Ben pulled over at the Honey Dip Donut Store. He let Pete out of the back of the car and undid his handcuffs.
"So you trust me," Pete said.
"Not really," replied Ben,"but I'm sure I can run faster than you."
They grabbed a table.
"Why did you bring me here, uh..."
"Ben."
"Ben"
"A long time ago when you were in your early twenties you were given to me as a sort of dossier. I was supposed to keep an eye on you."
"Well you didn't."
"Ya, I kinda did."
"Why me?"
"It was a new project about gay cops looking out for troubled young gay guys. They thought we might have some things in common."
"Oh please, what could we possibly have in common. Look at you."
"Look at me what"
"All handsome and put together, and me, I'm all fucked up Ben. And we're about as similar as a halibut and a goat"
"It sounded good in theory."
"So you're a fag." said Pete.
"I am a homosexual."
"Look, I know what happened to you Pete. I know your history."
"You don't know everything. There's shit that's not in some file you might have read. Seriously can we just go."
"Pete, I'll go to court with you. It would look good. Help you out a little."
Pete stared out the window for a bit.
He began, "If Justin goes to jail I'm going to be in trouble."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"I thought you knew everything."
"I know you spend every waking moment with him."
"It's more complicated than a boyfriend thing."
"You want to hear what I think?"
"No, I don't." Pete was becoming antsy.
Ben continued, "I think you two are co-dependent. I also think one of you has feelings for the other. Haven't figured out which way is which yet. I think it's you who has a thing for him if I was to place a bet.
Pete just went silent.
"And I tell you now that if you continue hanging out with him you'll get hurt, you'll get into trouble and you will never ever stop drinking and using."
"You are not unique Pete. I've seen all this before."
"Fuck you."
"I'm trying to help you Pete."
"Where the fuck did you come from? Why are you doing this to me?"
"I am trying to help you. I have been watching you...and like I said I've arrested you five times...and that's my limit with you guys... and right now Pete, enough's enough.
"You're one of those people who thinks they can save me. Well, Ben, you can't."
"I can give it a shot."
Justin was sentenced to three months in jail.
Pete did go to court for his latest charge and the judge (who also knew Pete well) decided to try some creative sentencing. She demanded that Pete attend 90 Alcoholics Anonymous meetings over the next 90 days. Upon hearing the sentence Pete shouted out, "That's a crock of shit!" He was told to be quiet. He promptly screamed "I'm not a fucking alcoholic!" "Mr Jaffey! Compose yourself!" said the judge sternly. "Fuck you!".
Ben leaned over and loudly whispered "Pete please"
The court guards were called over to take Pete out of the courtroom. He struggled and wrestled with them.
Ben leaned over and told the judge how sorry he was.
"And who are you?" asked the judge.
"I'm Officer Ben Cundiff, Toronto Police."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm trying to keep him out of trouble."
At that moment the guards tackled Pete to the ground almost knocking Ben over in the process. Ben got back on his feet and dusted himself off.
"And how's that going for you?" the judge asked Ben.
Ben picked up Pete when he was released from jail.
"You have to go to these meetings starting tomorrow," Ben instructed.
"You know I still don't really know who you are, right?"
"There's one at 252 Bloor St. W. tomorrow at 7:30 a.m.."
"Are you fucking kidding me? 7:30? In the morning?"
"Yes Pete, and if you don't go you'll go to jail. And, you know what..."
"What?"
"I can be the one who arrests you."
"Fuck you man."
Pete turned and stared out the window for a while.
His eyes were becoming a bit moist.
"Are you crying?" asked Ben.
Pete looked at Ben and asked "When can I see Justin?"
That night Pete couldn't sleep so at about 4 a.m. he went for one of his typical wanders.
This time he wandered down Parliament St. and turned left on Winchester and then left again into the Necropolis Graveyard. He was surprised the gate was unlocked. He walked past the little chapel and found a horizontal benchlike gravestone. He laid down on it for a little snooze. He was thinking, "This location will have to go in my coffee table book."
He was staring at the chapel with one eye open, one eye closed.
He sat up.
He realized he had been thinking about the cop, Ben. Ben. Not Justin. Ben.
And the feeling he had, although brief, was different.
He was a little shaken by whatever that was.
It had begun snowing and Pete was a little cold. He wandered over to the little chapel and on the off-chance it was open tried the door. It was.
He stepped cautiously in the darkness. When he turned a corner he saw a beam of light from a lamppost streaming through a stained glass window revealing a room with pews and an alter. The beams of light were all different colours. Dust floated.
Pete sat in one of the pews.
He stared at the gold cross which was on the alter shimmering. He was a bit transfixed.
After a while Pete came to the stark realization that in the middle of this calm and beauty he was really fucking angry.
He looked up to the light, paused, and said one word. Softly.
"Why?"
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