Broken

TWO

TWOPaco lay in the hospital bed for two weeks and the cop he saw as his savior visited him daily. He had no idea who had attacked him nor did the police. It was looking like another dead end. One more gay bashing to add to the previous attacks on the homosexuals and the homeless of Agua Verde.

It appeared that Big Jim Bullock was the only person who cared if the young man in the hospital bed lived or died. Just a cop named Jim. And maybe the doctor, but that was his job. Jim was Paco’s only visitor and with each visit he came to know the victim more. Paco was a gentle soul and there was a sadness about him that tugged at Jim’s heart.

“You’re looking better all the time,” he said. “The bruises are almost gone.”

“They say it is a miracle I am alive,” said Paco.

“And there’s better news. The doc says you’re ready to go home as long as there’s someone to look after you,” said Jim. “There’s going to be more rehabilitation and you’ll need help. That leg is still healing.”

“There is no one.”

“You must have some family who can look after you. A mother? A sister? A father?”

“No more. No, there is no one,” he said. “To mi familia, I am muerte. I am dead, Mister Chim.”

“I don’t understand.” Jim smiled at Paco’s pronunciation of his name.

“Macho, that is muy important in our culture. Very important. I am not so much that,” he laughed. “I am not manly,” he said with a flip of his wrist. “My father, he was—what is the word? Horrified. Yes, he was horrified when he discovered I was less than a man. That I was afeminado. Gay. He disowned me, told me that to the family I was now dead. I was kicked out. Of the casa and the family. They want nothing to do with me.”

“I could contact them. I can’t believe they wouldn’t want to help you.”

“No. It would do no good. In their eyes I am dead. I am no longer.”

All that Jim could think of to say was, “I’m sorry.”

“You are the one who saved me. You are my angel. Do not be sorry, Chim. It is not your fault.”

“It’s wrong,” said Jim, as much to himself as to Paco. “The one thing we have, when everything else in the world goes wrong, is the support of family. At least that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

A nurse entered the room and ushered Jim out so she could go about her business. He paced the hallway, thinking. Until he’d rescued Paco, he’d always distanced himself from those with whom he came in contact. The only time the guilty saw him after an arrest was when he appeared in court to testify against them. After that he was done. It wasn’t because he didn’t care, but keeping his distance from the perpetrators, and especially from the victims, made the job easier.

If a cop let himself get too close it was overwhelming. You spent your days seeing the worst in people. Trying to clean up the damage. Facing the senseless violence and the tragedy it brought to innocent lives. You were seen as a uniform, with all the connotations that uniform represented, everything from enemy to peacekeeper. More often than not you were looked upon as the adversary rather than the protector. It could get to you and you had to learn to let it go.

You had to leave it behind you at the end of your shift. It wasn’t easy, but if you weren’t careful you’d be swallowed by the darkness until you were no longer able to see the light.

He’d seen it happen. He’d seen the depression grab hold of a cop so tight that he couldn’t climb out of the black hole.

He’d seen it ruin their marriages, haunt their nightmares, ruin their perspective, ruin their lives until nothing was left but the darkness.

Big Jim Bullock had no intention of being one more cop who ate his gun.

A tap on his shoulder made him jump.

“You can go back in now,” the nurse said. “But keep it short. Visiting hours are almost over.”

The backwards glance she gave him as she entered the next room didn’t escape him. It was as if she were trying to size him up. Hell, he was working on that himself, he thought with a shrug as he reentered Paco’s room.

“That nurse, she is la monstra. A monster. She comes just to poke me with her needles.”

“The worst of it’s behind you,” Jim reassured him.

The mysterious bedside machines droned and beeped, accentuating the awkward silence.

Finally Paco spoke.

“Sometimes I don’t understand,” he said. “My older brother, he is in a gang. He has been in jail for doing bad things. But he is still welcome in the family. I have never caused trouble but they threw me away. You say I still need to be looked after but there is no one.”

Paco looked around the room.

“Do you think they will let me stay here?” He asked. “It’s okay except for the horrible food. It is as white and bland as the gringos who are afraid of good spices.”

Jim took Paco’s hand and leaned forward, looking into his dark, sad eyes.

“I could take you home with me,” he finally said.

And he did.