Free Loving Jay by Renae Kaye Page B

I asked them if I was in trouble.
    The older man gave me a hard stare and asked, “Why do you think you would be in trouble, son?”
    “For assault. I heard that third guy’s skull crack on the ground. Is he going to be okay?”
    The police shared a glance before the younger guy clapped me on the shoulder. “He’s fine. He needs some stitches to the back of his head, but no cracks to the bone. You’re not in any trouble; you were defending your friend from a gay bashing. The offenders will probably be charged with a hate crime over their actions.”
    “Gay bashing?” Stupidly I had never thought of Jay being targeted because he was gay. “I thought it was just a random thing?”
    “No, son,” the older policeman answered. “There are several witnesses who overheard the offenders saying some homophobic things. It will be charged as a hate crime.” They left me alone then, alone with my pain and alone with my thoughts.
    I was floored. In the back of my mind I was scared—if I announced to the world I was gay, was this what I had to look forward to? Potential bashings as I got off the train? Is this what Jay had to put up with all the time?
    They called my name and I suffered through the embarrassment of having a wheelchair brought out for me. Then I submitted myself to an examination while explaining over and over about my old injuries and how I had come to reinjure my leg. The hands of the clock ticked around slowly as I waited for X-rays and asked about Jay. One of the nurses patted the calf on my good leg and told me they couldn’t tell me anything because I wasn’t family.
    “But I’m his friend. We came together in the ambulance,” I protested.
    She gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I know he’s already been admitted and moved to a ward. His family is with him now. You’ll have to ask them.”
    My X-rays came back clear and I was diagnosed with torn muscles. They strapped my thigh, dosed me with a strong painkiller, and told me to call a family member for a lift home. Then I was given a pair of crutches and dismissed.
    It was like déjà vu— bad déjà vu—being on crutches again. I had spent nearly a whole year on them and never wanted to again. I hobbled on my crutches to the bench outside the ER and fished out my phone. Shit! Ten o’clock! It had been a fucked-up day and I was exhausted. For a millisecond I considered calling a taxi, but in the end the comfort of family was calling louder. I opted to call Dale. He was the closest to the hospital and he owed me.
    “Liam? What’s wrong?” How comforting that my brother knew there was something wrong the second I called him after nine o’clock at night.
    I sighed loudly into the phone. “Can you come and get me? I’m at Royal Perth Hospital in the city. I’ve fucked up my leg. I just need a ride.”
    I love family. There was no mucking around. All he said was “I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up and I sighed in relief. I looked at my phone for a second and sighed again before bringing up Jay’s number. I typed in a message and pressed “send.”
    Let me know how you are, please? The hosp won’t tell me coz I’m not family. Text me when you can, even if it is the middle of the night.
     
     
    D ALE WAS true to his word and twelve minutes after he hung up, he pulled his car to a stop in the “No Standing Zone” in front of the ER where I waited. I struggled to my feet—foot!—with the crutches, and limped over to him. He jumped out to open the door for me, and surveyed my appearance.
    “Shit, Liam! What the hell happened to you?”
    Unsure, I looked down at myself and realized my once pristine light blue shirt was absolutely covered in blood. Jay’s blood.
    “It’s not from me,” I muttered as I heaved myself inside the car. Dale stowed my crutches in the back—I hadn’t had to use them for a long time, but my brothers obviously knew the routine well. He started the car and drove off, winding his way through the empty