Chapter 3 - Happenings at the Hospital.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Brian remembered the ambulance arriving at the garage and EMTs moving him out of the way so they could get to Justin. He remembered riding in the ambulance, holding the hand of the unconscious boy. He remembered snatches of scenes in various locations at the hospital: the ER, one long bare hallway, several different waiting rooms. He remembered repeated images of Justin, lying on stretchers being carried or wheeled around amid all these different areas. But all the memories were somehow fuzzy and unconnected. How he’d moved from one location to the next was unclear.  

Now, he was again in a different waiting room, this one designated for the families of patients in the operating theaters just down the hall. Justin was in Operating Room #6, he’d been told. They were going to have to drill into his skull to relieve the pressure caused by the swelling from the injury to his right temporal lobe. Brian had been told all of this but still was not sure what it meant and didn’t know what he should do or where he should go right at that moment. So, he was merely sitting there, trying to put back together the pieces of his fractured memories into some semblance of order.

“Mr. Kinney,” his musings were interrupted by a round, petite, middle-aged woman holding a clipboard with one hand and pushing up her glasses with the other. “Mr. Kinney. I’m Amanda. I need to follow up with you to get more information about your partner.”

“What?” Brian looked at her with confusion.

“Your partner. Justin Kinney. We need more information to complete his chart and we need to get insurance information.” The woman sat down on the bench next to the dazed man, reaching up to pat his shoulder with a pudgy hand, a well-meaning smile on her kind face.  

-My partner? What the fuck?  

He vaguely remembered telling the EMTs that he was Justin’s ‘partner’ when they had tried to stop him from getting in the ambulance with the boy. He didn’t want to be separated from the young man - irrationally convinced that if Justin left his sight somehow the boy wouldn’t make it. It was the only thing he could think of at the time. And the EMTs seemed to buy it readily enough, standing aside to let him in the ambulance.

He could also recall, amidst the chaos as the EMTs were rolling the boy into the ER, someone asking him the patient’s name. He’d thought at first they were asking for his name, so he had answered ‘Kinney’. Then the person had made it clear that they needed the boy’s name, not his, and he had told them the boy’s name was ‘Justin’. At the time though, he could think of nothing except getting the boy into the hospital and getting him to a doctor - he didn’t want to be dealing with all the irrelevant questions the administrative-type was throwing at him. He told the woman to ‘Fuck Off’ and kept following the stretcher and Justin.  

It was obvious what had happened - why the hospital thought the boy’s name was ‘Justin Kinney’ and that the young man was his life partner. And, this was apparently the first opportunity they’d had to track him down for more information about the boy. Brian was about to correct the woman about his relationship to the young man in the OR, but stopped himself.  

“I can help you go through this information if you’d like. I know what you’ve gone through tonight has been very upsetting for you.” The amiable woman prompted him, thinking his hesitation in responding was due to the shock of the trauma his partner had been through.

Brian had no real connection to the boy, though.  He didn’t think having known the young man for less than an hour and dancing one dance with him at the boy’s Prom would qualify him as a ‘family member’.  And if he wasn’t a ‘family member’ he knew that the doctors would refuse to give him any information about Justin’s condition.  He didn’t know the boy or his family.  He didn’t know how to contact anyone who might be a family member or close friend.  Brian didn’t want to just walk away from here, leaving the beautiful boy without anyone to be here for him, if needed.

Without thinking too much about the consequences, Brian decided not to give himself away just yet.  If he just let the hospital continue with their little misconception, he would still be able to talk to Justin’s doctors and find out about his condition.  He figured he could clear up the misunderstanding at some indeterminate time in the future.  

So, for now, he merely gave the concerned clerk HIS address, contact information and insurance card. He made a mental note to talk to his accountant first thing in the morning to ask about how to deal with the insurance - he knew it would be a nightmare. And when it came to the health history part of the intake forms, he simply told the woman that they hadn’t been together for that long so he wasn’t really sure how to answer the questions, but he would contact the boy’s family and get more for them later. The kindly woman, still chalking the man’s reticent responses up to shock, didn’t want to press him and said that would be just fine. 

As soon as the woman had disappeared around the corner, he opened his cell phone and speed dialed his best friend, Michael. When the call was answered, he could tell from the thumpa, thumpa music and noise in the background that Michael had gone on to Babylon tonight without him.  

“Hey, Brian. Where are you? We decided not to wait for you at Woody’s. When are you gonna get here?” Michael greeted his friend.

“Listen to me, Mikey. Are you listening?” Brian ordered.

“Yeah, I’m listening,” Michael responded, suddenly aware that there was something wrong.  

“I’m at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center. I need you to run by my place and get me some clean clothes.”

“Shit, Brian. What happened? Are you okay?” Michael interrupted him.

“I’m fine. I’m here . . . waiting to hear about a friend who was in an accident. I’ll tell you about it later. Just bring the clothes. Oh, and maybe some toiletries and shit - I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here. I’m in the OR waiting room on the 9th floor. Did you get all that, Mikey?”

“Yeah. I got it. I’ll borrow Ted’s car and get there as fast as I can.”

Brian was sure that his friend would keep on talking so to expedite matters he hung up on him. He had a lot of other calls to make. Brian decided it was just easier to cancel all his morning appointments, since he didn’t know how long he would be here tonight. He called and left instructions with his assistant Cynthia, left a message on Ted’s voice mail since he wasn’t picking up his cell, and then called the Fairmont and left a message for David Remsen with instructions to deliver it first thing in the morning.  

Once all his business concerns were taken care of, he was again at loose ends.

-Fuck, I hate hospitals!  

There wasn’t anything more to take his mind off of the horrible events he’d experienced that night or his worries about the boy. He couldn’t sit any more, he decided, so he got up and started pacing. After about twenty minutes, though, the dirty looks being sent his way from the other occupants of the waiting room, finally got to him enough that he sat down again and waited some more.  

Just when he was about to try the pacing thing again, an attractive twenty-something hispanic man wearing light blue scrubs came towards him. Kinney instinctively began to check the man out, and decided he was definitely fuck-worthy. He would have propositioned the guy, too, if he hadn’t spoken to Brian first.  

“Mr. Kinney? I’m Carlos, one of the OR nurses here. I’ve got your partner’s personal effects here for you,” said the hot young man, holding out a large plastic zip-top type bag towards Brian. Kinney, distracted from his previous plans with regard to Carlos, took the bag. Carlos just smiled at him and then turned to head back down the hall in the direction of the OR theaters.  

Inside the bag was the now familiar brown leather wallet, a cell phone, a class ring with a large red stone and a set of keys. Brian opened the wallet, looking through the few contents: a PA driver’s license, school ID, library card and one debit card plus some cash. Nothing that would help him contact the young man’s family.  

Brian returned the wallet to the bag and pulled out the cell phone instead. Flipping the phone open and powering it on, he figured out how to pull up the contacts list fairly easily and then scrolled through the numbers rapidly. Under the contact nickname ‘Dad’, he found the name Craig Taylor and a cell phone number. Hitting the ‘Call’ button on the phone screen, he raised the phone to his ear and listened while the call rang through.

“Justin. Where are you? You know you were supposed to be home by no later than 12:30. You better have a damn good explanation, young man,” was the loud, angry greeting Brian received as soon as the phone was answered.

“Mr. Taylor. My name is Brian Kinney. I’m . . . I'm a friend of Justin’s. Justin is your son, correct?” Brian started out, somewhat shakily.  

“Of course he’s my son. Who the hell are you and why have you got his phone?” Craig responded in a less than polite manner.

“Mr. Taylor, your son’s been hurt. He’s here at UPMC. They’re operating on him now,” Brian said, trying not to react to the other man’s aggressive tone.  

“What the fuck happened? How bad is he hurt?” Craig sounded genuinely concerned, finally.

“I don’t know much. He was attacked in the parking garage at his Prom. The doctors haven’t really told me anything yet about his status. You should really get down here right away, though.”

“I’m on my way,” Craig said and hung up.

Before he could even put the phone away, Kinney heard a familiar voice and turned to see Michael sauntering into the waiting area.  

“Brian! There you are. God, I’ve been wandering around in this hospital lost . . .” Mikey’s enthusiastic voice trailed off as he neared Brian and saw the blood on the man’s clothing, hands and face. “Fuck. What the fuck happened to you?”

“I’m fine, Mikey. Nothing happened to me. This isn’t my blood,” Brian rushed to quiet his friend’s fears.  

Before he could even start on a fuller explanation, however, two more individuals entered the waiting room, headed towards where Brian was sitting. Brian looked up expectantly from where he was sitting. The older of the two reached into his jacket pocket as he neared and was already holding out an ID wallet by the time he stopped in front of the seats holding Brian and Michael.  

“Mr. Kinney? I’m Detective Horvath, Pittsburgh PD. This is my partner. We need to ask you some questions about the incident at the Fairmont earlier this evening,” the older, balding and paunchy detective began.  

“Of course,” Brian complied and launched right into the story of the attack.  

“What happened to the attacker after you hit him with the bat?” Horvath interrupted Kinney’s retelling.

“I don’t know. I was concentrating on Justin. I heard him rolling around cursing and calling us ‘disgusting faggots’. But I wasn’t paying attention to him. I . . . I was . . . worried about Justin and just tuned the asshole out,” Brian started to explain, but then realized the import of the detective’s comment. “Wait a minute. You mean you don’t have the guy in custody? What the fuck? You let the fucker get away!” Brian rose to his feet so he could look the older man directly in the eyes, his voice getting louder the longer he spoke.

“Calm down, Mr. Kinney,” Horvath ordered. "We’ve already questioned the EMTs and they told us that when they arrived they didn’t see anyone except for you and your partner. You said you hit him with the bat and thought you maybe broke his leg? Could you be mistaken about that? That would explain how he could leave while you were distracted, caring for your partner.”

“I don’t know. I thought I hit him pretty hard. But . . . it all happened so fast - now isn’t that a cliche?” Brian laughed angrily as he looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap and covered in dried blood, trying to recall those half forgotten moments. He couldn’t remember anything except the sight of the beautiful pale face with the dark red blood smeared down one side. “Sorry,” he finally answered, “I don’t know where the fuck the asshole went. I know I hit him, but maybe I didn’t hit him as hard as I thought.”

“Did you recognize the attacker?” Horvath went on.

“No. I didn’t know him. He was wearing a tux too, though, so I thought he was probably from the Prom.” Brian continued to give a description of the teen who had bashed Justin, while Horvath and his silent partner took notes.  

“How do you know this kid, Brian? And what the hell is all this shit about ‘your partner’,” were the first words out of Michael’s mouth as soon as the police had finished questioning Brian.  

The tired brunet ran his fingers through his hair, stretching his back at the same time, and taking a deep breath before answering his friend. “It’s a long story, Mikey. I’m too tired to explain it all to you tonight. I really just want to go get cleaned up and change clothes. I’ll call you tomorrow and bring you up to date, okay? It’s getting late and you should head home.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? I could wait with you, Bri.”

“No. I’m fine and I don’t need you to wait here with me. As soon as the boy’s parents show up, I’m out of here too,” Brian responded, pulling Michael out of the chair and turning him to face the exit. “Go home, Mikey.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Brian,” Michael said over his shoulder as he reluctantly left his best friend.  

Brian yawned then bent to grab the overnight bag Michael had brought him and headed towards the restroom just down the hall. Ten minutes later a cleaner, more casual Brian emerged from the bathroom, now dressed in jeans, a simple black tee and running shoes. He was almost back to his bench in the waiting room, when he heard his name being called from down the hall and turned to see a tall, dark-skinned man wearing green scrubs and a surgical cap heading his direction.  

“Mr. Kinney. I’m Dr. Tremain. I’ve just finished operating on Justin and wanted to let you know that the surgery went very well,” the man began, holding out his hand to shake Brian’s while he spoke. “We had to drill a small hole into the cranium to release the pressure caused by the swelling. There were some loose bone fragments as well that we had to extract, which can be a delicate procedure, but it seemed to go well. He’s in recovery now.”

“Thanks, doc. Will he be alright?” Brian asked for clarification; it all sounded so horrible to him and he couldn’t understand how the doctor could discuss it all so calmly.

“We just have to wait and see, Mr. Kinney. Brain trauma can be very tricky. We won’t know the full extent of Justin’s injuries until he wakes. We can do some additional tests then. In the meantime, it’s best to try and maintain a positive mindset,” the doctor added, but he had already started to turn and leave, completely unconcerned with Brian’s questions.

“Doctor, can I see him,” Brian yelled after the retreating physician.

“No problem. I’ll tell one of the nurses to come take you back.” And with that Dr. Tremain disappeared back through the OR doors.

Not exactly reassured by the doctor’s indifferent attitude towards Justin’s case, Brian impatiently awaited a nurse to come take him back to see the boy. Luckily for the nurse, she arrived before Brian’s temper had escalated too much and he eagerly followed her back to Justin’s room.