CARTER'S SHADOW
Chapter 27 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
"He was lucky," the doctor said, adjusting his glasses
as he stood in the small waiting room talking quietly with West's parents.
"He has a fractured rib, and lost a lot of blood, but he's going to be
all right."
West's mother clung to her husband tightly, burying her face
into his broad chest. She let out a loud sob of relief, as Jonathon Harding
stroked her hair reassuringly, looking up at the doctor, "Thank you,
Doctor."
"No," the doctor shook his head, "you have a
tough kid there; from the defensive bruising on his shins and forearms he
put up quite a fight, and the only reason he collapsed was from a deep cut
on his forehead. We stitched that up, now it's just a matter of time until
he wakes up."
"Thank you again, Doctor," West's father nodded firmly.
"Can we see him?"
The doctor nodded and gestured across to the room; Mister and
Mrs Harding thanked him again before they disappeared to see their son. Which
left Andrew Highmore sitting forgotten in a quiet corner of the waiting room
staring blankly at the door.
His mind was working on all the things that could have been.
If things had gone differently for him, when he had come out, he could have
been the one to lie in a hospital bed, or Will...or Peter...
He slowly pushed his hair back away from his eyes as he thought
through his own struggle to come to grips with who he was. The strength of
character it took to stand up to a bigoted society that still saw love as
a taboo, and shunned those that chose to express it no matter the form.
He'd given his statement to the police officers who were waiting
in the hall for West to regain consciousness and identify the people who had
attacked him. A broad-shouldered and sympathetic female sergeant who had assessed
the situation had promised to do all she could.
Now Andrew sat quietly, his part in the drama was over; he was
really there now out of some sense of duty, not quite ready to face the greater
world knowing some of the cruelty that lay there. He'd dealt with this kind
of situation several times through university working with the Pride Centre
trying to promote awareness. But it wasn't the universities where the awareness
was needed. High schools, where bigotry lurked in every shadow, were the places
that so desperately needed it. Try getting that past a conservative-liberal
government.
He stood up rubbing his tired eyes; he should call the school,
let them know that West was all right. But all he wanted to do was call Will;
somehow he needed some reassurance of his own right then that he would be
all right..
He found the payphone and dialled Will's cell, surprisingly
connecting through instead of being shunted to voicemail.
"Hello?" Will's calm voice filled Andrew with warmth.
"Hey," Andrew said slowly, "look, something's
come up." He glanced around him at the hospital ward, "I..."
"You're calling from the hospital?" Will sounded instantly
concerned.
"I'm all right," Andrew reassured. "It was one
of my students... I...."
"Are you okay?" Will asked, driving straight to the
point in that typical way of his.
"I'll be okay, just..." he scrubbed a hand down his
face as he leaned against the wall of the phone booth, "I needed to hear
your voice."
There was a pause on the line, and the sound of papers being
moved, "Which hospital?"
"Queensway-Carleton," Andrew said, checking on the
sign above his head.
"Right, I'll see you in twenty minutes..."
"You don't..." Andrew began.
"Yeah, I do," Will said firmly. "Twenty minutes."
And he hung up.
* * *
Andrew was standing in the waiting room, hands in his pockets,
looking outwardly calm. But Will knew Andrew well enough to know when the
man he was in love with was upset. It was in those deep sapphire eyes, the
reflection of the anguish in his soul as he turned to look at Will.
Will didn't hesitate; he had his arms around Andrew just holding
him tightly. The light scent of leather and cologne tickled his senses--that
smell that was distinctly Andrew. He just held on for a moment, remembering
what it was like to be held tightly in those arms and reassured through his
own darkest moments. Now it was his chance to repay some of that loving support
with his own.
The pressures of work were forgotten; there was only one thing
that was important to him at that moment--the tall, athletic man burying his
head into his neck and squeezing him for all he was worth. They shared a strength
that came from being in love for so long that it was no longer two people,
but one.
Will drew back a little and stared up into Andrew's eyes, smiling
at the thought that even after so long it still bothered him that Andrew was
taller than he was. Silly, in the face of everything, but some days he just
wanted to wrap Andrew in his arms and give him the feeling of being safe that
Andrew always seemed to give to Will.
"Thanks," Andrew managed after a few minutes. "You
have no idea how much I needed that."
Will nodded. "That's why I'm here," he said quietly,
"you needed me." He drew back, unwilling to break the physical contact
that seemed to sustain both of them, holding onto Andrew's waist lightly as
he looked down at the bloody handprint on the front of Andrew's white cotton
shirt where West had grabbed onto him. "What happened?" he asked
again, looking up at Andrew's eyes.
"It's West," Andrew said, staring across the hall
towards the closed hospital room door where they had put West.
Will frowned, and turned his head to look at the pale green
door with its small safety glass window. His hand reflexively tightened around
Andrew's waist. "Oh god," he murmured. "W-what happened?"
Andrew's face changed, and Will for the first time realized
the man that Andrew had become. The weight of the world reflected in those
eyes, pressing down on the soul. He looked tired, for the first time, so very
weary.
Will guided Andrew into a seat, still holding onto his hand
, cupping it with his other one as Andrew leaned forward. "I don't know,"
Andrew said slowly. "I was on my way to the gym, and I heard something
in the shop hallway. It's supposed to be empty in the mornings, so I thought
it was strange, and went to take a look..." He shook his head at the
memory of what he had seen, "There were five of them; poor kid didn't
stand a chance..."
Will stood. "Do you need a coffee?" he asked, walking
over to the vending machine and fishing through his suit trousers drawing
out some change.
"No," Andrew shook his head, watching as Will indulged
in one of his bad habits. It was something he always did when he was upset
and trying not to let anyone know. He paced the floor to and fro, waiting
for the machine to dispense the vile liquid it tried to pass off as coffee.
"Makes you realize how lucky we were," Will said walking
back across the floor, holding the paper cup and blowing on it to cool the
superheated liquid. "That god-damned school... I swear to fucking god...!"
"It's not the school," Andrew said leaning back into
his chair to watch his boyfriend pace the waiting room. "They teach what
tolerance they can, but it's always with one hand tied behind their back.
And let's face it, teachers can't be everywhere."
"No," Will agreed, gesturing with his cup, "but
still..." He seethed, "Remember Todd Gadreau?"
"Yeah?" Andrew asked looking up. "You slugged
him if I remember."
"Yeah," Will nodded. "He had me cornered down
by the Chem labs, him and a couple of his buddies." Will's face darkened,
his hand tightening reflexively around the cup in his hand.
Andrew frowned, "What? I thought it was just you and him."
"It was," Will replied. "It'd just come out that
you and I were..." Will smiled, "and they were looking for a little
payback."
"Yeah," Andrew said, "he'd tried with me just
before that..."
"I remember," Will said turning back for another length
of the waiting room. "But Gadreau and his boys thought if they couldn't
get you, they'd come after me. It was Brody that ensured it was an even fight..."
"An even fight?" Andrew said, looking up from where
he was resting his elbows on his knees. "Todd Gadreau was easily twice
your size and muscle mass."
"He had a glass jaw." Will stopped his pacing, "But
the point is, you're right, we were lucky."
Andrew closed his eyes and let his chin fall a little, "Why
does it have to be about luck? Why the hell can't it just be that we stood
up to them?"
"One on one, sure," Will agreed. "But five on
one? Why does it take five big guys to beat up on one gay guy? Are we that
scary that they need that many?"
"I don't know," Andrew admitted. "You know, I
thought after we graduated that would be it; you know, out in the real world
it's all over now, now we can just be who we want to be. Maybe, you know,
we'd done something to change peoples' perspectives on the world."
"Make a difference?" Will asked, looking across at
the room again.
"Yeah," Andrew said slowly. "If we've come so
far, why do I feel like we're right back at square one?"
Will glanced at his boyfriend, coming a step or two forward
and kneeling down in front of Andrew, his hands resting on Andrew's knees
as he looked up into those sad eyes, "You made a difference--me."
He shook his head, "God knows where I'd be right now if it wasn't for
you--can you imagine it?"
Andrew glanced up, "You'd probably be married..."
"Oh god," Will screwed up his nose. "Can you
just imagine me as the responsible husband? Sprogs clinging to my leg..."
"Yeah, you and that girl...what was her name, the one that
had a thing for you in high school?"
"Jenny, I think," Will said, looking distant shaking
his head. "Now that would be a nightmare, I'd be stuck in suburban hell..."
"With pastels," Andrew joked lightly, "and a
white picket fence..."
"And a Volvo..."
"No, a minivan..."
"K, now we've delved headlong into my Wal-Mart nightmares,"
Will said, shaking his head to shift the image of him miserably living a lie.
"If it wasn't for you, god knows where I'd be right now. So you made
a difference, where it counts."
"You know," Andrew said, holding onto Will's hands,
"this is the reason I want to practice law--you know, fight this kind
of thing."
"Oh my boyfriend's a cliché," Will murmured
teasingly. "Legal beagle championing truth, justice and the Canadian
way..."
"Shut up, Carter," Andrew pushed Will lightly. "You
can be a real bastard when you want to be."
"Runs in my family," Will shrugged lightly. "You
met my father, right?"
"I remember," Andrew said nodding. "Hey, thanks
for being here."
Will smiled, "You needed me, and I was having a lousy day
at work. It was an excuse to get away."
"Can you spare the time off?" Andrew asked in concern.
"They switched me to salary," Will said, "so
technically I'm still getting paid even though I'm not there."
"That's good, then," Andrew said looking back down
at the tiled floor.
"Yeah," Will said. It wasn't the time to worry Andrew
with that. Right now Andrew just needed to feel better, and he needed Will's
strength for a change. Will tipped the cup of brown water the machine had
tried to call coffee into the bin, "Now that... that was bad coffee."
"Sorry," Andrew said, "I'll make some when we
get home."
Will winced inwardly; Andrew's coffee was as bad, if not worse
than the machines, "Don't worry about it..."
They both looked up as the two police officers came back, in
their dark uniforms, bulletproof vests and their guns. The female sergeant
knocked on the door to West's room, as her partner turned to look over at
where Will and Andrew were waiting, offering them both a nod as they were
both shown in.
"I should get you one of those uniforms," Will mused
idly.
Andrew pushed his boyfriend lightly, smiling and shaking his
head. "You would find a way to make me smile..." he said softly.
"All part of the service." Will folded his arms, "I
juggle too."
"I didn't know..." Andrew began.
"...Oh yeah, I juggle work, a love life and doing the dishes!"
Will smiled, he bent down again in front of Andrew, and touched his knees,
"Hey, if West's half the survivor you are, he's going to be okay."
Andrew nodded, "He's a tough kid, the doctor says he put
up quite a struggle."
"Good," Will said. "My dad always used to say,
never make it easy, make sure every punch costs them and they'll think twice
about hitting you again."
"We don't teach that in the Canadian school system,"
Andrew replied.
"Yeah, well they should," Will said firmly.
"You're really too violent for your own good sometimes,"
Andrew said.
"No, I was taught not to start fights, but finish them,"
Will shrugged.
"Slugger," Andrew teased.
"Hey, just 'cause I'm not a tree-hugging pacifist..."
Will said defensively.
"Well, the suit and tie really don't do your street cred
any justice," Andrew commented, lifting Will's red tie that was hanging
loose and bapping Will's nose with it. "And let's face it, you're not
exactly what I'd call the street fighting type... not to mention the fact
you can't skate for shit."
"Whose fault is that?" Will demanded, raising an eyebrow
at Andrew. "If I recall you tried to teach me."
"Yeah," Andrew smiled, "you don't have the co-ordination
for it." He looked over at the door again, "Make me a promise--don't
get into a fight you can't win."
"Hey," Will said, "I don't bend over and take
it from anyone...."
Andrew smirked.
"Well," Will flushed red, "that's not what I
meant."
Andrew's smirk deepened.
"Great," Will rolled his eyes.
"Do you think he'll be all right?" Andrew asked, staring
at the door again.
Will turned slightly, "Cuts and bruises heal fast."
Will looked distant, remembering, "It's not those you have to worry about,
it's the stuff on the inside..."
Andrew reached out a hand to rub Will's shoulder, knowing Will
was speaking from his own experiences with his father. They'd discussed it
many times over the years, and Andrew knew how much pain Will still held over
it.
"But," Will said turning, "if, as you said, he
put up a fight right to the end, he's not about to give up now." Will
locked his eyes onto Andrew's and nodded firmly, "No, guys like that
aren't about to let them beat him now." He felt Andrew's hand tighten
on his shoulder, and he nodded.
"Thanks, Will," Andrew repeated.
"Hey," Will shrugged, "he'll be all right, you'll
see. Though I'm a bit worried about Sprog."
"Peter takes after you," Andrew pointed out.
"No," Will shook his head, "he's a bit more...
delicate than I was at his age."
"Because you shelter him," Andrew chuckled. "You're
like a fussy mother hen..."
"Hey!" Will laughed at Andrew. "Just because
I look out for my sprog, doesn't make me a..." He sighed and settled
back onto his ankles, crossing his arms on Andrew's lap and setting his chin
on them, "I love you, you know that, right?"
"I know," Andrew said, his hands brushing Will's scruffy
brown hair away from his hazel eyes. "Right from day one, I knew."
"Liar," Will grinned. "You were shit scared to
ask me out."
"'Cause I thought you were going to say no," Andrew
replied.
"I did say no," Will pointed out, "and if I recall
that didn't stop you."
"You said no, but your kiss said yes," Andrew nodded.
Across from them the room door opened, and the two police officers
shook hands with Mister Harding, both walking back towards the elevator. The
senior Mister Harding stopped a moment to look over at where Will and Andrew
were sitting looking back at him. And he spared both of them a thankful smile,
before he returned to the room.
