Henry's End (8 page)

Heading directly to the Beamer for his car phone, “He went into cardiac arrest last night and he had a DNR,” Edwin’s voice was thick with emotion.

“Oh fuck.” The pain stabbing acutely through Henry’s heart riveted him to the seat.
Did I do enough? Did he know how much I cared about him? Was I there enough for him? Really there?
“His family is in Indiana. Are they flying his body back?”

Edwin was silent for a moment and Henry could feel the bile rising in his throat.

“They don’t want to have anything to do with him. Apparently they disowned him when he was seventeen.” Edwin could barely speak the words.

“So, who is taking care of this? Who is taking care of Stephen?” The air in the Beamer was starting to disappear.

“We’re starting a fund…” Edwin began.

“No. No. No,” Henry screamed. “Stephen is not getting stuck in some refrigerator for God knows how long, while we beg strangers for spare change. He’s not,” a distraught Henry continued to scream.

“Pull over, Henry. You shouldn’t be driving,” Edwin chastised. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“Where is he, Edwin? Did they take him to Mercy Hospital?” Henry pulled a U-turn.

“Yes.”

“Ok, I’m headed there now.”

“I’ll meet you. I’m headed to his house first to gather his papers. Drive safely, Henry, I’m not kidding.” Edwin warned.

Stabbing the numbers into his phone for Cody’s pager, Henry left his number followed by a 911, their code for call me ASAP.

He didn’t hear back.

A man takes care of his family. That is what Henry thought. It was what he aspired to do. When his father left his mother with two small children, he knew right then that if he ever had a family, he would never cause such sadness and stress by not owning up to his responsibilities. When Stephen’s family didn’t own up to theirs, and shirked the duty of burying their own, Henry was not going to let his friend’s send-off be marred by prejudice and hate.

The money to bury Stephen with respect and dignity amounted to a month’s worth of sales commissions for Henry. He never thought twice about what was the right thing to do. Stepping in to make sure everything was done properly and with the right amount of glitter and flourish to honor their friend, was Edwin, seeing to all the details and making the arrangements.

It had been three days and an innumerable amount of pages and still no word from Cody. Had he been shipped back to Baghdad on some middle of the night covert mission? Called on to help take out a high value target? Henry had no clue. With Stephen’s loss tearing deeply into him, he ached for the big Marine, needing to find solace in his arms.

For three long nights, he laid in bed, imagining the feel of Cody’s warm body spooned against his, giving him the strength to make it through the next few days until the burial.

Where are you? Please be safe. I can’t lose you. I can’t,
were his last thoughts as he fell asleep at night and his first when he opened his eyes in the morning before grabbing his pager off the nightstand to see if he’d slept through a message from Cody.

But there were none.

“Dress is San Diego surfer dude casual,” Edwin informed him.

“For a funeral?”

“No, for the celebration of the life of a brilliant Midwestern fabric designer who loved hot surfer boys. So we’re all going as surfer boys. He’s getting sent off by the hottest surfers in San Diego.” There was pride in Edwin’s voice at the event he was orchestrating in Stephen’s memory.

“So, like board shorts and flip flops?” Henry couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it, but just the thought of a beach themed send-off versus a heavy funeral lifted the dark anxiety that had been pressing down on him, choking him for days.

It felt more than a little weird entering a church in yellow board shorts, flip flops and a tank top with a funky drawing of a rainbow colored surfboard, a guitar and a VW bus that said, ‘surf, jam, live in a van’. It was light and fun-hearted and Henry didn’t comb his hair after his morning shower, so that he’d be sporting a tousled, just out of the ocean look.

“You look stunning and so gay in that,” Edwin kissed both his cheeks and ran a hand through Henry’s mussed-up hair. “Stephen is sporting a hard-on in Heaven for you right now.”

Standing at the front of the church, they greeted guests that milled in. People who had known Stephen for years, volunteers from the Fluff and Fold, neighborhood shopkeepers, gays, lesbians, transsexuals – all looking like they were heading out for a day at the beach. Instead of the heavy perfumed fragrance of flowers that overwhelmed the senses at funerals, wafting through the air was the light scent of Coppertone and Hawaiian Tropic.

As the minister began his eulogy, Henry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, picturing sitting on the beach next to a healthy Stephen, toes dug in the sand, rating the surfer boys as they approached the shore.
Yeah, he’s hot. What do you think of that one? Eww, when was the last time he washed his hair! Look over there. Oh my God, he just gave me a semi. How about that one? He has worked hard for that six-pack. I want to lick those abs.

“Henry, go up there.” Edwin was elbowing him out of his reverie. “It’s your turn to speak.”

Disoriented, one minute he was on the beach with Stephen and now he was in a dark church, Henry stood to make his way to the altar, trying hard to regain his bearings after being ripped from his daydream.

“Hi everyone. Thanks for coming. I’m Henry Clark and I was a friend of Stephen’s.” He looked out at the packed church and thought Stephen, who was so isolated at the end, would have been blown away by the turnout. “I met Stephen Bennett a few months ago, yet I would swear that I’ve known him my whole life. That we’d gone to school together and gotten kicked out of Cub Scouts together and been each other’s wingmen on Friday nights in bars. But none of that ever happened. The truth is, I met Stephen Bennett halfway through the final act. By the time we met, this insidious disease had already ravaged Stephen’s body, leaving him weakened and unable to do the simple things that are a part of everyday living. As the months went on, the disease continued to take its toll, and Stephen required more and more assistance to get basic things done. It was hard to watch and not just because of what it was robbing from him, but because of what it wasn’t. Stephen never let this disease define who he was or allow it to steal his spirit. Last Wednesday, he was still fighting with me over critical matters. Who was hotter – Brandon or Dylan? Was David really in the closet? If I were straight – Kelly or Brenda?” he paused as the audience erupted into laughter hearing about the TV show,
90210
. “Right until the end, he never lost his essence, never allowed it to be taken away and he taught me a lesson I am sure I will revisit for the rest of my life. I’m so proud and thankful that I got to call Stephen Bennett a friend. I only have but one regret,” Henry’s voice cracked, “that we didn’t have more time. I’ll miss you Stephen. I already do.”

When he reached the pew, Edwin was there with open arms as Henry cried openly into his shoulder. “Do not snot up this shirt. It’s Versace,” the older man bitched.

Laughing, Henry lifted his face from the white silk shirt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Edwin squeezed his hand and held it tightly as they sat and listened to the other send-off speeches, before ending the service with a rousing sing-along of The Beach Boys’ iconic classic,
Surfer Girl
.

“I’ve never been to this place,” Henry said to Edwin as the crowd of about a dozen very gay surfer-boy-wannabe-dressed-funeral-goers entered the beachfront restaurant.

One of their party turned around, “It was always one of Stephen’s favorite places to come for lunch on weekends. His favorite dish is called ‘Man Pleasing Meatloaf’. How could you not love something with that name?”

They all laughed as they attempted to negotiate through the closely-positioned tables to a long reserved one set up for them by the window.

The glass wall looking out over the ocean, where the sun glinted on the waves, made Henry feel less overwhelmed than he’d been feeling. The ocean always had that effect on him, and it brought back the feeling of the daydream he’d seen in his head in the church. Stephen would have liked this, and he would’ve liked that they were all there together. People from different facets of his life, meeting for the first time, through him.

Still focused on the ocean, Henry was not watching what was going on right in front of him, and didn’t realize the line of people in their party had stopped, as they started to take their seats. Practically plowing into Edwin, he placed a hand on the back of the chair next to him to steady himself.

“So sorry,” he said to the tow-headed little girl who looked up, startled by the jolt. As his gaze rose to take in her family, the shock and proximity caused the knee-jerk reaction as he stared into the cold eyes of his lover just a few feet across the table. His name just tumbled from Henry’s mouth, the shock evident. “Cody?”

The woman whose back had been to him looked up and smiled. A pretty blonde with wide blue eyes, she reminded him, in looks, of his friend Schooner’s wife, CJ. This woman had definitely been a sorority girl and prom queen.

“Well, hello,” she greeted Henry with a bright smile and a thick southern accent.

Henry’s eyes shot back to Cody’s face. He was speechless. The Marine’s eyes were flat and narrowed, his clenched jaw twitching.

“Daddy, Ashley won’t give me the purple crayon.”

Cody ignored the child, his eyes transfixed on Henry.

Looking back at the wife, “Hi,” Henry managed.

“Cody, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” She was clearly intrigued as to why her Marine husband would be acquainted with this openly gay man.

Henry needed to fill the awkward silence immediately. “I’m Henry,” he extended a hand to the woman. “My company works with the Marines and Cody’s unit,” was all he could think of quickly.

“Well, I’m Shelby and these are our girls, Ashley and Chloe.”

Our girls?
Stunned, he didn’t immediately respond to her introduction of the children. He kept expecting her to say, “Bless your heart” with her thick southern drawl.

Finally, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your dinner.”

“You all look like you’re coming from a fun day on the beach,” Shelby observed.

Looking at Cody and locking eyes with him, “No, actually we’re coming from a funeral. I lost a very close friend this week.”

“Oh, I am so sorry for your loss.”

Her husband had still not uttered a word.

“Enjoy your meal. It was nice meeting you, Shelby.” He nodded at Cody.

Numb. Shell shocked. Angry. Destroyed. Heartbroken.

He sat down next to Edwin, glad the only available seat had him with his back to Cody and his family. Married. He was married. He had a wife. Two little girls. He was freaking married. He wasn’t his. He was married.

“Friends of yours?” Edwin asked.

Henry stared at him, blank-faced, sure his tattered heart was bleeding right through his surfer tee-shirt for all to see.

“That’s Cody.”

Edwin looked confused.

“That’s Cody,” Henry hissed through clenched teeth. “With his wife and kids.”

“Wife and kids?” Edwin merely mouthed the words.

Nodding. “So while I’ve been worried about him for days, he’s been with his family that I knew nothing about.”

Grabbing a glass of water off the table, Henry downed the whole thing.

“He’s fucking married, Edwin. He’s a god-damn fucking straight guy. What the fuck has he been doing with me?” Henry searched Edwin’s face for answers.

“I think you’ve had enough to deal with today. Let’s get you out of here. Stephen would understand.” Grabbing Henry by the hand, he pulled him out of his chair and quickly made their goodbyes to the other guests.

As they negotiated their way through the tables, Henry stared straight forward, his eyes trained on the exit. Edwin, however, turned to get a good look at Cody.

He was watching them leave.

“Asshole,” Edwin mouthed, the anger on his face evident.

The Marine tried not to react, but the muscles on both sides of his jaw were singing their own tune.