Eric's Story

[EasyRory]

Part Forty-Four

Amanda called and said the movie was shelved for good. A reshoot was considered too expensive, although Disney was considering using some of the action scenes in a future film involving lacrosse. She said Gianni DiLauro was producing and directing a low-budget indie and was considering me for a small role.

I asked her how Seth was doing and she said, “He's still sullen and withdrawn, way beyond the usual teenage kind of depression. I'm a little worried, but I can't get him to consider seeing any kind of counselor.”

“All I can tell you is hang in there. And thanks for the news about DiLauro.”

Then my mother called. She didn't seem to want anything specific but she made no sense. I couldn't tell if she was complaining or in need; and she ended, not accusing me exactly, but saying I was no help at all when I still had no idea what kind of help she wanted.

I called my sister in Virginia and related the sense or nonsense of the telephone call. She gave me fragments of an answer. Apparently, according to Ellie, step-dad was stepping out on her and Mom was finding consolation with her new friends Jack Daniels and Jose Cuervo. Ellie confessed to not knowing what to do and said her two young kids kept her tied down. Ellie and I weren't that close and I don't think she ever understood or even noticed the constant criticism my father aimed at me; but maybe she was more perceptive than I gave her credit for. She never proposed that I do anything about Mom, but the suggestion was there, unspoken.

I told the news to Z and he was sympathetic, not so much about “Sticks and Stones”, but more about my mother. His mother and father, while more lucid than my mother, were driving his brother Darren crazy with orders and restrictions that would not have made sense for a thirteen year-old, never mind somebody like Darren, just out of high school.

“If we had a little more room, Seth and Darren could live here; but the place is packed as it is,” I said.

Z grabbed me from behind. “You first instinct is always 'how can I help?' I love that.” He kissed my neck. “I love all of you.” He ground his pelvis against me.

Cal and Larry came in from a morning run and came into the kitchen for water; they pretended not to notice the end of our kiss and Z's hands on my ass. They were deep in player discussions and just gave us a quick hello as they went for the water pitcher.

“It just too bad we couldn't get that kid from Skyline High in a trade,” Larry said.

“And Forty Cents, if he only had a brain. He can barely learn the play book. He tries to think through things and just has nothing to work with,” Cal said. He looked to Larry for Larry's approval.

“Like Ted Williams said, 'If you don't think too good, don't think too much.' I tried to get that across to him, but … nothing.”

Cal laughed and put his arm on Larry's shoulders. “Did Williams really say that?”

They went upstairs to change and Z observed, “Those two are so in love and they don't even know it.”

“They do know it, which makes it a lot more interesting.” I told Z the conversation I had overheard.

“Now I'm feeling sorry for them,” Z said.

“They don't feel sorry for themselves even though it's hard to see where things are going for them. But they do know they're in love or whatever they call it; and they will never forget that.” I gave him another kiss. “I'm going to saddle up the old Ford and head out to see my mother.”

“Ok, see you when I get back.”

I pulled up to the gate in Moraga and told the guard I was going to see Monica Townsend. “Hey, Eric, long time. How are you doing?”

It was Mike, who used to be a guard at the old development where Mom was called Monica Malone. Talking to him now, I just realized that Mike was gay and younger than I thought.

“Mike! I didn't know you had switched locations.”

“It's all one company; they move us around. Hey I saw you in an ad for a new movie. Looking good for you, huh?”

“Not so good, actually. The movie was canceled because the lead actor got in trouble.

“What happened?”

“There are a bunch of pictures on the Internet of Logan fooling around with another guy.”

“I guess that'll do it.”

“Mike, have you noticed anything odd with my mother? I got a strange call from her.”

“Not my place to talk, Eric. You'll know what's up when you see her.”

I knocked on the door about eleven thirty and Mom opened it. She was a little drunk. “Eric, sweetie.”

“Hi, Mom. I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop. Do you want to go out for lunch?”

So we went to Bette's Ocean View, where she was sure no one would see her. She didn't look that bad, but she was almost 48 and the years all seemed to show. The miscarriage soon after her remarriage had taken a toll and it was easy to imagine that the asshole she married was looking around for a new cookie.

She didn't eat much or really say much about herself although she seemed genuinely interested in the details of my life. My “I'm gay, Mom” didn't come as a surprise to her and she was apparently tolerant of everything that went along with it.

Abruptly, she said, “If I leave him, I won't get much. The house and a bit of property. He has nothing that California law calls income and the bulk of his assets I renounced in an agreement before we married.”

“How much does that matter? I've been poor and it's not that bad,” I told her.

“It's not bad when you're young, but after you get used to a certain level of comfort, those comforts are harder to part with.” She paused and looked around the table. “You know, I quit smoking twenty-five years ago and I still look around the table for a cigarette after eating.”

We left and got into my car. “Are you going to leave him?” I asked.

“If I don't, he'll leave me. Where did you get this car?” she asked, looking at the spartan level of comfort in it.

“I won it on a television show,” I told her and she smiled for the first time. I pushed, “Let me show you where I live before we reenter the Caldecott time warp.”

She admired Alameda saying she hadn't been there in years and I explained the odd circumstances of my occupancy of the Peralta house. Again she smiled. “Your father had a way of falling into things like that,” she said. We went into the house and I wished that Z had been there, so she could meet him again; but he wasn't. She did get to meet Cal and Larry. She was impressed by their physicality and presence. “Football players?” she asked.

“Cal played for that arena league team in San Jose until it folded. He's hoping to get back into it. He and Larry are coaching the Alameda High team. ”

On our way to the car, I said hello to Carolyn and introduced them. “When Eric told me his mother was Monica Hansen, I thought I knew you, but my friend would have been older,” Carolyn said.

“You must have known my second cousin, who was also called Monica Hansen. She is now Monica Quimby.”

“Really, now, was Burt Quimby related?”

“Yes, he is her brother-in-law. He was my escort at their wedding, and very polite about it considering I was twelve and he was almost thirty.”

“I dated Burt Quimby. Do you have time for an iced tea?” Carolyn asked.

“Oh, I'm not sure ...” my mother started to say.

“Go ahead, Mom, I need to run over to Park Street anyway,” I told her. “See you in fifteen minutes.”

Of course I had nothing to do on Park Street, but there was always something to look at. There was a little block-long street fair going on and I just bummed around for a while. “Eric,” someone called out, as I was looking at some ugly piece of hand-made witchcraft.

He was a hot looking young man. “You look familiar, but ...”

“Yeah, I'm Tom. The guy who was stuck in the window frames at the Tiki. You sort of rescued me, among other things.”

“Right! How are you doing?”

“I'm back delivering pizza, for LaVal's in Harbor Bay this time, and also working at the golf course over there.”

“So things didn't work out with …?”

“James. They did, but they didn't. We moved on; so did his wife. Are you still riding ambulances?”

“No, the hospital got rid of their EMT's. I'm going to school and doing odd jobs.”

“Yeah? So you want to have a beer some night?” Tom asked, standing close to me, his motives obvious.

“Sure. Why don't you come over to my place?” He agreed to come on Monday, his night off, and I gave him the address.

Carolyn and my mother were laughing as I walked up to the porch. Later, driving her back to Moraga, we took the winding road through the Oakland Hills; the trip took longer that way, but it was quiet and peaceful. She was bubbly and fun, they way I remembered her from a dozen years ago when my dad was around and before everybody's lives got complicated.

“I'm not an alcoholic, Eric; at least not yet. I wasn't at my best this morning, but that can change.”

“Why don't you go visit Ellie for a week? I talked to her and she'd like to see you; how often to you get to see your grandchildren? It might give you a chance to think things out.”

“You know, that's not a bad idea.” We drove up to her house. “Looks like a prison, doesn't it,” she said.

“Well, it is big.”

“Feels like a prison, too.” She squeezed my hand and got out of the car. “Thanks, sweetie, it was a wonderful afternoon.”

On the way out Mike said hello again. “You like pizza, Mike? Want to come over next Monday around eight?” Mike was probably thirty or maybe more; based on James, I figured Tom liked guys a little older.

Z was cleaning the kitchen when I got home. I hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for being uncomplicated.” I kissed his other cheek. “Thanks for loving me.” I held him tightly, wanting the response of his body, wanting to feel his erection grow. He never disappointed me.

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
So mom is about to get the boot from the bastard, eh?

It sounds like she can be a real person when she's not caught up in social climbing and trying to hold on to her security blanket.

Why do I have a feeling that Carolyn may be picking up a tenant in the not too distant future?

If Cal and Larry got over the "issue" (well, Cal), there might just be a bedroom for the brothers to share at the Waldorf Eric.

And now, our man Yenta, I mean Eric, is playing the prospective matchmaker once again. A friendly enough guy shows interest in him, he thinks of another friendly enough guy in similar straights who might be a good partner and, voila'!

Enjoyable, as always.

Too bad about the movie, and Eric's prospects for the Big Screen, at least with Disney, at the moment.

An Indie, huh? How many of his entourage could he get parts for in an Indie?

 

[EasyRory]

Rory,

Why do I have a feeling that Carolyn may be picking up a tenant in the not too distant future?

Because she has a "Room Available" sign out front?

 

[EasyRory]

Part Forty-Five


At last Andrew came through with the details of the photo session and Z and I followed his instructions. There were six other guys, so Z and I were featured in only a few shots, none of them together.

The venue was the World War II aircraft carrier Hornet tied up at the old Navy Base and used as a museum. The shoot seemed to go well enough; in most shots we were wearing a version of 'the shorts' with sailor's square-necked t-shirts and hats. Two guys would be featured in the clothing being advertised and the rest of us were supposed to be fantasy background; and which two were featured was rotated so we all got a few prominent shots. The fantasy background turned to be the most attention-getting part of the spread; again, like Lenny's work, it was very erotic without being explicit.

When the museum officials saw the pictures, they tried to prohibit publication, saying it reflected badly on the museum, the Navy, and those hot-looking, and no-way-innocent Bastions of Democracy called sailors.

The argument boiled over and went to court. The models were paid immediately, so Z and I didn't really care how the fight came out. At the end of the shoot we went home and waited for the pizza party to begin.

We also invited Luke and Mark over to keep the conversation going. I missed seeing Luke since my hospital days ended and Z liked both of them.

Andrew said he would come if Rory was available; but I convinced him to come anyway. Rory was increasingly involved with his Marilyn clone and it was depressing Andrew. If Tom and Mike weren't a hit, maybe there was a chance for Andrew to work something out.

Cal was in charge of ordering the pizzas; he was very fussy about his pizza and only liked one or two choices from each pizza place. So he ordered a couple of pies from three different places and we waited, beer chilling.

As it turned out, things worked; but nothing worked exactly as planned. Mike was most interested in Rory, who was friendly in his vanilla way but couldn't stay; Rory was going to a film lecture. Tom decided Larry was the hot item and made a big play for him, which visibly pissed off Cal. After a few beers Andrew dropped his trousers so Luke could give a medical opinion about the birthmark on his penis. Mike, missing out on Rory, then tried Mark, who wasn't interested at all. One of the pizza delivery guys, seeing Andrew with his cock out, decided to stay, took his shirt off, and did some dirty dancing with a partially-clad, slightly-drunk Andrew. After failing to connect with others, Mike and Tom did end up eating some pizza together and eventually left at the same time; it wasn't clear whether they were 'together' or not until I saw Tom's trademark move of putting Mike's hand on his ass. Mike squeezed and Tom smiled. Andrew semi-passed out on the sofa with the bonus pizza guy eager to have another look at the birthmark.

Z and I went to bed and relaxed as the house quieted. Cal and Larry had a little discussion in the hall by Larry's room.

“Come on, you were encouraging him,” Cal said.

“A little flirting. Nothing like all those women you spend nights with. I get horny, too, you know.”

“So do I; but it doesn't have to be that way. I told you I'd do it with you.”

“If we did, it would be fifteen minutes of possible fun and forever full of regrets. I don't even give you a hard on,” Larry said.

“Yes, you do, Larry. Feel.” There was a pause and then a more demanding, “Feel it.”

There was a long silence in the hallway and Z looked at me. In the dim light of our bedroom I saw his eyebrows go up and his grin broaden. He put my hand on his own cock and whispered, “Sympathetic hardon.”

Finally we heard, “It would ruin everything, Cal.”

“If I said I WANTED to try, would you change your mind?” Cal was almost pleading. Larry didn't say anything that we could hear. “Nothing has ever been this fucked up in my whole life,” Cal said and we heard his footsteps going up to the attic.

Things were quiet and then there was a sudden thump from downstairs. “Are you trying to fuck me?” asked an annoyed Andrew. There was a pause followed by “Well, why didn't you say so” and then the complaint “This lube smells like garlic butter. Who's supposed to eat what?” Then we heard unAndrew-like sighs and assumed the pizza boy had just become dessert, possibly skewered.

After an ensuing period of silence, Laurie came in and went to her room, unaware, I hoped, of what she had missed.

In the morning Andrew and the pizza guy were gone and I had breakfast with a smiling and cheerful Larry and a Cal who was grumpy but trying to hide it. Laurie joined us, dismayed by Cal's mood. “What's your problem?” she asked and got a muttered “Nothin',” in reply.

“What is college math like?” Larry asked me, making conversation. “Two plus two is still four, isn't it?”

“In most cases, it is. The last seminar began with the prof saying 'Let's think about the concepts zero and continuity. One is arithmetic and the other is mathematics.' It gets to be a lot of philosophy. You can prove a given result, but how do you prove your proof? Is your proof just an artifact, dependent on unproven assumptions? Two plus two is four. Ok, but what is two? What is plus? What is is?”

“I think I understand,” Larry said.

“I don't understand shit, as usual,” Cal said, glaring at Larry.

Laurie and I figured we should leave quietly and let the two of them sort things out as best they could. I dropped Laurie at Chevy's and headed to Berkeley.

I got back as Z was leaving for Hayward. Larry and Cal were at the dinner table working on their player cards, consulting each other happily, both apparently back to their usual relationship. Maybe talking football healed wounds. Whatever happened, Cal was looking at Larry almost worshipfully.

I told Z how pissed Cal was when I left in the morning and he gave me an I-don't-know shrug in response to my “What happened?” I watched Z walk to the curb and get into his car. I could look at him all day; damn, I'm lucky, I thought.

Larry scooped up the cards and Cal put some notes into a three-ring binder. They left for practice full of smiles, giving me a cheery hello-goodbye. I asked when the next home game was and said I'd like to attend. “Friday,” they said together and laughed.

I walked over to Luke's and asked him about my paramedic progress. I already had completed EMT-Intermediate before I left the hospital and needed only physiology and anatomy for course work. There was a fairly lengthy hours-of-experience requirement, however. Luke felt I could start that at the hospital if I did well on mid-terms. “They'll only give you EMT-I pay until you actually get your ticket.”

“Some of my Disney compensation depended on release of the movie, now that's gone. Financially, I'm ok on paper – for a while, anyway; but I remember being a little hungry and not having any income bothers me. That photo shoot Andrew got me was almost porn; and I don't want to do that again.”

“I bet you'd be good in porn,” Mark said. “It's not that bad; and it didn't hurt me.”

“But you only did it once, Mark; and it would probably kill any chance I had at more Hollywood business. I'd rather go back to working Rotary Club lunches.”

“The bank stock might pay a little dividend, if we have another good quarter; maybe a penny a share,” Mark said. “That would get you twenty-five hundred a quarter. And the stock does trade over the counter now. You could sell some if you need to; it's about two dollars a share on a good day, if you don't try to sell too much.”

“Luke, you are married to a genius,” I said.

Luke answered, “We're not married, though.”

“I want to; but Luke says it's not important,” Mark said. “And in our case it isn't, financially speaking.”

“I always want to leave Mark an out. I want him here because he wants to be here, not because he can't find a cheap divorce lawyer,” Luke said, tryin gto make light of the subject.

Mark leaned over and kissed Luke. He kissed his lips and it was a lingering kiss. “See? He's one of a kind. Nothing like him.”

“Mark,” Luke said cautioning his enthusiasm.

“Luke doesn't even like to talk about it,” Mark said to me. “He thinks we'll jinx it.”

“One day at a time, huh, Luke?” I said. He didn't answer.

I walked home feeling somewhat better about my financial security; the bank stock had doubled in value. Those early days on my own had been pretty lean and I wasn't looking for a repeat of all those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I was anxious for Z to get home; just being around Mark and Luke made me want him close. I walked into our bedroom and there he was. He was just out of the shower, drying himself off. What a gorgeous ass! I tiptoed up behind him, grabbed him around the chest and kissed the side of his neck.

“WHOA!”

“Oops, not Z. Sorry. Almost Z, though.”

He wrapped the towel around his waist and said, “I'm Z's brother, Darren.”

He was a little slimmer than Z and maybe a fraction taller; the resemblance was amazing. Not quite twins, but close.

“You're Eric, Z's … er, … ”

“Yes, I'm Eric. Sorry for busting in on you. Come on downstairs when you're ready.”

I gave him some orange juice and got his story. The walls in Orinda were closing in and his parents were being unreasonable. He didn't cite the specifics of their unreasonableness, but from his point of view life at home had become intolerable. He hitchhiked to Oakland and then walked the rest of the way to the house hoping to find Z. Instead of Z, Laurie had let him in. He was dripping with sweat, he said, and Laurie showed him where the shower and Z's stuff was. He hoped Z wouldn't mind him borrowing some clothes. He was wearing a Disney t-shirt and some jeans.

“The t-shirt is mine, but don't worry about it. The jeans are Z's. He won't care.”

“I was wondering if I could crash here for a while,” Darren said. Looking at him was like seeing Z as a teenager, two versions of the same thing.

“Sure, we can fix you up with something. Do your parents know you're here?”

“They know I left. They don't know where I am, though.”

“Think about giving them a call. Just to tell them you're alright. You don't have to give them any details, just tell them you're safe and you'll call back later.”

He looked into his glass and didn't say anything.

“No pressure. Just think about it. You don't need the police looking for you,” I told him.

The door bell rang and a delivery man left vase of yellow and white roses. I read the card. “Eric, Mission accomplished. Love, Maddie.”

“Wow, who died?” Darren asked.

“Just the opposite, I think - I hope,” I told him. “Too bad you're all cleaned up. You could help me in the yard.”

“I clean up easy,” Darren said.

I cut the two lawns and Darren trimmed edges and swept up. Then we swept the front porches and stairs. Carolyn came outside with iced tea and thanked us; then she said, “Oh, I thought you were Z!” Darren just smiled at her and I think won her heart, just the way his brother won mine.

“Carolyn, Darren needs a place for a month or so, would you consider letting him have your spare room?”

“He can have a choice, if he wants. I have three spare rooms.” We both looked at Darren, who shrugged and seemed agreeable.

Z arrived home and we called him over to Carolyn's porch. He was surprised to see Darren, who kissed him on the cheek in greeting. “It's our Italian genes. We're a very kissy family when we're not killing each other,” Z explained.

Darren recapped his precipitate departure from Orinda and then added my recommendation that he call home. Z concurred with calling home, as did Carolyn, who said, “Much as I would love to harbor a fugitive, I agree. The Alameda police have a reputation for eagerness.”

“Here,” Z said, handing Darren a cell phone I didn't even know he had, “It's a throw-away; they won't be able to trace the number. Eric's right; just tell them you're legal, you're safe, and you'll call again.”

Darren walked to the other end of the porch for a little privacy. As we watched Darren make his call, a person with a backpack walked up to the from door of the Peralta house.

“Man, they come in pairs,” I said to Carolyn and Z. “Seth, we're over here.”

“Hi, Eric.”

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
Welcome to the three-ring circus, Barnum & Bailey style, lol.

Lots of excitement.
It's too bad about Disney.
Good to hear Eric may be able to get back into the Hospital, soon, and start earning a reasonable, if not flush, living.

And, yes, I know she had a sign out front, lol.

Thanks for the update.

 

[EasyRory]

OK, I'm having trouble with this story.

I think I'm fairly competent at writing light, breezy, somewhat sexy prose, basically what you have read so far; and I can continue doing that and bring things to an end.

Alternatively I've got some other ideas I'd like to try, but I don't think I'm a good enough writer to do them well.

I'm like the comedian who wants to play Hamlet, but I think I'd get laughed at if I try.

Hmmm ... what to do ...

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
We'd laugh WITH you, not AT you. (If at all.)

You've hinted at a darker side a time or two.
We're game to help you explore that side of your creative muse.

We like your characters. While we might cringe at them getting hurt, or ostensibly worse (Who is that lucky latino coach down Mexico way, ay?), we're willing to explore the fuller tapestry of their assorted lives outside of the group home for wayward youth.

 

[justright25]

Do whatever you want and try out your other ideas if you want. We have all enjoyed your story so far and will continue to do so no matter what you do with it.

 

[EasyRory]

Part Forty-Six


Seth called Amanda to tell her where his camping trip with buddies had taken him. I talked to her and told her I would look out for Seth while he was in Alameda.

We ordered Chinese for dinner. Cal and Larry were friendly and Laurie was accommodating but curious. Carolyn ate heartily but was sort of overwhelmed, wondering if taking in two teenagers was a mistake.

“I had a quiet little old lady in mind,” she ventured. I assured her there would be ground rules.

After dinner, Z and I got the two of them together. They readily agreed to performing chores for Carolyn and they agreed to keep us informed about where they were going to be. Then Z and I started issuing orders.

“We won't tell you no; but we want what to know you're up to. Fair?” They nodded.

“As soon as you get some work, you start paying your own way.” They nodded.

“As long as you live there, you treat Carolyn with complete respect.” They nodded.

“Welcome to Alameda,” I told them. “Anytime you don't like the arrangements, you can leave. We won't try to stop you; but believe me it's nice to have a few friends around when you're broke and on your own. And we are your friends; we're not your parents.”

Impulsively, Darren hugged me, burying his face against my chest. There was nothing sexy about his embrace; in fact, I think he did it to hide a few tears. “Thanks, Eric,” he said.

Seth watched Darren and chose to be more reserved; he just nodded his acceptance again. “I'll be looking for work tomorrow,” he promised.

Cal and Larry decided to go to a movie and asked Seth and Darren to go along. As they went out the door, I proposed lacrosse after football practice the next day. I watched them go and then turned to Z and he smiled.

“We're what? four or five years older than they are? I think we just became dads, whether we like it or not,” Z said.

Carolyn, who had been quiet during our session with the boys, thanked us for laying down the law. She said she would come up with a few rules of her own, which she hoped would be common sense and not penal.

I called Mark and Andrew to see if they would join the scrimmage and then the new dads went upstairs and had a scrimmage of their own.

The next morning I invested in some lacrosse equipment. Our Rittler Park lax scrimmages proved to be fun for all eight of us and whenever somebody couldn't come there was always a pickup player or two at the park. Z and Darren, who had never played before, learned and Cal and Larry had the ability of natural athletes to play almost instantly at a decent level of competence. I was glad for the exercise as a break from school.

Usually it was an hour or so and if it was a strenuous day, we could run down to the beach and get wet. The Bay was always bracingly chilly but it felt good. Seth was fascinated by the wind surfers. Out on the water they looked graceful and almost delicate. Up close, they were very muscular, built more like weight lifters than dancers.

One of them drove his board into the beach and hauled it out. It was almost dark and the beach was empty. The guy very matter-of-factly changed his clothes right on the beach. He was quick and efficient about it, not showing off. I think Seth fell in love on the spot, but there wasn't any reciprocal interest. Seth walked over and talked to the guy but returned saying only that the guy was a lot older than he looked out on the water.

Andrew took the boys into San Francisco for a decent haircut, as he called it. God knows what he paid for it, but they came back looking much better than when they left. They were also wearing clothes that Andrew said were just lying around the agency. Darren had Z's looks and always managed to look pretty hot, but Seth looked unbelievably good, better than I thought would ever be possible for him. Z took a phone photo of Seth and we sent it to Amanda, with the note that all was well.

Carolyn was also pleased with how things were working out. “They don't play music very loud and they are doing almost all the housework,” she reported. She said her next complaint would be about having too much time on her hands.

My mother found a way to fill some of Carolyn's time. She called asking for her number and said she would invite her to go along the next time she visited the other Monica Hansen. It was the first of many trips they took.

The next time the boys came for dinner we also had Spike, Julie, and a sleeping Erica along with Andrew, Rory, and Marilyn, whose name was actually Istanbulla, she claimed. The name seemed about as genuine as her hair color. Julie was beaming and said she was pregnant again. During the congratulations Spike winked at me. Darren noticed the wink and looked puzzled. The shocker to me was that Andrew and Istanbulla got along surprisingly well, something Rory failed to notice. Then Cal and Larry arrived and joined us for dessert. Istanbulla shifted her attentions to them; even Rory sensed a developing intrigue.

After our friends left and all was cleared away, Z and I sat on the porch with the boys. Darren said he could barely figure out what was going on at dinner; that our friends seemed about as confusing as his own life. Seth said he was confused too but didn't worry about it much.

“Why should you? You're young and nothing has to be carved in concrete. There are more possibilities than we have labels for.”

“Now you're confusing me,” Z said.

“Well the labels want us all to be gay OR straight. But I think it's gay AND straight; I think we're all bisexual to a greater or lesser degree. Look at our friends. Spike is a real flamer and he and Julie love each other. Mark is straight and he loves Luke. Straight Cal and gay Larry are deeply involved with each other without any sex. Andrew loves Rory who is fascinated by Istanbulla and I think the three of them will soon be trying everything they can think of. And of course, we're a couple, which sounds boringly normal compared to our interesting friends.”

The boys sat with their mouths open. Z just laughed.

“Two or three labels just aren't enough for us, let alone the other six billion people groping around out there. Leaving aside a perfect world, I think any two people can keep each other reasonably happy and well satisfied if they both try hard enough. These relationships won't be alike and wouldn't suit everybody, but they can work for the two involved. I don't see any reason – now or ever - why you two guys to have to settle for some label invented by shrinks long dead if you don't think the label fits. The aim of civilization is that we're all supposed to love each other and the details of how that works out are left up to us.”

“There are probably a thousand things wrong with that analysis,” Z said, “But I can't think of any off hand.”

Darren seemed to think it over; but Seth was unimpressed. The boys went to Carolyn's, talking of jobs they might get, schools they might attend.

“Did I waste my breath? Was I trying to solve a problem they don't even have?” I asked Z.

The next day Andrew came by and said he might have something for Z and Darren to do. “Do you think Darren would go for a nude shoot, Z?”

“I don't know. Ask him. Do you think I would go for a nude shoot, Andrew?”

“What do you mean? You've been nude a lot.”

“Larry told me about that whack job you got for him. I want details before I agree.”

While Andrew went next door to see what Darren thought, Z complained a little about all the nudity that seemed to be part of Andrew's offers lately. “Obviously, I'm not a bashful virgin, Eric, but doesn't it seem like he's pushing it too much? Especially for Darren, who actually is a bashful virgin. There was always something kind of creepy about Andrew, something lurking in the background.”

“I used to think that, but I guess I got over it. He and Rory seem like a pretty great couple, if they last; and he's been decent with us,” I said.

Andrew returned with Seth in tow. “Darren said he'd think about it. I told him that it wouldn't be porn, just sexy. Lenny's the photographer. You know him, Z; he's very commercial and mainstream.” Andrew and Seth left with Seth planning to spend the day seeing what Andrew's version of being an agent was like.

As soon as they were gone Darren came over to discuss the shoot with Z. I left them in private and went to study in the bedroom. In about fifteen minutes Z joined me.

“Darren said he'll go along with whatever I want to do, and I told him Lenny is a pretty straight arrow, considering he's a gay fashion photographer. So he said ok, and then he told me that Seth wanted to get in his bed last night.”

“Seth has had some experience along those lines,” I said.

“Darren told him he wasn't sure that was what he wanted to do,” Z said. “And he feels fairly repelled by the idea today.”

“That sounds a lot like you a couple of years ago, my beautiful boyfriend,” I said.

Z smiled at the memory and said, “Seth is a little more insistent than you were, I guess; but it's nothing Darren can't handle.” Z called Andrew's office number and left a message that he and Darren were available.

Seth came back in the late afternoon with the announcement that he had a job – as Andrew's assistant. I congratulated him and asked how he wangled that.

“I learned a lot watching my mother work, so I'm not completely unqualified; and it's something I'm interested in. But I got the job the usual way. I got him to fuck me.”

My disappointment must have showed. “What's the big deal, Eric? I'm no virgin, as you know. Andrew was pretty decent about it. He didn't hurt me; and, unlike you, he wore a condom. Shit, even Gianni DiLauro's asshole boyfriend wore a condom. What? You didn't know? Gianni and the asshole spent most afternoons on the set fucking Logan and me and filming it. It was the asshole who put the vids of us on the Internet to get even with Gianni for dumping him.”

“What was the asshole's name?”

“Didn't you know anything? It was Colin Turner.” Seth left looking disgusted with me and went to Carolyn's house.

 

[justright25]

I love the sort of expected twist with Mister Turner.

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
Another very interesting chapter of friends and family.
And now, the "old settled couple" as deFacto Dads, lol.

A very mature attitude they have about it, too.

Seth is certainly bringing a different perspective.
And some information.

Sleep his way to the top, eh? He might has something more to learn,
we hope!

 

[EasyRory]

Part Forty-Seven


Seth's news left me numb and did a lot to explain his callousness. No wonder he thought sex was just another negotiable clause in life's contract.

I called Deck Charles who returned my call about an hour later. “Thanks for returning my call so quickly, Deck; I must be at least on your C list.”

“A list, buddy, pure A list. I've been wanting to call and tell you that I'm hoping to marry Maddie.”

“Wow! Congratulations! That's terrific – for both of you.”

“She hasn't said yes yet, and, to tell you the truth, I haven't formally proposed; but we both know it's on the table. She thinks the world of you, you know; we both do.”

“Thanks. Wow! Have you ever improved my mood! That is such good news.”

“Eric, why does your mood need improving?”

“You know Amanda Behar, my agent? Her son, the guy who was involved with Logan, ran away from home and is sort of staying with me. Next door, actually. He just told me Colin Turner sank the movie.”

“Yeah, that's Hollywood, huh? Turner blamed DiLauro for the trouble in Mexico and didn't take getting dumped at all well.”

“Man, I must have been the only one who didn't know what the fuck was going on.”

“That's one of the reasons why everybody liked you. You managed to stay clean,” Deck said. “And you may be the only one who actually gets anything out of the deal.”

“Well, Disney paid me, if that's what you mean.”

“Wow, you ARE in the dark. An association of lax leagues has bought the action sequences of the movie and they're going to use it to promote the sport. It's going to feature mostly you. Remember those editing guys you used to eat lunch with? They saved every action shot and made you look like a the lax star of the decade.”

“I had no idea. Maybe I ought to call my agent. Anyway, my real question is what is Colin doing now?”

“He's sleeping with another foreign producer and probably getting a part in his movie.”

“Amazing. I don't think he's even gay.”

“Doesn't seem to matter to him. Very flexible, our Colin.”

“I'm glad I called, Deck. Thanks for taking the time and give my best to Maddie.”

“Wait. You will be my best man, won't you?”

“Of course. My privilege.”

My next phone call was to Amanda. “Why didn't you let me know about the filming?”

“Because, Eric, my dear, you won't get any money out of it and it's not a done deal yet, although it's very close. What I am working on is endorsements for you with sports equipment and clothing companies. Those are close to signing, too.”

“Amanda, did you know Colin Turner was the person who leaked those vids of Seth?”

“Of course, everybody knew it. And how is my little knoedl?”

“Seth? He has a job – assistant to my old modeling agent, Andrew.”

“Well, that's progress I guess.”

“He looks really good. Did you get the picture my friend Z took?”

“His father was a cutie at twenty, also; but those looks don't last. I hope he makes the most of it. So I suppose he and Andrew are ...”

“I don't know,” I lied to her.

“Yes, you do,” she said and hung up with a promise to call when a deal was ready.

Aside from Z, the center of sanity in my life was becoming my time at Berkeley. While things like irrational numbers were much more manageable than supposedly rational people, another student pointed out that the man who conceived irrational numbers was drowned by his professor for his trouble. I called Reston to thank him and give him an update on my progress. He was out of the country on business, so I left a voice mail.

I went home and found my mother talking to Z. They clammed up when I arrived but it must have been cordial. I put my notebooks in a desk in the dining room and my mother noticed an old document.

“What's that, Eric?” she asked.

“It's the Peralta family tree and something about their investments,” I showed her. “It's in old Spanish script, so I can't read much of it. I found it in the attic.”

“My grandmother always said we were related to the Peraltas,” she mused, looking at the names. “Here it is, Inez Peralta Galinda." She pointed to the name of a daughter of Luis Peralta. "Inez Galinda Hansen was my great grandmother's name, although I don't know much about her. I wonder if it's really a connection.” “You should probably have a conservator see what can be done with this; it's a nice old paper to keep.”

Z came down stairs ready for school and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I love him, too,” he said to my mother as he left for Hayward.

I looked at her questioningly. “I'll miss not having more grandchildren, but Z is one of a kind, Eric. I'm glad you're happy. Well, I'm off. I'm seeing a divorce lawyer, again. I'll get by if I leave him; but I won't be rich.”

“I think I will like the not rich Mom.” We both left the house, me for my CofA paramedic courses.

My anatomy course was working on the musculature of the back and legs. The professor had an assistant to help with our lab work. “Hi, Shoe,” I said as the assistant came to my bench. Shoe said hello and was very professional as he pointed out features of the muscles to my bench partner and me. His hand stayed on my back as I looked into the microscope at bone attachment points. We agreed to have a tea after the class.

“I was surprised to see you here,” he said. “I was sure you'd have moved to Hayward by now.”

I updated him on my paramedic plans and my internship at Cal and in turn he told me that he now had two children with a third on the way. “I've done my duty along those lines,” he put it. “Next year, I finish medical school.” He paused, looked around, and then touched my hand. “That week we spent together was the best week of my life, Eric. I know we can't go back to that, but I want you to know how often I think of you, of that time.”

I could see the heartbreak in his eyes. “You didn't make the wrong choice, Xuefei,” I told him, “you made the only possible choice. Don't regret anything.”

Once we were away from the building and the crowd he held my hand as we walked to the parking lot. We walked at Shoe's pace, very slowly for him. When we got to the Boxster he hugged me and wouldn't let go. I could feel his tears on my cheek. “I do regret it, Eric; I regret it every day.” I felt his lips press my neck. He took my hand and held it against his cock. “I haven't been this hard since the last time I was with you.” He kissed my lips lightly and then grabbed me harder. “Let's go to a motel right now, I need you so much.”

“No, Shoe. Not a good idea.” I pulled his arms off of me and held him at a distance; he didn't fight me. “It wouldn't be the same. It would ruin your life. Eventually it would hurt your children.”

He turned and got in his car. With his hands centered on the steering wheel he leaned his head on them and cried. I couldn't help him. I walked away feeling helpless and guilty. It wasn't my fault, but I was causing him pain. Instead of going home I walked over to Luke's.

“Hey, stranger, come in.” Luke welcomed me and offered a beer. “On second thought, would you like something stronger? What's wrong?” I slumped in a chair and he stood behind me rubbing my shoulders while I told him about my meeting with Xuefei.

“I think he's feeling the world closing in on him and his memory of you makes it look like you are his only way out. You were right to think a roll in the hay wouldn't fix anything. He no doubt feels the pressure of endless school, of being a father, or being a husband, of possibly hurting people who don't deserve it. He's afraid of having to give up his own life to please others. Where's the fun in that? When does Xuefei get to do something for himself?”

“That does sound depressing. How's he supposed to get out of it?”

“Tincture of time, as the old-time docs used to say. He has to live through it and find new sources of satisfaction. Before tonight he held onto the hope that you were his way out; now he knows better. You can't help him; you would probably make things worse if you tried.”

I got up and hugged Luke as we looked out at the bay. “It's comfortable to hold a friend without his dick poking me,” I said.

“You better quit now, then,” Luke replied and got us shots of something fiery and brown to drink.

Mark came in and joined us. “A little pick me up on a cool night,” he toasted. “Man, it's been cold this summer... Eric, you want to do some more ads for the bank? The last ones were popular and got us noticed, but we could use something new.”

“Sure. You need anybody else out of that zoo I live in?”

“What about Laurie? Matching barrels? No, we need a new idea.”

“I'll ask her.”

When I got home Cal and Larry were updating their stats on the team. “Dorrance got injured in practice,” Cal said sounding pleased.

“Why is that good?” I asked. Darren looked equally puzzled.

“He sucks as a running back but his father's on the school board. Now we won't have to play him,” Larry explained.

“I think he sucks some other things, if you know what I mean,” Cal winked to Darren and me but was quick to amend his comment, “not in a bad way, Larry.”

“Yes, in a bad way. He's probably a lousy at cocksucking, too,” Larry said.

Darren went to Carolyn's house and Cal went out for an extra run.

“You're coming to the game tomorrow night, right, Eric?” Larry asked, sitting at the table organizing his notes.

“Wouldn't miss it. How did the Spreckel's thing turn out?”

“My plans will save them a bunch on insurance. They offered me a job looking into fire protection at their other plants.”

“Terrific. Are you going to take it?”

“It would involve a lot of traveling. I told them I wanted to decide after the football season is over. I hope they'll give me that long. One of their execs has a son on the team, so that might help.”

“The team means a lot to you; I know,” I told him.

“Cal means a lot to me. I want to spend the rest of the season with him. Eight more weeks.”

“Then what? Have you guys got any plans?”

“Then … I don't know,” Larry said.

“It's hard loving a straight guy.”

“It's hard on the straight guy, too.”

“I'm still glad you live here,” I said giving him a pat on the shoulders. “Jeez, you've bulked up!” I felt his arms and shoulders. “You using anything?”

“Equal doses of love, frustration, cold showers, and weights.”

We heard the door open. “Laurel!” I greeted her.

“Uh-oh, my full name. What's wrong?” she asked.

“Mark has a proposition for us.”

After I explained Laurie looked interested and then panicky. Larry and I assured her that, yes, yes , she was more than pretty enough; yes, yes, it would be fun; and no, no, Mark wouldn't use a creep like Andrew had put onto Larry. “Worst case, you wear a barrel,” I promised.

“A barrel,” she laughed at us and looked very pretty. “Ok, why not? What have I got ...”

“Stop at 'ok', you never know about the rest,” Larry said.

Laurie went into the kitchen and turned on a radio for news. “Eric,” she cried out. “Xuefei is dead.”

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
WOW!

I guess the foreshadowing was there.

The "honorable Chinese traditional lifestyle".

Poor Shoe. Poor Eric - he's going to feel guilty, even after having it reinforced by his favorite doctor that it wasn't his fault, and that he did the right thing.

You did say that you had some ideas that would add dark and/or drama.

This certainly qualifies.

Good news about the Lax clips and possible endorsement deals for our boy.

And, interesting to think that Eric may well have a legitimate claim on the homestead and it's properties - not as tight as a certain Mexican coach, but the coach appears not to want to be known as being who he was in another lifetime, so this could be Eric's way in, without having to buy out the City/State.

You are going to take us to the next level, I suspect,~ and your own writing skills as you take us on the journey.

 

[seanystarr]

i love this story....thanks for letting us be part of it

 

[EasyRory]

Part Forty-Eight


There are a number of Chinese cemeteries in Colma, near the San Bruno Mountain State Park. It's south of San Francisco, a pretty area along the fault, hilly, but not heavily wooded, and that day cold. The wind was off the ocean and the fog moved in, spilling over the crestline near Xuefei's grave.

I went to the funeral and the burial, of course. Z offered to go with me but I wanted to be alone. His parents attended which was not the Chinese custom. They stayed in the background. His very pregnant widow and children accompanied the casket until it was lowered into the earth. It is the Chinese custom that the ceremony continues for a number of days and it may have; I don't know.

His parents were polite. We bowed but did not speak. I introduced myself to his widow, saying I was a school friend. She was also polite but appeared not to know my name.

Duong and Chengyu were at the burial and we watched together. They welcomed me warmly, kissing me on both cheeks, which was not a Chinese custom but a welcome one. Chengyu said the language was not Mandarin and he couldn't follow the ceremony any better than I could.

Xuefei's death in a one-car crash on a clear road was never called suicide in the news reports; it was always just an unexplained accident. The three of us avoided the subject and for a time we talked about everything but Xuefei. We talked about sailing and modeling, their boat, Alameda and Berkeley, and the different yacht clubs until there was nothing more to say. Finally, the damp gray murk of the fog and the chill of the wind made me shiver. All I could see was the aching, overwhelming sorrow in the eyes of my friends. I broke.

“It was my fault,” I said, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I saw him that last day and I didn't help him. I could have helped him and I didn't. All he asked for was a little time and I said no.”

“No, Eric,” Duong put his arm around me, ignoring his own tears. He wasn't able to talk right away. “Not your fault,” he whispered.

Chengyu spoke quietly, “After he saw you, he came to the boat and told us what you said. He knew you were right. He knew it and we told him the same thing. He always talked about you when he was with us and he never blamed you for anything. He just loved you. Oh, how he loved you. Seeing you that day brought it all back. He saw what his own choice had cost him.” Chengyu had to stop.

“I will never believe,” Duong said squeezing my shoulder even tighter, “that it was suicide. It was a lapse of attention, something in the road, his hands slipped on the wheel, I don't know; but it wasn't suicide. His sense of duty was too strong; he loved his children and he respected his wife. He would have suffered willingly; he would never have taken his own life.”

We walked arm in arm back to the parking lot. “Not your fault,” Duong repeated as we parted.

I walked to my car but didn't get in it. Instead I walked back into the hills. The fog was thicker, blowing in billows, making the day even colder and I moved quickly up the hills until I reached the top. I could see across the bay to Alameda and up into the Oakland Hills, where there was still sunshine. Shoe would have liked it better over there. I thought over what Duong and Chengyu had said. Maybe Shoe's death wasn't my fault, but there seemed to be no question that I could have prevented it, just by saying yes to some version of his invitation. Shoe's suggestion of a motel wasn't the only choice; it could have been a walk, or a drink, or even just a ride in his car. Would talking have changed anything about the way he felt? Could I have said anything to change him? Maybe not. But could I have changed the outcome? It seemed unquestionable that I could have. I could have gone up to Redwood Park with him; that would have been a good place to talk. But I couldn't have promised him anything; even if he wanted to leave his wife, it was too late for that. And Duong said he wouldn't have left her. What could have satisfied him? It wasn't anything I could have offered; but what hurt was that I didn't really try. I didn't kill him, but I knew I could have saved him and I didn't. I would have to live with that.

My heart wasn't in going to Cal and Larry's football game after the burial, but I had missed last week's game and I had promised them I would attend. This was a promise I could keep; and the game was against El Cerrito, which was one of the better teams on their schedule.

Z and Darren sat with me in the rapidly filling stands and the sight of Cal and Larry working on the sidelines added an immediacy to the game. I spotted a jersey with the name Dorrance on it and watched the young man wearing it; he sat on the bench while other players loosened up sprinting short distances, passing the ball around, and accelerating from a three-point stance. Dorrance had that “clean uniform” look that benched players have; he turned and scanned the stands looking for someone. The kid was nice looking and seemed perfectly normal; I couldn't figure out why Cal got a gay vibe from him. It couldn't have been from his looks or actions.

The team played well, although not well enough to be winning at the half; but, at 10-7, it was close, one of those games that would be called a moral victory if the Hornets lost by a less than a touchdown.

“What good is a moral victory to a senior?” Darren wanted to know. “It's his last chance.”

In my mind I shouted, “It's not his last chance!” In my heart I knew exactly what Darren meant.

“It's not his last chance,” Z told his brother, “Getting out of high school is just the beginning. Everything is still possible.”

“Not being a high school football star, that's not possible,” Darren countered.

“You know what I mean,” Z said.

“And you know what I mean,” Darren shot back. “Being a star in high school is THE biggest thing in life, when you're in high school.”

“But life isn't high school. Not being a star in high school, which most people aren't, doesn't mean a thing by the next September. You try harder when you meet the next challenge,” Z said.

“And what if you fuck up the next challenge, too?” Darren asked.

“You keep trying, even if you never win. Trying counts for more than winning.”

“No wonder somebody loves you,” Darren may have conceded, but he didn't consent.

“I think having you two around is winning,” I said. Z kissed me on the cheek which drew a few looks from potential critics around us in the stands “It's ok; he's an illegal alien,” I told the critics, which they found more alarming than the kiss.

The second half of the game see-sawed. Twice Alameda went ahead; but the El Cerrito linemen were built like Coke machines and eventually all those carbohydrates on the hoof wore down the Hornets. Alameda lost 24-20, well within the range of a moral victory.

We consoled Larry and Cal over the fence and then walked home from the game. While Darren was chiding Z about kissing me in public and Z was telling Darren to lighten up, a little old lady was walking toward us.

We all exchanged hellos and then Z said to her, “This is my brother, and I've known him for almost nineteen years.” He gave Darren a quick peck on the cheek. “Did that make you feel uncomfortable – seeing me kiss him?”

“No, no, of course not,” the grandmother said.

“This is my boyfriend, whom I've known for a little over two years.” He gave me a similar kiss. “Did that make you feel uncomfortable?”

“A little, based on what you said; but maybe if you hadn't said anything it wouldn't have.” She continued on her way.

“Well, she calls a spade a fucking shovel. Ok, maybe you're right, Darren.”

Darren showed he had Z's giggle. “At last, I'm right about something.”

“You're right about a lot of things; I just don't want you getting overconfident. Can't have an obnoxious little brother hanging around.”

“I'm thinking about trying gay sex. Seth has been working on me.”

That stopped Z in his tracks. “You're going to try it with Seth?”

“No, not with Seth. Seth doesn't ... Yuck, not Seth. I don't have anybody specific in mind.”

“What do you think, Eric,” Z asked me.

“Don't look at me. I'm just listening.”

“Say it, if you want, Eric. I don't care,” Darren said.

“Ok, looking around you, which couple do you want to be like?”

“Cal and Larry,” Darren didn't even hesitate in answering.

“Cal and Larry aren't having sex - with each other, anyway. So maybe it isn't sex you want to try.”

Darren thought that over for a while and said, “Well, I'm tired of being a virgin and everybody else is getting laid all the time.”

“Maybe we can narrow this down. What gives you a hardon?” I asked him.

“Everything. Maybe we better talk about something else.”

“Dinner. How about dinner? There's a new Greek place right off Park. It's almost on the way home,” Z suggested.

“I vote for hamburgers,” I suggested.

“The Sports Bar on Central?” Darren asked. “They have hamburgers and Mexican, well, pseudo-Mexican.”

We went to the Sports Bar. Mid-meal, Darren nodded toward the bar and said, “I'd try it with him.” The guy sitting alone at the bar sipping a beer was the pine-riding running back Dorrance.

I heard “Eric, no,” in the background as I got up and walked to the bar. “Dorrance,” I said to him, “I'm sorry we didn't get to see you play tonight. Want to join our table?” I pointed to Z and Darren.

Dorrance studied my face and then said, “You're the food fight guy.” He got up and walked with me in a slightly lumbering way, as if he still had his football pads on. We sat down with Z and Darren. Dorrance introduced himself as Teddy, which he quickly changed to Ted.

Ted looked a little older than the typical high-schooler but I was still skeptical about the beer. “Don't lots of people know you? You're taking a risk with the beer.”

“I have a fake ID; but the bartender didn't even ask for it. This isn't a high school place; who'd know me?” Telling him that I recognized him didn't seem to matter. Nobody else might know him right now, but Alameda was a small island – he was going to be recognized eventually.

“Sorry you were injured. Maybe you could have made the difference tonight,” Z said.

“You went to the game?” He picked at some french fried potatoes sitting in the center of the table. “You must be dedicated fans.”

I mentioned we were friends of Cal and Larry and went to see how the team played overall.

Ted was suddenly animated. “Those two guys have made such a difference this year. They have more fun than the rest of us put together and they can really make you want to win. A little bit they make you believe it matters. You live with them? Jeez, that must be some frat house!”

“Not exactly. Cal's sister also lives with us and we all have jobs. It's only a frat house sometimes, and not that often.”

“I don't even get 'sometimes'; I live with a little old lady, next door,” Darren said.

“Yeah, but you're on your own. I can't wait for that. My parents try to be cool, but maybe they try too hard or something. What do you do?” he asked Darren.

“Not much, I'm looking. I got a job next week with Z on a photo shoot for some kind of sports clothes.”

“Cool, doing what?”

“Modeling, sort of,” Darren sounded unsure of whether his job was a good thing.

“No shit!” Ted said, sounding like any kid.

I got no gay vibe whatsoever from young Ted Dorrance. His actions were unremarkable, his eyes never strayed, he never gave a hint of anything sexual. I decided I'd ask Cal for an explanation.

 

[justright25]

Awesome addition to the story. I can hardly believe no one has commented on it yet.

 

[EasyRory]

Part Forty-Nine

Lying in bed that night, I thought over the words of Duong and Chengyu and the advice Z had given Darren. It was easy, maybe too easy, to accept the fact that Shoe's death wasn't directly my fault. I agreed with Z's thought that the answer to random loss was to try again; but my knowledge that I could have saved Shoe and didn't - that would persist. My hurt wasn't a loss of love, that had happened long before; my hurt was admitting that my personal failure had caused the ultimate and irreparable harm, death, to someone who looked to me for help.

In the process of sorting out my thoughts, I must have done something to disturb Z; he gave me a little hug without completely waking up and then rolled over, away from me. I leaned over and kissed his shoulder. That did wake him.

“What's wrong, Eric?”

“I could have saved Shoe and I even try.” I explained the day of Shoe's death and told Z what Duong and Chengyu had said.

“You can't read minds, Eric. You can't fix everything. You're not some kind of god. You can only try; and we all fail sometimes.”

“When have you ever failed?”

“I should have come back from Italy sooner. I stayed just because I was having fun and being treated like a prince. I didn't know what my selfish fun was doing to you. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I did. I'm still trying to make it up to you.”

“Z, it hurt, but having you back made up for everything.”

“Do you think Shoe would blame you for anything?”

“No, but … “

“Then don't blame yourself. He wouldn't want that.”

“I love you, Z.”

It was good the next day was Saturday, because I slept late. I went downstairs and made sure with words and actions that Z felt appreciated for his part in giving me some sleep. Nothing chases the blues like a little hard work, so I began outside on my yard and then Carolyn's. Then I scrubbed the porch and stairs, shaming my housemates into helping. In fairly short order we cleaned the house better than it had seen since Mrs. Peralta died.

Then I dragooned them all, even Laurie, into some lacrosse at Rittler. After an hour even Cal was complaining, “What is this, Eric, basic training?”

“Have you worked out a few demons?” Z asked.

“It helped,” I told him. He walked ahead with his brother. So easy on the eyes, the two of them. I admired how much he and Darren looked alike, especially in almost identical sports clothes.

“They're amazing, aren't they,” Larry commented as they walked farther ahead. “That will be a terrific ad campaign if it's shot right.”

“Speaking of shot right, Cal, we ran into Ted Dorrance last night at the Sports Bar.”

“What was he doing there? That's breaking training.”

“He was having a beer - and forget I told you that. What I want to know is why you hinted he was gay. He sure didn't seem like it.”

“Neither do you; neither does Larry. Appearances are meaningless, I've learned. I said he's gay because he asked if he could suck my dick. And when I told him no he asked Larry.”

“Are you sure? Maybe he was joking.”

“It didn't seem that way,” Cal said.

“No, it didn't,” agreed Larry.

“Is he a good guy? Is he reliable?”

“I guess. Why are you asking?” Cal wanted to know.

“Because he and Darren have struck up a little friendship.”

“You just went way beyond my depth,” Cal shrugged.

“He seems ok; nothing too weird that I know of,” said Larry, “of course, I'm not too good at picking out the losers.”

“Will he play any more this season?”

“It's up to him. I don't know how motivated he is; that's one of his problems. His injury, a minor ACL tear, doesn't have to be season-ending unless he wants it to be,” Cal said.

The inadequacies of the house were obvious as everyone tried to shower at once. The second body in the stall had only warm water to work with. I noticed Cal used the hall shower, not the one in the attic, and dried off in Larry's room.

Later I asked him if there was anything wrong with the attic shower. He said no, he just wanted to talk to Larry. Talk? They talked all the time; they were closer than most couples I knew.

Sunday passed easier on my conscience and easier on my housemates as well. Larry walked around the house saying “My God, everything is so clean. Who knew there was a closet here? Look, there are TWO little tables in the living room!” Cal, who he had in stitches, was his best audience but I smiled as well.

“Come on, it wasn't THAT dirty.”

“It was, Eric; we should think about something regular,” Z said. “I don't want to be cooking in a dust storm.”

“Cooking?”

“I'm tired of being a busboy. I thought a step up the food chain might be interesting.”

“You don't work as a busboy much anymore,” I said.

“I was a waiter once. It sucked,” Cal said.

“You were a dishwasher who bussed tables,” Laurie corrected. “Waiters actually make pretty decent money if they're good.”

“I met a chef named Steve, who offered to take me on for instruction,” Z said.

Larry and I exchanged glances. “And he's about this high, Hispanic, and loves to get fucked?” Larry held out his hand chest high.

“Don't know about the getting fucked part, but yeah, that's him,” Z said.

“Don't go in any storerooms with him,” Larry hinted. Cal looked a little stricken as he did every time Larry acknowledged any sexual experience.

“Rittler?” I asked changing the subject, punching Luke's number into my cell. Luke and Mark agreed to join us. We gathered up the sticks and headed out. This time Laurie declined, saying she had a date.

Z went to get Darren and Seth; and, after changing to shorts, I called Reston from my bedroom. “Spur of the moment, Reston, you want to play a little pickup game of lacrosse?”

“Eric, I'm an old man. I can't keep up with you kids.”

“Oh, come on, nobody's any good. We just goof around and throw the losers in the bay. Rittler Park in about a half hour?”

I put the phone back in my pocket after Reston agreed and prepared to go downstairs. I stopped at my door seeing Cal and Larry at the end of hall; I didn't want to interrupt.

“It's just hard to hear about other guys, Larry, when you and I could be doing stuff.” Larry turned his head to avoid a kiss from Cal and Cal kissed his cheek.

“Ok, here's a promise. If you still feel this way when the season is over, I'll do anything you want,” Larry said. Cal took Larry's face in his hands and kissed him enthusiastically, backing him into the wall and grinding into him.

“See how hard you make me,” Cal said. “Four weeks.”

I delayed leaving my room and closed my bathroom door loudly. As I stepped into the hall I could see Cal's erection stressing out his shorts. I pretended not to notice. I grinned at the memory of the joke; it really wasn't that small. I think Larry figured out why I was smiling.

A car honked as the six of us were walking down Grand to the park. “Dorrance,” Cal yelled out, waving. “Come on, join us,” Larry offered.

Ted drove slowly, paralleling our walk. “My knee's messed up; I can't run.”

“Goalie,” I said and he agreed.

Reston was our other goalie and we had a decent but tame game, doing more passing than running. We didn't have any of the large-netted goalie sticks, so with that disadvantage plus the physical limitations of our goalies, it was a high scoring game.

Z invited everybody back to the house and said he was going to cook dinner. Darren, Seth, and Ted went to the beach and the rest of us walked to my house.

Mark and Reston, it turned out, knew a few people in common and were deep in conversation. Reston was apparently proposing that Mark's bank think about setting up a small investment banking operation to get together entrepreneurial software developers and angels with cash. Mark hinted that the cash might be a little dirty and Reston replied that all cash is dirty. Luke just rolled his eyes at me and said it was a partnership made in heaven.

Seth arrived from next door with the salt washed off from their swim and said Ted and Darren were still showering and should be right behind him. “Eric, I called Andrew and he invited himself,” Seth said. “I hope that's ok with Z.”

Z said everybody would have to eat a little less so put more beer in the refrigerator. He was starting with ceviche, which he said was easy and then cooking hamburgers in the back yard. “I don't know enough to stretch recipes yet; but I can make the burgers smaller. People might be hungry, though. Go get something for dessert, ok? Scalise's is open.”

“Yes, sir,” I told him but he ignored me while he struggled dicing some kind of raw fish. It occurred to me that Mrs. Peralta's kitchen equipment seemed ok to me, but I had better get Z some new knives, if he was serious about cooking. I knelt on the floor and pulled Z's shorts down a couple of inches.

“What are you doing?” he was surprised but kept on slicing the tuna.

“I'm kissing your ass, sergeant, before I carry out your orders.”

“Could you make me a lieutenant? Their uniforms are better.”

Luke was standing in the doorway and laughed, saying he'd go to Scalise's with me. As we were leaving Andrew gave me twenty dollars saying that he'd pay for the dessert. I demanded forty and he coughed it up, looking slightly alarmed by his own generosity.

Luke and I left passing first Ted and then Darren on their way in. Darren whispered the word “ex-virgin” in my ear. I pulled him aside and quietly issued an order of my own, “Do not tell your brother. Ok?” He just smiled. “I'm serious, Darren. Do not tell your brother.” He agreed, still grinning.

Luke asked what that was about and I ignored him, saying, “Being a parent sucks.”

“No it doesn't,” Luke said. “You love that young kid almost as much as you love Z. And, Eric, you and Z are astonishing together.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Z and I are terminally cute together; Darren is a little darling; and even my fucking mother, sorry Mom, is starting to shine.”

“I must have missed a lot not seeing you five nights a week. Your mother?”

In the fifteen minutes the trip to Scalise's took, I got Luke up to date. He liked the part about Colin Turner and reminded me that some fool was rebuilding the Tiki, too. We got back to the house and I put three pies, cherry, peach, and blackberry, on the buffet and ice cream in the freezer.

Seth admired the spread; he held out his hand and said to me, “Nice pies. Andrew wonders if there is any change left out of his forty.” I gave Seth a dollar seventy-three; it seemed like the right amount.

Z put bowls of ceviche and some tortillas around and watched as people started eating. Mark and Reston were still working on some kind of deal. Andrew was arranging Seth's week. Cal and Larry were making hand motions that meant they were discussing football with Luke. Darren and Ted were talking and looking awestruck by each other. I pulled Z back against me.

“What?” he asked.

“I like it when we're touching,” I told him, as if he hadn't heard that from me before.

Z looked happily around the room and then zeroed in on Ted and Darren. “They're drinking beer, God damn it.”

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
I've been offline most of the evening. I just logged in and saw the new post.

Very powerful, poignant. It's good that Eric has Duong and Chengyu to provide him with a little more information and insight.

But, in the final analysis, I understand his "guilt"; I'd likely be exactly the same way.

Then, the way you segued back into "real life" and the promised attendance at the game, and the follow-on dinner. The break from mourning to "family" banter was good.

And, as I his post, I see there's another installment waiting for me to read.
So, without further ado . . .

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
Sunday sounds like Saturday had a lot of healing behind it.

Z and Eric are good for each other, no doubt about it.

And, being parents may be the death of our poor boy - and keeping the other dad from hearing all about his baby bro', lol.

Ceviche and Burgers, and lots of pie a la mode.
Sounds good to me.

Thanks for the double header, Rory.

 

[justright25]

This story is fantastic. Every new chapter brings us closer into the circle of friends and makes us wonder what other clever twist to the story there will be. We can find at least one character with which we identify and that is always good in a story.