He pressed a button on the control pad. “Let’s see if those nice nurses can give you something to help with that.”
I had so many questions, but every time I tried to think, my brain hurt. There was a potent thump inside my head, as if I’d grown a second heart there and my vision was fuzzy, the bandage over my right eye throwing me off. I vaguely recalled talking to the doctors, their use of medical vernacular doing little to explain my circumstance.
The nurse was quick to respond. “Hello, Mr. Becker. I’m Victoria. How are you feeling?”
“Hurt,” was all I could say. My messed-up vision allowed me to see a halo of blond hair, pink lips arched in a smile and green, unflattering scrubs. No details, like freckles on her face, or wrinkles in her clothes. “I think…met you before?”
“You did. The fuzziness can be disorienting, but it’s nice to meet you again.” She checked some stuff on the machines. “We can take care of your pain. I’ll be right back with some meds, okay?”
My sight was working well enough to see the nurse pass Jere a smile on her way out.
“See? They’ve got you covered. These ladies are good at what they do,” he said and started texting. He must have felt my question because he added, “Letting your mom and Ronnie know how you’re doing. I promised I would.”
“Making a move on the nursing staff already?” I teased weakly. “I might not be able to see much, but I saw the way she looked at you.”
“You know all the girls like me,” he said, bunching up his shoulders. “I can’t help it.”
“Uh huh,” I murmured. “Still crushing dreams, I see.”
The nurse was back in an instant. She plugged a syringe into one of the intravenous lines. “You’re going to feel really good here in a moment, Mr. Becker.”
I rolled my head against the pillow as a lovely chill shot through the veins of my arm. “Call me Danny. Too young to be a mister.”
“All right, Danny,” she said. “How’s that?”
Her voice floated around me, and the pain faded to a distant discomfort. That blackness returned. It wasn’t an endless sea of blackness, and more like a linen curtain being drawn over my eyes, allowing me to glimpse the other side through the thin weave. I heard Jere talking with Victoria, his voice a gentle rumble, though I wasn’t sure what was being said. She laughed softly, and it was the sound of being charmed. The comforting hum of his voice soaked into me, lulling me to relax. Images swirled on the back of my eyelids and sounds echoed in my mind. I started to drift into the void again.
“Ronnie!” The shout crawled up my throat unexpectedly and I wasn’t sure why.
“It’s okay. You’re good,” Jere said. He was by my side in an instant. “You’re safe.”
I believed him, but why did he need me to know I was? Oh…the hospital. I meant to ask what had happened, except shooting pain stabbed my head and I groaned.
“Sleep? How long?” I managed.
“A few hours. Your mom is on her way and Ronnie will be here after work.” Jere took my hand, his palm warm and rough and calloused from weightlifting, just the way I liked it. “They can’t give you any more pain meds for another hour or two. Just try to relax.”
I needed that sweet chill in my veins again, and the sudden rush of relief as the pain dulled. My head was pounding now, sending a shock of discomfort through my face and neck and that cinderblock on my chest was getting heavier. I floated in and out of consciousness, the curtain shuttering before my eyes. Every time I came to, Jere was next to me, his rough mug easing me.
The moment Victoria walked into the room with a syringe in her hand, a wave of relief crashed into me. There was someone behind her, but all I could focus on was the medication in her hand.Oh, yes, please.As she pumped the pain meds into my system, I understood the rush drug addicts got, the pure joy of relief intoxicating.
She smiled at me and said, “You have a visitor.”
It took me a moment, but the cropped auburn hair leading into a well-kept beard sparked recognition. “Sean! My favorite ginger.”
“Yep,” he said and set a big vase of rainbow flowers on the bedside table. He sat down next to me, and I was surrounded by big men on both sides. If I hadn’t felt like shit, I would have taken a moment to enjoy the man-wich. “How are you feeling?”
“I… I’m feeling…” Terrible. Relieved. Like I’d been run over by a truck. Flying high.
“It’s all right. Time has a way of fixing things, so work on healing, okay? In the meantime, I’m going to read you this card the kids worked on. How’s that sound?”
The kids…my kids…“Yeah.”
He untucked a ridiculously large card from under his arm and opened it. There was a colorful picture on the front that looked like a unicorn sliding down a rainbow, but my blurry vision couldn’t make out the details. Sean cleared his throat and started reading from the giant card. It was simple, full of wishes for me to get better. Then he read each of the signatures on the card, all three dozen names, and their individual notes.
I’d started volunteering at the local LGBTQ center when I was in college, first near Cambridge, then in Chicago. I’d been lucky Mom had accepted my queerness without question, but even in this modern day, a lot of kids didn’t have support. What they did have was people like me, someone to listen to them, to show interest in their uniqueness, and help them get started with their lives. Someone to let them know life was worth living and valued them for who they were.
Sundays at the center were activity days. In summer, I helped coach the softball team. I wasn’t much for sports, but I was good at shouting encouragement and coordinating after-game lunches. I took them to museums and helped with schoolwork. I wasn’t their counselor; I was theirfriend. My role in their lives made me feel useful. Important. More than that, in the way my job did, helping these kids gave me a purpose. So when they’d taken the time to sign their names on a get well card, it meant the world. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, but I was too weak to cry. I focused on Sean’s West Virginian twang as he read through the names. Sometime during the reading, Mom arrived and kissed my cheek.
