This is where I have no interesting material except that which is personal. I guess it's where I get real...

Marcus: My briefest, bestest friendship.

This story is about my best friend, whom I lost unexpectedly last year. I cannot guarantee that the story will move you to tears, or even touch you at all. I can guarantee that it will do both those things to me as I write it. The names have not been changed, for this is a tribute to the man, and that cannot be made without at least giving his first name. This is not a love story as such, for he was never my lover or anything of that sort. He was my confidante, my friend, and sadly, my strength.

We met one night at a hotel/resort in Orlando, FL. It was largely an accident that happened because of another friend who has a really big mouth. She is one of those friends that you ask to come out with you both because of, and despite the fact that you know she will embarrass you during the course of the evening. You are all thinking of someone you know as you read this. We all have friends like this. If you don't, it is because you have pushed them away, and you need to fix that. These are the people that make us step out of our comfort zones and cause us to grow. Anyway, long story short, she opens her mouth in a completely inappropriate "silence is understood" sort of situation where a collection of gay men allowed themselves to be embarrassed that they were gay men and weren't having a good time where they were as a result. She pipes in, demands a response (and there is no ignoring this girl)and all of a sudden, it was either laugh or cry, and I started laughing. So did Marcus. Most everyone else just sort of blushed and scurried away.

Soon introductions were being exchanged, I am meeting some other friends of his and vice-versa. We decide to take a walk while our friends are talking, and walk around for hours. It was like we had known each other for years. Now, I won't say that the instincts didn't kick into high gear at first. He was a very attractive man. It was different, though. We called each other "soul-mates", because we came to be such great friends almost instantly. Any thought of "relationship stuff" was just kind of thrown aside. I guess we had gotten through the "usual topics" so quickly, and moved on to deeper stuff. It seemed sort of gross to go back and try to hit on him.

So we became instant friends. We both worked for the same company as it turned out, and even in the same location, and we had never even met. I was working as a chef in the location, and he with the entertainment. It was a strange time for me. I had just "come out", and left my wife. He had moved to the "big city" so to speak from a small town in West Virginia. We spent all of our time together, and took turns setting each other up with people that were horribly wrong for us. I became great friends with his roommates, who are among the most beautiful people I have ever met. The fact that he somehow was able to surround himself with such a collection of genuinely wonderful souls is a testament to the beauty of his own. We had movie marathons of all of our favorites. He introduced me to independent movies, and I introduced him to "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and Audrey Hepburn. He also showed me all of his old "drag" photos, which he kept hidden away. He had done a lot of it in WV, and had hung it up in Orlando for fear of not being good enough,

An idea began to form in our minds. We were going to go back to WV, to the old bar he used to hang out in, and bring a show with us. He even got me convinced to do a couple of numbers. (and I DO NOT do drag) We had it all planned out, down to the songs we wanted to do. He even had his whole department at work brainstorming drag names for me. I think we finally had settled on "Eva Brazil" or something like that which alluded to my heritage. Then, however, it all ended.

I got a phone call after work one day from one of his roommates. She said that he was in the hospital, that it was Meningitis, and that I needed to come down and get tested right away since I had been in close contact with him during his contagious stage. When I got there, the roommates and I were all tested. I had the beginnings of a cold, so that was enough to convince them that I might have it. I was given antibiotics and held up from seeing him for quite a while. When I did, it was horrible. He was there in a hospital ward with a bunch of homophobic nurses who couldn't get past themselves enough to be even civil to him or us. He was in pain, and he was not getting better. The last conversation I had with him, he was not thinking clearly because of the fever. He just begged and begged me to find a way to get him out of there. I couldn't do anything at all for him.

He died a day later. In a matter of a couple of days, he had gone from alive and doing great to being dead. I just cried and cried and cried. I locked myself away for a while. When I said that he had become my strength, it was literally true. He had spent a lot of time helping me to find the strength to go forward in the choices I had made for my life. He had been there to make sure that my confidence and determination never wavered. When he was gone, it not only wavered, but died. I ran screaming back into the closet and bolted the door shut. It was like all of the wonderful things I had learned that could be a part of life weren't there anymore. I forgot all of the things that he taught me in one fell swoop. I am ashamed to admit it. I had always been such a strong and in-control person. It is just over a year later now, and I am finally beginning to figure out who I am again. I have been toying with the idea of going back to that town in WV and doing a "tribute" show, but I have doubts that I could do it alone. He was the real force behind that. I guess I will just have to discover the next step the good old fashioned way...by taking it.

Next story: Denise

Next story: Michael

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