I was feeling lousy. The chicken pox were in full swing, and I felt like a giant puss-collecting, bile-producing, reptilian, elephant man. Ned finally got me to take some painkiller stuff and get into this oatmeal.
"Just don't put any raisins in," I complained as Ned maneuvered me into the tub.
As I soaked in the stuff, I tried to clear my head, willing the stinging blisters to go the fuck away.
Hugo would have gotten a kick out of this, I thought. Me, tough-ass, alcoholic, being kept and pampered at the home of a beautiful man, suffering from a freakin' childhood disease.
*****
"It's hilarious," he said. And I opened my eyes with a start.
"Hugo?"
"For now...thought I'd drop in and check up on you. I see you're doing just fine." He was sitting on the toilet, his elbow on his knee and his hand cradling his chin.
"I feel like shit."
"Didn't mean the pox, buddy. This," and he gestured to the elegant bath and Ned's picture on the shelf. "So, you're changing your ways? You've seen the pink light at the end of the tunnel that means eternal happiness??"
I leaned back into the muck; it was feeling really good and my head was in the clouds. I laughed.
"I don't know, man. It's bizarre - bein' here. But I really can't complain."
"Ned, it's Ned, right? Yeah, he sounds like a stand-up kinda' guy. Look at you man, 6 months ago you couldn't get through the day without drinking yourself into a lather. Now, you're in a nice place. Gotta great guy. Your knee's back in one piece. You're a choreographer..."
"Yeah, and two cops who are just dyin' to kill me."
"I wouldn't worry about those two clowns, buddy. They'll get theirs in spades, sooner than you think."
"What are you a psychic?" I asked sarcastically.
"Among other things," he said.
"So, psychic. Tell me what's gonna happen to me."
"That would be too easy, Mike. Besides, it wouldn't be exciting. That's the question for you? What's gonna happen to you? Are you gay? You straight?" he gunned the questions at me. "You gonna stay with Ned? You've got your art back, man. You've got a new life....The question is, what are you gonna do with it????? Huh? what are you gonna do..."
"I don't know, Hugo! I don't know!!!!" I screamed over the din of his voice.
And then he was silent. The door opened. It was Ned.
"You okay??? Who were you yelling at?"
"I was talking to Hugo..."
Ned came and gave me a peck on my pocked cheek. Brave man. "I think you were dreaming again, sweetie. I'll give you another couple of minutes in there, and then we can have dinner." And he left me alone.
As I leaned back into the warmth the bath which was miraculously soothing my skin (or maybe it was the painkillers) I thought about Hugo. I thought about Ned. I thought about my life.
I did have a life... Now what the hell was I gonna do with it???
