Warning: This story contains death, although I hope I have written it so that it is more about life. While there is nothing more than a passing mention of sex, it is a story that includes gay and lesbian couples, and the deep and abiding friendship between two young men. Comments welcome to quasito_cat@hotmail.com.
Nicholas' Story
By M.C. Gordon
It's cold. And it's raining. I've lived in Chicago my whole life, but I'll never get used to the cold.
I don't like it here, in the cemetery. I'm only here to say goodbye to my best friend. My fathers are here also, as are my grandmother and Art's mom, most of my classmates and neighbors, and Art's brothers Tom and Andy. Sigh, the dreary day suits my mood. One of my dads, Ben, told me that dying is a natural part of life. I know he's right, but it's wrong anyway. Not necessarily dying, just dying like Art did ... and only sixteen, like me.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror of Ray's car on the way here. My sandy hair won't stay in place with the rain, it's too curly. Art always teased me about my hair. Grandma says I'm sturdy. Truth is, I've got big bones. My blue eyes are red and swollen from crying. They have been for days.
As I look around the cemetery, I see that there are no dry eyes. I didn't expect there would be. Everyone loved Art. That's the kind of guy he was ... loveable, likable.
Lenore, Art's mom, isn't doing very well. It's been twenty years since her last child died before she lost Art. Only two of her six sons, Tom and Andy, are still alive, and Art was her youngest. Mrs. Wilson said it hurts to live longer than your children. She lost a son, too, a long time ago. That's all I know because no one ever talks about him.
How long was I friends with Art? It seems like forever. I don't remember life before Art. We met in first grade. He was a funny looking kid, skinny with wild red hair and freckles
We sat next to each other in Mrs. Joseph's class and in the cafeteria. I can still see the look in his bright brown eyes the first day of school as he asked, "Gonna eat that pickle?"
Art loved pickles. He loved a lot of things.
When I got home that day, my fathers and grandparents asked me what I thought of school. All I could talk about was Art. Ben fussed at me a little because he thought I should have paid more attention to Mrs. Joseph. But Ray said it was okay because the first day was always exciting and no one paid attention to the teacher.
That's also about the time I realized my family wasn't like the ones on television, or like most of my classmates had. I lived with my two fathers and my grandparents. Still do. Ben says I have to until I finish college before I can get an apartment of my own. He also says I have to be precise, so I'll explain a little more. My fathers are gay. They've been together for years. They love each other a lot. They love me, and I love them too.
Ben used to be a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Sixteen years ago he left the force, and since then he's been the administrator of the Animal Rescue League here in Chicago. He's a strong, no-nonsense kind of person. He's my guide, my strength. When I have a really serious problem, I go to Ben. He has this way of thinking things through and finding a solution to almost everything. Growing up, I just knew that if I turned to him, everything would be okay.
Ray, my other dad, is a little different. He used to be a cop, too. When he left the Chicago PD, he started a construction business with his old supervisor, Howard Smith. Ray's spontaneous, does things on impulse. He doesn't get angry very often, but watch out when he does. His language gets really colorful. I used to tell Ray the jokes and riddles I heard at school when I was just a kid. He laughs easily and likes to be a little playful. But he's also very sensitive. When our dog died a few years back, Ray was the one who held and comforted me. Then he comforted Ben.
My fathers are very supportive of each other, and of me. Grandma Beswick says that they're a perfect balance, just what a family should be.
But I digress.
Art and I only saw each other at school to start with.
Then Sofia Rose, she's a neighbor and another classmate had a birthday party. Art's mom drove him to the party and visited with my family while Art and I played party games and made ourselves sick on cake and ice cream. After that, we spent a lot of time together after school and on weekends. We did sleep-overs, and my fathers took us lots of places like ball games and the zoo.
Second and third grade were pretty much the same. Art and I were still in the same class. Sofia Rose went into a different class in the third grade, but we saw her a lot around the neighborhood. She was okay, but neither of us wanted much to do with girls at that age.
When we were in the third grade, my grandpa, Darryl, leased a cabin on a lake outside of Chicago, and we spent most of our weekends there. Ben taught us how to fish that year. When the lake froze over during the winter, Ben chopped a hole in the ice and we hunkered around it with our fishing poles.
That was the same year that I realized Art took a lot of medication. When I asked him about it, he told me that his mom said it was because he was a "sickly child." I thought nothing more of it.
Lenore ... Art's mom. I wish you could know her. My grandma was the strongest woman I knew until I met Lenore. She's a tiny, little lady. Sofia Rose described her once as a skinny little sort, with more heart than body. She's not very tall, only about five feet. Her hair used to be brown, but now it's totally white. She was a secretary with the Foreign Service for a while and married an ambassador to someplace, I'm not sure where. He died a long time ago. Lenore played the stock market for years and made some shrewd investments, like buying Xerox before the name was Xerox, at fifty cents a share. She's pretty wealthy, but you'd never know it because she's so down to earth. She's seen a lot of tragedy in her life, but it always made her stronger ... that is until now. Tom and Andy remember their last three brothers dying.
They say Lenore thought Art might make it once he turned six.
Life got busier when we were in the fourth grade. I started playing Little League Hockey. Art wanted to, but Lenore wouldn't let him. She said it was because of the sickly thing. Ray and Ben took her side. Ray said that if Art got run into on the ice he'd get squashed because he was so slender. Art did get to watch all my practices and games with my fathers.
We both joined Scouts that year, which we liked. We competed against each other to see who would earn the most badges. Art did, but he pushed himself hard the last four years and made Eagle Scout last month.
Lenore did let Art play Little League baseball with me. Ben and Ray practiced with us a lot in our neighborhood park and we both got to be pretty good. Art was always the pitcher and I was catcher. We made a good team, Art and me.
Things weren't so good the year we turned ten. We were in the fifth grade then. Ray's business partner, Howard, died of a heart attack that year. It upset his partner, Rob Thomason, pretty bad. Even now there's sadness about Rob. He still has his catering business with Sofia Rose's mom, Fran, but I don't think he's interested in it anymore. I see him sometimes sitting with Grandma in her herb garden. Most of the times they just talk, but sometimes he cries.
Of course, Ray and Ben took it pretty hard, too. For a long time they talked about the old days when they were both police officers and how much they liked Howard. Ray said how he screwed up a lot and Howard always cut him some slack, but kept pushing him to do better. It seems that Howard always stuck up for his men, even Ben who wasn't with the Chicago PD. I think Ben sort of looked at Howard like a substitute dad.
Most of our neighbors had worked with Howard at the Police Department in one way or another. I remember times when everyone would come over and they'd talk all night long. And I know my fathers cried, because there were mornings when they were both puffy-eyed.
That was also the year the dog died. Ben said it was old age and that he was finally at peace because he'd developed arthritis which kept him in a lot of pain. Still, I cried over losing him. So did Ben.
Even losing Howard and the dog, my life was mostly good. I was surrounded by friends and family. Oh, there were ups and downs. I got into scrapes like all little kids do. Then, the year I was twelve, things started to get worse.
Ray Beswick pulled into his usual parking spot at the school and waited for his twelve-year-old son, Nicholas. The years had been kind to Ray. Just past fifty, his hair was still free of any white, his body still lean and agile, and his eyes still bright, although he now needed to wear glasses all the time.
Ray seldom had to do much hard, physical work anymore in the construction company that he had formed with Howard Smith. They had expanded the firm a great deal through the years. As they could afford to take on more carpenters Howard had taken over managing the firm while Ray had stayed actively involved with the construction crews. When Howard died, Ben helped Ray gradually learn the management part of the firm and now he handled contracts, contractors, and bookkeeping himself.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. While he waited for Nicholas, he thought about his lover, Ben Freeman. Ben had white streaks at his temples, which just added to the distinction of his appearance. The grey-blue eyes were still as clear as ever, the muscled body almost as strong. In the past year, Ben had begun to develop some back problems that were the result of old gunshot wounds, but the walk was the same. Ben still had that steady gait, knees thrown apart. Ray laughed to himself at Ben's walk. Through the years he had often teased his lover about the way he walked, as if his balls were too large for him to just put one foot forward after another.
His mind drifted to the night before, a night of sweet loving. The intense need to have sex constantly had passed with the years. What they had now were nights of gentle and all encompassing love.
Ray was pulled out of his reverie as Nicholas entered the car and slammed the door shut. Ray looked at his son and asked, "Is something wrong, Nick?"
The prepubescent boy glanced at him from the corner of his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like "No".
"Ya sure, Champ? 'Cause if there is, you can tell me.
You know that, don'cha?"
"Yes."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No."
Ray didn't push the issue. He eased the car out of the parking lot and headed for the cabin where he had lived with his family for the past twelve years. Ray worked his way in and out of traffic, always a careful driver when Nicholas was with him. He could tell that the boy had something serious on his mind, but he knew that Ben was the one Nicholas went to with a serious problem. Ray wondered what it could be this time. He glanced quickly at his silent son and saw him brush an unshed tear from one eye.
Nicholas was a bright child who could read, write and do basic math even before he started kindergarten, thanks to his grandmother and Ben. The school officials kept wanting to skip Nicholas a grade, but Ben had always highly objected, insisting that Nicholas stay with his own age group and form a lasting circle of friends.
Ray understood why his lover felt that way. Raised by grandparents in isolated areas of Canada, Ben hadn't been able to make and keep friends very long. He had grown up mostly alone, and had craved love and stability in his life. And Ben was now determined that his son have the things he had never had.
Reaching their cabin, located in what had become one of the more predominately gay suburbs of Chicago, Ray eased his frequently re-built Mustang into the driveway.
Nicholas was out of the car before Ray could even bring it to a complete stop. The boy tore through the front door and ran up the stairs to his bedroom, oblivious of his grandmother and second father staring at him in amazement.
"What's wrong with him?" Barbara asked as Ray entered the house.
"Dunno. He wouldn't say a word all the way home." Ray crossed the small entryway to give Ben a quick hug and kiss. "He didn't want to talk to me. He always talks to you. He was holding back tears. I think it's somethin' serious."
Ben paused at the foot of the stairs and wondered how to approach the child this time. Nicholas had come home in the past in need of answers to some very difficult questions. Questions like: "How come I have two fathers and no mother? How come you and Ray don't go out with girls? How come you sleep in the same room like Grandma and Grandpa?"
Ben had done his best to answer each question as patiently and honestly as he could, explaining that he and Ray loved each other. They wanted to spend their lives loving each other. They had adopted Nicholas because they wanted to raise a family together. Barbara had said that she and Grandpa loved Nicholas and both of his fathers very much and didn't have a problem with them being a family.
. . . . . . . . . .
Nicholas understood that his neighborhood was a little different from that of some of his classmates. Howard had lived next door with Rob. Hugh and Matt lived across the street, and they were really nice. He could swim in their pool whenever one of them was at home because he wasn't allowed to swim without an adult to watch him. Sylvia and Fran also lived across the street with their daughter, Sofia Rose. One of his favorite neighbors was Ian Wrightsman, the man who lived with Fran's cousin, Ray Wilson. Ian told the most marvelous stories. And Nicholas liked the way that Ray would tousle his hair and whisper, "Don't believe a word he says, kid."
Nicholas lived in a world filled with love and laughter. Nothing frightened him until this day in Health Ed. when they were given their first lesson in sex education. In a classroom of boys who could only guess what sex truly meant, the teacher had shown them slides about safe sex and pictures of people suffering from sexually transmitted diseases. Nicholas had been extremely embarrassed as the teacher had placed a model of a penis on his desk and then proceeded to put some sort of glove on it. The entire class had burst into giggles and jokes. But it bothered Nicholas for a reason he couldn't explain. Most predominant among the STD's that Mr. Nichols mentioned were HIV and AIDS. The longer the class lasted, the more upset Nicholas had become. He didn't understand quite what those diseases meant, but the teacher kept saying that it happened all the time to gays and that people died.
Then Mr. Nichols had gone to explain about pregnancy.
Nicholas knew that his fathers were gay. He knew the terms gay and lesbian meant people of the same sex who fell in love and lived together. He had never thought about it in terms of physically engaging in sex. Mr. Nichols had been very graphic in his description of that. Now Nicolas was terrified.
Ben allowed Nicholas a few moments of privacy before heading up the stairs to his room. He could hear the muffled sounds of crying through the closed door. He knocked and waited for Nicholas to say, "Come in."
The boy had flung himself down on the bed, face buried in his pillow. Ben crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Gone from the walls were the magic dragons of Nicholas' childhood. They had been replaced with stars, planets, and galaxies as Nicholas had taken an interest in astronomy.
Placing a hand on one shoulder and Ben asked, "Do you want to talk?"
Nicholas nodded his head in silent affirmation, but the face stayed hidden in the pillow. Ben gave him time. He knew that Nicholas was composing his thoughts carefully. Ben retrieved the box of Kleenex from the bedside table and handed one to Nicholas when the boy finally sat up.
Nicolas started to explain what had happened at school. He had only managed a few words before Ben stopped him. Going to the door, he called, "Ray? Can you come up here, please?"
Ray headed up the stairs immediately. Ben usually just told him about his and Nicholas' conversations. He only called Ray in for a family conference when things were extreme.
"This requires both of us," Ben said when Ray entered Nicholas' room. Ray looked at the child's tear streaked face and sat down, taking one of the small hands in his own.
"Start again please, Nicholas," Ben prompted. "Precisely what about the class upset you so?"
Nicholas told his fathers about the Health Ed. class in detail, leaving out nothing. "Class today was about sex and stuff. Mr. Nichols showed us slides with naked people. Well, almost naked anyway. And he told us about how girls have babies. There was even a picture of a baby being born. That part was kinda gross. Then he showed us pictures of people who got sick from having sex. He told us about how gays have sex. And he talked about gays getting sick." The tears in Nicholas' eyes welled over as he looked at Ray and Ben. A frightened voice asked, "Are you going to die?"
"Everyone eventually dies, Nicholas," Ben said softly.
You know that. We explained it to when Howard and Ruff died."
"But are you going to die of AIDS? My teacher said all gays do." The voice grew alarmingly quiet as he asked, "Is that how Howard died?"
Ray's reaction was instant. Although he had mellowed with time, his temper could still flare quickly. He jumped off the bed and began pacing the floor, slender fingers stabbing the air as he voiced his opinion of Nicholas' teacher. One stern, "Ray!" from Ben ended the tirade, and he sat back down next to the boy.
Ben patiently explained to Nicholas that there were, unfortunately, people in the world who objected to same sex relationships. This Nicholas understood because it was an old conversation.
"First, Nicholas. Howard died of a heart attack, not AIDS. Years ago," he explained, "people believed that all homosexual men contracted the virus. And many were infected before there was very much research done. But, Nicholas, the rate of HIV and AIDS in the homosexual community has been on the decrease of late.
Once the nature of the virus was known, we started being more careful about sex. We are probably the largest community of individuals in the world that practices safe sex."
Ben saw the look on Nicholas' face and knew that his next question would be to ask about sex itself, and he didn't feel like this was the time to explain sex between himself and Ray. To Ben, the most important thing right now was to quell Nicholas' fear that he and Ray would die of anything other than accident or old age.
"Through the years medical science has, slowly but surely, developed some very encouraging medications which are used in treating the virus. Research continues on a vaccine to prevent it, much like the vaccines for polio and smallpox. Actually, Son, more people contract HIV now through intravenous drug use than through sex. Ray and I were very careful when we first became involved with each other. Neither of us has been intimate with anyone else in more years than you've been alive. No, Nicholas, the answer is no. Neither of us should die of AIDS."
. . . . . . . . . .
Nicholas continued to worry for the next few months. But, as neither of his fathers showed signs of even a cold, the source of his concern faded ever further into the back of his mind. Nicholas spent the passing months hanging out with his best friend. They studied and played video games together. Already active in sports and Scouts, they also pondered the great mysteries of the universe, like who would win the next World Series.
Ray and Ben knew that Arthur was being raised in a single parent home with his brother Andy. They took it upon themselves to provide some male influence in the boys' young lives. When Ray and Darryl took Nicholas to a Cubs game, Art and his brother were invited. The boys liked to go to the games because they could eat hot dogs and drink colas, a rare treat for all of them. With Ben it was always a visit to a museum, an art gallery, or the planetarium. The latter was their favorite place since Nicholas and Arthur both planned to become astronauts and discover long-lost civilizations on distant worlds.
The first sign Nicholas had that his world was changing came when Arthur said he wouldn't be able to play Little League baseball in the spring. Nicholas had expected Coach Walker to be upset because Art was the best Little League pitcher in Chicago. So he was surprised when Coach had said, "That's okay, Art. I understand." Mike Walker had coached both of Arthur's older brothers and was well aware of the health problems in the Allen family.
Ray and Ben watched their son grow more and more concerned as Arthur, always slender, became painfully thin. When Nicholas started having trouble sleeping, they decided that it was time he knew the truth about his friend.
. . . . . . . . . .
Ben and the Beswicks had first met Lenore Allen one Saturday when the boys were in the first grade. She had driven Arthur to a birthday party for Sofia Rose. Over tea at the Beswick home, Lenore told them about her son.
"I adopted him when he was a week old. His birth mother was a prostitute and IV drug user." Lenore stopped and took a deep breath. "Arthur was born with HIV."
Ray was silent, but Ben asked, "How is the boy? I assume he's on medication?"
"Yes," Lenore replied. "He's been on medication since birth. So far the virus is under control."
"I think you're very brave, adopting a child like Arthur," said Barbara.
Lenore looked at her and said, "Arthur is the sixth HIV baby I've adopted. Three of them didn't live to see their sixth birthday. Tom, the oldest, is in college now. Andy is a senior in high school. The doctors are very optimistic about their futures."
Silent tears ran down Barbara's face as she thought about the three lost babies. "Do you have a support group?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," was Lenore's reply. "Several of us have adopted HIV babies, and we help each other through the more difficult times. Most of my friends are in my support group."
Ray asked, "Does Art know?"
"Not yet," Lenore answered. "He knows he's sick, but I don't think he's quite old enough to understand his illness."
I still get this sick feeling in my stomach when I remember the day my family told me about Art's illness. That was the worst day of my life. I knew that he was really sick, but I never ... ever ... thought it was HIV. Neither did he.
Our parents decided to tell us at the same time. So, one rainy afternoon, Ben and Ray sat me down and told me. Only by that time, Art had AIDS. I couldn't believe what they were telling me! It was the only time I ever called my fathers liars.
"NO! It's not true! It can't be! You're lying to me! It's not that! Why are you saying this about Art? Liars!"
I was angry ... and confused. Art wasn't gay, he wasn't having sex with anyone, and he didn't use drugs. Ben explained to me about Art's birth mother, but I didn't understand it at the time. I know that I was angry and hurt because of what was happening to my friend, but I took it out on my fathers. Instead of letting one of them comfort me, I buried my head in Grandma Beswick's lap and cried.
I was still crying when Art came bursting through the front door. He had run the whole six blocks from his house and was soaked from the rain. I could tell from the look on his face that Lenore had just told him. He was crying, too. It was true.
Ray rushed Art upstairs for a warm shower while Ben called his mom to let her know that he was okay. I guess she figured he'd come to our house, because Ben said that it was all right for him to stay over.
Lenore came to the house a little later with pajamas and a change of clothes for Art. And she brought his pills. Later, dressed in his pajamas, like some sort of bizarre dream, Art counted the pills out of their different bottles. I had watched Art do this a hundred times, but this time was different. This time it wasn't something Art did to feel better. This time it was something he did to stay alive.
Ben looked at the prescriptions and read them aloud:
"One efavirentz, DMP-225, this would be the transcriptase inhibitor, and two ZDV/3TC, the protease inhibitors. The cocktail. How many pills do you take a day?"
"Twenty."
"You're a brave little man, Arthur."
I remember Art telling Ben he didn't feel very brave at all. Ben took him in his arms and held him while he cried until he gave himself the hiccoughs.
None of us slept well that night. Grandma and Lenore cried. Grandpa didn't know what to do. He kept patting their hands and whispering, "Now, now, ladies."
Art and I cried until Ben and Ray got out their sleeping bags and said we'd all sleep together on their bedroom floor. Art slept with Ben. I guess he sensed Ben's strength. A couple of times I heard him start to cry again, and Ben's voice whispering, "Shh, Son. Don't cry."
I slept with Ray. Whenever Art started to cry, so did I. Ray just kept holding me close. I think he was trying to take it all away.
Art spent a lot of that summer going to his doctors. And resting. He rested a lot then.
He was able to go to all the Little League games, and he cheered as enthusiastically as he could. Ben and Ray kept a close eye on him and wouldn't let him get overly excited. That was the summer that he started working really hard on his Scout badges. He told me to stop competing with him because I wouldn't be able to keep up. He was right. Art was trying to prove something to himself in the time he had left.
We went into the eighth grade the year we were thirteen. Everyone knew about Art then. Lenore didn't want to keep that information quiet since it was AIDS. She thought they had the right to know. We all kind of held our breath to see what would happen, but nothing did. People respected Lenore and they liked Art. Oh, there were a couple of bullies who tried to make trouble for him. But the rest of his friends and all the teachers stood by him. Pretty soon the bullies backed off and even began to show a little admiration for the way that Art handled things.
He looked better because he'd put on a little weight. Fran and Rob kept coming up with all kinds of new recipes to tempt him to eat. He laughed and joked easily. It was like he had accepted things and had wrapped himself in an unreal serenity. Sometimes he felt kind of lousy, but he kept going to school. I worried about him a lot, and he knew it. One day he even said to me, "Poor Nicky. This harder on you than it is on me, isn't it?"
And sometimes he felt really bad. Those were the times that we'd both break down and cry. My fathers, my grandparents, and Lenore did everything they could to make things easier for us. When Art felt too bad to get out of bed, Ben would sit and tell him Inuit stories and legends. Ben could go on for hours, until Art would finally fall asleep. On those days, our classmates and teachers would drop by Art's house, singly and in groups, to visit him.
Somehow Art and I made it through that school year and both passed to the next grade.
Tom graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology at the top of his class. Tom's hero was a noted graduate of the University of Chicago and a professor at Cornell University. The man had inspired Tom to enter the field of planetary science. Tom was going to be a part of the JPL team at Cal Tech in Pasadena that would analyze information sent back by the first manned space flight to Mars. Andy graduated from high school with a scholarship to Emory University in Atlanta. He wanted to work at the Center for Disease Control and figured the best place to study for that was actually in Atlanta. He even hoped to work part time at the CDC, even if it was just in the mailroom.
Tom and Andy stayed in Chicago that summer. They went to my Little League games, even when Art couldn't. We all sat around and watched a lot of old reruns on television. Tom told us stories about college. It was one of the best summers I can remember, even with Art so sick.
When we were in the ninth grade, I discovered Sofia Rose. Well, not really discovered her, because we'd lived across the street from each other our whole lives. I just started to see her a little differently. She's a pretty girl with long, black hair and violet eyes. She'd always been a friend, but not in a girl-type way. I think we were all a little surprised that she and I actually liked each other in a boy/girl way. I wasn't sure how my fathers would take that whole idea, but they said it was okay. We just couldn't go on dates or anything until we were older. So, Sofia Rose just hung around with Art and me that year.
The doctors changed Art's medication because the cocktail he'd been taking wasn't working anymore. His T-cell count had dropped and he was anemic. So they switched him to a combination of Fotovase and Combivir. He was still taking twenty pills a day. He started feeling better and we all got optimistic about the new regimen.
My family went through a lot of pain that year. Grandpa Beswick, in his eighties, passed away one night. The doctor said it was a stroke. It was really hard for Grandma and Ray. They took comfort in each other and sort of shut Ben and me out for a few days. That hurt Ben, because he'd loved Grandpa, too.
But he said he understood how Ray and Grandma felt. Ben took Art, Sofia Rose, and me out to some art galleries and the zoo so that Ray and Grandma could have time alone together.
After the funeral, Grandma went to stay with Lenore, and Art came to stay with us. Lenore said it had something to do with women helping each other. Since she'd lost her husband too, I guess she and Grandma had something in common. With Grandma at Lenore's, Ray finally turned to Ben for comfort, and they spent long days talking quietly in the living room and holding each other. Art and I pretty much kept to ourselves. He was strong for me, and kept me going. Ray apologized later for not paying more attention to me. But I said it was okay. I don't know how I'd react if I lost Ray or Ben.
Sofia Rose and I were allowed to date when we turned fifteen. We still couldn't go on dates alone though, so for a while Art tagged along with us by himself. Lots of the girls in school wanted to go out with Art, so he finally started bringing one girl or another along. He never got serious about any of them, though. He said it wouldn't be fair to the girls because he was still busy working on his Scout badges.
That made sense to me at the time.
Then we turned sixteen, and Art got really sick.
Ben and Ray watched their sixteen year-old son as he sat on a chair next to the hospital bed. Nicholas had kept up a cheerful line of chatter for over an hour. He even managed to bring a smile to Arthur's worn and haggard face with tales of the misadventures of several of their classmates. When Arthur finally drifted off to sleep, Nicholas put his head down on the mattress and cried. At the insistence of the doctors, Ben and Ray led Nicholas out of the room.
The beep of the monitors maintained a steady pace in the silence of the room. Nicholas looked at his friend from the doorway. The once-bright brown eyes had dulled. The pale, white skin of his fragile arms was bruised from the needles connected to the IVs that slowly dripped medication and life-sustaining fluids into his veins.
Nicholas' body started to shake with wracking sobs, and Ben took his son and held him close. "Try to control yourself, son. Don't let Lenore see you like this. She needs our strength just now, not our tears." Nicholas pulled himself together, sniffling slightly.
The scene in the waiting room was quiet, broken only by an occasional soft whispering of conversation or a sob from one of the women. Fran, Sylvia, Mrs. Wilson, and Barbara sat with Lenore. Tom and Andy were talking quietly with Sofia Rose.
Dr. Pierce Long entered the waiting room and said, "The boy's going to survive the night. You should all go home and try to get some rest. He'll still be with us in the morning."
Lenore, Tom, and Andy went into Arthur's room to kiss him goodnight.
Ben drove them home in Lenore's car, while Ray drove Barbara and Nicholas to their cabin. Then Ben walked the six blocks from Lenore's house to the one he had shared with his lover and his family for so long.
Several times during the night, Ben and Ray could hear Nicholas crying in his room. Ray started to go to the boy each time, but Ben stopped him. "He'll come to us when he's ready. He needs time by himself."
They were all back at the hospital the next morning. The hours seemed to drag by endlessly. Arthur was allowed visitors in short shifts while the doctors monitored his breathing. Finally, Dr. Long summoned Arthur's family into the room for a final farewell. Lenore insisted that Nicholas be allowed to join them.
Tom and Andy are in shock. They loved Art, and they both know that the same thing could eventually happen to them. I take Lenore by the arm and lead her to Art's grave. She's weak from sorrow, so I reach down and take a handful of cold, damp earth and press it into her hand. Her hand shakes as she lets the dirt fall down onto the closed casket of her son, my friend. Then I take a handful for myself and do the same thing. My hand is shaking also. From sorrow? Perhaps. Or from anger? I don't know. How is one supposed to feel when someone so young, so vibrant is gone?
When everyone has performed the ritual, and the final prayers are said, we turn to leave. Grandma has convinced Lenore to stay with us for a few days. Tom lives in Los Angeles now, and Andy's in Atlanta. They have to leave this evening, and I don't think Lenore wants to be by herself for a while. I'll just be relieved to leave the cemetery.
I really don't like this place.