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Did you do what I said? I asked when he finally stopped crying.
Yes, he replied. The cop says the ambulance is on the way. She was fine,
Alex. I just don t understand.
Something told me that Mrs. Clark had not been fine and she just didn t want
to cause any more trouble for her already troubled sons. I wondered if Mr. Clark
would be coming with his new wife, a strangely dishy thought at a really bad
time. As it turned out, the night Stephen came out to his parents was the night
that Mr. Clark promised his then-mistress that he would tell his wife about them,
and ask for a divorce. After screeching out of the driveway in his Benz, Mr. Clark
drove over to West Memphis, Arkansas and back, a trip of about an hour. When
he got home, he openly blamed his wife for making Stephen gay, and then
blamed them both for the mistress. He ended the marriage then and there, and
twenty-one year old Stephen heard the whole thing, taking on the blame for
breaking up his parents marriage. Mr. Clark had had the mistress for a couple of
years, a younger woman who happened to be at the right place at the wrong time.
Now, after a short period of time, his ex-wife was dead. Stephen held on to me
To the Rescue
38
for several minutes and I really did feel sorry for him, looking so small and uncer-
tain in that big house. I saw the lights from the ambulance and asked him
quickly, Where is she?
In her bedroom, he replied blankly.
It seemed extremely morbid to think about it, but I knew exactly where that
bedroom was. When Mrs. Clark was doing well on her treatments, she went to
Biloxi to see her family. Stephen and I messed around endlessly in that master
suite in the bed, on the floor, in the shower, and in the oversized Jacuzzi tub. I
was a little bit grossed out over it for a second, not only over the sheer morbidity
of the whole thing, but also over the fact that I had let myself become so trashy.
Before I met Stephen, I never would have imagined having sex in a boyfriend s
parent s house. When Ayers and I visited his family, I always told him no, that
sex under your parents roof was as close to blasphemy as you could get. Then I
felt grief. She was always very open and accepting of me, almost like a friend, she
trusted me and hoped that I would help Stephen get his life together. I felt grief
not only for her but also because I felt guilty for enabling Stephen s disgusting
habits with my own disgusting habits. I was no stranger to grief, although this
was a little different. I had never really stopped grieving for Ayers, it was just a
scaled-down grief that comes with time, the hole in my soul still present but cov-
ered over. I was so tired of feeling grief at that point, but I saw that choices led me
from one point to another and the feelings that came along in between those
points were a direct result of those choices. I chose to swing all the way to the
other side of my circus tent, doing things with Stephen that I had never even
thought of before, allowing things to happen that I was previously opposed to.
Grief also made me lonely, so I went along with Stephen just to ensure that I
could again hear someone else breathing next to me at night.
The ambulance guys came through the door and I led them to the bedroom. I
didn t go inside but told them that she had had cancer and was very sick anyway.
They left me to go in, and I turned around and went back into the parlor.
Stephen s father arrived along with the new Mrs. Clark. I could tell he dyed his
gray hair in the hope of appearing younger, but he acted old. I think he had loved
the elder Mrs. Clark and was obviously shaken by her sudden death. I nodded to
them both as I came back into the room.
Mr. Clark, Mrs. Clark, I said politely, having only met them a couple of
times.
Alex, said Mr. Clark in response.
The young Mrs. Clark came over to me and planted one on my cheek, saying
simply, Hi Alex. Thanks for coming. Is he okay?
To the Rescue
39
Stephen s personality and his ability to charm anyone when he had to paid off,
because it was obvious that young Mrs. Clark was concerned about his
well-being, more than her husband. The new Mrs. Clark was in her forties and
had lived in the area for years, making friends with every gay decorator and hair-
stylist in town, so a gay stepson was not a stretch. Mr. Clark came over at that
point.
Alex, he said sternly, I ll take care of the arrangements. You take care of
Stephen. He s high as kite and doesn t need to be in the way. Take him away
from here and make him call me in the morning.
I nodded, but apparently Stephen had not been able to tell his dad that we
were no longer together. And of course it had never occurred to Mr. Clark that
his son had served as a stud, someone to help another man get off and nothing
more, which would have been a further disappointment. Why did they all look to
me as his protector? I walked over to the sofa, sat down next to Stephen and put
my arm around his shoulder, honestly wanting him to know that he was not
alone. My feelings for him began to unwind there on the sofa, feelings that were
telling me to deal with him and try to get him through this mess.
Stephen, I said clearly and firmly, your dad is going to take care of every-
thing. You need to come with me, okay? I ll take you home and then you can find
out what s going on in the morning.
Okay, he said softly, then started crying again. He laid his head on my
shoulder and began sobbing violently, a genuine yet most likely chemically
induced freak-out. Mr. Clark looked over with the quiet disapproval I had seen
the few times I met him, and young Mrs. Clark looked on with sympathy. I got
up, pulled Stephen to his feet, and prodded him toward the door before they
could bring his mother past. I nodded quickly to the Clarks and pushed Stephen
out the door, where he mechanically stumbled to the car and got in, putting his
head back on the rest. I started the car and screeched out of the driveway, debat-
ing whether to take him to his apartment or put him to sleep on my sofa.
We pulled up to my apartment and I looked over at him, out cold. I don t
know what he did or who with, but it had done a number on him because I tried
to wake him and he wouldn t budge. He was breathing normally and even had a
little trickle of spit on his mouth, a final gross out for the evening. I would not be
able to get him up the stairs by myself, so I boldly picked up my cell and hit
Rick s number, which had already made it into my phonebook.
Hello? Rick sounded surprised.
To the Rescue
40
Rick, I said urgently, it s Alex. Disposable Boy has literally passed out cold
in my car. I can t take him home. Can you come down and help me get him
upstairs?
Wow, he said, I haven t seen this much drama since I fell off the jungle
gym in third grade. Give me a second, okay?
A moment later, Rick came walking over and his eyes widened at the sight of
Stephen.
This is Disposable Boy? he asked, having humorously taken license on
Stephen s nickname.
Trust me, I said, it was better sober and not out cold. Did you come to
help me or critique my choice of past boyfriends?
Down girl, he retorted. I ll get one side and you get the other.
We picked Stephen up and fairly easily carried him to each landing on the
staircase. When we got him through the door, I nodded toward the sofa. I pulled
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