Heart and Soul

HEart and Soul Chapter 7

I hope people remember to note the timeline in parentheses with each chapter.

Thank you for continuing to support the story of senior men. As with anybody, there is something meaningful in everyone's story.

Email is always welcome.

7

Family Matters

(Nine months after I met Don)

Don lifted his sister into the air, whirling her around in an aerial hug. When he sat her down, he motioned her toward me for an introduction.

"This is Emory, my partner."

"It's nice to meet you, Vicki. Is it with a `y' or an `i'?"

"An `i.'"

I nodded and smiled. "Well, welcome. I hope your drive went well."

"It was fine. I broke it up. It would be nice to fly, but I'd have to connect through Chicago and then even from Des Moines is a drive, so ... it's just easier and cheaper to drive on my own. It's only a couple of hours longer this way."

"I can relate. My brother is in Oklahoma. It's just easier to drive than to hassle with the airports ... and then park ... and rent a car. I just find it less stressful to drive to Stillwater."

She smiled at our shared experience.

It made me realize that I hadn't seen Isaiah in more than a year. What's worse, I hadn't even told him about Don. As brothers, we were pathetic.

I hadn't told Gene's sister about Don either. Would she be happy for me? Or would she feel my finding love again meant I turned my back on her brother?

Don had fixed a nice dinner. Vicki had stayed with a friend outside St. Louis the night before to help break up the drive. She was happy to have a home-cooked meal rather than going out.

"Donny, this is delicious," she said. "Thank you, so much."

"Emory made the salad," my partner interjected.

"Oh, jeez! Like that was difficult," I laughed.

I learned a lot about Don listening to the stories told by the two of them. Dinner conversation was incredibly enjoyable. I liked Don's sister a lot. She was unlike any friends I had ever had, and she was quite different than Don. But then again, Isaiah and I were totally different. He was a countrified hick, and I had at least some delusions of higher education.

"Emory, do you see your family often?" Vicki asked.

"I was just thinking about that. I haven't seen Isaiah, my older brother, since last summer."

"You don't get together over the holidays?"

"No. Once Gene and I — the partner I lost — started celebrating holidays together, that sort of ended. The two of us went to see my parents once when they were both still alive, but we liked Christmas to ourselves."

"I see." She turned to her brother. "Donny, are you coming to Nashville for Thanksgiving? Aunt Stacy is 93; you never know when her last one will be."

"Well, that's cheery," Don said sarcastically. "I hope she doesn't hear you talk that way."

"Of course not. Be nice."

Don looked at me. "Aunt Stacy was my father's youngest sister. She is the only relative we still have alive other than two cousins — one of whom is in Belgium, the other in Seattle. Aunt Stacy was kind of like another grandmother. She and Uncle Bogey couldn't have children ... for medical reasons ... so they sort of fawned over the nieces and nephews."

"It's sad that I don't even know where my cousins are," I said. "We weren't as close to family on Dad's side. They were all from Arizona and we didn't get together that often. Mom's brother was older. The two cousins we had on that side of the family are gone. Isaiah and I are about it."

"Is his wife still alive?"

"Wife. Ha. Isaiah could never get a wife. He was in trouble with the law — thankfully briefly — when I was in junior high. He was still 17, so the crime wasn't deemed an adult crime, and it was relatively harmless. I don't want to belittle it because it was against the law, but ... the community knew he did it. People always viewed him as a bad kid. He would have girlfriends from time to time. Most of them were shallow. I wouldn't consider any of them wife material — and thank heavens it never came to that."

My partner and his sister stared at me somewhat perplexed on how to respond to my story.

"I – I suppose I should think about going to see him again."

But I didn't want to. When I visited last summer, he just seemed ... old. We had so little in common. And yet, he was Don's age, but Don seemed so much younger in comparison. I wasn't sure why.

"Well, I do hope you two will come this November."

"You would like me to come ... for Thanksgiving?" I said in surprise.

"Absolutely. Donny raves about you. I love how happy you are making him."

"Oh, DOES he now?" I said, grinning at him.

"Of course, I say nice things about you. I love you."

"And it is sooo nice to hear him say THAT about anyone."

"Nooowwww, let's not go there, please," Don sternly said to his sister.

"Not that I have room to talk," Vicki said. "I've had two divorces."

"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what to say.

"We're better off apart, that's for sure. My daughter from my first marriage lives in Nashville also. You'd think we'd see each other all the time, but we manage to about once a month."

The three of us sat in the living room reminiscing about things in the `80s and `90s. They went through a bottle of wine. I had two beers. It was a fun evening.

I had planned on spending the night there. As we didn't turn in until 11:30, I was glad not to have to drive home. Don made sure Vicki had everything she needed for the night. The guest room was upstairs. By the time he returned to the bedroom, I was already in bed, teeth brushed and bladder emptied. I was in a Deep Purple T-shirt I had stored at his place, along with my boxers.

Once Don had turned on the bathroom light, I turned out the lamp on my nightstand.

I heard all the sounds of his taking care of everything. We had reached the point in our relationship that if he farted in another room, it was no big deal. As he came to the doorframe of the bathroom, I could see he was totally naked before he turned out the light.

I lay there surprised.

He crawled in the sheets and found my face to kiss me goodnight.

"I'm kind of surprised you are sleeping naked with your sister in the house."

"Why? She isn't in bed with us."

"What if she knocks on the door or something?"

"Then I'll put something on."

"You usually only sleep naked if we are having sex."

"Correct."

"So ... are you ..."

"Correct."

"With her in the house?"

"I'm not saying we have to scream our heads off," Don loudly whispered.

"Seriously."

"Emory, we haven't had sex in three days."

"Merciful heavens. Three whole days."

"Emmy baby, I have thought about it all day. I want you."

I chuckled. I was wanted.

"But we've never been quiet!" I loudly whispered.

"We've never had to," he whispered back. "Which is what makes it fun ... and daring."

"This is a rambunctious side to you I've never seen."

"Do you like?"

"I like," I smiled.

Five minutes later, Don was very hard, and I was very ... the opposite.

Five minutes after that, Don was deep in my ass. My face was buried into the pillow, and he softly panted in my ear.

Five minutes after that, I was still not hard. His teeth gently nibbled on my earlobe as he kept pushing his hard cock inside me."

"You feel really good in me, babe," I whispered.

"Me too. It feels so good," he whispered. "I'm getting close."

"Yeah, fuck me," I whispered.

"Em ... Em... I'm getting close," he whispered.

"Come in me, babe," I whispered.

"Oh. Oh yeah. Oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah. I'M COMING!" he shout-whispered.

I felt his groin push on my ass from above. My arms hugged the pillow as he unloaded his cum in me. I could hear him exhale. He then relaxed and let all his weight crush me. It was heavy, but I loved him on top of me.

"See? Wasn't that fun?" he whispered, and I knew he was smiling. He knew I knew he was smiling.

"Yes. It was," I conceded.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered.

"Sorry. My dick has the night off I'm afraid."

We rolled to face each other. Don reached for my limp cock and held it. Even on the nights I didn't get hard, he would hold it.

Sadly, I had grown fearful that the nights Pedro was MIA outnumbered the nights I could actually perform. That anxiety probably wasn't helpful, but ... I wondered if I needed to see the dick doc again.

We held each other and kissed for several minutes.

"I love you," I said.

"I'm glad you got to meet my sister."

"She's fun."

"I'm glad you like her."

I turned to spoon into Don. He put his arm around me and held me. Occasionally, a few of his fingers would tease my chest hair — which I loved. A minute later he moved his arm down to hold my penis again. Even if it wasn't erect, I liked his holding it.

We were quiet. Neither of us were drifting off yet.

"Don?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you feel old ... on the inside?"

"I think I'm supposed to feel insulted, but I'm not sure."

"No. No. What I mean is ... I was thinking about Isaiah, my brother, earlier. He just seems so ... so old to me. But I don't feel that way on the inside. Do you?"

"Well ... I-"

"I mean, if Corey were to think of the two of us having sex, he'd be so grossed out, right?"

"Merciful heavens! Let's hope that dear boy never pictures the two of us having sex. I'd shudder to think about it."

"What I mean is ... young people think of people our age as being old. But when we make love, I don't feel old at all. I mean ... well, granted, my dick is a piece of shit, but-"

"Hush. Don't say that. I love your penis."

He squeezed it again, although Pedro was still oblivious that he was being talked about.

"I forget sometimes that we are `grandpa age.' Hell, `great-grandpa age.' I don't know. I'm not making sense."

"Yes, you are. And I get what you're saying. I know my body is the age it is, but ... making love to you does make me feel young.'

He kissed the back of my neck. I didn't pursue the conversation any further.

I needed to call Isaiah soon. It had been too long.

—

Vicki had been gone for two days, and I had one overwhelming thought. Why hadn't I told Gene's sister about Don?

Candice and I talked on the phone once a month. We continued doing that even after Gene died. For the past several months, I hadn't even mentioned Don. At first, there wasn't a point in bringing it up if we didn't even know if we would last. But ... now? We're in love; we consider each other partners. What was holding me back?

When Don and I expressed our love, it was still new. A few months into it, it just seemed like ... "Why didn't you tell me before?" ... and with each month I hadn't said anything, it just seemed to get harder.

"Fuck! Why is this hard!??" I screamed at my phone.

Candice loved me. She and I got along great. This should not be an issue. She would want me to find love again.

Wouldn't she?

Was I just worried about letting go of this last connection to Gene? But I wasn't letting go. I could still call her once a month. Neither of us were going anywhere.

My finger almost trembled as I touched her phone contact.

"Hi, Em! How are you?"

"Fine. Good. And you?"

"Ugh! Don't even get me started. My boss is ... is ... ugh! I just want to strangle her. She's some thirty-something in a tight skirt who feels she has to be bitchy to appear `in charge.' She was okay when she started, but now, a couple years in the role, she just becomes more of a total bitch each day."

Candice always loved to embellish her stories. It was fun to listen to her.

"You are 67, y'know. You don't have to do this. You could retire."

"And then what?? Play pickle ball? Loiter around casinos? No thanks. I need some sense of purpose."

"Whatever suits you."

"It's just ... her. Grrr."

I listened for a few more minutes of all the irritating flaws of my ... Gene's sister's boss. I always thought of her as my sister-in-law, even though there was no "in-law" to make that official.

"Oh heck, maybe you're right. But I – I just can't see myself sitting around watching Kelly Rippa and The View every day. What do YOU do to keep busy?"

"Frankly, I should get more involved. I know. I have finished a home project that Gene and I had started that got put on hold when ... when we lost him. That basement project is done. Finally. I read. And ... and a few days a week, I see ... Don."

There. It was out in the open.

"Don?"

"Yeah. Candice, I'm seeing someone again. In fact, we're in love. He's my partner."

"Is he living there with you??"

"No. He has his own house. Nicer than ours. Mine."

"Oh."

The emotion behind that one syllable spoke volumes to me.

Candice didn't like my replacing Gene.
Candice didn't know how to feel about my seeing someone else.
Candice thought I was moving on and leaving her brother behind.
Candice was uncomfortable with this development.

It was quiet for a very long time.

"You're not saying anything."

"It's – it's just a surprise, I guess. I don't really know what to say."

"It's been almost four years now. I never thought I would really find someone else, but it just sort of happened."

"I see."

"It's not that I have replaced Gene in my heart. No one could ever do that. But ... Don makes me happy. He's good for me. I felt it was time to move on with life."

"Hm."

"You don't sound like you ... are happy for me."

"It's just strange, Emory. I mean, I only know you as the partner of my brother. It's weird to think of you in love with someone else. I ... I think I need to just ... I don't know. Sleep on it, maybe? Think about it some more? It's – it's just hard to hear."

"Okay. I'll let you go."

"Okay. Bye."

And we hung up.

Damn!! That couldn't have gone much worse. I loved Candice. We were family. Now I wondered if we would ever call again. Did I sever that relationship for good?

It didn't seem fair. Was I not entitled to happiness? As lousy as I felt about her reaction, it didn't make me regret falling in love with Don. I knew deep in my heart that Gene would be happy for me. Absolutely.

So, why did I feel so sucky?

I went to get a beer. Cooper would tell me this is the wrong time to get one — when alcohol seemed like an answer. But fuck it. I wanted a beer.

Ten minutes later, I was a complete lump in the recliner. My Miller Light was half gone. It's not like Candice's comments caused my love for Don to dissipate; I just wasn't feeling it. She made me feel guilty about getting over Gene.

Of course, I loved Don. But I loved Gene too.

It was the first time that I felt a real loss by moving on.

Damn her!

As I took the final swig from my bottle, my cell rang. It was Candice.

"Hello?"

"Emory, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Candice ...?"

"Screw me!! I was an idiot. Of course, I should be happy that you have found love. Please forgive me for giving you any type of impression otherwise."

"Well, I wrestled with those things in the beginning. I know how you feel."

"Gene loved you. He LOVED you. He — more than anyone — would want you to be happy. Don't ever second-guess it."

"I think so."

"He would. It ..." She paused. "It was sort of like when a child sees a divorced parent dating someone else, and it's just ... different. I think that's what hit me. Emory, please believe me. I am happy for you."

"Thanks."

"Tell me about him? How did you meet?"

"At a New Year's Eve party actually."

"Really?"

"There was a subtle attraction, I guess. I didn't even get his number. I thought about it for a while, but then he called me first. He got my number through a mutual friend, the person who threw the party."

"What's he like?"

"Well, he's 72, but will turn 73 in a couple of weeks."

"Oh! Older."

"Right. But ... I feel like the older one. He volunteers and is involved, and I'm just a ... a nobody."

"You're a wonderful man, Emory. Don't ever think otherwise."

"Don's very sweet. There is a sophistication to him, and yet at the same time, I find an innocence to him."

"How so?"

"He hasn't necessarily been lucky with love."

"Uh oh. Red flags? Skeletons?? What aren't you telling me."

"Nothing. It just hasn't worked out for him in long relationships like it did for Gene and me."

"Well, times were different when we grew up."

"They were."

"So ... partners, huh? But you each have your own house?"

"Yes."

"Kind of different, but ... why not?"

"Having a little space apart might be helpful. Who knows."

"As long as you two are happy. I'm happy too. Emory, I'm really sorry for my earlier reaction. Really. I – I was just thrown. But that doesn't excuse me for throwing doubt at you."

"I understand, Candice. At the beginning, I wondered if I was trying to replace Gene, but I wasn't. I will love him forever. And the nice thing is that Don knows that and understands. He lets me talk about Gene probably more than I should. He's a just a kind man."

"So ... at your age ... can you two do anything?"

"Hey. Fuck you, Candice," I said with a smile. "I'll have you know; we have a wonderful love life."

"Gene always told me you guys had hot sex."

"He did not."

"He did! He always bragged to me."

"Well, Don, even though he is seven years older ... he has this dick that won't quit."

"Oooookay. That's a little TMI."

I cackled. "Sorry."

"Good for you, Emory."

"Thanks." I paused. "Candice, even though I have a new love, I don't want to lose the connection you and I have. You're still family to me."

"I feel the same. I love you, Emory."

"I love you, too. Always."

We hung up after a moment of goodbyes. I felt extraordinarily better.

I had one call down. I decided a call to my brother was way overdue. We hadn't talked in months.

If he asked if I was coming down, would I want to? Last year he just seemed so old to me. And yet, he was one year younger than Don. My partner was so alive and vibrant, but my brother was just ... old. Was it the different environments? Or is it just one body pitted against another?

I pulled up Isaiah's contact. I dialed.

Oh, shit. If he wanted me to come, would he ask me to bring Don? Would I want to subject Don to the boredom of a visit to Stillwater?

"Hello. Emory?"

"Hi, Isaiah. How's it going?"

"Not so great. I'm starting to pack up."

"Pack up??! What? What's going on?"

"I'm ... I'm going to be moving. I'm selling the house."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I'm moving into Golden Oaks Village."

"Which is ...?"

"A retirement home. More of a nursing home, I guess."

"Why haven't you told me any of this, Isaiah."

"Oh hell. We don't tell each other stuff."

"This kind of stuff we should!! Has something happened?"

"Sort of."

"...well?"

"Two weeks ago, I fell. I stayed on the floor for a couple a' hours. After I got some strength, I pulled myself over to my phone on the end table."

"I – I'm sorry, Isiaih. Did you hurt yourself?"

"No serious damage, but when I called Peter, he sat me down and gave me a good talkin' to."

"Which means what?"

"I ... he ... everyone thinks I shouldn't stay on my own."

"Do you need me to come down?"

"Now? In August? It's hot as hell. It's a terrible time to come."

"It's not like we would play tennis. I could help you move."

"I got all that handled. I'm half boxed up. A room is supposed to open up in two weeks."

"Don't you need help?"

"I got friends, ya know!!"

"Okay. Okay. I could still be there for you."

"Ya got your own life."

It was sad that Isaiah and I weren't closer. The distance drove us apart. Among other things.

"Well, I'll try to come down in September or October."

"Suit yourself."

I didn't know what to say. I felt so out of touch with my older brother's life situation. We were horrible at communicating. We had just grown apart, particularly after our parents were gone.

"So, what are ya doin' nowadays? Are ya still doing that gay thing?"

"Thing?"

"You know what I mean."

"Not really. It's who I am. It's not what I'm doing this week."

"I 'spose."

"But ... yeah. I'm in love. Do you remember my talking to you about Don in March?"

He was quiet. I took it that he probably didn't.

"I think ya mighta mentioned him. Or someone."

I rolled my eyes. After an exasperated sigh, I mustered an answer. "The two of us are working out well. We are very much in love. I consider him my partner now."

"So ... what's that supposed to mean exactly. Like a husband but not a husband? Can't you guys get married now?"

"We could. We've only seen each other a little over half a year, but ... being partners is a faithful commitment to each other."

"Like that other guy."

"Do you mean Gene???"

"I knew his name. I just needed a second."

"Yes. Gene and I lived in the same house. Right now, Don and I don't but-"

"Then why be this partner thing?? If ya ain't even in the same house. That don't make no sense."

I hated talking to my brother. We were so different. I was so glad to be away from Stillwater. The town was fine, but the circle of people I knew all but drove me away.

"For now, it works for us. We each had a house, so ... we haven't had the discussion about moving in with each other. Things are really good the way they are."

"Just as well, since at our age we can't get it up."

"Speak for yourself. Don's cock is a thick sausage." And then I felt terrible for even saying that out loud.

"Guck. Keep that gay shit to yourself."

"Fine."

I tried to circle back to his situation.

"Isaiah, please keep me in the loop about your move. Okay? I'm still your brother."

"I'll try."

"I mean it. Call me. Or at least text!"

"Right."

"I'll try to come down soon."

"Thanks for callin', Emory."

And we hung up. It was a weird phone call. But they all were. The two of us hadn't been close since junior high.

I confessed to him at 15 that I was questioning if I was gay. He tried to tell me I wasn't; I was just figuring out the changes in my body. He said boys going through puberty didn't know what was happening, but I'd be normal.

I appreciated that he didn't tell our parents. I did that at 20. When I told him so, he told me that it would kill me. At that time, AIDS wasn't even heard of. He thought I'd get beaten up. When the AIDS crisis hit, he distanced himself from me completely, although I had run off to the Navy before too long.

He didn't live far from the house we grew up in. I stayed at home until after the Navy. An apartment of my own gave me the space I had craved.

We were nothing like Don and Vicki. They were so close. Gene and Candice were too. Not us. We were just brothers. Simply related.

I still didn't like hearing about his situation. Distant or not, you don't want to hear about your brother having health (or life!) concerns.

I didn't want to go see him, but I figured I should in the next couple of months.

—

The buffet looked good, but Don was more interested in the omelet station. Gracie's Garden offered a nice Sunday brunch. As we were seeing the matinee of "Signposts," I decided to treat Don to lunch rather than dinner.

The play didn't start until 1:30, so we had at least an hour to enjoy our meal before we needed to drive to the theater.

When we were both seated, a hostess brought us champagne (as it was included). I thought it made the occasion a bit more festive.

"This is so nice," Don said.

"I'm glad you think so. Happy birthday, babe."

"Well, thank you. It falls on an awkward day now, but at my age, who really celebrates birthdays that much."

"Being born on 9/11 does have to be strange."

"It was fine for half a century, but ... then."

"I remember that day so vividly."

"Me too."

"Everyone at the office just crowded around a television. It was just so surreal."

"Our campus was in shock. It was before cell phones, so students were missing classes to go watch the coverage in their dorms. By lunchtime, all classes had been canceled." Don looked shaken. "I just remember thinking I didn't want to go home alone."

"Gene and I had been together for two years. We just held each other that evening."

I lifted my glass of champagne. "To happier thoughts."

He lifted his and we gently clinked them together.

Our meal wasn't as fancy as what we had at Lawrence Creek a few weeks earlier on my birthday. I felt guilty when he took me to a place so expensive. But everything was delicious at our brunch. Don may have enjoyed the strawberry waffles the most.

"I'm excited to see this production," Don said, as we wrapped up our lunch.

"Me too. I think it is cool that we have met both the playwright and the person who inspired the story."

"You're kind of a fanboy of Trent, aren't you?" Don asked.

"I guess. When I found out Cooper knew him, I was so envious. But having met him at Friendsgiving last year, I see that he is just a kind, loving person."

"As was his husband," Don added.

We hadn't seen the pair since Jakob's birthday in the spring. I doubted if we would see them today, as all our friends were there opening night on Friday.

"Cooper said it was extraordinary. He was worried about Corey seeing some of the harder parts, but he said his son did okay. His ex-wife and her new husband were particularly moved too."

"I can't wait."

We could only get tickets for Sunday afternoon. Both Friday night and Saturday night had sold out so quickly. Our performance had too, but we got tickets that weren't too far back.

Some people were very dressed up. Others were somewhat casual. Many people had an American flag either on their clothing or on a piece of jewelry.

Before the lights went out, the cast came to the edge of the stage. One introduced himself as the director.

"In remembrance of 9/11, we wish to take a moment to reflect on the victims and the first responders lost that day. If you will please join us in a moment of silence."

The cast bowed their heads and placed their hands on their hearts.

Then the director asked if any first responders were in the audience. When those individuals stood, everyone gave them a strong round of applause.

Before long, the lights went out and the play began. In the first few minutes, Don reached over and held my hand.

I felt ... different. I didn't do artsy or sophisticated things. Particularly since Gene died. Don was showing me how to live a little more. We had gone to a couple of films he termed "independent." I wasn't sure if I liked them as much as he did, but I appreciated seeing something other than just summer blockbusters. Truth be told, I saw so few movies after Gene died. Going alone didn't seem to be enticing.

Trent's play gripped both of us. With the gay aspect, we both could relate to several areas of the storyline.

At intermission, Don seemed almost shaken.

"Are you okay? Are you enjoying it?" I asked skeptically.

"It's magnificent. But ... that poor boy."

"Meaning ... Paul in the play or Jakob who it is based on?"

"Jakob!! How much of this is true?"

"Only part of it. He never went to jail. But ... the first forty minutes ... yeah, he was kicked out of his house as a teen."

"And to think I met him. I never knew all this."

"He's turned his life around."

"What a wonderful young man."

The second half was every bit as moving. I noticed Don dabbing his eyes near the end. Even mine were misty.

"Dear lord," Don whispered at curtain call.

The audience leapt to their feet. The director asked everyone to be seated. He introduced one of Jackson Bend's own, Trent Kyriazi. I was still a bit star struck with Trent, having had the opportunity to meet him on a couple of occasions.

I'd love for us to be able to say hello, but I was certain he would be surrounded by an adoring public.

And he was.

"Should we try to say something to him?" I asked Don.

"Can we please?"

We waited our turn. He smiled when he saw us step up.

"Not sure if you remember us. Emory and Don," I said.

"Of course, I do. It's nice to see you."

"That. Was. Amazing," Don gushed.

"Thank you. I give a lot of credit to the director. And, of course, the cast." Trent was so modest.

We knew he still had more people to greet, but we were pleased to visit with this handsome, young talent for a minute.

Upon entering the car, Don sat back. "What a wonderful day, Emory. Thank you so much."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Back at his place, I handed him a small, long box. He smiled at me.

"You didn't have to do this."

He carefully removed the paper and opened the box. Seeing a gold chain, I could tell he wasn't dazzled with it, but he smiled.

"It isn't much, but I know you have kept Tate's bracelet for all these years. I hope this necklace will remind you of me when you wear it."

"Aw. Well, thank you. It's just right. I'll wear it every time we go out."

"You don't have to do that, but ... I just wanted something to make you think of me."

"It will be touching my skin, so that's a start."

I got a sheepish look on my face. "It's the afternoon, but ... I still owe you birthday sex."

"You gave me a blowjob last night."

"That was 11 o'clock. It doesn't count."

He laughed. "Well, I'm up for it if you are."

"It's your birthday!" I insisted.

We moved to the bedroom.

"I loved it when you fucked me in the spring. May I request that?" he sincerely asked. "I'd dearly love you inside me again."

Fuck. That was months ago. It was the last time I had a decent enough erection to pull it off. We had sex on my birthday three weeks ago. I had come twice since then, but I was never truly rigid.

I sighed. "I don't ... think ... I may be up to that, if you catch my drift. I'm sorry, Don."

"Don't be sorry."

"I just hate to disappoint you."

"What disappoint? So, I have to fuck the man I love most in the world. Poor me."

"I wish I could give you what you want. I'd enjoy it too. But ..."

"Don't give it a second thought."

Six minutes later, Don slid his steel cock into my interior. But I was giving it a second thought. And a third.

I was becoming quite worried that Pedro may be a wounded soldier — from here on out.

Don groaned as he thrust his dick into me. I loved listening to him moan. My hands held his neck as he fucked me from above. I spread my legs even wider. He pushed in even deeper, or so it felt.

"UNGH!!! Ohhhh, Emory."

"That's it. Fuck me, babe. Fuck me."

"Oh yes. Oh yes."

He continued to plow my hole with his firm manhood. His wonderful, firm manhood. His incredibly hard manhood.

While mine was just "mildly interested."

I moaned as Don stimulated my ass in all sorts of sexual sensations, but I was also silently cussing out Pedro for being uncooperative. Again.

"Ooooo, Emory. Baby. Ohhhh. Fuck yes. Ohhh yes. Ungh. Ungh."

With each groan and cry, I loved knowing Don was enjoying it. I was too — as long as I didn't think about my disappointing penis.

"Fuck me, Don. Fuck me hard."

His raw flesh rubbed against mine at the pucker of my ass.

"Yeah. God. Emory. Ohhhh. Yes. Yes. UNGH!!"

"That's it, birthday boy. Fuck me hard."

"Oh, baby. I'm getting close."

"Come in me, birthday boy. Fuck me until you come."

"OHHHHHHH! Ungh. I'm ... so ... clooooooose."

"Come for me, Don. Come inside me. Fuck me!!"

"UNGH!!! Yeah. I'm ... OH! OHHHH. Coming. UNGH. UNGH!!! Unghhhh!"

He stopped pushing his cock in me. He lowered his head to kiss me.

"Happy birthday," I whispered.

He smiled. He didn't take his cock out. I held his butt to keep it inside my hole. I liked feeling full.

While they were under a blanket, two characters on stage today were in this position. There was no groaning and orgasmic screaming. But the bare shoulders and chests were quite erotic. I wondered if the actors were actually hard as they played out that scene.

Corey had seen the play the other night. I wondered what he thought of the gay sex. I'm sure his parents wanted to cover his eyes.

Don saw me staring at the ceiling. "What are you thinking about," he whispered with a smile.

"Corey."

Don pulled back from my face with a startled expression. His dick pulled out of me. His body dropped to my side. I closed my legs.

"Ohhhhhh – kaaaaayyyy. That wasn't the answer I was expecting. I just fucked you until I came and ... you're thinking about a 15-year-old boy ...?"

I laughed. "It's not like that. When you were stretched above me, I was thinking of the actors in `Signposts.' There was some pretty heavy stuff, both in life challenges and gay representation. I just wondered how Corey felt about it."

"He's a mature boy. He probably handled it okay. The gay stuff should be easy. I'm sure Larry stays over there from time to time. He has to be aware of male love and how it's expressed."

"Cooper mentioned they all liked the play and were moved, so I guess he didn't freak out or anything."

"Good. Enough about him. What can I do for you, my love?"

"Oh." Yeah. Me. Non-erect me. "I'm fine. I just wanted you to enjoy ... you know ... sex on your birthday. Mission accomplished."

"Are you sure, baby? I'd love to give you some attention."

I looked at Pedro. Deep asleep. "I'm fine for today. But thank you."

As kind and as wonderful as Don was, I had to question if I really had been a disappointment. I wanted to perform. I wanted to be a good sexual partner.

At least his volume let me know he enjoyed sex today. My ass did too.

Too bad my dick didn't.

—

Nine days later.

"Hello, Don."

"Hello, Emory." He didn't call me "babe." He could tell something was off in my hello.

We had talked earlier in the day. For me to call at 8:45 the same night seemed curious. He knew.

"My brother died today."

"Ohhh, Emory. I'm so sorry. And I never had a chance to meet him. I'm so sorry for your loss."

My loss. And yet, I didn't feel loss. We had been estranged for so long, I didn't know how to handle it, how to process it.

"Thanks. We ... we never got down there to see him after he moved into his new place. I never thought he would go so fast."

"One never knows."

"I guess that's right." I got quiet. "I don't have much more to say. I felt I should at least share that with you."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No. I'm not sure what mood I would be in."

"Whatever you are feeling is understandable."

But what is it? I was numb. More than anything I felt confused.

—

The next day I told him the funeral was set for Saturday, and I'd be driving down in a few days to be there.

"I want to come with you."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to be there for you."

"I know you do. I love you for that. But you wouldn't know a single soul."

"I'd know you. I would be there for you."

"And I'm not sure I want you to see me this way ... that way."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know how I feel about this whole ... thing. You are a dear, sweet man — and I love you — but I'm not sure I'm up to making sure you are okay with everything while I deal with all his affairs. I don't even know how long I'll be gone. It may be a while."

"I have nowhere to be."

"God, I love you. Please know I appreciate the offer so much, but I think it best if I do it alone. It's probably best for me this way."

"Are you sure? I want you to know I'm there for you. If you need me."

"I need you for so many things, Don. Please know that. This ... this is probably best for me to handle on my own."

"If you say so. But if you change your mind before you leave, just call me."

—

Don had called or texted every day. After the first day, he could tell I didn't want to talk. He began sending texts.

I stopped by his house as I began my drive. He opened his arms, and I stepped into them. He just held me, and I let him. His arms were amazingly comforting.

"I so wish I was keeping you company," he softly said into my ear.

"I will miss you very much. I will."

When we pulled apart, I handed him the spare key to my house. "Just in case you need to check on things if I am away longer than I'm predicting."

"Oh. Okay. I'll stop by now and then."

"I just don't know when I'll be back."

"Take the time you need to handle what needs to be done. I'll be here when you get back. And if you decide you need me there, then I'll book a flight to Oklahoma City."

"I appreciate that. At least some friends have made the funeral arrangements. Representatives at the place where he was staying have been in communication with Isaiah's closer friends. That, at least, is in place."

He nodded. "Are you ... leaving right now?"

"Yeah. The car is packed up. I'm starting the drive. Nine hours."

"Be safe."

We looked at each other. Our eyes held hands. Never had I felt Don as a partner more than I did in that moment of silence. Not when we said we loved each other. Not when we were having sex. Not when we fell asleep in each other's arms.

I knew more than anything he just wanted to be what I needed.

"I love you very much," I said.

He held me again. "And I you."

We kissed again, and I released our embrace to walk to the car.

"Call me every now and then, okay?" he yelled to me before I got out of earshot.

I waved.

—

Two hours into the drive, I called him, telling him I was stopping at Arby's and the drive was going fine.

The drive had allowed me to collect my thoughts. Last year's visit to see Isaiah was just "okay." My brother seemed so old. The word gay never came up once. I wasn't seeing anybody. He had met Gene when he and I were just two years into our relationship. Gene had seen him three more times. In twenty years, that wasn't a lot.

Four hours into the drive, I had the car's Bluetooth let me talk to Don while I was driving. I described the countryside outside my window. Some beginnings of fall color looked nice.

I looked forward to doing "fall things" with Don, even though I didn't know exactly what those might be. Apple picking? A pumpkin patch? Farmers markets? The county fair was a week away. Would I even be home?

Seven hours into the drive, I let him know I was past Wichita, getting fairly close to the Oklahoma border.

As the return to my childhood hometown became more immediate, I was happy that Don wasn't with me. I would miss him terribly, but I didn't feel like introducing him to a bunch of hicks that would look us up and down like freaks.

Or was I being too judgmental about the town's population? It wasn't 1970 after all. Times had progressed. People were more accepting. Not that Stillwater was overrun with gay bars though. (I checked.) Still, as a college town, there had to be some young gay people. I figured the city wasn't terribly discriminatory.

I'm just glad I didn't have to "explain" who Don was. But if he were a woman, would I feel the same way? Probably not. That made me feel bad about myself.

At 7:05, I called to let him know I checked into the Holiday Inn & Suites and had completed the drive. The next step was to find something to eat. The woman at the front desk said she liked a place called D's Down Home Bar-B-Que a few blocks away. It sounded good.

As I stirred my fork through my mashed potatoes, I debated if I wanted to carry everything into the hotel. I'd need my suit bag for the next day and the small case. But did I need to drag the big suitcase in if I didn't even know how long I'd be in town? I realized I was thinking more than I was eating.

In the hotel parking lot, I left the big suitcase in the trunk for now.

I was tired from the drive, but I wasn't sure if I was sleepy.

I wasn't really up for conversation as I didn't really know what to say. Or how I felt. Or what exactly I would be doing.

I texted Don: "Going to turn in. I love you."

I opened the tablet to check email. For some reason. It's not like anything important was emailed to me. Some people wished me "thoughts and prayers" for the funeral.

Don and I hadn't had sex in eight days, but I wasn't really interested in opening up porn. I wasn't big on porn. It helped when I needed an outlet after Gene had been gone several weeks. But I found it empty.

I hadn't read the newspapers since I got the call that Isaiah had passed. I had several days stacked up. I brought them on the trip. I figured I would read one before bed.

Don texted back that he loved me too and wished me good night.

—

I was happy there were several people there. The church looked about a third full. Gene's funeral had way more people, but then again, Gene was nice.

Mom's funeral had the church full. It's funny. I don't remember any of those details about Dad's.

Several people knew who I was and offered their condolences. I remembered some of them. We all looked so different thirty-plus years later.

A casket was in the back of the stage, but it was closed.

I wasn't paying attention much to the reverend's message. It was religious crap. I didn't care. I didn't even want to be there. I just knew it was my obligation.

So, I hated being a terrible brother. That's all I thought about the whole service. Why hadn't Isaiah and I been closer? We could have made the effort, right? It's weird that I questioned all this now — now that he was gone.

But we had nothing in common. We were just related. That was all.

I felt every minute pass by. Drag by. Each minute was weighted in concrete.

Every minute.

Every single minute.

Every minute.

Finally, we stood. A deacon opened Isaish's casket, and the congregation had an opportunity to come up and take their last view. I was first.

I didn't want to be first.

I didn't want to look at him.

I didn't want to see my brother dead.

I glanced down. He was dressed in a sharp suit. That looked nice.

But I still thought he looked old. Older than when I saw him last year. Which made sense.

I wanted to feel something. Some sense of closure. Some sense of loss. Some sense of finality. But I only felt failure.

There were refreshments in the family life center. The gravesite service wasn't for another 90 minutes. I didn't want to go to that either. But I had to.

I shook many hands. There were three people from high school that I was legitimately happy to see. That made me smile. It was the first time I had smiled all week.

The gravesite service was shorter. I saw the headstones of my parents. A plot had been dug for Isaiah. I remembered telling my family decades ago that I didn't want to be buried here, and there wasn't a plot saved for me anymore. Which was fine. Jackson Bend was home. That's where I should be buried.

If I wanted to be buried. Gene had a plot with his family. There was an additional place for Candice's spouse.

I never seriously thought about it. It would be prudent to at least have a plan. I wondered if Don did.

More religious talk turned me off. I really had no idea if Isaiah attended any type of services or not. Mom always went to church. Dad rarely did. I wished officiants would talk more about the departed than Christ's sacrifice.

Isaiah never talked about faith. I remember he always went to church on Easter. I don't know if he ever went other than that. He didn't strike me as a good example of a Christian. In the years I lived in Stillwater, he was always hoping to get his dick in some girl each week. But I had no idea what he was like in these past years. And that made me sadder.

Lee, one of my closer high school friends, came out to the gravesite as well. He told me he and Isaiah had been fairly close the last several years. Considering Lee was my age and not Isaiah's, that surprised me. But ... it was a family connection even if it wasn't me.

He asked me if I would like to join his family for dinner.

—

It was almost 9 p.m.

I dialed Don.

"Emory! Thank heavens. I got that one text in the afternoon, but ... how are you doing? Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure. I guess so. I didn't like the services that much, but they're done."

"I'm sorry. Was it ... were they ..." He paused. "Why not?"

"Too preachy. But probably because I didn't know how to feel."

"I'm not sure I understand, my love."

"Isaiah's death has brought up odd feelings. Or to be more precise, the awareness of the LACK of feelings."

"Everyone handles death differently."

"Maybe. I'm just thinking about what he and I could have done to be closer."

"You were two individuals living your own lives."

"I'm glad you aren't seeing me this way."

"I wish I were there with you."

"One good thing is I've enjoyed visiting with a high school friend, Lee."

"Nice."

"I'm at the Holiday Inn again tonight, but he asked me to stay with him and his wife for the next few days. That's very kind."

"It is."

"Thankfully, I don't think I'll have to stay for more than a few days. When Isaiah moved into this retirement home, he got rid of almost everything. There's just a little furniture to deal with. He even had his funeral arrangements paid for."

"That was organized."

"Yeah. Mom did too. When our father passed, it was a mess. We spent weeks going through things and finding things. Mom was overwhelmed. She said she wasn't going to do that to us. She was very organized. Of course, she still had the house, so we had to contend with that."

I remembered that inheritance allowed me to pay off our house. Gene and I never stressed over bills following that last house payment. Of course, a lot of the money went toward Mom's hospital expenses. Her insurance took care of the bulk of it, but there was still a solid amount left to pay.

"I never would have figured my brother to be organized. It makes it easy for me. Apparently, he had talked to several close friends here too. Things seem to be in organized files."

"That's helpful."

"Yeah. I meet with the estate planner on Monday and the bank on Tuesday. His friends are helping with final details with the home. They have asked me to stop in tomorrow to see if there is anything of Isaiah's I might like."

"Nice."

"I have no idea what it would be."

"You never know. A keepsake might be nice."

"Perhaps." I paused. "Anyway, that was my day. I knew I wanted to call you."

"I love you, Emory."

"I love you, Don."

—

I had checked out of the Holiday Inn & Suites. Before heading to Lee's house, I stopped by Golden Oaks Village. Two of Isaiah's friends were moving things. They greeted me with hellos.

"We have most of the furniture and stuff loaded up, but we haven't touched any of his personal items. There are things in his dresser and nightstand, as well as everything in the closet. All his clothes."

"Well, those we can donate to Goodwill. I wouldn't need any of that."

"We'll be back after lunch. Take your time looking through things," one of them said, and I felt bad that I couldn't remember his name.

I stepped into the closet. Isaiah had enough clothes for someone in his 70s, but there wasn't an overly large selection. Normal. Typical. But nothing I needed.

I pulled out some shoeboxes from the floor. Half of them had shoes, but the others were filled with things Isaiah had saved. One had letters he had received from a college friend. They were written in the 1970s. I got caught up in the simplicity of handwritten letters. It was a time just before word processors and computers. Handwritten letters just had an air of authenticity to me. None of these letters would mean anything to me, but I decided to read one. It was from a classmate named Nelson.

I slumped on the floor reading a few more. I was sure I didn't have them in the right order, but it didn't matter. They were just letters sharing what he had done recently. Nelson always responded to things Isaiah had said in the previous letter (which I didn't see).

The final lines were ones of deep friendship. Each letter was always signed, "I miss you."

The two of us attended OSU in Stillwater, so we never had a dorm life. We always stayed home. It was cheaper and about the only way the two of us could afford our college education.

I liked reading these letters where someone showed affection — while Platonic — to my brother. I could tell it was a deep friendship. If I had ever been introduced to this Nelson, I wouldn't have remembered. I would have been too young. But the gay person in me could sense a deep love between them. They never wrote those words, but they cared for each other. I could see why he would keep them. They would mean a lot to me too.

Email just doesn't have the same tenderness.

Another box had Playboy magazines. They were well worn. I looked at the cover dates. 1985. Apparently, he subscribed for a year. I flipped open one. Vaginas. Ick. That was enough. I never felt bad for not experiencing that.

The last box was full of pictures. Family pictures. There were a few when we were kids. Several of them were from when our parents were kids. I figured Isaiah got these when he cleaned out Mom's house. He never mentioned it to me. Maybe he felt entitled to keep them since I was the one who moved away. But I came in the day before Mom's funeral. He had already gone through a lot.

I noticed the pictures of Gene and me in the box. He had saved them from our Christmas cards. That made me feel good. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because he didn't find us appalling. He was nice to Gene during the few times we visited. He was just never warm to the gay concept.

I looked up on the shelf. There was a baseball. I examined it to find George Brett's autograph. I remembered our parents taking us to a Royals game when I was in high school. Brett was a rookie then. We liked him. Of course, I found him cute, but I didn't tell my brother that. He must have collected that souvenir later.

When Isaiah's friends returned, I told them the family photos and the baseball were the only keepsakes I wanted to save. They understood.

I thanked them for their kind efforts in handling this. It was a load off my shoulders.

I grabbed a bite before heading to Lee's place. I didn't want them to feel obligated to feed me. By the time dinner rolled around, they had a big meal planned for the three of us. I hadn't had good fried chicken in a long time. Mary cooked skillet potatoes as a side dish. Reminiscing with Lee over comfort food, I felt fifty years younger.

On Monday, the meeting to deal with Isaiah's estate was to take place at 10. A few others were requested to be in attendance. I didn't think Isaiah would have outstanding bills, but I didn't really know.

Much to my surprise, his finances were divided between two close friends (who had helped clean out his room the day before), me and the American Cancer Society. I assumed that was because of Mom. I couldn't imagine there would be much at all. Isaiah didn't strike me as an investor — or even that great with money to be honest.

I was astonished when we were told that each of us would receive an amount just under $30,000.

"How is that possible? Isaiah didn't strike me as someone who invested," I asked.

"He didn't. It was the house," said the estate manager, flipping through files. "He sold it before moving into Golden Oaks. Had he lived a long time, it would have been depleted eventually. But he died shortly after moving in. He had a savings account too."

"Oh."

I knew his house wasn't huge, so it never occurred to me that it was still of some value. I'm sure pre-paying the funeral took part of it. Could Isaiah have sensed his death was coming?

"Emory, the balance in the checking account is yours as the next of kin. Once we have some paperwork taken care of here today, you can stop by in the morning to collect that. It's MidFirst Bank on North Perkins."

"I know where that is."

I was a bit dumbfounded. Never for a second did I even think about financial inheritance. Gene was always my beneficiary. I really needed to be thinking about updating my will.

Isaiah's friends came up to me after the meeting. They looked awkward.

"I – I hope this didn't upset you," they said. "We didn't know."

"I'm sorry?"

"If you were expecting the entirety of the amount, please know we ... we didn't know."

"Oh, my goodness. That didn't bother me at all. I wasn't really expecting anything." I looked at both of them. "But I can see you were his closest friends. I completely understand that. Don't give it another thought."

They breathed a sigh of relief.

"I just appreciate everything you have done for him."

"He was very organized," said Arlis.

"Which shocks the hell out of me," I replied.

"I believe he got it from your mother."

"That makes sense. Dad left us all in a sea of paperwork and unknowns."

—

I thanked Lee and Mary for their hospitality. I sincerely meant it. Visiting with them was the best part of the time in Stillwater. I carried things to the car before heading to the bank. I told them I would stay in touch. We exchanged information.

I had enjoyed telling them about Don over dinner the night before. They said they would have enjoyed meeting him.

I couldn't wait to see him again.

I was further surprised at the bank with a few more thousand dollars in his checking account. The bank transferred it directly into my account back home. It was all taken care of so quickly.

Next door to the bank was a grocery store. It had a floral department. I picked out a simple bouquet of flowers. I decided to drive out to Isaiah's grave.

I felt better this time than when people gathered at the gravesite for the service. It was just Isaiah and me. The hole was filled in. The ground looked fresh. I knew the headstone wouldn't be done until later in the week. I didn't care. I placed flowers on his grave.

I walked over to look at the headstones of Mom and Dad.

"I'm sorry it has been a while since I've been here," I told them. "I know you're not here, but it still makes it easier to talk to you when I'm standing in this spot."

I sat in the grass perfectly equal between the two.

"I want you to know that I'm happy. I've met a wonderful man. I love him. He loves me. I remember back in the days of AIDS being such scary news that you two were so worried about me. I was too. But I had a great life with Gene. I didn't think after I lost him that I would feel love again. But I do. I wish you would have had a chance to meet him. He's different than Gene. But that's good. He's really nice."

I stood and stepped over to Isaiah's plot. I stared at it. I felt I should say something before I left. I pondered my choice of words.

I procrastinated.

I called Don.

"Hi, babe. I will be heading back soon. I'm ... out at Isaiah's grave. I'll be here a few minutes, and then I'll start the drive."

"It has really wrapped up quickly, all things considered."

"I've been fortunate. I completely realize that. I need to give my brother more credit. He had a handle on things. I was surprised."

"Stay in touch as you drive."

"I will. I'm going to say goodbye ... to Isaiah ... and then I'll head out."

"Love you," Don said.

"Love you too."

I stared down at the fresh earth. I didn't like the idea of my brother's body being under all that. Maybe I didn't want to be buried. But then again, if you're dead, does it matter?

"I'm not sure why I'm having a conversation with you, but I'm going to."

I paused to look around. No one else was in this area of the cemetery.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to talk to you before you left us. I hope you weren't in pain.

"I guess I should say thanks for leaving something to me. I – I wasn't expecting that. I can tell you that I'm impressed with how organized you were. Who knew?"

I questioned whether a dead person would have found that insulting.

"You have good friends here. I've actually learned a lot about you in the last few days. I'm sad that it is only after you are gone that I find these things out.

"I was a terrible brother. I know. But damn it. So were you! I was in Jackson Bend for over 30 years, and you never came to see me once. Mom and Dad at least came twice. So ... fuck you, Isaiah. NOT EVEN ONCE! Was it so hard to drive to see your own brother?! I ... I guess we just drifted."

I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

"I guess it was because who I was, huh? You always called it the `gay thing.' Well, it wasn't a thing. It was who I was. It was me! I don't think you ever really got that. You never got ME, did you?"

Out of the blue, I started sobbing.

"Was I really so unrelatable? I would have answered any questions you had. When I came out to you almost sixty years ago, you said being gay was going to kill me. But ... guess what? I'm here. I'm still here."

I sat at the foot of his grave.

"I wish you could have met Don. He's really nice. He loves me. I didn't even get to show you a picture of him. I'm sorry. That's my fault. I should have shared that months ago, no matter what. You and I just weren't really good communicators.

"After Gene, I never thought I'd would be in love again. I figured I was finished. A true love only comes once. But here I am, deeply in love again. Don and I are good for each other. He's your age." I chuckled in my tears. "Like that makes a difference when we are as old as we are, huh?"

I wiped my cheek. I had done a good job at stopping the tears from flowing.

"I wish we had been closer, Isaiah. I think we'd both be happier. The distance just stood in for a different kind of distance. We didn't manage to fix it.

"But we each lived our own life. I'm glad you had some good things in it. Some good people. I don't even know if you ever felt deeply in love. You never told me if you did."

I wiped some snot on my sleeve.

"Do you see Mom and Dad? Do you see anything at all?" I paused. "Is there anything ... more?"

I was silent for a minute.

"I guess I'll begin my drive home. Without your being here, I don't know if or when I'll ever be back. There's nothing to bring me back anymore. Jackson Bend has been home for decades now.

"Thanks for keeping the pictures of Gene and me. That meant something to me. I'm glad you got the family pictures too. I found the family album in the dresser too. I'll look through those when I get home."

I heard a car door slam. I turned to see a family get out and walk over to a grave about fifty feet away.

"I guess I should go. I hate saying goodbye. I've always hated goodbyes. I'm glad I learned to like you better this past week. I'm ... I'm just sorry we didn't try harder all those years.

"Goodbye, Isaiah."

I walked through the soft grass and got into the car. I didn't buckle my belt. I just held the steering wheel and stared out through the windshield.

I didn't want Don to come. I knew he would have a miserable time. He'd just fawn over me and ask me if I was okay. I didn't need that. But I really didn't want him to see how crappy I was as a brother. I thought everyone here in Oklahoma would have been awkward around me like Isaiah was, but almost everyone had treated me very nicely. This was one of those moments I wish he had been here with me. I wish I could have introduced Don to Isaiah, even if it was at his gravesite.

I could have told him how much I love Don. I wished Isaiah could have heard me say that.

I wiped an eye.

Sometime when I got back, I'd show him the pictures in the shoebox and the family album. Maybe he could help me organize them.

I started the car.

* * * *

A new blog post on this chapter is at timothylane414stories.blogspot.com Look for the post "Brothers."

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