Tenting Tonight, chapter 14
Frank had driven us, bleary eyed, to the hospital. We wanted to know what was going on. Who the hell was this red-haired guy? When we got into the area where Bobby’s room was, we saw a number of people, including Ze’ev, surrounding a fellow who at a distance looked a lot like our Liam. We had left Liam10 with Paul, at Lindoro’s.
My Paul and I each had one arm around Liam, who on the ride over had gotten angrier and angrier at what he saw at an intrusion on his brother’s security. He practically pulled us over to where Ze’ev and another guy in a security uniform were restraining the red-haired guy.
Liam strode right over to where the redhead was seated. He said something to the guy, and the redhead looked up at him, looking startled.
“Pete,” Paul said to me, “what do you make of this? There’s something very odd going on here. That kid is the same height as our Liam, has the same red hair, the same milky-white complexion, the same eyes, a very similar build. From the back, even with Liam next to me, I had to remind myself that he couldn’t be our Liam. So who the hell is he?”
“Not a clue,” I answered, “but this is too strange to be a coincidence. It’s got to mean something.”
Ten or twelve feet away, Liam appeared to be getting more and more upset. The other guy did not get up. He sat there, while Liam began to pace back and forth in front of him. Every once in a while, Liam would turn and face him, and say something. We could tell from the bright red of Liam’s face that he was either very angry or very upset. But he was talking in a low voice, and we could only make out a few words here and there.
The redhead didn’t have very much to say, and Ze’ev seemed to be holding Liam back. Then the redhead did say something to Liam that we couldn’t hear, and Liam looked as if he were about to explode. Ze’ev put his arms around Liam and calmed him down, and then he sent him over to us.
“Frank was right,” Liam said to us. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?” Paul and I asked.
“You know what that guy says? How he knows my brother Bobby?”
“Just tell us.”
Liam was so upset he seemed to be mumbling to himself. We couldn’t make out anything but the last word, “friend.”
“So the big mystery is that the red-haired guy is a friend of your brother’s?”
“He says they’re more than friends.”
“He says he’s WHAT?”
“His boyfriend.”
In all the speculation we had done, this wasn’t something we had thought of. “You’re kidding.”
“That’s what he says.”
“So Bobby is gay?”
“You could have fooled me.”
“The same Bobby we heard call you ‘faggot?’”
“Don’t keep asking me, I don’t know what to think.”
“What’s Bobby’s condition?”
“Ze’ev says they’re going to wake him up for an hour tomorrow to check for nerve or brain damage, and he’s getting less of whatever it is in his IV that makes him stay asleep.”
“Do you want us to talk to the red-haired kid and see what we can find out?
“I don’t know.”
“Lingam,” Paul said, “let us get to the bottom of this.”
"Yeah, Lingam. You know how good Paul is at getting to red-haired bottoms.” I said, meanwhile groping Liam’s ass.
"Just remember, you two are mine.”
“Don’t worry,” I told Liam, “if you want, you can come with us, and we’ll stage something to make sure he gets the point. I know, we’ll go to the chapel. There’s probably no one there at this hour. Paul will talk to him, and I’ll fuck you on the altar.”
“If you mean that I’m going to moan, ‘Oh, God,’ think again. I’m officially on the outs with God right now. Fuck God.”
I had expected Liam to get a kick out of the idea, but he reacted more seriously than I expected. “Well, God is hot in the picture, but I’d rather fuck you.”
“Pete, take a raincheck. I want to find out what’s going on.” We both turned to see Paul go over and introduce himself to the redhead. Paul held out his hand, and after some hesitation, the redhead responded with his hand.
“Let’s go over. The worst that can happen...”
Liam continued my sentence: “The worst thing that can happen is that he’s... that we’re... that...” I had never seen our Liam in a loss for words, in the months I had known him.
Liam and I approached Paul and the redhead. This was the first time I had seen him close up. The resemblance to Liam was uncanny. Paul said to us, “Meet Russian. He’s a member of your brother’s fraternity in his home university, so he’s living in the frat house here, and that’s how he knows Bobby.”
Liam didn’t greet Russian. He just started asking questions. “WHERE are you from?”
“I from Russia. Siberia. My city is called, ‘Novosibirsk.’”
“Where is it?”
“In middle of Asia, almost 3 thousand kilometers to Moscow. To south, very far, Nepal.”
“Whew, very far,” Ze’ev said, joining us.
“And you belong to the same fraternity as Bobby?”
“I explain. In my city, fine technical university. Group came few years ago from Atlanta, from university there, to exchange, and they were holding prayers. Some students are curious, what are prayers like? KGB tells that Americans from Georgia are racists. KGB also warns Russian students not go to prayers. My older cousin, like brother, we have these words in my language, study chemistry, and in his laboratory was American student, black man, very intelligent, very handsome. They talk in laboratory, and my cousin ask him what about American racists, and he say, America has racists and not racists, also in my university. My cousin ask about jacket black friend wears, and he says it his his brotherly club. My cousin not find word in dictionary, we know fraternity from study French revolution, liberty, egality, fraternity. My cousin and black friend wear each other jacket, they are one size. Some bad student call KGB man notice and they call my cousin for questions. My cousin he very angry, he come home, find black friend jacket and book, KGB have sent black friend to Moscow and go to Georgia back. My cousin and friends read book on fraternal club, make secret club. One American man take letter to Georgia club, tell we have also club, American fraternal club send us letter with one American who come to my city. Letter says students of this fraternal club invite Novosibirsk students members, perhaps honored...”
“Honorary?”
“Da, honorary, thank you.”
“So you are an honorary member of my brother’s fraternity?” our Liam asked.
“Yes, we are brothers. My cousin perished in Afghanistan half year later, very sad, his jacket mine, his friends are telling me to be with them brothers, I say yes, then my family say no, KGB lists.”
“But you are in America.”
“Exchange program continues, my country students invited here, I afraid my English not good, perhaps KGB learn of club. But I receive exit visa to study, and I here meet Robert, he also brother.”
“So you are fraternity brothers. Is that right?” I said.
“Maybe we didn’t understand what he meant. Maybe he’s a boy and a friend, not a boyfriend,” Paul said.
“You are Robert’s friend, yes?” Liam said to Russian.
“Yes, friend. And are you not also blue?” Russian asked.
We looked around. What did that mean?
“Blue?” Paul asked him.
“Blue, goluboy, in my country, is word for man who love man, here tell this, in my country not.”
“Blue?” Liam asked, pointing to Russian.
“Robert say you are blue.”
“Yes, 'gay,' not 'blue.' and you? What are...”
Russian was clearly not comfortable with this conversation taking place in public. “Robert fine boy, very fine. Molodyets.”
“And you and Robert are brothers?”
“Yes, fine brothers.”
“And that is all.”
“All?”
“You are not more than brothers?”
“We students.”
“Liam he doesn’t understand enough English.”
“I think he does. Russian, when you like Robert, do you do this?” And Liam leaned over and kissed me on the mouth.”
Russian looked around nervously. “Hospital has many eyes?”
“Ze’ev,” I piped up. “Is Robert likely to wake up tonight?”
“No, but he is definitely less sedated, and I think he will wake up tomorrow, at least for a while.”
“Is it OK if we take Russian for a drink or a coffee?”
“I have one beautiful boy to talk to that actually answers, and you’re taking him away? You’re killing me.”
“Let us take him for a while tonight. I need to find out what his relationship is with my brother. Tomorrow, when you get off duty, you can come to my room and take my temperature with your anal thermometer, OK?”
“Now, Liam, I wouldn’t touch a patient, you know that!”
“Of course. But you sure enjoyed giving me sponge baths, didn’t you?”
“Well, I haven’t had a lot of experience with men who are not circumcised, and so I needed to learn.”
“And you got an eyeful.”
“An eyeful, yes.”
“And sometimes a mouthful.”
“Liam, please, that is confidential.”
“And I have every confidence that you will enjoy taking my temperature.”
“Go, take him, you are a red-haired devil!”
“And you love it.”
“Go!” Ze’ev said, and then under his breath, “Yes.”
Russian looked at us very nervously. He was not accustomed to going off with people he did not know, but he too was intrigued, and he wanted to know about our relationship with Robert. He looked at each of us, carefully, as if trying to assess whether we were to be trusted. “Perhaps a glass of tea, in hospital.”
“Tea, then,” Liam the Red said. “Come.”
“And will you not drink tea with us?” Russian looked at me and then at Paul.
“Sure.”
All four of us went to the quiet, sterile hospital cafeteria. The metal feet on the chairs scraped the tiled floor harshly, and the fluorescent lights were glaring. I brought tea for each of us. Paul and I put lemon in ours; Liam added some milk. Russian looked around as if searching the room.
“And do you not have jam, yes?”
Liam looked confused. “Jam?”
“Fruit, jam.”
I got up and brought a small packet of raspberry jelly. Russian opened the packet, smelled it, tasted a bit with his spoon, then added a spoonful to his tea.
Liam was impatient. “Russian?”
“Yes?”
“You and my brother greet each other, like this?” Liam shook my hand, “or like this?” kissing me deeply. He allowed his tongue to wander on my lips, so that there was no doubt that this was not a European peck or even a double cheek peck, it was a romantic kiss.
Russian’s eyes were big, but his face was impassive. “Yes,” he said.
We were getting nowhere. “Let him drink his tea, Lingam,” Paul said, but Liam was relentless in his curiosity.
“So you and my brother are friends?”
“Da, friends.”
“And loves?”
“What is ‘lovers?’
“You make love...”
“What is...?”
“In bed.”
“In bed?” Russian was either a great poker player, or he genuinely did not understand.
We sipped our tea, with Liam growing more frustrated by the moment. At one point, he whispered in my ear that we had to ask Paul back at Lindoro’s if he had a Russian translator.
“It won’t do you any good, if this Russian won’t say anything.”
“There has to be a way,” Liam said.
We stood up to go back to the waiting room near where Bobby was. Liam looked around. There were not many people around, and no one close. He put out his hand as if to shake hands with Russian. Russian looked at his hand, uncertainly, and looked at each of our faces. Liam was smiling at him. A moment later, Russian put his hand out, and Liam stepped closer and grabbed his crotch. Russian gasped, and Liam rubbed his hand provocatively.
“Liam, let go of him!” I said. “You don’t know.”
“I know,” Liam said, triumphantly. “He’s hard as a rock. And pretty well hung, too.”
“Lingam, you’re going to start more than you know how to...” Paul was interrupted by the arrival of Ze’ev.
“Guys, come quickly. He opened his eyes.”
Liam and Russian moved toward the door, each eying the other. Paul and I watched them. The two slender redheads were almost indistinguishable from behind, except that Liam was wearing clothing that made him look like the dancer he was, and Russian was wearing a floppy overcoat, corduroy pants, and in general, clothing that was neither stylish nor well cut, Soviet clothing.
Ze’ev warned us that we could not create any kind of disturbance, no noise, and that we should not expect that Bobby was fully awake, perhaps only dimly aware of his surroundings. He said to us, “I expect you to help me with Liam. I know how troubled he is by all this.”
Ze’ev said a few words in Russian to Russian - our friend Paul could really pick his staff for multiple talents - and Russian bit his lip and nodded gravely, “Da, kanyezhna.”
We weren’t sure what he would do, but Ze’ev wanted backup in case of difficulty, and motioning for silence, he ushered us all into Bobby’s room.
Bobby lay, propped up, with an IV hanging at his left side. An intubation line was at his left also, but it had been disconnected, and there was no tube going into his mouth. His face was bruised, and there was purple discoloration, very dark, across the cheek that must be the broken one. The room was warm, but not close, and Bobby had multiple layers of covering, keeping his temperature stable. As our presence made even the minimum noise, we saw his eyes open, just a slit, and then he raised his hand to the red-haired figure to his right.
In a weak, tiny voice, he said, “Liam?”
The hand he held was Russian’s.
Russian made to let go over Bobby’s hand as Liam extended his, but Bobby pulled the hand to his mouth and kissed it, saying over and over again, “Liam. Liam. My baby brother. Liam.” Liam watched without comment, and Russlan stared into Liam’s eyes as Bobby, with surprising strength now, pulled Russlan down toward him and kissed him on the lips. Russlan was staring at Liam, and Liam’s eyes were boring holes in Russlan’s eyes, but Bobby kissed Russlan deeply, though keeping him away from the broken cheek, and then he licked as much of Russlan’s face as he could reach with his tongue. “Liam,” he said, “Liam, I didn’t know how to tell you... I wanted to...” and then he kissed Russlan again, romantically, deeply.
When Bobby relaxed in the bed, as if he were dozing, Russlan stepped aside and Liam stepped over to his brother’s side. The exchange of hands held was momentary, as if one person were there, no more. Liam held his brother’s hand, as his brother stirred again and began kissing Liam’s hand, licking it.
“Little devil,” Bobby said, and then he dozed again. We remained silent, almost holding our breaths, until Ze’ev came over, checked Bobby’s vital signs, and motioned to us to step outside quietly.
“Little devil,” Liam murmured, as if in a daze, and hot tears began cascading down his cheeks.
“What is it, Lingam?” my Paul said. “What does that mean?”
“When I was three or four, I had a Halloween costume as a little devil, and Bobby told my mother that it looked very good on me, that it matched my red hair, and that he thought I really was a little devil. Then, any time I got in trouble for the next few years, he would tell me to get my devil costume out. But when he said that, he was being nice; he never said it meanly. He was being the loving brother I remember from when I was little. Something changed between us when he turned 11 or 12, and we were never that close again... I haven’t thought of him calling me, ‘Little Devil’ in ages.”
“But he was kissing Russlan.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Russlan, are you OK?” I asked the Russian.
“I not know,” he said. “Robert took my hand and called me ‘Liam,” when he kissed me.”
“What does he usually call you when he kisses you?” Liam asked him, his curiosity still high.
Russlan looked at him, sighed, and said, quietly, “Russlan, he call me. But once, we made love, and when he reached orgasma, he say, ‘Liam, Liam, Liam,’ while he sperm. And often he kisses my red hair and plays with it here,” indicating his head, “and here,” he said, pointing to his pubes.
Paul and I looked at each other. We wanted to be there for our Liam, but what could he be thinking, finding out that his brother who sometimes called him ‘faggot’ had a red-haired man as his lover, whom he called “Liam” sometimes when he was fucking him, a man who could be mistaken for our Liam?
“Russlan,” our Liam said, taking the Russian’s arm. “Can you spend the night with us? I think we have a lot to talk about.”
Frank was holding the door open for us when he got to the car. He looked at Paul and me, inquisitively, as he indicated the two redheads with a nod.
"You told us we weren't going to believe it, didn't you? Well, buckle your seatbelt..."
Frank had driven us, bleary eyed, to the hospital. We wanted to know what was going on. Who the hell was this red-haired guy? When we got into the area where Bobby’s room was, we saw a number of people, including Ze’ev, surrounding a fellow who at a distance looked a lot like our Liam. We had left Liam10 with Paul, at Lindoro’s.
My Paul and I each had one arm around Liam, who on the ride over had gotten angrier and angrier at what he saw at an intrusion on his brother’s security. He practically pulled us over to where Ze’ev and another guy in a security uniform were restraining the red-haired guy.
Liam strode right over to where the redhead was seated. He said something to the guy, and the redhead looked up at him, looking startled.
“Pete,” Paul said to me, “what do you make of this? There’s something very odd going on here. That kid is the same height as our Liam, has the same red hair, the same milky-white complexion, the same eyes, a very similar build. From the back, even with Liam next to me, I had to remind myself that he couldn’t be our Liam. So who the hell is he?”
“Not a clue,” I answered, “but this is too strange to be a coincidence. It’s got to mean something.”
Ten or twelve feet away, Liam appeared to be getting more and more upset. The other guy did not get up. He sat there, while Liam began to pace back and forth in front of him. Every once in a while, Liam would turn and face him, and say something. We could tell from the bright red of Liam’s face that he was either very angry or very upset. But he was talking in a low voice, and we could only make out a few words here and there.
The redhead didn’t have very much to say, and Ze’ev seemed to be holding Liam back. Then the redhead did say something to Liam that we couldn’t hear, and Liam looked as if he were about to explode. Ze’ev put his arms around Liam and calmed him down, and then he sent him over to us.
“Frank was right,” Liam said to us. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?” Paul and I asked.
“You know what that guy says? How he knows my brother Bobby?”
“Just tell us.”
Liam was so upset he seemed to be mumbling to himself. We couldn’t make out anything but the last word, “friend.”
“So the big mystery is that the red-haired guy is a friend of your brother’s?”
“He says they’re more than friends.”
“He says he’s WHAT?”
“His boyfriend.”
In all the speculation we had done, this wasn’t something we had thought of. “You’re kidding.”
“That’s what he says.”
“So Bobby is gay?”
“You could have fooled me.”
“The same Bobby we heard call you ‘faggot?’”
“Don’t keep asking me, I don’t know what to think.”
“What’s Bobby’s condition?”
“Ze’ev says they’re going to wake him up for an hour tomorrow to check for nerve or brain damage, and he’s getting less of whatever it is in his IV that makes him stay asleep.”
“Do you want us to talk to the red-haired kid and see what we can find out?
“I don’t know.”
“Lingam,” Paul said, “let us get to the bottom of this.”
"Yeah, Lingam. You know how good Paul is at getting to red-haired bottoms.” I said, meanwhile groping Liam’s ass.
"Just remember, you two are mine.”
“Don’t worry,” I told Liam, “if you want, you can come with us, and we’ll stage something to make sure he gets the point. I know, we’ll go to the chapel. There’s probably no one there at this hour. Paul will talk to him, and I’ll fuck you on the altar.”
“If you mean that I’m going to moan, ‘Oh, God,’ think again. I’m officially on the outs with God right now. Fuck God.”
I had expected Liam to get a kick out of the idea, but he reacted more seriously than I expected. “Well, God is hot in the picture, but I’d rather fuck you.”
“Pete, take a raincheck. I want to find out what’s going on.” We both turned to see Paul go over and introduce himself to the redhead. Paul held out his hand, and after some hesitation, the redhead responded with his hand.
“Let’s go over. The worst that can happen...”
Liam continued my sentence: “The worst thing that can happen is that he’s... that we’re... that...” I had never seen our Liam in a loss for words, in the months I had known him.
Liam and I approached Paul and the redhead. This was the first time I had seen him close up. The resemblance to Liam was uncanny. Paul said to us, “Meet Russian. He’s a member of your brother’s fraternity in his home university, so he’s living in the frat house here, and that’s how he knows Bobby.”
Liam didn’t greet Russian. He just started asking questions. “WHERE are you from?”
“I from Russia. Siberia. My city is called, ‘Novosibirsk.’”
“Where is it?”
“In middle of Asia, almost 3 thousand kilometers to Moscow. To south, very far, Nepal.”
“Whew, very far,” Ze’ev said, joining us.
“And you belong to the same fraternity as Bobby?”
“I explain. In my city, fine technical university. Group came few years ago from Atlanta, from university there, to exchange, and they were holding prayers. Some students are curious, what are prayers like? KGB tells that Americans from Georgia are racists. KGB also warns Russian students not go to prayers. My older cousin, like brother, we have these words in my language, study chemistry, and in his laboratory was American student, black man, very intelligent, very handsome. They talk in laboratory, and my cousin ask him what about American racists, and he say, America has racists and not racists, also in my university. My cousin ask about jacket black friend wears, and he says it his his brotherly club. My cousin not find word in dictionary, we know fraternity from study French revolution, liberty, egality, fraternity. My cousin and black friend wear each other jacket, they are one size. Some bad student call KGB man notice and they call my cousin for questions. My cousin he very angry, he come home, find black friend jacket and book, KGB have sent black friend to Moscow and go to Georgia back. My cousin and friends read book on fraternal club, make secret club. One American man take letter to Georgia club, tell we have also club, American fraternal club send us letter with one American who come to my city. Letter says students of this fraternal club invite Novosibirsk students members, perhaps honored...”
“Honorary?”
“Da, honorary, thank you.”
“So you are an honorary member of my brother’s fraternity?” our Liam asked.
“Yes, we are brothers. My cousin perished in Afghanistan half year later, very sad, his jacket mine, his friends are telling me to be with them brothers, I say yes, then my family say no, KGB lists.”
“But you are in America.”
“Exchange program continues, my country students invited here, I afraid my English not good, perhaps KGB learn of club. But I receive exit visa to study, and I here meet Robert, he also brother.”
“So you are fraternity brothers. Is that right?” I said.
“Maybe we didn’t understand what he meant. Maybe he’s a boy and a friend, not a boyfriend,” Paul said.
“You are Robert’s friend, yes?” Liam said to Russian.
“Yes, friend. And are you not also blue?” Russian asked.
We looked around. What did that mean?
“Blue?” Paul asked him.
“Blue, goluboy, in my country, is word for man who love man, here tell this, in my country not.”
“Blue?” Liam asked, pointing to Russian.
“Robert say you are blue.”
“Yes, 'gay,' not 'blue.' and you? What are...”
Russian was clearly not comfortable with this conversation taking place in public. “Robert fine boy, very fine. Molodyets.”
“And you and Robert are brothers?”
“Yes, fine brothers.”
“And that is all.”
“All?”
“You are not more than brothers?”
“We students.”
“Liam he doesn’t understand enough English.”
“I think he does. Russian, when you like Robert, do you do this?” And Liam leaned over and kissed me on the mouth.”
Russian looked around nervously. “Hospital has many eyes?”
“Ze’ev,” I piped up. “Is Robert likely to wake up tonight?”
“No, but he is definitely less sedated, and I think he will wake up tomorrow, at least for a while.”
“Is it OK if we take Russian for a drink or a coffee?”
“I have one beautiful boy to talk to that actually answers, and you’re taking him away? You’re killing me.”
“Let us take him for a while tonight. I need to find out what his relationship is with my brother. Tomorrow, when you get off duty, you can come to my room and take my temperature with your anal thermometer, OK?”
“Now, Liam, I wouldn’t touch a patient, you know that!”
“Of course. But you sure enjoyed giving me sponge baths, didn’t you?”
“Well, I haven’t had a lot of experience with men who are not circumcised, and so I needed to learn.”
“And you got an eyeful.”
“An eyeful, yes.”
“And sometimes a mouthful.”
“Liam, please, that is confidential.”
“And I have every confidence that you will enjoy taking my temperature.”
“Go, take him, you are a red-haired devil!”
“And you love it.”
“Go!” Ze’ev said, and then under his breath, “Yes.”
Russian looked at us very nervously. He was not accustomed to going off with people he did not know, but he too was intrigued, and he wanted to know about our relationship with Robert. He looked at each of us, carefully, as if trying to assess whether we were to be trusted. “Perhaps a glass of tea, in hospital.”
“Tea, then,” Liam the Red said. “Come.”
“And will you not drink tea with us?” Russian looked at me and then at Paul.
“Sure.”
All four of us went to the quiet, sterile hospital cafeteria. The metal feet on the chairs scraped the tiled floor harshly, and the fluorescent lights were glaring. I brought tea for each of us. Paul and I put lemon in ours; Liam added some milk. Russian looked around as if searching the room.
“And do you not have jam, yes?”
Liam looked confused. “Jam?”
“Fruit, jam.”
I got up and brought a small packet of raspberry jelly. Russian opened the packet, smelled it, tasted a bit with his spoon, then added a spoonful to his tea.
Liam was impatient. “Russian?”
“Yes?”
“You and my brother greet each other, like this?” Liam shook my hand, “or like this?” kissing me deeply. He allowed his tongue to wander on my lips, so that there was no doubt that this was not a European peck or even a double cheek peck, it was a romantic kiss.
Russian’s eyes were big, but his face was impassive. “Yes,” he said.
We were getting nowhere. “Let him drink his tea, Lingam,” Paul said, but Liam was relentless in his curiosity.
“So you and my brother are friends?”
“Da, friends.”
“And loves?”
“What is ‘lovers?’
“You make love...”
“What is...?”
“In bed.”
“In bed?” Russian was either a great poker player, or he genuinely did not understand.
We sipped our tea, with Liam growing more frustrated by the moment. At one point, he whispered in my ear that we had to ask Paul back at Lindoro’s if he had a Russian translator.
“It won’t do you any good, if this Russian won’t say anything.”
“There has to be a way,” Liam said.
We stood up to go back to the waiting room near where Bobby was. Liam looked around. There were not many people around, and no one close. He put out his hand as if to shake hands with Russian. Russian looked at his hand, uncertainly, and looked at each of our faces. Liam was smiling at him. A moment later, Russian put his hand out, and Liam stepped closer and grabbed his crotch. Russian gasped, and Liam rubbed his hand provocatively.
“Liam, let go of him!” I said. “You don’t know.”
“I know,” Liam said, triumphantly. “He’s hard as a rock. And pretty well hung, too.”
“Lingam, you’re going to start more than you know how to...” Paul was interrupted by the arrival of Ze’ev.
“Guys, come quickly. He opened his eyes.”
Liam and Russian moved toward the door, each eying the other. Paul and I watched them. The two slender redheads were almost indistinguishable from behind, except that Liam was wearing clothing that made him look like the dancer he was, and Russian was wearing a floppy overcoat, corduroy pants, and in general, clothing that was neither stylish nor well cut, Soviet clothing.
Ze’ev warned us that we could not create any kind of disturbance, no noise, and that we should not expect that Bobby was fully awake, perhaps only dimly aware of his surroundings. He said to us, “I expect you to help me with Liam. I know how troubled he is by all this.”
Ze’ev said a few words in Russian to Russian - our friend Paul could really pick his staff for multiple talents - and Russian bit his lip and nodded gravely, “Da, kanyezhna.”
We weren’t sure what he would do, but Ze’ev wanted backup in case of difficulty, and motioning for silence, he ushered us all into Bobby’s room.
Bobby lay, propped up, with an IV hanging at his left side. An intubation line was at his left also, but it had been disconnected, and there was no tube going into his mouth. His face was bruised, and there was purple discoloration, very dark, across the cheek that must be the broken one. The room was warm, but not close, and Bobby had multiple layers of covering, keeping his temperature stable. As our presence made even the minimum noise, we saw his eyes open, just a slit, and then he raised his hand to the red-haired figure to his right.
In a weak, tiny voice, he said, “Liam?”
The hand he held was Russian’s.
Russian made to let go over Bobby’s hand as Liam extended his, but Bobby pulled the hand to his mouth and kissed it, saying over and over again, “Liam. Liam. My baby brother. Liam.” Liam watched without comment, and Russlan stared into Liam’s eyes as Bobby, with surprising strength now, pulled Russlan down toward him and kissed him on the lips. Russlan was staring at Liam, and Liam’s eyes were boring holes in Russlan’s eyes, but Bobby kissed Russlan deeply, though keeping him away from the broken cheek, and then he licked as much of Russlan’s face as he could reach with his tongue. “Liam,” he said, “Liam, I didn’t know how to tell you... I wanted to...” and then he kissed Russlan again, romantically, deeply.
When Bobby relaxed in the bed, as if he were dozing, Russlan stepped aside and Liam stepped over to his brother’s side. The exchange of hands held was momentary, as if one person were there, no more. Liam held his brother’s hand, as his brother stirred again and began kissing Liam’s hand, licking it.
“Little devil,” Bobby said, and then he dozed again. We remained silent, almost holding our breaths, until Ze’ev came over, checked Bobby’s vital signs, and motioned to us to step outside quietly.
“Little devil,” Liam murmured, as if in a daze, and hot tears began cascading down his cheeks.
“What is it, Lingam?” my Paul said. “What does that mean?”
“When I was three or four, I had a Halloween costume as a little devil, and Bobby told my mother that it looked very good on me, that it matched my red hair, and that he thought I really was a little devil. Then, any time I got in trouble for the next few years, he would tell me to get my devil costume out. But when he said that, he was being nice; he never said it meanly. He was being the loving brother I remember from when I was little. Something changed between us when he turned 11 or 12, and we were never that close again... I haven’t thought of him calling me, ‘Little Devil’ in ages.”
“But he was kissing Russlan.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Russlan, are you OK?” I asked the Russian.
“I not know,” he said. “Robert took my hand and called me ‘Liam,” when he kissed me.”
“What does he usually call you when he kisses you?” Liam asked him, his curiosity still high.
Russlan looked at him, sighed, and said, quietly, “Russlan, he call me. But once, we made love, and when he reached orgasma, he say, ‘Liam, Liam, Liam,’ while he sperm. And often he kisses my red hair and plays with it here,” indicating his head, “and here,” he said, pointing to his pubes.
Paul and I looked at each other. We wanted to be there for our Liam, but what could he be thinking, finding out that his brother who sometimes called him ‘faggot’ had a red-haired man as his lover, whom he called “Liam” sometimes when he was fucking him, a man who could be mistaken for our Liam?
“Russlan,” our Liam said, taking the Russian’s arm. “Can you spend the night with us? I think we have a lot to talk about.”
Frank was holding the door open for us when he got to the car. He looked at Paul and me, inquisitively, as he indicated the two redheads with a nod.
"You told us we weren't going to believe it, didn't you? Well, buckle your seatbelt..."
)
