Dylan's Sophomore Year

DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR

Chapter 19

by Donny Mumford

Tom and I arrive back at the welcome home party a little after midnight. Most of the adults have gone home or they're inside the house with Robby's parents. It's getting chilly so I'm not surprised to see a couple of guys near the pool huddled around one of the portable fireplaces. It's Seth and Cory, so I say to Tom, "I want to say hello to those guys. I'll meet you in the pool house for a beer in a few minutes." He says, "Yeah, sure, I'm heading home after one last beer." I nod at him and walk over to see how Seth and Cory are holding up. Slapping hands with then, I mumble, "Wassup?" and then ask, "How you guys doing?" Seth says, "We're doing great, aren't we, Cory?" Cory's blushing for some reason. I ask him, "Um, where's Connor? I thought you two were bunking at my place tonight." Cory goes, "Yeah, we were, but I think Connor's gonna stick with his army buddy tonight. Seth, me and Connor were talking and then Dodger and Vinnie appeared and kinda kidnapped Connor. They took off about fifteen minutes ago in Dodger's pickup. I think they're dropping Vinnie off and then Connor's gonna spend the night, um, here with Dodger." I ask, "With Dodger, huh?" He shrugs, "I guess. That's what Dodger said anyway and Connor sort of gave me a look like, 'That's Dodger being Dodger'. I think he's got a crush on Dodger and I don't blame him." Both Seth and Cory are blushing now as Seth says, "We, um, that is Cory and me, we were sorta thinking he'd sleep at my apartment tonight, if it's okay with you." I go, "If it's okay with me? What the...? You don't need my approval guys, whaddaya talking about? You guys are awesomely great friends of mine and few things would make me happier than seeing you two, ah, become great friends too." I'm rubbing both guy's shoulder roughly so they'll know everything's cool, "If it's okay by me... jeez! Ha ha, it's more than okay." Cory mumbles, "Thanks, I thought, you know, since you were so nice letting us stay at your place it'd be rude to change plans." I go, "No way, Cory. We're good, dude!"

They're still blushing because of the inferred likelihood of sex in the future for those two. Cory's repeating himself, muttering, "Ya know, I said I'd stay at your place so I don't wanna seem ungrateful or anything. Seth didn't think you'd mind, did you Seth?" I chuckle, "Jeez, Cory, Seth's right. Don't ever worry about anything like that. It's cool, man, we're tight!" Oh boy, one of my wishes might be coming true. If these two can hit it off it'd be awesome! Seth mumbles, "I'll give Cory a ride home tomorrow so I was thinking, if you don't mind, I'd get a haircut another weekend?" I go, "Absolutely, Seth, I'll be home next weekend too. If you're free I'll see you then." They glance at each other grinning, as I'm thinking, 'Cory, Connor, and Seth used to have a crush on me and now they're getting a crush on each other. Perfect!' To avoid any further awkwardness, I say, "Well guys, I'm gonna say goodnight to the boys in the pool house. Well, first I'll probably having a nightcap, and then head home myself." They stand up as Seth's saying, "Well, I guess we'll take off too," and we hug with kisses on the cheek and pats on the back as we walk to the pool house together. Cory asks, "Should we thank Rob for inviting us? We already thanked Dodger." I go, "I'll give him your thanks and tell him you guys had a good time. No problem." We exchange more pats on the back and they go through the gate to Seth's car that's in the driveway, and I go in the side door of the pool house with good feelings that those two might eventually become a couple. At first I was worried Cory would be hurt that Connor went with Dodger. You know, after they had agreed to sleep together at my place, but it doesn't appear that's the case. It's been musical chairs for them tonight, but I'm guessing Cory's feeling his chances of finding a boyfriend, or at least a friend for occasional buddy sex, are better with Seth than Connor for the simple reason Connor's going back to the Army in ten days. Seth's staying put. This might turn out to be awesome for all three of them, or maybe not... life's hard to predict. Anyway, for once everything tonight is working out for me. My matchmaking efforts look promising and I've been spared what could have been an awkward time with Seth tomorrow. It's hard for me to say 'no' and disappoint him, and now I won't need to.

As soon as I walk into the pool house Robby comes right over to give me a hug, as he's mumbling, "I'm so sorry about leaving you on the spur of the moment like that, Dylan. Dad and me were worried we'd lose important financial backing for the business expansion. Jesus, business is so nerve racking." I ask, "Did it work out?" He's got a big smiling on his face now, "Oh yeah, it couldn't have worked out any better. We're really relieved. These financial people are unorthodox; it's not like dealing with an ordinary bank. They're a group of friends that formed a dot-com firm together with the sole purpose of investing in different businesses they think can be profitable. They all have regular jobs so for this business they work unusual hours, like Saturday nights." I go, "So they're like silent partners, huh?" He nods, "Yeah, it's a little more complicated than that, but that's basically it." I mumble, "I'm happy for you, Rob," then I lean in close, saying quietly, "Our future condo's still in our plans, huh?" He smiles, "Yep, it'll be perfect timing for when we get married." I grin, "Yeah, it's nice to have a dream. Ya know, I've been thinking maybe it's time we have another talk to revisit our plans for the future. You can clear up a couple of gray areas for me. Stuff I've been thinking about." He looks concerned, "What stuff? You're not having doubts about getting married, are you?" Shaking my head 'no', I say, "No, it's not about getting married, Rob, I love you more than ever. Some of the details about after we're married maybe need a tweak here or

there, but you and me will work it out. As far as I'm concerned the only reason we wouldn't get married is if you back out of it because I'm not backing out of it, you're my man!" Looking dubious, he asks, "What do we need to rethink? What needs, um, tweaking? I have it all planned out and you've agreed with everything." I say, "Yeah, I know, Rob, but you've said I should bring up anything I'm concerned about. It's just that I need clarification on some things. Not now though. We probably should have a dinner date at our favorite restaurant. That way we can be alone and talk about just us, you and me, Rob." He asks, "Um, are you always going to call me 'Rob' now? I kinda miss hearing you say, 'Robby'. You gave me that nickname." I smile, "Rob, Robby, you're my man, dude." He shakes his head grinning, "I'm your man... right. Yeah, the dinner at Dino's Italian Cuisine restaurant with our favorite waiter, Tony, sounds like a great idea. I like talking about when we're married." I go, "It's a date then. Maybe next Saturday night after your business meeting." He goes, "Yeah, definitely. I'm so glad you're coming home with me next weekend." I lean in to him and we kiss, but I'm a little uneasy about the things I'll need to say at next week's dinner. Nothing I need to worry about now though. That's a week away.

As we're kissing I hear Tom yucking it up with his brother and the three remaining stoner boys. Robby glances at them, then looks back at me and tells me what I already know, "Dodger and his army buddy, Connor, are giving Vinnie a ride home. Then it looks like Connor gonna have a, um, sleep over with Dodger." It hits me now that Vinnie drove here himself. Well, I don't know what's up with those three, but as long as they're all happy, I'm happy. I say, "Oh, yeah? How do you feel about them sleeping together?" Robby goes, "Jealous, that's how I feel. Dodger's not at all as warm towards me as he was before going in the army." I ask, "Didn't you tell me early last summer Dodger was acting moody before he went in the Army. You know, before he quit the summer job." Robby thinks about that, then says, "Yeah, you're right, it was before he quit. I began noticing Dodger acting strange towards me even before he lost his mind and joined the army. I'm so disappointed in him for enlisting. It really upset my parents. It hasn't been like the old days between Dodger and me for a few months now." I go, "Huh. Maybe it's just growing pains. He's not a kid anymore, but didn't you say you started noticing a difference in him after we came out of the closet together?" He shakes his head, "I don't know. It's been like a subtle change, a gradual thing, but maybe it has something to do with us 'coming out'. I didn't tell you this before, but since we're discussing my brother I'll tell you now. I didn't feel much enthusiasm from him about being my best man at our wedding. Certainly not like I expected. Of course he was in the Army so we were communicating mostly by text. I could have lost something in translation because of that, but to me he definitely seemed distant when I told him about proposing marriage to you." Hmmm, I think I'll leave this topic for our dinner together. A couple of cocktails might make it easier to discuss certain things, not that I have any intention of telling Robby what Dodger said to me. That wouldn't help their relationship at all. Robby looks around, then leans in and conspiratorially whispers, "Just between you and me, I think Connor's got a 'thing' for my brother. He better be careful though or Vinnie will scratch his eyes out... ha ha." I chuckle, muttering, "Let's hope they can all take care of themselves. Dodger will probably manage the situation pretty well, don't ya think?" Robby's like, "Ha, yeah he probably will, he's awesome like that." Awesome is a word we overuse, but what are ya gonna do, it's a good word?

Tom, his brother, and the three unnamed stoner boys come over to say goodbye. There are many compliments from Tom interspersed with his goodbye, and we all wind up doing one arm hugs and exchanging, "Nice to have met you," or

words to that effect with each other. Tom gives me a meaningful look and a

slight head nod on his way out the door. Now it's just Robby and me. He goes, "I couldn't find you when I first got back from the business meeting. I wondered where you were." I say, "Oh, I was with Tom. We took a ride to one of his father's businesses. His dad owns like twenty-five UPS Stores. Did you know they're rich?" Which doesn't tell Robby what he wants to know, but it isn't a lie." I can tell he wants to ask more, so to head him off, I ask, "I was wondering how come you didn't invite anyone from the baseball team to the welcome home party?" I don't need to mention Danny Monday's name specifically because I know that's who Robby will think of first. He goes, "My teammates? Um, no, this was a private affair. Ah, lets grab another beer. Do you want another beer?" I say, "Yes, definitely, and a cigarette too." At the keg Robby takes two fresh plastic cups from the stack of cups and begins pouring beer, saying, "Being around Cory cuts down on everyone's smoking. Should we stop smoking before we get married? I mean the smell of cigarette smoke sinks into furniture and carpets." I say, "Definitely, we'll quit, or if we don't quit right away we just won't smoke in the house." As long as Rob and me are having sex on the side there's going to be awkward moments like we had a minute ago when he wondered where I was. Rob obviously wanted to know why I was with Tom looking at his father's UPS shop, and I don't blame him. To counter that I brought up the inference of Danny Monday, who Robby's probably bopping. Occasional awkwardness is the price we pay for being oversexed. He understands the dynamics of the situation as well as I do. Robby and I touch cups, saying, "To us," and as we swallow some bitter beer Chubby comes bounding in the door. "Dylan! Robby! What are you two awesome guys up to?" Robby says, "The question is, Chubby, what were you and Marlene up to? My innocent girl neighbor in the clutches of Don Juan Romero. It'll probably be in the local paper." Chubby laughs, then says, "She's

a good talker, your neighbor," and we chuckle. Chubby is not the bragging, kiss and tell kind of guy.

Chubby pours himself a cup of beer as Robby and I light up cigarettes. Chubby says, "Actually, Marlene and I were having a deep philosophical discussion." I ask, "About what, pray tell?" He takes my cigarette from between my lips, saying, "About teenagers and how hard it is for the poor little buggers to survive their teen years. Her younger brother specifically. A cute sixteen year old lad by the name of, George." I ask, "Did you meet the little fellow?" and Chubby chuckles, "Yes, I had the pleasure briefly. He's basically an arrogant little prick, but I kept that evaluation to myself." Robby laughs, "Yeah, George isn't very communicative. I've met him a number of times at neighborhood functions and it appears he doesn't get along well with others. We used to have block parties until two years ago when most off the neighborhood kids were getting too old to participate. I think George is the youngest kid in the neighborhood. His parents aren't too cool. They put tons of pressure on both Marlene and George." Chubby says, "That's exactly what Marlene said, Robby. It's the parental pressure that's has the kid's heads all fucked-up. Marlene says she could handle it, but her brother's more, um, introspective, or something. Possibly a touch of narcissism too." I take my cigarette back from Chubby, saying, "He's probably under pressure to get good grades so he can get into a good college like his parents and his sister did. In addition to good grades he needs good extra curricular activities and ideally he should be popular with his peers, which means be like them. Dress right, use the proper slang, listen to the right kind of music... all that shit." Robby goes, "Yeah, I'm guessing George isn't doing any of that."

We drink beer and smoke thinking about our own teen years. Then Robby goes, "Guess we were lucky that none of us had to experience pressure from our parents. Nothing remotely like what George is apparently experiencing, but I

knew kids in high school, especially on the baseball team, who were under that kind of pressure." I say, "Yep, and if George and others like him are independent thinkers they're totally fucked in that regard. I mean, the high school decides what they need to learn, when, and from whom. The school tells them everything, like which stairwell they can go up, how fast to move through the corridors, when they're allowed to talk, and when they can't. They dictate when to have lunch, what to wear, basically everything and it don't matter what the students think. Independent thinkers might rebel and parents get the opposite result to the one they're hoping for." Chubby says, "And while all that shit's going on the world is telling these teens that high school is the carefree best years of their life, while in actuality the boys are worried sick that their peers will think they're a sissy, or that one of the school's bullies will beat the shit out of them, or worse... a bully will humiliate them." I ask, "Did George mention all this?" Chubby goes, "No, Marlene and I speculated that's the situation. She thinks George is also worried that the girls will think he's a geek. All George muttered to me is that basically life sucks." I'm like, "Huh, carefree days indeed. How the fuck did we survive all that?" Chubby says, "Like Robby said, we weren't worried about any of it because our parents weren't like George and Marelene's." We all drink some beer and yeah, we're all a little high from the booze we drank tonight which brings out this kind of exaggerated evaluation of situations. Chubby says, "And not only are these mid-teenage boys continuing to go through all the pressures associated with high school, a lot of then are still dealing with the changes in their body's since puberty,

and struggling like hell to come to terms with who they are. At the same time, running through it all like salt in the wound, are the various self-satisfied adults in the lads' lives who keep trivializing their angst." I say, "Lets write a manual on surviving the teen year angst." Chubby says, "Um, lets not."

We like to build up the trials and tribulations of surviving the teen years to basically pat ourselves on the back for cruising through those years without the worries and angst others endured. Continuing our drinking we bullshit with each other while feeling good about being us. The truth is we all experienced growing pains at one time or another, so the teen years are a

struggle for everyone. Chubby especially had difficulty dealing with his changing body for a few years there, oh so long ago. We're good now though, mostly. Chubby goes, "What am I sitting on?" and he pulls an old newspaper from underneath him as we all chuckle. "Reading the newspaper with your ass, Chub?" Robby asks. Looking around, he adds, "Yeah, it's kinda messy in here. We'll do a full spring cleaning in here before pool season." Chubby's reading something in the newspaper. He laughs, "Listen to this guys. A woman writes Dear Abby: 'I can't trust my boyfriend. He cheats so much I can't even be sure the baby I'm carrying is his. What should I do?' Ha ha, what a dumb shit." We chuckle after we think about that for a second. He goes, "Jesus! here's another one: Dear Abby, I'm a twenty-three year old liberated woman who has been on the pill for three years now. It's expensive and I'm thinking about asking my boyfriend to share the cost except I don't know him well enough to discuss money matters.' Heh heh, she's fucking with him but doesn't know him that well. Oh man, subtle stupidity, huh?" Robby says, "Let me see that," and he reads, then goes, "Here's a beauty: Dear Abby, our son writes to us from college that he's taking up Judo. Why would a boy in college from a good Christian home all of a sudden turn on his own family's values like that?' Are these jokes?" Chubby says, "I don't think so. I th ink they're real people who Abby's mocking." He reads the rest, but nothing else is really dumb so we drop that and talk about sports. While doing that we all manage to drink three cups of beer and at one-fifteen in the morning we're finally ready to call it a night. I say, "The going away party for the army boys had a lot of energy, but I didn't see much of that tonight, especially after we ate. And I hardly saw Dodger and Connor at all." Robby goes, "The ambiance was kinda flat tonight." Chubby smirks, repeating the word, "Abidance," and Rob grins, saying, "It's a word. Anyway, tonight was suppose to be low key. I guess it didn't help that dad and I had that business meeting." We go outside where Robby and I overdo the goodnight kiss with Chubby muttering in the background, and then we're finally on our way.

Walking down the driveway, I say, "Good fucking thing you stopped back, Chub, or I wouldn't have a ride home." He goes, "Are you nuts? I'd never leave

you without a ride, Dylan," and he squeezes the back of my neck, asking, "What's up with that Tom character?" I shrug, "He's a pretty good guy," and Chubby asks, "Is he a stoner like his brother and those other wild friends of Dodger's?" We get in the Jeep with Chubby in the driver's seat. I go, "Um, yeah, Tom does some weed and he sells it too." Chubby looks at me, "How do you know that?" "He told me he did. He asked me to sell it on Merrimack's campus, but I said no." Chubby glances at me as he drives the Jeep onto route 9. "He fucking asked you to sells drugs?" I go, "Yeah, it's not unheard of, Chub, more college students do recreational drugs than don't." He shakes his head, saying, "Ya know, it really pisses me off he asked you to do that. Whatever made him think you'd do it?" Shrugging, I mumble, "How would I know? He said I was popular and I didn't look like a drug dealer so the authorities wouldn't expect me to be dealing." Chubby's like, "Man, that gets me mad. He actually came right out and asked you?" I go, "Yeah, what do you think, I asked him? I said I wouldn't do it so what are you upset about?" Chubby shakes his head, muttering, "I don't know, the fact that he asked you makes me want to kick his ass. The fucking nerve!" I go, "He's a good guy, not some kind of gangster dude. He sells to college kids he knows and he gets the stuff from a friend he has in Europe. He's not working for some shady drug dealer in Boston. He sells good weed, not the cut shit ya get on

the streets of downtown Framingham." Chubby's like, "Good weed? What the fuck is good weed?" I shrug, "I don't know, that's what he said."

It's only a ten or twelve minute ride from Robby's house to our condos and the middle five minutes we ride in silence. I look over and see Chubby's still steaming. I think about Chubby's overreaction while smelling the back of my wrist. Okay, I get it... we've all had a lot of beer tonight and Chubby's being overly protective of me. At a red light he looks over, saying, "When Marlene and I came out of the house you and that Tom dude were walking down the driveway and you said you were going to do some blow. I thought you were joking. You didn't do it, did you?" My face gets dark red as I wonder, 'Why the fuck did I mention Tom's dealing?' I try a diversionary tactic, "You know I don't like the smell of pot." He says, "Yeah, but did you do any of it?" I frown, "Okay, I took a puff or two off his joint. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." Looking straight ahead I can feel him still staring at me. It makes my eyes water. The light turns green and somebody honks their horn at Chubby, who's still staring at the side of my red face. His window goes down and he yells out the window, "Stick that horn up your

ass, dipshit!!" I'm wiping sweat off my forehead as Chubby does a jack rabbit start with the tires squealing. The last few minutes to our place we ride in silence, so silent it roars in my ears. We park down at the curb and walk up the steps. Halfway up I say, "Lots of guys smoke weed, Chubby. Some guys don't drink so they smoke to get a little high. To each their own. At least guys that smoke a joint or two don't have hangovers like we're going to have tomorrow morning." He mutters, "They do enough of that shit and they'll have a hangover. A drug hangover is called 'coming down' and the body feels like shit, like it's hollow or something." I go, "How do you know?" and he just waves his hand at me." I better not mention about the crack Tom had in our joint. Chubby's not my parent so I didn't expect to hear all this negative shit from him. I thought he might think it's kinda cool. I tell him stuff because I trust him. You can bet your life I'm not telling him anymore about this. I'm pissed off that he's pissed off at me. Why does he need to lay a guilt trip on me too. I say, "Why are you giving me the silent treatment? We never give each other the silent treatment. We support each other!"

Up two more steps, then he stops abruptly and turns to face me. "I know about weed because a part of the window washer boys' after hours routine was smoking it. Ricky's old man supplied it and it led to bad shit happening. That's why I'm sensitive to you smoking it. We didn't know it was weed with some cocaine in it. That horrible shit is very addictive too." Oh man, the window washer boys again. This is the first I heard about smoking joints. Rubbing my nose and pouting, I mutter, "Oh fuck it. I'm sorry about all that shit you went through, Chub, but I took a couple of drags. It's not like I'm a drug addict. Jesus, give me some slack." At the top of the steps we're at my condo. Chubby starts up the steps to his, mumbling, "Goodnight. Don't forget we've got the brunch to prepare for tomorrow." I watch him walking up a few steps, then I take a deep breath and say, "Chubby, stop! We do not go to bed mad at each other... ever!" He says, "I'm not mad so much as I'm disappointed." I say, "You're disappointed in me? That's even worse than being mad at me. Come down here and hug me to try to make up for hurting my feelings." He stops, turns around and looks at me for a second. Then he goes, "You're right," and comes down the steps to hug me and kiss me, mumbling, "I'm sorry, bro. I love you so much I worry something will happen to you. You're, um, a little naive and too trusting of everyone." Then a tight hug, and I say, "You need to make-up for your unfair treatment of me tonight." He blurts out a laugh, "What? Unfair treatment? I was worried about you and trying to look out for you." I go, "You hurt my feelings, which God knows with my thick skin is hard to do, but you managed to do it. Plus, you gave me the silent treatment." He goes, "I wasn't giving you the silent treatment. I was trying to decide whether to tell you about my pot and coke experience with the window washer boys. I hate bringing that topic up, but for you I did it to emphasis the potential dangers." I say, "No excuses. You'll need to sleep with me tonight to make-up to me, and it wouldn't hurt if you said you were sorry too." He laughs, "You're unbelievable," and another hug, then a mumbled, "I'm sorry I was worried about you." I rub his head, "That's a little better, and you need a haircut too. It's too late tonight, but tomorrow for sure." He's smirking at me, meekly saying, "Yes, Dylan," and then he's chuckling again.

I go, "Come on into my condo and we'll get ready for bed." He says, "Oh no you don't. We slept in your little bed last time. It's my bed tonight." No sense in arguing about that. I've got him quibbling about which bed we sleep in as opposed to if we're going to be sleeping together at all. Good deal. We'll be up before the moms so I don't need to leave my mom a note. Going up the steps, I ask, "Don't you feel better now that we've talked things out and you've come to your senses?" He says, "Oh yeah, much better now. I've been straightened out and conned out of my jock by you again." I go, "You're not wearing a jock. Ya know, just maybe we need one more beer and a cigarette before officially calling it a night." He chuckles and mumbles, "Whatever you say, big brother." Feeling pleased with myself that I took the high road with our mini argument, I skip up the steps to get next to Chubby and put my arm across his shoulders, "Bro, you can check out my feet tonight if you want." He grins, "My foot fetish, huh? Ya know what, I don't feel right doing that, Dylan. It didn't feel right in the past, and it's something from our childhood that I'm leaving behind." I ask, "You're saying you don't have the fetish anymore?" As he unlocks the front door, he says, "Not to a degree I can't resist it. You are attached to two of my favorite feet in the world, but they'll forever remain a cherished memory of my misguided youth." We're walking to his bedroom, "Whaddaya mean?" He says, "Feet are my little fetish, but one I prefer to live from now on without indulging. I always feel disappointed in myself afterward, so I'm using something called willpower to not do foot fetish stuff anymore." I go, "That's crazy! What's the harm?" He's staring at the cargo pants I left here on the floor earlier. Glancing at me, he mumbles, "I haven't worn these cargo trousers this semester." I say, "Looks like somebody did," and he chuckles shaking his head. "It's getting chilly outside, Dylan, wear this," and he tosses me a sweatshirt. I go, "Isn't this mine?" and he says, "Yeah, it probably is."

It's a gray Patriot sweatshirt with a hood. I pull it over my head, "You have a sweatshirt just like this somewhere." Chubby's dropping sweatshirts on the floor, mumbling, "I know. I'm looking for it." Looking around, I go, "Shouldn't we pick up around here? Someone could twist an ankle walking through all these discarded clothes." He says, "Ah ha, here it is. Now we'll be twins." I say, "We're always twins, Chubby, no matter what we wear." Chubby pulls the sweatshirt over his head, asking, "Do you feel drunk?" I say, "I'm a little bit high, but feeling really good." We walk into the kitchen where Chubby gets two Rolling Rock pony bottles out of the refrigerator, saying, "I put your latest IOU for beers with all your other IOUs." I mumble, "Good to have then all in a safe place." He snaps the caps off the beers, "Yeah, I had to start another shoe box of IOUs because the first one was full." I chuckle, "Oh, really?" He taps his bottle to mine, saying, "To the best friends and brothers the world has ever known," I mumble, "I'll drink to that," and we both chug some beer. We go out on the balcony with Chubby saying, "My mom gets such a kick out of your IOUs. She thinks you're awesome." I go, "Everybody says that." We sit down and I ask, "How about some tunes, bro?" He goes, "My mom's asleep," and I nod my head, saying, "The moms are home early for a Saturday night. I hope nothing's wrong." Chubby's like, "Yeah, mom said her and Dee were going to get to bed earlier than usual because they want to be rested for brunch tomorrow. We should do something special for them." I say, "Sure, but we've only been away at college a week. It's not like Dodger and Connor coming home after almost three months." He says, "Even though the moms don't see us much during the week normally, they like the idea of us sleeping in our bedrooms when they get home from work. It's a mom thing, humor them."

I light a cigarette, take a drag and pass it to Chubby saying, "Don't lip it this time." He blurts out a laugh because I saturated the filter with spit. He mutters, "Yeah, I'll try not to," and I say, "Dodger says you and him

commiserated about Robby proposing to me this summer." Chubby's eyebrows go up as he looks at me, "He told you about that?" I go, "Yeah, why not? It's not like I thought you were crazy about the idea when I told you about the engagement." He asks, "What'd he say?" I shrug, "He said a lot of things. He's jealous of Robby for one thing. He thinks Robby and I are doomed because we're living under the false pretense of Robby being in charge when it's actually me who's in charge." Smoke comes out of Chubby's nose and mouth as he passes the cigarette back to me, saying, "He's right about you being the real leader of your love affair, but I don't see that necessarily dooming you two. If you're both happy, who cares who's in charge?" I go, "Well, I'm not gonna argue about it, but Robby's our leader. Wasn't he a good boss last summer, a good leader for his crew?" Chubby glances at me, "Robby's awesome. I love him, but he was more one of the guys than a boss." I go, "That is just so wrong, Chubby, but it's your opinion and you're welcome to it." He grins, "You're also our leader too, ain't ya?" I'm indignant, "Absolutely not! You're more mature and grounded than me. I look to you for advise whenever I need it." He chuckles, "I love you so much, bro. You're awesome." I ask, "Don't we overuse that word?" He shrugs, "So what? You are awesome." Hmmm, that's nice to hear.

We pass the cigarette back and forth until it's only a butt, which I flick over the railing except it goes off the potted plant on the balcony instead. The fucking thing comes right back at me, bouncing off my knee. Chubby laughs his ass off as he picks it up and flicks it way over the balcony railing. I mutter, "I do that on purpose, ya know? Just for comedic value." He nods his head chuckling, "Uh huh." "Um, Chubby, let me asked you something else. Dodger says Robby's been obsessed with me since he was fifteen years old. Okay, even if that's an exaggeration, do you think he's obsessed with me, and is that a bad thing?" He goes, "You're a person I can understand someone obsessing over, but I don't know if Robby's doing that or not. If someone's obsessed about another person and the relationship breaks up there's no one to pick up the pieces for the obsessed person. That would probably be devastating to Robby, if he is in fact obsessed with you." I go, "Well, we're not breaking up so we can forget about that concern." Chubby shrugs, "Good that you can predict the future. The fact remains that someone mistaking obsession for love could be heading down a dead-end street at a hundred miles an hour. It wouldn't be good in any way for either party. That's just my uninformed opinion of course. He's never stalked you though, so it's probably not obsession anyway. He loves you and so do I. You're easy to love and very, very special to me. The most special thing in my life actually." That chokes me up a little so I just nod my head, mumbling, "You too, Chubby." We finish our little pony bottles of beer and Chubby gets two more without asking if I want one. I'm wondering if I should press on asking Chubby about the other things Dodger said. I decide I will, but if I hadn't been drinking all night I probably would be smarter about it and spread out the things Dodger said over time. You know, asking Chubby just one point at a time. We've put the 'who's in charge' and the obsession angles to bed to my satisfaction, so I'll asked about something else.

When Chubby sits back down, I go, "So you agree with me that Dodger's wrong about Robby being obsessed and you agree it doesn't matter who's in charge

as long as we're happily in love." He chuckles, "If you say so, bro." Ignoring the sarcasm, I ask, "How about him saying Rob and me getting engaged is, um, goofy?" Chubby takes a deep breath, then says, "First of all, I said I don't know if Robby's obsessive or not, Dylan, and I agree with Dodger that you, my brother, in the end are always in charge." I go, "You're mixed up about both those topics, but we've moved past those two items now. How about the 'goofy' reference about our engagement?" He smirks, "Do I dare say that, yes, 'goofy' is as good a way to describe your engagement as any." I go, "People get engaged at twenty, ya know?" and he says, "Very few, and when they do it's not normally a secret and not normally planned for three years in the future, at the earliest. So much can change in three years it's mind boggling." Well that sucks! I say, "I resent the word 'goofy'! We're not goofy." He grins, "You're right, you're not goofy. Choose another word. How 'bout 'odd' or simply 'unusual'?" I say, "We'll stick with unusual, if you insist. Robby and I aren't like everyone else, and neither are you and me." Chubby grins at me, "And who's the common denominator among us?" I say, "Okay, I am, but I don't mind being called unusual. Okay, we've knock down that point too." He laughs, then lights a cigarette, saying, "If you're going to come to your rationalized conclusion about everything, what's the sense in asking me what I think?" I say, "If you'll recall you're the great rationalizer, not me." He nods, mumbling, "Okay, okay, what's next?" I ask, "What do you think about me being a stay at home dad when Robby and I are married?" He says, "And with a baby, no less. I think it's the worst idea out of all the ones you two are planning. Anyway, I've no intention of letting that happen, but why argue about it three years ahead of time? You'll realize it's not what you want before you get married, if you do get married." I'm nodding now because I think both Chubby and Dodger are right about that. I say, "You're probably right, Chub, but like you said, it's two or three years away from final decision time. I'm going to talk to Robby about this item next week so it has a chance to resolve itself way before the fact." He says, "That's good, bro," and I go, "See, I've agreed with almost everything you've said." He rolls his eyes and I yell, "I have too!"

Chubby chugs some beer passing the cigarette to me. I fill the filter with spit, then say, "The baby idea is okay, but not right away and we can always hire a nanny." He says, "You better hire one because taking care of a baby is a full time job. Then there's the so called 'terrible twos' the kid goes through and it doesn't get any easier after that." I say, "Jesus, you are making a mountain out of a molehill. I'm going to insist on a nanny, but even if I didn't what's the big deal. Once I got the baby used to the routine, lets say it takes two weeks, and then it's just a matter of following the routine day in and day out. I'd put on those gloves the dentist uses, change the baby's diaper, give him a bottle of milk, and he sleeps and sleeps. Wake him up for lunch and maybe change another diaper, then he sleeps until Robby gets home. Then it's his turn to change a diaper, if needed, and give the baby a bottle. My problem is what I'd do with all the rest of my day. If I couldn't get a stay at home job it'd be like the whole day shooting pool. That's the part I don't like and it's the reason I'm insisting on a nanny for the kid. Plus, if I was stuck in the house I wouldn't be able to get out and meet people and have some fun. I'm a people person." Chubby's laughing, "You're so funny. I hope you don't believe a word of what you just said." I go, "I do so! What would I do all day? That's why we need a nanny. She can clean the house or something during all her free time." He's still chuckling, then he goes, "Don't be a stay at home dad. If you guys must have a baby, get the fucking nanny." I say, "See, we agree on this too." He says, "It's only the first thing we've agreed on so far." I go, "We've agreed on everything. This is helping me clear my mind for when I talk to Robby." Chubby says, "So you agree that Dodger's right?" I'm like, "I sort of conceded to Dodger that one point, but not for the reasons he said. Here's something else: Dodger said Robby intended keeping me captive in the house." Chubby's like, "He's right if you were a stay at home dad with a baby. But whatever, as long as you don't let yourself get in the trap of stay at home dad or stay at home anything there's no problem. You gotta live your life, bro." Huh, I'm basically right about all of this and Chubby's agreeing with me.

Emboldened by the positive response from Chubby, I ask, "What do you think about me taking Robby's last name?" Chubby points at me, mumbling, "That's another thing I have no intention of letting you do. I like your name." Hmmm, I do too. "Well, I've taken your advise on everything else so I might as well take it here too." He laughs again getting into a coughing fit. Getting up, I'm patting his back, mumbling, "Everything's a fucking joke to you," and he's shaking his head still chuckling. A final cough and he like, "Oh, God, Dylan, you're too much. Oh fuck, that's funny shit." I'm like, "What are you talking about? We're having a frank discussion, clearing the air." He nods, "No more clearing the air tonight, okay? I'm freakin' weak from laughing." Frowning, I mutter, "I don't think my life is a laughing matter." Chubby gets serious, "You're right, it most definitely isn't. I'm jealous of your love affair, Dylan. I can't fall in love. Everyone I meet pales in comparison to you." I ask, "Are you making fun of me again?" He shakes his head, "I never make fun of you. When I laugh I'm laughing with you and wishing you all the happiness in the world at the same time. Some of your ideas can use a bit of an adjusting, but I've no doubt you'll see that in time yourself. Me make fun of you? Never! In your whole life you'll never meet anyone who loves you as deeply as I do, so don't ever mistake what I do as laughing at you or putting you down in any way. I'm totally incapable of doing that where you're concerned, and knowing that I'm not gives me joy." I'm staring at him, "You're serious?" He says, "Of course I am. Have you ever doubted my love?" I stare some more, then ask, "Could you ever be in romantic love with me?" He looks away, "Don't go there, Dylan." I ask, "Why not?" He mumbles, "Jesus, Dylan. Only you would come out with that question. Do you say whatever enters your brain?" I say, "No, but what about my question?"

Chubby gulps down the rest of his beer, burps, then says, "I won't discuss

impossibilities because it doesn't do anyone any good. Lets go to bed, it's almost two o'clock." Okay, so he doesn't want to speculate if he could fall in romantic love with me. I stand up, and say, "Sure, lets go to bed. Just for the record, I could easily fall in romantic love with you." He mutters, "I'm well aware of that, come to bed."

In silence we get undressed to our boxer shorts, then take turns pissing and washing up. Then we share his toothbrush and gargle with mouthwash. Getting in bed, I mumble, "Goodnight, Chubby,"and he says, "What, no kiss?" We hug each other and our kiss is much more than a goodnight peck on the lips or cheek. When it's over I have a partial boner and want desperately to move my leg to see if Chubby has one, but I respect him too much to do that. It would embarrass him if he's sprouting wood. We go to sleep in each other's arms with me wondering how the conversation led to this display of emotion from Chubby. What would it be like if Chubby and me... no, he won't let that happen. His willpower is too strong.... but I have to wonder just the same.

to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo. com

========================================================

I continue to provide this little advertisement in hopes that some of you readers will purchase the books that I have had published. They are available on Amazon. Actually one book and one short story. The short story is titled "Concealed Agony - Gay Romance" (and I didn't pick that title.) Read the short story first. And the book is named "Oliver's Wildwood Vacation" They are both about 'Oliver'. You can easily find them by searching for 'Donny Mumford' at the Amazon web site.

And I would appreciate it if you would provide a comment at the site for the stories as well.

Thanks.

Donny Mumford

============================================================================

Also please make a tax deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty to help with the expenses of maintaining this huge story site. Thank You.