So I leave for work on Wednesday around 9:15. The Hellcat, who has finally gone back to work (thank the lord!) on a limited basis, was already well into his cater-waiter shift that night. I really wasn't the least bit surprised that he wasn't home yet when I returned at 4:30 am. It seems every time he goes out and earns money now it leads to him immediately blowing an equal amount of money on food and booze. Which I suppose is a better choice than meth and lube. Still, it's a dangerous game he's playing. It won't be long before he runs into someone with a little coke. Then some pills. How many shots of tequila will it take before you break down and call someone you know is still using meth "just to talk"?
So I'm always a little apprehensive when 5 am rolls around and he hasn't shown. To say nothing of the fact that his dog obviously hadn't been fed since the afternoon. I dutifully scooped the dog up into bed with me as I am choice number two in the dog's sleeping options. He prefers to sleep with people, and he prefers the Hellcat's bed or bedroom. But if the Hellcat isn't home he prefers me and mine. As my bed is high and the dog has spinal problems, I made sure to clear and set up the gradual step-down I taught him to use. I assumed The Hellcat would return at some point and reclaim his dog and sleep it off. Imagine my surprise when I awoke at the crack of noon and felt the lumpy undercover evidence of a dog still in bed with me.
Now I was pissed off. The Hellcat had just returned from a 10 day vacation that extended to almost two weeks. The Ex had promised to take care of the dog. Neglecting to take into account that he himself was going away for a long weekend. So by default, I was dog-sitting on a holiday weekend. And working full time. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love, love the dog. He's cute and needy and funny and needy and likes to sleep and cuddle and be needy. The dog is boyfriend material. But I don't have time for a dog-boyfriend right now. I am frequently out of the house for twelve hours, sometimes more. The dog can and does reward you for neglect of that nature with a tiny steaming pile of poo on the kitchen floor. And while it's annoying, yeah, the poor thing needs to go out. The dog loves me. When The Hellcat isn't around he follows me from room to room. He stares at me as I'm eating dinner. Like,
“That knife and fork business is brilliant! However did you think of it! Damn these non-opposable thumbs!”
Dogs speak exclusively with exclamation points.
So when I'm home, I'll gladly give him a meal or rub his belly, but I can't do it every day. Just like all I could manage with a real boyfriend right now. Hi, hi, kiss, kiss suck fuck eat fuck gotta go, call you Tuesday. This would work with (most) real boyfriends, since he probably wouldn’t need me to facilitate his need to poo.
In any case, we got through it and here it was just a couple of days later and I have a hungry dog snuggled up with me and The Hellcat nowhere to be seen. Shortly after that my phone began to ring. I checked the number and it was from an area code I didn't know. Seeing as how I was only on my first cup of coffee I didn't answer. Someone left a message as I'm notified by e-mail when they do. A few minutes later, another call and message. It's clear that someone is trying to reach someone. Thinking perhaps it's The Hellcat on a borrowed cell I play the message. It's The Hellcat's mom. He's in jail. Sort of dissipates my anger over the dog right quick.
The story I got from the mom and later directly from The Hellcat goes something like this: Apparently, after his cater-waiter shift ended The Hellcat found him self parched. After trying to enlist The Ex on a weeknight excursion into the East Village, he set out alone. Ostensibly headed for an innocent couple of PBRs at our favorite watering hole. Somehow, he ended up drinking at The Cock with the on-again off-again boyfriend. As it does whenever those two get together and drink on a day with the word day in it, things deteriorated. I never asked what was said or why, it’s unimportant. What is important is that The Hellcat claims he ended the argument telling the OA OA boyfriend that he wasn’t going to fight with him, the relationship isn’t working, and I guess this is goodbye. Trouble is, the argument, the break-up, the whole mini-drama has become at least a bi-monthly occurrence. Why this one was different I don’t know. What happened next, I can only relate from The Hellcat’s version of events. The one where he comes off totally innocent. According to him, he had walked away and was a block away from The Cock. Suddenly he heard the OA OA boyfriend call his name from behind. When he turned around he was punched in the face. All 125 pounds of fury being brought to bear on him. Supposedly, he didn’t hit him back. Instead, he pulled out a phone to dial 911. It was then that the OA OA boyfriend went all Hannible Lecter on him and bit him, severely, on the forearm. Shocked and in pain, The Hellcat dropped the phone. The phone going in one direction, the battery in the other. In self defense now, and trying to dislodge the boyfriend from his arm, The Hellcat kneed the boyfriend in the head. The OA OA boyfriend then fell backward onto a fence, cutting his head open in the process. Bleeding and in pain, The Hellcat jumped into a passing cab, screaming wildly to the driver to call the police. He refused, and told The Hellcat to get out. Such a scene was made that a concerned passer by did call 911 for him. Apparently, the police came. It’s in dispute and unimportant whether they were called by people on the block or the OA OA boyfriend. I have no doubt they both portrayed the other as the aggressor. But the police treated it as a case of domestic violence. And it seems in New York City that when the complaint is lodged and injuries occur, someone is going to jail. Supposedly this is to protect both parties from possibly escalating the dispute later that day. A time out arrest, if you will. So after bringing The Hellcat to the hospital for medical attention, he was placed under arrest for assault. He was taken to the precinct in the middle of the night and then to central booking early in the morning. The OA OA boyfriend received six stitches in his head and was released.
I was alternately shocked, amused and concerned for The Hellcat. This was his highest drama yet since beginning this disastrous relationship. But being arrested in New York City is never a pleasant experience. It’s one thing to be taken to the precinct. But if you’re brought to central booking and enter the system, you’re in for as long as it takes. You can get yourself arrested on a Friday night and not get out until Monday. And unless you’re extremely wealthy or a celebrity or you come from a family of cops, that’s that. I was worried that he would be without his meds. I know the food there is horrible. I figured he’d deal with the prison rape issue just fine. I didn’t really know what to tell his mom without worrying her. She had spoken to him so I knew he was OK, at least. So we waited. All day. We finally heard from him around 7 pm. He was waiting for a hearing, which might come by the end of the day. He was supposed to call back at 11 pm, and when we didn’t hear from him we were hopeful he was being arraigned. About 12:45 that night he called. Out of jail and on the way home.
He was, by all accounts, treated pretty well for a gay white man with AIDS. It’s probably what got him out in a day. Score! Another benefit from HIV! He seemed relieved to be home and still pretty shaken. After he ate and took a handful of pills we had the presence of mind to document his injuries should it come to court, which I doubt it will. He really did suffer a nasty bite:
He recieved a tetanus shot, as well as antibiotics. Apparently, human bites are positively loaded with nasty bacteria. As an aside, supposedly the relationship is really over once and for all. A restraining order has been issued barring The Hellcat from any further contact. We'll see a few months from now when the arm heals and The Hellcat remembers this:
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