The Downlow Alpha (The Identity Crises Book 1) (9 page)

            
 
I glanced at the rearview mirror again, wondering what was taking the police officer so long. I had been speeding for a reason. The call had come, my mom was in the hospital. Cancer, in an advanced stage. The nurse had been reluctant to say more, but I had pleaded for the truth, and she had relented. Mom was going to die. Panic had ensued, and I couldn’t quit shaking.

              Mom was all I had, the only person who had ever understood me. The only person I could share my deepest feelings and thoughts with.

              I am such a loser, I thought, as I glanced in the mirror again, wondering why the cop couldn’t just write me the ticket and let me on my way. Twenty years old, and still living at home with my mom. All of my childhood acquaintances had moved out of their parents homes, and I knew they looked down on me. I could see it in their faces, in their mannerisms when they would come into the grocery store I worked at.

              Some of them didn’t even try to hide their disdain. Like John Briscoe. He always smirked, and looked for a reason to complain about something in the store, find a reason to pry me from stocking to go run an errand for him. He is such a dick. Even in high school he had picked on me, hitting me several times a week, while a lot of the other kids laughed at how he was punking on me. Like life's funniest joke was seeing me get hurt.

              But the truth of it was, I couldn’t imagine not living with mom. She is my best friend, not just my mom. I couldn’t remember one time she had ever had an unkind word about my feelings. Even as a child, she had always treated my ideas and feelings with respect. Even when I had told her as a little kid I was going to be a crime fighter. She had told me I would make a great crime fighter, because I didn’t like seeing people get hurt.

              My chin was starting to tremble, and my eyes were tearing up as I thought of how kind mom was, panic setting in as I knew I was going to be lost without her.

              I had never been able to connect with the other kids growing up. For the most part, there had always seemed to be some underlying cruelty at play among them. Some cruel dynamic that I couldn’t make sense of. Didn’t have within me to pretend to enjoy.

              Guessing it was second, maybe third grade when the kids started singling me out, sensing I was different. When they had started changing, taking fun in hurting others. It still boggled my mind that in kindergarten John Briscoe and I had played together every day. But somewhere between kindergarten and second grade some transformation had pulled John within its grips. Pulled most of the kids within its grips. And in their innocent places were hard, cruel people who had n empathy for anyone else.

              Man, what is taking that cop so long to run my name?

              I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I knew mom wasnt going to die tonight. And yet…my sole desire was to spend every moment between now and…

              I couldn't bring myself to say it. I felt the tear streak down my cheek, and quickly wiped it. Wiped it before the cop came back with my license and saw it. Saw I was weak, effeminate. Before he saw and decided I was gay.

              That’s what everyone says about men who care about anything. I lost count by seventh grade how many times I was called a faggot. The proof of it supposedly because I was sensitive to things, sensitive to the currents underneath the surface of social dynamics. It had gotten worse in high school. I had never had a girlfriend, and that sealed it for everyone. I had to be gay.

              But, I am not gay, I thought, protested as anger welled up quickly in me. I just hadn’t found any of the girls interesting. Their shallowness, the way they encouraged the assholes like John when they tormented me and the others who were weaker. I used to find myself hating the kids encouraging the jocks and dicks who called names, who violated a person's private space with violence for no good reason.

              Yeah, girls had nothing to offer me. Mom had tried to urge me to go on to college, but I was done with school. I knew I wouldn’t be stuck at this dead end job stocking shelves if I had heeded her advice. Would already be close to my associate's degree. But better to work a dead end job than deal with cruel boys. Than deal with having to justify myself against the whispers of not being attracted to girls.

              Movement caught my eye in the rearview mirror, and I saw the cop getting out of his car, ticket book in hand. He walked up to the window, and handed me my license and registration back. He held out his ticket book with a pen.

              "I need you to sign here, sir. Your signature is not an admission of guilt, just an acknowledgement of receipt. It has your court date and location on it if you choose to fight the ticket."

              I scribbled my name as quickly as I could, and handed it back to him. He tore off my copy, and handed it to me with a stern warning to watch my speed, that I was endangering not just myself, but others. To be mindful I was sharing the road. As he walked back to his car, I started the car and pulled away, fighting the urge to drive fast. A few seconds later the cop car went flying past me, clearly going faster than the speed limit.

              Speeding without his lights on, rubbing in my face there were rules for me, rules he did not have to follow. Anger filled me as I knew he was what John Briscoe would be like if he had a badge.

            
 
I rushed up to the information desk, and waited impatiently for the nurse to acknowledge me.

              "I need the room number for Debra King."

              She had a bored look as she typed the name in on her computer.

              "She is in room 612, in the ICU unit."

              She quickly looked back at her cell phone, resuming the important texting I had interrupted. I hurried to the elevators, feeling annoyed with the people that slowed me down on the way. The wait for the elevator ate at me, and I felt my heart racing from stress by the time I found my mom's room.

              My heart fluttered, as I felt the energy drain out of me as I walked in the room. She looked so pitiful, so frail. She had an I.V. in her arm, and the look on her face when I burst in was one of pain and sleepiness. She quickly covered it up, and smiled when she saw me. But the look on her face for that split second was haunting.

              "Hi Honey. Come here and give your mom a kiss."

              I hurried over, and we kissed each other's cheeks as I felt it all overwhelm me, and started crying. Mom pulled me tight, stroking my head and back as she kept telling me it was going to be okay.

              "Mom, I am scared. I don’t want to lose you."

              Her hands grabbed my wet cheeks and she pulled my face in front of hers.

              "You stop that negative talk right now, Aaron King! I know it is going to be hard, but I have faith in you. I have always tried to listen to you, to demonstrate how a good person conducts themselves. You are the finest young man I have ever met. Some people measure a man by his financial worth, and miss out on true wealth, wealth of the heart."

              "You always think of others first. Whenever you saw one of the moms in the neighborhood struggling to carry their groceries in, you always offered to help. I can go on and on with how giving you are to others. You have all of the tools you need to be the kind of man this world needs."

              She saw I was crying harder as she spoke, and she got that exasperated look that made me feel small as she let me have it.

              "You stop that right now. Do you trust me?"

              Unable to speak, I nodded.

              "Then trust me on this. Life is full of change, and this is a huge one for us. You are going to be fine, baby. I insist on it. This is going to be your time to shine. Sometimes I feel guilty, thinking I am holding you back. Holding you back by how much I protect you. But that is the curse of being a mom. Trust me when I say I am proud of you. Proud of what a joy you are. It is always a joy being in your company."

              "Promise me now, you are going to be strong. I have never asked you to be anything but yourself. I understand you are scared, and hurting. I know what it is like to lose a mom. But let's not squander what time we have with sadness. Promise me that this will be the best time we have ever had together. Promise me now in my time of need you can do this for me."

              "Because now it is my time to be scared," she continued. "I need your friendship. I need to squeeze whatever time I have left in a state of joy, one of thankfulness for my greatest blessing, which is you."

              Her words shamed me, as I realized how selfish I was being in my terror of losing her.

              "I am so sorry mom. I didn’t mean to add to your stress. I want to do whatever it is you want, okay."

              She smiled and pulled me back to her face, kissing my cheek.

              "Why don’t you go wash your face in the bathroom, and then pull up a chair and tell me about your day," she said.

              I hurried off to her bathroom, and saw my face was a wreck. I ran the water and splashed it on my face. After drying it, I blew my nose. I heard a voice talking to her as I took a breath to calm myself before heading out. I came out and saw it was a nurse, a male nurse. He was holding my mom's hand and they were laughing. I liked him immediately, the way he was with mom. Mom was a great judge of character, and seeing her enjoying his company told me all I needed to know about him.

              Mom saw me coming out, and pulled on the nurse's hand.

              "Aaron, come here and meet a dear man. He has been a blessing to me since I got here. Corey," she said, looking at the nurse. "This is my son Aaron."

              He turned to me, his smile putting me at ease. His dark eyes were open and friendly, with a strong glint of intelligence. He extended his hand. As we shook, I marveled at the strength of his grip, and my eyes gave him a look over, impressed with how well he filled out his scrubs. It was obvious he worked out, took care of himself.

              "Hi Aaron, it is so nice to be able to put a face to your name. Your mom talks nonstop about you. I see you were lucky and inherited her good looks."

              I felt myself blush a little at his compliment, and felt myself being drawn into his warmth, feeling at ease with him in a way I rarely had with anyone but mom. There was some charismatic charm to him that was very appealing.

              He took a pen out, and tore a corner off of one of the papers he had in his pocket. I wondered what he was up to, as he handed it to me.

              "That has my cell number on it. If you need to talk, or just want an update on your mom, feel free to call me. And don’t worry about the time of day. If I don’t answer, it's because I am working. But leave a message and I will get back to you. I promise."

              His kindness warmed me, as it seemed a rare commodity among people anymore. I pocketed it, voicing my thanks.

              "I will let you two alone now so you can visit. I will check back with you in a bit, Deb. It was nice meeting you Aaron."

              As I pulled the chair next to mom, it dawned on me he had called my mom Deb. Only her closest friends called her that. Mom really liked him.

              The announcement came over the speakers that visiting hours were over. I struggled to make a brave face as I kissed mom goodnight, and headed out. With each step, all of the worry and grief was returning. As the elevator doors were shutting, I heard the voice yell out to hold the doors.

              I was happily surprised to see it was Cory, as he came running into the elevator.

              "Hey, glad I caught up with you before you left. Do you want to go to one of the consulting rooms and talk, maybe get some of your fear and anger out?"

              I hadn’t realized it until he voiced it, but he was right. I was angry. Angry at God, who was taking my mom away from me. She was so good, and being taken away so young. It just wasn’t fair.

              "I would like that a lot, thank you," I said. I felt relief fill me, as he escorted me into a private conference room after we got off the elevator. Relief to have someone who I could talk to about this. I had promised mom not to talk of the dark cloud floating in my heart, the despair that seemed to be drowning me.

              He motioned for me to sit, and took the chair next to me.

              I poured my heart out, as the tears ran like rivers down my face. His face had genuine concern and compassion as he listened intently, patient when the grief overwhelmed me, causing me to be unable to speak. I finally hit a point where I was crying with fury, and just could not say another word. He leaned forward, and pulled me in tight.

              At first, my body rejected the contact. Contact that was foreign to me. Mom was the only person I had ever hugged, other than the mandatory relative hugs at family functions growing up. But he refused to let go, and I surrendered into his strength, as I got it out. I finally was crying it out to the point of exhaustion, as his hand stroked my back.

              I lifted my head off of his chest, and his cheek rubbed against mine as he continued hugging me. I felt a weird feeling inside, as I felt an attraction to him filling me. My body was reacting to our closeness, to the smooth sensuous feeling of his cheek as we embraced. I unconsciously rubbed my cheek against his, my nerves coming alive at the contact, and a thrill raced through me as he responded, lightly rubbing back.

              A part of me was shocked as the corners of our lips touched, and he lightly ran his lips across mine. Passion filled me, and I started kissing him clumsily, my body igniting at our intimate closeness. I felt his tongue lightly push its way into my mouth, and without thought I started kissing him, our tongues dancing delightfully together.

              My cock was filled with electricity, as it strained in its excitement, crying out for deliverance, for satisfaction. He finally extricated himself from our kiss, and I felt confusion overwhelming me. What had just happened? What had I done?

              He must have seen my dismay on my face, as he got a look of sadness in his dark eyes. Despite feeling uncomfortable, I was drawn to his eyes, which confused me even more.

              "I need to get going. Thanks for letting me vent, Cory."

              I got up and hurried out of the room, not looking back. I was anxious to get away from him, get away from what had just happened.