One Day Soon (13 page)

A hustler. A commercial. A pro.

Yoss was a prostitute.

And I had been worried that he was selling drugs. I was such a dumbass.

I barely registered the first tears that slid down my cheeks. I soon was lost in miserable, horrible thoughts of Yoss in back alleyways doing awful things with awful men.

I could only assume that Manny was his pimp. That in return for keeping him safe, Manny secured Yoss’s
services.

Oh god!

How long had Yoss been…
hustling?

Since he was twelve?

I was going to be sick again.

I bent over and heaved until there was nothing left in my stomach.

My heart broke into tiny, bitter pieces.

I curled into a ball and let the tears fall.

Not for me.

Never for me.

They were all for Yoss.

I couldn’t fall asleep until Yoss came back. I kept my back to him as he slipped under the covers beside me.

Like always, he never touched me. We lay side by side, feeling each other’s heat.

I had wondered why he had never tried anything with me. At first because I was scared he would. Then later because I wanted him to.

Now I understood why.

How could he want sex with me when he was selling it to strangers?

Did I want him to touch me now that I knew? Did it change the way I thought of him? I wasn’t sure. I hated that I questioned my feelings at all.

It wasn’t his fault that he was forced to make the choices he had. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the men—Yoss on his knees—dark, secluded places where they wouldn’t be caught.

I bit down on my lip so I wouldn’t cry again.

Yoss scooted closer so that his arm brushed against my back. I expected him to move away like he always did, but this time he stayed. He pressed the length of his arm along the curve of my spine and I kept myself perfectly still, pretending to be asleep.

I knew the second he thought I was awake, he’d move. And I didn’t want him to.

Even after what Karla had told me.

There was something different in the way he smelled tonight.

Like sweat and dirt and tears.

I wanted to look at him, to see if I would find the sight of him less appealing now I had learned his secret.

But I was frightened to. I didn’t want to lose what I felt for Yoss. It was good. It was pure. It was the only light in this dark, horrible world.

I was terrified that if I did feel differently, what that would say about me.

So I stayed on my side and let him take comfort in the barest of touches.

That night, he didn’t hum to go to sleep.

Instead he cried.

Present Day

“G
ood morning, Mr. Frazier. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Howell asked, checking the monitors and making notes in Yoss’s chart.

That morning I was attending rounds with the doctor for each of my clients. Yoss was first on the list now that he was conscious. He had woken up that morning and stayed awake for the first time since being admitted. Cheyenne, the nurse on duty, said he had even eaten some breakfast.

I kept my back straight and my clipboard pressed to my chest. Yoss glanced in my direction, but there was otherwise no expression on his face.

“Like I got hit by a bus,” he muttered, trying to sit up in bed, wincing when he moved.

Dr. Howell moved to his side and helped him into an upright position. He readjusted the bed so that Yoss was no longer reclining. “I’m sure you do. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.” Dr. Howell looked back at me. “This is Imogen Conner, one of the hospital social workers on staff. She has been assigned your case.”

Yoss snorted, but didn’t respond. Dr. Howell pursed his lips and continued, “Imogen will be the one coordinating your care and services. She can help you find a place to stay. She will also liaise with the local police department in regards to what happened.”

“I’m not talking to the police,” Yoss said sharply.

Dr. Howell glanced at me. “Well, you can discuss all of that with Ms. Conner.” The older man cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about your blood work that came back.” Dr. Howell looked down at the chart. “Tell me, Mr. Frazier, how have you been feeling? Before you came to the hospital?”

“Fine,” Yoss answered gruffly.

I wanted to roll my eyes. Yoss could always be stubborn. It seemed that was one thing that hadn’t changed.

“Have you been feeling nauseous? Overly tired? What about sudden weight loss?” Dr. Howell asked.

“I haven’t exactly been in a position to pay attention to that sort of thing. But I guess, yeah, I’ve been feeling sort of rundown. And I’ve lost some weight. I mean, it’s not like I weigh myself regularly,” Yoss said, scratching at a line of stitches on his arm.

“We’re going to need to run some more tests—” Dr. Howell began.

“Why do I need more tests? Just be straight with me. I don’t like unnecessary bullshit,” Yoss growled. His face was hard. I didn’t recognize him at all. If it weren’t for that unusual tattoo and his green eyes, I would have thought him someone else entirely.

“You have hepatitis B, Mr. Frazier.”

Yoss said nothing. It was impossible to tell what he thought of that news.

“The virus attacks the liver. So we will need to run some more tests to see how progressed the disease is. If left untreated for a long period of time, it can cause significant complications. It’s hard to know when you contracted the virus, so we need to test your liver function,” Dr. Howell explained with his patented sympathetic demeanor.

Yoss didn’t say anything for a long time.

“Hepatitis B,” he repeated finally.

Dr. Howell nodded. “Do you understand?” he asked kindly.

“I do. It means one of the dudes that paid to fuck me in the ass got me sick. Yeah, I understand what that means,” Yoss spat out and I flinched. I couldn’t help it.

His ugly words shocked me.

Dr. Howell, however, never missed a beat. “Hepatitis B is spread through blood and bodily fluids, like semen. So yes, it can be passed through unprotected sex. The problem with hepatitis B is that you can have it for a long time before you ever develop symptoms. As I said, the virus attacks your liver and can cause scarring, which in turn can lead to liver failure.”

“Well, that sounds like a good time,” Yoss quipped sarcastically. He stared at the wall in front of him, not looking at either Dr. Howell or me.

“We’ll run more tests so we can make a more informed decision about treatment,” Dr. Howell told him.

“Treatment. So I need to have medicine.” Yoss shook his head. “Doc, I don’t know if you’ve figured it out, but I can’t afford treatment. Hell, I can’t even afford a decent cup of coffee,” Yoss laughed humorlessly.

I took a step forward. “The hospital has government funds to pay for your care, Mr. Fraizer. You won’t have to pay for it,” I assured him.

Yoss still wouldn’t look at me, but I noticed how his jaw tightened when I spoke.

I remembered him saying my name in his sleep. He had sounded so sad. So heartbroken.

Not now.

Now he was just pissed off.

“Imogen can explain how all that works. But as for the next step, we’ll take some blood this afternoon for your liver functioning test, though that means you won’t be able to eat any lunch,” Dr. Howell informed him.

Yoss snorted. “I’m used to not eating, Doc. It’s nothing new to me. I’ll be fine.” He finally looked at me. Just briefly.

“I’ll also most likely be ordering a liver biopsy, but we can discuss that further after I get the results from the tests.” The doctor closed the file and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’ll leave you to talk with Imogen. Cheyenne will be in to take your vitals in a while.” Dr. Howell gave his patient a smile and then turned to me. “We’ll talk soon, Imogen.”

Dr. Howell took Yoss’s chart and left the room. Then it was just Yoss and me.

I stood there awkwardly for a while before sitting down in the chair beside his bed. I didn’t know how to be around him now. When I had walked into his hospital room yesterday, I had been overcome by memories of the young people we had been.

It was very obvious we weren’t those people any longer.

“Mr. Frazier?” Yoss sneered.

“Well it wouldn’t exactly be good for people to know that you and I—”

“Fucked?” Yoss filled in. I flinched at his cold tone.

Fucked?

No, it had never been something so harsh. He knew that. But he seemed intent on hurting me for some reason.

“That you and I know each other. Our history has no bearing on me coordinating your services. So there’s no point in bringing it up,” I finished, my voice hard and brittle.

“If you say so,
Imogen.”

I took a deep breath and opened his file, pulling out the assessment I needed to fill out.

“I bet you never thought you’d see me again, did you?” Yoss’s barking laughter seemed incongruous with the situation.

“No. I didn’t,” I said, looking up at him. Some of the swelling on his face had gone down, but the bruises left a patchwork of color across his face.

“Too bad for you,” Yoss bit out.

I put down my pen and narrowed my eyes. “Look, I’m picking up on the fact that you’re less than thrilled to see me. I’m not entirely sure what I ever did to deserve this nastiness from you. I wasn’t the one that left
you
in the rain underneath a bridge,” I snapped.

Yoss and I stared at each other, a silent battle of wills. “You’re still pissed about that, I take it.”

My mouth fell open. “What is your problem, Yoss?” I demanded, getting angry.

“I don’t have a problem. I’m hunky dory, Imogen. I mean look at me. How could you think I
wasn’t
fine?” Yoss lifted one of his bandaged hands and waved it in front of my face.

“This isn’t going to work,” I said, closing the file and getting to my feet.

“Excuse me?” Yoss said, his anger replaced by surprise.

“I can’t work on your case. I’ll transfer you to one of my co-workers. It’s obvious you have some problem with me now, though I don’t get it. But whatever, I want you to get the help you need, and obviously that’s not going to happen if I’m your caseworker.” I felt sick.

Was I going to walk out that door and turn my back on him?

Could I really do that?

“Imi—”

“No, it’s for the best. It’s obvious the past fifteen years haven’t been good to you. God, I wish they had been. But I’m not going to be able to do anything for you apparently.”

How I wished that wasn’t true.

“Imi, wait,” he called out as I made to leave the room.

I hesitated, my hand on the curtain.

“I’m just—I’m not being fair to you. I’m sorry,” Yoss said softly. “Please don’t go. Don’t transfer me to someone else.”

“You don’t want me here, Yoss,” I argued, dropping my hand to my side.

“I do. But—” he cut himself off and I turned to look at him again. He was exhausted. His eyes were unnaturally bright. His face flushed. He looked as though he had a fever.