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The houses in rossford

CHAPTER
EIGHT

MAINLY ABOUT SEX CONTINUED

“It’s all right,” Will was saying. “Besides, it’s not like I’m bored. Layla’s a handful.”
“Is it true?” Tom Merrit said. “What they say about Black girls?”
“What do they say about Black girls?” Kenny turned on him with a frown.
“Just… you know…”
On either side of Will, Brendan and Kenny folded their arms across their chests, and Brendan said, “I think you came to the wrong part of the school for a joke like that, Merrit.”
“Uncool,” Kenny pronounced.
Tom Merrit put a hand up in the air and murmured, “Fine…Chill out.” He walked off.
Will turned around and shut his locker while Kenny and Brendan stared stonily after Tom, and then turned around.
“So,” Kenny said with a twinkle in his eyes, “is it true?”
“Kenny—!” Brendan began when he heard Layla Lawden shout his name.
“Layla!”
“Hey, Lay—” Will began, but Layla pulled Brendan by his arm and dragged him to the end of the lockers.
“A word with you. Now.”
“All…..riggght?” he said, looking suspiciously at her.
“Did you just tell Dena you thought the two of you should start screwing?”
“I don’t believe I said that. In fact, I’m sure—”
“Brendan. Don’t bullshit me.”
“And don’t do your,” Brendan snapped his finger and made a small circle, “sistuh’ routine. I’m not afraid of you, Layla.”
“Yes you motherfucking are. And yes you motherfucking should be. Dena is confused and fucked up. She just found out her dad raped her uncle. The shit’s not cool. What you need to do is tell her you were wrong. You were hasty. You need to rethink this shit.”
“Layla,” Brendan straightened up and, face stony, looked down at her. “What happens between me and Dena is me and Dena’s business. And no amount of threatening can change that. Alright? It’s our business. Let us take care of our business.”
“Fine,” Layla said. “Fine, Brendan.. I’ll try begging tactics. I’ll try nice tactics. Howabout, please, don’t do something stupid? That’s all I can say.”
“Layla, how long have you known me?”
“Since we both had snotty noses. and you smelled like graham crackers and spit.”
“I never smelled like spit!”
“You, did. Brendan,” Layla sighed and took a breath. “Fine, Bren. I’m trusting you. All right?”
“I know, Layla. Just… trust me to do the right thing. And quit being such a bully.”
Brendan shrugged, turned up the collar of his blazer and walked back to Kenny and Will while Layla repressed the urge to ask him why he had to do that and tell him to take his collar back down.
“You know what?” Brendan said, as Layla joined them, “They are like that.”
“They?” Layla began, and Kenny burst out laughing while Will made a nervous smile.
“Who the hell is they? They are like that?”
“Don’t worry about it, Lay,” Brendan said.
Layla frowned and shook her head. “I’m going to find out,” she told them. “And when I do, you’ll all be sorry.”
“No, doubt,” Brendan chuckled, putting his hand over his mouth. “No doubt.”

“No cozy family dinner this Sunday,” Fenn said. “Cause I’m going down to East Carmel with Paul.”
“I would love to see you in East Carmel,” Tom sniggered over his coffee.
“Well, you can’t because you’ll be here. Todd will be over at Nell’s so he won’t be lonely. I figured that maybe this will be a time when you and Lee can get together again. Talk.”
“Fenn, what the hell are you doing?”
“Fixing you up with my cousin.”
“Now look here—”
“Now, you look here,” Fenn said. “It’s not like you don’t want me too. Right?”
Tom looked at him.
“Right?” Fenn repeated. “So, stop pretending this embarrasses you. It delights you. I know it. I’ll set the whole thing up. You all can spend the evening together. I know you can’t get enough of him.”
“Well, as you might remember, I’m with Brian.”
“You’re not with Brian. You’re occasionally humping Brian, which is not the same thing. The way you look at Lee… Well, I haven’t know you to be seriously wild about someone in… Well, never, actually. I mean, I imagine it’s hard for anyone to live up to me. It only makes sense that it would take a Houghton to fill a Houghton’s shoes.”
“I think you’re a little nuts.”
“I may be, but I’m a lot right. That I know.”
“Do you know… How he feels about me?”
“Hum?”
“You’re right,” Tom said. “At least a little. Far more than being in love, Lee… holds my interest. I mean, I like being around him. But… it really doesn’t matter if he doesn’t fill the same way about me, does it?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Lee’s sort of, you know, loud and flashy.”
“He’s obnoxious.”
“He’s like you. And your whole family for that matter. He’s… fun. And I’m… I’m just me.”
“Thomas,” Fenn knocked him on the back of a head. “The first time I saw just you, all brooding and brown eyed with that dark hair falling in your eyes and you were so... serious, I knew I’d have to get you attention somehow. It was all I could think of for the better part of a week. You would just be so… quiet, and cool. And then sometimes you would smile and that smile… God! So I did the only thing I could, I skidded into you with my bicycle, and the rest was history.
“Loud, obnoxious men love brooding….quiet… slightly too serious—”
“Thanks Fenn,” Thom smiled out of the corner of his mouth.
“—And mildly anal men such as yourself.”


I guess I’ll be leaving in a few days,” Lee said.
“Where are you going now?”
Lee shrugged and sighed, “I don’t exactly know. I’ll find somewhere.”
“Well,” Tom said, “if you don’t know where you’re going, I mean, if you don’t really have any place to go, then why go? You’ve got a place here. Why can’t you hang around here for a while?”
“I have hung around here for awhile,” Lee said.
“A week.”
“Is there anything else I’ll see in Rossford if I stay longer that I haven’t seen in this week?”
Tom sighed and snapped a breadstick.
“You know what? Back in college I never traveled a long way from home. I always felt bad that I never did the year abroad thing. People talked about how culturally fulfilling it was. All of that. How good travel was for you. I never disagreed. I just didn’t do it.
“But now, Lee, I think there’s such a thing as too much travel. I think there’s something to be said for sitting down and staying in one place. For a little while. I think…” and then Tom stopped himself and bit into his breadstick.
“No,” said Lee. “Go on. You’ve got yourself on a roll. Might as well continue.”
Tom swallowed and pounded his chest.
“Fine. I think too much traveling is just running.”
“That’s a brilliant psycho analysis. You should have become a shrink instead of an organist.”
“You can be cute about it if you want to. I’m just saying.”
Lee Philips believed that most of the things people said, and most of the issues they brought up, were bullshit. But he also had a deep sense of obligation when it came to responding to points that actually contained some truth and were sincerely stated.
So he said: “When you were in school being what you wanted to be, Tom, and probably no one was giving you grief about it, I wanted to be a playwright. I wanted to do that and no matter what I did my parents never believed in any of it. I had to shut their voices out of my head to get anything done. I had to go away to get things done. A lot. And every time I stopped, now and again I met someone I thought understood me. Saw what I saw. But they didn’t. It was just more voices to shut out.
“So, I am not terribly close to very many people, and after awhile most people are sort of… tiresome. The best way to get rid of all the stupid voices and hear my own is to shake them all off.”
“By going away.”
“Yes.”
“But, but that was then, Lee. I’ve seen some of your plays. I’ve read some that I haven’t seen.”
“You just finished reading one right now.”
“Whaddo you mean?”
“The Uppity Knight by Ripley Bogart?”
“What? That’s you? That’s—” Tom burst into a smile. “Of course it’s you!
“Well, see, that’s my point! If that is you, then what’s the problem? You’re great. You’re a powerhouse.”
“I’m me,” Lee said. “I keep my vision clear and wait for the story, and when I do something else, when I start listening to the compliments, well that’s just as bad as all the you can’t do it’s, you’ll never do it, find something practical that I heard when I was… much younger.
“If you want to create, you have to stand on the edge of creation, away from everything else. It’s like… waiting on the edge of the sea, and waiting for the wave to come in.”
Lee observed a feverish look in Tom’s eyes.
“If you could stay awhile, maybe you could get that same feeling here.”
“Maybe,” Lee said, doubtfully.
“Besides,” Tom said, because he sensed he had to, no mincing words would do, “the difference between all those other places and here is me. I’m here. How will you ever know me if you’re not here too?”

“He’s right, Lee,” Fenn said that night as Todd hit him over the head with a pillow and, pulling the blanket off of the couch said, “I’m going upstairs.”
“All right,” Fenn told him. “I’ll be up soon.”
“If he had said some bullshit about how you needed to stop moving around because you weren’t thirty anymore or… how you could write just as well settling here as you could traveling, then I couldn’t side with Tom. But he told you straight up, the one thing you can’t have if you keep rolling around is him. Or anyone else for that matter. And, I think Tom could make you very happy.”
“I haven’t met a lot of men—or a lot of anything—that I felt that way about,” Lee said. “Most people are pretty…”
“Not worth settling down for. Or worth getting to know. I know,” Fenn said. “You’re too like me. You’re too wild, and… alive. And most people…” Fenn shook his head.
“And Tom has the appearance of someone who might be a very dull, ordinary creature.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Lee said quickly.
Fenn looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s not what I see,” Lee said.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Well, it’s not what I see either. But, it’s what a lot of people saw. Why they didn’t understand it. Us, I mean. When we were together.”
“Fenn?”
“Yes?”
“Do you want me to be with Tom, or do you just want me to stay here? Or…?”
“Or what?”
“Or do you just want to mess up what he has with Brian?”
“He doesn’t have shit with Brian. Tom wants to know you. To try something with you.”
“He’s only met me twice. Three times at the most.”
“I could be mean and say that’s probably why he likes you so much, or I could be honest and say that people just know what they want. Or what they need.”
Lee sighed, and sat low on the sofa.
“You’re talking him up like he’s so good. But… You left him. He cheated on you. He and that Brian were screwing around behind your back. Hell, they’re screwing around now.”
Fenn shook his head, like he was trying to call himself back from a bit of intoxication. He nodded.
“Tom Mesda gave me ten years of his life. We gave each other that. And we were happy. He and Todd are the people not my blood who know me… better than blood. I’ve known him for almost twenty years, and he is good. I will always love Tom; you have to understand that, and I will always want what’s best for him. And what’s best for you too. And I think you all are best for each other. It’s just how I feel. Nothing can change my mind about that.”
 
As usual, thanks for your support in not just reading, but commenting. How do you feel about Tom and Lee?
 
CHAPTER
EIGHT

MAINLY ABOUT SEX CONTINUED



“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession.”
“Brendan!” Dan pushed open the grille. “How goes it?”
“Great, Father. I mean, no. Not so great.”
“Oh,” Dan frowned and sighed. “Sorry?”
“Yeah. Thanks. First, I want to start out by confessing that I haven’t been confessing everything.”
“Do you wish to?”
“No. I don’t. I’m not ready for that, yet. There are things… That have been going on. Uh… never mind. We’ll get to that later. All right?”
“All right, Bren.”
“Father, I need advice.”
“Shoot.”
Brendan looked into the grille with a frown. Shoot was just too inappropriate at a time like this.
“Is it wrong to have sex with my girlfriend—?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t finished.”
“Yes, yes, the answer’s always yes, Brendan. You’re not married.”
“But we will be, one day.”
“You’re still kids. Brendan, sex is a huge responsibility for seventeen year olds. I think it’s too big. I think you and Dena aren’t ready.”
“Well, Dena didn’t say yes.”
“Good.”
“But, Father…”
“Yes?”
“What if my…” Brendan leaned in very close to the grille and hissed, “What if my having sex with Dena stops me from… bigger sins. Then is it okay?”
Dan sighed and blew out his cheeks.
“Brendan? Does this have anything to do with what we talked about before? About your feelings?”
“Maybe,” Brendan said. Then, “Yes. Maybe. Un huh.”
“Brendan, please listen to me, now.”
Brendan listened.
“Whatever you do with Dena, or anyone else, will not stop you from being... who you are.”
“I am NOT gay, Father Dan!”
“I didn’t say—”
“And it’s a sin. It’s a big sin.”
“So is fornication, Bren—”
“Father,” Brendan stood up in the confessional, his voice suddenly wild: “I have to go.”
“Brendan!” Dan stood up when Brendan threw the door open and ran out. Dan opened his door and hopped out only to be confronted by Barb Affren.
He looked at her.
She shrugged and pursed her lips. “Whatever just happened in there, it can’t be bigger than anything I’ve told you in the last five years.”


Loneliness hit hard when it was late at night. It seemed day would never come. He missed Noah in the bed beside him. He dismissed waking up Fenn to talk in the same moment he thought of it. Paul got up, got into the Land Rover and drove up to Birmingham to drop off the movies at Video Watch.
A young guy there blinked like he knew him, which was impossible, and Paul turned in the movies and exchanged a few simple words before looking for something good, or at least watchable. All the people here this late at night looked like there was something wrong with them, something haunted. But then that was him too, in a way, no matter that he said he was starting a new life, no matter how much he liked this play that opened next week. Look! There, in the back, behind the curtain, fat, hair mussed, eyes blurry, were the men looking for porn. He’d never thought of who was watching him. Or if he had, he’d hoped that it was maybe some sexy young kid. Not these. There were Pride parades and gay parties where you saw cute, young, albeit stupid homos applauding his work. But he had seen, on trips home, enough gay bookstores to realize that whatever people thought, it was just as many fat, gross, maladjusted sons of bitches, eyes blurry with porn, three inch penises stiff with the sex they could never have, who picked out his porn too. Was this one, shuffling out from behind the curtain, getting a movie with chicks with inflated tits rubbing their clits, or was he watching young boys fuck each other while he masturbated? For just a second he felt disoriented, taken out of himself, almost as if he could feel the caresses of the men who, in the dark, had checked out his movies and stroked themselves to his antics. For the first time ever what he did made him feel powerfully sick.
Paul put a hand to his head and he thought, “But I’m Paul Anderson.”
Johnny Mellow had done those movies. And he remembered Fenn talking about how he had seen one of his movies.

Turned on. Everybody gets turned on when they see them, but nobody really asks why. You… the way you looked, like you were in this zone. In this other place. Like when religious people go into ecstasy. It was like you and the other person didn’t care who else was there. You all were so into each other. So into the moment. And it was scary. The way I felt. The way you looked, like you were on the edge of something. Something you might not come back from. Something I had to watch at two in the morning while my boyfriend slept because it was secret, it didn’t belong to he ordinary world.

He wondered if there were hundreds of thousands of people like Fenn, watching his work in reverence. No, that was pretty unbelievable. They were jizzing to his own jizzing. He felt suddenly cold, and a little naked, and couldn’t remember why he’d done those films. Then he remembered it was late at night and he wanted to get some movies. Oddly enough he felt exposed and suddenly unsafe, like the best thing to do was get some movies and then get out, get in the Land Rover and get back to Versailles Street quickly.
There was a movie bin of cheap pre-watched videos and DVDs, five for five dollars, and Paul decided these would be a better bet than renting something. He picked out old movies, Gone With the Wind, Spartacus, and The Lion in Winter. Then he got Gandhi and The Color Purple. He had wanted to be someone like Spartacus or Gandhi. Once he had wanted to be somebody. He wondered if it was too late for that now. He wondered why he was so scared.
At the counter, the boy who looked at him with vague recognition finally said in what Paul realized he would have called a faggoty voice in high school, that voice you were always afraid you had, “You look like someone? In a movie.”
“Really?” Paul said, forking over the money.
“You look like… and actor I’ve seen,” the boy went on in a coy voice.
He was a cute boy, a little plump like the ones who were destined to be gay from an early age, who would never have that grace period of thinking about it, living somewhat normally while beginning a secret life.
For reasons he didn’t know, suddenly Paul said, “Johnny Mellow from Pizza Slut?”
The boy’s eyes went wide.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Paul told him, grinning. All the fear was gone from him now, and all of the disorientation fell away wit the pronouncement.
“I am Johnny Mellow.”
And then he winked, took his plastic bag full of movies, and strode out.

Adele came onto the back porch where Lee was sitting on the wicker sofa, typing on his laptop and said, “You’ve got a friend. He wants to know if you can come out and play.”
“Tom Mesda,” Lee looked up over his glasses at the man who had emerged.
“I was just out and about and wondered if you wanted to be out and about too.”
“You’ve got on jogging pants.”
“I was jogging.”
“Oh.”
“Would you like to jog?”
At this Adele burst out laughing, and turning around went back into the house.
“Let’s see,” said Lee. “I smoke. I drink… I fornicate. I eat too much. I… no. I don’t jog.”
“Well...” Tom did a little jogging dance, “Let’s do something.”
“I’m writing.”
“Can’t you write later?”
Lee frowned.
“I thought,” he said, “that you were one of those intensely brooding serious types who was dedicated to their work.”
“I am,” Tom said with a grin.
“Who understood that I am dedicated to mine.”
“Well, I don’t want to be brooding today. I want to go out. Let’s go out.”
Lee pushed up his glasses, pushed up a finger, and resituated his laptop.
“As soon as I finish this page we’ll go. Now go in the house and play with Adele or something.”

“Brendan, what are you doing tonight?”
“Uh. Oh, I was going to be hanging out with Dena,” he told Kenny.
“You’ve been with Dena every night this week.”
“Well, she is my girlfriend. You know?”
“Yeah. But you don’t have to spend every waking hour with her. We used to do stuff.”
“I know that,” Brendan said. “But look...”
And then Brendan said nothing while he totaled the woman’s groceries and went onto the next person’s order.
“Look, what?”
“Look,” Brendan said. “We’ve probably been spending too much time together anyway.”
“Really?” said Kenny. “Is that the way you feel?”
“Well, yeah, Kenny.”
“I invite you into my house, into my family, and then you just up and say that’s enough Kenny. I’m going to spend all my time with Dena.”
“Look,” Brendan said, under his breath, hoping no one paid Kenny any attention. “I’m just saying we should cool it. Cool it for good.”
“Wha?” Then Kenny said, “Well, you know what? Fuck you, Brendan Miller.”
“Kenny!” Brendan hissed.
A little louder, Kenny said, “Fuck you.”
And then he went up three aisles to his register.
 
Sounds like I was right about Brendan lol. Pity he is so in denial he is pushing Kenny away. :( Great portion and I look forward to whatever happens next! :)
 
I think at this point I feel more sorry for Kenny, and I definitely feel sorry for Dena. Whatever's coming. And, believe me, something is definitely coming.
 
CHAPTER
EIGHT

MAINLY ABOUT SEX CONCLUSION


“Well, the dead has arisen,” Todd said, breaking a roll and watching the steam come up.
“Huh?” Brendan looked up.
“Well, the dead has arisen. Line from The Color Purple. Paul just bought a copy from the video watch.”
“Never saw it.”
Todd shook his head and declared: “That’s kind of a minor tragedy,” while Nell said, “Leave Brendan alone,” and Dena only shook her head.
“I haven’t seen you in half a hundred years is all,” Todd told him.
Brendan opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Dena said, “He’s been working. A lot.”
“Yeah, but I’m back now. We were gonna watch a movie later on,” he said to Dena. “Maybe we should see The Color Purple.”
“You know, Bren, I do sort of have to admit I’m with Todd here. You haven’t really experienced life till you’ve seen it.”
“What’s it all about? It’s a musical right?”
“Fuck no!” Todd said.
“Grief Todd!” Nell put a hand to her head.
“Well, I mean, It’s about Oprah. All fucked up and shit with one eye closed after the white police officer beat her up because when Miss Millie asked her if she wanted to be her maid, Oprah said, Hell, naw. And then all the white people surrounded her, and she was shouting and screaming and trying to beat them with her purse. Then this one son of a bitch knocked her down, and she was laid out on the ground with her panties showing and shit.”
“Well, it’s about a little more than that,” Nell said.
“And then when she comes back Mister’s father—”
“Mr. Who?”
“Mister Mister,” Todd said. “That’s Celie’s husband. Anyway, when Oprah gets back he says, all like this, hanging over the table, ‘Well, my my, the dead has arisen.’ And then Whoopi Goldberg takes out a knife and jumps across the table to kill her husband.”
“Mister?” Brendan said.
“Yes.”
“Why does she try to kill her husband?”
“He deserves it! Then she stands up in the back of the car, and she puts a hex on him, does her fingers just like this… see… like the Hang Ten sign, only a little different. And she says, Everything you do… gone rot. Till you do right by me. And she just fixes him like this:” Todd made a face, “and then she goes away.”
“Does she go away on a broomstick?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Todd said,
“He might ask you the same question,” Nell noted.
“Actually, we should just go and watch the movie,” Dena told him.
Brendan nodded.

“Everything you do... it gon perish. Till you do right by me…”
Brendan watched the car drive off into the red dust as Danny Glover stood dumbfounded, and Dena looked at him and said, “You’re crying!”
“A little bit,” Brendan admitted. “I can’t believe I never saw this movie.”
“It gets better still. It’s not over. I tried to read the book.”
“It’s a book?”
“Yeah. Famous book.”
“I should read it too. I really ought to read more books.”
“It was hard for me. I couldn’t do it. I’ll try it later. For now it’s the musical. And this.”
Brendan sighed and lay back, and Dena put her head on his shoulder and felt his fingers in her hair. She felt his heart rising and falling under his chest.
“Brendan, I’ve been thinking.”
“Yeah?”
“Well…. You love me. And I love you. And, if you think it’s best then I agree with you. We should make love. Let’s do that. Let’s find a time. If you want to.”
Brendan didn’t say anything. He turned to Dena and looked at her very seriously. And then a gentle smile went across his face, and he kissed her on the forehead.
“All right, love. We’ll do that.”

END OF PART TWO OF THE HOUSES IN ROSSFORD
 
Should we blame it on The Color Purple, and what's going to happen to poor Paul? More tomorrow night! thanks for reading.
 


PART
THE THIRD

VIDEO
WATCH/REDUX


CHAPTER
NINE

FAMILY

“I’ve been having the best time, Lee. I mean, you and I. Both of us,” said Tom.
“Don’t you think?” he said, frowning, when Lee said nothing.
Lee Philips burst out laughing.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, that’s exactly what I think. You just made me laugh.”
Tom Mesda rolled his eyes and said, “You always find something funny about me and I swear I’m not funny at all.”
“Not on purpose,” Lee agreed. “But… there is comedy to you.”
With a flip of the hand and a crooked smile, Tom made a mock bow.
“When are you leaving?” he said.
“In a few days.”
“I know I can’t make you stay.”
“We’ve been through that already.”
“Yes,” Tom said. “But, you know the way I feel about you. Even if you don’t feel the same way—”
“Hold on,” Lee said. “I never said I didn’t feel anything for you. I don’t know where you got that from.”
“Because you’ve never said anything.”
“Well, I’m saying it now,” Lee told him. “Tom Mesda, I really, really like you.”
Tom frowned and said with grimace, “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means what it means.”
“Who says I really, really like you. You’re supposed to say, ‘I love you.’”
“There’re a lot of things you’re supposed to do, and most of them are bullshit. Look, I loved someone once. For a very long time. And things ended badly. I gave up a lot before I realized that it is a hell of a lot more important to like the person you’re with than to say you love them. Just because you want to be caught up in some sort of passion. You can’t make anything last if you’re not fond of someone. I’m extremely fond of you.”
“Well, Tom bumped his shoulder into Lee’s side, “I’m extremely fond of you too.”
Tom slipped his arm around Lee’s and said, “Are you fond of me enough for us to spend the night together?”
Lee looked at him and blinked.
Tom chuckled and shook his head.
“Ah, Lee… I never thought I’d be the one to shock you.”

“I need to run something by you.”
Fenn looked up at his cousin who had just entered the house.
Lee came to the kitchen table and sat down.
“Well, let’s hear it.”
“It’s Tom.”
“Okay?”
“We were talking. You know, this evening. And Tom hinted that… Well, no he said that he wanted us to sleep together before I left.”
Fenn raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, Fenn. He said… that he really really liked me, that we liked each other. And… I mean, he hasn’t made a secret of that. And he feels we should…”
“Do it?”
“Yes. Only… how do you feel about that?”
“Because I was with Tom?”
“Well,” Lee nodded, “that is part of it. But, I can’t decide if it’s a good idea or not.”
“Well, Tom isn’t like you,” Fenn said, at last. “Or like us. I should say.”
“How do you mean?”
“You know about Brian.”
“Of course I know about Brian.”
“I mean, that even now… Shit goes on between them.”
“That’s his business. I’ll be gone in a few days.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Fenn said. “What I mean is that Brian is an anomaly. I don’t know what he is. Before me there was no one, and I think maybe once, out of some sort of desperation there might have been someone anonymous, but Tom’s entire sexual experience is pretty much me and Brian. He’s not a Casanova, I mean.”
“He says he’s alright with me going, and he knows it doesn’t mean I’m staying. If something happens. Or that we’re an item. But you’re saying he doesn’t mean it.”
“No,” Fenn shook his head. “I’m saying that if Tom wants to sleep with you it’s because he really loves you. He’s not going to try to turn you into a couple, but… it means he’d rather you were.”
“I knew that Fenn. I’m not as blind to Tom as all that.”
“I don’t think you’re blind to him at all,” Fenn told his cousin. “That’s why he loves you.”

Rossford was small, but it was the largest city in Somerset County. When they traveled southeast there was a space of country before they entered Southfield, dry and forgotten by God and time, the highway its main street, bordered by old fashioned brick storefronts. After that the road widened, and in the distance there was a car plant, and then the exit read NEXT STOP EAST CARMEL.
“I know you said no Black people live here,” Paul said. “But actually, not much of anyone else does either.
“This place seems so removed from…. Everything,” Paul marveled.
A bridge spanned the highway, and they came up to the right of it, and then headed south, past a truck stop, further up the road, a few old motels, the country cemetery. It was a ten minute drive before Fenn was surprised by a city park and classic stone houses.
“Whaddid you think it was?” Paul grinned at him, “just a trailer park?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, we’ve got that too. Oh, by the way, there is no movie theatre in East Carmel.”
“What do the kids do for fun?”
“Okay, watch this,” Paul said. “You see that tire shop down the street?”
“Um hum.”
“Well, I’m going to stop the car right here,” Paul parked by the side.
That tire shop is on Rigley Street. Rigley is pretty much our main street. Court House, City Hall… it’s a beautiful city hall by the way, and the Dollar Store, the closed down movie theatre. Best restaurant in town. That’s all there.
“Anyway, the kids go down that street, past the ice cream spot and the statue of Joe Gingham, that’s the town founder, but it’s Ginghamville that’s named after him, not us. And then the kids go down the road that turns into route sixty-one and goes toward Rummelsville, and that’s where the strip mall and Wal Mart are. Beyond that is the high school. Anyway, you drive up and down that all night.”
“A cruise lap?”
Paul’s eyes lit up.
“You know what a cruise lap is?”
“Rossford isn’t that big. But in Rossford we have more than one.”
“Well, then you are high fallutin! Okay, now the area we came through before we got downtown… that’s one neighborhood. And then past downtown, to the… I guess it would be our left, so it would be the town’s…east, is another neighborhood, newer houses, the county hospital where you go if you’re not too sick and don’t need good medical care,” Paul laughed. “And behind the strip mall there are a lot of new houses too. But basically what we came through just now is the oldest part of town. I’d say we’ve got four, maybe five thousand people tops. The center of the town, where we’re coming now—”
“Is that a gun shop?”
“Yes,” Paul looked across the street where there was no traffic, but where they were still sitting still for the red light and read, “Guns and Liquor.”
“Now the town is sort of off center because downtown is back there, right?” But this road right here is the midpoint. If we go straight its south, other way, north, other ways west and east and all of those turn into the highway.”
The light went green. Paul made a left and they passed the Guns and Liquor shop and a few rickety shotgun houses, and then they bumped over train tracks and there were some old ranch homes. Paul turned into them, into a small neighborhood, and stopped in front of a white two story salt box.
“This is the Anderson household,” he said. “This is the place that gave birth to Johnny Mellow.”


There was a red haired girl leaning in the doorpost of the house as they approached, and she murmured: “Well, look what the cat drug in.”
“Not you!” She said almost offhandedly to Fenn, “We’re glad to have you. But sorry you had to come with this one.”
“Are you almost finished?” Paul said.
“Almost, Big Brother, but it’s so seldom I get to make fun of you. You’re never around.”
“Claire!” a shout came from the kitchen. “Is that your brother? Bring him on in.”
“Well,” Claire shrugged, “you heard the old lady.”
She moved lazily for Paul to come in, and he caught her in a quick headlock, then noogied her.
“You are such a SNOB, you know that?
“Hello,” she said holding out her hand, “You must be Fenn Houghton.”
Fenn shook her hand upon entering, and Claire said, “We can’t thank you enough for taking this burden of a brother off our hands…”
“You haven’t changed a bit,” Paul said.
“I’ve changed a little.”
“What’s going on in East Carmel?”
“You’ve seen it,” Claire said, shutting the door, and tugging at her shirt.
“New stoplight. Meth lab got busted. Oh, yeah, and I lost my virginity.”
At the look on Paul’s face she said, “Chill out. I was so not serious.”
“Yeah, who would hit that, anyway!”
A boy, visibly Paul’s brother, was coming down the steps. He was more wiry, less filled out, and in need of a hair cut. On him, the Anderson nose seemed even larger.
“Well, Fenn,” Paul announced, “you have met my sister, and my brother, Matty.”
“It’s Matt now,” Matt Anderson offered his bony hand with a jack-o-lantern smile.
“Yes,” Claire said. “One of his bonehead friends informed him that Matty made him sound like a girl.”
“He said fag.”
“I was trying to have some class,” Claire told him. “I can’t stand ignorant people.” She turned to Paul, “And that’s all this clown hangs out with.”
“My friends are not ignorant.”
“Your friends are hillbillies.”
“We’re all hillbillies,” Matt said.
“Speak for yourself—”
“What’s all this speaking for yourself about?” a new voice demanded.
Now Paul’s mother came out of the kitchen. She shook Fenn’s hand first, and firmly. Then, instead of embracing Paul, she caught his face in her two hands and, looking up at him said, “You are forbidden to go so far away for so a long time. And why the heck have you taken so long to visit?”
Paul, looking vaguely lost and a little ashamed said to this woman, whose grey hair was tied in a bun: “Well, I’m here now, Mama.”
“He’s even got his accent back,” Claire observed to Fenn. “I never even got mine. I wonder why.”
His mother still held his face. When she smiled it looked like it hurt.
“Paul!” she said. “Paul.”
And then she kissed him.

“So how was California?”
“And why are you back?”
“And are you back for good? Claire demanded.
“Well,” Paul tore a roll in two and said, “I can’t answer if you don’t let me breathe.”
“Yes, let him alone,” his mother said.
“Mama, you were asking just as many questions.”
“I am here,” Paul said. “To stay.”
“Right on!” Matt clapped his hands.
Claire said to Fenn, “Who says ‘right on’ anymore.”
“I say it, wench.”
“Did you just call me a wench?”
“You heard it, didn’t you—?”
“You!” Mrs. Anderson snapped her fingers. “And you. Enough.”
Paul resumed, “I’m here to stay, Mama.”
Mrs. Anderson crossed herself and Paul added, “Well, I mean, I’m going to stay in Rossford. Not right here in East Carmel.”
“Well, why would you?” Claire dismissed the idea. “Tell us about the play?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s this coming Saturday night. The first run.”
“Let Fenn speak,” Mrs. Anderson said. “He hasn’t said a word.”
“And that’s not like him at all,” Paul smiled in his friend’s direction.
“Tonight I’ve got competition,” Fenn said, grinning at Claire. “But, no. The show’s Saturday and Sunday, and then we’ve just started doing things in the middle of the week, so it’s going to run until Wednesday.”
“Yeah,” Paul chimed in, “We’re going to try—the playhouse is going to try—I should say Fenn’s going to try.”
“Well, you’re part of the playhouse too, now,” Fenn observed.
Paul nodded. “We’re going to try to do plays all through the week. Eventually. But right now we’re just getting the momentum going.”
Matt was toying with his butter knife, his bottom lip sticking out, and Mrs. Anderson took it out of his hands and placed it on the plate while Claire said, “Of course we’re going to the play, right?”
“You are?” Paul blinked.
“Don’t be a goober, of course we are.”
Mrs. Anderson sat back and smiled with pleasure.
“I think it’s so good,” she said. “How things work out. You know, you went so far away, but the closer you came the more you did. You had those little infomercials in Port Ridge, and now you’re here, doing what you always wanted to. It’s like a dream.”
“Yeah, Ma,” Paul said, tearing off a piece of chicken. “It is.”

“Infomercials?” Fenn said on the way home.
Paul spared the highway a glance to eye Fenn and then chimed in a merry voice: “Honey, what are you doing in Port Ridge? Oh, nothing Mom, just getting fucked up the ass in gay porn videos. Doesn’t sound so great, does it?”
Fenn chuckled. “When you put it that way…”
“Yeah. Actually, when you put it any way. Except for to call it an infomercial.”
“So that was your family. I really liked them,” Fenn said. He rolled his tongue in his mouth. “I just wish I had a toothpick. I got some of that chicken stuck in my back teeth.”
“You and Claire hit it off.”
“Claire’s fun as fuck.”
“Yes,” Paul nodded his head. “She is.
“There’s so much I don’t know how to say to them though,” Paul said. “I mean, the bulk of my life. It’s not just, they don’t know what I did in California and here too. I mean they don’t even know I’m gay.”
Fenn looked at him. “I guess they wouldn’t.”
“No. I never had a gay life outside of my porn life. The two were pretty much the same thing. I don’t know how to tell them. Hell, I don’t even know if I want to tell them.”
“But if they’re going to be a part of your life…”
“I know,” said Paul. “They’re gonna have to know. I mean, if they meet you and Todd and… Tom too, I can’t really pretend that I’m just this straight person that knows all of these people who aren’t. I’m gonna have to own it. Only I don’t really know how to.”
“Well, you at least have to tell Claire.”
“Yeah,” Paul acknowledged, his brows drawing together. “That much is true.”
He was quiet awhile, and then Paul said, “Fenn, I loved tonight. Really. But I also felt like I was pretending to be someone I’m not. I just wanted to say, actually, I did do some stuff in California. I was a pornstar, and I’ve fucked a lot of dudes. Part of me was so happy to be there, and I wanted to be this good little boy. But…” Paul frowned, trying to make sense of it as they went down the entry ramp onto the highway, “Part of me…I wanted to… do something bad.”

[/FONT]
 
There is definitely more of Paul tomorrow night. Rossford... It's like the Archers, only.... interesting.
 
Slightly delayed WEEKEND PORTION......


CHAPTER
NINE

FAMILY CONTINUED


“So are you staying or leaving?”

“Well, you know I’m leaving.”

On the sofa, Tom chuckled and curled up closer to Lee.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“But,” Lee, uncharacteristically, backed away, “I am going to go. No matter what? You know that?”

“Are you going to find someone else?” Then Tom said, “No, scratch that. It doesn’t matter what you find later. What you have now is me. ”

“But...”

“I thought that Lee Phillips would jump at the chance to jump into bed. I mean, I don’t mean to boast, but I think I’m sort of a prize.”

“You are. But you know… I’m just afraid I can’t be everything you’re looking for. That you’ll have to compromise. I mean one night together, or a couple of nights together, is a compromise.”

“Lee, I’ve been compromising for years. I take what I can get.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Maybe not, but I will.

“If,” Tom shook his head, “the choice is between you going away and me wishing we’d slept together, and you going away and me knowing we slept together I want the second choice. All right?” he said gently.

And then Lee, who was smiling painfully from the side of his mouth, relaxed, nodded and kissed Tom. Tom hand’s hooked back to pull Lee’s head closer. They kissed for a long time on the sofa, and then parted.

“All right,” Lee said.

Tom stood up and held out his hand.

“Shall we?”

Lee stood up and kissed him, his hands holding Tom’s hips, Tom’s hands around his neck.

When they parted, Lee murmured, “Well, I guess we shall.”



Todd was in his office, back to the door, when he heard the kitchen door downstairs open and stopped working. Whenever Fenn had come back to the house, Todd never got up and went to him if he was in the middle of something. He stopped working, and just sat still with childish anticipation, eager for Fenn to find him.

He listened to the rustling of Paul and Fenn downstairs, little bits of conversation, the refrigerator opening and closing. He agreed with Fenn. It was really good to have Paul here. There was something about him that Todd really enjoyed, a realness, for lack of a better word? He couldn’t say. Then the feet running up the stairs he judged to be Paul’s and then he was sure they were because they ran on by the door. The next feet, slower in coming, were Fenn’s and then, without a knock, Fenn turned the doorknob, and Todd stilled himself, waiting for Fenn to come from behind and place his hands over his eyes, whispering into his ear, “Guess Who?”

Sometimes it was “Boo.” Or, “I’m back.”

Always he whispered it gently and kissed him on the cheek.

“What was East Carmel like?”

“East Carmel was just like Jurrison. East Carmel was pretty much what I expected, but much nicer. If that makes any sense. And, Paul’s sister is… something else.”

“Something else like... ‘Oh my God!’ Or something else like, if you were straight you would jump on her?”

Fenn chuckled. “A little bit of both. What’s going on around here?”

“Well, nothing happened her,” Todd said turning around as Fenn took a seat. “I’m working on this Guy McClintock movie. I think we have enough if Paul will let me interview him.”

“I don’t know that he will.”

“I know,” Todd said.

“He’s still kind of wondering how to share this with his family. And he wants a career. Coming out as a gay pornstar might… hamper that.”

Todd shrugged. “I wouldn’t try to force him. I was just thinking. Oh, here’s something to interest you… It might interest you, I don’t know.”

“All right?”

“Well, I was over at Nell’s for dinner.”

“Yes?”

“And Layla came over and said that Tom and Lee had gone out. She also implied that Lee wasn’t coming back home that night.”

“So now I’m dependent upon the high school gossip to learn about the sex lives of my cousin and my ex?”

“You could always just call.”

“I love you cause your joking.”

“Fenn?” Todd observed, innocently.

“Yes?”

“We don’t have to sit around wondering about what Tom and Lee are up to.” He crawled his fingers up Fenn’s arm like a spider. We could get… up to something ourselves.” Todd raised an eyebrow: “If you feel like it.”

“Save that shit to your computer, Todd Meradan.” Fenn murmured into his ear. “You know I always feel like it.”

Todd had already saved everything and was setting the computer to hibernate as he rose with a sly smile on his face and murmured, taking Fenn’s hand, “Oh, indeed.”



WHEN PAUL WALKED into the Video Watch, the kid was there again, gazing at him as if Paul were a giant lollipop.

“Hey,” he said, indifferently.

“Hey,” the kid said.

“Nothing going on here tonight.”

“No, not really. But it’s an all-night rental shop,” The kid shrugged.

“What can you do?”

So he was trying to make conversation now. Paul copied the shrug.

“What can you do?” he echoed.

Again he went to the movie bin with the cheap movies and looked over them. Overboard in VHS, Private Benjamin. What was it with the Goldie Hawn movies? She was good enough, but com’on. Goonies. Everyone said it was a classic and quoted from it. Paul didn’t agree. There was nothing decent here. There had been that one Rose McGowan movie. He’d thought about it, just for shits and giggles, to watch while he stayed up at night. It was gone too.

Paul thought he would just rent some new releases. What was it with him? He was the seedy half awake guy at the video store in the middle of the night. Why couldn’t he sleep, no matter how much he did during the day? He took short naps during the day. But at night, when it was time to go to bed, all he could do was listen to the snoring, or perhaps the fucking of Fenn and Todd, or the creaking of the walls and floorboards as the house settled, tree branches knocking against the windows. He felt the hardness or sometimes the too softness of the bed underneath him. What had happened to him? Did he miss Noah? If he thought about it, the answer was—only a little. But when he’d been sleeping with Noah, he’d slept like a baby.

“You seen this?” Paul showed the boy at the counter National Treasure.

“Yeah. But it’s not new or anything. It’s kind of old.”

“It’s new to me. You wanna suck my dick?”

The boy blinked and looked at Paul. A small part of Paul blinked too, when the words just came out.

When Johnny Mellow had come out.

“Well, do you?” Paul forced himself to repeat.

“Do I...?”

“Want to suck my cock?”

The boy looked around.

“I could… I could lock the store. Like I do when I go on break.”

“Cool.”

“We could… do it behind the curtain? Where…”

“Where they keep the porn? Yeah. Only appropriate.”

The boy tried to grin at Paul’s grin which was insolent. Once he realized Paul was serious, he went to lock the door and put up the sign: CLOSED. BE RIGHT BACK.

Paul went to the curtain and beckoned to the boy who looked a little nervous, and then who followed him.



“Oh, shit… Oh, shit… Yeah. Suck that dick. Suck it. Suck it… slow. Yeah. That’s nice.”

His jeans down to his ankles, his underwear around his knees, he guided the boy’s hands to his ass, urged them to cup him there, caress him, hold onto his hips. Slowly now, he began to deep throat him, closing his eyes and licking his lips. The more he fucked the boy’s mouth, the more all the things that kept him awake, all that insomnia, played in his head. But this, this should have done it.

The boy gagged a little, backed away and kept on sucking as Paul seized his hair a little roughly and pulled his head onto his dick.

Forget… forget…

Eventually he did. He was back in the moment. Back where he heard himself moaning, and then the boy pulled away and said, “I need to see if anyone’s waiting to come in.”

“See if anyone is there yet, and if no one is, come back.”

Commanded so by a pornstar with a large hard on, the boy stood up, nodded, and then went out through the curtain. A few seconds later he came back and, with no ceremony, kept sucking.

“I don’t wanna come in your mouth,” Paul said.

He pulled his dick out, the boy didn’t want to let go.

“I don’t want to come in your mouth,” Paul said again. His dick was slick and wet, cool now that it was out of the boy’s mouth.

“It’s okay,” the boy said breathlessly, eyes full of something like starstruck-ness. Pornstar-struck-ness. A story you’d tell your friends?

“I think I want to fuck you,” Paul told him.

“All right,” the boy said.

“You got a condom… Or something?”

“I got lube… and a condom in the car. I’ll go get it,” the boy said eagerly, and was gone.

What the fuck was wrong with kids these days? Ten years ago he hadn’t known he was gay until he’d fooled around with someone and felt bad, but exhilarated about it. This kid ran around with condoms and lube just in case a pornstar showed up to fuck him!

“I’m back,” the boy said breathlessly.

Without another word he worked at his pants and his underwear, and then turned around.

“Let me… get my hands right here,” said the boy. “Just... I’ll... hold onto this cart right now. Will you fuck me hard?”

“I promise I’ll fuck you hard,” Paul told him.

He tore the condom edge with his teeth. and rolled it on while squirting the boy’s ass till it looked like a Thanksgiving turkey. And then he opened him, and planted himself against the boy’s asshole, feeling his cheeks close tight and warm over his dick.

“Ooooh,” the boy moaned with delight, and then he groaned with a start as Paul, grasping his hips, pushed into him.

The old familiar tightness he hadn’t experienced since Wade, that Marine Noah had brought for both of them...

Because the Video Watch on Birmingham was not a hot and sexy place to be, and the boy was not hot and sexy to be in, Paul remembered that Marine. Wade. Fucking his tight hole, fucking that firm ass, forgetting himself, that troublesome person with all those high aspirations who felt guilt and fear and was so fragile anything could break him. This self just fucked and fucked and fucked while whoever he was inside of gasped and groaned and shouted, trembling, shaking, eyes dilated and mouth open with amazement, balling an ineffectual hand into a limp fist, banged it down, cussing, coming, like Paul was coming, orgasm lifting him onto the balls of his feet as he shook and shook, and shot.

That night Pail returned to the house, winded. He took a good long shower, feeling exhilarated and sexual and rested: himself again. He toweled himself off slowly, and enjoyed his body for the first time in a while. Then he burrowed into his covers daydreaming about the trip to East Carmel. That night he slept like a baby. And sometime in the night he realized that there was no way he could go back to the Video Watch again or, for that matter, sustain a life where the only way to sleep was to feel whole and sexual, and the only way to feel that was through an act of random sex.

But he’d worry about that tomorrow.


“This morning, I did not want to get out of bed,” Tom declared from the small balcony that looked over the hills onto what was about to be developed as more of the northeast suburbs of Rossford.

“And you hardly did,” Lee said from behind him.

“What’s this? Wrapping your arms around me and, oh… kissing my ear… My…” Tom chuckled and, turning around, kissed Lee.

“People might think we’re lovers.”

“There are no people out here. Just a lot of undeveloped land. Interesting view.”

“Well, then I might think we’re lovers.”

“Well,” Lee, his arms still around Tom, shrugged and pulled him back into the living room.

“Who says we can’t be? Who says we aren’t?”

“You said, you’re going away.”

“And what goes away can always come back. And I’ll always come back,” Lee tugged Tom by the hand.

“I made you breakfast.”

“You made me breakfast?”

“Well, McDonald’s made you breakfast,” Lee said. “But it was bought and walked back with love.”

“Should we eat in the kitchen or eat on the balcony?”

“Decisions, decisions.”

“Balcony,” Tom said.

“Will that rickety balcony hold both of us.”

“It will,” Tom said. “And it’s not rickety. Don’t call it that. You’ll hurt it’s feelings.”


Midway through the breakfast burrito, mouth full, Lee said, “I have to tell you, before we get out of here that last night… is not a common occurrence.”

Tom, mouth full, looked at him waiting for an explanation.

“I mean, you got the full monty. I mean. Everything.” Lee frowned. “I’m not going to claim innocence, but I don’t do everything for almost… hell, anyone.”

“Yeah,” Tom said, sounding distracting and looking away. “I know.” He swallowed and took a swig of the weak orange juice. “I don’t either, Lee. But, I wanted us to be that way. I don’t ever feel that way about anyone.”

They were both quiet, and then Lee said, “Okay, that was awkward. Let’s have another sip of juice so we can look each other in the face.”

Tom took another sip of juice and said, “I just realized something.”

“Aside from the fact that you should be at the playhouse now?”

“To hell with that,” Tom waved that away. “It’s my playhouse. I can be as late as I want to be.”

“No, I realized I don’t have to… worry about you coming back. You know, I’m such a miser. I never find happiness, and I thought I had to keep on worrying about it going away, or you going away. And… if you were someone weaker, I’d probably be clinging to you. Or else I’d be pushing you away, you know? Afraid of getting too close. But I don’t have to worry, Lee. I don’t have to struggle. And I don’t know if it’s you that taught me that, or just that I’m too old—”

“Probably a bit of both.”

“Probably, but…” Tom took a bite of his breakfast burrito and chewed out the phrase, “I’m alright right now.”
 
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