Okay. I tried. I really tried to finish up this story with this update, but the more I wrote, the more I felt needed to be written. It just kept getting longer and longer and still there were things I felt needed to be there. Every time I answered a question, I found another one.
If all had gone as planned, it would have been finished last week, but, as you know, things don't always go as planned.
I spoke with a friend through PMs last night about whether I should divide the conclusion and offer an update today. My only other option, I think, would have been to start editing and cutting out scenes but, to me, I told my friend that it would be like Tolkien saying, "This story is getting too long. Maybe if I cut out all that Mordor nonsense."
I believe cutting scenes in my story would have been met with similar reactions. So, I decided to bite the bullet and divide the chapter (hopefully for the last time).
There is an ending to this story. I already wrote it a long time ago. There just seems to be a lot of detours between here and there. But I'll get there. . . eventually.
Neil
* * * * *
BEST BUDDIES PLAY HARD
PART 10 - Almost the Conclusion
Kevin quickly slid off the chair and plopped his butt on the sofa beside me where Sharon had been only a few seconds before. It was interesting being able to compare Kevin to my wife when the memory of Sharon was still so fresh in my mind. Kevin's heat and strength and hardness was a stark contrast to Sharon's soft femininity and vulnerability. Kevin smelt like a man - sweat, testosterone, motor oil, and the fading scent of Mennen Speed Stick and minty-smelling mouthwash. Sharon, on the other hand, leaned more toward right-out-of-the-shower freshness and body powders and modest make-up and sweet perfumes all mixed into that motherly smell of baby powder and dirty diapers.
They were so different from each other, but they both had the same exquisite effect on me. I remember thinking I could easily spend the rest of my life with either of them and be completely happy. Spending it with both of them would be twice as nice.
Kevin sat so close to me now that his thigh pushed against mine and so did his arm and shoulder. I could feel his strength and his heat as he leaned toward me so he could whisper in my ear: "Is everything okay betwe. . ."
His whisper was so soft that I could barely hear it, but it didn't matter. The sounds of little MJ's excited and shrill giggles and squeals along with Sharon's motherly warning came down the hall to us and cut his sentence in half. Kevin turned his head toward the sound but didn't move away from me.
"Martin Jacob Alexander!" My wife's voice rang out. "You settle down and lie still or I'll have to get Daddy's duct tape out of the junk drawer and tape you to this bed until I get this diaper on you!"
This was followed by the wet, sloppy sounds of a pair of Mommy lips blowing really loud and really wet raspberries on our little boy's bare belly. MJ laughed even louder and higher and I was almost waiting to hear the crystal glasses - the ones we got from someone as our wedding gift - shattering right there on the shelf.
When things finally settled down again, I said, "I could barely hear you, Kev. What were you saying?"
"I just want to know," he began again as he looked back at me, "is everything okay between you and Sharon?"
I heard him clearly this time. "How do you mean?"
"You know," he said, looking me right in the eye, "your marriage. Are you two really happy?"
"Sure we are," I replied with a rather anxious smile. I couldn't figure out where he was going with this. "Everything's fine. Why"
"What about your. . . you know. . . your. . . sex life?"
I had to read his lips to catch the last two words. I laughed to cover up my confusion. "What? Me and Sharon? It's great," I said. "Couldn't be better. Why?"
Kevin sat up straight and glanced quickly toward the hallway where MJ's coos and slobbery gurgles could still be heard. When he was satisfied that Sharon wasn't about to return to the room any time soon, his eyes locked onto mine again.
"I don't know," he said, still whispering. "I guess I can't understand why Sharon is so anxious for you and me to. . . you know, get together again. The way she was talking, it's almost like she was practically begging me to move back here so I can. . . you know, take care of you so she wouldn't have to have sex with you anymore. Heck, I almost expected her to tell you to drop your pants right here so I could. . . you know, give you a blowjob right here in front of her. It makes me think that you two might. . . you know, be hiding something from me. Like you might be having problems or something you're not telling me about."
Kevin paused. I had never heard him use so many ‘you knows' in a row like that before. I thought he was done and I was just about to answer him when he started talking again. "I mean, I really thought I had it all figured out last night at the pond, Marty. When we were talking. I guess I came to the conclusion that she was okay with us getting together once in awhile. But now, she sounds like. . . I don't know. . . like she's afraid you'll hold her responsible if she doesn't want us getting together. It almost sounds like she wants me to take over for her so she doesn't have to. . . you know, have sex with you anymore. I know that isn't what she really meant, but that's what it. . . I mean. . ."
He looked down at his knees and scratched at an imaginary spot of dirt he found there. I certainly didn't see one. "I don't know, Marty. I guess I just don't understand how Sharon can be so anxious and excited for you to have sex with someone else if everything was okay between the two of you. I mean. . . especially with another man." He looked back at me and locked his eyes on mine again. They looked sad and confused. "I don't understand what's going on, Marty. I need to understand. I can't make any decision about whether I stay here or go away again until I do. Until I'm sure I'm making the right decision for
all of us and not just for me."
I lifted my arm and put it behind Kevin's back, letting my hand rest over his other shoulder. I didn't pull him toward me or anything. I just let my hand sit there because I thought that was where it should be at that moment. I don't know why I did it. Maybe I was afraid he was going to jump up and take off on me again and I wanted to make sure he didn't get away. I don't know. If nothing else, it gave me a second or two to try and come up with an answer.
"Sharon's like that, Kev. She gets over-excited sometimes and puts her mouth in overdrive before her brain's turning over. She doesn't always end up saying what she really means. You'll figure that out for yourself when you get to know her better. Trust me, Kev. Sharon and I have a very happy marriage and we have a great and satisfying sex life for both of us. And we've always been pretty open about it. Mind you, we're not swingers by any stretch of the imagination. I mean, we're not interested in threesomes or orgies or wife-swapping or anything like that. But we're open enough with each other to be able to share our fantasies. Remember the magazines Sharon was talking about? Some of them are gay magazines. She knows I look at them sometimes. She's even bought a few of them for me. She knows how much you mean to me, Kev, and she knows how much I enjoyed what we did together. I know she doesn't mind as long as we're open and aboveboard about it instead of sneaking around behind her back and pretending it's not happening. She trusts you, Kevin. She trusts
us. Believe me. The only thing she was telling you was that it's okay with her if we fool around together. That's it. She certainly doesn't want you to take her job away from her. She likes it as much as
you do."
Kevin continued to stare into my eyes. His gaze burned into me. It was so intense that I almost turned away from it, but I refused to give in. I could feel the breath from his nostrils wafting across my chin. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he said, "Swear to me, Marty. Swear you're telling me the truth."
Without hesitation, I pulled my hand away from him and made a fist with an extended pinky finger. I brought the little finger to my mouth and stuck out my tongue and licked the tip of it. Then I crooked it and held it out in front of Kevin. He looked at my finger for a few moments, then licked his own little finger and hooked it with mine. Our blood brothers oath.
"I swear, Kevin. Everything's great between us and we're
both telling you the truth. This is what we both want."
Kevin held our blood brother link for another few moments. His eyes were moist and I thought he might start crying. But he didn't. Finally, he blinked away the moisture and nodded once before pulling his finger away from mine.
"I believe you, Marty," he whispered softly. "I'm not sure I understand it yet, but I believe you." And then one corner of his lip curled up into the faintest of forced smiles but his eyes remained sad and confused. "I just need some time to figure out what it all means. Okay?"
* * * * *
Mom was all over Kevin when we went over there later that afternoon. She hugged him and kissed him and sobbed happy tears all over the place. Dad was even uncharacteristically emotional, grabbing Kevin in a great, fatherly bear hug and kissing his neck as he mumbled, "It's good to have you home again, Son."All afternoon, Mom fawned over Kevin and showered him more love than he'd probably seen since his own mother died. My Mom was Kevin's mother now, too, and she was very serious about her job.
I think Kevin felt cornered and a bit pressured when Mom started going at him about moving back to town and Dad had to back her off a bit. In the end, she didn't quite succeed in convincing Kevin to put down permanent roots again, but, along with Dad's help, she managed to talk him into moving in with them for as long as he needed to in order to sort things out and decide what he wanted to do. They didn't know all the details, of course, and they didn't pry, but they were certainly aware of his troubled life and the abuse and everything else. They convinced him that home was the best place for him to deal with it all and we were the closest thing to a home and family that he had left. There was more than enough love available to him. He could take as much as he needed whenever and from whomever he needed it.
Kevin came to church with us the next morning and we moved him out of the Y and into my old bedroom at Mom and Dad's place that afternoon. He didn't have much, really. Mostly just clothes and a few personal belongings. It all fit in two mismatched suitcases and a knapsack, but I went with him to help him load it up and unload it again when we got to the house.
We didn't see much of him during the first few days he was there. We didn't see him at all, in fact. Mom said he spent most of his time alone in the bedroom. Except for him coming out a few times a day to use the bathroom or to take a shower, she barely even knew he was in the house. She said she could hear him crying a few times, though. He wouldn't come out to the table to eat with her and Dad. Mom always set his meals in front of the door, but Kevin always brought the tray out to the kitchen and washed his own dishes. And he always said ‘thanks' to Mom and he always kissed her cheek. And then he'd go lock himself in the bedroom again.
It wasn't until later on in the week that he started going out. Mom told us he would be gone for hours and hours on end. Usually he'd go out in the morning and stay away until dark. One night he didn't come home until really late. About four o'clock in the morning, Mom said. "He came in very quietly so he wouldn't wake us up," she said. "But you know me, Marty. I sleep with one eye open until I'm sure my children are safe and home in bed. Just like I used to do when you were still living at home."
But Kevin never told anyone where he went. And nobody asked.
I went to work each morning and came home each night. Sharon continued being a mother to little Marty Junior, and MJ continued doing what little boys do. Our lives went on without Kevin for the most part, but he was always on our minds. Mine, at least. I suspected, when he started going out, that I would probably find him at the pond if I went out there, but neither Sharon or I thought it would be a good idea. We knew he needed his time alone and we left him to it.
It was raining that Sunday morning when Mom phoned before we left for church. Not a hard rain or anything like that. Just a steady drizzle. But it was enough to hide the morning sun and make the day feel miserable. Mom's news made it even more miserable. She told me that Kevin hadn't come home at all Saturday night.
"Did you check his room?" I asked in a bit of a panic. "Is his stuff still there?"
"I couldn't find his shoulder bag, but there's still his small suitcase in the closet and I think there might be some clothes in it. I didn't open it, but I could feel something soft flopping around when I shook it."
"What about his shaving kit? Is that still there?"
"Oh, dear! I forgot about that."
There was a loud thump of the phone being dropped on the table and then I could hear Mom's footsteps hurrying across the floor toward the bathroom. Sharon appeared at my side then. Her hands wrapped around my biceps and she cuddled up very close to me to let me know she was there for me.
"Kevin didn't come home last night," I mumbled. "His knapsack's missing and I think his big suitcase is gone, too. The little suitcase is still there and Mom is going to see if he took his shaving kit."
There were an anxious few long seconds of silence until I heard Mom's footsteps rushing back, then the rattle of the phone being picked up. "It's gone, Marty," she said. She tried to hide her fear and anxiety but I could hear it in her voice. "What are we going to do?"
"No notes anywhere?" I asked. Sharon gripped my arm even tighter. Marty Junior was making his usual early morning breakfast sounds in the kitchen. "Nothing on the table beside the bed? Stuck to the fridge or anything?"
"Nothing," she replied. "I looked everywhere before I phoned you. All I found was his house key in an envelope in the mailbox."
I took a deep breath. "Well, there's not much we can do right now, is there. We'll follow you and Dad home after church and try to figure something out."
"Maybe I should stay here in case he comes home."
"He won't, Mom," I said. "You know he won't. We'll see you at church, okay?"
Kevin wasn't at Mom's house when we returned. I wasn't surprised, really. He wasn't at the pond, either. Sharon and I had taken a drive over there after church. Just in case.
We talked over lunch and decided there really wasn't anything we could do. At one point I mentioned that I knew Kevin's licence plate number now and a man who worked with Dad had a son who was in the police force. We might be able to get him to track Kevin for us, but Dad told me to wait a month or two. "Whatever his reasons," Dad said, "he obviously wants to be alone and we should respect that. If we haven't heard from him by the end of October, we'll look into it. Okay?"
I went through the bedroom after lunch for my own satisfaction. I couldn't see him going without leaving a note. Even when he had been suicidal he had left a note. I was convinced that there had to be one somewhere. I knew Mom had gone through his room thoroughly, but I went through it again, even lifting the mattress and moving furniture about. I couldn't find a note anywhere. Not a single piece of paper. I leafed through the only two magazines in the room (National Geographics) page by page but found nothing. No notes. No clues. No idea where he might be and no idea when or even if he might be coming back again.
Kevin had taken everything except the small suitcase Mom had found in the closet. I opened it. There were, indeed, a few clothes in there. They had just been dumped in there. Nothing was folded or anything. And, lifting them to my face, I could smell him in them. He'd definitely worn them at least once.
On one hand, it was an encouraging sign, I suppose, knowing that Kevin would probably come back come back for them. On the other hand, there weren't really enough clothes in the suitcase that he would miss them if he didn't.
I didn't know I could be so happy and so sad at the same time.
To Be Continued
(With any luck, this will be the last time. . . but don't hold your breath. Just in case, you know.)
I even have my eyes crossed ... 
Thanks for your continued efforts. Take care.
... I don't know how to last until you post the next chapter ... 
