Authors: Maris Black
She kisses Corey on the cheek, grabs her purse off the counter and beats a quick path out the front door.
When we’re alone, Possum sighs purposefully. “Mind if I sit down?” He drops into the middle of the sofa and pats the seats on either side of him. “Join me, boys.”
My belly is wound up into my throat right now, choking me. The way he’s acting, this can’t be good. And what does it have to do with Corey?
We sit on either side of him, and he pulls a digital camera from the fanny pack slung around his waist. “I did a little sleuthing after you gave me that plate number, and I discovered that your peeping Tom is actually a private investigator.”
“Huh?” I’m stunned. “Who would want to have me investigated?”
“Out of Atlanta.” He looks pointedly at Corey, who swallows and starts chewing the end of his finger. “This guy has been making the rounds, asking all kinds of questions concerning a certain EMT who just moved here from Atlanta. He’s spoken to people at the motel, at the hospital, God knows where else.”
I can’t wrap my head around this. “Why would someone be investigating Corey?”
Possum shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.” We both look dead at Corey, who pauses chewing his finger.
“I don’t know, guys. I have no idea.” He seems to think for a moment. “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of in my life, but I don’t know why I’m being investigated. That’s the honest truth.”
Possum fires the camera up and holds it out straight so that we can both see the screen. “I confiscated this off him. Told him not to come around this town anymore or I’d find a way to keep him out.”
On the screen, an image pops up of Corey outside the hospital in his scrubs, talking with his aunt Denise. Another three of them getting ready to go on an ambulance run. One of Corey leaving a convenience store, his Harley waiting nearby. An image of Corey in the door of his hotel room. Christina is with him, kissing him, her arms around his neck and his hands on her waist.
I stare at him, horrified.
“Not what you think, Ben. This picture is taken out of context. She came onto me, and I told her to hit the road. I would never do that to you.”
I’m not sure whether to believe him or not. “When was that?”
Possum looks back and forth between us as our discussion heats up.
“Uh, the morning after the… movie… at her place.”
“Goddammit, Corey, if it was so innocent, why didn’t you tell me?”
He bites his finger again, his eyes darting nervously from me to Possum. “I had my reasons. Mainly, it was a shitty thing she did, and I didn’t want you to know she’d disrespected you like that. Ask Allie. I told her about it days ago.”
“I think he’s telling the truth, Ben,” Possum says. “Look at the pictures.” He flips through the next three images, which clearly show Christina pushing against the door and Corey closing it in her face. Their facial expressions tell more of the story than their actions. For good measure, the investigator has captured a shot of Christina kicking the tire of her Toyota.
I slump against the back of the couch. At this point, I don’t give a damn whether she tried to cheat on me or not. I’m just relieved that Corey didn’t take her up on it.
Possum clicks to the next picture, and I actually choke out loud, my throat seizing on nothing but air. In the photo, Corey is bent over me in the club, my chair leaned back, his tongue shoved down my throat while Allie looks on in shock. If I’d ever wondered what my reaction was to that first kiss, here it is in full color.
Possum doesn’t bother looking at either one of us, but continues flipping through pictures. Corey and me ravishing Julie on the floor of the pool house. Corey ravishing me in front of the pool house window. Corey coming out of my house in his jeans and no shirt, taken from the vantage point of my bushes. With every photo that passes by on the screen, the knot in my stomach gets tighter, until it feels like it’s closing in on itself.
“You boys have been pretty busy, huh?” Possum doesn’t sound like he’s chastising us exactly, but there’s an unmistakable note of disappointment in his voice. “I don’t know what the end game is to this private investigation, but one thing’s for sure. When someone hires one of these guys, it usually means some sort of trouble is about to follow. Ben, I don’t want you to get hurt because this cowboy can’t keep his gun holstered.”
“Oh, come on now—” I begin, but Corey interrupts.
“He’s right, Ben. I’ve gotten myself into some sort of mess, and it’s not fair to bring you into it. Things are already complicated enough. Some asshole is tailing us and taking pictures of us. He’s been here at your home, for Christ’s sake. In your back yard. No telling where else. I think it’s probably best if I find someplace else to go.”
“Now that sounds like a great idea.” Possum slaps his knee and slips the camera back into his pack as he stands and prepares to go. “Corey, if that sounds harsh, I’m sorry. But this guy over here is the most respected doctor in town, and he happens to be one of my oldest friends. I feel responsible for him. You, I don’t know from Adam.”
Corey nods silently, looking down at the floor. It’s sad that such a confident man can be put so low.
“Possum, can I, um…” I gesture toward the camera in his pack. “Can I get that camera? I’d like to go back through those pictures and see if I can find any clues or something.”
“Sure, Ben.” He hands it to me, gives me a strong hug, and leaves.
I don’t really have any intention of looking for clues on the camera, because I doubt there are any. I just want the photos, mainly the one of mine and Corey’s first kiss. I have a feeling I’m about to lose him completely, and those pictures will be all that’s left of us.
17
COREY calls Allie immediately as soon as Possum is out the door, and I can overhear him explaining the situation to her. He’s going back to the motel; that much is clear.
Part of me wants to tell him to stay. I like the idea of him sleeping in that disgusting place even less now than I did before. I know him now, and that makes it personal. But I can’t be stupid. I really feel like I’ve been nothing but stupid lately. I definitely haven’t been acting like myself at all.
What I need is to regain some normalcy, get back to where I’ve been for the last five years since finishing med school. I have a life to live, and it doesn’t include bohemian gay guys or menage sex or private investigators.
Corey comes into the kitchen where I’m sipping a glass of tea at the bar. “Alright, I’ve made my reservation for the room. I’ll just take my duffel to work with me on my bike and go straight there after I leave work. Mr. Patel is going to let me check in early.”
He sets his cell phone on the counter. “Can you get your money back for this, since it’s only been a couple of days?”
“No need.” I swirl my drink absently, listening to the sound of the ice chinking against glass. “You keep the phone. Use it as long as you need to, okay? I’ve got a two-year contract and no use for an extra line. It was a gift, anyway. I want you to have it.”
“That’s very nice of you, Ben.” His voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat. “I’ll think of some way to repay you. But then there’s the age-old problem of what to get the guy who has everything.” He tries to lighten the mood by laughing, but it only serves to make me sadder.
I set my glass resolutely on the counter and face him. “Hey, what are we doing? We’re not saying goodbye. This is just until we figure out what that investigator wants.”
“Then why does it feel so much like goodbye?”
“I don’t know. But we’re going to see each other around at work, remember?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound like he thinks that’s much of a consolation, and I have to admit, neither do I.
“Well, I’m going to shove off a few minutes early,” he says. “Meeting Allie at the Huddle House for coffee before our shift starts.”
“See you at work.”
He heads out to the pool house, waving over his head without turning. A few minutes later, he emerges with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. This time when I hear his motorcycle rumbling away, I’m not lying in the bed depressed, but it feels just as bad. I’m left once again in a house that’s much too large for me to fill by myself.
*****
The first thing I do when I get to work is check on Tyleah. I’ve been on call all day for her in case she took a turn for the worse, but no one called, so I already know she’s fine.
“How are you feeling today, Tyleah?” I ask, hoping she’s warmed to me a little by now.
“Good,” she replies in a tiny voice. “Can I have some more toys?”
I look around the room. She’s got a Highlights magazine from the waiting room, and a couple of cheap dollar store toys someone probably happened to have in their purse. It’s a travesty that this little girl is stuck in a hospital room with no toys.
I buzz the nurses’ station. “Someone go to the store and get this child some toys. Come get my credit card.”
“Dr. Hardy, is that you?” The nurse on the other end of the intercom sounds shocked.
“Yes, it’s me. Someone come get my credit card and go to the store and buy whatever they’ve got for a five-year-old girl.”
When the nurse gets to the room, she takes my card nervously. “What’s the limit, Dr. Hardy? How much do you want me to spend?”
“Spend a lot. Pretend it’s Christmas.”
“It almost is, sir. Three more days.”
“So it is.” That knowledge makes me sadder than it should. “Give her some, but keep some out to wrap for Christmas. And get her some clothes. Pretty things.”
After the nurse leaves, I talk to Tyleah for a little while. She’s very shy, so our conversation consists mostly of me asking questions and her not answering. It’s alright, though. I don’t mind. I just want her to know she’s safe.
When I leave the room, I put in a call to Blanche Calhoun, the head of child services. She and I know each other well, since we have worked together on many child endangerment cases in the past, and I went to school with her son and daughter. I’ve even eaten dinner with the family on several occasions over the years.
“I want her to stay with me, Blanche. She’s not going back to that woman, and I have plenty of room. What do we need to do to make this happen?”
I know it’s a lot easier to cut through red tape in a small town, where people aren’t anonymous. I have faith that Blanche and Judge Roberts will come through for me.
“I think that would be wonderful, Ben,” she says. “Your mother would be so proud of you. You’ve certainly got the means to care for a child… and it doesn’t look like you’re going to be getting married and having your own anytime soon.” She chuckles as if she thinks she’s made the wittiest observation in the world rather than spouting an obnoxious clich
é.
“I’m gay.” I blurt the words out before I even know what the hell I’m doing. In the silence that follows my abrupt confession, I try to fathom why in the world I would tell her that, and if it’s even true.
Blanche recovers fairly quickly. “I had no idea, Ben. I thought you always dated women.”
“I have. You’re right about that, but… I’ve met someone.”
“Ohhh… I see. Well, are you sure? Maybe it’s just a passing phase. You must be at least bisexual, right?”
“I suppose so.” I sigh, wishing I hadn’t said anything. “I just thought you should know.”
“So you’re worried that it might have some bearing on whether or not you can get custody of this child?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Would that be a problem? If I was… with a guy?”
“Oh, no.” Her voice is reassuring, cultivated through years of comforting frightened children. “Listen, gay and lesbian couples adopt children all the time. It’s commonplace, though not in our community. But I think this town needs to get with the times, don’t you? When a change needs to happen, somebody’s got to be the first one to do it.”
I let out a big sigh of relief. “I thought you might think less of me if you knew.”
Her laughter nearly pierces my eardrum through the phone. “Honey, my own daughter is gay. She lives with a wonderful woman up in the North Georgia mountains. They went and had a ceremony and everything. Her daddy had a hard time accepting it at first, but the old coot
finally came around. Now he says he’s got two daughters.”
“Wow, we’re both just full of surprises today, aren’t we?” I’m feeling awfully close to her in this moment, and I guess it’s the closest thing to being able to tell my own mom. If she was still living, I’d love to tell her what’s going on in my life. I wonder what she’d think of Corey. If she’d feel like she had two sons.
“Look, Ben, I know it’s tough thinking about coming out in this town. You feel like there are a bunch of holy-roller KKK Nazis who would stone you to death if they found out. To an extent, that is true. But trust me when I tell you there are more people who will understand than not. Have faith, give people a little time to sit on it, and remember… There are plenty of folks in this town, like me, who love you to death and will stand by you.”
“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have friends like you, Blanche. That’s one thing I do love about living in a small town.” I pause for a moment, not sure what to say next. “I don’t know if I’ll ever tell anyone else what I’ve told you, or if anything will ever come of it. I’ve been straight for thirty-three years, and now one guy comes along and I’m knocked on my ass.”