The Coffee Shop Pt. 05

"Where am I?" I asked. "What happened?"

"You are in a semi-private room, at Mercy Hospital. You are recovering nicely from your injuries," Answered the doctor. "Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

His answer was expected, but not his question. It took me by surprise. I stared silently at this Dr. Smith as I tried to remember what I was doing before I woke up in this hospital room.

"I remember?..flashing red and yellow lights," I replied slowly as I struggle to haul the memories out of the dark recesses of my mind and back into the light of consciousness. "There were men in uniforms with dark pants and light coloured shirts. It was dark out and I felt very cold. My left hand was warm and sticky. My right hand was holding my cell phone? I remember calling for help. I think I called 911. A lady answered. She told me to stay awake until help arrived." I closed my eyes. I was exhausted after speaking only a few sentences.


"Take your time, Mr. Walton," said Dr. Smith in a soothing voice. "You did place an emergency call, and when the paramedics found you, they brought you here. Do you remember anything else?"

"It's all kind of fuzzy," I replied. It was the truth. Trying to dredge up those memories required more energy than I had at present. "How long have I been here?" I asked.

"Three and a half weeks," answered Dr. Smith. "You were in a coma until yesterday when you pressed the call button and asked for some water. We were concerned that your recovery might be delayed. You suffered a trauma to your head, perhaps when you fell down. There were no broken bones in your skull, and the X-rays didn't show any hidden damage, so you need not be concerned about brain damage."

A loud snore from the patient in the next bed interrupted the doctor's words. I opened my eyes and looked over at the doctor. A slight grin touched my lips as the humour of the situation dawned upon me. The idea of being interrupted by the snoring of another patient, while I was struggling to remain awake and focused on the doctor, tickled my funny bone. I didn't dare to laugh though, as I knew my ribs would protest most vengefully.

I jerked as memories crashed into my brain. Fists crashing into my stomach, and me bent double in agony. Fists pounding me everywhere it seemed. I remembered feeling as if I was being used as a punching bag. I heard a voice, maybe more than one, saying something about "leaving him alone'. I tried to lasso that errant memory but it wiggled and slithered out of my grasp. I let it go for now. Energy surged through me as I fought to retain the fragments of memory and weave them into some type of coherent tapestry.

"I was assaulted, beaten up," I declared to Doctor Smith. "I don't recall any faces or names."

"Your injures suggested as much," Doctor Smith nodded knowingly. "Don't try to force it. Let the memories come back at their own pace. Give yourself time. The important thing is that you are awake and on the mend."

"It doesn't feel that way from here," I replied doubtfully. "I don't think there's an inch of my body that doesn't have a bruise on it."

"You may not feel that way now, but you are getting better, believe me," Doctor Smith said with assurance. "You have some cracked ribs, which is why it is so painful for you to breath. Fortunately, you do not have any serious internal injuries. You were very lucky. It could have been a lot worse. We did not have to perform surgery. You needed a few stitches on your left arm. Whoever they were, they had knives and they did cut you once or twice. They did not stab you though, which is very lucky for you. You lost enough blood as it was."

"I supp?" I started to say as two remarkably loud snores interrupted my reply to Doctor Smith. Whoever the man (I suppose it could have been a woman) was in that other bed, he was determined to get his rest. I smiled at the Doctor as we waited for the snoring to subside. Doctor Smith smile back at me, and nodded his head at me. He put his fingers to his lips, in the universal sign to be quiet.


I couldn't make a lot of noise in my present condition, but I supposed it was necessary not to wake up the other patient. I found it odd that Doctor Smith nodded his head at me. My puzzlement grew as a smile broke out on Doctor Smith's face just before he turned away from me and walked over to the left of my bed and stopped at the curtain separating my hospital bed from the other patient's bed. Some time while I was unconscious the curtain that separated my bed from the second bed had been pulled closed. My eyes followed his motions as he smoothly pulled the curtain away and then stood back away from the second bed. He moved off and walked around the bed and over to the other side. Idle curiosity prompted me to track the doctor's movements, unremarkable as they were. He looked down at the sleeping form on the bed, and then he looked up at me and winked at me.

Now I was really confused. This didn't seem to make any sense at all. I looked to my left at the sleeping form that lay in the bed next to me. It was a big man lying on his left side, and thus facing away from me. The form was but a jumble of hills and valleys of hospital bed sheets sprawled across a sleeping form. All that I could see was the back of a head with black shortly cropped hair. There wasn't anything remarkable or noteworthy about it though. A few more loud snores filled the room as I looked at that sleeping form. I glanced up to see that Doctor Smith was smiling even more. I would have shaken my head in bewilderment, if I'd had the strength to spare. Several more snores sounded off as the Doctor slowly leaned over the sleeping form. Doctor Smith placed his face close to the head of the sleeping form as he placed his right hand on the shoulder of the slumbering figure. 'Why in the world does he want to wake this guy up now?' I thought to myself. 'And why is the doctor grinning like a Cheshire cat?' As if on cue, several more snores permeated the room. It slowly dawned on me that there was something vaguely familiar about those snores, although I could not seem to recall where I had heard them before. I blinked in utter confusion as I watched Doctor Smith mutter something at the limp form, and gently shake the right shoulder as if to emphasize what he was saying. The snoring stopped. The figure in the bed didn't seem to respond. Doctor Smith continued to mutter at the sleeping form, while he shook the right shoulder more vigorously.

A few seconds later the man in the hospital bed burst into action. Okay, so he wasn't a patient then, unless he'd just experienced some type of miraculous recovery. The bed sheets were thrown back off, and the man jumped out of the bed. He stood in front of Doctor Smith talking excitedly. I was too tired and too far away to make out any of what the man said. I did notice that the man spoke with a honey smooth tenor voice; that was most pleasing to my ears. Whatever Doctor Smith said to this man must have been good news, because he gave Doctor Smith a big hug. I got a good look at Doctor Smith's face as this man hugged him. The doctor's face was all smiles, which surprised me somewhat. This mystery man towered over the good doctor by at least six inches. I would have been somewhat unnerved by having a mountain of a man wrap his tree trunk like arms about me. Maybe the Doctor was used to it. Well, at least someone was having a good day today. It certainly wasn't me. I was in pain, but oddly enough I felt a surge of happiness for this man, and in some strange way that made me feel better too.

I was too weary to pay any attention to what this man looked like. Usually I notice how men dress, since I do so enjoy man watching. (Hey, I'm gay, not dead, though right now that point could be argued. I felt as if I'd have to be dead three days before I'd feel better.) I got an impression of a grey or light blue shirt and some dark coloured pants, with a black belt of some type. As I said, I wasn't paying much attention as I couldn't concentrate very well. I looked at the back of this big man, and thought to myself that someone somewhere, a woman most likely, was a very lucky person indeed. I would have sighed with regret, but my ribs would have made their displeasure at such an action, very well known.

The man finally released Doctor Smith, and raced around his bed and over to the left side of my bed! I was flabbergasted at the man's action. I wasn't scared, though, since I wasn't alone with this stranger. I was in a hospital and I had a call button under my right thumb. The man stood there, a foot so away from me, starring down at me. It was most unnerving. I looked up at the face of this stranger towering over me, trying to figure out if I knew him. I wasn't sure, but I thought there might be something familiar about him. I found all these nebulous connections to this man to be most disquieting. I felt as if there were pieces of my life missing, as though my brain was partly empty. All that changed when the man spoke to me. He said one word.


"Texas," he called out to me in a honey smooth tenor voice that was suddenly wonderfully familiar. I looked up at his face and memory flooded back. Feelings flowed into me, and the pain in my body didn't seem to be as important any more.

"Andy," I called back to him, "My dear heart." I looked up at my beloved Andy standing there over me. I wanted to jump up and wrap my arms about him. I wanted to feel his touch on my skin; to feel his lips pressed against mine. I struggled to reach out to him with my right hand. My body would not permit it. My body was too tired and weak to answer the demands of my heart. I gazed up at Andy and drank in the pleasure of his presence. It was a balm for my battered spirit.

Andy's eyes darted towards my struggling right arm as the movement caught his attention. His eyes shifted back to look at me and he spoke. "Just a second, Texas," He said and flashed that sexy smile of his at me. Andy darted around the foot of my bed and walked up to the right side until he was standing next to me. Slowly Andy reached down with his left hand and plucked my right hand from the bed. Those soft doe brown eyes of his locked onto mine as he slowly moved my right hand upwards. Gently he held my hand in both of his hands. A shudder passed though my body as I thrilled at the touch and the warmth of his hands holding mine. (I never failed to be thrilled at Andy's touch, and God willing, I hoped I never would.)

"Welcome back, sleepyhead," Andy cooed at me. He beamed at me like he hadn't seen me for a year.

"Hi," I replied, feeling like an idiot because I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I really missed you. I'm so glad you're back," Andy replied earnestly.

There was intensity about Andy's response that even I, in my befuddled state of mind, could pick up on.

"You were worried about me?" I asked. (Yup, another really intelligent question, boy I was really on a roll today.)

"Very. But let's not talk about that now. I just want to hold your hand," Andy answered keeping his eyes locked on mine, as that sexy smile of his blossomed on his face once again. The tears that were running down his cheeks seemed at odds with that sexy smile of his. I could not make any sense of it, and I was too tired to try.

"I wish I could give you a big hug," I said lamely, knowing that I didn't have the strength to do such a thing. Still it was the thought that counted, I supposed.

"You will soon enough", Andy replied as he gently placed my right arm back by my side and let go of my hand. Andy wiped his face with the back of his hands to brush away the last of the tears from his cheeks. Andy looked about the room. He looked back at me and smiled softly. Clearly he had something in mind. Andy marched across the room and grabbed a nearby chair. He triumphantly carried the chair towards my bed and placed the chair as close to the right side of my bed as he could. Andy parked himself in the chair and leaned over the edge of the bed as close to my body as he could. The rails on the sides of the hospital bed were already in the 'down' position so they offer no obstacle to Andy's body. It took Andy only a few moments to place my right arm by his left arm with our hands clasped together.

"I know you're tired and it takes a lot of effort to talk, so don't say anything. Just squeeze my hand every time that you want to tell me that you love me," Andy directed me.

I squeezed his hand as hard as I could, which wasn't much. Andy's face lit up like he'd just won the lottery. I squeezed his hand a second time. "I love you too," he replied.


"Go ahead and close your eyes, Paul. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere," Andy said reassuringly. "Just keep squeezing my hand until you fall asleep."

Gratefully I closed my eyes. It has been such a struggle to keep them open. I needed rest, but I needed Andy's company just as badly. I marvelled at what a kind and understanding heart that big burley RCMP constable of mine had. I loved hearing him say he loved me. It didn't make the pain go away, but it made it bearable. I waited a few seconds and squeezed his hand a third time

"Always and forever," he replied softly, followed by soft sigh.

I waited a few more seconds and squeezed his hand again.

"I love you, Paul," Andy responded in the same soft tones.

His voice was so soothing, and the words were so comforting, I wanted to hear it just one more time. I gathered up what little strength I had and squeezed his hand one more.

"Love Texas," Andy replied in an even softer voice. I had to strain to hear him clearly. Obviously I was more tied that I realized, but I had to hear it one more time, then I would get the rest my body demanded. I squeeze Andy's hand one last time.

Silence. I waited a bit longer thinking maybe my last squeeze had been too weak. I concentrated and squeezed Andy's hand as hard as I could. The only response was silence. Suddenly a loud snore filled the room. A second and third snore followed as I wrenched my eyes open, and forced my head to turn to the right. Andy was still there in the chair. He hadn't left physically. He was slumped down in the chair with his head touching his chest. His body looked so relaxed it was a wonder that he didn't fall out of the chair. Andy was sound asleep and contentedly snoring away.

"Forgive him, Mr Walton. It is 2:30 in the morning and he had only had a couple of hours of sleep, when I woke him up," Doctor Smith said as he walked up to Andy and looked down at his collapsed form. "He insisted on being awakened when you came out of your coma. I am going to go get a couple of orderlies to help me get Andy back to bed. Meantime, you go back to sleep. You need your rest too."

There wasn't much I could do but to follow the doctor's suggestions. It was a struggle but I managed to stay awake long enough to see the orderlies place Andy in the bed beside mine, and to tuck him in for the night. Satisfied that Andy was safely in bed, I closed my eyes and was asleep in the blink of an eye.

The next morning, or it could have been the day following for all I knew, I woke up. It wasn't an alarm clock that woke me. It wasn't the sunlight streaming through the open curtains of the window. It was something much more difficult to ignore. It was the three thousand or so hot knives sticking into my sides every time I took a breath that woke me up. I grabbed frantically for the call button. A few seconds of frantic searching located it. I smashed down the button and waited for the nurse to arrive. I closed my eyes and tried my best to deal with the pain.

"Good morning, Mr. Walton. And how are we feeling today?" Asked a cheerful female voice.

I kept my eyes closed, as I bit back the words that I wanted to throw at that cheerful voice.
"You sound very happy. I, however, am somewhat less than comfortable," I replied acidly.


"I'm sorry to hear that. You timing is excellent. I was about to wake you up for your medication," the nurse said.

"Bring it on, please," I said.

"Open your mouth, please," the nurse instructed me. I complied. "Now here's some water," she said as she inserted a straw into my mouth. Quickly I sipped and swallowed. I couldn't get the pills down fast enough. Those knives in the sides of my chest seemed to be getting sharper with every second.

"You should feel much better in about twenty to thirty minutes, just in time for breakfast," the nurse said. "I'll help you to sit up then so you can eat."

"You're joking," I said as I opened my eyes, and turned my head to look at the nurse.

"Not at all. The sooner you do for yourself the sooner you get out of here," the nurse said. "I know you are in a lot of pain, but it won't get any better if you don't use the muscles and move about. You can walk you know, so someone will be by to help you to bathroom if you want to try using it today, rather than the bedpan, once your catheter has been removed of course. I'm sure you'll be happy to be rid of that device," The nurse had delivered her little speech with a pleasant expression on her face. She was a lovely woman, I noticed, with flaming red hair, dark green eyes, a cute pert nose, full red lips and cheekbones that a cover girl model would have killed for. She didn't do anything for me though, since I was gay.

"If it's all the same to you, I'll try the bathroom tomorrow. I don't think I have the strength today," I said.

"Of course, but I should warn you that if the doctor agrees with me, you'll be off the bedpan in less than a week." The nurse smiled tenderly at me as she spoke. She was not offering me an ultimatum, rather she was telling me about my recovery schedule.

The rest of my first day of consciousness in the hospital was uneventful for the most part. I will spare you the details of having a catheter removed, other than to say that the word 'ouch' is a massive understatement. The nurse was very professional, when she performed that service. She reassured me the entire time and did her best to put me at ease. I thanked her for her efforts. Andy dropped by to visit with me for a couple of hours that evening. I convinced him that he should go home to get some rest that night. I was in good hands and if anything happened they would be sure to call him. I was out of danger according to the doctor and Andy needed some time to rest physically and mentally. He was very reluctant to go home. I finally had to insist. When he left for home the expression on his face reminded me of a puppy that had just been swatted with a newspaper for peeing on the living room carpet. I felt a twinge of guilt about sending him home to rest, but I knew that he need to rest too.

The second day of my recovery in the hospital room was uneventful. I ate. I rested. I took my medication on schedule. I used the bedpan. Andy came for a visit in the evening. We talked. We held hands. We told each other how much we loved one another. It was restful. It was what being in the hospital was all about.

On the third day, I decided I would try to use the bathroom. The orderly and the nurse helped me to the toilet. I managed to do my business. It exhausted me and I slept most of the afternoon away. I woke up just long enough to eat my dinner, then I went back to sleep.


The next few days passed by uneventfully. I had fallen into a routine of sleeping a lot, eating when I had to, moving about the room and waiting for a visit from Andy. We talked, we held hands and we kissed a few times. I can't say that it was wonderful, but I did enjoy the visits from Andy. Finally Saturday came around. I had been looking forward to Saturday because Andy wasn't working and I hoped we'd be able to spend several hours together. You might have been wondering where my family was during all of this. All of my of brothers and sisters as well as my parents, lived in other cities. We all had our own lives and we really didn't talk regularly. Until I told them, they probably wouldn't know about my hospital stay. I'd break the news to them when I was fully recovered. For now there were more pressing matters on my mind, such as getting well. Andy didn't know it but my relationship with my family wasn't what one would call close and warm. I kept them at arm's length, because I'd never come out to them and I wasn't sure when or if I was ever going to.