Chapter 40: On The Mend

Tuesday, November 5, 1985

As planned, they stopped my antibiotic around two in the afternoon. This time, it took almost two hours for my fever to get up to 100 °F. That was a significant improvement!

They resumed giving me the antibiotic at that point, but everyone had high hopes I could go off of it for good on Thursday. That was the single biggest remaining step before I could be sent on my way. The incision was healing nicely and they were confident I wouldn’t injure myself simply walking around campus.

I didn’t just work on homework. Some of my ample free time was spent reading for pleasure, and some was spent catching up with the newspapers. It was while reading the Houston paper that I learned the Supreme Court had granted certiorari to Baker v. Wade. The article mentioned that it was in preference to Bowers v. Hardwick, and they assumed the Court would rule on the entire issue of sodomy laws via Baker.

I was pretty thrilled. In my first life, the Court had decided Bowers the ‘wrong’ way, and my assumption was they would have done the same again this time. Baker was an entirely different decision, though, and Curtis had written it with the advantage of having read Bowers and seeing what holes might need to be filled. Not that Curtis could have known that Bowers was ‘doomed,’ but he would still have looked for weaknesses and addressed them.

The other variable was that the Court had ruled on Bowers in light of a divided set of circuits. The Eleventh, in Bowers, had rejected sodomy laws, but the Fifth, in that universe’s Baker, had upheld sodomy laws. In this universe, two circuits had independently rejected them. That, in itself, might tip the balance.

High stakes for Curtis, certainly. This was his first prominent decision, and it would either serve as the basis for the Court striking down sodomy laws or would be reversed, something no circuit court judge enjoys.

Either way, I doubted it would change who Curtis was. It might, though, affect how many additional ripples might flow from him in the future.

Oral arguments would not be until the spring, and the decision would likely come out next summer, so we would be following this from afar for a while yet.

I couldn’t remember who had argued on the side of Hardwick, but I was pretty sure it had been a relative heavyweight. They had lost, but the same person might win in this universe given Curtis’s ruling as the basis of argument. Certainly, this case warranted bringing out the best available lawyer, and I hoped that would happen.

The flip side was also true. Georgia had argued on behalf of Bowers in my universe. In this one, who would argue on the side of Wade? The appeal had come from Danny Hill, the Potter County DA who had taken the case to the Fifth Circuit. Danny Hill was, to put it mildly, not a legal heavyweight. Would he be ready to argue before the Supreme Court? Would he have credibility with them? It was probably Hill who had won the Fifth Circuit case in my first life, but I couldn’t be sure of that. He had lost 10-6 in this one. Curtis alone didn’t explain that, unless perhaps it was Curtis lobbying his peers and leading the questioning during the hearing.

Much to ponder, and so many unknowns. We would just have to wait and see.

The girls came by after classes and had dinner with me. Well ... they had fast food, I had hospital food. They definitely came out ahead, and that might even include health-wise.

Today was election day in Houston, so we all watched the early newscasts together. Those had no real information, however, just punditry and some anecdotal reports about turnout.

Once we had gotten past the TV news, Angie said, “I have some news of my own.”

“Oh?” I said.

“I ... well, Paige and I, but...”

“She wrote it,” Paige said. “I helped, but it’s hers, like it has to be.”

“Anyway,” Angie said. “I have a draft reply to Sharon. I want everyone’s input.”

Cammie and Mel perked up, and Mel said, “Us, too?”

“Definitely you, too. That’s why I’m sharing it now.”

They grinned a bit.

“So ... here it goes. ‘Dear S: I hope the first word tips off that I am not telling you to go away. Your note created so many emotions in me that I did not know where to begin. After much thought, I decided starting at the end, or nearly, was the best.

“‘I wish you every success along your journey. While I cannot begin to put myself in your shoes, I know it cannot be easy. I will be hoping for your success every step of the way. Please know that. It will make me very happy if you succeed and find a new life for yourself that you can embrace and enjoy.

“‘So much of the rest was hard to read. I did not know — could not have known — the things you shared, and it is almost certainly better that I didn’t. I would not have been ready to know them. Your revealing them now seems quite brave to me, and I hope much good comes of it. For much of it, I simply trust your therapist to help you decide how to move forward. No one can change the past, but the future is what we make of it.

“‘I am still sharing little, but I will say that, if I myself would not say I am amazing, my life is amazing. I almost feel bad sharing that, because I know yours is not amazing at all, but I know you wish the best for me. Good came out of bad. Success came out of near-disaster. The right things happened in the end.

“‘As you did, I am writing this next part to explain something, in case it matters. This is a longer note, intentionally, but I am not always sure what is best for you to hear. I am asking your therapist to read it and hold back anything they feel is not right to share. Perhaps all of it is fine, but I would feel terrible if I overstepped and inadvertently did harm. I think your therapist would do so anyway — may be required to — but I am also asking.

“‘That future meeting is always on my mind. Paradoxically, perhaps this last year delayed it but also brought it closer and more likely to happen. I am impatient, and I know you are, too. But I also know that patience is the only option. We may want things to happen quickly, but rushing isn’t wise.

“‘In the end, whatever else happened — and we both know that so much did — you gave me life. I believe you also did what you could to protect me to the best of your ability at the time. And, in the end, you let me go when it mattered most. Please be well, stay in touch, stick to your plan, and find happiness in life as often as you can. I want you to be happy. I want you to enjoy your life.’”

She stopped, sighing.

“Too much? Just right? Not enough?”

Cammie spoke first, saying, “Please, just ... listen ... first. That was ... hard. Our stories are so different, but ... you can talk to the person who endangered your life. I ... can’t. I’m ... in a way, I’m really envious, which sounds crazy, but...”

She shook her head a little, then said, “It was beautiful and you’re amazing for writing it. I ... would probably use a lot more angry words.”

“I’ve had almost four more years to recover,” Angie said, softly. “And ... Sharon was wildly irrational at the time. I may think your parents were wildly irrational, but they were also stone-cold sober and they don’t get a pass for being religious nuts. Well ... fuck. Maybe they do. It’s like ... both situations are addicts, right? Sharon was hooked on drugs and sex. They were hooked on religion. The first hit seems really good. By the time things start sucking, it’s way too late and you’re hooked.”

Cammie snorted a bit, then said, “Um ... yeah.”

Then she paused, shook her head, and said “No. That sounded weird, but the more I think about it, it’s ... something I need to talk to my therapist about. It’s ... yeah. They kinda are addicts. They just haven’t realized it.”

Angie scooted over and hugged her. Cammie hugged right back.

“I got some of those vibes,” Mel said. “Fewer, but ... yeah. In terms of Sharon, though, I think it was beautiful and just the right tone. My heart says share even more, my mind says she’s still deeply on probation and even that might be oversharing.”

“Me, too,” Jas said. “All of that.”

“And me as well,” I said. “It was good. I get every bit of your impatience. This feels like it’s been forever. But ... it’s a slow process for a reason. The other thing is ... honestly, we’re playing with fire in so many ways. Give Sharon a hint that you’re financially well off and that’s a temptation. Will marrying a girl set her off? Something else? We don’t know. She sounds like she’s nice and stable and rational, but that’s in a letter she wrote with her therapist helping and that she says they spent months on. She probably bounces from good days to bad days.”

“Couldn’t imagine she doesn’t,” Angie said, nodding. “Any normal person would, and she’s not a normal person. She’s a recovering addict. A recovering serious, major addict. Much farther down the rabbit hole than I ever got. She may never be a ‘normal person,’ really. A normal person has a bad day and says, ‘Damn, that sucks! Hopefully tomorrow will be better. Let’s have a good cry and see.’ A recovering addict may well say, ‘Damn, that sucks! Fuck, I want to get high. This is awful! My life sucks! I don’t know if I can face tomorrow!’”

“Which ... sounds as bad as you probably meant it,” Paige said.

“It does. I’m not saying she’ll harm herself. Her therapist doesn’t seem to think that, so ... probably not. But ... yeah. Not like I didn’t have a few days while sitting in county jail waiting for trial, knowing how screwed I was and also detoxing, where I thought about how much easier it would be to give up. I just wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction.”

“And that sounds worse,” Paige said, hugging Angie tightly.

“Oh, way worse!” Angie said. “I feel like that’s a big fat ‘no’ on getting another try and winding up with an amazing girlfriend.”

“So ... what next?” I said, after they’d exchanged a quick kiss.

“I sit on it for a week or so, talk it over with Jane, then she sends it. This is pre-Jane. You guys get first dibs. If Jane has major edits, they go back to our family.”

“Makes sense,” I said, with everyone else nodding along.

“Thanks,” Angie said. “None of this would happen without all of you. Yes, you too, Mel. And Cammie.”

They both blushed, but smiled just as much. Big smiles, too!

The late news confirmed that Louie Welch and the entire Straight Slate crew had lost, and lost (in general) fairly decisively. Only two of the council races were close, but not close enough to force a runoff. I gave the girls a call. They were already celebrating and had already heard from a few GSS friends.

I didn’t expect Straight Slate to try again. Aside from their success in revoking the gay rights ordinance, they had wasted quite a bit of time and effort proving that Houstonians wouldn’t support candidates in numbers high enough to win solely for being anti-gay.

The gay community would, in the end, come out of this in a good position. It was a win for people I cared about and a loss for people I detested.

With this, we could hopefully relax a bit. Until prom season came around, there were no more gay rights fights for us to worry about day to day. I wouldn’t even be involved much during prom season, but some of the others would have some busy days in April and May.

Last time, I hadn’t been nearly as invested in this fight. I had never had a vote in any Houston election to date, but I also hadn’t had any stake in gays being treated well in my first life. Oh, I had opposed Straight Slate and was happy they lost, but it wasn’t a big deal to me. Now, this was my family. It just mattered more.

Wednesday, November 6, 1985

The phone rang in the late afternoon while I was working on some homework. I set it aside and answered.

“Hello?”

“Steve!” came Michael’s voice. “Don’t you die on me!”

“No intention of it!” I said. “They say I’m doing much better. Death seems very unlikely at this point. I’m probably getting out of here tomorrow or Friday.”

“Good! I need you healthy! Not right away, but ... in general. Plus, it would just suck.”

“It would!”

He chuckled, and said, “As you can guess, I tried calling the house. I got ... Mel, I think ... and she pointed me to the hospital. She did a good job of reassuring me, or I would have been more worried.”

“I probably should have called, but you’re busy and I didn’t want to give you another worry. You have too many as it is.”

“You can say that again!” he said. “Really, it’s fine, it’s just ... yeah. We’ve got some stability problems on both a new design and one that’s already out there. Nothing bad, but some mysterious crashes the guys can’t pin down. I don’t think it’s serious, except ... everything’s serious until you understand it.”

“I get that,” I said.

“That’s ... mostly the news, operations-wise. Little things that turn into big things. A component shortage here, a new part that doesn’t quite act like a drop-in replacement — that sort of thing. That, and cash flow. We had a couple of tight moments last quarter. Nothing threatening, but there were times where we held a payment for a few days longer than we really wanted to, or let inventory get lower than I would like. Nothing that will peg us as a slow payer or anything, but ... well, as you know, cash flow was a problem when we started, and it can still be a problem.”

“I totally get that,” I said. “I’m glad it’s nothing worse, or at least not yet.”

“We’ve got some mitigations in place for the next quarter, I think,” he said. “Probably. And we did just pick up two new lines of credit. Not as much as I wanted, but it’s eased things. I can give you some more details if you want when you’re out of the hospital, but it’s really just operations stuff. Mostly, it’s noteworthy because lines of credit have been pulling teeth to get recently. I really need that operations guy, though. I’ve got feelers out, and a couple of names have come back. There’s almost no chance I’ll be hiring one before next spring, so you don’t have to worry about it in the short term, but I may do a preliminary interview or two in the next month or three. It’s going to be a process, no matter what.”

“Always the conflict,” I said. “You need to do it right, because it really matters, but you also need the help yesterday.”

“That’s it, in a nutshell,” he said. “But, if I do it wrong, it’s ten times the headache.”

“Definitely!”