The Ends of Rossford

[ChrisGibson]

THE ENDS OF ROSSFORD




PART
ONE

TOM
AND FENN





ONE


TOM
​

This is the last Rossford book, so if you haven't read the first six already, you might want to... or read some of them...


“It is much too hot, much too early this year,” Fenn Houghton declared. “We must lodge a complaint about this shit.”
“What we must do is com’on,” Adele told her brother.
She looked around his dorm room and said, “How do you live in a place so small?”
“It’s not the room that’s so small,” Fenn said, paying more attention to his reflection in the mirror above the bureau, as he cocked his fedora over his right eye, winked at himself and grabbed his cigarettes. “It’s your ass that’s so big, and it usually isn’t here.”
“There’s something terrible about you,” Adele told him as they went into the third floor hallway and Fenn closed the door behind him.
“Just one thing?”
He pushed open the door at the top of the hall, and she went through, down the winding stairway.
“You didn’t even lock your door.”
“The only time I lock my door is when I’m in my room, and that’s because I’m either naked, drunk or both.”
Adele ignored this as they went down the creaking steps of Saint James Hall. It was in the oldest part of Loretto College, and across from it was the red brick Music Hall.
“Autumn gets hotter and hotter,” Adele said.
“I guess global warming is real after all.”
“Last year,” Adele remembered, “it was like this until October. Leaves red and gold, the weather in the eighties. It felt like the world was on fire.”
“And yet we’re still here.” Then Fenn said: “Is Nell coming?”
“Nell went on a romantic trip with Kevin.”
“Um,” Fenn said.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I don’t like him. But you knew that.”
“Well,” Adele shrugged. “It’s not our decision.”
“But your husband was your decision,” Fenn wanted to say. He didn’t though. As they approached the field and heard the noise of the college, Fenn thought what a bad choice Hoot Lawden was for a husband. What the hell had she seen in him? What was in women that made them pick men like that? Actually he wasn’t bad. He just wasn’t much of anything.
“We need to get a good seat.” Adele said.
Loretto couldn’t afford—and the student body’s interest never would have supported—both a football field and a track so one field doubled as both. As Adele and Fenn clambered up, Maisy Baird, wide faced and red haired, waved to them. She was sitting with her new husband—Mr. Baird—and Adele and Fenn now sat beside her, Fenn murmuring, “Excuse me,” to Jaime Roberto and Paul Fossano.
“Sure, just trip right over me,” Paul jested.
“It’s good to see you,” Maisy embraced Adele.
“You’ll be seeing a lot more of her,” Fenn poked his head around his sister.
“What’s that?” Maisy said.
“I’m moving back here.”
“Right on,” Maisy said. “Only Russell wants to move.”
“Seriously? Where?”
“Down to Indy.”
Maisy shrugged. “Not too far. Still… not too close either.”
“Shhhh!” Fenn whispered.
On the track the girls were taking their positions. Jill Tomlin and Christine Rester were the only white ones. Jill was well muscled, a basketball player the rest of the year. Christine was track all the time, birdlike, bird faced. Beside her, golden brown colored, half Hawaiian, long black hair tied up in a bun was Tara Veems.
The pistol fired, and as if he were at a horse racetrack, the announcer shouted, “And they’re off!”
Maisy stood up and screamed while Adele clapped her hands fervently, shouting, “Do it girl!”
Fenn watched his beautiful friend run. He could never shout or even breathe when Tara ran. She was dangerously fast, and when not competing she ran with her hair streaming in the breeze. She was, honestly, the only woman Fenn could have loved.
Adele and Maisy could cheer and talk at the same time. As they watched their friend bend around the half mark of the first circle, Maisy said, “Did you hear Bill’s getting married?”
“Bill Bill? Billy Bill?”
“Say his name however many ways you want to,” Maisy said, “and the answer is: yes.”
“To who?”
“Some bitch he met in New York, and I mean she is a bitch. Mark my words. Her family’s all Waspy and shit. They had money, but they act like they still have it. We never did, but Bill’s about to make it so he’s a perfect fit. They’re going to make him feel like a hillbilly, though.”
“Yeah, but if she marries Bill her last name will still be Affren.”
“Yeah,” Maisy said. “But people like that, they’re never really Affrens. Like that bag, Tina! God, I hate her. She’s pregnant, though. I mean, that horrible slut is fit to burst and she swears she’ll never have another one.”
“I’m going to have lots of kids,” Adele prophesied.
Fenn, who hated children, snorted.
Fenn turned from the race long enough to say: “So how many grandchildren do your parents have now?”
Maisy Baird shrugged: “Just Ryan’s one, and Jack has a kid. I know I’m in no hurry.”
Fenn turned back to the race. Tara was approaching the last lap, ahead of them all—or he thought she was, it was hard to tell. His eyes followed his friend to the end.
“And it’s Veems first, Tomlin second! And Shenkita Beckworth in third place.”
All around him, Fenn saw people cheering, felt the seats moving with foot stamping. But sound came late to him. He clapped slowly. He was never going to be a clapping person.
“That was something,” Adele noted. “I’m tired just watching.”
“We gotta get down and circle her,” Maisy began to cut her way through the stands shouting, “Scuse me! Pardon me. Eh, Veneziano, get your bony ass out of the way!
“Tara!” Maisy hooted. “Tara!”
Tara turned from the circle of girls hugging her and shouted up: “Maisy Affren, get down here, you dyke!”
“Damn, bitch, it takes one to know one.”
Adele and Fenn came with her, and Fenn said, “Tonight we party.”
“Oh, hell yes,” Tara wrapped an arm around her friend, “Tonight we do party, and don’t you dare say some shit about going to sleep or having a headache. I’m dragging your ass out for fun.”


They did the circuit. Two years ago, when Maisy Baird had still been Maisy Affren, she and Tina and Tara did the circuit with them. On a Saturday night, at around nine-thirty, or maybe ten, after one had proper rest, dinner and the day before, and was ready to get up again and party, there would be a knock at Fenn’s door, and it would be Tara, and Maisy would be with her, or maybe he and Tara would go over to Maisy’s dorm, which was in Justin Hall, and they would have a beer, or two beers, crack a window and smoke cigarettes, blowing the grey smoke out of the window while looking out over campus and planning their strategy.
Then they would go to all the rooms where a little noise was heard, where, on this dry campus, there might be a party. You’d see people you generally didn’t get to see during the week, talk about life, head on out, move to the next room where another little party was happening. The girls were fun and rowdy, and they would move from Justin to Saint Helen Hall, but not Saint Mary’s because the cheerleaders lived there and they were bitches, hoes and penny sluts who made it with all the football players and then claimed to be virgins because they only got fucked in the ass.
From there they moved to Gallagher where all the potheads—okay, half of the potheads—lived. Security had given up on patrolling the second floor, and it was a cross between a Bob Marley concert and a Grateful Dead tour. In fact, Bob and Jerry could be seen all over the place, or people attempting to look like them, long tall white boys with blond dreadlocks, pot and beer, acid for the taking, though Tara and Fenn and Maisy never took it.
They cut clear of Anderson Hall because it was the football dorm and stories abounded of girls being raped there. One night, passing it with Trisha Harper, she had tapped Fenn on the shoulder and said, “Is that what I think it is?”
He looked up.
“I don’t know what you think it is,” Fenn told her, “but if you think it’s a chick’s bare ass getting fucked, then yes, that’s what it is.”
They avoided Bishop Koll Hall because it was the baseball dorm, and the baseball players came from the surrounding farm towns where they still referred to black people as “colored” and half of their fathers were involved in the Klan. There was a tree outside of Koll where several sneakers hung, and Fenn always wondered if that was because they couldn’t find any Negroes. Tara had said, “Well, let’s not help them on that score.”
Michael Bueno, head of the philosophy club, had a girlfriend—Janette—and she said that her little sister had dated Jeff Calderone, a baseball player, and he’d had sex with her then recorded it and showed the tape to all of his friends. That was a right of passage in Koll Hall and another reason to avoid it. Yes, Koll was also a good place for a white girl to get raped, but the white girls who got raped by football players wanted to be cheerleaders and get enhanced boobs, and the ones who got raped in Koll wanted to go to Bible Study and vote Republican.
“They should all be dykes,” was Tara’s studied decision.
There was also Williamson Hall, which was where most of the basketball players lived. That was safe, but violence had been done to it. Cara Standard, high as a kite and wishing to revenge herself on her ex boyfriend, a center, had climbed into her truck one night and driven a car into his room. The wall was strong. Cara’s car was not. After she’d gotten out of the hospital there was jail time and rehab.
Then there had been Bess Bamber. After breaking up with Jeffrey Rodriguez, she declared herself a bisexual. This was no big deal. What was a big deal is that one evening she had gone to Williamson Hall, telling many of the basketball players that she could “Come in buckets.”
“We don’t believe you,” they said.
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
And so they had followed her into the second floor lounge, a tatty, threadbare place, and sitting down she said, “Close the door so we can have some privacy.”
Then, in a chair under one of the lounge windows, she took down her pants, next her panties, and then proceeded to masturbate and prove that, indeed, she could come in buckets, all in that chair. The basketball players were amazed. When she had finished, Bess said, “Now, you have to promise not to tell anyone. This is just between us.”
The next day, Bess arrived at Tara’s door, red faced and scandalized.
“It’s so hard to be a sexual person on this campus,” she lamented. “You can’t trust anyone to keep a secret. Can you believe they told?”
“Naw, girl,” Tara said as Bess put her head on Tara’s shoulder and Tara rolled her eyes toward Fenn.
“Some people just have no class.”

But tonight they weren’t going to either of those halls. They cut a line for Saint Basil. That night they went to Saint Basil Hall because that was where most of the track girls had boyfriends. He liked Basil Hall best because there was always some shy quiet boy there who reminded Fenn of Dan and made him think it was time to have a boyfriend again. It was a quiet place where you could get a drink—or several. Half the boys were on the soccer team.
“Look at you!” Fenn greeted his friend.
Tara was in black trousers with suspenders over a white shirt. Like Fenn, she wore a fedora.
“I look good, don’t I?” she demanded, tipping her black hat over one eye. “All dressed up and no one to fuck.”
“Not on this campus.”
Tara looked around. “Definitely not on this campus.”
“Oh my God!” Jaime Roberto screamed. “Tara, you were so good! God, wasn’t she good?” She grasped Fenn’s wrist.
“She always is,” Fenn said.
“I mean, I saw your first mete. Hell, I covered it, and I was like, this girl is going to go far this year. And here you are. I mean, you even had Jill beat. This is your year.”
“Jill’s good,” Tara said.
“Jill is good. Jill is the best and you better say it loud because her boyfriend is here, but this year you can be the best too. Right Fenn? Fenn?”
Tara turned to her friend.
“What are you looking at?” she demanded.
“I’m not looking at anything.”
Tara followed his glance and said, “You’re looking at that boy.”
“Which boy?” Jaime said. Then: “Oh, Fenn, you have to be careful. If he comes from California or New York he might have that AIDS.” She cupped a hand to his ear and whispered: “They even have it in Indiana now.”
Fenn was half irritated, but the other half of him wanted to laugh.
“You can’t get AIDS by looking. Anyway, he’s gone now.”
“Don’t worry,” Tara told her friend. “I’ll remember him,”
“I’ve never seen him before,” Fenn told them. “He could have just been visiting.” He sighed, but he was surprised that it hurt a little. He was suddenly very aware there hadn’t been someone in his life since Dan, and now Dan was definitely, certainly bound for the priesthood.
“He was little. He had lots and lots of dark hair. He needed a shave. He had soccer shorts and looked really shy, like you like ‘em.”
“Oh. Those kinds won’t give you AIDS,” Jaime said, relieved.
And then she said, “I think I know who you mean. Did he have blue shorts on, and a Chicago Cubs cap?”
“Yes!” Fenn said.
“I didn’t know if he was gay or not. He’s really quiet. I don’t think he’s into girls. He’s really shy. He’s sweet.”
“But does he have a name?” Tara asked, becoming impatient for Fenn’s sake.
“Oh, yeah,” Jaime said. “That’s Tom Mesda.”

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an excellent start! I am glad to be back reading about Rossford! It is very interesting to read about the past of some of the characters. I look forward to more of it tomorrow! I hope you have a wonderful week!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I hope we both have a wonderful week. Yes, I love all the other stories, but I am very glad to finally be back in Rossford with you and wrap this very long story up.... slowly.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“She’s dead!” Anne crowed.
“Who?” Fenn asked his mother, sitting up on his bed and folding his legs beneath him.
“Your grandmother!”
This was Leroy’s mother, Ada Meriwether, who had abandoned her son to be raised by the Houghtons and then returned years later to make everyone’s life a misery.
“How did she die?”
“You’re going to love this,” Anne said, not even disguising her pleasure.
“Do you remember how she came to live with us when I was still married to your father?”
“Of course I do. It’s one of the reasons I moved out of the house and went away to college.”
“And how she called me girl all the time. Girl do this! Girl do that!”
“Um hum. Um hum.”
“And then she left… with your father’s first wife. She left with that witch, and now you know what happened?”
“Hum?”
“Samantha left her in this old nursing home. In a ghetto. And you know how much she hated Black people.”
“They reminded her she was one.”
“Well,” Anne said, “there she was, with more niggahs than you can shake a stick at, and she was eating a piece of fried chicken—a chicken leg with, and I am not lying, I swear I am not—a bit of watermelon when, you know what happens?”
Fenn’s door was open and just then he was annoyed to see several young soccer players—he could tell because they were in shorts and tee shirts with too much hair and ball caps and the soccer boys had a look to them.
“What, Mama?”
“She chokes on a chicken bone.”
“Biblical!”
“Isn’t it?” Anne agreed, triumphantly.
While his mother went on laughing at the fall of her foe, Fenn saw more of the boys bringing up boxes. They were opening up the room next door. They were moving a friend in and suddenly he recognized one.
“Here you go, Tommy,” one of the boys said.
“Hold on, Mama, something else biblical just happened.”
“Alright,” Anne said. “Well, are you coming to dinner tomorrow night?”
“Of course.”
“Good, cause Adele has news for us. Do you like Hoot?”
“Not really?”
“Me either,” Anne confessed, “and I feel bad about that.”
“Mama, there’s so much in this world to feel bad about, why feel bad about not liking people?”
“Well, that does make sense,” Anne agreed.
“I love you, Mother,” Fenn said by way of leaving.
“Love you too.”
Fenn hung up the phone and moved to the door. Sitting there with his door open, watching soccer players move Tom Mesda in didn’t seem right, and closing his door on them wasn’t desirable. So he went out into the hall, frankly hanging from his door frame. One of the soccer players waved. He was surprised that Barry Sanderson knew his name. Tom was hairy knees and soccer shorts, open wind breaker and a ball cap over his head full of curls. He had the sweetest face Fenn had ever seen. He’d forgotten about that. He came right up to Fenn, and Fenn sensed that this took a lot for him.
“I’m your new neighbor. I’m Tom,” he said.
Fenn offered his hand.
“Fenn Houghton,” he said.
Tom’s smile didn’t make any sense. It was like no one should be that happy to meet someone. He shook his hand rapidly and then they stood looking at each other.
“You…” Fenn said, “should probably help your friends finish helping you move in?’
Tom seemed to remember himself and he chuckled.
“Ah, right.”
But he still didn’t move.
So Fenn said, “I’ll see you later,” nodded and went back into his room, closing his door while Tom said, “Yeah… later.”

That night they sat in Grandma Lula’s large house on Prince Street, the one where, after her divorce from Leroy, Anne had come to live.
“I need someone to take care of me and you need someone to take care of you, so what’s the problem?” her mother demanded.
Tonight they sat around the too large table in the seldom used dining room. Fenn found himself beside Hoot, and across from his sister with Nell Reardon on the other side of her. Beside Adele sat Nell’s husband, Kevin. Grandma and Mama made eight.
“That was a lovely dinner, Grandma Houghton,” Hoot told her.
Lula Houghton ignored him. Fenn looked across to this sister who had the usual look of trepidation when she brought her husband around her family.
“Didn’t you have some news?” the boy on the far end of the table demanded.
He was tall for his age, pale and all angles with a thatch of wild, spiky, black hair. His green eyes were ringed in shadows.
“Why did you bring him?” Adele asked Nell.
“Mom couldn’t watch him.”
“I don’t need to be watched,” the boy said.
“Mom thinks you do, Todd,” Nell said, and there was an end of it.
Todd was nearly fourteen, and he did not think this was the end of it, so he lay back lower and lower in his chair until Adele yelped. Then he sat up quickly.
“You kicked me!” Adele said.
“I didn’t mean to!” Todd looked terrified. “I was trying to kick Nell.”
Hoot had a protective bulldog look on his face and Fenn, who at twenty-one was the same height as Todd, thought that leaning over and smacking the boy on the head would suffice.
“See,” Fenn told them. Now everything’s taken care of.”
“Hitting boys isn’t the answer, Fenn,” Kevin chided.
“No?” said Fenn. “What about hitting men?”
Fenn liked Kevin Reardon less than he liked his own brother-in-law. Kevin was tall and bespectacled with a dimple in his chin. He would have been good looking. But there was something wrong about him that Fenn could never pinpoint.
“And now for the news.” Anne put her hands together as Lula came in with a large chocolate pie she had made that afternoon.
“Great,” Nell said, “and then I have news too.”
“I’m pregnant,” Adele spat it out, not wanting to risk any more interruption.
“You got a bun in the over!” Todd exclaimed.
Fenn drew in a weary breath and vowed to never have children.
“Sis,” he said, reaching across the table to touch her hand while her mother hugged her. Kevin immediately reached across the table to shake Hoot’s hand, something Fenn had never thought of doing. After all, Hoot’s part had been minimal. But Fenn came around and shook his hand and then so did Todd, and Fenn noted that Todd had hung back from doing it, waiting for Fenn.
“It’s going to be Fenn if it’s a boy,” Adele said, conspiratorially, touching her brother’s hand.
He smiled, but said, “And what if it’s a girl?”
“We took a class on Arab lit,” Adele said, “and I sort of fell in love with Fatimah, Aliyah or Zoraya.”
“I don’t like Zoraya,” Fenn said.
“I don’t like any of them,” Todd said, frankly.
Adele prepared something to say to this boy, but Todd continued, tapping a skinny finger on the table while Fenn noticed Kevin looking at him with approval.
“There’s a better name, and it’s from an Arabian story too,” Todd said.
“If it’s a girl name her Layla.”

“His name is Thomas Mesda,” Trisha began.
“We already knew that,” Tara said.
Trisha gave her a withering glance and then said, “If you would let me continue…”
“Certainly,” Tara smiled.
“Anyway, he graduated from Notre Dame about a year ago.”
“Then what the fuck is he doing here?” Fenn said.
“And why does he look twelve?” Tara added.
Fenn, who was not fond of sleeping with twelve year olds, said, “He does not.”
“Well, that’s because you never see him when he’s shaved.”
Fenn was still not satisfied with that answer and Trisha took a breath, and then continued:
“He’s in charge of liturgical music at Loretto,” Trisha continued.
“Then why is he playing soccer?”
“Do you have any idea what the liturgical music budget is? There isn’t even really an ordinary music department here.”
Fenn waited for Trisha to make her point.
“He’s supplementing his income by living in a dorm and being the soccer coach.”
“Well that sucks,” Tara muttered.
“Yeah,” Fenn agreed. “That is pretty crappy for a first job.”
“Well,” Trisha said as if this explained everything, “his degree is in musicology.”

Fenn generally kept his door closed, but whenever he heard the door in the neighboring room open, he was intrigued by the prospect of Tom. He realized without Tara having to tell him, that there wasn’t much chance of meeting Tom if he didn’t open the door. After that the door was always cracked, and the easy chair he and Chris Bertrand had taken from the refuse of graduating students the year before was positioned just so that when Tom came walking by, Fenn could affect nonchalance, just sitting there with a book or a dignified cup of coffee, and politely waving.
By the end of the week, Tom not only waved back but nervously stood at the threshold of the door.
“Come on in,” Fenn invited him.
Tom was in dress pants, white shirt and tie.
“I just got off work.”
“I see.”
“I work in the music department.”
“Oh?” Fenn said.
Tom told him everything Trisha had, and Fenn pretended he hadn’t heard it before.
“You’re a good listener,” Tom said.
“Thank you. Wanna juice?”
“Hum?”
“There’s some in the mini fridge.”
“No,” Tom put up a manly hand. “I’m more of a beer guy.”
That sounded like bullshit, but Fenn didn’t remark on it.
“Would you—?” Tom began, and then he lifted a finger. He was still in his leather jacket and he looked very good. He had shaven today, but he didn’t look like a twelve year old to Fenn at all.
A few minutes later he returned with two beers. He used the bottle opener on one, handing it to Fenn, and then he opened the second one for himself before taking a swig and toasting Fenn with a slightly nervous smile.
“Cheers!” he said.
With the same grace he’d use to welcome him, Fenn leaned forward, clinked bottles and echoed, “Cheers, Tom.”
“So, whaddo you like to do?” Tom asked him.
“I sit here, drink coffee, and watch people go by,” Fenn said.
Tom didn’t know how to take that.
“And I’m an actor. I mean… I want to be an actor.” Fenn seemed to be thinking this over, and then he said, “No. I am an actor. A good one. If you go to this semester’s play, you’ll see that.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Tom said. “I’m an actor too.”
“You’re a musician, a soccer player and an actor?”
Tom blushed and shrugged.
“I’m not great at acting,” Tom said. “My family is a show family. We’re all actors. I memorized most of Shakespeare before I was in high school.”
“Seriously?”
Tom sat up straight, put his beer down and began:

“That will never be
Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
Unfix his earthbound root?
Sweet bodements! good!
Rebellion’s head, rise never till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom.
Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art
Can tell so much: shall Banquo’s issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?”

And Fenn, leaning forward replied: “Seek to know no more.”
Tom, holding his beer bottle loosely, smiled, and then continued with Macbeth’s lines:

“I will be satisfied: deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you!
Let me know.
Why sinks that cauldron?
and what noise is this?”

So Fenn hissed, in three voices, for the three witches:
“Show!
Show!
Show!”

The two of them sat in Fenn’s room, both grinning foolishly and Tom reached forward and clinked his bottle with Fenn’s.
“I can do all of Romeo and Juliet,” Tom told Fenn. “We have a balcony back home, and I used to run up and down the steps being one and then the other.”
“Now that is a talent.”
“Really?” Tom said, taking a quick swig. “Cause I think it’s really weird.”
Fenn shook his head:
“I have no interest in anything that isn’t weird. Or anyone.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Tom. You’re a weird ass.”

Tom came by twice a week or so with a beer, or accepting a beer. He often hung at the lentil of the door waiting for Fenn to say something, and one afternoon Fenn was sitting in the old easy chair facing the door, his face buried in a book, when he lowered it and looked at Tom.
He stood up and crossed the room.
“Hello, Tom.”
“Hi, Fenn.”
Because Tom still seemed to be waiting for something, Fenn said, “Tomorrow I am going to Chicago. Because I grew up there, and I need to go back from time to time. To get away from all of this. I am going to the beach. I’m going to stick my feet in the water. Do you want to come with me?”
“Don’t you have class?”
“I’ll skip.”
“I have work.”
“Call in sick.”
“I can’t.”
“Why? Is what you do really that important? You can’t skip one day?”
Tom considered this, and then Fenn went back to his chair saying, “I never travel on weekends, so don’t think that one Saturday or Sunday we’ll do this. Come or don’t. Last chance.”
“Let’s go!” Tom decided, becoming excited.
“Great,” Fenn replied, sitting back down and attending to his reading.
“By the way,” he added as Tom turned to leave.
“You’re driving.”

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

It is great to read about Tom and Fenn's early life. I am intrigued to read more even if I do know the ending for them. So Adele is pregnant with Layla? Cool! Great writing and I look forward to more after work tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

When I worked on it, and then when I read it the first time, I was sort of surprised that the story had the feeling I wanted, that even though you knew what was going to happen in the end, it seemed like anything could happen. One of the reasons I did it this way was because I was always wanting to put Tom and Fenn togather (they have a powerful connection) and the only way I could do it without getting rid of Todd was to put them together in the past. I have qo questions? What did you think of this young Todd. and what are you looking forward to seeing?

 

[CharmedFan28]

I like this young Todd and I look forward to seeing Layla's younger years.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Layla, the younger years: coming soon, amongst other things.

 

[ChrisGibson]

FENN GOES OUT WITH A NEW LOVE AND TALKS TO AN OLD ONE

​

They rose early the next morning and drove for about half an hour up to Miller where they caught a crowded train. Tom walked up and down the car looking for a seat. Fenn found one, caught Tom by the wrist, and directed him to a sit across from him.
“What could be worse than looking for a seat?” Tom wondered.
“Having to ride this motherfucker all the way from South Bend, I suppose,” answered Fenn.
“Amen,” said a woman who looked like she had, indeed, been riding this motherfucker all the way from South Bend.

The train went from Miller, through Gary, and then took it’s time on the way to East Chicago, Hammond and Hegewisch.
As they crossed a long prairie land and went over a stretch of road, Fenn said, “Technically, we are in Chicago now, but this is the part that doesn’t count.”
As far as Fenn was concerned, nothing counted until they reached the Loop, and though Tom was dizzied by downtown, Fenn steadily walked him up Randolph, across Wabash, to State and then down into the Subway.
“We ride up to Howard,” Fenn said. “Actually we ride the Howard as far as Loyola.”
“Loyola’s a nice place.”
“I guess,” Fenn said. “The kids are a little snooty. Not as snooty as the ones at Northwestern though.”
“They remind me of people at Notre Dame,” Tom said.
“Exactly.”
“Hey!” Tom said. “I went to Notre Dame.”
“Forgiven,” Fenn shouted as the El roared toward them.
He shoved Tom into the car ahead of him.
“Now get on.”
“Should we sit down?” Tom whispered, looking around.
“Why wouldn’t we?”
Tom looked at Fenn plaintively, and in the middle of the crowded train, Fenn said, “If you are lucky enough to find a seat, then it is perfectly safe to sit down. Cooties won’t get you.”

“Ignore the vain and silly bitches who are only thinking about where they’ll TA and why their boyfriend won’t call them back, or if they should have the abortion after all,” Fenn began as they walked through campus, toward the beach, “and concentrate on putting your feet in the water.”
“This isn’t like Notre Dame’s campus at all.”
“Or even De Paul’s,” Fenn noted.
It had been built into the city so that many of the dormitories were apartment buildings. In some ways much of Loyola resembled an upscale Chicago neighborhood. They turned, went down a block, and were on the beach.
“You don’t wear shorts,” Fenn said.
“Neither do you.”
Tom was in jeans and a tee shirt, and Fenn was in baggy khakis, a Madras shirt and a fedora.
“No,” Fenn agreed. “But I already knew about me.”
They walked along the edge of the great lake, shoes in their hands, watching the blue waves roll in, clear and glass green to the sand. The blue stretched on without visible end, and when Tom looked to his right he could see the shore of Chicago coming in, the Sears Tower rising high, the John Hancock building a little less so. He looked again and saw the apartment buildings that made a concave stretch further north.
“Have you ever seen the ocean?” Tom asked.
“No,” Fenn told him.
“We’ll go,” Tom told him.
“I’ll hold you to it.”
They went up the sand. Tom following Fenn, until they arrived at a pier and Fenn went up and around it. A stretch of sand grass with a walk cutting through it greeted them, and they took the walk. It stretched far north, and now the beach was wilder, and covered in pebbles.
“Roll up your pants,” Fenn commanded Tom, “and let God take you.”
They crossed the pebbly beach, heading into the water, and Tom yelped in joy, catching Fenn’s hands. “It’s sucking me in.”
Fenn reached down into the water and came up with a handful of pebbles. The water swirled around them, clear over the beach of little pebbles.
“Where did you grow up?” Tom said.
Fenn pointed his finger north, toward the apartment buildings.
“Evanston.”
“Then why didn’t we go there?”
“The beaches aren’t free.”
Tom chuckled and then he said, “Fenn… you’re very different.”
“But you like it, right?”
“Yes,” Tom decided. “I do.”
“I like you too,” Fenn said.
“Is that why you asked Trisha to find out all that stuff about me?”
Fenn blinked in surprise, and Tom smiled saying, “Yeah, I got some tricks up my sleeve too.”
“I see you do.”
“And next time we can go out to your old home. We can see Evanston.”
“I’ve decided,” Fenn told him, “when I get old, which is a long way off, I’m going to come back here. I don’t think this is a great place to be young in, but I want to be old here. There, I mean. So I’ve decided that when the time comes, that’s where I’m going to go.”


The sky went dark mid afternoon. While they were returning downtown, and Tom was looking out of the window over the passing city, he said, “Why did you ask about me? Why were you so interested in me?”
“Because you remind me of my old boyfriend,” Fenn said frankly.
Tom blenched and looked around. Where he came from such things were not talked about, and he didn’t think they were in Chicago either. Not really. And there was AIDS that God sent to kill people like that. A few stops ago, some of those people had gotten on. Skinny men, mincing men, undesirable sissified men flipping their hands up and down, some with wigs on or make up, many with tight shiny pants or purses. He wasn’t like them. He didn’t want to be like them.
And here was Fenn, Madras shirt and pants, fedora, care free, but somewhat sober looking saying, casually, out loud, that Tom reminded him of his boyfriend.
Rather than say that word again, Tom only said, “What happened to him?”
“He went off to be a priest,” Fenn said. “You can’t have me and Jesus. That’s one man too many, and neither of us likes to share.”
Tom chuckled over that and then said, “So it wasn’t like…” he waved his hand in the vague direction of the queens. “That?”
“Oh, nothing’s like that,” Fenn said. “Even that’s not like that, and things will change. The world loves separation. People do everything they can to separate from each other, but at the end of the day it’s like being on the beach and trying to cut the sand in two. It just gets wet. It all runs together. Better not to worry too much about calling yourself something. Better to just be you.”
“I like you Fenn.”
“I know you do.”
“What the hell kind of response is that?”
“An honest one,” said Fenn.
Thunder rumbled overhead and Fenn said, “I never like that. I am not a fan of thunder and lightning when we’re whizzing along in the air.”
“We’ll be soaked,” Tom said.
“Hardly,” Fenn told him. “They’ve got tunnels and then all the shops have awnings. We’ll be near Wabash. We won’t get wet at all.”
“Do I really remind you of your old boyfriend?”
“He was sweet and kind. And good looking. Only you’re a lot better looking.”
Tom’s face reddened a little over this. He looked pleased.

On the train home, while it chugged under Chicago and then lifted them up over the Southside Fenn despised so much, Tom felt free to be louder because the train was emptier.
“So what did you all do?”
“Who?”
“You and your boyfriend?”
“What do you mean what did we all do?”
Tom’s faced reddened. He was squirming in his seat, and suddenly Fenn realized that Tom was trying to cozy up to him. He realized that Tom might have actually been a virgin.
“Tom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you…?” Fenn lowered his voice. “Are you asking about sex?”
Tom didn’t answer. He went from red to white.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Fenn said. “I mean, how would you know? What’s there to show you? Are you trying to ask if Dan and I had sex?”
It took Tom a while to form the word “Yes.”
“Well we did it like voting,” Fenn said. “Early and often. And before him there was someone else. Are you…?”
“I’ve never been with a guy, but I’ve thought about it,” Tom said.
“Well are you thinking about being with me? Let’s just be bald about it.”
“Look,” Tom said, sitting up very straight. “I just don’t want to go out and do it. I want to do it with my boyfriend. And until this afternoon I didn’t even think it was possible to have a boyfriend. So….”
Tom seemed at a definite loss. Fenn knew he couldn’t wait for Tom to come up with what to do, so he said, “Thomas, would you like to be my boyfriend?”
“No! I mean, yes. I mean yes.”
Fenn looked at him.
Tom lowered his voice.
“I mean, we can’t have sex. I’m not ready for that.”
“Number one, I didn’t ask you that, and number two, I think you’re more ready than you know.”
Tom nodded, looking like he felt really stupid. Then he said, “I mean I want us to date. And… when it’s time it’ll be time. Okay?”
“When it’s time I think I’ll tell you what I’m about to tell you now.”
“Yeah?” said Tom. “And what’s that?”

Fenn sank down in his seat, feeling more exhausted than pleased at finally having attained Tom Mesda.
“That I have a headache.”


When Dan called later that week, Fenn said, “How sure are you about the priesthood?”
“What kind of question is that?” Dan began. And then he added, “Especially to begin a conversation with?”
“It’s a great question if I realize I haven’t moved on and neither have you,” Fenn said.
“The truth is you just decided this last year, and last time you were here we were still together. I need to know that if you come to visit we won’t be like we were before.”
“Lovers?”
“I was trying to be discreet.”
“You don’t have to be discreet,” Dan said over the phone.
“Look, some of these guys are great and some of them aren’t, and a lot of them are hiding a lot of stuff. But you have to know something: I’m not ashamed of anything we’ve done. I don’t believe it was a sin.”
“But the point is it might very well be a sin if you came back for summer and we slept together again.”
“I hadn’t even thought about it.”
Fenn’s only response to this was silence. He could wait Dan’s thoughts out.
“Alright,” Dan confessed. “Okay. I still have a serious libido. Even though it’s come down to us sleeping together once a year. And I’ll tell you what: when I think about you you’re my best friend, but of course in the back of my head is us. Together.”
“Well, here’s the thing,” Fenn said after a bit. “Jesus might not mind a little bit of me on the side. In fact, I’m not sure what being a priest and being celibate have to do with each other. But a real flesh and blood man would mind me sleeping with you, and before I go into something new, I need to know that we are over.”
“Oh,” Dan sounded like he hadn’t expected that.
“You found someone.”
“You think it’s fair for you to go into the priesthood and me to just be one you come home to when you’re on break?”
“No, Fenn,” Dan said, slowly. “Not at all.”
“And besides, right now you’re not even in a real seminary. But next year, and then after that… and then when you’re really ordained.”
“Right, right,” Dan was saying. It was like he was coming to terms with his decision.
“You wanted this,” Fenn reminded him.
“I know. I just…. ”
Dan’s voice changed.
“I’ve been one foot in and one foot out. I honestly thought I could go and do this and then take a break, and we could be together a couple of times a year. I wasn’t really thinking about you at all. Men are selfish and priest are men. I wasn’t even thinking about what you’d be doing the rest of the year. And… I wasn’t taking my vocation seriously.”
“Dan, you can always change your mind.”
“Would you give up this other person for me?”
“Dan, if it wasn’t a serious thing with him I wouldn’t have called you. But if you left the priesthood then it would change things.”
When Dan didn’t say anything, Fenn said, “You need time. I’ll give you time. But not too much, alright? Because there’s a crazy guy who loves me living next door.”

MORE TOMORROW NIGHT

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a very interesting trip that Fenn and Tom took! I am glad Fenn talked to Dan before doing anything more with Tom. Thanks for that map, it was good to look at the area it covered. I am enjoying this story a lot so far and look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I should have written on the map, The City of Rossford. Even if its difficult to tell the individual streets, I wanted that map up for the last hurrah so you could see the town laid out the way it always was for me.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Actually, you can totally blow it up on your phone and see where everyone lives. Incidentally, Cade and Donovan live on the other side of Tangerine Road, which would be Willmington, and not Rossford

 

[ChrisGibson]

CONCLUSION OF CHAPTER ONE: TOM



“That’s a shame. I like Dan,” Tara said.
“Well, he’s not dead,” Fenn told her. “In fact, he’s not even gone.”
And then he said, “Don’t you like Tom?”
“I don’t know Tom,” Tara told him, frankly. “I’m sure I will like him in time, but right now Dan’s the one I know. And he’s cute, too.”
“I told him to let me know when he decides, but to decide soon.”
“And did you tell Tom?”
“Are you crazy?”
Fenn put down his cigarette, got up and crossed Tara’s dorm room. He shut the door as if spies might be waiting on the other side. He knelt beside Tara and whispered:
“Tom is a virgin. He’s never even been kissed.”
“By a man or by woman?”
“I’m guessing by a man, but probably both. He said he needs time, and I figure the time he needs is the time Dan needs to shit or get off the pot.”
“So you’re not going to tell Tom about Dan?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But…”
When she said nothing right away, Fenn gave Tara a long suffering glance.
“Yes?”
“What if Dan leaves the priesthood for you? Then you’ve got to leave Tom.”
“You don’t even know him,” Fenn said. “Don’t start feeling sorry for him now. I’ve got two men sitting on the fence about me. Whichever acts first gets the prize. That’s how all bids work. Now, I’m not entirely comfortable with comparing myself to someone on an auction block, but there you go!”


Anne had given him forty dollars to buy a good shirt a few years ago, and Fenn had bought a very good one for about fifteen. It was thin, which was usually a good thing, but today he would have appreciated something a little warmer. The weather was going cool again, and the heat wasn’t on in the dormitory.
It was in that shirt, and in that coolness that Fenn received the phone call.
“Are you there?” Dan said.
“Of course I’m here. I’m talking to you.”
“I need you to be serious,” Dan cautioned. He sounded terrible. He sounded woebegone.
“Dan, is there something wrong? You sound like you’ve…” Fenn didn’t want to call his friend out. He didn’t want to say “You sound like you’ve been crying.”
“I wrote you a letter,” Dan said, “because I had to get everything out. But I want to read it to you. I can’t send it to you.”
Fenn loved Dan. Dan was what they called a sensitive and passionate soul. He worked in soup kitchens and then cried when he left. It was this sensitivity that made their relationship so passionate and so deep but why, if Fenn was honest, he was alright only sleeping with him a couple of times a year.
“Well, then you should read it.”
Dan took a lugubrious sigh and then began reading:
“Dear Fenn Lawrence—” Dan had explained a long time ago that Fenn’s name was so short that when he wanted to get seriously he had to use his middle name too, “this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write, because you are my best friend, and I love you—”
“And you also hate writing letters.”
“Fenn,” Dan scolded in a deeply sorrowful voice.
“I’m sorry,” Fenn said. “Continue.”
“It was right for you to let me know that you had met someone else, and you deserve someone who can love you completely. I hope he is it. See, I do care for you, so much. You have no idea, and it breaks my heart to think I’m going to lose you, but I know this is what God wants for me. I know that God wants me to be his priest. I can’t leave it. It’s killing me to tell you that you should be free.”
The more Dan read, the slower the reading became, for he had stopped for gulps of air and broken into gasps broken by crying. After every sentence he would say, “Wait a minute.” And then start over.
“But that’s what I’m telling you. Be free and pray for me as I go on to be a priest and finish what I started.”
Fenn received all of this as someone outside of it. It was as if there was so much emotion on Dan’s part, it could scarcely fit him in. When Dan was overcome by emotion, it always did this to him.
“I’m so sorry,” Dan said, and Fenn wondered if this was in the letter or if he’d just tacked it on.
“That’s… alright,” Fenn said.
“I hope you don’t hate me,” Dan continued, “but I get it if you do.”
“Dan, you’d already said you were going into the priesthood over a year ago, and you were thinking about it when we met.”
Suddenly, on the other end of the phone, Dan bawled again and said, “But it wasn’t REAL like it is now.”
“You mean you hadn’t lost me.”
Dan didn’t say anything, but on the other end came a terrible moan.
He was about to say, “You haven’t lost me,” but, of course, in a very real way Dan had. Tom was going to be it now.
“Danny,” Fenn said tenderly, “you never had to make a choice before, and now you have.”
He imagined Dan was probably nodding his head, while he sniffled on the other end of the line.
“It’s not supposed to be easy,” Fenn said. “Alright? It’s supposed to be hard. You went and I supported you. You were going to try it out and now you know you’re going to do it.”
Certainly, while Dan was off being celibate, Fenn was not. Not completely. There were others and now there was Tom. But being in Dan’s presence, in the light of his smile and in his warmth was like melting, and their relationship innocently melted from kneeling side by side in Mass, into quiet conversations, to laying in bed playing footsie, touching more and more and then waking up in each other’s arms. It was an innocent love that gave Fenn an erection meditating on it. Now it was gone. That was what Dan was mourning too.
“Are you going to come and visit me still?” Dan said, plaintively.
“Of course I am.” Fenn added, “Dummy. It just won’t be the same.”
“How do we draw the line?” Dan wondered. “I don’t know where the line is with us. I’m so used to us.”
He wished he could touch Dan. He wished he could hold his gentle friend. But then, if he could who knows where that would end up? Only… he did know.
“We’ll find a way,” Fenn assured him.

“It had to happen though,” Adele said. “I mean, you couldn’t always carry a torch for a priest.”
“I think it’s hitting him harder than it is me.”
“Of course it is,” Adele said. “You’ve got a hot boyfriend. All he has is Jesus.”
“And Jesus might be nice,” Tara added, “but he won’t fuck you in the middle of the night.”
Adele just looked at her.
“Well, he won’t,” Tara insisted.

One morning at the end of that week, there was a knock on his door and then Tom Mesda pushed it open and entered. Tom closed the door behind him. He was not very tall, but extremely handsome and he was in a suit and tie. It was in that moment that Fenn realized he had indeed been obsessed with Dan, and that the obsession was ended. Here was Tom and Tom was sort of slow, but he loved him. Slow in the way of love, slow in knowing what to do, but here he was, the man who had caught his eye, and Dan was gone.
“What’s your night look like?” Tom asked him.
“How do you need it took?”
Fenn was sitting cross legged on the bed, and now he swung his legs over.
“We need to talk,” Tom told him. “We need to talk about us seriously. If you’re ready for that?”
Tom knew nothing about Dan and the last few days. Fenn had forgotten this. He said, “I was always ready.”
“Great,” Tom nodded. “Then dinner tonight?”
“Sure,” Fenn started, and then said, “I mean, yes. Absolutely.”
“And my treat, of course.”
“You’re treating me to McDonalds?”
Tom looked at him strangely and then said, “No, Fenn. I just said we’re going to dinner.
“You’re my boyfriend,” he said. “I’m an adult. This isn’t a burger and fries. I’m taking you on our first date.”
Fenn was amazed once again by Tom Mesda. Tom smiled down, handsome, his face full of pride, and then he added, “So be ready at six, a’right?”
Tom left. The smell of his cologne remained. On the hardwood floors of the dormitory, Fenn could hear the sound of his dress shoes. This was his man. This was his future. He had never seriously had a man before. He closed his door and put his ear to the wall, listening to Tom sing as he moved about his room, then hung up his clothes. All hesitations, all reservation, any thoughts that he had been wrong to let Dan go faded more and more with each sound of Tom’s voice until at last, they all were gone.

A LOT MORE ROSSFORD TOMORROW NIGHT

 

[CharmedFan28]

I feel sad for Dan but he has made his choice. Seeing Tom and Fenn's relationship is interesting. I am so used to them apart that its different but I am enjoying it. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow! I hope you have had a nice night and have a good day tomorrow.

 

[ChrisGibson]

It is different, isn't it. Tom has always been Fenn's ex, and this is the other side of the whole thing. Of course, its been known since about the second book that Dan and Fenn were a thing, but what does that look like seeing in real time? I have had a very interesting night which is turning into a good one and look forward to a bright day. I hope the same for you. Cheers.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT, A ROSSFORD DOUBLE PORTION, AND HERE IS PART ONE!

[

B]TWO

FENN[/B]​

When it became apparent they weren’t going to eat in town, and Tom continued driving down the road, Fenn asked Tom where they were going.
Tom grinned at the road, but did not look at him.
“Are you always like this?” Tom asked.
“Like what?”
“Can’t you just be surprised?”
“Fine,” Fenn replied. “I’m being surprised.”
A few moments later Fenn said, “Are we almost there?”
They weren’t almost anywhere. They were the sole travelers on a stretch of highway and Tom said, “You know what?”
“Hum?”
He pulled over to the side of the road, and then turned to Fenn and kissed him. He did it well, like he’d been practicing, and when he was done, Tom, went back to his side of the car, strapped himself in again and continued driving.
“Yeah,” he murmured after a moment, while Fenn recovered. “That shut you up.”

In the restaurant, Tom’s knees touched Fenn’s and he reached across the table and took his hand.
“How much did you spend?” Fenn demanded, looking around.
“Nothing’s too much.”
“Correction,” Fenn told him. “A lot is too much.”
“Not for tonight,” Tom insisted. He stroked Fenn’s hand in the middle of the restaurant.
“I am fearless,” he said, simply.
The waiter came by and was a little surprised, a little like a waiter in the northwest part of Indiana on the southern border of Chicago.
“What’s your best wine?” Tom looked at him, daring him to say something.
The waiter said, “Let me go see.”
“Go see all you want,” Fenn told him. “And then bring us out a ten dollar bottle of red.”
“Fenn,” Tom chided.
“Move,” Fenn negligently told the server, and he was off.
“Look,” Fenn told Tom. “I come from a simple world.”
“No you don’t,” Tom said, gently. “I’ve seen the world you come from.”
“And you saw it from the beach. This is very nice. I’m glad we’re here, but you have to understand I don’t want you spending money you don’t have.”
“I do have it, though, Fenn. And I wish you’d let me spend it on you.”
“How about not spending it at all? Hold on to it. I’m not going to be that kind of…” Fenn settled on the word, “partner.”
Tom’s hand rested in Fenn’s while the waiter came back with a bottle, and Fenn looked up and said, “Thank you.”
“Do you all know what you want, or do you need more time to decide?”
“More time, please?” said Tom.
Then he said:
“My sophomore year we were really busy. I was going to Germany for junior year and had a job at the church. A friend of ours says, ‘Let’s go to the beach.’ Her family has a private plane. So we get our things and we all fly to California for the weekend.”
Fenn looked at him and said, “I don’t know how to tell you this, Tom, but you went to Notre Dame, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Lake Michigan’s only an hour away.”
“That’s my point. I thought it was just really the thing to go to California for the weekend.”
“But that’s stupid.” And then Fenn said, “What I mean is… I will always find the most economic and practical way to do things. Because I’m cheap, yes. And because I don’t like to work. And because it keeps me on the ground.”
“I never liked the ground,” Tom said. “I’m used to doing things big. Why start college at eighteen if you can do it at sixteen or seventeen? Why go to a small school if you can go to one with a name? It doesn’t even have to be a good name. Why not go off to Europe? That’s me. I would never set foot in a K Mart. I didn’t realize that until I met you. We think in really different places.”
Fenn nodded over this.
“I had set aside five hundred dollars for tonight,” Tom said.
“Are you insane!”
People in the next table turned around, and the returning waiter blinked.
“Are you insane, or are you rich, because I’d been given to believe you weren’t the second.”
“I’m not, but that’s the life I’ve become accustomed to.”
“Okay,” Fenn said, and then he rattled off something to the waiter and said, “We’ll take two of them.”
When the waiter was gone, Fenn said, “You can’t live like this. And you can’t live like this for me. I’m not going to have you spending crazy money.”
“Alright,” Tom said. “But you just need to understand something.”
Fenn waited.
“All of my friends spend crazy money. Spending money is how I keep my friends. Being busy, being successful, and looking successful.”
Fenn sighed, sitting back in his chair.
“Maybe I’m not what you need.”
“No,” Tom said.
“No. You’re just what I need. I’ve never known anyone who said put your wallet away. I’ve never known anyone who looked after me or said, let’s get up and go to the beach.
“I need you, Fenn. And I want you. I only hope you feel the same way about me.”

After dinner they sat in the parking lot, holding hands in the dark car, really just kneading each other’s hands, and Tom said, “There is something else, and… it’s money already spent.”
“Yes, Tom?”
“I got us a hotel room in a nice place north of Hegewisch. You alright with that?”
“Oh, I’m completely alright with that.”
Fenn kissed him.
“A little bit of extravagance is never a crime.”

The hotel was an old stone house, probably recently renovated, and Tom surprised Fenn by having already packed a suitcase. He took it out of the trunk and waved Fenn away when he tried to lift it.
“I’m you’re servant, tonight,” he said, and went up the long steps ahead of Fenn.
The lobby was large, but quiet, done in old grey marble. There was a parlor off to their rights, open to the cool night with soft old sofas and chairs. There was an old fashioned elevator with a door and a brass gate that led them to their room.
Tom walked down the hall hung with old paintings and unlocked the door, opening it to Fenn.
Tom put down the bag on the bed.
“A nice bed,” Tom said. “One bed. Our bed.”
Fenn trembled at this and Tom turned around, putting his arms around Fenn’s neck. He didn’t kiss him this time. This time he pressed his curly head into Fenn’s chest, and Fenn placed his hands on Tom’s back.
“Can you believe it?” he whispered to Fenn. “Can you believe us?”
Then Tom said, “Mr. Houghton, we’re going to be very happy together.”

They sat drinking late night coffee downstairs in the parlor and the breeze from the lake blew in.
“So you went to college when you were sixteen?”
“I graduated when I was sixteen and started at ND when I was seventeen. I think that’s one reason I did a lot of what I did. I wanted to prove myself.”
“And then you did junior year in Germany.”
“Right, and then I finished up Notre Dame in three years. My junior year was more like my sophomore year.”
“Didn’t it cost more? With summer classes and all of that?”
“There you go again,” Tom said, shaking his finger. “Remember, you and I think differently about money.”
“So you were done with college by twenty.”
“Yes,” Tom said. “And then I went to Germany to earn a certificate and after that I worked at ND a bit and then came here.”
“Which is why we’re the same age, and you have a job and I have a year left of college.”
“Actually,” Tom said, “I’m six months younger than you.”
Fenn frowned at him, and Tom chuckled.
“Hey, I was just adding that for veracity.”
Then he said, “But if that’s what I did to get out at twenty, what did you do to get out at twenty-three?”
Fenn looked embarrassed and then he said, “Tara—you know Tara? The two of us drove to Canada one year and then another year I lived in a monastery.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“That is so—why?” Tom said. “I mean, I never knew anyone that did that.”
“I was tired of other people telling me who God was, and I wanted to find out for myself.”
“Well, what did you find out?” Tom said.
“I found out he’s probably not Catholic,” Fenn said.
While Tom chuckled, Fenn added, “He may not even be Jesus.”
“I don’t even go into the deep questions.”
“Don’t you wonder?” said Fenn. “I mean, you are a church organist.”
Tom shrugged.
“I like the music.”
Then he said, “It’s more than that. I mean…” he looked for what to say and then settled on, “Everyone doesn’t go off to the forest looking for truth. I’m not really a deep person. I’m actually kind of shallow.”
“I bet that’s not true.”
“I am shallow and have very base thoughts.”
“Like?”
“Like trying to find a way to make you come upstairs.”
Fenn cocked his head and looked at Tom.
“You’re very good, Mr. Mesda.”
“Thank you,” Tom told him. “Now why don’t we go upstairs and you can see if I’m very bad too.”

In coming to know Tom he would understand his deliberate nature and how, when the time finally came, Tom walked into things fearlessly. He never crashed. He had saved the money, made reservations for the hotel room, planned this night. None of it was on impulse. He was ready for all of it. Fenn was so used to the quiet tension between himself and Tom, He was used to Tom’s reticence and his gentle overtures. He was used to Tom in the suit, or in the soccer shorts, the hair going up his legs. They undressed each other until Tom’s trousers and suit jacket, his white shirt, his undershirt, his perfect cologne, revealed his beautiful body, olive skinned, dusted in black hair, his perfect breast, the most beautiful slightly rounded breast of a man, the beautiful, thick, coral nipples, the hair down his chest to his little stomach, his sex, awakened, unashamed while Tom’s body stretched to cover Fenn, while his arms, surprisingly strong, encircled him. Tom guided Fenn’s hand over his body, guided him to pleasure, kissed him up and down gently. The most amazing thing was how it was hard to know where his nudity began and Tom’s ended, where the revelation of Tom Mesda, the spine to the small of the back to the beautiful buttocks, became the revelation of him. And then there was how natural it was, how Tom naked was as natural, more natural, than Tom clothed and how Tom, guiding Fenn gently inside of him, was the most natural thing of all.
It didn’t begin there, or stop there. There were many ports of call on the way to that entry, and that entry wasn’t all. In a way, sex never changed. The size of a man changed, the nature of the man changed, but the wondrous thing about it was that fucking was fucking. It was hard to let go of his dignity, hard to let go of everything. Fenn realized that with Dan and Dan must have realized it with him. When you were really fucking someone it was the most vulnerable thing because you knew you weren’t dignified at all. Everything was out, all masks were off. And then there was the letting go, the spilling. The more you let go, the greater the orgasm.
Tom had been so polished, by his own admission. Now, there was this magic they’d both given themselves up to. Fenn was on his back, Tom’s body was fitted inside of him, Tom’s thighs inside of his thighs, Tom’s hands on his shoulders, Tom’s body moving like a piston against him, inside of him, until they almost fused. And then Tom’s body jerked, and his head flung back. He gave a hollow cry, like Fenn had some time before. His hands twitched and loosened, Fenn held onto him and felt him slick, a violent geyser, a collapse, Tom half tottering above him, still deep and hard inside of him, Tom lying against him now, the two of them undone and pressed by each other. This was the way it would always end. After the suits and the wine and the restaurant it ended with them undone, unable to speak, the bed moist. Tom’s hands were almost weak, like a baby’s, clawing to encircle him. They didn’t even have energy or sense to turn the light off. This was the undoing. It had to be the undoing. So much needed to be undone. This was how they tore up everything to start all over again. Fenn wouldn’t have it any other way.
Suddenly Tom laughed, a little drunkenly.
He pressed his mouth to Fenn’s and then lay asleep on his side holding him.
“I’m in love with you, Tom Mesda,” Fenn murmured. He could still feel the memory of Tom inside him. He was still a little sore from Tom fucking him.
Tom didn’t say anything. he just squeezed him very tightly.
As they were drifting to sleep Tom said, “But I loved you first.”

MORE LATER TONIGHT

 

[ChrisGibson]

Fenn and Tom were officially together by that winter. “Not too long a time at all,” Adele said. Her pregnancy was growing rounder and rounder alongside Nell’s. Kevin was rarely at home. He was always taking Todd and Todd’s friends on trips, and Adele commented that this was strange for winter.
“I don’t understand how the Boy Scouts work,” Mrs. Meradan said. “All I know is, isn’t it good to have Todd finally out and doing some things with friends?”
“He was always sort of lonely,” Fenn remarked.
“But he always liked you,” Mrs. Meradan laughed, pointing her fork at Fenn and then using it to cut her meat.
“Well, I like Todd too,” Fenn said. “But boys need someone their age.”
Nell shrugged. “And now he’s got a whole Scout troop.
“But look,” she continued, “it’s not the whole middle of the winter thing that’s odd to me. It’s Todd getting up to do anything in the middle of the winter. I mean, he is the most un-Boy Scoutly Boy Scout I’ve ever known.”
Fenn chuckled at that and told Tom: “You haven’t met him yet, but when he gets back you probably will. Then you can see how un-Scoutly or not Todd is.”
“My grandfather taught us all to hunt and fish,” Tom said. “He used to put his hand in the water and pull fish out. I was never able to do that.”
“Mr. Mesda,” Tara said, sitting next to a friend she’d brought for dinner, “you are a study in contrasts.”
“Well, now I didn’t say that I could pull a fish out of the water with my hands.”
“Well, then how do you like to fish?” Mrs. Meradan asked him.
Tom grinned and put his fork down.
“Ma’am, at the grocery store.”

Adele joined them in the old study of the Meradan house while Nell helped her mother wash dishes.
“You are beautiful,” Adele told the Mexican girl who’d come with Tara.
“Thank you,” she extended her hand. “I am Amelia.”
“Does Nell’s mother know we’re lesbians?” Tara asked, taking out her cigarettes, remembering Adele’s belly, and then putting them back.
“She doesn’t even know Fenn is gay.
“Heck, I didn’t even really know I was gay till a few months ago.”
“But you know now?” Adele said, half mocking. “Otherwise you and my brother are going to have a very difficult relationship.”
Amelia chuckled right next to Tara and placed her head on the other woman’s shoulder.
“No,” Tom said with a smile, “I am definitely, definitely not straight, and you know what?” he said to Fenn. “We’ve definitely, definitely got to get a real place at the end of the school year.”
Fenn blinked at him.
“Or was that too soon?” Tom said.
“Hell, yeah it was too soon!” Tara said. Next to her, Amelia said, “We’re dykes and even we know it’s too soon.”
“I just hadn’t really thought about it,” was what Fenn said. “It does make a lot more sense than you coming to my tiny dorm room every night.”
“Well part of it is how much I want us to be together,” Tom admitted. “The other part is how much I don’t want to live in a dormitory anymore.”
“I guess I always thought I would go home for the summer and figure out something in the fall,” Fenn admitted. “But… if you think about it, there’s no need.”
He looked at Tom. “You’re right. At the end of the year let’s get a place.”

“Don’t you want to come and see the apartment with me?”
Tom asked this question a few days before graduation when he was helping Fenn pack, and he had asked this question a few times earlier.
“Since you’re going to be paying for it,” Fenn said, “and since I’m not going to have a job for a while, doesn’t it make more sense if you find what you like?”
“I don’t care about that,” Tom declared. “In the end it’s going to be both of us.”
Fenn didn’t feel right about helping to pick out an apartment he wasn’t paying rent on, and what was more, he didn’t feel right about paying rent because he had planned to stay with his family for some time. This was Tom’s idea, let Tom go through with it.
He stopped in the middle of taping a box, though, and said, “When do you want me to come with you?”
“Tomorrow afternoon? When I get off work?”
There was so much hope in Tom’s face that Fenn couldn’t say no.

“I really like it,” Tom said, walking around the place. Hardwood floors, large windows. The apartment was in an old brick building off of Edison in view of Saint Agatha’s, the rival church to Fenn’s: Saint Barbara’s. The walls were beautifully white, and the kitchen was large.
“I can do wonders in here,” Fenn said, walking in and touching the black counter top. He opened the refrigerator. It worked.
“We’ll take it,” Tom said to the lady, wrapping a possessive arm around Fenn’s waist. It shocked him. Tom never hid the nature of his relationship with Fenn, and he could tell by Tom’s command, by the way he wrapped his arm about Fenn’s waist, that Tom was the husband in this relationship, which made Fenn the wife. His whole family was made of wives. He didn’t mind that. The idea of taking Tom’s shoes off and rubbing his feet, of taking care of a man, thrilled Fenn more than he wished to admit.

Graduation led to a huge party. Maisy was there with Barb and Bob Affren, and Trisha came to the house before leaving town.
“Are you still trying out for that play in Chicago?” he asked her.
“Oh, hell yes.”
“You’re going to let me know when try outs are?”
“I told you I would.”
“Tom,” Fenn called his boyfriend over. “This is my cousin, Lee.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Tom offered his hand. While Lee took it, Tom looked from one cousin to the other.
“You all sort of look a like. But not really.”
“I’m the writer. Fenn’s the actor,” Lee said.
“We divided it up,” Fenn said with a smile. “Just like that. Lee is starting to write plays.”
Tom laughed and said, “I love plays. Maybe you’ll come and visit more often.”
Fenn made a face.
“Lee never comes here,” Fenn explained. “He hardly ever stays anywhere. It’s incredibly doubtful you’ll ever see him again.”
“Well, it’s that damn Lemonade.”
“Lemonade?” Tom said.
“His boyfriend,” Fenn said.
“You say it like you’d be above it, but I know you’d fuck him if you could.”
Tom’s eyes went wide at that bit of frankness but Fenn said, “Fuck and live with are too different things.”
“Damn!”
Tom turned around to see Adele waddling. She wrapped an arm around Tom and said, “It’s great you could make it, Tommy. You get some food? He’s so thin,” she commented.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Tom said, and Adele continued, “This is a great party for my baby brother. Only thing is I wish I could driiiiiiiink—”
And then her voice wound into a sort of siren scream, and she clutched Tom’s shoulder painfully while Fenn and Lee looked at each other in panic.
“Oh, my goodness! Oh, my God!” Anne started, coming to fan her daughter. “What’s happening?”
Adele clutched Fenn now, and ass sticking out, howled some more, but it was Todd who put his drink down, picked up the phone and said, dispassionately, “She’s in labor.”

MORE AFTER THE WEEKEND. TOMORROW AFTERNOON.... WARM DARK STONE

 

[CharmedFan28]

Those were great portions! I like how this story is progressing. Tom and Fenn are cute together at this stage in their lives. So Adele is in labor now? At least we know that it ends well with Layla. Excellent writing and I look forward to Warm Dark Stone tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, there is the chance that this baby isn't Layla.... and then we might have a bit of a shock. I always wanted to see Tom and Fenn together, and they do work and I do like it, which makes the future a little sad. Just stay tuned, and have a great night.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“Oh! I hope she’s alright!” Tom paced up and down the hall.
Fenn looked up at him with a bemused smile and said, “She’s not dying, she’s having a baby.”
“You were a big help,” Tom said to Todd.
The skinny kid shrugged and said, “Everyone was really stressing out.” He added, “Black people are supposed to be so cool about everything.”
“You need to watch less TV,” Lee said.
“I don’t watch TV. I was reading James Baldwin.”
Lee had nothing to say to this, but only folded his arms over his chest and walked to the other side of the room. Tom sat down beside Fenn, still excited.
“I’ve never been to an actual birth.”
“I never thought an actual birth would occur on my graduation.”
“Maybe we should go back and get some cake?” Todd suggested.
Tom looked at him like he was insane.
“Half the family’s in the next room,” Todd said, “And it’s not like us sitting here is going to make the baby come any faster.”
Tom still looked shocked by the boy’s insensitivity, but Fenn seemed to be pondering this, and then he reached into his pocket and handed Todd his keys.
“I cannot walk out on my sister’s labor, but you can go back to the house and get cake.”
“No, he can’t,” Tom pointed out. “He can’t drive.”
“I can too drive!”
“Not legally,” Tom and Lee pointed out together, then looked at each other.
“Oh, that’s right,” Fenn remembered and took away the promised keys while Todd’s green eyes went wide with the unfairness of it all.
“Lee, would you drive this boy back to get some cake?” Fenn said.
“It’s not really important,” Todd sat down beside Fenn. So skinny, all arms and hairy legs, even at fourteen Todd was taller than Fenn. “I just wanted to make some noise.”
“You are a worrisome ass kid,” Lee muttered, but Fenn shrugged. He’d always had a special place in his heart for the boy.
“I just want to point out,” Todd said, “that I am fifteen, not fourteen anymore, and soon I’ll be sixteen.”
“Well, today you’re fiftee—” Lee began, but just then the doors flew open and Hoot Lawden, head sweating, came out and announced, “It’s a girl!”
Todd smiled and said, “Well, then it’s a Layla.”

“Oh, and you should have seen how Hoot was,” Adele said while she held the sleeping baby in her arms. “He was so wonderful.”
“Which is a surprise,” Lula added, “seeing as he’s hardly ever around.”
“Grandma, not now,” Adele said. “He works so hard.”
Lula dismissed this. “For all we know, as much as we see that man he could have a secret life. A whole other family on the other side of town.”
Adele laughed at this, but then she called Fenn over.
“Yeah, little brother,” she said. “This is your niece. Come over and say hi to Layla Renee. Hold her.”
“I don’t know how to hold babies.”
His mother scooped up the child and said, “You do it like this. Get your hand here. Right. And do your arms like this. See? See.”
A smile broke out across his face.
“Hello,” he said to her. “You smell so good.”
She was the color of a chocolate bar and above her small and serious face was a mat of curling black hair just plastered to her head. She was Buddha like in her sleep, and her fat hands were folded into little fist.
“Oh, I feel like we’re going to be very good friends,” he rocked her. “You know, I never had much to do with babies, but I think we’ll be birds of a feather.”
He kissed her on the top of her head and on her nose.
“Oh, that’s my baby,” he whispered to her. “That’s my graduation present.”

What Anne made of Fenn living with Tom, her son could not say. Anne Houghton was not insightful, and Fenn was not one to explain. Fenn had gotten permission from the school to leave the bulk of his things in his room until he moved in with Tom, seeing as the apartment was close to the school and it made little sense to lug them from his dorm to the Houghton house and then back to Tom’s apartment.
The day that Tom arrived with his younger brother, Ryan, to pick Fenn up for the move, it was hardly eight and he had not shaven. Adele was at the house that morning with Layla, having just fed her daughter, in fact, and Lula commented to Tom, “It’s just like I said, Hoot is never around.” But she did it out of Adele’s earshot. She knew better.
Tom and Ryan got sausage and Danish to take with them, and Fenn got a kiss on the cheek, and then they were off to campus. After Fenn packed his room into Tom’s car and then his mother’s, he handed his key back to Marcus, the head of housing, and then the two cars pulled down the driveway and Fenn looked back at the brick buildings and the water fountain trickling in front of the church.
“You almost ran me over with your bicycle there,” Tom said.
“It’s hard to believe it’s all over,” Fenn said, wistfully.
“Speak for yourself,” Tom told him. “I gotta go to work Monday morning.”

Fenn was all for throwing things down and arranging them later, but Tom wanted the apartment arranged that day. They moved up a battered old sofa, a great fu-ton, two easy chairs, folding chairs and a card table. This meant that while Tom arranged, Fenn turned around and went to sleep.
When he woke up, Tom and Ryan were sitting under him their baseball cap visors hiding their faces while they drank beer.
“I didn’t meant to hog the sofa.”
“It’s alright,” Ryan said, and Tom said, “The fu-ton’s up, so you can go to sleep if you want.”
Fenn was dreadfully tired, but he lied and said, “I don’t want. I can put some food on.”
“We don’t have food yet,” Tom told him.
“Ah… Then,” Fenn said, “I can order a pizza and we’ll go shopping tomorrow.”
“Why do you guys only have one bed?” Ryan said.
Fenn turned around and looked at Tom. Tom grinned, and gripping his beer bottle, the handsome, unshaven man said, “Fenn and I sleep in the same bed.”
Ryan thought about this, and then his eyes dilated for a moment. He looked at Fenn. Fenn shrugged, and Ryan said, “Oh.”

In the summer, Tom ran low on money because there weren’t many students who needed to take summer courses in music. He began playing organ at Saint John Crysostom, the Episcopal church downtown, and then got work at Saint Agatha’s. At the end of May, Trisha called Fenn and told him auditions for a play in Chicago were taking place.
“You should come down on Monday, and stay with me. We’ll go up Tuesday morning.”
Tara had no work and nothing to do, and she had gone back home to Gary. Trisha told her, “There’s always stage crew work. Come on up with Fenn.”
And so Fenn and Tara got on the South Shore and, kissing Tom goodbye, Fenn went off to Chicago. Trisha lived out in one of the South Suburbs, and they got up when it was still dark in order to make auditions. After auditions came call backs, and then another call back, and then, when Fenn thought he’d gained the part, the news that someone else had it, but that he would be the understudy.
“That’s not what you wanted,” Trisha told him. She was in the play. “But it’s a paying job. Now you need your Equity card.”
Fenn had not processed it yet. Once he understood an understudy was paid, it wasn’t such a terrible thing. Practices went for six weeks and the play ran for nine. The whole time Tara learned what went on in the world of stage hands. When the job was steady, Tom observed, “It takes just as long to get downtown from Trisha’s place as it takes you to get there from Rossford.”
True, either way it was a two hour trip. Fenn knew that Tom meant he should just come home and travel every morning. Tom missed him, and he missed Tom. But practicality put him, Trisha, Tara and a young boy called Nate Fromm in a small apartment north of downtown.
Tom came up on the weekends. He always had red carnations for Fenn, and he wore a blue blazer over a white shirt open at the throat.
“He looks like a yacht captain,” Trisha commented with a grin.
“Maybe. But he’s my yacht captain.”
Toward the end of the season, the company surprised Fenn, and Fenn surprised Tom. Rogan Mortman who was playing his part, took ill. Fenn got to go on stage. Then Tom brought roses.


“I’m glad you’re coming home,” Adele said. “I’ve hardly seen you all summer.”
He could hear Layla crying lightly and guessed, by the way Adele was talking, that she was rocking the baby up and down.
“Layla said her first word.”
“Really! What did she say.”
“You won’t believe this,” Adele cautioned. “But she said: girlfriend.”
“You’re right, I don’t believe it.”
“No, Fenn, I’m serious.”
“And yet I still don’t believe you.”
“Well, you have to understand the context.”
“Alright?” Fenn sat down on the cot in the small room where he and Trisha stayed.
“Me and Nell had the babies playing on the floor. You know little Dena. And Layla slapped her hand and said, ‘Girlfriend!’ you know what this means? Those girls will be life long friends, just like me and Nell.”
Fenn thought that what was more likely was that Layla had just slapped Dena’s hand for touching her toy. Privately, Fenn remembered his mother trying to make him be friends with the children of her friends and thought hereditary buddies were always a bad idea.
“Oh, and I almost forgot. You got a letter.”
“A letter?” Fenn said. Who the hell wrote letters anymore? Well, he did, but no one wrote back.
“Yes. Arrived at the house. I guess he didn’t know where else to send it. It’s from Dan Malloy.”
“Oh,” Fenn said, not know how to sound, or really even how to feel.
Tom swung back into the apartment. He had been down the hall, and he was grinning while some girl swung from his arm. Girls loved Tom. He came to the cot and Fenn said, “Well, I guess I’ll get it when I return in the morning.”
“Alright, love you, Fenn.”
“I love you too, Sis. Give my love to Layla. Bye, now.”
In the sight of the girl, in case she didn’t get it, Tom threw his arms around Fenn’s neck and kissed him.
“You ready to go home?” Tom said. “Home’s been waiting for you all summer, and it’s really lonely. Both of us are tired of sleeping alone.”
The sober Dan Malloy, who in their last encounter had been sobbing over the phone, was superimposed over Tom Mesda. He didn’t supplant Tom, though. There wasn’t a contest. This was his man. He wanted him as much—no, more—than he had when he’d first seen him at the party. He squeezed Tom while the girl looked on with mystified approval.
“Yes,” Fenn said, “Let’s go home."

MORE MONDAY NIGHT