My Kind of Town
Paging God
>> Queen's Medical Center
All Greg could do in the ER waiting room was wait, hope and pray. He wasn't religious, not with so many religious idiots like the Gabbardites proclaiming his lifestyle a sin. But all of a sudden Greg didn't question if there is a God, he was praying fervently to God-Jesus-Muhammed-Buddha-Vishnu-Anybody. Pleading with tears streaming down his cheeks to save the life of Lance Ah Sun, his friend, his lover. Pleading to take away the guilt Greg felt because if he hadn't insisted that Lance attend the hate crimes bill rally at the Capitol, and let it be known that the future of their relationship depended on his presence, Lance would not have been taken unconscious to the ER after being attacked by a skinhead at the rally. Pleading for a hint of light in the total eclipse of his life.Greg wiped away his tears as Woody Williamson walked through the doors of the ER waiting room. Woody was an old friend, long-ago lover and for years a leader in the gay rights movement. And he had been there when the ambulance took Lance away. Woody crossed the room quickly, embraced Greg.
"How's Lance?"
Greg just shook his head. Woody understood. "They won't tell you, will they? You're not family."
Greg could only nod.
"I know this won't make Lance better, but the governor just signed the hate crimes bill into law. After they arrested the skinhead who attacked you two at the Capitol, I was invited up to the fifth floor. The governor said that if ever there was an example of a hate crime, the attack on Lance was it. And he signed the bill into law."
Tears welled in Greg's eyes, an extreme mix of emotions making words impossible.
"The governor also said he's going to call this the Lance Ah Sun Bill."
Bill, meaning a price that Lance had paid. And a price that Greg would forever pay if Lance didn't recover.
>> Kailua
As he put his key in the door from the garage to the kitchen, Sheets Ah Sun heard the phone ringing. Stepping inside, he heard his wife's recorded voice asking callers to leave a message. Except in business or with his golf-and-politics cronies, Sheets preferred Grace to be his public voice. Crossing the room, he heard a woman's voice, a Lin Matsuo from Queen's, calling for Mr. or Mrs. Ah Sun. To Sheets that meant his wife. The caller left a number. Grace would be home soon. He couldn't imagine why Queen's would call anyway.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com