Free When Sunday Comes Again by Terry E. Hill Page A

room. His toes curled on the worn threads of an Asian rug he had found left on a curb in front of a home in Santa Monica. He took another sip from a steaming cup of tea pressed to his lips.
    The endless parade of Joan Rivers jewelry, clothes for the plus-size woman, and revolutionary new cleaning products that promised to permanently rid his home of life’s residue had kept his mind from lingering too long on the memory of Hezekiah. Danny hadn’t slept the night before. His room glowed from the television, which was tuned to the Home Shopping Network.
    Danny had spent his late teens and much of his twenties searching for the one person who would be willing to look into his eyes and, without reservation, tell him truly what he saw. Was there a hideous monster lurking behind his liquid brown eyes, waiting for just the right moment to pounce and devour his prey, or was an angel there only to serve and guard the weak and frail? Until Hezekiah there had been no one.
    Hezekiah had shown him, through his gentle touch and tender kiss, that he was neither a monster nor an angel, neither good nor evil. He had shown Danny that he was more than a cliché, and too beautiful to label, that his love and his hate were one and the same, and that his fear and courage were of the same substance.
    Among the jumble of his fears, the thought of forgetting all that Hezekiah had taught him about life, love, and about himself often emerged as the one whose weight seemed most unbearable. What if he forgot how to love?
    The telephone in Danny’s apartment rang intermittently the entire night. Each time the caller ID flashed the name Kay Braisden. Danny and Kay had been friends since college, before she had abruptly ended all communications when Danny revealed he was in a relationship with Rev. Hezekiah Cleaveland.
    They were the same age and over the years had often celebrated their birthdays together. She was a devout Christian, the pretty, prim, and proper daughter of a pastor. Kay took great pride in the fact that she had graduated with honors with a master’s degree in social work from one of the most prestigious Bible institutes in California and that she had read the Bible from cover to cover before she was twenty years old. Danny, on the other hand, was the soulful poet who preferred staying home to read or write on a Saturday night over sweating with the young, toned, and beautiful at the hottest new bar in town.
    Danny stared at the glowing name on the telephone as it rang for the last time. The beep was followed by, “Danny, it’s Kay again. If you’re there, please pick up the phone.” Then there was a moment of silence, but she did not disconnect. “Danny, I don’t know what else I can say to—”
    Danny’s hand, of its own volition, reached for the telephone. “Hello, Kay.”
    â€œDanny, is that you?”
    â€œYes.”
    Kay began to cry. “Why haven’t you returned my calls? No, don’t answer that. I know why. I behaved like an idiot when you told me about Hezekiah.”
    â€œYes, you did,” Danny agreed flatly.
    There was an awkward chuckle between her sobs. “I deserved that. Honey, I am so sorry. I’ve missed you so much the last few months. And then when I heard about . . .” Kay stopped mid-sentence. “How are you holding up through all this? When I saw it on the news, I almost fainted. All I could think about was the pain you must have been in.”
    â€œI wish I had died along with him,” Danny said softly. “You weren’t there for me. No one has been here for me. You were the only person I ever told about Hezekiah. You really disappointed me, Kay, and I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
    â€œI deserve that, Danny. I feel horrible that I haven’t been there for you. But I’m here now if you need me.”
    Danny was silent. He did need her now more than he had ever needed anyone. He needed someone