The Fabulous Chronicles ~ Chapter Ten: "Bashed!"

Ken Painter By Ken Painter, 5th Oct 2013 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Fictional Narrative

Max receives an emergency phone call from his son Drake in Los Angeles in it's not exactly what he'w expecting to hear! And certainly not wanting to!!

The Fabulous Chronicles ~ Chapter Ten: "Bashed!"

“Yeah Drake. What’s up?” I could tell immediately he’d been crying. I could sense sniffling on the other end.

“I’m in the hospital, Dad.” He didn’t sound like himself. He sound like something was blocking his mouth.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” I tried not to panic, but he could sense my alarm I was certain, the bile rising in my throat.

Drake heaved a long sigh on the other end as if to say ‘how do I explain this?’ “My friend Greg and I were jumped last night and beaten up. Greg got it much worse than I did. He took a knife in the ribs that I think may have punctured one of his lungs, but they haven’t let me see him yet . . .” And then Drake started crying again.

“Drake,” I stopped him. “It’s okay. What about you? How are your injuries?”

“I’m okay, pretty much . A cracked rib, a broken collarbone, a black eye, some bruises, and I lost one tooth. But I’ll recover. They want me to stay for a couple of days for observation.”

“Well, that does it. Your mom and I will be on the next flight out their Son. What hospital are you in?”

“No, Dad! Mom, can’t know I was involved in a gay bashing! You haven’t told her I’m gay have you?”

“No Son. I’ve honored your secret.” And I had. I hadn’t betrayed him, but I couldn’t withhold this from Jan. He had to understand this, and I had to make him see that. “Drake,” I began gently, “please understand my position. You’ve just been beat up. Severely. Your mother loves you. Tremendously. I cannot withhold this kind of information from her! She doesn’t care if you’re gay! She’s ONLY going to care if you’re ALIVE! Please, allow me to tell her, and let me bring me with her to your hospital bedside. Please.” I was really laying it on thick, but I didn’t care. I could almost hear his face crack from the other end. He’d at least stopped sniffling.

“Okay, Dad. But after you tell her, call me right back and tell me what she says.”

“Got it. It’s a deal. And keep an ear to the ground on your guy Greg for me, and I’ll get back to you..”

“I will Dad. And I’m in Our Lady of the Sorrows Hospital in downtown L.A.”

“Thanks Son”

I immediately called Jan back to inform her of Drake’s gay bashing. She was alarmed as was I, about the bashing, not that he was gay. She informed me that she had recognized that since he was five. I asked her how I could have missed it, and she just chuckled reminding that a mother always notices these things. I couldn’t disagree with her. She said that she would handle the plane arrangements if I’d handle the hotel, two rooms, please. I had no problems with that.

The rest of the evening was spent packing and making arrangement for covering classes for the rest of the week which we both filled without difficulty. Soon we were hitting I-96 and covering the distance to Detroit Metro for a redeye to L.A. and our second son’s bedside.

“How are we going to explain any of this to the other two kids?” I asked Jan this question during our flight.

“Do we really have to? We’ll discuss it all with Drake while we’re out there, but let’s see how he’s recuperating and what’s what first. Get some sleep. You worry too much.” She gave me a weary look.

Wise woman. Sometimes.

LAX was only semi-bustling at this early hour of the morning when we landed and headed for the rental car desk. It may have been a blessing coming in at this hour, because the streets which are usually fairly well jammed were reasonably well deserted at this hour as we found our way downtown toward the hospital with the directions we’d been furnished.

Making our way up to the 8th floor and Drake’s room, Jan and I realized that it had been some fourteen years or so since we’d last visited him in a hospital room like this way back when he was seven years old, and he’d had his tonsils removed. We’d brought him a huge Teddy Bear then. Too bad the gift shop wasn’t open yet or I’d do the very same thing again. Mental note for later this morning: Teddy Bear Run!

We walked into room 8007, and there he was, snoozing, but oh was he banged up, and bandaged around his waist, shoulder and left arm area, left cheek and eye, upper lip, I couldn’t tell how much else because he was covered up below the waist. He was alive and breathing without difficulty, and all of that was good. He was young. He would heal. Emotional scars. We would all deal with those.

We were family.

We are family.

And he is loved.


Bashing, Fictional Stories, Fictional Story, Gay, Gay Bashing, Gay Community, Gay Experience, Gay Lesbian And Bisexual, Gay Men, Gay Rights, Gays, Glbt, Lgbt, Narrative, Narrative Writing, Serial, Series

Meet the author

author avatar Ken Painter
Retired Chicago public school teacher. Singer, songwriter, musician, author, & opinionated old curmudgeon. Married to my husband & living in Colorado, USA. Also a father & grandfather.

Share this page

moderator Peter B. Giblett moderated this page.
If you have any complaints about this content, please let us know


Add a comment
Can't login?