From Whence I Came

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Crown Vic to a Parallel World: From Whence I Came The second installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips

7

Reflections, Secrets, Surprises, and Fears

I woke up very early in the morning. My anxiety spiked when I realized where I was. Twenty-six years earlier, when I moved out of my parent's house, I swore I'd never step foot inside it again. I broke that vow only a few times when my folks were alive. I broke it more often once the house became my brother's home, but it always made me uncomfortable. When I woke up in what I still thought of as my parent's room, in bed with my husband and our sometimes lover, I felt well-beyond uncomfortable.

The anxiety made me restless. I needed to clear my head. I shook Shawn awake, careful not to wake Bem in the process, and asked him to go for a run. He agreed. We put on our fatigue t-shirts and found dark shorts in the stuff Andy had selected for us the day before. We made no noise getting out of the house and headed out through the neighborhood.

The sun had just winked over the horizon as we jogged a block to warm up. With our bodies limber and loose, we started to run in earnest. In spite of the early hour, it was already hot and humid. Sweat poured from our bodies. It soaked our clothes and make them cling uncomfortably to our skin. We did one lap around the curving streets of the confusing development and ran a few of the larger internal `loops.' The high humidity, much more intense than we'd normally experience on Solum, forced us to cut our cardio session short.

Shawn and I returned to the house but didn't go inside. Instead, we moved to the back yard for the rest of our workout. Shawn went through his normal routine of push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups and other traditional `ups.' I had to help him by creating a pull-up bar from magic as there was no convenient structure that would suit. Luckily it was still early enough, and the yard secluded enough, that I doubted Shawn would be observed as he chinned himself on thin air. I did my Elit Fortis exercises using whatever structures I could find for support. I couldn't do anything about not having free weights, but I could still do the basic stretches and exercises.

I was most of the way through my routine when I heard the familiar sound of a house door as it opened and shut. I assumed the sound had come from the front door of Joe's house. My assumption was proven correct a moment later when I smelled cigarette smoke. I followed the scent with my eyes and spotted Andy. He was barely concealed, hidden behind a shrub at the yard's fence line.

Andy didn't notice that I observed him because he was busy watching Shawn work out. I saw a hunger on the boy's face that was familiar to me, because I wore it every time that I looked at Shawn. I left Andy alone with his fantasies while Shawn and I finished our work out. As we finished, Shawn took his shirt off.

He usually took his shirt off at the end of his workout. He liked the feeling of the air on his skin as it dried the shimmering perspiration from his torso. He also liked the feeling of my lust as I watched the perspiration shimmer on his torso. I sat on the yard swing to ogle Shawn and to let him enjoy my lust while I cooled down from my workout.

"I'm going to get cleaned up." Shawn announced and headed for the house. I watched him walk toward the sliding glass doors. Even after six years together and countless explorations of his body, the sight of him was no less compelling for me as it had been when I first saw him. If anything, our time together had made me lust for him even more. I admired him shamelessly. The view was especially nice because I could see his front in the glass while I admired his rear directly.

Shawn paused when he got close to the glass and pretended to search the pockets of his shorts for something that wasn't there. The search involved his hands spending a lot of time in his back pockets. I'd seen the routine before. He wasn't looking for anything. He was gripping his ass and showing it off for me. He even let his shirt fall from his hands so he could bend over to pick it up from the grass. When Shawn stood with his shirt in his hands, he draped it over his shoulders and glanced back to wink at me.

I let my lust loose for just a second, so he would feel it. He staggered from the intensity of my desire, but he kept his footing and opened the sliding door to enter the house. I strangled my lust and waited for Shawn to shut the door before I called out to another reflection I'd noticed in the glass.

"I know you're there, kid." I said toward Andy's shrub. "The reek of that menthol gives you away. Gimmie one and wipe the drool off your face."

Andy came out from behind his leafy hiding place and gave me a cigarette. "I don't know what you're talking about." He objected to my accusation.

"Yeah, you do. Are you out? Does your dad know?" I asked. I tamped the cigarette on the surface of my bracelet and broke the filter off it. Andy struck his lighter and held it for me.

"Does he know what?" He countered as he practically dared me to answer.

I leaned the ragged end of the cigarette, where the filter used to be, into the butane flame of Andy's plastic lighter, drew in a mouthful of smoke, and puffed it out as waste. I leaned back, drew smoke into my chest, and exhaled a plume to the side. The unfiltered smoke burned my lungs even more than the filtered smoke had the day before, but the added strength tasted better. I left the cigarette in the right corner of my mouth and talked around it. "Does your dad know you're gay?"

"I'M NOT!" The boy shouted as his face contorted in fear.

We both knew he was lying. The only thing I didn't know was if he was lying just to me, or to himself at the same time. I drew on my cigarette, and pressed Andy to tell at least one of us the truth. "Ok, you were just staring at the muscled, sweaty, shirtless guy who was working out in your back yard because you're straight and are impressed by the perfection of his build. You only feel admiration, not desire."

Andy's face fell. He looked down and kicked at the grass. "I don't know what I am, OK? He looks good and I was looking."

I grinned at Andy. "You were salivating like he was a prime steak, and you were starving." The kid's face twisted in shame and fear, and I realized I'd gone too far. I felt like a prick. My intention when I pressed him, was to get him to face what I assumed he was, not to hurt him. I apologized for my remark. "I'm sorry." I said and hoped Andy would believe that I was. "Don't worry Andy, if you are, all that means is we have something in common and if you're not, then you're not. I won't say anything to anyone."

Andy thanked me and changed the subject. "What's with the weird exercises you were doing? Shawn didn't do anything like that."

I was probably as happy as he was to have something else to discuss and embraced the new topic. "When I had to build my body back up, after the first mission, I did it with a special exercise plan that builds size but keeps me loose. I wanted to be as big as I could be, but I didn't want to sacrifice my flexibility."

Andy played with his cigarette. He took an awkward, shallow drag and blew the smoke right back out. His fingers nervously tapped the ash from the end. "Why did you want to be big?"

I didn't know what to say. The idea of telling my brother's sexually confused kid the self-loathing truth seemed like a little too much reality for an early-morning backyard conversation. I'd long ago admitted to myself that I'd built my body in an attempt at being worthy of my husband's love, but that was nobody's business but mine. It also didn't seem appropriate conversation fodder for Andy and me because the kid was still a minor and we'd known each other for less than twenty-four hours. I didn't count the few times we'd seen each other before I left for Solum because I'd never engaged with him then. I came up with something that was partially true, and no more than PG rated.

"Shawn likes powerfully-built men, and I was a blank slate. I figured I'd be something I knew he'd like. If he preferred a runner's build, I would have used a different exercise program."

Andy played with his cigarette some more. He didn't look at me. He seemed lost in thought. I took another drag on my smoke and decided I'd had enough of it. I pinched the light off it and field stripped the butt to scatter the tobacco and the small twist of rolling paper on the lawn.

Andy watched my actions and tried to match them. He wound up with just the brown filter in his hand but didn't know what to do with it. "Lose it behind the bushes." I offered.

He did as I suggested. By the time he'd done it, he'd thought enough to continue our talk. "You changed yourself to match what Shawn wanted. Did he ask you to?"

"No, in fact, he told me to make myself look the way I wanted to look. I never thought much about how I looked, so I decided that I wanted to be what he wanted."

Andy eyed me hard. The kid had a good, hard stare; one that his father would be proud of. "Is that what it means to be in love?"

"Shit, Andy...I mean, stuff." I played with my bracelet, turning it until the oval of the gold contacted the oval of my wrist and back the other way. "I'm the last person you should ask. Look, I'm guessing you're confused about things right now. I don't know anyone your age who isn't. If you want to talk, about anything, I'm willing to talk to you. I won't judge you or repeat anything we talk about to your father as long as you don't repeat anything that I tell you to him. Is that a deal?"

I held my hand out. Andy shook it. "Deal."

"Good. I have to go to the store to get measured for my suit, right? How about just the two of us go? That will give us an excuse to have some time together with no one else."

"OK, Uncle Church."

"That's settled, then. Now, I need to get cleaned up. I stink and I'm hungry." I stood from the swing and strode toward the house. I called back to Andy when I got near the glass doors. The reflection of the yard and him standing by the swing reminded me of earlier. "Work on your `down low' game, kid. Burning a hole in someone while you're both facing a big pane of glass means they can see you doing it. If I saw you watching, Shawn saw you to."

I turned to grin at him, and he was blushing. "I'll work on it." He waved at me.

I went in and found clothes in the bedroom closet where Andy had hung them the night before. I picked out an outfit for the day and set it aside but couldn't do anything else. Shawn wasn't done in the shower yet and Bem was still asleep.

I had an urgent thought and quickly transferred the contents of the pockets of the pants I'd worn the day before, into the pockets of a fresh pair. I always did that when Shawn couldn't see me, usually in the closet of wherever we were staying or in the bathroom if we showered separately. I didn't want Shawn to see the watch I kept in my left pocket.

I felt guilty that morning as I did it, like I felt guilty every day when I did it. I'd told Shawn I wouldn't wear the watch anymore when I put the bracelet on, and I didn't. I carried the wretched thing instead. I hated that watch. I hated what it stood for. I carried it anyway because I felt that I had to. As much as it hurt to walk around with my guilt in my pocket, I didn't see how I could do anything else. I stowed the watch away and rubbed my palms together like I was trying to rub away the residue of something unpleasant. I guess that's exactly what I was doing.

I wandered out of the master bedroom into the upstairs hallway and poked my head in Joe's room to see if he was awake. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with his hands clasped behind his head. The creaking hinges of the door called his attention to me.

"Morning." I said.

"You really are here." Joe looked at me along his eyes but didn't sit up. "I was just wondering if yesterday was a dream. I'm glad it wasn't."

"Me to. How do you feel?"

"Better than I have in a while. I've been in a lot of pain lately from not being able to move around much. I don't feel any of that this morning. Does that mean something?"

I shrugged and shook my head. "That's beyond me. You'd have to ask the doctor." In my mind I thought, `but first you'd have to decide to believe him.' I didn't voice my anger at Joe's disbelief from the previous day. Instead, I tried to start the fresh day with a fresh take on things. I offered Joe my help instead of my anger. "Do you want to get up?"

Joe threw the covers off, sat up, and pushed himself to the edge of the bed until his feet were on the floor. I held the walker for him. He grabbed the rails and stood. The effort of standing up seemed less than it had the day before. Joe gingerly removed one of his hands from the walker, then the other. He stood on his own for several moments. "I want to try something." He pointed to a closed door in the corner of the room. "Get my cane out of the closet, the one with four feet."

I found what Joe wanted and passed it to him. He took it in his right hand and leaned some weight on it. I floated the walker out of his way and into the far corner of the room. Joe watched it go without comment. He took a few careful steps while he used the cane to steady his movements, then he took a few more. He flashed a wide, pleased smile and made a slow circuit of the narrow room. When he got to where I was, he shuffled over and flung his arms around me.

Joe hugged me tightly while the cane stood on its own at his side. "Thank you, Church, thank you." He whispered in my ear. "I believe it now. It's all true. I get to live. I get to see my son finish growing up."

When Joe pulled back from the embrace, he was wiping tears from his eyes. "Now get away from me." He commanded with a gentle push to my chest. "Your stink is gagging me."

I laughed and was pleased that Joe decided to believe his good fortune and my husband's kindness at the same time. I wasn't completely certain what had finally convinced him, but I didn't much care. I retreated to the hallway to make room for Joe. Joe shuffled out of his room, passed me, and headed for the stairs. I waited so I could watch him go down.

I imagined a magic blanket that floated just in front of my brother, so I could catch him if he lost his footing. He made it down the steps without my help. I released the magic just as Joe reached the main floor. Some movement beyond Joe caught my eye. It was Andy. He'd been watching his father from the edge of the living room. Joe stopped at the bottom of the steps and waited for his son to react.

Andy approached him slowly, almost like he was afraid of his father. "What does it mean?" He asked in a voice that seemed afraid of what the answer would be.

Joe explained, his own voice barely above a whisper, like he was telling his son a secret. "Shawn did it yesterday, I didn't want to get your hopes up, but I believe him now. He stopped the disease. I'm not going to die."

Andy shook his head back and forth like he needed convincing. "You're not going to die?" He asked, his voice only a little louder than Joe's.

"I'm not going to die." Joe repeated. The boy burst into tears and grabbed his father in a tight hug.

I was thrilled for them both, father and son. Until that moment, I'd thought that Andy was pretty resigned to what was happening around him. I realized that no one, especially no one Andy's age, can watch a loved one fight a losing battle with a disease like that without building up a huge emotional load. It seemed like the entire build-up was trying to leave him at once. He clung to his father and cried in huge wracking sobs, barely able to get his breath before another one shook his lean frame. Joe stroked his head and told him everything was going to be OK. I think Andy knew that and that's why he was crying.

Shawn appeared next to me. He was partially dressed and had been drawn into the hallway by the sound of Andy's sobs. Shawn didn't understand what had happened. I pulled him into the bedroom to explain. Shawn was thrilled and wanted to congratulate father and son. "Leave them alone for now." I advised. "Let them have this moment. We'll have plenty of time to be happy for them."

I left Shawn to finish getting dressed while I took my turn in the bathroom to clean up.

By the time I was done in the bathroom, Bem was awake, and the smell of coffee was wafting up from the kitchen. I went down to find Joe and Andy cooking breakfast. Joe stood at the stove, his hip propped on the oven door while he fried eggs and scrapple. Andy did the prep and the legwork of running between the fridge and the cabinets. They seemed like they were truly enjoying themselves.

Joe's face wore a permanent smile, and Andy didn't take his eyes off his father unless he was getting something for him. I guessed the boy was as happy to see his father doing something as Joe was to be doing it. I almost warned Joe not to get carried away but didn't want to ruin the fun. I thought, `if Joe burns up too much energy, I can always give him some more.'

Shawn had already set the table, so there was nothing for me to do but sit and wait with a mug of steaming black coffee. In just a few minutes, Andy served up the food while his father shuffled to his spot at the head of the table. We all got ready to dig in when Joe stopped us. "I think we should say grace this morning. I have a lot to be thankful for, more than I've had in a long time. Does anyone mind if I do the honors?"

No one minded. Joe led us in the traditional grace, then he added his own prayer. "Lord," Joe intoned in his reverent voice, "thank you for bringing my brother back to me, thank you for his partner, thank you for his friend, thank you for my son's happiness, and thank you for sending your divine love in the form of a man who could halt the disease ravaging my body. Amen."

I crossed myself for the first time in over a decade and actually felt good about doing it. "That was nice, Joe." I said to thank him for his kind words. "Now that you believe that Shawn stopped the disease, what do you think about going with us to get your legs back?"

Andy leapt into the discussion with Christmas morning enthusiasm. "We could go with you?" He exclaimed. "To Solum?" Andy said as an eager question.

Joe scowled and shook his head at Andy. "We'll see," Joe snapped, "I haven't agreed to anything."

I recognized that Joe's anger meant the discussion was closed. I decided not to press him in that moment, but to bring the question up again when I had the opportunity. I picked up my fork to dig into my meal when Andy put his hand up like he had something to say to everyone. "Uh," Andy said and cast nervous eyes all around the room, "I uh...I just wanted to...um." Andy scanned the room again until his eyes came to rest on Shawn. "Shawn, I wanted to thank you...for...for saving my dad."

The boy's thanks made Shawn feel good. I felt Shawn's pride swell in response to being appreciated for the good deed that he'd done. The good feeling flowed from my husband in sweet waves. "You're very welcome, Andy." Shawn replied. My husband darted a glance at Joe, who met Shawn's eyes, but said nothing.

I expected Joe to thank Shawn directly, especially as Andy had shown him up by doing it first, but I forgot who I was dealing with. My brother never lied, never trusted anyone, and never apologized. For him to thank Shawn would be to admit he was wrong for doubting my husband the day before. It would be a version of an apology and therefore impossible for Joe.

The fact that he couldn't thank Shawn set up a conflict for Joe. He could never allow himself to be accused of being ungrateful, because that would be a sin. Therefore, Joe had to thank Shawn without actually thanking him. Joe's backhanded way of thanking Shawn was the grace he'd said. Except Joe hadn't thanked Shawn. Joe had thanked his imaginary deity for Shawn's work.

I wasn't thrilled about what Joe had done, and I was angry with myself for thanking him for his kind words during grace. I didn't want to fight though, and I couldn't take my words back without acting like a child, so I didn't say anything. Shawn averted his eyes from Joe and the good feeling that he'd been experiencing became slightly tarnished. Shawn didn't mention it, and everyone set to their meals.

We ate and discussed our plans for the day. I asked Joe's permission for Andy and me to go to the mall so I could get measured for my suit. He didn't object. Shawn announced that, as Bem was feeling better, Bem and Shawn planned to walk around the neighborhood together. Joe offered to look over Ars' financial records to see who would be best to help us with our mission. When we finished eating, and were done cleaning up, I gave Joe the sheaf of paperwork and USB drive from Ars.

Joe balked at the USB. "And what's on here?" Joe asked as he held the small piece of technology between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

"No idea." I admitted. "Maybe a spreadsheet, maybe more records, maybe just digital copies of the paper that's there."

Joe remained dubious and let us know that's how he felt with some rare sarcasm. "Right...is Solum using MS Office 2024 yet or are they still on 2019?"

I put my hands up to show surrender. "I'm giving you what I was given."

Joe didn't like my answer, but he didn't argue further. I kissed Shawn to take my leave of him, collected Andy, and headed out front to the Vic to set off for the mall.

"You can smoke in this car if you want." I announced once Andy and I were well away from the house. The permissiveness of that statement struck me as a bit much because of the implied responsibility of my age as compared to Andy's. I had a qualm about telling the kid that he could smoke, but I wasn't going to tell him he couldn't smoke. I didn't want him to smoke, but I also didn't want to be another negative voice in his head. I decided to try to say something responsible, but to say it carefully.

"I'm not a preachy kind of guy. I always resented when people would preach to me about my habits, so I'm only going to say something once and forever keep my mouth shut. I started smoking when I was about your age and didn't stop until I met Shawn, that's twenty-five years. It was an expensive, filthy habit that damaged my health and made my life more difficult. You're only fifteen so you can't have been smoking very long. Do yourself a favor and give them up now. That's my speech. I'll never say another word unless you bring it up. Now, you and I came out together for a reason, what do you want to know?"

Andy didn't say anything for a while. He appeared to be deep in thought, to the point that I started to wonder if he'd even heard me. He jerked into the conversation with a question that I expected but expected later on. "How did you know you were gay?"

"WOW kid." I almost reached for the watch in my pocket, but I was in the middle of a traffic maneuver and my left hand was occupied with the steering wheel. Instead, I waited until we were driving straight again to play with the bracelet on my left wrist. I dragged my right hand away from that and tapped a drumroll on the steering wheel to give the hand something to do and to give myself a moment to think.

"You go right for the throat, don't you?" I observed to my nephew. "There's no doubt you're Joe's son. OK, we can start there just as well as anywhere. Hold that thought for a minute, we have to run in here."

I had driven us to a large auto repair shop at the opposite end of town, on Pine Avenue on the north side of Main. The name of the shop was PC Automotive. That's where I always had the Vic serviced. I was loyal to them even after I moved to Philly. They did a great job, were reasonably priced, and stood behind their work. They also had resources for all kinds of repairs beyond standard mechanical work, from glass to body to paint to whatever.

I parked the car and left the keys hang in the ignition. Andy and I strolled into the glass-fronted office. The owner's son, Anthony was behind the desk. I remembered that he was just getting into the business with his father, Paul, when I left Earth. I figured he would be about Shawn's age. He was medium height, five feet eight or nine and well built; a clean-cut guy with close cropped brown hair, light colored eyes, a small nose, and a wide, ripe mouth. He had an impressive upper body and arms that bulged from the sleeves of his maroon PC Automotive polo shirt.

"Hey Anthony, is your dad around?" I asked.

The young man looked up from his computer screen with a neutral, professional expression. "No, he's at the other shop. Can I help you?" He asked, his voice modulated into a neutral, professional tone.

"You don't remember me, do you? Church Philips, I drive an `86 Crown Vic, white. You guys always did the work on it."

A glimmer of vague recollection flickered across Anthony's face. "I remember a white Vic, but you don't look familiar."

It took me a second to realize why he didn't recognize me. Right, I'm not fat, filthy from work, and reeking of cigarette smoke.' I thought. Doesn't matter if he remembers.'

"What do you need?" Anthony asked. His question cut through the bullshit and got right to the point. "Is the Vic still around?"

"That's what I'm here for, it needs some major work. The bottom end is wiped. I'd like the engine done, the tranny freshened up, the air conditioner fixed, the front end gone through, the frame checked, some sheet metal work here and there, paint, and anything else you find wrong. Money is no object, but time is kind of tight. I need it all done in two weeks. If that's not enough time to rebuild the engine that's there, just stick a long block in it. I need that car in shape for a cross country drive. I also need to borrow or rent a car while I'm in town. What can you do for me?"

"Let's see what you got." Anthony came around the counter and led the way outside. I fell in step behind him so I could admire his muscular ass, as it bulged and stretched in his black slacks while he walked. Andy was trotting at my elbow and was admiring the same thing I was, except he was doing it with no finesse. He stared like Anthony's ass was a work of art. An elbow to the ribs reminded him of his lackluster down low game. He reluctantly averted his gaze.

Andy asked a low spoken question. "When are you driving across the country?"

"I'm not." I answered him. "I want the car fixed right. I can't tell Anthony I need it to drive back to a parallel dimension, can I?"

Andy nodded, then shook his head. I took it for granted that he'd understood my reasons for explaining myself to Anthony the way I had. By that time, we were outside, and Anthony was examining the Vic.

Anthony looked the car over with meticulous care and practiced hands. Curious fingers traced along the golden tie-downs, but he asked no questions about them. He opened the hood and asked me to start the engine. I did as he asked, and Anthony throttled it from under the hood. He winced at the thump of bearing noise and the clatter of lifters starved for oil. He dusted his hands and drew his right index finger across his thick neck to tell me to `kill' the engine. I shut it off and waited for the verdict.

"Alright, Church, here's what I can do." Anthony slammed the hood shut and moved toward me like his plan was confidential. "I'll do a long block, new tranny, get the front end patched up while it's out, and we'll do a bumper to bumper once over. It's gonna cost you, but we'll have it done in time. As to the rental, I've got an old Town Car sitting around the side. She runs pretty well but I wouldn't plan any road trips in it. If you're staying local, you can have it until we get this done."

"That's great, Anthony. Can you get your body guy to lose the roof rack and the hood rails and patch the holes to?"

"Sure. What were they for, anyway?"

I shook my head at him. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Anthony didn't seem to mind the mystery. He didn't ask any more questions. We went back in the office where I was given the keys to the Town Car, and we finished the rest of the repair authorization paperwork. Andy let me use his cell phone number as my contact because I didn't have an Earth phone.

The fact that I didn't have an Earth phone made me wonder why Ars had left one out of his bag of tricks. I assumed if he'd wanted me or Shawn to have one, we would. "Strange." I said to myself as I left the auto shop's office and went to find the Town Car `around the side' of the building.

The car that we found was definitely a Town Car and it was certainly old. Andy and I assumed we'd found the correct vehicle, got in, and coaxed it to life. The car had once been royal purple with a beige leather interior. Sun fade and flaking clear coat had reduced the finish to more of a mottled blush and the interior was thrashed.

The car ran fine, but it had obviously endured a rough existence. The leather seats were cracked and torn, the interior was dirty, the ashtrays full, and the digital dash flickered on and off randomly, forcing me to guess at things like speed and remaining fuel. The air conditioning didn't work either. The small consolation to the non-functional air was that all four power windows still went all the way down. Whether they would come back up, remained to be seen.

When we were on the road, I returned to what Andy had asked me. "How did I know I was gay?" I repeated the question as a way to get the conversation on track. "I knew I was attracted to men, and I knew what that meant, but I never admitted it to anyone. I even tried to convince myself it wasn't true. I tried...I tried hard to be attracted to women. It didn't work. By the time I gave up lying to myself though, I was sixty-or-eighty-pounds overweight, a two-pack a day smoker, and a drunk. The fact that I was gay didn't much matter. I lived an asexual existence and watched a lot of porn."

I glanced over. Andy stared through the windshield with no expression on his face. His blank, staring face told me how useless my speech had been. "I'm sorry if that answer isn't helpful. The very first person I ever admitted it to was Shawn, and at that point, he already knew. I don't know how he knew. My down low game is pretty good, but Shawn is the most perceptive person I ever met."

I rubbed my neck. I wasn't answering Andy's question, but I wasn't sure if I knew how to. "I'm sorry, Andy, I guess I suck at this. Let me think about it and maybe I can come up with something that makes sense." By the time I'd finished my pointless monologue, we'd arrived at the shopping complex that was the Moorestown Mall and Eastgate Plaza. I parked the heap, left the windows down but still locked the car for no reason, and we went into the stores.

Andy didn't say much as we navigated the mall to the high-end men's outfitter where I was to get my suit. He pointed out a few stores where he and Shawn had shopped the day before, but beyond that he was silent. I worried about his silence and worried that my ramblings had somehow disturbed him. I hoped the nonsense I'd spouted didn't turn him off from talking to me.

Andy came back to life when we got to the formalwear place. He showed me the suit and accessories he'd chosen and demanded I dress. I went to the changing room and put everything on. Andy stood on the other side of the louvered door and urged me to change faster from the time I went in, to the time I came out. I appreciated the boy's enthusiasm but didn't fully understand it. For me, clothes had always been something necessary, but never anything to get excited over. For Andy, it seemed that fashion was life itself.

Once I had all the clothes and accessories on, I had to admit that Andy knew what he was doing. He'd selected everything, the entire outfit including the suit, a buttoned-down shirt, tie, socks, shoes, a new watch, wallet, tie pin, display handkerchief, and a pair of sunglasses. As near as I could tell, Andy's taste was infallible. The fitter who'd joined us to measure me for alterations was clearly taking mental notes while Andy explained the combinations. He even deferred to Andy's recommendations on tailoring.

I got measured up, filled out the order paperwork, paid a deposit, and was told to come back at the beginning of the next week when everything would be ready. The whole process took two hours, which is more time than I ever spent shopping for clothes in one session in my life.

Andy and I finished in the store and found ourselves at loose ends. It was way too early for lunch, and I didn't want to go back to the house. Andy and I got the car out of the lot and drove to a nearby park by a lake that I remembered from my childhood. I figured it would be quiet there and we would have some time to talk with no interruptions.

Strawbridge Lake was man-made. It was basically a wide spot cut into the Pennsauken Creek and dammed to hold water back. It had been created during the 1930s as a public works project. It remained a public park complete with woods, a playground for the kiddies, catch and release fishing, and sports fields. Swimming was prohibited, as was consuming any fish caught from the lake. I guessed the runoff from nearby Route 38 made swallowing the lake water or eating the fish a risky proposition.

We drove over, parked in a gravel lot, and walked in to find a park bench and some shade. The park was deserted, and for good reason. It was oppressively hot out and what little breeze there was, carried the noise of heavy equipment and big clouds of dust from an adjacent construction site. I took a hair tie from my pocket and used my telekinesis to pull my shoulder-length hair into a loose ponytail to unshroud my hot neck. Andy watched the process with fascination. "I can't tie the string without looking at it, but for some reason, I can do it with my magic." I admitted as a self-deprecating way to prove I wasn't just showing off.

We found a bench that looked like it would still have shade in an hour and sat to chat. That's why I thought we sat down, anyway. I thought that's why we came to the park in the first place, but for some reason, nothing happened for a while. Instead of talking, we sat in awkward silence for long enough to make us both uncomfortable. My fear of silence must have been more intense than Andy's because I was the one to try to break the ice that had formed between us.

"Look Andy, being a kid is hard, I know that. What you've spent the last two years going through with your dad's illness would be difficult for any adult to deal with. Add your Aunt Mary and her preaching and I would have been screaming down the street. You kept it together and were there for your dad when he needed it. No one can take that away from you." I got a little lost in what I was trying to say and stopped to reposition my thoughts.

"I don't know what I'm getting at here. I've made so many bad decisions in my life. Some of the worst were when I made no decision at all. The point is, I can't judge anyone no matter what they choose to do. All I can do is tell you what didn't work for me. If I can save you one minute of grief in your life by telling you how I screwed up mine, I'll feel like at least part of what I went through was worth it. You ask me anything you want to know, and I'll tell you whatever I can. If you want, tell me your story and I'll give you whatever advice I can. If you don't want either of those, we can just sit here and watch the ducks."

Andy meditated. His eyes stared into space for a few more minutes before he spoke. "I don't know who I am. When I look at some boys, or men I guess...when I looked at Shawn this morning, I felt...uhh...I liked what I saw. Is that what I want? I don't know. Sometimes I see women I think are hot. What does that mean? What will Dad think? Will I still be his son if I'm gay? He's had it tough, and I don't want to make it any harder. Why can't it just be simple?"

I had no answer to that, though it was a question I'd asked myself for years. `Why indeed?' I thought. I was mulled that over until Andy spoke up again.

"What's it like in the other world?" He asked. "Does anyone treat you and Shawn different?"

"No, over there, it's simple...or that is anyway. No one thinks any which way about gay or straight or whatever."

Andy peeled a splinter of wood from the bench. He poked at the rusty head of a carriage bolt with the sharp end of it. "Shawn must've had it easy if it's so simple there."

I fidgeted with my bracelet and thought about how Shawn `had it.' "Eehhh...not exactly. No one gave him a hard time about his sexuality, but he had it rough for other reasons."

"What reasons?" Andy asked without looking up.

I wondered if I should tell the boy. I wondered if I told him about the shit Shawn dealt with, if that would help Andy see his own predicament in a better light. I decided that telling the story to Andy would do no harm. I offered it up to him. "Shawn wasn't very welcome in his family. I saw some of it firsthand. Do you want to hear about it? I don't think Shawn would mind if I told you."

Andy nodded but didn't raise his eyes. He focused on the splinter of wood like using it to poke at the carriage bolt was the most important thing he'd do that day. His lack of direct attention made me uncomfortable. I needed a way to ease Andy's mind and get his chin off his chest. "Do you have your smokes?" I asked. "I feel like this story needs a cigarette."

As soon as I said it, I felt like a dope. I had given the kid unasked-for advice on smoking just a few hours before, and I'd just asked him for a cigarette. I made a mental note not to do that again. My small consolation was that the idea worked. The required actions of smoking seemed to shake Andy from being lost inside his own mind.

He brought his pack out, gave me a cigarette, lit one for himself, and held his lighter for me. I leaned my cigarette into the flame, took a deep drag, and blew a cloud into the sky. As the smoke rose and eddied in the sticky stillness of the August heat, I launched into the `Shawn's Family' story.