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Warm Dark Stone

Wow big developments! I am excited to see if Cade and Donovan get married! I think its a good thing that Donovan has Simon for a friend. This is a great story that I am really enjoying and I look forward to more tomorrow! I hope you are having a nice night! :)
 
I am having a nice night. Thanks for saying so. There will be more of everything tomorrow night, and Simon's friendship is pretty important too. I wanted to name the judge, but I thought it would lead to readers thinking he had a bigger part, so I've just left his name our of the story, though he's been in other stories as a main character.
 
The officer’s idea was to put Donovan up in a cheap motel for the night and come back for him the next morning, bring him to his truck. Donovan was glad he had brought money, or else he might have been sleeping in a jail cell like the town drunk on an episode of Andy Griffith. The two officers had worked out the idea that Donovan would stay at a motel called the Regency, which looked like a long ranch house, and they were all satisfied about that, even though officer Starm said, “Usually it’s a shit hole, and I wouldn’t want anyone to go there, but tonight it’s pretty safe because, you know? Snow.”
They drove slowly, and Officer Dwyer was a talker, so sooner or later, he said, “Wait, you know…?” And Donovan said, “You know…” And eventually officer Dwyer said, “Well, wait a minute, you’re Frey’s cousin?’
“His younger cousin.”
“Oh, well, then you have to come home with me. Frey would kill me if I left you in a motel. I think I’ve even heard of you. You do the stories, don’t you? And teach the kids?”
“I do,” Donovan said, shy and also surprised at this sudden turn of luck.
“The world is a small place indeed,” Officer Starmer said, and Donovan wondered if Rob Dwyer had said enough to let on that Isaiah Frey was his lover, and how much Officer Starmer knew.

Donovan stopped chiding himself for doing things that that he shoundn’t do or seeing things he shouldn’t see. He sits on the steps in the dark, listening to the low groans of need different from, he thinks, anything that takes place in his bed with Cade. Or maybe not, but there is something about the sex of very young people. He wonders, did they just think no one would come down? Are young eouples simple like that, where they don’t even imagine that anything could happen? Does Frey know? It’s hard to say what his cousin knows and what he doesn’t, what he accepts and what shocks him. Outside the snow falls with a slow insistence, heavy flakes out of the sky Occasionally this house shakes with the wind. On the couch to his right, on the other side of the banister, the black body and white body strive, switching sides. They are almost hidden in the dark, Javon presses DJ into the sofa, DJ’s thighs are wrapped about him as Javon fucks him. The sofa whistles and groansa little as Javon fucks him faster and faster. DJ lets out a cry like loss, and Javon shouts and then stops himself, gritting and shaking as he comes. Donovan rarely gets to see people have sex. He has sex, has it a great deal, but rarely does he get to see it from the outside, not with real people, not in front of him.
The two of them are sighing now, and htier bodies are still pressed together. Donovan catches his own breath, hoping he isn’t heard There are wet kisses exchanged, a playful slap on the ass. Murmuring, and Donovan wonders how long they can murmur to each other, and then DJ gets up and walks heavily out of the living room to the kitchen. Water is running. Javon stretches stands up, and follows him. Donvoan is suddenly aware of the heated smells, of the funk of young bodies. He knows this is the time to get up and he does, heading back up the stairs.
In their room, well, in Cade’s room, Cade’ is asleep under the covers, his thin body nearly flat under the comforter. Donovan isn’t sleepy and he isn’t exactly libinious either. He doesn’t want to wake the man he loves. He rummages through his bag and takes out his great copper colored writing journal, He turns on the little desk light that makes a small pool of gold on the desk that must have been Cade’s boyhood scribbling place. It is a small, impressive desk for say, a very serious ten year kid. Don had one like this once, His parents bought it for him, a roll top, because he was a boy of very serious demeaner too. He rummages through the bag for a pen and begins playing with words, scratching them across the paper, words of need, words trying to capture what he has seen, two twenty year old or nearly twenty years old bodies, sucking and fucking on the sofa downstairs.

If they were only going ot the motel, the drive would have been long enough, but now they are going to Frey’s house, and so they come back ot the station for a while and Donovan calls Cade and tells him what’s going on?
` “Why didn’t Simon drive you?” Cade says.
` Donovan thinks of saying, Why didn’t you drive your goddamn car, then we would both be home right now?
He doesn’t. He’s not grand and forgiving. He’s just too tired to be petty.
While he’s on the phone, the red headed officer is standing over him waiting. Donovan says goodbye to Cade and looks up.
“I’ll be done in about forty five minutes if that’s not a problem.”
And if it was a problem?
“No,” Donovan claps his bag bravely. “I’ll entertain myself.”
He is writing in his copper colored journal when Rob Dwyer says. “I got an idea,. Kill two birds with one stone. Me and Starmer and Rouse drive down to that Land Rover. I get in the Land Rover and drive it, and then they drive back to police staton. The next day you and me go to… Ely, right?”
“And that seems like a good enough plan to Donovan Shorter.

Ely was three hours from where they were, and Frey was forty-five minutes, so it didn’t make any sense to ask Rob to drive him now, and besides, he liked Rob. He liked hearing his story. He wanted to write it down.
“You know, not too long ago I was just working in a convenience store. That’s how I met Frey. Well, that’s not exactly how I met him, but I was working there when I met him. I thought about going back to college. I used t oask him if I should, but you know Isaiah. He never tells you what to do. And I just thought, maybe I’ll try being police. See, what it was we were watching this news program that comes on every day, and this Black guy had been shot by a cop in his car, and I always thought it was a shame, only maybe I never really cared enough. And Frey just really starts, you know, going on about it. Not going on, that’s not right, but making me care. I mean, when you care about someone you care about what they care about, and then Frey can talk anybody into caring about stuff. I mean, when he talks, you listen, and he told me, when he first came out to the country, cause I’m from around Becket, by the Lake, he worried he might get shot or something. He didn’t worry a lot, because he’s the kind of person who doesn’t let worry get to him, and I asked him if he’d ever gotten in trouble. With cops.”
Rob stopped, as if he was waiting for Donvoan to say something, but Donovan just nodded for him to continue.
“And he said, yes, He said once he was. It all came out all right, and he made the cop feel sort of shame faced, but when he said that I just throught, well fuck, what if I was a cop? What if I knew there was one cop out there who wouldn’t do anything nuts or wrong or racist because the cop was me? And I thought that was a real good idea and I say to Frey, how you feel about that? He just doesn’t say a damn thing. Not at first. And then he says, ‘Well, if you think that’s what you should do, you should give it a try.’ And I wasn’t sure at first, but hell, it’s two years now, and it was the thing. You help a lot of people. I never thought about it.”
“So you like it? Being a cop.”
“I like it it a lot,” Rob says.
Donovan does not ask one of those annoying questions like, “Are you out to your colleagues? Or: Is the police department a gay friendly place? Shit like this is the kind of question that very comfortable and very white homosexuals delight in asking. Makes them feel enlightened and enlightening. Rob is a very handsome man, ginger haired, white as milk, red lipped and strongly build, decent, honest. Donvoan imagines Frey had to rub some of the edges off of him and fix him up a little, but this is the type of man Frey would like, and he was decent and honest and open and better than the other ones, especially that Jason, DJ’s father.
“Guess what I brought home?” Rob began as he entered the house.
“Syphilis!” Isaiah Frey shouted back, and then walking into the living room blinked and said, “Don, what the fuck?”
“He was on the road and I rescued him.”
“I bet you did. He’s as bad a driver as I am.”
Frey had pulled Don’s bags off his shoulder and was taking them upstairs.
“What the hell were you doing on the road? And in this weather? Well, fuck it,” his older cousin said before Donovan could answer, “you can tell me over dinner. Did you eat? Did either one of you eat?”
“Not yet,” Don answered.
“What did you make?” Rob asked.
“Frozen pizza,” Frey shouted back from upstairs. “Can’t you smell the uncooked icy goodness?”

MORE THURSDAY!
 
It was nice to read that Donovan got out of a tricky situation pretty easily. I really like the character of Frey and am glad that he is in the story and these characters lives. Excellent writing and I look forward to more in a few days!
 
I supposed if they'd seen Don sitting there, he would have just made some big swaggering statement and marched back up to his room, but I don't think he would have liked to have been caught either. Frey is a joy to meet again and I'm glad he's here in this story too.
 
“Come to bed,” he hears Cade’s tired voice.
Don turns around from the desk lamp and sees Cade’s form in the dark.
“What are you doing?” Cade’s voice is almost a croak.
“I’m writing.”
“I see that.”
“Then why did you ask?’
“At three in the morning.’
“It’s not three in the morning,” Donovan says, and then looks down at his phone and murmurs, “It’s three in the morning.”
“Come back to bed.”
“There is no point saying that he always writes till three o clock in the morning. He frequently leaves bed, and there is Cade. He has never stopped being attracted to him, lusting for him. He has never gotten used to him. He snaps off the light and slips out of his nightclothes back into the warmth of the blankets and the heat of Cade’s body. His arms engolding him, Cade;s hot hairy chest pressed to him, Cade’s limbs wrapping around him. Cade is kissing him.
“When’s the last time we were parted for more than a day?” Cade asks.
“This time around, was it a week?”
They speak between kisses.
“It shouldn’t have been that long, but you ended up with Rob. And with your cousin.”
Donovan leaves out that all of that is kind of Cade’s fault.
Sometimes it’s like this, not all the time, that making love once in the night is not enough. Here they are again, first under the covers and then the covers are in the way, and the furnace comes on again, off again, and they provide their own heat. Donovan sees the shadowy form of Cade, sees his eyes, black like bat’s eyes, sees the white snow in the purple white sky, falling outside, pulls Cade to him, wrapping his legs around his waist, pulling his face down to him.. Quietly they move together in the night. They were never at a loss for words, always able to communicate, to talk, to sing, to send messages of love. But now this is a place past words, under the skin, and they are expert in that communication as well.

“Did you know,” Donovan begins, half drowsily, running his hand along Cade’s warm hip after they have both come out of orgasm, “that DJ and Javon—”
“Frey’s nephew and stepson?”
“Foster son.”
“Adopted son, but whatever.”
“Did you know…” Donovan begins again.
“That they’re fucking each other?”
“How did you know?” Don sits up.
Cade laughs and lies on his back.
“I didn’t. And I’m kind of shocked. I was halfway just saying some shit. But only halfway. Wow. That’s deep.”
Cade turned to face Donovna.
“I guess they aren’t really related, though. So….”
Then he says, “I thought you’d know them better. Or why haven’t we meet them before? You all seem close.”
“I haven’t met your family before.”
“We aren’t close. Not anymore,” Cade said.
“Well, then I guess we threaten not to be very close either,” Donovan said. “I mean, you know how things happen. You plan to visit but you don’t, and then you’ve let things slip away, you’ve let things fall aprt. Just like that. That’s the worst part of it.
“You know,” Donovan said stretching out, “when you were gone, I realized that I have a habit of being solitary. I don’t mean to be, but before long there it is with me not having talked to my own family for months, or apparently met the boyfriends they’ve had for two years.”
“Or know that your younger cousins are sleeping together.”
“Well, now that shit’s just weird.”
“Well,” Cade decided, “maybe it’s a sign. I mean, maybe it was meant for the two of you to come together, you and Frey, for me to end up here with my family, and you to end up with yours.”
“Two days ago you called me saying you hated God and now you’re telling me about fate?’
“I don’t really know anything,” Cade said. “You know, we’re just kind of stumbling around in the dark.”
“Marry me,” Donovan said. ‘I mean, we’re getting married.”
“What?”
“If anything happens to me I want you to be the first person who has a right to me and if anything happens to you, I want to be the first person who has responsibility for you. So I want us to get married. How’s that sound?”
“More romantic than I ever hoped from you,” Cade said, “believe it or not.”
“I heard sarcasm in your response, but not acceptance.”
“I…” Cade ran his index finger over Don’s collarbone, “accept your proposal,” he kissed him, tenderly, “Donovan Shorter.”
Donovan said, “You’re right. Not only was I unromantic, but, a writer should have better words.”
“I have words,” Cade said.
“Well,” Donovan shrugged as Cade lay beside him, “You are a writer too.”
Cade took Donovan’s hand and said, “Donovan Stan Shorter, will you vow to stumble around in the dark with me as long as we both shall live?”
“I will.”



“We need to get back to our home,” Isaiah Frey said the next morning.
Rob did not answer at once, but Frey fully expected him to answer. Isaiah Frey had pulled the bedsheet over himself. It was warm in this room, but blankets never lasted with Rob, not even though they always slept naked. Frey was never tired of Rob’s body, of the firmness of thigh and the length of leg, the roundness of his tender bottom, the small of his back, the mark at the back of his neck, the felt down on his earlobe. Even now, while Rob was looking half asleep and not answering, his white skin touched with red and pink, Frey admired him.
“It’s gotta be a lot of snow.”
“Yes, yes it is,” Frey said. “That’s the definition of a winter weather advisory, but we’re sleeping in someone’s room, the brother of my cousin’s lover who I just met for the first itme last night.”
“Yeah,” Rob turned around, “What’s that all about?”
“What all about?”
“Why haven’t we met them?”
“You remember my friend Lisa?”
“The drab lesbian.”
‘That’s unkind, but yes. You remember her?”
“Yeah.”
“Everytime one of her relatives comes into town, she wants me to meet them. It rarely happens because they have other things to do. Well, I’ve always been the opposite. I never want to foist my relatives on my friends and…. more than friends, and I guess Don is the same way.”
Rob was sitting up now. His short red buzz cut hair copper in the dim morning sun. His scrotum and penis looked innocent, not massive, not embarrassed, just there, in the nest of hair like red gold. He was so beautiful to Frey, that his lover was a litte surprised by what he said next. Rob’s look was slack jawed and irritated
“You give me a headache sometimes,” Rob said.
“Where did that come from?”
“Your philosophy to life is odd. That’s all. Sometimes. We’ve gotta hang together. I want to know your family.”
“I don’t know your family.”
“You know Josh.”
“That;s right, and I don’t especially want to, but there it is. But if you want, yes, we’ll all be together a lot more.’
“Cause I like DJ.”
“I like him too. In fact, I love him. He is my family and my family isn’t large, you’re right… I don’t do family very well. I’m just saying… you don’t either.”.
“Fair,” Rob, nodded, climbing out of bed and sitting on the edge of it, his hands on his knees like an old man. “I own up to that.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” Rob said.
Frey sat down next to him and draped an arm around Robert Dwyer, leaning his cheek against the red head’s shoulder.
“I don’t think you know how much I love you. How much I love to see you. How much I love it when you wake up and your beautiful body is is right there, and you don’t care, you don’t care about being naked in front of me. You just are, and you look like this young god—“
“I’m a young god now? I’ll have to remember that—”
“Shut up. And every part of your is… exotic to me.”
“I’m just a country white guy.”
“Well,” Isaiah Frey said, kissing each of Rob’s eyes, “I’m not either of those things, so that makes you exotic to me. Now, get your exotic self a cup of coffee and a shower if you need it, cause we’re headed home. Today.”
“Eh.” Rob made a noise and Frey turned around.
“Yeah?”
“I thought I was a god and you adored me.”
“You are,” Frey said, “And I do. But if a god can’t drive us home, then what’s the point in adoration?”


MORE TOMORROW
 
I am happy Cade and Donovan are getting married. They may be more settled in their relationship and less excited then younger people but it works for them and I like that part of the story. Nice to read some more of Frey too. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!
 
I don't really think they are less excited at all. But a forty year old and twenty nine year old who had lived together for two years acting like two sixteen years old would be weird. Love registers itself differently with different people.
 
I agree with what you are saying, I just meant their relationship is different to some of the others you have written about but in a good way I think.
 
“You staying here or coming with us?” Frey asked his cousin as they sat in the kitchen, smoking cigarettes.
Donovan looked at the bottom of his coffee mug and said, “I haven’t asked Cade. I thought I’d stay with him for the day.”
“But didn’t he call you cause he was ready to go? And what did you learn about him and his family and his dad?”
“Nothing,” Donovan said in surprise. “He didn’t tell me anything.”
“So,” Frey took out two cigarettes, and rolled one across the table to his cousin, “This boy who was here last night shows up and tells Cade ‘We have to go!’ Cade leaves without his won car. You come all the way out here to get him and end up stranded in the snow, and then stay with us for a day, and then we stay here all night, and you don’t even know what happened here?”
“I don’t like to press.”
“Fuck that,” Frey said. “I press Rob all the time.”
“Do you press your kids?”
“My kids?” Frey started.
“DJ? Javon?”
“No,” Frey said. Then, “What about them?”
The smoke trailed from both of their cigarettes and Don, thinking he had already gone too far, did not answer and then Frey said, “Oh, cause they fuck each other?”
Donovan’s eyes nearly fell out his head.
Frey shrugged.
“I suspected. Half way. A bit. Then I knew for sure. But… what am I supposed to do about it? They’re grown. Javon’s not my son. He’s in college. DJ’s in college. They’re grown. And….”
Frey put down his cigarette.
“Well, now that you know,” he said. “Javon was messing with or dating Rob’s ex.”
“What?”
“I’m not repeating it. And DJ was fooling with Rob’s brother. Actually, they both probably were.”
“Does Rob know?”

Nope!” Frey said, disgusted. “Hell, I don’t want to know. It’s confused and fucked up, but who the hell am I, the fuck police? And I know I’ve done some fucked up things. And so have you.”
“Like?”
“Like you seduced that Ezekiel and made him think you weren’t a minor. And then the other one… Brian, a thirty five year old grown ass white man, and you were barely eighteen. And as I recall, you had them both at the same time.”
“Well, I recall a lot about you too, Isaiah Freuy, but whatever I recall, neither of of was having sex with his cousin.”
“Well, that’s true,” Isaiah admitted. “By the way, how do you know? About—” Frey grew silent when he heard footsteps. Rob came into the kitchen and stooped to kiss him on the cheek. “Mornin’ Don.”
“Morning Rob,” Donovan said, waiting for him to get his cup of coffee and leave.
When he had left, Frey whispered, “But how did you know?”
“Because I saw them.”
“Saw them? Saw them here?”
“Yes. Last night. On that sofa in the living room.”.
“Goddamn,” Frey nearly threw his cigarette down.
Rob always showered, while sipping his coffee, and Cade was at the hospital. When he returned, Donovan asked, “Do you want to go back to our home or to theirs?”
“Really, Don, I wanted to go back to ours.”
“Really, Cade, I wanted to never leave mine and not be stuck in the snow for two days.”
“I guess that means you want us to go visit Frey and Rob?”
“Just for a day,” Donovan said. Part of him wanted to apologize for being so short, but the other part knew he meant just what he’d said.
Donovan came back into the kitchen and said, “Well, it’s settled. We’re all going back to your place.”
“That’s great.”
“Six people. Where will we sleep?”
“Six people?”
“Yeah. You and Rob and DJ and—”
“Oh!” Frey laughed and waved that off with a negligent hand. “They’re twenty years old with money and sex lives. I threw those bastartds out a long time ago. They live down the street. You guys get the guestroom.”


CONCLUSION OF CHAPTER TWO: OUR NEXT ALTERNATING STORY WILL BE PART THREE OF COLOSSUS OR RHODES
 
So Frey learnt some uncomfortable truths. Its good that he realises that they are grown people and can make their own decisions but it still would have come as a shock. That was some great writing and a great conclusion to chapter two! I look forward to more whenever it is posted and I hope you have a good weekend!
 
Frey is a strange sort of person who I think feels he is too middle aged to worry about certain things, and is just getting on with things. This weekend had been good enough, but my body is jostled in tired. I was in a car accident. Jangled, but unhurt and quite able to post.
 
I'm starting to review that unhurt statement. Nothing lethal, but.... I feel like I've been hit by a truck! Ouch
 
It's not that bad. I love posting and responses. It gives me life. I hate that phrase, but this time around it's true.
 
T H R E E

WHERE
YOU
GOT YOUR
GUITAR



“Plant me in the garden
Don't you let me roam
'Cause love is a feeling like a warm dark stone
Plant me in the garden
Don't you let me roam
'Cause love is a feeling like a warm dark stone.”


- Frazey Obadiah For



“I don’t know if I’ve ever been to North Fall,” Cade commented as he climbed into the Land Rover, and as Donovan was strapping himself in, he heard his cousin say, “Well, why the hell would you?”
But they didn’t go to North Fall immediately. Instead Cade followed Rob down the road they had traveled last night, and in the day, the snow on the beach was white so that it glowed, and the ice boulders seemed even larger, round and perfect, some flattened and perfect even, streaked and filled with grey and brown sand.
“If only we could take them with us,” Donovan said, but Frey had come out of the SUV Javon had driven and he was, despite the cold, bare handed, bending to take photes as he walked about the beach. White and crystal water spurted from the mounting ice volcanos, and beyond the ice was the band of deep dark blue water. The sky was blue as freezing, and the snow clouds had parted for just a time.
Cademon stretched and murmured as Donovan stood, saying nothing, trying to feel it all, “God God God God God.”
Donovan walked alone, over the snow and onto where sand was revealed and back onto snow again, then amist the boulders and frozen forms of waves/ The cold in his bones was his friend, the icy chill on his skin was the lover he could not stand for long, but would take as long as he could. He waited for Cade because he knew Cade would join him.
“I feel clean here,” Cade said. “I always feel clean here.”
“That’s a pier,” Donovan said. “I didn’t recognize it.”
“Yes,” Cade said. Right now, the way it is, overhung with ice and coming up from snow you can hardly see that. The winter makes all of this a whole other country.”
He said, “This is where I tried to kill myself. When I was seventeen. This is where I jumped in.”
Donovan didn’t say anything right away, and then he said, “You’ve been in this place for the last week and I’ve been here since last night, and you haven’t told me anything about it. Anything about what happenied in the last few days.”
“I’m almost thirty,” Cade said
Well, yes, thirty mattered to people who had never been thirty. Was that what he was getting at?
“I feel like the last thirty years happened to me in the last week,” Cade said.
“I wanted to tell you when we got home, when it was just us.”
This seemed almost like a complaint and an accusation for going to visit Frey, and as much as Donovan loved Cade, he didn’t have time for that. So he said, “Well, it’ll be just us for the next two hours. When you’re driving. Surely you can tell me then.”

That first night when Cade had stayed in the house he had immediatately felt like going to sleep after talking to Don. He felt defeated by that because there was so much more cleaning to do. He went into his room that smelled musty with clothes, that seemed like shit had been thrown down on shit for the last however many years, and now he pushed shit away, collapsing in sleep. That was the difference between mothers and fathers, or between real homes and what ever this was. His room would have been, if not kept pristine, if not kept the same, then at least turned into something nice and useful, not used as a place to throw away shit no one had any use for anymore. Part of Cade wondered if vermin might pops out from somewhere. But he was too tired to care, and he fell into an irritable sleep.
He woke a few hours later to begin throwing clothes into bags, to dust off and uncover things he had not seen in years. He cleaned for one more hour before he sat down on the side of the bed far from his true home and realized what he was actually trying to do. He was cleaning like someone looking, and now he realized what he was looking for in all of this mess was his home..
Hardly home,” he’d said. But he kept cleaning until the first birds chirped. It was winter, though and still dark long after the birds spoke. He passed out across the bed and knew when he woke up, he’d be on his way to the hospital again.
“But I won’t.” Cade said. I won’t be until Freddy gets here. Cause I didn’t fucking drive.”


He was shaken roughly from his sleep by Freddy. Even as he blinked into consciousness he thought, That wasn’t necessary.
“Come on. Mom’s outside.”
“You brought Mom with you?”
“Yeah. We’re all going to the hospital. Man, you really cleaned up this place.”
Cade looked around and didn’t think so, His mouth tasted like cigarette ashes. His eyes were half glued together. The semi cleaned room was full of a grey light that leeched any hope from it.
“Come on.”
But they were always like this. His mother had been like this in her excitement to get away from her husband and to get out of the Catholic Church and into a new one. Freddy had been like this when he came the other night, declaring that they had to leave, and Cade always fell for it. That’s why he was here with no vehicle, no way to get away.
“Good morning,baby,” his mother kissed him on the cheek.”
She did not ask about Don because she did not know about Don. Cade had never come out to her. He thought coming out was stupid. It was strange that in a world where people claimed to be free, for some reason if you were queer you were supposed to run the gauntlet of getting permission and acknowlegement from your parents. He’d thought this was dumb when he was a teenager, when he remembered seeing friends thrown out of their homes and tossed on the streets He thought it was twice as dumb now. His mother had never run the details of her life bny him, and he didn’t see the need to run his by her.
And yet, as he climbed into the backseat like a six foot tall toddler, and they went down the street, back into town, Cade thought of how nice another world would be where he and Deanna, the only family member who had ever stayed with Don, were back in Ely with, if not his father, who might very easily even now be dead, but at least his brother and his mother. How hice it would have been if his family was somewhat together.
There was just a lot of waiting in the hospital. Just a lot of sitting around an unconscious man. Now and again his mother broke down and cried. Cade and Freddy went downstairs to get food from the cafeteria. People said the food was good, but Cade found it extremely adequate. He went out into the winter to smoke a cigarette and when he came back his family wasn’t there. He briefly panicked. Had they left him? Was he stranded in a hospital in Ely. But a nurse came in and told him they had gone to pray in the chapel.
Cade remembered that at that moment he was irritated with the God of Chapels. And around that same time his father’s monitor began beeping crazily. As several people in blue and white came in and he cleared the room, he kept looking back at the man they surrounded, his white and grey face prematurely old, his shriveled peanut head, his body so stretched out in coma he might have been a a corpse.
When his mother had come back upstairs with Freddy and into the lobby, there was a look of peace on her face.
“I prayed and I just know the Lord is going to do great things. Why are you out here, Cademon?” she touched his hair.
“Dad had a brain bleed. He’s in surgery right now,” Cade said.
His voice was level, but a part of him felt a satisfaction in giving her bad news.



His father was still asleep that night when Cade called Donovan and said, “Come and get me,” when he assumed that in two hours Donovan would be here with Simon, but instead he got the call that Donovan was buried in the snow, and had been found by a redheaded cop. He walked back to the hospital then. He was mad at himself for sounding so urgent, mad at himself for not having the since to take his own car, mad at Don for thinking he could drive in heavy weather and mad at himself again for putting Don’t life in danger. The barely avoided horrible, snowbound death of Donovan was in his head and he couldn’t shake the image. Cade bundled up the clothes he had, and without a car, in the deep cold, went walking though the heavy snow and over its mounds, feeling the air freeze his nose and fingertips and the cold work its chilling alchemy until he was relieved from anger and free and the sickness in the pit of his stomach, and so, at last he arrived at the hospital.
The sun had been about to se twhen he left, and it was near night now an as he entered. He wondered when the hospital closed, and if it even mattered that be be here, but he didn’t want to be by himself, at least not right now.
On his way here he passed the triangular structure of Cornerstone Church and looked in at the blackened windows of its offices. It was right past the little downtown on Milburn Way, and he had to walk through it parking lot to reach the back entrance of the hospital. So much had happened there, and none of it had been punished. He remembered his first summer home from college, the last summer where he would return to Ely. That was when he met Nash Jackson, the fun blond kid who he’d gone to high school with and who he’d also seen at Cornerstone. He had avoided him after the whole Pastor Skip thing, after leaving the church and burning his Bible. He didn’t want Nash to be one of those kids who asked him why he’d left the Lord and wondered if he’d ever come back to church..
“Yeah,” Nash said had, “I don’t do that shit anymore.”
“Huh?”
“You wanna get high tonight?” Nash had asked him.
That night they sat on Nash’s back porch, and the Christian radio station was on, Dawson McCalliser Live, a show that Cade wanted to find ridiculous, and Nash said he was trying to find ridiculous, but the full weight of its foolishness would not descend upon either of them for several years.
As Nash rolled a blunt, a boy was calling talking about chastity.
“I’ve been struggling with a secret sin for a long time,” he was saying, “and my best friend was too. But now, you know, we’re being ritghteous, and so I’ll call him out and be like, ‘Are you doing it, man?’ and he he’ll do the same thing, and that’s how we stay pure.”
As Nash licked the brown Swisher paper and folded it he said, “Are we not supposed to know he’s talking about masturbating?”
Cade sniggered.
“Am I wrong?” he asked as he took his lighter along the sides of the blunt.
“All these fucking code words? Secret sin, virtue, true love waits, innocence. It’s all so fucking stupid.”
He passed the blunt to Cade. Cade pulled the smoke deep into his lungs and then let it leak out.
“When did you stop going to church and all that?”
“Probably after that fucker Pastor Skip raped me and no one believed me.”
Cade was glad he didn’t have the blunt, or he would have choked on the smoke.
“Yeah,” Nash said, mistaking the look on Cade’s face. “Good old Butter Hair himself. No one believed me. I can tell you can’t-”
“I thought it was just me,” Cade said, waving away the blunt. “For some reason I thought it was only me.”
Nash looked at him, and then his face fell. He looked sick.
“Oh God,” Nash muttered, as if he had not confessed the same thing. “Oh, no, no, no. Oh God. I didn’t want to hear that. I didn’t want to hear that anyone else had been through it.”
“He didn’t rape me. Per se. He…” Cade started.
Then he said, “He did rape me. It really fucked me up. It fucked up how I felt about sex. And the funny thing is I can’t even think about what he did. I can’t remember it properly. Shit just goes black, and I just feel things. My mouth gets dry, my skin gets cold. My stomach gets queasy.”
“Do you get angry?”
Cade took the blunt from Nash, but he didn’t inhale.
“I want to break shit. I want to break shit and never stop.”



MORE TOMORROW
 
Lots of drama in this story too. I feel so sorry for Cade and Nash for what they went through. Sorry I am posting so late, Wednesday is always a big day for me. I look forward to more tomorrow.
 
That's right. Your Wednesday is my Tuesday. I'll have to remember that. Of course, from the previous story we already know a little about Pastor Skip. Yes, they've been through a lot and the totality of the story is not told yet. More... I guess in a few hours.
 
Cade didn’t know much about Donovan when he met him except that he liked him. It was only the first time, when he’d come to his house and saw Donovan’s book he knew he was a writer. If Donovan had come at him with that, he would never have talked to him. For one, he thought that people who proclaimed themselves as writers or artists were full of shit, and this was usually true, but for another, he’d experienced wanna be writers. He’d listened to those programs on BBC4 and NPR and the CBC where stylish people told you the book that you should be reading, that one moving and gritty tale about the refugees, or the mindtripping story of an Albanian on a boat with an ostritch learning the meaning of life. On the other side of these were the frankly shitty books written for middle aged women that took place in little southern towns that had never existed or charming Irish villages that would, ,if you went to them, probably be riddled with fleas. And it wasn’t that Cade was so world wise or a man of such good taste, no. It was only that by the time he was in college, Cademon Richard was sure that most of the things set before him as valuable and important were, in fact, bullshit.
He’d been in some shitty creative writing classes. Cade did not consider himself gay at the time. There was already a gay kid in the class, and he was irritating. The kid’s name was Jeremy, and he proclaimed that he was writing a story about the reality of gay violence and abuse, the horror of rape.
Everyone had a copy of his shitty story, and far from running from it, Cade wanted to read it, wanted to know how bad it would be. He had no doubt ti would be bad, and so it was.

“No need to tie you to the bed, kid... You’ve become a good boy, you won’t run away, right?”.
The man recoiled, rubbing his calloused hands all over the kid’s body, until they rested on his hips. Then, with a tug, he roughly ripped away the kid’s underwear, leaving him completely naked. The boy didn’t dare to move a single muscle and stood still, unable to do anything but stare wide-eyed at the man’s huge body towering over him, his rugged face, his stubbled jaws, his hairy torso, his meaty nipples, his huge veiny cock...
The boy felt the man’s hands moving down his thighs, his knees, his calves. Once more, he tried in vain to put up a fierce resistance to the strong hands parting and raising his legs, but the man effortlessly pushed them back, further and further, until the young ass was in full display, raised and vulnerable. He spat on the puckered hole and pointed his cock on the tightly shut sphincter.
The kid, pinned down by the heavy muscular man, was helpless. He knew what was coming, but could do nothing but beg...
“Daddy, no… Please, Daddy, it hurts… No… NO…! AAAAHH!!”
Rowan pressed his hands hard over his eyes, trying to clear his mind from that nightmare that so every often broke into his restless sleep. Only, it was not a nightmare. It was a memory.
Waking up couldn’t stop the crude images from crowding his mind, he couldn’t forget the piercing pain he felt every time that huge cock speared his ass, the rancid smell of his stepfather’s sweat, his hideous grunts while he pumped his man tool into him, his beastly roar when he finally shot his juice deep into his bowels. He could still feel his sweat dripping on his face, and the slimy fluid oozing out of his loosened anus once his stepfather finally pulled out...

“This is such a compelling story with a great protagonist in Rowan,” someone said.
“He is so well described and fleshed out. We feel his pain and root for him. And that kept me racing from section to section, worried what would happen to Rowan next.”
“Oh, yes. Sure, the opening scene is graphic and painful to read, but then it is balanced by the love scene in where Rowan gives into passion.”
“Poor Rowan,” someone had said. “I can't wait to see what the future holds in store for him.”
“Congratulations on a terrific first chapter,” someone else said. “I hope there will be many more.”
Cade simply put his hand up and said, “Do you think people who’ve been raped think about the bulging biceps, meaty nipples and thick cocks of men raping them? You think that’s how it works?”
“Aren’t you being a bit harsh?” the teacher said and the class had agreed.
“No, I’m being a bit real. When my pastor molested me in high school, that was a bit harsh.”
Cade didn’t come back to that class because he was embarrassed. He was not embarrassed at having been molested, but he was embarassed at using this as some type of trump card. After that day, he never spoke of Pastor Skip again. Creative writing clases are, for the most part, places where people with little talent blow smoke up each others’ asses,and he had lost his cool. He wouldn’t do that again. None of his lovers would know about Pastor Skip. Simon had never known. Cade hadn’t talked about it for almost ten years, not until he was with Don. To Don he told everything, and so with Don he cracked wide open.

Ten years later, the rage had turned into deep hurt. It is the first spring that he lives with Don, almost a year after he met him.
“It hurts so bad because it always hurt,” Don says, offhandedly, He’s typing at his laptop, doing the trick of working on a story at the same time he is having a conversation.
“You were angry because you were angry, true enough. But you stayed angry because it felt better to be angry. Anger feels like you’re doing something. It makes you feel strong. Being hurt makes you feel weak and powerless, and then you get angry all over again, but mostly you are hurt.”
“I don’t really know what to do about it.”
“Get through it,” Don said. “There isn’t much else you can do.”
When he wans’t living with Don, he didn’t know how much time he spent writing. Now he realizes Don always has a computer open and he is always clicking away, or he is always scribbling away in one of the large clothbound journals. He takes his lap top with him to the bathroom, and stays there as long as it suits him. This is one of the reasons they move out and into the house where Donovan can take up the half bath and stay there was long as he wants while Cade gets on with the business of shitting, pissing, bathing and dressing.
Every Sunday morning Donovan listens to Open Book. He does it with the radio on while he is submerged in bed, one arm dangling out and a cup of gradually cooling coffee on the bedstead. By the time it is over he rises naked and refreshed and moves to the bathroom with the cup of coffee. He often comes out to find his laptop and then returns. Sometimes he remembers to get it first, make two trips to the bathroom before settling in. On occasion he is modest and wears a bedsheet, but most of the time he is simply naked.
This radio show, he listens to with some grudging respect at first, and then begins to talk shit about and eventually just stops hearing.
“I don’t like these peoples’ books. The books they like I don’t like and the books they don’t like aren’t mind. They’re looking for something that I’m not looking for.”
Donovan stops. “I don’t think I write for these people.”
Cade feels really stupid because he realizes, though he lives with Don and loves him, for some reason he has never picked up anything he’s written. Don’s books come back to the house, but he only keeps the proofs.
“I don’t want to have the final one because there might be an error or something I hate and can’t change, and having the proof, if I find something fucked up in it, at least I can tell myself it was corrected in the final draft.”.

IT’S no good if we’re not honest. That’s the thing. After the last book was finished, the one that nobody read, I convinced myself that it was fine if I never wrote again, but that was bullshit, and even as I said it I was looking for the next story. I thought, how nice it would be to write about dragons or witches, maybe produce the next Lord of the Rings. And this is not so that I could escape. I never want to escape the world. I want to climb right inside it. The truth is the world is a magical place, and most of us simply don’t have the eyes to see it.
I was looking for the magical country, the one to start the new book in. I looked for two days. I walked in circles, up and down the neighborhoods outside of downtown, late at night while only the ivory colored moon floated like a lozenge in the black sky. I burned incense and candles when the same full moon made the whole city crazy, and the children at the school kicked each other, held up a knife to one teacher and broke into another teacher’s car. That was the same time when Grindr and Adam4Adam and every other sex app suddenly blew up with men desperate to fuck in strange places, and I’d like to say I was too wise or maybe even too moral to take them up on strange offers, but the truth is I was too sleepy, too worn out from the days, too obsessed with trying to get beneath the skin of things. …


And so Cade sits down to read while Don sits down to work, and sometimes he laughs and a lot of times he cries. He is walking in his own head, in places he did not know, living his own story, written out though he eould not write it down himself. Sometimes reading this is uncomfortable, and then sometimes he is horny and his cock throbs between his thighs and as the day wears on he is even amazed and then ashamed. It is as the sun is changing to what, in the fall would be almost night, but in spring is just a greater extension of the day, that he rises, finds Don and wraps his arms around him and kisses him and feels known and not alone in this world even though, of course, he wasn’t alone before..He says nothing. There is nothing that wouldn’t seem sentimental and foolish to say. And Don says, “I am hungry? Are you hungry. Let’s go get chicken.”

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