Escape to Manhattan: Three

I was really embarrassed on the ambulance ride to Mount Sinai Medical Center. I’d tried to explain that I was actually okay to the two Port Authority officers and the police officer that had been standing over me but they would hear nothing of it.

“You might have a concussion,” the police officer had said, pointing to the lump forming at the back of my head. And come to think of it, it was kind of painful. But I still wasn’t sure that the whole ambulance treatment, complete with flashing lights and roaring siren, was completely necessary.

Mount Sinai on Friday night is every bit the mess you would imagine it to be. I felt like I was stepping into a taping of “ER.” A red-haired woman with a sharp Brooklyn accent took my insurance information and immediately I started worrying what my mom would think when they contacted her and told her that I’d been brought in for treatment after a good old fashioned New York mugging.

Oh God. How cliché. A mugging? In New York? In a subway tunnel? I was bored to tears just thinking about it. More than anything I just wanted to get out of the hospital and enjoy the rest of my vacation. I also wanted my iPod, watch, and sixty bucks in cash back, but the officer who had insisted I go to the hospital had informed me that there was almost no chance of getting my stuff back.

I sighed. As I laid on a examination table with a heavy metal bib on my chest while they took x-rays of my skull I thought, ‘Well, welcome to New York.’

* * *

My mom was completely freaked out.

“Honey, are you okay? Are you alright?” God, she sounded so afraid. I held the cell phone slightly away from my head because she was so loud. “What the hell is happening out there? And why didn’t that boy take care of you?”

That boy, of course, was my friend Christian. He showed up at the hospital shortly after I got there, with a bouquet of carnations to boot, and explained that he’d gotten an on-the-spot call back at the audition and that’s why he’d been late. I tried to explain this to my mother but she wasn’t interested.

“I just can’t help thinking that if you weren’t out there visiting that boy that I wouldn’t be sitting here giving out insurance numbers to nurses who are taking care of my son after he got mugged in the subway.”

“Mom,” I said, “that boy has a name, and it’s Christian. You say ‘that boy’ as if me getting mugged has something to do with visiting Christian, and it doesn’t. Things like this happen, Mom, and they can happen in Minneapolis, too.”

I’d been out to my mom for years but she was just coming around to being cool with it in the last year or so. Apparently the mugging incident was making her have a backslide.

“Well, your friend, Braden, was very worried about you,” she said.

You see? When she says “friend” instead of “boyfriend” that means there’s a backslide going on.

“Wait, Mom? You told Braden?”

“Well, of course!”

Oh God. Now I’d have one more person to calm down.

When I hung up Christian was watching me, smiling.

“How’s Mom?” Christian asked.

“Christian, take me out for a drink,” I said. “I know the doctor said that I shouldn’t have alcohol for forty-eight hours, but I think a day like this calls for a good, stiff drink.”

* * *

The hospital released me just before eleven o’clock with a clean bill of health. The x-rays had come back normal and, other than the lumpy bump on the left side of my head where I’d crashed to the ground when I passed out, I was as good as new. Luckily the little mini-egg bump was hidden in my hair. It was sore, though, and I felt my bump throbbing as Christian and I navigated the subway tunnels. Still, I didn’t care. It felt like I’d been at the hospital for ages and getting released in time to enjoy Saturday night made me really, really happy.

I forgot the slight throbbing at the back of my head altogether when we walked out of the subway station into Times Square. When we took those last few steps out of the station and up into the Saturday night air I had to steady myself by holding onto Christian’s shoulder. A huge billboard for “Mamma Mia!” unfolded in front of me. To the right I saw rows and rows of high-definition LCD billboards flashing names like Sanyo and Sony. The sounds of people talking, walking and laughing and the sounds of cabs, of distant emergency vehicles—all of it came together in the heavy evening air and rushed into my ears, causing me to steady myself on Christian’s shoulder.

“Whoa, baby,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It’s just so much.”

Christian laughed. “Come on,” he said, “we’re going to Therapy.”

We rushed into the crush of people walking the sidewalks and Christian started taking rights and lefts and crossing streets faster than my senses could keep up with all the new sights, sounds, and smells of each different street.

“So what’s Therapy?” I asked.

“It’s a gay bar,” he said. “You’ll love it. It’s not like all those bullshit gay bars you have in Minneapolis.”

I was about to argue with Christian’s assessment of Minneapolis gay bars but I was interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone. I didn’t recognize the phone number.

“Christian, do you know this phone number by any chance?” I asked showing him the phone number.

“No,” he said, “but the 917 area code means that it’s coming from a New York cell phone.”

I frowned and then answered the phone, wondering who it could be.

“Is this Jordan?” a male voice asked.

“It is,” I said. “Who is this?”

“Jordan, it’s Nick. From the museum this afternoon?”

Oh, right! Museum Guy. “Hi Nick. How are you?”

“Good. New York treating you okay?”

I laughed. “Nick, if only you knew.”

“Hey, are you busy tonight?” Nick asked.

“Uh, well, I’m heading to Therapy with my friend Christian. I think we’re going to have a few drinks there and then, uh, I don’t know.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” Nick said. “I’m a few blocks away with some friends and we’ll come over.”

“Okay,” I said. “That sounds good.”

“And is Christian cute and single? Tell me honestly, because I might have a guy for him.”

I laughed as Christian guided me around a tight corner and Therapy came into view. “Yeah, he’s cute and single. I dated him once upon a time, so that says something, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll have to trust your judgment,” Nick said. “We’ll be right over.”

When I hung up Christian looked at me suspiciously. “Who was that?” he asked. “And why were you talking about me?”

“It’s just a guy I met this afternoon. He’s coming over with some friends. Is that okay?”

We were standing at the doors of Therapy and Christian held the door open for me. “You’re out on the town for one day and already you’ve got boys calling you and bringing their posse behind them,” Christian said.

When I stepped into Therapy I could see why Christian said it was like nothing we had in Minneapolis. It was a two-floor place with unbelievably gay and perfect lighting. The floors were hardwood, the walls were brick and all the surfaces were sleek and clean. It was properly dark enough so that everybody looked fabulous in their varying shades of gray and black clothing with the occasional pair of tight jeans thrown in.

Right away I felt out of place. Everybody was gorgeous. It wasn’t fair. There was something really clean about everybody—perfect skin, perfectly cut short hair, perfect jaw lines and tailored clothes, big white teeth, and seemingly tan skin. The bump-and-groove of a live DJ filled out the background while we scoped the place out.

On the second floor an old Bette Davis movie played on a bare wall with the sound turned down. Bette Davis was running around in a bad wig screaming about something and it was entertaining to see her mouth moving but hear nothing but the sounds of the DJ’s thump-and-bump music. The upstairs was just as packed with beautiful people as the first floor.

“Jesus,” I said to Christian over the music, “I don’t think I can compete with these people.”

“Oh please,” Christian said. “They’re going to love you because you’re new blood in their shark pool. They’ll be bumping you with their big noses and their sharp teeth in no time.”

The second floor featured something that the first floor did not, and that was shirtless drink boys who looked like they’d come straight from their Abercrombie photo shoot to the bar. I rolled my eyes at the same time that I had the urge to stick out my tongue and lick one of them. They wore low-ride jeans and shoes but their well-tanned, zero-fat, muscled chests were bared as they delivered drinks to tables and tucked tips into their pockets. There were five or six of them, each with different haircuts to make them distinguishable from the others, and in no time one of them came up to us, took our drink order, and brought them back.

Christian pointed to my drink. “What is that?”

“It’s a Cape Cod,” I said, fighting to make my voice heard over all the other voices and the pumping music.

“What’s in it?”

“Uh, just cranberry juice and vodka, I think. It’s kind of mellow but it gets the job done.”

Nick came pushing through the crowd with three friends. He smiled when he saw me and I smiled back.

“This is Todd, Alex, and Alejandro,” Nick said, introducing his friends. We shook hands and exchanged smiles and then I introduced Christian to everybody else.

“What are you drinking?” Nick asked me, resting his hand on my lower back and pulling me slightly closer to him.

“It’s a Cape Cod,” I said.

“I think I’ll get one of those, too,” Nick said.

While Nick got his drink I noticed that Alex and Alejandro had started talking with each other and staring into each other’s eyes, looking as if they were seconds away from making out. Todd, however, hadn’t taken his eyes off Christian since the moment they’d been introduced. I eavesdropped as best I could and picked up the fact that Todd was an actor who lived on the Upper West Side and I think Christian was hooked right away.

Nick reappeared with a Cape Cod of his own and then gestured to a high two-top table that had just opened up against one of the walls.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Nick said, pulling me still closer and speaking in my ear. For some reason it sent a tingle down my spine and I shivered. Nick headed for the table and I told Christian where I was going. Christian gave me a little smirk, told me that he’d find me later, and then turned his attention back to Todd.

As I walked over to the table I suddenly wondered what the hell I thought I was doing. I mean, I had a boyfriend. A boyfriend that I hadn’t called after being mugged and then going to the hospital. Oh God, he was going to be pissed that I didn’t call. But as I took another sip of my Cape Cod and watched Bette Davis on the far wall of the bar on my way to talk to Nick I felt Minneapolis and Braden and my college semester fall away behind me.

“So,” Nick said as I sat down, “tell me everything about you.”

I don’t know if it was my near concussion or the alcohol or the last remnants of stress or what, but I just started talking. A lot. And Nick listened. And when I finished I asked him to tell me everything about him, and he did. And then I listened. The Bette Davis movie finished and they put on silent episodes of “The O.C.” as one of the pretty drink boys brought us new drinks and then yet another set of new drinks. Nick never looked at the drink boys and instead kept his eyes on me.

A guy could get used to this, I thought to myself.

I looked up to see where Christian was, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. Alex and Alejandro were still standing with drinks, standing even closer to each other. Just watching them made me want to kiss somebody. When I looked back at Nick I started imaging what it’d be like to kiss him and I got flushed.

“You know,” Nick said, “it’s past one o’clock. Do you want to go someplace else? We could get another drink or we could go to some trashy diner and get cheeseburgers or we could just walk around and I could give you an evening tour of New York.” Nick shrugged. “Or whatever.”

I smiled. “I think I’d like that,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

We left a wad of cash on the table and then I looked for Christian again. Todd was also missing and when Nick and I realized that both of our friends were missing we started laughing.

“I bet they already left,” Nick said. “I’m sure they’re just fine,” he said with a wink.

Nick took me to a tiny pizzeria called Mickey’s where we ordered huge slices of pepperoni pizza. We ate them as Nick gave me a walking tour of Times Square. I chewed off big hunks of the hot, gooey pizza as Nick pointed at landmarks and told me about them.

We finished our pizza and most of our walking tour before Nick got brave and took my hand. I smiled and kept my hand in his.

“Come on,” he said, “I want to show you something.”

In the middle of the street there is a median where pedestrians crossing the street can stop. The lights and billboards of Times Square lit up around us and the street traffic, cars, and taxis continued to swarm past us. Nick walked me out to the middle of the street and stepped up onto the median.

“Stand right here,” he said. I did.

And then, right in the middle of the street in the center of Times Square, Nick kissed me. It was a slow kiss, a soft kiss. It was the kind of kiss that lingers, the kind that you can get lost in and the kind that you wish would never, ever end.

I was speechless.

“What would your boyfriend have to say about that?” Nick asked, smiling.

I had never said anything about having a boyfriend. “What do you mean ‘boyfriend?’” I asked, stalling for time.

“Oh, please. Boys like you have boyfriends,” Nick said.

I looked at my feet. “Let’s not talk about him,” I said. Nick leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“Why don’t we go home?” Nick asked.

We took a cab and zoomed up Fifth Avenue toward Christian’s apartment. I rested my head on his shoulder as the cab careened down the tree-lined street. We didn’t say a thing as we intertwined fingers and enjoyed the ride home.

* * *

We held hands as we climbed the flights of stairs up to Christian’s apartment. On the way up I heard loud voices coming from Christian’s apartment. I opened the door and walked in with Nick, still holding his hand.

There stood my boyfriend, Braden, red-faced and yelling at Christian. Todd was pulling on his coat, looking like he was preparing to leave. Right away I dropped Nick’s hand and swallowed. My mouth had suddenly gone completely dry. Three pairs of eyes rested solely on Nick and me.

“Well, welcome home,” Braden said, spitting sarcasm. “I see not only have you been hanging out in the city with your ex-boyfriend, but then when you get mugged you don’t call me, and then right after you get out of the hospital you have a few drinks and bring a guy home with you.” Braden’s face was contorted with white-hot anger. He did his best to keep it under control, but I could see it simmering and threatening to explode.

“You got mugged?” Nick asked. I nodded. I had left that part out.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” I whispered back.

“Wow, I’ve never known anybody who got mugged,” Nick said.

“And you,” Braden said, pointing at Nick. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Hey, buddy, just relax,” Nick said calmly.

“I will not relax, you piece of shit. You were just holding hands with my boyfriend.” Braden started to walk toward Nick. I tried not to look afraid, but I was.

“Look, what Jordan and I were doing tonight is none of your business,” Nick said, his expression giving away nothing. If he was afraid I would never have known.

Braden charged forward, pushing me out of the way and pouncing on Nick. My head slammed into the wall and I immediately saw a bright flash of light. Pain screamed through my head. From behind me I heard the sound of flesh smashing flesh and then heard a quick, sickening pop.

“Fuck!” Braden screamed. His nose was bleeding. “Fuck!”

“Oh shit,” Nick said, looking at me, breathing heavily and standing up. He had a gash across his cheek that was bleeding. “I think I broke his nose.”

Out of instinct I went to help Braden. I grabbed wads of tissue from the bathroom and walked up to Braden who was kneeling on the floor, blood gushing into his hands.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Christian said. Todd looked horrified.

“No, don’t call a fucking ambulance,” Braden said. He swiped the tissues I’d brought and held them against his nose. He slowly stood up and looked at me. “If it’s him you want, have him,” he said, nodding his head toward Nick.

Without another word Braden went to the door, opened it, and shut it quietly behind him.

I turned around to face Nick, Christian and Todd. Nobody knew what to say.

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach and looked at Nick.

What had I just done?

* * *

Josh H., 22, is a Minneapolis-based writer. He can be reached at joshcentral@hotmail.com with questions or comments.

The next part of this story will be released Sunday, March 27, 2005.

(c)2005 Josh and Josh Stories