Swimming in Basements

[ChrisGibson]

“Oh, we gotta call from Deborah and Rosa,” Pamela told her brother Christmas morning. “They both need to be picked up at the Metra Station around eleven.”

“I thought they were staying up north.”

“They never do,” Pamela said. “Not for the holidays.”

“Though they stay away from here all the rest of the time.

“Popeye! Popeye!”

From somewhere in the second floor apartment, came a skinny, wide eyed young woman.

“What, daddy!”

“Deborah and Rosalee are coming into the Metra station at eleven and I need you to take my car, and pick them up. If I get done with this, I might go with you cause I’m running out of Crown.”

“Why are you drinking at nine in the morning?”

“Why are you harassing me?” Donald, who was stirring the pudding, said to his sister, and reaching over her to the other eye, where brown sauce was on the boil, he said, “Now move your ass over so I can get the lumps out this gravy.”

Popeye helped herself to coffee and said, “I thought Swann would have brought them down.”

“Swann won’t be here,” Pamela said.

“Huh?”

“He don’t wanna bring one white boy for Thanksgiving and a different one for Christmas.”

“Don!”

“Well, you saw that last one is new.”

“And Doug?”

“Is keeping the same white boy.”

“The short Italian looking one that came around after Thanksgiving.”

“That’s the one.”

“We should stay out of grown folk’s business,” Pamela said.

Donald ignored this.

“It’s going to be one special holiday when your daughter, her son and his boyfriend are all sitting at table together.”



“I need to dress. We need to dress. We need to get the hell up,” Doug Merrin said, but he was only half awake when he said it and sounded less than half convinced.

“I look a mess.”

“I think you look glorious,” Joe Stanley, who was straddling him, declared, running his hands up and down Doug’s chest. “You look beautiful covered in my semen.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

Joe stretched himself out across Doug and kissed him again

“And now we’re both covered in your semen.”

“Com on,” Joe said. “I made us a bath.”

“When?”

“Before…. You know.”

“It should be cold as hell now.”

Joe shook his head.

“It was hot as hell before, and we didn’t take that long.”

Lazily Doug climbed out of bed and lazily, Joe dragged him across the hall. The two of them sank into the water, Joe between Doug’s legs and in his arms, and Doug began scrubbing his back while Joe stretched forward and stretched like a cat.

Of course, Doug had talked to his cousin about this the night before, and nights before that.

Last night Swann had said, “Somewhere along the line I suppose I have to choose. The thing is… with Chris, he is always the past, we have a huge past. And then he is always the future, what we could be one day. I could always see us together… In the end. But he’s not ever the present. And with Sal all there is is present. And… the present is all there really is anyway.”

“Then it sounds like you’ve chosen.”

“I haven’t chosen shit,” Swann said.

Then Swann said, “By the way, Mike Buren says hi.”

“Who?”

“Mike Buren. From Saint Francis.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Doug says.

“He said you might sound like that.”

“You saw him?”

“He’s at DePaul. He’s dating someone else from SF. A friend of mine from before you were there. They’ve been together a while.”

“Mike Buren is gay with a boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Swann reported. “And he’s got purple hair, a soul patch and an earring.”

“Good God,” was all Doug could say.

“There’s a story, isn’t there?”

“There might be.”

“I’m going to have to hear it.”

“Maybe you will,” Doug said. “Whatever, you’ve gotta story of your own.”

“Yes,” Swann agreed. “Yes, I do.”

“Stand up,” Doug told Joe, and as he did the water rained down into the tub off of his shoulders, back and ass, down the sides of his ivory colored body. Doug scrubbed him and then said, “turn around.”

Joe turned around and stretched while Doug attended him.

“They always talk about what stage your relationship is in,” Joe said, “But no one ever says, the stage where my boyfriend washes my balls and my ass crack.

“Now, you turn around,” Joe said, taking e a cloth and squeezing thick, sweet soap onto it. “Turn around Douglass my lad, and let me attend to you.”

Joe’s hands were rough and strong and he massaged as much as washed He made love too, playfully sucking on Doug’s ears, and as Doug gave his body to Joe’s care, he put Mike Buren and Swann out of his mind for a time. How good Joe would look, Doug thought, When they were bathed, showered, and dressed, hugging each other, pleased with themselves, Joe and his big ears in a white shirt and black dress pants.

“You look a little like Duke Ellington,” Joe decided.

“I didn’t even know you knew who Duke Ellington was,” Doug said.

“You just think I’m some dumb dego.”

“Actually, dego was not the word I was going to use because this isn’t 1940 and I’m not a racist.”

“And you can’t tell your white people from your white people.”

“That too.”

“We could be club singers in the 40’s.”

“What?”

“You Duke Ellington and me Tony Bennett.”

“Holy hell, you do look like Tony Bennett.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Speaking of,” Doug said, “I thought your family was Hoosier from way back Like, didn’t they come from the Marsh, like my folks.”

“Yes.”

“Well, then where’d the Italian part come from?”

“My Mom’s family was Sicilian, and my dad’s family, half of them are from… someplace in Italy.”

“America!”

“Indeed.”

“Is it time to go downstairs?” Doug wondered.

“Probably, and I’m starving.”

“I can’t believe Swann isn’t here,” Doug said

“I can’t believe,” Joe said, while he bowed his head and Doug ran water onto his dark hair, “that he went with Sal down to Benton and the two of them are going to meet Chris.”

“I would love to be there for that meeting,” Doug murmured as he ran the cloth over Joe’s chest.

Joe shook water out of his eyes.

“I would not.”

 

[ChrisGibson]

Chapter Seven































It as Doug and Joe on the second floor, snuggled on the sofa in the living room of Pam’s apartment, who heard the noise downstairs. Everyone had more or less fallen asleep or into a reverie and the snow was falling again.

“More family?” Joe wondered.

The Portis clan was deceptively large. For what Jo had met was Donald and Pamela with news of Deborah and Rose and, of course, Swann. Then Donald’s daughters had shown up along with the children and the grandchildren of Leona, a long gone sister of Pam and Donald. Also, there had been friends as well. Miss Samella from down the street and her daughters, a family of Jews who had lived in he neighborhood since the 1800’s and who were old friends with Donald, including his best friend Jason.

But when they heard the creaking of feet coming up the stairs, Doug separated from Joe and said, “We’re gon have to be rude and go up to the third floor to get any privacy.”

But just as he said it, his face changed and Joe burst out laughing.

“I did not expect this,” Doug said.

Swann in his great coat entered together with Chris and Sal, and they were all laughing and embracing. Chris threw his arms around Doug and said, “Merry Christmas, short man.”

“You guys know Prynne is here?” Sal said.

“Oh, yeah,” Doug said. “He came with Herulian. They’re either driving back late tonight or staying in the living room.

“It’s already late tonight.”

“Mom sent this,” Sal told Joe, and thrust a package into his hand.

Joe grinned from the side of his mouth.

“Me and Doug are gonna go up there tomorrow or so. I’ll stop in and say hi.”

“She’d love that,” Sal said.

Suddenly Joe wiped his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said, looking around at them.

“It’s a regular family reunion.”





“So….” Doug began.

“So,” his cousin said, lighting a cigarette.

“You came back with the both of them.”

“I did.”

“That…. Was a surprise.”

“It was, but it seemed like the only way.”

“How did they get on? With each other?”

“Well, they’re friends,” Swann said. “They were friends before they knew me.”

“That’s all very nice,” said Doug, “but they are friends whom you are dating. Which is a euphemism for—”

“I know exactly what it’s a euphemism for.”

“Then what did they do? I mean, while you were banging one, what was the other doing?”

“Well, it wasn’t just about that,” Swann said. “It was about time I haven’t had with Chris in a while, to talk, just to be quiet with and laugh with. And, also, they haven’t hung out with each other in a long time either.”

“So you didn’t have sex?”

“You’re awfully vulgar when you want to be.”

“Is directness vulgarity?” Doug wondered.

“Ask the person who kept his relationship with Joe from me a secret for three years.”

“Okay, you’re right about that. It was shitty form. Forgive me. But this—”

“What if I tell you what happened—”

“Swann, what, already?”

“You asked what did one do when I was with the other?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that was never an issue.”

“Because you didn’t do it at all? But that’s going to be an issue—”

“No, no,” Swann said. “That’s not what I meant. I mean…”





“You all had a threesome!” Joe almost shouted and Sal clapped a hand over his mouth.

Joe removed Sal’s hand.

“You and Chris and Swann?”

“Yeah,” Sal nodded. “It just seemed to… make sense.”

“Well, what about us?” Joe demanded.

“What?”

“That was the fantasy. Wasn’t it? I mean, unspoken and all, but…. We were going to drink too much, talk about our feelings too much, maybe smoke some pot, start fiddling around and then…. I mean, I feel like that shit was in the air, the three of were going to do it eventually.”

“Well, if you want, I’m sure Swann would be amenable—”

“No, that’s not what I want! That’s just like…. It was in the air.”

“Well, it was in the air, sort of, and then you got back with Duck so that kind of took it out of the air.”

“Right.”

“And what’s Doug gonna be doing while all three of us are getting it on?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t part of the original fantasy. I’m just saying.”

“Like I said,” Sal said. “I’m sure Swann would—”

“I don’t want a planned threesome with you and Swann. I reject that flatly.”

Sal chuckled.

“No you don’t. If Swann came in here right now and we both told you to take your clothes off, you’d be naked before he finished the sentence.”

“I can’t believe you all did that.”

“I can’t believe I just casually offered me and my new boyfriend up for a threesome,” Sal said. “We sound like crazy people.”

“Or maybe just different people,” Joe said.

“Huh?”

“Just different people. With different ideas. Our parents did everything the way you’re supposed to. And they’re all split up. They used to fight and fight and fight, and when my mom got a second husband and my dad married my first stepmom, that shit didn’t get any better. You and Chris fight?”

“Nope.”

“You and Swann get tangled in an argument about who loves who?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you did everything right.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an excellent weekend portion. I am glad everyone has gathered for the holiday and are being very honest with each other. Great writing and I look forward to more after the weekend! Hope you have a nice one!

 

[ChrisGibson]

TIS CHRISTMAS TIME, AND TIME FOR MUCH DISCUSSION....
Father Mary Ignatius Eutropius, known popularly as Tommy Prynne, laughed out loud while, in old dungarees, he unapologetically filed his toenails on Donald Portis’s bed.

“What?” Chris began.

“Nothing surprises me,” the middle aged priest said. “I mean, you had to know I knew? Saint Francis, the place where boys come to find their boyfriends!”

Chris starred in surprise at the priest.

“That’s always been the case. Just like the Jesuits. They say if you’re looking for a boyfriend the Jesuits are the place to be!”

While Chris said nothing, Prynne said, “Donald doesn’t know it, but I’m taking this bed tonight.”

“That’s usually the bed I stay in,” Chris said. Then…. “I mean, me and Swann.”

“I was never sure when you all got together, but it was a little while after I introduced you two when I thought, Oh, here we go again. And here we indeed do go again.”

Just when Chris thought Prynne had heard nothing about him saying he and Swann kept this room, Prynne said, “Well, it doesn’t seem like Swann’s keeping it tonight, so oughtn’t you find him?”

“I will,” Chris said. “But… you still haven’t told me what you think? You told me you weren’t surprised, but I care for Swann, and I know that when he’s not with me he’s going to be with Sal, and we were all together last night and—”

Prynne put up a hand.

“Father—”

“I am a priest,” he said. “There are things I just don’t know. I listen—up to a point—but I rarely, rarely, rarely advise. Cause I don’t know.”

Prynne folded his legs under him.

“I don’t know what you think of us. The priests and brothers. We have a bunch of stories. Some of us are quite boring, some of us have pasts, some of us have presents that no one knows about. That’s happened in my order. In our house. Brothers who got carried away and ended up in bed with girlfriends. Young priests who fell in love with former students or other priests and became lovers. All manner of… things that should not happen in a house of religion.”

“Whaddid you do? Whaddid you do, because, I try to be a good Catholic, but I try to be me, and I used to think I was a bad Catholic and a hypocrite, but it’s starting to be…. I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that a lot of what I did was wrong, and…. I don’t have a place to put it, you know?”

Prynne nodded.

“I… didn’t become abbot right away. And that’s good, because when I was young I thought the job of the abbot was to make everyone do right, to get rid of wrong doing, to call out the things that shouldn’t have been going on, to make everything proper, everything Catholic, spic and span.

“And then one day I was in charge of a monastery that was in charge of a school, and there were boys coming to me with their deepest fears, with all of themselves, or not telling me everything, but telling me enough. The lonely Black kid who saw himself in me, the Indian or the Asian or the not white kid who was always never sure of his acceptance. The Jewish boy who hid it, the gay boy who tried to hide it. Pregnant girlfriends, best friends who were boyfriends, abortions, boys hating themselves for doing what was naturally to their bodies.

“And all along with this, were my brothers. You know, as I said, couples who had been together for thirty years, priests who drank too much, or….. had fathered a child on some poor woman. A brother sleeping with a teacher. And I do not tell you this to titillate, no, I tell you because I quickly understood that my job was to turn a blind eye accept when asked to see, to be silent and listen rather than order, to reassure, to love, to always love and to never know the answer to someone else’s situation. There are just too many of them.”





When Chris first said something to him, Sal had blinked a couple of times. It was before midnight Mass. Swann had been passed out inelegantly on the sofa, and the two of them were talking about the past, about school, and then they’d even gotten on to the things they never talked about, the baby’s dying, how every time Swann came here they went to the cemetery. They talked about Kyle, and Sal told Chris about going to Boystown, and meeting Ben and Mike.

“Ben and Mike!” Chris shook his head.

“You all were friends?”

“Aw, yeah. Ben was the best. And Mike. He started out good then got carried away.”

“That’s what Swann said.” Sal said.

“Personally, I think that was all of us. I lost myself a couple of times.”

“Me too,” Sal remembered.

“I don’t mean to be a crybaby, but being a boy is hard. I don’t mean harder than being a girl, but it’s hard,” Sal said. “And we make it harder on each other.”

“I wonder why I slept with so many girls,” Chris said. “I mean, I was a kid, and I was trying to be squeaky clean, and yet it seems like a had this huge slutty period, and I don’t know where it came from.”

“Swann said something to me,” Sal whispered. “He said, ‘if you think you had a slutty period, you probably didn’t. Because…. Because people who really like sex either like it or they don’t. They don’t call it a slutty period.”

“That,” Chris raised a long finger and grinned, “is a very Swann thing to say.”

“Isn’t it?” Sal laughed.

“Well, at any rate, I had a very lost period, and that’s weird because I think the moment my mom saw Swann she assumed he was my…”

“You can say it,” Sal said.

“Is this weird?” Chris demanded.

“Yeah,” Sal said, “it’s real weird.”

“He told me about you. He told me he cared about you. I told him you were good and he deserved to be happy with you,” Chris said. “And I’m not jealous, but….”

“Right?” Sal said.

They were quiet a while and then Sal said, “I’m not jealous either. It’s just like, what happens with you guys is…. That’s your business. And what happens with us…. That’s ours. Because, I don’t know, so much of my fun with him doesn’t have anything to do with the sex part, you know?”

Even when Sal said this, it didn’t seem quite true. But it was true that he wasn’t jealous of Chris, that he trusted Swann and assumed everything would happen alright, sooner or later.

“I love him so much.”

Sal looked up to see that Chris was looking over Swann.

“I do too,” Sal said, tenderly.

“We both love him so much,” Chris said.

“Sal, close your eyes.”

Sal obeyed.

He wasn’t surprised when Chris’s lips touched his. He knew that was happening even as he felt the loveseat resettle and felt the approach of Chris’s body toward his. He probably knew it when the two of them sat together knee to knee. He matched the pressure of Chris’s lips, inhaled the smell of bread and garlic in his hair and the after dinner mint on his mouth along with wine and booze, and his mouth opened for Chris’s and he felt warm and shivery down to his center. Chris’s mouth parted from his, but his knee was still on his thigh.

“You know,” Sal murmured, his penis firm, the tip of it tingling, “for four years I dreamed someone would do that. After track, in the showers, come to my room late at night. There was Joe, but not all the time, and then Joe was falling for Duck. I’d be with a girlfriend, but I’d think about it. I’d be lying if I said I had never thought about you doing that.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, half smiling at him, giving him that Chris Navarro look, those powerful blue eyes under those dark eyebrows, his shaggy blond hair dark in the dark room.

He was rolling a joint, and Chris said, “Truth is, except for Swann, I’ve only been with a couple of other guys and….”

“Me and you?”

Chris shrugged.

“The three of us.”

He passed the joint to Sal. Sal coughed when he inhaled and Chris grinned.

They smoked a little longer and then, as Chris was crushing out the joint, Sal effortlessly leaned over and began kissing him. Chris arched back his neck, letting Sal suck on his throat, and running his hands through Sal’s hair, He opened his collar for Sal to kiss his chest. While Swann slept the two of them made love in the loveseat until, hair a mess and shirts undone, they laughed a little and Sal said, “Let’s save something for Swann.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a well done portion! A lot was discussed and truths shared. I am glad Prynne didn’t judge Chris. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

That was a well done portion! A lot was discussed and truths shared. I am glad Prynne didn’t judge Chris. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon!

Oh, Prynne is a great surprise. I love him.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“How do you feel about it?” Sal asked him on Christmas morning. Chris was still asleep in the bed, stretched out, mouth a little open like some Renaissance angel. Now that his hair was coming back, Swann wondered if maybe the model for David had looked like him, lain in Michelangelo’s bed. Chris was such a fox, such a sharp feral thing sometimes, that Swann thought he would have to catch him in his sleep to get the most tender part of him.

“You wanted it?” Swann said to Sal.

Sal was different, dark as Chris was light, and gentle where Chris was not.

“You were happy,” Swann said. “I could see it. It wasn’t just for me.”

Sal took a hand through his hair and said, “All those years….. You don’t think we wondered, back at school. I… love you.”

“I know you do.”

“But…. I have wanted to be touched by another guy for so long. I mean, aside from Joe, and aside from some weird things that happened in bathroom stalls or parking lots with men I didn’t know. Just…”

“The way you were with each other,” Swann said. “I’ve been really blind. I never thought… I should have thought.”

“He wanted the same thing I wanted, I guess,” Sal said. “It felt so good to… make love to another guy. It felt great to be with Chris.”

“You want to be with him alone?”

“What?”

“Do you want to be with him alone? Just you and him?”

Sal frowned, his lower lip sticking out.

“Are you testing me?”

Swann laughed and kissed him on the mouth.

He hugged him.

“No, Salvador, I’m not. You understand how much Chris means to me, and how much you mean to me, and you gave me this gift and… If you all meant something to each other that would be perfect. Chris told me to be with you. He has done so much for me. He has had so much love for me. I… No, I really don’t mind if the two men I love ...

“No,” Swann shook his head and discovered the truth. “I do not mind.”





Very early the next morning, Swann sat awake on the third floor in the large back bedroom by the kitchen. On one side of him was Sal and on the other side of Sal, Chris, for they had waken up more or less together, and they were whispering about how the rest of the week would go. In the kitchen, Doug and Joe had gotten up to make coffee, and apparently they’d come back from Huck Finn’s so, this was when Swann go out of bed, crawling over Sal and pulling on his pajama pants, and then reaching for any tee shirt and pulled that one on too. It smelled like Sal, and Sal was already shuffling around behind him

“Did the coffee wake you up?” Joe wondered, biting an éclair, “or the donuts?”

“I can’t believe you went to Huck Finn this early.”

“We didn’t, Abbot Prynne and Brother Herulian did.”

“They stayed?” Swann said.

“They stayed, and they’re headed back in an hour or so.”

Joe looked at Doug.

“I think we’re headed back, too. Pop into Calverton. Apologize to my folks for missing Christmas Day. They’ll still be celebrating.”

“I was saying we should take Doug and Swann’s moms back to Evanston.”

“Oh, we thought you might be coming back with us,” Doug said, taking out cups and creamer and pouring the coffee.

He said to Chris, “We keep missing each other.”

“Well…” Swann thought, “I’m not doing the driving, but what if we go up long enough to drop Mom and Deborah off, then head for Calverton?”

“Calverton is over two hours from here,” Sal said, “and it’s at least an hour driving north to Evanston one way.”

Doug sat at the table, shrugging. He reached into the donut box and pulled up a raspberry Bismarck.

“Did you have anything better to do?” he asked. “just one of you drive up there with us, and then the other will drive on the way back down to Indiana.”

“That is far simpler than I was making it,” Swann said.

Doug nodded.

Swann went back into the dark bedroom that smelled of the three of them, and turned on the harsh overhead light that shone on the mess of hurried undressing. He picked up his housecoat and then went for the front of the apartment.

“Where you going?” Joe asked as Swann opened the front door to walk downstairs.

“To thank Prynne and Herulian for the donuts.”

 

[ChrisGibson]

Prynne and Herulian were the most visible of the brothers at Saint Francis. There was the principal, Father Reed, but no one saw him walking around the school after the day was done, though he and Father Roberts were the track and field coaches. Father Eberhardt taught chemistry and Father O’Neill ran the computer lab, but these old men disappeared at the end of the day to the monastic quarters. Herulian was proctor of the Freshmen and sophomore dorms and Prynne of the junior and senior ones, and very often these two relatively young men sat up in the common room, either pretending to look after students, or frankly chain smoking on the second story porch.

For some weeks, as spring arrived, an unfitting heaviness fell over the school. It came from their teachers, the brothers and priests. Even Prynne looked troubled and came to class forgetful or mildly irritated. One night, Swann and Chris heard Prynne and Herulian whispering.

“We have to be ready…” whispered, unintelligible words, “for the next abbot.”

“I don’t like that kind of talk,” Prynne was saying. “We still have an abbot.”

“For now. For now we do.”

“And we may for a long time to come.”

“Tommy!”

“Benji!”

“Benji?” Swann whispered to Chris

“Tommy, listen. We know where things are headed. We know he’s not getting any better. And everything was arranged a long time ago.”

“I don’t know that I care for the arrangement.”

“You don’t care for Father Abbot dying.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“But we all agreed with the arrangement. Even the bishop. He had to.”

“What about Reed?”

“Andy’s never going be abbot, and you know why.”

As Prynne sighed, Swann wondered why? Why couldn’t Reed be the next abbot? What did everybody know?

And then he wondered when they could get up and leave because apparently Prynn and Herulian hadn’t noticed them. Chris simply stood up and walked out quickly, with a book in hand, and Swann followed, hoping this was enough to not make the brothers curious.

“So that’s what it is,” Chris said as they went down the steps to the Freshmen dorms. “Abbot Merrill must be dying.”

“I only met him once, but I really liked him.”

“He’s wonderful,” Chris said seriously. “If saints are real, then he’s one.”

Chris lived in the Freshmen dorms that were on the right of the chapel, with all the other dorms, and the two of them parted ways as Swann crossed the vestibule and went down the hall to his room. This leftover hallway of Freshmen rooms, separated by a vestibule from the rest of the dorms made Swann glad that next year he’d be on the other side with everyone else. But soon there was a knock on his door and without waiting, in came Jack with his towel wrapped about him and his hair sticking up from the shower. Apparently he’d simply come down here and used the Freshmen bathroom, and as he unwound his towel and put down his back of clothes, preparing to stay the night, he said, “Over here you almost never have the brothers checking up on you. Remember that.”

Swann did, and he told Jack about what he’d heard while Jack, naked before him, put on deodorant, slapped on aftershave and combed his hair.

“Abbot Merrill is a great old man,” Chris said. “But he is old. He’s been abbot along time. Everyone knows Prynne will come after him.”

“But don’t you have to be a priest to be an abbot?”

“I think they’ve got something worked out. But no one’s really thinking it’s not going to be Prynne.. from what I’ve heard.”

“Well, you’ve heard more than me.”

Swann yawned.

“I should shower.”

“If you need to.”

“Well, you did. I don’t want to be dirty.”

“There’s nothing dirty about you,” Jack said. He yawned, turning the covers of Swann’s bed back and then wrapping Swann in his thick arms.

“Besides, I’m ready to go to bed.”

For not the first time, as Swann turned off the lights, leaving only the reading one clipped to his bed post, he wondered if his parents lived like that, having a last night talk before piling into bed. Swann’s parents, knowing he was particular, had sprung for him to occupy a room by himself, but all the rooms came with two twin beds and very quickly, he and Jack had learned to wedge the beds in a corner as one. So now Swann climbed in and Jack followed and, flipping the lights off and thinking of their elders, of abbots and of he oncoming spring, they drifted into sleep.



Brother Eutropius Prynne could generally be seen in jeans and a double breast pocketed work shirt, bowling shirt or an Hawaiian. When he was professional and teaching, he wore khakis or dark pants. He taught Medieval history, cross listed as History of the Church Part One, and he taught the first semester of English for Freshmen and sophomores and English lit all year for juniors and seniors. If you ever had him first period, as Chris and Swann did, then you noticed that he did not open up class with prayers or the Pledge of Allegiance, both of which came from the school television station onto the TVs mounted on a corner of each classroom. He distinctly kept the volume down until announcements were read.

Swann could never remember what they were discussing, which was a surprise because Brother Prynne’s classes were always known for their discussions, and this was the one thing he liked about being up at 8:30 in the morning, but he remembered one of the monks coming into the classroom and Prynne stopping. The monk was younger, and one Swann had never seen and he whispered to Prynne, whose faced changed while he nodded and began closing up books and gathering his things.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“I’ll be right there,” he whispered.

As the monk left, Brother Prynne said, “Class has to end a little early today. Pack up your things…. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He didn’t even wait for them to pack, but was out of the room in a quick clacking of heels.

A little while later in the common room, Pete Agalathagos reported while still eating his toast from breakfast, “An ambulance was here, and I saw Herulian, Prynne and Father Reed get in it. One of the old monks must be really sick.”

“It’s Abbot Merrill,” Chris whispered.

The rest of the day just sort of happened. Half the teachers were brothers or priests in the order, and they were all waiting for news of Abbot Merrill, so if they didn’t cancel class, often they taught with little care. A cloud of worry hung over the whole school and it was around ten that nigh, as Swann was sitting on the roof with Pete and Chris, Ben and Anne and Jack, that they heard bells tolling from the church. They were slow and deep and sad, and no one said what they thought they were, but a little while later they saw a van pull up and Prynne, Herulian and Father Reed get out.

All the boys looked at each other. It was Anne who said, “We should go down.”

“You shouldn’t even be here,” Swann reminded her.

“I bet no one minds tonight,” she said.

They were down in the common room, and the bells were still tolling when the PA system came on.

“Gentlemen of Saint Francis,” they heard Father Reed’s voice, “our beloved Abbot Father John Merrill passed away this evening around nine o’clock. He led our community for over thirty years and for tomorrow and Wednesday, there will be no classes, though regular Mass, breakfast, lunch and dinner schedules will remain. Also, after school extra curriculars will continue though Father Roberts will take over for Track and Field. We are in the process of calling the homes of day students right now, but if you are able to call your friends who live in town it would be much appreciated. We are always here for you and the brothers and priests will be up all night in prayer, in the chapel of the retrochoir. This is Father Reed. We…. Love you guys. Good night and God bless.”

“Wow, he sounded almost human,” Anne said.

“Right?” Swann nodded but Jack who, like Chris, was in Track and Field said, “Give him a break.”

“Break given,” Anne said.

She turned to Swann. “Are you going to walk me back?”

“We’ll all walk you back,” Jack said, as much to make up for his sharpness as anything.

“I don’t think any of us wants to be alone tonight,” Pete said. “Which is strange, because I didn’t really know Father Merrill.”

Neither had Swann, but he knew just how Pete felt.

Since there was no school there was no need to hurry back, and as the bells began ringing at Saint Anne’s and some cars were driving off campus, Anne surmised that her school had the same idea about school the next day, so they all went out to Friendly’s and sat around a table slurping shakes and saying little.

Jill reflected, “Boys do sad really well.”

Chris came back from making a call and, sliding in, said, “You know Sal Goode and Joe Stanley. I just called them to say there was no school tomorrow and we’re at Friendly’s. They got Joe’s mom to drive them down here, and there’re going to spend the night on campus.”

That was a part Swann had forgotten, Joe and Sal had been there, both so skinny and still looking like kids, Sal with his bobbing Adam’s apple and big forehead. They had been the right number to break the group up, that is, up until then there had been an uncomfortable silence that follows when people are feeling different ways, but no one wants to walk away from the group because of bad manners. Now they became two groups, tracks boys who were silent and sipping shakes, feeling bad for Father Reed. and Jill, Swann and Pete and a girl from Saint Anne’s Jill had spotted.

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great long portion! Death is always sad but at least there is a good community of people to support each other. I am glad that Swann understood about Chris and Sal. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Have an excellent night. Or day. Have so much fun. And I'll keep posting.

 

[ChrisGibson]

The eleven pointed star was the hardest

We’re still longing for salvation,

the complete transformation that is more than optimistic

phrases spoken from a pulpit in church on Sunday.

We are practicing a creed that sits on the lip of wonder

and shits on anything like cul de sacs and two car garages,

we are waiting for the HOC to blow up and

pretty green lawns to be burned up in Armageddon.

I know you, and like you I dug up the hidden books,

sought the scrolls and theories others scorned,

stayed up to five in the morning chanting,

waiting for shiva’s torch to sweep through the dark

like the brazen fire over abraham’s offering

I learned to trace the six point star

and the seven point star, the eight point star

Ate the bar of bread, Lifted a chalice to heaven,

lay naked on the wet grass, spread like a whore



The eleven pointed star was the hardest



And here in silence we are still waiting.



Witchcraft

We have plowed through this night,

mining our empty heads and worried bodies for stories,

words,

spinning out poems and prose spells,

fine as golden thread,

and now as we prepare for bed,

now after the business of doing the magic and the magic

of doing business, dealing with bills and mails

and the unwanted things,



sit at the altar,

dust if off,

clean it,

attend,

light candles,

toss away,

listen to what the little voices, good and bad both have to say,

and retreating from the fray, guard your witchcraft.



Remember what you forgot when you were busy being comfortable,

these good folk in these church pews,

these ordinary things are not for you,

dare to come onto the heath, there beyond belief and doubting,

past the last safe harbor is your witchcraft



Pride



I didn’t find it in the rainbow rallies or the family friendly parades

(only a shadow of the true debauchery of big cities.)

I did not find it in nipple clamps and fetishwear

And it wasn’t over there, on a beach with a rainbow pier that was full of

straight folks,



Only a little queer



I found you here, in the dark dens,

with horny men,

in orgasmic blow jobs and cigarettes shared with friends

I found it in a red bearded come correct stranger with a country cock

the size of a sausage that barely fit my mouth and almost broke me in two

Found it in the rocking of the bed as we shook and took each other at last



And the journey was shut,

in the baptism of his nut,

glazing my back and ass



like any Christian

I know the value of being on my knees

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great poems! I liked how detailed they were. Good work and I look forward to more of them and more of your story!

 

[ChrisGibson]

This is the first time I've made it here this week, so thank you.

 

[ChrisGibson]

I definitely posted these in the wrong place, and it's definitely time to post again..

 

[ChrisGibson]

THe conclusion of chapter seven takes us back to high school days....


Around Swann’s third yawn, though, Jack said it was time to go home. After parting from the girls, the boys returned to school, and coming up the steps to the vestibule, they could see into the chapel. Swann pushed open the doors and the church was dark and empty, but beyond the altar they could see the lit retro choir and hear the brothers singing back and forth to each other.



I waited, I waited for the Lord
and he stooped down to me;
he heard my cry.



He drew me from the deadly pit,
from the miry clay.


He set my feet upon a rock
and made my footsteps firm.

He put a new song into my mouth,
praise of our God…



Chris whispered, “Me and Sal and Joe are gonna crash in the common room.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll join you guys soon.”

Ben and Pete headed after the others and Jack sat by Swann.

“Would it be okay if I came later?” Jack asked. “I don’t know when I’m going to sleep, and I want to sit up with the guys?”

Swann nodded, blinking. He said, “You can stay with them if you want. I don’t mind.”

Jack didn’t say anything. But the two of them sat in the dark chapel side to side, and listened to the brothers singing back and forth.



“Your justice I have proclaimed
in the great assembly.
My lips I have not sealed;
you know it, O Lord.

I have not hidden your justice in my heart
but declared your faithful help.”


As Swann drifted into sleep on the psalms, he was surprised to hear them murmured from Jack’s mouth, surprised at the words coming up from the chest he leaned against..



“I have not hidden your love and your truth
from the great assembly.

O Lord, you will not withhold
your compassion from me.


Your merciful love and your truth
will always guard me.”



When Swann woke up they were still in darkness, and the light in the retro choir was dimmed. There was silence and as he sat up, Jack sat up too.

“Oh man,” Jack said, sleepily.

He stretched and stood.

“Come on,” he said, taking Swann’s hand. He released it only long enough to genuflect, which Swann repeated, and then they went through the church door and into the true dorms. Swann thought maybe they were visiting the common room, seeing the others. But Jack, hair stuck up, kept yawning, and when they reached the third floor he walked past the common room and straight to his bedroom. There he locked the door, stripped off all of his clothes and climbed into his bed motioning for Swann to join him.

They were too tired to talk and it was a while before Swann said, “I thought you were going to be with…”

“I want to be with you,” Jack said. They slept in his twin bed and Jack slept on the outside so Swann was firmly snuggled between him and the wall. In the night they pressed together, secure in each other;s flesh, and embraced till they fell back into sleep.





As they screwed hard in the early morning, Jack stank of the last day and stale breath, and as he clutched his shoulders under the blanket, Swann didn’t care, The room was dark and fusty with the smell of closed windows and boy, and when Jack groaned and came, a jet of semen between Swann’s thighs and up his stomach, he sighed a little before Swann, full of the same desire, turned Jack onto his back and repeated the same thing Jack crying out with Swann’s thrusts, Jack’s rough football player hands pawing his ass, holding his shoulders, urging him to come, urging the desire from his shaft, from the tip of his penis where it hummed and burned and finally exploded.

After sex, the two of them lay in funk, in the smell of their breath and armpits and the deeper smell of between the legs and between the buttocks, the smell of dried spit, the smell of fifteen year old and eighteen year old, and their bodies were slick with sweat and come. They pressed together and, at last, Jack turned on his stomach so that Swann, clinging to him, the bed was too small not to, ran his hands up and down the older boy, the young man, and delighted in his shoulders, in his back, in the path the back made to the rough hills of his ass, downed in hair,

“Can I get one of your cigarettes?” Jack whispered, already reaching for them.

As the smell of smoke came up, Jack said, “You love to play with my body.”

Swann climbed on top of him, kissing him, sniffing his damp, puppy dog scented hair. He reached down and took the cigarette from him, inhaled, and exhaled and pressed himself to the cleft of Jack’s ass.

“You don’t fuck me enough,” Jack said.

“Huh?”

“Put it in me,” Jack said, casually.

He stubbed the cigarette, and Swann was going to say that he was too tired to, that they had just come. But when Jack told him to put it in him, he found that he could and in the early morning he was thrilled to be inside of Jack’s tightness, amazed that someone so strong and so powerful wanted to be pounded by him, amazed that he could explode again, this time it was like a fever breaking quietly, a wash of cool relief. Jack turned around and kissed him savagely, rubbing his rough cheek against Swann’s. Their limbs linked and they decided once again, as they made love, not to talk about graduation, and how Jack would go to college and leave him here. Jack was strong, and even gentle sex a little rough, full of his need. Swann loved the bruising of his skin even though Jack would apologize afterward, shocked by the strength of his desire. How could anything be as right as this? How could anything be as right as their two hot bodies, in their perfect imperfection, smell of armpits and ass, smell of old coffee and cigarettes on breath, arms and legs tangled together? Swann closed his eyes and hugged the mattress, and Jack fucked him harder and harder. He wished he could see his face, wished he could see those blue eyes widen, that mouth go into an O, the neck constrict as those hands grasped him so roughly, those fingers clinching his his shoulders, and Jack cried out, flooding Swann.

They slept as long as they wanted to, and then, in yesterdays clothes when to Swann’s floor so he could get his clothes and showered together.



They hadn’t missed breakfast at all. Neither Swann nor Jack accounted for how early they usually woke up. They found everyone had been asleep either in Chris’s room or in Pete’s, and only some of them had bothered with dressing.

“You guys know it’s no school today,” Chris in his jeans and jersey tee said, and Sal and Joe seemed to be of the same mind. But Pete had dressed. He always did, and he even had on cologne and cufflinks.

They made it to the last half hour of breakfast, and when Jack had devoured four pancakes, Ben said, “Woah, save some for the rest of us!”

Swann colored, looking at Jack and knowing what had given him such a hunger. He ignored how clean he was. He couldn’t see himself, and thought about how impressive Jack looked in his blue blazer and trousers, white shirt, dark tie, almost clean shaven, hair gelled just right, eyes flashing, king of the school. His,. His. His.

“We should pay our respects,” Swann said.

“Exactly,” Pete agreed.

Swann wasn’t sure if they were being truly respectful or just nosy. They all filed our of the cafeteria and walked through the empty classroom building and over the row of Freshmen dorms where Swann stayed, down to the vestibule and into the church. It was calm and quiet and full of light, and the boys all dipped their fingers in holy water, even Pete, and crossed themselves, though Pete crossed himself differently. Jack and Chris genuflected and then walked down the nave, up over the altar, and stood in the shadow of the screen dividing the altar from the retro choir.

Most of them had never been this close to the retro choir, or to death. The day was full of light. The stone floor and the stain glass windows looked like they had been scrubbed of all darkness. It smelled of incense, and the back altar glinted was hung in gold and white, for it was still Easter. The monks’ stalls were empty, dark and wooden, facing each other and before the altar, stretched out on a bier and covered in a white shroud, was the body of Abbot Merrill.

When Joe’s eyes widened and he caught his breath, Sal, the track runner with the bobbing Adam’s apple, caught his friend’s hand, and gave him an encouraging look. Maybe this was the first time Swann noticed him.

Two at his feet, two at his head, a rectangle, burned tall candles, ivory colored, almost yellow. Later Swann would learn they were beeswax, and on either side of the body of the old abbot, in heavy white habits, hoods drawn up, grimly sat a monk. One would read a psalm and rap his fist on the table before him when he was gone, then the next one would begin reading as they both turned the page.







“I will extol the Lord at all times;
his praise will always be on my lips.
I will glory in the Lord;
let the afflicted hear and rejoice.
Glorify the Lord with me;
let us exalt his name together.”



As the second monk took over, Swann heard the voice, saw the brown hand and realized it was Brother Prynne. For not the last time he was reminded that the monks were not the background for his world, but that they, Chris, Jack, Pete, all of them, were living in their world, on the edge of it, and had no idea who these men really were.



“I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.
This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
he saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
and he delivers them…”

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an excellent portion! I am glad Jack and Swann enjoyed their time together. Death is always difficult to deal with and I think it’s good that it made Swann reflect on things. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

That was an excellent portion! I am glad Jack and Swann enjoyed their time together. Death is always difficult to deal with and I think it’s good that it made Swann reflect on things. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

I haven't been posting. I need to get back to it.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Chapter Eight































The next day the bells tolled all morning until noon, and several cars rolled onto the school’s lawn and the lane behind where the Matthews family and all the families attached to the school lived. Brad Crist, and Andy Wendelborn, the heads of the Young Republicans, came along with Suzie and Emily and Jill, who did not wear her uniform but a sophisticated black dress, her red hair combed till it shined, making her look years older. Swann had not been aware there were so many brothers and priests here, but here they were in the vestibule, all in flowing white hooded robes they wore over their habits, all nearly indistinguishable except for Father Reed who looked, despite having the face of an exhausted ostrich as Swann pointed out, grand in black vestments, a cross of gold stitched on the back of his ebony alb. Beside him, also in black robes, though less ornate, was Father Robert, in school life a young track coach, but now robed in the dignity of a monk and a priest. Chris, Jack, Sal and Joe were altar boys and Swann, because he had a good voice, was asked to be the lcctor. Joe was swinging the brass thurible as incense rose from it and Chris, bearing the brass cross as they all entered Holy Angels Chapel, the choir and monks chanting.



Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine,

et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Te decet hymnus Deus in Sion,

et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem.



The Abbot was buried, but only in the presence of the monks and the nuns, and when they returned, the meal in the monks’ refectory was almost festive. The monastery was at the heart of the school, in fact the school wrapped around it, and in the north section even ran up against it, but except for Swann and Chris, none of the boys had been in it, and even they had never seen this much.

“Look at them,” Jill said, while she and Swann were sharing an orange.

The older ones were wearing the habit of white robe and scapular, though the priests were mostly wearing black pants, black shirt, and Roman collar. Father Robert had brought Father Reed a drink, and though the other often seem so uptight, so solitary, he eased in the presence of the young priest. Brother Herulian wore his black and white habit, his hands in the pockets under his scapular, and the cheery marmalade haired man managed to look casual as ever. For once, Prynne wore a habit as well, all white, and as the Black man moved through the monks and nuns, Swann remembered Jack saying, “He’s going to be the next abbot.”

He stopped and gripped Reed by the shoulder, and as he walked on, Reed caressed his back and Swann said, “They’re a family.”

Jill nodded.



“Exaudi orationem meam….”

“Huh?”

“Exaudi orationem meam ad te omnis caro veniet,” Swann half sang.. “Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.”



The next day classes resumed, though in a subdued manner. Prynne wore his usual clothes, double breast pocketed shirt and chinos, and class was full of passion and discussion as usual though, because they for the most part loved Prynne, after class the boys gathered around him to ask how he was.

“I have been better, but I am good, thank you kindly, and now get yourselves to class. I’m not going to be your excuse for being late for….”

He looked at Chris.

“Algebra, is it?”

Later that evening, after dinner, while bells were ringing away and Swann was in Pete’s room, studying with Chris and Harry Proestos, Jack and Ben ran down the hall while Jack swung from the transom and announced, “They just did it. They elected Prynne. He’s the new abbot.”

“How do you know all this?” Harry demanded.

“Jack’s a senior, he knows things,” Chris said. “Besides, the bells are ringing.”

“Well, like,” Corey Arrington, one of the few other Black students who stayed in residence hall said, “don’t you have to be a priest to be an abbot?”

“Isn’t your family connected to Prynne?” Harry said to Swann.”

“Yeah. My uncle grew up with him. He comes to the house on holidays.”

Between Donald and Jack they understood that things had been set up a long time ago. It was no secret that Abbot Merrill and the older monks had set his eye on Prynne as being abbot one day, and over two decades before, when Prynne had first come into the order, they had set him on the path to the priesthood. But Prynne was cantankerous and didn’t want to be a priest. This led to a lot of wrangling and reminders of what it meant to take a vow of obedience, and in the end the concession that was made was Prynne would study for the priesthood and do everything necessary to be a priest, including becoming a deacon, but forgo ordination until such a time as he Merrill stepped down or… died.

In fact, while Prynne was studying for the priesthood, Merrill had stepped down for several years, and there had been another abbot, but after him, Merrill had come back and been abbot ever since, and it was made clear that Tommy Prynne, known in religious life as Mary Eutropius, would be his successor. And so, this night, he had been elected.

“Well, who will run things until he’s abbot?” Harry wondered.

“He will,” Jack said, looking almost offended. “Merrill was old. Herulian is Prior, so he was his second, and he’ll probably be Prynne’s second, but he had made Prynne his unofficial third. I heard he’s been running things for years.”

“Well,” Harry said, touching his beak of a Greek nose.

And Pete Agalathagos said, “Well, indeed.”



School masses were every Friday. Jack said he heard from Brother Herulian that once Mass was every morning, and every student had to attend. There was church here on Sunday, of course, but it wasn’t required that the boarders show up for it. For a while there was a thing where you could show up Friday or Sunday and be excused from the other day, but someone stopped this. Swann suspected the someone was Brother Prynne.

But Brother Prynne was something they all needed to get used to not saying for much longer. It spread throughout the school that, for once, everyone would be expected to attend Mass on another day than Friday, Thursday in fact, the Feast of the Ascension. On the royal day commemorating Jesus’ Ascension into heaven and the Church’s declaration of Christ as King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Eutropius Prynne would officially become abbot over Our Lady of the Angels, and the adjoining priories.

“I didn’t even know there were adjoining priories,” Chris remarked.

“I didn’t even know those were words,” Ben Forrester said.

“Any time we get out of classes is a good time,” Swann decided, “and if feels like it’s going to be a big party.”

It was toward the end of the year, when Swann and his friends were trying hard not to talk about things like Ben and Jack going off to college, and how the rest of them wouldn’t see each other all summer. All the while they talked about this, the boys who would be sophomores planned their living arrangement next year.

“There’s this huge suite I want us all to live in,” Pete was saying, “but I hear that Damian Ogrodowski, Dave Kosmyna and their crowd got it. “So we should all get together and say we want the one on northeast side.”

“What’s it like?” Chris asked.

“Well, you know how Jack and Ben have those private rooms that are a little bit bigger than ours, but kinda pokey?”

“Yeah.”

“This ain’t it,” Pete said. “Jack Killian’s living their now, but it’s two huge rooms, like, no lie, each room is for real twice the size of a private, and they’re connected by a doorway that you can put a curtain over, and then you know what connects to the last of the rooms?”

Pete waited for someone to say something, but no on did. So he pushed his glasses up his nose and said, “A full bathroom with a claw foot bath, boys.”

“Fuck it, we’re getting it,” Swann said.

“Juniors or seniors might want it,” Chris said.

“Fuck them,” Swann declared.

He looked at Pete.

“Is it spoken for?”

Pete shook his head, pleased to have a comrade in arms.

“Nope.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great to see you posting again and that was an excellent start to the chapter! I missed this story and am enjoying it a lot!