The Lovers in Rossford

[CharmedFan28]

I had started to like Lance as a character but now I don't like him for what he did to Dylan. Maybe he will redeem himself who knows but at the moment he isn't one of my favourite characters.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT, A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE GOING TO NEED TO REDEEM THEMSELVES. LOGAN'S RECOVERING FROM A BAD EXPERIENCE HE HOPED WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO HIM AGAIN, AND EVERYONE'S JUST REALLY TIRED,,,

There was a tap on Bryant’s door, and while he said, “Come
in,” the door was pushed open and he was surprised by Chad.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi.”
Chad stepped forward, gingerly.
“Can we talk?”
“Yes, we can talk, Chad. You want a seat?”
“No. No, I’ll stand. I’ll close the door too.”
Chad moved to close the door and then came back to
Bryant, whose face had changed.
“This town is small,” Chad said. “Our circle of friends is
small.”
Bryant looked at Chad, and then he said, “Oh… Yes.
Alright. Yes.”
“Are you okay?” Chad said, suddenly.
“Chad, I’m fine.”
“I wanted to come to you the other night.”
“Chad, I actually found my own way out of my… slump,
for lack of a better word.”
“That’s good,” Chad said.
“I’m a big boy now, actually,” Bryant continued. “It’s nice
you’re back. But we’re not back. You don’t have to make
yourself concerned for me, all right?”
Chad didn’t say anything. He was sure there was something
that should be said, but he didn’t know what it was.
He settled on: “Yes. That’s fine, Bryant.”
He wanted to say, “If you ever need me, just…” But it
seemed inappropriate. It seemed too much.
“Chad,” Bryant said to his departing back.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Chad nodded. He gave a small smile and Bryant gave him a
small smile back, and then he turned to leave. It had to count
for something, didn’t it?
“Chad?”
He turned around.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you alright?”
“I…” Chad thought a moment.
“I am,” he said. “But… You know Kenneth McGrath?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a very talented artists and—”
“Out of work?”
“Very much out of work, and a good teacher. But more
outside of the classroom. Do you know anything, or anyone
who…?”
“Chad North, are you asking your old partner to find your
new partner a job?”
“You’re not old, and Kenny’s my friend, not my partner.
And yes I am.”
Bryant smiled and nodded.
“That’s fair. And good of you. I… I need to help someone
beside myself. I’ve been in a bad place.”
“I know.”
Bryant looked at him.
“I mean, I know what’s its like. I have been there too.”
“Well, I can think of something. I know I can,” Bryant said.
“Great. And Bryant?”
“I know not to let him know you’re behind it!”
Chad gave him a small smile.
“Thanks.”





Noah, looking out of the window, was startled when James
joined him.
“You surprised me.”
“You’ve been distracted,” James said.
“Well, with losing the job and everything.”
“It’s not that,” James told him.
Noah looked at him.
“You’ve been far from me. A little bit.
“Do you remember when we first got together I said, don’t
go far from me. Don’t go to the place I can’t get to?”
“Yes,” Noah discovered. “I do remember that.”
“I told you I knew you were you, and I would never stop
you from being you. I would never stop you from being wild. I
don’t know what’s in your head right now, or in your heart, but
I know it’s wild. I know that you want to fly away.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” Noah said, suddenly. “You’re
mine. You’re my James.”
“I didn’t say you wanted to leave. But if you want to fly, do
it. And then come back if you can.”
“James.”
“I told you I would never hang on to you, or be jealous
with you, and I meant it. Whatever it is, do it. And then come
back.”
While Noah stood there, shocked, James kissed him on the
cheek, and then turned around and went out of the kitchen.
Well... How many men had Noah been with? Hundreds?
But since James, none. Paul Anderson’s face rose in his mind’s
eye, Pauley who was always there, Paul whom he’d done one of
his first sex scenes with years ago. He remembered Paul, a few
years older, like a big brother, like a protector, entering him so
slowly, so tenderly with that gentle bruising, awakening new
things in him. His lips went dry and he knew he would go to
him. James had said, “If you can come back, come back.”
Could he come back? This was what scared him.





“Mathan,” Meredith said.
“Meredith.”
He turned around as if seeing his ex on campus, in this
abandoned hallway, was the most natural thing in the world.
“I thought you were running off with that Carol girl.”
“Brendan Miller’s sister.”
“I know who she is.”
“I couldn’t run off. I have classes. I might go up later to see
her, though.”
“Do you like her?”
“What does that matter to you?”
“I guess it shouldn’t,” Meredith said.
He shrugged and turned to walk away.
“Mathan?”
He turned around, giving her a tired look. and for all of his
height, suddenly he looked like Fenn or like Lee.
“Are you and her…? Did you all?”
“Again, Meredith, not your business.”
“No,” she said. “I just wanted to know.”
“Did you fuck Kip?”
“Yes,” Meredith said.
“Was it good?”
“Oh, my God, Mathan.”
Mathan stood there looking exasperated, and then she came
to him and put her hand to the side of his head.
“We ruined so much.”
“You ruined so much,” Mathan said. “I didn’t do
anything.”
“That’s right,” Meredith said, parting from him
“Four years together and year after year, you didn’t do
anything.”
“Then why are you here, Mere?”
Meredith became suddenly frustrated and said, “Well, why
are you?”
Mathan took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.
He looked to the utility closet twice, frowning a bit.
“Can we…?” he began, in a low voice, “Can we just go in
that room right over there, get this out of our systems and
fuck?”
“Yes,” Meredith said, primly, moving forward and opening
the door. She could see Mathan’s cock stretching through his
jeans, “Under the circumstances, I think it’s best.”


In the small cloak room, Mathan grunted hard while he thrust
and thrust, face pointed up, and Meredith’s thighs went tight
around him, her hands settled on the smooth, firmness of his
ass, and as she slipped in a finger he groaned.
“Shush,” she tried to quiet him but, his sweating face
contorting, he moaned, and his body buckled as he shot and
spasmed into a sea lion pose, and was rigid like that between
her legs.

They were like that a long while, and then he pulled out of
her. As she closed up again, Meredith whimpered a little, her
flesh remembering how good he felt inside of her, how he
could always touch her in that right place.
“We’re more fucked than ever,” she told him.
“Being screwed is like freezing water,” Mathan said, pulling
his underwear up, “after a while frozen is just frozen. And
screwed is just screwed.”
She sat up, pulling up her panties, readjusting her skirt.
“Well, where are we, Mathan? Where are we now?”
He readjusted his shirt and declared: “Screwed.”




Sheridan came into the apartment, and even though this
should have been a moment of triumph, he wondered why he
knew it would not be. The place seemed so silent, and that was
an odd thing to say. Of course it was. He entered the living
room and went straight for the bedroom.
“Babe. It’s me. Babe?”
Logan lay on the bed, corpse like, and he opened his eyes.
“Tired?”
“It was a hell of a shoot.”
“Yeah,” Sheridan sat down on the edge of the bed. “But
you got to go to LA.”
“I’ve been to LA.”
“You didn’t let me finish. You got to go to LA, and you’re
on your way to your dream. You’re going places.”
“Yes,” Logan allowed. “I guess.”
“Logan, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Sheridan,” Logan said, harshly. He
turned on his side away from Sheridan.
“I’m just tired of smiling. I’m tired of smiling and bending
over backward and being everyone’s something. I’m just so
fucking tired.”
Sheridan frowned and turned away from Logan, who was
already turned away from him.
“Would you like me to leave?” he asked. “For a while?”
“I want everyone to leave,” Logan said. “Everyone.
Everything. Just… Go away.”
Slowly Sheridan began to stand up.
“But not you,” Logan said. “I feel so ugly. I feel radioactive.
I feel like I shouldn’t be around anyone or anything. But… I
need to be around you.”
“Good,” Sheridan said, reaching for his hand, “I need you
to say that.”




In the dark Kenny held onto him, Chad’s shuttling between his
thighs, and the weight of their bodies making the bed creak
and groan. In and out, quicker and quicker, sweat dripping
from their bodies, desperate now, Kenny feeling the sweat on
his lips joined by the drops of sweat from Chad’s face. He
looked up in the semi darkness where Chad’s lips were parted,
and his face went into that strange ugliness of lust, and then
went blacker and blanker and came to orgasm. Both of them
stopped on the edge of it, Chad arching in the air.

They had to catch their breaths, they had to come back into
themselves slowly, and they were still joined together, facing
each other.
“You were so far away,” Kenny said. “Part of you.”
Chad still couldn’t speak. He looked down. “Thinking. I
guess.”
“About?”
Chad shook his head.
“It’s nothing.”
The sheets were soaked. The bed smelled of them. Chad
said, “Just talked to Bryant. I just went to check on him. I
don’t know how that went.”
“Do you think about him?” Kenny said. He added, “You
can tell me. We’re friends.”
“Do you think about Brendan?”
“I try not to,” Kenny said. He was running his hand up and
down Chad’s arm. He placed it on his hip. Chad was so warm
and so here, and so open, and Kenny was so open to him.
“It hurts. What we have is so… Good. And what I had a
long time ago with Bren was good, but it’s hurt for so long. So
I try not to think.”
Chad nodded and, softly, he kissed Kenny.
“That’s how I feel about Bryant.”



“Where’s the boy?” Todd wondered, when he came into the
house.
Fenn was smoking a cigarette, and he said, “Dylan came
home early and went up to his room, and he’s been there ever
since. When he came into the house he announced, ‘I’m
home.’ I think he wanted me to know he wasn’t running
around or something…”
Fenn took another drag on is cigarette. “Like I would have
let him.”
Todd sat at the table across from Fenn.
“You know about Ruthven, right?”
Fenn nodded.
“I know they haven’t seen each other,” Fenn continued.
“Unless he followed him to the school.”
“And what if he does?”
Fenn shrugged.
“He’s in love. And it didn’t just happen yesterday. I don’t
want to keep him from that. I do wonder how the Lance thing
went.”
Todd asked him: “What are we having for dinner?”
“That’s a switch?”
“Well, we have to eat.”
“I don’t feel like cooking.”
“Dylan!” Todd called up the steps.
A few moments later they heard his footsteps and Dylan
came down into the kitchen.
“You feel like cooking for us?”
Dylan shrugged.
“I can help.”
Fenn called his son over, “Are you alright?”
Dylan just looked at him.
“Todd,” Fenn said. “Me and Dylan are going to put
something together. Alright?”
Todd nodded and said, “I’m going to go up to the office.”

They began taking pots and pans from the cupboard. Dylan
went to take eggs from the fridge.
“I have to ask you questions about your life,” Fenn said.
“Yeah?”
“Ruthven? Lance? Or neither?”
“You know it’s Ruthven.”
Dylan was rarely snarky, so Fenn let it slide.
“Then what about Lance?”
“Does this really interest you?” Dylan said, cracking an egg
into a bowl.
“Yes,” Fenn said. “All of it interests me.”
“Some things you don’t want to know.”
“No,” Fenn argued. “I want to know everything. I want to
know… what you need me to know.”
“Lance is done,” Dylan said. “We broke up this morning.
We are totally broken up. That’s a fact.”
Dylan sprinkled the red paprika into the yellow eggs and
began stirring them calmly.
“I don’t want to go on and on about it, Dad,” he said.
He put down the fork and his shoulders fell. Fenn thought
of touching him, but was sure that would take the boy’s
strength away, and a boy needed his strength.
“We…” Dylan broke off.
“Dad… I don’t know what I’m doing. I am so crazy. There
are so many things I’ve done. I… We didn’t just split up, Dad.
We just didn’t break up gently. It was… I can’t talk about it.”
Fenn nodded before he realized he should say something.
“I feel like I’m going to be lost,” Dylan said. “I feel like I
am going to just slip away into something nuts. Me and
Lance… it was… I don’t know what it was. It was sex, but it
was abuse. But it was both of us doing it and I know you don’t
want to hear that, and I’m scared and embarrassed and I don’t
like myself and I don’t know who to tell.”
So Fenn did hug him. He held him lightly and said, “I
raised you so that you could tell me anything, and now you
have.”
Dylan placed his head in his father’s chest, and he began,
quietly, to cry as he nodded his head.
“And you don’t have to worry,” Fenn told him. “As long as
I am around, I will never, ever let you be lost. You are my
boy.”
Dylan sniffed.
“I’ve been so… I’ve really fucked up. You haven’t called
me your boy in a long time.”
Fenn tapped him on his head and separated from Dylan,
taking the eggs and whipping them.
“Put butter in the skillet,” Fenn said.
“Huh?”
“I said, put butter in the skillet. We don’t want it to burn.”
As Dylan obeyed, Fenn told him: “You will always be my
boy.”


MORE THURSDAY

 

[CharmedFan28]

Lots going on and lots of sadness in many of the characters. I don't have much to say because there is so much to process. All I can say is that it was great writing and I look forward to reading how the characters redeem themselves in a few days.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, I'll give you a small hint: they probably won't be redeemed before this particular book is over.

 

[ChrisGibson]

A FEW SMALL MOMENTS OF GRACE

“Heya, it’s me,” Noah began his message.
“Apparently you’re not around right now, and I just wanted
to say that, when you are, we should talk. I mean, I was just
calling to chat. It’s nothing important. Just calling. To clear
some things up. Not that there’s anything to clear. Alright…
Talk to you soon.”
Noah hung up and stuck his phone in his side pocket.
“What was that craziness all about?” his mother asked him.
“Naomi, by now you ought to know there’s always
craziness around here,” Danasia said.
“Just Paul,” Noah said. “I haven’t seen him in a few days. I
wanted to say a few things. Just talk about life.”
“Well now did you want to say a few things, or did you
want to go on about life,” Naomi asked. “Because those aren’t
the same.”
“A little bit of both.”
“He’s being strange,” Danasia said. “That means just let it
go.”
The phone rang and Noah reached into his pocket.
“Hello. Yes. Hold on.”
“I’m going to take this over there,” Noah said, getting up
and crossing the diner to stand in the little hall before the
restrooms.
Danasia and Naomi swapped looks, but they said nothing.
“Paul,” Noah said.
“Yeah. I got your message. And it was weird by the way.”
“I just… I was just thinking…”
“Noah, I love you, but I’m packing for a trip tomorrow to
shoot a commercial and I can’t know what you’re thinking
until you tell me.”
Noah moved into the bathroom.
“We should just do it. We should just stop thinking about it
and do it. I haven’t been with anyone since I got with James
and I’m nervous, and I’m afraid, but I keep thinking about
being with you. I want that, Paul. Then we can just go back to
being normal. Like it was. But I want to be with you.”
There was silence on the phone and Noah heard Paul
continue breathing on the other side, and then Paul said: “I
feel the same way.”
“Then we should?”
“I think we have to,” Paul said, apologetically.
“I… I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Noah’s voice went high
suddenly.
“Noah, calm down. We don’t have to.”
“Yes we do. I want to. I need to. I’m in love with you, and I
want to go back to being normal and being in love with James.
We need to just… do this. When you get back from your trip,
call me.”
“No,” Paul said. “Before my trip.”
“What?”
“Not later. Tonight.”



While Todd was rinsing the dishes then putting them in the
washer, and Fenn was wiping down the table, there came a
knock from the living room.
“I’ve got it,” Fenn said.
He left he kitchen, went through the dining room to the
living room, and opened the door to a tall man with a high
forehead and graying temples.
“Mr. Houghton,” he said.
“Are you Lance Bishop’s father?”
“Yes. I’m Peter.”
“You should come in,” Fenn said, opening the door
further. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No. No, I’m good now. Thank you.”
“Please sit.”
“Thank you, Mr. Houghton.”
“Call me Fenn. That’s not necessary.”
“Then please call me Peter.
“Fenn,” Peter said, sitting down with the same long legs
Lance had, spaced apart the way Lance sat, “I… your boy and
my boy are good friends, and my Lance is torn up about what
happened between the two of them.”
Fenn raised an eyebrow. He didn’t know what version of
this story Peter Bishop could have heard.
“He’s hurt real bad and he feels like he hurt your Dylan
really badly. Now, I’m sorry I’ve never been here before.
Dylan’s a good boy. He’s a strong boy. And I know the way he
is… and I think that’s because of you.”
“Yes?” Fenn said.
“I’m simple,” Peter said. “What I meant by the way he is…
is gay. I meant, he’s a real good boy. He’s a real man’s man.
He’s not… You all didn’t raise a sissy, and I can see this isn’t a
sissy kind of house.”
Against his will, Fenn burst out laughing.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Mr. Hought—Fenn. That was supposed to
be a compliment. That was...” Peter Bishop caught his breath.
“Fenn, all I really know about you is that you and your…
partner… are gay and you raised a good boy who knows who
he is. And my son cares about him so much and… What I’m
saying is, we know how Lance is. He never says it, but we
know and I think we know that Lance and Dylan were…”
“I’ll save you the effort and just say that they were,” Fenn
said.
“Right,” Peter said, grimacing over this, trying to
understand it.
“And I think my boy hit your boy or did something terrible.
And he’s so sorry and… I don’t know what to do. I came to
you man to man, because I’ve seen you and you seem like
someone I can be man to man with. My boy is so miserable,
and I don’t know what to do for him, or what to say.
“I don’t care what he is. If he loves Dylan, that’s great!
That’s great! Should I tell him Dylan’s coming back?”
“No,” Fenn said, sadly. “Because I don’t think he is. I hope
they’ll be friends soon, but… I don’t think they’ll be anything
more. Not anymore.”
Peter Bishop seemed to be waiting for Fenn to say more, so
Fenn said, “I don’t want you to think I knew all about this, or
that I have more answers on how to raise a gay son. I just try
to do what I wish my parents had done for me. Not as a gay
child, but just as a child. Children really are the same. I found
out about Lance very recently, and really, my heart breaks all
the time.”
He leaned across the coffee table.
“Dylan feels as bad as Lance and something horrible
happened between them, and something horrible is happening
to them. They don’t know who they are. Dylan is terrified of
himself. He thinks he’s a disappointment to me. I can’t stand
to see him this way.”
“Then what does a parent do, Fenn?” Peter Bishop said.
Fenn spread out his hands. “I imagine you do what you’ve
always done. You love them.”

TOMORROW NIGHT, THE CONCLUSION OF THIS CHAPTER, THE BIG WEEKEND PORTION

 

[CharmedFan28]

Lots going on in this portion and lots to come! I know it would be embarrassing for Dylan to talk to Fenn about sex but I hope he tells him or at least someone what Lance did to him. Sounds like a night of passion is coming for Noah and Paul. I don't know how to feel about that. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I love that you don't know how to feel about it. I want the story to feel like life, and often I'm not sure how to feel about anything. Sex is especially ambiguous and I like to have it that way on the page, where none of us is quite sure how to feel about what's happening. If Dylan ever tells Fenn about the rape, it won't be soon, but its not from shame so much as his desire to protect his father.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CONCLUSION OF SECRETS THAT WOULD GO TO THE GRAVE




“You’ve got to make this right,” Dylan said to himself.
“You’ve got to get it together.”
He ran his hands over the surface of the red Gita. It was
good to read. It stuck in his head. Better than that, it was good
to touch. He’d seen old ladies with their Bibles, his
Grandmother Mesda with her prayer book and rosary. None of
those things did much for him, but he imagined that they must
have felt the way he did now, with his father’s worn book of
Hindu scripture.
Dylan looked at the cell phone in his other hand, too, and
put it on the bed.
“You can’t always be calling Laurel. You can’t always be
dragging her down. You’ve got to learn how to handle things
for yourself.”
Because he sounded a little crazy to himself, he shifted
from speaking to thinking:
I haven’t handled anything. Not really. I’ve done strange things,
stupid things I’ve done stuff I can’t talk about. But I haven’t handled
anything.

He got undressed, went and took a shower. He was so tired
and he felt sticky and dirty. He also felt like there was no help
for him until he got redressed and left the house to repair
things.
He put on jeans and a tee shirt and the white hooded
sweatshirt Todd had bought him the year before. He opened
the door and went to his father’s room. Fenn was sitting up on
the bed, and he looked at Dylan.
“I know I’m grounded, but I have to go. Right now. I have
to make things right.”
“Can’t this wait till…?” Fenn began. He looked his son up
and down. Clearly it could not wait till morning.
“All right,” Fenn said. “You need to be back in an hour.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Dylan said.
There were questions he would have asked, challenges he
would have presented, offers he would have made and none of
them made any sense. Whatever Dylan had to do, clearly he
had to do it now. Whatever he was going to make right, he had
to make right by himself. The fact was Fenn trusted his son,
and more or less trusted his wisdom. He had grown up so fast,
too fast, but part of that growing up meant that there was
more on the boy’s shoulders, and some things he could not or
should not tell Fenn.
Suddenly Dylan came back into the room and leaned over
him, hugging him. And then Dylan turned around and left.




LANCE BISHOP HAD NO musical taste and wished he did.
There was nothing to do, nothing to help him when he felt this
way. He had cried earlier today and cried a lot, but that didn’t
do any good and it didn’t make him feel any better. He went to
the track field and ran laps that evening until he remembered
again the pleasure of being one of the fastest sprinters, and felt
the burn in his thighs, in his backside and in his arms. He came
home and showered for a long time, and then he fell asleep.
He awoke now and blinked at the ceiling. He could hear the
sounds of the night. Down the street a too loud car stereo was
playing.

There was a tap at the window, and Lance turned around
hopefully. He couldn’t believe it. Dylan was there. He went to
the window and opened it. He helped Dylan in, and the two of
them stood facing each other.
Lance said nothing, and finally Dylan said, “What happened
today isn’t the right way to end it.”
“I know,” Lance said. He turned away, murmuring, “I don’t
even want to think about it. I get sick when I think about it. I
really get sick and I…” his voice had gone high and trailed off.
“I don’t even know what we did,” he said.
“You raped me,” Dylan said simply. “And then I raped
you.”
Lance trembled visibly. He looked like he was seizing, and
Dylan understood because he felt it. He wanted to throw up a
little too.
“I don’t want to leave you that way,” Dylan said. “I don’t
want that to be us.”
The two of them stood looking at each other, and then
Dylan came closer to Lance and, at that same time Lance held
him. They stood like that and then Lance said:
“Can’t we have more? I don’t want the last time to be what
the last time was.”
Dylan began to pull off his sweatshirt, and Lance helped
him. Dylan pulled of Lance’s tank top and they began to kiss,
to run their hands over each other’s arms and chests, Lance to
kiss Dylan on his nipples. Dylan felt himself growing hard.
Lance’s hand was down there, touching him.
“God, Dylan,” Lance said, and they both began to come
out of their jeans.

Quietly, with just the smallest of stifled breaths, Dylan
closed his eyes and, straddling Lance’s chest, brought Lance
into him. It hurt a little, like it always did. He stilled more and
more, feeling Lance inside of him, putting his hands on the
smoothness of Lance’s chest. He moved on him, lightly, like a
wave, trying to feel Lance in his deepest places and, lightly,
Lance moved his hips with a whimper. They moved like that,
their hands clasping together, Lance’s eyes shining, small
whimpers escaping his mouth.
They did everything they wanted, hands and mouths
remembering, hands moving to touch the incredible softness
of hair, of lips, of the inside of thighs until they came, nearly as
one, buckling and shaking on the bed, a little damp, a little
amazed, a little shaken.

Their thighs were linked together, their bodies pressed
close, and Lance’s mouth was pressed to Dylan’s scalp.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too,” Dylan told him after a while.
“But you’re leaving me. For him.”
Dylan shook his head.
“It isn’t like that. It’s not him.”
“Then, I don’t…”
“I’m not leaving. I’m just not your boyfriend. And it’s
because we don’t work. Not really. And we should work. It
shouldn’t be an issue.”
Lance pulled Dylan close and began, catlike, rubbing his
body against Dylan’s. He wanted to sleep like this. He wanted
to be connected to him all night.
“Lance,” Dylan said, fighting it and pulling away. “I am too
young to be this old.”
He climbed out of bed.
“It’s about…” Dylan said looking for his underwear, “how
if I keep this up I’ll be a senior citizen at thirty.”



“Were you waiting up for me?” Dylan said when he came in
through the living room.
On the sofa, Fenn yawned.
“Yes.”
“I’m back in time, right?”
“Yes.”
Dylan looked at his father.
“I broke up with Lance. I mean…” He came and sat down
beside his father.
“I told him I loved him, but I told him that I’d be so old if
we kept this up. I don’t even feel like a kid anymore. I hate
feeling like this. It’s so heavy and… there’s other stuff to be
worried about. Not… relationships and stuff. And…”
Dylan looked at his father, “And I’m making you old. I can
see that.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Fenn sat up.
Dylan grinned. “I didn’t mean it that way, Papa,” he said. “I
meant… you look sadder than I’ve ever seen you look before.”
“Oh, Dylan! Be quiet and go upstairs.”
“No, it’s…”
“It is not your job,” his father told him, “to worry about
me. Go upstairs and go to bed. You are grounded after all.”
Dylan nodded and went up, but he stopped midway at the
landing.
Fenn was picking up his blanket and turning off lights.
“Dad,” Dylan said. “One day I’m going to take care of you
the way you do me and then you’re going to see…” Dylan
seemed to not be able to figure out what Fenn was going to
see. “Good night, Dad.”
Dylan went up the steps and Fenn yawned, wondering just
what he would see when that day came.




The Strip was quiet at this time of night as the car came down
it and, before reaching the Meijer and the restaurants, turned
into the parking lot in front of the first of the business hotels
that sat between Main Street and the Strip.
Paul Anderson climbed out of the car and, dusting off his
trousers, he closed the door, slung the small bag over his
shoulder, and then went in under the short awning and into the
lobby.
“I’m looking for Bobby Butter,” he said to the concierge.
“He’s expecting me. I’ve signed the room out with him.”
The concierge looked approving and said, as his finger slid
down, “And you are?”
“John Mellow.”
“Yes,” said the concierge. “That’s Room 218.”
“Thanks a bunch,” Paul said, turning on his charming
smile, and heading down the lobby toward the elevator.
The carpet upstairs and down was blue with a grape
pattern, and the walls of the hotel were a warm yellow. On
either end of the corridor were large windows so Paul could
see the blackness of the night. He re-shifted the bag on his
shoulder and tried to settle into the stillness of this night.
There was the room 218, and now he tapped on the door,
and then a moment later he heard the soft padding of feet and
there he was. There was Noah, looking more sober than he
ever had in jeans and a dress shirt.
“Paul,” he said, the first part of Paul’s name more a croak
than anything else. “You’re here.”
“Yeah,” Paul said. “Why am I trembling? Why am I so
nervous?”
Noah pulled the door open more and Paul came in. Noah
shut the door behind him.
They both stood, nervous, facing each other. Paul let the
bag slide to the ground and looped his fingers through his belt.
Noah reached up and held Paul’s face, feeling the plains of
his cheeks under his hands, looking up into Paul’s eyes.
“You’re here,” he rejoiced.

*************


GUY ASKED HIM, “HOW old are you, Noah?”
“Twenty-one,” Noah said. This sounded like an appropriate
age. Eighteen was probably a legal age, but twenty-one got you
just over the hump.
“So, you’ve done a few solo shoots for us. How did you
like ‘em?”
“I liked them,” Noah said. “They were…” he looked
around, “Nice environments. Easy to do stuff in.”
“You like the few scenes you did with other guys?”
“Yeah, that was hot.”
“What was your favorite?”
“Uh… the one with Billy.”
“Yeah, I could tell you enjoyed that.”
Off in the corner, Noah saw someone enter the room and
then come and sit down beside him. He was just, in some
inexplicable way, the nicest looking guy Noah had ever seen.
No, it wasn’t inexplicable. He looked nice. He looked like the
sweetest person in the world. He had green eyes and
marmalade hair, and Noah had seen him before, from a
distance. Even seen some of his stuff. But here in person he
got that same palpitation, that excitement that often hit him
before he was about to have sex.
“This is Johnny Mellow,” Guy said. “You may have seen
him.”
“Yeah,” Noah grinned, and he laughed nervously.
“We were wondering,” Guy continued, “if you were ready
to get fucked? And if you’d like to get fucked for the first time
by Johnny Mellow?”
“Uh…” Noah said, not faking stupidity. “Yes, I mean…
Uh, huh.”
“A little nervous?”
350 CHRIS LEWIS GIBSON
Noah felt himself getting red as Johnny gave him a little
grin.
“Yeah. A little.” Then he added, “But I’m ready.”
“And cut,” Guy said in a different voice.
“Guys, come in at around eleven tomorrow and we’ll start
filming the rest. I needed to catch Noah’s surprise,” Guy told
them. “And Noah, if you don’t know already, you need to
learn how to douche. Johnny, can you teach him?”
Johnny nodded.
“We want you to be sort of new and convincing, but if it’s
too new, it’s just going to be gross,” Guy went on. “Johnny,
introduce Noah to some sex toys. Help him experiment.
Nothing too crazy, nothing too big. We’ll start in on this
tomorrow.”
While Noah was coming out of the shower and drying himself,
Johnny said, “You’re going to love this.”
Noah waited for Johnny to elaborate.
“Bottoming,” Johnny said.
And then he added, as Noah dried his head, “Not because
I’m so great, just because this really is where the money is.
When there is money.”
“I’ve never done stuff like that. With toys,” Noah said,
putting his hand to his behind. “I’ve never had someone put
stuff up there.”
He’d had stuff up there, but not willingly. Stuff up there
equaled a rape in a parking lot and gravel in his face. Stuff up
there equaled being back in Indiana.
“But you liked it,” Paul told him.
“Yeah,” Noah said in a small, reverent voice. “I did. After I
got used to it.”
“Good. Guy might want us to do that in the video, you
know, where I’m supposed to be doing all that to you for the
first time. Before I fuck you.”
Johnny said it so negligently. It was just a day’s work. It
made Noah a little embarrassed for the way he was feeling for
him.
“Say,” Johnny turned to him as Noah pulled on his shirt.
“You wanna go out or something? Get a beer or some dinner?
I don’t really have any friends around here.”
“Me neither,” Noah said. “Yeah,” he still felt a little in love.
“I’m free.”
“Oh, and by the way,” Johnny added. “I’m always celibate
three days before a shoot, so I’m not rebuffing you. They just
like to see a nice load and some passion. It’s something you
might want to try.”
Noah chuckled, “I don’t have to try. No one wants me. I’m
not doing anything with anyone outside of here. And I’m
glad.”
Johnny stood looking at him with that sweet, sexy smile.
“What?” Noah said.

“I just don’t believe that no one wants you,” said Johnny.
“Well, try it with this first,” Guy said. “You gotta practice.”
The practice films of him with the pink gel dildo and the
Pyrex dildo fucking himself were all there, of Paul, as Johnny
Mellow, inserting fingers in his ass, shocking him into a new
pleasure.

“It hurts when someone doesn’t know what they’re doing,”
Johnny said. “And when you don’t know what you’re doing,
either. When you don’t know how to take someone in. Don’t
worry,” he chuckled. “I’ll be easy on you. If it’s too much, just
say stop.”

He didn’t say stop. The camera hardly mattered. By now
Noah knew Johnny, so it was more or less comfortable talking
to him. And this was work, work that allowed him to get other
types of work where he wasn’t naked or pimping himself to
desperate men on the street.

They shot the real scene the next day. He could never
remember what he wore, but Paul—or Johnny—came in,
chewing gum, looking country and innocent, his marmalade
hair a little spiked, that sweetness and shyness in his green eyes.
He had one of those old Cuban shirts from the 50’s—white
with a black stripe down the middle—but it was snug on him,
and when it was time, when Guy stopped talking, Paul took the
gum out of his mouth and put it in the wrapper like a
gentleman, and then he pulled Noah to him. And it was the
first time he’d been with Paul, the first time he’d done this.
Paul’s mouth was all spearmint. Noah was trembling and Paul
was whispering where no camera could hear, “Don’t be afraid.
Don’t fall apart. I got you.”

He was kissing him and whispering reassurance, making
love to him, undressing him slowly, covering his body in kisses,
gently inserting his fingers, moving them so that Noah made a
music and cried out with joy before, in time, Paul sat him
gently down and, meekly, humbly, whispered for permission,
and then, pulling him down slowly, entered.
“It can be,” Paul said, as all of Paul filled him and Noah
tightened on him in shock of the pleasure, wanting to pull him
all in, adjusting to sweet Paul’s rhythm, “the most wonderful
thing in the world.”
And so it was.
Noah was sitting quietly by himself, waiting for the bus. He
wanted to be hidden in the stall because he wanted to be by
himself with the way he was feeling. He was shocked when a
car stopped and honked at him and he looked up to see
Johnny Mellow, in black shades, chomping his gum. He was
struck in the chest with the memory of him. He couldn’t
believe how good it had felt to have him make love to him. He
was still trembling from it, and embarrassed. He was a fucking
professional after all.

“Noah, get your ass in the car,” Johnny said.
Noah came over, climbed in the car, and they drove off.
As they whizzed through a yellow light, Johnny placed his
hand on Noah’s thigh.
“Firstly, Noah, you need shades. Not cause they’re cool,
but because you’ll fry your fucking eyes out. And secondly,
today was pretty fucking intense, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Noah said.
“I don’t usually feel that way. I like fucking, you know?”
Johnny said. “And I like being fucked. But it’s not always like
that.
“I think it’s because I wanted you. I had to be a good boy
last night, but not anymore.”
Noah’s lips were dry. He licked them and wondered where
Johnny was going with this.
“Noah, we’re off the clock. We’re not working for another
week or so. You wanna go back to my place? Or your place.
With no cameras. Just us.”
Noah felt his cock stretch and go hard. He half panted:
“Yeah, that’s all I wanted.”
“Me too,” Johnny said, suddenly gunning the engine and
violating the speed limit.
Johnny turned to him, eyes hidden behind shades, a huge
grin on his face, and said, “Let’s go!”

******************************8

“PAUL,” NOAH WHISPERED. “PAUL, get up.”
Really, he didn’t want Paul to wake up. He wanted Paul to
stay, to not catch his flight. He wanted the both of them to
stay right here in this room. Paul’s slowness in waking was the
excuse to lay next to him and squeeze him tighter, to say his
name again.
“What?” Paul began, and shook his head.
“You have to go.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he said, coming to and sitting up. His
hair was sticking up and his face was splotchy with sleep. “Am
I late?”
“I wouldn’t let you be late. You said you wanted to be gone
at eight.”
“It’s eight?”
“It’s six.”
“Oh, good, I can shower and go straight there.”
Noah lay back in the bed and chose to say nothing.
Paul got up. In the semi darkness Noah could see Paul’s
back, Paul’s ass, his thighs. The bed smelled of him. He hadn’t
moved to go to the shower. He sat back on the bed.
“Did you think that if we spent the night together, the
feelings would go away?”
“Yes,” Noah said. “Then we could go back to normal life.”
“But my feelings haven’t gone away,” Paul said.
“They’ve always been there,” he went on. “It’s just we’ve
been so confused. We didn’t even know who we were all those
years ago. But from the first moment we met there was
something. I remember the first time we went back to my
place and made love. And maybe we always thought it was just
sex, or maybe sex was the only part of it we could understand.
But, it’s still there,” Paul told him.
“How old were you then?” Paul asked.
“Eighteen.”
“And thirty-five now.”
“You make me feel so old.”
“No, it’s our love that’s old,” Paul said. “You…” he shook
his head. “You’ve got a hold on me.”
“Paul, when you were Johnny Mellow I was in love with
you. And now that you’re Paul Anderson and you’ve got a
husband and three sons and you wear dress shirts and trousers
and a tie everyday—”
“You make me sound so appealing.”
“Now when you’re closer to forty than thirty and all the abs
you had are just… normal. And I’m normal. With a son. With
James… I am more in love with you than I ever was. Last
night was more intense than anything we ever did.”
They were both very quiet, and Paul moved to touch
Noah’s hair.
“I don’t know what to do about that,” Noah said quietly,
looking to the window.
Then he waved it off with his hand.
“Go take a shower. The plane’s not going to wait for us to
work our stuff out.”
Paul nodded and stood up to go to the bathroom.
As the shower came on, Noah wished Paul had kissed him.
At the same time the toilet flushed, his phone rang.
Noah looked to the screen that said CHAY.
“Hello?”
“Dad,” Chay said, “where are you?”
“I… I’m on the East Side.”
“What the hell are you doing there? Well, never mind. You
have to come home. I just got a call from Danasia. Fenn and
Adele’s grandma died.”

AFTER THE WEEKEND, WE WILL BEGIN THE FINAL CHAPTER OF THE LOVERS IN ROSSFORD!

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an interesting portion with lots going on. It was interesting to read some of Noah and Paul's past. Their feelings for each other have run deep for a long time. I am not sure how to feel about Lance and Dylan now. I don't have much more to say other then great writing and I look forward to the final chapter of The Lovers in Rossford in a few days.

 

[ChrisGibson]

I am glad you both enjoyed and were confounded by these lovers. I may not post the beginning of the new chapter till Sunday night, but the Blood will definitely go up Saturday. Out of all the loves stories in this book so far, what was the one that stuck with you the most, if there is one?

 

[CharmedFan28]

Probably Todd and Fenn. They seem to be one of the few stable love stories at the moment.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TWELVE



THE BEGINNING OF ALL THINGS


They all sat around Layla on the sofa at the house on Versailles
Street. She was still as a statue and every time Will opened his
mouth, he closed it again.
Finally she said, “Goddamn,” in a very small voice.
“Layla,” Chad began.
“Why isn’t he here?” said Layla. “Why is everything
wrong?”
No one knew what she was talking about. Did she mean
Todd? He’d been called in to direct the end of a film out in
Washington State. SHE was not here, Great-Grandma was
gone, but who was he?
Julian, beside his wife, leaned against the wall and crossed
his arms over his chest.
Layla shook her head, “Chad, I love you. You’re a good
man, but… Life is so short. Life is short and Bryant is messed
up and you love him and…” she looked up at Kenny, whose
face was full of confusion. “You have a job here, and that’s
great. And you have Chad, and that’s great. But Brendan is
gone, and Brendan should be here.”

She patted the empty space right beside her. “We’ve been
friends since I was five. And he should be here.”
The front door opened, and a man came in that most
people had to think really hard to know.
But the kitchen door opened at the same time and Adele
came out, followed by her mother.
“Hoot,” they both said.
Tired and sorrowful, Layla and Julian turned to look at their
father.
“I came as soon as I heard,” he explained.
Adele only said: “She always hated you.”
Ignoring his ex-wife, Hoot went to his daughter, sat down
and said, “Baby, how are you?”
“Where have you been?” Layla said.
Then she said, “I can’t say you haven’t given me anything.
You’ve given me a brother, a sister and a niece, not to mention
life. I thank you for that. But where the hell have you been,
Hoot?”
Her father frowned at her, and then Will said, “Sir, I need
to talk to you.”
Hoot looked up at him.
“Don’t pull that look on Will,” Layla told him.
“He’s just the boyfriend who won’t give you a ring. Not a
son.”
“Considering how you do by your actual sons…” Julian
began.
Hoot looked up at him.
“But we both know,” said Julian. “So why do I need to
continue?”
“Boy—” Hoot began.
“The time for ‘boy’ has passed,” Claire said to her father-in law.
“Will doesn’t have anything to do with you. He’s to do
with your daughter, so listen to him.”
Claire gestured toward the library, and Hoot shook his head
in frustration. But Will was already headed to the library. As he
passed Adele, she touched his long hair.
“You’re my son,” she said, and pointing to Julian added,
“And that one over there is, too. And that’s all that matters.”
Hoot closed the doors of the library behind him and Will
said, “The only thing I know about you is that you’re a lawyer.”
“That’s right. Do you… need a lawyer?”
“No, that’s really the last thing I need.” Will dismissed this.
“What I need is for you to do your daughter, and myself for
that matter, a favor. You’re the only one I know who can do
it.”



TOM AND DYLAN ARRIVED at the door of Rales and
Sons, and Dylan catapulted himself into Fenn’s chest.
“What are you doing here?” Fenn said. “You should be in
school.”
“I should be with you!” Dylan insisted.
Tom shrugged. “He called me from school and demanded I
bring him here.”
“Dylan.”
“No, Dad. Todd isn’t here right now. So I am.”
Tom came closer and the three of them stood together,
Tom with his hand on Dylan’s shoulder.
“You know there’s no stopping him when he wants
something,” Tom told him.
“And we’re both here. Both of us.”
“What is going on?” Anne Houghton came out of the
office with the mortician. And then she said, “Dylan.”
Dylan broke away from his parents and hugged her.
“Dylan,” she said, rocking him, and then she said, “You
ought to be in school.”
“We’ve gone over that already,” Fenn told his mother.
“How can I stay in school now?” Dylan said. “That doesn’t
even make any sense.”
“Well,” Anne said after a moment of decision, “let’s all go
in. I wish Adele was here.”
“Where is she?”
“Manning the house,” Fenn said.
As they all went back into the office where Mr. Rales was
waiting with macabre magazines full of coffins, Anne stopped
to look at Fenn and Tom with Dylan.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “because Lee’s
my nephew and I’d be mad as hell if you left him, and Todd is
like a second son. But… you all make a very beautiful family.”
“Yes,” Tom said, reaching around so that he embraced his
son and Fenn, “We do.”
And then they all went into the office.



“I DON’T BELIEVE IT.”
Barb Affren shook her head.
Then she said, “I do believe it. But I’m so tired of believing
it.
“Everyone is gone. Everyone. One by one.”
She moved from the bay window and back to her chair to
sit down. Nell and Bill sat on the sofa before her.
“It seems all I goddamn do is go to funerals now. Soon it’ll
be mine, and it’ll be a relief.”
“Mom, don’t say that!” Bill’s voice was a little sharper than
he meant it.
“Sometimes it’s better than hanging around here. And…
the older you get the more people you know on the other
side… Makes you sort of ready.”
Nell chose not to say anything. There was nothing wise she
could say, and she wondered how she would feel in a world
with no Adele, no Todd. No Bill. No Fenn, a world where she
was the survivor. And what kind of survival was that?
“And she wasn’t young,” Barb said.
“Hell, she’s older than me. But… When Lula first came to
town it was a step off of being a sunset town. Do you know
what that means? Blacks… and that’s not what they called
them then, had to be out by sunset or…” Barb ran a finger
across her throat.
“I mean Rossford was never quite that. Too close to Gary
and Chicago. But it had its problems. She was one tough old
bitch, I’ll tell you that. That’s where that family gets its pluck
from. And… my God…”
Barb became very quiet and folded her hands on her lap.
“Barb,” Nell said, at last.
The old woman looked at her.
“Don’t go. Not just yet…We’re not ready for that.”
Barbara Affren gave a long dry laugh, and when they
thought she was done, she started laughing again.
“Go?” she continued laughing. “Nellie, you act like I have a
choice, like I’m going to buy a train ticket to Glory!
“Well, maybe I do have a choice, I don’t know. And if I do,
it will be to stick around a little longer. Things are about to get
interesting.”
Nell raised an eyebrow and looked to her husband.
“What are you talking about, Mom?”
“Well, things are always interesting,” Barb said. “But what I
meant is Dena is pregnant again.”
“How do you—?” Nell began.
“And not just that,” Barb sang, pointing to her wrinkled
brow and winking. “So is Meredith!”



As he drove toward the airport, Casey Williams told himself
that this was part of what made him who he was, what gave
Casey Williams Live that special touch. He would be here to
personally receive the new boys as they got off of their plane
fresh from Florida. This was some risky shit. After all, they
weren’t just passing through Chicago. They were tired of the
other studios, especially Corby, and with expired contracts or
no contracts at all, the three of them were arriving in the ass
crack of the Midwest to enter into the Casey Williams
Experience.

After taking the many swerves and in and outs that made
the entrance into the airport more of a labor than anything
else, he parked on the other side of the barrier from the little
airport and stopped, surprised at what he saw.
Paul Anderson was getting out of Noah Riley’s car, and this
was odd because Paul took his flights at Midway, usually. And
then it was odd because why would Noah bring him? And then
the way they were talking to each other, the way Noah put
Paul’s hand to his hair and then, well, shit! Noah kissed him.
Just like that. No, it couldn’t be. No, it was! Well that was the
worst thing about being out, and gay rights. The real shit that
never should be found out came into the light of day as well.
“What the fuck?” Casey said, and sat in his car, waiting for
Noah to drive away, and Paul to disappear.

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great start to the last chapter of this story. The death in the family seems to be affecting lots of the characters deeply which I can understand. Lots going on and I look forward to seeing how things are resolved and how other things are carried on to another story. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon! I hope you are having a great weekend!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Thanks, Matt. I'm a little bit under the weather and taking it easy. The damnedest thing is that whatever you turn on is about coronavirus and everyone's panicked, so when i have a cup of tea while i'm congested I wonder, am I almost dead? It's really all too much.

 

[CharmedFan28]

Yeah the panic about corona virus is out of control! I hope you feel better soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Thanks a lot. I'm feeling better already. One could thing is the busiest sections of town are empty so you don't have to wait in line to long for things... if they're there.

 

[ChrisGibson]

OUR STORY CONTINUES

“What do you do?” Casey demanded, “when you don’t know
what to do?”
“That’s the nuttiest thing you’ve said all day.”
Chay was coming into the house, and he dropped his
messenger bag by the door.
“Of course I haven’t seen you most of the day, though. So
what’s up?”
“Something fucked up is what’s up,” Casey said, sitting
down.
A shirtless guy in jeans walked through the main foyer and
out the door into the early autumn.
“New guys arrive? That’s great. Right?”
“Right,” Casey agreed, listlessly.
He was in his usual swivel chair before his computer, and
he swung around.
“Chay, what would you consider to be cheating?”
“Are you thinking of cheating on me?” Chay’s look
changed. “Casey, I’ve been so hurt, already—”
“No,” Casey said. “I just… No, a better question is… if
you were being cheated on, would you want to know?”
“Yes,” Chay said at once. Then he said, “No. No, it hurts
too bad.”
He grabbed a chair and rolled it beside Casey. “It just really
hurts, but I know that I should know about it.”
“Well, then if someone was cheating on your friend would
you tell it?”
“I think I’d have to,” Chay said, sounding regretful.
“That’s what I thought,” Casey nodded.
“Casey, what’s going on?”
“I’ve told you everything I can,” he said, shrugging
miserably. “And maybe its all a misunderstanding, but… I
don’t know how it could be.”
Casey was quiet for a while, and then he added, “And what
if… you still felt like you were friends with this person, like
you owed him a lot. Everything. But you hadn’t talked for a
long time. You all had fallen apart. But… you still owed him.”
“If you owe him you owe him,” Chay said, simply. “You do
the right thing.”
Casey frowned and nodded.
He said: “That’s what I thought.”



Nick Ferguson tapped on the door, then entered Bryant
Babcock’s office.
“We can’t do it tonight,” Bryant said. “I have to be at a
friend’s house. There’s a death in his family, and I am
wrapping things up so I can be there.”
Nick nodded.
“That’s alright. We’re just having fun. Fun can wait.”
Bryant nodded this time.
“Maybe later tonight?” Nick suggested.
Bryant looked at him.
“I really kind of need you.”
“I…” Bryant said, ignoring his body’s response, “just feel
that it might be disrespectful. I don’t know how to explain
that, but… I don’t know how long I’m going to be over there.
Or if I’ll be needed. I just… We’ll have to re-schedule.”
“Sure thing, Chief.”
Nick gave him a thumb’s up. Bryant nodded and exited his
office.
Bryant wondered, if he had a wife and children, would he
give thumbs up and say, “Sure thing, Chief?” Possibly.
He thought about Chad and Kenny as he drove on. Kenny
was a good man and, if Bryant was having an affair with a
good, out man who would stay the night, would he have said,
yes, meet me later tonight? Certainly. But not Nick. Nick was
just fucking. He’d have to totally put Fenn and his friends out
of his mind to do that, and he didn’t want to.
At the red light he checked his phone and saw Todd had
called. He called back.
“I’m on my way over there right now,” he said. “I just got
off work.”
“I won’t be in till tomorrow, and I know he won’t say this,”
Todd continued, “but he wants you there. You’re a part of our
family, now, Bri.”
Bryant, often prone to attacks of emotion, felt like crying,
but didn’t, and when he reached the house and parked on the
curb due to the cars already there, that emotion faded upon
entering the kitchen.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Fenn said negligently, not
even turning around from the sink where he was washing
dishes. “Wash your hands and help me finish the macaroni.”
“Macaroni?” Bryant began, taking off his great coat and
hanging it on the hook.
“Mama used to make it,” Anne, who was sitting down
smoking a cigarette, told him. “But now she’s gone.”
“And so I’m making it,” Fenn said. “And you are helping
and—Bryant don’t spray water all over the damn place, here’s
some towels for your hands—and this is her repast. Or our
repast. I’m not sure.”
“Does anyone know where the paper towels are?” Chad
asked, coming into the room. He started, seeing Bryant.
“Chad?”
“Hey, Bryant.”
“They’re in the pantry,” Fenn said. “Where any sensible
person would put them.”
“Well… one sensible person marching off to get them,”
Chad said with a placating grin, and as he walked off, Bryant
watched him.
“Quit watching your ex’s ass and cut the Velveeta,” Fenn
murmured, shoving the square toward Bryant.
“I wasn’t…” Bryant began, opening the drawer and pulling
out a knife.
“You think I don’t stray and look at Tom? The only thing is
I have twenty years of Todd and I look at him too. But what
do you look at?”
“I’m going to start on the ham,” Anne stood up.
“Mama!”
“I need to be doing something.”
“Very well, start on the ham.” Then in a quieter voice, back
to Bryant. “So, what do you have to look at?”
“Can we talk about it after we finish the macaroni?”
“Sure.”
They were heading toward the library, but it was full.
“We’ll find someplace else.” Fenn said.
“Hold on,” Dylan came out of nowhere.
“Here he comes,” Fenn murmured.
Dylan, still in his school uniform, opened the doors and
said, “Guys, clear out. Dad needs this. Come on.”
They all left the room and Dylan gestured for Bryant and
Fenn to go in.
“He’s been doing stuff like that all day,” Fenn told him
again.
“He’s looking after you,” Bryant explained.
Fenn shrugged.
Dylan stuck his head in the room and promised, “I’ll make
sure nobody interrupts. You need anything else, Dad?”
“Dylan, I need you to just sit down and relax.”
“I’m fine,” Dylan said. “And I got your back.”
As he began to close the door, Bryant said, “Dylan, what
are you singing?”
Dylan looked to Fenn and Fenn shrugged.
“Tell him. I’d like to know. It sounds familiar.”
A little more audibly, Dylan Mesda sang:

Sańsāra-dāvānala-līḍha-lokatrāṇāya
kāruḍya-ghanāghanatvam
prāptasya kalyāṇa-guṇārṇavasya
vande guroḥ śrī-caraṇāravindam

Dylan had a beautiful, light tenor voice, but Bryant said, “What
in the world—”
“It’s Sanskrit, I think,” Fenn said. “It’s Hindu.”
“It was written inside of your Bhagavad Gita,” Dylan told
his father. “I put it in the computer and learned it was a song,
and I’ve been singing it. Bits and pieces. You like?”
“It was my favorite song,” Fenn said. “It is one of my
favorites songs.”
“Then I’ll learn the whole thing,” Dylan said, and before
Fenn could say this was unnecessary, Dylan was gone, closing
the door behind him.
“I don’t know exactly what the problems were that you and
Tom had with him,” Bryant said, “but you’re really, really
lucky.”
“Yes, yes I know,” Fenn admitted, showing little emotion.
“Anyway… you?”
“I’m sleeping with someone.”
“Well, good for you.”
“Not so much sleeping—”
“As fucking,” Fenn guessed.
“First time I’ve done something like this. I mean something
without all the hurt and the drama. Nick Ferguson. In my
department.”
“That doesn’t sound un-dramatic,” Fenn judged.
“It is because I don’t feel dramatic. I don’t care. I’m not
hurt and crazy for once.”
Fenn nodded.
“He’s married. With three children.”
Fenn looked at him.
“And, you know what? I don’t care. It’s not like what I did
to you. I knew you and I wanted Tom. I was trying to steal
him. This man came after me. Again and again and he just
wanted fun. I don’t want to steal him. He’s sorry and silly and I
keep a box of condoms handy for every time I’m with him. He
goes right back to his wife and that’s where he’ll stay. He’s just
something for the meantime.”
Fenn smiled a little, then began to chuckle.

“I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d hate me for this,”
Bryant said. “That, and you had other things on your plate.”
When Fenn just kept nodding and smiling, Bryant said, “I
just feel like a relationship is as sacred as the people in it make
it, and the Fergusons don’t make theirs sacred at all. She knows
he plays, he wants to play, so I don’t care. But… I could never
step in between two people in love, or hurt someone I really
thought would be hurt. I…
“I feel conflicted. I’ve been on both ends of something like
this, but somehow I feel like this isn’t the same.”

“Nothing’s really the same,” Fenn said, at last.
“Bryant, I’d be lying to say I hadn’t done questionable
things. Dan Malloy for one. Before and after he was in the
priesthood. I thought that if he didn’t care, why should I? I
didn’t think wedding rings were sacred. I still don’t. I
understand what you’re doing.”
“Well, I’m glad. Cause I wanted to tell you.”
“But what about Chad?”
“What about him?” Bryant frowned a little, and stretched
his legs out.
“I see the way you look at him? Life is so… My father’s
gone. My grandmother is gone. Who knows how much longer
Anne will be here? And Dylan is grown already. Life is so
short. If you want to do anything more than look at Chad, you
need to make it happen.”



“Miller, can I see you in my office?”
“Yes, sir,” Brendan said. “Just let me finish this.”
“Good job, Miller.”
“And, sir, I need to ask you a favor.”
“Well, in a moment you may not have to,” his boss winked
at him. “See me in a moment.”
Brendan wondered what this could mean, but nodded and
finished up one paragraph, and then looked over the next. He
was doing the work of a paralegal because the paralegals here
were more of less worthless. Brendan stood up, straightened
his tie, and then left his office to head to Mr. Reinhardt’s.
“Bren, how would you like to make partner?” Reinhardt
said as Brendan entered his office.
Brendan furrowed his brow.
“I would… love that sir. One day, but, it’s a little
premature.”
“It’s actually all but impossible around here,” Reinhardt
said.
Brendan blinked.
“Which is why I am transferring you.”
“What?”
Reinhardt stood up and rounded his desk, picking up a file
as he did, and then he sat, facing Brendan.
“How do you feel about a case regarding violence against
gay teens in a high school?”
“Really?” Brendan said. “You want my honest opinion?”
“Yes, really.”
“Well, sir, a lot more relevant that anything I’ve work on
yet.”
“That’s what I thought you might say. And how about a
case of racial discrimination on the job? One about the rights
of a handicapped woman who was fired because they didn’t
want to put up a ramp?”
“That’s evil.”
“Yes, yes it is. And totally something I can tell you’d love to
be involved with.”
“Yes, sir, I would.” Brendan said.
“And in an office where you’d make partner in about a
year, especially with a reference from me and the knowledge
that you had been sent, not fired, from one of the best law
firms in Chicago.”
Brendan opened his mouth, but could not decide what to
say.
“Yes, Miller?”
“Sir, where is this office? I mean… Oak Park, or…?”
“No, not in Chicago. Not exactly in the Chicago area. It’s
outside of the town of Miller, Indiana, Mr. Miller. To the south.”
“Well, that’s where I come from. That’s near Rossford.”
“Yes, that’s what I hear. A friend of mine asked for you.
Just now, in fact. Hoot Lawden?”
“Hoot…” Brendan began. “Well…” He knew he didn’t
have anything intelligent to say, and that he was probably
grinning like an idiot and so he said, “Sir, I really need to get
back there for just a day. But I can come back.”
“Actually, Brendan, you can go, and you can stay if you
want.”
Reinhardt placed a hand on Brendan’s shoulder.
“You’ve done really good work here, Brendan,” Reinhardt
told him. “From what I’ve heard, so good you’ve neglected the
rest of your life.”
Brendan was surprised red faced over his new luck.
“So… go get yourself ready to go home. And the best
thing? Over in Miller you’re going to have work hours that
almost let you have a life.”


MORE ON TUESDAY NIGHT

 

[CharmedFan28]

I am glad the characters are all supporting each other in this time of need. I am also glad that Brendan is getting a transfer. Maybe he can have a life outside of work now. It was nice to see Bryant and Fenn having a friendly conversation about their lives with each other. Great writing and I look forward to more in a few days!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I hope you're having a good day. Yes, everyone is sort of coming together and getting over their stupidities, realizing that life is short, and of course, Bryant and Fenn made up years ago, but I don't think its ever been as explicit as in this part.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CHAPTER TWELVE CONTINUED

Early the next morning, James was getting dressed to leave,
and Noah asked him where he was going?
“Would you believe Casey wants to meet with me, too? For
breakfast?”
“Well,” Noah thought about this. “You all used to be
friends. Maybe you will be again.”
“Life is too short,” James agreed. “I’m tired of holding
onto things.”
James turned around as he put on his jacket and said, “You
know, I feel like it’s time to wrap things up. I feel like we’re at
a place where some things have to begin, and some things have
to end.”
James stopped and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Noah came forward and kissed him.
“You’ve always been so strange to me,” he said. “I’ve
always loved you, but you’ve been like this strange gift that
came from nowhere.”
“You know neither where the wind comes from nor where
it is going. So are the children of the Spirit,” James grinned.
“Well, this child of the Spirit is off to meet Casey.”
The air was cooling, and the sky was a fragile blue as James
drove toward the restaurant where he was to meet Casey. It
was at the beginning of downtown, and up the street he could
see the steeple of Saint Agatha’s. When he entered, Casey
stood up, solemn faced, and James came to him.


“I’m glad you could meet me.”
“Well you told me it was urgent.”
“Right,” Casey said. “Right.”
“What is it?”
“You need to sit down.”
James frowned at him.
“Sit down, James, please. I’m the last person who should be
telling this, and I’m the only person who can.”
“Alright,” James said.
Casey leaned across the table and hissed:
“Noah is fucking Paul Anderson.”
When James said nothing, Casey continued: “I don’t give a
red fuck about Kurt or Kirk or… whatever his name is. It’s too
bad for their kids. But you saved my life. You rescued me in
my darkest time and… And I love your son. That’s our
connection. So, I had to tell you this.”
Casey sat back and said, “Now, you do whatever you need
to with that. But you deserve to know.”
James nodded his head and sat back, quiet.
“What?” Casey asked him. “Are you alright? I feel like a
heel. Do you know Noah’s going to get seventy thousand
dollars this year for training porn stars to have a life? He’s on
my payroll. On one hand I do that, but on the other… I do
this. Cause I have to. And here you are, and I need to know
how you feel?”
“Grateful that you told me,” James said. “But not surprised.
Not really.”



“Fenn, are your glasses cracked?”
“Yes, Mama, but they’re the good ones. I see out of them
better,” he commented more to himself.
“Now what are the sleeping arrangements for the night?”
Fenn said.
“Whaddo you mean what are the sleeping arrangements for
the night?”
“Are you staying here, Mom?” Then Fenn said, “Stay here.”
“Where?”
“In my room,” Dylan volunteered.
“Or you could stay with us,” Adele said. “That house is so
big for me and Simon.”
“It’s your choice,” Fenn told her.
“I know it’s my choice,” said Anne. “What if I choose to go
back home?”
Neither of her children thought that was a good idea, but
Adele said, flatly. “No, you’re coming home with me, Mom.”
As they were walking Anne and Adele to the door, and
Simon had gone out to clear the backseat of the car, the phone
rang and Dylan went to get it.
“It’s Todd,” he said, coming back to the doorway.
“Well, you go talk to him,” Anne told Fenn, kissing her
son.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Mom,” Fenn hugged her and
then, kissing his sister, turned to answer the phone call.
“Are you alright?” Todd said.
In the kitchen, Fenn said, “I’d be better if you were here,
but I will live.” He yawned. “I am suddenly very tired. Tired of
everything, and my head hurts a little.”
“Get some rest. I’ll be home tomorrow night. Put Dylan on
the phone.”
“What for?” And then, “Never mind. Alright.”
He called his son to the phone and went back to say
goodnight to his family.
When Fenn was upstairs Dylan came to join him.
“What can I do?” the boy volunteered, leaning from the
door beam.
“Everyone is so helpful and no one can do a thing.”
“Yeah, Noah came by the house at about nine asking what
he could do. Layla sent him to McDonalds to get her pancakes.
But… yeah.”
“Well,” Fenn said, sitting down and touching the back of
his head. “I do have a raging headache, and it’s not getting any
better.”
“I’ve still got some of that Perpedol, or whatever it is. Ends
in dol. From when I busted my lip playing trumpet.”
“That might be a little strong.”
Dylan shook his head.
“It will take care of your pain. I’ll be right back.”
A few moments later, Dylan came back with two very small
pills, some water and a wallet.
“What’s this?” Dylan said, offering his father the wallet.
“Oh, shit. That’s Bryant’s. He’s going to miss that.”
“Do you think he knows he left it here?”
“I doubt it.”
“I’ll take it over real quick.”
“It’s night.”
“It’s Rossford.”
“Alright,” Fenn decided, after a moment, laying down on
the bed. “I’ll set the clock for thirty minutes,” he said, lazily
picking it up and putting it on his chest. “And if you’re not
back, I’m sending out the cavalry.”

Dylan just wanted people to leave his Dad alone. He
understood everyone was trying to be helpful, and they were,
but he just wanted Fenn and Adele and his grandmother to go
to sleep. He wanted Layla to have Brendan back, and he
wanted all of them to get through their sorrow. He was not
thinking of his own sadness as he rode his bike. Indeed, he was
really thinking that, out of everyone, he had the least right to
sorrow. His great-grandmother had been very old and he, by
adoption, had been the last one to come into the family. Really,
it was his job to see everyone through this, not to sit around
grieving.
Here was Bryant’s house, and the lights from inside made it
warm and inviting. He propped his bike in the bushes and
went to tap on the large oak door, and then a moment later it
opened and Bryant was saying, solicitously, “Hey, Dylan. How
are you, guy? Come in.”
His eyes were shining and his face was red. He looked,
Dylan thought, like he’d just finished having great sex or
something, and as he entered the house a man was coming
down the steps, tying his tie and tucking his shirt in. Well,
Dylan knew the signs, and it seemed that Bryant had no shame
about being found out.
“You left this,” Dylan said, and in the middle of speaking,
stopped to look at the man.
“This is my friend, Nick Ferguson,” Bryant said.
He said, “Say hello, Nick,” because Nick seemed awfully
incapable of speaking for an adult.
“Hello…”
“Dylan,” Dylan supplied for the sake of appearance.
His face was red now.
“Well,” he said, hurriedly, “I’ve got to be going home now.
Have a good night, Bryant.”
He pushed the wallet into Bryant’s hands and then hurried
away, forgetting to shut the door, which Bryant did, with his
back, folding his arms over his chest and cocking his head.
“Why do I feel like you two know each other?”
Nick prepared some lie, and said, “Why shouldn’t we? It’s a
small town.”
When Bryant kept looking at him, Nick added, “So, he’s a
bit young. What of it?” He was buttoning his cuffs. “I’m still a
good looking man.”
“How old do you think he is?” Bryant said, turning to look
out of the curtain beside his door.
“Eighteen, nineteen. Mature and adventurous.”
Bryant shook his head and said, “Are you—” Then, eyes
narrowing with revelation: “Did he learn to play the trumpet
from you?”
“Well, yes.”
“Oh, Lord,” Bryant said. “His father better never find out.
He’ll never find out from me.”
“I don’t care about some college student’s father.”
“You idiot,” Bryant said.
Nick looked at him.
“Dylan isn’t in college. He’s fifteen.”



When Dylan came back home, locking the doors and heading
up the steps, his father was sitting on the bed, upright with the
alarm clock in his hands.
“I thought you might have fallen asleep.”
“How could I fall asleep with my boy out after dark?”
Fenn turned off the alarm clock and stretched out.
“Now I can go to sleep.”
“Aren’t you going to undress?”
“No,” Fenn said. “I’m too tired.”
“Then neither will I,” Dylan decided, and climbed onto the
bed.
Fenn reached up to turn out the light.
Dylan placed his head on his father’s shoulder.
“Poor Grandma Anne. I just keep thinking about what it
would be like to lose you.”
“Well, that’s depressing.”
“Don’t go anywhere, Dad. I’m going to need you for a long
time.”
“How often do you hear that from your teenage son?”
“Well, I’ll make sure you hear it everyday.”
“I won’t promise never to die, and you don’t promise to say
that everyday, and neither one of us will make promises we
can’t keep. Let’s just love each other, my boy.”
“Alright, Dad,” Dylan said.
“When you were a baby I thought that I would be a terrible
father. You were such a surprise to me. I was so awkward with
you, and you were so foreign to me. Who knew you would
grow into this, or that I would love you so?”
Dylan squeezed his father tighter, and then turned over so
they were back to back.
“But love is as love does, so no more of this chit chat,”
Fenn said. “We have a long day tomorrow and tomorrow you
are going to school.”
“Fine,” Dylan said. “But I’m still going to take care of you.”