Tom had been lying on the bed, eyes closed, listening, trying to make sense of the sounds, the smells, the hardness of the bed -- something that was difficult to do through his sore head. He had a headache like a migraine, but more -- what felt like a cut, or a gash, or a graze. He was unsure of how long he lay there -- he had woken up, and things were wrong.
It wasn't just his head. His arm hurt. And his side. And when he tried to move it felt like everything hurt. He tried to focus his mind on what happened to him, what had happened -- well what was the last thing he remembered?
"Are you okay, Mr Hanson?" He heard a friendly female voice, and forced his eyes open. His sight was a bit blurry, but he could make out the young nurse speaking to him.
Tom answered as he struggled out his own questions. "Where am I? What time is it? What happened?"
"Tuesday, 10.30am." Tom worked out he had been there since the previous evening. The nurse continued. "St. James hospital. They brought you here last night -- you were found beaten up in a local park, I think."
Suddenly panic came over Tom. "He's not here? Am I safe...?"
The nurse smiled. "I don't know who he is, but there is a security guard outside your room, and no-one else here." Tom felt relieved, but slowly dozed, then dropped off to sleep again. He woke again much later, this time much more alert.
Tom pulled himself up carefully, slowly, stopping when anything hurt, or didn't seem right. He looked from the bed and began to look around his surroundings. A hospital room. Monitors. Some wired up to him. There was a drip next to him. He did hurt, but it wasn't as bad as earlier. He did have a number of bandages. He still felt his mind was a fog, and still had the headache, and still hurt by his cheek, and there seemed to be something over part of his face.
It was a few minutes before a nurse came in. He couldn't make out whether it was the same one as earlier. "Glad you're awake. How are you feeling?"
Tom thought for a moment. "Terrible. What happened. Why am I here?"
The nurse smiled. "Well, you're not too bad -- a bit concussed, a few bruises, and a nasty gash on the side of your face. You seem to have been in a fight or something. They found you in the town park. We've said to the police that they can't talk to you today, but they will want to see you tomorrow."
Tom's face turned dark. "The police...?"
The nurse smiled again. "Yes, they will want to know why someone was found beaten up in the park! But now -- you can have a drink, or something to eat. You didn't have any ID on you. I need to ask a few question too. Is there anyone you want us to contact?"
Tom willingly answered the nurses question, giving his details. He had deliberately left his ID in his car... his car out by the hotel still... His parents lived the other end of the country, so he didn't want to worry them. He would think about anything else in the morning. A doctor also came into the room, saying he might be there a day or two until the concussion had gone, and they could monitor him to see if there were any other problems.
It was the middle of the night when Tom woke again. This time he had space to think. To remember. To recall what had happened, before dropping off to sleep again. The next morning he ate a small breakfast, sat by his bed, and recalled as much as he could remember. He now remembered a lot. The police were to come in the afternoon, so he had the luxury of the morning to decide what he would tell them. It was so embarrassing. But this shouldn't have happened...
It had started several months before. His divorce had come through. Elaine had found someone else and had moved in with him. Tom had realised something was going on -- but it was only two weeks before she had gone. Luckily, even though in their late 20s, they didn't have any children, and lived in a rented flat. Tom stayed in the flat for a while.
Tom was sad that Elaine had left, but he knew it was all over. Elaine was a "cold" woman, who had promised much in their early days. Elaine was wrapped up in her own career as an accountant. She didn't seem to have much interest in whatever Tom did, working in a local theatre as an electrician. And sex certainly wasn't great. To Tom it felt like Elaine would have liked to wear rubber gloves while "they were doing it." Tom hoped for variety, and blow jobs, and a chance to eat her out, but it never happened. In three years of marriage they had never done anything except missionary position once a week. Tom couldn't even remember why they had got married.
Tom had simply carried on living in the flat for a couple of months, then moved to something smaller. The break up had been pretty amicable, it was over, mainly because Tom didn't want a fuss.
The break up had been odd for Tom in a different way. On the one hand he felt he couldn't go out looking for women, looking for sex -- he just wasn't that type. But he felt "released." And released into the world of online porn! He searched for things, watched videos, read stories. About anything and everything. Of course his work didn't suffer -- he was good at what he did. But one thing came to dominate his thoughts. He had watched gay porn. He wasn't gay. He knew he wasn't gay. And yet there was a fascination. He wondered even about dressing up for another man.
About six months after Elaine had left Tom took the decision. He had to ask someone the question.
How do you ask the question? Who do you ask? How do you ask? He had to choose a guy and ask him.
For a couple of months Tom thought about who. Someone close? Someone at work? Someone who was only a vague acquaintance? Who was the guy he could have sex with? Who was the guy who would take him?
It was silly. One evening Tom had even sat at his computer and made a list of all the men he knew. He had a column of pros and cons. He put pictures by those he could. But there seemed to be a reason why each one seemed unsuitable. Paul at work. Nice guy, real friend. But happily married to Pat. Brian his manager. No -- rather unattractive! Joe down at the pub. No -- too much of a gossip.
The longer the list, the more reasons to say no.
It had all changed one day at the theatre when a touring group had been putting on their production, and Tom had been working with them do the lighting. It had been a rather "angry" play, but Tom had liked the four actors in the group. A husband and wife. Or at least partners. An older woman, and a "muscled" guy, perhaps in his mid forties. The partners played a daughter and her husband, and the other two parents of the husband. It was a play about abuse -- psychological abuse. Not Tom's cup of tea.
But there was one thing Tom noticed. The older guy -- Mike -- seemed to flirt with him. He didn't even know why he thought it. But it was there, some sort of undercurrent.
It was the last but one night of the run at the theatre. Tom knew this might be the opportunity. The moment. The following week the touring group would be off to the next city. He would have to ask the question, say something...
It was easier than he thought. The show had gone well, the actors had returned to their hotel, and Tom was resetting the lighting with Paul for the next evening. His phone went. Mike. Mike had left his mobile phone in his changing room. Could Tom bring it around to the hotel on his way home.
Ten minutes later Tom was in Mike's hotel room. Tom had given him his mobile. Mike was smirking. Tom was too innocent to even get the hint or sarcasm. But somehow this was a different Mike. The veneer of friendliness had been taken over by something different, less pleasant. Mike was saying very provocative things. "Bet you like being in the actor's bedroom?" "I guess you're the sort who prefers men to women." "I like to lead your sort along because I get all sorts of help from them."
Tom blurted it out. Tom asked his question. "Will you take me? Will you fuck me?"
Suddenly Mike's face went dark. "Do you think I deal will queers like you? Do you think I would touch scum like you?" Tom never saw the punch coming, but crumpled to the ground in pain, unconscious. He was never aware of Mike kicking him before carrying him out through the dark and dumping him in the park opposite. Never aware of the ambulance...
By the time the police came to see Tom in the hospital he knew he had little hope of any help from them. If he told the true story they would think it was a gay lovers tiff. Could they touch a "name" in the theatre? He gave them a bare bones of story. Walking outside, someone had attacked him, buty didn't taken anything -- he had left his valuables in the car. The police new it was only half a story, but they had a lot of other things to do. The next day he returned home. He had a few days off, before returning to work. He was grateful that Paul had come to see him. Mike had said some odd things the next day at the theatre. Paul had pretty well put things together, and from Tom's comments had worked out what had happened more fully... And Paul had said -- we won't let him get away with it...
It was about two weeks later well after Tom had returned to work that Paul spoke to him. "I was talking to Pat the other day, and we were wondering if you wanted to come around on Friday? After all I've said about you, Pat reckoned it would be nice to meet you."
