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Title: First Aid Disclaimer: This is only for fun. None of this is real nor
should any implication be made based on this manuscript that I have any insider
info on either of these two actors. Complete:
no First AidRandy dashed up the three flights of stairs in his usual fashion: two at a time with the indefatigable strength of youth on his side. His keys jingled loudly on their ring as he unlocked the first, second and finally third deadbolt on his front door. All this security was a small price to pay for living in this neighborhood. He fucking loved it here and felt like he was born to be a part of the Village’s life and pulse. He entered his dim apartment and tossed the leather portfolio he carried into its typical place on the floor behind the door. He made his way into the living room and then stopped suddenly, shouting, “Holy FUCK!” as he spotted the shadow of a man reclining on his couch. His heart lurched in fear before he recognized the familiar figure. Gale’s head shot up, his eyes trying hard to focus. He’d evidentially fallen asleep waiting for Randy to come home. “What the fuck are you doing here??” Randy yelled, adrenaline still pumping into his system. It had been four months since the show ended and while they’d chatted on the phone frequently, there’d been no time for visits. “Huh?” Gale asked blearily. That was when Randy noticed the nasty, fresh gash on Gale’s forehead. It had bled recently and raised a scary purple lump just under his temple. Randy felt fear leap up in him again. “Jesus, Gale,” he breathed as he rushed to sit on the coffee table in front of his friend, “what happened? Did you get mugged on your way here?” Randy reached a hand out to turn Gale’s face so he could examine the wound more carefully. It was even scarier on closer inspection than it had been from across the room. There was a deep cut in the center of the goose egg and Gale had obviously done nothing to clean the wound but perhaps brush his hand across it. Randy stood again and moved into the kitchen. He snatched a clean kitchen towel out of a drawer by the sink, dampened it with warm water and returned to his friend. His hands were shaking. Gale was still blinking groggily and Randy wasn’t sure if it was because of the head injury or just the effects of sleep. “Gale?” he asked again, gently pressing the soft cloth to Gale’s temple, “Should we call the police?” Gale finally found his voice. “I’m sorry. You gave me the key once, I hope you don’t mind that I used it to get in.” “You did right, don’t worry about it,” Randy leaned in to examine the wound as he cleaned it. Gale winced but allowed the attention. “Tell me what happened.” “She hit me with a beer mug. A full one. It broke across my face. When I came to, I got in the car and started driving. I ended up here. I’m sorry, Randy.” He seemed to run out of words all at once and sagged back into the couch. “When you came to?? You were unconscious?” Randy raged, trying hard and failing to remain in control of the anger that flooded through him at Gale’s admission. “Gale, for fuck’s sake, you can’t keep letting her do this to you! She’s half your size! She should NOT be clocking you!” “I was raised to never hit a woman.” Gale stated simply, grimacing as Randy cleaned crusted blood off the bruise. “Fuck that!” Randy was livid. “Fortunately, I have no such concerns, I’ll be happy to deck her. Maybe I should pay her a visit.” “That’s probably not the best idea right now, she’s as pissed off at you as she is at me.” Gale admitted. “Me? That crazy bitch, why is she mad at me? She’s the one who needs to be worried right now! You don’t smash a glass across my best friend’s face without having me to deal with!” Randy folded the towel in his hands and sat back, looking into Gale’s pained eyes. Satisfied with his nursing for the moment, he got up again, went into the bathroom and came back a moment later juggling a box of bandages, tape, antibiotic cream, a glass of water and two aspirin in his hands. “Take these,” he passed the aspirin and water to Gale, being sure the man swallowed them before rummaging around in the bandages for one the proper size. “I guess you drove straight through?” he asked when Gale drained the glass and handed it back to him. “Yeah,” Gale answered, leaning into the couch again, “I didn’t want to stop. I just needed to see you.” “Why didn’t you go to Kim, Gale?” Randy settled on a large gauze pad. It would do until he could get Gale to the hospital for x-rays. “It would have been damned safer for you to drive to her instead of coming all the way down here in your condition!” Kim was Gale’s best friend in Toronto now that the show had wrapped and all the cast and crew had come back to the states to pick up their careers. Randy was grateful that she was there for Gale as often as her career allowed- he hated him being alone. Of all of them, only Gale had finally stayed in Canada, which didn’t surprise anyone considering how much he had grown to love the country and how furious he was with the result of the general election in America. “She’s touring with the band this week.” Gale said softly, “Besides, it was you I needed to see.” Randy shook his head in disapproval and asked, “What set her off this time?” He squeezed a generous amount of ointment onto the gauze pad and placed it gently over the welt on Gale’s temple. He took one of Gale’s hands and placed it on the pad. “Hold this until I can get it taped,” he muttered, pulling strips of surgical adhesive off a large roll. “I deserved it this time,” Gale started but Randy interrupted him immediately, “No one deserves this, Gale! Stop making excuses for her!” “Randy-“ Gale complained, “I’m in a little pain here, don’t ask me a question and then not let me answer it.” He was going for humor, trying to erase the creases of worry on Randy’s forehead and around his eyes. It backfired and Randy’s glare only hardened, but he kept his mouth shut as he finished taping up Gale’s thick skull. “I told her I was in love with someone else.” Gale said without preamble. Randy whistled softly thru his teeth. “Without putting on a helmet first, you idiot?” “Oh no,” Gale clutched his head tenderly, chuckling, “don’t make me laugh, asshole, it hurts too much.” “Sorry,” Randy said, smiling in spite of his anger. “It wasn’t the what,” Gale went on, “so much as the who. That’s what sent the glass flying at my head.” His fingers gingerly inspected the patch job Randy had done on him before he leaned his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “Good lord, Gale,” Randy chastised, “when are you gonna learn? Women get really touchy when you cheat on them.” Gale raised his head abruptly, a fire burning in his eyes, “I didn’t cheat on her!” He groaned at the sudden movement and leaned back into the couch again to ease the pain and dizziness he was feeling. “I said I was in love with someone else, not that I’d done anything about it!” Randy sighed dramatically. “Like she’d recognize the difference.” He rolled his eyes for emphasis. “Who’d you tell her it was? Kim?” “You,” he answered cautiously. “I told her it was you.” He opened one eye and looked at Randy as if he thought he might be the next one to start beating on him. Randy laughed out loud. “Holy shit, have you completely lost your mind? Why’d you tell her something ridiculous like that? Couldn’t you find an easier way of breaking up with her?” He was still laughing. “I said it because it’s true,” Gale muttered. “Oh fuck,” Randy said, sliding forward again on the coffee table and looking intently into Gale’s face, “Gale, we need to get you to the hospital, you’re not making sense.” The creases were back on Randy’s face and his worried eyes scanned Gale’s for signs of dementia. It was Gale’s turn to sigh. “I told her BEFORE he she hit me, Randy, not after, remember?” “Then maybe one of her previous beatings jarred something loose. You’re babbling.” “No,” Gale joked, “I’d only be doing that if you were a reporter.” Randy wasn’t taking the bait. “Come on,” he stood, reaching his hand out to Gale, “seriously. Let’s get you to the ER, you could have a nasty concussion. I’m worried, Gale.” Gale ignored the offer, took Randy’s hand and pulled him down to the couch next to him. “I don’t need a hospital. What I need more than anything else right now is sleep.” His eyes were asking Randy if he could stay the night on his couch. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d needed to do it, either. “Oh no you don’t, no sleeping. How long ago did this head injury occur?” Gale groaned and didn’t answer, letting his eyes slip closed again. “Gale,” Randy demanded, “Do NOT go to sleep, I’m not kidding, you really could have a concussion. Now, how long ago was it?” Gale raised his arm and studied his watch for a few moments. It was hard to focus on the little numbers but he thought about when the argument had started and added the drive time between Toronto and New York City. “I dunno,” he answered finally, “eight, maybe nine hours? I got stuck at the border crossing, there was a long line to get through. Fucking customs.” U.S. Customs was one of Gale’s favorite pet peeves and he’d have been happy to rant about them for several hours if his head hadn’t felt like it had been knocked into Mexico by a flying beer stein. “Then you get to spend the next few hours with me. Awake.” Randy insisted. “And since you’re going to be up anyway, let’s go to the hospital and have some x-rays taken. She really could have cracked your skull, you know.” “Randy, please,” Gale pleaded and Randy could hear the anguish in his voice. Joking would only take Gale so far- right now he looked like a man whose heart was breaking. “Just stay here with me? I promise, no sleeping until you say, ok?” Randy reviewed when he knew about concussion. He’d taken first aid training in the hopes of getting a life guard job the summer he’d turned 17 but a lead role in a community theatre play had been offered to him and he’d taken that, instead. He remembered that the treatment for concussion was wakeful rest under the watchful eye of a friend or loved one. Gale would need to be awake for at least 12 hours after the initial injury before Randy would feel comfortable letting him sleep and even then he’d need to be awakened every two to three hours and checked for worsening symptoms. That meant that he’d need to keep the man talking quietly for the next three hours. By the looks of him, that was going to be a tall order- Gale looked half-dead with exhaustion Nodding his head in concession and securing a promise from Gale that any new symptoms would be reported immediately, he retrieved cold bottles of water from the fridge for each of them. He found a soft old afghan his grandmother had made for him years ago and threw it over the back of the couch in case Gale started to feel chilled. Allowing the declining sun to be the only illumination in the room for now, Randy settled in next to Gale on the couch and looked him over thoughtfully. Finally he spoke. “Gale, you know it’s time to change the locks, right?” Gale only nodded, holding his water bottle in one hand and picking at the label with the other. “Gale?” Randy pressed, “You’ll do it this time, right?” “I will.” Gale replied, still fidgeting with his bottle. Randy nodded. He’d do whatever it took to make sure it happened, even if that meant following Gale back to Toronto and calling the locksmith, himself. Enough was enough. “Randy.” Gale methodically peeled thin strips of paper off his water bottle, a small pile forming in his lap. His eyes remained locked on the mangled label. Randy waited patiently for him to continue speaking; usually the label peeling habit drove him crazy but tonight if it helped comfort Gale’s nervous energy, that’s all that mattered. “Randy.” Gale said again and Randy leaned in, raising his eyebrows, letting Gale know that he was listening. “Randy, I meant it. What I said to her. About being in love. With you. I meant it, it wasn’t just a ploy to get her out of my life.” “Let’s not talk about it right now, ok?” Randy was still mostly convinced that it was Gale’s injury talking and he didn’t want anything to be said that couldn’t be laughed off in the morning if he was right. “Ok,” Gale agreed and then continued as if he hadn’t heard Randy. “I couldn’t hide it anymore. I’m so lonely without you and the whole idea of being without you just so I can act in a few movies while everyone is thinking I’m this straight guy stopped making sense the day you moved back here. Ok, it never really made sense, but I was too stubborn to see that.” Randy held his breath. He had no idea what to say. “Of course,” Gale went on conversationally, as if he was talking to himself, “you probably don’t even want me, which would make sense because if you did you’d have said something long before now, would you? I mean, you’re a lot braver than I am and all. So maybe I got smacked with a mug for no reason, but I couldn’t live with keeping it in, anymore, either.” Randy noted distractedly that Gale’s bottle was utterly denuded of paper now and the crazy thought that he’d have to fetch a fresh bottle for him so he could peel off that label too raced across his confused brain. All of a sudden, he felt like the one with the concussion. “Right?” Gale finally looked up and locked eyes with him, taking a casual sip from his bottle. Randy’s mouth dropped open and then snapped shut again. “You need another one of those,” he stammered, indicating Gale’s naked but mostly full water bottle. “Hydration is crucial for any recovery.” He jerked to his feet and made his way into the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator door so hard the salad dressing bottles in the door rattled together. A minute spent staring into the fridge trying to remember what he was looking for was broken when, from the living room, he heard Gale say in that same oddly shocked voice, “You sounded like Justin, just then.” Randy grabbed another water bottle and slammed the door shut. Heading back into the kitchen, he glanced at his watch with dread. It was just as he’d thought. Only ten minutes of the three hours they needed to keep conversing had gone by. He was in deep shit. The End of Part 1Go on to Part 2
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