Love Is Where You Find It
by:
Hankster
© 2008 by the author
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the
author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Chapter 1
I woke up slowly. My head was throbbing. How did I get such an awful headache? I couldn’t figure out where I was. Something bad had happened, but I couldn’t remember what. When I tried to open my eyes everything was a blur. All I could figure out was that I was in a bed, and as I glanced around I could see that I had an IV in my arm. If I had been able to see further down I would have seen the catheter in my prick. I guessed I was in a hospital, and no matter how hard I tried I could not remember coming here.
I tried to look around and figure out where I was, and if indeed it was a hospital. With great effort I turned my neck. There was a bed next to mine and I could see a body in it. I couldn’t even tell what sex it was. Its head was all bandaged and one arm and one leg were in casts. This prompted me to look down, and I could tell that I had no casts on me. My room mate had an IV stuck in its arm also, and I clearly saw a catheter bag hanging from the side of its bed. At some point, I heard a moan. The sound was a deep baritone and I decided that my room mate was a guy.
I forced myself to concentrate. Try to remember. Try to remember. The harder I tried the more I desired sleep and as usual my desires were greater than my intellect. I fell into a deep sleep. I had no idea that I was receiving heavy doses of various pain killers. I didn’t know it at that time either, but I slept for nearly thirty-six hours more.
When I awoke my head and my vision were somewhat clearer. I looked over at my room mate. His bandaged head was turned toward me, and I heard him ask with great difficulty, “Are you awake?”
“Yes, at least I think so. How long have I been here?”
“I think we’ve been here about four days,” he answered.
I hesitated before admitting to him that I had no memory of how I got here.
“They brought us in together in the same ambulance. There was an accident, a terrible accident,” he informed me. I racked my brain. I tried so hard to remember, and I fell asleep again.
The next time I woke up I hoped that my healing had finally begun. My head was much clearer and hardly ached at all. I could clearly see that I was indeed in a hospital, but I still did not remember how I got here. I glanced over to my room mate. He was smiling at me and he had no bandage on his head, but he still had the casts.
“Welcome back,” he said.
“Hi,” I responded. What happened?”
“Don’t you remember?” he asked, and then answered his own question. “We were in a bus accident, a real lulu. Seven people were killed, mostly elementary school kids, and two from our bus.” He choked with emotion and couldn’t say any more.
“Did you know any of them?” I asked.
He turned his head from me, letting me know that he didn’t want to or couldn’t talk about it. “No,” he stated in a whisper and I sensed that our conversation was ended for now.
I forced my brain to try to remember, and for a second I got a flash. I remembered boarding a bus, then a gap in memory. I remembered the sound of impact, and flailing bodies being tossed all over the bus. I remembered seeing the nose of another bus coming into our space and I knew that whoever sat in the seats where impact occurred could not possibly have survived.
But what was I doing on the bus? Where was I going? I could not remember. The strain of trying sent me right back to sleep for I do not know how many more hours.
When I awoke the next time, the room was dark and I could tell it was night time. There was a TV in the room and it was turned on, but no sound came from it. I glanced over to my room mate. His bed was cranked up so that he was almost in a sitting position. His eyes were closed and I suspected that he had fallen asleep watching television. He was snoring lightly so I said nothing to him, and I was pleased to see that his catheter bag was gone, but not the IV.
I watched the silent TV for some time and then a nurse came in and turned it off. Somehow I managed to fall asleep again. This sleep was different from the other drug induced sleeps. I had fallen asleep naturally and I had a dream. When I awoke I remembered the dream and I remembered at last how I came to be in a hospital in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. Let me take you back about six months when I left home, and to a time shortly before that.
I was an eighteen year old Mormon boy living in Boise, Idaho. I obeyed all the rules of the church and studied my Bible meticulously. When I went to bed at night my prayers were not just prayers and recitals from the liturgy, they were supplications to God. I prayed that he would not send me to hell for being gay. I had never acted on my sexual orientation, but I believed that God knew everything, and so He most certainly must know about me. I fell asleep every night, praying for salvation.
Try as I might, and pray as I might, I could not deny my nature. I searched the net, and entered forbidden chat rooms until I met a seventeen year old who told me that he was a Mormon also, and that he was suffering the same guilt that I was experiencing. We made dates to message each other on line when we were both available. Finally we agreed to meet in a park which my IM buddy heard was a well known cruising area.
I was scared to death, but I proceeded to our rendez-vous at the appointed hour. I was to wear a white tee shirt with blue denim shorts and he was to wear a blue tee shirt with white denim shorts. We had described our physical appearances to each other and sent pictures in E Mails so I was certain I would not miss the guy I knew only as Hung123. It bothered me that we had not given each other our real names.
I walked along a path he had described to me, and out of the darkness I heard someone call my screen name. “Hotboy?”
I looked around and saw nothing, but then a body emerged from the darkness. He looked nothing like the pictures in the E Mails. This was a man of at least forty, big burly and ugly. I had been entrapped by a vice cop. Since I was of legal age and had arranged to meet a minor for purposes of sex, I was truly busted.
He pulled my arms behind my back and handcuffed me. He read me my rights and before I knew what had happened to me I was in the police station and they called my parents.
My father knew several of the police officers from our church. Because he was a Church Elder, and to avoid shame befalling our church, they let me go. I was released into his custody with stern warnings.
In the car going home my parents were silent, but as soon as we entered the house, my father said, “You can take one small suitcase and pack a few necessities. I will see to it that you are excommunicated from the Church for homosexuality. I want you out of my house in half an hour and I never want to see you again.” My mother was sitting in a chair with her face to the wall. She could not bear to look at me.
As I left the house, my mother followed me out to the front porch. She never spoke to me, but she stuffed something into my pocket. When I looked a little while later it was ninety-five dollars in small bills. I also had managed to take about sixty dollars of my own money which I had saved from some small part time jobs. In total I left home with $155.00. I thought of using the money for a bus ticket out of Boise, but I decided to save as much as I could. Instead I hitchhiked to San Francisco. By the time I got there, I still had $150.00.
I found a small furnished room and needed to give the landlord fifty dollars as a security deposit and fifty for the first month’s rent. I put my meager belongings in my room and immediately went searching for a job. I was a high school graduate and was due to start BYU in the fall, but now that would never be. I had no trouble getting a job in a Wendy’s just two streets from where I now lived.
It was easy locating gay bars in San Francisco, but I was too shy to go in. I would walk by them non-chalantly and try to look inside, but my feet would not allow entrance. I did find one place that had a little magazine stand outside the front entrance. There was always a supply of free gay periodicals in the racks. At least I was able to work up the courage to walk up to the rack one day and arm myself with the magazines.
The magazines were fully loaded with ads for gay bars, massages, escorts, and an assortment of gay owned businesses, none of which interested me. One ad, however, caught my full attention. It was for a travel agency that specialized in gay cruises. They gave an 800 number to call for information, brochures etc. I became convinced that a cruise was my chance to meet other gay men in a safe environment. I would be seated at a dinner table with three, five or seven other guys. I could meet them in a friendly setting. I screwed up my courage and called the agency. To my delight everything was automated. I didn’t have to speak to anyone living. I requested brochures of the upcoming trips for the next six months.
Most of the trips were Caribbean cruises and left from Miami or Ft. Lauderdale’s Port Everglades. They ranged from five days to 10 days. The single cabins were much more expensive than the doubles, but the best part of it was that if you did not have anyone to share a cabin with, they would match you with someone in similar circumstances. The worst part was that in addition to the posted price, you would have to fly to Florida at your own expense.
I zeroed in on an eight day trip which stopped at several ports. It was four months away, falling between Thanksgiving and Christmas when the rates were at their lowest. If I didn’t take any expensive side trips, the cost with tips, tax and airfare would be approximately $2250.00. In the few short weeks I had lived in San Francisco, I had managed to save $500.00. I ate at least two meals a day at the restaurant, and skipped the third meal. I didn’t go to the bars or the movies. If I could get a credit card with a maximum credit cap of a mere $2500, and if I could get the time off, I could have the whole trip paid off in no time.
I asked for and got double shifts at work, and was able to procure a VISA card with a $3000.00 credit cap. I spoke to my boss, who said it would be tough to manage without me, but he gave me the time off. I immediately called the 800 number and was able to secure a double cabin with another single man. They told me he was fifty two years old and lived in New York. I readily agreed to share the cabin with him. Since I had no computer, they mailed me a bunch of papers to complete and return.
I spent hours filling out the papers. I didn’t want to fuck up anything and destroy my opportunity to take the cruise. I also had some hard decisions to make. In the end, I decided to take trip cancellation insurance. It wasn’t cheap, but if I had to cancel for some unknown reason, it would be cheap at that.
The next decision was a no brainer. The papers explained that Port Everglades was very close to the airport, and a cab ride would probably be less than $15.00. However, the cruise line was providing a bus from the airport to the ship at no cost. It would be leaving at 11:30 AM from Terminal 2 on the day of the cruise. The same offer was good for the return trip, and the bus would leave the pier at noon on the day we arrived back in Florida.
I checked the airlines and the least expensive air fare was a red eye which would get me to Ft. Lauderdale at 5:45 AM. I could return on a 6 PM flight which would get me to San Francisco about 8 PM due to the time difference. After I was safely booked on my flights, I accepted the offer of the bus service. I read the completed papers over carefully several times, and booked the entire trip on my credit card. I took my packet to the post office and sent it out registered, return receipt requested. It was bad enough that I was alone in the world, the last thing I needed was another fuck up in my life.
All that was left was for me to work hard and make as much money as possible. I didn’t mind the double shifts at all. This was to be the trip of my lifetime. By the time I was a week away from departure, I had saved another $750.00. I would have saved more, but I bought some clothes for the trip. The cruise line had sent a list of recommended attire, and I filled in what I needed. I also made two payments on my credit card which were billed to me after the initial charges and before the trip itself. My debt was minimal and I was feeling pretty good about life in general. I even thought of going to one of the bars, but I always chickened out.
Instead I would lie in bed at night and fantasize that I would meet a handsome young man on the ship. Of course he would fall instantly in love with me. I whacked off every night, as my phantom lover sucked my cock and fucked me until I could barely tolerate the ecstasy.
I posted a huge calendar in the entrance hall of my studio apartment and at the end of every day I crossed out the day just ended. Time seemed to crawl and then miraculously it was time for me to go to the airport to catch my red-eye. My manager volunteered to drive me there and I gladly accepted. When we arrived at the terminal he opened his trunk, and I removed my suitcase. I extended my hand to shake his, and to thank him for the ride and for volunteering to pick me up as well. Imagine my amazement when he took my hand, pulled me to him, and kissed me full on the lips.
“Have a great time, Aaron,” he whispered, “and come home to me safely.” Before I could react in any way, he was back in his car and he took off, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open.
The trip to Florida was without incident. I slept most of the way, dreaming about the possibility of making love to Brad, my manager. He was only twenty-two and very good looking or at least I thought so. We arrived just before 6 AM. It was only 3 AM in San Francisco and I felt cheated out of sleep. After I retrieved my suitcase, I took a shuttle bus to Terminal 2. There I found a coffee shop and had breakfast. I lingered over breakfast as long as possible, but finally I went outside and sat on a bench waiting for the cruise bus even though it was not scheduled for hours. I sat on the bench and maybe for a hundred times I checked to make sure I had my passport and all the travel documents that the cruise line had given me. I even affixed my room tag on my suitcase. As far as I could tell, I was all set.
Somehow the time passed, and a bus pulled up. Its sides were emblazoned with the names of several cruise lines and the words, ‘Shuttle Bus’ so there was no doubt that this was the bus I was looking for. As soon as the bus pulled up to the curb, the doors opened and the driver came out to light a cigarette. I asked him if this was the bus to ‘Sea Nymph,’ the name of my ship.
“Yes,” he answered. “There are three ships leaving today. We’ll be picking up passengers for all of them, and we’ll be pulling out in less than an hour.” Then he disappeared. The bus filled up quickly, and no other bus came along. I figured out that it was first come, first served for this freebie and if I hadn’t gotten my papers in quickly, I probably would have needed a taxi right about now. I was quick to realize that not every passenger on this shuttle bus was going to be gay. Passengers were being dropped off at the three cruise lines. I was right. There were an equal number of men and women aboard.
When the bus was full, the driver reappeared. He got on the public address system, announced the names of the ships in the order he would arrive at them and urged us to be ready to depart the bus. My ship was last. I noticed that the driver seemed to slur his words and uneasiness invaded my body.
The bus pulled away from the curb and headed out of the airport. I could see a sign with an arrow pointing straight ahead. It read “I-595” and right after it another sign read, “Port Everglades 3 Miles” Wow it really was close. As the driver approached the entrance ramp to the highway, I began to get an uneasy feeling. He wasn’t slowing down at all, yet all the signs clearly read, “YIELD.”
He entered the highway at a speed of at least seventy miles per hour and crossed over the right lane of traffic at a forty five degree angle. It was then I heard the screech of wheels and about a foot of the front end of a school bus penetrated our bus. Bodies flew everywhere. The last thing I remember thinking was, “Why was that idiot driver trying to kill us?”
Then I lost consciousness.
To be continued...
Posted: 11/07/08