The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone are purely coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain profanity and references to gay sex. If this offends you, please leave and find something more suitable to read. Ronyx stories are copyrighted, and the author maintains exclusive rights to the story. Do not copy or use without written permission. Ronyx is a prolific Nifty author. Send comments to ronyx@themustardjar.com, Visit my personal website: www.themustardjar.com for more stories by Ronyx.
*** Nifty.org is a free site. Nifty depends on your generous donations for support: https://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Window Stories Chapter 8
Colin looked at me and smiled. He had been smiling since Gary came over to the table and introduced himself. I know what he was thinking. He thought that I could renew my friendship with Gary. Even I wasn't opposed to the idea. At one time, Gary and I had become good friends. It would be nice to be able to talk to someone about the `good old days.' Colin seemed interested, but I don't think he could relate to some of my stories.
"He seemed like a nice guy," commented Jason. "Are you going to call him?"
I looked at his number on the napkin. "I don't know," I replied as I shrugged my shoulders. "I may." He looked at Colin and nodded his head.
"Let's order," suggested Colin as he tried to get the attention of our waiter. Emanuel hurried over to the table.
He greeted us cheerfully. "Are you gentlemen ready to order?"
I laughed as I looked at Colin and Jason and replied, "I'm not too sure they are gentlemen."
Emanuel looked flirtatiously at them and said, "I'm sure they are." He held up his pad and asked, "What will it be, Gentlemen?" He stressed the word gentlemen.
It had been ages since I ate at an Olive Garden. After scanning the menu, I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. Colin ordered the same while Jason preferred the lasagna. Emanuel hurried away, and a few minutes later returned with our salad and bread sticks.
We talked casually as we ate. The salad was fresh, and the breadsticks were delicious. It was nice not to have to eat something bland that I normally eat at the center. Jason kept asking me if I was alright being out. I told him that it did feel good. When I told him that I felt that I could probably live alone in an apartment, he said he wasn't sure that I could be that independent.
Colin asked how I had ended up at the living center. I tried not to get too upset as I told him how my son, Roger, had insisted that I be removed from my home. "I know I'll never be able to get around like I did," I said somberly, "but I feel that I am capable of taking care of myself. Maybe I could live in an apartment that provides independent living. I'm just withering away lying in a bed all day."
"You are doing well with therapy," responded Jason. "If only you had someone you could live with. What about your son?"
I shook my head and stated angrily, "Roger hates me. He has for years. He hates that I divorced his mother and moved in with another man. He can't accept a gay father."
"How long ago was that?" asked Jason.
"Let me see," I replied as I thought back. "It's been over thirty-five years ago."
Jason shook his head and asked, "He's held a grudge that long?"
"It got worse when he had children," I replied sorrowfully. "He actually told me that he didn't want me anywhere near his son because he was afraid that I would molest him."
"Damn," muttered Jason angrily. "He's a son of a bitch."
I laughed and replied, "I didn't know you knew my wife." We were laughing when Emanual brought our meals to the table. He smiled and walked away.
The rest of our conversation was about current events. We discussed some of the things that were happening around the world. I watch a little of the evening news, and then I watch movies in the evening. I tend to stay away from cable news because it is too depressing. Often, I feel guilty because my generation left the world a far worse place for the younger generation.
Colin's phone rang, and he rose from his seat and walked toward the exit. "It must be important," remarked Jason as Colin headed outside. We could see him talking to someone outside the window. He appeared very worried. I thought that someone close to him had died. A few minutes later, he walked in and took his seat.
I asked, "Is everything alright?"
He shook his head and replied, "I don't know. That was Dave, my friend who is a detective on the police department."
"The one you talked to about Stanley?" I asked. Colin nodded his head. "Did they find him?"
"No," he replied, "but they have a few good leads." He looked over at Jason and asked, "You know about Mrs. Sullivan's son, Stanley?"
He laughed and replied, "Everyone knows about it. She's been very upset for days. She didn't even come to work today. What's going on?"
"Dave says that another boy has been reported missing," he explained. "He's best friends with Stanley. They suspect the two may be together."
"That's a good thing," I replied.
"Maybe not," responded Colin nervously. "The boy he may be with is Maxwell Dewberry."
I replied, "I've heard that name before."
Colin replied worriedly, "You probably have. Maxwell is the high school student who was crowned the homecoming king at the high school. They stripped him of the title because he came out as gay. His parents are suing the school district. There's been several articles in the news. They were interviewed on one cable network."
"What does this mean?" asked Jason. "Is Stanley gay? Is that why he ran away?"
Colin replied, "Dave seems to think so. Maxwell left home the day after Stanley was reported missing. His parents seem to think that their son is trying to protect Stanley."
I asked, "Why would he need protection?"
"I guess Mr. Sullivan has a mean temper," he explained. "When the police told him their suspicions, he became very violent. He's a real homophobe. Mrs. Sullivan told them that Stanley left the house during a violent argument."
"Shit" I hissed. "Son of a bitch. Why can't these assholes just leave these kids alone. I thought things were getting better."
Colin shook his head and replied, "Hate never goes away. Phil. It always finds a place to hide."
We sat for the next few minutes and talked about Stanley's situation. Colin felt that if only he could talk to him, he would be able to help him understand that running away doesn't solve problems. He would have to face them. "I hope that I can talk to him before he does something rash. At least he's with this boy, Maxwell. He sounds like he may have a level head on him."
We decided that we should return to the center. We were no longer in a cheerful mood. Jason had several appointments scheduled later. Even Emanuel's flirting when he brought us the check didn't lighten up our worries. Even though Jason and I insisted on paying our share, Colin paid. I noticed that he left a nice tip for Emanuel.
The rest of the day was rather boring. I did manage to watch a few movies on television. At least one of the advantages of living in the center, they offer a free cable service to the residents. It gives me access to several movie channels. I used to laugh at my friends who said they enjoy the Hallmark channel. It has now become my best friend. I turned out the lights and went to sleep at ten.
The next morning, I was expecting Mrs. Sullivan to show up, but she didn't. Another nurse came in. She seemed rushed. She didn't tidy up the room like most mornings. I heard her grumble several times that she hated working a double duty shift. When I asked her about Mrs. Sullivan, she shrugged her shoulders and hurried from the room.
Jason took me to physical therapy, but even he was subdued. I tried to make a few comical comments, but he simply smiled and walked away to attend to someone else. Everyone seemed rushed to finish their assignments. Besides Mrs. Sullivan being absent, I noticed that a few aides also seemed to be missing. It seemed to be something that was beginning to happen more often.
Colin showed up a little past ten. He seemed to be in a good mood. He entered with a smile on his face. "How are you today, Phil?" he asked. I told him what was happening, and he said that many facilities are now understaffed. "Young people aren't applying for these positions anymore."
"Well," I grumbled, "If their parents hadn't given them everything they wanted, then they may have learned the value of hard work. I started when I was sixteen. Now, they just want everything handed to them on a gold platter."
"This is the me generation," replied Colin. "It's always about me, me, me. They think they can just step into a job making $50,000 with little education or training. Hell, I have a master's degree and I don't make that now."
"I wasn't making that when I retired," I said.
Colin opened a file and scanned it. "Let's see, Phil," he said as he flipped through a few pages. "You were going to tell me about your college days."
I laughed and said, "You're keeping notes of what we talk about? I never see you write anything down."
"I hope you don't mind," he replied. "I jot down notes on all my patients at the end of the day. It can get very distracting if I'm taking notes while we speak. I have a good memory, so it is easier to do it later."
"Okay," I challenged him. "Tell me the name of the girl I took to the prom."
He grinned and replied, "That's easy. Her name was Nancy."
I laughed and said, "Smartass Bougie Boy."
He leaned forward and said, "I want to hear about your college days. You said it got off to a rocky start because Kennedy was assassinated your freshman year. What were you like in college? Did you come out?"
"God, no!" I exclaimed. "That wasn't an option."
He asked, "What did you do?"
I did what every good college boy did back then," I replied. "I found a girlfriend."
I lay back and looked out the window. There was a young girl with flowing long brown hair. She was very pretty in an ordinary way. She had on wire-rimmed glasses, and she was wearing a flowered dress. She appeared to be the girl-next-door type. Many girls attended college to major in education or nursing. Most of the time, they were hunting for a boy who seemed to be husband material. I stared into Eloise's face, and she smiled. I came to be the boy she considered husband material.
After a long pause, Colin said, "Tell me about her."
I looked out the window again at Eloise. I knew it would be a difficult story to relate. It wasn't one that I was happy to tell. I had hurt Eloise deeply, and the story would open a lot of old wounds. When she nodded, I knew I was free to speak about it.
"I met Eloise in January of 1964," I began. I had just returned to school after Christmas break. My mother kept asking me if I had found a nice girl. Of course, I couldn't tell her I didn't want a nice girl, but I played along with the game. I figured I could find a girl to date occasionally, and that would satisfy my mother."
Colin asked, "But it didn't turn out like that?"
"It did for a while," I explained. "I met her at a dance. I was with a few of my dorm friends, and we attended a social gathering hosted by the freshman class. Of course, their main reason for attending was to find a girl they could have sex with. One of the guys was excited about losing his virginity."
Colin laughed and asked, "Did he?"
"Unfortunately, yes," I replied. "His first time with a girl, and he got her pregnant. It was hard for us to get condoms back then. We couldn't just walk into the school clinic and ask for one. We usually left it up to the girl to know when her period was. Most guys felt it was safe if they pulled out before they came; but we know that never works. Some girls used diaphragms. I paused while Colin took out his phone and did a google search. He laughed and put his phone back in his pocket.
"No wonder your generation was having so many babies," he remarked.
I replied, "Why do you think they called us baby boomers."
"Go on," he said. "Tell me more about Eloise." Again, I looked over at the window.
"We never really planned on getting serious," I explained. "We dated occasionally, but our relationship started out very platonic. Then, we got involved in the hippie movement."
Colin said, "I read about that. Wasn't that Woodstock?"
"That was just an event," I replied. "I wish I could say that I was at Woodstock, but I can't. Anyways, things were changing fast. Music had a lot to do with it. There was a culture revolution sweeping across the country. It was taking over college campuses. Eloise was the first to get involved. She was always a free spirit type of person. She loved nature and taking long walks. The hippie movement appealed to her. She dragged me into it." Colin listened and nodded. "It appealed to me because it was about free love. No one was offended by anything. It was all about being yourself. Nobody placed labels on anyone."
He asked, "Is that when you came out?"
"No," I replied sadly. "It would have been easy to do, but I wasn't ready for it. Eloise and I had a lot of friends, and we attended a lot of parties. Drugs were also becoming very accessible, mainly marijuana and acid."
"Acid?" asked Colin. Again, he pulled out his phone and googled it. "Oh, LSD. I've dealt with people on it. It makes you crazy." He gave me a suspicious look and asked, "Did you do LSD?"
I laughed and replied, "We all did. That and smoking joints. That's when I began to enjoy straight sex. Getting high let down my inhibitions, and I could do anything." I laughed and added, "Guys would have sex with other guys and not think anything about it."
"Did you?"
"Of course," I laughed. "I did hook up with a few guys back then. The sex was great."
He asked, "You had sex with Eloise too?"
"Yes," I replied. "I had sex with her, and I actually enjoyed it for a while. It was a different time and place. People today would never understand. In fact, I rarely talk about it. For a few years, we threw morality out the window."
"But then during my senior year, things began to change," I said.
"How?"
"Vietnam," I replied. "The Vietnam War was beginning to escalate over in Asia. I wasn't paying much attention to it, but then Johnson began drafting guys to go fight over there."
"That was a brutal war," remarked Colin. "We fought all those years, and then we just walked away."
"After 52 thousand men never returned," I replied angrily. "Eloise really got into the antiwar movement. Of course, that meant if she was involved, I was."
"What did you do?"
"Not a lot we could do," I replied. "Most of America supported Johnson and his bloody war. We organized and marched. We held antiwar rallies on campus. Most students didn't care one way or the other. A lot of guys were attending college so they could avoid being drafted, so they weren't concerned. It wasn't until after they left that they started paying attention."
"Most students viewed us as long-haired radical hippies," I said. Colin asked if I had long hair. "Down to my shoulders," I replied. "I also had a bushy beard. You wouldn't recognize me."
"I think it's kind of cool," he replied. "It would have been fun to live back then."
"It didn't seem like much fun," I said. "Cops viewed hippies like they did Black people. They were always stopping us and searching our cars for drugs. I was at a couple of parties where the cops came in and raided the place."
"Did you get arrested?" excitedly asked Colin.
"No," I replied with a grin. "We always flushed it down the toilet before we let them in. I knew better than to keep it in the car. My old man would have shit bricks if I got arrested for possession." Colin shook his head and laughed.
"It was a rough time," I said. "I would go to class and study hard. Then at the end of the day, I would wonder if I was wasting my time. If I graduated and was drafted, then it would have all been for nothing. I lived with that thought all the time."
He asked, "Did you get drafted?"
"Hell, no," I replied excitedly. "I wasn't about to go to some jungle in Vietnam and get splattered by a grenade."
"What did you do?"
I shook my head and replied, "I got married."
"Oh," he asked. "You didn't have to go if you were married?"
"It was Eloise's idea," I replied. "She wanted us to get married so I wouldn't have to serve in the war. She was afraid I might die. When we graduated, we moved back to my town. She was from Iowa, so she was miles from home. She didn't mind, though, as long as we were together."
"It sounds like she really loved you," he remarked. I looked out the window and saw tears rolling down Eloise's face.
"Yeah," I replied sadly. "She did."
"Did you love her?"
I looked out the window again and saw her smile slightly. Then, she turned and disappeared. "I loved her," I responded sadly. "But it wasn't a sexual type of love. I never felt a strong bond between us like I did with men I later was with. I don't know if that makes sense to you."
"Yeah," he replied. "I think I understand. I was friends with a girl in college, too." I raised an eyebrow, and his face reddened. "No, not like that. It was purely platonic."
"If you say so," I smiled.
"It was," he insisted. "We spent a lot of time together. At first, I think Janet wanted me to be her boyfriend, but she realized that I never would be. In fact, she dated other boys, and then she would come back to me and tell me how bad they were."
"Where is she now?"
"Married," he replied. "She's married to an attorney, and they have a daughter."
"Just think," I laughed. "That could have been you." Colin rolled his eyes.
He asked, "You had a child with Eloise?"
"Yeah," I replied angrily. "Roger." I looked over at the window and saw a man frowning at me. I sat up and told Colin I was getting tired. "Can we talk about Roger the next time?"
"Sure," he said. He stood and looked down at me. "You've certainly lived a wild life. I only wish mine could be as interesting."
"Trust me," I replied sadly. "It wasn't always a bed of roses." I looked again at the window at the frowning man. Colin patted my hand and told me to have a nice evening.
I turned on the television and began watching an old movie. When the aide came into the room, I asked her to close the blinds. Roger wouldn't stop staring at me. _______________________
Send comments regarding this story to me at ronyx@themustardjar.com
Visit www.themustardjar.com and check out my complete library of stories. I have been posting on Nifty for 18 years. I'm sure you may have read a few.
*** Nifty.org is a free site. Nifty depends on your generous donation.