Date: Wed, 25 Dec 2002 16:47:31 EST
From: JuilianJ@aol.com
Subject: heart and soul gay interacial part 1

HEART and SOUL
BY: Julien

This story is 100% fictional and does not depict the life of any person,
place or thing.  This story is of a sexual nature and involves sexual
activity among males, therefore, read at your own risk.  You should be 18+
and it should be legal for you to read this story in your city, state or
country.  ENJOY!

	He remembered the young man as if it were yesterday.  The things
that had transpired between the two forever left him scarred for life and
left him feeling empty.  What he had, what he was would be forever gone
because of HIM.  But he wouldn't allow the growing feelings of hatred and
anger to prevent him from doing his job to the best of his abilities.  He
had taken his oath and come hell or high water, he would do everything in
his power to fulfill it.  "Dr Christy, should we give him 10mm or 5mm of
morphine?"  He snapped out of his thoughts remembering where he was and
what he was doing.  "No, he might have a reaction to the morphine.  Did we
get his records yet?"  "No, Doctor, they're still trying to locate it."
"Well just give him the basic anesthesia and then we begin operating."  The
nurse looked at him quizzically, "Dr are you sure?"  "Yes Mary-Beth, give
him the anesthesia and then we operate."  And even as he said this, he
prayed that he had made the right decision.
	"Shane what happened in there?"  He couldn't come up with a reason
why he acted the way he did so he came back with the basic, "I don't know."
"I think you need to take a break Shane, a vacation.  You haven't had one
since Roderick..."  "I know Simon but I don't need a vacation.  I'm ok.  I
just need to get back into the swing of things and the last thing I need is
more time off."  His old friend just shook his head and put his hand on his
shoulder, "You haven't grieved yet Shane.  You need to grieve and get out
all that pain that you're storing inside.  It won't do you or anybody else
any good to be working under such conditions."  And even though he knew his
friend was telling the truth, he continued to deny it.  "I have grieved
Simon.  I've grieved for four fucking months ok.  The last thing I need is
more time off to remind me of what happened."  And before his friend could
respond, he got up and walked towards the parking lot.  If they needed him,
they knew where to find him.

	It had been a clear day.  A beautiful day for a little fun in the
sun.  That's what they had planned to do.  Finally both of them had managed
to get time off that actually coincided with both their busy schedules.
Roderick had remarked that they had better enjoy it because they wouldn't
know when they would get an opportunity like this again.  Both of them
being in high demand careers made for a difficult relationship.  Shane
being a young MD and Roderick an Executive Assistant for a big law firm.
And even though their relationship was one without the luxury of time, they
made the most of it.  That fateful day they had planned a trip to Point
Pleasant in N.J., a day that was supposed to be unforgettable.  It did
become unforgettable for Shane.  A day that he would have to live with for
the rest of his life.  A day that would haunt his nightmares for many
nights to come.  It had started off innocently enough with them walking
along the shore hand in hand admiring the scenery that New York City
lacked.  They had planned to drive up to Connecticut later on that week to
meet Roderick's parents for the first time.  They had planned a lot of
things.  Things that unfortunately would not come to pass.  Roderick had
decided that he wanted to take a swim in the ocean and even though he was a
good swimmer, the cast on his hand limited his agility in the water.
"Roderick don't go out too far, you know I can't swim to get you."
Roderick had laughed at his lovers' comment.  "Don't worry baby, I know
what I'm doing.  And besides, I'm not the one that's gonna need rescuing."
And with that he had winked, the sexual innuendo behind it apparent to
Shane.  "Funny funny just be careful ok."  And he had turned his back for
only a second.  A second that would become the longest of his life.
Turning back around there was no sign of Roderick.  "Roderick?  Where are
you?  Stop playing!"  At first it seemed that he was being had.  It was
just like Roderick to play around like this.  Not yet old enough to realize
what should not and should be taken seriously.  He had waited patiently for
a few seconds for his lovers' face to reappear from out of the blue ocean.
"Roderick?  Come on man, it's not funny anymore!"  He had become angry in a
matter of seconds and had cursed his lovers' s immaturity.  "Shit!"  He
wasn't a good swimmer but panic had begun to set in.  As soon as he hit the
water, the seriousness of the situation set in as he felt himself being
pulled under by a strong current.  He struggled to get air but all he
managed to do was tier himself out.  Remembering what he had read
somewhere, he somehow managed to relax his muscles and the let the current
take him and within a few minutes he free.  He quickly pulled himself to
shore where he immediately started to throw up seawater and within minutes,
passing out.  Waking up in his own hospital a few hours later he was told
that he had almost drowned and that he was lucky that someone happened to
be walking by and called an ambulance.  His first concern was to ask about
his boyfriend but was told that no one else was found with him.  For three
days after being released he prayed and hoped that Roderick was somewhere
off the coast suffering from some form of amnesia but his worst fear came
to pass when he got a phone call from the police requesting his presence
down at the coroners office.  When he asked why, he was told that a body
had washed up in Staten Island, a Hispanic male, aged 18-23 with a tattoo
of a lion on his back.  That was all he needed to hear to know that it was
his lover.  And even after he buried the man he swore would be his partner
for life, he still hadn't come to terms with what had happened.  He had
somehow convinced himself that he would get over it eventually but
apparently he was wrong.  And as he stood in the parking lot, surrounded by
security lights, he allowed the first set of tears to fall.

	The year had been 1992.  He had been working as a high school
counselor in the public school system of NYC.  It was a job that he had
envisioned himself doing since he was a teenager.  Having had a troubled
childhood, he turned to drugs and violence as a means to dim the pains and
realities of the world.  Add to the mix the fact that he knew he was gay
since he was around ten or eleven, made for a turbulent time.  His parents
had been at the end of their rope and had done what turned out to be the
best decision they could have made.  They sent him to a reform school
upstate where he met a man, a teacher that would set the course for the
rest of his life.  After he left, he was no longer the troubled teenager
but instead, a young man that had a plan.  He wanted to be able to inspire
and save lives so he worked hard to get his credentials and to become a
high school counselor.  And for three years he had managed to get through
to the majority of kids that stepped through the doors of his office with
their problems ranging from abuse, sexual and emotional to dysfunctional
families to poverty.  He had considered himself a do gooder and strived to
help as many of these kids as he could but there was always that one kid
that was just impossible.  That kid was Anthony Williams.  A black kid from
New York City who lived with a grandmother and a baby sister.  If it wasn't
his antics in class, it was his tendency to attack anything that stepped in
his way.  When Shane was first recommended to see him, the kid was on his
way to juvie for beating up a senior who looked at him wrong.  He had seen
a lot of kids with similar problems like Anthony's' but what he would soon
come to realize was that Anthony was in a class by himself.  When Anthony
strut into his office that first time, he had to do a double take.  The kid
was just that, a kid.  Barley over 5ft and skinny as spaghetti but the
scowl that seemed etched on his face gave away the ferocity.  The numerous
number of scratches that adorned his other wise clear skin was also
testimony to the life that he had to live.  For that first session the kid
wouldn't even talk.  "You know why you're here Anthony?"  No answer, the
kid just stared out the window keeping his hands crossed over his chest.
"You want to talk about what's bothering you?"  Silence.  He had just about
had it with this kid when all of a sudden, "What the fuck would you know
bout me?  You don't be knowing nothing bout me."  "And that's why we're
here.  I want to know more about you?  I want to know why act up in class
and talk back to your teachers. I want to know where all this anger is
coming from."  He continued to scowl at me but had relaxed his stance a
bit.  He sat up in the chair and uncrossed his arms choosing to lay them on
the handles of the chair.  "I ain't the one with the problem.  Them
teachers be trying to fuck with me."  Now he was getting somewhere.  "What
makes you think that they do that?"  "Because they trying to fuck my shit
up.  It's because I ain't as smart as the other suckas in there.  They pick
on me cause they know I don't know shit."  From reading his file I knew
that he had more than one recommendation to the special Ed class.  "Is that
why you beat up on the other kids?"  "I don't beat up on shit!"  "Ok, well
tell me about that senior.  Robert Gonzales.  Why did you hit him?"
"Because that nigga was trying to fuck with me.  Thinking he can pick on me
cause I'm small and shit.  Bet ya nobody thought to write down that shit.
Ain't nobody interested in me.  They just want to get me the fuck outta
this school."  And that was how it began.  The more he sat and talked with
him, the more he learned about the life that Anthony lived.  "So do you do
drugs?"  "Yeah, so you gonna rat on me?"  "No but I should tell you it's a
very bad habit to pick up."  "I don't do the hard stuff just some weed when
I need something to bring me down."  "From what?"  "I don't know, just
stuff?"  "Where do you get the money?"  "I work for it?"  "You peddle
drugs?"  "I don't do that shit.  I work down at A&P."  "When do you work?"
"Everyday after school and on Saturday."  "All day?"  "Yeah!"  "That's a
lot of hours for someone your age to be working, don't you think?"  "We'll
I got to help out my grams when I can.  She got me and my baby sister to
take care of."  "Then why do you spend that money on drugs?"  "I don't
spend all of it man!"  "When did you start to do drugs?"  "When my moms
died."  "When was that?"  "When I was 'round ten.  She got..." he had
paused but then continued, his thoughts taking a completely different turn,
"It ain't none of ya business when my moms died.  All you need to know is
she's dead.  You suppose to be helping me.  What's with all the questions
bout my family?"  "Well I need to know where you came from and what you've
been through to know where you're at."  He had seemed to consider the
thought then shrugged it off.  "You done with me?"  He had looked up at the
clock above the wall and saw that it was well after four.  "Yes."  And as
Anthony got his bags together Shane walked over to him and gave him a
wristband.  "What's this?"  "It's a wrist band I give you.  Red means that
you're beginner, green means intermediate and black means advance."  "So
what happens when I get black?"  "It means you've made enough progress to
stop coming here."  He regarded the band and put it into his pocket walking
out without looking back.  He saw the youth three days a week for about a
year and a half.  Within that time he had made significant progress with
him identifying several triggers that would lead to an unwarranted
outburst.  He was also able to provide him with other outlets for his anger
such as boxing lessons down at the Y.  But on the verge of giving him the
black wristband, something happened.  Something that triggered a reaction
that not only caused Shane his reputation but his career.  He had
remembered that day so clearly.  He had walked into his office five minutes
early and was about to get his morning cup of coffee when the principal
came into the office. The school was big enough that one could have gone
through a whole year and not see any authority figure.  Shane had invited
him in and had offered him a seat.  "It's not necessary Mr. Christy.  I'm
not here on a social call."  "Yes sir."  "I have a student in my office, a
Anthony Williams.  Do you know him?"  "Yes sir.  I've been counseling him
for a year."  The principals' eyes had narrowed at him as if inspecting
him.  "Well it appears that Mr. Williams has brought with him some very
serious allegations."  "Allegations sir?"  He had parroted, a feeling of
dread brewing within him.  "Yes.  He claims that you have been molesting
him these last few months."  "What!?"  "Is it true?"  "Is what true?"
"These allegations."  "Of course not."  "Well there are two officers in my
office waiting to question you.  You can leave your post and come with me.
They'll sort this out."  And what was to be a simple question and answer
turned into a witch-hunt.  He was suspended while the allegations were
being investigated and then subsequently fired due to calls from concerned
parents.  "Mr. Christy I am sorry but we have to put the interest of our
students first."  "But they have yet to offer one shred of evidence to
substantiate his claim.  It's not fair.  This is my life!"  "I'm sorry."
They had treated him like a child molester. His own parents had cast doubt
on him questioning his lapse in judgment.  "Shane maybe if you had told
them that you had a girlfriend?"  "What!"  "Maybe if you had..."  "Should I
have lied about my lifestyle so that they would look upon me fairly?  You
think that would have made an ounce of difference."  "You never know."  "I
can't believe you two.  My sexuality has never been an issue in this house,
never!"  "Shane why are you so angry?"  "Why?  You have the nerve to ask me
why?  I've just been through hell and back with them and now you guys are
in on it too."  That had been the end of the relationship between him and
his parents.  He had moved away from them and away from New York only
returning to go to medical school.  There he had met Roderick in 2000 and
there he had buried him in august of 2002.  Now seeing the youth, having to
treat him for gunshot wounds sustained in a drive by, brought a past that
he would rather forget to the surface.  None of his colleagues knew much
about his prior profession except that he had been a teacher.  They neither
knew why he left or what made him decide to go into medicine.  And that was
the way he intended to keep it.