The Ends of Rossford

[ChrisGibson]

I had to write this response all over again because I just re read this. I do wonder how you blame Bryant and not Tom, because Bryant actually doesn't seem to come off very badly in this. Tom knows exactly what he's doing. Even though I pointed this out before, just for the fun of it I must point out that this school where al this is taking place and this town is the same one where Father Ralph went and where Cedric followed him to and had to be rescued from by Ida.... though I guess in this time line that would have happened around fifteen years earlier.

 

[CharmedFan28]

You are right Tom is to blame too. He chose to do this as well. I guess I am just used to Bryant being in the wrong I don't know.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, I don't suppose Bryant ever did anything bad on his own. I meant Bryant to be a sort of villain, at least in the first book, but everything he did was pretty much provoked. At any rate, here he is now for the first time, an in another part we;ll meet him differently again.

 

[ChrisGibson]

They walked across the campus. Tom sure that he shouldn’t hold Bryant’s hand or touch him too much. He had never been afraid of being openly gay, but there was the whole business of him going back to his partner. Initially, he had wanted to walk back to Fenn’s room alone, making a sort of space between the Tom that had just had sex with another man, and the Tom who was committed to Fenn Houghton. Their walking together across the grassy quad, past the church, and around to the sleeping seminary was a violation of this. When they reached the darkened porch that led to where he and Fenn were staying, Bryant did catch at his hand a little, and they held hands just a moment. Who was looking? In this darkness anyone could be watching. Tom turned around and looked at Bryant. The tall man had a sloppy, lovelorn smile.
“I wish I could kiss you.”
Tom wanted to say, “Next time.”
But there wasn’t going to be a next time.
“You’ll call me, right?” Tom said, instead. “You’ll talk to me?”
Bryant nodded.
“Of course.”
Tom stood on the little porch watching Bryant walk away until he was very small. Tom’s body shuddered with the memory of him. There went the only other man besides Fenn he’d ever been with. And unlike with Fenn, where the courtship had been months, this had happened instantly, right away.
Tom turned around and went back into the building. He retraced his steps around the dark dormitory. There was a light in the little corridor where he and Fenn were staying. A crucifix hung from the wall at the end of the hall, over a large window that looked onto the night. When Tom reached the door, he turned it. It was not locked. Fenn was in bed and from the bed came his voice.
“Dan left an hour ago. We had so much to talk about. I guess you did too.”
Fenn sat up.
“Did you have a good night?”
“Yes,” Tom said, analyzing Fenn’s face for any sign of insincerity and trying to look as if he weren’t analyzing Fenn’s face.
“We talked a lot. It was good.”
“That makes me happy,” Fenn said, lying back in bed. “I always thought you were too on your own. I like you to have friends. Come to bed, Tom. We have to get back early.”
“I will,” Tom said. “I want to shower, first, though.”
“Alright,” Fenn said, a sleepy shrug in his voice.
So Tom took his clothes off for the second time that night. He went down the guesthouse corridor naked and found the shower room. He stayed under the water a long time. Why he had risked walking down this hall naked he could not say. He thought of Bryant and the sex they’d had and how Bryant was across the campus. How he wanted him all over again. He touched himself all over and then turned off the shower and came back to bed. He climbed in naked, warm and smelling of fresh soap.
“You feel good,” Fenn wrapped his arms around Tom.
Initially Tom was embarrassed to realize he resented Fenn. He was mad at having to come home to him, mad at him not being Bryant, mad about him being so easily deceived. But he loved Fenn. Certainly he’d been madly in love with him ten hours ago.
“Fenn,” Tom whispered.
“Yes.”
“How awake are you?”
“Pretty awake now that you’ve woken me.”
Tom took Fenn’s hand and brought it all the way down his chest. Fenn loved him naked, loved his body, and so it made Tom feel sexy to act sexy with him. He knew that Fenn loved how the hair under his belly and around his balls, his bush, was so soft, and he ran his hands in it and then brought Fenn’s hand to his cock.
“Tom.”
“Have you ever felt it this hard?”
Fenn hadn’t.
“Can I fuck you?” Tom whispered, his back to Fenn. “Can I fuck you hard?”
Fenn pulled Tom on top of him.
“Not here, either,” Tom said. “Outside. That little alcove porch thing. With the moon and the stars. There’s vines all up there.”
“You’ve thought of this.”
“I’m thinking of it now.”
Under Fenn’s hand, Tom’s penis was getting large, pulsing more and more, becoming heavier.
“Yes.” Fenn told him.
They got dressed. This was so unlike Tom. This was such a different side to him. He had to be led into so much, usually. Tonight they dressed quickly, and in today’s trousers, shirt hanging out of his pants, Tom led him outside to the little porch. The steps led down to a little yard toward the priests’ house where there was no light and no one coming. He and Tom looked out on an empty courtyard with a statue of the Blessed Virgin.
“Right here,” Tom whispered. He ran his hands up and down Fenn’s sides. Fenn planted his hands on the stone base and looked out onto the courtyard. He felt Tom under him as Tom ran his hands along his sides.
“I need to be in you,” Tom whispered into his throat, placing his cheek along his neck. He fucked him like that, the two of them fitting together.
“I need to be in you. I need to be in you,” he whispered again and again while he fucked him. “I need to make a big sticky mess inside of you.”
That turned the both of them on so much that it was just what Tom did. With more force than he’d ever experienced, he collapsed against Fenn, staggering, jutting into him, shooting deep, deep, his hands losing power, his mind almost losing consciousness.
Fenn turned around and, like a sleepy, half naked child, his pants still down, Tom cradled himself against him, between his legs.
“You wanna fuck me too?”
“Yes. But in a bed.”
“Yeah,” Tom said. “We can do that.”
They redressed and headed down the hall.
“I love you, you know that?” Tom said.
“I know that. I love you too.”
“I love you more than anything.”
“Why are you telling me—” And then Fenn said, “Yes. I know. Let’s go back to bed.”
They did go back. And all that night they exhausted themselves connecting in every way possible. Tom rejoiced in the pleasure of being with Fenn, and in time they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Sunday morning they went to Mass, had breakfast with Dan, and then returned home.

“Okay, so you remember that girl I was telling you about?”
“The forty year old?”
“She has a name,” Tara said. “Shaneice.”
“But she’s still forty,” said Fenn. “Anyway, what happened with her and the woman she was involved with?”
“She left her. For me.”
“Okay?” Fenn sounded doubtful. “Do I want to know what happens next?”
“She stayed the night.”
“That’s right,” Fenn said, clasping his friend’s hand.
“But it’s not serious yet. I told her I don’t want you hopping from one thing to another. We’re just keeping it light. Friends… with lots of benefits.
“She had to be at work early so she woke me up at five in the morning to get some.”
“And you gave her some.”
“You know I did,” Tara said.
Tom came out of the kitchen, wearing Fenn’s fedora.
“What are we laughing at?”
“The fact that Tara’s getting laid again.”
“Right on,” Tom said, sitting on the couch on the other side of Fenn. “Sex is a beautiful thing. Especially if you half like the person you’re doing it with.”
Tom wrapped an arm around Fenn’s waist and Fenn said, “So you half way like me?”
Tom touched his hat rakishly and squeezing Fenn said, “I’d even venture to say I three fourths like you.”
He stood up.
“I gotta go over to the school, so you two kids try not to tear anything up while I’m gone.”
He winked at Fenn, and headed out the door.
“Not even a kiss goodbye,” Fenn said, with mock sorrow.
“God, that man loves you,” Tara said. “The two of you even dress alike.”
“He never wore fedoras, button down double pocketed shirts and madras pants until he met me.”
“And you never shaved and wore cologne until you met him.”
Tara sat back and smiled.
“The two of you together… when I see it I just think: that’s the real thing.”

“I’m going to be going over to Valpo a few times a week,” Fenn told him.
“Alright?” Tom waited for more.
“I’m going back to school. I want my Masters. You have yours. I want it in literature. It’s time to finish what I started.”
So Fenn began school working half time at the radio station with Tara, and Tom continued teaching at Loretto. He had a concert later that year, and then he was employed at Saint Barbara’s.
“That was your church, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Fenn told him. “But I don’t see myself going back there.”
“You’d go for me, though. Wouldn’t you?”
Fenn couldn’t tell if Tom was serious or not.
He said, “I would go to listen to you play. I would not sit through Mass or have a religious change because of you.”
“You’re really done with all that, huh?” Tom said.
For some reason this struck Fenn as slightly hypocritical coming out of Tom’s mouth. Tom was a dutiful Catholic, surely. He always went to Mass. He always played at them. But as far as Fenn knew Tom had never read so much as a paragraph of the Bible, or knelt by his bedside in prayer. It was a cultural thing for him. Fenn would have gone on about this, but he liked peace in his house. There was much he didn’t discuss for the sake of peace.
“Would you like to hear something?” Fenn said.
Without waiting for Tom’s answer, Fenn got up, went into their bedroom and came back with a ragged old book.
“Is that a children’s book?”
“It certainly is,” Fenn said. “Let’s give it a listen.”
“‘Now boys and girls, I know a place filled with people who never forget! And that place is Purgatory.
“‘Purgatory is the place where you go after you die, if you have venial sin on your soul. You have to pay for your sins down in Purgatory before you can go to heaven. Well, down in Purgatory there are hundred of people who cannot help themselves! They cannot pray for themselves. They cannot go to Mass. They cannot go to Confession or Communion. There they suffer day after day. They are waiting and crying out for you to help them!’”
Now Fenn clutched at Tom’s arm dramatically, and continued,
“‘Maybe some poor soul down in Purgatory needs just one litlle “Hail Mary” to get to Heaven! Maybe one Communion will let some poor soul out of Purgatory. Let’s say that “Hail Mary” for them! Let’s receive Holy Communion for them!’
“Oh, what shit,” Fenn threw the book down. “I’m going to throw up.
Tom stopped laughing and then he said, “But don’t you believe it at all?”
After almost ten years, Fenn looked at Tom shocked, and then realized he didn’t understand why he should be shocked.
“You do believe it?” Fenn said.
“Well, maybe not quite that way. But… yeah.”
“You hear this and think, um believable. I read it and think, no wonder they had a Reformation. I’m pretty sure this is insane and unbiblical.”
“Well, you have your beliefs and I have mine,” Tom said mildly.
“No,” Fenn said, standing up straight. “If I meet someone on the street I don’t live with, then they have their beliefs and I have mine. You’re the person I live with… We need to talk this shit out.”
“I’m a Catholic, Fenn.”
“You’ve never even read the Bible. You don’t even pray. You don’t even pray the goddamned Rosary. You hate Dan.”
“I don’t hate Dan.”
“Not the point,” Fenn said. “I’ve read you something ridiculous from start to finish. A children’s book that terrifies little kids by telling them their sins will send them to a place that’s like hell, no matter what, and only people going to Mass and praying to Mary will get them out, and oh little kids, don’t forget to do the the same for your poor dead grandma and grampa. And you just say, yeah, that’s plausible. What a religion!”
“Maybe you’re right,” Tom said, weakly. “But in case you’re wrong—”
“I’m not.”
“That’s the difference between us. I’m on the fence, and you just roll right over. In fact, you kick the fence over.”
“I think Purgatory is silly.”
“Maybe it’s because you’ve never done anything really, really wrong.”
“Nonsense.”
“No it isn’t,” Tom said. “You don’t need to believe in things like that because you don’t have things on your conscience.”
“And you do?”

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a very interesting portion! Looks like Tom is feeling guilty for what he did. I don't know if Fenn quite suspects what has gone on yet but I think its only a matter of time before he does. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow! I hope you are having a nice night!

 

[ChrisGibson]

So, I'm curious, at this point how do you feel about Tom? How do you feel about Fenn? And let's not forget Tara.

 

[CharmedFan28]

I like them all! Tom has done something questionable but I still like him.

 

[CharmedFan28]

Tara may have hurt someone in the process of getting laid but I still like her too. Just thought I would clarify that. I think you have said before that Fenn is the centre of these stories and I would say he is one of my favourites.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Fenn is definitely the lynchpin character of the entire story. Other characters might be more likeable to some people, but none of them centers the story. Everything centers around Fenn's family, and everything centralizes at his house. That was on purpose. I didn't want the gay uncle to be the sort of hanger on character, so he is the head of his family and Todd is the head of his family and those two families are the main families of the story. It's easy to forget that, but if you do a quick mental family tree of how everyone is linked, it becomes apparent. This is why I like this last book where whole chapters are devoted to him and where that family is still forming and the house isn't even around yet. And Todd? Wtf is Todd? But I also like it because Tara is his best friend, and even though her daughter is very much present in the later stories, she fades out ,and I like bringing her to the fore again.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CLEARLY I WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION TO WHERE I POSTED. SIMPLY FOR CONTINUITY'S SAKE, i'VE POSTED LAST NIGHT'S ROSSFORD WHERE IT BELONGS


“Todd!” Fenn ran to the young man who had invited himself into the apartment and embraced him.
“You’re huge now.” Fenn had to climb up to reach him.
Todd had a full head of black hair and in his ears winked two diamond studs that Fenn couldn’t help but be a little turned on by. The young man held Fenn apart from him, beaming at him, and as Todd laughed, Fenn couldn’t help but notice how strong the olive complexioned boy’s arms had become.
“It didn’t happen over night, you know? I’ve been taller than you for years.”
“And bigger?”
“And bigger. I’m so not a little kid.”
“No,” Fenn said, sitting down. “You’re not.”
Then he said, “Let me get you something.”
“Water’ll be nice.”
“What about a beer?” Fenn said, from the kitchen, “Now that we’ve established you’re a grown up.”
“A beer would be great!” Todd said. “I didn’t want to impose and invite myself to your booze is all.”
They were sitting, drinking, and Todd said, “Where’s your boring half?”
“Stop that.”
Todd shrugged.
“I just always thought you could do better.”
“Well, you’ve always been honest. I’ll give you that.”
Todd belched lightly, and said, “Excuse me. And excuse me for insulting Tom. I don’t know… I just thought it would have ended by now. You all are so different.”
“And who would be better suited for me?”
Todd shrugged and took a long pull at his beer. Fenn cocked his head.
“Wait a minute,” Fenn said.
“Alright.”
Fenn got up and returned with the little red book.
“Read this,” he opened it up to Todd.
Todd put the beer down, Fenn noticed, on a coaster, not the table, and then began reading before he first snorted and then outright laughed.
“Oh, fuck!”
“So it’s funny?” Fenn urged.
“It’s absofucking ridiculous.”
“Tom believes in it.”
“Well, then Tom’s weak in the head.”
For some reason it made Fenn glad to hear Todd say that.
“But I have to warn you,” Todd said. “I don’t really believe in God. Not that one. Nell tells me I should go to church. I… Look, if there’s a God….
“I know there’s a God,” Todd said. “But it’s not like this shit we’re hearing about. Hell. He’s probably not even a he. What’s more, I don’t really want to talk about him.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
Very quickly, and very expertly, Todd kissed Fenn. It was such a shock, and then it felt so good that it took Fenn a moment to pull away, and then he knocked Todd upside the head.
“Ow,” Todd complained, rubbing his dark, spiked hair.
“I knew you would do that,” Todd said. “But it was worth it. I’ve been dying to do that for years.”
“Well, you can’t do it again,” Fenn said, feeling more disconcerted than anything.
“I accept it,” Todd said, but he was grinning even while he rubbed his head. He was so cool about it! Fenn almost wanted to laugh.
“However, you asked me if I had someone better for you in mind. And I do. He’s all grown up. He’s tall, dark and a little bit handsome. He would have been off limits a while ago, but he’s perfectly available now.”
“Todd Meradan, are you hitting on me?”
“Fuck yeah, I am.”
Fenn sighed.
“What?”
Fenn stood up: “I think I’m going to need another beer.”

“So he kissed you?” Tara said. She sat back with a pleased look on her face, and Fenn said, “I don’t know why that makes you smile?”
“All sorts of shit makes me smile,” Tara said.
“What did you do after that?” Adele said, concerned.
“After what?” a little girl’s voice asked.
They turned around and Layla was walking into the kitchen with a gangly little, tow haired boy, and the dark haired Dena.
“Layla, what have I told you about grown up conversation?”
“I know what you told me,” the little girl said, “But I still want to know.”
Fenn called the little girl over and pulled her roughly to him, tickling her while she laughed, and cried, “Fenn! Stop!”
“That’s what nosey little girls get. Dena, Brendan, how are you?”
All of the children were eight, and Brendan Miller was a generally shy boy, but around Fenn he opened up quickly.
“I’ve got my first science fair,” he told him. “And I’m doing a report on hogs.”
“He got in trouble,” Dena said earnestly, “because Mrs. Nothnagel said, ‘Oh, you’re doing pigs.’ But he corrected her and said, “They’re not pigs. They’re hogs.’ You should have seen the way she looked at him!” Dena narrated, wide eyed. “But he was right.”


“Well, I sure am glad you called,” Tom said in a low voice from the kitchen.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Bryant laughed. “It cures my low self esteem.”
Tom chuckled and said, “These days I’m coming down with a case of it myself.”
“Really? What’s all that laughter in the background, then?”
“That laughter is not for me,” Tom said.
“You remember the priest whose ordination you played at?”
“Yes, your friend.”
“No, Fenn’s friend. Well, he’s staying the weekend. He just got back from a mission. The two of them are sitting on the sofa yukking it up like kids.”
“Make you jealous?”
“Honestly?” said Tom. “A little.”
“You should come and visit me.”
Tom’s voice changed. He looked back at Fenn and Dan laughing on the couch.
“I honestly can’t say what I’d do if that happened.”
“That’s the fun part,” Bryant told him.
The truth was Tom hadn’t had a sustained period to seriously regret his infidelity.and so he said, “You’re right. It probably would be. I might have to make my way down to Sainte Terre.”
“Saint Terre or wherever I end up,” Bryant said.
“What’s that?”
“My contract’s up at the end of this term. After it I’m not sure where I’ll be going.”
Tom was about to say, “Come here!”
But before he could speak, even as he realized how inappropriate a suggestion that would be, Bryant said, “I think I’ll head back to Pennsylvania.”
“You hate Pennsylvania.”
“No, I hate my family. Pennsylvania is fine.”

When Tom got off the phone Fenn looked up.
“How was Bryant?”
“Fine, but he’ll be looking for a new place to go next term,” Tom said.
“I never really knew him that well,” Dan commented.
Fenn said, “I never knew him at all.
“But what about you? Where are you going next, Father Dan?”
Dan gave Fenn a goofy look and then said, “Wherever the Spirit sends me. Or more likely the Archbishop.”
“Don’t you get a say?” Tom asked him.
Fenn looked at him. Tom had never addressed Dan when he didn’t have to.
“Maybe,” Dan said with a shrug. “Sometimes. A little.”
He didn’t seem to want to talk.
“I’m going out,” Tom said.
When he was gone, Dan said, after a while, “Am I out of line to ask what’s going on with him?”
“Little things,” Fenn said, shrugging. “It’s been almost nine years, you know? Little things start to show up after that long.”

Tom’s problems had to take a backseat to the trouble that befell the Meradans. Fenn heard about it from Brendan Miller first.
“We should go pray for Mrs. Meradan,” Brendan said, soberly. He asked the eight year old why, and Brendan told him that Dena’s grandma was really, really sick.
The really, really was enough to make him take the two children from his apartment and whisk them straight to the house. Dena was there with Nell and Todd as well as their aunt and uncle and Adele.
“Kevin came earlier,” Aunt Mary said, “but I asked him to leave. For Nadine’s sake.”
“A little for mine too,” Nell admitted.
She smiled, but she looked fragile. Fenn didn’t want to hug her or show any of the the warmth that would make her fall apart. She was trying to hold it together right now. He understood that.
Brendan didn’t quite understand it though. And the boy went up to Nell, gave her a dandelion, and then wrapped his arms around her waist. Throwing her arms over Brendan she began to cry. Then Dena began crying too and went to them, and then Layla looked at Fenn with a question in her face before joining them in the embrace.
Fenn went to Todd.
“How sick?” he whispered.
“Renal failure brought on by a bone cancer.”
“Oh, my God.”
Fenn sat down right beside Todd, so close they were touching sides. But he wouldn’t touch his hand or coddle him. He knew Todd would hate that. Or at least hate it in public.
“I was so worried when my mother went on dialysis,” is what Fenn said, instead. “We wore brave faces, but—”
“She didn’t have cancer, Fenn. Anne made it. We all knew she would.”
“I didn’t.”
After a moment, Todd said, “Then I was an asshole right then.”
“Well, you’ve been an asshole your whole life.”
Todd chuckled at this, and shaking his head he said, “You’re the only one who would say that to me at a time like this.”
Fenn looked at Todd looking at him. They held each other’s gazes a while and then Fenn broke it off, namely because it looked like Todd was going to try to kiss him again, and Fenn realized he kind of wanted him to.
“I can’t go back to school in the fall.”
“Don’t be an ass, of course you can,” Fenn said.
“Fenn.”
“How is you not getting your degree going to make your mother any better? Well, it might make Nadine get out of bed and cross the state to kick your ass.”
“I want to stay here and watch her.”
“Nell’s here. We’re all here. I’ll stay here and watch her.”
“I love you, Fenn,” Todd said.
“I love you too.”
“And I don’t mean in a sexual way. Well…” Todd put out his hand and screwed up his face, “not in a totally sexual way. Sort of in a three fourths—”
Fenn looked at him.
“Am I pressing my luck?”
“Yes.”

- - - Updated - - -

 

[ChrisGibson]

Todd and Nell went to the hospital with Dena. When they left, Todd said he wanted to drive around on his own. What he needed was his mother in a time like this, but her illness, her sitting up in this sterile place, was why he was feeling this way. So he drove in circles that wound up town and then to the Day’s Inn. He sat in the parking lot for some time before getting up and going in. He asked the girl at the desk for a certain room, and she told him. She probably shouldn’t have, but she was tired and didn’t give a damn. Todd went up the stairs and down the hall. He knocked.
“I was expecting you,” Kevin said without a trace of emotion.
He held the door open for Todd, and then when Todd was in, he went to the bureau and poured him a glass of Scotch. Todd could see that half the bottle was already gone. He didn’t mention it. The closest thing he’d ever had to a father was Kevin, and they didn’t have the type of relationship where he could call him out.
Kevin sipped the Scotch with the same steadied calm he always did. Todd tried to copy it, though the taste was bitter and the booze burned his mouth. Neither one of them said anything. They just kept drinking. Todd didn’t even look at him, but Kevin Reardon was a heavy presence he couldn’t stay away from.
Finally Kevin got up. He sat on the edge of the bed. He patted it, signaling Todd to come over.
“You’re as tall as me now,” he said.
The liquor was burning on Kevin’s breath. It burned in Todd too, and made his head swim. Suddenly Kevin’s hand was between his legs, rubbing his dick, massaging his balls.
“Don’t act shocked,” Kevin said in a mellow voice. “It’s what you’re here for.”
So Todd opened his legs a little wider and let Kevin continue. Kevin was the same height, but he was still bigger. He reached over and pulled Todd’s hands to his crotch. He loosened his pants and Todd’s as well and in silence they stroked each other.
“You in love with Fenn Houghton?” Kevin said.
Todd didn’t answer.
“Well, you don’t have to answer,” Kevin said. “You can pretend I’m him if you want.” Kevin laughed and said, “I don’t know how you could confuse us, but you can try.”
Kevin laughed a little and then stood up, quickly taking off his clothes. He had a magnificent body, His penis was rigid and thick before Todd. Todd leaned forward hungrily and took it in his mouth. He gagged himself until the thick head of Kevin’s penis was touching his tonsils. He fit his whole mouth around it. He was instantly soothed.
“That’s right,” Kevin murmured, stroking Todd’s hair and fucking his mouth.
Kevin was right. This is what he needed. This is what he’d come for. No more coolness, no wittiness, no sunlight. Just this. Just this basic use. Kevin’s hand roughly grabbed his hair as he fucked Todd’s mouth. Todd almost gagged, but just then the musty, salty flood filled his mouth. Taste before texture, the slick thickness of Kevin’s semen filling his mouth. He drank it like mother’s milk while Kevin’s body arched back and, hands planted on Todd’s shoulders, he moaned. That had been his first contact with a man. Age fourteen, so in love with his brother-in-law, so in rapture, called into the library, made to cup his ass while Kevin’s hands pushed down hard, bracing his shoulders as they did now, while Kevin spurted in his mouth, like he did now. And it felt so horrible, and it felt so scary, and it felt so good. Both then and now, when it was over, Todd was discombobulated, not knowing what to do with himself. But back then Kevin had patted him on his head, smoothed his hair and said, “That’s a good little brother. That’s what brothers do to help each other out. Soon, I’ll do it to you, too.”
This time, Kevin licked his own hand, and then reached down and started pulling at Todd’s dick.
“You’ve got a big ole cock,” he said. “You didn’t have that when you were a kid.”
Todd’s mouth was open. He wasn’t in a place where he could speak. His mouth was filled with the taste of Kevin and his dick was hard in Kevin’s hand.
“You’ve got a lot in you,” Kevin was saying. “I’ve got a lot in me. We’ll both feel better if we fuck it out. I want you to fuck me, Todd. Alright?”
So Todd did. There was lust and fear and sadness and hatred, a great deal of hatred for Kevin and the place he was in with Kevin, and he spent it all riding Kevin’s ass while the older man shouted for more. When Todd came, with a desperate, violent scream, shooting and shooting a hot slick, tormented river, he bucked up and down and convulsed for an age before he found himself, breathless, hair up, sticky and cold astride Kevin.
The magic of lust gone, he was himself again. He was in this hotel room with someone he feared and hated. His mother was dying.
“Stay here tonight?” Kevin said weakly from underneath him.
Todd, still astride him, looked at the ugly reprint on the beige wall in front of him. He didn’t want to be alone tonight. He didn’t want to be in the present. Anything was better than being alone.

Nadine Meradan went on dialysis that summer and was under heavy cancer treatment, but as summer ended and the weather cooled there were signs of her improvement. They began to hear the word “remission”.
“It’ll make it easier to go back to school,” Todd told Fenn.
“So you’ve given up that crack pot idea of dropping out?”
“Mom would have killed me,” said Todd. “And then I have a feeling that if she hadn’t, you would have.”
“I might have been tempted in that direction,” Fenn allowed.
“You’re a good man.”
“Let’s not start that again.” Fenn said.

Dan called Fenn up one evening and said, “Do you think you’ll go to church anytime soon?”
“I doubt it. My religious life has pretty much been sitting on the floor chanting, and reading the Bhagavad Gita.”
“But do you ever feel inclined to go to church?”
“You know I don’t. I thought we’d had this discussion.”
“We have. More or less. But…”
“Is something getting at you? Have you been reading Angel City again?”
“No,” Dan said, stifling a laugh. “Just… Tom goes, right?”
“Tom is the organist.”
“Alright,” Dan said. “Great. Well, then, for his sake I want you to go to Mass the Sunday after next. I would say the ten o’clock.”
“Do you have some weird surprise planned for me, Dan? Did you talk to one of your priests friends and set them up to do something?”
“Just… Look, I gotta go already,” Dan said, impatiently. “Just be there.”

When Fenn came to church on Sunday morning, Saint Barbara’s seemed over crowded, and overly stuffy. There were all the happy nuclear families, wives and husbands and children, all caught up in themselves. And there was Saint Barbara in her niche, looking quite lovely for a girl who had been killed. There, in their familiar places along the wall were the lugubrious stations of the Cross.
“Fenn!” he heard someone whisper.
Beside Maisy Baird were her parents, Barb and Bob Affren. Fenn came to their row, genuflected, and slid in.
“Long time no see, Stranger.” Barb slapped him on the knee.
“Has hell frozen over?” Bob whispered. But now the organ was playing.
“Tom,” Fenn murmured.
It was a big brassy organ fantasy full of blaring notes, and a few people were walking up and down the aisles as if a show was about to start. Fenn was startled to see Nell come into the church with Dena. Well, Nell did not startle him, but the fact that Todd, in a suit, hair combed down, accompanied her did. He winked at Fenn, and they all sat down in the row behind Fenn and the Affrens.
“Didn’t expect to see you here?” Todd whispered.
“What, and this is your popular hang out?”
Todd shrugged, “We’ve had a hell of a summer. Nell says we should thank the Guy in the Sky.”
“I’m sure I didn’t say it that way,” Nell said, primly.
“And besides, Nell dragged me here.”
“Good morning!” a voice said from the podium. “Welcome to Saint Barbara’s. This morning we will begin with Hymn number 578, I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say. I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say, number 578.”
There was much rustling through the red hymnals, and then the organ began and everyone rose. From the loft, the choir sang:

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
“Come unto me and rest;
lay down, thou weary one, lay down
thy head upon my breast.”
I came to Jesus as I was,
so weary, worn, and sad;
I found in him a resting place,
and he has made me glad.

Up came the familiar procession, the lector with the jeweled lectionary, the altars boys, the altar girls—though they weren’t called that anymore. The priests…
There, in white surplice and gold collar, was Father Collum—as he should be. But next to him was a new priest.
“Holy…” Fenn’s jaw dropped while the hymn continued.
The new priest, flaxen haired, jovial faced, came forward, hands joined and then, raising them, he declared in a voice that was welcoming and gentle, but firm, the voice of a young priest:
“We begin this Mass in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
He opened his hands, happy and generous, and said, “Hello. You may notice I am new here. I hope that in time I will be old here, and we will be old and beloved to each other. I’ve been ordained for a little over a year now. I recently did some missionary work, but now I’m here. I hope to know each and every one of your names very soon. You can know mine right now. I’m Dan Malloy.”



“You didn’t tell me about this!” Fenn said while they were standing on the steps of Saint Barbara’s after Mass.
“That’s why you call it a surprise,” Dan told him, tweaking his nose.
“So now I guess you’ll be coming to church?” Barb Affren said. She turned to the young priest.
“You and Fenn are old friends?”
“We are very old friends,” Dan said, putting his hand on Fenn’s shoulder.
Tom was approaching them in his Sunday best. He had wound his way down the steps to the choir loft and came forward—manfully was the word that Fenn found—to shake Dan’s hand.
“So you’re our new priest!”
“Imagine the bishop sending him here of all places,” said Fenn.
“This bishop—” Dan began, but Fenn lightly kicked him in the ankle.

Later, in the rectory, Father Collum took out a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and poured a half glass for Dan and one for Fenn, a full one for himself.
“Breakfast of Champions?” Dan said.
“Only half the breakfast,” Father Collum said, “You need a cigar to complete it.”
“I never smoke,” Dan said while Fenn gladly took what was proffered.
“You will,” the old priest said.
Dan took a tentative sip and then said, “Only a little.”
Father Collum waved his cigar at the glass before lighting it.
“That is only a little,” he declared as he lit the cigar and the living room filled with smoke.
Biddy Carmichael came out hand on hip, looking very much like her sister, Barb Affren.
“I just cleaned this house.”
“Woman, it’s still clean,” the priest said. “Where’s my paper?”
“In the kitchen.”
“I sure would like it.”
“Then you sure should get it” Biddy told him, and went up the stairs.
Dan took another small sip after Fenn, and then said, “I really can’t do twelve o’clock Mass bombed.”
Walking off in the hunt for his paper, Father Collum told him, “Of course you can, lad. Of course you can.”
Dan shrugged and downed the drink in one burning swallow, then blinked, smacking his lips. With a new found masculinity, he gestured for Fenn to follow him to the couch, and then they sat down.
“So, why’d you kick me?”
“For being stupid. You were about to tell Tom that you requested to live here, weren’t you?”
“Yeah! Is there a problem with that?”
“Tom is constantly and endlessly jealous of our relationship, and he can’t stand you, Dan. So yes, there’s a problem with it.”
“Oh,” Dan said, taken down a bit, He studied the creases on his pants on his knees, and then he said, “But you’re happy to see me? Right?”
“Of course I’m happy to see you! I’ve missed you. I will even come to church for you. This is the happiest day of my life.”
“Well, good. Then that’s all that matters.
“If Tom was halfway right he’d be happy at your happiness.”
“That’s not fair, Dan.”
“Isn’t it?”
“You and Todd,” Fenn murmured.
“Me and Todd what?”
“You and Todd are both convinced that… Tom should be better.”
“Who is Todd?”
“The very tall, very lanky boy with a mess of black hair who was behind me at Mass today.”
“Oh,” Dan smiled. “I thought I liked him.”


MORE TOMORROW...

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! Todd seems a bit lost right now. I can't remember much about his Mum in past Rossford stories, so I don't know what she is like in the future but I hope she survives her illness. I am liking Dan more, he seems to have settled down a bit and it looks like he just wants to be close to Fenn in a friends way but, they have a deep relationship so I can see why Tom is jealous. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Thanks for your comments. As for Nadine, Todd and Nell's mother, she is non existent in the other books, which may point to her being dead before The Houses in Rossford, but doesn't necessarily mean her death here. I am a great fan of Dan, a bigger and bigger fan. He's a huge mystery. We saw him last in Dark Warm Stone as a young senior citizen with Keith, and we've always known he and Fenn had a deep relationship, though how deep is revealed in this book. If I was Tom, I might be jealous too. Dan also approves of Todd which is a sort of passing of the baton, especially since we know how things are going to go.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT, THINGS PROGRESS....



When, fingers wrapped anxiously about the phone, Tom told Bryant about the new priest in town, Bryant just laughed a little and then said, “Don’t you even worry about that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tom said.
“Nothing. Only… I was worried about something. But I’m not worried about it anymore.”
“Bryant!” Tom said in frustration, “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“I’ll see you soon, Tom,” Bryant told him, and hung up the phone.

Tom had been on the faculty of Loretto College for eight years. In the first years, Fenn always went with him on the Sunday before the first Monday of the year faculty brunch. In the last year he hadn’t gone, and then this year Tom told him to go to Mass instead and then go help Nadine Meradan. So when Tom reached Loretto, Fenn was actually over at the Meradans with Todd and Nell, helping them with their mother who had just returned from a long stay in hospital.
“You’re going to be interested to know,” Julia Amanetti, who had just been hired by the college that year, said, “that we’ve got a new addition to the music department.
“Really?” Tom said.
“Yeah, which means now we actually have something like a music department. I hear they’re going to start taking us seriously and give us all of Raglan Hall.”
For eight years Tom had been part of a sorely neglected staff stuck in something like an attic, and now he was overjoyed at being part of something real, now respected as any of the other humanities at Loretto. The English department had to share King Hall with the history department. Music would get its own building. But just then, Tom heard music playing. A piano tinkling the finest music he’d ever heard.
“What is that?”
Julia Amanetti dragged him across the room to the piano.
“Our new faculty member!” she said.
As she pulled Tom to the piano, his jaw dropped.
Looking back at him, smiling darkly, was Bryant Babcock.
He was playing ‘Moon River’, and he was taking his time, and when he finished and there was polite clapping, Bryant said, “There’s more where that came from.”
He played Mozart. He played the motet Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear son, that was playing on that night a year ago when he had first met Bryant and the other young man had undressed him, and taken him to bed. Tom wondered, “Is he toying with me?”
Yes he is. A little. While he and Julia stood, mesmerized, Bryant finished, and this time there was no tepid clapping. Bryant stood up, bowed and walked slowly around the piano taking the hand Julia offered.
“Bryant Babcock, meet Tom Mesda. You and he both do classical and liturgical music. The two of you will be working very closely this year.”
His dark eyes on Tom, Bryant took his hand:
“Mr. Mesda, I can’t wait to work closely with you.”

“How long have you been planning this?” Tom whispered to him when they were left alone in a corner.
“A while,” Bryant said. “Since I knew I was going to be quite unemployed.”
“And you kept it from me all this time?”
“At first I was worried you wouldn’t be pleased. And then when I heard about that whole Dan Malloy business—” Bryant shrugged.
“Hey, I don’t want to go on about this here. You ready to skip this place?”
Tom was about to say: “Where for?” but he simply straightened his tie and said, “Let’s go.”

They drove in separate cars, Tom following Bryant to an old apartment not far from the school, not that anything was far from anywhere else in Rossford. It was a low, beige, modern building, and they went through the glass doors to the lobby and then up the stairs. Bryant opened the door quickly, closed it behind him, and he and Tom locked their arms about each other. They made out against the door, smelling of cologne and late summer and desire, and then undressed in the living room and made it to the bedroom where Bryant, long and dark, dusted in Portuguese hair, fell on his back and opened his legs to Tom. It was so quick, and they were so quickly out of themselves. Head to the ceiling, then face looking out of the window to the street, and then down at Bryant’s mouth opened in ecstasy, Tom fucked him. With an amazing start he came violently. He’d wanted this for well over a year. It had always been on the edge of his thoughts and now this was more than a miracle, Bryant here in Rossford, in this beautiful apartment, in this beautiful soft, strong bed, the whole afternoon left to them, and Tom on his knees and then his hands and knees, just fucking the hell of out of this beautiful man, just engulfed in this heat, in this tightness. Last time it had been Bryant who fucked him. He’d never fucked anyone by Fenn. Now the orgasm was like a sharp magnet that tugged at his balls and turned his cock into something large and cosmic, slick and throbbing. The orgasm pulled itself out of Tom, causing him to go into a violent seizure and then, eyes gazing at the light of nothing, he knelt there still, too taken to even move. It was Bryant’s warm, large hands that moved him, put him on his back. He felt Bryant riding him, cock against his cock, lubricated by the slickness of his semen. They moved together in that incredible heat until cursing and swearing with a staggered, oh—fuck—my—god-god-god-damn, Bryant came too. He came hot, the liquid flowing between their stomachs, to their chests.
They lay like that, Tom under the heat of Bryant. Then, at last, Bryant got up. He returned a few moments later, tall, nude, clean, with a white cloth for Tom. It was hot and moist and Tom cleaned himself up with it. Bryant stood before him. He had the most beautiful penis, still firm, still erect and bobbing, balls hanging in their brown sack, the hair of Bryant’s loins dark and beautiful. Swiftly Tom took Bryant in his mouth. He needed Bryant. He needed the nourishment of his penis. How rare this was for him. He wanted Bryant so much that Bryant came back to the bed and their fooling around turned into second sex. In the aftermath of it, in the late afternoon the two men lay damp and hot and naked, tangled together, barely breathing.
Bryant rolled over. He was fiddling with the stereo. Tom touched his soft buttocks. Suddenly Tom could hear Bach. The choir soared in the strains of Saint Matthew’s passion:

Wir setzen uns mit Tränen nieder
Und rufen dir im Grabe zu
Ruhe sanfte, sanfte ruh,
Ruhe sanfte, sanfte ruh!

Tom was so overcome by the music and by the bliss of the day that tears sprang to his eyes.
Bryant leaned over and smiled, wiping the tears away. As the choir rose up, to a heart shattering note, Bryant said, “Yes. That will make you cry.”

Rüht, ihr ausgesognen Glieder
Ruhet sanfte, ruhet wohl!

Bryant continued, “This officially makes us pretentious, doesn’t it?”
Tom tried to laugh and sat up.
“We’re having an affair now,” he said. “Aren’t we?”
Bryant pulled Tom’s warm body to his. It was important they be as close as possible. It felt so good to hold him, to be near him. He kissed him very softly and then squeezed Tom.
Bryant told him: “We are.”

ANOTHER CHAPTER NEXT WEEK....
LATER TONIGHT, THE KIND EARTH CONTINUES

 

[CharmedFan28]

So Tom and Bryant are officially having an affair? Interesting. Bryant seems determined to be as close to Tom as possible. I don't think Fenn is going to be happy at all when he finds out. Great writing and I look forward to more of this next week and The Kind Earth later!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I will just say this. I meant to post The Kind Earth a while ago, but I have been on the phone all fucking night with a dear friend. Like, I just got off. For Fenn's reaction: refer to The Houses in Rossford. Or just keep reading : )

 

[ChrisGibson]

EIGHT



DEER TRACKS​

Fenn was in the living room when Tom shouted to him from the shower.
He came into the steaming bathroom and Tom opened the curtain, more heat and steam pouring out into the already jungle like room.
“Wanna get in here with me?”
“I showered an hour ago.”
“Get in,” Tom said.
Fenn could never resist him. Tom was still the quiet, handsome boy in soccer shorts he’d seen at the party nine years ago. What was more, that quiet handsome boy wanted him. Fenn was practical, though. He hung his clothes on a hook, something Tom never did.
Tom threw his arms around him and started lathering him. Tom washed him, and then said, “Turn around so I can get your back.”
Why repeat that you’d just done all of this an hour ago? And it felt good to have Tom wash his back and run a cloth over a body Fenn himself was not terribly amazed by, that Tom seemed to love so much.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Tom said.
Don’t say anything silly. Or snarky.
“I’m so lucky to have you,” Tom told him, reverently running the cloth over his limbs.
“Baby, get my back now,” Tom said.
The water made that constant whishing sound, and Fenn ran the cloth over Tom’s shoulders, over his shoulder blades.
“Do you remember that house we saw?”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Fenn said, washing the small of Tom’s back.
“You know. The little two story with the small porch. On Versailles Street.”
“Oh, yes! I like that house. I could see a lot happening in that house.”
“Ah!” Tom said as Fenn washed his ass and then began to scrub his thighs.
“Two little dark haired Houghton-Mesdas?” Tom said. “Running around in that house.”
“How would we get them?” Fenn said.
“All sorts of ways. They’re doing all sorts of things. We should start a family and live in a house and get out of this apartment.”
“I love this apartment.”
“You’d love our house too,” Tom said. “You wanna do it?”
Fenn came back up, running the cloth over Tom’s legs, over his ass, up his back. He kissed Tom on the back of his ear.
“The house on Versailles?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s do it.”

“It’s a beautiful house,” Adele said the first time she and Hoot came to see it.
“It’s not as big as ours,” Layla noted.
“Layla,” Hoot reprimanded her.
They were in the empty kitchen, and the floor needed a good sweeping. The window that looked out onto the driveway was dirty and uncurtained.
“I wasn’t trying to show off,” Layla said. “I was saying that our house is really big.”
“It’s in case you have a brother or a sister,” Hoot told her.
Layla looked at her uncle levelly and said, “I’m not going to have a brother or a sister.”
Then she went into the carpeted but empty living room.
“So how are you buying this?” Adele said.
“What the hell do you mean?” her brother said. “With money.”
“She meant,” Hoot said, “you and Tom aren’t married.”
“That’s not even possible.”
Hoot shrugged. “Some people think it will be in certain places. When rich gay couples buy things they go through enough paper work and everything that it’s like a marriage. So if anything splits up—”
“Hold on,” Fenn said. “Firstly, I’m not rich and second, who said anything about splitting up?”
Adele and Hoot looked at each other, and then Adele said, “We’ve talked about this.”
“Meaning you and your husband?”
“Yes,” Adele told Fenn. “And up until now you never had anything. And also, you weren’t almost thirty. This whole you all having the same bank account and you handing your money over to Tom all the time… it’s cute. But it needs to stop.”
“You make money,” Hoot said. “But the truth is Tom has always made more money than you.”
“If anything ever happens—” Adele began.
Fenn opened his mouth, but his sister continued, “If anything ever happens, you better make sure you don’t leave with nothing.”
“I’ll get the paperwork ready,” Hoot said. “By the time I finish it you’ll be Tom’s wife in everything but name.”
“His very protected and well paid wife?”
“Yes,” Hoot said, not knowing if Fenn was being facetious.
“He’ll never agree to it,” Fenn said.
“He will,” Adele differed. “He’ll do whatever you say.”
“And now I’m off,” Hoot said, kissing his wife on the cheek. “You all’ll just take Tom’s car back?”
Adele nodded, and then Hoot said, “I’ll draw up those papers, brother-in-law.”
“Layla,” he called. He went to say goodbye to his daughter.
Fenn stood looking at his sister.
“What?”
“I can’t believe you had me do that.”
Adele opened her mouth to say something. She closed it. Fenn continued:
“Well, all those fancy papers he’s talking about… I hope you got some of the same too.”
“I have a husband who is, for the first time, making a lot of money, and it seems like he’s going to keep making more. I have his child, I live in a large house that I couldn’t afford on my own, and I never see him. Throw in I’m aware of how good looking he is. Even if you don’t like him.”
“What’s your point, Sis?”
“My point is I’m telling you to get this taken care of by the law, because I took care of myself years ago.”
The door closed after Hoot, and Adele could hear Layla coming toward them.
“I don’t know if it will end one day, or when it will end. But I’m not going to be like Mama. I’m not going to be left high and dry and have to move back home.”
She looked at Fenn.
“And now neither will you.”

Tom behind Bryant watching the taller man’s reflection in the mirror who was carefully knotted his tie.
“There you go,” Bryant said, giving it a final tug, and then organizing the wild tangles of Tom’s hair. “And now you do me, and we can look like professionals going back to work.”
Tom grinned and turned around, straightening Bryant’s tie, smoothing his shirt a little longer than he needed to, reaching up to pat down his hair.
“I want you to come to dinner tonight,” Tom said.
“What?”
“I would like you to come to dinner tonight. All of our friends will be there.”
“As in yours and Fenn’s friends?”
“Well, yes.”
“And Fenn?”
“Well, it is his apartment too. It’s our home. And I want you to come to it.”
“What are you—?” Bryant looked at Tom incredulously.
“You are so important to me,” Tom said. “I don’t want you hidden away.”
“But—”
“Please,” Tom said, putting his blazer back on and feeling in his trouser pocket for his keys.
“Uh… Alright,” Bryant was doubtful. What was going on in Tom’s mind? Where did he think they were going with this? But then, what was going on in Bryant’s mind?
Bryant locked the door behind them as they headed down the hall of his apartment building. It was so strange, so exciting. They were good friends and colleagues and it seemed like they were going off to lunch, but the moment the door closed they became passionate lovers. And then here they were, just fresh from the hot sex, in dress pants and ties again, in good shoes, going back to their jobs in the music department at their Catholic college.
“Tom, what time should I come?”
“Seven thirty is good,” Tom told him.

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

I think Tom inviting Bryant to dinner might turn out to be a disaster. I hope Fenn really thinks through getting a house with Tom and protecting himself. This story is getting very interesting indeed and I look forward to tomorrow's portion to find out what happens next!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, it's awfully ironic that Hoot is the one who draws up the marriage papers for Fenn and it is Adele who tells him to wake up. Of course we meet Adele right as her marriage is ending in book one and we know she has the house which eventually will go Layla and Will. Regarding what kind of arrangement Fenn makes with Tom.... that is refered to in the first book (but the first book was a long, long, long time ago, and so you would have forgotten it. ) Fenn and Todd had the house on Versailles in the first story, but you may have forgotten where it came from. Of course, Fenn has always owned the theatre with Tom and well, Tom is Tom and Fenn is Fenn, so that should give you some idea of what Fenn does. My last edit on this comment is, these past scenes aren't so much about what will happen as, how it happened.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT, THERE'S A DINNER PARTY IN ROSSFORD


In the end the only other guest was Dan Malloy. The dinner was simple. Burgers and fries, Dan made a salad. Fenn sat on his ass, but condescended to make the lemonade. Bryant wanted to find fault in Tom’s other half. He wanted to hate him, but Fenn was so solicitous. The house felt so right, and Tom kept touching Fenn so lovingly. What the hell? Why had he invited him here? And then Tom would turn the most loving looks on Bryant. They both would. This was how things seemed to work. Tom showered open affection on Fenn and tolerated Dan. Dan was obviously close friends—possibly more than close friends—with Fenn. Were he and Fenn…? No. He suddenly realized they weren’t. Dan was a priest, but that wasn’t why. Fenn wouldn’t allow it. Fenn was… His love for Tom wasn’t the same. There wasn’t that same passion or even affection. It was something very firm, Bryant noticed, like his grandmother had for his grandfather. It was serious and steady. In a way this made Fenn’s love more threatening, and Bryant felt more chastened.
“Enough of this,” Fenn said.
They had been listening to an oldies station, and Fenn and Dan had been singing:

Just walk away Renee, you won’t see me follow you back home!

Bryant knew the song. He knew the strains of the violin. They moved him, though he didn’t know the words. Fenn changed the radio station, and suddenly Bryant heard Wagner’s. Lohengrin.
“Something for those of more refined taste,” Fenn said, nodding to Bryant and Tom.
Tom gave a caw of a laugh.
“Look at me.”
As usual, when not working, Tom was in jeans with holes in them, barefoot and in a dirty tee shirt.
“Do I look refined?”
Bryant gestured to his chest. He was in shorts and a striped rugby shirt.
“You clean up well,” was all Fenn said.
And then there was the simple quality of Fenn. Very often Bryant had been a guest in the home of a bad host. Here Bryant felt hosted. Fenn saw to every comfort and included him totally in conversation and then, suddenly, a familiar strain of music began. Bryant wasn’t sure why it shocked him so. He knew it. But then he looked at Tom and saw that his face had gone green.
“Yes!” Fenn leapt up from the coach, over Dan, and turned it up. He stood by the radio waiting and whispered: “I woke up to this a few days ago. This is the most beautiful piece of music in the world. More beautiful than the Carmina Barana or Diana Ross and the Supremes for that matter—

Wir setzen uns mit Tränen nieder….

Fenn sat on the floor by the radio like a child, and as the piece went on, rising and falling with more volume than that day when they had lain in bed together, Tom and Bryant looked at each other, and then away. Yes, Tom remembered. How could he forget? This was why he had cried with poignancy over it, knew it so well. This was Fenn’s piece.
When the strains were dying Fenn said, “That’s always a nice surprise. Now, something from Die Walkure. That’s what we need. In fact,” Fenn said, “Tom, you should get us something.”
Tom just looked at him and Fenn said, “Dearest, why are you staring at me like you’re in idiot?”
Tom shook his head.
“Sometimes I think you don’t pay attention… Or that I’m this joke to you.”
Fenn was surprised that Tom would say this in front of other people.
“I always thought I was this silly guy who listened to classical music and you…”
Tom shook his head and stood up.
“Yes,” Tom said. “Of course I’ll get Die Walkure. I’ll be right back.”
“Now,” Fenn told Bryant, grasping his wrist in his fervency, “when you listen to Bach—even the organ stuff, and I’m not so big on that—you have to imagine that even though you’ve heard that a thousand times, even though you’ve heard that huge choir in a great auditorium, he did not. It all came out of the head of this church organist. Can you imagine not just hearing it for the first time, but making it, conceiving it? And then there it is. In reality. All of these voices creating the beauty that was first in your imagination. See, that’s the wonder of Bach. That’s the wonder of any artist.”
Fenn looked down and said, “I’m afraid I’m grasping your hand too tightly.”
He let it go.
Fenn had, in fact, grabbed his wrist so tight it throbbed a little, but Bryant shook it and said, “It’s no matter.”
“Eureka!”
Out came Tom with a large LP.
“Part one of the Die Walkure.”
He looked around the apartment.
“Where’s the record player. We don’t use it that often, anymore.”
“In a few years we won’t be using it at all,” Dan said.
Tom frowned at this as he went to the turn table.
“That’s ridiculous, Father Dan. What do you think? The whole world’s just going to keep using those dinky cassettes?”
While Tom fiddled with the phonograph, Dan murmured, “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

Fenn was half asleep when Tom came into the bedroom taking his shirt and his pants off, taking off his underwear and then changing into sweat pants.
“Just remember,” Fenn spoke, drowsily, “the last person in bed is the last to turn off the light.”
“Aye aye, Captain!” Tom said, cheerfully. He went out, and in a moment later, Fenn could hear the faucet turn on, then Tom brushing his teeth. Now Tom was gargling. A few moments later he came back into the bedroom. Fenn opened his eyes to see him, thick hair tousled, bare chested. Tom flicked off the light and climbed into bed beside him. Tom’s arms went around him, and he pressed his face into Fenn’s back.
“That was fun tonight,” Tom said. “And you’re always a great host.”
“I like seeing you have friends,” Fenn said. “Bryant’s nice for you.”
Somewhere in Tom’s mind he fantasized that Fenn would understand everything eventually.
“He is,” Tom said. “It is nice to have a friend who’s just mine. Sometimes I feel like I just moved into your world, and now I take up space there as a supporting cast member.”
Fenn turned around.
“I am sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way.”
“You don’t.” Tom said up. “You never have. It’s me. It’s all in my head.”
“Next time we move it will be around your family.”
“I don’t really want to live around my family,” Tom admitted. “Besides, we’re signing for the house in a few days. And Adele already made me sign those silly papers. Like I needed to sign papers to say I’d be loyal to you!”
“Bryant’s a very handsome man,” Fenn said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means what I said. He’s very handsome. He reminds me of you in a way.”
They settled back into bed and Fenn said, “I wouldn’t mind you having a little crush on him.”
“Have you?”
“Have I had a crush on Bryant? No.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I meant, have you ever had a crush on another man?”
“Oh, sure,” Fenn said. “Only a crush though.”
“Is it Dan Malloy?”
Fenn smacked his pillow and murmured, “When will you get over Dan Malloy? No, Thomas. It isn’t Dan Malloy.”
“Who then?”
“Good night, Tom,” said Fenn.

Fenn felt that something new was happening, that his life was about to change significantly. He didn’t know how to explain it. It had seemed like this more and more since they had decided to get the house. But no, that wasn’t it. Not really. There was a shifting of the winds which made him feel something new was going to blow into what was old. His life was old. His life with Tom was old. He didn’t know how to explain it. Theirs wasn’t a bad life. But something was about to change.
When Bryant’s brother came to visit, Fenn invited them both over for dinner. He made etoufeé and the young boy, whose name was Sean and who was close to Todd’s age, said, “I don’t know anything about Creole cooking.”
“My mother’s family was Creole,” Fenn said. Then corrected: “Or is Creole. I can’t tell. I don’t feel very Creole,” he admitted. “At any rate, I suspect you can’t do any cooking at all. Come around the stove and I’ll teach you.”
Sean got up, and Bryant came with him.
“Can I watch?” Bryant asked.
“Of course.”
For some reason, Bryant couldn’t resist putting his chin over Fenn’s shoulder to watch. He couldn’t resist being around Fenn. He wasn’t even angry anymore at Tom’s love, which made perfect sense. Bryant himself was charmed by this gracious man, and he imagined that somehow, in some place this thing could work, Fenn would understand what was happening when he wasn’t around.
“Some recipes start with a roux. Now that’s flour and oil that are stirred into a mixture that isn’t oily and isn’t floury. I don’t know how to master that. I imagine cornstarch would do the trick better. At any rate, when I do it I put olive oil straight in the skillet. Like this. And then I wait for it to boil. Sean, get me that whole bowl of shrimp.”
Sean moved over and said, “That’s a huge amount.”
“Well, yes. There’s no half assing Cajun food. And Bryant, get me the red pepper and the salt. Where’s the onion? Ah, right here.”
Bryant was handsome in khakis and a reddish dress shirt open a little at the collar.
“I can’t find it,” he said.
Tom came forward and said, “Right here,” pulling it out. They exchanged a comical look like brothers, or like… Fenn shook it away. He just kept thinking, Bryant’s a nice looking man. He’s nice to have around. If I wasn’t with Tom…
“Here you go,” Bryant set it down, still leaning against Fenn.
“You are incredibly close,” Fenn told him.
“Do you mind?”
“We both will in a minute,” Fenn said. “Back away. I need to put in the shrimp. When that happens, it’s really going to sizzle.”

WE'LL RETURN TO ROSSFORD ON TUESDAY