-------------------- Michael's Secret Love Chapter 10 July 24, 2000
Written By: Justin Case
Disclaimer: The story you are about to read contains sexually graphic material. It is placed here for your education and enjoyment. The author accepts no responsibilities for your personal actions, before, during or after your reading this literature. You were warned upon entering the site, of the legalities.
Words from our Author: Hoo, what can I say? I have so many words floating around, so many thoughts; I don't know where to start. I want to thank the many of you, who write me with your plans and dreams; you give me the inspiration to continue my work. I want to build my Web page to feature an advice column for all to read. I get so many asking for advice, and I'd like to publish the letters and my answers for all to read. I wouldn't post the names of those who write me, I could use aliases. If any of you could help me, give me a shout.
Well, I must say I miss you all. I want to thank the many of you, that ask how I'm doing. My hand and wrist are still not there yet, but the pain has lessened. I have my good and bad days, like always. If you like the story send me a note, I'm still at Justin69SK@aol.com
One last thanks, goes out to my new editor, Joe. Thank you Joe, for massaging the words and correcting my punctuation.
We sat in the Portland General Hospital Chapel for several hours, James and I. Mrs. Bellevue had left us, after I had returned from seeing Eugene. I sat there, wondering about the note he left. What did he say in his last good bye? Mrs. Bellevue was clear; it had something to do with me. I asked James what he thought about the note, but he wasn't sure, so we didn't really talk about it. I was alone in my thoughts.
"Mr. Martin?" came the nurse's voice, as she stepped into the chapel.
I turned my head towards her and quietly spoke up, "I"m Michael Martin."
"Mrs. Bellevue has asked for you; she'd like you to come back to her son's room," the nurse stated.
"Yes, of course...is everything all right?" I anxiously asked, fear swelling from the depths of my soul.
"I'm not sure. Maybe it's best if you come with me; I really can't divulge patient information," the woman, with her triangular white hat, replied.
I could feel myself weaken, and I began to shake. "Let's go," I said. As I looked to James, my eyes begged for him to come along.
"I'd better wait here. I know you want me there, but she didn't ask for me," James said, direct and to the point, as he often is.
"I'll be with you, Son," the nurse assured me, as she looked to James and nodded.
The walk from the chapel to the room was painstakingly slow. I looked at the floor tiles, noticing the pattern of the green and white squares. I pondered how long it took to place each tile. I thought about the light green walls, and wondered how long they had been green. I embossed myself with each and every overhead fluorescent light. The reflections on the tiles made me realize how clean and sterile this environment was. As we approached the room, I saw Mrs. Bellevue standing outside the door. With her, was a man wearing a black suit. The collar was known to me; he was a Pastor.
"Michael, this is Father Jones. Eugene's vital signs have taken a turn for the worse. I hoped you could go in and talk to him. He's unconscious, but maybe he can hear you. Would you do that?" Mrs. Bellevue asked me, snapping me back to reality.
"Sure, I guess," I muttered with some apprehension. I had no idea what to say.
"Michael, in his note, Eugene said he loved you. I've known for a long time my son had different feelings, and I love him. He said he confided his feelings in you and was now afraid to live," Mrs. Bellevue stated, visibly struggling to keep her voice steady. Her eyes filled with tears.
"What Mrs. Bellevue is trying to ask, is that Eugene has nothing to fear from you, does he?" Father Jones inquired.
Father Jones was a tall man. He had a soft, warm look to his face; his eyes were gray and gentle. When I looked at him, I felt his respect for others, and I was sure I could trust him.
"Mrs. Bellevue, I don't know what to say. I love Eugene like a brother; I would never hurt him. I have someone very special in my life, and I told that to Eugene after he told me how he felt. I'm so sorry," I finished in tears, looking at each in turn.
"Oh, no, Son! Don't blame yourself for a single minute," Father Jones said, as he reached for my right hand. He looked me right in the eyes.
"Michael, I am so sorry that Eugene is putting you through this," Mrs. Bellevue cried, as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Son, all we can do is pray. Eugene needs to have hope, and we think that your voice will get through to him" Father Jones said, releasing my hand from his grasp. He softly opened the door and pointed me in.
Uncertainty gnawed at me and fear took its hold. I didn't know what to do. I took a deep breath and proceeded into the hospital room where Eugene lay comatose. I slowly approached his bed and peered into his face. He looked so serene. I watched his chest rise and fall in time with the ventilator. I looked to his hands, clasped together on his belly. I don't know why, but I reached and placed my own, now steady hands, over his.
"Eugene, I do love you. I want you to know that. I love you for being like me." I whispered softly to my friend.
I spied a chair near the top of the bed and pulled it towards me with my leg and foot. I didn't want to release his hands from mine. I gradually tugged the chair to the bedside and positioned it, so I could sit next to the bed. I sat there stroking Eugene's hands with my own.
"Gene, I will always hold your friendship dear to me, but you need to know that I love James. James and I love each other; we have for quite some time. While I do love you, it's as a brother. I am so sorry." I barely breathed, to my stricken friend.
Suddenly the heart monitor began to scream, breaking the quiet rhythm in the room. The ventilator stopped pumping. The room doors flew open, as two nurses and a doctor steadfastly made their way to Eugene. The lead nurse was rushing a cart towards the other side of the bed.
"Son, you'll need to leave now," the doctor ordered, as he directed me out of the room.
I shuffled, dazed, back into the hallway, where Mrs. Bellevue and Father Jones stood together with apprehensive looks on their faces. I knew by seeing many televisions shows that Eugene's heart had stopped. I visualized the doctor and nurses shocking his chest with those paddles, in a desperate race for the heart to respond.
The three of us mulled outside the room for quite some time, before I suddenly noticed James had joined us. I had been so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn't seen him approach. I looked to him for comfort and support.
"Is everything ok?" James asked, with his brow furrowed with worry.
"We don't know; they haven't come out. I think we should pray." Father Jones replied solemnly.
Just then the doors opened and the doctor emerged. His face was drawn, as he looked towards Mrs. Bellevue. "We've stabilized him, and his vitals are good," he said flatly. "The next few hours are going to be crucial, though. We'll have to wait and see."
"Oh, Doctor, thank you," Mrs. Bellevue's voice wavered.
Seeing that Mrs. Bellevue was visibly shaken, Father Jones decided the group should move to the waiting room near the nurses' station. I just wanted to be alone with James. I looked into his face and with my eyes, I told him I wanted to be alone with him; he understood.
"Mike and I are going back to the chapel to wait. Please come and get us if there is any change." James said, not offering an alternative.
"Thank you, James, for coming. I appreciate your support. I know Eugene will be thankful you are here, as well." Mrs. Bellevue said, as Father Jones gently guided her towards the waiting room.
We turned to the opposite direction and headed back to the chapel. I noticed the plaques on the wall outside the different rooms. The rooms, or the furniture were noted on the little brass fixtures, always in memory of someone. I sadly wondered again, how many had died within these walls.
"Are you ok?" came a gentle voice, bringing me back to here and now. It was my lover's voice, James, laced with concern.
"I really don't know how I feel." I said, with uncertainty in my shaking voice.
"Michael, all we can do is pray. It's not your fault." James said with conviction.
"I just can't help feeling responsible. I keep wishing I had been able to talk to Eugene more before this all happened." I replied, still upset with my actions.
When we reached the chapel doors, James reached for my hand and said firmly, "Look, Mike, it wasn't your fault. This was a choice Eugene made; it was his choice, as wrong as it might have been. You couldn't have known he was that unstable or insecure."
I looked him right in the eyes and responded, "James, if only we could be honest with people, about who we are. Why do people have to be so cruel?" I began to break down, the tears trickling down my cheeks.
"I don't know, Babe. I just don't know," James said, as we sat in the pew.
He put his arm around me and pulled me to him. I could feel my body tremor. My chest was heaving with sobs. I leaned my head onto his shoulder. I could smell his cologne. He reached his right hand to my cheek to wipe away the tears. His touch was so gentle.
All we could do was wait.
Phew, that was some chapter. I really struggled with it, for the entire past week. I hate to leave you here, but I must. I haven't decided where the journey is going to take us yet. Is Eugene going to leave us? Or, will this be a happy ending? I have my thoughts, let me know yours, e-mail me at Justin69SK@aol.com
Thanks Joe!