Michael was a creature of habit. His life consisted of a series of daily events vital to his sense of well being. The formula for a good day began with his boyfriend Amid waking him up with an early morning blowjob.
Amid was always up, cock included, long before the usual nine to fivers, tracking down the latest world events for his news magazine. The Arab language publication was his way of bridging the worlds that he loved equally. It was his vehicle for ringing a new consciousness to the world and through tolerance and understanding to make it all a better place.
By the time that his dark head slipped between Michael's legs seeking milk, he had already downed two cups of strong black coffee. Michael loved their morning rituals, the gentle kisses and slow, wet cock sucking. Fucking was much too harsh for the gentleness of early morning. A new morning always brought with it a basket full of new possibilities. The New York air somehow seemed fresher. The radio always played your favorite songs and singing along in the shower was pure heaven.
The workday began with the morning paper from Sal who had been operating the same newsstand for forty years. He pursued the headlines over coffee and bagels at Mario's. Unless he was having a business lunch Michael always bought a hot dog from the same stand that he had as a kid.
He was a stickler for tradition and the values of life, liberty and the pursuit of anything that made him happy. However, it was not a good morning for Amid. It had begun with an e-mail report from a correspondent of another bombing in Afghanistan. Killed in the attack was a three-year-old girl that Amid had nick named Phoenix because she had been at deaths door with cholera too many times and had lived to tell about it.
Now her little voice was silenced forever by Al Qaeda in a senseless act of violence. Few would remember her short life but her optimistic spirit had been one of few in a country that had seen more than its share of pain.
He had mourned for her in the only way that he knew how, by numbing his pain with Michael's stiff cock and strong arms. Their easy love sessions always soothed him and it was much easier to shed his tears through his cock.
He rode his Harley to work except when the weather forced him into the seemingly impossible task of finding a cab at morning rush hour. Still he loved the city with its unpredictable splendor.
He loved that his job not only gave him access to the city's Muslim population but also a welcome mat into an exciting exodus of nations all bonded in the commonality of the American dream.
It was that dream that had forced his family out of Afghanistan when he was four years old. They had done well for themselves in America even putting aside their strict moral code to embrace him as a gay man.
Nevertheless, a part of Amid had never left Afghanistan. It kept pulling him back every year in trips that broke his heart but reinforced his commitment to fight for its survival.
It was exactly 8: 45 when Michael sat down at his desk to begin the day. A few minutes later, a loud bang reverberated and the entire building shook so badly it made his teeth rattle.
His first reaction was that an earthquake had hit. But when smoke began spiraling into every corner, he knew that it was much worse. People began panicking and running for the suddenly stalled elevators.
The events that led him out of the building would forever be blurry to Michael. He remembered the fire, the sickening twist of softened metal. He remembered calling 911 and debris falling from the ceiling all around him.
He remembered pulling a screaming woman towards the stairwell and both of them praying to God to take them safely out of their sudden nightmare. It seemed like days before he felt the wind on his face, charred and reeking of fear, yet sweet because at least he was still breathing.
Amid was on the phone when his research editor burst in.
"Turn on CNN," his voice quivered so horribly that it took a few seconds before Amid had understood what he was saying.
He flipped on the TV while trying to end his call and trying to find what was wrong at the same time. When his confused brain finally made sense of the report words failed him. The phone slipped unnoticed from his numb fingers. Everything seemed to move in slow motion.
He left his chair and forced his legs outside. The extent of his fear for the life of his beloved weighed him down. It made him sick to his stomach. He carried that fear in his heart as he rushed to the scene. A block away from the bombing he watched in stupefied amazement as Tower One collapsed. Amid the confusion, he had no way of knowing if Michael was still trapped inside.
Then he got a call from Michael saying that he was at the hospital.
"I've got nothing more than scrapes and bruises," he assured Amid. "But Jack is in real bad shape," he added referring to the happy- go- lucky soul who had introduced them at a Christmas party three years earlier.
Amid and Jack were childhood friends who had been brought even closer as they got older by Jack's unrepentant flamboyant personality. He had been Michael's lifeline when he had first joined the stressful world of high stakes investments.
His voiced cracked as he relayed their friends' bad news. "He's burned over eighty-percent of his body. I think that you should get to mount Sinai real quick."
As he drove like the devil was on his tail Amid recalled how Jack's upbeat personality had gotten them through many hardships. He mantra was that things would always work out.
But right then it was hard to believe that anything would ever be all right again. Could he be optimistic when he felt dead inside? He would have to muster up some courage for Jack's sake.
It would take all of their strength to get him through the rough times ahead. The emergency room was in chaos. Amid found Michael sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. Bryan, Jack's boyfriend was crying silently in a corner. Amid gave him a long hug and encouraging words.
Then he sank down beside his lover and took Michael in his arms. It was hours before they moved, hours before they heard any news about Jack. The prognosis was not good.
"If you are at all spiritual this is the time to pray," the doctor told them.
