Bits and Pieces

[ChrisGibson]

I thought I responded to this, damn. Well, we did talk about it

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT WE CONCLUDE NOAH AND JAMES' STORY



Years later, so much later that it was hard to remember that twenty year old boy, Noah sat across from a good looking young man in his thirties with a trim beard and shoulder length brown hair.
“No one hates you, Dad,” Chay said.
“I used to care about that,” Noah said. “I used to think you would hate me for what I had done, for running off with Paul. It’s not that I don’t love him, I do, and maybe you don’t want to hear that—”
“No,” Chay said, “I totally understand loving two guys at the same time. Being confused.”
Noah nodded, and didn’t say anything when his son took out a cigarette. They were so close in age. They were almost like brothers. There was the slight scent of the cigarette, and Noah said, “It’s your dad. I want to go back to him.”
“Then do it.”
“I wanted to go back right away.”
“Then what’s stopping you? You’re afraid.”
Noah nodded.
“I’m afraid.”
Chay took a sip from his coffee, a drag from his cigarette. He exhaled.
“You want me to see what I can do?”
“What in the world can you do?” Noah said to his son.
“Talk to him. Would you hate it if I sent him to you.”
“Yes,” Noah said, at last. “My whole life—our whole life—that man has come to me. He’s made room for me. He put up with me. I just need his address, Chay. I’m gonna go to him.”
“You know what I think, Dad?”
When Noah only looked at him, Chay said, “I’m going to send someone with you. I think you’re so nervous about seeing Dad you’re going to throw up.”
“Yes, I am,” Noah said. “But I spent my twenties trying to feel hard as steel. Now I need to be hard as steel to do the most important thing I’ve done. I need to be hard as steel to get your dad back.”





“You look like you’re not happy to see me, and I can’t blame you.”
“I’m surprised to see you,” James said. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Thought. Or hoped?”
“I’m not sure,” James admitted. Then he said, “Come in.”
He opened the door for his husband and when he shut it, James said, “I wasn’t sure until now.”
“And now?” Noah said.
“You came for me.”
“Of course I came for you,” Noah said. “I would have come for you sooner. I would have come right away. But you deserved your space.”
“Maybe I did,” James said. “Maybe I wanted that space. But I think I really needed to know if you would come for me.”
Then he said, “Would you like something to drink?”
Noah shook his head.
“I do,” James said. Heading into the kitchen of the little apartment he said, “Years ago you said you were a ghost. When I found you. When you were out in California. I said looking at me it looked like you were seeing a ghost. We argued a lot about who the ghost was.”
When James came back he said, “I was always in danger of becoming a ghost. I always waited for you, to let you be who you needed to be. And it whittled me away a bit. So when you went to Paul, I blew away. I became the ghost.”
“I felt like a ghost. Chay is grown. You were with Paul. I’ve been doing a of things to kill the old life.”
Then he said, “Teach us to care and not to care.”
“T.S. Eliot?”
“The Noah I grew up with would never have known that.”
“The Noah you married didn’t know it six weeks ago. I’ve been sitting in the library, reading all of your books, going through all of your stuff. How could I forget I loved you? How could I forget you loved me? How couldn’t I know you?” Noah said. “Of course I’d know you.”
“Because I’ve changed.”
“You aren’t that changed.”
“I’m more changed than you know,” James said. Then he said, “The truth is I didn’t know what to do with you. That part of you that had been with Paul—”
“Please don’t bring up Paul.”
“I have to. That part I didn’t understand. If you could go to him it was because I didn’t fight for us. I’m at fault too.”
“You’re not.”
“Of course I am,” James said. “If I hadn’t sat around like some impassive Buddha, if I had not said, go to him, would you have gone to him?”
When Noah did not answer, James said, “That’s answer enough, really. Isn’t it?”
“I found you,’ Noah said. “I found you and here you are. How couldn’t I know about you? How could I… How could we?”
“Lose ourselves.”
Noah said, “Maybe I will take that drink.”
“Ice is in the freezer,” James said, and Noah went to the kitchen while James sat on the couch.
“You are my true love,” James said simply as Noah put ice in a glass.
“Jamie you’re mine too. I just forget that.”
“I think there is more than one love. I think love is not stingy. I think Paul is your true love too. I think that’s why you struggled. I know Paul. I know it wasn’t just a fling.”
Noah turned to James.
“It was the most painful thing I ever did. I didn’t do it lightly. I made the wrong choice.”
“Maybe,” James said. “I can’t be sure. We’ve both loved other people.”
Noah looked at him surprised.
James laughed.
“I’m not surprised you’ve loved someone else. I’m just surprised you told me. You’ve been closed to me.”
“And you to me,” James said. “I think we always protected each other that way.”
“I think we were protecting outselves,” Noah said.
“Should we go out for tacos? Like we did back then?”
“Yes, Noah said, then poured the rest of his water in the sink.

They sat on the dunes overlooking Lake Michigan and eating tacos and James said, “How did you find me? I told Chay not to let you know.”
“Casey.”
“Of course.”
“He loves you, Jamie.”
“I know,” James said.
“That’s a strange way to say it.”
James shrugged.
“He’s always loved you,” Noah said. “I think he loves you as much as he loves our son.”
“Well,” James said, “we have a long history.”
Not for the first time, Noah wondered about the details of that history, then decided it was none of his business.
They didn’t speak for a while and James watched the gold and blue waves rolling very slowly onto the sand while the rising sun looked on them,.
“And now that you’ve found me,” James said, “How do you feel about what you found?”
“You’re my James,” Noah said. “Are you coming home with me?”
“Not today,’ James said. “I will come. I promise. But not today.”
“Very well,” Noah nodded.
“See,” said James, “I’ve been your James for a long time. Now I need to find a way to be my own James again. You see? I can come back to you anytime the wrong way, but I need to come back to you the right way. Do you see?”
“Then take some time and then find a way to say it to me the right way. But I think you don’t get me at all. I’m your friend. No matter what. I was your best friend. And you were mine. And I came to find my friend. Do you understand now?”
But James did not answer right away. Finally he said:
“We’ve both been bad friends to each other.”
“You’ve always told me,” Noah said, “that you understood, no matter what my foolishness, you understood. Let’s agree to understand each other. Okay?”
“Understand each other, and then understand ourselves. Separate for a bit. Not divorce, but just… learn who we are.”
“Do you want me to go away, then?”
“Absolutely not,” James said. “I just… You think I’m not happy to see you. You have no idea how happy I really am.
“Do you mind if we stay here and just be quiet?” James asked him. “Can we just sit and watch the sunrise? I feel like I haven’t done that in a really long time.”
“You never watch the sunrise over the lake? And you’ve been at the beach house for a month?”
“The sunrise wasn’t why I came,” James said.
“Remember when you first loved me?” Noah began, “You loved me—”
“I still love you, you horrible short little man,” James told him.
“You said you weren’t strong, and you didn’t feel beautiful, that this was why you went to California all those years ago. But, Noah, sometimes I need to feel beautiful and powerful too.”
“Have you feel that way with me?”
“Not in a long time.”
“Of course not,” Noah said. “How could you? I take up all the fucking air in a room. I do get it,” Noah said. “If nobody else gets it, I get it.
Noah kissed James’s cheek, and when he responded, then he kissed his throat.
“Noah…” James murmured.
As they sat on the hillock over the beach, sNoah’s hand went to his thigh and James murmured, “We shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Noah,” James pled as Noah’s hands went about his waist, “you know what I do. You know…”
Noah kissed his throat.
“Don’t turn me away, James,” he murmured as the waves broke onto the shore. “I know I don’t deserve it, but don’t turn me away.”
James kissed Noah on his head. There were grey hairs now in those curls, only a few, scarcely visible.
“I won’t take anything from you. I’ll leave you here,” Noah told him, “but I can’t drive back home knowing we didn’t have this while I was here.”
Noah placed his cheek on James’ shoulder and felt James’ hand around him.


Driving home, Noah remembers going back to the house with James, remembers them clinging together and then undressing in the morning light, not shutting the curtains, wanting the sun to be a witness. He remembers making love to James Lewis.
“That’s it! That’s it. That’s—” James groaned.
His hands ran up and down Noah’s back, holding his shoulders, ran down again to caress his thighs as the other man pushed into him. How good he felt! Noah was complete when he was inside of James, held so firmly in his tightness, his pleasure, causing James pleasure.
Noah had been silent a while, but now moans escaped his lips. He moved rapidly, and then stopped himself. But James drew him in and said, “It’s alright. It’s okay. Do it like you need to. Let yourself go.”
Noah fucked him hard. James cried out. He groaned over and over again, hit like he wanted to be hit, accompanying the gentle moaning of Noah who moved inside and above him, sweat soaking his body. In staggered rhythm to James’s shouts, Noah groaned, “Oh—my—G—”
While Noah reached his orgasm, James pulled on his own cock faster and faster. They came together, shouting with surprise, staggering, straining the springs of the bed until with a great sigh, Noah pulled out of James’s body and lay on his back, trembling.
“Goddamn,” James whispered. His legs were still in the air; his knees were still drawn to his chest. He let them down slowly. Noah, mouth parted, looked to the ceiling. His penis, wet, still rose up erect. It was beautiful. After the gentle landscape of Noah’s torso, his flat belly, the cloud of almost black hair, his cock rose up red tipped. James touched the shaft, running his hand up and down. Noah turned his head and saw white semen all up James’s chest and stomach.


Coming into Rossford, brushing a tear from his cheek and laughing because he is a fool, he knows his husband will come back. He remembers laying face to face with James, telling him, as he runs a hand over his brown body.
“You are sexy… and powerful… and above all… most beautiful. The only beauty.”


TOMORROW: ELEGY CONTINUES

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a wonderful ending to Noah and James’s story. It made me a bit emotional to see Noah go back to James and have a much needed discussion. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I'm so glad you loved the story and got a little emotional over it. That really does my heart good hearing that.

 

[ChrisGibson]

AS WE BEGIN PART THREE, WE RETURN TO SHERIDAN AND BRENDAN AND THAT MYSTERIOUS LETTER FROM KENNY




P A R T

T H R E E








E L E V E N







“If we don’t have trust, we don’t have anything.”
-Sheridan Klasko




Years ago, when Brendan was almost fresh from college and he lived with Fenn and Todd, he had found Fenn, half passed out in the library with his old black beaded old rosary in his hands, listening to the Office of Readings. Brendan knew it wasn’t right to speak during prayers, but he also knew that if Fenn had not wanted company, he would have closed the door. Bren slipped in and sat down in a chair under the classics bookshelf.
Later, Fenn had talked about living in a monastery when he was younger, and all the monks who prayed the office of vigils, standing before God, reciting the psalms when the whole world was asleep, and praying when only those who were up late at work, or despairing of life and felt like they were alone, were up. And so now Bren, both as a praying Catholic, and an exhausted one who felt somewhat alone, and perhaps a little separated from things, prayed the Office of Vigils.
In the same way Brendan had come into the private space Fenn was sharing with God, so now Raphael, came into the room and climbed up onto his father’s lap. He touched the white rosary beads, and Bren opened his hands so that the white stone beads could spill into his little son’s palms
“Papa, take me to bed,” Rafe said, and Brendan realized he had dozed off in the middle of his thoughts. He lifted Raphael up.
Enough thinking. His head felt stretched. He came to bed. His bed light was still on over his nightstand, but Sheridan’s was not and from the darkness his husband said, “There’s your mail on the table.”
Brendan was a little miffed by this. At one in the morning the last thing he wanted to see was mail. He had an envelope from Geico he would dismiss, and one from Publisher’s Clearing House and then, in writing he could recognize anywhere he saw a letter and picked up, promising to read it in the morning. Scrawled across the front was one name:




Brendan murmured, “Kenneth McGrath.”

He had done Kenneth so wrong. Three letters had arrived last year, and he had responded to none of them. The last time he had wanted to, but it had been right before Christmas, nearly a year before, when he and Sheridan had gone to Chay and Casey’s house, and what they had learned that made their marriage stronger, threatened to make it more fragile as well. After that weekend, there was no way he could read a letter from Kenneth.

He never slept through an entire night. Four hour bursts, a break to the restroom, or looking over some work, was the best he could do. And then back to bed. It was on this break he took the letter to the toilet, sat down and opened it.


Dear Brendan,
I’m hoping you will respond to this letter. I hope you and Sheridan are well. Do you remember all those years ago, when we lived in Chicago, and I wanted to be there for you, but I couldn’t be? You were pursuing your dreams, and it was killing me. I didn’t understand back then that it wasn’t the city. It was the dream. We lived together so long, and I never really sat down and asked myself what was right for me. That was my fault. I hope I’m not rambling. It’s only that I was never meant to be a wife, and I guess that’s why, in the end, we had to find our own happinesses.
Speaking of our own happiness, I read your last book just recently. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, buy especially after I read it. I thought to myself, we were so long ago. He wouldn’t want to hear from me. It wouldn’t matter. But now I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to write you. Even if I wasn’t going to see you. I missed not communicating with you.
The problem with us, is that we loved each other too late, and never at the right time. I think when we first got together, you wanted to be in love, and I knew I loved you. That sustained us through college and then we just kept coming back to each other because we were used to each other. I think we just didn’t want to go onto something new, and thank God we did, because that’s where life is.
I was talking to my mother and I asked her if she believed in soulmates. She laughed and said no, that she believed that you just got used to someone. I asked her if she didn’t believe in love, and she said of course she did. But when you stayed with someone it was because you were used to them and you loved them. So I wrote this Bren, because I realize I was very used to you, and I still love you, and wish you everything.



For a long time Brendan was still, until he realized that it was almost five in the morning, and he was sitting, nearly naked on a toilet. He couldn’t think about this right now. Sheridan was asleep in the bedroom and their son was asleep in his own. Brendan looked at the address Kenny left.

415 W. Addison Street.

That was here! That was in Chicago. Somewhere on the Northside. Brendan looked at the bottom of the letter and there was a number. 773…. But Kenny was here. He was in this area. Immediately his dick was hard, and Brendan frowned over this. But he came out of the bathroom, wandered back into the bedroom and shoved the letter under all the other envelopes, and then thrust them into the bottom drawer of his bureau, he willed himself to go back to sleep.

“So, I’ll take Rafe to school on my way to the station,” Sheridan said. He was in dark trousers, dark shirt and his hat was on the table. Sheridan wore his gun at his side while he shook cereal into the bowl, and Brendan thought how safe he felt being married to a cop. He chuckled a little at this, and Sheridan looked over his shoulder.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Brendan said.
He had known Sheridan since the boy was about seven, hanging about him constantly, the very opposite of a cop, a skinny kid with tea colored hair, always in some sort of trouble.
“You did not sleep at all last night,” Sheridan said, sitting across the table and folded his hands together under his chin. His eyes were a very pale blue that looked through you until you looked through them.
“Ahh…” Brendan began, his head hanging, he blew out his cheeks looking for an answer. But Sheridan gave him one.
“It’s that case, I know. It’s bullshit, and you’ll prove that it is.”
Before Brendan could say anything more, Sheridan said, “I got into the police to make things better, and its like the moment you show up, you realize how fucked up everything is.”
“I think that’s the way everything is,” Brendan said.
“But still, you can make some changes with the law.”
“Some,” Brendan shrugged.
“You know what?” Sheridan reached over and touched his wrist. “I think sometimes you forget how much good you do.”
“Wha?” Brendan said, half distracted. Then, “I dunno. Maybe.”
“That piece of shit lawyer who tried to take that Black kid’s money after he sued his landlord. You made that shit turn around.”
“Yeah,” Brendan said, “Cedric actually lost that case.”
“He lost that case, but you defeated that lawyer in the next one. You made his name mud.”
“He was mud,” Brendan said. “But I do see what you mean.”
“And where that gay couple got fired from that company just for being who they were, and that one kid whose parents threw him out on the street after he came out. You got him a nice chunk from those fuckers and, do I really need to say more?”
Brendan shook his head. “It just seems like it takes a lot of work to do a little good, sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Sheridan smiled and rubbed Brendan’s knuckles, “and sometimes you need someone to remind you of what you’ve done.”

As Sheridan left the house, Rafe said, “Am I under arrest?”
He had just thrown his arms around Brendan and then thrust his hand into Sheridan’s.
“Yeah,” Sheridan returned in a rough voice, “and I don’t want no back talk.”
Brendan reclined against the beam on the porch and watched Sheridan secure Rafe in the back of the police car, and then, shoving on his hat, get in the front seat and wink at him. When they pulled into school, Sheridan would turn on the siren and all the kids would gather around as he let Rafe out. Being a police officer was not the highest paying job for a parent at Saint Mary’s school, but in the world of ten year olds it was, next to firefighter, the most glamorous, and of course firefighters could not drop their children off in their trucks.

When Sheridan and Rafe were gone, the house on Chicago Avenue seemed especially large and quiet. Brendan plugged in the Christmas tree, cleaned the kitchen and then he jogged around the neighborhood, came back, showered and sat down at his desk, looking over the messy papers. But the more he tried to work the more he thought of the letter from Kenny and, at last, he got up and rounded the bed to pull it out of the bureau. He held it before him without looking for some time and then, at last, he went to his desk, picked up his phone, and dialed the number at the bottom of the page. He sat on the bed with the phone ringing on his thigh, trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter if Kenny picked up or not. It rang four times and on the fourth, Brendan not only hung up, but shut the phone off.
“Best to get to work,” he murmured, and he was working well for almost two hours until he realized that his phone was off and no one could reach him any other way. He turned it on then, and put it beside him. It was nearly eleven o’clock, and the phone began that annoying ring which was so different from the old rotaries he remembered from childhood.
“Sheridan?” he began.
But the voice on the other end said. “No… Is this Brendan?”
Brendan shook his head, disconcerted for a moment, and then looked at the phone.
“Kenneth.”
“Yes!” Kenny said with relief. “I’m sorry I missed your call. Did you get my letter?”
“I…” Brendan started, “I did.”
“Good. Are you busy right now?”
“No,” Brendan said. “Not at all.”
“Great,” Kenny said.
“Yeah,” Brendan replied, because he didn’t know how else to reply, “Yes.”
“I wasn’t sure if you would want to hear from me.”
“Of course I’d want to hear from you.”
“We haven’t seen each other in a long time. And… I wrote you before.”
“I know,” Brendan said. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t really fit company for… for anyone, really.”
“We fell out of touch.”
“You make it sound like we’re old friends who just drifted apart, Kenny.”
“It was sort of that way.”
“We were together for seventeen years.”
“With breaks in between.”
“Oh, my God, Kenny,” Brendan said, “there were parts of your letter…” Brendan stopped to read them: “Where you didn’t think it would matter if I heard from you again… Where you asked me if I remembered things that… how could I forget them?”
“I don’t know, Bren. I’d written you a bunch already.”
“We were together,” Brendan said again.
“We weren’t married. That wasn’t legal. I don’t know if we would have married if we could have.”
“We would have.”
“We didn’t have kids. It kind of makes a relationship… evaporate. I dunno. I just was thinking about you.”
“Uh… I’d like to see you,” Brendan found himself saying.
“You must be very busy.”
“I’m not,” Brendan said. Then, “I mean I can be unbusy. During the day. I don’t know. Maybe you’re busy.”
“I… uh…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Brendan, I don’t know what came over me. I really, really wanted to write you. To know you’re okay. And I am so glad you are. I mean, I’m sure you’re really busy.”
“I’m not,” Brendan said, and was surprised by how desperate he sounded. “You live here. In town. I saw your address. I could take the Brown Line, I bet, and…”
“I’m packing up to head back to Rossford,” Kenny said quickly. “Things are really a mess. I just wanted to say hi.”
Brendan cleared his throat.
“Bren?” Kenny said.
“Then you don’t want to see me?” Brendan said.
“It’s not that. I mean, I need to get packed and things are busy, and it’s good to hear you.”
“But you don’t want to see me.”
There was silence for a long time, and then Kenny said, “I shouldn’t even have written you. I don’t know why I did. I’m sorry, Bren.”
“But Kenny, I’m glad—” Bren began, but there was a click, and Kenny was off the phone.
Bren bit his lip and frowning, he stared at the dead phone, waiting for Kenny to call back. After a while he thought maybe he should call again.
“I will call,” Bren said to himself. But for now he would leave his old love alone.


MORE TOMORROW. AND TOMORROW ELEGY

 

[CharmedFan28]

I am glad Brendan read Kenny’s letter and they talked. Things are awkward between them but I think it’s good they are in contact. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

It soon became clear that thoughts of Kenny were going to eclipse any thoughts of getting work done. He got on his bike and rode over toward Dempster for 12:30 Mass at Saint Hyacinth’s. In the morning the mass was in Polish, and Brendan had discovered he didn’t really mind it, and could follow it. But the midday one was in English, in the chapel behind the school.

. Moses said to the people:
“Now, Israel, hear the statutes and decrees
which I am teaching you to observe,
that you may live, and may enter in and take possession
of the land
which the LORD, the God of your fathers, is giving you.
In your observance of the commandments of the LORD,
your God,
which I enjoin upon you,
you shall not add to what I command you nor subtract
from it.
Observe them carefully…

Brendan carried a white beaded rosary with him and it was not because he had a great devotion to Mary, but because it kept his mind from wandering. And wondering for that matter.


….or what great nation has statutes and decrees
that are as just as this whole law
which I am setting before you today?”

While the words of the Book of Deuteronomy went on from the lector’s mouth, Brendan’s mind went to Kenny’s hair, to the way he wore his jeans, to the shakiness in his voice, to wondering about his apartment. Did it have hardwood floors. Did the sun shine in bright squares across it? What was the view from his window?

“Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!”

When Brendan returned home he was surprised to see Sheridan standing in the kitchen.
“What are you…?” he began.
Sheridan walked right up to him and pulled his face close, kissing him roughly.
“I’ve got a very long break,” Sheridan said,” kissing Brendan again.
“Do you want to have a very long afternoon?” Brendan began.
“No,” Sheridan told him. “I want it fast and dirty.”
“I haven’t showered or anything, and I just got back from church.”
“Then does that make you super clean or superdirty?” Sheridan wondered, pulling his tie off savagely and unbuttoning his shirt.
Sheridan was still in his tee shirt, his pants down, when he turned Brendan around kissing him down his back, and then thrusting his tongue inside of him. Brendan pressed his face into the wall, fighting a moment of self consciousness and pressing everything out of his mind except Sheridan inside of him, his tongue more intimate than even what came next.
“I have to fuck you,” Sheridan said, his voice rushed, trembling like they’d never done it before. He placed his hands on Brendan’s lips, his mouth on Brendan’s ear and Brendan’s hands opened when Sheridan entered him. More than the feeling of fucking, the knowledge of being entered, being the same thing, pleasured and pleasuring, undid Brendan. Sheridan’s hands went against his, his arms pressed against his, his body pressed into his. There were times when it was almost as if he could not only feel Sheridan, but become Sheridan, almost feel Sheridan’s pleasure in fucking him, when they weren’t two different people at all.
“Baby, I love you,” Sheridan whispered as he fucked him quicker and quicker.
“I’m going to come out of you.”
Brendan felt Sheridan’s penis shoved between this thighs and suddenly, Sheridan sighed and hardly moved as Brendan felt hot liquid pump between his thighs, making him harder than he’d been this whole hard morning since the letter from Kenny. Now, he slid to the floor and sat Sheridan down on him. He cried out as Sheridan fitted his cock inside of him, as he was taken into the heat of his husband. When he closed and opened his eyes there was Sheridan, head back, mouth open, smiling as he took his pleasure, and behind him the twinkling red and yellow and blue lights of the Christmas tree.
Sheridan rode him, and Brendan’s voice came out in little rasp until, soon after, crying out in staggered shouts, he came inside of his husband.
They were like that in the hallway for some time, Sheridan still straddling him, Sheridan pulling up his top and putting in on the floor until he was completely naked.
“What was that all about?” Brendan, his voice half gone, wondered, looking up at him.
“We left each other weird this morning,” Sheridan said, looking down at him. “I don’t know. I felt like we needed that.”
“Kenny McGrath wrote me.”
Sheridan, still straddling him, looked amused.
“What?”
“Kenny on the brain?” Sheridan kissed Brendan on his forehead. “Can’t say I blame you. I’m sure he’s still hot.”
“Sheridan.”
“Don’t Sheridan me,” Sheridan said. “Not when we’re in the hallway covered in jizz and half naked. Wanna talk about it?”
Brendan felt very close, very intimate with Sheridan, his warm legs wrapped about him, his sex pressed against Brendan’s stomach.
“I don’t know,” Brendan said.
“Bren,” Sheridan said, running his hands under Brendan’s shirt, “if we don’t talk, and if we don’t have trust, we don’t have anything.”

“One of us needs to get Rafe,” Brendan said, drowsily,
He lay on his side, sprawled across their bed, his eyes on Sheridan’s beautiful body, white in the afternoon sunlight, his perfect ass, his strong, slender back, his tea colored hair.
“We could both pick him up,” Sheridan said to the pillow. “Surprise him.”
“Have a boy’s night out.”
“Yes. Take him out for pizza.
“Say,” Sheridan rolled over and, propping his head on his chin, said, “Do you ever think about another kid? It’s odd for Rafe to be an only child.”
“He seems happy, though,” Bren said.
“We should think about it.”
“I’m getting old.”
“You’re not even forty.”
“So close,” Brendan said.
Sheridan drew Brendan’s face down into a kiss and Brendan, excited by the pleasure of Sheridan, straddled him and fell into the kiss. They linked limbs for some time, kissing intently, and then Brendan said, “we need to clean up and get the boy.”
“Right,” Sheridan said, weakly, as if he didn’t quite believe it. “Shower with me?”
“Yes.”
“And no funny business.”
“Well,” Bren said, rising from bed, “I can’t promise that.”

At the little pizzeria under the old Amtrak stop where they threw parchment paper on the table tops and Rafe, methodically turning his cup of crayons sideways, organized the colors and set to furious work drawing, they ate slice after slice of pepperoni pizza and Sheridan said, “Guys!”
But Rafe was lost in his drawing and so Sheridan said again. “Guys!”
This time the dark haired little boy looked up at him and said, “Yeah, Dad.”
“I just wanted to tell you that I am incredibly, incredibly happy right now.”
“Me too,” Brendan discovered.
Sheridan took his hand and kissed it quickly in the restaurant, and Brendan remembered a time when neither of them would have done that.
“Hold on,” Sheridan said. “I have to run to the little boy’s room.”
“Me too!” Rafe cried as if this were a trip to an amusement park, and Sheridan said, “Com’ on, little man.”
While the two of them wove their way through chairs and tables, Brendan pulled out his phone, and his finger hovered over the dark surface. There was no call from Kenny on the call log. His finger was still over the phone and, at last, he shook his head.
Brendan remembered when he and Sheridan had become a thing. It was Christmas day almost ten years ago. It was best to remember they had both come out of long relationships that had spun themselves to their final conclusion, and it was when Brendan had thought all was lost and all was over, getting drunk with Sheridan, they had fallen asleep, fully clothed and woke up together, looking at each other in a new way.
Tonight they did not sleep fully clothed at all, Brendan let Sheridan hold him, let the man who had once been the boy he had looked out for, hold him in his arms.
“We’re not the same, Bren,” Sheridan told him in the dark, “not after last Christmas. And we’re not like other couples. You think I don’t love other people in my past? I watched Logan make love to you.”
“What are you saying?” Brendan, feeling Sheridan’s strong hands in his hair remembered Casey, fucking him, remembered caressing Sheridan’s hair as Casey moved on top of him, felt no jealousy, could feel none.
“I think you should see Kenneth,” Sheridan said. “In fact… I demand—”
“You demand!” Brendan chuckled.
“I demand it.”

TOMORROW: BOOK OF THE BATTLES

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! I am glad Brendan and Sheridan are getting on so well but the addition of Kenny being back in Brendan’s life might be tricky. I am very interested to read what happens. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Kenny is definitely a game changer, and then Kenny is still hot and sexy too! Remember when it seemed like Brendan and Kenny would be together forever?

 

[ChrisGibson]

WE CLOSE UP CHAPTER ELEVEN TONIGHT, BUT THERE'S STILL PLENTY MORE OF BITS AND PIECES TO COME



At the little pizzeria under the old Amtrak stop where they threw parchment paper on the table tops and Rafe, methodically turning his cup of crayons sideways, organized the colors and set to furious work drawing, they ate slice after slice of pepperoni pizza and Sheridan said, “Guys!”
But Rafe was lost in his drawing and so Sheridan said again. “Guys!”
This time the dark haired little boy looked up at him and said, “Yeah, Dad.”
“I just wanted to tell you that I am incredibly, incredibly happy right now.”
“Me too,” Brendan discovered.
Sheridan took his hand and kissed it quickly in the restaurant, and Brendan remembered a time when neither of them would have done that.
“Hold on,” Sheridan said. “I have to run to the little boy’s room.”
“Me too!” Rafe cried as if this were a trip to an amusement park, and Sheridan said, “Com’ on, little man.”
While the two of them wove their way through chairs and tables, Brendan pulled out his phone, and his finger hovered over the dark surface. There was no call from Kenny on the call log. His finger was still over the phone and, at last, he shook his head.
Brendan remembered when he and Sheridan had become a thing. It was Christmas day almost ten years ago. It was best to remember they had both come out of long relationships that had spun themselves to their final conclusion, and it was when Brendan had thought all was lost and all was over, getting drunk with Sheridan, they had fallen asleep, fully clothed and woke up together, looking at each other in a new way.
Tonight they did not sleep fully clothed at all, Brendan let Sheridan hold him, let the man who had once been the boy he had looked out for, hold him in his arms.
“We’re not the same, Bren,” Sheridan told him in the dark, “not after last Christmas. And we’re not like other couples. You think I don’t love other people in my past? I watched Logan make love to you.”
“What are you saying?” Brendan, feeling Sheridan’s strong hands in his hair remembered Casey, fucking him, remembered caressing Sheridan’s hair as Casey moved on top of him, felt no jealousy, could feel none.
“I think you should see Kenneth,” Sheridan said. “In fact… I demand—”
“You demand!” Brendan chuckled.
“I demand it.”



With too much time on his hands, Brendan Miller fully remembers a Christmas very unlike this one. Five years past. That night in the past, Brendan was also thinking of the past, of what had been, and every Christmas he remembered that first Christmas party with Kenny. It had, in fact, been the same one where Layla, having discovered Julian and Vanessa, brought her aunt to Fenn’s house. It had been that same Christmas that Fenn and Tom had been given Dylan. That night he and Kenny had been in matching clothes, new and full of hope, and the whole ugliness with Dena was finally past. In Kenny’s house, in Kenny’s bed, they had made love and fallen asleep. Somehow the memory of Christmas party, of holy Mass and fucking in the dark combined to stir something deep in Brendan.
“Maybe tonight,” he thought. “Maybe tonight, a seasonal miracle, something would be rekindled. He had gone home and forsaken parties because he couldn’t bear to go to a party alone, firstly. And then because he thought, in the back of his mind, something would happen with Kenny.
He parked on the street before their house, and on his way up the little hill, took off his glove and fiddled for the house key. He unlocked the door, and the house was in darkness.
Don’t wake Kenny. Or wake him gently.
He stood in the living room wondering if he should or not, and then decided he wanted to go to him. He took off his noisy shoes and padded up the steps, then down the hall.
“Damn, Kenneth,” he muttered walking into a pile of Kenny’s clothes, tossed on the hall floor.
He heard a startled sound, and went to the open door.
The curtains were open and the streetlight shone in. Kneeling, churning himself on the bed, pushing again and again on a man’s chest as he fucked himself, was Kenneth McGrath. His eyes were closed and his beautiful face was tilted up as he pumped up and down, up and down. Brendan allowed himself to walk into the room a little. Glassy eyed, open mouth, Ruthven Meradan was under him. Brendan stood there a little and then, as a gasp escaped Ruthven’s mouth, and Kenny panted, “Oh… fuck!”
Brendan turned to leave.

That was how things had truly ended with Kenny, and when Sheridan Klasko, plaid shirt open over his tight wife beater, baseball cap turned backward, sat down and kissed him on one cheek, and Raphael Klasko-Miller kissed him on the other, it was best to remember that.



The next day Brendan said he wanted to go to Rossford for the weekend, and Sheridan said, “There’s no reason you shouldn’t go now. I’ll watch Rafe, and then we’ll come down and join you Friday night.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally,” Sheridan said, looking at Brendan’s desk doubtfully. “You’re not getting anything done here.”
“You’re off this weekend?”
“I got Saturday, but I work Sunday.”
Bren packed a bag and rode the Purple Line to Howard and then the Red Line down to Randolph Street. He caught the afternoon South Shore and was in Rossford before three. Without thinking about it he had called Layla to pick him up and when he arrived at the station, she assessed him and declared, “You look good after all.”
“Thanks,” Brendan said, “I think.”
“No, it’s a compliment,” Layla said. “Fenn was sure you were having some sort of trauma.”
“Why?”
“He said anytime anyone calls and says they’re coming home for a few days it must be a trauma.”
Brendan thought about this, but said nothing.
“Where are you staying?” Layla asked.
“I hadn’t really thought of it.”
“You can always stay with us. I’m not going to be home all afternoon, though.”
“Drop me off at Fenn’s,” Brendan said.
“Oh,” Layla looked mildly delighted.
“What?”
“There is a surprise. There is a trauma.”
“Whaddo you mean?” Brendan sat up.
“You need to have a heart to heart with Fenn!”
“Wow, you need to just drive.”
“Yessir Massuh Massuh.”

“So did you call him back?” Fenn said as he placed a cup of sugary coffee in front of Brendan.
“No. I almost did, but then I remembered the last time we were actually anything. I remembered that Christmas when I was going back to our house, to rekindle things, and there he was… with Ruthven.”
Fenn cleared his throat.
“You never did like Ruthven,” Brendan said.
“No,” Fenn’s voice was brittle.
Fenn knew now that on that very night Ruthven had asked Dylan to have sex with him, and when Dylan had refused him, his husband’s nephew had moved, without a breath, to Kenny.
“Are you still thinking about him?” Fenn said.
“Yes. A little.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Fenn got up and lit a cigarette from the stove, inhaling. He blew smoke from his nostrils.
“Are you thinking of having an affair?”
Brendan opened his mouth and then closed it.
“I was,” he said. “Now, I’m just thinking of seeing him. I would like to be in the same room with him and see what would happen.”
Fenn said nothing. His face betrayed nothing.
“Fenn,” Brendan leaned forward, “if I tell you something very private, will you not share it?”
“Not even with Todd? Because, I mean, if its really private and juicy—”
“Fenn!”
“Oh, fuck! Goddamnit, sure, I’ll keep a secret.”
“Sheridan sort of okayed it.”
“Sheridan knows about all this?”
“Yes. Sheridan knows everything. We don’t have secrets. We’re not like other couples. Or, fuck, I don’t know. Maybe we are.”
“Okay?” Fenn raised an eyebrow.
“You have to not share this. I’m not ashamed. I’m just… I don’t need everyone to know.”
“Then you should probably tell me before anyone else arrives.”
“Last year me and Sheridan went to that party at Chay and Casey’s. Logan was there. A few others.”
Brendan thought it best to leave Ruthven out of it. At the time he had forgotten that Ruthven had been with Kenny.
“I imagine,” Fenn said, remembering his time at Guy McClintock’s house, so many years ago, “that you saw some things you hadn’t done before.”
“Fenn, I did some things I’d never done before.”
Fenn nodded.
“It ended up in a sex party.”
Fenn, for once, looked genuinely amazed.
“You had sex with Sheridan in a roomful of people.”
“Fenn, Sheridan and I had sex, but not with each other. And it was in front of each other.”
“Damn.”
“I’m not even going to ask what you think of that.”
“I don’t even know what I think of it.”
“And I know it sounds crazy and I definitely do not recommend it for… anyone. But for us it changed things and I realized that it didn’t make me love Sheridan less, or him me. So, when Sheridan told me to go see Kenny—”
“Sheridan told you?”
“Yes. And I guess whatever happens happens. But it can’t happen without Sheridan knowing. I won’t do anything behind my husband’s back.”
Fenn’s cigarette had gone out and, at last, he said, “Huh.”
Brendan took one of Fenn’s cigarettes. He went to the stove and bent down to light it. It was a few moments before he spoke.
“I’m going up to Chicago tomorrow. Just for the day. Just for a few hours. I’m going to see Kenny, and then I’ll be back here before the night’s over.”
Fenn still had not spoken and when Brendan pointed it out he said, “Relationships are so different. I mean, I was wondering what Dylan would do? Or Lance?”
“You don’t have any advice?”
Fenn shrugged. “You probably shouldn’t fuck him,”
Bren said, “I can’t promise you that.”

MORE NEXT WEEK

 

[CharmedFan28]

Wow that sure is a cliffhanger! I wonder if Brendan will sleep with Kenny? I guess I will just have to wait and see. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

It was a bit of a cliffhanger. I think even I was cliffhung--is that a word--? about what Brendan would do. I guess we'll all find out together.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TWELVE











“But that is a conversation for grown ups, when children are asleep, and nobody is angry.”

-Fenn Houghton




“I’m going to Chicago tomorrow,” Brendan told Dena as they washed dishes in her kitchen. Fenn had called Dena and Milo and Cara had come over too.
“Well, yeah, you live there,” Dena shrugged.
“I’m not going home. I’m coming right back here.”
“What the fuck, Bren?” Dena shook her head. “You’re confusing me.”
“I got a letter from Kenny.”
“Yeah,” Dena said, brightly. “Milo said something about Kenny writing you.”
“Yeah, and we talked a little.”
“He’s been up there for a while, I think,” Dena said. “I don’t pay too much attention, and I don’t stick my nose in. But I think he’s coming back here.”
“He’s written for the last year.I mean, he had written last year, but I couldn’t read the letters. Now I have, and I really want to see him.”
“Well, why shouldn’t you?”
“Because I still have feelings for him,” Brendan said. And then he amended. “I mean maybe. I mean I’m not really sure. I actually won’t know until I see him.”
“Well,” Dena frowned and thought about it. “you know, you kind of have someone.”
“Sheridan told me I should go see Kenny and see what happens.”
“Did he really?” Dena looked at Brendan, and then she said, “Of course he did. I can see him saying that. Well,” Dena passed Brendan a dish, “What do you think will happen?”.”
“I honestly don’t know. I mean, I’m sure we’ll talk. I don’t plan to go to bed with him.”
“People never do.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Brendan disagreed. “I think people always plan, and they just don’t admit it to themselves.”
“Well,” Dena thought for a moment before speaking, “I think that means you had better plan before you head back to Chicago. But you better make sure it is alright with Sheridan. You better make sure you don’t betray him.”
“I won’t,” Brendan said earnestly. “I never could.”
“He wouldn’t be the first person who loved you only to find you looking at Kenny McGrath.”
Brendan turned away.
“That was so long ago.”
“What difference does that make? You better double check with Sheridan. I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with him, but…”
“It is a very… strong relationship,” Brendan said. “And he is… more than my husband. Even more than the father of my children. What I did to you was a long time ago. We were together… not that long—”
“And without the same bond,” she finished. “I know you couldn’t have loved me as much—”
“Love has nothing to do with it,” Brendan said. “I love you now. I loved you then. It was me. I didn’t know who I was or what I was and now… well, I’m still not sure if I know that. But I know I’m not afraid of who I am. Or how I love. Only, at this point in time, Dena, I don’t want you go telling anyone else about this.”
Dena nodded.
“I get it, Bren. Only I wish you had a chaperone to go with you.”
“What about Rob?”
“Huh?”
“Howabout I just take Rob to Chicago with me for a day trip. That way I can’t get into any trouble.”
Rob, just turned eighteen, was a mediocre college student and couldn’t decide if he wanted to be a painter or a writer, so it only took Dena a moment to think about this and say, “Alright. It’s a deal.”

“Can I bring Austin?” Rob asked.
“Who is Austin?”
“Austin Bishop. You know, Lance Bishop?”
“Yeah, Dylan’s Lance.”
“That’s his brother. Can I bring him?”
“No,” Brendan said.
He didn’t feel like carting around two teenagers and he didn’t have a hard time refusing his godson.
Rob Affren resembled his father in his solid build and dark complexion. He could have been an athlete and if he wasn’t careful he might go to fat. But where Milo had flat, thick brown hair, Rob’s was dark red and his eyes were a sort of lambent green in his dark complectioned face that Brendan found strangely alarming and made him wonder, “When he’s grown, what he’s going to do to girls? Or boys?
But Rob was grown, really, and why did Bren always assume that Rob and his son Rafe for that matter, would be straight? Did he want that? He wished he could be more like Fenn who had not only assumed Dylan would be gay, but hoped for it.
“Alright, so you know how to ride the El?”
“Yeah, Uncle Bren. I just wanna hang out at the bookstores.”
“Well, then you won’t really need to ride the El. You just get off with me.”
“Are you going to be long?”
“I don’t think so,” Brendan said. “Why don’t you call me when you’re finished with the bookstore or wherever.”
“It might be wherever,” Rob said. “Mom never lets me go anywhere when we go to Chicago.”
“What about Maggie?”
“Shit—I mean, shoot! She’s as bad as Mom.”
“Alright, well don’t get yourself killed is all,” Bren said.

At the station on State Street, Rob and Brendan fought over the CTA maps and how best to get to where they were going.
“Addison is on the Red Line,” Rob said.
“Yes. But we’re going to West Addison and that’s on the Brown Line.”
“How do you know? Are you just guessing cause I don’t see anything about Brown Line on Addison.”
But after a while, Brendan said, “Look, Addison on the Brown Line.”
“Well, should we leave this station?”
“We can switch later on. Let’s take the Red for now.”
Rob looked over the routes.
“Right on, Uncle Bren. We’ll get off on Belmont. Looks like we’re having an adventure.”

“We are totally having an adventure,” Brendan reported when they had been walking two blocks down Addison, and finally caught a bus. They had to stand up and as they approached their stop, Rob swung toward him and, pointing ahead said, “What’s that?”
“That would be an El track.”
“We so took the wrong El,” Rob murmured.
“I thought that was the furthest west El,” Brendan said.
“Sir?” Rob asked the driver.
“What?” he grumbled.
“Excuse the fuck out of me,” the boy murmured to Brendan then said out loud, “What El line is that we’re passing.”
“That’s the Blue Line.”
“Ah,” Brendan replied. He pulled the cord, and a moment later they got off on a busy street studded with black chewing gum and smelling slightly of urine.
“I think if we had walked to Clark Street we could have caught the Blue line. It’s a subway downtown. It’s kind of the worst. Smells like piss.”
“Chicago smells like piss,” Rob said. “But I love it. Hey, can I go over there?”
Rob was pulling away from Brendan and Brendan grabbed him and said, “I don’t know where over there is. Let me find out where I’m going, and then you can go where you’re going. Your mother would kill me if something happened to you. I should have left you in Hyde Park.”
“Then you would still be lost, riding the wrong El. And I don’t want to see dinosaur bones or giant train sets.”
Ten minutes later, Brendan was looking at a wood faced apartment building with a steep stair and checking the house number against the envelope he held.
“Well, here we go,” Brendan said.
And so they went up the steps and Brendan saw three buzzers, one for each apartment, he assumed. He buzzed the one that was Kenny’s and waited for a voice from the intercom. But there was no intercom to be seen, and so Brendan waited a while and then said, “Let’s go.” But Rob said, “We haven’t even waited very long.”
And just then the door opened and it was Rob who shouted, “Uncle Ken!”
“Brendan,” Kenny said, and then remembered himself and looked down at Rob.
“Rob. Guys,” he opened the door a little, “Come in.”

“Badass. Awesome, Kenny!” Rob exclaimed as he moved through the apartment.
Brendan walked around, hands behind his back like a visitor at a gallery until Kenny, nervously, said, “Have a seat you guys. Let me get you something to drink. Give me your jackets.”
Kenny lived on the third floor of the building and his apartment was wide and sparsely furnished, but filled with paints and canvases. Brendan gave Kenny his jacket, and sat down in a low chair looking out onto Addison. A bus passed. Rob ignored both things Kenny said and followed him into the kitchen going on about their El ride and the bus they had taken.
“Yeah, always take the Blue Line, no matter how gross it is,” Brendan heard Kenny say.
A few moments later, Kenny came out, followed by Rob, and he had juices on a tray with crackers.
“We can get a little fancier if you want,” Kenny said, “Later.”
They sat around eating crackers and drinking, but Rob wasn’t a complete fool and it wasn’t long before he realized he was dominating the conversation.
“Look,” he said to Kenny, “if you can tell me something cool to see around here, I’m going to get up and give you and Uncle Bren some time to talk.”
“Uh, there’s a record store around the corner and an art store at the end of the block.”
Brendan stood up, pulled out his wallet and stuffed some money in Rob’s pocket.
“Go get yourself something decent, and don’t tell your mother we let you roam the city.”
“And take your phone with you,” Kenny reminded him.
Rob nodded his head and his hair bobbed in his face.
“I think I’ll get myself a hat,” he reflected, and making a salute, he headed out the door.
It was a few moments later, when they heard the door at the bottom of the stair close, and Brendan could see Rob heading down the corner that Kenny cleared his throat, rubbed his hands together and said, “And now, for us.”

BOOK OF THE BATTLES TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an excellent start to the chapter. I was glad that Brendan had that talk with Dena. Who knows what will happen now that Kenny and him are alone but at least he has talked it through with someone. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, a good talk is something we all need to clear stuff up. And now Brendan and Kenny have some alone time, which is just what they needed no matter what they do with it.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“Badass. Awesome, Kenny!” Rob exclaimed as he moved through the apartment.
Brendan walked around, hands behind his back like a visitor at a gallery until Kenny, nervously, said, “Have a seat you guys. Let me get you something to drink. Give me your jackets.”
Kenny lived on the third floor of the building and his apartment was wide and sparsely furnished, but filled with paints and canvases. Brendan gave Kenny his jacket, and sat down in a low chair looking out onto Addison. A bus passed. Rob ignored both things Kenny said and followed him into the kitchen going on about their El ride and the bus they had taken.
“Yeah, always take the Blue Line, no matter how gross it is,” Brendan heard Kenny say.
A few moments later, Kenny came out, followed by Rob, and he had juices on a tray with crackers.
“We can get a little fancier if you want,” Kenny said, “Later.”
They sat around eating crackers and drinking, but Rob wasn’t a complete fool and it wasn’t long before he realized he was dominating the conversation.
“Look,” he said to Kenny, “if you can tell me something cool to see around here, I’m going to get up and give you and Uncle Bren some time to talk.”
“Uh, there’s a record store around the corner and an art store at the end of the block.”
Brendan stood up, pulled out his wallet and stuffed some money in Rob’s pocket.
“Go get yourself something decent, and don’t tell your mother we let you roam the city.”
“And take your phone with you,” Kenny reminded him.
Rob nodded his head and his hair bobbed in his face.
“I think I’ll get myself a hat,” he reflected, and making a salute, he headed out the door.
It was a few moments later, when they heard the door at the bottom of the stair close, and Brendan could see Rob heading down the corner that Kenny cleared his throat, rubbed his hands together and said, “And now, for us.”



Kenny had always been tall and athletic, sort of like a rugby player with his thick dark red curls, strong limbs and yes, excellent ass, the first thing Brendan had noticed when he had followed Kenny into the apartment. There was silver at his temples and Brendan thought, “We’re getting old now. Older at least. And Kenny is a year old than me.” He looked the same except older and the age looked good, like he’d grown into himself and the boy Kenny Brendan had known and loved and lain with for so many years was a shadow of this Kenneth McGrath.

“I know you, Brendan Miller. I’ve known you for years.”
Brendan blinked at the ceiling. His left arm was twined with Kenny’s right, the side of Kenny’s body was pressed to his. He’d always been the thin one, and Kenny had always had that athlete’s body, the sturdy flesh on beautiful thighs and rounded, dimpled buttocks, even his curly hair, well rounded, athletic hair, rugby playing hair.
“Well, then do you know what I’m about to say, now?”
“Do I want to hear this?”
“You’re going back to Rossford,” Brendan turned to him.
“What?”
“I’ve been working on this case, This isn’t fair.”
“What does fair have to do with anything?” Kenny said. “The only time we had a fair relationship was when we weren’t with each other. No…”
“Kenny.”
Kenny lay back in bed pulling the covers over him.
“No,” Kenny said.

Brendan sat in his chair, aware that today he’d worn the trousers and the dress shirt that Kenny always loved, even worn a tie as if he was going to work. Kenny always loved those things. And he looked Kenny up and down. Kenny in his tee shirt with his well muscled arms coming out of them, and then his eyes traveled, frankly, to the bulge between his blue jeaned legs planted wide apart. He remembered going into a honky tonkg in southern Indiana with Kenny and dancing with him delighting in hips that swiveled and moved about long before Luke Bryan ever got on a stage and did thing.
“You look so fucking good,” Brendan said, frankly.

“There have been times,” he told Brendan, “when I let you have the illusion of running things. And you may be a great attorney and everything. But this time I put my foot down. We stay together. Some people are okay single, but we’re no good apart. We’ll work out something, but whatever we work out involves us being together.
“And now I’m going to bed.”
When Brendan sat upright, his fingers linked, he heard Kenny say, “And you can go back to work.”
Brendan raised an eyebrow, looked at the form of Kenny covered in a blanket, and then climbed out of bed, reaching for his underwear and trousers.

He held that memory, tracing the form of Kenny’s body in those days before Sheridan, when Kenny McGrath was his only love.
“Why did you not want to see me?” Bren asked him. “Why, after writing, when I said I wanted to see you did you put it off?”
Kenny said, “Why didn’t you ever return my letters?”
“My questions first, though.”
“Fine,” Kenny replied. They were both speaking in almost whispers. “But in the end you had better answer mine.
“I wrote you because I always think about you,” Kenny said. “I think about you everyday. The thinking got to be too much.”
“What happened to Jonathan?”
“Nothing happened to him. We had some good years,” Kenny said. “But I don’t think I’m really meant for anyone. I would say I can’t make things last, but maybe I can make them last just long enough. You know? When things ended, I wasn’t sad about it?”
“Were you sad when things ended with Ruthven?”
“I don’t know that things were ever serious enough with Ruthven to say they ended, and as far as I know he’s still with Logan. Imagine that.”
“Well, then what about us?” Brendan said.
“You’re asking a lot of questions when you were just supposed to ask one.”
“Alright,” Brendan said, running a finger under his lower lip. “But answer me anyway. Were you sad when we ended?”
“Bren, I don’t even know when we ended. Did we end when I followed you to Chicago and almost died here? Or did we end when you came back to Rossford and we tried to live together.”
“I feel like we ended the night I came into the house and Ruthven was fucking you.”
“No,” Kenny said, nonplussed. “We were already over. We were over and I had already had an affair with Chad, and you already knew about it and, though you never talk about it, I’m sure you’d already fucked Sheridan a couple of times.”
Brendan opened his mouth and Kenny said, “But why fling mud at each other when the real point is I have no idea when we were ending, but I know when we were definitely over, and didn’t you feel a relief?”
“No,” Brendan said, and wondered if that was true.”
“I did,” Kenny said. “I was sad, but I felt like I’d been trying to hold us together for years.”
“I held us together.” Brendan insisted.
“Did you?”
“Of course.”
“How could you? You were always busy flying away.
“But,” Kenny went on before Brendan could say anything else, “you asked me why I wrote you and it was because I couldn’t stop thinking of you. And, I certainly did wonder if you ever thought about me.”
“Of course I think about you.”
“Maybe,” Kenny said. “But what was the other question you had for me?”
“Why you didn’t call me back?”
“Because what was the point in talking?” Kenny said. “And what was the point in looking back? I know why I was looking back. My present was gone. Jonathan was gone and it made me miss the past. And you are the past. So you were in my thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I realized, when we talked, that this was stupid. But now you should answer my question. Why are you here?”
“Because,” Bren began, then started over, “Because.”
“I’ve never seen you in a courtroom, but if this is how you are… I’m amazed at your career. And by the way, does Sheridan know you’re here? I mean, you brought Rob, so you’ve been to Rossford. Did you tell Sheridan you were going to Rossford, and then come up here?”
Brendan blinked at him and Kenny said, “Well, is that what happened?”
“Sort of,” Brendan admitted.
“Well, why didn’t you tell Sheridan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do.”
When Brendan said nothing, Kenny said, “The thing about you, Bren, is you’ve always been able to keep your own counsel when you want to. That’s how you and Sheridan are alike. You’re both very secretive. I wonder how many secrets you keep from each other.”
“Are you through?”
“Did you come here to fuck me?”
Brendan said, “I don’t know.”
Now Brendan realized Kenny had been looking at him like a cat with a canary, and Kenny had never been like that. Bren had always been the powerful one. But suddenly the look on Kenny’s face changed, and he said, “Well…. Do you want to?”
“Huh?” Bren blinked, looking instantly confused.
For a bit Brendan’s mouth was dry. He looked Kenny up and down.
“I was thinking about that time… at the gay honkey tonk. You had those faded black jeans on. I was thinking about a lot of stuff. I’ve been thinking about it. Since you wrote me. All the way up here. I wondered if I would feel the same way.”
Brendan didn’t speak, but Kenny looked at the floor and saw Brendan’s foot doing that frantic tapping—like Thumper from Bambi—that was a dead giveaway.
“If I told you,” Kenny began, “to go to bed with me… you would do it? You would look at your watch, think about how soon Rob was coming back, and then decide we would fuck in my bedroom?
“I always thought I had no power,” Kenny said. “The whole time we were together I always thought I loved you more than you loved me—”
“That’s not—”
“And it might be true,” Kenny said. “But I know that I always had the power in one way. And I’ve decided, that’s a power I’m not going to give up right now. We’re not going to have sex. I think maybe I wrote you because I wanted you. And I do want you, but I want you the way Chay still has Sheridan… Or Fenn has Tom. I was hoping that after sex and marriage there would be something left of us. Is there?”
Brendan had listened like one enchanted, his mouth a little open, passing a vague judgment on everything Kenny said, knowing that whatever Kenny wanted, he would indeed have given Kenny. And he had to catch up to Kenny’s question. It was a moment before he said, “Yes, Ken. Of course there’s something else left of us.”
“Great,” Kenny said. “Then why don’t we put on our coats, go outside and find out what it is.”

They walked up and down passing the tall brownstones and going in and out of shops and Kenny said, “Why are we walking around like tourist when we both live here?”
“But I thought you said you were leaving?”
“I got a job at Vine Tech in Gary in the art department. I was thinking of living in Rossford.”
“Or you could stay here?”
“For the joy of Chicago? You’ve got a point. When I was here for you I didn’t love it. But here for me, it’s something else.”
“For the joy of Chicago and for the joy of me,” Brendan said. “I like being with you.”
“Bren, do you realize we’ve never just been friends. That never really happened between us.”
“Are you sure?” Brendan said. Then, “I think you’re right. What does that mean?”
“Maybe it means we should try it and see what happens.”
“I’d like that,” Brendan nodded.
Both their phones rang, and they pulled them out of their pockets, but Brendan said, “It’s Rob.”
“I’ll pick up. Where are you?” Kenny asked him. “Alright. We’re actually around the corner. Come back with you tonight?”
Kenny turned to Brendan.
“Rob wants to know if I’ll come back with you guys to Rossford?”
“Why not?” Bren said. “Don’t you think those pictures can live without for one night?”

Under Kenny’s guidance they rode the Blue Line to Clark and from Clark they walked underground to the Randolph Street Station. They got tacos from a vender that Kenny pronounced as, “Overpriced and absolute shite,” and then they got their tickets and boarded the South Shore for Miller. Dena was there to meet them, and she said, “Oh, hell, which one of you bought Rob a set of paints?”
On the way home, Kenny sat in the front seat and Dena kept looking back at Bren, and he knew what her eyes were asking. After a while it was Kenny who said, “Nothing happened, Dena.”
“I don’t know what you mean?” Dena said in the most pleasant impersonation of a middle class white woman she could muster.
“He means they didn’t have sex,” Rob said flatly.
Rob looked at Bren and murmured, “And God knows I gave you time.”
They decided to eat dinner at Dena and Milo’s. Maggie was coming over with her husband Edward and their baby. Layla and Will would not be there because they were going out with her older sister Caroline. Kenny would stay in the spare bedroom they always kept for him, Brendan said he wanted to run over to Fenn’s real quick, talk for a moment and get a change of clothing. He loved living in Chicago, but it was energizing to be back among his friends in Rossford and still, he reminded himself, he needed to go visit his mother. He was reminding himself of this very thing when he stepped through Fenn and Todd’s kitchen door and saw, gun on the kitchen table, his black uniform still on, Sheridan.

Fenn looked from the gun to Brendan, to Rafe coming into the room, and as if it were nothing at all, Fenn picked up the gun and put it on top of the refrigerator.
“Are you surprised to see me?” Sheridan said.
“I thought you weren’t coming till tomorrow,” Brendan bent down and kissed Sheridan.
Rafe threw an arm around Brendan’s waist and he said, “Hey, little man.”
“Dad said we should come right away and see you.”
“That’s great,” Brendan said. “Sort of a surprise because I was on my way to dinner at Dena’s.”
“We could all go,” Sheridan said. “I’d love to see Dena.”
“I don’t know if its right to surprise her like that,” Brendan said. “I’ll just cancel.”
“No, no, why don’t we all go?”
“I have an idea,” Fenn said. “Since this is a surprise, and since you are here for the weekend a little early, how about Bren goes to dinner, and how bout you all stay here.”
“But I want to go with Dad,” Rafe said.
“Yes, but you have your father all the time,” Fenn said simply. “And sometimes parents need alone time just like you. You and your dad Sheridan can stay here, and Dad Brendan will go and talk to his friends and come back later.”
No one thought of questioning Fenn here, and Sheridan said, “Could we at least talk before you go to dinner?”
“Yes,” Brendan said.
Sheridan walked out of the kitchen, his hands shoved into his pockets and Brendan followed him out of the swinging door into the dining room.
Sheridan pulled out an envelope and Brendan saw Kenny’s address on it. It was the envelope to the letter and Sheridan whispered, “Where the fuck have you been all day, Bren?”
“On the train.”
“I know you’ve been the fuck on the train,” Sheridan hissed.
“Did I need to mention that I made a round trip to Chicago?”
“Don’t fucking lawyer me. Where did you go?”
“To see Kenny,” Brendan shook his head. “You told me I should see him.”
“But it seems like you sneaked off to see him, Bren.”
“How could I sneak off. I took Rob. Everyone knew where I was going. You knew I was going.”
“I didn’t know you were going today. To spend the day with him.”
“I’m not entirely sure where you get off,” Brendan began, “because I’m pretty sure everyone you ever climbed into bed with you still go and visit whenever you want to.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Sheridan said. “But you also know I’m going. They aren’t writing me secret letters, and I’m not fucking them, Bren. In fact, you are. Remember last year. And I remember when you got in the shower after me, smelling like Casey because you’d been fucking Casey.”
“Really, Sheridan?” Bren looked at him savagely. “You’re really going to go back to that night.”
Sheridan turned his head.
“And keep your fucking voice down!” Brendan went on. And I’m not fucking anyone. But you.”
“Then why keep it a secret?” Sheridan demanded.
“I’m not fucking Kenny.”
“Then, again,” Sheridan said, “why keep it a secret?”
“If I’d really kept it a secret, you wouldn’t be standing her bitching and maybe the reason I didn’t tell you exhibits itself in the fact that my crazy husband left work, drove to Chicago and then greeted me with a gun on the table.”
“Or maybe, Mr. High Price Lawyer, the reason you didn’t exhibits itself in the fact that you’re plain, flat out, fucking guilty.”
“Are you guys fighting?” Rafe stuck his head out of the door.
“Yes,” Sheridan said while Brendan lied, “No.”
“Come back in the kitchen,” Fenn said, tiredly, and Rafe obeyed him.
“And I’ll tell you something else,” Brendan said, “I’m going to go upstairs, take a leak, splash some water on my face, get a hit of cologne and go out and—so you don’t think anything else is being hidden from you—Kenny will be there. Yup. He’s gonna be there.”
“Well,” Sheridan followed Brendan out of the dining room, into the living room and to the stairwell, “I hope you enjoy him sucking your dick.”
“Yeah, Sher,” Brendan said offhandedly, “I hope I do too.”

MORE SOON. TOMORROW, ELEGY

 

[CharmedFan28]

Well Brendan and Kenny had some time together and didn’t have sex but it led to tension with Sheridan anyway. I guess that was to be expected. Great writing and I look forward to Elegy tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Poor Brendan, poor Sheridan. One would think that with what happened before this would be easier, but not so much. We'll certainly see where it leads.

 

[ChrisGibson]

AND NOW THE CONCLUSION OF CHAPTER 12





While they sat eating pot pies because, said Fenn, when you just showed up in town to hunt down your husband, that’s what you got, Sheridan said, “He says he didn’t do anything with Kenny.”
“If he says it then it’s true,” Fenn said.
“But he should have told me.”
“Yes,” Fenn agreed. “I do agree.” In the living room, Rafe was watching television with Liam, Layla’s son.
“But that is a conversation for grown ups, when children are asleep, and nobody is angry.”

A few hours later Sheridan’s phone rang and he picked it up.
“It’s me,” Brendan said. “I’m still at Dena’s. I’m not coming home. I mean to you. Not tonight. I’m staying here.”
Then Brendan added, “And It’s not because I’m sleeping with Kenny.”
“I know you’re not.”
“I shouldn’t have kept it from you. But I’m here with my friends and I haven’t had this is a long time and neither have you so… I’m staying here.”
“Brendan please come home so we can talk,” Sheridan said.
There was a frustration exhale of breath, and then silence. At last Brendan said, “I’m leaving in a few minutes. Is Fenn going to let us have the downstairs.”
“Yeah,” Sheridan said, “and Rafe is staying with Will and Layla.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with them too?”
“Yes. I’m sure. Just come home. Alright?”
“Alright,” Brendan said.



Sheridan listened to Brendan take an especially long shower, and when Brendan was finally coming out with deodorant and a long towel wrapped about his waist, Sheridan watched him go about his toilet half asleep and then climb onto the bed in boxers and a tee shirt.
Brendan did not look at Sheridan when he spoke.
“It’s that party. It’s last year coming back to haunt us.”
“Whaddo you mean?”
“What the fuck kind of couple does what we did? What the kind of couples goes to a party and… fucks other people. No wonder we’re throwing stones at each other? No wonder you don’t trust me. You watched me fuck half the people you knew in a night. I knew.. I…who the fuck does that? And we’re broken. We’re broken because of it.”
“We were broken before that,” Sheridan said.
“Yes,” Brendan, whose face was in his hands, pulled his hands over his head and looked at Sheridan, anguished, “You’re probably right.”
“I don’t mean our relationship. I mean us, individually. I am a broken person.”
Brendan opened his mouth.
“Just listen,” Sheridan said. “That party didn’t do anything but make us stronger, and I will forever stand by that.”
“How can you even say that?” Brendan demanded.
“Because I honestly don’t care. No, because I am honestly glad about it. It wasn’t just an orgy. It was something else. It did something to us. You made love to Logan, Bren. You were with Chay. For real. You were with Casey. So was I. It healed something. It’s weird, I can’t explain it. I would not have planned it, but there it was, and I wasn’t threatened and I never have been because in the morning when we left we left together.
“I treated a lot of people very badly,” Sheridan said. “I treated Chay the worst. By the time I was finally able to commit to him, or thought I was, Logan came back into my life. I had Chay moving in with me when Logan showed up, and I didn’t tell anybody about Logan. I told Chay nothing because I wanted the chance to do whatever I wanted to do with him. I wanted the chance to have an affair. And I did, and then I left Chay. For Logan. And that went where it went. I could say I left Logan for you, but it was already over, and Logan knew I loved you.”
“See, Bren, you were the love of my life. After you I never looked back, but I know what it is to look back. And it would serve me right if you did have sex with Kenny, if you did leave me for him.”
“Sheridan,” Brendan placed a hand over his.
“Just let me finish,” Sheridan said.
“Alright.”
“I could watch you have sex with a billion people, but Kenny…. I’m afraid of the two of you sitting at table. I spent my whole life watching the two of you, loving you, wishing you were mine and I… I’m afraid. We left Casey and Chay’s house together. I’m afraid that if Kenny came back into your life….”
“Oh my God, baby, I’m so sorry,” Brendan pulled Sheridan to him. He was so bird thin, even after all these years, those little boy shoulder blades.
“I’m sorry,” Sheridan began to cry. “I’m jealous and I hate myself for it. I’ve never felt this way.” “If you’re attracted to him that’s whatever,” Sheridan separated from Brendan, wiping hisface. “It really is. It just means you’re breathing, but if you loved him more than me. If you left me…” Sheridan shook his head.”
“I thought we were so… modern,” Brendan said “I thought whatever came up we would just work out.”
“Like Lance and Elias and Dylan?”
“Or like last year. Or something. But… it’s not going to be that easy, is it.”
“No,” Sheridan, red faced, said.
Brendan shook his head.
“You have no idea how much I love you. On how many levels.”
Sheridan looked like the little boy he had wanted to protect so long ago, like the teenager he’d protected in a different way, who his heart always went out to. This was his lover, the young man he had not dared to desire until that night after Fenn’s grandmother died, when, away from Kenny and half drunk, Bren had finally made love to him. And this was his inspiration, who had gotten him over Kenny, who shared that same mind that no one else understood, the father of his child. How to make him know, how to make him know on how many levels he was loved.
“Bren, can we go to bed?”
Brendan pulled Sheridan to himself.
“Yes.”
“Bren,” Sheridan said, linking his fingers with Brendan’s.
“Yeah, babe.”
“I know you love me.”
“Of course I do.”
“If you want to sleep with Kenny, its alright. You can.”


MORE TO COME

 

[CharmedFan28]

I am glad Brendan and Sheridan made up. It’s admirable how deep their relationship is and that Sheridan despite being jealous would be willing to let Brendan sleep with Kenny. I don’t think things are quite back to normal but it seems to be heading to a good place. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!