In the Shadows of Our Lives Part 1 - On Broken Wings V ~ Slipped Into Tomorrow ~
It's 7:45 a.m. Monday morning. Ma knocks on my door. I grab the first pair of shorts I spot off my shelves and slip into them on my way to the door.
Ma hands me the phone. "Tim," she indicates.
Tim is way too much of a morning person, "Hey Farrows. This is your wake up call. I'm on my way over so you better git yer ass outta bed, sleepy head."
I bitch and moan, "Fuck Tim. Good morning to you too. It's not even eight. You wet the bed again?"
When Ma brought me the phone she caught me in the midst of a sorta personal session if you catch my drift. Thankfully she never opens my door so long as I respond, rather she just knocks and calls at me until I poke my head out of it. Thankfully she's really none the wiser as to what I was just `up' to. But she makes an animated face of disgust that I'm complaining to Tim about the time. School starts at 8:30, so no big deal right? I have more than enough time still.
I'm not even out of the shower and Tim is banging on the bathroom door. As I head past him in the kitchen on my way to my room he slaps me on the chest and laments that I'll be late for my own funeral. Hey, the only thing I am ever late for is school. I get good grades, I just can't seem to find my way there on time without help. Correction, I get great grades. Anyhow, Joey is coming in through the kitchen radio from Concrete Blonde on my mom's favourite radio station. Candace is offering Tim a coffee as I am dressing in the laundry room. Like a lot of mornings lately she hitches a ride with us to school; I'm seriously starting to wonder if she has a thing for him.
Tim's a bit distant, and at the same time he's uncharacteristically clingy throughout the day. I can't figure it out really. He's never like this; never moody or forlorn. Honestly, he's about the only person I know that seems to always be on an even keel. I totally get the idea that something is really bothering him when he ditches baseball practice without even telling anyone, and pressures me to come over to his place for a swim. I decline because I have to work tonight and want to go home and grab my new cell phone that Larry gave me last night. But since it's a bitch of a hot day for the second week of April a swim sounds good. Plus he has been my rock when I need one and I feel totally guilty for not being there for him if he needs me. So I compromise, Instead I have him over to my place for a swim.
My pool is shit and seriously starting to fall apart. I'm very aware of this, just too lazy to drain it and knock it down. That and I don't want to be without the pool no matter what condition of deterioration it's in, even if I have to top it up with cold water daily now to compensate for leaks. I reason that if I do get rid of the metal sided pool it gives us a useless deck with a gaping circle in the center of it. No matter, Tim doesn't mind my pool and never has commented on it. When we get to my place I try to find my biggest pair of shorts for him. The best I can come up with are a roomy pair of royal blue Adidas shorts with three huge white diagonal stripes over the left leg opening. They were my gym shorts, but about the only thing with an elastic waistband to stretch over his larger waist.
We veg in the pool, too hot to even horse around. It's like one of those spring days when you get a taste of what summer is sure to bring. For the most part we just talk shit about this and that and never get to what's on his mind. I don't try to draw it out of him. I don't quite know how to with him yet for starters, and knowing him, he'll tell me what's bothering him when he's ready. A couple times he seems to take a pause, like he's going to say something but then doesn't so I say something instead. He seems relieved that I am carrying the conversation today for us.
"How was the Wedding? It was your cousin right? Guy or girl?" I ask.
"Yeah, Chantelle. She's only a year older than me," he says.
Maybe that's what he's brooding over I decide. So I say, "Kinda young isn't it?"
"Probably, but they've been together for more than 3 years. Neither are racing off to school, they both work in a factory. They're happy. What's scary is that she looks just like an older Mackenzie. Like a dead ringer," He says, comparing her to his kid sister.
Trying to keep the conversation going I say,"So you had a good time?"
He starts describing the wedding, "It was pretty cool. It was done sort of Mardi Gras style with everyone in the wedding party but her and the groom wearing masks. He looks like a dork but I hardly know her since we only visit a few times a year, so I can't say if they're a good fit or not."
"Cool, what was New Orleans like?" I inquire.
He thinks for a second, "I don't know. It's pretty messed up really, kinda smells a lot. But if memory serves me right it looks like a lot of fun if you're not looking after three restless siblings and being dragged against your will for your parents stroll down memory lane! Anyhow that was last summer, the wedding I was just at was in Baton Rouge, not New Orleans."
I remark, "Cool. Sounds fun."
"How were things here?" He changes the subject.
"O.K. Nothing big. The usual." I pass off, hoping to fly under the radar of questions about Nat and Friday night, before commenting sooner than really necessary, "I should get my ass moving, even if you are driving, traffic can be a bitch."
As Tim is driving me to work it finally comes out. Natalie Wilson. He asks, "So what do you think of Nat?"
Gulp, I'm on the spot! I bullshit, "I dunno. I don't know her. But I think you two should get together if you like her."
He states, "She told me you shot her down. Flat out turned her down in fact. You sweated it a bit but she got the picture that you're not in the least interested in her. I don't know, Cheesedick. You and her are made for each other. Trust me, I've known her forever, you'd like her."
So I'm sweating it again. I have to say something to deflect possible questions about my sexuality without offending Tim by saying anything offensive about her. I don't think telling him that my big concern about her is that she is a chick and doesn't have a dick is such a good idea. That might give me away first of all, like he might not see her being a chick as a problem like I do! So I struggle.
I try to sound convincing, "Ah, you know. I don't know her and I'm just biding my time here until I can go away for college. With work and you guys I don't have the time for a girlfriend if I am still going to keep on the honour roll. Not for the school I want anyhow."
Tim asks, "You've never really mentioned school before, what one are you thinking of?"
"Well, do you remember that group from Canada that came by school? One was the University of BC?" I'm half telling the truth, although I don't even remember what the B and C stand for, "I think it would be cool to go to another country and lean their ways while I study, and they do have an affiliation with Texas Tech so a degree is transferrable."
Actually, I've always thought of Ivey league, but I know I can't afford it. I have thought of Berkley in California to be honest, which reminds me that Paul Hunter was debating about there also, or the same place in Canada. So instead of saying I don't know, I dig myself in deep by telling him about the school in Vancouver, Canada. I have not given it enough thought really since asking my guidance councilor about it, but I relate the little I know just like I did to Paul at the beach bash in order to get Tim off my case.
"Bummer. Then there won't be anyone here to come back to." He comments.
Not catching on that he's trying to drop a hint here I instead heart-fully state, "That's part of it for me too. Everyone's either already gone somewhere or going somewhere. I don't want to be stuck here alone forever."
We're silent for a bit. So as we near my work I ask, "Tim? Is everything O.K.? Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Everything's fine." He says and then professes, "You know, we're friends. Right? And you can tell me anything? I just want you to know that Jon."
Just the fact that he says so strikes me as very odd. Tim drops me off at work and practically insists on picking me up afterwards. He's clingy for the first time since I've known him. He has been this way all day and seems sad today and I don't know what to say or what to do to help him. He's always the one picking up the people around him. I feel like a bad friend all of a sudden. I feel even worse because while I don't want to drop him, I weasel out of his offer for a ride home because I want to get a hold of Chris and see him tonight after work.
My day at work is mostly just another day. Being on the go constantly is wearing me down a bit. Prime example to prove that being that I slept for probably over 3 hours at Chris's yesterday. There's an event coming up this weekend that staff volunteers are needed for. It's an all weekend event, tying in with Easter weekend. I normally don't get bullied into doing the charity events because the main manager Sonny sees what I already do in a week and my struggles to help support my Mom and the house.
Sonny actually is an uncle to Daniel, and that's how I got the job along with Daniel originally. When Daniel left Sonny had a talk with me and discussed that I stood on my own merit and that I still have the job based on my work ethic. But if I keep burning the candle at both ends I am sure to screw things up. So I try my hardest at work still, never coasting. I mean, I can slack all the time at the music store and it's considered working, but not here!
Anyhow, I sneak to the payphone for a second after doing a washroom check. Generally the phone is in a little cubby hole area off of the dining room with the public washroom entrances to either side of it. With my luck of course, I get caught. Of the hundreds of times that I wanted to, but never risked using the public pay phone when I would have gotten off scot-free, this has to be the exception. I get busted by Tripp, the dining room manager. He tries to force me to `volunteer' for the all weekend event as a way to make up for breaking the rules.
After whining about my already hectic work load to him I get off somewhat easy. Bonnie, a bartender that I always talk with when I do my bar restock duties advocates my cause, pointing out I have another Saturday job that I can't just drop. She and Tripp are friends so he goes easy on me. Instead of having to do the weekend event, I have to stay late and wash, polish and make cutlery rolls out of thirty dozen boxes of new cutlery that came in today, ten of them knives, twenty of them forks. Not fair! Each box has a dozen forks. One knife and two forks each in a cutlery roll, that 120 rolls. All this on top of the existing cutlery. Off the clock no less as punishment.
If only I had had time to figure out the stupid minutes card for the cell phone I would have used it in the staff washroom instead and been O.K. Man Tripp is an ass. I totally get why the kitchen guys call him Power Trip.
Yeah. So instead of getting out at 10:00 at the latest, like I had told Chris to be there for, I get out at 11:15. I look all over the parking lot for him but don't see him. Great. Now I don't get to see him and I have no ride home. Of course this all means I won't get home until at least 12:30 if the busses work in my favour, even later if not. So I drag my ass down to the bus stop and mope. Arrrgh! The busses aren't working to my favour so I have time of course.
Sitting at the bus stop I figure out how to put the minutes onto the card and am pleasantly surprised that I can use them right away. I call Chris, hoping he's not mad at me. I get his answering machine so he is probably pissed at me and ignoring me. I don't blame him; I'd do the same thing. I leave a message explaining what happened and ask him to call this number from his call display because I don't remember it. Then a minute later I have figured out how to find my own number in the phone so I call him back and leave another message to tell him the number and again apologize. During that time I guess he tries calling me. So we miss each other again. It's half an hour later and I am almost at my bus transfer point when Chris tries me back again.
"Hey. I thought you bailed out on me," He says sheepishly.
I plead my case, "NO! Never! I'm so sorry. I wanted to run out ant tell you but I was already in trouble with Power Trip, and I've learned to not push things with him. Hence our name for him, and he was totally tripping out on people tonight. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Chris. And then when you didn't answer I thought for sure you were pissed at me."
Chris is happy that I haven't ditched him and kids, "You know what Jon? You suck! You really, really suck! Yeah, I think you called me again right when I was calling you back. I didn't get the message indicator until now. I thought I was going to have to blow your house up for revenge! I guess you're safe for another day. Where are you?"
"Almost home," I stretch the truth a bit, still feeling guilty.
"Cool. I'd pick you up from where you are, but if you're almost there then I don't have to make my parents suspicious by running out so late."
"Thanks. I appreciate the thought. And again, I'm sorry," I whine.
Chris asks, "What are you up to tomorrow?"
"I'm free," I answer without thinking if I have anything planned or not. Fortunately I don't.
He thinks for a second, "Kay Sexy, how about you call me after school? If you don't get me, leave a message and I'll call you!"
Tuesday flies by for me. Tim is mostly back to himself at school. On the surface anyhow. He doesn't make plans with me for the night so I don't have to worry about wimping out on him. We are almost always doing something at some point on Tuesdays, whether it's a cheap movie or a cheap place to eat. Yeah, we make the best of Tight-Ass-Tuesdays. But not tonight. I bus down to the Meyerland Plaza Shopping Center by the restaurant I work at and meet Chris there instead. We do Taco Tuesday at Taco Bell and catch Scream 3. Not what you'd think would be a good first movie, but it gives us lots of chances to act scared and actually hold hands! When we're not laughing hysterically at the movie, that is. Yeah, I actually hold hands with Chris in the theatre and no one ever says anything! This is a cool night and we make out for a few minutes in one of the bathroom stalls in the theatre before we go our separate ways. (I insisted on bussing back home and he relented.)
Wednesday I work my shift in the music store in the Northwest Mall, opposite my school. I talk on the phone with Chris after work because Tim hasn't called and left a message for me to call him after work like he often does.
I hang out with Tim for a bit on Thursday before going to his and Neil's baseball game. I go to the game with Tania and her friends Nat and Stacey. Train was supposed to be along with Paul Hunter too, however they never show, probably because of Stacey. It's a bit awkward, but Natalie is cool and we pretend like the previous Friday didn't happen.
Friday it's the usual four of us: Tim, Neil, Tania and me. We go to a house party after going to the school football game, with a bank busting stop at overpriced Pizza Hut in between.
It's an average weekend for me except I have to make an excuse to Tim about Sunday morning so that I can spend it with Chris again. I'm still not sure that things are all kosher with Tim. No one knows where he is after my shift at the restaurant Saturday night. He isn't at home, or answering his cell phone to pick me up and go out for a while like usual so I call Deanna to see if she can pick me up. She's in Austin with Scott for the weekend to visit his family, so I am plumb out of luck but she tells me not to hurry home because Ma is going to be spending the night at Larry's anyhow.
As it is only 9:30 and I am cut early for a change I call Chris instead and ask what he's up to. Chris is at a friend's house and asks if I want to come. I figure what the hell, why not. If his friends are cool with him then it might be neat to be around them and get to just be me. I am nervous about meeting his friends and worried about what they really think of me; them being at least middle class and me being poor class. I almost back out when Chris pulls up with his friend Bobbie and another guy that I recognize from the Beach Bash. Chris does the introductions and the other guy, his best friend Allister, shakes my hand and said hi before hopping into the back seat with Bobbie so that I can sit in the front. We go to a house where there are few other guys and girls around a fire pit in the back yard.
Chris is totally comfortable and confident in his group of friends. He's bubbly and introduces me to everyone and is always talking with someone, trying to include me in the conversation as much as possible. Everyone is totally fine with me and respectful that I feel on the spot. No one asks any embarrassing questions of either of us; we're just another couple in their eyes it would seem.
Allister however does do the best friend bit for Chris, asking me a million questions about myself, my family, my life, my friends etc. I guess I meet his standards when he starts telling me funny stories about Chris. Shortly after Chris realizes that I am getting some dirt on him, like the time he borrowed this girl Leigh's field hockey uniform for Hollowe'en, or the time he was really sick from a bush party. I guess they are memorable moments that Chris will never get to live down with his friends and Allister wants to include me in on them. And of course I know firsthand about the shaved legs (and totally smooth body) already.
I keep getting offered drinks and at one point the host, a guy named Bill, just puts a couple different beers and a bottle of Malibu rum in front of me. I don't know any of the beers and Bobbie comments that the Malibu is yummy. I've had it before mixed with melon liqueur as shooters at different parties and liked it so I have some with orange soda. It doesn't really taste like alcohol so I have more than I figured on having. I don't get near drunk though. What image would that give?
People are starting to disappear by the time it's 12:30, and Chris thankfully tells the group it's probably time he gets us going. After Bill starts it off, the people still there are all cordial and say it's nice to finally meet me after like a year of knowing me vicariously, making light of the obsession I know Chris developed for me. Then they all say good night sincerely. I catch a quick, subtle two thumbs up from Allister to Chris and my heart lifts. It may not have been meant for my eyes but it's all good because hey, I'm a thumbs up at least. Heck, I'm two thumbs up!
Taking Deanna's word about Ma not being home tonight, instead of going home Chris sneaks me into his place. He lights a few creamsicle (orange-vanilla) strawberry-vanilla and lemon-vanilla scented candles throughout his bedroom and turns off the lights. We go straight to the bed and cuddle and make out. Little by little we start to explore each other's bodies again and the clothes eventually get removed over the course of the next hour. I love the coolness of his expensive sheets and the firmness of his big bed contrasting with soft pillows. By comparison everything I have is thin or threadbare, pilled, too soft or too hard in all the wrong places, and lumpy.
Even better than his bed though, I love the way he's making me feel and the way his body feels so incredible against mine. I know I'm only seventeen, but damn, I am ready for this! I think I am at the moment at least. Yeah, my emotions have been changing constantly the past two weeks, but tonight at least I am confident that we're a good fit. I'll let worries like the fact that I am out of my league here with Chris wait until tomorrow.
Right here, right now I am ready to be loved and it sure feels good to have someone to love too. It's not solely because I am raging with hormones. After last weekend I am desperately clinging to Chris's desire of me to make me feel good about myself. Not just physically, although there is definitely that, but emotionally it feels so rewarding. When I'm not worrying that it'll never work, that is! Arrrgh! Don't think! Just act! Figure it all out later. He wants me and he is a daydream come true, straight from the pages of a calendar or magazine; what boy in his right mind wouldn't want Chris?
We 69 for a brief time before I start working on his bud. I want him to do the same but he is concentrating on my boner. I want him inside me again. It's like a tonic that I can't get enough of. I am addict and I've only ever had a guy in me twice! I feel disappointed when Chris slips a condom on me instead. He has the sweetest pleading look on his face so I don't object outwardly. I mean hey, I'm still getting it on with him!
With me on my back he mounts me and slowly gets a rhythm going before he suggests that I now join in. As we slap against each other we both stroke his lovely manhood. He lasts for a couple minutes before he arches backward and volleys a couple squirts in the air. I feel them land on my stomach and chest. The rest flows out in spurts like a leaky faucet and I feel it pool on my belly and dribble in my crotch. After slowly dismounting me he pulls the condom off of me and tries to bring me to climax with his hand. He's doing a great job, but I get something like stage fright with him so I have to take over and really go at it before finally adding my seed to his on my front. Chris wipes our passionate mess off of me and we make out for a bit again before drifting off to sleep in each other's arms.
We bump heads at some point early in our sleep and decide it's better to maybe just lay on our sides, side by side, rather than tangled up in an attempted cuddle. This works a lot better and it's hours later when I notice Chris getting out of bed. I stir slightly, but not fully. After blowing all of the candles out he returns to bed. Instead of laying in front of me with his back to my front he gets in behind me. He presses his body against my back and I drift off again as he plants gentle little kisses all over my neck and shoulders. In the morning I wake to my boner in his mouth.
"Good morning Sexy," He says, taking a break from his attention to me.
Scurrying around on the bed so that my face is below his crotch we start to 69 again. He is dripping a little pre cum and I drink it all. This lasts for a while until I tell him that I am getting close. He says cool and then gets off of me. He lifts my legs and slips his underneath mine so that we are sitting butt to butt, with our crotches inches apart. He entwines his feet behind my back so I do the same behind his. We jack off together and aren't very quiet as we do so. Not like last night anyhow. I am worried about being heard but it's over all too quickly anyhow as we both shoot on ourselves.
We hug in this sitting position for a bit and make out again until Chris draws his legs back, pushes me onto my back and then grinds his body against mine. We drift off to sleep again in each other's embrace. At some point into the daylight I wake and fix our position so that the circulation isn't cut off to my left arm beneath him. He doesn't stir.
I wake again around 10:30 and decide to return his earlier favour to him. He is on his side, but more on his stomach so I take advantage of his great exposure and put my tongue to his bud. He wakes up with a start and then realizes what I'm up to. Again he says good morning, but with a lot of cheer! Last night I saw his lube and a couple extra condoms on the floor beside the bed so before he can argue I am putting one on. I don't really care to be the one putting my penis in him, but I am game for it this morning and he sure seems to be.
After a little while of loving him I can sense that I am actually causing some him discomfort so I withdraw. Chris flips onto his back. I guess he wants me to love him that way instead but I must admit I really don't know how to. Well, obviously I do. What I mean is that I don't know how to do it well. The condom that I wore while making love to him from the night before is down by our knees so I grab it and lube up Chris's penis. I didn't cum in it so it's technically `clean'. I slip the condom on him as best as I can and ask him to show me how he wants it. He sighs a bit but obliges me. He is in me a lot quicker this morning than a week ago and it feels all good. So after probably a minute he stops and pulls out, and rolls back onto his back. I put a ton more lube on my condom and imitate what he had just done. After massaging his bud with the tip of my penis I slowly, carefully re-enter him until our hips are one.
I start the motion that he used on me and he starts to moan and whimper! I am holding his ankles and starting to get a good rhythm going. Chris hooks his knees and pulls them tight to his body and I get a different sensation. It feels just as good, if slightly different when he keeps his knees tight to his chest but spreads them apart. It occurs to me how many muscles are at play inside his body while I'm the one providing the motion to our ocean. The slight distraction of focus throws me off, I can't even fully pull out before I am letting loose my load. I manage to bury my whole length in him once more as I am rocked by wave after wave of pleasure.
Once I withdraw Chris slips the condom off of me and replaces the one on him with it. I figure that it's wrong, but then we do both shoot our loads on me so it's not really any different is it? He asks me to just slide it back into him for a second and he'll be right there with me. Against all good judgment I almost do as he asks. Instead I slip on the other condom that I used on him last night and just had him use on me. Neither of us have shot off in it, although I really can't see the difference between this and not using anything at all, but oh well. He's the one wearing the condom I just unloaded my DNA sample into. I don't care, seeing my stuff around his rod is fucking hot. So still boned up, I slip back into him. Very quickly as he's pumping away with his hand I can feel his muscles tighten and he jets his load into the same condom I just wore. Everything about this guy is hot, even the way his dick shoots sperm into a condom! Man I love dicks, especially ones I get to play with!
We have a shower together with a little innuendo. Our teenage hormones temporarily sated, we are now good to go for the day. I again borrow clothes from Chris, as he insists because I only have the same stuff I wore the day before. I do start to fret that I don't have clean work clothes for my shift at the restaurant and don't even have anything clean at home; I only have the one uniform. I usually just wash it as soon as I get home so that it's good to go for the next shift.
Home! I haven't called home. I'm dead meat when my mom gets her hands on me. Well, more specifically, I'll wish I were dead by the time I'm done with the lectures about responsibility and disappointment, and making her worry and all that good loving mother guilt trip stuff.
Chris offers, "How about I get your clothes washed, all of it, and you call your Mom."
Looking at my watch I'll agree to anything at the moment in my panic, "Sure, sounds good."
I'm on the phone right away. Candace answers, "Moody, you are so fucking dead. This is going to be fun!"
I ask, "So Ma's pissed?" As if I need confirmation of what I already know is inevitable.
"Ballistic! You know Ma," She confirms.
I face the music, "Can I talk to her or wouldn't you suggest it right now?"
Candace giggles, "O.K. Moody. Here's the deal. You fuckin owe me huge. That had better be a good party you were at and a good piece of tail you got. Ma didn't get home until like 11:00 this morning so I said you were already gone. Lacey was all over ratting you out, like usual. Don't know what's gotten into the bitch lately, don't care."
"But here's the catch," Candace continues, "Lacey thought after Ma called and said that she ain't coming home last night that it was safe for her to slip out too. Some boy she's been chasing. He's dirty and creepy if you ask me. And me? I had a good old party of one here last night. And I'm the supposed wild child? So anyhow, before Mom got home I told Lacey if she tells on you I tell on her. Fair's fair an all, right?"
"Thank you so, so much Candy! I owe you big time," I am overjoyed that I'll live to see another day.
"Yuh-huh. As long as we both know it. So tell me my little heart-breaker brother, who's bed did you sleep in? Or better yet, do you even know where you are?"
I attempt to tell her a part truth, "I slept in a guy's bed, with him. No girl, I swear. Just too much to drink. And yeah, I know where I am." I realize that that sounds incredibly gay. In trying to be vague I might as well have just said I had sex with that guy too, like three times in one night, and I'm wearing his underwear for the second Sunday in a row. Maybe add in that I'm totally dressed in his clothes right now while he's having a servant wash mine. Yeah, why don't I think before I talk sometimes?
She calls me on what she figures to be a bluff, "Sure, sure Moody. Hope she was good. And no, don't tell me about it. O.K.? I'm your cool sister, but I still don't want to know."
"Thanks Candy! I owe you, I really do," I acknowledge again as we're saying goodbye.
For the second Sunday in a row I am wearing Chris's most personal laundry! I'm in a green rugby shirt and tan cargo shorts, white socks with the grey toes and ankles and cute navy blue Armani boxers. Even the boxers are ironed! Hell, Chris's boxers cost more than probably any one item of my clothes. Or close to that at least. Now that my hair is dry I use some of his `product' to style it.
He leads me down to the kitchen to grab our afternoon breakfast. His whole family is there.
"Morning again, Son. Morning Jon," Chris's Dad is taking it all in stride, especially probably knowing that I slept with and presumably had sex with his son last night. Turning his attention directly to me he introduces, "This is my wife Sarah and Chris's sister Alex, and I'm Dom. We've heard a lot about you, even visit you at work, it's nice to finally meet you!"
"Good Morning Mr. Milner, Mrs. Milner, Alex. It's nice to meet you too," I say in turn, looking each of them in the eye as I do so.
"I think they smell fear," Chris whispers to me loud enough that it's obviously his way of getting his family to go easy on me.
His Dad ignores his attempt to let me off the hook easy, "So you work two jobs and you are an honour student?"
"Yes sir," I say. I am more nervous meeting Chris's family than I am when he and I have sex! It's all I can do just to remember my manners and speak in a polite fashion.
Chris's mother compliments and then presses, "Very impressive, you must have a good work ethic. Where are you going to go to college?"
College. School. All of a sudden where I am planning to go for school has become a big issue in my life. And I don't even care where I go really. It just has to be far away. So I give the line that I want to go to Berkley or maybe study abroad through an affiliation of a local college. I don't get specific because it will become obvious that I don't know much more than that I want to study Law or Business. Maybe Business Law? Does such a thing even exist? And if I study it in another country is it even valid here in the U.S. I wonder? Like the degree is transferrable, but don't you have to pass the bar in one place or the other? So yeah, basically I don't know! Luckily I don't get called on my bluff.
After French toast made by his mother and an extensive background check by his parents, Chris excuses us so that we can change the laundry. His sister says that that's gross and she doesn't want to hear about his bed sheets so he explains my work uniform dilemma to her. I have to say I am quite amazed that Chris even knows how to do laundry let alone has to do his own. There is a staff of three in his house. One cook, one cleaning lady, and one groundskeeper; all part time. He switches my clothes into the dryer, adds a bounce sheet and starts the machine. We play pool in the basement games room while we wait on the dryer.
He blows me away again when he takes the iron to my work pants and even my work T-shirt! I have to stop him short of ironing my white Hanes. He's just a little Martha Stewart! I would have stopped him earlier, especially with the T-shirt, but it was just so cute.
Once Chris drops me off at work it's just a normal Sunday. Being the first busser on it's go, go, go from the moment I get there. School is pretty much over for colleges and we are swamped with graduation dinners and group goodbye dinners. Some Sundays I get cut around 8:30 but everyone stays until we close at 10:00 tonight. By the time I get home it's almost midnight. I don't even bother with the computer, I just put my uniform in the wash and crash into bed. I imagine Chris's body with mine and fall asleep before I even finish jerking it.
Monday morning; similar routine. Tim calls, Candace or Lacey yell, I can't make out which crow is squawking me towards the land of the coherent. Waking up with a sock still on my cock, I get up, throw my uniform from the wash into the dryer, shower and get ready, and then go to school. Tim goes to baseball practice this week so I have to get to work on my own, no biggie. I can't figure what the hell last week was all about. Ma's home but tells me before I head out to work that she's spending the night at Larry's.
Chris picks me up after work. I still feel really bad about him waiting forever on me last week and then just leaving. I make sure this week I am done precisely the minute the doors are closed. I change in a flash and am off for a little fun with him. Instead of the Jeep that Chris has been driving he has an electric blue Dodge Dakota, all done up with the sports kit. He also has come armed and ready with a map and internet directions from his place to mine. I don't want to be callous, but at the same time until I have figured out the how; there's just no way that I am letting Chris's presence get noticed. Instead I convince him to take me to Freed Park, just up the block from my house. When we get there we make out for about half an hour and then I am walking the rest of the way home.
I am all doughy-eyed from Chris and had a big grin on my face when I walked in the door. Lacey is waiting up for me; I guess she's looking for something to rat out on me. Sometimes she acts like the mother I never wanted. She tries to give me a lecture about getting high and that she's going to tell Mom if I don't slow down with the shit. Like I'm going to listen to this crap! Lacey is barely a year older than me. Where does she get off? She thinks that I am stoned and threatens to tell Ma. Like I care, go ahead and tell her what she already knows. So I burn a little blunt! Ooooh ieee! No biggie. I guess Lacey doesn't know that Mom smoked up one time with Daniel and I last summer. But still, why does the bitch feel like it's her place to act like she's my mom in Ma's absence.
Tuesday is when things get weird. Usually Tim plays part if not most of every game for the senior school baseball team. I think at least. It's not like I have a whole helluva a lot of a clue what goes on during a game. They field, they bat, they field, they bat, grass grows, and I check out the cute guys. That's what I know about Tim's games. That and to listen to find out if we won or lost before saying anything to Tim. They have a home game tonight so I find it incredibly strange when Tim suggests that we cut last block of the day and head over to his place. Skip off school? You don't have to ask this boy twice!
We sneak out and head to his car. When we get to his place I have nothing to wear to swim with like usual. As I am changing into a pair of his beach jammer shorts I spot his school team uniform on the floor from yesterday, (yes I do stretch my eyes looking for his jock to no avail) so I am guessing that he never intended to show up for the game today. This strikes me as odd, so I realize that something is seriously wrong. Last week's odd behavior wasn't just a phase; something is up with my buddy. I want nothing more to be his friend and someone he can talk to, just like he confirmed to me last week when he dropped me off at work.
We horse around in his pool. Tim keeps pulling down my shorts. His waist is bigger than mine and the shorts hardly stay on to begin with. I hate this game. Like really, really hate it. Hate is a strong word, but I have decided at some point that I HATE THIS FUCKING GAME!
Why do guys have to do this? Is it true that even straight guys are slightly queer? Are all straight guys really closet cases somehow too? Do they really want to see another guy's ass, crack, cock and balls? It confuses the hell out of me why they do it! And more so, what will Tim say someday when he's stripped me naked hundreds of times, and slept with me dozens more, and I tell him I am gay. Fuck, I know he's laid back, but that will creep him out bad I suspect. I wish I could just tell him now and get it off my chest. Get it over with and pick up the pieces of my then shattered life and see if I can go on from there.
I'm confused and half ready to just lay it out on the line, `Tim, I don't want to have sex with you because I have debated it like mad in my head and I'd rather you be a real friend, my only real friend. But Tim, you are hot as hell, and I get a perverse pleasure sleeping with you, and you may find it sick and twisted, but when you manhandle me I never want it to stop. You have the body of a 17 year old god. I block out the sexual thoughts as much as I can because I know they just get in the way, but in my mind you've made love to me at least a dozen times each in probably a dozen different ways. Still I want you as a friend more. I wish I were straight because of you. Fuck, I want to be you. But you'll never understand what it is to be me.'
But I can never say that; I can't even build up the nerve to tell him I'm gay. I couldn't when we were just really getting to know each other, and as far as he goes, I now have to carry my secret to the grave for his sake; now that I've selfishly, albeit platonically, slept in the same bed with him. Still, I don't quite get it. Is this his way of coming on to me?
No, he usually never gets aroused. Usually I'm the one to get hard for obvious reasons when he does this repeatedly to me, and he really only gets hard if I touch him a lot in the crotch accidentally when we wrestle.
The site of me naked certainly doesn't pitch a tent in his pants when I give up on even pulling the shorts back up today. He's dropped my shorts like ten times already today. Getting out of his pool to take a sip of soda he tugs them down for the last time as far as I am concerned. Instead of pulling them back on I take them and whip them at his head. I take my time with the can of cola and then jump back into his pool naked.
"Fine, I guess you want me this way. You win Timbo; no shorts for Cheesedick! I got it," I say, flopping my erection in my hand.
We lounge in his pool for 15 minutes before I ask him, "So, just so I know, would you rather me be nude, or can I put shorts back on? I'm game either way."
He just shrugs his shoulders in response, but he looks away from me. He feels shitty for what he's done, I just know it. I grab the shorts from the deep end of the pool where they ended up and put them back on. With the shorts back on now he's thankfully leaving them alone.
We get out of the pool when his Mom announces that she has made dinner. I eat with his family and find it quite eerie that his family is like mine in many ways. Tim is 6 years older than his next sibling and then those three are all a year apart, much like Deanna is 7 years older than Candace and then Candace, Lacey and I are all one year apart. The only difference is that its boy(Tim), girl(Mackenzie), boy(Sam), boy(Will) for them and girl(Deanna), girl(Candace), girl(Lacey), boy(me) for us.
After dinner we play Playstation for a while and I still can't figure Tim out. Grand Theft Auto is like his biggest addiction but tonight he's hardly paying attention to what he's doing. Finally getting into his Mustang to take me home I build up the nerve to confront him. It's funny how we always end up having our little heart to hearts in his car. I just blurt out, "Tim. Something's bothering you. Major big bother. You said you're my friend and I can tell you anything last week. Same goes for you, so how about you spill the beans already?"
He lets out a good few sighs before finally speaking, "Yeah, you're right. I know that it goes both ways. I wanted to tell you last week but I didn't want to tell you until I had things figured out at the same time. Jon, man, I gotta talk about something heavy. You've become my best friend and I owe it to you."
He's put a hand on my leg rather than the gear shifter and I'm thinking he's about to come out of the closet to me as he speaks, "Something happened when I was in Baton Rouge a couple weeks back. My dad checked out a couple business opportunities in New Orleans after the wedding, and he's decided that he is going to take a transfer to an office there where he will be the senior executive and make tons more money. He's been dropping hints for a year that some guy there is nearing retirement and he wants to get back closer to where he grew up. Well, that guy is officially done on Labour Day minus 5 weeks vacation time. My Dad applied for the position and got it straight away."
I'm floored. I kick the floorboard and punch the ceiling. Tears are in my eyes. I look away; I don't want to show him. Mostly to myself I lament, "Why do I even fucking bother making friends, they all fuck off right out of my life anyhow. You'll be the third so called best friend I've lost now. Make that fourth if I count Michael."
"Farrows, man I love you but you're fucked, you know that right? You're so neurotic. F. I. N. E. Fine. Fucked-up, insecure, neurotic, emotional. That's why I love you. You wear your heart out on your sleeve more than you'll ever know, but still, you're just plain nuts! Surely you can see that's why I couldn't tell you," He half shouts at me.
Fine, whatever. I'll live. So I'll just deal with this when I'm alone and no one can see. No one actually wants to see another person be real and show pain or hurt. I should know that no matter how stupidly I delude myself that people, even supposed friends, even self professed best friends, don't really want me showing emotion. And I am just his best friend by default I realize when I am being honest with myself, too. Neil would be if he weren't always with Tania now, or Daniel would have been if he weren't in St. Louis. I'm just here, so I am his best friend by default.
Composing myself, I put up the act, "So when are you leaving?"
I brace myself for the news. Tim hesitates, then smiles, "I'm not Cheesedick."
"Whatever. No, really. Don't be a fucktard. When are you moving," I'm not in the mindset for his little word games. I totally see why Daniel got pissed off at him sometimes because he toys with you if you don't use proper grammar or sentence tense and shit like that.
He gives, "I'm moving right after school, the rest of the fam is moving away in late July probably. I told you now because a realtor is coming by Saturday so we can put the house up for sale with a closing date that'll be some time after school ends."
My heart is sinking, I suspect he's not really telling me the full truth, "I knew there was something. I didn't know necessarily what, but I just knew it! You've been hiding it for two weeks now and I knew something was up. You say you're not moving but now you are? And why are you moving before them?"
Tim's laughing at me.
"You're slow on the up take today. Usually you're a quick study and don't miss these things! I'm moving, but not leaving," He stresses the words moving and leaving, then hesitantly adds, "I'm getting an apartment here, or maybe staying with someone. It took a lot of fighting, especially with my Mom but they gave in and are going to let me finish my school here! I didn't want to break the news to you until I broke them down. Mom just told me she and dad agreed to let me stay when she pulled me aside after dinner."
"So you are staying," I ask, already knowing the answer as the tone of his voice has betrayed a lie. He's just trying to break it to me easy, in pieces. I'll find out that his parents never said he could stay, or magically they'll change their minds and he'll tell me that he has to move too. I know somehow he's just trying not to upset me.
"Yeah, I'm staying. Got an extra room," He jokes.
I wish! I really, really do. I don't want to lose Tim. He really is my best friend. I want to know him forever, I even want to come out to him soon now that I am with Chris despite my inner fears. He just might be O.K. with me. And that certainly wouldn't suck if he liked me, as a friend, for who I truly am. Shit, my heart screams out to be set free! I wish we had room for him at my place. But my place is tiny, so I dejectedly reply, "You've seen my place right?"
).:.(<<
April 26, 2000. Dear Journal:
Well, what can I say Journal. It's been a busy few weeks since we last had a heart to heart. Or in reality, since I've written a few lines in you about my life. You know what I mean...
Believe it or not I am figuring out how to be happy now. Not sure how, but I'm not such a waterworks for Daniel any more, and I look forward to my time with Tim and Chris respectively. For a while I didn't think I could be happy. I had poured all of my energy in life to Daniel and into building our secret relationship. But these last few weeks, since meeting Chris at the April Fool's Day Beach Bash have changed that line of thinking. I can be happy. I can go on. I can have friends. I can even fall in lust with a new guy.
And then Tim can blow it all to hell because his family is moving. Fuck him. Yeah, I wish. But seriously, I will get by without him. Somehow.
Ma is staying the night at Larry's on Mondays and they're alternating houses on Saturdays it would seem. Ah, Mom's these days; they grow up so fast! They're now two nights a week sleeping over and the assumption is that Candace, Lacey and I are old enough to just deal with it. I think it bothers Lacey the most. In some ways she's the baby of the family even if I am the youngest. Deanna has taken to calling her a drama queen or prima donna for her behaviour. Me? It's all good. Ma deserves to be happy and Coach is from all my experiences a great guy. He's like the role model you discover even if you weren't seeking one out. Plus, in her busier schedule I am better able to fly under the radar and it just might make sneaking around with Chris a whole lot easier for me! Yeah, I've inadvertently found a huge benefit there!
Chris. He's so hot, he has a glow to him. Just being with him makes me happy with myself. I rationalize that his comfort with his sexuality is rubbing off on me in small ways and I am at least seeing that the world from our position (homosexuality) can successfully be navigated. Yeah, it's great to be happy, and he makes me happy. So many small things, things he says, sometimes just the way he says it. And his actions, he blows me away just being himself. He is like a gay Tim. Sensitive, caring, genuine, fun, smart, good looking, the list is endless. I am really happy that despite the callousness I wanted to show him that night at the beach that something so simple as his gentle smile won me over.
It's not like it was with Daniel. It's not really a path of discovery for us. For me sure, it still is in many ways. Yet rather than being my guide, Chris is my partner. He's letting me dictate our pace I sometimes think, but then I wake up and realize that no matter how many or how few guys he's been with that he's going through the same feelings and doubts and hopes as me. He's really good at communicating his feelings to me and I am trying my hardest not to be intimidated by him in that manner. Oh, he's such a sweetie, and he knows my situation and we work our schedule around the fact that I am still closeted and have to maintain a normal routine to all eyes that might be watching. I want to be more open because of him and I am slowly easing myself to the point that I might just introduce him to my friends. Not as my boyfriend of course, not at first anyhow. Let them meet him first and then I can slowly see where that goes.
O.K. So Journal, you must be in suspense. Things can't just go smoothly in my fucking live, right? Yeah, we both know that! So where's the twist you ask? This Tuesday was again a hot ass day so Tim and I cut last block and went to his place for a swim and playstation in his air conditioned house later. I always seem to be using other people's shorts when I go swimming, but Tim's shorts are big on me and are a far cry from Chris's Speedo. In the pool we got into a wrestling match which evolved into a game of `pants'. Although never formally outlined, I'd have to say that the idea of the game is to drop the other guy's shorts/pants/whatever to his embarrassment. Ah straight guys. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. I certainly can't figure them out; they're as foreign as girls to me. All in all, I will say that it seems pretty gay to me and I can never figure out why the hell straights play a game which exposes another guy, or even towel snapping at a guys bare ass in the change room, but you have to fight back or else you're a sissy right? Well, while I am not at all athletically inclined, I am by no means a wimp. But still, Tim is a baseball jock / stud after all, so you can guess who's ass was bare each and every time that afternoon!
He did that to me in my own pool the week before that too. I did fight back for sure but it got to be a bit too much when we both realized upon accidentally brushing each other's crotches that we were both hard. Of course Tim was pretty smooth about it, like he always is in handling situations, and casually stopped rather than mention that little fact that we were both hard. After a little while he started it up again.
So this last time my clever answer was to take the shorts and just throw them at him, stand there totally nude and in a suggestive tone say that I guess he didn't really want me in the shorts after all even though he lent them to me. I then hopped back into his pool stark naked with a major boner showing. I think he got the point when I didn't fetch the shorts for a while, 'cause I got to keep them on from that point. I guess he didn't want his parents or siblings coming home to see him playing in the pool with a naked boy. Haha! Figures, straight boy!
Like really, what gives? Sometimes I get the feeling that he wants to fool around a bit, or well, I don't really know. I mean sexually. Is he all fucked up right now and flirting with me? Is his problem that he wants to tell me that he's gay? Or bi-sexual? Is he just trying to figure me out or what? Has he figured me out and is just teasing me? Does he suspect I am a fag and wants a blow job? Again, it's just a hint of a strange feeling I sometimes get about him, but I still suspect he is 100% hetero. So what motivates this desire to drop my pants?
You think I'm fucked in the head? Yeah, I think I am fucked too! Ah hell Journal, just between you and me, I know I am fucked. But in my young life I've learned that we all are, so what's it matter? Oh well. Driving me home after our odd encounter in his pool he finally broke down and dropped a bombshell on me. I over reacted and he called me F.I.N.E. Kudo's to Tim for the Areosmith song reference, Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional is what he actually meant. Yeah? So? like I can help it! People think I'm F.I.N.E? They should try living my life and see the world through my eyes.
I'll leave you with just one more thought: the Dallas Stars beat Edmonton in the first round of the current NHL 2000 playoffs. That's the second year in a row. Last year they went on to win the Stanley Cup. Can you say repeat? But that's not my thought, this is: there's this amazing player on the Calgary Flames named Marc Savard. He's a truly magical playmaker, just like Adam Oates. Oh, how I would love to meet him. Go to NHL.com and search his name. Yeah, he's not hard on the eyes either! I heard a Canadian hockey commentator say keep your hands on your stick and your eyes on the puck, or something like that. If it didn't violate him, I'd love to get my hands on his 22 year old `stick'. Alas, in the real world unless he took pity on me I'd get arrested for it, but I can dream.
So until next time Journal...keep your hands on your stick! Jon.
[to be continued]
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