J

My dear baby, you are so very special. You have melted my heart and warmed the cuggles of my heart. Your presence in my life has made me a better person because you see the hidden me, the true me and you won’t allow my guff to intimidate you. I respect that. I respect you. You brought love into my life. You showed me how to accept life. You showed me I could be loved. I never expected it. I stopped hoping long ago. I stopped dreaming about love, about anything. I thought that for once, my life would be,

finally, a happy one. You made my heart leap for joy and then – it happened. My life dove. Your life was almost extinguished. My fears were renewed. I was terrified. Had I lost you? Why had I come to the prom? Earlier, I almost took my life. Now, I had decided to live. I had realized how much I loved you and I dressed in my very best and all in black except for my scarf. I was so scared, more like terrified. Why had I come? I looked around and there you were. So very beautiful. A sunshiny smile broadened your face. You were so happy. Daphne was happy. After I walked to you, I knew it was right. I kissed Daphne and asked permission to dance with you. I took your hand and walked you through the crowd. They parted like the Red Sea. We danced, we swirled, we turned, and we kissed. We were going to be the talk around St. James and then we happily left, dancing through the parking lot. We were so happy. I felt so loved. I showed my love and was going to tell you the words that night after you came to the loft. I felt hope. I knew I could dream again. I felt alive. I was finally living. And then…

And then, it happened. I let you go. I gave you my scarf. It looked so good on you. You were glowing. You were flying high on the exhilaration of the night and that I had showed. You were ecstatic. You were walking away after we had promised a great night. But, you were into your thoughts. You weren’t paying attention. Why should you have? I yelled. You started to turn to look at me and then you were down for the count. Blood was spilling out of you so fast, so red. I held you. I called for help. I even prayed and bargained. Your life was flowing out of you. My life was shriveling. If you died, I didn’t want to live. I wouldn’t let you go. I couldn’t. I was willing you to hold on. Hope against hope. Why did I decide to hope? Why did I decide to dream? You were unconscious and I was in shock. Suddenly, I felt so alone, so abandoned. I was sure you were going to leave me and it wouldn’t even be your choice. Why did I allow myself to love? It always comes with hurt and pain and fear, but I never anticipated death. You were so young and innocent. Your innocence was in your eyes and your smile. It was so captivating.

I didn’t leave you alone. I was there in the ambulance and at the hospital. The nights are dark and I didn’t want you to be alone. I never missed a night. Never wanted to! You needed me and I needed to see that you were still there among the living—well almost living. When you were in a coma, it killed me. Your eyes were closed and you never moved. That first night I was in shock, crying. Yes, the great Brian Kinney cried and then I lost it. I started to do what I do to cope or not to cope. Whichever way you want to look at it, I self-destructed. Drinking, drugging, tricking, all to be numb and then I came to you and sat by you, my hand on yours, talking to you while you were in a coma. Each evening I never let you face the dark alone. I was there at least until the dawn, until I knew the others will come, until your mother was due. I didn’t want anyone to know I care. I cared so much, I kept you close, your smell intermingled with your blood was always with me under my shirt. The bloodied scarf kept us united. Everywhere I went, so did you. I would never forget you, I didn’t know if I could ever live without you. I was terrified of that. I was terrified you wouldn’t love me anymore. I was petrified you would blame me. I blamed myself but I feared seeing your hurt and blame in those ocean blue eyes. I don’t want to see fear either. But what was there when I first saw you was worse than I could imagine. There was nothing. Your eyes were dead, no life whatsoever. You were lost to me. So lost. What was I to do? And then, your mom prohibited me from seeing you. She said I agreed. Well, I didn’t. I just hoped you would be alright without me. I knew I wasn’t. I told her I cared about you. She caught me off guard and I felt like a child. My eyes pleading, my throat tight, I couldn’t speak and barely held back the tears till I got into the Jeep. She knew! She knew I had been there every night and she never said anything to anyone, letting everyone still believe I didn’t give a fuck. Me! Not give a fuck about you! That in itself is insane. But, everyone believed it. Even Debbie. Fuck, I thought she would read between the lines. But no! I had perfected my persona too well. We are bonded you and I. Now, more so than before. This tragedy has tied us together in ways multiplied exponentially. No matter what happens in our relationship, (yes, I said and wrote relationship.) we will always be linked as if there was an invisible rope tying us together. You know something, I don’t mind at all.

My prayers were answered when you threw that tantrum from hell and your mom had to grovel to me. She kept her dignity and her look never flinching, just expressionless as always. I waited it out and I wound up with the prize. No matter how damaged you were/are you will always be my princess, my baby, my love. Oh, how the loft and I missed you. No matter what I say to everyone, I was lonely. The loft felt cold and dismal without your laughter and your lived-in style. I complained so much about being tidy but that was what I missed most. Your smile, your laughter and your stuff, all were missing.. The loft did not feel as home without you. When did that happen? I certainly don’t know. I need you. I stayed away except to shower or dress. I slept at the hospital in a chair watching you, making sure you were safe and you weren’t alone. This was important to me. Sometimes during the day when I missed you, I would stroke the scarf or smell it. I could still smell you now mixed with some of my own sweat from weeks of wearing it. I never could clean it. That would be denying you and your existence.

The days went into weeks. Finally, after two weeks you woke up. That was a great day, but it also meant I could no longer sit by your side. I sat in a chair by your door, peering in, from that point never touching you. I didn’t want to see the anguish in your eyes. You were a restless sleeper with such bad nightmares. It took all I had not to go in and wrap you in my arms. As it was, you probably wouldn’t have allowed it and I would have taken it wrong, as if you were blaming me and wanted me out of your life.

Thank G-d, that was not the case. Sometimes I react without thinking things through. I act on impulse, believing what I think and not what I know. I watched, I waited, I wished, I prayed, and I protected. Yes, even I do pray at times. It isn’t that I don’t believe in G-d. It is that I don’t believe in religion. What man says, G-d wants. You struggled, you cried, you screamed, and you ranted and raved. You couldn’t remember and I couldn’t forget. We truly are a great pair. We are yin and yang. We complete each other and that scares me. I can’t handle that. Not yet! Don’t even go there.

The weeks in rehab were long for me. I wanted to see you so badly and touch you. I wasn’t even thinking sex. I needed to be near you. That’s why I remained outside the door. Then you came home. Finally, you were living with me again. This time it was different. You were different. You had a fear of being touched. Yet, I tried to fuck you. I was so stupid. I thought that Brian Kinney could do this. Make it all better, just by touching you, fucking you, showing you how much I loved you in the only way I know how. I must have been out of my mind. So stupid. I only gave you more to be insecure about. Why didn’t I ease you into it? Slowly, over time. I knew then when you pulled away that I had to see someone that I would never go to for me, but for you, the rules don’t apply. I had to find a way to help you. I would do anything for my love. When did I start loving you? When did I fall in love with you? I think it was from the first moment my eyes met yours, I had fallen for you. It wasn’t until the King of Babylon contest that I realized I had fallen in love with you. You beat me at my own game. I was miffed, I was proud, I was jealous, and I was in love, but it took till the night of the prom before I truly accepted it. Mikey had saved me from scarfing and I knew I needed to be with you on such a night, a right of passage night. I had been your first partner and your partner needed to be beside you, dancing with you, loving you on that night. So I went and I accepted my love for you for the first time. You should have been there. I wish you had all the memories back. The dance was perfection. Our love oozed over everyone. It was a night to remember; only you can’t. Damn, Hobbs!

You know I would do anything for you, even give up my life. It’s worthless anyway, so it would be no big deal. I hurt when you hurt. I bleed when you bleed. We both have nightmares, cold sweats, hot sex. I had to put that in there. This was getting too heavy for me. I needed you to come back to me, anyway you could. I hoped for the boy that went to the prom, I would settle for the man beside me with all the baggage. The innocent boy is no more but as we worked together, helped each other heal; a strong, brave, persevering man emerged. I loved this one more. He was fighting, he was coping, he was trying to get back his life and I was proud of him. Why didn’t I see the hurt and the pain you were holding back? Why didn’t I allow you the luxury of my ear when you needed to talk? I thought I was there for you, but I really wasn’t. Was I? I never saw you drowning, just improving. You finally could be touched. You could walk in crowds. You were working the diner again. You even managed to have a good time at Pride. That dance at Woody’s was so romantic. Thanks for letting me go. I picked the stud I wanted most of all. You! That was a good day and night.

Why didn’t I realize you were drowning when you threw that tantrum and quit school and felt like nothing because you couldn’t draw. You gave me warning at Babylon but I didn’t see the whole truth. I thought I could fix it with materialism. A box with a program. That really wasn’t the crux of the situation. I needed to read between the lines. I was afraid to but I should have. I wanted it to be simple. It was like going back to square one and I didn’t want to admit we were regressing. I knew we would move some steps forward, some back, but this was insane. I couldn’t deal with the truth. You were drowning and needed help. So was I. The bashing did a number on me too but no one acknowledges that. I know you do at times. I have seen you go to the drawer where the scarf has a home. It will never be thrown out. It is the tie that binds. You pick it up and stroke it. You go far away when you hold it. No sounds or movements ever interrupt you. Neither do I. You know. You know what it means to me, to us and you cherish it as I do. I wonder if you ever catch me with it. I really wonder.

B