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(Note to the reader: This is a revised and augmented version of the original story.)
This story contains descriptions of unprotected sexual activity. Such behavior in real life exposes the participants to the utmost risk. This fictional account, meant purely as fantasy, is in no way intended to promote it.
As Travis walked along a busy street that morning on his way to the bus stop for his trip to work, he was met by the spectacle of a man with a bloodied head sitting against a building. Any unusual sight disturbed Travis, and what disturbed him even more in the present case was the behavior of people walking past, unconcerned and in some cases even resentful at the inconvenience of having to walk around the man’s outstretched legs. Only one person even acknowledged his presence explicitly, and it was only to say something to her companion about ‘these drunks’.
Travis was disgusted by such displays of callousness. Drunk or not, the man was injured and needed help. Travis felt that he should do something.
That was a problem: Travis conducted his life in accordance with a strict routine and a precise schedule; anything that threatened to disrupt them was very upsetting. He wanted to stop and offer help, but it might make him late for work. He had never been late for work.
A drop of blood splashed onto the ground. Travis slowed his pace, wrestling with the urge not to get involved. Then, against strong internal resistance, he stopped. Bending over the stranger and speaking softly to avoid frightening the man, he asked: “Do you want medical help?”
The man looked up at him and answered “Yes … thank you” in perfectly clear speech. He was definitely not drunk.
Travis took out his cell phone and called 911. After hanging up, he said: “Help is on the way. I have to go now.”
“Thank you” the man said again, in a tone that made his gratitude clear.
As Travis was turning away, he saw a trickle of blood run down the man’s face. It stopped him and prompted him to take out his handkerchief. Finding the place where the bleeding seemed to originate, he applied the handkerchief and said: “Keep pressure on this until the paramedics get here.”
Now quite pleased with himself, he moved on. He had done what he could; maybe he would still be able to get to work on time.
Hearing a ‘clunk’, he turned and saw that someone had actually kicked the man’s shoe to move the foot out of their way. He was appalled! He walked back to the seated figure and phoned in to tell his boss’s secretary that he would be a bit late.
While he stood guard against further abuse, he asked what had happened.
The man looked dazed. “I don’t know. Something must have hit me on the head. I blacked out.”
There was nothing on the ground that could have fallen from the building. “Is anything missing? Do you still have your wallet?”
The man searched his pockets. “No.”
“You were probably mugged. Well at least they didn’t take your watch, it looks expensive. How long have you been here?”
“I’m not sure. A few hours I think.”
That made sense. The mugging had probably taken place early, when no one else was around.
A patrol car pulled up and a police officer got out to assess the situation, standard policy in that city when an ambulance is requested. Finding that the call to 911 was genuine, he radioed for an ambulance and the Crime Scene Investigation team. He then questioned Travis, demanding his name, address, relation to the victim, reason for being in the area, and the reason he had stopped. The officer’s hostile manner suggested to Travis that for some police everyone is either a criminal or likely a criminal.
Next, the victim was questioned. When he was asked whether anything was gone other than his wallet, he looked bewildered. “I don’t know.” The policeman asked his name. The man’s face now showed panic. “I don’t know.”
At that point, paramedics arrived. They checked vital signs and took the handkerchief away to examine the wound. Travis was about to say that the handkerchief was his, when one of the paramedics dumped it unceremoniously into a plastic bag marked ‘Medical Waste’.
Travis would have no handkerchief with him that day – not that he would have used the bloody one anyway. He was distraught; he had never been out without a handkerchief. He did not feel fully dressed. He would have to buy one on his way to work, which would make him even later.
They lifted the man onto a gurney. As he was being wheeled toward the ambulance he spotted Travis walking away. “Would you come with me?” he asked.
Travis bristled at the request! He had inconvenienced himself considerably for this man; he had even waited for the ambulance. And he had given up his handkerchief. He had done more than enough. “I’m sorry, I have to get to work. I’m already late.”
“Please” the man whimpered. “You’re the only one I know.”
This was beyond unreasonable! It was absurd! The only one he knew? He didn’t know Travis.
But on further consideration, right now Travis güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri was in a sense the one person he knew. And the poor guy looked so frightened. For the second time that morning, Travis fought past his urge to avoid involvement, and said: “Ok.”
The paramedics would not permit him to ride in the ambulance because he wasn’t an immediate relative. He asked them what hospital they were going to, told the man he would meet him there, and after the ambulance left he phoned in to say that an emergency was delaying him and he would be occupied for another hour or two. Then he flagged down a taxi.
When he reached the hospital, the clerk at the Information Desk told him that the mugging victim was being examined and Travis would have to wait in the reception area.
Sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs, he was nervous. ‘I suppose’ he thought to himself, ‘this is what’s called getting out of your comfort zone’.
It was almost an hour before a doctor came out and consulted the reception clerk, who indicated Travis. The doctor came over and asked whether he was a friend or a relative. He said he didn’t know the man, and explained why he was there.
“Then we have a problem” the doctor said, “because the patient has no idea who he is, and he was brought in with no personal effects except a wristwatch. He has a slightly depressed skull fracture, suggesting that he received at least one forceful blow to the head. That type of injury rarely causes an extended retrograde amnesia but it has apparently happened in this case. I’m admitting him for observation so that we can determine whether the depressed bone is impinging on the brain. We’ll also take an EEG and perform other tests.”
“Can I see him? I told him I’d meet him here.”
“No, he’s in MRI right now and he’ll be undergoing tests for the next twenty four hours. He probably won’t be permitted visitors before tomorrow afternoon.”
Travis didn’t like breaking his word. “Please tell him that I tried to see him. Tell him I’ll come back tomorrow evening.”
After work the next day, Travis went to the hospital. It made him uneasy not to be going directly home to watch the TV news and read the paper, but he had made a promise.
As soon as he entered the man’s room, he received thanks yet again. “If not for you I might still be bleeding on that sidewalk. I’m greatly indebted to you.”
“Forget it. Every day I read stories about people who need help that I’m powerless to give. Yesterday I was able to help. It was rewarding, you don’t owe me anything.” And to change the topic, he said: “You know, you’re looking a whole lot better without all that blood running down your face.”
In fact, privately Travis found a cleaned-up Mr. Anonymous to be downright handsome.
To make further conversation, he asked: “Did you need stitches? I see a white blob at the back of your head.”
“Yes” the man answered. “That’s some goop they put on where they shaved me to sew me up. They told me it will lift off as the hair grows back.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Hey, thanks for coming.”
“I tried to see you yesterday. I hope they told you.”
“Yes, they did.”
“Do you remember anything about what happened?”
“Not a thing. My mind is a complete blank. No I take that back: The words ‘hill and dale’ keep running through my head. I have no idea why.”
A doctor came in carrying a medical chart, and conducted some tactile and cognitive tests. When he began to leave without stating the results, the man asked: “So? What’s the word, when will I get my memory back?”
“We have more tests to run” the doctor answered, “but the truth is that we won’t know even then. We’ll only be able to tell you what I’m going to tell you now: You’ve suffered a significant brain trauma that is interfering with your episodic memory. We don’t know how much of it you’ll recover. You might get all of it back, or some, or none, and it could happen piecemeal or all at once, today or years from now. I wish I could give you a firm prognosis but our understanding of the brain is still very limited. You can consult another neurologist for a second opinion if you want. I don’t think you’ll get a different answer, though.”
“Where do I go when I’m released? I have no idea where I live.”
“Before long, someone will certainly report you missing. In the meantime, there are city shelters.”
Travis had read about the conditions in those shelters. They were unpleasant, dangerous places, full of seedy characters. He didn’t like that idea.
In some Asian cultures, by saving someone’s life you become responsible for them. Travis wasn’t Asian, but he felt that he had incurred a certain obligation to this man. Almost before he knew what he was saying, he offered: “If you don’t mind sleeping on a couch you can camp at my place until you find out who you are.”
The stranger brightened. “That would be super … if your wife doesn’t mind. Or is it your girlfriend?”
“I live alone and I’m güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri not dating, so no one else will be involved.”
“I really appreciate this, uh … Hey, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Travis. Travis Collins.”
“Thanks. I wish I could tell you mine.”
“That’s ok. See you tomorrow.”
When Travis mentioned to his boss that he would be sharing his apartment temporarily with the unknown man, his boss was concerned: “You’re taking a big chance. For all you know he’s a con artist or a murderer, or a sexual predator. I’d keep my valuables with me and the bedroom door locked if I were you.”
Travis shook his head. “I know there’s no foolproof way to judge people, but I’m confident he’s not dangerous. And the police will alert me if they turn up anything bad; I told them he’ll be staying with me and to let me know when they find out who he is.”
“I hope you’re not lying dead by then.”
Travis visited the man again the next evening, and took him home the following afternoon when he was released from the hospital. Indicating the couch, which Travis had made up with a sheet, a blanket and a pillow, he said: “Sorry it isn’t a convertible but it’s seven feet long and you’re not, so I think it will be adequate.”
“Thanks, it’s fine. This is really good of you.”
Travis smiled. “I’m glad for the company. And speaking of that, while you’re here I’d like to call you something other than ‘hey you’, so how about picking a temporary name?”
“I don’t know … what about … Evan?”
“Ok, Evan. I’m going to order takeout for dinner. What kind of food do you like?”
“I like a lot of things: French, Northern Italian, Thai, …” He suddenly looked perplexed. “How did I know that?”
“There are different kinds of memory. I did some reading on the subject while you were in the hospital. Episodic amnesia doesn’t affect certain fundamental things: For instance you still know how to walk and you still know English.”
Travis’s statement that he was glad for the company was true, if somewhat misleading. It was specifically Evan’s company that pleased him: he had taken a strong liking to the man.
At the same time, this radical change in living conditions was distressing: He had never shared his home space with anyone; Evan’s presence made the apartment seem crowded. Notwithstanding the fact that Travis liked Evan very much, he was already looking forward to his guest’s departure.
Travis had no talent for small talk and Evan had his own thoughts, so they ate dinner in a somewhat awkward silence. Afterward, Evan said: “Please keep a tab showing what you spend on me. When I can get to my cash, I’ll repay you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Please. I don’t want to be a freeloader.”
“Alright, I’ll keep a tab.”
“Good. Now I’d like to take a shower if that’s ok with you.”
“Sure.” Travis pointed to a closed door. “The bathroom is right there. Toss those clothes out and I’ll put them in the hamper. We’re close enough in size that I can loan you some of my things.”
“Thanks, a change of clothes will be great” Evan said as he started to walk toward the bathroom.
Travis was watching appraisingly, and he noticed that Evan’s gait was unsteady. “Maybe a shower isn’t the best idea right now, you’re a bit wobbly.”
Evan waved dismissively. “I’m fine.”
A minute after Evan tossed his clothes out, Travis heard the shower start, followed shortly by a thud and a groan. He ran into the bathroom.
Evan was sitting on the floor of the tub as the shower spray rained down on his naked body.
“I lost my balance! Dammit, why couldn’t I have fallen backwards?”
“If you’re thinking that another blow to the head might bring your memory back, you’re dangerously mistaken” Travis informed him, shutting off the water. “That’s fiction. The last thing you need is another head injury.”
Travis now took his first good look at Evan’s body. He had noted Evan’s handsome face in the hospital and his exciting rear end minutes earlier as Evan walked toward the bathroom, but only now could Travis see the tempting cut penis with its pendant, filled-out pouch, the build just muscular enough to highlight his body’s best features, and brown hair whose wet and bedraggled state at the moment did not conceal its luster.
“Don’t move” Travis instructed.
He draped a towel over the toilet lid and went back to the tub. “Turn toward me.”
Evan turned. Travis slid his arms under Evan’s shoulders, pulled Evan against him, and lifted.
A thrill ran through Travis at the feel of Evan’s naked body. He was thankful to be wearing tight briefs under his pants; they concealed what quickly developed at his crotch.
He sat Evan on the towel and used another towel to dry him, struggling to hide the lengthening outline in his pants. Evan made no attempt to take the towel and dry himself, nor did he argue when Travis informed him: “I’m taking you back to the hospital. They shouldn’t güvenilir bahis şirketleri have released you so soon.”
The ER physician on duty allowed Travis to join Evan in the Emergency Room. The on-call neurologist was summoned, and after completing his examination he told Evan: “The EEG shows some improvement from when you were brought in the other day, but it’s still far from normal. Get a lot of sleep and don’t engage in any intense mental activity. You’re going to be a bit rocky for a while; balance and small muscle control will be a problem. If you don’t see much improvement in the next two weeks, consult your primary care physician for a referral.”
Back in the apartment, Evan said: “I really need to wash. Do you have a basin I can use for a sponge bath?”
“Yes.” Travis got a large basin, filled it with warm water, and put it on the bathroom counter along with soap, a washrag, and a towel. After draping a fresh towel over the toilet lid he brought Evan into the bathroom and sat him down. “You should be able to reach those things easily from here. Do you want help undressing?”
“No, but thanks.”
After cautioning Evan to use the sink for balance when standing, Travis left the bathroom.
There was a period of silence, presumably while Evan was taking his clothes off and reaching for the basin, then Travis heard a splash and a curse. He reentered the bathroom and saw the overturned basin on the flooded floor. A furious, naked Evan was looking down at it. “Damn! I tipped it over!”
“That’s ok, sit down” Travis said as he took a second appreciative look at Evan’s body.
He brought in some paper towels and used them to soak up the water on the floor. Then he refilled the basin. When Evan reached for it from his position on the toilet, Travis commanded: “Take your hands away. I’ll do this.”
He began washing Evan, who submitted with childlike meekness as his face, ears and neck were washed, and when Travis raised each arm to deal with the armpit. he was charmed by Evan’s capitulation; he couldn’t help but smile warmly at the man as he worked downward over Evan’s chest to his belly. He received a bashful smile in return; it caused him to almost drop the washrag: Evan’s smile was enchanting.
From Evan’s belly Travis moved the washrag directly to his thighs and then to his legs, followed by his well-formed feet. With every new area Travis encountered, his admiration increased.
Finally, he moved back up and began to wash Evan’s penis and the smooth, full pouch on which it lay. Evan’s penis began to lengthen, and by the time Travis finished washing it, Evan had a full erection.
“This is embarrassing” Evan said. “I’m sorry.”
“No need” Travis responded, looking at the nearly seven-inch member with its dark pink sculpted crown. “It’s a natural reaction.” He did not add that Evan’s was not the only stiff penis in the room. “Ok, now turn around and kneel so I can wash you in back. Hold onto the tank.”
Evan did as he was told. Travis washed his back and his beautifully-rounded buttocks, running the washrag between them and wishing he could think of an excuse to use his bare hand.
After washing the backs of Evan’s thighs and legs, Travis dried him, helped him back into the living room, and handed him the pajamas Travis had laid out. He waited while Evan put them on and got under the blanket. Then he said goodnight and went to wash up and undress.
Leaving the bedroom door open in case Evan should need anything during the night, he got into bed and fell asleep quickly, worn out from the stressful evening.
Some time later, he was awakened by an unfamiliar noise. It was not coming from anywhere in the bedroom. He glanced at the clock; it read 3:45 AM. He went into the living room in search of the sound. There he saw bedding from the couch scattered on the floor, flung there by the flailing of Evan’s arms and legs, flailing which was still in progress.
Travis knew better than to restrain someone who is having a seizure; he waited helplessly as the spasm played itself out.
When all motion had stopped, Evan lay limp. After a minute, he opened his eyes and saw Travis looking down at him. With a confused expression, he asked: “What happened?”
It was not easy to find an on-duty cab at that hour, but finally they arrived at the hospital. Travis paced up and down outside the Emergency Room for almost an hour and a half before his guest emerged and told him : “The on-call neurologist took another EEG trace. She also did some tests that weren’t done before. She says the seizure was an aftereffect of my brain injury and should be temporary.”
“You don’t have epilepsy?”
“No, I asked.”
“Yeah. She gave me some medicine which I took right away, and a prescription for another six days’ supply. It’s to prevent more seizures. She warned me it will make me drowsy, which she said is good because I should get a lot of sleep. That’s the same thing the other neurologist told me to do. She said that the medicine might not prevent the seizures completely but if I do have any they should be mild. I have to take one capsule every day for the rest of the week and then I should get a follow-up exam, unless I start to get headaches, then I have to come here right away.”
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