Mike and Richie

Good evening, here's a chapter for a story in gay high school. Thanks for your help!

Don Mumford

MIKE and RICHIE

chapter 6

by Donny Mumford

This was one of the biggest surprises of my life: Mike screwing me felt incredibly awesome! I never would have believed it, except, on the other hand,

millions of gays around the world do it all the time so there has to be a reason for that, and the reason is... it feels good! That surprised Mike too, I'm the only boy he's screwed so he wasn't sure how either of us would like it. Of course, he's still claiming to be straight, which is laughable, but I don't argue the point; he can think what he wants as long as he keeps having sex with this gay boy. Aside from all the sex we're doing together, all the fucking and the sucking, the rest of the time it's pretty much business-as-usual; pretty much the same as before we started having all the sex. The 'business' in our lives, of course, is teenager style fun in the sun. Every day is fun for me now and I love living here in Wildwood and hangin' on the boardwalk with Mike and the boys. It's the middle of August and we're starting to think and talk about high school; both Mike and me will be in the tenth grade. Until then, however, Mike has latched onto a couple of challenges: one is to get me on the Double Shot ride, and two is to convince me to get a buzz cut like all the guys have. The Double Shot is diabolical in my mind, but I'm not really afraid of it... it's more a matter of principle that I won't ride it. As for the buzz cut, it's sort of like the Double Shot, a matter of principal; all summer I've resisted the urgings of my peers to conform so I'm stubbornly gonna continue to resist. I mean, let's face it, I've conformed to every other thing Mike and the guys want me to do, including taking up smoking. The haircut and thrill ride are relatively small matters to me, but I'm still not gonna give in, and maybe Mike will even respects me a little for being obstinate about it. So, status quo... a stand off! Ha! Life is good!

One muggy night while Mike's off doing whatever it is he does with his brother, I'm goofing around with Tony and Joey on the boardwalk. Mike's expected back late tonight but he surprises us by getting back early; he came up the steps from the beach side of the boardwalk, a cigarette dangling from his lips and that cute smirk/smile flashing. I do a double take, then a big smile breaks out on my face and my dick moves in my shorts. He's waving that we need to follow him, and then he disappears right back down the steps he just came up. Tony, Joey, and I exchange looks and then, without saying a word, we all head for the stairs; the idea of not following Mike never enters our minds. We find Mike under the boardwalk with a case of ice cold Miller Lite beer that his brother bought for him. We're all smiling and bumping fist saying, "Cool!" Mike's like, "Let's get high, guys!" I've had beer two or three times in my life and each time I thought, "This taste like shit!" That's not to say there's any chance in the world I'm wimping out on this beer party. Mike wants to 'get high' so count me in! To help get the beer down we smoke cigarettes and play a few drinking games where the loser needs to chug half a can of beer. I almost hurl a couple of times, but hold that bitter liquid down and in about a half hour we're all acting silly. Mike sends Joey up on the boards to buy bags of salty popcorn and when Joey returns he has Marty and Kyle with him, and now we got ourselves a big teen beer party. With the help of the popcorn and many cigarettes the six of us finished off that case of beer in no time, then it's back up on the boardwalk... what could be more delightful than six half drunk teenage boys? The alcohol in our blood streams, plus our individual interpretations of how we should act in our drunkenness, has us behaving even more stupidly than normal, and laughing at everything anyone says. We're not as drunk as we're acting, but none of us has much experience with adult beverages so we're definitely affected by it.

Eventually we all split up; Mike and me end up sitting on the beach down near the water; the full moon shining brightly on a very clear night with a million stars filling the sky. Sitting on the sand, Mike has his arm around my shoulders talking about the coming school year and how great it will be if we're in some of the same classes, and how I need to join the wrestling team with him. We're still under the influence of the beer, but we're coherent too; no babbling or anything like that. During a lull in the conversation, in my altered state of mind, I think it a good idea to say, "Oh, Mike. Yeah, I gotta tell ya something... it's just that, well ya know, I love you." Dead silence follows, so I add, "Um, I mean, I'm in love with you." More silence, so I say, "Please don't be mad." Mike takes his arm from across my shoulders and stands up, saying, "Don't say something stupid like that, Richie! We're not really queers, ya know. We're just going through a phase and, you know, experimenting with our bodies for the hell of it, that's all. Don't get into that gooey gay stuff or, god damn it, you'll ruin everything!" I stand up too, a little frustrated that Mike can't admit the obvious, and a little pissed off about it too. I control myself though, replying, "I'm sorry, but that's how I feel, but if it bothers you to hear it, I won't say it again." I don't personally care about me being queer or gay or whatever Mike wants to call it, and the same holds true for him. And, anyway, he's called me gay many times himself so what is it, now I'm not gay? Mike mumbles, "Good!" when I told him I won't say it again. Silently walking up the beach, side by side, we both light cigarettes 'cause that's what we do when an awkward moment pops up. I'm determined not to break the silence and finally Mike flicks his cigarette butt about twenty feet in the air, like he's pissed off, and says, "Nah, never mind that. It's okay, Richie... you can say you love me if you want to, it's a free country. Hell, we're special you and me; different than all the rest, that's all. We're special, so it's okay for you to say it. Ya happy now, Richie?" This is so like Mike, he acts as if he's giving me a gift; as if I've screwed-up but yet he'll still give me the 'gift'. Oh hell, if he thinks it a gift, then it's a gift. I know he won't give me the gift of saying he loves me, although I know he does. It'd be nice to hear it, of course. Then I get this strong urge to hold his hand or put my arm around him, but I know better. Later, back in our bedroom, he fucks me real slow and dreamy like, with very little conversation. Next morning we have hangovers from the beer and we mope around the condo most of the day; nothing more is said about the "I love you" conversation on the beach.

As the summer's coming to a close there's a change in our relationship that's become obvious to me, Mike and I interact more and more like we're best buddies, real tight friends. All the guys had to have noticed it, but Tony's the only one to comment about it, "Gee, Richie. You and Mike are tight, ain't ya? He never got that tight with nobody else, ya know?" I admit to at first looking sideways at Tony to see if I can detect any underlying meaning to his comment, but he just gives me his innocent smile and then, perhaps feeling uncomfortable at my quizzical look, holds his fist out to be bumped. Tony has no agenda, he's happy when his friends are happy so I smile back at him, bump his fist with mine and hug him around his shoulders. He got a little flustered at that, and mumbles, "We're tight too, Richie, right?" and he takes out his cigarettes and holds the pack towards me, offering me one, "Ya want a cigarette, Richie?" I take one, smiling, with Tony nodding his head up and down a little... who knows why. I wonder what kind of grades he gets in school. Anyway, he's cool. There's been another positive development, Mike's mom is on board with Mike staying longer with us here at the house. Mike thinks it's because his mom and my dad have been seen together a few times. Just recently he saw my father with his mom at Starbucks having coffee together. There's no way to understand parents, but please; dating at their age? Come on! Mike and I discussed it a little and we can't see how it effects us in a bad way, so we'll forget about it and just be happy we can continue sharing a bed.

Mike and his brother continue doing their occasional all night mystery tours, but I've given up asking about them. I miss Mike when he's gone and I'm happy to see him when he's back, and I usually leave it at that, except this afternoon Mike came back with a black eye and a cut on his perfect nose. We argued about it, but all he'd say is he got in a fight over nothing and it's no big deal. I know his brother's up to illegal shit and it scares me, but Mike's tight with his brother and nothing I say is going to change that. Plus, I love our relationship now and don't want to do or say anything that might screw it up. Our fucking has become as smooth and natural and hot as anything I can imagine. We're having fun experimented with different positions and, oh man, Mike's an awesome sex partner! Sometimes he fucks me rough and our climaxes are great, other times he fucks me with tender feelings, like maybe feelings of love, and cum gushes from my boner.

Then, just as Mike's black-eye finally fades away, his brother calls on his cell and I hear Mike saying, "Already? When did he say that?" I'm fixing our breakfast, feeling something nasty is being discussed on the phone, something that means trouble. Mike listens, then says, "No way we're putting up with that shit. Pick me up and let's deal with it right now!" He closes his cell, his face red with anger. He says, "Don't you give me any shit, Richie, but I gotta help my brother with something. We'll be back this afternoon, I won't be out all night." I know better than to ask any questions so I keep my mouth shut and finish scrambling our eggs. Later his brother blows the horn and Mike is gone. Why do I have this premonition of doom? I stay in the house all morning feeling scared, then say, "Fuck it!" out loud, and walk to the boardwalk to be with the guys. They're in high spirits which gets me out of my gloomy mood and I'm able to relax a little, but now it's getting to be late afternoon and no Mike.

I've been keeping my ears and eyes open for Mike's motorbike with no luck so far. He said he'd be back this afternoon, so where is he? I'm lighting a cigarette staring down the boardwalk at nothing particular when I notice someone running through the crowds. It looks like Mac. What the hell? That fat boy never runs anywhere. It's Mac alright though, and he runs right up to us, all out of breath with a strange expression on his face. When he catches his breath, he blurts out, "Mike's in the fucking hospital, in serious condition. That prick Jose Gonzalez stabbed him, then Mike's brother killed Jose, and he's in jail. This all came down less then an hour ago according to a report on the radio. It all sucks! It's a bad drug deal or bad blood or both... those fucking spics are in for it now!"

I can't speak at first, then when I can, all I say is, "Wha...?" Tony steps in front of me and shakes my shoulders, saying, "Get it together Richie. We'll catch the bus at 21st street; it'll drop us off right at the hospital. Okay, Mac?" Mac says, "Right Tony, good thinking! You two go to the hospital and I'll round up the rest of the guys. Tell Mike we're coming to see him." Mac's off running down the boards again as Tony and me jog in the opposite direction. Tony sees the worry on my face, and lisps, "Don't worry Richie, millions of people go to the hospital each year, and then pretty soon they go home. No big deal!" I go, "Yeah, but Mac said he heard on the radio that Mike's in "serious" condition." Tony's exasperated, he goes, "No shit. Do you go to the hospital when you're in good condition? People only go when they got a serious condition; that's when ya go to the fucking hospital." He means well, but the fact Mike's been stabbed and the police are involved makes this a serious matter, not a routine one. Police are not known to be helpful. You have dealings with the police, you got problems. Mostly, I just want to talk to Mike so I'll know how much to worry. We just make the bus, but the bus ride itself sucks because the damn thing stops every other block. Still, we're at the hospital twenty minutes after hearing the news from Mac. The scene outside the emergency room looks like a police car and ambulance convention. A lot vehicles with blue or red lights flashing. No way all this can be a result of a small time drug deal gone bad, and it isn't. As we're trying to make our way to the emergency room door we overhear a cop telling a lady that there's been a multi car pile-up on the Garden State Parkway. Quite a few injures, plus two fatalities. He also tells the woman to back away from the door, " This is a very overcrowded situation we got here lady and no one, family member or otherwise, is getting into the emergency room through this door; not until things are under control in there." I mutter, "Fuck!" Tony's looking around, then he grabs my arm, and says, "Come on Richie, forget the emergency room, we'll go in through the hospital's front door on the other side of the building and then find our way back to the emergency room from the inside. I'm hustling behind him as he takes off running.

Geez! It's really surprising the way Tony's taking charge; I'm grateful though because I'm too worried to think straight. I'm desperate to see Mike and put my mind at ease. I mean, getting stabbed is a big deal, right? Tony walks right in through the main entrance and continues moving past the reception desk and the big sign with big red letters that reads, "STOP! PLEASE SIGN-IN BEFORE

ENTERING". There are six or seven people waiting and arguing with the two reception desk people when we walk past them. One of the receptionist, a big black man with a deep voice, yells at us, "Hey, wait! Where do you two think you're going?!" I look back, but Tony doesn't even slow down. A lady in front of the black guy starts yelling at him again so he goes back to dealing with her, and forgets about us. Tony mutters, "Fuck you!" under his breath when the guy yells for us to stop. It didn't take long to find the emergency room.

Looking through the big glass doors leading to the main waiting room section we see there's a cop guarding the doors here too. Tony and I exchange looks, like, "This sucks!" Then we see a tall, thin orderly pushing a stretcher on wheels. The orderly and the gurney disappears, seemingly right through the wall behind a huge potted plant. We hustle around the plant and find swinging doors marked "HOSPITAL PERSONNEL ONLY" Through the swinging doors we go; then, following a corridor around a corner we see another sign, this one with an arrow indicating, "EMERGENCY ROOM" to the left. The corridor leading to the emergency room proper takes a turn and there we find bedlam. Many hospital nurses, doctors, and orderlies, as well as, police and men wearing suits with ID badges hanging around their necks are milling around shouting at each other or talking on cell phones. It's a mad house. All along the wall are gurneys like the orderly was pushing and every one has a person laying under a sheet. It's a busy loud place with many injured people; at least a dozen here in the corridor alone, and others in the actual emergency room at the end of this short corridor. Mike's stabbing is just one injury among the many auto crash victims.

Tony and I begin checking the occupants of each stretcher for Mike, and I spot him almost immediately; the top of his blond buzz cut hair is sticking out from under a sheet. "There he is Tony!" To avoid bringing undue attention to ourselves we force ourselves to be calm, and casually sauntered down to Mike's stretcher, with me wondering, "How'd he get mixed up with the crash victims?" When I get to the stretcher I forget about everything except Mike and get my arm under his neck lifting his head, my other hand reaches under the sheet to hold his hand. Pulling our faces together I kiss his cheek; he's unconscious or deep asleep, quite cold too, but it's cold in this fucking corridor. Where's the heat? What, are we a third world country now? Then I remember Tony's watching me... what must he be thinking about this intimate way I'm holding Mike? Oh, the hell with it, I don't care about that right now. Mike says something then; it's so noisy in here it's a damn good thing my ear's near his lips or I wouldn't have heard him. Tears well up in my eyes, but before I can reply back to Mike I'm grabbed roughly from behind and lifted off my feet.

Straining my head around I see a cop holding Tony by the arm, as the person holding me, yells, "What the hell do you think you're doing? How'd you get in here?". I swing my arms and kick my legs, yelling back, "I'm talking with my friend, he was stabbed. Let me down!" Twisting around some more and I see who has me; he's a large orderly about fifty years old. He sets me on my feet, but hold onto my arm saying, in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry, son, but your friend couldn't have spoken to you." I give him my dumb frowning furrowed eyebrow look, and he says, "He passed away in the ambulance before it arrived here less than 15 minutes ago." I'm staring at this idiot like he's a madman, he adds,

"I rolled his stretcher down here myself a few minutes ago." I continued staring at this fool for a fraction of a second longer, then scream at the top of my lungs "He isn't dead!! He just told me something and he squeezed my hand when he said it! He's not dead. He's alive! Get a doctor, hurry! Hurry the fuck up ! Where's a fucking doctor!" I'm in a frenzy, unable to control myself... I'm screaming into the older man's face. The orderly looks confused and backs away from me as a woman in white strides towards us, yelling, "What the hell's going on here?" The orderly pointed at Mike, and says, "That boy's alive, he just talked to him," as he points a finger in my direction. The woman has a nameplate on her white hospital coat, it reads, "DR. RUTH REYNOLDS". She glances at me, grabs an orderlies stethoscope, puts in the ear pieces and listens at Mike's chest, then listens with the stethoscope against the side of Mike's neck. The hall around us has become very quiet. My heart's pounding as I'm looking at Mike more closely, thinking, "Oh no!" 'cause he don't look too good; he's white as a ghost.

The doctor's busy now, she puts her hand at the back of Mike's neck, lifts his head and pinches his nostrils closed, then blows into his mouth. Mike's chest seems to lift the sheet a little, but it doesn't rise much. Snapping her head around, frowning angrily, she says to the orderly, "He's right, this boy's alive, he's in shock and not getting much air to his lungs... somethings gotta be blocking his airway. Who has a knife or a razor? Or, god forbid a scalpel would be nice. The nurse next to me mumbles, "Tracheotomy," to herself, as there's a general bustling among the masses. Tony's clear lisp chirps above the fray, "I got a Swiss Army knife." "Quickly, give it to me," say the doctor. Tony fumbles it out and opens it; the doctor takes it, the blade's barely an inch long, but razor sharp, and without hesitating Doctor Reynolds cuts a three quarter inch slit in the middle of Mike's throat. I gasp as a fine pinkish spray puffs up from the incision; Mike's lungs are exhaling air, mixed with a trickle of blood. Then a big inhale followed by a long exhale with another pinkish tint to the exhaled air, followed by a more regular intake and exhale; color returns to Mike's face almost immediately and I let out my own long exhale, unaware I'd been holding my breath. The Doctor initially has a look of relief on her face, but that quickly changes to one of anger, as she yells, "Who left him like this? This is unbelievable... it's, it's goddamned outrageous!!!" One of the orderlies near me curses under his breath and stalks away, pissed at something. It must be him; he almost kills Mike and he's the one who's pissed! Get real! I'm pointing my finger at him getting ready to call him out when Tony grabs my arm, and goes, "Let it go, Richie. We got Mike back, let's celebrate that." He's right, the last thing we need is a commotion that takes the attention away from Mike's. Yeah, but how'd Tony get so smart all of a sudden? A nurses calls out, "It was Tim Small, Doctor. I saw him push that stretcher in here, but in his defense the ambulance guy told him there's a DOA coming in." The doctor tells the nurse, "That's crap, but get this boy to surgery stat! And keep that incision open until the surgeon gets there." The corridor starts getting loud again as Doctor Reynolds leans on a guy with the name tag, "DR. MARK KANE" and says, "Jesus Christ! What a fuck up!" and the other doctor says, "You averted a great tragedy, Ruth..." and I couldn't hear what else they said, but they both looked relieved and pissed in equal amounts.

The nurse and an orderly wheel the unconscious Mike through the crowded corridor as another orderly talks into a walkie-talkie and almost immediately I hear over the hospital intercom, "Doctor Sinclair to ES stat! Doctor Sinclair to emergency surgery stat!" I say to Tony, "Thank God for Doctor Reynolds, finally someone who knows what she's doing and is able to take charge of the situation; she saved Mike's life." Tony's shaking his head, saying, "No, Richie! You saved his life by causing such a ruckus and bringing attention to Mike." The enormity of everything hits me then: Mike almost died, leaving me behind. I burst into tears and Tony, seeing me cry, immediately begins crying too. We clutch each other for comfort and I realize for the first time how scared I was, and how tense and helpless I felt as I screamed for someone to do something to help Mike. As we're crying I hear in the background, "Clear this corridor! Only essential personnel. Clear the god damn corridor, people!" Tony and I aren't suppose to be here in the first place, so we drift out with the curiosity crowd who'd gathered when I started screaming. We're still dripping tears as we drift out with the crowd and then, all of a sudden a thought enters my head and sends a chill down my back: "If Mike was unconscious, how'd he speak to me? I'm positive he said he loved me. Maybe he thought he was dying and... no, that can't be right! But, I heard him!" Then the earlier worry, "Tony saw me hug and kiss Mike." Uh oh... I glance at Tony who's looking at me with an odd expression on his face, like maybe he's thinking the same things I am. Oh well, nothing to be done about that right now; the important thing is that Mike's alive.

We follow the group to the waiting area which is also crowded and as I'm looking outside the waiting area, through the glass doors, I see Mac and the boys arguing with the same receptionists Tony and I ignored. The big black guy is pointing at the sign next to the one indicating visitors must stop and sign in; this one reads, "IMMEDIATE FAMILY ONLY!" Tony and I are already in and so far no one has thought to question us about being immediate family members. I nudge Tony and nod toward Mac; we wave our arms until Mac sees us and holds up his cell phone. Neither Tony nor I have a cell phone so Tony uses the pay phone to call Mac's cell and he fills him in on everything that's happened. As he's doing that I notice a middle age guy wearing a suit and tie scanning the waiting room crowd; our eyes meet and he makes a bee line for me. Balls! What now? He introduces himself as Mr. Bill Miller, and says he's been looking for me. He's the hospital administrator in charge of the emergency room; he was there when I had my melt down and he wants my name, and Tony's, and our relationship to patient, Mike Sullivan. Tony's back now and we both show ID and say we're close friends with Mike. I say, "The melt down, as you put it, saved my friends life; some incompetent asshole put a sheet over a living boy's head which sorta means he's dead so no one thought to check if a dead person's getting enough oxygen." The 'suit' is not pleased with my attitude. He goes, "Watch your mouth, son! And stop being belligerent or I'll call security." Tony takes hold of my arm and squeezes, I know he's encouraging me to be calm. Mr. Miller continues in his affected manner, "For your information, the orderly was told there's a DOA coming in and they had a mix up; it's one of the traffic accident victims that's the DOA, not the knife wound one." As if that makes it alright. I go, "Oh, that explains it then... a mix-up!" Sarcasm apparently is wasted on Bill Miller, "Yes, a simple mix up. Now, you'll both need to fill out an 'incident statement' about the mix up and then you'll need to get out of this waiting area because you're not immediate family." What an asshole!

We're each handed a two page form and a ball-point pen, then led to separate small rooms to complete the forms. Obviously they don't want us commiserating on what we saw. There's no way the hospital is going to get away with this outrageous screw-up though! "A major cluster fuck!" is the heading I use for the section where I'm to tell what I heard and saw. When the administrator has our completed forms I insist on a copy; he does an exaggerated exhale like this is the biggest inconvenience ever, then uses a copy machine to get our copies. Motioning for a security guard to come over, he orders "Escort these two boys outside, and off the hospital grounds, Bruce." The old guy grabs Tony and me by our upper arms, and goes, "Let's go, outside!" We're through the glass doors to the waiting area again with Tony pitching a bitch, "Hey, let go of me, I can walk without your help, ya know!" We could knock this old fuck on his ass if we choose to. I jerk my arm out of his hand, yelling, "Get your god damned hands off me!" Then out comes Bill again, and now he's really pissed! "I'll call the police if you trouble makers don't leave right now! You're trespassing and disturbing the operation of the hospital during an emergency." A concerned middle age woman comes over to us, and asks, "Tony, what's going on?" He turns to her and smiles, "Oh, hiya, Mrs. Sullivan. Mike's in surgery, the hospital left him for dead but Richie saved his life by screaming for help until a doctor came and cut a hole in Mike's throat. This guy in the suit is throwing Richie and me out because they're trying to save the hospital's ass; trying to say it's a simple mix-up." He said all this without inflection, like he was reciting a report in school." Mike's mother's eyes got wider and wider with each word, and then she goes nuclear. She tore into the old security guard first, "Get your hands off these boys. What the fuck kind of hospital are you running here? Is this a prison or a hospital?!" The old guy let go immediately and Mrs Sullivan then walks up chest to chest with Billy the administrator, and snarls, "That's my son you people almost killed. You better get us to a private area 'cause you don't want the rest of these people hearing what I got to say to you!"

Bill Miller's lost all his bluster now, he can see law suits coming out the hospital's ass and he's all about calming the situation graciously with apologies and explanations of misunderstandings, and everyone is completely upset about what happened, and if he did or said anything wrong he's very sorry, and on and on.... When we're all in his office he calls for one of the hospital's legal staff, plus another suit who's apparently Bill's boss. I learn that Mrs. Sullivan only arrived at the hospital ten minutes before Tony and I were being escorted off the grounds. She'd been told only that her son had been stabbed and was now in surgery; she was waiting for results of the surgery, unaware of the stuff Tony told her. When Bill was done his rambling excuses, Mrs Sullivan goes, "Let me get this straight. There's a big accident on the Garden State Parkway the same time, on the other side of town, a gang member is stabbing my son. Mike arrives at the hospital along with the ambulances from the accident carrying the injured and a DOA. Mike gets mixed in with the group as "dead on arrival" and is left in a back corridor on a stretcher alive, but dying from lack of oxygen. All this is taking place in the emergency room of your hospital, and he'd be dead right now if a sixteen year old boy hadn't somehow got through security and alerted your staff that my son was still alive, although fading fast. Is that it? Twenty or thirty doctors, nurses, and orderlies milling around and this boy has to point out that you dumb asses have a boy dying for lack of oxygen right under your noses. Is that about the bottom line?" More apologies and bull shit which finally peters out and we're led back to the waiting room with assurances that the second Mike is out of surgery Mrs Sullivan will be fully updated. Nothing more is said about throwing Tony and me off the hospital grounds. Business cards are presented to Mrs Sullivan along with more apologies. She never stooped to the rant, "You'll be hearing from my lawyer!" but everyone in the room, included us dumb sixteen year olds, know it's gonna wind-up as a lawsuit. The hospital's just trying to control the amount of damage now. When it's Tony and me, just two kids, it was "get the fuck outta here!" but when it's the mother of the victim who's been lied to initially, the covering of their asses became the only thing that mattered.

We're back in the waiting room, which has emptied out by now, plenty of open seats and a much quieter atmosphere. As soon as the door closes behind us Mrs. Sullivan changes from being that tough, hard-talking woman to a worried, weepy mom. She hugs Tony and cries, then gaining some composure, asks Tony, while looking at me, "I'm sorry Tony, who'd you say your friend is?" He goes, excitedly, "Like I said Mrs. S. he saved Mike's life, he's Mike's friend, Richie Mealey. Mike's been staying with him." She immediately grabs me and hugs me, "Oh my God, you're Richie." I nod my head up and down, a little overwhelmed by her show of affection. "How am I ever going to thank you?" and then she's kissing my cheek. Standing back with a hand on each of my shoulders, she says, "Well, aren't you the cutest thing?! I can't believe you and Mikey are the same age though. You're sixteen, honey?" I nod my head up and down again as tears continue running down her face. She pulls me into her for another hug, saying, "Thank you, thank you!" Then, letting go of me, and wiping her eyes with a tissue, she says, "Mikey is so crazy about you, Richie! He thinks you're smart and the best friend ever!" She hesitates, then looks at Tony who's standing there observing everything closely, and she quietly adds, "Um, ah.. Tony, you know Mikey's always thought the world of you too, honey." He says, "Oh, that's okay, Mrs. S., all us guys like Richie, he's special. And, Mike's right, Richie's smart; he knows a lot of stuff. Don'cha, Richie?" I shrug, and mumble, "I don't know." Tony's behind Mrs. Sullivan and after he gives me the compliments he makes a face at me, crossing his eyes, like, "I don't mean a word of it!" No matter that we like each other, it's not like us to pass out a lot of compliments. I do a little grin back at him.

When Mrs. Sullivan gets her crying under control we all sit down, and she then tells us how Mike's brother, Danny, didn't killed anyone, or even fire a shot. He doesn't own a gun, for one thing; the initial radio report was mostly hearsay and very short on facts. There's been this blood feud between the Sullivan brothers and the Gonzalez boys that goes back to when Danny was in high school. Mrs. Sullivan isn't sure why they're feuding and I don't say anything either. but I think it's a drug 'territory' thing... a turf war. She tells us about the fight and how Jose finally pulls a knife and stabs Mike in the back. Mike collapses unconscious and Danny, in a rage, breaks Jose's arm . Jose's screaming in pain as he's led away by his brother while Danny's calling 911 for an ambulance. 911, hearing it's a knife wound, calls in the cops. The fight lasted only about ninety seconds but almost cost Mike his life. Danny's still at the police station being interrogated, and somewhere along the line Jose came in with a lawyer to surrender himself, claiming self-defense. That's as much as she knows. She was at work when all this happened and Mike was already at the hospital by the time the police informed her of his injury.

She's acting real fidgety telling us about all this and obviously she's extremely upset, she mumbless, "Oh God, I'm so nervous Richie, would you keep me company outside so I can grab a cigarette?" I say, "Yes, ma'am." She pats Tony's shoulder, and asks, "Could you hang here in case there's some news?" Tony shrugs, and says, "Sure." but I know he's dying for a smoke too. I lightly punch his arm, and say, "You've been an awesome help today, Tony! You made all the right calls, dude... thanks!" He's shrugging and rubbing his nose with his forefinger, going, "Ah, you're the hero, Richie." I say, "No, you are!" Mrs. Sullivan's heading for the door so Tony flashes me the finger, grinning, "Here's your hero!" We both laugh, although it makes no sense; it's just us goofing 'cause we're overly emotional and don't know how else to act. I'm feeling such relief that Mike's gonna be okay, and also I'm feeling relief that Mrs. Sullivan is here to take care of the adult stuff. Outside it's a little uncomfortable being with Mike's mom 'cause I don't know her and I don't want to say the wrong thing or do anything that might cause Mike some problems. I take the cigarette she offers me, but can't think of anything to say except, "Thanks." The heat of the day hits us as soon as we step out of the air conditioned waiting room and into the parking lot. Poor Mrs. Sullivan, she's still so upset her hands tremble as she lights my cigarette, then her own. I can't help noticing what a striking looking woman she is. Not as tall as Mike, even shorter than me actually, but like Mike and me, she's quite slender. She has excellent facial features although they're different than Mike's although she does have beautiful dark blue eyes like Mike, and a warm friendly smile. She seems like a nice person, which doesn't surprise me and I can see a little of Mike in his mom, but he must have a lot of his father in his face too. His dad must be very special looking, or perhaps it's just that Mike's parents happened to have the perfect combination of genes to produced a boy as extraordinarily good looking as Mike. Of course, I've never seen his father; I don't know if he's even alive, and I'm certainly not asking Mrs. Sullivan about it. Whatever, I'm happy they got together 'cause I kinda like their son, a lot!

In the heat of late afternoon the sweat's breaking out on my forehead as I stand beside Mike's mom silently smoking, Mrs. Sullivan says, "Hot enough for ya, Richie?" I smile and nod my head as she continues, "Thank you so much for taking action on Mikey's behalf. I'm astounded that a mistake like this could even happen and I get all choked-up with rage thinking what could have resulted from this incompetence. It's really freaking me out; it's frightening and I'll never feel safe in a hospital again!" As she's venting she's shaking, her whole body appears to be shaking and I wish I knew what to do to help her, but I don't. She's not looking at me, but at the hospital when she goes on, maybe she doesn't feel all that comfortable with me and that's why she's going on like this, "The doctors said it's not life threatening surgery they're doing on Mike, it's serious as all surgeries are, but they say I shouldn't worry too much, but now I can't do anything but worry. They didn't tell me about any of the other stuff and they lied about the tracheotomy saying simply that it was necessary because the chewing gum he was chewing when stabbed got stuck in his throat. They didn't mention he was on the stretcher gasping for oxygen, left alone to die. Did they think they could cover up that huge fuck up? Oh, excuse my language, I'm so upset." Her fingers are trembling so badly she can hardly hold the cigarette. She mumbles, maybe to herself, "They'll pay alright, they'll pay for almost killing my beautiful child!" and she begins really sobbing hard as the reality of what almost happened sinks in. I stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Then I thought of Mike and how much he means to me and I hug his mom against me; it's obviously Mike's very precious to her too, we have that in common for sure. She feels small and frail in my arms as she cries against my shoulder. The poor woman is scared, her heartbeat's hammering like a drum against my chest. She was so tough with the administrators, and what an effort that must have taken on her part. She held holding her motherly emotions in until she'd handled the practical matters, and now she can let herself go and get her feelings out.

We held onto each other for a full minute or so and then she gently pulls away, saying, "Your dad says what a good kid you are, and Mike's always said that too... I can see why. Thank you, Richie. I'm just so relieved Mikie's going to be okay, but at the same time when I think of what might have nbeen... it's got me very shaky." Our cigarettes have burned down so we step on the butts and Mrs. Sullivan pulls out two more. Her hands are steadier as she lights both our smokes and by now, I actually need this one. Dragging on it deeply hoping the nicotine hit steadies my nerves., Mrs. Sullivan asks, "Juicy Fruit gum, Richie?" I shake my head 'no' but it made me think of Mike. That's the kind he usually chews and is probably the kind stuck in his throat. Putting the gum away, she rambles on, "He was a very happy little boy, that is until he got to be eleven or so; then I saw a change in him. Puberty effects boys differently I guess. Danny had no trouble with it. Well, Danny was always a bit of trouble, but not because of puberty... ha ha." Her chuckle was mostly an ironic one, then back to talking about Mike. "He got sullen as a teen. Oh, he had friends but there was always like a dark cloud hanging over his head. It went on right up until he got to know you, and then his mood gradually cleared up. He reverted back to a being a happier boy like he was early in his life... so I thank you for that too, Richie!" I mumble, "I didn't do nothing, Mrs. Sullivan. Mike's the one who changed my life for the better." She goes, "That's so nice of you to say, honey, but I see Mike being happy now and that makers me happy. He's even looking forward to going to high school this year, and that's because you'll be going too." I smile uncomfortably thinking how humiliated Mike would be if he knew his mom was telling me all this.

We finish our cigarettes and walk back into the hospital's waiting room; the air conditioning now feels frigid to me! Tony asks how we're doing and we tell him we're getting it together and then chat a little about nothing particular, killing time. I could actually see Mrs. Sullivan pulling herself together, minute by minute, returning to her adult role again after pouring her heart out to me in the parking lot. Ya know, I can't help but compare the way Mike's mom adores him with the way my mom feels about me. On second thought I can't compare them 'cause there's no comparison... well, they both gave birth, but that's the end of it. We're sitting here silently, all talked out, waiting for word of Mike. I'm thinking that maybe his problems as a young teen has something to do with his internal struggle about his sexuality. Now it's like: as long as I go along with his rationalization that he participates in our gay sex as a favor to me, he's able to deal with it and enjoy it and be happy. Unfortunately that's not true if he needs to admit to himself he's gay; like maybe he worried about in his early teen years. What a burden he's put on himself, and what a shame too. I force myself to stop analyzing Mike's youthful problems and instead concentrate on being grateful for the way he is now.

We've been sitting here for a stressful hour and with each minute that goes by I'm getting more and more concerned because the doctor told Mike's mom this was a routine surgery. Of course, I don't know if that translate into a quick surgery and, anyway, calling it 'routine' seems a stretch if you ask me. I mean, the boy was stabbed, how can that be routine? Finally an assistant-to-somebody comes out with Dr. Sinclair and informs Mrs. Sullivan that the operation is over, it's successful and Mike is now in the intensive care unit recovering. They'd done exploratory surgery insuring no organs had been nicked. The single-blade knife that inflicted the wound entered Mike's deltoids muscle high up near the shoulder in the back. It did muscle and tissue damage of course, but none of it permanent, and now the main concern, as with all surgery, is infection. Mike will be in the hospital for four or five days and after that he'll be bedridden for one to three weeks. The part of the deltoids muscle damaged controls lifting his arm sideways so he needs to avoid doing that for up to three months. I'm thinking how disappointed Mike's going to be that

there won't be any wrestling team for him this year. Also he'll need to do extensive rehab if he hopes to regain full function of his arm. He's lucky in one respect: due to the angle of the entry wound, if the knife had penetrated another three quarters of an inch there would have been much more serious problems. The doctor explained how there's very little chance Mike will be awake and able to have visitors before tomorrow so we're advised to go home. Mrs. Sullivan insists on staying, but Tony and I leave. At Mrs. Sullivan's request, the assistant-to-somebody got me a special pass enabling me to visit Mike tomorrow. On the bus ride back a tiredness sets in on me and I dread my forty minute walk from the boardwalk to home, but it can't be avoided. Tony and I do a quick hug, but don't have much to say; he's probably as wiped out as I am. Agreeing to meet tomorrow afternoon on the boardwalk, we both start for home.

In bed that night, I hug our pillow thinking how Mike slept on it just last night and then I think of the many ways he's improved my life. Before I met Mike my life was dull, gray, and boring and then he took over, sort of, and my days ever since have been full of bright colors, excitement, and happiness. The colors as bright as our rainbow after that thunderstorm; the thunderstorm that started our sexual adventure together. But it's more than the sex: because of Mike I have friends again, and I get along with my dad now, and I'm looking forward to each new day; my life is worthwhile, and I'm happier then I've ever been before. Thank you, Mike! The significance of how close he'd come to dying, and the tradgedy of him losing his young life is horrific in itself, but it would have done severe damage to my life too. The magnitude of how close it came to happening makes my body shuttered as I lay here in bed with my eyes wide open, very afraid for me and Mike and what might have been. Life seems so fragile to me now, so tenuous... it's scary. Sleep finally takes me, but it's an uneasy night without Mike. The horror of what might have been hangs over me like a threat. Morning comes and I stagger out of bed to do my run to the convenience store for dad, then a long shower to wake me up, and a big breakfast because I'd gone without dinner last night. Yesterday Mrs. Sullivan offered me the use of Mike's motorbike; I don't think Mike will mind, so after my chores I fired that baby up and off I go. Safely in my pocket is that so-called 'pass' allowing me to visit Mike even though I'm not an immediate family member. It's cool riding Mike's bike, and this new day has given me a new outlook; I'm feeling optimistic that life's on an upward spiral again. No more scary premonitions of doom like I had just twenty-four hours ago; we've survived a very bad situation and now things are looking up again. To start with, I'm on my way to see Mike and that's exciting. Also, I'm proud that I did what I did to get the doctor to save Mike's life, but I don't want that to change our relationship, so it'll go unspoken by me.

At the hospital I park the motorbike and chained it to a steel railing in the parking lot; it wouldn't do to have Mike's bike stolen while under my care. Inside the hospital, the receptionist, the big black guy Tony and I ignored yesterday, stares at me in an intimidating manner before checking his computer for Mike's room number. Then he's not impressed with my pass and makes a phone call before begrudgingly allowing me to proceed. I'm frustrated by now and puff out my cheeks exhaling annoyingly and tapping my fingers impatiently on the counter he sits behind, and then can't stop myself from sarcastically asking, "If ya don't mind me asking, what charm school did you graduate from?" He's like, "Huh? Charm school?" I swear, they must make their employees pass belligerency tests before hiring them. I'd expect the opposite for hospital staff, but I guess I'm naive. Up the elevator to the forth floor, then down the corridor, thinking, "Wow! There sure are a lot of sick people!" Ya know, when you're young I guess you don't think about much except what's happening in your own life. It's an eye-opener to see the extent of pain and suffering all around us. Then my own reality again, no more evading the subject; I gotta admit that I'm nervous about seeing Mike. It's stupid, but I am nervous. My heart beat is way up and my mouth's dry; I've never even been in a hospital before and I don't know what to expect or what I'm suppose to do. I've made myself think about everything except this from the minute I parked the bike and now I'm right outside Mike's room and I need to deal with this properly. What's his state of mind going to be, for one thing? Ya never know with Mike!

Taking two deep breaths I peek around the door frame and see Mike in the bed closest to the door. He's on his side, under the covers with his eyes lightly closed. He looks pale even though he's nicely tanned from working outside in the sun at the tomato farm. It's odd, but in addition to looking pale, he appears frail too. Or am I projecting how I think he should look after being stabbed? I don't know! Still nervous, I clear my throat quietly to see if he'll wake up, or if he's already awake, get him to open his eyes. His lips quiver like he's holding back a grin as I clear my throat a little louder while walking into the room. Mike opens his eyes with a hot little smirking smile and my own smile spreads across my face. His left arm is bandaged tightly to his torso and he's propped up slightly on his right side. We don't say anything, but Mike uses his forefinger to do that "come here" wiggle and I slowly drift closer to him. There's another bed in the room but I can't see if it's occupied because a curtain is drawn between the two beds. Standing right next to Mike now, he wiggles his finger for me to get closer so I lean down and he puts his good arm around my neck pulling my head down until our lips meet and we do a slow kiss with just our lips, then Mike opened his mouth slightly and our tongues lick together and a big fat warm tear rolls down my cheek and lands on Mike's wrist. Reality check: I'd almost lost the most important person who's ever been in my life, and this causes a big sob to escape my throat, followed by another big warm tear as both my arms go around Mike's neck and our faces rub together spreading my tears of joy and relief over both our cheeks and chins and lips.

Mike softly says, "These kisses are to say thank you for saving my life. Mom told me all about it." I'm silently sucking my lips in trying to stop crying as Mike, maybe trying to lighten up the moment, adds, "Go figure; my personal cock sucker is the one who saves me!" I shake my head, and say, "Please don't call me that, Mike. I love you so much I feel sick to my stomach just thinking what my life would be like without you in it." This close up I can see that Mike is indeed very pale and his arm around my neck did feel weak. He spoke in a small voice too. He goes, "Give me another kiss," and after that he lays back and I stand up. Mike says, "All kidding aside, my mom told me all about it and you, honest to God, did save my life and I thank you for that, Richie. I'll never forget it." I just shrug, and mumble, "I didn't do anything, Tony was the one who got us in past the cops and all." He shakes his head weakly and smiles, then says, "Have it your way, but to me, you saved me. Ya know, I have no memory of being stabbed. The last thing I remember is Danny parking the car in Philly, and me getting out. Then about two o'clock this morning I wait up in the intensive care unit with mom holding my hand, and I'm like, 'What the fuck?' but of course I didn't say that out loud. Then my headache kicked in and my arm ached and the nurse gave me a shot of something to ease the pain. Mom stayed with me an hour and told me what happened. It's all unbelievable, ya know?"

He looks exhausted from just telling me all this, but I still need to ask,"Um, Mike. Ah, don't ya remember whispering something to me when I was holding our heads together as you lay on that gurney? Maybe you were conscious for a few minutes?" He shakes his head, "No way, Richie. What'd I whisper? Maybe I was delirious or something... I just can't remember." I guess maybe I'm disappointed he can't collaborate my belief he'd said he loved me, and I sound a little angry when I lie, "How the hell do I know what you whispered, I'm asking you?" He looks like I hurt his feelings and gives me a questioning expression, like "What's wrong? Why you pissed off?" but neither of us says anything else about it. I wasn't going to tell him he said he loved me. He won't admit saying that under any circumstances anyway After a minute or so I start telling him about Tony's Swiss Army knife being used to cut his throat, but as he touches the bandage on his throat he tells me he already knows about that. I shrug and tell him about the guys all being there at the hospital for him; Mike likes hearing that and asks what they did and what they said and all that. I stood next to him, wanting to hold his hand but don't, as we talk about the guys until Mike begins yawning. He's looking more and more tired by the minute, so after awhile, I say, "I'd better go, Mike... so you can rest. You've been through a lot." He didn't argue with me, but told me to try and come back during the evening visiting hours. I'm like, "Try? Are you kidding me, Mike. I'll definitely be here! See you then." He waves weakly and closes his eyes, so no kiss goodbye. It's a shock seeing Mike this feebly, but it establishes in me this attitude of protectiveness for him, and that's a totally new sensation, but a strong one just the same.

Meeting the guys on the boardwalk later on I feel kind of important because I'm the one with first hand news of Mike. None of the other guys are allowed in to see him. I fill the guys in without emphasizing Mike's weakened condition too much. Mike wouldn't like it if I told the whole truth which is basically that he's helpless at the moment. Back at the hospital that night I spend a half hour with Mike and his mom, but he isn't any stronger then he was earlier. Obviously it'll take a while to build his strength back up. It's amazing the damage a stabbing wound inflicts on the human body; well, there was the exploratory surgery too, so it' a couple of things he needs to overcome. By the third day though, I'm amazed again; this time at how fast the human body can recuperate and regenerate itself. Mike is much more like his old self by day three. He looks especially frisky this morning, saying, "Oh, ya know what, Richie... I wanna introduce you to my new roommate. Pull that curtain there, will ya?" I don't know what to expect, but Mike's acting smug so I'm not surprised to see this awesomely cute kid staring back at me in the other bed. Mike says, "This is Ronny Dwyer, Richie. He's fifteen going on twenty-five; a bit of a smartass, but it's cool." I step over and shake hands with Ronny, saying, "Nice ta meet ya. Ya better watch yourself with this one though," as I nod in Mike's direction. The kid says, "Tell me about it! He's had me laughing with his bullshit boardwalk stories. He's told me all about you too, by the way." I'm thinking, "What the hell's that mean?"

to be continued....

special note: The original chapter 6 can't be posted on Nifty, so I wrote this one. If you'd like to read the very different original chapter 6, tell me and I'll email you a copy.

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com