DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter. 38
by Donny Mumford
I'm lying naked in bed with one of my all-time favorite sex buddies, which is something I shouldn't be taking for granted anymore. Rob's still okay with 'the' arrangement even though I'm pretty sure it's become a one-sided arrangement and, therefore, ultimately not sustainable forever in this new one-sided configuration. Some would say it's a miracle our side-sex arrangement has worked for five years, but that's mostly because of flaws they see in themselves. That's neither here nor there, however. The thing is I'm not sure exactly when Rob stopped having side-sex, and yes, it is just a guess on my part that he has stopped except somehow I know he's not doing it anymore.
So, it's Monday afternoon and Danny's the naked buddy I'm in bed with... shocking, huh? Haha, seriously though, Danny is 'one' of my all-time favorite sex-buddies. Actually, he's number two on my all-time list and not number one only because nobody could ever replace Willie Worthington as my number-one favorite all-time sex-buddy. Ya see he and I, Willie and I, had a component to our buddy-sex affair that no one will ever be able to match... we were very young! Nothing shines as brightly or is as pure as being young discovering magical things about the wonders of young gay sex, gay friendship, and even gay love, as in what's love, as opposed to what is only make-believe being in love.
Yeah, I'll always have a kind of love in my heart for Willie, probably more now in hindsight than I did in real time. That's because, like almost everyone, I thought I had the 'answers' back then when obviously I didn't. The answers I have now are better than my earlier ones but as I age and have more experiences my current answers will prove to be flawed as well. I'm not expecting to ever ace the test... the test of life.
I don't know why I've been as fortunate in experiencing sex with so many different young cute gay guys as I have, and Robby was one of the first in that long parade although he hasn't been part of that parade for years, and that's obviously because we've been in true love for years now and therefore... not sex buddies. Being in love and having sexual relations with Robby is a very different thing from sex with my number two all-time favorite side-sex buddy. It's two different worlds...
There have been a few sex buddies, and even non-buddies, just side-sex guys who have fucked me wilder with more intensity than Danny, but they all had baggage. Yeah, undesirable baggage attached to that hot sexy thing they brought to the party. For example, Ryan was a phenomenally dominant side sex buddy but he was also mentally unbalanced, and then another awesomely dominant guy, Ray Reeves, was a super dominant side-sex guy with excellent natural equipment too, but he's an unbearably obnoxious asshole as well, so ya know that couldn't work. And there have been others who had moments of brilliance but who then flamed-out for one reason or another... and so forth. It would take too long to list the specific baggage that detracts from every sex buddy I've ever known, so I won't bother trying. Nobody's perfect, of course, and that most definitely includes me. I'm stuck with me, but I'm not stuck with the others.
The only baggage that comes with Danny is his misguided certainty that we're either in love now or will be shortly, and then there's the assumption that follows which is I'll somehow dump Rob. While mind-bogglingly unlikely, at least Danny's baggage is flattering. It's flattering that someone thinks they're in love with you, right?
Other than that, Danny's fairly close to a perfect sex buddy, and I know there are some guys who think Danny's a bit of a kook. Hell, I did at first myself, but when I got to know him I discovered Danny's far from a kook. I recommend not underestimating him. Omigod, I just realized I've gone over all this stuff about Danny in my mind, always coming to the same conclusions or non-conclusions.
Anyway, we're naked in his dormitory bed, Danny and me. This bed is either the same size or perhaps smaller than the bed I grew up in. That's not a complaint by the way because 'small' is a good feature for a bed when you're naked in it with someone who's your current favorite sex buddy. Plus, Danny's a touchy/feeling guy and he has his arm under my neck as we lie here close together... and I like that.
We've been talking for a while but now he pulls my head over close to his, and murmurs, "I'm ready to show you how much I love you." I go, "Oh, um, I'm wondering if you can do it as my favorite buddy sex buddy? Ya know since we're not actually lovers, um, per se..." Danny doesn't want to hear any of that so he doesn't. He goes on as if I never even mentioned buddy sex. He's like, "This time, baby, could you get on your stomach because..." and then we hear a cell phone ringing... huh? He stops talking and we look at each other.
Neither of us has anything to say so we both then look at my pants that are crumpled on the floor 'cause that appears to be where my cell phone is ringing, in my pants pocket. Danny looks back at me and says, "Don't answer it, Dylan." I'm like, "Seriously?" He goes, "Nah, you're right, you should answer it. It's probably your... um, it's probably Rob." When I try sitting up, he tightens his hold around my neck. I turn my head to give him a 'look' and he reluctantly takes his arm away so I can slide out of bed.
Pulling my ringing cell phone from my khakis pocket, I go, "Hi, Rob! What's up?" He says, "Can you believe I'm already at the apartment, babe? Chuck Kramer gave me a ride after one beer. Coach got a call from his wife, um, something about one of his kids broke his or her arm at the playground, or I don't know exactly. Anyway, he took off in a hurry and Chuck and I finished our beers and left. The other guys were just about to order a round of shots so we got out before that." I mumble, "Jeez, just one beer, huh?" Rob's like, "Yeah, a lucky break for me but I guess not so lucky for the coach's kid. Oh, man, I suck saying that, haha... broken arms suck, and I know that first hand. So, what are you guys up to?" I go, "Us? Oh, um, Fortnite. Yeah, we were playing Fortnite... and it's addictive."
Not for me it isn't and, okay, I know I'm stretching the truth but that wasn't totally lying; we were playing Fortnite... a while ago.
Robby goes, "Is Fortnite something you want us to get into? I mean, every other person in the world is playing that game. I can easily download it, although..." I butt-in, "Nah, neither of us is what you'd call a 'gamer' Rob, and I think it's too late for us to become one. Danny was like one-million-times better at it than me." Robby goes, "Whatever, um, but would you mind picking up Carl on your way home? He just texted that he's going to take a shower and then he asked to join us for study group... such as it is, haha." Rob's in a good mood. I go, "Yeah, sure. So, he'll eat dinner with us, I guess." Robby goes, "He doesn't have to." I go, "No, no problem, I just... never mind. So, like fifteen minutes from now, huh? He'll be ready to go then, right?" Rob goes, "Yeah, and thanks, Dylan. I'll see you when you get here."
Who do I think I'm kidding? He knows Danny and I are fucking around. And Rob knows Danny and I are not doing the 'fucking around' online! The thing is, Rob's and my arrangement includes not talking about it. Yeah, that's always been an important aspect of the arrangement because it leaves in place the long shot possibility that... maybe there isn't any fucking around going on.
Danny's looking at me as I slip the phone back in my khakis' pocket and drop my pants on the floor. He says, "So, whassup?" I go, "Huh? Oh, we've got like fifteen minutes... you heard, right?" He nods, "Un huh, um, ya gonna get back in bed?" I go, "Unless you want to play more Fortnite." Danny laughs out loud and then says, "Maybe not right now," and I slide under the covers, trying not to grin. Ohh, it's nice and warm and smells so much like Danny when the cover poofs-up, and then floats down over me.
He looks at me for a second and I go, "Well, aren't you going to get your arms around me and dominate me sexily?" He makes a 'face' muttering, "Dominate you? Ha, you're the one who dominates my mind, baby. I'm putty in your hands," and he wraps me in his arms and squeezes me against his hot body. I murmur, "If you say so." We do a hot sloppy kiss and there's this tiny guilty conscience thingie I notice knocking at the door to my brain. A totally unwarranted nuisance of a pathetic guilty conscience whispering in my ear... your true love is being so understanding and forgiving of your weakness for buddy sex... you're an awful person'. I'm not awful! Rob and I have an arrangement! One that's still very fucking valid ya dumb-ass conscience!
Danny goes, "What's wrong, baby? You've tensed-up all of a sudden." Not wanting to try explaining that tiny unwarranted guilty conscience voice, I instead run my fingers through his nice brown hair and, to change the subject, say, "I really love what you've done with your hair. Who's your hairstylist?" He laughs again and then mumbles, "You fuckin' goof!" and he kisses my lips... just a quick one this time. I say, "Don't get mad, Danny, but I feel like one of your really rough and tumble hard fucks, you know, instead of your lover's, um, buddy sex. You do that rough and tumble shit better than anybody." His eyebrows go up, "I do that better than anybody?" I nod, "Yep," and he goes, "Okay then! You're really gonna get it this time!" Grinning, I go, "Leave nothing but the skin on my bones." Good, I got him off the 'lover's' sex he had in mind originally.
He gets up on his knees, saying, "Okay, like I started to say when your phone rang, get on your stomach and stick up that cute ass of yours." I do that, mumbling, "Should we use more of that lube?" Naturally, I'm thinking he's gonna fuck me, but he spanks my ass instead. Huh, the second spanking this afternoon. That tiny unwarranted nag of a conscience probably thinks I deserve it. Well, in case I do, I tolerate the spanking for about fifteen seconds with the "SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!" sounds ringing out in the room until the stinging gets serious and I'm like, "OW! Fuck this! That's too hard!" and I'm putting my hands back there to cover my red stinging butt cheeks. Danny chuckles and stops, muttering, "I'm just trying to please you, baby." Looking back, I mumble, "Well, don't try so fucking hard, okay?"
Danny nods his head and says, "Okay, turn over on your back now." I do that and then pull my legs back the way he usually insists on, but he goes, "No, kinda sit up a little with your legs stretched out," and when I do that he walks up my body with a knee on either side of me and, still grinning, he says, "To make up for spanking you too hard, I'm gonna let you suck my dick again. You did a nice job of that earlier." I go, "Gee, thanks, but no deep throating this time! And, just so you know, if you should get carried away and try to push your dick in my throat I might resort to clamping down on your pretty penis with my teeth."
Picking up his dick, I add, "Hey, this feels heavier than it should. Don't tell me you're getting aroused from spanking me, Mister Pervert?" He snickers and says, "I'm guilty. Yeah, I get turned on a little because it's so, um, I don't know... so 'hot' the way you accept your spanking. It's kinda intimate, the two of us, um... I better not say what I was gonna say." I go, "I'll show you what's intimate," and I put his cock in my mouth thinking, 'this is always an awesomely submissive thing to do'. I don't bother mentioning the submissive part because, while Danny has the concept of sub/dom sex okay, he doesn't connect the words that go with his actions.
Sucking on his cock is hot though, I like slurping on his penis and I go to town sucking first the head and then include as much of the hardening shaft as I can get in my mouth. Danny's grunting and rubbing my head and then grunting some more. To give my tongue a rest I move the head against the inside of my cheeks and across the roof of my mouth and then suck on it again. Faster than I expected a drool of pre-cum comes from Danny's boner so I take it out and let go of it and, the second I let go of it that sloppy boner immediately goes 'splat' as it snaps up tightly against his belly. Oh, shit, that was so cool!
Danny takes a deep breath and then goes, "Nobody does that as good as you," and then he reaches over for the tube of lube. Handing the tube to me, he goes, "You do it, baby. I like the feel of your hand on my dick." As I'm squeezing lube into the palm of my right hand, he says, "Don't make me cum, okay?" Nodding my head, I get my fist around his saliva soaked boner and begin stroking up and down, up and down, up and down listening to the wet-lube-squishy sound with each stroke. Danny's making his own sounds, "Ah, ah, ah," as he leans forward holding onto my shoulders for balance. It's "Squish, squish, squish" with Danny up on his knees and me now sitting up on the bed Indian style having some sexy fun watching my hand stroke his cock with his foreskin stretching and stretching... hee hee, wow it's wicked stretched and uber tight!
The longer I stroke his cock the tighter the foreskin gets and the squeakier the sounds of arousal coming from Danny. Also, as his boner gets harder and harder it pulls away from his stomach until I'm stroking back and forth instead of up and down. It's sticking straight out at me when Danny pushes my hand away and says in a strained voice, "No... um... ah, oooh, turn over on your stomach now."
He moves back as I'm flopping over to lie flat. I move my hips rubbing my hard cock on the mattress. My boner sprung up while sucking Danny's cock, and then it got harder when I was stroking his hard sex organ. In my head, I'm thinking a mantra of 'Danny's cock, Danny's cock, Danny's cock!' Oh fuck, that's so cool... and hot! Christ, I get stupidly aroused messing with Danny's naked body. It's partly because of anticipation of what comes next... a hot fuck resulting in a fabulous climax. I'm concerned this fuck won't last long though. Not for me anyway... I didn't get 'off' earlier when Danny shot his creamy load in my mouth.
With my face on Danny's pillow, his personal body scent plus the fading smell of marijuana smoke from his hair is totally filling my olfactory glands. When I get my ass up as high as I can Danny doesn't hesitate, the head of his hard cock spreads my anus and then it plows up my ass. All of it... the swollen head and then the hard shaft eagerly following right behind. Oh yeah! It hurts exactly the way it should, but it feels so good too that my brain doesn't know what the fuck to think.
Danny gets his arms around my chest and lies partly on my back the way he did recently, and then his hips start moving to push and pull his slippery engorged six-plus inches of cock in my ass. The first thrust has his body smacking against my butt cheeks, "Smack!" and then we're off to the races fast and hard, "SMACKSMACKSMACK!
Danny's pounding his cock back and forth in my ass with those constant quick slapping sounds so loud I can't believe they're not heard in the hall. Every fast hard thrust rocks me forward with Danny riding my back and almost immediately it's like we're a single ball of fucking, it's like we're attached together by his boner and we'll be fucking until Danny's cock breaks off in my ass.
Everything blends together, the sensations soaring from my rectum, my throbbing boner, the feel of Danny's chest on my back with his arms wrapped around me, his grunting sounds of sexual arousal close to my ears, his scent is all that I smell, his boner pulling and thrusting and totally dominating my ass moving so fast it's hard to tell if that slippery six-plus-inch hard boner is coming or going as we're rocking wildly to and fro... it's all one huge ginormous mountain of sensations and, Omigod, the rough sexual pleasure of it all!
I'm keeping my hips off the mattress because my wickedly hard cock is straight out from my hairless groin and so tight there's almost a painful feeling from my over-stretched foreskin and then way too quickly everything is replaced by a rampaging orgasm that pushes everything out of its way taking over my body and brain. I'm like a statue, a weirdly shaped solid statue with my body's stiff and me holding my breath waiting a split second for the inevitable, and when it burst on the scene I shake so much at the hard stream of cum shooting from my electrified boner that Danny slides off my back... his arms let go of me, his hands going to the mattress to save himself from tumbling off the bed.
With me on up on my knees now and my face in the pillow, my normal squeal is almost a nonexistent sound to anyone except me and I only heard it in my head as I shudder at the shivers rolling all over me. Yes, another excellent climax! There was just the one long creamy burst of cum this time and then me squeezing out drools while Danny is behind me still fucking my ass. That one long burst of cum seemed to go on a long time in my mind though... oh yeah, another amazing orgasm... they're always the same but always seem new too.
Dizzy from taking deep breaths I feel my heart hammering in my chest as I glance back to see Danny's up on his knees hammering his cock in my rectum. I've dropped my ass trying to reconnect with reality when I hear Danny gasp as he gets tight against me humping once and then he shudders. Obviously, he just climaxed although I didn't feel it. Well, it was his third orgasm in the last few hours so it wasn't as strong as his earlier ones.
Sliding my legs back, I go flat on my stomach feeling jittery from that awesome orgasm. When dropping flat on my stomach Danny's boner pulls free of my ass and I heard him moan, "Ahhh, ooh," and then he slowly lies down next to me with an arm over my back while he does all the deep breathing he normally does. We're like this for maybe two minutes before I look at him, and mutter, "That wasn't all that rough, Danny." He grins and goes, "Yeah, I know. I'm a pussy," and we both snickered.
Pushing myself up, I go, "Nah, I was kidding, that was pretty good... that was pretty rough." We slide off the bed, him on one side and me the other, as Danny asks, "How about if I give you another spanking? That'll 'up' the roughness factor for you, right?" I go, "Ya know what? No, I'm good. Nice job though." He chuckles, and then adds, "Now who's the pussy?"
See... that's buddy sex right there! That's how it's supposed to go. Ha, and I'm not hearing any snarky whisperings from that tiny nag of unwarranted conscience of mind either. Rob's and my arrangement is for buddy sex... and that's what that was.
Danny and I use Speck's round container of Wet Ones. They're antiseptic wipes that I use for my ass while Danny's using them to wipe his sloppy dick again. When I pull the last wipe from the container, I go, "Ya want me to help change the linens on your bed? They're kinda fucked up." He goes, "Fucked up how?" I shrug, mumbling, "Oh, there may be one or two or three long streaks of semen here or there on your sheets." Danny says, "Yeah? Ya mean you didn't catch your spunk in a sweat sock?" Haha, that's the preferred method young teens use when they're jerking off in bed. I go, "Nope," and he's like, "Well then, yeah help me strip the bed but I don't have any clean sheets right now. I was planning on doing a wash load a couple of days ago although I haven't gotten around to it yet."
Danny has a roll of soft paper towels that we use to dry the yuck from the Wet Ones. We get dressed and after helping pull his sheets off the bed, Danny drops it all on top of clothes and towels already on the floor and then he looks at me and goes, "We did pretty good for our Sunday together, don't ya think? I mean, considering it started out with all those haircuts I needed to do."
As I mutter, "Yeah, it was good," I'm thinking... 'Holy crap, I forgot about getting a haircut'. Dropping the paper towel in the trash can next to the desk I wipe my forehead and my hand continues over my head feeling the real flattop Danny gave me a few hours ago. How'd I forget that? I glance at him and he says, "It looks good on you, Dylan. Don't give me any shit about it." I say, "I wasn't going to but, dude, you need a fucking mirror in this room. Your victims deserve to at least have a chance to see the carnage" He says defensively, "You looked at your haircut with the hand held mirror!" I go, "Don't yell," and he says, "I wasn't yelling... and that's a damn good flattop haircut. A real flattop too! But maybe you shouldn't get used to it because next time I may give you a burr haircut. I haven't decided yet." I go, "YOU haven't decided yet, huh?"
He looks startled for a second but then gets his cute smirk going for him as he steps over and puts his arms around my waist, purring, "You know you like me deciding about your haircuts, baby. Right?" That makes me laugh and then hug him around his neck, kiss his cheek, and mumble, "I really like you even though you're a con artist and I can never win an argument with you."
He smirks again, mumbling, "I'm irresistible, huh?" As we're letting go of one another, I'm like, "Don't get carried away with yourself! Um, you're only partially irresistible." Danny picks up a bundle of sheets and towels, asking, "You wanna come to the laundromat in the basement with me?" I shrug, "I would, but I better get going. It was a blast though, thanks..." He says, "Thank you, but you're not going anywhere until you tell me the truth. What do you have to say about your haircut?" I go, "Oh, right, yeah. Um, I like it okay... most everyone else will too I suppose." Still holding the sheets and towels in his arm, he raises his eyebrows, saying in a questioning way, "And?" I go, "And because you were my barber." He smiles, "And?" I snort out a laugh and say what he wants to hear, "And because you know what's the best haircut for me." Nodding his head, grinning, he goes, "Good, that's exactly the brainwashed responses I expect from you. I love you, ya know?" and we walk out the door.
He goes left and I go right with Danny saying over his shoulder, "Text me when you want another Fortnite lesson." He said that so anyone in the dormitory who cares, meaning no one, will think that's what we were doing in his room all afternoon... playing Fortnite. Damn though, I really like Danny and, oh man, the sex he's capable of... get fucking real!
I sure feel good, like I always do after good sex. Huh, what would be bad sex I wonder? Lighting a cigarette, I'm walking down dormitory row looking for Carl's dormitory. Not sure which one he's in, I stop and text him. As I'm doing that someone yells, "Dormitory row is a smoke-free area, asshole!" Looking up and then around, I don't see the cunt who yelled that at me.
Carl texts right back that he'll meet me where I always pick him up and, cornily, he adds an emoticon of a happy face giving the victory sign. Somehow that corniness makes Carl's 'secret' at the dinner party flash by consciousness. Fuck, why did he choose me for his secret about his cherry? Yeah, being his 'first' seemed like a fun thing to do initially but I'm not all that thrilled about it now. I don't know, but there's too much responsibility involved. Oh man though, when I was younger and more clueless I thought nothing of obliging a sweet young gay lad who wanted me to take his cherry. And I've done it for a couple of those boys, but with Carl, it seems more, I don't know, more 'real' somehow. Why didn't he go to Robby?
Oh, and we won't be meeting at our normal spot after all 'cause here comes Carl now. He just walked out of the dormitory I'm standing in front of. He's wearing his backpack and, Omigod, what a cute little-redheaded motherfucker he is too! He runs up to me smiling and sort of jumps on me for a quick hug and then he pats my chest as he says excitedly, his big blue eyes shining, "You got the same flattop Danny does for Pony and me! You look so awesome, Dylan!" I go, "Could you ratchet down the enthusiasm, please. We're attracting attention," and there are guys and girls looking over at us. Carl waves at one of them, and goes, "Hi, Simon!" A tall Ichabod Crane lookalike waves back, saying, "Yo Carl!" and another kid wearing a Merrimack baseball cap is now running toward us. What the fuck...? Carl goes, "Can you wait for a second, Dylan? I'd like to introduce you to someone." The baseball cap kid comes to a sliding stops right in front of us and says to Carl, "Oh fuck, this is him, isn't it?"
I look at Carl and he goes, "Dylan, this is Pat Martinez who I told you about last night. Pat, meet my senior friend, Dylan Newman... ain't he awesome?" and Pat does an unexpected hug, sort of bumping into me more than anything. He did it so fast I couldn't reciprocate, as he's saying, "Just so you know, Dylan, I didn't do anything to Carl when he passed out the other night and I swear to God that pot wasn't laced with cocaine." I nod, mumbling, "Oh," and Pat exclaims, "Omigod, Carl, he does look like your big brother!" Carl says, "Yep, I told you he looked like me," and Pat murmurs, "And you have identical haircuts too!" Carl looks a little bit smug, the first time I've seen him look anything like 'smug', as he says, "Uh huh... well, we gotta get going now, Pat. Don't we, Dylan?" I nod as he tells Pat, "We have a study group, I study with Dylan and my mentor, Rob. I told you about him too." Pat goes, "Fuck! You're lucky alright." Pat's still staring at me grinning. Huh, Carl was right... Pat does have nice teeth.
I go, "Well, good to meet you, Pat." Carl was also right when he said Pat isn't as cute as we are. What Carl doesn't realize is, in my book Pat qualifies as cute in the 'funny-looking-cute' category. What I mean is, he's goofy looking, sure, but sort of in a cute way. I'll feel bad for him when he outgrows his youthful looks though. Then he's going to be a goofy-looking adult without any of the cute parts, although he will still have his nice teeth I suppose. I add, "Carl's right, we've got a study group that we're a little late for." Pat goes, "Nice meeting you. I've never in my whole life met anyone as good looking before, um, I mean as good looking as you two." What? I'm getting lumped in with Carl now? I used to be the exclusive... well, never mind.
As we start walking toward the parking lot, Carl looks back to yell at Pat, "I'll text you." Pat goes, "Yeah, don't forget." Carl says to me, "Pat's my first real freshman friend and I have you to thank for it, Dylan." I go, "Why's that?" and he says, "You gave me good advice about what to say when I saw Pat today. You know, what to say to him about what happened Friday night. He said he was embarrassed and he didn't know what to say to me, but what I said to him made it seem okay. We're friends now." Hmmm, maybe Pat can handle Carl's cherry-situation! In any case, I'm not bringing it up. Actually, I'm surprised he didn't mention it last night, and what the hell... he may never mention it to me again. That would be good!
During the ride to the apartment, Carl tells me in more detail than necessary about how nervous he was seeing Pat this morning on his way to breakfast. He tells me how he made himself stop to talk with Pat about Friday night. What I take from listening to Carl is... he didn't say anything to Pat that I suggested he tell him, but it sounds as though Pat is just as clueless as Carl and, therefore, receptive to Carl's convoluted explanation. They were both simply glad there are no hard feelings and now they're supposedly tight buddies. Friends with a gay-related interest in each other, although I'm assuming that last part because Carl didn't exactly spell it out. Pat is getting, by far, the better part of the package but I'm happy for both of them.
Walking into our apartment building I'm thinking Robby will probably make a big deal about my haircut since he encouraged me to get it. Wrong! He doesn't even notice my hair. He is smiling and friendly though, and enthusiastic about Coach Davis being impressed with Carl's 'batting' progress, which reflects well on Robby I suppose. Carl's blushing and shrugging which made me chuckle. I smell beer on Rob's breath but he isn't the least bit drunk 'cause even Robby can handle one beer without it affecting him.
I get Carl and myself Cokes and then we all sit down at the kitchen table where Rob has our college assignments for tomorrow laid out. As Carl's getting his work material out of his backpack that he has on his lap as Robby goes, "Let me have a sip of your Coke, babe," and when I slide the can to him, he does look over at me and finally notices my hair, and goes, "Oh, jeez, you got a haircut, huh? I forgot you told me you were getting a real flattop this time." Not quite the enthusiastic endorsement I was looking for. Plus, he never heard me say I was getting this flattop because I didn't know I was getting it, which is, I suppose, almost like him forgetting I said it. In any case, that's all the haircut 'talk' there is. Haircuts are of only, at most, a quickly passing interest to most guys.
Rob, Carl, and I spend a little over two hours on class work, most of which we do individually and only during the half hour do we take turns quizzing each other on each others study material. Then, I put my shit away and Rob spends another twenty minutes with something Carl needs to redo. Carl's courses don't seem easier or harder than Rob's and mine. That's the thing about college, each year the subject matter doesn't get harder like it mostly did through the first twelve years of our education. In college, the difficulty depends on the courses you take and, of course, your major has a lot to do with that.
From what I can tell from casual conversations I've had while killing time in between classes talking with other students, a degree in Computer Science may be the easiest because it's intuitive and most students have worked with computers since they were five or six years old, or even younger. The Business Degree Rob and I are in is supposedly the next easiest followed by Engineering, which is quite hard. Even harder are degrees in Physical Sciences and Biological Sciences and never mind pre-med and everything that entails. Other than that one, the degree that takes the most hours of preparation might actually be an Educational degree. That's mostly because it involves all the regular class work and out of class work and studying... plus student teaching. I don't know about that though because Danny hasn't done any student teaching. That may be what his aunt has set up for him. I thought it was a teaching position when it's probably student teaching, now that I think about it. Danny's not the kind of person who talks much about himself so that's never been clear. And I'm not saying college is easier than high school... it's harder overall, but the subject matter each year doesn't necessarily get more difficult.
Finished studying for the night, we're getting our backpacks ready for tomorrow as Robby asks, "So, what's for dinner, babe?" I go, "Well, Carl doesn't know it yet but he's going to help me make mac and cheese from scratch again, which you and I will have also. To go with the mac and cheese you and I will also have individual Cornish game hens roasted in the oven with lemon and herbs inside the little critters. Carl's having Mrs. Paul's wild caught breaded fish sticks. I'm pretty sure the wild fish are caught first and then breaded and not caught already breaded as the label's description would have you believe. We'll all have a salad and French rolls and, of course, Carl will use his normal quarter pound of butter on his dinner rolls. How's that sound?" Robby goes, "Sounds great except for the quarter pound of butter. How long before we eat?" I go, "Well, Carl and I will get the mac and cheese in the oven in about ten minutes... um, so we can eat in a little over an hour. I'll preheat the oven now." Rob goes, "Good. I'm gonna take a shower."
Carl's shaking his head slowly, saying, "How can you guys eat Cornish hens? Don't you know they slaughter those baby chickens when they're only four weeks old?" Robby goes, "No, I didn't know that but it's probably why they're so tender." I snicker while getting my arm around Carl's neck to pull him against my side, asking, "Why in the hell do you tell us shit like that?" Robby's still chuckling as he goes down the hall. Carl's arm goes around my waist and he squeezes me as he's saying, "I'm sorry. I can't help myself." I kiss his cheek, then say, "You smell good," and I let him go.
We put together the mac and cheese casserole in record time and then put it, and the slaughtered baby chickens in the oven. His fish sticks go in later so everything will be ready at the same time. I go, "Ya wanna help me make a salad?" He says, "Yes if you'll kiss me again for, you know, inspiration." I'm like, "Yeah, okay. Hey, you remember the kissing lesson I gave you, right?" He nods his head and then we do a fairly sexy kiss with open mouths, after which, I ask, "Do you have any more gum?" He goes, "Yes, in my coat. How'd you know I had gum?" I go, "Spearmint, right? That's what your mouth tastes like."
He gets the gum out of his coat pocket and we chew it while making the salad. Almost finished with that, Carl says, "I'm feeling awkward about something I've been putting off asking you, but I need to ask you anyway." I go, "Again? You need to ask me something else?" He nods his head and cuts a tomato in half holding the chef's knife at the end of the handle. I take his hand and place it where it should be on the handle. Carl mutters, "Thanks, Dylan. Um, would you be mad at me if I wanted Pat to take my cherry? He and I talked about it and, ya know, it would be two cherries with one, um, one, um... fuck," and his face gets red as he says 'fuck'.
I'm like, "No, I absolutely would not be mad. Pat's an example of someone you should experience first-time sex with... someone like yourself. Help each other discover what you both like through trial and error, um, without dwelling too much on the 'error' part. That's a perfect idea... you and Pat." He looks at me and says, "I knew you'd say that because you're nice... you're kind." I go, "Yes, I am! And you're very observant noticing that about me." He snickers and says, "You joke, but I mean it." I give his waist a hug and say, "Be careful with that knife, oh, and don't run with scissors." He laughs and mutters, "Okay, I won't."
Now I kinda wish I was gonna take his cherry. Nah, it's better this way, although I'd kinda like to watch... heh heh. I'd ask him if I could watch except I don't want to see his face break out in flames from blushing too hard. Finished the salad, we both spit out our chewing gum and I say, "How about if you cover the salad bowl with Saran Wrap and put the bowl in the refrigerator. I'm gonna grab a smoke." He puts the salad in the refrigerator as I get my coat on and then wait for him to get his coat because he wants to go out on the balcony with me.
Exhaling smoke, I ask, "Do you think you're finally ready for your first... um, college finals?" He goes, "Omigod! You did that on purpose, didn't you?" I'm like innocent, asking, "What?" He laughs, saying, "I thought you were going to ask me if I'm ready for my first... you know." I chuckle and then say, "Get serious! That's too personal a question. So, when are you and Pat gonna do it?" He laughs and blushes but doesn't answer. Then he goes, "Yeah, I'm ready for my first college final exams. I'm nervous about them but I'm studying my, um, I'm studying hard."
Robby comes out on the balcony, his hair still damp from the shower. He says, "Christ, you two with those haircuts... awesomely cute!" and he rubs both Carl's and my head for a second with both of us ducking away from his hands. Another good thing or I should say the good thing about this for-real flattop haircut, is you can't mess it up. Rub my head all you want but you can't mess up a flattop like mine. I go, "Yeah, Carl and I are cute alright. As Carl said, we're much cuter than Pat Martinez." Robby goes, "Who?" Carl tells Rob about Pat being his first real freshman friend, but he doesn't tell him about the other thing. I go, "Robby, you should see this kid's teeth... this Pat Martinez kid's teeth." He laughs when I tell him about Carl's describing Pat to me at the party. I don't tell Rob about the two numbnuts pulling their pants down and whatnot... that's Carl's secret to tell if he wants to. Carl goes, "Did I really describe Pat like that? I'm terrible."
The dinner is good and after we clean up the kitchen, Rob drives Carl back to his dorm. When he gets back we watch Monday night football for a while and then I take a shower. We get to bed before eleven o'clock and have some hot and raucous sex that's the same but, at the same time, totally different from the sex Danny's and I had this afternoon. It's the old story of sex with a lover being like no other. With Robby, it's the best sex I ever have. I'll do well to remember that when it's the only sex I'm having at some point.
The classes go as expected on Tuesday and after class, we're standing outside the Bolger Building's front door next to the sign that reads: 'No Smoking' lighting our cigarettes when I see a guy walking by who has a flattop haircut like mine. The guy nods at Robby, who mutters, "S'up, Reimer?" I glance at Rob and he goes, "He's one of the team's relief pitchers, Rich Reimer. Or, heh heh, he 'might' be one of the team's relief pitchers. He's sucked so bad during fall practice that maybe he won't be one of the team's relief pitchers."
That Reimer guy is one of Danny's flattop boys, as Danny calls us. Seeing him made me think of another one of Danny's flattop boys... Pony. I texted Pony Sunday afternoon but haven't heard back from him. Going this long without hearing from Pony is unusual, to say the least. As we stand here waiting for a large loud group of freshmen to walk by in front of us, I text Pony feeling kinda bad I didn't follow up my first text until now, but fuck, why the hell can't he text me, ya know?
Pony doesn't text back but his roommate, Donald, does: 'Daryl's had a bad case of flu since Sun. Talk some sense into him... he needs to see a doctor' Huh, he obviously read my text on Pony's phone. I read the text to Robby, who says, "Yeah, there's like an epidemic of flu on campus. I guess you've gotta go over there, but try not to catch his disease, ya know?" I sarcastically muttered, "Jeez, you're so compassionate, Rob." He snorts out a laugh and then says, "Well, what the fuck? Everybody gets the flu, ya know..." Staying with the sarcasm, I say, "No they don't, but that's good advice about me not catching his disease. I was going to share a can of Coke with him, but after your advice, maybe I won't do that." Rob chuckles and mumbles, "Hey, use lots of hand sanitizer. That's all I meant."
Looking around, I'm thinking, 'Damn, two days back from Thanksgiving break and things are getting fucked up already.' Robby says, "How 'bout this? I drive us on campus, drop you off there at dormitory row, and while you're straightening out your friend, I'll hang out at the ballpark." I nod, "Good plan. Let's do it," and that's what we do. He drops me off at dormitory row, saying. "Text me when you've saved the kid, okay?" I nod and get out, mumbling, "Yeah, I will. Thanks," and hunch my shoulders against the cold wind as I walk down to Pony's dorm. This is fun... not!
Donald opens the door when I knock and as I'm stepping inside, he nods his head at Pony who appears to be sleeping. The bed covers are hiding half his head. Donald and I bump fists as he says, "Thank God he fell asleep. His coughing is driving both of us nuts, and I mean he coughs up shit you don't want me to know about. I like Pony, but he needs to see a doctor before I catch that shit he has!" I ask, "Well, is he at least taking anything for his cough, or whatever else ails him?" Donald shrugs, "Some over the counter shit. NyQuil I think." Then he says, "Now that you're here, I'm gonna go outside and get some fresh air, and then I've got a late class." I'm like, "Go to it, dude." He gets his coat, hat, and backpack on, we bump fist, he mutters, "Good luck and thanks for helping out." I nod my head and when the door closes behind him, I look at Pony again but can't see much of him... just his flattop... haha.
Donald sticks his head back in, and says, "Oh, I wanted to tell you, Dylan, he's had a fucking fever since at least Sunday night. He started complaining about a sore throat at your party." I'm like, "Well, what's he say lately about how he feels?" Making a 'face', he mumbles, "I don't know, um, he says he feels like shit. He has chills but he's sweating all the time too so I don't know what's up with that. Oh, and his chest hurts too, probably because he's coughing all the fucking time. I wanted you to know all his symptoms so you can tell the doctor... seriously, please talk him into seeing a doctor!"
Taking a deep breath, I'm like, "How the hell am I gonna do that?" He shrugs and says, "I don't fucking know. Oh, that's my blanket on top of his and yet he says he's still cold. Fuck, I haven't been able to get him to do anything. All he does is sleep, cough disgusting shit up, and complain." I'm like, "Yeah? Has he eaten anything?" Donald's closing the door saying over his shoulder, "Yeah, I've been bringing him soup from the dining hall but he needs to see a fucking doctor! Catch ya later, Dylan," and the door closes behind him again. Swell! Donald couldn't get out of here fast enough, not that I blame him... and he did come back to tell me what he knows. He's been dealing with this for going on three days now. Well, Pony has too, but...
Anyway, what should I do? Sitting at his desk I don't do anything... that's what I decide to do. Let him sleep and while he's doing that, I'm doing nothing except thinking about how bored I am. Jesus, looking around the room I'm amazed at how neat it is in here. The only messy thing in this dorm room is Pony. After ten minutes of resisting the urge to snoop through the stuff on his desk, I get up and sit on the side of his bed to slowly lift the cover off his head and... holy shit... he looks bad!
His breathing seems, I don't know, shallow or something and he, um, stinks of BO. I guess lying in bed and sweating with the chills since Sunday morning might cause a BO situation. Goddammit, why do I need to decide what to do here? I'm no fucking doctor! Omigod, his eyes just opened! I quietly ask, "How ya feeling, Pony?" What a dumb-ass question.
He squints, muttering, "Dylan? Am I dreaming again?" I can't think what to say to that. He looks terrible 'cause his face has no color and his lips aren't their normal pink color. I try smiling while stupidly saying, "Look at my haircut, Pony!" He doesn't do that. Instead, he starts coughing and grabbing a fistful of Kleenex, then he hocks a disgusting greenish glop of phlegm into the wad of tissues and wheezes in a shallow breath. Oh fuck, that can't be good.
When I'm pretty sure he isn't getting ready to hock up another phlegm ball, I touch his forehead and he is HOT! Hot as in a high fever and not hot like I normally... but never mind that now. He goes, "My chest hurts, Dylan, and I need something to drink." Looking around I see an open can of orange soda on the bedside table and ask, "How about some soda?" He coughs up some horrid looking stuff that he barely catches in the wad of gross tissues in his fist and says, "Anything that's liquid."
Omigod, I'm gonna hurl. I'd never make it as a nurse... or medic... medic, hmm.? After handing the warm soda can to Pony I take out my cell phone. Pony tries sitting up so I help him by getting my hand on his back and pulling him up a little. He sips some soda but not much, muttering, "My throat's sore." He lays back down closing his eyes as I text Connor. He texts back: 'I'm in class' and I text: 'Step outside... this is important'. Twenty seconds later he calls and I go, "Connor, I need your opinion about a medical matter." I tell him Pony's symptoms: a fever for at least three days, coughing up disgusting green phlegm, chest hurts, hard to breathe, looks like shit with odd colored lips and very pale face. It's a possible Zombie situation, sweating like a racehorse but with chills.
I go, "Whaddaya think?" He goes, "First, forget about the Zombie possibility; that's unlikely. Um, it sounds like bronchitis or pneumonia." I go, "Pneumonia?" He says, "Yes, it's more common than you might think but usually not as dangerous as it sounds." I go, "Thank you, Doctor. What should I do?" Connor says, "Go ask your mommy," and he laughs. I go, "CONNOR! This is serious," but it's good hearing him laugh. He chuckles, saying, "Take him to the hospital, of course. Preferably when you hang up." Looking at Pony, who appears to have gone back to sleep still clutching the wad of tissues with unspeakable disgusting glop in them, I say, "He sleeps a lot." Connor says, "Call an ambulance, Dylan. That'll be the quickest way to get him some medical attention."
I'm like, "Oh, balls! Do I have the right to call an ambulance?" He goes, "Why not? Just do it. I'm sorry but I've got to get back to class." Nodding my head which I do a lot, and in this case, no one can see me do it anyway, I say, "Thanks, Connor. I'm going to do that. You're right." He says, "Good luck. Tell me how it turns out tomorrow when I see you at the Quad, okay?" We end the call and I sit here on the edge of Pony's bed looking at him. Fuck, calling an ambulance seems like something adults do, not college students. Omigod, what a pussy thing that thought was... I dial 911.
Yeah, what could happen... I'll get yelled at? I mean, there is some kind of medical emergency procedure in place here at Merrimack, but I don't remember what it is and I'm fucking flustered so I'll deal with whatever the repercussions of not calling Merrimack's emergency thing, as well as, deal with whatever the fallout might be for calling 911... deal with all that shit later.
I tell the 911 operator my friend looks like he's dying and he can't seem to breathe... much. An exaggeration perhaps, but what do I know... ya know? She wants the exact location and directions for getting here on campus. Then, for some crazy reason, I need to stay on the line with this woman, probably until the police get here to arrest me for calling 911 simply because my friend has the flu.
The police don't come, but ten minutes later there's a knock on the door and when I open it there's this cute guy wearing an EMT uniform. He's in his early twenties and looks very serious as he asks me, "Do you have a medical emergency?" He has such an earnest look on his handsomely/cute face I step back and all I can do is point at Pony, muttering, "Um, him, I think," and then I babble, "I don't know if I should have called 911 or not... I um, I didn't know what else..." but the cute guy and an older man have walked quickly past me already. The older man has a stretcher on wheels.
The cute young guy has that light brown hair that's my favorite 'look' for guys. He has a cool haircut too, one he probably got this very morning. It's cut short but not wicked short. He combed it down on top with the bangs flipped up. Yeah, that's one of my favorite haircuts from a few years back. Except for having light brown straight hair, this guy reminds me of that uber hot and sexy actor, Ryan Phillippe. He has short curly or wavy blond hair. Well, I don't know what he looks like now. I'm talking about the way he looked when I saw him in a movie. It was an old movie and he was playing a detective. The title was... um, I can't remember the fucking title but the director of the movie knew what he was doing... there were lots of close-ups of Ryan's face.
Then I think I hear a question and I go, "What?" Oh, the Ryan lookalike young guy asked me a question. I wasn't paying attention and he seems annoyed that he needs to repeat the question, "How long has he been like this?" They were taking vital signs but now the older guy is putting that plastic gadget with the two little prongs that go in Pony's nostrils... oxygen obviously. I shrug, "Um, well, his roommate just texted me, or I texted him first, not the roommate but Pony, um, Daryl..." Ryan looks annoyed again, as he asks for the third time, "How many days has he been like this?" I'm getting annoyed too as I go, "How the fuck do I know? Three days I guess. I'm not his roommate!"
The older guy has the stretcher set up, saying, "Let's get him to the hospital, Ryan. We'll sort the details out there." Omigod, the Ryan Phillippe cute young lookalike guy's name is Ryan! That's unbelievable! Pony wakes up as he's being transferred to the stretcher and as they're covering him with blankets he looks frightened holding his hand out to me, saying weakly, "Dylan?" as if he's asking a question. I go, "They're taking you to the hospital, Pony. I'll go with you," and the older man says, "Well take him to Lawrence General... meet us there." I nod at the guy who said that and then look over at Pony while pointing at the EMT guy so Pony will believe me that I'll be there at the hospital. Then they take him away, just like that. Jeez, they didn't even ask for a credit card number.
I go outside with them and see their ambulance is parked right up on the sidewalk. There a dozen student gawkers murmuring speculations to each other. I hear someone mutter, "Overdose". Jesus, that's an original thought!
The back door of the ambulance gets opened as Pony's looking back to make sure I'm coming. I try smiling at him. Actually, I'm splitting my time between trying to reassure Pony and then switching to gawk at Ryan. Wow, is he sexy looking! Nice body too. He's like two inches taller than me but just as slim. Strong too as he and the older guy lift Pony and the stretcher into the back of the ambulance effortlessly and then they slam the doors. They're very business-like EMTs and neither has paid me any attention at all. Obviously, Ryan's on the other sexually oriented team or he would have noticed me eyeballing him by now. Fuck, some bitchy overweight girl probably has EMT Ryan wrapped around her finger without appreciating how lucky she is to have a hot boyfriend like him. What a waste!
Off they go without even knowing my friggin' name. I guess it's not their job to worrying about who's going to pay for this... and why am I thinking about that? I don't care either, um, assuming it's not me. Oh fuck... I called them but, um, how's this shit work anyway? Christ, the things I never gave a thought to before, but probably should have. Yeah, I'll bet there's probably a lot of things I haven't thought about!
As I'm walking toward the ballpark, I text Robby: 'I need the pickup keys. Can you come out for a second?' He texts back that he's coming out right now. I'm almost at the door when Rob walks out, asking, "What's up with Pony?" I tell him what happened and he asks, "Do you want me to come to the hospital with you?" Yeah, I do, but I don't want to seem like a dork, so I mumble, "Nah, then there would be two of us sitting around not knowing what we're supposed to do."
He hands me the keys, saying, "Okay, if you're sure. Um, I'll get a ride to the apartment later from one of the guys. Text me though. Let me know what's happening." I go, "Yeah, okay. I wish I knew what I'm supposed to do when I get there." Robby goes, "Christ, I don't know either. Just be there in case Pony needs a ride back here this afternoon." Nodding, I go, "Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Rob, I'll let you know what's up when I know, um, what's up." He pats my shoulder, "Good luck, Dylan. You're a really good guy taking care of your friend." I just shrug because I'm not sure I did the right thing calling 911.
I drive off toward the city of Lawrence. It's only about five miles from Merrimack, maybe less than that, and then the hospital is another couple of miles inside the city. I know approximately where the hospital is because I've been there once or twice, but not recently. When I'm in the vicinity there are signs for the hospital that I follow and then I'm parking in the hospital lot twenty minutes after the ambulance drove off.
Feeling nervous, I walk quickly in through the emergency room's automatic double doors and go to the information desk to stand behind a frantic couple asking about someone who was in a car accident. I don't hear their whole story because I feel a tap my shoulder. I turn around and see the older of the two ambulance guys. He goes, "Glad you're here, pal, I need you to sign this," and he points to what looks like a smartphone. He goes, "Use your finger," as he's holding the device out to me.
Glancing around for the Ryan Phillippe lookalike of twenty years ago, and not seeing him, I'm like, "Why do I need to sign this?" He talks quickly as though he's bored, saying, "You called for the ambulance and if the kid's parent's medical insurance won't cover the $300 cost the company will try collecting it from you, a college student. They won't have much luck with that so they'll eventually say fuck it. The kid says he's got health insurance so you won't be involved anyway unless the kid is lying, so you don't need to worry about it.... just sign, okay?" I'm like, "Huh?" He nods his head at the device he's holding, so what the fuck, I scribble some wiggly lines at the space for a signature with my finger, and then ask, "Where's your partner?" The guy glances around and then mumbles, "I guess Ryan's back in the truck. Thanks, kid," and he takes my illegible signature and walks out through the doors I came in.
A pleasant-sounding black woman at the information desk asks, "Can I help you?" Turning back to her, I go, "Um, that ambulance guy just brought in my friend and, um, I guess I'd like to know where he's at now. My friend, not the ambulance guy." She points to her left and says, "See the woman in the blue shirt two stations down. She handles new admissions." After muttering 'thanks' I walk down and stand in front of that desk.
This woman, a very thin Hispanic woman wearing what looks like a man's shirt and big eyeglasses continues tapping on her computer while completely ignoring me. After waiting a while, I do two of my fake coughs and she looks up, asking, "What can I do for you?" When I tell her she brightens up, saying, "Oh good! We need information for your friend. Have a seat." I sit down but the information she wants, like his home address, his parent's health care provider, his home telephone number, his date of birth, and..." and I say, " I don't know any of that. I just know him from college. Why didn't you ask Daryl these questions?" She says, "The doctor took him away as soon as he looked at him. I got his name, that's all."
She says she'll get the information from Daryl later and for me not to worry about it. I wasn't worried about it. Getting up, I wander around and then go through a doorway clearly marked 'Hospital Personnel Only' where I spot someone wearing scrubs; the kind I see actors playing doctors on TV wearing. Going up to this guy, who's slurping hot coffee from a paper cup, I'm like, "Excuse me." He's an average looking young guy who, on second look, appears too young to be a doctor. After another long loud slurp, which causes a sharp pain at the back of my head, the guy frowns at me and then says, "You're not supposed to be back here. The waiting room is that way," and he points to the door I just came through.
Looking where he's pointing and then back at him, I go, "Oh, I didn't know that. There's very poor signage in here. Um, I need to know what's happening with my friend who was brought here a half hour ago. He's kinda, um..." I was gonna say cute, but change it to, "I mean he's kinda got a haircut like mine and he's a college student, um, from Merrimack." The guy goes, "Oh yeah? Hey, they're looking for information regarding him. See Ms. Slickter in the waiting area." I go, "Yeah, I already saw her. So, do you know what's up with my friend? Where he's at, for example..." He goes, "He getting intravenous fluids and they're taking him for a chest X-ray. Hey, I'm just an orderly, buddy, and you need to go back out that door." We both look at the door again as I mumble, "Sure thing, thanks." He slurps his coffee again as I stand here. In a little louder voice, he goes, "Hey, that's all I know," and he walks away.
Well, balls! Is this any way to run a hospital? I knew he was too young to be a doctor. Continuing to wander in places I shouldn't, I'm looking into little curtained-off sections with sick people in them hoping to see Pony. I assume these people are sick 'cause they don't appear to be injured. An older lady, probably a nurse if I can go by her outfit, yells, "Hey, you! Young man, you're not allowed back here."
Walking over to her, I say, "I'm trying to find out what's up with my friend." She looks at me and grins, saying, "Jeez, that's a cool flattop haircut ya got there, kiddo. My twin brother had a flattop haircut from grade school until he was forty years old." Nodding my head, I go, "I'm probably not gonna have one that long," then I'm like, "Wait a minute... your brother had a flattop during what... the eighties? Really?" She shrugs, "Yep, he was and still is an original thinker." I go, "Huh! Um, do you know anything about a college kid with pneumonia who was brought to the emergency room a half hour ago?" She goes, "Oh, is he your friend? They're looking for someone to give them information about him." I nod, "Yes, I know. Where is he, do you know?" She goes, "Dr. Oswald had him sent to have his chest X-rayed." I go, "Where's that?" She points to an elevator, saying, "Up two floors but you aren't allowed there."
After thanking her, I stand here until she gives me a 'look'. I smile back and she obviously decides it's not worth her trouble to make me leave so she shrugs and then hurries off someplace. I use the elevator to go up two floors. Fuck, I feel like Chubby doing all this bogus shit. This is how he'd handle this situation... ya just agree that you're not supposed to be doing what you're doing and then continue doing it...
Getting off the elevator I see a tall skinny black dude pushing Pony on a squeaky-wheeled stretcher. Hey, I'm getting lucky! The wheels make a constant annoying squeaking sound as he rolls the stretcher out a wide door. I go, "Hold up a second," and the black dude turns around, and says, "Oh, you're not supposed..." and I interrupt, saying, "I know, I'm not supposed to be here but since I am, where are you taking him?" Pony squirms around on the stretcher and repeats what he said in his dorm room. He says, "Dylan?" making it a question. He has an IV in his right arm with a bottle hanging from a metal pole that's also on wheels, and Pony's still got the oxygen thingie in his nostrils.
I say, "I'm here checking on you, Pony. Don't worry about a thing." The skinny black guy calls down to a stout woman in a uniform, saying, "Joyce, this kid shouldn't be here." Joyce starts striding down to us. Her nurse's uniform is too small for her, plus she has a man's regular SuperCut haircut. From the expression on her face I'm guessing she isn't going to take any shit from me, so I quickly ask the skinny black dude, "Where are you taking my friend?" He goes, "The doctor wants to keep him overnight. I'm taking him to the eighth floor." I nod and mutter, "Thanks," and then put a big smile on my face and say to the stout woman, "Maybe you can help me. I'm lost. Which way is the emergency room?" The skinny black guy snickers as he pushes Pony's stretcher away with Pony saying, "Visit me in my room, Dylan."
The stout woman looks at Pony, and then looks back at me saying, "You're not allowed to be in X-ray!" I reject my first inclination, which is to say, 'No shit', and say instead, "That's what that guy told me, but I'm lost. This hospital is confusing... the signage in here sucks." She goes, "Come with me," and I follow her through a few doors where she points at a bank of elevators, saying, "Reception is down two floors. You can ask about visiting hours there." I go, "Oh, thank you so much." She nods her head a few times knowing she's being bullshit but, not being able to do anything about it, she struts off back the way we came.
I get on the elevator and go up to the eighth floor. Looking around for a second, I walk down to what appears to be a nurse's station. A nurse looks up as I approach. She frowns, asking, "Are you lost?" I put on another brilliant smile and say, "No, I'm here to visit my sick brother who is on this floor and I give her Pony's name." She taps on her computer and then looks up to say, "First of all, you can't see him until visiting hours and secondly he's not in his room yet. How'd you get up here?" Ignoring that last question I pretend I'm confused, asking, "When are visiting hours?" She goes, "Visiting hours don't start this evening until seven o'clock." I'm like, "Really? Nobody told me that."
I'm stuck for the moment but then I hear squeaky wheels and turn to see the tall skinny black guy coming out of a room at the end of the hallway with an empty stretcher. I turn back to the nurse, saying, "Um, okay, I'll come back at seven," and walk down the hall toward the room the squeaky stretcher just came out of. As the skinny black guy pushes the stretcher past me he's shaking his head and muttering to himself, "It's none of your business, Earl," and he keeps going. He's right, it's none of his business... way to be, Earl.
Going in the room Earl just came out of, room 809, I see Pony in bed near the windows with a nurse getting him comfortable. Walking by the first two beds I smile and nod at two confused looking sick people, an old white man with a disgustingly long white beard and a middle-aged black guy who smiles back at me. The nurse, an officious looking older lady, turns around and asks, "Who are you?" Pointing at Pony, I say, "I'm that guy's friend. How's he doing?" She says, "He'll be fine after getting rehydrated and a lot of antibiotics." I go, "Uh huh, and what's he got, um, disease-wise or whatever?" She says, "You shouldn't be here. Visiting hours start at seven. They're eleven till two, and then seven at night until ten." I nod, "Oh, thanks. I didn't know that. So, what's wrong with my friend there?" She exhales an annoyed deep breath and goes, "He has an upper respiratory infection from a virulent strain of influenza that's making its way around town." Nodding my head, I go, "Thank you. I was wondering when I might be able to come to get him after, um, whatever needs to be done here..." She says, "He'll be released tomorrow. You shouldn't be here now though." I go, "As I mentioned, I didn't know that. There's very poor signage..."
The nurse adjusts the tube attached to Pony's arm and then she's apparently too tired after working all day to argue with me and she merely says, "Don't stay long," as she's leaving. Going over to the bed, I'm like, "So, how ya feeling now... any better?" He goes, "A little better, yeah. You are so cool, Dylan. The way you talked to that nurse... haha." Shrugging, I'm like, "So you're feeling better already, huh?" He goes, "I feel a little better... not good, but better. They're very nice here." I go, "Yep, a very friendly place with lots of obliging people," and I feel his forehead with the palm of my hand and to me, he still feels hot.
Pony puts out his hand so I hold it, as he says, "Thanks for getting me here, um, I feel safe now. Donald kept saying I needed to see a doctor but I was too sick to do that." I go, "Catch 22," and he goes, "What's that?" Shaking my head, I'm like, "Nothing. Um, I'm not supposed to be here so I gotta go pretty quickly, but I'll come by tomorrow to find out when I can take you back to the dorm." He looks sleepy as he says, "Okay, thanks, Dylan. You're my best friend." I squeeze his hand and then back away doing a little hand wave, goofily... making him grin.
Walking toward the elevators, I'm thinking... holy shit, that went pretty well. At the pickup truck, I text Rob and tell him Pony's all settled in at the hospital and he'll be fine. Driving back I'm feeling good about myself. That's how not to take 'no' for an answer... just like my brother would do it. Christ, how many times did I hear... 'you're not supposed to be here'... not supposed to be here my ass!
to be continued...
Donny Mumford. thinat20@yahoo.com. donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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