D.U.I.

D.U.I. By Daniel Bradford

It was an unusually warm October day, so I nursed an iced tea as I sat in the coffee shop waiting for someone I'd never met. The sun had already set but the remains of the warm afternoon light shown through the windows. I wasn't actually monitoring the door; though I had noticed a group of teens and a gray-haired couple, enter since I had taken my seat. We had agreed to meet at 6:30, but after living here for many years, I knew that time wasn't a concrete premise, given the vagaries of L.A. traffic if nothing else. And it's not like I had somewhere else I needed to be, I just wanted to honor my commitment and go home and get out of my suit and tie. I was studying the beads of sweat on my glass when I was interrupted by his voice.

"Dylan Hendricks?"

Since his call, I had been expecting a middle-aged man with a beer gut and a large nose laced with red veins. I recoiled in surprise when I looked up. Standing next to the table, was a tall, handsome man dressed in a very expensive suit. There was a smattering of grey in his conservatively cut dark hair, though judging by his face he couldn't have been more than 40, probably years younger. Basically he looked like a thousand-dollar-an-hour lawyer, the sleazy TV kind that always represents the blatantly guilty defendant and somehow charms the jury to win the case or gets the recently widowed, drop-dead-gorgeous wife, you know what I mean; he's hot! However, he was missing the stereotypical disingenuous smile or nasty smirk of his television counterpart; his face was solemn but kind. "Yes, I'm Dylan Hendricks," I replied, offering my hand while starting to stand. "You must be..."

"I'm Carl Samuels, but please don't get up," he interrupted while firmly grasping my hand before sliding into the booth opposite me. "I so appreciate your willingness to meet. This is rather awkward and I hope this doesn't come off as completely self-serving," he said as the waitress placed glasses of water and iced tea on the table in front of him. "May I assume my insurance company has responded to your satisfaction; that there are no outstanding issues?"

I nodded in acknowledgement. I was completely flummoxed by his appearance, particularly because the mental image of a much older man was partially responsible for my agreement to meet; my parents had inculcated me from a very early age to respect one's elders. I arrived expecting to hear a now-sober drunk absolve himself with a quick mea culpa before we continued our lives. I never expected to be sitting in a dumpy coffee shop with a handsome lawyer. (Later I learned he was an investment banker.)

"Mr. Hendricks, unfortunately most of this is about me, and obviously these are the worst possible circumstances to be meeting you for the very first time. But I am greatly relieved to see you looking well. I've been what they call a functional alcoholic for years, until we crossed paths six months ago. Now, that has all changed."

"How's that?" I replied sarcastically.

"Well, like I said, I've been doing my thing for years without any significant complications. It's not like I went to work drunk or hung over, and I never missed a day of work due to drinking, which is fairly remarkable: most of my colleagues can't make that claim. I've never been the three-martini-lunch kind of guy and never considered myself to have drinking a problem let alone, considered myself an alcoholic. But I now know that that's the crux of the problem." His eyes seemed to peer into mine as I tried to focus on what he was saying; his eyes were intense yet beautiful but his speech sounded like pure, self-preserving drivel. "That particular day from hell, everything turned to shit like never before. Everyone has bad days; you have probably been there, so joining a colleague for a drink seemed reasonable, until the next morning. When I saw my car, I knew I had seriously fucked up; I went back inside and got drunk." He paused with a look of recognition on his face, his voice softened and his confident air seemed to dissipate. "I guess I lied a minute ago; I did miss one day of work due to drinking. But that was my last drink. Since then I've been working towards this moment: sitting here, facing you." He paused. "Calling you was more difficult that going to the police or returning to work. Of course I'm sorry, but that just sounds trite." He sighed. "I guess I'd really like to say thank you for taking my lumps for me."

"Well think about this the next time you go out for cocktails!" I said emphatically as I tossed a couple photos of my mangled car onto the tabletop along with several dollar bills to pay my tab before I moved towards the door. I absentmindedly ran my fingers through my hair as I opened the car door; six months ago, my head was bandaged and shaved. I had more or less forgotten about the accident until I received his call several days ago. His call and my aggravation with him caused the memories to resurface.

"Mr. Hendricks, there's someone who has been waiting to talk with you. Do you feel up to talking, or shall I have him stop by later?"

"Uh, sure. I suppose," I said, a bit confused, as I opened my eyes and looked around. The voice belonged to a robust African-American nurse wearing a bright pink pants uniform, who was standing by my bed. She indicated a man in a sport coat standing in the doorway and gestured him into the room.

The man identified himself as a police detective and proceeded to ask a series of questions relative to the hit and run accident. "I'm sorry officer..."

"Detective Bauer," he corrected.

"Sorry, Detective; I'm still a bit groggy. I don't really know much except that I was going home at about 9:00 last night, so the traffic was fairly light. Something drew my attention to the rear view mirror, where headlights startled me. The next thing I knew, a car was raping my car while forcing it under the backend of a large truck. I heard glass breaking and then there were airbags everywhere. The only other thing I remember is the nurse that brought you in here."

"Hey, no need to apologize. I'm glad that you were able to talk to me. From the looks of your car, I thought I might have to have this interview in the morgue," he said with a chuckle. "Sorry, bad police humor." I forced a small smile for my response. "But here's my card. Please call if you think of anything. And if you call the office number there, they can tell you where your car is impounded and where to retrieve your personal belongings."

Perhaps because my hands were under the sheet, he motioned with his hand, sort of a casual salute or wave goodbye, rather than offering a handshake. "Thank you for your time. You'll hear from the department, once we get a little more information; someone did call in with a vague description of the car." He nodded and backed away. "Oh, nice haircut by the way," he said and exited the room. I reached up, surprised to find a bandage resting atop my newly shaved head.

"Good Afternoon, Dylan. How are you feeling?" I looked up see perhaps the most handsome face I had ever seen. His broad shoulders led me to believe that his body was as pleasing as his face, but a white lab coat hid it from view. The actors on ER or Grey's Anatomy had nothing on this doctor. He referred to my chart and began his exam. His hands were wonderfully warm.

"Well, until I saw the wedding band, I was about to say that I've never felt better, but I'm doing okay, I guess. Mostly I feel sore and tired. "

"That's to be expected; though I'm a bit concerned that you might be delirious or experiencing difficulty focusing your eyes." He pulled an instrument from a pocket and peered into each of my eyes. "You were out for quite a while last night and there was some concern about head injuries."

"Huh?"

"I'm referring to how far you stretched for the compliment, but thanks. I saw myself in the mirror a while ago and it wasn't something I'd want to look at," he said with a slight smile. "I'm still a resident, which is just a couple steps above being a janitor, so I don't always get the best schedule. Today, I'm working two shifts back to back and it shows."

His modesty was appealing and despite his slightly bloodshot eyes, I still found him very handsome. "I'll slide over and let you catch a nap," I said jokingly.

"That's a very tempting offer," he said stifling a yawn. "Excuse me," he said in reference to the yawn. I actually laughed thinking that the yawn could have been construed as a put-down of my obvious sexual innuendo, though his demeanor was completely professional. "Everything looks good, so I'm going to authorize your release for later today. You'll be given complete instructions in your release package, but mostly you need rest. And that means no work, no gym and no sex; you know, just common sense stuff.

"I thought doctors were supposed to make their patients feel good," I said with a smile. "But not to worry, I'm recently divorced so there's not much chance of the sex part at least."

"Sorry, about your love life Dylan, but I'm glad you're joking and laughing. It's a good sign that the bump on your head probably wasn't too serious. Despite the tremendous advances in medicine, there's so much we don't know or don't know how to treat. For me that's been the hardest part of becoming a doctor, knowing that there are going to be times when there is nothing I can do. It hurts to feel so helpless." I felt sorry for my doctor, at least my work didn't involve life or death situations.

"Yeah, sort of makes you want to run out and become a lawyer!" I teased hoping to lighten his mood. His face took on a look of surprise.

"Actually, my father wanted me to go to law school," he said with a small smile. "But seriously, do you have any questions for me?

"Just one. Where do you get your hair cut? I think I need to find a new barber."

He finally laughed. "George's on Third Street."

"Doctor, thank you for all you have done. Please thank the folks in the emergency room; actually everyone at this facility has been amazing. I'm very grateful." We shook hands. "And your wife is a very lucky woman." I said as he stepped away from the bed.

"Perhaps, but I'm also a very fortunate man. I'll be sure to tell her. She'll be pleased, particularly since she assisted me last night; she's an ER nurse."

I shook my head in wonder and disbelief. "Thanks again," I said to his receding form. I thanked the cosmos, that I had the good fortune to encounter such a kind and humble physician.

My dark-skinned angel arrived shortly thereafter with food. She already knew that I had to keep my food down in order to be released, so I started in on retrieving my clothes

"Honey, with the exception of your shoes, everything was cut off your body and sent to join all the other hazardous waste," she said with a knowing smile. "So you might want to give someone the heads up to bring some clothing or at least a trench coat."

I almost spit out a mouthful of applesauce; obviously I'm not the only one with a sense of humor around here, I thought to myself. But I'll be ready when she comes back for the tray.

When she did return, she failed to appreciate the fact that I had eaten most, but not all of the lunch. "But I'm not a growing boy!" I said with what I thought might appear to be soulful eyes.

"And that explains your skinny ass," she said with a smile but didn't force the issue.

We had only been acquainted for several hours, but we were already good friends. It took a bit of persuasion on my part, but eventually Angie agreed to help. "No, it's not like that; I have plenty of friends who would be happy to come and get me. Hell! My mother would be on a plane before I could even hang up the phone, so that's not it. Angie, this week has been the pits, and anyone... anyone that I could call will make a big thing out of all this and I can't handle another moment of drama right now. I just want to go home, crawl into my own bed and sleep until Monday. By then, it'll be a new week and everything will be fine. So, pleeaassee?" She rolled her eyes, which I interpreted to mean she had agreed. "I'm a 40 regular," I said as she left the room with my tray. She didn't turn to acknowledge me. I had only recently noticed that I was sharing a room with two other patients; hopefully they were comatose or at least amused by my behavior since I had awakened.

More than an hour had passed before Angie returned with my shoes and a gray twill shirt and pants on hangers, apparently fresh from the uniform supply service. "Thanks," I said while eyeing the hospital logo on the breast pocket of the shirt.

"Don't worry about it, darlin'. I told the gals at the desk that all's cool, but your ass is grass if I don't get this uniform back. Got it?" Even playing the role of a hard-ass, Angie came across like the best kid sister anyone ever had.

"Yes, of course!" I agreed. "But Angie, I just want to be sure that there isn't a maintenance man out there somewhere mopping floors in his undies."

"Honey, I like a little more meat on my men. I'm not talking about what you have in your..." she snickered. "You aren't wearing any...but I'm not talking about that! Of course that counts too, but I'm talkin' the whole package, you know? So I wouldn't be undressing someone your size. Hmmm?"

"Angie, I'm pickin' up what you're puttin' down. We are definitely on the same page!" I said with the biggest smile I'd had all week. "But doc says none of that for a while, so..."

"Oh, honey, I'm soooo sorry," she said and gave me a hug. "Now get your skinny ass dressed and down to the desk in the next 45 minutes, or I will be driving you home, in my very embarrassing piece-of-shit car. Hmmm?" She placed a hand on her generous hip and shook her head. We both giggled. "But seriously Dylan; I'm glad to help you and it's great knowing that you appreciate me. I worked hard to get to where I am. I feel good about it, but it's tough when people look at me like the only thing I can do is empty a bed pan or give some old geezer a sponge bath. Sometimes I look at my classmates who are living on welfare, almost as comfortably as me, collecting money for every bastard child that spits out of their gut! That hurts."

"Angie, you and everyone else at this establishment has been the epitome of professionalism. And for me, that means empathy, not just medical proficiency. I've never spent any time in a hospital except when I was born, and that's an occasion I don't even remember! I don't know how to thank you enough." She briefly hugged me and told me how to find my way to the office before she left me to get dressed.

The release process felt interminable. Obviously, they didn't want me to escape without verifying my insurance info. Eventually I walked into the early evening, dressed in the grey cotton/poly blend uniform, my shoes without socks and a bandage on my head; a taxi was waiting for me. Fortunately the Spencers were home to buzz me into the condominium complex, as all my keys were in my car.

It was with a mixture of relief and anxiety that I called Curt to cancel tomorrow's rendezvous. Curt is absolutely my best friend; I love him dearly, but the idea of celebrating my first birthday of my thirties as a single man had me less than euphoric. And knowing Curt the way I do, I felt certain that he would have arranged for a single, available, and in his mind, suitable replacement for my ex to be on hand. He does have good taste in men; after all, he loves me. We should be the perfect couple: we're good friends and the sex was great, but... We've tried twice: the first time was in college shortly after we met. At the age of 21, I felt certain I'd found my soul mate, but no. We tried again five years later with the same results, despite the fact that the second time around our friendship was stronger and the sex even better. I don't know what it is, maybe our astrology is out or whack or something. Anyway, neither of us doubts that we will be life-long, best friends. Still, it is a shame; Curt is a high school football jock fantasy all grown up. He's handsome, extremely intelligent, and has a better body than many guys, years younger. He's conversant about numerous and varied topics, cooks as well as many of the chefs in this town, he's funny, polite and modest. He eschews traditional roles and expectations though he doesn't talk down or proselytize to more traditional types like myself. He makes a modest living teaching rock climbing and yoga, yet never wants for anything, material at least. Two or three times a year he gets a gig as an assistant on a hiking or biking tour somewhere on the planet, so he's traveled even more than I have. He's probably not every gay guy's fantasy, though he would be mine except for the fact that we just don't click. I'm grateful that we're best friends and that we're such fantastic fuck buddies when we hit a dry spell while we're both single.

Please, please let it go to voicemail, I prayed as his phone rang. I whispered thank you as the recorded message played. "Hey Curt, it's Dylan. Sorry buddy, but I'm going to have to beg off for tomorrow night. I'm sorry about the late notice, but I had a little accident last night and the doctor says I have to lay low for a few days." I sighed, now instead of relief, I mostly felt guilt. "Curt, I suspect you've expended a lot of effort on my behalf, just like you always do, and I love you for it. But I have an idea: why don't you do everything as planned, except my mystery date with be your guest of honor? You know it's the perfect plan; he'll be blown away! And how could he possibly resist you after that?" I said with a chuckle that I could no longer contain. "Don't worry about me, I'm okay; I just need to get some sleep. I left my cell phone at the office and I'm unplugging this phone after I hang up, so don't bother trying to call. But I'll call you in the morning, I promise. Thanks for understanding buddy. And again, I apologize for the short notice. Good night, Curt. Love you."

One more call and then I could hibernate for the weekend.

"J/M Associates. Harold Jansen speaking."

"Harold, it's Dylan. Why are you still at the office and why are you answering the phone?" I was about to read him the riot act; my boss makes everyone, myself included, look like a slacker and I for one, really give this job my all.

"Well I sent everyone home early today and I'm just waiting for Sylvie. We're going to catch an early dinner and head downtown to hear the Philharmonic. Mahler tonight, should be good. So why are you calling me at this late hour on a Friday evening. I hope it's not with regard to last evening's presentation."

"No, but since you mentioned it, what happened last night and who was that ass... um who was that...that...?"

"Bastard?"

"Yeah, that works. Harold I'm glad you were there to wrap things up last night because I was about to kick an important client out the door on his ass! So what the hell happened?"

"Dylan, I'm almost relieved to hear that you feel the way I do. You know I don't get flustered very often, but I was livid last night! I really feel sorry for Jason; I don't think he's ever been through that before. I think he was expecting just what you and I anticipated: a brief presentation of our final proposal, a toast, some hors d'oevres and an enthusiastic endorsement signaling the signing of a contract to commence implementation."

"That's about what I was expecting until that `bastard' as you labeled him, threw cold water on the whole evening. Who was he anyway? Do you think he even bothered to look at the work we've done thus far? It's like he was headed 180 degrees from anything and everything we've developed. And I can't understand how the rest of the committee just folded, despite our serious collaboration these past months! You know they're going to approve the expense to completely redo the job and we get screwed! Maybe our solution isn't perfect, but it's pretty damn good; it's solid and it works! Instead, we're going to propose an inferior solution and they'll cut the implementation budget by at least the amount, or more, it costs them to pay for us to devise a half-assed solution! Fuck!" My head started throbbing and my voice lost its strength. "God! Sorry Harold, I have to sit down."

"Dylan, what's wrong; are you alright? You know it's my job to have any coronary related to this company, though I do appreciate your fervor," his sincerity was tempered with a chuckle.

"Thanks Harold. You're one helluva boss. But the reminder is helpful. I actually called to say that I wouldn't be in the office next week. I had a little accident after leaving the office and the doctor says I gotta lay low for a few days. I hope that'll be alright."

"You didn't get hurt due to this project, I hope?"

"No, nothing like that. I was just going home, minding my own business and looking forward to a nice, strong cocktail, a hot shower and a warm bed, when someone plowed into my car. It's no biggie, but like I said, I gotta lay low for a few days. Does that work for you?"

"Dylan, take as much time as you need! I don't like to bag on clients but your sentiments completely dovetailed with my own; I'm glad you're on my team. And I was planning to shelve the bastard's project for a week anyway so we can catch our breath and approach the problem with a clear mind," he said with a sigh. "But I would like to ask a favor or you."

"Sure boss; just name it!"

"When you feel up to it, would you please call Jason and help explain what happened last night? He's still young and I suspect he might think that I blame him or possibly don't care. Since you're the project manager, I think it would mean a lot more for him to hear from you. Is that something you'd feel comfortable with?"

"Consider it done! Both you and Jason have been invaluable to me. I'm happy to make that call."

"Thank you, Dylan. Oops, there's the buzzer, it must be Sylvie."

"You go ahead sir. I expect to stay close to home next week, so don't hesitate to call if anything comes up. I'll call Jason and oh, have a great time tonight, you deserve it."

"Thanks, Dylan but I must go. Bye."

I replaced the receiver and thought about Jason as I disconnected the phone. Poor kid, he works so hard and he's such a sweetheart; too bad this had to... well, I guess it had to happen sometime so it's good that it happened while he has such an understanding boss. I made a note to call him and headed towards my bedroom, where I doffed the uniform, then grabbed a quick shower. Despite the fact that I'd been in bed almost the entire day, I felt tired and my bed felt delicious compared with the one at the hospital. After several months, I'd grown accustomed to sleeping alone and the sound of light rain through the open windows lulled me to sleep.

My own sobbing awakened me. "No. Please stay," I wailed in misery mixed with tears. My doctor, naked except for a stethoscope around his neck was preparing to join me in bed, but he screamed in horror as he pulled back the sheets. Shocked myself, I looked down to see what he was seeing: my entire body was bruised, bloody and grossly deformed from the accident. I screamed in horror and then again begged him to stay. We were both sobbing as he grabbed his lab coat and fled. "What the fuck?" I exhaled as I timidly lifted the sheet to peek at my nakedness. Thank god it was just a dream, I mused as I saw exactly what I always saw in my mirror. My body's not perfect, but I work to keep it looking good and so far, most of the lumps and bulges are in desirable places, including my favorite bulge. My hand wandered up to my head and I was shocked again by the bandage and absence of hair. I also noted the light sheen of sweat on my skin, despite the cool temperature of the room

After rinsing my face, I was standing naked in front of the open refrigerator; apparently my stomach thought I was hungry. I found a container of Chinese take out, though hadn't a clue as to when I might have brought it home. It was positioned near the front and it didn't smell bad, so I assumed it was edible. After discarding the now-empty container, I found a delicious-looking piece of chocolate/raspberry cake of some sort. If I had been fully awake, I doubt I would have paired the two, but at the moment it seemed like the ideal late-night dinner for one. I finished with a large Fuji apple before I returned to my bed.

My bladder was urging me to awake when I finally opened my eyes mid-morning. My body can operate more or less on automatic pilot and that was the case as I brewed some coffee. I felt to be moving in slow motion and my entire body was aching. Sometime after the second cup of coffee I noticed the empty carryout containers in the kitchen and shortly thereafter, the small pile created by the discarded uniform. Suddenly, I was jolted awake and rushed to the bathroom mirror. "Fuck! It wasn't just a dream," I muttered as again I rubbed my nearly-bald pate.

I pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt as my mind flashed on my mother, my sister, my ex, my boss and Curt for various reasons. Curt was the only one that brought a smile to my face, but also a bit of guilt as I recalled that we were supposed to be celebrating my 34th birthday tonight. For a moment I was confused that the phone didn't work until I remembered that I unplugged it the night before. "Hey stud," I said as soon as the connection was made.

"Hey asshole," he chuckled in recognition. "What do you mean you're canceling tonight?"

"God, I love you, Curt!" I chuckled. "Sorry about tonight, but this time it's legit. Some jerk creamed my car Thursday night and I had to spend the night at Cedars with a stud muffin of a doctor, who is hung like a horse!"

"Dylan, if you were a better liar, I'd have my pants around my ankles right now, but let's face it, you're not, so what lame excuse do you have prepared for me?"

"Actually Curt, it's all true except I didn't get a chance to see the good doctor out of his clothes," I snickered. "However," I continued, "Reality isn't nearly so salacious. The fact of the matter is I'm looking a little bit like those freaky WWF guys. I have no hair to speak of and a bandage covering what I'm told, are numerous stitches keeping what few brain cells I have, contained inside my skull; I have a few bruises, I'm pretty sore but I'm very grateful for airbags." I paused for a moment. "I'm mostly thankful for friends like you and Angie," I said and sighed with a feeling of relief.

"Dylan, why didn't you call? What do you need?" Curt asked with desperation in his voice.

"Curt...?" I interjected, hoping to staunch the flow.

"Yeah, Dylan."

"Buddy, you spoil me all the time, that's why I didn't call for help yesterday. But just tell me, do you have a date lined up for me tonight? David's replacement or something?"

"Well, sort of. I invited a friend that I thought you should meet; that's all. Why do you ask?"

"Curt, it's a good thing we're talking on the phone right now or I'd strip you naked and make love to you in such a way that you couldn't see or walk straight until sometime next week..."

"Keep talking, I'm liking the sound of these lies. And hold that thought, I'm getting into my car," Curt teased with a definitely sexier voice.

I was getting caught up in our little fantasy until I pulled back and said. "No! Wait a minute, Curt.

As appealing as that sounds, I'm under doctor's orders to abstain for a while at least," I said, even though my dick was half hard, as I imagined plowing into his tight, round ass. I'm wondered if his wasn't at least as erect.

"Oh, okay."

"Look Curt," I said, cutting short my fantasy. "Obviously you got my message. I'm really sorry about spoiling your plans for tonight, but like I said, I really hope you'll just carry on as if I wasn't part of the equation. I'm not saying you have to fuck this guy," I said with a snicker. "But just forget about me and enjoy the evening. Okay? That would be the best present you could possibly give me."

"If that's what you really want," Curt said, sounding rather dejected.

"Yeah, it is," I said, hoping to reassure him. "But if you're up for it, perhaps you and I can celebrate once I get clearance from Dr. Stud. Okay?"

"Sure thing, boss. You know I love you, but this guy is pretty hot, if I say so myself."

"I like the sounds of that, Curt! I think you just made me a very happy birthday boy," I said with a laugh.

"Just be careful what you wish for, sexy fucker!"

"Curt, I'm going to let you go, but I want a full report no later than end of the day Monday," I said with another snicker.

"Yeah, sure. Later, guy," Curt responded.

"Bye," I said with a smile as I hung up the phone and then unplugged it again.

I was content to waste the weekend. I did a few of the typical weekend chores like laundry and bill paying. I also made notes to call the police and my insurance company on Monday. Even without the pain pills, I found the allure of sleep the siren call of the weekend.

With my hand just inches from the handset, I jumped when the phone suddenly rang. "Hello?" I responded with my heart rate still elevated. Detective Bauer was on the other end of the line and he informed me that the hit and run driver had turned himself in earlier that morning. I didn't feel any response other than that the information would make it a bit easier to report my claim to my insurance company. He also suggested that since the police now considered the case closed, they were no longer interested in holding my car as evidence; in other words, a daily impound fee would begin to accrue. We talked a bit longer regarding several outstanding issues the police department had for me and then he inquired after my recovery. I was surprised by his concern but grateful to report that I was doing quite well and thanked him for his concern. Shortly thereafter the call ended. I called my insurance agent and then a cab to take me to my car.

After introducing myself and presenting identification, I was led to my car, or more accurately, the remains of my car. From my perspective, only the clearly visible rear license plate identified the car as the Infiniti M35 I had been driving just four days ago. As if some angry giant had crudely attempted to make a convertible of my four-door sedan, the roof was almost flattened to the line of the window openings and all the metal was bent and twisted in the opposite direction from the one I had been driving. The scars left by the Jaws of Life, which apparently had been used to extricate me, interrupted the damage to the driver's side. I started to cry, not for the destroyed vehicle but in gratitude that I had survived at all.

"Hey, it's just a nicer piece of Japanese crap; nothing to get worked up about," the garage attendant said as he rolled his eyes at me, completely misinterpreting my tears. "It's not like you was driving a Porsche Carrera or sump'en," he said as he walked away.

Strictly by fortunate happenstance, I crossed paths with an insurance adjuster as I was leaving. She was there to evaluate another client's vehicle, and after a quick call to the office, gave my car the once over. We agreed to have it removed to a salvage yard that worked with my insurance company. I had just recently paid off the car, following the expiration of the two-year lease. I collected my personal belongings, including my house keys, brief case and cell phone before leaving the impound facility. Maggie offered me a ride, but as I learned she was headed back to Orange County, I declined. She seemed disappointed, but I'm sure she would have been even more disappointed when she discovered her offer was going out to a gay man.

Arriving home, neither the mailbox nor voice mail provided any diversion, so I lowered myself onto my bed and slept. I continued to sleep through much of the next few days. My pain had diminished considerably, but I was hurting nonetheless. I actually missed David's desperate calls seeking reconciliation. We'd been separated for nearly four months, but David kept calling to apologize and welcome me back. Since we had been living together in my condo, it was more like he was asking to be allowed to come back, but that was over. A week ago I made the announcement that despite the obvious inconvenience to myself, I had changed my cell phone number; (everyone at the office had already been instructed to refuse his calls.) That gesture seemed to finally seal the tomb of our former relationship. Of course, as I had admitted to Curt and myself, I still loved David very much.

As it was a very mild spring day and I was lounging on my modest rooftop deck. I picked up my phone and called Curt. "Are you avoiding me buddy?" I asked as he answered.

"No, Dylan..."

"Then you're in love, or at least in lust?" I said with a chuckle.

"Maybe...something sort of like that, yeah."

"So you finally listened to me?" I teased.

"Yeah, so you can't be mad that I didn't introduce the two of you first. Dylan, it's strange and wonderful at the same time. He's just like...he's almost exactly like you, except he's not," Curt sighed.

I was a bit confused at this point, but I teased Curt. "Sounds like a really hot guy."

"Yeah...he is. But he's not you, Dylan."

"Thank god!" I laughed. "Curt, you know we're so right but so wrong for each other. And I'll admit I seriously started thinking about you after I finally got David straightened out. It was the perfect fantasy for about five minutes. So what about...I guess he has a name, right?"

"He does," Curt replied. "His name is Richard."

"You mean he looks like me and you're calling him Richard and not DICK?" I laughed out load.

"He prefers Richard and I think his...is bigger than yours," he said with a giggle.

"Fine. Kick your best friend when he's down," I chuckled. "Just invite me to the wedding, okay?"

"Settle down. We just met. I'm not sure he even likes me."

"Yeah, right! But you at least like him a lot, right?"

"Maybe..." Curt said quietly.

"Curt, you've made my day! You know I love you and this new information just gives us something more to celebrate when I get rid of my bandages."

"I'm looking forward to it Dylan. But will I recognize you?" he asked in jest.

"Well, the hair you used to love running your fingers through is all gone; it'll all come back, I guess. Otherwise, I'm pretty much the same guy you've always known. However, after seeing my mangled car, I might be a bit more humble." I sighed.

"I'm glad you're okay," Curt said with affection.

"Me too," I said with a sense of relief. "Maybe we can hook up this weekend or something.

"Sounds like a plan, Dylan. We'll talk real soon. Love ya."

"Likewise. Later."

The remainder of the week involved nothing more strenuous than reading and napping except for an inordinate amount of attention given over to various insurance companies. I walked to the neighborhood florist; a blooming azalea was the only flower that approached the hue of Angie's uniform, so I asked them to dress it up and deliver it; they even agreed to deliver the borrowed uniform for an additional 10 dollars. On Thursday afternoon a rental car was delivered to the house and Friday morning was spent in the office. I wanted to return several calls and make sure my desk wasn't buried; I took the opportunity to let everyone see my shaved and bandaged head, so it wouldn't be an issue on Monday. Jason pounced on me with his ideas to salvage last week's debacle. He had some excellent ideas how we might be able to incorporate some of the previous work and still satisfy the committee's contrary member. We brainstormed for nearly 45 minutes, while I tried to get Harold to join us. He wasn't going to be available for the remainder of the day so I typed up a brief summary and left it for him. As I explained to Jason, I thought it advisable that Harold contact one of the committee members for feedback before we hiked down another wrong road.

From the office I drove to the restaurant where my sister had agreed to meet me for a late lunch. The lunch crowd was waning, so the hostess offered a larger table rather than one of the two-person bistro tables.

"Big brother. How are you?" She practically squealed as she approached the table.

We hugged. "Sis, it's so good to see you. I'm well but I apologize that I've been so lax about getting us together. It's been too long. So how are you?"

"Don't apologize. I'm as much to blame as you. But look at you. You're so cute!" She actually reached across the table to pinch my cheek. In that moment, one might have thought she was the older sibling. Lucy is a stunning woman and was dressed in a dark business suit, while I was more or less dressed in business casual. "Dylan the cap is really cute, but I think you should leave that look to the twenty-somethings." She shrugged her shoulders and added, "Just a thought."

"The valet didn't seem to mind," I said with a smirk.

"You mean the blonde surfer dude?" I nodded my head. "I hate to burst your bubble, but he gave me a look, too."

"Well he either has a variety of interests, or more likely, he finds me sexy, but he lusts after your car!" I laughed.

We were interrupted by the waiter and after placing our orders. I took off the knit cap long enough for Lucy to see what I was covering.

"What happened? Why didn't you call me and why haven't I been able to get you on your phone?" She demanded.

"One question at a time, please," I said with a smile, hoping she would lighten up. "First off, I was involved in a hit and run accident last week. I received a mild concussion and a cut on the head. The car was totaled but the air bags took pretty good care of me." Her eyes had gotten huge. "Lucy, seriously I'm okay! I took the week off from work and the stitches come out next week. There have been no complications and I feel fine. But I did want to tell you before I..."

"Mom doesn't know?" she gasped.

"No. I'm tempted not to tell her; you know how she is!"

"Do I ever," she said and shook her head.

"I don't mean for this to sound unkind, but I've been so glad that you and Ted are getting divorced, because lately that has drawn all her attention away from me. Even so, last week we talked, well, she talked, I mostly listened to her go on and on for nearly an hour about you and Ted."

"I can only imagine; she calls me too! And I still remember how she went on the first time you and David broke up. What's up with you two anyway?" Her disparaging tone turned to one of caring when she asked about my ex.

"Finally it's over," I sighed. "We met a couple weeks ago and I finally got him to concede that this time there was no going back. We won't be getting back together in this lifetime at least. I think he got the message when I told him I changed my cell number."

"Maybe that's why I can't reach you! Are you breaking up with me too?" Her tone of voice let me know she was teasing, though slightly perturbed.

I pulled out my phone and dialed hers. "There!" I said as her phone chimed.

"Thanks, Dylan. So you and David are cool?"

"Yes and no."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's yes, because David's not stalking me anymore. It's no because I still love him; I miss him. He'd probably never have become my best friend, but he's the best boyfriend I've ever had and maybe ever will have." I could see the question forming on Lucy's face. "It's because I can't go through another round of contrition. Every time he ends one of his flirtations, he's like a one-man Medieval passion play; he stops just shy of the self-flagellation! And the drama gets more intense each succeeding time. He makes himself so miserable that I suffer too." I shook my head. "Lucy, this might sound rather perverse, but I could live with his philandering, assuming he was safe and discrete. I mean, I never liked it but I knew inside he truly loved me. I'm not saying that as some egotistical jerk, it's the truth! Those other guys never lasted more than a couple of weeks, so I never felt threatened, but the aftermath was unbearable!" A long sigh mirrored my frustration. "His office seems to be his downfall. You've been there, everyone is gorgeous; it's more like a modeling agency than a publishing firm! I bet they even have cute janitors," I sneered.

"I'm sorry. I feel a bit guilty since it was I who introduced the two of you."

"No, don't feel any guilt or regret. He was great and we had a good long run. If you count these last four months that I've been trying to get rid of him, we were together for almost five years," I said with a smile. "And you know, that's a long time for me," I added and then laughed.

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Dylan. And I'm glad that you can laugh about it. We all deserve to be happy, at least most of the time."

"But enough about me. What's happening with you and Ted?"

"We've just about got things wrapped up. With any luck, by this time next week we will have signed the final documents. He's not going to come away with much. I'm going to let him keep the car and that ridiculously huge flat screen that he adores, but that's about it. Because of my freelance status, that accountant you hooked me up with has made me into something of a bookkeeping Nazi. It's pretty obvious what Ted's been up to these last couple of years."

"Ouch! I don't owe you any money do I?" I said with a snicker. "But I gotta say, Lucy, I'm so glad that man is on his way out the door. I never said anything before, but even if the sex was as good as you said, he wasn't worthy of you."

"Thanks, big brother. I appreciate your honesty and also the fact that you don't get on my case when I make a mistake. But you know something? Now that we're both getting older and wiser, perhaps we should be willing to listen to some constructive criticism," she said and smiled. "You think, maybe?"

"Sure, sis. Actually, I was thinking..."

"Stop! Just stop!" she said emphatically before we both started laughing.

"That's scary. You sound just like mom!" Lucy's face turned to a look a horror until she laughed again. "But do you think there's any way we could get her married again? Seriously, she was the greatest until dad died. But without him, all her energy seems to be focused on us and what's worse is she acts like we're back in high school. You know, like she has to look out for us and worry about us all the time. That can't be any fun for her and I know I don't like that kind of attention focused on me. I know she didn't like Brad but she loved Mark and he liked her a lot. It was fun to be around her back then, you know?"

"I never put the two things together like that, but now that you mention it, it does make some sense." She paused. "Well, I don't have any immediate ideas, but that's something I will... no, we will have to think about."

"I'd like that," I said smiling at my sister. She smiled back.

The server cleared the table and we ordered coffee, which was served with a single slice of my favorite chocolate/raspberry cake.

"You can't get older and wiser, it you don't have an occasional birthday," Lucy said with a big smile. "Happy birthday Dylan!" Then she picked up one of the forks and helped herself to a bite of cake, followed by a sip of coffee.

"Thank you."

Before we had finished our coffee and cake Lucy produced an envelope from her purse. It turned out to be a gift certificate from a gourmet deli. "They customize it to your preferences and the occasion, say like a night at the Bowl, or a ballgame or the beach, whatever! And you get to keep the basket and fittings for yourself."

Obviously she remembered that that was exactly the kind of outing that David and I had often enjoyed. "That's excellent, sis! Thank you so much." I got out of my chair to kiss her cheek.

"You're welcome."

As I returned to my seat I said, "I think you have almost single-handedly resurrected what was until recently, perhaps the worst two weeks of my life! Thanks again."

I watched as the valet retrieved our cars. The surfer guy was downright solicitous to my sister, and I think he nearly creamed his jeans just from driving her new Jaguar XK. I wondered how often she would actually drive with the top down, considering her hair would get mussed. I also wondered how she could afford such a machine. I'll have to remember to ask her if she got her foot in the door at Vanity Fair. My rental car, by comparison was completely forgettable, but by then, the blonde surfer was looking at me. We flirted openly for the brief period required by the transaction and being in a playful mood I gave him a very generous tip, though not my phone number.

Curt and I met for an early dinner on Sunday. I insisted on paying since Curt had recently thrown a party in my honor, where I failed to appear, but he wasn't interested in my excuses. Eventually I decided to be gracious and accept his generosity. I was glad to hear that Richard was still in Curt's life, though he didn't provide many details. I decided to let it slide for the present and we had a great evening.

Monday, I returned to work and things returned to normal. In large part due to Jason's strategy and Harold's political savvy, the disastrous project was revamped into a form that pleased everyone. Harold and I were both surprised and grateful that my dour prediction had not come to pass. Spring gave way to summer and summer to fall. Along the way, I leased a new car, just a newer model of its predecessor. I finally met Richard, who was quite the total package; Curt and I both thought he was a keeper. Despite Curt's claim, Richard was no photo-double: he was actually better looking if I were being honest. However, there was enough of a similarity that we could pass for relatives, so you know if we had dated, someone would have commented about `kissing cousins' somewhere along the way. I'd gotten to the point where I almost enjoyed seeing David when we happened on to one another; I wasn't sure, but I think he was dating the guy I saw him with the last time. Jason surprised me by inviting me to his engagement party. His fiancée comes from one of those older, established families, so I felt a little out of place in the formal setting, seeing as I was probably the only gay man there except for some of the catering staff, but it was pleasant nonetheless. Lucy and I have had the occasional date but neither of us has found anything to get serious about. Even now, I'm a little gun shy and I think Lucy is just enjoying herself. She's also traveling more for her work, which she enjoys, despite the fact that it definitely hampers serious romantic pursuits. But I have to hand it to her, she's devised a plan for mom and we're working on a time when we can travel home together and spring it on her. (The plan involves a widower that mom already knows, who several of her friends think is an ideal candidate.) I know mom will resist, so I'm dropping a few hints and soliciting the help of her girlfriends.

September was brutally hot this year, and the extreme temperatures continued into October, just one of the reasons I'm glad I live in Santa Monica. Regardless, I always appreciate the more temperate weather of fall though dread the onslaught of Thanksgiving and Christmas advertising that had already begun. Returning to the office from a meeting, I had opened the windows in response to the splendid Indian Summer weather; and traveling against rush hour traffic, rather than being tangled in it, allowed me to enjoy the waning afternoon. I glanced at my phone's ID but couldn't quite place the familiar name.

"Hello, Dylan Hendricks."

"Dylan, good afternoon. It's Carl Samuels." Before he finished speaking I recognized the voice and silently groaned. "We met several weeks ago, though I don't think I made a vary favorable impression."

"Nor I," I countered. "It wasn't my intention, but I'm afraid I was rather rude. I'd like to apologize; after all, my parents did teach me better manners than I displayed," I said with a nervous chuckle.

"Apology accepted, though none was required," he replied. "But Dylan, I'm calling to ask for a second chance. At the very least, I'd like for us to be able to shake hands without animosity, preferably we'd shake hands as friends. Is that something you'd be willing to consider? I promise not to bore you with my sad story again," he said with a touch of humor in his last words. I'd never seen him smile, but I imagined he was smiling at his self-deprecating comment.

I liked the idea of seeing him smile. "Certainly, Carl. I'm more than willing to consider a second chance, for both of us."

"Excellent. You name the time and place and I'll handle the arrangements." He was being very gracious, but I suddenly felt put on the spot, as my mind scrolled through possibilities. "You can think about it and call me back," he offered.

"No, that's not necessary; just give me a moment." I was afraid that I might back out if I didn't commit now. There was a place in Hollywood I'd been wanting to try, but fearing that dinner might be as uncomfortable as our previous encounter, I opted for something closer, that way I wouldn't have to drive across town for nothing. "Do you know Café 78 in Venice? It's right off Main Street."

"I can't say that I do, but I'm sure it'll be fine. What time would be best for you?"

"Let's say next Tuesday at 7:45. Is that doable?"

"I'm putting it on my calendar, but call me if anything changes for you. Okay? I'm looking forward to it."

"Yes, thanks for the invitation Carl. I'll see you Tuesday, then. Good night."

"Thank you, Dylan. Bye now."

The call ended and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I hadn't realized how nervous I had become during our conversation, but the parking structure appeared ahead and I maneuvered my car towards the entrance. The office was largely deserted but I worked for an hour or so before heading home. I found myself smiling when I stopped to pick up my order of Thai take out.

Awkward would be a conservative description of the beginning of our date. I was thinking that a cocktail or two might help pave the way but obviously Carl wasn't drinking and I abstained in deference to him. I drank a lot of mineral water trying to ease my discomfort, which only necessitated excusing myself to go to the restroom after we finally started to connect; that happened about the time the salad plates were removed prior to the arrival of our entrees. Thereafter, it became obvious that Carl and I had enjoyed ourselves, as we were the last table to leave, when the place closed at 11:00. Even though it hadn't been a particularly busy night, I felt guilty that our waitress hadn't been able to turn our table once we were seated, so I tossed a $20 bill on top of the credit card receipt Carl had signed. The host held the door for us as Carl's hand in the small of my back, gently propelled me forward.

As the door locked behind us he asked. "Do you think we might do this again?"

"I'd like that." I said with a smile as we handed the valet our tickets.

"Would tomorrow be too soon?" he asked with a smile of his own.

"No, I don't think so. After all, a man has to eat." I think my smile had turned into a silly grin.