics everyday. She is a phenomenal ME, but she really would drive me crazy.
Her review was not a fun time and I still believe she should not have been recertified without doing some required re-training, but the rest of the panel was charmed by her and she passed.
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
I had a call today from an old acquaintance, Bob who is now the governor. He wants me to serve on his commission on crime in the 21st century. Why in the world he would pick me I have no idea, but it is a prestigious appointment. I suppose I will take it although I had been considering a move to Southern California, running into Garret occasionally is beginning to tear at my nerves.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Now I know why Bob wanted me. I never knew how much he resented Garret and I’m not sure why he does. We were all at BU together, but Bob was just someone we knew to nod at across the room. A nice enough guy, but as well as I can remember, he and Garret barely even spoke, he was just a casual acquaintance.
Tonight Bob called me to a meeting at the mansion and told me that evidence had come to light that implicated Terence Duval in what was originally ruled a suicide back in 1985. An eyewitness had come forward to say that Duvall had been at this woman’s house around the time of death.
The governor was almost gleeful as he laid out the accusations that would destroy his political enemy if they proved true. Then he dropped the bombshell that came close to shattering me.
‘Jack, I need you to take over the Boston office of the coroner, I am suspending that bastard Macy pending the outcome of this investigation. He was the presiding ME on the Moreau case and now I’m finally going to give him the comeuppance he has deserved since college. He screwed up and it is very likely he was paid off to do it.’ He threw an arm around my shoulder. ‘I know that you two were ‘close’ once and I know that you are just the man to help me bury the hatchet in Macy at the same time I get to bury Duval.’ He smiled maliciously at the thought.
‘What did Macy ever do to you?’ I regretted the question the moment it left my mouth but I had to know.
Bob looked at me for a long moment. ‘Come on, Jack I know you had a thing for the guy, but that was back in college. I hope you are not going to let some silly school boy crush bite you in the ass now. You have always been a model of discretion. I would hate to have your ‘lifestyle’ become an issue in the press. It would mean finding a replacement for your seat on the commission not to mention the personal scandal for you. Macy is going down one way or the other, Jack and if you try through some misplaced loyalty to protect him, I will bury you right beside him.’
I sat stunned at the threat to myself and to Garret. Fortunately, I have become very good at masks and games. I smiled at Bob.
‘Threatening me is completely unnecessary, Bob. I have not even spoken to Garret Macy in over twenty years. I am merely curious as to why you have such an antipathy for the man. I do not recall the two of you having anything to do with other at BU and I cannot imagine that you have moved in the same circles since.’
Bob went on to rant about Garret for several minutes until I began to realize that it all came down to how much he had resented Garret in college merely because Garret was well liked. I am beginning to think that our governor has more than one screw loose. I have come to see in my dealings with him that Bob is a vindictive bastard with no moral compunctions against using his power to settle old scores, both real and imagined.
So now, I have to see Garret again; worse yet I have to be Bob’s hatchet man, but if there is anything to these innuendos of Bob’s then maybe I can find a way to protect Garret and save his job. I just have to make certain that he never knows what I still feel. He could not give me his love; I certainly do not want his pity.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
He walked into his office and for a moment I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. You would have thought that after almost thirty-five years, I would have developed some defense, but he looked up when I spoke, meaning to tease him about the shirt, but emotion made my voice sound harsh and strange and then his eyes caught mine, Oh God, I felt like a kid again. I want to reach out and touch his face, to hold him, I wondered if his goatee was soft or coarse.
I wanted to make thirty years disappear, to go back to before he married Maggie, back to when we were together, back to Fire Island and our summer. I wanted to crawl into his arms and love him forever.
I wanted him.
I could not risk having him know I still love him, that he still makes me feel like the schoolboy I was, in love for the very first time. I fell back on the defenses that have served to keep everyone away. I was Slokum, the Ass. Arrogant, brash, sarcastic and for a moment when I saw pain in his eyes, I wanted to reach out and take him in my arms. However, I know he does not want my love; my feelings are uncomfortable for him and inconvenient.
I looked him over as he talked about the case, he looked wonderful so very different from the boy I fell in love with, but wonderful and when I dropped Bob’s little bomb on him it was all I could do not to take him in my arms and ask him what I could do to help. What we could do together to fix things. I know Garret and no matter what, I know that he truly believed it was a suicide.
The Garret Macy I know would never condone murder or cover it up. I know some would say people change, but I know him, I would sooner believe the Earth revolves around the Moon. God, the look on his face when he got on that elevator to leave, I wanted to go to him, to hold him and tell him he was not alone, that he could lean on me and we’d work it out. However, I know that Miss Lebowski has a friend in Bob’s office and if I did and she let it slip that I was helping him, Bob would find a way to destroy him completely.
I have to bide my time and find a way to appease Bob or something to threaten him with, those are the only things our governor understands. If I take my time, I know I can find someway to bring Garret back and make it stick, but until then I have to keep up the Ass persona so that no one will know that he means everything to me.
I chose Dr. Cavanaugh to assist me because, my own opinions aside, she is the best he has. She will challenge every finding and every fact until the truth is laid bare and is so obvious to everyone that Bob will have no choice but to reinstate Garret.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
I cannot believe he gave up without a fight that he just walked away. I know he hid the evidence but one thing I have learned in my tenure with the commission, is that it is all in the spin you put on something. The spin I put on Sylvia Moreau’s final autopsy report for instance heavily suggested that the original cause of death finding was the result of then current scientific testing capabilities and not any fault of Garret’s. Because I know how to write a convincing report, Bob bought it and Garret’s job was safe.
Now he hands me the evidence that was hidden and I have a potential bomb on my hands, just waiting to go off. I stuck the evidence in the desk and sat thinking for a long time. Staring out into the corridor, I noticed the looks being cast my way. The anger and resentment in the eyes of his staff should have caused me to spontaneously combust. I had done too good a job of being the Ass and now I was going to be stuck with the results until I could figure out a way to bring him back.
It is going to be a long summer and I know that I still cannot afford to let down my guard with these people. Bob accepted the results but he is displeased that Garret did not take a fall in all of this, so I still have to worry about his eyes on me. I will have to be very careful and work very subtly, between undermining the moral of the office without destroying an excellent group of doctors and technicians and getting something to use as leverage on Bob to bring Garret back when complaints of my reign of ‘terror’ reach Bob, it is going to be very delicate work.
Friday, June 10, 2005
I wish just this once that I had never started the entire bastard façade. Jordan came into the office looking like nine different kinds of hell. I’ve heard the young cop she is fond of, Detective Hoyt, is not doing well and has pushed her away. The poor girl looks like she could use a shoulder.
Funny thing is I could help her if she would listen, but I have never given her reason to believe I would give a damn. It does appear that she is talking to Miss Lebowski and that insane Brit Townsend so perhaps she’ll make it through.
I have been watching Lily Lebowski, she is lovely and kind, a gentle spirit that I wish I could get to know. I have heard that she and Garret were seeing each other for a while after the bitch divorced him. He should have stayed with her. She is the type of person he needs to help him heal all the wounds that I saw in his eyes.
I am worried about him, from what I’ve gathered, no one has seen him since he left. I wish I could call him and find out if he’s all right, but I doubt he’d want to hear my voice. To Garret I’m the enemy now, I’ve betrayed him.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
I think things are progressing rather well, I received a call from Bob that while he is pleased with the way the ME’s office is running he thinks perhaps I need to tone it down a bit. It seems there have been complaints regarding my treatment of the employees.
When I manage to find a way to goad Garret into fighting for his job, Bob will be willing to consider bringing him back. Now I just need the leverage to force him to do so and I may have found it.
A mutual friend of Bob and I has been getting an awful lot of government contracts lately and I think I know why. I believe he has been contributing rather heavily to Bob’s reelection campaign. I know of three checks so far in excess of 50,000 dollars each and have heard there is more.
All I need to do now is find a way to get Garret back here to take back over, something he can’t resist.
Monday, September 12, 2005
I think I’ll take a vacation, a nice long vacation somewhere very far from Boston. I managed to convince Bob that Garret was the only man for the job and that if he didn’t want certain things to be made known to the press he would leave Garret and the staff alone so, unbeknownst to Garret, he now has carte blanche to run his morgue as he sees fit.
I have discovered two things from all of this; the first is that I am a lousy boss. I can get people to do their jobs but they hate me for it because my people skills are nonexistent. The second is that I can’t stay here; I can’t see him and not want to beg him to come back. I still have no pride and no defenses when it comes to Garret Macy.
When he came strutting onto the autopsy room, I wanted to grab him and drag him to the nearest bed. My God, it’s not fair for a man his age to look that good in jeans. As for leather, the combination of Garret and the smell of a leather jacket always takes me back to that dressing room in The Village. I can’t think of him in leather and not get as hard as I though I were still eighteen.
He was so forceful when he flipped that letter out giving him the right to be involved in the Titleman case, so confident, so my Garret. Not the beaten, depressed man she made of him, but the Garret that caught my eye and captured my heart thirty-five years ago. It was all I could do not to smile, take him in my arms and say welcome back.
I was so sure I was right on the Titleman case and that he was wrong, that Dr. Cavanaugh had rubbed off on him and he was chasing shadows. I should know by now that when it comes to Forensics, he is the best. When I heard that he’d risked himself to catch the kid, I wanted to go to him, touch him, to make certain for myself that he was all right.
At least I could give him back his job and make certain that Bob didn’t dare try to get him again. I saw the puzzlement in his eyes when I gave the file pouch back to him. As though he could not believe that I would do something like that for him that I would be the man I used to be. If only he knew how hard it was for me to act like such a bastard to him, how much I wanted to take him in my arms, to hold him again to love him, to have him love me.
I miss him even more now, I miss us.
I think I’ll call Jeannette tomorrow and see if she’d like a house guest for a few months until I can find a place to live. California should be far enough away from Garret and it has the added advantage of being where Jeannette lives now. I can’t stay here and see him and not touch him, not confess everything to him and beg him to love me again.
That would be a picture wouldn’t it, Slokum the Bastard on his knees begging. I wonder if begging would work now that he doesn’t have Maggie dragging him down. Not that it matters, at this point he believes I am a sad vindictive little man who only wanted the job he had.
So much done wrong, so many left turns when I should have gone right. So many times I should have made him choose, should have insisted that he choose, his damned pride or me. Perhaps if I’d insisted, things might have been different, but it’s too late now. Too late for me, too late for him, years too late for us.
The rational part of my mind knows that ‘we’ never really were, that I was an infatuated child chasing an impossible dream and he was a scared, selfish child, hiding his true self from the world. My heart, however, still skips a beat when I think of him; my arms still reach out in the night to hold him.
We were so blind, both of us and far too young to see how badly it would end, how much pain it would cause. Nevertheless, I still love him, in spite of all the pain it has caused me over the years. In spite of all the times that I have cried in the night, I would sell my soul for one more day, one more kiss, to hear him say he loved me one more time.
I’m so very tired of living with this constant ache in my heart. I wish I could work myself into a heart attack or a stroke, but I’ll most likely be like my father or grandfather, both of whom are in excellent health. God, another forty years of this hell and a promise to Jen that keeps me from ending it now.
At least if I move to California, I would not have to see him. It would not stop the pain, but it would also mean that I wouldn’t be reminded of it every few days. Perhaps I could find the same dull ache that I had in New York, the numb slightly disconnected feeling that I carried until I saw him again.
That feeling almost makes me wish I were on drugs, if I could attain that numbness I would use anything.
I miss him, I want him, I love him.
Epilogue
As Jack finished writing and downed the last of his scotch there was a knock at the door. He walked over and looked through the peephole. Garret was standing there, for a moment Jack contemplated ignoring him, pretending he wasn’t home and then Garret knocked and called through the door.
“Jack, I know you’re home, your Jag’s in the driveway.”
Jack leaned against the door for a moment and then opened it. Garret stood with one hand on the doorframe, he was still wearing those tight jeans and leather jacket. Jack swallowed and steeled himself for yet more angry banter.
“What is it Garret?”
“Thanks. I’m not sure why you did it, but thanks.”
“I told you, you are the better man for the job. Those people will walk through fire for you, you motivate them in a way that has nothing to do with leadership. I could only get them moving through fear.” Jack wasn’t quite sure where this was leading.
“I don’t mean that, why did you hold the evidence? You could have had the job permanently with that, but you didn’t use it. Why?”
“Garret, it’s late and I’m tired. Just take it for what its worth, enjoy the job and your staff. Now, good night.” Jack started to close the door when Garret spoke.
“I thought you wanted the job, that you were angry with me still, but it was never about anger was it, Jack?”
Why tonight, why not tomorrow when I haven’t had four scotches, when I’m sober and rested, when I have some chance of keeping up the facade. Jack took a deep breath. “No Garret, it was never about anger.”
“Do you hate me, Jack?” Garret smiled sadly and for a moment, Jack thought he saw hope in Garret’s eyes. “Or maybe you still love me, in spite of the fact that I was a manipulative ass.”
“Garret, I…I.” Jack could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks.
“I’m not trying to manipulate you now, Jack and I’m sorry. Sorry that I was such a weak cowardly bastard; sorry that I didn’t have the courage to say what I felt and sorry that I let what other people might say or do keep me from staying with you. I could make excuses about being young and scared, but you were younger and you had more courage than I did, so I suppose all I can say is, I’m sorry.” Garret turned to go.
“Garret.” He stopped on the top step. “Would you like a drink?”
He turned to face Jack. “No expectations?”
“Only that I’ll probably end up with a bald man in my bed come morning.” Jack smiled.
Garret smiled back. “Let me try this walking in a door instead of out, I did love you, Jack and I still do.”
Jack could feel the lump in his throat. “You know now you have to stay?”
Garret gave him a wicked smile. “For how long?”
“For a night or forever.”
“Do I get to choose?” Garret smirked.
“The choice was always yours to make.” Jack smiled.
Garret raised a hand and brushed it across Jack’s cheek. “Let’s try forever this time. Maybe I can finally get it right.”
Once again the cutline is to give you a chance to back out before you hit the smut, although there isn't a lot of smut in this installment.
Monday, May 18, 1987
I think I must be succeeding in becoming a total asshole on the outside. Today another doctor at the hospital told me she could not see how I could possibly treat patients since I obviously had no heart, no simple human feeling. She said she doubted I even knew what it was to feel.
I smiled and walked away, thinking to myself if only she knew. I have a heart and I do feel for my patients very much. It is one of the reasons that I am such a stickler for the rules. I want to assure them of the best possible care.
However, I cannot let anyone see that heart, know that I care. If they know you care, they get inside and if they get inside sooner or later, they hurt you. That young resident would be surprised if she could see Slokum, The Bastard right now, sitting over this journal with a scotch at my elbow and tears in my eyes. Fifteen years ago tonight, I was lying in a bed at the Ritz in Boston, making wild passionate love with Garret.
I know I will dream about him tonight. About being with him and making love with him all through that wonderful summer. I know that I will wake up from that beautiful dream to and reach for him, that I will be confronted yet again by the harsh reality that he is not beside me and that I am alone, but I still cannot wait for sleep so I can visit that summer again.
At least my time with Garret taught me how to drink without throwing up. I have now perfected the art of remaining drunk enough all evening to not run out the door and find him, throw my arms around him and beg him to come back. There are nights when that is all that keeps me sitting here, the fact that I am too drunk to walk to the door.
I keep hoping that tomorrow will be better that there will be less pain, that I will not feel so much. However, tomorrow comes and it is still there sitting in my heart like a cancer. Eating away at me slowly, killing me as surely as a cancer would, but much more slowly and with no end in sight.
Tuesday, August 18, 1987
Three years tonight since he finally said that he loved me and it still echoes in my mind and my heart. I can feel his arms around me, his hand in my hair; still smell his cologne and the sound of his low gravelly voice rings in my ears day and night. I wake in the middle of the night and hear him whispering in my ear, ‘I love you, Jack.’
My hands reach for him and I wonder what would have happened if I would have turned to him that night and begged him not to leave me, would he have stayed, given her up and chose me. Or would he have kept walking, choosing his pride over me yet again, even though he finally said what I had needed to hear years before.
If it were not for the fact that I know he is still with Maggie, nothing in heaven or hell could keep me from going to him. I wish that I could be with him one more time, one more day, one more hour, but then I know that I would want one more after that and then one more. There would never be enough.
Saturday, October 31, 1987
Happy Anniversary, Garret. I wonder if you still think of me, if I ever cross your mind. You are always on mine, every minute of everyday. Every breath I take reminds me, every song I hear on the radio reminds me. I see you sitting there at that drum set on Fire Island, so happy, so alive.
I feel your touch on my skin at odd moments through the day and close my eyes to savor the memory, to indulge in a moment of remembered love.
I remember every kiss, every touch, even when I would like to forget, I cannot. You are under my skin, in my heart, you possess my soul and I will never be free. I do not think I want to be free of you; I would give anything to be with you. If I were told I could be with you for one day the way we used to be but that I had to trade the rest of my life for it, I would call it a bargain.
I love you, Garret, I still love you.
Tuesday, November 29, 1988
Ambrose is dead. Why do I feel there should be a fanfare of trumpets or a choir of angels accompanying those words? I got the call from Thomas today, he woke this morning to find that sometime in the night ‘Brose had a fatal heart attack and was gone.
God, I will miss that old man. He was so funny and wise; his penchant for quotation hid a sharp intellect and a loving heart large enough to hold all his friends. He helped me enjoy what time I had with Garret and eased the pain afterwards, once I let him in to do so. I know my decision to close off from the rest of the world troubled and disappointed him but he called me to task on it only once.
Thank God, he had found Thomas. Ambrose went back to Savannah at the end of that summer only long enough to close his house and pack his things. He and Thomas had been together ever since and they seemed to be very happy.
I hope they have planned a huge ostentatious funeral, worthy of a Faulkner novel. Something amazingly Southern and heart wrenching with orations full of the quotations of Shakespeare and the sound of weeping virgins, the laying to rest of a conquering hero complete with laurel wreath and lyres. An epic spectacle that will linger in the mind and resonate through the heart for years, an event that people will tell their grandchildren about it and remember a man worth remembering.
Ambrose deserves to be born out of the church on the shoulders of well-built young men, whom he would of course prefer be clad only in loincloths and his body burned on a pyre. Someone should compose an epic poem, an ode to a lion of man whose life was lived with relish and joy, even when he lived it alone.
He should have a complete bacchanal of a wake, with rivers of wine and whiskey and dancing and song to celebrate his life. He would have some appropriate quotation for this moment I sure, something like:
What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.
Or:
No one's death comes to pass without making some impression, and those close to the deceased inherit part of the liberated soul and become richer in their humanness.
However, I think knowing ‘Brose he would probably quote Winston Churchill:
I am ready to meet my maker, but whether my maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.
I will miss you, ‘Brose, you old pervert.
Wednesday, December 1, 1988
Well ‘Brose managed to get me one last time. He told Thomas two years ago that he wanted me to give the eulogy, so I am sitting here trying to sum up the beautiful, devilish heart, the Southern charm, the rapier wit and the abiding wisdom and love that was my friend.
How do I eulogize a man like Ambrose Whitley? What words can possibly describe a man whose life was lived larger than life and yet who always had time for a friend. A man who fearlessly lived with his partner while the rest of us hid in the closet, who became an AIDS activist before he ever knew a single victim, a man who enjoyed every moment of everyday. A man who taught me that grand passion is worth the pain it brings.
Wednesday, June 14, 1989
Remind me to maim Jeannette when we get back to New York. This vacation has been a learning experience. I learned I should have booked passage on the Titanic instead. It would have been safer. I have been battered, bruised, scraped and nearly drowned. I lost my hearing from the roar of the water and the squealing of the New Jersey yuppie soccer mom who sat behind me. My Bausch and Lomb binoculars are in the Nantahalla River and I am lying in a two-bit country hospital with a broken leg and a concussion.
I have not had that much fun in years. I would not have believed that I would enjoy the whole experience, but I did. I have not stopped grinning since we shot the first patch of white water and I was even still smiling when they set my leg. The only bad thing I can say is that I hate lime jello, why do hospitals always serve lime jello.
Jeannette and I have taken a vacation together every year and usually I can say we had a nice time, but this year was amazing. I want to do it again as soon as they take off this damned cast.
Thursday, May 10, 1990 7AM
God what a dream I had last night, I dreamt I was at medical conference and Garret was there giving a presentation that I had to attend.
Afterward he walked up to me and asked if we could have dinner, as always I could not refuse him. One word, one look and I was right back where I started. I knew I was being a fool and I was enjoying every minute of it. After dinner, we walked back to the hotel and Garret walked me to my room. At the door he looked at me for a moment, I could see the question in his eyes. I knew I should have said good night and went in, but those eyes. God help me, the look in his eyes would tempt a saint to sin and I am no saint.
I invited him in and the minute the door closed, it was as if the last twenty years fell away. I was the same stupid smitten seventeen year old and he was the object of my adoration. He lifted his hand to touch my face and I melted. I took his hand, pulled him to the bedroom kissing him. When I pulled back, he pulled me close and kissed me as though we were still the same people we had been.
As he kissed me, he began pulling off my clothes and I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, my fingers were trembling like a virgin on her wedding night. He pulled back slightly and smiled at me the way he used to when we were happy and the future was an open book. He took my hand in his and kissed my fingers one at a time gently, walking me backwards to the bed.
I smiled at him and sat down on the bed; scooting back across it and watching him strip off the rest of his clothes as I wriggled out of my pants and underwear. He climbed in beside me and pulled me close.
‘Jack..’ I put a finger to his lips.
‘No Garret, no reasons, no excuses, no promises. The reasons don’t matter, the excuses would be hollow and pointless and the promises will be lies even if you mean them. Just tonight and this room. The rest doesn’t exist, past or future.’ I knew if he started explaining, I would have to tell him everything. The pain, the longing and eventually I would tell him about the botched suicide attempt and he would stay with me out of fear. I want him, but only if it is because he loves me. ‘We both had our reasons and I know things haven’t changed. You are still you, you still aren’t any closer to being able to be with me the way I need you to, and I don’t care right now. I want tonight, anything else is irrelevant.’
In my dream, we made love for hours, never tiring, never sleeping. We flowed over each other like water, changing positions with only a thought and we had a stamina we never had even when we were young.
After we finally finished and lay side by side, he spoke again.
‘Jack, I’m not going anywhere. I came to you to tell you that I’m divorcing Maggie and I’ve already come out to everyone I know.
If you’ll have me, I’m not leaving. I’m sorry I hurt you and I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.’
I turned to him to hold, to tell him I had always loved him but as I touched him, he faded and disappeared, my hands closed on air. I came awake with a start and cried. I could hear the words I had said to him in the dream and after so long of my mind telling me that it was true, he would never be able to be with me in the way I needed, my heart finally listened. I cried for hours, but I think that now I might be able to put the pieces back together.
Friday, February 28, 1992
I just received an RSVP invitation in the mail to attend my twenty-year reunion. Twenty years since we graduated from college, twenty years since that summer on the Island. Twenty Years.
That means almost eight years since I last saw him. At least eight years except in my dreams.
I threw the invitation away.
Sunday, November 1 1992 9:00AM
My family decided I should have a huge birthday party today, so I have to go and smile, when what I really wanted is to sit here alone.
Forty years old and alone. That is depressing, but it beats the hell out of trying to smile and be happy for my family. You know enough is enough. I don’t have Garret, I will never have Garret and I am tired of hiding who I am. I think I’m going to give myself a present this year and come out to my family.
This should be an interesting birthday party to say the least. I know they’ve invited everyone from both sides of the family, so I think it’s time to get it out in the open and tell them all.
I’m glad Jen is here for it, I will probably need the moral support after I tell them.
Sunday, November 1 1992 11:00PM
Well, I would have to say that was one of the livelier birthday parties, I’ve ever had. I waited until after the toasts had been made and everyone called for a speech. I stood in front of the mantle and talked about maturity and the need to be true to ones self. I talked about family and caring, I thanked my parents and my grandparents for the fine example they had given me through the years of being honest in ones dealings with others. I said that in the interest of that honesty, I had an announcement to make about my life and that I felt they had the right to be the first to know.
My mother looked speculatively at Jeannette; I think she thought I was going to tell them that we were getting married. Then I told them all that I am gay. The room was as silent as a tomb for almost a minute. Suddenly everyone was talking at once. I had my father yelling at me, I don’t think he was pleased. Something about the tone of his voice when he said pervert did not sound endearing.
My mother put a hand on his arm and calmed him down. She walked over to me and said, ‘You are still my son. I don’t agree with this, but I love you.’ Thanks Mother, thanks for taking the shock as calmly as you do everything, for loving me unconditionally and for soothing Father. I know you’ll bring him around eventually.
My grandfather was aghast, of course, he said very little to me but I doubt he is going to be joining PFLAG anytime soon. The only true surprise was several of my cousins’ children. They’ve never really been close to me, but most of them congratulated me on coming out.
I think, I started a trend however, my cousin Caroline the homophobe’s daughter, Amanda stood up and announced to the family that she and her roommate Kit were lovers and had been married in Vermont last year. Jeannette and I are having dinner with them tomorrow night.
Jeannette hit me on the way to the car. When I asked her why, she said I could have warned her that I was going to do that. I told her I didn’t want her hovering until I did and that she would have only tried to smooth the way and I wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun. She said I had a twisted sense of humor and then kissed me on the cheek and congratulated me.
The only problem I have now is that Amanda wants to fix me up with someone.
Sunday, October 29, 2000
I have spent the entire day reading through all my old journals, starting from the first day I saw Garret at BU. God, I was so young, so full of unrequited love and angst. As I read, I could see him, as he was, so handsome, so full of life and so passionate. I wonder if he still has that same passion for everything or if the day-to-day grind of life has crushed it as it does most passion, most love.
I sit here tonight and I cannot help but re-live those years when I was with him. All the love I had for him, love that I gave freely to him. I suppose I could hate him for being too much of a coward to let himself admit his feelings to me, to love me as freely as I loved him. But it was a very different world for us. There was fear and socially induced self-loathing; being gay in the seventies was very different from today.
We were not chic and socially acceptable, the closet door was barely beginning to crack open in spite of the Stonewall Riot. Now a man can be openly gay in most of America and still have a career, live openly with his partner and not be ostracized and vilified by his peers and colleagues.
Then we had to hide in shadows and I suppose I cannot blame the young man he was for seeking the safety of appearing completely straight. In those days bisexuals had it much easier than gays, they could live straight more easily and he chose the easy route.
I have never hated Garret for his choice, no matter the pain it causes me on a daily basis. I was right about the course of my life. No one has ever replaced him. A part of the reason was my decision to keep everyone at a distance. But despite that choice there have been times when I have opened up to someone, risked the pain again, only to find that there is no room in my heart for anyone. He still fills it and my feelings for him have not diminished.
I still find myself reaching for him in the night; it has been sixteen years since he lay in bed beside me and I still feel him there. Still find myself turning to him to comment on things that occur over the course of the day. Still find my pulse quickening in anticipation on Friday afternoons. This must be what an amputee feels, reaching for things with a hand that is no longer there.
I have run into him at charity functions from time to time since moving back to Boston. Seeing him, that first time was the most wonderful and painful thing I have experienced in a long time. He looked so different and yet so much the same. The beautiful brown hair was mostly gone but then he was losing it already before the end. He would complain about going bald but on him, it looks amazing. He still has almost the same build and the smirk is still exactly as it was.
There are differences though, he is more hesitant, quieter, less brash and bold, but then we all have gone through those changes. Life has a way of doing that to us; the confidence of youth is battered and bruised by the truth of living in the adult world and the spark is dimmed a little more each year. We learn to pick our battles as we mature; learn when to be bold and when to be more subtle. I hope that is what I have seen in him. I would hate to discover that life has been so cruel to him that he has become less than he was.
I had heard about his divorce through Jeannette, she never mentions him unless I ask. She has kept in touch with him over the years, coming to Boston to visit him at least twice a year. But until I ask her about him, she will not even mention his name.
I do ask from time to time, she will fill me in on what he is doing, how he has been, and then she will sit and watch me hopefully until she sees that it still hurts. I hate to see the way her shoulders slump and she sighs as she reaches out and takes my hand, holding it while I sit waiting for the pain to fade again. Its torture, but I have to know, know that he is all right, that he is still there somewhere.
I will admit that when she told me about his divorce, for just a moment, I hoped that he would come to me or that I could go to him, but I knew it was a foolish hope the moment I felt it. I suppose he has grown past any feeling he had for me and I am still here, right where I was; too in love with him to ever have any hope of breaking free.
When I found out that the job of Chief ME was coming open I talked to Yakura. She told me that unless Garret wanted the job it was mine. I wanted it but I wanted him to have it. When he decided he wanted it, I know people thought I was angry, but actually, I was happy for him.
Wednesday, October 31, 2001
Happy anniversary. I know he has probably forgotten, probably has not thought about it in years. I wish I could forget, for just one day, one hour. There are times I wish I had never met him, never loved him And then there are other times, times when I remember what we were like. What I was like then, back when we were good.
I know that things were not all perfect, but they were so very good. If only they could have stayed that way. If only we could have stayed together.
If only. I think those maybe the saddest words in the world.
Friday, September 19, 2003
Garret deserves the job and he is amazingly good at it. I just read about the Titleman case, he is brilliant. I know he chose medicine to avoid the draft and that he moved into forensics because he hated working on the living, but he is right where he belongs.
I do not think anyone else could do the job half as well, he runs that office in a very unorthodox manner but he is damn good, especially at keeping that whirling dervish Jordan Cavanaugh in line. I do not know how he does it; I would go insane dealing with her antics everyday. She is a phenomenal ME, but she really would drive me crazy.
Her review was not a fun time and I still believe she should not have been recertified without doing some required re-training, but the rest of the panel was charmed by her and she passed.
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
I had a call today from an old acquaintance, Bob who is now the governor. He wants me to serve on his commission on crime in the 21st century. Why in the world he would pick me I have no idea, but it is a prestigious appointment. I suppose I will take it although I had been considering a move to Southern California, running into Garret occasionally is beginning to tear at my nerves.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Now I know why Bob wanted me. I never knew how much he resented Garret and I’m not sure why he does. We were all at BU together, but Bob was just someone we knew to nod at across the room. A nice enough guy, but as well as I can remember, he and Garret barely even spoke, he was just a casual acquaintance.
Tonight Bob called me to a meeting at the mansion and told me that evidence had come to light that implicated Terence Duval in what was originally ruled a suicide back in 1985. An eyewitness had come forward to say that Duvall had been at this woman’s house around the time of death.
The governor was almost gleeful as he laid out the accusations that would destroy his political enemy if they proved true. Then he dropped the bombshell that came close to shattering me.
‘Jack, I need you to take over the Boston office of the coroner, I am suspending that bastard Macy pending the outcome of this investigation. He was the presiding ME on the Moreau case and now I’m finally going to give him the comeuppance he has deserved since college. He screwed up and it is very likely he was paid off to do it.’ He threw an arm around my shoulder. ‘I know that you two were ‘close’ once and I know that you are just the man to help me bury the hatchet in Macy at the same time I get to bury Duval.’ He smiled maliciously at the thought.
‘What did Macy ever do to you?’ I regretted the question the moment it left my mouth but I had to know.
Bob looked at me for a long moment. ‘Come on, Jack I know you had a thing for the guy, but that was back in college. I hope you are not going to let some silly school boy crush bite you in the ass now. You have always been a model of discretion. I would hate to have your ‘lifestyle’ become an issue in the press. It would mean finding a replacement for your seat on the commission not to mention the personal scandal for you. Macy is going down one way or the other, Jack and if you try through some misplaced loyalty to protect him, I will bury you right beside him.’
I sat stunned at the threat to myself and to Garret. Fortunately, I have become very good at masks and games. I smiled at Bob.
‘Threatening me is completely unnecessary, Bob. I have not even spoken to Garret Macy in over twenty years. I am merely curious as to why you have such an antipathy for the man. I do not recall the two of you having anything to do with other at BU and I cannot imagine that you have moved in the same circles since.’
Bob went on to rant about Garret for several minutes until I began to realize that it all came down to how much he had resented Garret in college merely because Garret was well liked. I am beginning to think that our governor has more than one screw loose. I have come to see in my dealings with him that Bob is a vindictive bastard with no moral compunctions against using his power to settle old scores, both real and imagined.
So now, I have to see Garret again; worse yet I have to be Bob’s hatchet man, but if there is anything to these innuendos of Bob’s then maybe I can find a way to protect Garret and save his job. I just have to make certain that he never knows what I still feel. He could not give me his love; I certainly do not want his pity.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
He walked into his office and for a moment I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. You would have thought that after almost thirty-five years, I would have developed some defense, but he looked up when I spoke, meaning to tease him about the shirt, but emotion made my voice sound harsh and strange and then his eyes caught mine, Oh God, I felt like a kid again. I want to reach out and touch his face, to hold him, I wondered if his goatee was soft or coarse.
I wanted to make thirty years disappear, to go back to before he married Maggie, back to when we were together, back to Fire Island and our summer. I wanted to crawl into his arms and love him forever.
I wanted him.
I could not risk having him know I still love him, that he still makes me feel like the schoolboy I was, in love for the very first time. I fell back on the defenses that have served to keep everyone away. I was Slokum, the Ass. Arrogant, brash, sarcastic and for a moment when I saw pain in his eyes, I wanted to reach out and take him in my arms. However, I know he does not want my love; my feelings are uncomfortable for him and inconvenient.
I looked him over as he talked about the case, he looked wonderful so very different from the boy I fell in love with, but wonderful and when I dropped Bob’s little bomb on him it was all I could do not to take him in my arms and ask him what I could do to help. What we could do together to fix things. I know Garret and no matter what, I know that he truly believed it was a suicide.
The Garret Macy I know would never condone murder or cover it up. I know some would say people change, but I know him, I would sooner believe the Earth revolves around the Moon. God, the look on his face when he got on that elevator to leave, I wanted to go to him, to hold him and tell him he was not alone, that he could lean on me and we’d work it out. However, I know that Miss Lebowski has a friend in Bob’s office and if I did and she let it slip that I was helping him, Bob would find a way to destroy him completely.
I have to bide my time and find a way to appease Bob or something to threaten him with, those are the only things our governor understands. If I take my time, I know I can find someway to bring Garret back and make it stick, but until then I have to keep up the Ass persona so that no one will know that he means everything to me.
I chose Dr. Cavanaugh to assist me because, my own opinions aside, she is the best he has. She will challenge every finding and every fact until the truth is laid bare and is so obvious to everyone that Bob will have no choice but to reinstate Garret.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
I cannot believe he gave up without a fight that he just walked away. I know he hid the evidence but one thing I have learned in my tenure with the commission, is that it is all in the spin you put on something. The spin I put on Sylvia Moreau’s final autopsy report for instance heavily suggested that the original cause of death finding was the result of then current scientific testing capabilities and not any fault of Garret’s. Because I know how to write a convincing report, Bob bought it and Garret’s job was safe.
Now he hands me the evidence that was hidden and I have a potential bomb on my hands, just waiting to go off. I stuck the evidence in the desk and sat thinking for a long time. Staring out into the corridor, I noticed the looks being cast my way. The anger and resentment in the eyes of his staff should have caused me to spontaneously combust. I had done too good a job of being the Ass and now I was going to be stuck with the results until I could figure out a way to bring him back.
It is going to be a long summer and I know that I still cannot afford to let down my guard with these people. Bob accepted the results but he is displeased that Garret did not take a fall in all of this, so I still have to worry about his eyes on me. I will have to be very careful and work very subtly, between undermining the moral of the office without destroying an excellent group of doctors and technicians and getting something to use as leverage on Bob to bring Garret back when complaints of my reign of ‘terror’ reach Bob, it is going to be very delicate work.
Friday, June 10, 2005
I wish just this once that I had never started the entire bastard façade. Jordan came into the office looking like nine different kinds of hell. I’ve heard the young cop she is fond of, Detective Hoyt, is not doing well and has pushed her away. The poor girl looks like she could use a shoulder.
Funny thing is I could help her if she would listen, but I have never given her reason to believe I would give a damn. It does appear that she is talking to Miss Lebowski and that insane Brit Townsend so perhaps she’ll make it through.
I have been watching Lily Lebowski, she is lovely and kind, a gentle spirit that I wish I could get to know. I have heard that she and Garret were seeing each other for a while after the bitch divorced him. He should have stayed with her. She is the type of person he needs to help him heal all the wounds that I saw in his eyes.
I am worried about him, from what I’ve gathered, no one has seen him since he left. I wish I could call him and find out if he’s all right, but I doubt he’d want to hear my voice. To Garret I’m the enemy now, I’ve betrayed him.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
I think things are progressing rather well, I received a call from Bob that while he is pleased with the way the ME’s office is running he thinks perhaps I need to tone it down a bit. It seems there have been complaints regarding my treatment of the employees.
When I manage to find a way to goad Garret into fighting for his job, Bob will be willing to consider bringing him back. Now I just need the leverage to force him to do so and I may have found it.
A mutual friend of Bob and I has been getting an awful lot of government contracts lately and I think I know why. I believe he has been contributing rather heavily to Bob’s reelection campaign. I know of three checks so far in excess of 50,000 dollars each and have heard there is more.
All I need to do now is find a way to get Garret back here to take back over, something he can’t resist.
Monday, September 12, 2005
I think I’ll take a vacation, a nice long vacation somewhere very far from Boston. I managed to convince Bob that Garret was the only man for the job and that if he didn’t want certain things to be made known to the press he would leave Garret and the staff alone so, unbeknownst to Garret, he now has carte blanche to run his morgue as he sees fit.
I have discovered two things from all of this; the first is that I am a lousy boss. I can get people to do their jobs but they hate me for it because my people skills are nonexistent. The second is that I can’t stay here; I can’t see him and not want to beg him to come back. I still have no pride and no defenses when it comes to Garret Macy.
When he came strutting onto the autopsy room, I wanted to grab him and drag him to the nearest bed. My God, it’s not fair for a man his age to look that good in jeans. As for leather, the combination of Garret and the smell of a leather jacket always takes me back to that dressing room in The Village. I can’t think of him in leather and not get as hard as I though I were still eighteen.
He was so forceful when he flipped that letter out giving him the right to be involved in the Titleman case, so confident, so my Garret. Not the beaten, depressed man she made of him, but the Garret that caught my eye and captured my heart thirty-five years ago. It was all I could do not to smile, take him in my arms and say welcome back.
I was so sure I was right on the Titleman case and that he was wrong, that Dr. Cavanaugh had rubbed off on him and he was chasing shadows. I should know by now that when it comes to Forensics, he is the best. When I heard that he’d risked himself to catch the kid, I wanted to go to him, touch him, to make certain for myself that he was all right.
At least I could give him back his job and make certain that Bob didn’t dare try to get him again. I saw the puzzlement in his eyes when I gave the file pouch back to him. As though he could not believe that I would do something like that for him that I would be the man I used to be. If only he knew how hard it was for me to act like such a bastard to him, how much I wanted to take him in my arms, to hold him again to love him, to have him love me.
I miss him even more now, I miss us.
I think I’ll call Jeannette tomorrow and see if she’d like a house guest for a few months until I can find a place to live. California should be far enough away from Garret and it has the added advantage of being where Jeannette lives now. I can’t stay here and see him and not touch him, not confess everything to him and beg him to love me again.
That would be a picture wouldn’t it, Slokum the Bastard on his knees begging. I wonder if begging would work now that he doesn’t have Maggie dragging him down. Not that it matters, at this point he believes I am a sad vindictive little man who only wanted the job he had.
So much done wrong, so many left turns when I should have gone right. So many times I should have made him choose, should have insisted that he choose, his damned pride or me. Perhaps if I’d insisted, things might have been different, but it’s too late now. Too late for me, too late for him, years too late for us.
The rational part of my mind knows that ‘we’ never really were, that I was an infatuated child chasing an impossible dream and he was a scared, selfish child, hiding his true self from the world. My heart, however, still skips a beat when I think of him; my arms still reach out in the night to hold him.
We were so blind, both of us and far too young to see how badly it would end, how much pain it would cause. Nevertheless, I still love him, in spite of all the pain it has caused me over the years. In spite of all the times that I have cried in the night, I would sell my soul for one more day, one more kiss, to hear him say he loved me one more time.
I’m so very tired of living with this constant ache in my heart. I wish I could work myself into a heart attack or a stroke, but I’ll most likely be like my father or grandfather, both of whom are in excellent health. God, another forty years of this hell and a promise to Jen that keeps me from ending it now.
At least if I move to California, I would not have to see him. It would not stop the pain, but it would also mean that I wouldn’t be reminded of it every few days. Perhaps I could find the same dull ache that I had in New York, the numb slightly disconnected feeling that I carried until I saw him again.
That feeling almost makes me wish I were on drugs, if I could attain that numbness I would use anything.
I miss him, I want him, I love him.
Epilogue
As Jack finished writing and downed the last of his scotch there was a knock at the door. He walked over and looked through the peephole. Garret was standing there, for a moment Jack contemplated ignoring him, pretending he wasn’t home and then Garret knocked and called through the door.
“Jack, I know you’re home, your Jag’s in the driveway.”
Jack leaned against the door for a moment and then opened it. Garret stood with one hand on the doorframe, he was still wearing those tight jeans and leather jacket. Jack swallowed and steeled himself for yet more angry banter.
“What is it Garret?”
“Thanks. I’m not sure why you did it, but thanks.”
“I told you, you are the better man for the job. Those people will walk through fire for you, you motivate them in a way that has nothing to do with leadership. I could only get them moving through fear.” Jack wasn’t quite sure where this was leading.
“I don’t mean that, why did you hold the evidence? You could have had the job permanently with that, but you didn’t use it. Why?”
“Garret, it’s late and I’m tired. Just take it for what its worth, enjoy the job and your staff. Now, good night.” Jack started to close the door when Garret spoke.
“I thought you wanted the job, that you were angry with me still, but it was never about anger was it, Jack?”
Why tonight, why not tomorrow when I haven’t had four scotches, when I’m sober and rested, when I have some chance of keeping up the facade. Jack took a deep breath. “No Garret, it was never about anger.”
“Do you hate me, Jack?” Garret smiled sadly and for a moment, Jack thought he saw hope in Garret’s eyes. “Or maybe you still love me, in spite of the fact that I was a manipulative ass.”
“Garret, I…I.” Jack could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks.
“I’m not trying to manipulate you now, Jack and I’m sorry. Sorry that I was such a weak cowardly bastard; sorry that I didn’t have the courage to say what I felt and sorry that I let what other people might say or do keep me from staying with you. I could make excuses about being young and scared, but you were younger and you had more courage than I did, so I suppose all I can say is, I’m sorry.” Garret turned to go.
“Garret.” He stopped on the top step. “Would you like a drink?”
He turned to face Jack. “No expectations?”
“Only that I’ll probably end up with a bald man in my bed come morning.” Jack smiled.
Garret smiled back. “Let me try this walking in a door instead of out, I did love you, Jack and I still do.”
Jack could feel the lump in his throat. “You know now you have to stay?”
Garret gave him a wicked smile. “For how long?”
“For a night or forever.”
“Do I get to choose?” Garret smirked.
“The choice was always yours to make.” Jack smiled.
Garret raised a hand and brushed it across Jack’s cheek. “Let’s try forever this time. Maybe I can finally get it right.”