The Lovers in Rossford

[ChrisGibson]

I like Layla's poetry a lot, but since it mine, I guess that figures. Yeah, we never really visit Thom and Lee's relationship, and that was a nice little turn. Kenny and Chad are on a down moment, and maybe they can be good friends to each other. Everyone sort of seems in need of friends about right now. Thank you for the happy week wished. I wish them right back at you.

 

[ChrisGibson]

SOME SURPRISES TONIGHT


Dylan went through the crowd, looking for Tom, who was by
Lee and Danasia. He tugged on his father’s sleeve.
“Hey, you!” Tom turned around and hugged him. “How
was Chicago?”
“It was good,” Dylan said. “For the most part.”
Tom chose not to ask, but nodded his head.
“Can I go out for a bit? I want to go over and see Lance.”
“All right.”
Clearly, Fenn had kept his word and told Tom nothing.
“Could you hold this for me?”
Dylan produced a small book from his jacket pocket and
Tom laughed in surprise.
“I haven’t seen this in years.”
“I hadn’t seen it at all,” Dylan said. “It’s Dad’s Bhagavad Gita.”
“I know what it is,” Tom said. “Fenn left the Church when
we were about twenty-five. The only reason he went back was
to make Dan Malloy happy, I think.”
“I was asking him questions about God and everything,”
Dylan shrugged. “So he just gave me this on the train ride
home and said, ‘Read it.’ You know how he is.”
“Yes, I do. I’ll keep that for you,” Tom told him clapping
the small book between his hands.
“Remember, curfew’s still at eleven,” Tom added.
“I know, Dad,” Dylan told him. He kissed him on the
cheek, greeted Lee and Danasia and headed out of the crowded
room. Danasia looked like she had something to say, and she
had always been the type of person who, when asked, “What’s
going on?” took it literally. Dylan didn’t have time for that
right now.
Outside of the theatre, the late summer night was still
warm, and Demming Street always seemed safe. A litte further
east downtown began, and he could see the steeple of Saint
Agatha’s. He wanted to ask Tom about the whole Bryant
business. It wasn’t a thing he expected of this father. Actually, it
would have made more sense given the type of person Fenn
could be, for him to say that he had strayed, or even that he
had grown tired of poor, ordinary Tom. Not that his father
was dull, only next to Fenn he seemed sedate and simple.
Maybe that was it, Dylan thought as he crossed Lanier
Avenue, and going up a block, rounded the corner to the
houses on Meadow. Bryant wasn’t exactly flashy either. There
was something very similar in the two men. Still, Dylan steered
away from the idea of his cup of tea drinking, stay inside and
play the piano father, having wild affairs with anyone,
especially Professor Bryant Babcock.
For a brief moment, Dylan was afraid to knock on the
door, as if it was he who had been caught at Lance Bishop’s
house. But he remembered now it wasn’t that way at all. He
tapped on the door, and a few moments later, Lance’s sister
came to the door, and Dylan could smell the remnants of
dinner.
“Come on in,” Charity said and, closing the door behind
him, she called her brother’s name.
Before anyone else came, Lance was down the hall in jeans
and a tee shirt, long and tall, and he looked shocked when he
saw Dylan.
“Thanks, Char,” his voice was a little off. He came to
Dylan.
“I’m sorry about running out. I was scared,” Lance said.
“I was too.”
“I couldn’t have just stayed there. I…”
“I understand,” Dylan said. “You probably did the best
thing.”
“I was so embarrassed,” Lance leaned in and whispered, his
eyebrows still up in the air.
Lance really was the perfect guy. A year older than him. Tall
and lean, good looking. Girls who were starting to think he
wasn’t totally straight still couldn’t stop thinking about him.
And he wasn’t a clutzy lover or someone out to take
advantage. In some ways he was more skilled than Jack
Ferguson. And he loved him. Dylan could see that.
“I’ll get my sweat jacket and we can go out,” Lance said. He
caught Dylan’s hand for a moment and then said, “I’ll be right
back. Or you can come up with me.”
Dylan went up the stairs after Lance. In Lance’s room he
admired the curve of his long back as he bent over, looking for
the sweatshirt in his messy room. He loved the movements of
Lance’s arms and his long fingers picking through his clothes.
“Here we go,” Lance announced, and they were down the
stairs and out of the house.
“We brought back Kenny,” Dylan told him.
“Your friend Kenny?”
“Yeah. He’s going to be living with Fenn and Todd.”
“What did your Dad say about the other night?”
“He was real good about it. I… I feel odd. I didn’t want to
be a grown up just yet. Not for him. I wish he still thought I
was a kid. Well, he still does. But he thinks I’m a kid who’s
having sex.”
“Which you are.”
“Lance, would you want your mom to know?”
“I see what you’re saying.”
“And I finally found out the truth about my dads. You
know, how they used to be together, and Fenn didn’t adopt me
until like… years after he and my other dad split up? I never
knew why. Well, Fenn told me. And he told me why he and
Dad split up.”
“Why?” Lance said, and Dylan almost chuckled at his wide
eyed expression and his hushed voice.
“Tom was cheating on Fenn.”
“No!” Lance said, and Dylan laughed.
“What?”
“You’re funny.”
“I don’t mean to be. It’s just… Wow.”
Dylan was already slipping his hand into Lance’s, and their
sleeves were drawn down as if that hid the fact that their
fingers were clasped. Their hands twisted, and as they walked
they pressed their sides together, stumbled, squeezed hands
again. Two or three cars sped up and down Dorr. There was
Saint Barbara’s.
“This just isn’t any good,” Lance said in that low voice of
his.
“Whaddo you mean?”
“Just us talking?”
Dylan laughed and shook his head.
When the road cleared, Lance pulled Dylan across it to the
school property, and they crossed the short blacktop to stand
under the stone porch that led to the school, and then in the
darkness, Lance pulled Dylan to him, and holding onto his
waist, kissed him. It felt so good. They kissed like that and
went to their knees, arms tightening around each other, hands
in each other’s hair, mouths on throats then back to lips. Dylan
kissed his eyes, his ears, his throat again.
Lance got up, and Dylan looked at him. He held out his
hand, and Dylan took it. Lance led him beside the school, past
the rectory, through the playground to the darkened area by
the wall, where the grass was long and thick. He pulled off his
sweatshirt and then, putting it on the ground, he locked his
arms around Dylan again and then slowly pushed Dylan to the
ground. Dylan wrapped his arms around him, letting the shame
and fear of the last day go away, even letting being Fenn
Houghton’s child go away. Life flooded his groin. He felt his
penis getting thicker and stiffer, and Lance was pulling away
his jeans and pulling his underwear off, His dick popped up in
the air and then was caught in Lance’s mouth. Dylan lay like
that, looking up at the stars, his hands sinking into the waves
of Lance’s hair. His mouth was open in pleasure and shock,
and then it was open for Lance’s kisses, and then Lance’s
tongue wrapped around his cock, his mouth pulling. Dylan
came up. They completely undressed each other now, laying
here, exchanging love, taking in each other until Lance was
fucking his mouth and his hands were on the softness of his
ass and then he did the same to Lance. In the end, the way he
desired, the way he craved, face in the grass, body over the
sweatshirt, he was crushed into the earth while Lance fucked
him. Their hands were clasped together and in a lightning
moment of bliss, unclasped as they both shuddered and
screamed a little, Lance trembling and emptying himself the
same time Dylan orgasmed and felt his penis, now a huge
fountain, shooting and shooting. He felt if he didn’t stop he
would shoot out the last of himself. He felt if it didn’t end he
would die. He didn’t know there was that much in him. Lance
deep inside of him ached. His balls ached and all of him,
crushed to the grass was open. Wordless sounds escaped his
mouth, a sort of nearly silent praise.
“Holy shit, don’t they ever turn the porch light on?” Lance said
as they approached his house.
His arms were bare and he looked good in the snug tee
shirt. He held his sweatshirt a little away from him and said,
“Goddamn, Dylan, you fucking ruined it.”
“It’s jizz, not a wine stain. Just put some soap on it and it
comes off. But I’m sure you know that—”
But Lance turned around suddenly, and pressing him to the
door, kissed him. The pressure of his mouth, his arms holding
him, the strength of Lance’s desire, felt so good. Dylan almost
melted a little again. Limply his hands went around Lance’s
neck.
“We’re going to make this work,” Lance said. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Dylan said.
They kissed a little more, lightly, slowly in the dark. And
then Dylan pushed him away and said, “Get in the house. I’ll
see you tomorrow.”
Lance kissed him again, and then opening his door, went
back in. Dylan thought it was best to turn around and leave
before he gave Lance anymore reason to come out and kiss
him again, even though he wanted it. He wanted to leap up in
the air. He also wanted to go talk to Laurel. Instead he headed
for Tom and Lee’s because the buses stopped running in an
hour, and he didn’t want to walk. He only had to take a
Number Six for about seven blocks and then get up and go
down to the yellow bungalow. He unlocked the door and it
was comfortable and homey, the house of a playwright and a
musician. He went up from the sunken living room and up the
stairs past the kitchen, and then to his room where he lost his
breath.
“What the fuh….”
Sitting on his bed, as calm as anything, thighs crossed, feet
stretched out, was Ruthven Meradan.
“You said we would talk, well now it’s time to talk.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

You were right about the surprises! I didn't think Dylan and Lance were that serious about each other but they apparently are. Ruthven showing up might make their relationship more complicated, I guess I will have to wait and see. I wonder what Ruthven will say in their talk? Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Ruthven Meradan fucks everything up!

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT, A LOT OF CHANGES ARE GOING TO HAPPEN IN ROSSFORD



Lance kissed him again, and then opening his door, went
back in. Dylan thought it was best to turn around and leave
before he gave Lance anymore reason to come out and kiss
him again, even though he wanted it. He wanted to leap up in
the air. He also wanted to go talk to Laurel. Instead he headed
for Tom and Lee’s because the buses stopped running in an
hour, and he didn’t want to walk. He only had to take a
Number Six for about seven blocks and then get up and go
down to the yellow bungalow. He unlocked the door and it
was comfortable and homey, the house of a playwright and a
musician. He went up from the sunken living room and up the
stairs past the kitchen, and then to his room where he lost his
breath.
“What the fuh….”
Sitting on his bed, as calm as anything, thighs crossed, feet
stretched out, was Ruthven Meradan.
“You said we would talk, well now it’s time to talk.”


“Oh, my God,” Dylan put a hand to his head. “If you love
me, not now.”
“Well, you’ve said not now and not now and not now, and
you’ve been putting it off—”
“You put me off for… how long?” Dylan said.
“I know.”
“Then you should know this. This week has really taken a
lot out of me, and it’s only Wednesday, and I am tired and dirty
and just got back from Chicago, and I need a bath.”
“Okay,” Ruthven said, standing up. “Run a bath. Your
folks aren’t home. I’ll come in with you, wash your back—”
“I need a bath by myself.”
Ruthven shrugged. “You’re not making this easy.”
“Why should I?”
“You’re not making it easy for me to do anything or say
anything at all.”
“Why should I?” Dylan said again, going to his dresser and
pulling out pajama pants and a tee shirt. He went down the hall
for deodorant and toiletries, Ruthven following.
“There’s no reason you should,” Ruthven agreed. “I didn’t
have my act together. I kept going toward something and then
pulling away. I don’t have any right to ask for anything.”
“But here you are, anyway.”
“Right, Dylan. Here I am.”
“For what?”
“For you.”
Dylan blew out his cheeks.
He opened the cabinet door and pulled out deodorant. He
got the lotion too and closed it.
“Why don’t you just tell me what you want to say? Tell it to
me right now.”
“I told you.”
“You told me in a letter.”
“Cause you were with that…. tool. Lance Bishop.”
“Lance Bishop is my boyfriend.”
“Lance Bishop is a fucking tool with the physique of a
pencil and the biggest goddamned forehead in the world.”
“I just finished making love to Lance Bishop in the grass,
by the schoolyard. We did it for an hour and a half, and he’s
still on me.”
Ruthven looked at Dylan, and then he gave him a slight
frown.
“We used to actually do it in a bed. And I can’t remember
you wanting to wash me away that quickly.”
“Get the fuck out,” Dylan said, tiredly.
“I’m here for you. I’m here to tell you to get rid of him and
whoever else you’re fooling around with so we can start some
real shit.”
Dylan looked like he was about to lose it. He put his hand
to his head and his mouth hung open.
“I’m sorry,” Ruthven said.
Dylan’s voice trembled.
“Why are you doing this to me?” he almost wailed. “Stop.
I’m fifteen. Just stop it.”
Dylan suddenly looked like he was fifteen, and Ruthven
remembered how he always felt one moment he and Dylan
were lovers, and the next Dylan was still a boy.
“I’m sorry,” Ruthven said.
“You can’t just do what you want,” Dylan said. “Lance…
tells me he loves me.”
“I love you.”
“And he sticks by it. He doesn’t go crazy and skip out the
next day…” Dylan looked deeply confused. He looked like a
child. “I’m too young for this.” He wished his dad was here.
He wish Fenn, who knew everything, was here.
“I’ll go away,” Ruthven said.
“You have to,” Dylan said.
“Uh… How about this? You just come to me if you want
to? Alright?”
Dylan nodded.
“You know I love you,” Ruthven said. “And maybe you
still love me too.”
All Dylan could do was nod.
“I’m just going to leave you to your bath.”
Ruthven gave him a small wave, and turned to leave.
Dylan sat down on the tub and sighed.




When Chay got back to the apartment, he was already filled
with the anxiety Noah held about Steven finding the clip of the
video. He wanted to talk to Sheridan about it, but when he
came up the stairs and entered the apartment, Sheridan was
sitting there with Meredith.
“We were so worried about you,” Chay said to her, and as
he sat down beside her, he imagined Meredith was worried
about him too. She had a strange look on her face.
“Things are over with me and Mathan, and… I’m dealing
with that. But… I should go.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Chay said. “You should stay as long
as you want.”
“I have,” Meredith said, standing up and looking nervous.
“I’m going to my sister’s for the night.”
“Well… alright,” Chay said. He walked Meredith to the
door, and squeezed her hand.
“If you need anything just call.”
“Alright.”
Then she kissed him and said, “The same with you, Chay.”
Meredith closed the door behind her, and Chay turned
around to look at Sheridan who was wringing his hands.
“We need to talk, Chay,” Sheridan said.
Chay looked him up and down.
“Yeah,” he said. “I was getting that feeling.”



The three women collapsed on the bed, heads swimming with
booze.
“Are we going to do this shit?” Claire demanded.
“Not us,” Dena leaned across Layla and slapped Claire’s
wrist, “Layla.”
“Well, of course, you all will be accompanying me,” Layla
said. “After all, how can I go anywhere without…. ”
“Your soul sisters!” they finished.
“You better talk to Caroline about that,” Claire said. “Since
she is your real sister.”
Dena covered her mouth and gasped.
“What?” both women turned to her.
“You should have invited Laurel!”
“She will laugh her ass off!”
“Bring her.”
“I will,” Layla said. “All she’s doing is looking after Dylan,
and I love him, but that must get dull as fuck.”
Layla thought about the other night, Lance Bishop running
out half dressed from Dylan’s room. And then she decided it
was better not to talk about that. He was her cousin, Fenn’s
child, and she wanted to look after him because Fenn had
looked after her.
“What’s that buzzing?” Claire wondered drunkenly. “It
feels good. Kind of. But…”
“It’s my phone,” Dena said, “Roll up, bitch.”
“My ass is so fat,” Claire commented as she rolled off of
Dena’s phone and handed it to her.
“We love you anyway,” Layla said.
“You’re supposed to say, no your ass isn’t fat at all. And
where do you get off saying I have a fat ass?”
“I have a black ass, not a fat ass.’
“Both of you fat bitches shush,” Dena said, answering the
phone.
“Hello… Meredith… Honey, I’m not there. Just crash over
there. Milo’ll be glad—”
Claire and Layla looked at each other and then at Dena.
“Alright,” Dena said. “Well just come here. Love you too.
“Meredith is coming here,” Dena said, closing the phone.
“Well,” Layla muttered, “she better let herself in, cause I
cannot motherfucking stand up.”


Casey Williams chose to ignore what had to be a dream. He
could hear the repeated thumping, and then he could hear the
bell ringing. Now he was blinking, and he thought, who but an
idiot would answer a door this late at night?
He climbed out of bed, feeling the pain of approaching age
take its toll on an active life. Putting on his glasses, he looked
out of the window and the headlights of Sheridan Klasko’s car
were on.
The doorbell rang again.
Casey Williams pulled on sweat pants and reached for his
tee shirt as he went out of the room and down the steps.
When he opened the door, Chay Lewis stood there before
him with a grin and said, “You don’t look like a porn star.”
“It’s the glasses,” Casey said, opening the door for him, and
closing it behind Chay.
“What are you doing here?”
“Uh… Sheridan asked me to move in with him the other
day, and then I’d been there a day and he told me that it was
over and now he is with—”
“Logan.”
Chay blinked.
Casey nodded. “I thought so. I knew it. I kind of should
have seen it.”
“I didn’t know who else to come to.”
“You come to me,” Casey said, putting his hand to the
small of Chay’s back and steering him toward the kitchen.
“Nothing’s changed between us. Come on in.”




“I’m glad we came back here,” Chad said, running his hand
over the countertop in the old basement apartment.
“Me too. I’m too tired for anything else,” Kenny said. “I
forgot how nice this old apartment was. New apartment, I
guess.”
“And they keep in clean.”
“I thought they’d give it to Dylan,” Kenny told Chad. Then
he thought, Not much chance of that now.
The coffee was brewing in the maker beside the microwave
and Kenny said, “I feel so tired and so dirty.”
“Take a shower. I’m not going anywhere.”
So Kenny nodded and said, “I won’t be long.” He
disappeared into the half bedroom and, as Chad took off his
coat he thought a little bit about going in and taking a look,
and then Kenny came out in a towel and slipped into the
bathroom. Chad sat down on the couch and a few moments
later Kenny was laughing and there was a cup of coffee, and
Chad was inhaling its deep aroma.
“You completely passed out,” Kenny told him.
“You didn’t even take your coat off. Let me help you.”
Kenny put down the cup of coffee on the little table before
Chad, and took his car coat away to hang on the hook by the
door.
“You smell nice,” Chad said to Kenny.
“Well, now I’m clean.”
Kenny was wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt, and his dark
auburn curls were springing back after the shower. “You don’t
smell so bad yourself,” he grinned at him.
“Well, I had the chance to wash before I came to the show,
you see.”
He sipped from the cup. “Excellent!”
“Well, I was a barista for three weeks.”
“I don’t know why I thought I had a right to Bryant.”
“Do you want him back?”
“I want us to be friends again.” Chad shrugged. “I don’t
know.
“How do you feel about Brendan?”
“I don’t feel anyway about him,” Kenny said. “Not now.”
And then Kenny said: “That’s not true. I’m mad right now.
I hate the way he’s made me feel. I hate the way I’ve let myself
feel. That’s what I think.”
They sat there a while and then Chad said, “I’m glad I
haven’t been drinking, that way you know this comes from the
heart…”
“Yes?”
“You’ve got the reddest fucking lips I’ve ever seen,
Kenneth McGrath.”
Kenny laughed out loud and said, “Thanks.”
“Can I kiss them?”
Kenny blinked, and then Chad went a little red, waved it off
and said, “I overstepped. I was just—”
“Yeah,” Kenny said, lightly. “You can.”
Without missing a beat, Chad reached up and pulled Kenny
by the collar, then kissed him on the mouth.
“That’s nice,” Kenny said.
Chad looked down at Kenny’s erection pitched a tent in
sleep pants.
“Apparently…”
Chad kissed him again and then Kenny came down so that
they could make out better.
“Are we going to do this?” Chad said, pulling away from
Kenny’s mouth, and then kissing him again.
As Chad’s mouth sucked on his throat, and Chad’s hands
went up and down his body, Kenny’s hands went to Chad’s
back, running his hands over the fabric of his shirt.
“It seems like we are,” Kenny said.
When they were both naked, Kenny tried not to think because
thinking too much about making love to Chad North scared
him. They’d known each other a long time, and he knew that
Brendan had been involved with him long ago. He’d been
curious about Chad, and now here he was; small and slim and
sort of beautiful, beautiful for his ordinariness, for the little bit
of belly and his body trimmed in black hair. Chad was kissing
him on his mouth, and down his neck, up and down his chest,
between his thighs, all up and down his legs. Gently, Chad
took Kenny’s penis in his hand and then, deftly guided it into
him, placing his hands on Kenny’s chest. Their bodies moved
together slowly, rocking as Chad craned back, and Kenny
leaned up so that their faces were pressed together, so that they
held on to each other wanting the particular warmth of the
other, wanting to press themselves together as much as
possible. Slowly they increased their fucking, Kenny’s hands
running over his shoulders, Chad’s hands reaching up to grasp
his. They didn’t leave the sofa. They wanted it right here. As
Chad got up and moved so that he leaned over the sofa, so
that Kenny could enter him from behind, for a brief moment
he wondered if they would be alright, if they could survive this.
Maybe it would make them better friends. Chad made noises
like being stabbed while Kenny fucked him, and as the noise
quickened and Chad reached back to pull him in, Kenny
thought that he had been thinking entirely too much, and he’d
been living his life for the future. Now, as he and Chad rose to
the edge of orgasm, Kenny bending to kiss his neck, Chad
leaned up to kiss his mouth, and knew that the time for
thinking had passed.

 

[CharmedFan28]

Wow you were right, a lot of changes in this portion! I could see Sheridan and Chay breaking up but I didn't see that Chay would go to Casey. I also didn't see Chad and Kenny sleeping with each other. I knew Kenny was unhappy but not like that. I wonder if he will tell Brendan and if him and Brendan will stay together? I guess I will just have to wait and see. I don't think Dylan is going to do anything with Ruthven after the way he has treated him but I could be wrong. Great writing and I look forward to more!

 

[ChrisGibson]

You've written so much and I sort of want to write a big response, but the only things that I can say are: Casey has always loved Chay and sought to protect him and Chay has always known that. Dylan is smart, but he isn't yet wise. Chad is tired of feeling like shit. Kenny has been desperately unhappy for the entire course of the book, and Brendan has quit him for a city so what happens next is... what happens next. I am not adding personal insights, because if i had to explain it off the page and it isn't in the story, i'm a shitty storyteller. i'm just seeing what I see by re reading.

 

[ChrisGibson]

LAYLA DOES IT

CONCLUSION


IN THE MORNING, NOAH discovered, as he got dressed
and showered, that he was not angry. The old Noah Riley, he
reflected while straightening his tie would have been angry at
Steven for being stupid, at his mother for being spiteful, at
Guy for leaving the videos up. He would have directed his
temper toward anyone in the world but himself.
James was just as different for, usually even tempered, as he
dressed he murmured, “Close minded…. wanting to stick
cameras in everyone’s bedroom…”
This last wasn’t quite true, Noah, thought. After all, he had
been the one who all too eagerly went before a camera.
“These people,” James was declaring as he sat on the side
of the bed, “are so concerned with what you did in your
private life, long ago, they don’t even care about good
teaching.”
Noah tried to make a joke of it and shrugged, his curls
Bouncing a little.
“Who says I was a good teacher?”


There was a knock, or more of a thump downstairs, and
James said, “I’ll get it.”
When he came down it was Paul at the door with Kirk
beside him.
“We’re coming for support.”
“Great,” James said, and closed the door behind him.
But when Noah came down, he said, “Well, that’s just too
much. All three of you, and Chay? Where is Chay?”
“He said he’d be here,” James noted, and because it wasn’t
like Chay to not keep his word, James really began to wonder
where his son was.
“What time’s the meeting?”
“At ten,” Chay said.
“Well, then we’ll just wait a few more minutes.”
Paul asked, “Who’s taking your classes today?”
Noah, a little stunned, shook his head and shrugged. “A
sub, I guess. I don’t know.”
A few moments later, Sheridan’s car made a dangerous pull
up to the house and then, disheveled, Chay hopped out and
came up the steps to the house.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Noah, instantly recognizing something wrong with his son,
replied, “It’s all right. What happened to you?”
Chay shook his head.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m ready to go…” He looked around
“Seems everyone is ready to go.”
James touched Chay’s hand, and guided him into the next
room.
“What’s going on?”
“Whaddo you mean?” Chay’s attempt to lie made him look
vapid.
James’ face hardened.
Chay was blunt: “Sheridan ended it.”
“What?” James honestly felt like he hadn’t heard.
“Sheridan ended it,” Chay repeated.
“But he just started it—and I mean, he was the one who
just started it—a few days ago.”
222 CHRIS LEWIS GIBSON
“I know, but then Logan came back, and he’s in love with
Logan and—”
“That little son of a bitch,” James commented.
“It’s not like that,” Chay said in a tender voice.
“Of course it’s like that,” James’ voice was low and matter
of fact.
He stood there, making a decision.
“You need one of your parents right now. Maybe I should
tell Noah to go on with Kirk and Paul.”
“Tell Noah what?” Noah had come into the room now.
“It’s nothing,” Chay said.
Noah looked to James and then said, “Is it the sort of
nothing you should stay here for?”
“It’s the sort of nothing where I’ll get in the back of the car
and go with you,” Chay decided, standing up. “Let’s go. I can’t
just sit here by myself.”
Paul and Kirk drove in the blue van behind them, and Chay
was in the backseat of the car as James drove. The drive was
short, but long enough for Noah to learn about Sheridan and
he only said, “Well, we’ll come by and help you take your stuff
back.”
It made Noah feel better to be a father, to get away from
his immediate troubles and turn to nurturing someone else. By
the time he came into the school and then to the dean’s office,
he was almost calm.
“It’s just like being called into the principal,” Paul
whispered.
“It is being called into the principal,” James told him.
“Principal Brown will see you now,” Marsha said, and even
though he’d met her a thousand times and this wasn’t her fault,
Noah hated her a little.
The five of them, Chay at the rear, went in, and a prim,
disapproving man sat on the desk facing them. He held a jewel
case containing a DVD that he patted nervously against his
thigh, and this was his only sign of agitation, or life for that
matter.
“Mr. Riley,” he said, handing him the DVD. “I have seen
this, and this is not the appropriate place for viewing it. Please
take this home, and if this is you, then call me as soon as
possible.”
“It probably is me,” Noah found himself saying, “So when
I call you, what is the next step?”
“The next step is termination of your employment by the
City of Rossford School system.”
Even though Noah thought he was ready for that, he still
blinked. In his gut he shivered a little.
“All right,” he nodded. “Well, I guess you might as well do
that.”
“I need you to confirm it,” Principal Brown said.
“Well, alright,” Noah shrugged, taking the DVD.
“Can I say something?” Chay spoke.
The principal blinked, seeming to just notice the younger
man.
“Chay Lewis?”
“Yes,” Chay stepped beside his father. “You saw this,
right?”
“I saw it in private.”
“Then that makes you like ninety percent of the people
who saw it, and if you saw it with some lotion and a sock, it
makes you like a little bit more.”
“Chay,” Noah murmured.
“If you spent more time concentrating on getting good
teachers and less time on tattle tales about the past, this school
system might not be crumbling around our ears.”
Noah was about to lightly reprimand his son, but James
murmured, “Here, here.”
“Well, if you’re quite through,” Mr. Brown began, “then
good day to you.”
“I’m almost through, which is not the same as quite,” said
Chay.
Then he said: “Kiss my black ass and rot.
“Now, I’m through. And good day to you.”
Chay saluted him, and then turned around and walked out
muttering, “I’ll be in the car.”



Bryant was playing piano on the first floor of the Music Hall.
When he was confused, music was the way to get everything
out. When he didn’t know how to say a thing or how to
express his feelings he used the piano. Church organ was good
for those big emotions, and once upon a time, when he had
been a less happy man, when he had wanted so much he
couldn’t have, there had been plenty of those huge emotions,
swelling up and then falling in deep minor notes that made a
church shake. There was so much he had done, shaking
everything up just to get anything he wanted.
But now his feelings were like water, and they didn’t run
sharp or even very fast, but they went all over. The tips of his
fingers caught them, and dashed them onto every note. His
feelings grew delicate and fine and went into the high notes of
Mozart. Bach’s organ music wasn’t needed here.
When he was something like done, he heard a light clapping
behind him.
Bryant turned around and saw Nick Ferguson.
He stood up and gave a mock bow as Ferguson approached
him.
“I don’t know if I told you,” Bryant said, though he was
perfectly sure that he had not. “But I am not free tonight.”
“That’s too bad,” Ferguson said. His arms were crossed
over his chest, and the biceps seemed to bulge a little from his
snug dress shirt. “I was looking forward to us.”
“Well,” Bryant shrugged. “Sometime soon. Hopefully
tomorrow.”
“Yes, hopefully,” Nick said. He flashed Bryant a smile.
“Well, have a good night, Bryant.”
“You too.”
As Nick turned to walk away, Bryant called out to him.
Nick turned around and Bryant approached.
“I’m pretty open about my sexual orientation.”
“And well you should be,” Nick said in a voice that
managed to be encouraging while implying that it didn’t
understand what Bryant’s point was.
“What I’m trying to say…” Bryant stretched and grasped
the back of his neck nervously, “And I shouldn’t say this, I
mean, I should clarify it because this could fall under sexual
harassment. I’m not… What I mean to say is don’t take this
the wrong way.”
Nick smiled at him patiently.
“I can’t take anything the wrong way if you don’t say it.”
“I… a colleague says you are married.”
“I am. My wife’s in the English department.”
“I… you have to forgive me. I thought I felt a connection
between us. It clearly wasn’t there.” Bryant felt himself
growing hot. “I’m very sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Nick said.
Bryant nodded.
“It was there,” Nick continued. “It is there.”
Bryant blinked at him.
“I like to have my cake and eat it too. I… I don’t like to be
labeled. But the label, when there is one, is bisexual.”
Bryant thought a long time. He didn’t want to stammer like
an idiot as he had before.
“I… I don’t see what we would do then?” Bryant said.
Nick grinned and leaned forward.
“We would make love,” he said, squeezing Bryant’s hand.
“We’d have sex, the way I think you want to. I thought that’s
where we were headed.”
“I,” Bryant stammered a little. “I can’t do that. I can’t…
Step into a marriage. That’s something I can’t do. I’m sorry.”
Nick shrugged and nodded. “I’m sorry too.”
Neither one of them spoke for awhile, and then Nick said,
“Well… same show tomorrow night, but without the
aftershow.”
“Sure,” Bryant said. He was aware that he sounded far
happier and more assured than he actually felt.



In the media room of Paul Anderson’s house, Noah said, “I
don’t think I could watch this with anyone else. Not even
James. Hell, especially not James.”
“We’ve been through a lot,” Paul said, slipping it in, and
then he sat down beside Noah.

“You’re willing to try new things?” the voice off screen asked.
“Yeah! Love all sorts of stuff.”
“Why don’t you give Johnny over there a kiss for us.”

“God,” Noah murmured, “I look so young.”
“We both do.”
“We were so hot.”
They were both only in baggy cargo shorts, Noah sporting
a backward ball cap. Paul, as Johnny Mellow, wore wrap
around shades. He had been chewing gum that he took out for
them to make out. They kissed for a long time and their bodies
were perfectly cut. Neither one of them looked bad now, but
to remember what they had been, when looking good was a
business, that was something else.
“This is a little hot, I have to admit,” Paul said.

“Now why don’t you all strip.”

In the video they stripped and, watching himself, Noah was
amazed over the size of his own penis.
“It’s different seeing it on the screen,” he said, and then
Paul was naked too and going down on him, and then he was
going down on Paul, and now they were making out again and
Noah found himself strangely aroused. His job was gone. Fuck
it, why not enjoy this.
Next they were on a sundeck before an empty path. They
were on some private estate and Paul was fingering him and
eating him out. Paul was lubing him up and the real Noah was
laughing, realizing what was about to come.
“This is what I would call,” Paul noted, “the stupidest video
ever made.”
They were only in sandals, with erections, and Paul had his
shades back on. They stood beside bikes, and the bike seats
ended in…. yes… dildos.
Both of them, the camera on their shocked faces, mounted
the bikes, impaling themselves, and then rode down the path
while present day Paul covered his mouth.
Beside them Guy was riding with the camera on their faces.

“How does it feel?” he asked Paul.
“It feels fucking good. Really intense.”

“Riding a bicycle naked with a dildo eight inches up your
ass is bound to feel intense,” Paul murmured while Noah just
shook his head and chuckled.
In the end they were fucking each other in a pool room,
and because it was actually turning Noah on, and making him
feel for Paul what he hadn’t felt in years, he turned away from
it.
“My boss saw this.”
“Can we turn this off?” Real Paul stood up while onscreen
Noah began to pant and wail. Paul could hear Johnny Mellow
murmuring between clenched teeth, “So fucking hot. So fucking
tight. So fucking good!”
Without waiting for an answer, Paul turned the movie off.
His flesh was hot, and he was hard. Noah, though not ripped
like he had been at twenty-one, was virtually unchanged and in
some ways, better looking as an older man. Paul shook the idea
out of his head.
“We did a lot of dumb shit.”
“It was fun shit,” Noah said. “But I had no idea I would be
someone as tame as a high school teacher and this would come
back to bite me.”
“It bit me when I was trying to do soaps.”
“Soaps sort of suck,” Noah reflected. “So does high
school.”
Paul walked slowly halfway around his media room, and
then said, “So… what are you gonna do?”
“I guess I better get up and find something where my past
won’t bite me in the ass. I’ve been safe for a long time. Time to
stop being tame.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great conclusion to the chapter. Poor Noah. I feel bad for him loosing his job like that but I have heard that happens to ex porn stars a lot. I also feel sad for Chay. He thought he was in a good place with Sheridan and now that's over. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon! I might be a bit later tomorrow commenting as I won't be home till later in the afternoon my time, so I will try to read and comment as soon as I can.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Noah and Chay are certainly embarking on a new life. I would worry about posting promptly as it will be the weekend portions anyway. I'll post when I can. You'll respond when you can and, you know... circle of life.

 

[ChrisGibson]

EIGHT

SEX AND LOVE AND SEX

There was a little café on the first floor of the Music Hall, and
Radha had been there in her last year at Loretto, when they
were just building it. Now, nearly seven years down the road
she was here for a second time, looking around and thinking
that if she were the kind of girl who gave a goddamn, she
might feel a little out of place.
When she turned her head she looked out of the long
windows to see kids walking up and down the quad and across
them, Lewis Hall, red bricked and happy. This was an easy
campus. This was a place for people who had learned to smoke
pot and chill the fuck out a long time ago, and these were kids
who were never going to lead a stressful life. Really, she
thought, Loretto was the best thing that could happen to an
eighteen year old.
When she turned around, here was Chad, and he was
rushing a little bit, the lapels of his jacket sticking up. She
thought, and realized she’d always thought it¸ that Chad was
sort of adorable.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be late.”
“You’re not late,” Radha said, looking at her watch. “I’m
early.”
He sat down, and she reached over and grabbed his hand.
“I’m so glad you’re back.”
“I believe you,” he said, grinning.
“I missed my friend. You should never have left.”
“There was really no way I could have stayed.”
“Where’d you go last night?” Radha said. And then she
added, “Unless you don’t want to tell me.”
“No, I’ll tell you.” Chad shrugged. “I was with Kenny. I
hadn’t seen him, and he looked so down, and I was feeling
down too.”
“Yeah, but I thought you might come back to the house
after a while.”
Radha’s voice drifted off, and she looked at Chad, who was
a little flushed.
“What?” she said.
“I was with Kenny all night.”
Radha blinked.
“Do you mean… No, nevermind, you don’t have to tell
me.”
“I don’t mind telling you,” Chad said. “I just don’t want
you telling anyone else. And it’s not because I’m ashamed,” he
pressed on, though his face was pink. “Because I’m not. It’s
just….It’s private, and Kenny may not want everyone to know.
You know?”
Radha nodded.
“Are you all... seeing each other or...? No, I’m being naïve.
It’s really not my business.”
“I don’t know what happened,” Chad said. “We’re not
dating, I mean. Maybe it was a one time thing. We just… I was
feeling really attracted to him, and he’s always been really
attractive. We were just really connecting, and it had been a
long time since either one of us had…” Chad looked around
the café while murmuring this, and then said, “You know, so…
We did. And when it was over Kenny was like, ‘I was scared
this would ruin things between us,’ and I told him I thought
the same thing, and he asked if I wanted to sleep with him, and
I said yes.”
Chad said all of this slowly and somewhat awkwardly, his
face going from shades of pink to pale.
“So we spent the night together.”
“I don’t want to make it more than it was—”
“And I don’t either,” Chad said.
“But… you and him aren’t such a bad idea. I mean, in
between a one night fuck and your life partner there are a lot
of different shades.”
“I know,” Chad said, folding his hands together.
“Kenny’s a very nice guy, and I think he’s been lonely with
Brendan. From what I hear. It would be nice if you could be
something to each other.”
Radha stopped talking because she could see that Chad was
trembling and looking inexpressibly happy. He was feeling the
same way.
“It’s just… it was so perfect last night. I felt so… not
afraid. I loved it. I don’t want to crowd him, but I do want to
see him again.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Chad admitted: “I don’t know.”



On the morning of the New Year, Todd stood at the bema, for
once in an immaculate black suit, the white kipa knit Fenn had
bought him on his head. As Todd was reading, Lane Brown
and her husband came behind him, and on the last sentence
they lightly dropped a great blue and white tallit around his
shoulders. When he finished, Todd took the tassels in his right
hand, and touched them to the last word. When he bent to kiss
the tassel, Fenn surprised himself by doing the same, and then
Todd, grinning at him, chanted:

“BA-RUCH A-TA A-DO-NAI E-LO-HAY-NU ME-LECH
HA-O-LAM, A-SHER NA-TAN LA-NU TO-RAT E-MET
V'CHA-YAI O-LAM NA-TA B'TO-CHAY-NU. BA-RUCH
A-TA A-DO-NAI NO-TAYN HA-TO-RA.”

“Now,” Fenn whispered, walking with Todd to the other
side of the bema, as the next aliyah was called, “you are a
man.”
Dylan always felt a little strange at the synagogue, but not like
he did in church, because it seemed as if many people here felt
a little strange. Catholicism was somewhere in his parents and
he knew the Mass well. He’d even gone through Confirmation
to please Tom. The whole time the bishop’s representative—
not even the real bishop—prayed over him and anointed his
head, he waited for fire from heaven or for the sizzling of the
oil, for something in that church to announce that he was
anything, but innocent, a fourteen year old who had not only
engaged in group sex, but was sleeping with a college professor
for trumpet lessons. Nothing had made him feel more soiled
than his Confirmation and Tom, misunderstanding his son’s
face after it had happened, said, “I never knew you’d be so
touched.”
Reform Judaism, where no one directly spoke of God, where the
crazy passion for Jesus and the almost macabre love of God
was replaced by a clean, liberal, social club atmosphere, was
easier for Dylan, namely because it didn’t touch him. Rosh
Hoshanah at Or Chadash was a million miles from the rich
stuff of Fiddler on the Roof or The Chosen. Next to Saint
Barbara’s, Or Chadash was, frankly, dull.

Of course, his family was on the fringes, and intentionally
so. Over in the corner were Joe and Marty, the other gay
couple at the synagogue, in matching suits and cul-de-sac
expressions. Cul-de-sac expression was a term Dylan had
invented, and Fenn thought it was incredibly witty, so he kept
using it. Whatever Fenn and Todd were was what Marty and
Joe were not. Todd always had rumpled suits if he had any at
all, and Fenn stayed in the background, coming in and out of
the shul with no desire to play the good Jewish wife. So on the
day of Todd’s bar mitzvah, it was strange to see him and Fenn
at the center of this gathering, and from the look on Todd’s
face, it was strange for him too.
“What are you doing?” Tara asked Dylan.
“Observing,” he told her. He’d been surprised at her
appearance.
“In the face and in the body Tom,” Tara said. “But the rest
of you is pure Fenn.”
This made Dylan incredibly proud, but all he did was smile
and shrug which, he imagined, was pure Fenn as well.
When he looked back to the table, Todd was stuck chatting
with a few people, and Lane Brown sat down at the table, but
Fenn had gone.

“I don’t know,” Tara said, when Dylan asked where Fenn
was, she answered, “He’s all over the place. A lot like Maia.
Where is she?”
“I’ll look for them both,” Dylan said, though he really only
intended to search for his father.
“Hey, Sport, where you off to?”
“You’re not the father I was looking for,” Dylan told Tom
as they met in the entrance to the auditorium.
“He’s with Laurel,” Tom said. “They went that way—”
Dylan nodded, and as he headed through the kitchen into
the lobby, Tom said, “Dylan?”
“Yeah?”
“You need to talk?”
Instead of saying, “About what?” Dylan figured the best
answer was: “Yes.”
“All right,” said Tom. “Tonight?”
“Yeah.”
Dylan was lucky in parents and, he reflected, the old man
had given him great genes. He didn’t have Tom’s curly hair
anymore because at thirteen he’d finally shaved it off when he
realized how unruly it was. It took a lot of effort to transform
his father from something mad looking to the wavy haired
beauty everyone knew.
When he saw Laurel and Fenn walking down the hall, he
hung back and he waited until Fenn kissed his niece on the
head, and then she headed toward the lobby. Fenn was coming
back toward him, and looked surprised when he saw Dylan.
“Is something wrong with Laurel?”
“Yes,” Fenn said.
“What?”
“Don’t look at me,” Fenn shoved him gently in his cousin’s
direction, “Go and ask her.”
Dylan nodded, and walking away from the party down the
hall that led out of the entrance of the synagogue, he went to
ask her.
Dylan wasn’t a shouter, so he jogged down the hall until she
turned around and saw him.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“What’s going on with you?” Dylan said.
“Whaddo you mean?”
“I just mean I always tell you what’s going on with me, and
you don’t tell me if anything’s happening with you.” He caught
his cousin’s hand. “Come on.”
“Dylan, compared to the drama of your life, it’s nothing.”
“Funny, I didn’t know it was a contest. And all my drama is
self inflicted anyway.”
“It was only Jack Warren,” she said. “And I feel like a
fool.”
They were in the grey lit lobby of the synagogue, and Layla
sat down on a bench beside the potted plant.
“I just wanted a little adventure in my life. I wanted to be…
maybe... a little bit like you.”
“You don’t want to be like me,” Dylan said.
“I don’t want to be your supporting cast member, though.”
she said.
He looked at her.
“And I don’t want to be a virgin for the rest of my life.”
“Am I missing something?” Dylan said. “You didn’t sleep
with Jack Warren?” he whispered, sounding scandalized.
“No!” Laurel almost shouted.
“Good, cause he’s eighteen.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“Do you have any idea what that sounds like coming from
you?”
“Just cause I’m a dumb slut doesn’t mean you should be.”
“Who told you that?” Laurel said. “Who called you that?”
“No one. Nobody has too. What else do you call a kid so
horny he starts having sex at thirteen behind his parents’
backs? The parents who love him? Who… had an affair with a
guy who was seventeen and… does other things that he really
just does not feel free to talk about.”
Laurel kept looking at him.
“I’m doing it again,” Dylan said. “Making it about me when
it’s about you. Tell me about Jack Warren.”
He said this last so forcefully that his cousin nodded.
“He said if I really trusted him, I would do it with him, and
I feel three shades to stupid because I almost did and because I
never expected those words out of his mouth. I didn’t get him
at all. How could I have been that stupid? I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not,” Dylan told her. “You’re the only one here
who isn’t. I just… Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“You had other things to worry about.”
It hurt when she said that, and he was surprised how much
it hurt. He was surprised that his eyes were suddenly hot and
he had to run the back of his hand across them.
“Do I bitch that much? Am I… Do I do so much stupid
shit that you don’t think there’s time in my life to listen to my
own best friend?”
Laurel looked at him.
“You’re… ” he started, then made a chopping motion and
started over. “Look, with all that stuff I’ve done, you’re the
most important part of my life, and… you can’t just hide shit
like that from me. Alright?”
Laurel nodded.
“All right then,” Dylan said.
He was aware of how much he’d edited. He could never tell
Laurel about the night in California with Robb and Kirk. He
couldn’t talk about Nick Ferguson, and it didn’t have anything
at all to do with shame. While he and Laurel were sitting there
in the quiet of the synagogue lobby and, outside, a few cars ran
up and down East Demming, Dylan realized that he actually
was ashamed of some of the things he had done. He wanted
them locked up tight. But in this case he wanted them locked
up tight because they took attention from his cousin, and made
her think that her ordinary life, the sensible one that kept her
head high and him from falling apart, just didn’t matter.

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! I feel sorry for Dylan that he has to compartmentalise parts of his life but it is for a good reason. Brendan is still one of my favourite characters, but Kenny and Chad do make a lot more sense then him and Kenny with how he has been neglecting Kenny lately. So much going on in this story but I am enjoying it. Excellent writing and I look forward to more in a few days!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, on one hand it is sad that Dylan cannot tell everything, but on the other hand it is part of his growing up to realize his drama has swamped Laurel's life. Brendan may be learning that when you abandon someone you can't expect them to stay around forever, and whatever is happening with Kenny and Chad, they do make a sort of sense indeed.

 

[ChrisGibson]

DUE TO A SEXUAL EMERGENCY, ROSSFORD HAS BEEN DELAYED, BUT NOW WE RETURN TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING







“So it’s finally a done deal after all this time,” one woman said
when she came up to where Todd, Will and Layla were sitting.
“It’s actually been a done deal for a while,” Todd tried to
smile.
“But of course.”
“He just wanted to have a bar mitzvah on the New Year,”
Layla explained, and Will thought that, to her credit, she
sounded fairly reasonable considering how silly she thought the
idea of a bar mitzvah was.
“Are such things done?” the woman wondered.
“Well,” Layla, who couldn’t remember all of the rules in
Judaism, and didn’t care said, “I guess they are now.”
“I’m Rose,” the woman said.
“I’m Layla.”
“What do you do?”
“Well, I’m here for my uncle’s bar mitzvah, and in the outer
world… I do a lot of everything.”
“She’s a poet,” Will said frankly.
“Really?”
“She just had her first show last night, and she’s been
invited to a poetry festival on the other side of the state in a
few days.”
“Oh, my well… Layla?”
“Lawden,” Will filled in before Layla could say it.
“I’m afraid I haven’t read anything by you.”
“Don’t be afraid,” Layla said.
“Yeah,” Will added. “Just read something, instead.”
“Those are his sentiments, not mine,” Layla told Rose.
“Well,” Rose had a sad and sympathetic look on her face,
“I hope that works out for you.”
She smiled and was gone while Todd made a “Bleck” noise.
“Why do people always say things like that?” Todd
wondered.
“Because most people have no concept of doing what they
love,” Layla replied simply. “Church people especially, and
synagogue or not, these are church people.”
“I wonder what they see when they see you?” Will said with
a grin.
“Who cares? I think when people look at other people,
they’re really just seeing themselves. And Americans don’t
really know what to do with art, anyway, or even entertainment.
They just think it’s product. So they see me, and think, ‘I’m not
consuming her. I must apologize. She must want to be consumed.’ That
poor woman has no idea that when I write it has nothing to do
with her.”
Todd had been nodding his head, and Layla said, “Do you
ever feel like that when you tell people you are a filmmaker?”
“I have felt like that whenever I tell people anything,” Todd
admitted. “People…” he shook his head and waved as Fenn
approached. “They don’t know what to say, usually because
they don’t have anything to say. So you just have to smile
politely.”
“What’s this about smiling politely?” Fenn asked, sitting at
the table.
“Do you ever smile politely for people who say silly
things?” Will asked.
“I don’t smile politely for anything,” Fenn said. “I’m too
old.”
“Really?” Todd reached over with a long arm and cuffed
him. “What was your excuse thirty years ago?”
“Todd, you know I’ve been too old since I was about
seventeen.”
Fenn leaned over and pointed across the room, “So how is
our Kenneth?”
“Down in the dumps, and then last night Chad showed up
to the reading and they left together?”
“Do we care what happened after that?” Fenn said.
“Not really,” Layla and Todd said together.
“I care,” Will said weakly. “A little.”
Layla shrugged and Todd said to her, “So when did I
become your uncle?”
“About twenty years ago when you had that big gay
wedding at the Episcopal church. Remember? If you were
Fenn’s wife, you would be my aunt, right? So it stands to
reason.”
“Um,” Todd said, as Tara approached with Maia, “So does
that make Maia your cousin?”
“Of course.”
“And Dena?”
“According to that woman last night,” Will said, “It makes
them soul sistahs.”
“See, Will,” Layla told him, “it’s funnier when I do it.”
“Actually it’s not funny at all,” Fenn said.
“Thanks for making me feel great,” Will told him.
Fenn smiled, and stirred his cup of coffee. “It’s what I live
for.”



“So, is this where we part ways?”
“According to you,” Laurel said while they stood on the
corner.
“Well, your home is that way, Cuz, and my mission is that
way,” Dylan pointed in the opposite direction. “And not to
beat a dead horse, but I’m through with making all of my
problems your problems.”
“Well, do I get a hug goodbye?”
Dylan turned around and gave his cousin a crushing but
comforting bear hug. He was only a little bigger than she, but
very strong, something she frequently forgot, and then he
turned around and went up Charleston Street in the direction
of Dena and Milo’s.
Laurel watched her cousin growing smaller, and then her
phone rang.
“Yes, Mama,” she said. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll be right
there.”
Still she waited, because she knew Dylan. And then, just
like she expected, he turned around to check if she was still
there, and she turned around in a circle to pretend like she had
just happened to look back, and he waved and she waved, and
that was their pattern, and then they were both on their ways.
Charleston Street was full of old houses converted into
duplexes and sometimes reconverted into many plexes, and at
the brown Victorian, Dylan went up the steps and tapped on
the door. Footsteps came from behind it a few moments later,
and then Ruthven opened the door, a sandwich in his hand,
and, mouth full, said, “Dylan?”
When Dylan stood there waiting, Ruthven said, “I’m sorry,
come on in.”
Dylan closed the door behind him and said, “You’re right.
We need to talk. I just don’t know what else to say.”
“Well,” Ruthven was still chomping on his sandwich. He
moved through the living room and went to turn off the
television, “what I have to say is I love you, Dylan, and I’m
ready to man up and be something you can depend on. If you
want that too. I’m tired of talking about how you really love
me, or how Lance Bishop is a blockhead, even though I think
he is. It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that I came all this
way for you, and I’m really fucking sorry for letting you down,
and there is not a day, not a fucking day, that I don’t wish we
were together.”
Dylan opened his mouth.
“I’m not finished,” Ruthven said. “I also wanted to tell you
that… even if you stay with Lance, I get it. He’s safe. He’s the
right age. I get it. But… it doesn’t change how I feel. Alright?”
“Good,” Dylan said, flabbergasted. “That’s good. But…
I’m not leaving Lance, alright?”
“Okay,” Ruthven nodded, his fingers playing with the bit of
beard under his chin.
“May I ask why not?”
“Yes,” Dylan said, pleased with the civil turn of their
conversation and wondering how long they could keep it up.
“He’s loyal, and he loves me.”
“And you?”
“I’m loyal to whoever is loyal to me. I don’t turn my back.
Fear… or wanting to fuck other people doesn’t make me
disloyal.”
“But do you love him?”
“I do.”
“As much as you love me?”
“I thought you weren’t going to do that?”
“I’m just asking.”
“Fine,” Dylan said. “No. Not as much as you.”
Then he added, “But he has been more loyal to me than
you ever were, and that sort of evens things out. As far as I’m
concerned.”
When Ruthven said nothing, Dylan said, “Well... We said
what we needed, so… I’m going to run on home because
school lets out soon and I did tell Lance I would meet him,
and I am a guy of my word, so…”
As Dylan turned for the door, Ruthven said, “Can we hang
out, though?”
Dylan didn’t answer.
“Just hang out,” Ruthven came up beside him. “Just like
cousins.”
“But we’re not just like cousins.”
“Come on,” Ruthven said. “How are we going to be good
again if we can’t even hang out again?”
Dylan was sure there was a flaw in this plan. He even
vaguely suspected he wanted there to be a flaw. But he sighed
and said, “Sure. All right. Call me. We’ll figure out something.
But now I really, really have to go.”
“Great,” Ruthven said. “See you soon.”


On his back he was still gasping and catching his breath,
trembling a little as he held onto Lance’s hips. When Lance
came like this, his eyes nearly glazed over, his face looking
straight ahead into nothing, his whole body shivering, Dylan
felt even more tender than when he himself was coming. He
wished that he could pass into Lance. For just a moment they
were the same person. Today, as sometimes, the coming was
almost violent. Lance shivered like an epileptic, and then
slowly collapsed against him.
Neither one of them said anything right away, and Dylan
ran the palm of his hand over Lance’s damp hair. He smelled
lightly of sweat, his hair had that wet scent to it. There was that
brief time when their bodies were the same, curled up like an
intricate pattern before separating, before Lance grew heavy,
and they parted, lying side by side on his floor in the pile of
blankets.
“Are we ready?” Dylan said.
Lance turned and looked at him.
“You still wanna do this?”
“Yes,” said Dylan. “Oh, hell yes.”
Lance groaned a little and pushed himself up. Dylan turned
on his side to look at the length of Lance’s body. He’d left a
cloth on his dresser and he wiped himself down with it and
then tossed it to Dylan.
“All right, cowboy. But it’s your funeral if something
happens.”
Dylan wiped his belly and thighs.
“It’s supposed to be your funeral too,” he said, and then
stood up and shoved the cloth into Lance’s palm.
“That’s what being together means.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a good portion! Its nice to read some Layla centric story, we don't get that too often. I am glad Dylan talked to Ruthven. I like Dylan and Lance together but I don't think Ruthven is going anywhere so there could be some complications coming up I am guessing. Maybe I missed something but I don't know what Dylan and Lance are talking about at the end. I guess I will have to wait and see whatever is their funeral. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

No, you didn't miss anything. It just seemed like the right vaguely cliffhangy place because I didn't want to put too many pages down. Their funeral--whatever it is--will occur tonight. Layla has definitely taken a backseat this time around, but that's part of being an artist and a stable person, and of course, this is the first time Dylan has taken a front seat, so we had to make a sort of storytelling exchange.

 

[ChrisGibson]

THINGS GET STRANGER TONIGHT


Laurel sat on the sofa with her mother, and when the doorbell
rang, both she and Caroline jumped.
“You don’t have to do this,” Caroline said.
“Mama, do you believe in this?”
“Yes, I do,” Caroline told her.
“And do you believe in me?”
Caroline nodded.
“Then I do have to do this. There’s no way I can’t do this.”
The doorbell rang again, and Caroline said, “We better
answer it, then.”
They walked past the coffee table and over the old, round
rug, past the pillars into the foyer of the old house on Simpson
off of Birmingham, and opened the door. The earnest looking
young man nodded, and then his eyes went wide when he saw
Laurel.
“Ma’am,” he said to Caroline, “This is her!”
He looked at Laurel.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that it is you.”
“Come in,” Laurel told him, “and close the door behind
you.”
“It’s you, it’s you,” he repeated, amazed. “This has
happened before, but never like this.”
“You said you dreamed about me,” Laurel said.
“That’s right. Last night I dreamed this address, and then I
came here, and when I saw your mother I thought… she looks
like the one I dreamed about, but she isn’t. It is you, and you
are the one who is supposed to read my cards. Can you do it?”
Even having been in this strange world her whole life,
Laurel felt like this was one of the strangest days she’d been a
part of, but she answered, “Yes. I can. Come right on in.”
“You’ll have to bear with me because I don’t necessarily see
what other people see in the cards,” Laurel told him. “In fact,
its more like I make up my own interpretations. But it seems to
work, so…” she shrugged.
He nodded.
“You’re the Magician, see, and he’s got all of the tools, the
pentacle, the sword, the cup, the wand. He can make anything
come out right, but he’s crossed. You’ve got a lot of Swords
around you. The Two of Swords right here. It’s like you have
all of this power in you, but no way to use it. You don’t know
how.
“Right here, Nine of Swords… Well, that’s dreaming, clear
as anything. And it can mean bad dreaming, but its also
dreaming at the end of a long cycle. With all of these swords
around you, I’d say the cycle is what was bad and now you’re
past it.
“Cause look right here, Three of Cups, and right here, Two
of Pentacles… and then a Three of Pentacles. All of that
means companionship. It means you’re going to find help in
someone else. And… this right here, maybe it means you’re
going to help them.”
“It’s you,” he said smiling brightly, the light winked off of
his glasses. “I think you’re supposed to help me, but I’m also
supposed to help you.”



Jack Warren sighed through his nose. The light had been green
for ten seconds. He pushed his hand to the horn and let out a
long honk. Still, the car didn’t move. This was the car that had
been before him for three blocks. Now, out here, there were
no other cars.
He pressed his hand to the horn, making a long low noise
and in the middle of it, the driver’s door of the car ahead of
him opened, and a tall young man with a prominent forehead
got out and came to him. He looked a little menacing, but he
was a string bean and Jeff thought he could probably take him
if worse came to worse.
“Excuse me,” the boy who had tapped on the window said
once Jeff rolled it down, “are you Jack Warren?”
“Yeah, what the fuck is it to you?”
“Dylan, it’s him,” Lance called.
Out of the passenger’s seat of Lance’s car came another,
more compact boy. He knew the two of them now. Some
people said they were faggots together, but no one really
believed it. This was Laurel’s cousin, Dylan Mesda, and he was
clearly carrying something.
“Are you the one who fucked over my cousin Laurel?”
“I didn’t do anything to that bitch.”
Dylan looked at Lance. Lance said, “Looks like it’s him.”
Dylan nodded.
Just like that, Dylan’s bat took out the window behind Jack.
“What the fuck!”
And just like that, Lance took out the passenger one.
“What the hell are you—?”
Dylan took out the other back window, and then they
nicked up the side of the car and the hood and the front for
good measure while, trembling, Jack screamed.
“You fucking faggots! You couple a fucking faggots!”
Only Lance and Dylan didn’t really look like two fucking
faggots. They looked like the two football players that hung
out together all the time and people whispered about but didn’t
really believe were gay, and they looked like they could kick his
ass, so when they looked at him, Jack Warren shut up.
Then they nodded to each other, turned around and got
back into their car. The light was green again, and quietly they
drove away leaving Jack, who still had his own window and
was uninjured, amidst glass and a wrecked car, shaking for his
life.
“Faggots,” he muttered, as the light turned red again.



“Oh I was still a little girl,” Caroline said to the boy, whose
name was Alex. “I started reading cards trying to look for my
mother, I think. I just kept looking for some sort of answers.”
“And then you found them there?” he said, eagerly.
“Well, I found them in a lot of places,” Caroline shrugged.
“It’s a skill, yes. But it’s also a gift.”
“Do you have other gifts?” he asked.
She looked at him.
“My grandmother sees things,” Alex said. “She sees them
before they happen, the way that once and again I can have a
whole dream that makes no sense. I’ll have no idea where I am
and then, suddenly, it’s happening to me. It seems so familiar,
and I remember that this is part of the dream I was in.”
“It’s different for everyone,” Caroline said. “I always hoped
Laurel would have something. I hear it’s in our family. I have a
sister,” Caroline told him, “who has a gift for the cards.”
“Layla,” Laurel filled in.
“But now what she does is write. It turns out her biggest
gift is poetry, and writing.”
“Is that really a gift?”
“Of course it is,” Laurel said. “And music. I was reading
about bards and all that in ancient Ireland. Well, they were
poets. And the word ‘enchanter’, well whaddo you think that
means? Chanting, singing that puts a spell on you. Well, I
swear my uncle Fenn can put a spell on you.”
“On that,” Caroline said, “we are agreed.”
“I think we have a very magical family. Even Dylan, and
he’s not blood related.”
Just then there was a knock at the door and Caroline picked
up the salt shaker and shook some over her shoulder.
“Mama?”
“I don’t know why,” Caroline shrugged. “I just sort of felt
it.”
Because in their house that was enough, Laurel got up and
went through the living room to the door.
“You sent your faggot ass cousin after me!” Jack Warren
was shouting at the door.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Laurel said.
“Look what he and his boyfriend did to my car!”
From the porch steps Jack Warren pointed down to his car
sitting on Simpson Street and Laurel gasped, putting a hand
over her mouth and chuckling.
“You think it’s funny? I’ll teach you to think it’s funny.”
But before Laurel could shift from comedy to rage, she
heard behind her: “You need to learn respect.”
“Who are you—?” Jack began, but when Laurel turned
around, Alex was standing erect, his hand lifted.
“You’ll learn respect now, and not come to this house or
any woman’s again until you do, and until you do, the
weakness in your head’ll be the weakness in your pants.”
Laurel looked at Alex, so sure and so still, and then she
looked at Jack Warren, eyes wide, backing down the steps
slowly, eyes growing wider, not daring to look away. When he
was at the bottom of the steps, Alex said, “Now go.”
And then, turning around, Jack did.
As Jack scrambled into the ruined car, and turned the
ignition, Alex shouted, “And you’ll keep how that car got that
way silent!”
And then, nodding rapidly, Jack was gone.
“Damn, Gandalf,” Laurel murmured.
Alex shrugged and looked very embarrassed.
“Let’s not talk about that.”
“No,” Laurel agreed, feeling a little faint as she trembled.
“Let’s not.”



“Hello?” Tom Mesda said.
“Tom? It’s Laurel. Is Dylan there?”
“He sure is, Laurel. Hold on.”
There was something bright and friendly about Tom that
Laurel loved, and she always wondered not so much what had
split him up from Fenn as how they had ever been together in
the first place. Tom was what Laurel imagined people meant
when they said, “a dear.” He and Fenn made sensible friends,
but as lovers it seemed s little ridiculous.
“Hey, Lor!”
“Oh, my God! Are you stupid?”
Then she said, “Is your dad off the phone?’
“Uh, yeah. And why are you asking me if I’m stupid?”
“Not asking: telling. Because I saw what you did to Jack
Warren’s car!”
“Oh, you’re welcome.”
“No, idiot! Not ‘you’re welcome.’ Have you lost your
mind?”
“Lance helped.”
“Not the point, Dill! And Jack came to my house.”
“We’ll have to kick his ass.”
“No! No!” Laurel said in frustration. “No… kicking
anyone’s ass. Alright? None of that. It was taken care of. It’s
just….You could have gotten in trouble for that. And, haven’t
you gotten in enough trouble. I mean, Uncle Fenn is gracious
and everything, but this on top of the other day...”
“Oh my God!” Dylan suddenly sounded panicked. “I didn’t
even think of that.”
“No, Dylan, you don’t think. And I don’t understand why,
because you’re not stupid.”
“But that was stupid.”
“Yes, Dylan,” Laurel said, sadly. “It was.”
“You’re my cousin. I was just looking after you.”
“Well, I’m looking after you now. You can’t just do every
crazy thing that enters your head.”
“I know,” Dylan said. Then he said, “Uh… you said you
took care of it. Jack Warren?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Uh…” Laurel searched for the most honest answer
possible. “It appears, Dylan, that my new boyfriend—”
“New boyfriend… my God.”
“Yes,” Laurel pushed past this. “Well, it seems that my new
boyfriend put a curse on Jack.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! I like that Dylan and Lance stood up for Laurel but I think there will be consequences. I don't think we have seen the last of Jack. This talk of Laurel's boyfriend Alex putting a curse on Jack is interesting. I look forward to reading what comes of that. Excellent writing and I look forward to the next portion! Hope you have an excellent week!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I feel like there are going to definitely be consequences, and I actually don't remember what they are because I wrote this some time ago, What did you think of what they did?

 

[CharmedFan28]

I feel like there are going to definitely be consequences, and I actually don't remember what they are because I wrote this some time ago, What did you think of what they did?

I thought it was nice they were defending Laurel but reckless because I don't think they thought through the consequences.