If I Should Fall

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT THE WHOLE TOWN IS QUIET UNDER THE FIRST SNOW, AND RUSSELL LEARNS SOMETHING WORTH KNOWING


OUTSIDE IT WAS JUST DARK enough for the snow to shine like rhinestones when it fell. Anigel Reyes put on her parka, went out onto the swath of grass in front of Balusik’s and watched. By March and the last storms of early April, it would be common and grey and irksome, but right now, in Mid-December, when its visitation had been waited for so long, on a night still as a hushed breath and blue as cobalt, those first shining crystals of snow, drifting to the cold concrete and old grass were welcome guests, missed friends.
Anigel had never given up on trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue. And she had never really succeeded, or at least, she didn’t think she had. Headed tilted back, mouth wide open on an early winter night that the calendar said was still fall, Anigel remembered. Memory was like a pool sometimes, and sometimes it was so salty with tears it was like the ocean and an unwelcome thing to fall into. But tonight it was gentle as the snow. Her first snow, her first Christmas Pageant, her first boyfriend, cocoa around the fire, how pretty her mother had been at one of the few family dinners the Reyes’ had ever managed, how Anigel had sat at the table between Bobby and Caroline and wished it would always be this way, this warm, this comfortable and safe and yet it had not been and yet here she was and she still alright.
Anigel remembered she had a phone call to make. A tradition never broken for nearly seven years.

Thom and Patti had not noticed, and Russell Lewis suspected that as the middle years set in, these things became less important. Or maybe they just never were important. After all, Aunt Jackie would run out for the first snow and probably, so would Grandma—both Grandmas. Russell could not imagine Ralph Balusik getting excited about the first snow. And why would he, and why would he think of Ralph Balusik of all people?
For the first and one of the last times in his life, when Russell willed himself to stop thinking about someone it worked. He put on the heavy, ugly beigy colored parka he’d bought at the Salvation Army, the one with the orange lining and the furry hood. He wrapped his large, long hand knit mustard colored muffler about his throat and went outside. At first he was just going to stand in the backyard, but then he decided to walk about the block.
He took his cigarettes with him, and Russell went down Breckinridge. At the end of this quiet block, he could see the street lights and hear the minor noises of Delauro and after that was the busy corner of Market Street.
He was paying no attention to the wide gray cement streets or the houses set far back on their yards with unwelcoming yellow lights behind curtains, nor was he paying attention to the naked trees over head or the occasional car that passed by, but to the cold which was not occasional, and to the crystals of snow that came down to the ground full of grace because they knew they had the next three months to fall and so they could afford to be graceful and they knew, unlike people who cling to things, that after those three months were gone, after three more seasons, their time would come again.
And Russell paid attention to the dark blue of the sky and was entranced by the whiteness of his breath and the gray gauziness of his cigarette smoke, and the smell of a burning Marlboro Red.
He had a brief urge to walk beyond to the huge apartment complex where Strogue Mominee lived with Bobby Reyes and past that to Shadybrook where Jack Kearn, Andy Dyko, Brad Long and Jeremy Bentham lived. Mark Young lived out there too, and Russell knew Gilead was with him tonight. That made Russell curious. It wasn’t that Gilead hid the truth. He was just quiet and private and kept things in his heart, and he knew Mark wasn’t a friend in the same way he and Gilead were friends. But was Mark a friend the way he and…
But here was Jason’s house.


“Hello,” Ross Allan picked up the phone in 301 Abelard Hall.
“Ross?”
“Anigel.”
“Do you know what night it is, my friend?”
“It’s Sunday night.”
“No.”
“I assure you it is,” said Ross.
“Well, fine, but aside from Sunday night. Do you know what night it is?”
“The next to the last Sunday of the semester before the Sunday you come up to Saint Alban’s.”
“Well that too.”
“The Sunday you finally dye your hair pink?”
“Ross!”
“Oh, I give—oh!”
“You know now.”
“Yes,” Ross said now. His door was open. Jimmy came in. Ross waved at his friend who mouthed, “I’ll come back later,” and Ross said. “I know what night it must be there, but we haven’t had that night here in Walter.”
“Well,” Anigel said. “We’re having it here.”
“The first snow.”
“The first snow.”
Like most good traditions this one had started by accident. Ross had been sixteen when his family had moved back to Ohio, and one night he had called Anigel in December and she had said it was the day of the first snow. So no matter what had happened, where one or the other had been, or how long time had gone without a phone call, or whose turn it should have been, over a series of accidents and years the pattern had emerged: with the first green bud, Ross called his friend, with the first day over ninety degrees, Anigel called Ross to complain. She hated heat. With the first fallen red leaf on dark green grass, Ross called Anigel, and with the first snow Anigel called Ross.
“Are you still coming next Sunday?” Ross asked.
“Is Lisbon still the capital of Spain?”
“No,” said Ross. “Actually it never was, It’s the capital of Portugal.”
“Did someone say Portugal?” Jimmy shouted from his room across the hall.
Ross ignored him.
“That’s what I meant,” she said. “Well, I mean yes, I’ll be there.”
“Are you bringing anyone?”
“Am I supposed to?”
“Bring Russell Lewis.”
“Good idea,” Anigel said, then they rang off.
Jimmy heard Ross exchange goodbyes and was in his friend’s room a moment later. “What’s that about Portugal?”
“Nothing.”
“Because you know I’m Portuguese.”
“I know, you’re always telling us like it’s something special.”
“It is,” said James Nespres. “So how ‘bout you shut the fuck up.”
Jimmy started to dance across the limited space of Ross’s room, taking shots at Ross stomach and sining, “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”
“What the hell’s gotten into you, Jimmy.”
“Come on, Ross,” he said. “I just looked out of my window. It’s snowing!”


In the darkness, as the window was open to thickly falling snow, the blue white light barely shone on them, the exhaled inhaled sounds of breath, sounds of pounding almost of punching and the rapid striving of bodies that resolved itself in a deep, and always surprised groan.
There were whispers in the dark, shuffling on the bed. It was too solid to creak, but now it moved gently, gently as two bodies, quicker now with a quicker rhythm followed by a more surprised more tenor cry, a pure one, as pure as the snow, settling on the bed. Silence.

He had been waiting for him. When Russell had knocked on his high window, the one you nearly had to stand up to look into or out of, the curtain had parted and he’d seen Jason’s eager face. Tonight they didn’t study. They didn’t talk. They just immediately began making out and undressing as if the first snow was a sign they had to.
Now they lay tangled and naked and satisfied and Russell always thought he should chew gum or do something to get the cigarette off of him, but Jason liked it and murmured, “Can I get one?”
“You never smoke.”
“Cept when I take one of yours,” Jason grinned.
Russell rolled over in bed while Jason rubbed his hand over his back, over his ass, began kissing him so intensely Russell almost forgot what he was doing.
A moment later they were both sharing a cigarette and Russell lay on his side, watching smoke exhale from Jason’s nostrils.
“Stay with me tonight,” Jason said.
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
Jason handed him the cigarette.
Russell pulled his knees up to his chest and sat naked beside Jason, leaning back so that smoke went to the ceiling andh is red hair fell from his face.
“You think Gilead is dating Mark Young?”
“I…. I dunno.” Jason waved off the cigarette and let Russell finish. “I hadn’t thought of it. They are close and all. Are you all not?”
“Close? No, we are. It’s not like I don’t see him all the time, and it’s not like I’m jealous, but Mark takes him places. Sort of like a boyfriend.”
“Am I your boyfriend?”
“I’m here.”
“You’re here,” Jason tapped the bed, looking up at Russell from where he reclined on one elbow, “but I don’t take you no place. No one says, Are Russell and Jason together?”
“Do you want them to?” Russell laughed. “At a school where they say faggot more than fuck?”
“Are you embarrassed by me?”
“No!” Russell said. “And I don’t give a fuck about anyone’s opinion either.”
“Then why don’t we start going places?”
Russell wanted to say, “Well, shit, you were at my house when Jackie and Kristin had their babies.” Or, “We see each other all the time.”
Whatever Gilead had with Mark, it was clear to see they… as Chayne would say about Rob… answered something in each other. There was such a clear delight that one had found in the other something he’d always been looking for. As much as he liked Jason, that was something he could not say about him
But when Jason said, “Let’s start going out places,” and “You should stay here tonight, cause next weekend, you’re leaving town,” to both things, Russell said, “Yes.”
He compromised. He told Jason his parents needed to see him at home and in bed come morning, and Jason smiled and said, “Then that leaves us most of the night. And I’ll drive you home.”
“I can walk.”
“I,” Jason said in a voice that was gentle, but didn’t bear argument, “will drive you home.”
And it did and when he smiled Russell realized that, though Jason was nothing like his other half or his soul mate, he loved Jason and liked him and desired him and the things that happened when they made love in his bed were so amazing that already his skin was tingling, his penis was stiffening again. He was reaching up to turn off the lamp and pulling the covers over the two of them so that once again they were taken into the darkness of a snowy night and all the pleasure it promised.


The thing about Marlboro Reds, at least for him, Russell reflected, was that he was unable to have more than one at a time. He could still feel the affects when he creeped in through the back door and went up the back steps to his room. He had not been hiding from his parents, he just didn’t want them to always know where he was. Sometimes he needed for no one to know where he was.
It was warm in the house and Russell stripped in his room without feeling cold. He liked sleeping naked, the feel of the sheets and covers against his skin. Of late he enjoyed the feel of his skin and felt at home in the growing body that had been so strange to him. That had felt like a prison. The lights were out in his room, He undressed in the dark with the curtain open and the nighttime world, his eyes adjusted too, full of the wonder of snow, old grass, persistent flowers and naked trees.
There was a light in the Dwyer’s back yard. Like a spy he went to look out of his window.
It was in the back part of Cameron’s yard, where the yard dipped a second tier covered in trees. But the leaves were gone from the trees, and looking down from the Lewis house, Russell could see a man. It was Mr. Dwyer. And he was smoking.
At first it seemed large for a cigarette and not at all how you would smoke one. And then why wouldn’t a grown man smoke in his own house, especially one that large?
And then Russell began to put things together, Niall always carrying on about how someone was stealing his stuff, the fact that he knew Niall sold pot, though where he got it from Russell didn’t know. And he had heard the other day someone going on about how the Dwyer kid had stiffed him on a bag. Then there was Cameron being accused of taking things from Niall that Russell knew she didn’t use, the general unhappiness in the house next door, Cameron telling Russell how strange her dad was acting.
Russell stood there, naked, head cocked to the side, transfixed in the darkness of his bedroom.
Bill Dwyer was getting high.

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! Nice to see more of Anigel. Russell had a big night with Jason then a big surprise. I was shocked that Bill was getting high but I guess that explains some of his actions. Excellent writing and I look forward to reading more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yeah, Bill is just doing a whole hell of a lot this year, isn't he? A nice return to our girl Anigel, and the introduction of Ross Allan as well as the return of Jimmy Nespres. Tomorrow, though, we'll get back to Brad and Nehru who are still tangled up and doing their thing.

 

[ChrisGibson]

AS WE FINISH THIS CHAPTER AND THIS WEEK, ROMANCE IN GESHICHTE FALLS HAS ITS UPS AND IT HAS ITS DOWNS

As night fell, Brad closed the curtains and found the lights. Even as they’d been making love, the lightness that overcame them was the lightness that happens when you do precisely what you have to do, even if you cannot see the way beyond it. The tub was clean enough and they showered together, more to touch each other’s skin than to be clean, and then, when they had dressed, catching hands, they descended the back stair after locking the door and straightening up the apartment. Their hearts soared, and for Nehru it was one of those moments when he was absolutely connected to another person. In the overgrown yard behind the Noble Red, Brad took him by his face and kissed him.
“We’re together now, and that’s a fact,” Brad Long said.
“You are in a very good mood, Mr. Long,” Nehru noticed, and
“We’re moving in together,” Brad said. “Oh, and by the way, we’re gonna start playing at the Blue Jewel and at parties. We got a bar mitzvah in East Sequoya on the third of January.”
Nehru raised his eyebrow.
Brad smiled broadly at his friend and winked. “You’re the first to know. Also, we’re getting paid a little more for the Blue Jewel. I thought it would be wrong—and a little stupid to jack up prices at the Noble Red. Incidentally, for parties we’re charging even more. And people are willing to pay, believe it or not.”
“I believe it.”
“Wonderful, my friend.”
They were silent in the car for a few moments. Then Brad, who had known his friend for a few years now, raised his eyebrow and turned to Nehru.
“What?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“I know you, you little black spider. You’re sitting there weaving your webs and—”
“And I was wondering, does this mean you would even think about setting foot in a recording studio?”
Then Nehru turned to look innocently out of the window. “This town is so pretty when it’s just snowed.”
“Okay,” said the guitarist to the singer, “you win.”
“I should,” said Nehru. “I’ve been fighting you for two years.”
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
Nehru nodded.


They were together, but they had to tell people in their time, in the morning. They could not be discovered tonight. They drove an hour to Holland and saw men and men together, people who were just like them, but too old to be them, or maybe too rich. Brad drove a little north to a poorer town, and they ate dinner there, and they did not discuss children or houses or the future like some couples, but they discussed the album and the long put away songs, and how much better things were now, and Brad told Nehru: “When we get home, I’ll get out some clean bedsheets. This will be the first time you’ve stayed the night.”
Neither of them said a word about Marissa. That would be for tomorrow and the light of day. Tonight was for them, and then the other nights as well.



“Do you really have to ask?” Gilead Story demanded Monday morning, shutting his locker.
“But we just talked to Niall, and he thinks Cameron’s taking his stuff, and Cameron doesn’t understand what’s going on with her father and,” the more he talked the more Gilead cocked his head at Russell until Russell had talked himself out.
“And I guess what you’re saying is I should just keep it to myself?”
“Like I said,” said Gilead. “Did you really have to ask?”
“Gil, Russell,” Mark said, clumsily bumping his shoulder into Gilead as, on the other side, floppy haired Nicky Ballantine did the same to Russell.
“You guys going to lunch?” Nicky asked.
“As opposed to?” Gilead said.
“We’re on our way to the caf.”
“We’re all on our way to the caf,” Gilead said, unimpressed.
“Mind if me and Nicky and Joe eat with you?”
“You can eat wherever you—” Gilead began.
“We’d love it,” Russell said, kicking Gilead quickly as they went down the hall.

In the cafeteria, Adam, Jeremy and Dyko saw Gilead and Russell at a different table, and then they just simply sat down and joined them. Soon, some of Mark’s friends, Gilead had never seen showed up, and Russell said, “I like this new configuration.”
“New configurations are good,” Mark said to him.
He said to Gilead, “You free later? Around five-thirty?”
“What happens at five-thirty?”
“Well, track ends at five thirty. So I guess six. Is six too late. Cause I wanna shower and stuff. But, that’s probably more like six thirty to get to you. Unless you’re at Chayne’s.”
“Gil’s always at Chayne’s,” Nick Ballantine said.
“Unless six-thirty is too late.”
“Six-thirty isn’t too late,” Russell said.
Gilead, half of a ravioli in his mouth, looked at Russell.
“It’s not,” Russell said. “Six-thirty is fine.”

Jawarhalal Nehru Alexander had always felt solitary. He knew he possessed a strength others didn’t, but this was for the simple reason he never expected to be protected, never expected to be wrapped up in someone else’s arms or be so at home in someone’s bed, his skin pressed to Brad’s skin, his breathing going out as Brad’s was going in.
“We gotta get up,” Brad murmured.
Nehru ignored him. They fiddled their legs together and turned around, Nehru burying his head in Brad’s chest.
“I have to be at the library at ten, and don’t you have early class?” Brad reminded him.
They kissed and played, but everything else could wait. They dressed and came upstairs and had toaster pastries, and then Brad dropped Nehru off at Soubirous. Brad Long was not heartless. It was only that he loved Nehru and he knew, for the first time in his life maybe, exactly what he had to do. So he wasn’t afraid to face Marissa. He was eager to put the truth out there for all. He wasn’t even afraid of coming out, if coming out was what he had to do.
When he entered the library, Marissa was coming to him, happy, and he was happy to see her. He did not resent her. He loved her, and loved to see her smile even if, he imagined, she would not be smiling in a moment.
She took him by the hand, and Brad followed her to her office. There, Marissa embraced him and kissed him.
“Marissa,” Brad said, caught of guard, thrilled by the kiss but remembering Nehru’s deeper kiss, remembering their bodies tangled together in the night, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Yes,” Marissa said. “And there’s something I have to tell you. Me first. Please!”
She seemed so excited, and after all, what he had to say was so awful, he ceded to her.
“I’m pregnant!” Marissa announced. “We—you and me—we’re pregnant.”
And as Marissa’s arms wrapped around him, Brad Long felt his entire world hit with a delicate hammer and shattered to nothing.


They were all sitting around in the lounge of Soubirous that Friday afternoon when Nehru said, “Well, I would like to thank you, Robert Keyes, for being completely weird to us, and you Anigel Reyes, for running off on a fabulous trip to Walter, Michigan to visit a cousin I’m not invited to see.”
“Well did you want to go to Walter?” Anigel asked.
“No. But it’s the principle behind the point, not that I would expect Ross to understand.”
“Of course he would,” said Anigel tired, lighting a cigarette. “He’d say the same thing. The two of you really are family.
“And I don’t understand what I did to become the target of Nehru Alexander’s rage, either,” said Rob.
“Well, now I do,” Anigel said, much to Rob’s disappointment. “And even the band is weird.”
“The band,” Nehru said.
“Cody’s been hanging out with them. Leon’s out of commission. Then Shane Meriwether, runnin’ around red faced, ducking his head from everybody. No sign of Jill. It’s like he killed her instead of fu—well,” Anigel settled down, “you know.”
“Yeah,” Rob grinned and nodded. “I know. I... I don’t know why Shane is so—”
“Brad says it’s because he felt all special and shy and virginal,” said Nehru, and Rob looked at him, startled.
“Brad didn’t say it quite that way,” Anigel clarified.
“No,” Nehru agreed, “but he did say it.
“And he also said—”
“That man says a lot,” Rob interrupted.
“He said that’s the same way you were being with Chayne.”
“Me?” Rob said.
“Shy and bashful and virginal.”
“Not from what I heard going on downstairs the other night,” Anigel murmured.
But at this, Rob did turn red and sink lower into his chair.
“I think it’s beautiful,” Nehru said.
“And what about you?” Rob said to Nehru.
“I may have news for all of you,” Nehru said.
“Really?” Anigel, who had been twirling a strand of her black hair around one long finger said, sitting up.”
“Really,” Nehru said. “But talking about me doesn’t take the conversation off or Rob.”
“It really should,” Rob said.
“And yet no.”
“Well,” Rob nodded. “I guess he’s right. I’ve never been with someone I loved before. And you guys didn’t know me until now, so it’s sort of like a first time for me.”
“Oh, Rob,” Anigel touched his cheek. “You’re blushing, that’s cute.”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.” Then she said, “Brad Long, what the hell are you doing here?”
Nehru turned around to see the tall figure of Brad Long, looking only a little silly in chinos and blue shirt, fists on hips.
“I’m here to pick up Nehru.”
“Chauffer service and all,” said Anigel, “Damn, I’m afraid of you, boy.”
“I’m glad you showed up,” Nehru said, throwing his book bag over his shoulder. “I thought I was going to have to wait for Ani to get out of her last class.”
“Well, I had a car today,” Brad explained, “and I knew your last class was at two. Believe it or not, I do pay attention.”
“Now, I’m depressed,” Rob said.
They all looked at him.
“Well the semester’s over and we won’t be back for a month, I’m gonna miss everything.”
Suddenly Anigel said, “Me too.”
Nehru was about to become sad when he said, “Hold up, morons. We all live in the same town. We’ll see each other.”
“It’s not even a very big town,” Brad added.
“Yeah,” Rob smiled, then said, “but somehow there’s something special about us all seeing each other—here.”

In the car, Nehru was about to kiss Brad, when Brad said, “Wait a minute.”
“Okay?”
“Did you tell the other anything?”
“About us?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why is it good?” Nehru looked irritated.
“Because this morning Marissa told me she was pregnant.”



MORE NEXT WEEK MY FRIENDS

 

[CharmedFan28]

Damn I did not expect Marissa’s pregnancy. Just when Brad and Nehru were planning their life together. I am very interested to see what happens next! Great writing and have a nice weekend!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, just when Brad and Nehru had sorted things out and were on their way to a beautiful life: Marissa is pregnant. Damn.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT WE FINISH ONE CHAPTER AND MOVE TOWARD THE LAST



The day Gilead Story’s arms worked ahead of his mind, when his carefully crafted journal was seized by a shiny eyed Mark Young and he put him in a headlock, was a life changing one. In that moment, grinning and surprised all at once, the boy with the smirk on his lips and the wavy dark hair was blinking up at him and Gilead thought that there was something about this murderous grip, as he took the journal from Mark’s hand, that could last forever. He regretted letting him go.
Nor did this moment translate to more headlocks or more conversations. He had been alarmed that day on the field when Mark approached them. Alarmed, alarmed, alarmed and now, he admitted, excited.
And why on earth was he pretending not to care. So much had happened in the last few months. The once deep hatred between Jason Lorry and Russell had transformed into a friendship and, Gilead supposed, a romance. Chayne and Rob had taken up together. And here was Mark.
And how do I feel about him?
“I love this song!” Mark said delightedly.
They were headed up the road to Saint Gregory’s, and he cranked up the radio singing to the Cranberries, badly:

But I'm in so deep
You know I'm such a fool for you
You got me wrapped around your finger
Do you have to let it linger?
Do you have to, do you have to,
do you have to let it linger?

Gilead liked to sing as much as the next person, but hated to sing in the car. Mark beat on the steering wheel and hummed, made noise to the rest of the song because neither one of them knew the words. After all of Mark’s noise, at last, when they came to the refrain, Gilead, who really could sing, did.
“That was good,” Mark grinned at him.
“I know.”
“You’re a man of secrets, Mr. Story.”
“Not really,” Gilead said. “I mean, it wasn’t a secret to me.
“Speaking of secrets,” Gilead said, “Where are we going?”
“I dunno,” Mark said. “I just felt like driving. You mind?”
Gilead said, “No.”



THE SKY WAS GREY AND solid as a steel bowl over the football field, and as the team came running out all cleats, silver pants and red jerseys with overlarge shoulders, Gilead Story said, “This sort of makes me sad, the last football game.”
“Well,” Russell said, “there’s basketball right after.
“It’s not the same,” Gilead shook his head.
No, it wasn’t.
They all stood at the bleachers in the seats, looking right over the cheerleaders and the football team. Russell could see Ralph paling it up with Ryan Mc.Kenzie, punching him in the arm and putting back on his helmet.
“I know, what you’re thinking,” said Gilead.
“What?” Russell demanded of his friend.
“I can’t phrase it any better than you can,” Gilead told him. “But I know.”
“Gil! Russell!”
Gilead and Russell looked down to see, with Chris Knapp, Linh Pham and Cameron in their impossibly short skirts. It was too cold for all of that.
“What are you all doing tonight?” Chris called.
Cameron said, “I think my house might even be on limits.”
“Was it not before?” Linh said, putting her pom poms down.
“It was a little hairy,” Cameron said. “But now Dad’s going to this health club a few times a week, and he feels a lot better.”
Russell wondered what the hell was at the health club.

“This is stupid,” Brad Long said.
“You know it isn’t. You know it’s necessary.”
“I will go over there right now,” Brad said. “I will tell her thr truth.”
“The truth is that you got her pregnant and Marissa is having your child and a child should have a family.”
When Brad said nothing, Nehru added, “And the truth is, if you had disagreed with me, if you found being with Marissa that unpleasant, you would have told her right away.”
Brad Long stood in the middle of his basement, Nehru beside him. The younger man was in a forest green parka, his tall friend in a brown coat with a furred hood.
“I’m not giving you up,” Brad said. “You can’t ask me to do that. Not after the other night. Not after what happened here.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Nehru said. “I think your baby should have a mom and a dad—”
“He’ll have a mom and a dad no matter what.”
“I think you owe him a chance, and… I think I owe it to myself, that you not sleep next to me and think about how you should be with her.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You would.”
And then Brad realized that was true, but Nehru said.
“However, I am not so selfless I’d give you up. If I can’t have you in the light, I’ll have you in the dark. I’ll have you however I can.”
He wasn’t looking at Brad when he reached under his coat, when he cupped him and began massaging him, feeling him harden in his khakis.
Brad moaned and pressed himself against Nehru, wrapping his arms about him.
“Is that door locked?”
“Of course it is,” Brad said.
“Do we even have time?”
“We always have time.”

After sex, they dressed slowly. Nehru was coming out of the bathroom, drying his face and Brad was standing in the middle of his old room, buttoning his trousers.
“It’s a little humiliating to think that I can fit my whole life into four boxes,” said Brad.
“I think it’s very zen.”
Brad smiled at his friend, and then laughed. He picked up the heaviest box, and Nehru picked up two. Brad opened the red metal door and went out of it to the new car.
“I haven’t seen your parents,” Nehru said as he stuffed his boxes in the trunk.
“Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen them in a year.”
In the night, Brad opened the back door, slid the box in and said, “That’s because much like Charlie Brown, though I remain disenchanted with society, and attempt to be a sort of social conscience, I have never actually grown up and if you talk to my mother and father, they always reply, WAW WAW WAW WAW WAW.”
And then Brad headed back into the house to get the last box.
Before they left, Brad said, “It’s really good of you to be worried about this baby.”
“Okay,” Nehru said, lifting the last small box and waiting for Brad to say something else.
“And it’s good for you to think about Marissa. I just hope you aren’t doing this because you’re afraid of what will happen when it’s just you and me.”

They left the broad, small treed area of Conastoga Drive and headed for the section of little old houses where Nehru lived, not far from Little Poland and north of Keyworthy and Breckinridge, ending up on the winding Indragal Road. When they reached the small house on 123 it smelled of scented candles and incense and Marissa rushed up to embrace Nehru.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” she told him, almost making Nehru drop the box he carried.
Nehru looked from Brad, who was carrying a box low, under his hips, to Marissa, who was surprisingly giddy.
“This really makes you happy, doesn’t it?” Nehru said.
“It all makes me happy,” said Marissa. “Everything is changing. Everything will be so wonderful from now on.”


TOMORROW WE BEGIN THE LAST CHAPTER OF IF I SHOULD FALL

 

[CharmedFan28]

Well things are very complicated with a baby on the way for Marissa and Brad and him still wanting to be with Nehru. I wonder what will happen? It’s going to be very interesting. Mark and Gilead are very cute! Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Mark and Gilead are the saving graces of a really shabby event. Brad and Nehru are at quite a crossroads and things really are sort of a mess and will have to resolve themselves, though it is doubtful it will happen in this novel, and by doubtful I mean, certain that it will not happen in this novel.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CHAPTER THE LAST

LIFE AT SAINT ALBANS



Russell and Gilead spent the night at the Dwyers and when they came across the yard to 1735 Breckinridge the next morning, Thom and Patti were smoking their cigarettes and drinking coffee.
“A girl called you,” Thom gloated.
“A woman called,” Patti said, not sounding pleased at all.
“What’s the number?” Russell said. Thom read it off of the refrigerator and Russell said, “Oh, that’s no woman. It’s Anigel.”
That afternoon, after Gilead left, Russell called up Anigel.
“When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow!” she cried. “I’ll pay for your ticket. I’m good for it.”
Russell was flabbergasted. “But I’m still in school. We don’t get off until the day before Christmas Eve.”
“Well then I guess we just gotta find a way to get you away for three or four days,” she said, nonplussed. “Say, what about Chayne?”
“What about him?”
“If Chayne just took you out of school for three days, would your parents say anything?”
“They wouldn’t be pleased,” Russell admitted. “But they couldn’t say no.”


The phone rang and Chayne picked up.
“Oh?” Chayne said. Then, “Oh.”
Then he said, “Oh.”
That’s a lot of O, Rob said.
Chayne put the phone to his chest and said, “Gil, it’s for you.”
“For me?”
Gilead got up and came to the phone.
“It’s your boyfriend, Mark Young.”
“That’s not funny,” Gilead said, taking the receiver as Chayne sat down.
“Who says I was joking?”
Gilead simply said, “What’s up? Oh… Yes. Yeah. Ok.”
Rob heard Gilead’s voice change and said, “Chayne, you might be right?”
“I often am.”
“Yes,” Gilead said, sounding kinder than he’d ever sounded before.
“Mark’s on his way,” Gilead said. “We’re going to Saint Gregory.”
“What’s in Saint Gregory?”
Gilead shrugged and said, “Nothing, but in an hour I guess us.”
The phone rang again and Rob put a hand over Chayne’s.
“I got it.”
“Rob,” it was Anigel, “Is Chayne home?”
Rob handed the phone to Chayne.
“It’s Anigel.”
“Ani?”
“Chayne? Could you do me a favor?....”

That afternoon, while Thom and Cody were playing chess in the living room, and Russell was watching them, but paying more attention to the guitar he strummed, a black hearse rolled up to 1735 Breckinridge.
Thom answered the door before Chayne could ring and Chayne stood there in jeans and flannel and said, “I won’t be staying for long. I just wanted to confirm that I was taking Russell to New England with me tomorrow.”
Thom cocked his head at Chayne.
“We leave at about eight o’clock tomorrow evening. I’ll be getting him some good connections into East Coast universities. There’s a professor I really want him to meet.”
Thom said nothing. Chayne went back to the hearse, Russell followed.
“Go back inside. It’s too cold for corduroys and tee shirt.”
“Did Anigel send you?” Russell asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You lied for me!” Russell exulted.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“No,” Russell acknowledged. “No it wouldn’t be.”
“Well,” Chayne climbed into the car and shrugged as he stuck his key into the ignition. “If you didn’t have at least one unscrupulous adult in your life, what would you do?”


Cecelia
you’re breaking my heart
you’re hsaking my confidence, daily
Oh Cecelia
I’m down on my knees
i’m begging you please to come home
Cecelia
you’re breaking my heart!

Ross Allan was in his room on a Sunday night listening to Simon and Garfunkel very loudly. Loud did not happen on Sunday night, but this was the end of the year and so just this once, rules were suspended.
Money Carroll was banging on her ceiling—his floor. Ross ignored her. Flipper Sanders knocked on the door and entered without permission.
“Turn that shit up!” he roared


Jubilation
I’m down on my knees
I fall on the floor and I’m laughing
Jubilation
I fall on my knees and I’m laughing...


Then Money Carroll came up the stairs and roared, “Bitch, didn’t you hear me banging on your floor?”
“Yeah?” said Ross, nonplussed.
“Then get your ass down here and have a drink with me.”
She looked at the black haired elfin figure beside Ross and said, “Flipper can come too.”

“We’re studying for a human service’s exam,” Money informed Ross, passing him the bottle. The liquor burned his throat. He passed it to Flipper. The blacklight made it impossible to see the bottle or much else and the Grateful Dead was blasting.
Money Caroll touched Ross’s arm and said, “The Dead were very socially active.”
Flipper and Ross had been in Money Carroll’s room, doing shots with her and her roommate about a half hour when Coral Richards came in and said, “What the hell are you all doing?”
“We’re studying,” Money told her, innocently.
“Well, I’m trying to have sex, so keep it down, bitches,” she said and turned around and walked out of the room.
“Pay her no attention,” said Money. “She’s completely dressed.”
“Coral has ways,” said Flipper, knowingly.
“I want you to know,” Money told Ross, “that I really admire you. And I’m not saying that just because I’m ripped... Even though I am. I want you to have something.”
“Your virginity?” Flipper interjected.
“No,” Money stood up and went to her dresser, “I misplaced that a long time ago. I think it’s in Louisiana.”
She went rummaging through her drawers and came out holding a white tee shirt with a basketball on it.
“Cool people never leave my room without presents. You must have this,” she folded it and handed the tee shirt reverently to Ross, then kissed him on the head. She inhaled from Marianne’s cigarette, blew some in Ross’s face and said, “Now you are blessed, my child.”
Just then Macy and Jimmy came into the room and said, “Bitch, we’ve been looking all over for you. Are you ready to go to the train station?”
“Are you all leaving early?” Money looked anxious.
“No, we’re going to get our cousin and Ross’s really hot friend,” Jimmy said. “We’re bring’em back here for a few days.”
“Great,” said Money, “when you all get back, bring them here so they can help us study.”

“I am so excited,” Jimmy said as they drove in Macy’s Escort toward the train station.
“I don’t know why,” said Macy, turning on Denham Road, “It’s not like she’s going to fuck you.”
“You never know,” said Jimmy, who had been mooning over the photographs on Ross’s wall of Anigel Reyes.
“No,” Ross agreed, “But I know. You can just put that idea out of your head.”
“I hope we’re not late,” said Macy.
But there was no train at the little station when they got there right before midnight, and no one was waiting on the platform for them.
It was about ten minutes before the train rolled into Walter Michigan, and Ross and his two friends got out of the car to meet it. Only two people got off of it. It was only Walter, after all, and Ross threw his arms about Anigel while the three cousins stared at each other.
“We didn’t know you’d be coming until last night,” Jimmy told Russell.
“I didn’t know you guys would meet us at the station,” Russell said.
“Take the last train to Clarksville and I’ll meet you at the station!” Macy sang in her crow’s voice.
“Don’;t quit your day job,” Ross told her.
“How bout you shut the fuck up?” Macy suggested.
“Okay, Jimmy, Macy, meet Anigel Reyes.”
Anigel shook Macy’s hand first because she hated pretty women who ignored other women and jumped to men first, and Anigel was coming to terms with the fact that she was a pretty woman. Jimmy only nodded and blushed and bobbed his head in Anigel’s presence, and she knew why.
“Now, we’ve got a party to get back to guys,” Ross was telling Anigel and Russell as he threw their bags into the Escort.
“How did you get Cousin Patti to let you come here?” Macy wondered.
“I didn’t,” Russell explained. “She thinks I’m on the east Coast looking at universities.”
“Well,” Jimmy allowed, “it’s not completely untrue.”

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

A great start to this last chapter! I look forward to seeing Anigel and co’s trip. Russell is lucky Chayne lied for him. I like their friendship a lot as they seem to completely trust each other. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I'm glad you enjoyed it. Especially Chayne and Russell. I feel very strongly that a young person needs one unscrupulous adult on their side. I wish I'd had more. i'm glad when I can be that adult.

 

[ChrisGibson]

RUSSELL AND ANIGEL ARRIVE AT SAINT ALBANS AND RUSSELL IS REUNITED WITH HIS COUSINS JIMMY AND MACY


“My name’s Money Carroll,” the round faced while girl with dreadlocks and the mascaraed eyes open in permanent shock said, “and I’m a human service’s major.”
“Actually,” her roommate said, “Her name is Agnes—which is why she calls herself Money, I mean, wouldn’t you. And I’m Marianne Mahoney. I’m not really Irish, and I’m definitely not Catholic. I’m a poli-sci major.”
“Flipper Sanders—”
“Richard actually,” said Coral.
Flip shrugged, “I used to be a phys ed major and a football player believe it or not—”
“But now,” said Coral, shooting out a gush of smoke, “he’s a bisexual and a music major.”
Anigel shook his hand and said, “How do you major in bisexuality?”
“Practice.”
“You’ll have to show me sometime,” she laughed.
“You’re as unshockable as Ross,” Flipper exalted. “I like you.”
“And you?” Russell pointed at Coral, who was nearly a foot shorter than him.
“I, young one, am Coral Richards.”
“What’s your interest?” Anigel said.
“Fucking people. But my major’s English Lit.”
.
At about three in the morning Ross stretched, put out his cigar and said, “I’m going to bed.”
It was decided Anigel would stay in Ross’s room. She’d have the twin bed and Ross would take the chair, while Russell stayed in Jimmy’s room. He stretched and Jimmy said the door was open, and then continued to hit on Marianne Mahoney. Russell nodded to his cousin and went up the stairs after Ross and Anigel.
In Ross’s room, they undressed backs to each other, and then Anigel said, “Is it alright to turn around?” Ross replied that it was, and in pajama pants and tee shirts they faced each other. Ross, taking out his cigars, Anigel her cigarettes.
“I’m not really sleepy,” she said, reaching under her tee shirt to unhook her bra and pulling it out.
“That is so cool,” Ross remarked, and then said, “Neither am I.”
“Then why—”
“Russell was, and he’d never go to bed unless we did. It has been a long day,” Ross told her.
“True enough,” she agreed. “So are midterms always like this?”
“Most days in Abelard Hall are like this. It’s a senior dorm. We don’t have security. Every now and then you can catch Coral walking down the hall with her bong.”
“The cute guy…?” started Anigel.
“Flipper?” Ross guessed.
“Yeah? Is he really bi?”
“Pretty much. His boyfriend stops by regularly. Really nice guy, too.”
“That so screws up my night,” Anigel said, climbing into the bed and taking the ashtray Money had donated into bed with her.
“Well, look at it. He is bi, so you’re still on the table.”
“I wish he’d put me on a table,” she remarked, then said, “He’s bi, he’s white and he’s got a man? No way in hell. That’s some shit Meredith would try.”
“How is Meredith?”
“Damned if I know.”
Then she said, “Damned if I care. And we were pretty much best friends in high school. It’s like she just dropped off the face of the earth.”
“Maybe she just exploded after all.”
Ross had not meant it as a joke, but all of a sudden, Anigel snorted smoke out of her nostrils at the image, and so did Ross.
They heard a scream.
“What the fuck was that?” Anigel’s eyes rolled like a horse’s.
“It’s best to ignore it.”
“I’d agree if Russell was with us, but we don’t know what the hell’s going on in this crazy house.”

A shaft of fluorescent light from the hallway slid into the darkness of the small dorm room and woke up Russell Lewis. The church bell over Abelard Hall rung twice in the night.
“Shut the door,” Jimmy whispered, half laughing. “You’ll wake my cousin.”
“Is it alright?” Russell heard Marianne Mahoney’s voice as the door closed.
Jimmy shifted his gaze to Russell who seemed to be sleeping on the other mattress and Russell, by instinct, shut his eyes tight.
“Yeah,” said Jimmy. “He’s asleep.”
“Jimmy,” said Marianne. Then, “Jimmy!” she pleaded. Then, “Get a condom. Get a condom she begged.
On his mattress, Russell began to grow hot. His mouth went dry.
“Hold on,” Jimmy said. Russell shut his eyes tighter.
“Let me put it on,” he heard Marianne say. “Let me.”
And then, with rare prescience, Russell realized that if he didn’t look now, he’d always wonder. The debate in his head over was it right to watch his cousin copulating only lasted a second. If it wasn’t right he could repent. He had a strong sense that it wasn’t right. He had am strong sense he’d never repent.
He’d seen this before, earlier this year at the very party where he’d met Anigel, His own Jason had made Ralph Balusik watch him have sex. He watched now, in the half darkness. Marianne laughing, his cousin chuckling, but walking strangely with his boxers around his knees and his pants down, carrying her. Chuckling, nuzzling her. Did Ralph do it like this, or was Ralph too young? Did Ralph even know what he was doing? Ralph had not only been with Vanessa, he’d has sex with Cody too. Why was he even thinking of Ralph? Russell was getting hard.
Jimmy lowered Marianne onto the mattress. She shrieked out a laugh. Jimmy clapped a hand over her mouth and looked in Russell’s direction. Russell half shut his eyes and feigned sleep. Through his eyelashes he saw Jimmy slide inside her. Marianne’s hands went under Jimmy’s shirt, to caress his back, presumably to caress his ass under the shirt tail.
Russell watched his cousin fuck Marianne Mahoney, slower, getting quicker and quicker, Marianne letting out gasp, Jimmy remembering to put a hand over her mouth. Jimmy looked transfixed, he looked lost in something that Russell’s mouth dried as he tried to contemplate as his cousin’s speed increased and the bed creaked more and more frantically, and then Jimmy stifled a scream and turned his head away from Russell’s sight and to the wall as, groaning, his body arched and the bed seized its squeaking.
Russell turned away now, hot and ashamed. He hadn’t been meant to see that. He heard his cousin murmur a few words, the bed sigh as they got off of it. Jimmy walked across the room to the trash can. A few seconds later he was opening the door. Weak white light came in. They left. Russell hoped he’d be asleep by the time his cousin came back. He wasn’t. He heard Jimmy strip down and crawl into bed.
“Goonight ceiling,” he heard Jimmy whisper. “Goodnight wall.”
The church bells ring.
“Night bells.”
Then he whispered affectionately to the cousin he thought was sleeping, “Goodnight, Russ.”

The next morning, when the wintertime light came dark and watery through the slats of Jimmy’s window, Russell woke up hard, and his flannel boxers were sticking to him. Since he’d been sleeping with Jason this hadn’t happened, and it certainly had never happened away from home. As he got up and dug around in his duffel bag for a washcloth and second pair of underwear, he wondered if Cameron and Linh felt this way about their periods.
The hallway of Abelard Hall was very hot. The heat never went off, but Jimmy’s room was cold when Russell returned, and his cousin was in a ball in his bed in the corner of the room, huddled under one blanket. He must have given the rest of them to Russell. Russell worked with the old radiator under the window until he heard it whining and banging from somewhere below them that meant heat was on the way. Then he looked from his mattress, which Jimmy had stolen from a vacant room, to his cousin. The Jimmy grunted a snore. Russell took off one of his blankets and placed it over his cousin.
The small bookshelf that every room had only had Jimmy’s school books lying on it, some floppy disks and CDS and his lap top. There was an M&M mdispenser shaped like a blue candy playing the trumpet, and when you cranked it’s arm, candy would come out—if you put candy in—which Russell, realized—Jimmy hadn’t. There was Jimmy’s old trumpet lying on the top of the small shelf. There was nothing on the wall except a huge poster of Fats Waller and a bulletin board with a few pictures. These must be his cousins. These must be Jimmy’s brothers and sister. He saw them from time to time. The one older than Jimmy was a priest now. Jeff his name was. There was a boy, Keith, that looked a lot like Russell, like his Laujinesse cousins back in Ohio, and like his Laujinesse cousins, Russell had never gotten to know him well, and thought he’d probably like him. There were lots of pictures of Keith or Jimmy with Keith. Keith at his piano. That’s right, Keith played piano. And there was a white house in the middle of a city block, simple, porched with two dormer windows over the porch. Must have been their house in Maryland. And Russell was startled to his see his Grandfather Frank and his Grandmother Sara in a picture with people, but then, of course, Jimmy was family.
Jimmy’s little alarm clock said that it was only six fifteen. Jimmy was asleep. Russell thought he would do the same.

“Russell,” Russell heard his cousin hiss in his ear, Jimmy’s his spidery hand shaking him.
“time to get up.”
“What time—” Russell stifled himself with a yawn.
“Almost eight. I’d be late for class if I had one this week. We gotta get to breakfast.”
Jimmy was talking in an animated fashion the whole time he pulled on baggy jeans over his own flannel boxers and then pulled a tee shirt on and a sweater and started pulling a comb through his honey colored hair.
“Today they have the raison donuts, and those are just like eating cake and they’ve got icing on them. they’re the best donuts in the world. And the eggs in Campbell Hall will actually taste like eggs.”
He stopped, turned around and said, “Should I even brush my teeth? I mean I’m just gonna eat anyway.”
“You could rinse your mouth out,” Russell suggested.
“Good idea,” Jimmy decided, giving his cousin the thumbs up and heading for the washroom.
When they were both dressed, Jimmy in a leather coat with an olive knit skull cap, the older boy tugged Russell’s mustard colored muffler.
“That’s really fucking cool,” he said.
“Why, thank you. Should we wake up Ross and Anigel?”
“We should, but Ross hates breakfast and he hates anyone knocking on his door before nine.”
Still as they walked bast 301, Jimmy pummeled on the door, and as they headed down the stairwell beside Ross’s room they heard him mumbling, “Bastards.”
They hit the second floor, where the women lived, passed the door to the first floor where the priests still lived, and were headed out of the ground floor door when it opened with a flood of white light and cold air and Marianne Mahoney. Russell’s throat tightened.
“Good morning,” she said to Russell, innocently. Then he said, “Good morning, Marianne.”
Jimmy grew formal.
“Good morning, Marianne. We’ve got to go. I’m showing Russell around. Let’s go Russell.”
Marianne frowned. “Fine,” she said, and Russell felt Jimmy’s hand in his back, steering him out the door.
Outside of Abelard Hall, Jimmy walked so fast, past the radio station and under the shadow of Holy Name Hall, that Russell had to ask him to slow down.
“Sorry, Russell,” Jimmy said, trying to push some humor into his voice. “I guess I really wanted those donuts.”
This did not fit into Russell’s equation of sex. He wondered how much he could ask without giving too much away.
“I thought you liked her—Marianne.”
“What made you think that?”
At least Jimmy looked directly at Russell . It wasn’t like Ralph who would turn away and talk to the air.
“You all were flirting last night at the party. You know?”
Jimmy’s face looked visibly relieved when Russell only said that.
“Well, you know,” Jimmy said. “Drinks were consumed. It was a party.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes people do silly things at night and then they’re sorry they did ‘em the next day. Ya know? Well, maybe you don’t if you’re only sixteen.”
“Is that the way it always is?”
They were approaching a very large stone building and when Russell turned to his left he saw it overlooked the whole, frost covered quad of Saint Alban’s College.
“No,” said Jimmy, pleasantly. “Sometimes it doesn’t take to the next morning. Sometimes regret happens right away.”




MORE IN A FEW DAYS

 

[CharmedFan28]

Well Russell certainly got an eyeful on the first night of his trip. This seems like a cool group of people. Great writing and I look forward to more in a few days!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Russell saw a great deal. When it comes to Jimmy, Russell is there at the wrong time a lot, or at the right time depending upon how you look at it.

 

[ChrisGibson]

AND NOW THE LONG AWAITED RETURN OF IF I SHOULD FALL...


“Russell,” Russell heard his cousin hiss in his ear, Jimmy’s his spidery hand shaking him.
“time to get up.”
“What time—” Russell stifled himself with a yawn.
“Almost eight. I’d be late for class if I had one this week. We gotta get to breakfast.”
Jimmy was talking in an animated fashion the whole time he pulled on baggy jeans over his own flannel boxers and then pulled a tee shirt on and a sweater and started pulling a comb through his honey colored hair.
“Today they have the raison donuts, and those are just like eating cake and they’ve got icing on them. they’re the best donuts in the world. And the eggs in Campbell Hall will actually taste like eggs.”
He stopped, turned around and said, “Should I even brush my teeth? I mean I’m just gonna eat anyway.”
“You could rinse your mouth out,” Russell suggested.
“Good idea,” Jimmy decided, giving his cousin the thumbs up and heading for the washroom.
When they were both dressed, Jimmy in a leather coat with an olive knit skull cap, the older boy tugged Russell’s mustard colored muffler.
“That’s really fucking cool,” he said.
“Why, thank you. Should we wake up Ross and Anigel?”
“We should, but Ross hates breakfast and he hates anyone knocking on his door before nine.”
Still as they walked bast 301, Jimmy pummeled on the door, and as they headed down the stairwell beside Ross’s room they heard him mumbling, “Bastards.”
They hit the second floor, where the women lived, passed the door to the first floor where the priests still lived, and were headed out of the ground floor door when it opened with a flood of white light and cold air and Marianne Mahoney. Russell’s throat tightened.
“Good morning,” she said to Russell, innocently. Then he said, “Good morning, Marianne.”
Jimmy grew formal.
“Good morning, Marianne. We’ve got to go. I’m showing Russell around. Let’s go Russell.”
Marianne frowned. “Fine,” she said, and Russell felt Jimmy’s hand in his back, steering him out the door.
Outside of Abelard Hall, Jimmy walked so fast, past the radio station and under the shadow of Holy Name Hall, that Russell had to ask him to slow down.
“Sorry, Russell,” Jimmy said, trying to push some humor into his voice. “I guess I really wanted those donuts.”
This did not fit into Russell’s equation of sex. He wondered how much he could ask without giving too much away.
“I thought you liked her—Marianne.”
“What made you think that?”
At least Jimmy looked directly at Russell . It wasn’t like Ralph who would turn away and talk to the air.
“You all were flirting last night at the party. You know?”
Jimmy’s face looked visibly relieved when Russell only said that.
“Well, you know,” Jimmy said. “Drinks were consumed. It was a party.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes people do silly things at night and then they’re sorry they did ‘em the next day. Ya know? Well, maybe you don’t if you’re only sixteen.”
“Is that the way it always is?”
They were approaching a very large stone building and when Russell turned to his left he saw it overlooked the whole, frost covered quad of Saint Alban’s College.
“No,” said Jimmy, pleasantly. “Sometimes it doesn’t take to the next morning. Sometimes regret happens right away.”
The building they were before had a double stairway leading to a great door, but beneath this was a staircase that led into the basement where bikes were leaned up against each other and Jimmy said, “welcome to Campbell Hall, and welcome to the commissary,” which was in the basement, ugly and strung with Christmas tree lights.
“They’re up all year,” Jimmy told his cousin as he moved him through line. “It’s decoration.”
The cafeteria was pretty empty and Jimmy said, “It’s pretty much like this in the mornings, but mainly during exam week. That’s the only time I’m not afraid to come and eat alone—breakfast times. I hate eating by myself any other time. Don’t tell anyone, though.”
Jimmy pointed to a table in the corner of the glass walled cafeteria that looked out onto the lobby. Still, they didn’t see Macy coming until she screamed, “Bitches!!!” when she walked into the cafeteria followed by a dark haired girl, and they both scanned their cards. They approached the table.
“You look like you haven’t washed your hair in days,” Jimmy told Macy.
“Well, that’s because I haven’t.”
The shorter, dark haired girl was wearing a blue coat that Russell privately thought made her look like a junior Michelin woman, but she was cute and she held out her hand and said,” I’m Bernadette.”
“Bet you didn’t think they made those anymore,” Macy commented.
“How bout you shut the fuck and wash your stringy hair,” Bernadette suggested with no real malice. “Let’s get some food.”
“I’m Russell.”
“He’s our cousin,” Macy said, pulling a comb she’d apparently had on hand through her stringy hair.
“Sorry to hear that,” Bernadette apologized, then turned to Jimmy.
“Morning, James,”
Jimmy wiped his hands and shook Bernadette’s hand out of tradition, “Hey Berny. Didn’t expect to see you guys this morning.”
“It’s donut day,” she said as if that explained everything. She took off her coat and placed it in the chair beside Russell, and then she and Macy marched off to the commissary line.
“They’re nice,” Jimmy said, frankly. “Most of the girls on this campus are... hoes.”
he sounded a little bitter, and Russell gave his cousin such a look that Jimmy tacked on, “A situation that many times I have used to my advantage.”
“But you still don’t like it?”
“It’s hard to respect people like that is all,” Jimmy said. “Bernadette and my cousin—our cousin—they’re different.”
When Bernadette and Macy came to sit down, Bernadette said, “You all really do look =alike.”
“Yeah,” Macy Mc.Llarchlahn barked otu a laugh. “It’s like we’re related.”
“No, I mean it,” said Bernadette.
“She’s right,” Jimmy said, turning to Russell. “Hold out your hand.”
Russell did so.
“You two both have the most spidery hands in the world,” Macy observed, “and you’re both lanky as hell. Except Russell’s going to be taller than you, Jimmy. He’s gonna look like my father.”
“Uncle Dan?” Jimmy said, as if Macy had another father.
“Isn’t he...?” Russell let the speculation hang.
“A criminal? Yeah,” Macy said, then bit into a doughnut and added, “but he’s a cute one.” She winked at Russell and kept on eating.
“Doesn’t he remind you of Keith?” Jimmy demanded.
Macy looked at Russell, squinting. “If you were blond, platinum blond, and dark skinned, you would look just like Keith Nespres. Can you play the piano?”
“A little.”
“Alright!” said Jimmy.
“Is it your poison?” Bernadette asked.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Macy said to her friend.
“Your instrument of choice?”
“Poison is your drink of choice, you stupid bitch.”
“Sorry, I don’t know about being drunk. I’m not Irish,” said Bernadette. “If I want an instrument to be poison, it’ll be poison..”
“My poison’s guitar, then,” Russell said, smiling over his new use of the word, “and my voice I guess.”
“You sing?”
“I try to. Write songs… sort of. I play piano alright.”
“I play trumpet,” said Jimmy. “Or I used to.”
“Now he just plays the field,” said Macy, knowingly. “And I play the sax. I don’t sing.”
“She tries though,” Bernadette noted, and Macy rolled her eyes at her friend.
“And the Keith,” Macy said, “who we’ve been talking about, happens to play the piano. That’s his hting. He was born on it. It’s weird watching him play.”
“I kinda wish I knew him better.”
“I wish you did too,” said Jimmy. “I always thought you two were probably a lot alike.”
“And look,” Bernadette shouted so Ross could hear her, “here comes our favorite Black friend! And the girl on his shoulder upping the attraction value of the caf by about thirty points must be the Anigel Reyes we’ve all heard so much about.”
Russell looked at Bernadette’s plate and said, “But you all are almost finished.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” said Bernadette, “the caf is an experience.”
“What’s that mean?” Russell wondered.
“It means,” said Jimmy, “that we ain’t going anywhere, anytime soon.”
When Anigel had been introduced to everyone, then Ross felt it was time to point out the people who were entering the cafeteria.
“Now there’s Reg Coleman and Digory Willis.”
“Digory?” said Anigel.
Ross shrugged. “I didn’t name him. They’re on the football team.”
“I didn’t know you had a football team,” Anigel said.
“Well, I don’t think they know either,” said Macy. “They win a game a year. I think the only reason they still exist is to give the marching band a place to perform.”
“You’ll notice they all sit at that one table, right across from the baseball players,” said Ross. “And the baseball players live in Anselm Hall, right next door to the football players.”
“But they don’t speak to each other,” said Jimmy.
“Except for when they fight,” Macy amended.
“Now the baseball player walking in right now—the one with the tee shirt that reads in big black letters CONDOMS VERSUS CATHOLICS—is Billy Donofrio. He’s supposed to be really holy and all that and he’s a server at the Sunday morning masses, but in my opinion he’s an ass.”
“Most holy people are,” Ross said knowingly.
“He also belongs,” Jimmy added, “to the almost virgin club. He was a virgin until he got to college, then one night he got raped at a party—”
“Wait a minute,” said Anigel, putting a hand up.
“How the hell did a big ass man like that get raped? Was it by another man?”
“No it was the short ugly bitch walking in right now,” Bernadette informed Anigel.
“Well how?”
“I wish I knew how to rape a man,” Macy commented darkly and sipped her coffee.
“He didn’t get raped,” Jimmy said. “He got drunk and some chick fucked him. Wasn’t it in the lounge of Watt Hall?”
“Well maybe that’s a sort of rape,” Russell suggested.
“If that’s rape, I’ve been getting raped repeatedly since Freshmen year,” said Jimmy.
“Did you really have to say that?” Macy asked her older cousin, because she didn’t feel that her younger cousin needed to know what a slut Jimmy really was, at least not yet. During her first few weeks at Saint Alban’s the revelations of just how omnipresent Jimmy’s penis was in the female dorms had made her glad to have a different last name. She didn’t really care now, but she thought Russell might.
“And speaking of virgins,” Bernadette pointed to the new arrival at the cafeteria, “the slut in the halter top with the hair out of Flashdance and the gold lamé pants. You know she’s still a virgin?”
“Bullshit,” croaked Macy.
“That’s her story,” said Bernadette, “and she stickin’ to it.”
Then she added, “I don’t believe it either.”
When the original food was gone, they got up for seconds. No one who entered the cafeteria was spared comment. When second helpings were gone it was time for coffee or tea and a cookie, or a piece of fruit and when that was gone, still more coffee. The caf really was an experience.
“Is it like this everyday,” Anigel asked Macy.
“No,” Macy shook her head. “Sometimes we stay here for a long time.”
“Do yawl know everybody’s business?”
“More or less,” said Macy, “though you’d be surprised to learn that they don’t know each others’. It’s only eight hundred people here, and they’re all out of the loop.”

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great to get back to this story! Russell is having an interesting morning learning about the lives of all these people at college. I look forward to more of it tomorrow! Excellent writing!

 

[ChrisGibson]

And this is just the beginning of Russell's trip. There is so much more to come. Yes, it really is good to get back to our folks.

 

[ChrisGibson]

RUSSELL'S NEW DAY AWAY BEGINS WITH FLIP SANDERS


Flip Sanders had been hornier than usual. Somehow, being up late all night, meeting new people, being introduced to them as bisexual just made him feel more sexual. He didn’t want to think about the girls he had dated and or slept with before. It had been in the last few years he’d started to be interested in guys, only in the last year, when he was leaving the football team, that he’d taken up with Andy. They weren’t together together, and they weren’t always having sex sex. But he loved to shower with him, kiss him, sleep in the same bed with him, work his way up to other things.
This was a world that hated sex... or was just afraid of it. People would put up with heterosexuality for the sake of grandchildren and the economy and the Holy Church, but anything beyond that was off limits. Or else he would have found out quicker. He wished he’d found out quicker. And things would be easier between him and Andy. He could have loved a boy, the way he had never loved a girl, but was supposed to. He had always been sexual, and it had always terrified him, the thundering force of lust. But it wasn’t lust. It was power. It was curiosity. It was a flowing force like a river. It was desire. Imagine a world where he had just been told it was natural.
Aside from Andy, Flipper loved Ross Allan because Ross was so dedicated. There was no nonsense in him. Attending Mass daily, well read, having covered the Bible thoroughly and understanding every music and movie reference, not batting an eyelash at sex and pornography, Ross was something to be admired, and so was this girl who had come with him, lovely, lovely Anigel Reyes.
And Flipper loved Jimmy. He loved Jimmy for his sadness. He loved him for how deeply he felt shit, including the penitence he felt for using the girls he couldn’t help but fuck. He loved his soul because it lived in some sort of high romance like the highest vibrating string on a violin that led him to these midnight bonings. He reminded Flipper of something out of Jack Kerouac or out of an Alan Ginsberg poem. He loved Jimmy for his joy, his laughter, his dancing, his singing, his desire for life, the wife beaters he wore on his skinny frame, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and he loved Jimmy because Jimmy was the most sexual person he’d ever known.
The year that Flipper had been telling his friends he thought he was bi, Jimmy had been one of those who said it didn’t matter cause sex was sex and lust was lust. He didn’t say love was love, which would have made Flipper vomit, which didn’t quite say what he needed to hear. They’d gotten drunk on vodka, Coral and Money were there along with Ross, and Flipper had gotten hot and something more than horny that wasn’t satisfied till he and Jimmy made out for a half hour. He knew Jimmy wasn’t gay, or really bi. But Jimmy just liked to offer and take what was offered, and Flipper always remembered that night, in the semi dark room where everyone was too drunk and more than too drunk, too grown up to care about the two boys kissing.
They’d never brought it up again, not out of shame. Flipper felt that distinctly. Jimmy had never distanced himself after that night, and Flipper was almost sure that, despite the number of girls in and out of Jimmy’s room, Jimmy would have made out with him again. Things had just gone differently.
This Russell boy... Tall, one could almost see that his body was new, that it must have been a kid’s body not long ago, and all the filling out, the beginnings of manhood were just that. Russell reminded Flipper of Jimmy and Ross at the same time. He walked like a man, if that meant anything, had the torso, the almost broad shoulders, the high little ass of a man. Flipper would have loved to see his long legs, this thighs.

But there was something fey and beautiful abou the tilt of his head, the thick shoulder length, deep red hair, something in those glass green eyes. Last night Flipper had stood outside Jimmy’s door, listening to him fuck Marianne, knowing Russell was there too, wondering if maybe they were both doing her, sending himself into crazy lust till he went into the darkness of his bedroom and masturbated, his semen a fountain that sprinkled across his chest

The next morning Flipper was up and followed them to breakfast.
“Which is unusual because you don’t wake up until you have to,” Jimmy pointed out.
“I had to,” Flipper said. “We have guests.” He gestured to Russell and was aware of his furious boner..
“So, what’s going on in the world of high school?” he asked him.
“Not much,” Russell said. “Cause it’s high school.”
When Flipper laughed, Russell said, “That’s not really true. This is the first year I’ve gotten to take what I want, and I’m really into European history. I mean, I guess you could argue all history that gets taught is European history, but…And lit class is good.”
“Really?” Flipper said. “Whaddo you like?”
“I like T.S. Eliot.”

“Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,”

Flipper quoted.

“The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.”

Russell had wanted Flipper the moment he saw him and was surprised that this boy, this grown man was flirting with him, and flirting with him through poetry and intellect. He told himself to remember Jason. To remember Cody, to put a rein on himself and quit being such a slut.
“If Coral was here,” jimmy noted, “she would call that showing off.”
“Where is Coral?” Anigel wondered.
“Student teaching,” Ross said.
“Eliot is great,” Flipper said to Russell, not much caring where Coral was, and sounding like he was about to say he didn’t care where T.S. Eliot was either, “but Ginsberg is better.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Russell said.
“Howl?” Flipper said.
He was standing beside Russell as they walked together, had leaned against him and touched the palm of his hand. Ignoring the tingling in his own balls, Russell shook his head at Flipper’s question.
“Oh, my God. Well… no, they wouldn’t teach that in high school,” Flipper went on as if he didn’t have an erection and Russell wasn’t getting one, and they were knocking shoulders more than necessary on their way to breakfast.
“You haven’t met poetry yet. In Ginsberg, you’ll meet it for the first time... It’s…. what are you doing today?
“What am I doing today?” Russell said.
“I had thought you could just have the run of campus and do whatever,” Ross said, looking to Jimmy and Anigel for confirmation. “My room is yours. You can go in and out of it if you want, and of course the lobby downstairs. We’ll all meet back here for lunch?”
“If you want,” Flipper said to him, looking not arch, but very humble, a little uncertain, which touched Russell all the more, “we can hang out. Anigel and Ross can catch up on stuff, and everyone else has finals. Mine are pretty much done.”
Russell wanted to kiss Flip Sanders on his mouth.
“You’ll show me that poem.”
“Howl? Yes.”



From the moment when Flipper opened up his English book, laid out on his half made bed and began to read:

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

Russell felt like he knew it. He had the immediate understanding that up until now he’d never done anything or been anywhere, and this trip was only the beginning of an adventure, that out in the world there were those who were ruined by their desire, ruined because of longing, and that he just might be one of them. When he heard the line:

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

he thought of Cody, but he thought of tall, hollow eyed Brad Long too, and he thought of Nehru and Chayne and realized the world was not a home for saints,, that the world just might eat you and that all of these whom he loved were saints in their own way and maybe he was too. He almost knew what he was talking about. He didn’t know what he was talking about at all.
As Flipper read, Russell’s mind groped toward something and looking at the long tall, well made boy whose jeans and sweater molded his body, whose red lips moved over the pages, and whose eyes shone through long lashes while he pushed his black hair away, he was in love with him. No, no, he loved him.

…went, leaving no broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

That train, it passed through Geshichte Falls. The ghost of those hobos got off and lived in this town. However tame it might seem, however tame it was, they were kin to these people, His mother with her cigarettes and tangle of hair who had dated Chuck Shrader but couldn’t stop loving Thom. Thom, his dad, who had made such a mess of things because such a mess had been made of him. The Dwyers next door, Cameron’s dad, stealing his son’s pot and getting high in the back yard. The whole doomed world, Everyone waiting for redemption, or for the Second Coming. Jimmy, whom he’d seen fucking girls against walls twice. Jimmy and his family, the Nespreses, his own cousins… They were from Baltimore. The rain whizzed on.
Flipper sat up, half of his black hair sticking up wildly after he’d raked a hand through it. He didn’t know he was performing. He was overcome by Ginsberg the way only a twenty year old or an eternal hippy can be.






who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,
who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake…

MUCH MORE TOMORROW NIGHT

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a well done portion! Russell is continuing to have an interesting day! Sounds like Flipper and him like each other a lot. I wonder what will happen with them? I’ll have to wait and see. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!