Kris for a time had returned easily to the world of gay saunas, hook ups in restrooms and that app. It was easy. Uncomplicated. Almost too easy perhaps. While his looks, aging as they were, could turn a couple of heads, his cock size made him top dog, prime meat even. The man that had spent the first half of his life bound by conventional, religious and heterosexual morality, the man who had just two female lovers, soon hit triple digits with his gay ones.
Oh, he was not stupid. He was practically paranoid about AIDS. He was most definitely a safety man, carrying a large pack of condoms in his car, a whole fucking box by his nightstand, a few hidden in the couch in his living room and always a couple tucked away in his wallet...that he changed every month religiously. Although they rarely remained in his wallet that long.
Kris also found his way to gay clubs. He had to admit though that the free and easy use of drugs such as heroine, cocaine, Ecstasy and ketamine, called Special K, was more of a turn off than anything. He did though love the loud, pounding bass music and the freedom to dance as he pleased until dawn. He became a regular at a couple of clubs and even a VIP at another. And he took more than his fair share of men home with him.
Young men. Men not much older than his own sons. If that bothered him at first, that he did not have many, if any lovers, his own age, then he soon came to rationalize it. How many men his age left their wives to marry much younger, prettier women? Trophy wives. Was a string of male lovers almost half his age any different really?
Then came the seven year itch. After seven years in the gay lifestyle, Kris began to really crave something more...much more. While he had all the sex he could handle, he truly did miss the connection of a loving relationship that he had shared for so long with his ex-wife. He missed the simple things like watching television together, talking and especially cuddling.
He began to question whether it was all worth it. The casual easy sex with no strings attached began to wear exceedingly thin. He even tried dating a couple of women again. And while the Internet had changed the dating world since his marriage, it had not changed the games that women played with a man's head. It never took more than three months for him to tire of their petty, whining and needy clinging. And honestly, even the sex was not as good.
Then the unthinkable happened...he began to have muscle cramps and little twitches that he tried to dismiss as too strenuous a work out at the gym. He started to drop things too. His pen at work, his keys when he tried to open the door, and once even the free weights at the gym. It was that accident that had sent him to the hospital. And while a few stitches were enough to close the gash on his forehead, the doctors were more concerned with what had caused the muscle weakness that had made him drop the barbell to begin with.
They had done a few tests in the emergency room and sent him to his family doctor who referred him to several specialists including a neurologist. It was a journey that took almost a year. Was it multiple sclerosis, spinal muscular atrophy or myasthenia gravis? And the tests...too mention and each nastier than the worse: a spinal tap, MRIs, CAT scans, blood tests and EMG.
Electromyography or EMG was a nasty little one where they inserted needles into muscles to record electrical activities. It had been as bad as the spinal tap or lumbar puncture, except thankfully it had not left him with the headache from hell for almost a month. But the anomalies that showed up had been the key to diagnosis. When it came it hit Kris like a ton of bricks... Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis...ALS...Lou Gehrig's Disease.
While Kris had struggled for months to continue with his normal life, work, the gym, and yes, hook-ups, the diagnosis had hit him hard. He had spent years being ridiculously careful to avoid one nasty fatal disease, AIDS, only to be blind sided by another? In his darker moments then, even though he had long since shook off the religious dogma of his parents and ex-wife, or so he thought, he wondered about divine justice and punishment.
He went a three day binger too. Two bottles of Scotch...one a really good one that he had always saved for a 'special' occasion. He even tried a couple of hits of cocaine and heroine, but he could not decide which was worse the manic, almost paranoid high of the cocaine or the fuzzy disconnected out of body world of heroine. Some experiences were definitely a case of once is enough.
He had even given serious thought to abandoning his safe sex practices. After all what was the point now? But then in one of those rare moments of clarity from those dark clouds he knew...other people. He could infect his partners. And while he might be dying there was no need to kill others.
Even after his three day binge, he continued to wallow like that pig in its own piss and shit for a good three months. He drank too much, way too much. A bottle of wine every single night after work. And every weekend was a hedonistic frenzy of booze and sex. His boys were at college and rarely came to see the old man anymore so what else was there to do?
Oh, sure, he still saw his parents and surprisingly his relationship with his ex-wife had actually transformed into a solid friendship. They met for lunch every couple of weeks just to talk. About the boys sure, but also about their lives. He knew that she still had questions about what had gone wrong in their marriage, but he simply could not bring himself to tell her the truth. Her religious background could never accept that he was gay.
He was gay. That was perhaps one good thing about the diagnosis...he finally came to accept himself. When you know you are dying, and do not have some imaginary friend or higher power to whom to turn, honesty with yourself is all that is left. And sitting alone on his balcony, staring at the stars as he sipped wine every night after work, Kris had a lot of time to think about things. Being gay was chief among them.
He did not regret a single one of his 'adventures,' his lovers. He had discovered so much about himself along this path...and about the world. He supposed his only real regret was that he had never found 'it', 'him', the one, true love. As wonderful as the sex had been, the fact that there had never been, and never would be, a male counter-part to Jessie, his ex-wife, well it left a bit of a hole in Kris's heart.
Then it happened. He happened. As if by magic, Raul came into Kris's dark world and brought the light with him. He was a social worker. A decade or so younger than Kris, so not a kid by any stretch. But he was handsome, and smart, and caring...and tough when he needed to be.
They had met as the ALS began to advance. Raul's job was to work with patients and families to put care plans into effect. To help them to plan how they would live the rest of their lives. It was a daunting task that Kris had been trying to avoid for months, but it had been driven home to him when his career came to a screeching halt.
He had had a huge presentation to deliver to a potential client...tens of millions if not hundreds rode on his presentation. And the ALS picked that moment to impede his speech. He stood frozen in front of a room of dozens of top level executives stuttering and stammering like a kid in high school giving his first speech in English class. The repercussions were immediate. He was dismissed...after over twenty-five years with that company. Perhaps if he had told them about the ALS... But Kris did not want or need their pity. He would rather be dismissed for failing to do his job than admit that he no longer could.
Of course, he was then forced to face the rough truth. He could not keep going on the way he was now. There were more and more days that he simply could not climb the flight of stairs to his second floor apartment that he had had since he left Jessie. He had gone through so many broken plates and glasses that he finally gave up and just used plastic now. Now he had no job and with the ALS advancing as it was, no real hope of finding another.
So he had been referred to a social worker by a charity that worked with his doctor. That word alone bothered him. Kris was the man that gave to charities, not accepted help from them. He had not known what to expect. He had experience with social workers or counselors. He had always made his own way.
When Raul came over that first time, Kris had honestly thought about just not going to the door. Not only did he not want to face the truth about his situation but he was having a bad day and getting to that door would not be easy as it was.
He was pleasantly surprised though when he opened it to the smiling man with Latino good looks and soft, caring brown eyes. But it was that smile which Kris both loved and hated. It was so reassuring, offering warmth, kindness and hope. But those were all false promises given the facts. He was dying...and he would do it alone.
He had reluctantly let the man into his apartment. He was more than glad when the man refused his offer of something to drink, he really did not have the energy of that one. They sat down and began to discuss Kris's situation. He really did not like discussing such things with friends, let alone strangers. To admit that he was estranged from his family, had no one he could count upon to care for him, and now no job and income was brutal to this proud man.
And with each word, the light of compassion grew in Raul's soft brown eyes. That first meeting had lasted two hours and by the time it was over, honestly Kris was just about ready to call it quits. The easiest solution might just be to end it all before things got any worse. But Kris had never been a quitter.
