Date: Tue, 6 Jan 2009 10:04:01 -0500
From: ronyx <ronyx@woh.rr.com>
Subject: A Bridge to Yesterday  Chapter 9

The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone are purely
coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain
profanity and references to gay sex. If this offends you, please leave and
find something more suitable to read. The author maintains all rights to
the story. Do not copy or use without written permission. Write Ron at
ronyx@woh.rr.com with your comments. Ronxy is a prolific Nifty writer.



A Bridge to Yesterday      Chapter 9



We arrived early at the hospital. Again, the police took us to the side
entrance, away from the media. While Nicky had showered in the hotel room,
I managed to turn on the television and watch CNN.

The police were right. The shooting was the lead story. The first thing
they showed was a video of Joey. Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw his
smiling image on the screen. It had been taken at a board meeting earlier
in the year when he presented several students with community service
awards. I briefly broke into tears when they interviewed him. It was
evident the pride and love he had for his students.

The next video was that of Coach Arnold. It showed him coaching on the
sidelines during a football game. He was shouting and screaming at his
players. I had never met the man, but I instantly hated him.

The program went to a commercial, but when they returned I was surprised
when they began discussing a possible motive. They told how Joey had been
trying to form a Gay/Straight Alliance at Southwestern and how Coach Arnold
had been suspended for his homophobic behavior. When they introduced a
panel of 'experts' who began discussing Arnold's irrational behavior, I
turned the television off.

The waiting room was already full when we entered. Everyone became silent
as we walked across the room and asked the receptionist if we could see
Dr. Singh. She smiled politely, and then told us to have a seat as she
disappeared from the room. About five minutes later, Dr. Singh appeared and
asked to speak to Star and me. He led us to a private room and closed the
door.

As we sat down, I grabbed Star's hand and held it. Dr. Singh sat across
from us and smiled. "He made it through the night without any major
complications. I'm beginning to feel a little more optimistic than I was
yesterday."

If we had not have been seated, I think Star and I would have collapsed
onto the floor. She leaned against me and I could feel her expel the breath
she had been holding.

"He's going to live?" She asked hopefully.

"I didn't say that," Dr. Singh responded, "but I think his chances are
greater today than they were yesterday. Unexpected problems can always
arise, but right now I'm satisfied with the improvement he's made in the
past twelve hours. We removed the respirator a couple of hours ago and he
appears to have no problem breathing on his own. That is a very positive
sign."

"Can we see him?" I found myself asking.

"He's still very heavily sedated," he explained. "He probably will be for a
few more days. However, I don't see any problem with you seeing him for a
few minutes." He stood up and looked down at us, "If you'll wait here a few
minutes, I'll go get a nurse and have her take you to him."

He started to leave, but then stopped and turned. "Mrs. Wendelmeirer, I
need to get your permission for something. The media has been hounding the
hospital for information on Dr. Carpenter's condition. The hospital
administrator has asked me to conduct a brief news conference this morning,
but we first need to get your permission. Will you consent to this?"

Star looked at me. I nodded my head, and she then told Dr. Singh to proceed
with the news conference. He thanked us and then disappeared from the
room. A minute later the nurse who had taken us the previous day to see
Joey appeared. She smiled when she entered.

"I guess Dr. Singh told you the good news," she smiled. "He seems to be
improving hourly." We got up and followed her from the room. Star once
again gripped my hand as we entered the ICU.

When she pulled back the curtain, the first thing I noticed was that Joey
seemed to have color to his skin. He didn't look as pale and ghostly as he
did the previous day. The tube running in his mouth had been removed, but
he had tubes running into his arm, and there were still several monitors
situated around him.

"I'll get you a couple of chairs," whispered the nurse, "and you can sit a
few minutes with him." She left and Star walked over and kissed Joey on the
forehead. I then walked over and gently took his hand and leaned down and
kissed him on his cheek.


"Hey," I whispered in his ear. "It's Gene." I was surprised when I felt him
squeeze my hand more forcefully than he had the day before. The nurse
returned with a couple of chairs, and I sat down, continuing to hold his
hand.

After a few minutes of silence, Star arose and walked over to the bed. She
ran her hand over Joey's hair. "We're here with you Joey," she said. "The
waiting room is filled with people praying for you." He squeezed my hand
gently.

"Nicky's worried about you," she continued. "I told him you're going to be
alright. So you better pull through this." Joey gripped my hand
tightly. Star looked down, and looked back up at me with an astonished
look.

"He can hear you," I whispered.

"Can you hear me?" Star asked. "Squeeze Gene's hand if you can."

Tears fell from my eyes when he squeezed my hand. I leaned in and kissed
him on his forehead. "Thank, God." I said loudly. "Thank you."

Star leaned over and talked into his ear. "You're going to be alright,
Joey. There are a lot of people who love you." She looked up at me. Again,
Joey tightened his grip on my hand.

The nurse appeared and informed us that we should leave and let Joey
rest. I leaned in and whispered into Joey's ear. "I love you, Joey. I
always have." He squeezed my hand gently, and I pulled away and wiped the
tears from my eyes.

As we walked into the hall, Star collapsed against the wall and began
crying. I held her and whispered that things were going to be alright. She
nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes with a tissue. We both then took a
deep breath and walked toward the waiting room. Before opening the door,
she stopped.

"When we go out there," she said, "take Nicky out to the garden and talk to
him. Assure him that his Dad is going to be alright."

"Why me?" I asked. I was a stranger to him. He'd probably feel more
comfortable hearing the news from Star.

"He trusts you," she said. "He told me this morning that Joey was going to
be alright because you promised him that he would make it. Silly as it may
seem, he believes you."

We entered the waiting room, and Nicky ran over to us. "How's Dad?" He
looked hopefully into our eyes. I smiled and put my arm around his waist
and led him quickly from the room. We walked down the hall and I led him
into a small conference room. I closed the door and pulled him into me. He
wrapped his arms around my waist.

"He's doing better, Nicky," I said softly. "The doctor thinks he's going to
make it." I knew it wasn't exactly what Dr. Singh had said, but I felt
confident that Joey was now going to pull through this.

I rubbed his back as he cried into my chest. He pulled away and looked into
my face. "You're not lying to me are you?"

"A few minutes ago Star told him you were worried about him," I knelt down
and looked into his tearful face. "Star told him you loved him and he
squeezed my hand. He heard her." Nicky wrapped his arms around my neck and
cried once again.

After a minute, I stood and pulled him away. "I need you to do something
for me." He looked up and nodded. "You have to be really strong right now,
okay?" Once again he nodded. "Your Dad is going to need all the strength
you have." He looked at me and wiped away his tears.

"When can I see him?" He asked.

"That may be awhile," I replied. "Right now they have him in a special room
with tubes running into his arm. They are keeping him sleeping because of
his injuries."

"But you said he squeezed your hand." He looked at me skeptically.

"That's because the drugs are keeping him asleep," I assured him. "But I
think that deep down he can sense what's going on around him."

"Will he be alright when he gets better?" He asked.

"I don't know," I replied honestly. Dr. Singh never did go into his
long-term injuries. We were just concerned that he would live through the
night.

Again, I knelt before him. "But whatever happens," I said, "he'll always be
your Dad. We'll just have to, I mean, you'll just have to love him no
matter what." He gave me a puzzled look, and then he nodded.

When we entered the waiting room, I had my arm protectively around Nicky's
waist. I don't know why, but I began to feel it was my responsibility to
keep him safe until he was reunited with Joey. Perhaps it was because Star
had told me he trusted me, but I think it was more out of a feeling of
loyalty to Joey.

As we made our way through the room, several people reached out and hugged
him. Each time, I'd wait until they released him, and then I'd lead him
away. Star was smiling when we reached her on the other side of the room.

She held Nicky's head in her hands and gently kissed him on his
forehead. "You alright?" She asked him. He nodded and looked over at me.

"Uncle Gene says I have to be strong for Dad." A lump formed in my throat
and I thought I was going to break down hearing him call me Uncle Gene.

Star looked at me and smiled. "Yes, Nicky," she said. "You be strong for
your Dad."

"I want to see him," Nicky announced. I watched as tears started to stream
down his face. "I don't know why they won't let me see him."


"You're too young," Star informed him. "There are hospital rules.."


"I have to go to the bathroom," I interrupted Star. I reached down and
grabbed Nicky's hand. "Don't you have to go?"

"Not really," he replied.

"Yes, you do." I insisted as I took his hand and led him away.

"I don't have to go," he whined and struggled to pull his hand away.

"I don't either," I said. "Come on." I released his hand and he followed me
closely. I began tiptoeing down the hallway and I was amused when I looked
back and he was also.

"Ssshh," I said as I opened a door and pulled him inside.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Just follow me." I was trying to find the ICU, but I quickly realized I
was lost. As we entered another doorway, we were stopped by a police
officer.

"You can't come in here," he stated tersely. He looked at me and then at
Nicky and his expression softened.

"Mr. Albright," he said. "You and the boy have to go back to the waiting
room."

"But he wants to see his Dad," I said with a pleading look. I looked down
at his name plate. "Come on, Officer Davis. If your father was in the
hospital you'd want to see him."

"My father died four years ago," he said sadly. "He died before I had a
chance to see him." He looked down and studied Nicky.

"I'm going to get fired if they find out I did this," he sighed. "Follow
me, but don't say anything if we get stopped." I nodded my head and then
grabbed Nicky's hand. We followed Officer Davis down a long hallway before
entering another doorway. I immediately recognized the area. We had entered
the ICU through a back entrance.

"Thanks, Officer," I whispered, and then I led Nicky over to the green
curtain of Joey's cubicle.

I knelt down and talked softly to Nicky. "You have to be strong,
Nicky. Don't cry when we go in there. He may be able to hear us, and it
will hurt him if he knows you're upset." He tearfully nodded at me.

"Now listen carefully." He nodded again. "Be prepared for what you
see. He's going to be asleep and there's going to be a lot of tubes running
into him. Do you think you can handle that?" Again, he nodded. I stood and
grabbed his hand tightly. "Ready?" He nodded and I slowly pulled back the
curtain.

I felt his knees go weak when he first saw Joey lying on the bed. I held
him up and put my arm around his waist to steady him.

He cautiously walked over to the bed and looked down. "Dad?" He reached
down and grabbed Joey's hand. He looked at me and his eyes widened when he
realized that Joey had squeezed his hand.

"Dad?" He leaned in and began kissing Joey all over his face. "I love you,
Daddy." One of the monitors began making a beeping noise and seconds later
a nurse rushed into the room.

"What are you doing in here?" She asked angrily. She looked down at
Nicky. "Children are absolutely prohibited in here. You'll have to leave
immediately."

"It's his son," I began to explain.

"I don't care who he is," she said angrily. "Right now my main concern is
for Dr. Carpenter's health. Now get out!"

I grabbed Nicky's hand and we quickly left the room. Nicky tried to stop
and look back, but the angry look on the nurse's face told me we should
leave as quickly as possible. Just then, Officer Davis appeared and grabbed
my arm. He gave me a quick wink and then turned to the nurse.

"I'll handle this, Nurse." He then pulled me and Nicky down the hall. When
we turned the corner he released us.

"Please don't come back here again without the doctor's permission," he
pleaded. "I have a wife and three kids I have to support."

I stuck out my hand and shook his. "Thanks, Officer. We may have broken a
few rules," I said looking over at Nicky, "but we put one kid's mind to
rest." He nodded and then walked away.

As we walked down the hallway, Nicky announced, "Now I do have to use the
bathroom, Uncle Gene." I laughed as he entered the bathroom. A few minutes
later he emerged happily. He walked over and put his arms around
me. "Thanks, Uncle Gene." I hugged him tightly as tears appeared in my
eyes.

When we returned to the waiting room, everyone was standing and watching
what was occurring on a television set in the corner. I don't remember ever
noticing it being on the day before. As we approached, a news reporter was
talking anxiously.

"The SWAT team has surrounded the house, and they are trying to get the
subject to come out and surrender."

I walked over to Ticker and whispered, "What's going on?"

"Coach Arnold is locked up inside his house and the police are trying to
get him to come out. It's on the national news." I looked back up at the
television and noticed the CNN logo in the corner.

"We've just heard gunshots coming from the house!" The reporter
shouted. "The police are asking everyone to leave the area immediately." We
heard several more gunshots, and then it appeared that the reporter and
cameraman ducked down behind a news van.

Suddenly, we heard shouting. "Put the gun down! Drop your weapon!" There
were several more gun shots, and then silence. We watched in horror as the
reporter rose to his feet and looked around. The next scene showed the SWAT
team surrounding a body on the front lawn of a home.

"It appears the subject has been shot by the police." Again, the camera
panned in for a closer view, but the SWAT team held up their shields,
blocking the camera's view.

"We'll break for a commercial," announced the reporter. "We'll be back with
more information in two minutes." Just then a toilet paper commercial began
to play.

"Jesus," hissed Star. "Can you believe that?" I looked around the room at
the stunned looks on the people in the waiting room. Except for me and
perhaps Nicky, all had known the coach. Most of them appeared to be in a
state of shock.

"Did the cops kill the coach?" Nicky looked at me and Ticker.

"I think so," I said.

"Good." He said coldly. "I'm glad he's dead."

Star walked up, grabbed his hand and led him from the room. Ticker and I
followed them down to the cafeteria. We went through the line and got a
light lunch. The hotel had sent us up food earlier, but we had all been too
worried to eat.

When someone walked up to Nicky and asked him how he felt about Coach
Arnold being killed by the police, a plain-clothed officer stepped between
them and escorted the person away. We were led to the back of the
cafeteria, and two uniformed officers stood watch as we quietly ate.

I kept watching Nicky for some reaction to the shooting of Arnold, but if
he was troubled by it, he didn't make it apparent. Star would look at him
and then back at me. I looked at her worriedly and then shrugged my
shoulders.

"Nicky." She said softly. "Are you alright?"

"Sure, Aunt Star," he replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I was afraid that you might be upset with what you just saw on
television." He looked at her blankly and shook his head.

"Why would seeing that son of a bitch get shot bother me?" Star flinched
with his cold words. "I hope he's dead." He got up and pushed his chair
back, knocking it to the floor. He began running from the cafeteria and one
of the police officers reached out and grabbed him. He fought to break
free, but the other officer grabbed him and they were able to subdue him.

"You're hurting him!" I shouted. I then ran up and grabbed him, tearing him
from the grasp of the officers. "He's just a boy."

"Why, Uncle Gene?" Nicky screamed. "Why did he have to shoot my Dad?" I
held him tightly, trying to find an answer to his plea.

"I don't know, Nicky," I replied. "Sometimes bad things happen to good
people." He continued to sob into my chest. Star and Ticker stepped up
beside us and we clung to each other for support. The events of the past
two days were beginning to get to us.

"We have to stay strong," I said. "Joey needs us to stay strong."

Suddenly, I was aware of the irony of the situation. For the past twenty
years I had always turned my back and run from difficult situations. I had
found solace in a lonely bar holding a drink in my hand.

Now I found myself in a situation I had never experienced before. I was
facing a crisis in my life, and for the first time, I standing up to it
with determination. I hadn't even thought of having a drink since Joey got
shot.

Before, when I had stayed in a hotel room, I would head downstairs and get
a drink even before I bothered to unpack. But I had spent last night
comforting Nicky, and I hadn't even thought of numbing my senses with a
bottle of bourbon.

Perhaps Star was right. All I had to do was trust someone in order to find
my way back to that bridge to yesterday. Now, however, it wasn't the bridge
to the past that mattered. I had spent a lifetime thinking that my life
would be better if I went back and dug up old memories and troubled events.

Embracing Nicky, Star and Ticker made me realize that rebuilding my life
didn't depend on opening up twenty year old wounds. It meant starting over
and crossing a bridge that headed forward. It meant realizing that life
existed in the present, not in the past. Nicky needed me. Joey needed
me. Maybe things wouldn't work out the way I wanted them, but at least I
was moving forward for the first time in my life; and the people I was now
holding was the reason for that. I could depend on them to build my bridge
to the future.

*****************

Everything around me seems so fuzzy. It's like my brain is alive but my
body is shut down. I can hear things around me briefly, then nothing.

I know something bad has happened to me. I'm getting small flashbacks. I'm
having trouble deducing what is real and what is a dream. There are moments
I think I am alive, then there are times that I feel that everything may be
an illusion.

Nicky. Did he come to me? I don't know. I think I remember hearing his
voice, but I'm not sure. I also think that Star came to me, but again I
don't know. I'm not sure of anything.

And Gene. I float in and out of this dream state I'm in, and it seems he's
always there. But why Gene?

I did see Allen last night, though. He came to me and told me everything
would be alright. He also said he'd understand. I don't know what that
means. Understand what?

I wish I could wake up from this dream I'm in.

******************

When we returned to the waiting area, the room was abuzz with
conversation. I looked at the television, but it was showing pictures of a
flood somewhere.

"He deserved what he got." I heard someone to my right exclaim.

"But did he have to do what he did?" Someone responded.

"What happened?" I stopped and asked a young girl.

"You haven't heard?" She asked. I shook my head. "Coach Arnold shot it out
with the police. He's dead."

"They think he was trying to commit suicide," the other girl explained. "He
wanted the police to kill him." I shook my head and walked away.

I walked over to a vacant couch, sat down and laid my head back. I was
exhausted. Sitting in the waiting area of a hospital can be tortuous. You
watch a door, hoping that someone will emerge and give you a glimmer of
hope.

I looked around the room, and everyone seemed to be in a similar state of
boredom. Some were chatting idly and others were absentmindedly watching
television, but we still shared a same interest- Joey.

And I guess we were all determined, because of our love for him, to remain
steadfast until we did get some good word about his condition. I was
positive that he would survive this. He had squeezed my hand, and I knew
he'd somehow find the strength he needed. He was a survivor, after all. The
more I began to see him as a real individual instead of some fantasy I'd
concocted in my head years ago, the more I admired him.

The people sitting quietly in the waiting room were a testimony to his
goodness. They wouldn't be there if they didn't care. He had somehow
touched each person. Some were his colleagues who trusted his judgment.
Others were students who he had mentored and helped through different
trying situations. Others were just people who cared about him because he
was who he was- a gentle and caring individual.

I was startled from my reverie when someone sat down beside me. It was
Nicky. He curled up beside me, placed his head in my lap and fell asleep.

As I gently stroked his hair while he snored quietly, I realized one thing-
my life had been changed. For the first time in my life I really felt love-
real love. It wasn't the kind that I had manufactured in some drunken
stupor.

And I would never again be the same.

******************

More can be read at: www.themustardjar.com

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