Broken Glass
Kel ached with each step he took, an ache that distracted him from the stares of passers by on 6th Ave and from the awful memories on Fountain Ave. He wondered if he was bleeding a little. He'd have to check later, somehow. Possibly a free clinic. He could avoid paper work with them by simply paying the bill up front, plus he wouldn't have to face the curious faces of his colleagues when he explained to them he'd had a little trouble in the bathroom.
First, though, he had to cross those seven blocks in the Diamond District to the parking lot without collapsing on the hot sidewalk. He made it to his car after what felt like a three mile trek through the Mojave, covered in a sheen of sweat that had as much to do with the sun's hellish trajectory as the burning pain in his ass, and scrambled to get inside. He collapsed across the bench seats face first, and hopped up almost immediately when his bare face touched hot leather. He bounced and twisted in his seat, and gasped when he sat too hard. He ripped off his jacket, more willing to brave the heat through his thin shirt than to have to face possibly bloodied leather seats, and stuffed it under himself. His backside was tender, regardless of what he cushioned it with, but he forced himself to sit still, just like he had before his body's impatience for pleasure had gotten the best of him, and waited it out. After a few minutes, he was just comfortable enough to sit through a drive.
One of the pool playing bikers walked past Kel's windshield, and for a moment, he was afraid the man would notice him grimacing behind the wheel. The last thing Kel wanted to do was explain how a child got the better of a grown man during a lunchtime tryst. But the man walked on, clearly in a world of his own. Kel breathed half a sigh of relief, shut his door, and started the motor.
There was plenty of activity on the streets, but the freeways were deserted at midday, and Kel made good time back to Hollywood. He drove on autopilot, with no destination in mind, no real focus to the next step in taking back his life. He wasn't terribly surprised to find himself pulling up in front of the house - he had to face the music some time. Still, he sat there, staring at the perfectly manicured lawn, unable (or unwilling) to get out of the car and take those first steps into the house.
Eventually, biological practicality won out over anxious sentimentality - if he sat there much longer, his bladder was going to burst. Besides, if he didn't retrieve his personal effects then and there, they might stay in the house until the end of time (or until the city saw fit to seize the property once it became clear it was abandoned). He threw open the car door, stood up, and told himself to ignore the sudden chill crawling up his spine.
He rarely saw the neighborhood in daylight - if he was home during the day, he was asleep, having pulled a graveyard shift the night before, or he was in the back of the house catching up on reading, something that was becoming harder and harder to make time for. Today he noticed for the first time that their house was different from his neighbors. There were no children's toys in their yard, no tire swing. Not even a beat up car or stack of magazines on the porch to indicate the presence of a teenaged child. Instead, their lawn was meticulously manicured, the small porch was dusted to within an inch of its life, and the driveway was pristine. Stanford's car was still pulled up next to the house, and the space where Kel usually parked was wide open. Not a single weed sprouted between the intricate brickwork in the driveway. There were no oil stains. No dirt. Kel had performed surgery in dirtier places.
He turned and looked at the more lived in homes on the block, all the weeds that sprung up despite everyone's best efforts to keep the little devils at bay. All the soft, frilly curtains that hung in all the front windows, unlike the hard, flat shades that Stan pulled every night without fail. All the messy living rooms that could be seen from the street through open front doors, unlike the usually museum-like front parlor they kept behind closed doors.
And then, one by one, Kel noticed that those friendly looking front doors were closing, and that those frilly curtains were being pulled shut. The town was closing down, door by door, window by window, as his eyes settled on each one.
They were shutting him out.
Well, fuck you too...
He turned purposefully towards his front door and marched up to it. He tried to put the key in the lock, but the door swung open at the lightest touch. Nevermind locking it, no one had even bothered to shut it properly after last night's fiasco. He shook his head, full of wonderment at the inefficiency of the LAPD, and stepped inside.
The usually pristine living room was a mess. Chairs had been overturned, couch cushions were everywhere, the coffee table was askew, and the journals and display books that usually sat on the coffee table littered the place like giant pieces of layered confetti. Half the books from the bookcase were strewn onto the floor, while the remaining half lay haphazard one on top of the other. The three photo albums that usually sat at eye level on the shelf were all on the floor in a heap. One of them lay open. A younger, sweeter version of Kel smiled up at him, flushed cheeks and shiny skin. A photo from the finish line, taken during his one year in track at Trade Tech, before Stan had taken up all his time. Kel kicked the album closed and stepped over the mess on the floor. He could deal with that later.
He picked his way into the second bedroom that they’d converted into a shared office space, where they stored their important papers. Kel always thought of the space as shared, but the truth was, it was really Stanford's office. Kel only kept a handful of backups of his personal paperwork there, like copies of insurance forms and birth certificate, and any paperwork that tied him to Stan, like the mortgage. The rest he kept in a safe deposit box in the South Bay, closer to Rampart. Everything he needed from this office - including his spare copy of the safe deposit key - was stored in a single box in the locked bottom drawer of the single desk they shared.
On top of the desk stood a framed photograph of Kel and Stan, side by side, smiling proudly. Kel was weighted down in his cap and gown and all the glory that came with this final graduation, and he looked exhausted. Stan was practically glowing and looked very much like a proud father, his silver-blond hair glinting in the sun. There was a similar picture on Stan's desk at the law office. Kel never put a copy up on his desk at the hospital - he preferred to hang the diplomas themselves on the wall behind his head. The photograph had always made him feel strange, empty inside. Like the moment it captured was the pinnacle of his life dream, and everything was downhill from that point, instead of the beginning of the wide vista it should have been. Should have - it was a wide vista, far as the eye could see, with valleys and peaks and streams and meadows and deep rolling thunderclouds and terrible droughts. His work life was a beautiful achievement, even when the setbacks cost people their lives. This photo... this thing was no testament to his work. He could now see the image for what it was, given recent events. It was just a picture of a sick old man and his pet.
Kel shuddered and turned the frame down on the desk. They should have taken more pictures after that, pictures that would really have meant something. But then, this was the last picture that probably meant a damn to Stan. Kel resisted the urge to shove the picture off the desk, and grabbed his box from the drawer.
He thought about looking for mementos, but there was very little in the way of materialism that really got Kel going. He cared for his car, though that was mostly because he needed transportation, and he cared for his diplomas, but they were at work. That left his clothing. Again, it was mostly a practical concern - he couldn't exactly walk around naked, after all.
He hesitated at the bedroom door, revulsion roiling in his gut. But he needed his clothes, and they were in the bedroom closet, and he would be damned if he left without them. He rushed past the bed without looking at it, yanked open the closet, and ripped out his luggage. He stuffed the two larger cases full of clothes, so full he had to sit on them to get them closed. Then he turned to the dresser and carefully pulled out the top left drawer. In it were his perfectly pressed and folded ties, ties he'd begun collecting the day he finished medical school - of all the items in the house, these ties were his greatest treasure. He removed them with great care, and placed each tie gently in his smaller carry on bag.
Kel was just shutting the carry on when he heard a crash and the tinkle of glass. His heart leapt in his throat, and he sat there, frozen to the spot. At first, he heard nothing but silence. He got up and poked his head out of the bedroom. There was another crash and a thud. Kel ran towards the kitchen and drew up short when he saw two large rocks from the house across the street sitting on his kitchen table. There was broken glass everywhere. Then he heard the shouting - heckling. Come out, come out, come face us. "You've gotta be kidding me," he said with a sigh, and stomped back to the bedroom to grab his bags.
There was another crash, another thud by the time he was back at the front door with his things. Cowards. They were making their way around the side of the house, instead of coming to the damned front door to face him. Kel sighed and stepped out into the sunshine.
There were only five of them, but they were doing their best to be an intimidating crowd. They were the men from the neighborhood, probably home for lunch, or taking the day off. They paused when Kel appeared, his hands full of suitcases, but they rallied and took a menacing step closer. Kel sighed and shook his head. "Excuse me, fellas," he said, and began to circle around them to his car.
The tallest of them, a big, barrel chested loud mouth who lived in the house directly across the street, stepped away from the crowd, into Kel's path. "Get the hell out of here!"
Kel paused and rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to do exactly that."
"Do it faster," someone from the not-crowd called.
"Sicko!"
"Stay away from our children!"
Kel turned to look menacingly at the other four men. "Who said that?" His voice was deadly quiet. No one answered. "I asked you a question. Who. Said. That?"
"What's it to you, homo?"
Kel turned back to the big one, the obvious leader. "I want to explain something. I'm a doctor. The only interest I have in any of your children is the same interest I have in every human being - their prolonged and blossoming health. Beyond that, I don't give two shits about any of your little snot nosed darlings, and neither do any other self respecting homos you might meet. The man I used to share room and board with was not a homo, he was a disturbed and disgusting individual."
"That's a great speech, faggot, but I was there, man. I saw the cops carry that kid out of here. Now he's probably screwed up forever."
Kelly gasped hard as he felt his blood pressure spike - his ears rang like the bells of St. Michaels on Easter morning, and his face felt like it was going to pop right off his skull. His fury was instant, and had the power to kill ten men in a single blow - and he wasn’t about to have an angry aneurysm on account of his good for nothing pitchfork carrying winter molasses slow ‘neighbors’. “Oh, you saw that? What you saw wasn't shit. Let me tell you what I saw. I saw my... roommate, accosting a strange boy in my house - in my goddamned bedroom! And now you're out here with your damned pitchforks and torches, storming the gates of a castle that's been long abandoned. You're so goddamned concerned about the welfare of the poor innocent children in this neighborhood, let me ask you something: why in the hell didn't any of you assholes see him take this kid in my house? I was covered in blood to my damned elbows yesterday at work, and when I got home, the last damned thing I wanted to see was... that. Oh, you're here now, all prepared to lynch me in the name of keeping the children safe, but you had no fucking idea anything was happening right under your noses. And I know you didn't, because I'm the one who called the police! Me! So you take your self righteous grandstanding and get the hell out of my way so I can get the hell out of this town, and then you can do whatever you want!"
The men shuffled, uncertain. The jerk stood to one side, but he kept a baleful eye on Kel. Kel didn't care. He shoved his things in the backseat of his car, got in, and took off without looking back.