All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language, please exit now.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
"THE PASSION OF MATTHEW"
Copyright Ritchris 2005
A story by
Ritch Christopher
Literary enhancement by
Les Martin
No more lives torn apart
and wars would never start
and time would heal all hearts.
Ev'ry one would have a friend.
That right would always win
and love would never end,
Excerpted from "My Grown-Up Christmas List"
Written by David Foster and Linda Thompson
Copyrighted 1990 Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Co.
Chapter Nine
<><><><><><><><><><><>
Friday night and all day Saturday, Hank wallowed in a sensual world with Lance, swallowing as many lies as Lance could tell and get away with, as well as swallowing anything else that Lance wanted to put down Hank's throat. Sex between them had never been better because they had never spent a whole night together. Hank loved being physically near Lance for such a long period of time. Lance, on the other hand, had never experienced continuous sex with anyone, male or female, and he was delighted.
Deep inside, Hank probably knew that Lance was taking him for a ride, but with all the stress he had gone through with Matt for the past two weeks, he didn't care whether Lance meant what he said or not because Hank was simply enjoying Lance's company just as well as he loved the sexual marathon.
On Saturday, the day after Matt had been taken to the hospital by Hank, the doctors discharged Matt, allowing him return home with his uncle. Mike called his house to get either Bob or John to come to the hospital to pick up him and Matt. It was nearly noon and Bob and John were still asleep or so Mike was told by Jim when Mike called. Jim didn't tell Mike about the strange bedroom noises he heard coming from Bob and John's room most of the night. Art had driven to the worksite to supervise some of the manual labor that the lesser crew did on the weekends. So Jim told Mike that HE would drive down to the hospital and get them.
After Matt had confessed to Mike that he loved Hank, the two of them had a long talk. Mike told Matt that he didn't condemn two men who were in love with one another.
"Matt, it's up to each man to decide who he wants for a mate and it shouldn't be anybody else's business."
"But Uncle Mike, I...I can't choose Hank to be my mate. He'd never have me for HIS mate."
"You don't know that, Matt. Hank is mature for his age. He's the kind of person who looks beneath the skin and sees the real beauty in a person."
"Look at me, Uncle Mike! Hank would have to look hard and deep to see beneath my horrible skin. Sure, when I was about to be sent home from Germany, some little asshole of a medical assistant came in to see me. He had a box of wigs and toupées for me to try. Long hair, short cut, blonde, brunette, even red hair. He put numerous ones on my head and asked me to look into a mirror. I looked fucking ridiculous! Some chaplain came by several times and he, too, talked about inner beauty and I decided if I can't look beneath my own skin to find my inner beauty, then, sure as hell, nobody else can either."
"I'm sure you've thought about plastic surgery many times, Matt."
"Yes, and you know as well as I that my lungs couldn't take the anesthesia as many times as the plastic surgeons would have to operate on me."
"I wish I knew what to say, Matt..."
"You know, I tried for the longest time to find something positive about my injuries."
"Did you ever find something positive?"
"Yeah, one thing. I will never have to shave again!"
"Well, Pollyanna, that's one thing to be glad about."
"That chaplain kept telling me how lucky I was to be alive. Ha! Big joke! I looked around the ward at the rest of the injured guys, mostly Marines. Some had no legs or no arms. Some were brain dead. Some were burned as badly as I. Huh! At night when the nurses and doctors weren't around, us guys would talk out loud to one another. It was if we all had the same injuries and we would become angry, wanting to blame someone. The Marine psychiatrist told me that was normal. If we felt we had done no wrong, then someone else was to blame."
"So who did you blame, Matt?"
"I don't care what the fucking news services say about how we feel about the war because everyone of us blamed President Bush, Vice-President Cheney, and Secretary Donald Rumsfeld. ALL OF US! We were fed that line of bullshit that we were going after the people who hijacked the planes and rammed them into the World-Trade Center. And hoo-hah! We became gung-ho GIrines...going off to battle to defend the good old USA. Well, we didn't find any 'weapons of mass destruction' because there WERE none to be found. We were persuaded to believe that old Saddam Hussein had paid the hijackers and 9-11 was all his fault. If any of us had had any sense, we'd've realized that the hijackers were not Iraqis. We were bombing villages and towns all over Iraq, killing literally thousands of women, children, old people, and regular innocent Iraqi citizens...and for what? To give them their freedom! If that were the case, why were we KILLING them?"
"I've asked myself that very same question, Matt."
"HA! And then, every place we looked, we saw a bunch of Cheney's cronies from Halliburton, Cheney's company, and we weren't getting paid for doing the military work. No, our checks were held back as far as six months. Some of the guys had no money to send to their wives in the states and they wound up losing their homes. Their wives and children had to move into shelters and live on welfare and food stamps. BUT, according to the grapevine, Halliburton never missed getting a cent of the billions which were promised to them. The Iraqi people hated our guts and wanted us to leave. THEY didn't ask us to liberate them, so why the fuck did Bush insist on doing it? None of us were doing the duties for which we had been assigned. I saw doctors who were driving Jeeps and Humvees to protect the Halliburton employees. We had to become armed guards to escort all of Bush's oil diggers and Cheney's rebuilding teams. Shit! We just blew the buildings to smithereens and right behind us were trucks filled with building supplies to restore what we had just destroyed. Did that make sense?"
"No, Matt."
"When news reporters came by to ask us questions, we were ordered by high command NOT to speak the truth or tell them how bad things were. We had to lie and pretend we were following in Audie Murphy's footsteps and say what heroes we were and how we were winning the war! Shit! That war will never be won by us, even if the rest of the free world became our allies. That wouldn't stop it!"
"Was it really that bad, Matt?"
"Worse. You remember how the Vietnam vets use to say that they were treated like convicts when they came home? Well, we're being treated worse than them. Hell, they won't even let the news media show the caskets when they're brought back home. Usually, the air transports have to arrive after midnight when no one is around. Do you have any idea of how many guys are just like me...maimed, shot up, amputees, crazy in the head, lost forever with no hope? There are THOUSANDS of us and no one will ever hear our story because no one has the guts to tell the truth! No one has been strong enough or influential enough to stand up against Bush and tell the world how corrupt he is and what he's done to OUR nation while lying about our freeing up another nation!"
"You're right, Matt. No one has really taken an opposite stand."
"So look at me, Uncle Mike! Look at my arm with no hand! Look at my leg with no foot. Look at my face with no eyebrows or lips...scarred several inches deep! Look at my hairless head! TAKE A GOOD GODDAMNED LOOK and tell me that Hank can fall in love with me! Hell, Helen Keller was blind and deaf and even someone like her couldn't fall in love with me after the first time she touched my face."
By now, Mike was in tears. He had no answers. He could now understand why Matt wanted to die. He had no words of comfort or wisdom to offer his nephew. He wiped his eyes and stood up to go out the door just as the doctor was entering the examining room to discharge Matt. Matt's breathing had improved and was now as normal as possible. After Matt had been given a shot of an antidepressant to mellow his mood, the doctor handed Mike several new prescriptions, one or two of which would be put into Matt's steaming ventilator to make his breathing easier at home. When the doctor had left, Mike told Matt he had to go to the hospital lobby to wait for Jim to come get them.
The shot finally relaxed Matt and he lay there staring at the ceiling while Mike was gone. Matt told himself that he hated Hank and he hated Lance, remembering what Lance had called him. Matt thought to himself that Lance's first reaction would be the same that he'd receive from any of Hank's friends if he were to ever meet another one. No doubt, Hank would be just as embarrassed, just as angry, and humiliated as Matt if they were ever seen together outside of Philemon. Nope! It was pointless and hopeless to ever think Hank or ANYONE could ever love him or want to be seen in public with him. Matt had been depressed for a long time, but now his depression was more severe. He HAD to find a way to die!
<><><><><><><><><><><>
Mike was waiting inside the entrance to the hospital when Jim drove up in his SUV. Telling Jim to wait, Mike returned to Matt's room and helped the youth into a wheelchair. He rolled Matt to the elevator and they descended to the lobby. The sliding glass doors parted and Mike pushed Matt outside. Matt had objected to being seated in a wheelchair but Mike explained that all discharged patients must leave the building in one. Mike told Matt it was a hospital rule from coast to coast, so Matt relented and quieted down. As soon as he was outside, Matt stood up on his prosthesis before getting into the back seat of Jim's vehicle. Jim spoke to Mike and Matt cordially, which was about as friendly as Jim ever got with anyone.
"Sorry if I kept you guys waiting," Jim said. "I stopped at the Chevron station to fill up."
"That's OK, Jim, we weren't waiting long. I'm just glad you were able to pick us up," Mike replied.
"Oh, when you called, the phone woke Bob and John and they were going to come down to get you, but they looked like they could both use a hot shower and some breakfast and I told them I didn't mind."
"Did Art go to the site?"
"Just after the cock crowed three times," Jim said. Mike was slightly amazed at Jim trying to crack a joke; he had never shown a sense of humor before.
"Jim, I was wondering if you would take me to the site. There are few things I want to make sure the guys get to today."
"No problem, Mike. If you want to stay with Art until he comes home, I can take Matt home, myself."
"That would be awfully nice of you, Jim."
"Matt, I'm really sorry I didn't come to the hospital with Mike, Art, Bob, and John to see about you last night."
"That's OK, Jim. I wasn't awake to see them either...only Uncle Mike and then only when I woke up."
"I guess that's why I wanted to pick you up today, to ease my sense of guilt."
"No need to feel guilty, Jim," Matt said. "You can come to see me when I have my next attack."
"I hope there won't be another one, Matt," Mike said.
"Oh, there will be! It's just a matter of time. Maybe the next one will be the last one," Matt replied in a sullen voice.
Mike and Jim remained silent and neither of them responded to Matt's comment.
"Did you have breakfast, Jim?"
"I had a bowl of cereal, Mike."
"Could I ask you to fix Matt something to eat when you get him home?"
"Uncle Mike, if I'm hungry I can fix my own food or at least let ME ask Jim, not you asking him for me."
"Sorry, Matt," Mike uttered.
"Damn, EVERY ONE of you think of me as being helpless and I'm not!"
"I know it, Matt---I said I'm sorry."
Jim added. "Oh, by the way, Matt, those meals you've been help Hank to fix in the evening have been mighty good. Did you ever consider becoming a cook?"
"Jim, I think a one-armed cook is about as useful as a one-armed wallpaper hanger."
"Maybe you could MANAGE the cooking and tell the other cooks what to do. You were a Marine, so I'll bet you're pretty good at giving orders!" Jim said.
"You know Jim, I'd expect that kind of bullshit from Uncle Mike, Art, John, or Bob, but I never thought I'd hear it from you," Matt retorted.
The SUV arrived at the site and Mike saw Art busily telling the workers what to do. Jim stopped the van and Mike got out.
"Matt, if you need me or need anything, call me or have Jim call me. Are you sure you're gonna be all right?"
"Once I get home and back in my room, I oughta be just fine."
Jim looked at Matt and said, "Hey Matt, would you like to get into the front passenger's seat or do you want to stay where you are?"
"I think I'd like to ride up front with you. I feel awkward sitting back here like you're my chauffeur."
"Do you need help or can you make it up here by yourself?", Mike asked.
"What the fuck do YOU think?" Matt asked, sneering.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that you COULDN'T do it, I just thought maybe I could help you a little."
"Thanks, but no thanks!"
Matt opened the back door, got out, closed the back door and got into the passenger seat where next to Jim.
"I won't ask if you need help putting on your seat belt," Jim said.
"GOOD! Don't ask because I don't need any help, thank you!"
Once Matt's seat belt was in place, Mike closed the door from the outside and Jim drove away from the site toward the house.
"How do you feel?" Jim asked, trying merely to be friendly.
"Shitty!"
"I'm not surprised. You know, Matt, we've never really sat down to have a private chat."
"So?"
"So I'd like to get to know you better. I'd like you to get to know me."
"Why?"
"Matt, I have MORE than just a good idea of what you're going through."
"I don't see any burn scars on YOUR body!"
"I don't have any, Matt, but my brother did."
"Your brother was burned like me?"
"Yes, Matt, only worse."
"Bullshit!"
"I know you think no one has had it worse than you, but some others have...my brother, for example."
"How did he get burned?"
"My brother's name was Patrick. He was a Marine just like you. He was deployed to Iraq as soon as Bush declared war."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. Patrick was one of the first to be wounded by a roadside bomb, just like you."
Matt didn't know whether or not to believe Jim. Jim could be making up the story just to empathize with Matt, but Matt listened as Jim continued.
"Patrick wasn't in a Humvee, he was in a plain old army CJ-7 Jeep. The bomb exploded underneath the Jeep's gas tank and like you, he was burned from head to toe. That's a bit of exaggeration, Matt."
"I thought so."
"No, what I meant was, Patrick didn't have any toes to burn. The explosion caused him to lose both of his feet AND both hands."
"He was a 'quad'?"
"A TOTAL quad. They didn't have time to send him to Germany because the hospital unit wasn't set up there yet, so the military doctors operated on him in a tent back at his base. They amputated both arms at the shoulder and both legs at his thighs. There used to be a joke about the quadriplegic who liked to play baseball and everyone asked him what position he played and he said, 'third base'. Then someone asked how can you play third base without arms or legs and the quad replied, 'I AM third base!'. That's what Patrick used to call himself...'Third Base'."
"I can't believe this, Jim..."
"Well, it's true. Your uncle told me that you had no burn scars below your waist to the top of your thighs."
"I don't."
"Well, Patrick had NO unscarred areas on his body. He was burned all over. They sent him home to die that way. Our mom and dad were both dead and we two were all each other had, so it became my responsibility to take care of him, while at the same time, trying to get my degree from the university."
"How could you do both?"
"I couldn't. I dropped out of school to take care of Patrick. He couldn't walk or do ANYTHING by himself. I had to become HIS arms, hands, legs, and feet. He needed total care. I fed him, bathed him, took him to the toilet, read to him, watched TV with him, but most of all, Matt, I loved him."
"You sure it wasn't pity and not love?"
"He was my brother, Matt. Of course I loved him. If he had had two good arms and legs, I would have loved him just the same. He was depressed, naturally, just as you are, I'm sure. I shouldn't be saying this to you, but he used to cry all the time when his antidepressants were wearing off. Then he...he'd beg me to put a pillow over his face just to let him die and get away from the world that put him in that condition. I had no fear of Patrick killing himself, because in reality, there was no conceivable way he could do it."
"Didn't you love him enough to end his misery?"
"Yes, I did and I COULD have obeyed his wish, but as long as he was alive, he was the only family I had left to be with. Maybe I was selfish in the long run, but I wanted him to live as long as possible."
"Didn't his appearance disgust you?"
"In no way. I mean, he didn't look like the Patrick I knew before he went to Iraq, but underneath, he was still the same person I'd loved all my life. Sure, his outward appearance was difficult for me to accept at first, but inside, he was still the handsome Patrick I loved and that's what I saw every time I looked at him or held him in my arms."
"Did he die?"
"Eventually, but only after I had cared for him about six months. Matt, if I've been distant to you, it's only because you remind me so much of Patrick. God, there have been nights when you've awakened me with your screams. It was all I could do to keep myself from running to your side and putting my arms around you. Without your knowing about Patrick, I always thought you'd get the wrong idea about me if I showed you physical affection."
"I...I'm sorry that I caused you so much grief..."
"You haven't, Matt. I've been building a mountain of guilt inside myself for not assisting you, helping you, caring for you, yes, even loving you."
"You could...love me? Even with the way I look?"
"Yes, Matt, very easily."
"I...I don't know what to say, Jim..."
"Just say you'll try to forgive me for not 'being there' for you and that you'll give me the chance to make it up to you."
"I...I guess I'm really not as bad off as Patrick. I mean, I CAN walk and I CAN use one hand."
"Yes, and I'll bet there's a hundred more things you could do if you tried."
"HA!"
"I mean it, Matt. I've seen how you've responded to the attention Hank has given you. You're almost a changed person. I want to help you as well."
"I'll...I'll think about it, Jim, but I'm not promising anything to you."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Why were you in Hank's Jeep last night? No one at the house knew where you were."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you!"
"Try me. I wish I could get you to trust me just a little. I mean, I would like to be your friend and ANYTHING you say to me, stays with me. I won't tell a soul!"
"God! I haven't trusted anyone in so long..."
"Try starting now..."
"OK, here goes. This'll probably sound silly to you, or rather adolescent, but I got this crazy idea in my head that I thought I was in love with Hank."
"You mean like man-man love or just friendly love?"
"Man-man love."
"So you're...gay?"
"I don't think I'm anything, but, yes, I wanted to have a gay relationship with Hank."
"But Hank's straight, isn't he?"
"Right now, he's spending the weekend with his boyfriend from back home."
"I had no idea, Matt!"
"I think you and Uncle Mike are the only ones who don't know about Hank. Art does and I'm pretty sure Bob and John do, too."
"So Hank was going to see his boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"So what were you doing in the car with him? Did Hank invite you to have a threesome?"
"Hell, no! Although I would have loved it. But Hank didn't know I was hiding in the back of his Jeep."
"Why were you there?"
"I just wanted to see what kind of guy Matt was attracted to. It was like meeting my competition face-to-face."
"Oh, Jeez! So Hank was surprised to see you, I'll bet."
"Not as much as his boyfriend was."
"What do you mean?"
"When I stood up behind Hank, his boyfriend yelled at Hank and told him to look out because he was about to be attacked by some freak."
"Oh, dear God! What happened next?"
"I was so startled by what I had been called, especially in front of Hank, that I couldn't get my breath. I remember yelling and trying to breathe...then I passed out and didn't wake up until I saw Uncle Mike sitting beside my hospital bed."
"So did Hank take you to the hospital?"
"Uncle Mike said he did. He told me that Hank saved my life."
"So where is Hank now?"
"Spending the weekend somewhere, with his boyfriend."
"Has Hank given you any indication that he feels anything for you like you feel for him?"
"Hell, no. I...I tried to start something up between us the other night and Hank got very angry with me. Of course, I don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out why..."
"But don't you see, Matt? Hank has HIS life to live. If he doesn't want you to be a part of it after he goes home at the end of summer, I'm sure he has your best interests in his heart by not wanting to hurt you after letting such a relationship evolve, should it ever..."
"Fuck! I know that and I also know better than to try to force myself on Hank. I know, in my condition, I can't force myself on ANYONE."
"I think you might be wrong, Matt."
"What do you mean?"
"Just that you haven't tried to force yourself on ME yet."
"Yeah, but you're not gay. Why would I waste my time forcing myself on a straight person?"
"Matt who says I'm straight?"
"It's just..."
"Shut up, Matt. You and I need to have more chats. As I said before, I want to get to know you better and I've made some headway on that this afternoon. Now, it's YOUR turn to get to know ME better...that is, if you want to."
"I...I SAID to let me think about it!"
"So you did,...and so I will."
<><><><><><><><><><><>
Bob and John were having a nice private breakfast together at the house. John had cooked eggs, bacon, and toast while Bob had set the table.
"Well?" Bob said, as the two sat down to start eating.
"'Well' what?"
"Did you enjoy last night or didn't you?"
"If that's your roundabout way of asking if my ass is sore, Bob, the answer is 'yes'!"
"Why didn't you say I was hurting you?"
"You didn't hurt me. It's just that I was sore when I woke up."
"John, you know, before we had sex and you and I were just lying there, holding one another and kissing, I started wondering why I, or even you, ever decided to get married."
"I suppose the same thought occurred to me, Bob."
"I...I think I loved you more than I ever loved my wife."
"Same here..."
"You know what?"
"What?"
"I still DO love you..."
"You really mean that?"
"I said it, didn't I?"
"We were young stupid college kids who didn't know the meaning of the word, 'gay'. It never entered my mind to think two men could fall in love the way a man and a woman do."
"The key word in your sentence was, 'stupid'. THAT we were."
"I hope I can say what I'm thinking...but...now don't let this give you any ideas, but sex with you last night was more meaningful than I've known since the last time we got together in the dorm."
"Why did we stop? I mean, most men cheat on their wives with other women. Why haven't we done anything together during all the years that we've been best friends?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think, once the summer is over, that we could get together for old times sake, now and then?"
"I...I think I would like that."
"Hell, all the times when just you and I went fishing or hunting or camping together, neither of us ever thought about having sex...until last night."
"Seems as though we've wasted some good times."
"We still could, y'know, come fall?"
"You don't feel guilty, cheating?"
"Nope. Not as long as it's with you. How about you. Do YOU feel guilty?"
"Not a bit!"
"We're alone now."
"So?"
"Wanna skip breakfast and have one more 'go' at it?"
"Heck! Why not. Let's put our plates in the oven to keep the food warm and come back and eat in about thirty minutes!"
"You're on!"
Both men ran to the kitchen, crammed their plates of eggs, bacon, and toast into the oven and ran toward the bedroom. They took their clothes off as they ran and were naked by the time they reached the bed. This time the two of them made love. This session was not about sheer sex or pleasure. The two climaxed at the same time, just as Jim's SUV was pulling up in front of the house.
Quickly, they dressed and ran into the kitchen to get their warm food as Jim and Matt entered the front door.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
At the motel where Lance was staying, Saturday afternoon found Hank and Lance side by side, both naked, facing each other. Lance was sound asleep, probably due to exhaustion from the rigorous sexual workout Hank had put him through. Hank was awake and had his head propped up by his right hand and elbow. With his left hand, Hank was lightly drawing images on Lance's torso with his finger. Lance was too tired to notice while Hank traced his finger around Lance's nipples and down toward his navel, but he smiled in his sleep. Hank's fingertip ended at the top of Lance's penis, just where it joined Lance's pubic hair. Then the finger traveled lightly back up, all the way to Lance's lips and downward again. This was Hank's chance to learn, to memorize every inch of Lance's body. Lance WAS beautiful unclothed...not just handsome, but really beautiful.
Hank fantasized what it would be like to go to bed with Lance EVERY night, make love, and then wake up the following morning with Lance's arms wrapped around him, feeling safe in those tanned arms.. That's what Hank longed for most...to be safe and to be WITH someone who loved him, someone whom Hank could love in return. On his third trip of his finger expedition, Hank suddenly imagined how it would feel to be doing the same thing with Matt's body. Hank's finger grew tense and folded backward into his hand, forming a fist. Hank had touched Matt's skin on several occasions, such as the time they helped bathe one another. Instead of smooth, velvety, long lines of satiny skin tissue like Lance's, Matt's skin was brittle, rough with cracks, jagged edges that could cause one's teeth to grind, like fingernails on a chalk board.
Though Hank had dismissed this image from his mind every time it arose, he now visualized what making love with Matt would actually be like and he was ashamed of himself. Hank wondered if he had been totally honest with Matt talking about inner beauty or had he said that just to appease his own mind? Of course Matt's skin was smooth from his waist down to his thighs. Sex would be no problem, but could Hank kiss Matt on the place where Matt's lips once were, but were there no longer? Why the fuck was he thinking about Matt now? Hank was in bed with his lover. They had spent all night Friday together AND Saturday morning AND afternoon for another sexual merry-go-round. Hank seemed to be intoxicated with Lance's body. He knew he was to be with him for Saturday night and all day Sunday. He couldn't get enough of Lance.
Hank thought to himself, 'Would I ever tire of Lance? Would I ever cheat on him with another guy? Would Lance be enough for me to last a whole lifetime? Maybe...but on the other hand, would Lance tire of me? Would he ever cheat on me. Would I be enough for him to last a whole lifetime?'
Six questions! Hank took each one and answered it individually...'No', 'No', 'Yes', 'Yes', 'Yes, and 'No'. But WHY? Because Hank knew in his heart and in his brain, that he didn't trust Lance and never would! Lance WOULD tire of Hank and WOULD cheat on him and, NO, Hank would NOT be enough for Lance to last his lifetime! So WHAT was Hank doing there in bed with someone he couldn't trust? It was so strange, Hank had to choke the words, 'I love you' out of Lance, but Matt had fallen in love with Hank almost instantly.
As quietly as possible, Hank eased himself out of Lance's bed and began to put his clothes on. Hank felt guilty for not calling Mike to see about Matt. It was nearly 5:00 PM. If Matt 'came to' at the hospital, then he was probably at Mike's house, sound asleep. Hank had given Mike the name of the motel where he and Lance would be staying. If something REALLY bad had happened to Matt, surely Mike would have found a way to contact Hank!
Hank grabbed up all the gear he had brought with him to the motel. Hank took a long, last look at his lover, still dead to the world in a deep sleep. He left no note for Lance to explain why he had left. As Hank got into his car to drive to Mike's, the only thing Hank was sure about was he was definitely NOT going to leave Philemon! He was going to spend every waking minute with Matt to show Matt how to be a better person! Hank would, somehow, some way, give Matt a purpose for living! Hank would be back at Mike's in time for supper and he could hardly wait.
<><><><><><><><><><><>
(To be continued in "The Passion of Matthew" chapter 10.)
Author's note: I am indebted and owe a special gratitude and thanks to certain individuals that wrote to me concerning this story and now who are now home from the Iraqi War. They supplied me with Matt's opinions of the war. I hope I kept Matt's dialogue earnest and frank as it was described to me by those who had been there. Guys! We're proud of you! R.C. 02/19/06