Geoff

After a CT scan, the hospital admitted me for observation overnight. By the time we were done in emergency and I had a room, visiting hours were already over, and they made Robin leave. He promised to return in the morning, and despite my earlier irritable mood, I was not happy to see him go. From the moment we entered the hospital, I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. The emergency nurse was professional, but I didn’t think I had imagined the way her mouth tightened when she saw Robin stroke my hand. It brought back to me the fact that, whatever the sexual minority demographics that made up the Saugatuck area, we were in ultrareligious, ultraconservative West Michigan. The politics in Saugatuck didn’t hold true for the rest of the county, much less the whole region.

With that single grimace from the nurse, the sense of safety that should have come with being in the hospital was gone. I would have felt better with Robin at my side, so that we could deal together with whatever bullshit they might try to give us.

For all my weariness earlier, that vague sense of alarm made it difficult for me to get to sleep once I was in my room. I dozed fitfully and woke up in the wee hours of the morning to hear a murmured conversation near my door.

“Did you see his back?” It was a woman speaking. A nurse? One had introduced herself to me when I was admitted, but I wasn’t familiar with her yet.

The woman she was speaking to—another nurse?—made a derisive sound. “He came in with a man. Who knows what those guys get up to?” I was sure only the fear of losing her job kept the woman from substituting “fags” for “guys.”

“No one deserves that sort of treatment, no matter who they are. I’m going to call a social worker and the police. That man he’s with has to be stopped before he kills him.”

Shit.

I spent the next several hours cursing myself for being so stupid. I’d been in such a lather for kinky thrills that I hadn’t even considered the potential consequences for Robin. I knew better. I knew parents and partners of hemos were sometimes suspected of abuse when people misinterpreted the bruises and bloody noses. It was one of the things we were warned about when beginning adult relationships.

I debated calling Robin to come get me and checking myself out of the hospital AMA before anyone had a chance to cause trouble for us, but the fact was I knew I needed to be there. If I had a brain bleed, it had to be monitored. If I left, I might save Robin legal difficulties, but only at the expense of my own safety.

By the time a woman arrived the next morning—her gentle, sympathetic bearing screaming crisis counselor—my headache was beginning to recede and dismay had been edged out by anger. When I refused to speak to her, she left.

I tried to call Robin. It went to his voice mail. I didn’t hear back from him within the next couple of hours, at which point a cop showed up to talk to me. Typical middle-aged, white, overweight, doughnut-eating cop. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes at the predictability of the whole dog and pony show.

“Look, man.” He settled into a chair by the bed with a world-weary sigh. Oh, yay. This was where he’d try to do the “straight talk” approach. “I get it. You’re used to people discriminating against you, not listening to what you have to say, not believing you. No one wants to think a guy can be the victim of abuse, and half the people around here probably think a gay guy deserves what he gets. But I’m not one of them. So why don’t you tell me about those bruises on your back?”

Well, hallelujah! My good buddy, Officer Straight-Able-Bodied-Privilege, was here to tell me he wouldn’t dismiss me. The day was saved.

I shrugged and offered him a somewhat vacant smile. “I gave myself those bruises.”

“I don’t care what he told you. You weren’t asking for it.”

“No, I mean I put those bruises on myself. Performance art. I’m an artist. Went to art school and everything. I’m working on this act that uses a whip, and I just keep hitting myself.” My smile got toothier, and I held out my hands in a helpless, What can you do? shrug.

His eyes narrowed. “You smash your own head into the wall too?”

“Slipped in the shower.” I fluttered my eyelashes. “Should’ve been more careful getting up after sucking my boyfriend’s dick.”

He flushed and looked away, squirming. I felt a savage stab of satisfaction at having discomfited him. It took him a moment to regain his composure enough to level that no-nonsense gaze at me again.

“You realize impeding a criminal investigation is a crime, right?”

I blinked, suddenly all wide-eyed innocence. “I know some performance art can be edgy, but criminal? Would it make a difference if I said it was for charity?”

“You wanna end up dead?” I could see his patient, tolerant, understanding act wearing thin. “I’m not your enemy here. I want to help you. Doesn’t matter to me who you screw. I just don’t want this guy killing you or anyone else. Next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Robin had nothing to do with it.” I didn’t have to feign sincerity. “I’m a hemophiliac. Accidents happen, and accidents are a little more dangerous for me than for your average guy. It’s no big deal. I know you mean well, but you’ve made the wrong assumption here, Officer.”

“Would it make a difference to you if I told you your boyfriend has done this before?” He pulled a notepad out of his inner jacket pocket. “I did some checking. Seems Mr. Brady’s last boyfriend filed a complaint against him for domestic abuse not long before Mr. Brady moved here from New York. He’d been beaten with a cane.”

I went still, a shiver rippling through me. “So he claimed. It was awfully convenient that the accusation happened to cast suspicion on the credibility of Robin’s testimony against him for embezzling.”

The cop’s eyes gleamed, and he pushed a business card into my hand. “You decide you’re tired of being his next victim, give me a call. Let’s just hope it’s not too late by then. Guy with your medical condition’s got to be careful.”

I remained mute, my eyes burning as I waited for him to leave. Then I grabbed the phone and dialed Robin, who thankfully answered this time.

“You okay?” he asked anxiously.

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “Yeah. They don’t think it’s serious enough to keep me here. They’re going to release me this afternoon, probably. I just need to be really conscientious about keeping my factor levels up until we’re sure, and not risk any more injuries for at least a few weeks.”

I could hear Robin digesting that. “All right. I’ll close the gallery early and come get you.”

“Okay.” I fell silent, trying to figure out how to bring up what had happened. Finally I went for broke. “Um, I got a visit from a guy from the Saugatuck-Douglas Police Department today.”

Robin’s sigh crackled through the speaker of the phone. “Me too. We can talk about it when I pick you up.”

I nodded, closing my eyes wearily. “Got it. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“Right. See you.”

Damn it all, that wasn’t good enough. With his history, Robin needed to know I trusted him. He’d never done a thing to me that I hadn’t wanted, and I wouldn’t let myself doubt him.

“Robin?”

“Yeah?”

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. My pulse pounded in my temples, and my lungs felt like they were in a vise. I knew what I had to say, and I was terrified.

I said it anyway.

“I, um— I love you.”

He was silent for several heart-stopping seconds, and when he released it, his breath sounded shaky.

“Thank you.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I love you too. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

My hand trembled when I turned off my phone, but in spite of everything, I was smiling.

The car ride was filled with stilted courtesies, as though neither of us wanted to commit to a serious conversation while Robin was driving.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked softly as we drove into downtown Saugatuck.

“Would you mind if we went to your place?” I hadn’t realized until that moment that I was more at home in his house than I was in my own little room above my shop. “I mean, I’d understand if you’d rather not have me there.”

Robin shot me a surprised look before turning his attention back to the road. “Why wouldn’t I want you there?”

“I should’ve considered this. I think I mentioned to you that people sometimes draw the wrong conclusions when they see bruises on hemophiliacs. It just never occurred to me what it might mean for you specifically if someone suspected you of domestic abuse.”

Robin barked an incredulous laugh. “If you think that’s bad, try researching some of the court cases involving people charged with assault for completely consensual BDSM play. If anything, I should have warned you.”

“Seriously?” I blinked as he drove up the hill and turned into his driveway.

He nodded, parking the car and running his hands up and down the steering wheel with a sigh. “Yeah. It’d be hilarious if it weren’t so fucking infuriating. Most courts have upheld that under the law, you can’t consent to being assaulted. Unless you’re doing MMA or something, of course. Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

While he herded me into the house, Robin regaled me with a story about the bust of a BDSM party in Massachusetts. “It was, like, ten years ago or so. I think I was in college, just starting to explore the scene, but I’ve heard the Old Guard talk about it. Cops raided a play party in Attleboro. One woman was charged with assault with a weapon. Wanna guess what the weapon was?”

I didn’t really need help settling in on the sofa, but after what had happened that morning, I was uncharacteristically okay with letting him hover and coddle me a bit.

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“A wooden spoon. They charged her with assault for spanking another woman, and they said it didn’t matter if the other woman was consenting, because you can’t consent to assault. The whole debacle became known as Paddleboro.” He shrugged. “It eventually got dropped, and Lawrence v. Texas has made it a lot harder to prosecute anyone for what they do in the bedroom. Guess that’s one good thing about kink going mainstream. Maybe now some of those laws will change with the times.”

I snorted. “Right. We’re in a country where it takes a ruling by the Supreme Court to nullify laws prohibiting blowjobs.”

“True.” Robin’s smile faded as he sat down beside me and took my hand, lacing our fingers. “You believe I never abused Kyle, right?”

“I do.” And I did.

He nodded, leaning back and drawing me against him. I rested my head on his shoulder and let him hold me.

It took me a long while to muster up the will to say what I had to say. “I think we need to give up any play that could leave marks. No more whippings or that sort of thing.”

Robin sucked in his cheeks. “I understand. It probably isn’t safe enough for you to risk it.”

“Me? Pfft, I’m fine. It’s not safe for you.” He gave me a startled look. “What would have happened to you if I’d had a serious brain bleed? If I’d been left comatose, or a vegetable, or if I’d died? No, don’t even try to argue. It could happen. It could have happened this time. This is not a far-fetched possibility. Brain bleeds are a very common way for hemos to die. They would have thought you had something to do with it, and you would have been facing a manslaughter charge. If I get seriously sick and they see marks on me, even if they believed you that I consented, it wouldn’t matter. Like you said, they’d just claim that consent was no defense.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Robin pulled back, the set of his jaw stubborn. “I’m not going to give up something we both obviously want and need just because of some outdated laws! Jesus, I mean, would I stop fucking your brains out if Lawrence v. Texas hadn’t invalidated antisodomy laws? They want to try to charge me? Bring it on. I can afford a great lawyer, and I’m sure the ACLU, Lambda Legal, and the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom would have a field day with it.”

“That’s not what you said the night we met. I didn’t get it then, but your irritation over me putting you in a situation where you might be held legally accountable for injuring me—that was all about the charges Kyle had brought against you, right? Because that could have been really bad for you.”

He gave a short, jerky nod. “But things were different then.”

“How?”

“I was in a bad place emotionally over it all. And the whole thing with Kyle hadn’t been completely dismissed yet.”

“Obviously not ‘completely’ if Officer What’s-His-Name can pull up the record so easily.” I frowned. “I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“It’s my risk to take!”

“Funny, I said that to you that first night and you didn’t buy it any more than I’m buying it now.” My head was starting to ache again. “A minute ago you were willing to stop for my safety. Why can’t I be willing to stop for yours?”

“Because your safety is a valid concern, and this—”

“—is also a valid concern, whether you choose to admit it or not.” I grabbed both his hands and squeezed until he met my eyes. “If things had played out differently today, you could be in handcuffs right now.”

“Maybe.” His eyes narrowed, his gaze challenging me. “Or maybe you’re just looking for another way to let this thing keep you from living the life you want to live.”

I jerked my hands away and stood, storming over to the stairs. “This thing has ruined the lives of everyone I’ve ever cared about. Maybe I don’t want to see it ruin yours too.”

I turned to mount the stairs, but his voice followed me.

“Would they say it was worth it?”

With my hand on the banister, I paused to face him.

“These people whose lives you say your hemophilia has ruined. If I could poll them, would they agree? Or would they say every minute they spent with you was worth whatever difficulty they might have faced?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, and I was too tired to argue about it any longer. I went upstairs and crawled into bed alone, where I failed to sleep despite my exhaustion. It was a long time before Robin joined me, spooning against my back and drawing me close.

His lips pressed against the nape of my neck.

“Do me a favor?” he whispered. “Let’s table the discussion for now. You said we’ll have to take it easy for a while anyway, right?”

I nodded mutely.

“Okay. Then let’s decide then what we want and what we feel is safe. Give ourselves time to back away from the knee-jerk reactions and consider. Can we do that?”

“Yeah.” I rolled to face him, and his kiss was the softest, most tender thing I could possibly have imagined. It made my chest ache. “Yeah, we can do that.”