ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
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White Life
- Thread starter ChrisGibson
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ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
“Okay,” Derrick told them, leaning over the table at lunch, “Basically we are Bible believing Christians who love Jesus and consider this the most vital part of our Catholic faith.”
Derrick was tall and scholarly looking, attractive in a pushy way and Mason had the feeling that he had given this talk many times before. “We attempt to live a Christian-Catholic life of love and charity.”
Mason had the unnerving feeling that the boy was daring him, or trying to sell him something. So he couldn’t really like him. He was sure that Derrick was waiting for an answer. And then he realized something. Derrick probably usually got them.
“I’m not Catholic,” Mason told him.
And then he heard Tommy say, “Yes you are. You got your First Communion in the Catholic Church. You’re half and half. Your whole family is. I didn’t even know they had Born Again Catholics. I’ve felt so left out. I didn’t know I could be one.”
“Praise the Lord!” the girl called Catherine murmured and then, apropos to nothing, lifted her head, closed her eyes and began to sing,
I love you Lord!
Yes I do!
I love you Lord!
“I’m not Catholic enough for it to count Mason insisted. He wanted to slap Tommy.
“We’re going to have a rally at the Basilica in Carey in a few weeks,” the boy called Dan was saying. “The bishop’s going to be there to bless all our rosaries.”
“And put shrooms and acid in the Communion wine no doubt,” Balliol said.
They all looked at him. But only Mason knew what shrooms and acid were. And Mason marveled that Balliol had known.
“Do you love the lord, Balliol?” Derrick challenged.
“You have no idea.”
“Have you been born again?” Derrick asked him.
With a straight face, Balliol told him. “I’m being born again even as we speak.”
Before Derrick could say anything, Catherine sang out louder
“We praise you Lord!
We love you Lord!
Holy Jesus!”
“Holy Jesus,” Dan murmured, half singing beside her.
“I think I feel the Spirit,” Sara told them.
Derrick thought earnestly about it for a moment and then said, “I think I feel Him too.”
“I think we should pray.” Sara said. They all caught hands. Catherine was still swaying back and forth and Mason found his hands in Balliol’s and Tommy’s. Balliol’s thumb reached into the middle of Mason’s right hand and tickled it, making Mason yelp.
“Lord,” Derrick said. “We can feel you speaking through your servant our brother Mason. And our brothers in Christ, Tommy and Balliol.”
Balliol leaned into Mason’s ear and whispered.
“Jesus, if you love us, you’ll get your faithful servants THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.”
Mason opened his eyes, everyone else’s eyes were closed, their heads bowed and Balliol was wagging his tongue and popping his eyes at Mason.
“HELP!” he kept mouthing. “HELP ME!”
“Jesus!” Catherine sang out.
Sara said, emphatically, “Hallelujah.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. McKenna,” Addison said as Joel answered the door.
“Is Seth here?”
“Addison!” Seth shouted from the back of the apartment. “Is that you?’
“Hi, Addison. Come on in,” Joel nodded and let the boy in. He closed the door behind him. “You want something to drink? Have you eaten?”
“I’m fine, sir,” Addison said. He wondered how someone like Mr. McKenna had managed to turn out Seth. Well, then, there had been Mrs. McKenna too, and from what Seth said his mom had been a real whore.
“You’re looking kind of snazzy,” Addison told Joel McKenna, because he liked the man. Ordinarily he wouldn’t talk to any of his friends’ parents, except for Sidney.
“Oh,” Joel looked goofy and pleased and Addison thought, “He’s got a date or something.”
“Well, thank you. Hair cut. Some new clothes. I’m going to meet a lady friend.”
“Watch out, lady friend,” Addison said as Seth came out.
“What’s that?” said Seth. “Oh, yeah. Dad’s got a date tonight. It’s about time. We’re going to the drug store. Should I bring back protection?”
Joel looked at his son, mystified, and then blinked and said, “Seth!”
Seth chuckled and, ushering Addison out as he closed the door and shook his head he murmured, “See you later, Dad.”
“He’s cute,” Seth said as they ran down the steps of the old apartment and out the door, “You gotta admit that.”
In Seth’s old truck they drove three blocks down to Jenkins, the drug store, and Seth said, “I don’t know why you couldn’t do this in your neighborhood.”
“Because people might see me in my neighborhood,” Addison said. “And besides, I didn’t want to go alone.”
“It’s not so bad going in there if you don’t care.”
“Only I do care.”
“See, and that’s your trouble,” Seth told him as he parked the car and slid out and around to join Addison.
Jenkins was a shabby store with flickering fluorescent lights and that annoying round security mirror. Whoever the Jenkins had been, now the store was owned by an Arab family. Or maybe they were Afghanis. They were something.
For one of the few times in his life Addison, wide eyed, lanky, his dark hair hanging to his shoulders, looked confused.
“Over here, man,” Seth steered him toward aisle five. “You really are a virgin.”
Addison looked at him, blinking as if he were waking up and realizing he’d just been insulted.
“I don’t know what to get,” he said looking at them. He reached for one pack and Seth said, “Unless you’re a horse or an elephant or you want a baby to come out with a black latex shower cap on its head nine months from now, put that shit away. Here. Get these—no,” Seth coughed. “That’s a little steep. Get these. These’ll be good.”
Addison nodded, picked them up and went to the counter to pay.
As they were walking out the store, Seth said, “I hate fucking Arabs. The way they look at you, like they’re gonna put a bomb in your receipt.”
“Honkey!” they heard.
Seth jumped up and Addison moved his head slowly.
“Honkey!”
Addison looked at the Black kid shouting at him. He was the blackest person Addison had ever seen. He was in a baggy coat with a pick in his head and there were some others beside him… Addison was trying to remember something.
“WHITE MUTHAFUCKAS!” the boy shouted, and then Addison grabbed Seth’s arm and pulled his sleeve as the crew of boys chased them down Barnard Street.
“What the fuck!” Seth shouted.
“Did you lock the car?”
“No.”
“Good!”
They made it to the car, jumped in, and Seth’s gunned the ignition as the other boys reached the truck and began banging on the sides.
Seth rolled it down, shouted, “Get the fuck away!” and then rolled out onto the street driving through the red light.
“What the fuck was that?” Seth shouted.
Addison’s head was to his chest, breathing in and out.
“I… met those kids before. I met them a few weeks ago. They pulled a gun on me at the gas station.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes. And then I pulled a gun on them.”
“What? Are you fucking nuts?” And then Seth pounded on the steering wheel and laughed out loud.
“FUCK!” he shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with people? Why can’t people just get their shit together.”
Addison opened the paper bag and pulled out the condoms.
“It cost a lot for just three.”
“You’ll probably only do it once tonight anyway so it doesn’t matter.”
“What’s that?” Addison looked at Seth’s lap. There was a blue plastic bag. “Did you steal a porno?”
“Yeah,” Seth shrugged. “Pornography’s a sin. They shouldn’t be selling it anyway.”
Derrick was tall and scholarly looking, attractive in a pushy way and Mason had the feeling that he had given this talk many times before. “We attempt to live a Christian-Catholic life of love and charity.”
Mason had the unnerving feeling that the boy was daring him, or trying to sell him something. So he couldn’t really like him. He was sure that Derrick was waiting for an answer. And then he realized something. Derrick probably usually got them.
“I’m not Catholic,” Mason told him.
And then he heard Tommy say, “Yes you are. You got your First Communion in the Catholic Church. You’re half and half. Your whole family is. I didn’t even know they had Born Again Catholics. I’ve felt so left out. I didn’t know I could be one.”
“Praise the Lord!” the girl called Catherine murmured and then, apropos to nothing, lifted her head, closed her eyes and began to sing,
I love you Lord!
Yes I do!
I love you Lord!
“I’m not Catholic enough for it to count Mason insisted. He wanted to slap Tommy.
“We’re going to have a rally at the Basilica in Carey in a few weeks,” the boy called Dan was saying. “The bishop’s going to be there to bless all our rosaries.”
“And put shrooms and acid in the Communion wine no doubt,” Balliol said.
They all looked at him. But only Mason knew what shrooms and acid were. And Mason marveled that Balliol had known.
“Do you love the lord, Balliol?” Derrick challenged.
“You have no idea.”
“Have you been born again?” Derrick asked him.
With a straight face, Balliol told him. “I’m being born again even as we speak.”
Before Derrick could say anything, Catherine sang out louder
“We praise you Lord!
We love you Lord!
Holy Jesus!”
“Holy Jesus,” Dan murmured, half singing beside her.
“I think I feel the Spirit,” Sara told them.
Derrick thought earnestly about it for a moment and then said, “I think I feel Him too.”
“I think we should pray.” Sara said. They all caught hands. Catherine was still swaying back and forth and Mason found his hands in Balliol’s and Tommy’s. Balliol’s thumb reached into the middle of Mason’s right hand and tickled it, making Mason yelp.
“Lord,” Derrick said. “We can feel you speaking through your servant our brother Mason. And our brothers in Christ, Tommy and Balliol.”
Balliol leaned into Mason’s ear and whispered.
“Jesus, if you love us, you’ll get your faithful servants THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.”
Mason opened his eyes, everyone else’s eyes were closed, their heads bowed and Balliol was wagging his tongue and popping his eyes at Mason.
“HELP!” he kept mouthing. “HELP ME!”
“Jesus!” Catherine sang out.
Sara said, emphatically, “Hallelujah.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. McKenna,” Addison said as Joel answered the door.
“Is Seth here?”
“Addison!” Seth shouted from the back of the apartment. “Is that you?’
“Hi, Addison. Come on in,” Joel nodded and let the boy in. He closed the door behind him. “You want something to drink? Have you eaten?”
“I’m fine, sir,” Addison said. He wondered how someone like Mr. McKenna had managed to turn out Seth. Well, then, there had been Mrs. McKenna too, and from what Seth said his mom had been a real whore.
“You’re looking kind of snazzy,” Addison told Joel McKenna, because he liked the man. Ordinarily he wouldn’t talk to any of his friends’ parents, except for Sidney.
“Oh,” Joel looked goofy and pleased and Addison thought, “He’s got a date or something.”
“Well, thank you. Hair cut. Some new clothes. I’m going to meet a lady friend.”
“Watch out, lady friend,” Addison said as Seth came out.
“What’s that?” said Seth. “Oh, yeah. Dad’s got a date tonight. It’s about time. We’re going to the drug store. Should I bring back protection?”
Joel looked at his son, mystified, and then blinked and said, “Seth!”
Seth chuckled and, ushering Addison out as he closed the door and shook his head he murmured, “See you later, Dad.”
“He’s cute,” Seth said as they ran down the steps of the old apartment and out the door, “You gotta admit that.”
In Seth’s old truck they drove three blocks down to Jenkins, the drug store, and Seth said, “I don’t know why you couldn’t do this in your neighborhood.”
“Because people might see me in my neighborhood,” Addison said. “And besides, I didn’t want to go alone.”
“It’s not so bad going in there if you don’t care.”
“Only I do care.”
“See, and that’s your trouble,” Seth told him as he parked the car and slid out and around to join Addison.
Jenkins was a shabby store with flickering fluorescent lights and that annoying round security mirror. Whoever the Jenkins had been, now the store was owned by an Arab family. Or maybe they were Afghanis. They were something.
For one of the few times in his life Addison, wide eyed, lanky, his dark hair hanging to his shoulders, looked confused.
“Over here, man,” Seth steered him toward aisle five. “You really are a virgin.”
Addison looked at him, blinking as if he were waking up and realizing he’d just been insulted.
“I don’t know what to get,” he said looking at them. He reached for one pack and Seth said, “Unless you’re a horse or an elephant or you want a baby to come out with a black latex shower cap on its head nine months from now, put that shit away. Here. Get these—no,” Seth coughed. “That’s a little steep. Get these. These’ll be good.”
Addison nodded, picked them up and went to the counter to pay.
As they were walking out the store, Seth said, “I hate fucking Arabs. The way they look at you, like they’re gonna put a bomb in your receipt.”
“Honkey!” they heard.
Seth jumped up and Addison moved his head slowly.
“Honkey!”
Addison looked at the Black kid shouting at him. He was the blackest person Addison had ever seen. He was in a baggy coat with a pick in his head and there were some others beside him… Addison was trying to remember something.
“WHITE MUTHAFUCKAS!” the boy shouted, and then Addison grabbed Seth’s arm and pulled his sleeve as the crew of boys chased them down Barnard Street.
“What the fuck!” Seth shouted.
“Did you lock the car?”
“No.”
“Good!”
They made it to the car, jumped in, and Seth’s gunned the ignition as the other boys reached the truck and began banging on the sides.
Seth rolled it down, shouted, “Get the fuck away!” and then rolled out onto the street driving through the red light.
“What the fuck was that?” Seth shouted.
Addison’s head was to his chest, breathing in and out.
“I… met those kids before. I met them a few weeks ago. They pulled a gun on me at the gas station.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes. And then I pulled a gun on them.”
“What? Are you fucking nuts?” And then Seth pounded on the steering wheel and laughed out loud.
“FUCK!” he shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with people? Why can’t people just get their shit together.”
Addison opened the paper bag and pulled out the condoms.
“It cost a lot for just three.”
“You’ll probably only do it once tonight anyway so it doesn’t matter.”
“What’s that?” Addison looked at Seth’s lap. There was a blue plastic bag. “Did you steal a porno?”
“Yeah,” Seth shrugged. “Pornography’s a sin. They shouldn’t be selling it anyway.”
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
“So are you a good student, Seth?” Shelley asked as he offered her more mashed potatoes. “No, I’m full,” she waved her hand and laughed. “You all don’t stint. I’m about to burst.”
“You can’t burst,” Joel told her. “There’s still dessert.”
“I’m an okay, student,” Seth said. He had bothered to wear a shirt and tie tonight, though his hair was still as wild as ever. “I could be better.”
“Seth is actually very smart,” Joel told Shelley, and was telling Seth too. “It’s just high school isn’t his thing. I think he’ll do a lot better in college. He’s got a good mind for it. I was just the opposite.”
“Actually, I might not go to college,” Seth said. “I’m trying to look at all my options.
Joel opened his mouth, at the “I might not go to college,” and then closed it and decided to pursue that topic later.
“Well, if you’re like your dad,” Shelley told him, “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Joel, I’m going to need to hold off a bit on dessert.”
“Seth actually made it,” Joel said, proud of his son. “You’d be surprised how much effort he has put into this.”
“I feel chaperoned,” Shelley said, touching Seth on the arm.
“I’m just glad Dad finally met someone,” Seth said. “And I would do anything to make sure he got someone good.” Seth struck a considering pose and said, “Shelley, I’m thinking you’re someone good.”
Joel laughed, shaking his head. but Shelley leaned forward and kissed Seth.
“Oh,” the boy raised an eyebrow. “Well, with that I’d love to be the chaperone the whole night, but... I have to be leaving.”
“For what?” Joel said, suddenly alarmed.
“I have to go out. With Addison Cromptley.”
Before Joel could say anything, Seth was up and out of the little dining room, going down the hallway.
“Excuse us,” Joel said politely, raising a finger and heading down the hall to Seth’s room.
“You didn’t say you were going out,” Joel told him. “And we’re right in the middle of dinner.”
“But we’re not trying to date Shelley. You are, Dad,” said Joel. “She’s already in love with me. She’s supposed to be in love with you. You’re just...”
Seth shook his head and took his hands through his hair as he pulled on a sweat jacket.
“You’re a great guy, Dad,” he said, putting his hand on his father’s shoulder. “I mean, any girl would be glad to have someone like you. And apparently you don’t have a hard time talking most of the time but... You suck at dating, and this girl likes you. I mean she likes you. So, I’m going to go right now.”
Joel folded his hands over his chest. He was wearing a silk tie over a dark green shirt Seth had bought for him. He chewed his bottom lip.
“I still don’t think it’s appropriate for you to walk out in the middle of a family dinner.”
“And I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to make me the third wheel on a first date. Which is what this is. So stop being chicken. You’re chicken aren’t you?”
Joel’s mouth opened and shut.
Seth leaned forward, kissed his father on the cheek and said, “Later, Dad.”
Joel stood in the hall, in the wake of his son and then realized that Shelley was still in the dining room. He ran out into it, looking so comic Shelley burst out laughing.
“I didn’t mean to leave you out her. That was rude.”
“You know what?” Shelley told him. “I actually managed not to rust or anything. So it’s fine.”
“I, ah,” Joel’s mouth was opened. He laughed nervously and blinked. “I should have worn my glasses.”
“You wear glasses?”
“Everyone over forty wears glasses. Actually, I’ve always worn them I just... I’m vain about them and all. These contacts…”
He blew out his cheeks: “This is not romantic.”
“I tell you what?” Shelley said. “Glasses are very, very romantic. I think you should change into them and then we’ll talk or something. Since Seth got rid of himself.”
Using his thumb to take out a contact, Joel said, from his awkward position, “Seth didn’t get rid of himself.”
“Blind men should never lie,” she told Joel. He could half see because he’d only taken one out. He grinned sidelong, took out the other contact and, in a moment returned in brass rimmed spectacles.
“I look like a goober.”
“Glasses make you look educated.”
“No, they make my friends look educated. Like Mark. Because he is educated. They make me took like a goober.
“I think they make you look cute. I don’t want you arguing with me about that.”
Joel gave a smile bordering on a grimace and ran his finger across his lips to zip them.
“That’s better,” Shelley said reaching into his hand to take away the invisible key and stick it in her pocket.
“You and this Mark. I know who Sidney Darrow is. Artist. The library bought something form him. And Darrow Gas, Darrow Groceries. But Mark... he must be monster or something.”
“No,” Joel said, horrified. “He’s my best friend. He... I’m the monster. And you don’t want to hear all this. This is supposed to be a date.” He caught her wrist in his hands. “Let’s sit down and talk about something else.”
“We can sit down and talk about Mark—”
Joel opened his mouth, but Shelley continued.
“Because if we don’t get that out once and for all, you’re always going to be bringing him up. Him ad his perfect kids and—”
“Do I really talk like that?”
“Yes.”
“But... he is my best friend you see. Since were little kids. We have the exact same background. Both went to Saint Mary’s, K-8, both Irish Catholic, both in Boy Scouts. Except his family was a little better off than mine. And...”
“Maybe that’s what it is,” Shelley said. “You all are so much alike. I mean, you’re never jealous of someone who isn’t like you at all. You and Mark are just enough alike for you to see yourself in him.”
“You’re a psychiatrist now?”
“Stop that, Joe. I’m being serious.”
“You can’t burst,” Joel told her. “There’s still dessert.”
“I’m an okay, student,” Seth said. He had bothered to wear a shirt and tie tonight, though his hair was still as wild as ever. “I could be better.”
“Seth is actually very smart,” Joel told Shelley, and was telling Seth too. “It’s just high school isn’t his thing. I think he’ll do a lot better in college. He’s got a good mind for it. I was just the opposite.”
“Actually, I might not go to college,” Seth said. “I’m trying to look at all my options.
Joel opened his mouth, at the “I might not go to college,” and then closed it and decided to pursue that topic later.
“Well, if you’re like your dad,” Shelley told him, “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Joel, I’m going to need to hold off a bit on dessert.”
“Seth actually made it,” Joel said, proud of his son. “You’d be surprised how much effort he has put into this.”
“I feel chaperoned,” Shelley said, touching Seth on the arm.
“I’m just glad Dad finally met someone,” Seth said. “And I would do anything to make sure he got someone good.” Seth struck a considering pose and said, “Shelley, I’m thinking you’re someone good.”
Joel laughed, shaking his head. but Shelley leaned forward and kissed Seth.
“Oh,” the boy raised an eyebrow. “Well, with that I’d love to be the chaperone the whole night, but... I have to be leaving.”
“For what?” Joel said, suddenly alarmed.
“I have to go out. With Addison Cromptley.”
Before Joel could say anything, Seth was up and out of the little dining room, going down the hallway.
“Excuse us,” Joel said politely, raising a finger and heading down the hall to Seth’s room.
“You didn’t say you were going out,” Joel told him. “And we’re right in the middle of dinner.”
“But we’re not trying to date Shelley. You are, Dad,” said Joel. “She’s already in love with me. She’s supposed to be in love with you. You’re just...”
Seth shook his head and took his hands through his hair as he pulled on a sweat jacket.
“You’re a great guy, Dad,” he said, putting his hand on his father’s shoulder. “I mean, any girl would be glad to have someone like you. And apparently you don’t have a hard time talking most of the time but... You suck at dating, and this girl likes you. I mean she likes you. So, I’m going to go right now.”
Joel folded his hands over his chest. He was wearing a silk tie over a dark green shirt Seth had bought for him. He chewed his bottom lip.
“I still don’t think it’s appropriate for you to walk out in the middle of a family dinner.”
“And I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to make me the third wheel on a first date. Which is what this is. So stop being chicken. You’re chicken aren’t you?”
Joel’s mouth opened and shut.
Seth leaned forward, kissed his father on the cheek and said, “Later, Dad.”
Joel stood in the hall, in the wake of his son and then realized that Shelley was still in the dining room. He ran out into it, looking so comic Shelley burst out laughing.
“I didn’t mean to leave you out her. That was rude.”
“You know what?” Shelley told him. “I actually managed not to rust or anything. So it’s fine.”
“I, ah,” Joel’s mouth was opened. He laughed nervously and blinked. “I should have worn my glasses.”
“You wear glasses?”
“Everyone over forty wears glasses. Actually, I’ve always worn them I just... I’m vain about them and all. These contacts…”
He blew out his cheeks: “This is not romantic.”
“I tell you what?” Shelley said. “Glasses are very, very romantic. I think you should change into them and then we’ll talk or something. Since Seth got rid of himself.”
Using his thumb to take out a contact, Joel said, from his awkward position, “Seth didn’t get rid of himself.”
“Blind men should never lie,” she told Joel. He could half see because he’d only taken one out. He grinned sidelong, took out the other contact and, in a moment returned in brass rimmed spectacles.
“I look like a goober.”
“Glasses make you look educated.”
“No, they make my friends look educated. Like Mark. Because he is educated. They make me took like a goober.
“I think they make you look cute. I don’t want you arguing with me about that.”
Joel gave a smile bordering on a grimace and ran his finger across his lips to zip them.
“That’s better,” Shelley said reaching into his hand to take away the invisible key and stick it in her pocket.
“You and this Mark. I know who Sidney Darrow is. Artist. The library bought something form him. And Darrow Gas, Darrow Groceries. But Mark... he must be monster or something.”
“No,” Joel said, horrified. “He’s my best friend. He... I’m the monster. And you don’t want to hear all this. This is supposed to be a date.” He caught her wrist in his hands. “Let’s sit down and talk about something else.”
“We can sit down and talk about Mark—”
Joel opened his mouth, but Shelley continued.
“Because if we don’t get that out once and for all, you’re always going to be bringing him up. Him ad his perfect kids and—”
“Do I really talk like that?”
“Yes.”
“But... he is my best friend you see. Since were little kids. We have the exact same background. Both went to Saint Mary’s, K-8, both Irish Catholic, both in Boy Scouts. Except his family was a little better off than mine. And...”
“Maybe that’s what it is,” Shelley said. “You all are so much alike. I mean, you’re never jealous of someone who isn’t like you at all. You and Mark are just enough alike for you to see yourself in him.”
“You’re a psychiatrist now?”
“Stop that, Joe. I’m being serious.”
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
“Well, then yes. That’s what it is. We’re just enough alike. And not alike. And then Sidney came into the picture later, and even when Mark and I didn’t talk, Sidney sort of held us together. You know? He’s the glue.”
“Sort of like a reverse Oreo cookie.”
“What? Oh, oh,” he laughed now. “I get it. Sid might not think that was too funny. Actually, Mark probably wouldn’t either.” Joel still chuckled to himself.
“They’re just... I really need to stop talking about my friends.”
“No,” Shelley said, sitting back. “I mean most people don’t even have friends to talk about, and here you are with this same best friend for what? Almost forty years.”
“I guess so,” Joel said in a tone of discovery. “But I just wish I could be more loyal and less jealous. Or… that he could be less perfect.” Suddenly Joel put up a hand. “”Now, it really is time for a subject switch.”
“Agreed,” Shelley said.
“So,” Joel said, pulling his knees to his chest, and looking at her gravely, “What should we talk about?”
She burst out laughing and clapping her hands so that Joel turned red and sat up waiting to figure out the joke.
“What should we walk about?” Shelley said, at last. “Um, I think... Anything that segues into you kissing me.”
Mark Powers was not like his best friend, Sidney. Joel and Mark had inherited Sidney when they were both in fourth grade. At Saint Mary’s two things happened when you reached Fourth Grade. You returned to school to realize you no longer had a Big Brother, the boy or boys appointed to look out for you and meet with you once a week. Since kindergarten you’d had these big brothers you looked up to more than your real ones, often in place of having real ones. And then when you came back from summer vacation after third grade they were gone. Mark and Joel had met on the first day of school though they already sort of knew each other because they went to the same church. Now they were best friends. There had been a scarcity of Big Brothers that year and they’d gotten the same one.
Sidney Darrow at five was, if it can be believed, incredibly adorable and Mark, Joel and Luis Hernandez had set to babying him, or brothering him as much as possible.
Sidney made them laugh, because he was funny. That was his first talent, and he was always saying what was on his mind, more than most five year olds. They really thought they’d lucked out and all the other fourth graders had losers, glue eaters, nose pickers. When Mrs. Naper, the fourth grade teacher had brought lunch to class so that the fourth grade and their little brothers could share a meal, Sidney had frowned at the sauerkraut she’d made.
“But it’s good for you, little boy,” she told Sidney.
“My name is Sidney,” the little boy told her, folding his arms over his chest. “And if it’s so good why don’t you eat it yourself.”
So that was how it had all begun. Since Joel and Mark were already best friends, it made sense that they shared joint custody of Sidney. Neither one of them wanted to bother with their real siblings, but Sidney was a different matter altogether. They dressed him, tried and failed to teach him sports, and then sat back when it turned out that he was probably going to be an artist, and a good one, even by seven.
And slowly, the three of them began to grow up.
Joel and Mark didn’t see him all the time, or even each other, but the link was still there and very strong. Mark’s mother came by and got all of them for church on Sunday.
Joel and Mark would be sitting in Mark’s room, tossing a tennis ball back and forth, their shirt tails hanging out, talking about who they wanted to fuck at Saint Anne’s or ogling over a porno when they’d look over and see Sidney. Who was too young. Who was still a kid.
What could you do with him? He wasn’t a toy anymore. He was their friend. But... he was a kid. He wasn’t really their brother at all. But... he felt something like it. They were both altar boys, both moderately virtuous and didn’t even really have girlfriends at sixteen. They wanted sex. They talked about it all the time. But it was in the abstract. Basically they masturbated a lot, smoked cigarettes and occasionally nipped the Communion wine or snuck into Joel’s Dad’s liquor cabinet. And they were careful about how much Sid was allowed to see.
“He’s twelve,” Joel reasoned. “He’s got to know some things. I mean He’s not stupid.”
“I’m not getting Sidney plied with booze,” Mark said. “And that’s final.”
Makr always had a slightly serious side to him, but he wasn’t perfect when he was sixteen. He was messy with lots of messy dark hair, and intense eyes that had stopped blinking from behind the old, owlish spectacles because he wore contacts now. He was in brown cut offs in the summer, snug bellbottoms most of the year and mood rings at all times. He wore mood rings and those glow in the dark necklaces until they were dead, and after they were dead. He was weird and a straight A student.
“I’m just saying,” Joel said, “that every time we talk about sex we don’t have to shut up when Sidney walks into the room. Or... I mean, he’s not a little kid.”
And Mark insisted, “Yes he is.”
But, they were boys, smoking, drinking, belching—Mark was very clear that farting was crossing the line and not cool at all—gazing in wide eyed amazement over porn, and jacking off. So, in the end, regardless if they wanted to or not, they were teaching Sidney all about sexuality and all about becoming a man.
They were so intent on teaching him the right way, that they were both promptly surprised when Sidney Darrow became an adult, and began to teach them.
HAVE AN EXCELLENT WEEKEND, SKY KIDS !
“Sort of like a reverse Oreo cookie.”
“What? Oh, oh,” he laughed now. “I get it. Sid might not think that was too funny. Actually, Mark probably wouldn’t either.” Joel still chuckled to himself.
“They’re just... I really need to stop talking about my friends.”
“No,” Shelley said, sitting back. “I mean most people don’t even have friends to talk about, and here you are with this same best friend for what? Almost forty years.”
“I guess so,” Joel said in a tone of discovery. “But I just wish I could be more loyal and less jealous. Or… that he could be less perfect.” Suddenly Joel put up a hand. “”Now, it really is time for a subject switch.”
“Agreed,” Shelley said.
“So,” Joel said, pulling his knees to his chest, and looking at her gravely, “What should we talk about?”
She burst out laughing and clapping her hands so that Joel turned red and sat up waiting to figure out the joke.
“What should we walk about?” Shelley said, at last. “Um, I think... Anything that segues into you kissing me.”
Mark Powers was not like his best friend, Sidney. Joel and Mark had inherited Sidney when they were both in fourth grade. At Saint Mary’s two things happened when you reached Fourth Grade. You returned to school to realize you no longer had a Big Brother, the boy or boys appointed to look out for you and meet with you once a week. Since kindergarten you’d had these big brothers you looked up to more than your real ones, often in place of having real ones. And then when you came back from summer vacation after third grade they were gone. Mark and Joel had met on the first day of school though they already sort of knew each other because they went to the same church. Now they were best friends. There had been a scarcity of Big Brothers that year and they’d gotten the same one.
Sidney Darrow at five was, if it can be believed, incredibly adorable and Mark, Joel and Luis Hernandez had set to babying him, or brothering him as much as possible.
Sidney made them laugh, because he was funny. That was his first talent, and he was always saying what was on his mind, more than most five year olds. They really thought they’d lucked out and all the other fourth graders had losers, glue eaters, nose pickers. When Mrs. Naper, the fourth grade teacher had brought lunch to class so that the fourth grade and their little brothers could share a meal, Sidney had frowned at the sauerkraut she’d made.
“But it’s good for you, little boy,” she told Sidney.
“My name is Sidney,” the little boy told her, folding his arms over his chest. “And if it’s so good why don’t you eat it yourself.”
So that was how it had all begun. Since Joel and Mark were already best friends, it made sense that they shared joint custody of Sidney. Neither one of them wanted to bother with their real siblings, but Sidney was a different matter altogether. They dressed him, tried and failed to teach him sports, and then sat back when it turned out that he was probably going to be an artist, and a good one, even by seven.
And slowly, the three of them began to grow up.
Joel and Mark didn’t see him all the time, or even each other, but the link was still there and very strong. Mark’s mother came by and got all of them for church on Sunday.
Joel and Mark would be sitting in Mark’s room, tossing a tennis ball back and forth, their shirt tails hanging out, talking about who they wanted to fuck at Saint Anne’s or ogling over a porno when they’d look over and see Sidney. Who was too young. Who was still a kid.
What could you do with him? He wasn’t a toy anymore. He was their friend. But... he was a kid. He wasn’t really their brother at all. But... he felt something like it. They were both altar boys, both moderately virtuous and didn’t even really have girlfriends at sixteen. They wanted sex. They talked about it all the time. But it was in the abstract. Basically they masturbated a lot, smoked cigarettes and occasionally nipped the Communion wine or snuck into Joel’s Dad’s liquor cabinet. And they were careful about how much Sid was allowed to see.
“He’s twelve,” Joel reasoned. “He’s got to know some things. I mean He’s not stupid.”
“I’m not getting Sidney plied with booze,” Mark said. “And that’s final.”
Makr always had a slightly serious side to him, but he wasn’t perfect when he was sixteen. He was messy with lots of messy dark hair, and intense eyes that had stopped blinking from behind the old, owlish spectacles because he wore contacts now. He was in brown cut offs in the summer, snug bellbottoms most of the year and mood rings at all times. He wore mood rings and those glow in the dark necklaces until they were dead, and after they were dead. He was weird and a straight A student.
“I’m just saying,” Joel said, “that every time we talk about sex we don’t have to shut up when Sidney walks into the room. Or... I mean, he’s not a little kid.”
And Mark insisted, “Yes he is.”
But, they were boys, smoking, drinking, belching—Mark was very clear that farting was crossing the line and not cool at all—gazing in wide eyed amazement over porn, and jacking off. So, in the end, regardless if they wanted to or not, they were teaching Sidney all about sexuality and all about becoming a man.
They were so intent on teaching him the right way, that they were both promptly surprised when Sidney Darrow became an adult, and began to teach them.
HAVE AN EXCELLENT WEEKEND, SKY KIDS !
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
That was a great portion! I am still enjoying this story a lot! Really getting to know these characters is very interesting and I am liking how the story is progressing. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon!
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
“Okay, so the weirdest thing is I thought I would have one heck of a time finding someone who knew as much about Irish artifacts as I did,” Rick Howard said, screwing up his face and then adding. “Even as I say that phrase I realize that it is unlikely that I would know as much about Irish artifacts as I do.”
Mark leaned forward and took the stone out of Rick Howard’s hand. “Now that, what you have with you… That is ninth century.”
“How you figure?”
“It’s Viking. I can tell that. And it comes from around the Dublin area. Dublin was a Viking settlement. That would have been around the ninth century.”
“You’re good.”
Mark smiled at him. “I know.”
Rick leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest and demanded, “How did you get so good at this?”
“Well, I am Irish.”
“And of course that naturally makes you an artifacts specialist.”
“Just like it makes me a great dancer.” Mark cut a move with his hands and Rick chuckled. “You oughtta see my Riverdance.”
“”I am betting,” Rick Howard said, “that you can’t dance.”
“An Irish Catholic from industrial Ohio? Not dance?” Mark cracked him a smile. “imagine that. No. I began to get interested after my wife died, and I... needed to sort of settle down. It was interesting. It was my heritage. It let me focus on one thing and so... I started with my family.”
“The Powers?”
“No. The Healeys actually. Healy, O’Healy, Haley. All that. The same clan. We come from the Southeast. So, anyway, one thing led to another and I just sort of got obsessed.” Mark made a face. “I’m the kind of person who needs obsessions.”
“See, that’s not what I would have thought,” Rick said. “You strike me as the sort of person who’s always kind of be contained. The strong silent type. Even back in school.”
“I was freak back in school. I’m not strong and silent. I’m just... silent.
“You were about to say something.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Rick said.
“You can’t lie to the psychiatrist. I’ve made a life work out of studying my fellow man.”
“It’s just,” Rick said. “I would think you’d have to be strong. To lose your wife, and then move on and take care of Chris and.… You’re very together.”
Mark folded his hands together and made a sort of funny frown.
“Together,” he murmured. “Why do people always say that when they mention my name. Mark Powers is so.. together, reasoned, balanced. Like Fox News.
“You know what?” Mark said. “I’m going to tell you how together I am.”
“Truth or dare?” Rick steepled his fingers.
“Truth, at least. Sir,” Mark called the waiter over. “Another round of drinks.”
“I’m paying,” said Rick.
“Darn straight you are,” Mark flashed him a grin and then he said, “Margot was, really, the love of my life. I mean, she really taught me how to...love,” Mark shrugged. “I thought that we would have forever. Well, if not that, a long time, and I was so angry when she died. I was angry the whole time she had cancer. I kept it in, but when she was dead. It came back up.
“I—there had been someone else in my life. Vanessa. The first love.”
“The one who got away?”
“The one who walked away,” Mark clarified. “And I went to visit her and one thing led to another and it was probably something between affection and really wanting to be with my wife again, just wanting to be with someone—I spent the night with her. That once. But then she told me she was married.”
“Oh,” Rick said, and the drinks came to the table, he nodded to the waiter and pushed one across to Mark. “But you didn’t know.”
Mark lifted a finger. “I didn’t know then,” he said. “But I knew the other times. See, I couldn’t remember the last time I had been with someone healthy. I couldn’t remember the last time it had been like it was that night with Vanessa, and I thought, well, God took my wife, so it’s okay if I take someone else’s. So for a while I was engaged in this whole thing with a married woman and I didn’t even care. That’s how together I am Rick. This is something that not a lot of people know.
I mean my best friends know. I told them. Joel didn’t say anything. But Sidney did because he always says something. He told me how stupid I was being and—keep in mind, I’d been widowed with a child and this was all less than two months in the past, I was sort of on a collapse here, right? And I just shouted at him to get the hell out of my house. I told him he didn’t know anything about loyalty. I said that. While I was having an affair with another man’s wife. So see, the moral of the story is you never know how together someone is. No matter how together they look on the outside.”
Rick had forgotten his drink. He wanted to know, “What happened then? I mean. It ended, eventually. How did it end?”
“Being a psychiatrist, I eventually had the presence of mind to realize my days pretty much consisted of waking up thinking about my next orgasm and the thrill of hopping into bed with a married woman who had dumped me back in college. I thought about how I’d told my own best friend to get the hell out of my house, how my son had lost his mom and now he didn’t even have much of a father... Cause I wasn’t even paying attention to Chris. And then I thought about how even right there and then the only thing I could think about was the next time I would... fuck... this woman. And I just thought how far I’d fallen. And that was about it. After that I couldn’t go back to it.”
Mark smiled sadly, shrugged and then said, “And then I took up Irish antiquing.”
Rick burst out laughing. He laughed so long that Mark shrugged and smiled at him.
“That’s my story,” he said.
“It’s not that unique of a story,” Rick told him taking a swig and shaking his head.
Mark looked at him.
“If we’re going to tell truths and stuff like that then I know what it’s like to need to be with someone so badly you... make a stupid decision. I’ve made them too.”
Mark sighed.
“Why?” he started, stopped, and then started again. “Why does God make us so that we want to be good... And then make us so lonely and desperate that the easiest thing is to be bad? Why?”
The van pulled up to the house on Owens Street. The porch lights were on. The lights in the living room and the kitchen were on. It seemed that people were there, but it was supposed to, that’s just what you did to keep the robbers away.
Becky opened her mouth to say something but Addison, in the passenger’s seat leaned forward and gave her a wet kiss. He kissed her deep for about half a minute and then parted from her, reaching into one pocket for the house key and another pocket for the condoms.
Becky locked the van and they walked up the driveway and then past the garage to the door. Addison put his ear there just in case someone might be home. Whenever his family went out of town they’d even leave the stereo or the T.V. on but for the Darrows apparently the light was enough. He heard nothing. Addison opened the door and then went in taking Becky by the hand and closing the door behind her.
“We should have music or something,” Addison said as he walked ahead of her holding her hand. He felt like he shouldn’t be here, like he was breaking in, even though Mason had left the key. He felt like anyone could come in here at any time. But the house was perfectly empty. Addison had never been in a perfectly empty house before let alone someone else’s perfectly empty house.
`”I don’t want all that,” Becky told him simply. “I’d feel stupid with music. We can just have music in our heads.”
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Addison said. “You go in the room.”
Mason’s room was clean. Becky looked around, at the paintings, at the sculptures of monsters and unicorns, animals, half done abstractions. She was going through the bookshelf when Addison came beside her and kissed her.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“You scared me is all.”
“You’re so tense,” he told her. He slipped off her jacket and began rubbing her shoulders. They were so thin. She smelled like perfume. He said, “You’re still a little tense. Are you sure you wanna do this?”
“Yes,” Becky told him, not turning around. She’d been thumbing a book on the shelf. Now her hand stopped. “I just.... I need to be worked into it is all. I can’t just be ready like that.”
“Of course you can’t.” Addison agreed, kissing her neck, burying his face in her hair.
“You smell so good. I love you so much. You don’t know how much,” he was murmuring as he kissed her neck, kissed her shoulders, rubbed his hips against her.
He turned her around, they climbed onto the bed and began to kiss.
Suddenly he stopped. “How did I get you?”
“Huh?”
“How did I get someone like you?” he said. “You’re really...”
“Above you?” she meant it as a joke. But she couldn’t laugh right now.
Helplessly, Addison nodded.
She shook her head seriously and touched his cheek. She kissed him. “No, I’m not,” she told him.
Now she was kissing him, putting her hands in his hair, He’d gotten that special soap, the one that smelled like lavender because she said she liked it. He never would have used it otherwise. He smelled so good and clean. There was something strong about him, even skinny as he was, even when she could feel his bones. They were twined together. He helped her take his shirt off.
“Addison,” her voice was still only half there. His hand was under her shirt. She helped him work off her bra, enjoyed the feel of his hands on her breasts, guided them to her nipples, helped lift the shirt off. He was sucking on her throat and her breasts. His mouth was on one of her nipples when she cried out like he hurt her.
“What?” he shouted.
“Don’t stop,” she told him. He went back to sucking. He didn’t stop. He didn’t stop for a long time. When he did he took her hands solemnly in his, and then he brought them down to his zipper. He half stood up so she could unbutton his pants.
“You know the bed sheets are fresh?” he told her.
It seemed so out of the blue.
“I just wanted you to know. The sheets are clean. But we have to change them before we go.”
Mark leaned forward and took the stone out of Rick Howard’s hand. “Now that, what you have with you… That is ninth century.”
“How you figure?”
“It’s Viking. I can tell that. And it comes from around the Dublin area. Dublin was a Viking settlement. That would have been around the ninth century.”
“You’re good.”
Mark smiled at him. “I know.”
Rick leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest and demanded, “How did you get so good at this?”
“Well, I am Irish.”
“And of course that naturally makes you an artifacts specialist.”
“Just like it makes me a great dancer.” Mark cut a move with his hands and Rick chuckled. “You oughtta see my Riverdance.”
“”I am betting,” Rick Howard said, “that you can’t dance.”
“An Irish Catholic from industrial Ohio? Not dance?” Mark cracked him a smile. “imagine that. No. I began to get interested after my wife died, and I... needed to sort of settle down. It was interesting. It was my heritage. It let me focus on one thing and so... I started with my family.”
“The Powers?”
“No. The Healeys actually. Healy, O’Healy, Haley. All that. The same clan. We come from the Southeast. So, anyway, one thing led to another and I just sort of got obsessed.” Mark made a face. “I’m the kind of person who needs obsessions.”
“See, that’s not what I would have thought,” Rick said. “You strike me as the sort of person who’s always kind of be contained. The strong silent type. Even back in school.”
“I was freak back in school. I’m not strong and silent. I’m just... silent.
“You were about to say something.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Rick said.
“You can’t lie to the psychiatrist. I’ve made a life work out of studying my fellow man.”
“It’s just,” Rick said. “I would think you’d have to be strong. To lose your wife, and then move on and take care of Chris and.… You’re very together.”
Mark folded his hands together and made a sort of funny frown.
“Together,” he murmured. “Why do people always say that when they mention my name. Mark Powers is so.. together, reasoned, balanced. Like Fox News.
“You know what?” Mark said. “I’m going to tell you how together I am.”
“Truth or dare?” Rick steepled his fingers.
“Truth, at least. Sir,” Mark called the waiter over. “Another round of drinks.”
“I’m paying,” said Rick.
“Darn straight you are,” Mark flashed him a grin and then he said, “Margot was, really, the love of my life. I mean, she really taught me how to...love,” Mark shrugged. “I thought that we would have forever. Well, if not that, a long time, and I was so angry when she died. I was angry the whole time she had cancer. I kept it in, but when she was dead. It came back up.
“I—there had been someone else in my life. Vanessa. The first love.”
“The one who got away?”
“The one who walked away,” Mark clarified. “And I went to visit her and one thing led to another and it was probably something between affection and really wanting to be with my wife again, just wanting to be with someone—I spent the night with her. That once. But then she told me she was married.”
“Oh,” Rick said, and the drinks came to the table, he nodded to the waiter and pushed one across to Mark. “But you didn’t know.”
Mark lifted a finger. “I didn’t know then,” he said. “But I knew the other times. See, I couldn’t remember the last time I had been with someone healthy. I couldn’t remember the last time it had been like it was that night with Vanessa, and I thought, well, God took my wife, so it’s okay if I take someone else’s. So for a while I was engaged in this whole thing with a married woman and I didn’t even care. That’s how together I am Rick. This is something that not a lot of people know.
I mean my best friends know. I told them. Joel didn’t say anything. But Sidney did because he always says something. He told me how stupid I was being and—keep in mind, I’d been widowed with a child and this was all less than two months in the past, I was sort of on a collapse here, right? And I just shouted at him to get the hell out of my house. I told him he didn’t know anything about loyalty. I said that. While I was having an affair with another man’s wife. So see, the moral of the story is you never know how together someone is. No matter how together they look on the outside.”
Rick had forgotten his drink. He wanted to know, “What happened then? I mean. It ended, eventually. How did it end?”
“Being a psychiatrist, I eventually had the presence of mind to realize my days pretty much consisted of waking up thinking about my next orgasm and the thrill of hopping into bed with a married woman who had dumped me back in college. I thought about how I’d told my own best friend to get the hell out of my house, how my son had lost his mom and now he didn’t even have much of a father... Cause I wasn’t even paying attention to Chris. And then I thought about how even right there and then the only thing I could think about was the next time I would... fuck... this woman. And I just thought how far I’d fallen. And that was about it. After that I couldn’t go back to it.”
Mark smiled sadly, shrugged and then said, “And then I took up Irish antiquing.”
Rick burst out laughing. He laughed so long that Mark shrugged and smiled at him.
“That’s my story,” he said.
“It’s not that unique of a story,” Rick told him taking a swig and shaking his head.
Mark looked at him.
“If we’re going to tell truths and stuff like that then I know what it’s like to need to be with someone so badly you... make a stupid decision. I’ve made them too.”
Mark sighed.
“Why?” he started, stopped, and then started again. “Why does God make us so that we want to be good... And then make us so lonely and desperate that the easiest thing is to be bad? Why?”
The van pulled up to the house on Owens Street. The porch lights were on. The lights in the living room and the kitchen were on. It seemed that people were there, but it was supposed to, that’s just what you did to keep the robbers away.
Becky opened her mouth to say something but Addison, in the passenger’s seat leaned forward and gave her a wet kiss. He kissed her deep for about half a minute and then parted from her, reaching into one pocket for the house key and another pocket for the condoms.
Becky locked the van and they walked up the driveway and then past the garage to the door. Addison put his ear there just in case someone might be home. Whenever his family went out of town they’d even leave the stereo or the T.V. on but for the Darrows apparently the light was enough. He heard nothing. Addison opened the door and then went in taking Becky by the hand and closing the door behind her.
“We should have music or something,” Addison said as he walked ahead of her holding her hand. He felt like he shouldn’t be here, like he was breaking in, even though Mason had left the key. He felt like anyone could come in here at any time. But the house was perfectly empty. Addison had never been in a perfectly empty house before let alone someone else’s perfectly empty house.
`”I don’t want all that,” Becky told him simply. “I’d feel stupid with music. We can just have music in our heads.”
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Addison said. “You go in the room.”
Mason’s room was clean. Becky looked around, at the paintings, at the sculptures of monsters and unicorns, animals, half done abstractions. She was going through the bookshelf when Addison came beside her and kissed her.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“You scared me is all.”
“You’re so tense,” he told her. He slipped off her jacket and began rubbing her shoulders. They were so thin. She smelled like perfume. He said, “You’re still a little tense. Are you sure you wanna do this?”
“Yes,” Becky told him, not turning around. She’d been thumbing a book on the shelf. Now her hand stopped. “I just.... I need to be worked into it is all. I can’t just be ready like that.”
“Of course you can’t.” Addison agreed, kissing her neck, burying his face in her hair.
“You smell so good. I love you so much. You don’t know how much,” he was murmuring as he kissed her neck, kissed her shoulders, rubbed his hips against her.
He turned her around, they climbed onto the bed and began to kiss.
Suddenly he stopped. “How did I get you?”
“Huh?”
“How did I get someone like you?” he said. “You’re really...”
“Above you?” she meant it as a joke. But she couldn’t laugh right now.
Helplessly, Addison nodded.
She shook her head seriously and touched his cheek. She kissed him. “No, I’m not,” she told him.
Now she was kissing him, putting her hands in his hair, He’d gotten that special soap, the one that smelled like lavender because she said she liked it. He never would have used it otherwise. He smelled so good and clean. There was something strong about him, even skinny as he was, even when she could feel his bones. They were twined together. He helped her take his shirt off.
“Addison,” her voice was still only half there. His hand was under her shirt. She helped him work off her bra, enjoyed the feel of his hands on her breasts, guided them to her nipples, helped lift the shirt off. He was sucking on her throat and her breasts. His mouth was on one of her nipples when she cried out like he hurt her.
“What?” he shouted.
“Don’t stop,” she told him. He went back to sucking. He didn’t stop. He didn’t stop for a long time. When he did he took her hands solemnly in his, and then he brought them down to his zipper. He half stood up so she could unbutton his pants.
“You know the bed sheets are fresh?” he told her.
It seemed so out of the blue.
“I just wanted you to know. The sheets are clean. But we have to change them before we go.”
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
When someone said something so completely almost out of place all Becky could do was ignore it. She helped Addison pull down his jeans, and then his briefs, and then she kissed him there. She sucked him there for a while and he looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes while she did it. And then he was helping her out of her jeans and scrambling for the condom. Kissing her and kissing her the whole time, their hands moving from each others hips to their shoulders, a true balancing act.
Seth McKenna groaned louder than he meant to, and in his own ears sounded like someone dying as, on his tiptoes, he came.
He helped Bonnie from against the wall and was pulling out of her, pulling off the condom and leaking the last of his semen into it before he threw it in the trash can.
She had gone into the bathroom to clean up. When she came back Seth was buckling his belt and reaching for his jacket.
“You wanna watch a movie or something?” she said.
“I gotta go. I can’t be gone for long. I have to be back home early,” he lied.
“It’s Saturday,” Bonnie said. “You don’t even have time for a movie?”
Good God, how much did he have to spell it out?
“No, Bonnie,” he told her, opened up the window and halfway out of it said, “not even for a movie.”
Outside it was cool. It had been hot most of September but now it seemed like autumn was actually setting in. When Seth had lied to his dad about going to see Addison, the first thing in his head was, “That poor fucker’s getting laid tonight and he probably thinks it’s real.”
This, in turn, made Seth want to get laid. And, as usual, Bonnie was up for it.
The only thing, and Seth was beginning to realize this as he jammed his hands in the pockets of his baggy khaki’s and headed down Morrison Street, was that to her it was almost real. She was almost beginning to want more from this than what he was offering. And he never lied to her. He never said hey, this is love. He told her exactly what it was. She’d been cool with it. But now she wanted to do things, go to a movie. Get a burger. The shit didn’t work like that.
“One day,” Seth said looking around. All the houses on Morrison were evenly spaced split levels. Every thirteen and a half steps, he’d counted them, a round light on a pole next to a black mailbox popped up. One day he would have a life like this.
He slapped the mailbox that read CROMPTLEY. Addison wouldn’t be there, not right now.
“Cromptley scores for the first time,” Seth chuckled. And then he realized that Addison, for all of his callousness, would deck him if he said it that way. This was something like baptism for Addison. Addison really thought Becky was his One True and they’d be together forever and blah blah blah.
“For you, Cromptley... I hope it’s true.”
Addison was still shaking and holding onto Becky well after it was over. His mouth was open on her breast, and his eyes looked out onto the painted walls of Mason’s room, but he didn’t see. One of his hands was lightly clutched in Becky’s hair and her hand was stroking his. It was so damp. He kissed her, pushed himself up and rolled onto his back. He made sure to never let her go, to let the hand in his hair move to clutch her right hand. He was going limp, a line of his seed went through the bed sheets as he lay on his back and pulled himself closer to her.
“I wish we could stay like this all night,” he said, turning to Becky with a broad smile.
“Mason’s coming home soon, right?”
Addison nodded.
“Then I don’t wish we could stay like this all night. Not here. I keep thinking of Mason walking in.”
Addison sat up now and turned on his side.
“Did you think about that while...?”
“No,” Becky said. “But... I started to think about it a little after it was over.”
“He said he’ll be home at midnight,” Addison turned to look at the clock. It’s about nine now.”
“I think it’s time to get dressed.”
Addison looked at her strangely.
“What?’ she said.
“Did you like it?” he asked her. “Was it good? If you didn’t like it—”
“Addison,” Becky touched his cheek. She kissed him quickly. “Yes, I liked it. I liked all of it, and I wish we had our own place or something because... Because the best part was after it, just lying there. Together. But... I keep thinking of someone walking in and....”
She saw the look on Addison’s goofy face. He was only half believing her. She pushed his brown hair out of his face and touched his chest.
“I never really knew what you looked like until tonight,” she told him. “Or felt like. I never knew....”
He put his hand over her mouth quickly and said, “I never knew I loved you this much.”
“That’s what I was going to say,” Becky said. “And I don’t want to go away but...”
“Let’s sleep together tonight,” Addison said.
“You just said Mason would be here in—”
“We can get a room—”
“At a motel?”
“Yes,” Addison told her eagerly.
“But it’s a motel.”
“But we’re sixteen,” Addison said. “I can’t get like a real hotel. I can’t afford the Ramada. I wish I could. We can find something nice. Not like the ratty ones, but. I want to sleep with you. I want us to sleep together tonight. Please, Rebecca.”
“Yes,” she told him. His face lit up. His wide eyed, long nosed, large mouthed face. She liked that part, and the holding him across her, the feel of him next to her.
“Let’s get dressed,” she said.
“I’ll change the sheets again,” Addison said crawling out of bed so that she saw his body, all of it for the first time. Long, thin, too thin. She saw his ribs. She loved him. The love welled up in her.
“I love you,” he told her as he pulled on his briefs and his jeans. “I love you.”
Seth McKenna groaned louder than he meant to, and in his own ears sounded like someone dying as, on his tiptoes, he came.
He helped Bonnie from against the wall and was pulling out of her, pulling off the condom and leaking the last of his semen into it before he threw it in the trash can.
She had gone into the bathroom to clean up. When she came back Seth was buckling his belt and reaching for his jacket.
“You wanna watch a movie or something?” she said.
“I gotta go. I can’t be gone for long. I have to be back home early,” he lied.
“It’s Saturday,” Bonnie said. “You don’t even have time for a movie?”
Good God, how much did he have to spell it out?
“No, Bonnie,” he told her, opened up the window and halfway out of it said, “not even for a movie.”
Outside it was cool. It had been hot most of September but now it seemed like autumn was actually setting in. When Seth had lied to his dad about going to see Addison, the first thing in his head was, “That poor fucker’s getting laid tonight and he probably thinks it’s real.”
This, in turn, made Seth want to get laid. And, as usual, Bonnie was up for it.
The only thing, and Seth was beginning to realize this as he jammed his hands in the pockets of his baggy khaki’s and headed down Morrison Street, was that to her it was almost real. She was almost beginning to want more from this than what he was offering. And he never lied to her. He never said hey, this is love. He told her exactly what it was. She’d been cool with it. But now she wanted to do things, go to a movie. Get a burger. The shit didn’t work like that.
“One day,” Seth said looking around. All the houses on Morrison were evenly spaced split levels. Every thirteen and a half steps, he’d counted them, a round light on a pole next to a black mailbox popped up. One day he would have a life like this.
He slapped the mailbox that read CROMPTLEY. Addison wouldn’t be there, not right now.
“Cromptley scores for the first time,” Seth chuckled. And then he realized that Addison, for all of his callousness, would deck him if he said it that way. This was something like baptism for Addison. Addison really thought Becky was his One True and they’d be together forever and blah blah blah.
“For you, Cromptley... I hope it’s true.”
Addison was still shaking and holding onto Becky well after it was over. His mouth was open on her breast, and his eyes looked out onto the painted walls of Mason’s room, but he didn’t see. One of his hands was lightly clutched in Becky’s hair and her hand was stroking his. It was so damp. He kissed her, pushed himself up and rolled onto his back. He made sure to never let her go, to let the hand in his hair move to clutch her right hand. He was going limp, a line of his seed went through the bed sheets as he lay on his back and pulled himself closer to her.
“I wish we could stay like this all night,” he said, turning to Becky with a broad smile.
“Mason’s coming home soon, right?”
Addison nodded.
“Then I don’t wish we could stay like this all night. Not here. I keep thinking of Mason walking in.”
Addison sat up now and turned on his side.
“Did you think about that while...?”
“No,” Becky said. “But... I started to think about it a little after it was over.”
“He said he’ll be home at midnight,” Addison turned to look at the clock. It’s about nine now.”
“I think it’s time to get dressed.”
Addison looked at her strangely.
“What?’ she said.
“Did you like it?” he asked her. “Was it good? If you didn’t like it—”
“Addison,” Becky touched his cheek. She kissed him quickly. “Yes, I liked it. I liked all of it, and I wish we had our own place or something because... Because the best part was after it, just lying there. Together. But... I keep thinking of someone walking in and....”
She saw the look on Addison’s goofy face. He was only half believing her. She pushed his brown hair out of his face and touched his chest.
“I never really knew what you looked like until tonight,” she told him. “Or felt like. I never knew....”
He put his hand over her mouth quickly and said, “I never knew I loved you this much.”
“That’s what I was going to say,” Becky said. “And I don’t want to go away but...”
“Let’s sleep together tonight,” Addison said.
“You just said Mason would be here in—”
“We can get a room—”
“At a motel?”
“Yes,” Addison told her eagerly.
“But it’s a motel.”
“But we’re sixteen,” Addison said. “I can’t get like a real hotel. I can’t afford the Ramada. I wish I could. We can find something nice. Not like the ratty ones, but. I want to sleep with you. I want us to sleep together tonight. Please, Rebecca.”
“Yes,” she told him. His face lit up. His wide eyed, long nosed, large mouthed face. She liked that part, and the holding him across her, the feel of him next to her.
“Let’s get dressed,” she said.
“I’ll change the sheets again,” Addison said crawling out of bed so that she saw his body, all of it for the first time. Long, thin, too thin. She saw his ribs. She loved him. The love welled up in her.
“I love you,” he told her as he pulled on his briefs and his jeans. “I love you.”
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
So Addison and Becky had their first time? Good for them. What’s happening between Seth and Bonnie seems a lot less sweet. I am still really enjoying this story. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Oh, yes, nothing with Seth is sweet. Where is it all going? Who knows? We'll see soon, right?
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
I HOPE EVERYONE HAD AN EXCELLENT WEEK, AND AS WE CONCLUDE CHAPTER FOUR, HERE COMES YOUR BIG OLE HELPING OF WEEKEND PORTION!
When they got back Tommy said, “Mason, I gotta go really bad,” and made a bee line for the bathroom while Balliol turned around and around and said, “Nice place, Darrow.”
“No Buckingham Palace, but...” Mason shrugged. “Can I get you food? Drink? It’s all in the refrigerator. He opened it up and Balliol said, “Biscuits!”
“Grands. By Pilsbury. About a day old.”
Balliol picked one up and wrapped it in a paper towel. He found the microwave and hit thirty seconds.
“It’ll be good as new,” he said.
The microwave went off with a ping. He pulled it out and said, “Did I see strawberry jam and butter in that fridge?”
“You did,” Mason pulled them out.
“Now,” Balliol said while he was opening up the biscuit and performing surgery, “why don’t you tell me what you were afraid to find when you got back home?”
“Hum?”
“Don’t hum me, Mason. We’ve been sucking up all that Jesus and getting saved. There should be no secrets between brothers in Christ.”
Balliol took a bite out of the biscuit and butter dripped down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.
“I’d almost think you were serious,” Mason said, taking out the apple juice.
“Um, apple juice,” Balliol reached for a glass. “Actually, I almost was. So. Tell me, what’s up, Mason.”
Mason took a deep breath and crossed the kitchen so he was right up close to Balliol.
“You can’t tell anybody.”
“Then I’m sure I won’t want to.”
“I told Addison Cromptley he could come over here and... lose his virginity.”
“What?” Mason put a hand over Balliol’s mouth.
“Are you serious?”
They heard the toilet flush.
“Yes,” Mason said. “And now I’m starting to think that was stupid of me.”
Balliol just opened his mouth. It stayed open.
“What?” Mason said.
“You... Mason, you really go all out for your friends.”
Mason just looked at him.
“So, how do you feel about sleeping in the bed your best friend just got laid in?”
“What?” Tommy said coming into the kitchen.
Again, Balliol found his mouth wide open.
“Nothing,” Mason said. “Balliol, come to my room with me.”
“Okay?” Balliol shrugged.
“I don’t want to go alone,” Mason said.
“Why not?” said Tommy.
“You know,” Balliol answered before Mason could think of anything, “When you’ve been away for a day... There might be cobwebs. There might be.... anything in there.”
Tommy looked at him strangely, but Balliol just went into the room and said, “Well it doesn’t smell.”
Tommy looked at Mason.
The room looked absolutely neat and ordinary. In fact, maybe no one had been in there.
Mason looked around. Maybe Addison hadn’t been in here. Maybe Becky had said no. Maybe they’d gone someplace else. Maybe... He’d have to tell Addison that he couldn’t go through with this, that he was sorry but they/’d have to find someplace else. He’d call him in the morning and let him know.
“The night’s young,” Balliol announced.
“I’m sleepy,” Tommy said, putting a hand to his mouth.
“No you’re not,” Balliol told him.
“I have to get up for church tomorrow.”
“We all have to get for church tomorrow. But tonight we’re going to stay here,” Balliol said. “Just have a big old fashioned slumber party.”
“Can we paint each other’s nails?” Mason said.
“And do each other’s hair too,” Balliol told him, brightly. “But first we need to order a pizza.”
And then Balliol went toward Mason’s bed, got on his knees and took a big whiff.
“Balliol?” Tommy said in a solicitous tone.
“Just go order a pizza Tommy,” Balliol said.
Tommy thought about saying something else, but turned and left the room.
A second later, Mason came to join Balliol in sniffing the bed.
Balliol turned to him.
“I don’t smell any sex anywhere,” he told him. “It might not have happened at all.”
“I didn’t know it had a smell.”
“Of course it has a smell,” Lincoln Balliol declared.
“I’ve never had sex.”
“Well, neither have I, but I know about it. The smells, the trauma of the first time, sexual addiction, how waiting till you’re married doesn’t necessarily make it better, how fat women like to do it with the lights out and men don’t take their time.”
“Wow,” Mason said. “You must read a lot.”
Balliol shrugged off his vast store of erotic knowledge.
“No,” he said. “I watch a lot of Lifetime.”
Sidney Darrow was getting dressed Sunday morning and whistling to himself, more because he didn’t feel like whistling than because he was in a good mood. When there was too much to think about whistling was always good. He slapped on shaving cream and turned on the hot water in the hotel room.
A long time ago now, though it didn’t seem that long until he considered this, they had all met—that is, he and Joel and Mark—had all met in his parents’ house, in the house that was equally between where Mark lived and where Joel lived. It was over Easter break and Mark was home. He’d arrived from Notre Dame on Maundy Thursday night—what Catholics called Holy Thursday—and Sidney had promptly told him to get rid of his beard and mustache.
“I think I look distinguished,” Mark said.
“I think you look like you just blew in from the set of a Cecil B. Demille epic.”
When Joel saw the beard her burst out laughing and so Mark shrugged and got rid of it. It was agreed that if Joel thought it was stupid it was stupid because Joel was attractive. He was vain about his hair back then. Dukes of Hazzard hair was still in. And he was serious, a student over at Cartimandua College who worked full time. Girls loved serious and sexy.
But Joel was worried that day. He had just turned twenty, and Sidney had just turned sixteen and finally it was Sidney who asked what was wrong because Mark wasn’t going to. Mark was always good at waiting for someone else to ask what was wrong and so it was ironic that, in the end, he became the psychiatrist.
“What makes sex sex?” Joel finally said, playing with his fingers, an odd grimace on his face.
“Is this Zen?” Sidney asked. “Like, what did your face look like before you were born? What’s the color of—?”
“Stop clowning,” Joel said, a little irritated. “I mean... is oral sex sex? Really?”
“What?” Mark’s eyes popped out of his head.
Sidney was shocked, but, really, what was it with white people? Mark was four years older than him. Even holed in Notre Dame, this couldn’t have been too much of a shock.
“Why?” Sidney said. “Did you have it?”
“You don’t have to look so excited.” Joel sounded even more irritated.
“And you don’t have to sound so gloomy,” said Sidney. “So you did? With that Carla?”
“With my girlfriend Carla,” Joel said, sounding truly grieved. “If you’re not going to be a little sensitive, I mean, really.” Then he said, just to be unkind. “Sometimes I forget you’re still just a kid.”
Mark said nothing.
When no one said anything, Sidney figured it really was up to him to speak.
He said, “Well, maybe I am a kid, but since Mark’s not going to ask any questions, you’re stuck with me.”
“Maybe I don’t want to talk about it.”
“If you didn’t want to talk about it you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Sidney—” Mark began, but Sidney shushed him up.
“I’m just saying,” Sidney said, “and maybe this is because you’re Catholic, I don’t know. But you two are always going on about sex, and then when you have it, you act like this terrible thing happened to you—”
“Firstly, it wasn’t sex.”
“It was oral sex. It was sexual.”
“Secondly I’m not acting like it’s the end of the world. I’m just,” Joel said. “I don’t know. Yesterday I was definitely, definitely a virgin. And... I just want to do things right. I try to be good. And... That’s sort of gone. There are things I know. I mean...”
“Did you like it?” Sidney cut to the chase.
“Joel turned red and flustered, then said, “Yes. I mean, of course. It was... I never felt like that before. I... I can’t talk about it. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just I don’t know how to, and.. I just wanted you all to know. And now you do.”
And then a thought occurred to Joel.
“Have you, Sidney…? You know... done that?”
“No,” Sidney sounded a little affronted. “I mean, not yet. None of it. I’m as innocent as... the day.”
“Yeah, Judgment Day,” Mark commented.
But it hadn’t been Sidney that “did it.” In the end it was Mark. They had caught him in the act that same year and then, taking his cues from Mark, Sidney “did it.” That was another story. But all that figured into this particular Sunday morning.
When they got back Tommy said, “Mason, I gotta go really bad,” and made a bee line for the bathroom while Balliol turned around and around and said, “Nice place, Darrow.”
“No Buckingham Palace, but...” Mason shrugged. “Can I get you food? Drink? It’s all in the refrigerator. He opened it up and Balliol said, “Biscuits!”
“Grands. By Pilsbury. About a day old.”
Balliol picked one up and wrapped it in a paper towel. He found the microwave and hit thirty seconds.
“It’ll be good as new,” he said.
The microwave went off with a ping. He pulled it out and said, “Did I see strawberry jam and butter in that fridge?”
“You did,” Mason pulled them out.
“Now,” Balliol said while he was opening up the biscuit and performing surgery, “why don’t you tell me what you were afraid to find when you got back home?”
“Hum?”
“Don’t hum me, Mason. We’ve been sucking up all that Jesus and getting saved. There should be no secrets between brothers in Christ.”
Balliol took a bite out of the biscuit and butter dripped down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.
“I’d almost think you were serious,” Mason said, taking out the apple juice.
“Um, apple juice,” Balliol reached for a glass. “Actually, I almost was. So. Tell me, what’s up, Mason.”
Mason took a deep breath and crossed the kitchen so he was right up close to Balliol.
“You can’t tell anybody.”
“Then I’m sure I won’t want to.”
“I told Addison Cromptley he could come over here and... lose his virginity.”
“What?” Mason put a hand over Balliol’s mouth.
“Are you serious?”
They heard the toilet flush.
“Yes,” Mason said. “And now I’m starting to think that was stupid of me.”
Balliol just opened his mouth. It stayed open.
“What?” Mason said.
“You... Mason, you really go all out for your friends.”
Mason just looked at him.
“So, how do you feel about sleeping in the bed your best friend just got laid in?”
“What?” Tommy said coming into the kitchen.
Again, Balliol found his mouth wide open.
“Nothing,” Mason said. “Balliol, come to my room with me.”
“Okay?” Balliol shrugged.
“I don’t want to go alone,” Mason said.
“Why not?” said Tommy.
“You know,” Balliol answered before Mason could think of anything, “When you’ve been away for a day... There might be cobwebs. There might be.... anything in there.”
Tommy looked at him strangely, but Balliol just went into the room and said, “Well it doesn’t smell.”
Tommy looked at Mason.
The room looked absolutely neat and ordinary. In fact, maybe no one had been in there.
Mason looked around. Maybe Addison hadn’t been in here. Maybe Becky had said no. Maybe they’d gone someplace else. Maybe... He’d have to tell Addison that he couldn’t go through with this, that he was sorry but they/’d have to find someplace else. He’d call him in the morning and let him know.
“The night’s young,” Balliol announced.
“I’m sleepy,” Tommy said, putting a hand to his mouth.
“No you’re not,” Balliol told him.
“I have to get up for church tomorrow.”
“We all have to get for church tomorrow. But tonight we’re going to stay here,” Balliol said. “Just have a big old fashioned slumber party.”
“Can we paint each other’s nails?” Mason said.
“And do each other’s hair too,” Balliol told him, brightly. “But first we need to order a pizza.”
And then Balliol went toward Mason’s bed, got on his knees and took a big whiff.
“Balliol?” Tommy said in a solicitous tone.
“Just go order a pizza Tommy,” Balliol said.
Tommy thought about saying something else, but turned and left the room.
A second later, Mason came to join Balliol in sniffing the bed.
Balliol turned to him.
“I don’t smell any sex anywhere,” he told him. “It might not have happened at all.”
“I didn’t know it had a smell.”
“Of course it has a smell,” Lincoln Balliol declared.
“I’ve never had sex.”
“Well, neither have I, but I know about it. The smells, the trauma of the first time, sexual addiction, how waiting till you’re married doesn’t necessarily make it better, how fat women like to do it with the lights out and men don’t take their time.”
“Wow,” Mason said. “You must read a lot.”
Balliol shrugged off his vast store of erotic knowledge.
“No,” he said. “I watch a lot of Lifetime.”
Sidney Darrow was getting dressed Sunday morning and whistling to himself, more because he didn’t feel like whistling than because he was in a good mood. When there was too much to think about whistling was always good. He slapped on shaving cream and turned on the hot water in the hotel room.
A long time ago now, though it didn’t seem that long until he considered this, they had all met—that is, he and Joel and Mark—had all met in his parents’ house, in the house that was equally between where Mark lived and where Joel lived. It was over Easter break and Mark was home. He’d arrived from Notre Dame on Maundy Thursday night—what Catholics called Holy Thursday—and Sidney had promptly told him to get rid of his beard and mustache.
“I think I look distinguished,” Mark said.
“I think you look like you just blew in from the set of a Cecil B. Demille epic.”
When Joel saw the beard her burst out laughing and so Mark shrugged and got rid of it. It was agreed that if Joel thought it was stupid it was stupid because Joel was attractive. He was vain about his hair back then. Dukes of Hazzard hair was still in. And he was serious, a student over at Cartimandua College who worked full time. Girls loved serious and sexy.
But Joel was worried that day. He had just turned twenty, and Sidney had just turned sixteen and finally it was Sidney who asked what was wrong because Mark wasn’t going to. Mark was always good at waiting for someone else to ask what was wrong and so it was ironic that, in the end, he became the psychiatrist.
“What makes sex sex?” Joel finally said, playing with his fingers, an odd grimace on his face.
“Is this Zen?” Sidney asked. “Like, what did your face look like before you were born? What’s the color of—?”
“Stop clowning,” Joel said, a little irritated. “I mean... is oral sex sex? Really?”
“What?” Mark’s eyes popped out of his head.
Sidney was shocked, but, really, what was it with white people? Mark was four years older than him. Even holed in Notre Dame, this couldn’t have been too much of a shock.
“Why?” Sidney said. “Did you have it?”
“You don’t have to look so excited.” Joel sounded even more irritated.
“And you don’t have to sound so gloomy,” said Sidney. “So you did? With that Carla?”
“With my girlfriend Carla,” Joel said, sounding truly grieved. “If you’re not going to be a little sensitive, I mean, really.” Then he said, just to be unkind. “Sometimes I forget you’re still just a kid.”
Mark said nothing.
When no one said anything, Sidney figured it really was up to him to speak.
He said, “Well, maybe I am a kid, but since Mark’s not going to ask any questions, you’re stuck with me.”
“Maybe I don’t want to talk about it.”
“If you didn’t want to talk about it you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Sidney—” Mark began, but Sidney shushed him up.
“I’m just saying,” Sidney said, “and maybe this is because you’re Catholic, I don’t know. But you two are always going on about sex, and then when you have it, you act like this terrible thing happened to you—”
“Firstly, it wasn’t sex.”
“It was oral sex. It was sexual.”
“Secondly I’m not acting like it’s the end of the world. I’m just,” Joel said. “I don’t know. Yesterday I was definitely, definitely a virgin. And... I just want to do things right. I try to be good. And... That’s sort of gone. There are things I know. I mean...”
“Did you like it?” Sidney cut to the chase.
“Joel turned red and flustered, then said, “Yes. I mean, of course. It was... I never felt like that before. I... I can’t talk about it. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just I don’t know how to, and.. I just wanted you all to know. And now you do.”
And then a thought occurred to Joel.
“Have you, Sidney…? You know... done that?”
“No,” Sidney sounded a little affronted. “I mean, not yet. None of it. I’m as innocent as... the day.”
“Yeah, Judgment Day,” Mark commented.
But it hadn’t been Sidney that “did it.” In the end it was Mark. They had caught him in the act that same year and then, taking his cues from Mark, Sidney “did it.” That was another story. But all that figured into this particular Sunday morning.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Sidney scowled over the unmade bed as he picked up his things and began to pack. He thought about that day a lot, when Joel had come in confused and irked, a little overwhelmed from his first sexual experience. Sidney hadn’t even had a sexual experience with himself, so how could he have any real sympathy. But after experiencing Mark’s first love and then his own and then his marriage, and then now, he understood.
There were some things that left you feeling solidly good, and some that were solidly bad. Some things just left you confused. Keisha left him confused. He was so used to being alone now that whenever she showed up and he felt himself longing again, whenever they were in bed together again, it was always odd. He could put it out of his mind while they were making love or fucking or whatever. But in the morning, when it was over all Sidney could do was look around the room and whistle a lot.
“Hello!” Sid shouted when he entered the house. “Hello!”
There was a note on the counter.
Dear Dad,
gone to church with Tommy and Balliol.
Will be back,
Love,
Mason
Who the hell was Balliol?
“Oh, well,” Sidney shrugged and walked about the house thinking, “I shouldn’t have showered at the hotel. I could have had a nice bath here.”
He could still bathe here, yes, but that would almost be silly.
Instead he decided to make a pot of coffee and find his cigarettes. The hotel barred smoking and Sidney wasn’t such an addict that he’d smoke outside.
“It’s not sophisticated,” he said to himself as he went to his bedroom, pulling out dresser drawers, not quite sure where he’d put the new carton of Maverick’s.
While he was still looking he heard the door open. He heard scuffling. He assumed it was Mason, and when he returned with a pack of cigarettes, he found Joel and Mark sitting at the kitchen table with cups of coffee in hand and a third one across from them, presumably for himself.
“You’ve heard of knocking?” he said.
“Knocking?” Joel turned to Mark. “What’s that about?”
“I think it’s this,” Mark said, and whistled.
“No, no, that’s whistling.” Joel told him.
“Oh,” Mark looked pleasantly vapid. “What is this knocking?”
Sidney wrapped them both on the foreheads and said. “That.”
“Now you owe me a cigarette,” Joel held out his hand. Sidney cashed the pack, opened it, lit two in his mouth and gave one to his friend.
“Too bad you kicked the habit,” Sidney told Mark.
“Lung cancer is the leading cause of death in the state of Ohio.”
“Actually second hand smoke is the leading cause of cancer in Ohio,” Joel ashed into the glass tray Sidney passed him. “I’m worried about you, buddy. If you took it up again it wouldn’t be second hand.”
Mark gave a small smile and said, “I’m glad to know you’re looking out for me.”
Joel smiled lazily, and blew smoke out of his nostrils.
“And now the big question,” Joel said to Sidney.
“What big question?”
Joel and Mark looked at each other, and then they looked at Sidney innocently.
“What?”
They just smiled at him. No. They were leering.
“Oh, God!” Sidney said. “We’re not teenagers. You can’t be serious.”
They just kept smiling at him.
“Yes,” Sidney said, blowing out smoke. “Yes. I did. Last night. All night. Are you pleased?”
Mark shrugged and, pushing up his glasses, said, “I’m just glad to know someone did last night. All night.”
:Smirking, Joel turned to Mark and said, “I’d like to think that one day I will one night, all night. But,” he sighed. “Not very likely.”
“What about with that Bella, or Stella?” said Sidney.
“Good, because her name is Shelley,” Joel told him.
“Well,” Sidney shrugged. “There’s always her. Did you kiss her, at least? And don’t you dare blush after asking me if I slept alone last night.”
Joel did blush though, but he also answered.
“I did, in fact, kiss and get kissed. And that’s all I’m saying. Because a gentleman—”
“You didn’t mind asking me.”
“Well, you’re still married, Sidney. Besides. You’re no gentleman.”
Becky Angstrom’s tan van rolled down Morrison, and stopped at one corner of the white, asphalt street.
“This neighborhood is so barren—” she began. But Addison leaned forward and kissed her. He kissed her two or three times.
“I love you,” he told her.
“You better get home.”
“I wish you could come in with me.”
“Addison, if I parked this van in front of your parents’ house and we walked in together that would be the beginning of a lot of questions.”
“I don’t care,” he said softly.
“Get that goofy look off your face. And you would too care... If you didn’t still have a hard on.”
Addison crawled out of the van, kissing her again, and standing on the sidewalk in front of the house of a family he didn’t know. That was the great thing about this neighborhood. No one knew anyone, so no one could tell your business.
Becky did a U-turn and then with a honk of her horn drove away. Addison watched until the van had made it to the corner of Morning Street. And then it was gone.
The day was already getting old. The fresh morning smell was gone, but he felt like everything was new. As he walked home he wished he didn’t have to report to his parents, tell them he was safe. He wished he could just go and see his friends because after last night home was just no place to be.
Mason was first into the house, and he greeted Joel, Mark and his father with the usual, “Hey, all.”
They weren’t in the kitchen, but in the living room all piled onto the couch watching football, which Sidney hated, but tolerated for Mark and Joel.
Tommy had gone into the kitchen to help himself to sodas and Mason said, “Dad, this is Lincoln Balliol.”
Sidney’s eyebrow was raised from the moment the other Black boy walked in. There weren’t that many Black people in Eastforth and only a handful of Mason’s friends had ever been the same color he was.
“Hello, sir,” Balliol said leaning forward. The boy had class. He shook all of their hands,
Mark said, in a curious tone, “Lincoln Balliol?”
God, dad, I hate Lincoln Balliol! He’s.... he’s evil is what he is.
“Yes, sir,” said Balliol taking his hand away.
“Mark Powers.”
“But everyone calls him Dr. Powers,” Sidney said leaning forward and ruffling his friend’s head.
No one else saw it, but Mason saw it. The flicker between them.
Balliol turned to Mason for all of a second, and then he grinned and covered himself.
“Oh, Chris Powers is your son.”
Most sixteen year olds would have flipped it, would have said, “You’re Chris Power’s dad...” Mason realized.
“Yes.”
Balliol said, neutrally. “I think he’ll take us to a championship.”
“He’s a good player.”
Balliol nodded.
Mason wanted this to end. He knew that Chris must have said something about Balliol, and Balliol must have known that Mark knew who he was.
Something was about to happen.
Balliol smiled at Mark.
and Mark smiled back.
A lot had happened in five seconds, and Balliol had managed it well.
“Dad, do you know what this is?” Mason handed him the photograph that had been in his book bag.
“This?”
“Oh, yeah, the picture,” Tommy said, handing Mason a soda and giving one to Balliol who clicked cans with him.
Mason put his hand to his mouth and started chuckling.
“Oh, my God...” he murmured. “Oh, my God!”
“Look!”
There were some things that left you feeling solidly good, and some that were solidly bad. Some things just left you confused. Keisha left him confused. He was so used to being alone now that whenever she showed up and he felt himself longing again, whenever they were in bed together again, it was always odd. He could put it out of his mind while they were making love or fucking or whatever. But in the morning, when it was over all Sidney could do was look around the room and whistle a lot.
“Hello!” Sid shouted when he entered the house. “Hello!”
There was a note on the counter.
Dear Dad,
gone to church with Tommy and Balliol.
Will be back,
Love,
Mason
Who the hell was Balliol?
“Oh, well,” Sidney shrugged and walked about the house thinking, “I shouldn’t have showered at the hotel. I could have had a nice bath here.”
He could still bathe here, yes, but that would almost be silly.
Instead he decided to make a pot of coffee and find his cigarettes. The hotel barred smoking and Sidney wasn’t such an addict that he’d smoke outside.
“It’s not sophisticated,” he said to himself as he went to his bedroom, pulling out dresser drawers, not quite sure where he’d put the new carton of Maverick’s.
While he was still looking he heard the door open. He heard scuffling. He assumed it was Mason, and when he returned with a pack of cigarettes, he found Joel and Mark sitting at the kitchen table with cups of coffee in hand and a third one across from them, presumably for himself.
“You’ve heard of knocking?” he said.
“Knocking?” Joel turned to Mark. “What’s that about?”
“I think it’s this,” Mark said, and whistled.
“No, no, that’s whistling.” Joel told him.
“Oh,” Mark looked pleasantly vapid. “What is this knocking?”
Sidney wrapped them both on the foreheads and said. “That.”
“Now you owe me a cigarette,” Joel held out his hand. Sidney cashed the pack, opened it, lit two in his mouth and gave one to his friend.
“Too bad you kicked the habit,” Sidney told Mark.
“Lung cancer is the leading cause of death in the state of Ohio.”
“Actually second hand smoke is the leading cause of cancer in Ohio,” Joel ashed into the glass tray Sidney passed him. “I’m worried about you, buddy. If you took it up again it wouldn’t be second hand.”
Mark gave a small smile and said, “I’m glad to know you’re looking out for me.”
Joel smiled lazily, and blew smoke out of his nostrils.
“And now the big question,” Joel said to Sidney.
“What big question?”
Joel and Mark looked at each other, and then they looked at Sidney innocently.
“What?”
They just smiled at him. No. They were leering.
“Oh, God!” Sidney said. “We’re not teenagers. You can’t be serious.”
They just kept smiling at him.
“Yes,” Sidney said, blowing out smoke. “Yes. I did. Last night. All night. Are you pleased?”
Mark shrugged and, pushing up his glasses, said, “I’m just glad to know someone did last night. All night.”
:Smirking, Joel turned to Mark and said, “I’d like to think that one day I will one night, all night. But,” he sighed. “Not very likely.”
“What about with that Bella, or Stella?” said Sidney.
“Good, because her name is Shelley,” Joel told him.
“Well,” Sidney shrugged. “There’s always her. Did you kiss her, at least? And don’t you dare blush after asking me if I slept alone last night.”
Joel did blush though, but he also answered.
“I did, in fact, kiss and get kissed. And that’s all I’m saying. Because a gentleman—”
“You didn’t mind asking me.”
“Well, you’re still married, Sidney. Besides. You’re no gentleman.”
Becky Angstrom’s tan van rolled down Morrison, and stopped at one corner of the white, asphalt street.
“This neighborhood is so barren—” she began. But Addison leaned forward and kissed her. He kissed her two or three times.
“I love you,” he told her.
“You better get home.”
“I wish you could come in with me.”
“Addison, if I parked this van in front of your parents’ house and we walked in together that would be the beginning of a lot of questions.”
“I don’t care,” he said softly.
“Get that goofy look off your face. And you would too care... If you didn’t still have a hard on.”
Addison crawled out of the van, kissing her again, and standing on the sidewalk in front of the house of a family he didn’t know. That was the great thing about this neighborhood. No one knew anyone, so no one could tell your business.
Becky did a U-turn and then with a honk of her horn drove away. Addison watched until the van had made it to the corner of Morning Street. And then it was gone.
The day was already getting old. The fresh morning smell was gone, but he felt like everything was new. As he walked home he wished he didn’t have to report to his parents, tell them he was safe. He wished he could just go and see his friends because after last night home was just no place to be.
Mason was first into the house, and he greeted Joel, Mark and his father with the usual, “Hey, all.”
They weren’t in the kitchen, but in the living room all piled onto the couch watching football, which Sidney hated, but tolerated for Mark and Joel.
Tommy had gone into the kitchen to help himself to sodas and Mason said, “Dad, this is Lincoln Balliol.”
Sidney’s eyebrow was raised from the moment the other Black boy walked in. There weren’t that many Black people in Eastforth and only a handful of Mason’s friends had ever been the same color he was.
“Hello, sir,” Balliol said leaning forward. The boy had class. He shook all of their hands,
Mark said, in a curious tone, “Lincoln Balliol?”
God, dad, I hate Lincoln Balliol! He’s.... he’s evil is what he is.
“Yes, sir,” said Balliol taking his hand away.
“Mark Powers.”
“But everyone calls him Dr. Powers,” Sidney said leaning forward and ruffling his friend’s head.
No one else saw it, but Mason saw it. The flicker between them.
Balliol turned to Mason for all of a second, and then he grinned and covered himself.
“Oh, Chris Powers is your son.”
Most sixteen year olds would have flipped it, would have said, “You’re Chris Power’s dad...” Mason realized.
“Yes.”
Balliol said, neutrally. “I think he’ll take us to a championship.”
“He’s a good player.”
Balliol nodded.
Mason wanted this to end. He knew that Chris must have said something about Balliol, and Balliol must have known that Mark knew who he was.
Something was about to happen.
Balliol smiled at Mark.
and Mark smiled back.
A lot had happened in five seconds, and Balliol had managed it well.
“Dad, do you know what this is?” Mason handed him the photograph that had been in his book bag.
“This?”
“Oh, yeah, the picture,” Tommy said, handing Mason a soda and giving one to Balliol who clicked cans with him.
Mason put his hand to his mouth and started chuckling.
“Oh, my God...” he murmured. “Oh, my God!”
“Look!”
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Sidney handed the picture of the little brown boy between the two white kids in their blue pants and their sky blue shirts, with their thick hair.
“It’s you all,” Balliol realized looking from the little boys to Mark and Joel and Sidney. “It’s you.”
“Yes,” Mark said with a smile at Balliol. “It is.
“Back at Saint Mary’s when you were in kindergarten they’d give you a big brother or a big sister. Usually boys got big brothers and girls got big sisters. They were a few years ahead of you, just old enough that until maybe fourth grade you’d have someone, and then you got to be a big brother.”
Joel added: “You usually liked your school little brothers better than your real ones.”
“Mine were Joel and Mark,” Sidney explained. “And back then, in the seventies,” Sidney shook his head and smiled over the photograph “I thought they were so grown up. They all had that post-Brady bunch hair, and back then your pants were usually one size to small—”
“To show off the package,” Joel remembered.
“And,” Mark added reflectively, while the younger boys shook their heads in amazement and Mason but a hand over his mouth, “if you didn’t have a package you stuffed your pants like you did.”
“I never stuffed my pants,” Joel held up a solemn hand. “Mickey Howard—Dickhead Howard’s brother—did stuff his pants. Tom Rafferty held him upside down and shook him until each roll of socks fell out.”
“But I mean, my God we could all tell,” Sidney said. “It was either tube socks or elephantitis.”
“Who’s Dickhead—” Mason began, and then the light of realization dawned on him and Balliol said, “They called Dean Howard that back then, too?”
“I don’t know why,” said Mark. “He’s a perfectly good person.”
“How was that Irish thing?” Joel remembered suddenly.
“It was nice. I mean, I had a really good time. I wish we’d known each other—me and Rick that is—back in high school. It’s nice to meet other people. I mean, I’ve got you guys and you’re great, but...”
“It’s just nice to meet a new friend,” Sidney said, gesturing to Balliol and Mason.
Sidney took back the picture, “I thought wavy hair, and Izod Lacoste sky blue shirts, tight navy pants and a kickball were the epitome of all things manly. You were all so...”
“Manly?” Joel said in a deep voice.
“Yes.”
“Well,” Mark said, sitting back, “You still think we’re the epitome of all things manly, right?”
“Naturally.”
“I remember,” Joel took the picture from Mark and gazed at it, “Sidney used to want to have all that hair. I felt like the blond duke of Hazzard. God, I looked like the Blond Duke of Hazzard! Sid thought that was so cool. And then, Mark ,when you got older you looked like Movie Jesus cause you had all that dark hair, and those eyes.”
“Those crazy eyes?” Mark said, eyeing Sidney. “Those odd eyes that shut people out?”
Sidney shrugged and murmured, “I love it when you call up things I’ve said in the past… like I’m going to apologize for them or something.”
He didn’t.
Mark reached over and grabbed Sidney’s head.
“What are you—?” Sidney began.
“I had hair like Christ,” Mark said, “and now I have Sidney’s hair cut. I lost my first girlfriend cause I looked like Jesus.”
“Sleeping with Christ can fuck a girl up,” Joel said, and as soon as he did, the three men instantly looked up and turned red. Well, Sidney didn’t turn red.
“We forgot you were here,” Sidney told them.
The boys just looked at each other and grinned. Then Mason said, “We’ll just be going to my room now.”
After the boys were gone, the men sat on the couch still sat grinning stupidly. At last Joel began to chuckle and Mark punched him in the arm, and then punched Sidney and then Sidney punched him and then they began punching each other and sat down on the couch chuckling and rubbing their arms.
“Ouch,” Sidney murmured.
“She got tired of sleeping with Christ?” Mark said to Joel.
“I remember the time we walked in on you and Vanessa,” Sidney said.
He and Joel said together:
“God! Oh, God! Oh, Jesus! Oh my God!
Mark was totally red, and he said, sinking into his seat, “Shut up, both of you. I never said I would wait till my wedding night, and I’ve only been with two people in my life, So... shush.”
“When you think of how horny we were,” Sidney said. “It’s amazing that our combined sexual experience is about five women.”
“But oh,” Mark said, eyes glowing and a stupid look on his face, “those five lucky women.”
Balliol glanced around and then sat on the bed.
“I really like this room,” he told Mason. “You’re a great artist.”
“I’m an okay artist,” Mason amended.
“You’re a great artist,” Balliol said, this time in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Okay,” Mason shrugged as Balliol said, “Good God, that’s amazing,” and crossed the room to look at the large black and white monster with the mouth full of spiraling teeth.
“I generally go from making something pretty to making something ugly,” Mason explained. “Though I may stay on ugly or beautiful for a while depending on how I’m feeling. Beats psychology.”
“Yes,” Balliol said, smiling over a fierce Minotaur. “It sure in the hell does. Mason, you’re unbelievable.”
“I wanna thank you guys,” said Tommy. “For coming to that with me. I really appreciate it. Especially you, Balliol.”
Balliol shrugged.
“What are friends for?”
“Are we friends then?” Tommy said.
Balliol looked at the two of them. Mason and Tommy seemed to be waiting for an answer.
“Well, hell, I guess we are. I think the three of us could do a hell of a lot worse. Don’t you?”
Tommy laughed brightly, and nodded his head.
The door opened and Mason said, “Nobody knocks.”
It was Addison.
“I had to get the fuck out of my mom and dad’s house,” he said. “I shouldn’t be there today. I should be out.”
Mason thought, I should get this out of the way. Right now.
“Add, can I talk to you a second?”
“Yes,” Addison said, and then he said, “Tommy, Balliol?”
Balliol nodded.
“Did you all enjoy the conference?”
There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in Addison’s voice though Tommy looked for it.
“Yes,” Tommy said, uncertainly.
“Good,” Addison told him. “Good for you, Tommy.” He leaned down, caught the other boy’s head in a lock and nookied his head.
“That’s just because I love you. I love all of you. Even Balliol. And we don’t even really know each other. Come on, Mase.”
Mason looked at his other two friends, shrugged and went out the door into the hall with Addison.
“Addison—” he began.
But suddenly Addison hugged him tightly and, letting go, whispered, “Oh, God, Mason. I hope one day it happens to you. I mean, I know it will. But when it does I hope it’s as good as it was for me. For us. God, Mason. It’s like… I feel totally new. I can’t believe it. I—”
“You were here last night?” Mason said.
“Yeah. You couldn’t tell? That was the goal. Clean sheets and everything. I took yours back to my house to wash. I would have washed them here, but—what’s up?”
Mason felt his breath draining out of him. He felt a little light headed. His oldest friend had just had sex in his own bed last night. Addison Cromptley wasn’t a virgin anymore. Mason, who had just returned from Holy Trinity Episcopal, where he was lead tenor at High Mass on Sunday had furnished the whole thing.
His mouth was a little open. His vision was a little hazy. Addison smiled brightly and hugged him again.
“Thanks, Mason,” Addison said.
Mason shrugged stupidly and heard himself croak, “You’re welcome.”
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS, AND I HOPE YOU HAVE AN EXCELLENT WEEKEND.
“It’s you all,” Balliol realized looking from the little boys to Mark and Joel and Sidney. “It’s you.”
“Yes,” Mark said with a smile at Balliol. “It is.
“Back at Saint Mary’s when you were in kindergarten they’d give you a big brother or a big sister. Usually boys got big brothers and girls got big sisters. They were a few years ahead of you, just old enough that until maybe fourth grade you’d have someone, and then you got to be a big brother.”
Joel added: “You usually liked your school little brothers better than your real ones.”
“Mine were Joel and Mark,” Sidney explained. “And back then, in the seventies,” Sidney shook his head and smiled over the photograph “I thought they were so grown up. They all had that post-Brady bunch hair, and back then your pants were usually one size to small—”
“To show off the package,” Joel remembered.
“And,” Mark added reflectively, while the younger boys shook their heads in amazement and Mason but a hand over his mouth, “if you didn’t have a package you stuffed your pants like you did.”
“I never stuffed my pants,” Joel held up a solemn hand. “Mickey Howard—Dickhead Howard’s brother—did stuff his pants. Tom Rafferty held him upside down and shook him until each roll of socks fell out.”
“But I mean, my God we could all tell,” Sidney said. “It was either tube socks or elephantitis.”
“Who’s Dickhead—” Mason began, and then the light of realization dawned on him and Balliol said, “They called Dean Howard that back then, too?”
“I don’t know why,” said Mark. “He’s a perfectly good person.”
“How was that Irish thing?” Joel remembered suddenly.
“It was nice. I mean, I had a really good time. I wish we’d known each other—me and Rick that is—back in high school. It’s nice to meet other people. I mean, I’ve got you guys and you’re great, but...”
“It’s just nice to meet a new friend,” Sidney said, gesturing to Balliol and Mason.
Sidney took back the picture, “I thought wavy hair, and Izod Lacoste sky blue shirts, tight navy pants and a kickball were the epitome of all things manly. You were all so...”
“Manly?” Joel said in a deep voice.
“Yes.”
“Well,” Mark said, sitting back, “You still think we’re the epitome of all things manly, right?”
“Naturally.”
“I remember,” Joel took the picture from Mark and gazed at it, “Sidney used to want to have all that hair. I felt like the blond duke of Hazzard. God, I looked like the Blond Duke of Hazzard! Sid thought that was so cool. And then, Mark ,when you got older you looked like Movie Jesus cause you had all that dark hair, and those eyes.”
“Those crazy eyes?” Mark said, eyeing Sidney. “Those odd eyes that shut people out?”
Sidney shrugged and murmured, “I love it when you call up things I’ve said in the past… like I’m going to apologize for them or something.”
He didn’t.
Mark reached over and grabbed Sidney’s head.
“What are you—?” Sidney began.
“I had hair like Christ,” Mark said, “and now I have Sidney’s hair cut. I lost my first girlfriend cause I looked like Jesus.”
“Sleeping with Christ can fuck a girl up,” Joel said, and as soon as he did, the three men instantly looked up and turned red. Well, Sidney didn’t turn red.
“We forgot you were here,” Sidney told them.
The boys just looked at each other and grinned. Then Mason said, “We’ll just be going to my room now.”
After the boys were gone, the men sat on the couch still sat grinning stupidly. At last Joel began to chuckle and Mark punched him in the arm, and then punched Sidney and then Sidney punched him and then they began punching each other and sat down on the couch chuckling and rubbing their arms.
“Ouch,” Sidney murmured.
“She got tired of sleeping with Christ?” Mark said to Joel.
“I remember the time we walked in on you and Vanessa,” Sidney said.
He and Joel said together:
“God! Oh, God! Oh, Jesus! Oh my God!
Mark was totally red, and he said, sinking into his seat, “Shut up, both of you. I never said I would wait till my wedding night, and I’ve only been with two people in my life, So... shush.”
“When you think of how horny we were,” Sidney said. “It’s amazing that our combined sexual experience is about five women.”
“But oh,” Mark said, eyes glowing and a stupid look on his face, “those five lucky women.”
Balliol glanced around and then sat on the bed.
“I really like this room,” he told Mason. “You’re a great artist.”
“I’m an okay artist,” Mason amended.
“You’re a great artist,” Balliol said, this time in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Okay,” Mason shrugged as Balliol said, “Good God, that’s amazing,” and crossed the room to look at the large black and white monster with the mouth full of spiraling teeth.
“I generally go from making something pretty to making something ugly,” Mason explained. “Though I may stay on ugly or beautiful for a while depending on how I’m feeling. Beats psychology.”
“Yes,” Balliol said, smiling over a fierce Minotaur. “It sure in the hell does. Mason, you’re unbelievable.”
“I wanna thank you guys,” said Tommy. “For coming to that with me. I really appreciate it. Especially you, Balliol.”
Balliol shrugged.
“What are friends for?”
“Are we friends then?” Tommy said.
Balliol looked at the two of them. Mason and Tommy seemed to be waiting for an answer.
“Well, hell, I guess we are. I think the three of us could do a hell of a lot worse. Don’t you?”
Tommy laughed brightly, and nodded his head.
The door opened and Mason said, “Nobody knocks.”
It was Addison.
“I had to get the fuck out of my mom and dad’s house,” he said. “I shouldn’t be there today. I should be out.”
Mason thought, I should get this out of the way. Right now.
“Add, can I talk to you a second?”
“Yes,” Addison said, and then he said, “Tommy, Balliol?”
Balliol nodded.
“Did you all enjoy the conference?”
There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in Addison’s voice though Tommy looked for it.
“Yes,” Tommy said, uncertainly.
“Good,” Addison told him. “Good for you, Tommy.” He leaned down, caught the other boy’s head in a lock and nookied his head.
“That’s just because I love you. I love all of you. Even Balliol. And we don’t even really know each other. Come on, Mase.”
Mason looked at his other two friends, shrugged and went out the door into the hall with Addison.
“Addison—” he began.
But suddenly Addison hugged him tightly and, letting go, whispered, “Oh, God, Mason. I hope one day it happens to you. I mean, I know it will. But when it does I hope it’s as good as it was for me. For us. God, Mason. It’s like… I feel totally new. I can’t believe it. I—”
“You were here last night?” Mason said.
“Yeah. You couldn’t tell? That was the goal. Clean sheets and everything. I took yours back to my house to wash. I would have washed them here, but—what’s up?”
Mason felt his breath draining out of him. He felt a little light headed. His oldest friend had just had sex in his own bed last night. Addison Cromptley wasn’t a virgin anymore. Mason, who had just returned from Holy Trinity Episcopal, where he was lead tenor at High Mass on Sunday had furnished the whole thing.
His mouth was a little open. His vision was a little hazy. Addison smiled brightly and hugged him again.
“Thanks, Mason,” Addison said.
Mason shrugged stupidly and heard himself croak, “You’re welcome.”
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS, AND I HOPE YOU HAVE AN EXCELLENT WEEKEND.
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
I did enjoy this! Thanks for posting it! It’s cool to see how these characters are progressing and seeing what they get up to next. Great writing and I look forward to more soon! I am glad these guys have each other.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
CHAPTER FIVE
REVELATION
Joel Mc.Kenna never realized he had sworn off love until it came back to him. Love was, in the end, an untrustworthy business. Love kept your mind from reality. You didn’t know where you were or what was going on. For twelve years Joel was sure he had a perfect marriage. He was sure Martha was happy to be Mrs. McKenna. He was sure that he belonged to a loyal family. Life was good. No, life was unhampered. Life was like the beginning of the Book of Job.
Joel had read Job—half of it—once. He wasn’t a Bible scholar. That just wasn’t him. Everyone talked about the patience of Job, the goodness of Job, but what Joel saw in Job was the predictability of his life and, suddenly, that predictability interrupted by God. Suddenly it didn’t matter if you were good or bad or whatever. Things just happened.
So, Joel had come home from work one day, before he was a bus driver.Back then he was still working at Ace. He’d come home early to surprise Seth and romance the wife. But Seth wasn’t there. Martha was, and she was in bed with his brother. They were right in the middle of it when Joel walked into his bedroom, and they looked at him partway in horror but also halfway in offense. They looked at him like, “What are you doing here?”
He dropped what was in his hand. Joel was never able to remember what was in his hand. Whenever he thinks about it, it is always a bouquet of screwdrivers and lug nuts, and there is something in his head that says, “No wonder... No wonder she left you.”
Joel does not picture his brother. He has a rare talent by which, when he doesn’t want to think of you, to see your face, he is able to forget what you look like and so when Joel imagines his brother’s face it is just a peach colored circle with indentations where the mouth and eyes should be.
But he remembers what John was like. John was no great shakes. John wasn’t very enjoyable to be around. So... why John? What was so great about John? Not that a man who brought home a bouquet of screwdrivers wasn’t worth leaving, but for John? Really, Martha could have done better than that.
The bouquet of lug nuts is so firmly placed in his mind, Joel has to remind himself that there never was one. After Martha left Joel always remembered bringing her boxes of chocolate covers shims. He always had dreams of taking her to the hardware store on a date.
“You just think you’re not romantic enough,” Sidney told him. “You keep on imagining yourself as a hardware salesman. That’s not why she left.”
“Then why did she leave?”
Sidney opened his mouth to say something nasty about her. Joel knew Sidney. But then Sidney just shrugged and smiled.
“I’d take her back if she came back,” Joel said.
Then there was the period that must have been confusing for Seth. The long year of the divorce. Divorce was not done. His parents were still married, if not happy. Divorce was a failure as much as it was a sin. It was something he didn’t talk about to his priest. And he was still in love with Martha. That was what made him angry about the whole thing. He was so in love with her and had so little dignity regarding himself that now and again she would come back and they’d sleep together. This was around the same time that Mark’s wife was dying and misery was all around the two of them. And then the divorce was final and Joel said he couldn’t do this anymore and then he trumped Martha. He got full custody of Seth. Apparently Seth wanted it that way. And there was no Martha, and no anyone else for that matter. Joel made a sort of religious change without realizing it. He decided that all the love he’d given to Martha would go to the rest of the world. He decided he would devote himself to being mother and father to Seth. And then he realized that Cartimandua Mass Transit paid better than Ace—the hardware store that, right or wrong, he blamed for the demise of his marriage—and went to work driving first the Nine and then the Ten and now the Number Seven route.
And on the Number Seven Route he met, of course, Shelley. Shelley who was here on this couch, smelling good, looking young like March and April. Shelley who, little by little was opening something long closed and bringing up things he’d tried to bury.
They were on his couch and she must have seen something in his face. She said, “Joel, what’s wrong?”
“Huh?” he said, shaking his head.
“You’re different today is all,” she told him. “You’re... You seem dis—no, distracted isn’t the word. Afraid is the word.”
His eyes bulged out. She would have laughed except he seemed genuinely upset.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I am afraid,” he confessed seriously.
“About what?”
“It’s been so long,” Joel told her. “And... I don’t understand women. I... don’t understand myself.”
Shelley cocked her head and her eyes crinkled. They smiled with a sort of mercy. They were these beautiful tortoiseshell eyes. How could you have tortoiseshell eyes? But she did. All green to brown to grey and…
“You see,” Joel said, biting his bottom lip and caressing her hand, “I’m afraid that I’m in love with you.”
“That was an awesome game! Tell me, why don’t we have a major basketball team in Cartimandua? How come we have to go all the way to Columbus?” Mark demanded from the passenger seat.
Before Rick Howard could answer, Mark continued, “He shoots!? He scores! The crowd is wild!” He put his hand to his mouth and made a noise like a whole crowd. “Mark Jacob Powers at five foot seven, age forty-two, the MVP of the—!”
Rick gazed at Mark in appreciation, watching the road in the night from the corner of his eye. “You’re kind of goofy. You know that?”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Mark challenged him, making a face.
Rick laughed and pushed the car horn.
“No, I do not. You just never seemed like a very goofy person. I mean, from the outside you’re practically anti-goofy.”
“Have you heard the message on my answering machine?”
“No.”
“Let me assure you, it’s amply goofy.”
Rick chuckled and shook his head.
“I really don’t think I’ve met anyone like you, Dr. Powers.”
“No one understands the real me,” Mark said in a deep voice. And then he said, “I don’t really show off the real me. I don’t know why. In the last few years... No, I guess it’s always been that way. I’m afraid to cut lose in front of most people. So, take it as a compliment that I’m an idiot around you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what?” Rick began.
Mark turned to him and put on a silly smile.
“What?”
“I didn’t realize how lonely I was until we started hanging out together.”
Mark’s face turned serious. It was his deeply introspective face, but it looked like he was struggling with a bowel movement.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I feel the same way too.”
“But...” that wasn’t really his place to say. So he said, “This isn’t my place to say, but...”
“But you’ve already started. That means you have to continue.”
“You’ve got Chris and... I mean, I know children are different from friends and all that. but, you’ve got friends. I’ve seen them. Their kids go to my school.”
“Yes,” Mark said. “But, it’s almost like there was a different sort of loneliness, a whole other me and that me... was still lonely. Does that make sense?”
Rick nodded familiarly.
“Yes,” he said.
REVELATION
Joel Mc.Kenna never realized he had sworn off love until it came back to him. Love was, in the end, an untrustworthy business. Love kept your mind from reality. You didn’t know where you were or what was going on. For twelve years Joel was sure he had a perfect marriage. He was sure Martha was happy to be Mrs. McKenna. He was sure that he belonged to a loyal family. Life was good. No, life was unhampered. Life was like the beginning of the Book of Job.
Joel had read Job—half of it—once. He wasn’t a Bible scholar. That just wasn’t him. Everyone talked about the patience of Job, the goodness of Job, but what Joel saw in Job was the predictability of his life and, suddenly, that predictability interrupted by God. Suddenly it didn’t matter if you were good or bad or whatever. Things just happened.
So, Joel had come home from work one day, before he was a bus driver.Back then he was still working at Ace. He’d come home early to surprise Seth and romance the wife. But Seth wasn’t there. Martha was, and she was in bed with his brother. They were right in the middle of it when Joel walked into his bedroom, and they looked at him partway in horror but also halfway in offense. They looked at him like, “What are you doing here?”
He dropped what was in his hand. Joel was never able to remember what was in his hand. Whenever he thinks about it, it is always a bouquet of screwdrivers and lug nuts, and there is something in his head that says, “No wonder... No wonder she left you.”
Joel does not picture his brother. He has a rare talent by which, when he doesn’t want to think of you, to see your face, he is able to forget what you look like and so when Joel imagines his brother’s face it is just a peach colored circle with indentations where the mouth and eyes should be.
But he remembers what John was like. John was no great shakes. John wasn’t very enjoyable to be around. So... why John? What was so great about John? Not that a man who brought home a bouquet of screwdrivers wasn’t worth leaving, but for John? Really, Martha could have done better than that.
The bouquet of lug nuts is so firmly placed in his mind, Joel has to remind himself that there never was one. After Martha left Joel always remembered bringing her boxes of chocolate covers shims. He always had dreams of taking her to the hardware store on a date.
“You just think you’re not romantic enough,” Sidney told him. “You keep on imagining yourself as a hardware salesman. That’s not why she left.”
“Then why did she leave?”
Sidney opened his mouth to say something nasty about her. Joel knew Sidney. But then Sidney just shrugged and smiled.
“I’d take her back if she came back,” Joel said.
Then there was the period that must have been confusing for Seth. The long year of the divorce. Divorce was not done. His parents were still married, if not happy. Divorce was a failure as much as it was a sin. It was something he didn’t talk about to his priest. And he was still in love with Martha. That was what made him angry about the whole thing. He was so in love with her and had so little dignity regarding himself that now and again she would come back and they’d sleep together. This was around the same time that Mark’s wife was dying and misery was all around the two of them. And then the divorce was final and Joel said he couldn’t do this anymore and then he trumped Martha. He got full custody of Seth. Apparently Seth wanted it that way. And there was no Martha, and no anyone else for that matter. Joel made a sort of religious change without realizing it. He decided that all the love he’d given to Martha would go to the rest of the world. He decided he would devote himself to being mother and father to Seth. And then he realized that Cartimandua Mass Transit paid better than Ace—the hardware store that, right or wrong, he blamed for the demise of his marriage—and went to work driving first the Nine and then the Ten and now the Number Seven route.
And on the Number Seven Route he met, of course, Shelley. Shelley who was here on this couch, smelling good, looking young like March and April. Shelley who, little by little was opening something long closed and bringing up things he’d tried to bury.
They were on his couch and she must have seen something in his face. She said, “Joel, what’s wrong?”
“Huh?” he said, shaking his head.
“You’re different today is all,” she told him. “You’re... You seem dis—no, distracted isn’t the word. Afraid is the word.”
His eyes bulged out. She would have laughed except he seemed genuinely upset.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I am afraid,” he confessed seriously.
“About what?”
“It’s been so long,” Joel told her. “And... I don’t understand women. I... don’t understand myself.”
Shelley cocked her head and her eyes crinkled. They smiled with a sort of mercy. They were these beautiful tortoiseshell eyes. How could you have tortoiseshell eyes? But she did. All green to brown to grey and…
“You see,” Joel said, biting his bottom lip and caressing her hand, “I’m afraid that I’m in love with you.”
“That was an awesome game! Tell me, why don’t we have a major basketball team in Cartimandua? How come we have to go all the way to Columbus?” Mark demanded from the passenger seat.
Before Rick Howard could answer, Mark continued, “He shoots!? He scores! The crowd is wild!” He put his hand to his mouth and made a noise like a whole crowd. “Mark Jacob Powers at five foot seven, age forty-two, the MVP of the—!”
Rick gazed at Mark in appreciation, watching the road in the night from the corner of his eye. “You’re kind of goofy. You know that?”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Mark challenged him, making a face.
Rick laughed and pushed the car horn.
“No, I do not. You just never seemed like a very goofy person. I mean, from the outside you’re practically anti-goofy.”
“Have you heard the message on my answering machine?”
“No.”
“Let me assure you, it’s amply goofy.”
Rick chuckled and shook his head.
“I really don’t think I’ve met anyone like you, Dr. Powers.”
“No one understands the real me,” Mark said in a deep voice. And then he said, “I don’t really show off the real me. I don’t know why. In the last few years... No, I guess it’s always been that way. I’m afraid to cut lose in front of most people. So, take it as a compliment that I’m an idiot around you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what?” Rick began.
Mark turned to him and put on a silly smile.
“What?”
“I didn’t realize how lonely I was until we started hanging out together.”
Mark’s face turned serious. It was his deeply introspective face, but it looked like he was struggling with a bowel movement.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I feel the same way too.”
“But...” that wasn’t really his place to say. So he said, “This isn’t my place to say, but...”
“But you’ve already started. That means you have to continue.”
“You’ve got Chris and... I mean, I know children are different from friends and all that. but, you’ve got friends. I’ve seen them. Their kids go to my school.”
“Yes,” Mark said. “But, it’s almost like there was a different sort of loneliness, a whole other me and that me... was still lonely. Does that make sense?”
Rick nodded familiarly.
“Yes,” he said.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Rebecca Angstrom wasn’t religious, and she wasn’t imaginative. She wasn’t romantic either. Things more or less happened to her. She was beautiful. She knew this because that’s what she’d been told, and she was well off. She lived in Cartimandua Hills—Dewy Hills they called it for short.
Things more or less happened to her. She had been effortlessly popular. She didn’t have to work to be pretty. Some girls were working for it now, and then there were some who had never been pretty in the first place. They were employing a whole lot of makeup to look like they really didn’t. She felt sort of sorry for them. Becky had gone to her parties, been kissed by boys, gone from K-8 school to high school, and gone through her Freshmen year.
But then something had happened. Something had happened and she’d snapped into life. For the first time she’d met something not beautiful, not well managed, not predictable, not quite ordinary. It had long unkempt hair, a long, not entirely handsome face, large, expressive hands, intense ways, sarcasm, a very different look on the world. A look at all. Next to the well proportioned and vacuous blond boys, next to the dark eyed, dark hair fellows with perfect smiles, was Addison Cromptley.
If someone had asked: “Do you love him?” she would have thought they were stupid. It wasn’t a matter of love. You really couldn’t stay away from Addison. He was too much. There was something wonderfully ugly about him, rough, uncut. He didn’t fit, and she didn’t want him to. Everything fit in her world. Listening to him talk, kissing him in his car, having him—yes—take down her pants or lift up her skirt and touch her there, go down on her... It was too much. Doing the same for him. He was the first real sex she knew about.
And so, when it was time it was time. Becky didn’t think about it. She didn’t fear losing her virginity, but she didn’t really look forward to it. She wasn’t practiced in thinking. She didn’t reflect about things. She just assumed that the same way semester followed semester losing her virginity followed this. She did love Addison. She more than loved him. So this made complete sense.
But it was strange. Addison made her see more. Every time she was with Addison her eyes and her heart seemed to become wider and wider.
That first time, when she’d been under him, sometimes he hurt and sometimes he felt good. For a second he almost felt good, but really she felt like she was putting up with an invasion. And there was something amazing and powerful about having Addison Cromptley, all of him, almost six feet of him, his wildness naked and on her and in her, striving against her. There was something that approached joy about seeing him that way. And there was something that made her a little embarrassed. Even now she didn’t want to think about his face. She’d looked down at him once, his face in her shoulder. Then she had tried to put him out of her mind. From that first time she was never really with Addison, she was someplace else.
She was looking at the walls of Mason’s room.
There was a unicorn, blood red. She didn’t know how it had been made. It seemed like a painted sculpture, there was a background that seemed almost black, but it was different shades of deep red and blue.
There was a woman, made of circles, with circles for breasts and face. She looked primitive, or like a Picasso and Becky felt herself drifting out to meet her.
She felt bad whenever she was having sex with Addison, primarily because she wasn’t. In the back of the van she was looking up at the ceiling and she could feel his hands gripping her shoulders, then under her, pulling her down, feel him pushing into her harder and harder, his face desperate, murmuring in her shoulder.
“Becky,” he gasped and her hand went to his head stroking his hair. His hair was so soft. He moaned something into her shirt and then he arched up and he was coming and he was going higher and higher in the black darkness of the van. She could just make out his face, as if he’d been struck by something. then he reared up sharply and he was coming down, low and low, laying across her, his face in her neck.
“Becky,” he kept saying to her in a damp voice, muffled against her neck, “Becky,”
Becky stroked his hair gently. She throbbed a little.
She felt bad about how this all turned out.
She felt bad because the thing Addison was helping her to see now was that she did not love him.
Tommy Dwyer had never lived well. He didn’t live in Eastforth. There had been a Mr. Dwyer, but there was no Mr. Dwyer now. He had a brother, Philip, and Philip was irresponsible. Philip was always screwing things up, leaving things for Tommy to make right. He didn’t talk about him much. In fact he left his older brother out of his conversations to the point that when he brought him up to Mason and Addison, Tommy realized from the looks on their faces that they’d forgotten Philip existed.
He didn’t mean to be jealous and envious. Really he didn’t. And Tommy knew that Jesus didn’t give any of us more than we can bear, that the Lord had a purpose. But maybe because they didn’t know what it was like to have an alcoholic no show father or a mother who didn’t care about anything including herself, this was the reason, maybe, that they couldn’t understand why coming to know the Lord and finding Cedar Ridge Church was the seminal event of Tommy’s life.
Up until then being a Christian was just going to church on Sunday because you had to. You didn’t really believe or feel anything. but these people did. And they promised you could know the Lord. Jesus loved you, Jesus had a plan for your life. For his life. For Tommy. Tommy could talk to the Lord. He didn’t have much of a father on earth, but he did have a father in heaven.
And if he thought about it, he could see God’s hand all through his life, see how God was always there. Maybe the Lord had brought him to this place, just so he could show Tommy his love in a better way.
“You know what, Tommy?” Derrick said. “I bet the Lord is really going to reward you for Philip. I bet the lord will bring Philip back to him through you.”
Derrick was a Godsend. Literally. He could only talk to Derrick and the others on the phone, but he knew just what Tommy was going through, what Tommy meant. He didn’t mean to complain about Mason, really he didn’t. Mason wasn’t bad. But Mason was another language and sometimes Tommy got the feeling that Mason really didn’t know, couldn’t know what it was like to know the Lord. How could he? He wouldn’t even use the phrase, “know the Lord.”
But Derrick was a brother in the spirit, which is what he told him.
“I know just what you mean,” Derrick said.
“I... I need you to pray about something for me?”
“Sure thing,” Derrick said, waiting.
“Impure thoughts,” Tommy said. “I haven’t asked anyone else, but I keep having… desires.”
“Yeah,” Derrick said earnestly. “The devil tries to get to us through that. We have to be strong. We have to remember that true love waits.”
“I know,” Tommy said. “No one believes that.”
“These days,” Derrick said, “The Devil tries to get to us through the TV. Through the radio. Even in the drug stores. It’s a struggle. Do you want to pray about it?”
“I’d like that.”
“You want me to start?” Derrick offered.
Derrick was so good at inspired prayer. You’d never know he was Catholic.
“I sure would, brother.”
It sounded odd to say that, but Derrick was his brother in Christ.
“Father,” Derrick prayed in a soft voice. “We come to you now asking for help with Philip, especially, and all the people in our lives. And we come to you asking you to take us up out of the shadows and free our minds from... all impurities... And bring us to you, to your light and purity of thought. We ask this in the name of your son Jesus Christ. Amen.”
“Amen,” Tommy said. And then, because he knew Derrick was doing the same thing, he crossed himself.
MORE THURSDAY
Things more or less happened to her. She had been effortlessly popular. She didn’t have to work to be pretty. Some girls were working for it now, and then there were some who had never been pretty in the first place. They were employing a whole lot of makeup to look like they really didn’t. She felt sort of sorry for them. Becky had gone to her parties, been kissed by boys, gone from K-8 school to high school, and gone through her Freshmen year.
But then something had happened. Something had happened and she’d snapped into life. For the first time she’d met something not beautiful, not well managed, not predictable, not quite ordinary. It had long unkempt hair, a long, not entirely handsome face, large, expressive hands, intense ways, sarcasm, a very different look on the world. A look at all. Next to the well proportioned and vacuous blond boys, next to the dark eyed, dark hair fellows with perfect smiles, was Addison Cromptley.
If someone had asked: “Do you love him?” she would have thought they were stupid. It wasn’t a matter of love. You really couldn’t stay away from Addison. He was too much. There was something wonderfully ugly about him, rough, uncut. He didn’t fit, and she didn’t want him to. Everything fit in her world. Listening to him talk, kissing him in his car, having him—yes—take down her pants or lift up her skirt and touch her there, go down on her... It was too much. Doing the same for him. He was the first real sex she knew about.
And so, when it was time it was time. Becky didn’t think about it. She didn’t fear losing her virginity, but she didn’t really look forward to it. She wasn’t practiced in thinking. She didn’t reflect about things. She just assumed that the same way semester followed semester losing her virginity followed this. She did love Addison. She more than loved him. So this made complete sense.
But it was strange. Addison made her see more. Every time she was with Addison her eyes and her heart seemed to become wider and wider.
That first time, when she’d been under him, sometimes he hurt and sometimes he felt good. For a second he almost felt good, but really she felt like she was putting up with an invasion. And there was something amazing and powerful about having Addison Cromptley, all of him, almost six feet of him, his wildness naked and on her and in her, striving against her. There was something that approached joy about seeing him that way. And there was something that made her a little embarrassed. Even now she didn’t want to think about his face. She’d looked down at him once, his face in her shoulder. Then she had tried to put him out of her mind. From that first time she was never really with Addison, she was someplace else.
She was looking at the walls of Mason’s room.
There was a unicorn, blood red. She didn’t know how it had been made. It seemed like a painted sculpture, there was a background that seemed almost black, but it was different shades of deep red and blue.
There was a woman, made of circles, with circles for breasts and face. She looked primitive, or like a Picasso and Becky felt herself drifting out to meet her.
She felt bad whenever she was having sex with Addison, primarily because she wasn’t. In the back of the van she was looking up at the ceiling and she could feel his hands gripping her shoulders, then under her, pulling her down, feel him pushing into her harder and harder, his face desperate, murmuring in her shoulder.
“Becky,” he gasped and her hand went to his head stroking his hair. His hair was so soft. He moaned something into her shirt and then he arched up and he was coming and he was going higher and higher in the black darkness of the van. She could just make out his face, as if he’d been struck by something. then he reared up sharply and he was coming down, low and low, laying across her, his face in her neck.
“Becky,” he kept saying to her in a damp voice, muffled against her neck, “Becky,”
Becky stroked his hair gently. She throbbed a little.
She felt bad about how this all turned out.
She felt bad because the thing Addison was helping her to see now was that she did not love him.
Tommy Dwyer had never lived well. He didn’t live in Eastforth. There had been a Mr. Dwyer, but there was no Mr. Dwyer now. He had a brother, Philip, and Philip was irresponsible. Philip was always screwing things up, leaving things for Tommy to make right. He didn’t talk about him much. In fact he left his older brother out of his conversations to the point that when he brought him up to Mason and Addison, Tommy realized from the looks on their faces that they’d forgotten Philip existed.
He didn’t mean to be jealous and envious. Really he didn’t. And Tommy knew that Jesus didn’t give any of us more than we can bear, that the Lord had a purpose. But maybe because they didn’t know what it was like to have an alcoholic no show father or a mother who didn’t care about anything including herself, this was the reason, maybe, that they couldn’t understand why coming to know the Lord and finding Cedar Ridge Church was the seminal event of Tommy’s life.
Up until then being a Christian was just going to church on Sunday because you had to. You didn’t really believe or feel anything. but these people did. And they promised you could know the Lord. Jesus loved you, Jesus had a plan for your life. For his life. For Tommy. Tommy could talk to the Lord. He didn’t have much of a father on earth, but he did have a father in heaven.
And if he thought about it, he could see God’s hand all through his life, see how God was always there. Maybe the Lord had brought him to this place, just so he could show Tommy his love in a better way.
“You know what, Tommy?” Derrick said. “I bet the Lord is really going to reward you for Philip. I bet the lord will bring Philip back to him through you.”
Derrick was a Godsend. Literally. He could only talk to Derrick and the others on the phone, but he knew just what Tommy was going through, what Tommy meant. He didn’t mean to complain about Mason, really he didn’t. Mason wasn’t bad. But Mason was another language and sometimes Tommy got the feeling that Mason really didn’t know, couldn’t know what it was like to know the Lord. How could he? He wouldn’t even use the phrase, “know the Lord.”
But Derrick was a brother in the spirit, which is what he told him.
“I know just what you mean,” Derrick said.
“I... I need you to pray about something for me?”
“Sure thing,” Derrick said, waiting.
“Impure thoughts,” Tommy said. “I haven’t asked anyone else, but I keep having… desires.”
“Yeah,” Derrick said earnestly. “The devil tries to get to us through that. We have to be strong. We have to remember that true love waits.”
“I know,” Tommy said. “No one believes that.”
“These days,” Derrick said, “The Devil tries to get to us through the TV. Through the radio. Even in the drug stores. It’s a struggle. Do you want to pray about it?”
“I’d like that.”
“You want me to start?” Derrick offered.
Derrick was so good at inspired prayer. You’d never know he was Catholic.
“I sure would, brother.”
It sounded odd to say that, but Derrick was his brother in Christ.
“Father,” Derrick prayed in a soft voice. “We come to you now asking for help with Philip, especially, and all the people in our lives. And we come to you asking you to take us up out of the shadows and free our minds from... all impurities... And bring us to you, to your light and purity of thought. We ask this in the name of your son Jesus Christ. Amen.”
“Amen,” Tommy said. And then, because he knew Derrick was doing the same thing, he crossed himself.
MORE THURSDAY
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
REVELATION
2
WEEKEND PORTION
There was a knock at Balliol’s door and when he said, “Come in.,” he was surprised to see Mason and Tommy.
Balliol rolled off the bed, greeting them as he chucked the book he was reading under the pillow, all in one swift move. Cigarette smoke was in the room and he was holding a glass of wine.
“Your parents let you drink?” Tommy said.
“No,” Balliol told him. “So, what’s up?”
“We just came over to see what you were up to,” Mason told him. “I wasn’t doing anything and Tommy wasn’t doing anything and we thought you might not be doing anything so I thought we should all do nothing together. Unless you’re busy?”
“I’m busy doing this,” Balliol gestured to the wine with his cigarette. “And that’s about it.” He took one last puff and crushed it out.
Balliol’s bedroom was built out of the house so that there were windows on every side except for the south where was the door, and next to the door was a door that led to a full bathroom.
Mason said, “This room is the size of my house.”
“It is not,” Balliol said. “I’ve been in your house.”
“I could live here and you would never notice me,” Mason said, running his hands over the posters of Balliol’s bed. “You actually have posters. Christ. This is fantastic. The walls are a little bare, though.”
Balliol was actually relieved at the criticism. Sully was the only person who ever came to his house, and Sully never criticized or made comments. Not really. For the first time Balliol felt a little embarrassed about having money.
“Firstly,” Balliol said, rising to the challenge, “I’m not an artist, so I don’t have your creative flare.”
“Swear to God,” Mason told him. “I’m not gay, but for a million I’d totally redecorate this motherfucker for you. I mean, I’m thinking a big old blood red horse head over your bed, a monster over there.”
“Um,” Balliol smiled and made a contented sound, “I always wanted a horse head.”
“Everyone needs a good horse head,” Tommy remarked.
“Tommy said—” Mason began.
Tommy’s eyes darted over to Mason.
“That you mom is totally hot.”
“Mason!”
Balliol grinned.
“Well, she is,” Mason said. “She looks like Naomi Campbell. Is she Naomi Campbell, because she’s got the accent. Balliol, she’s hot.”
“She’s my mother” Balliol said, rolling his eyes and collapsing on the bed. “I guess she is hot... I just don’t think about it. I mean, she breastfed me for God’s sake.”
“Lucky baby,” Mason remarked.
Balliol got up and punched him in the arm and then sat back down on the bed, grinning.
“Is that a smile I see, Lincoln Balliol?” Mason said. “Because the Lincoln Balliol I know and pretend to love does not grin and get embarrassed.”
Balliol took out another cigarette and said, “The Lincoln Balliol you knew didn’t have to put up with a Mason Darrow. So, Tommy, my Mom’s hot to you?”
Tommy blushed and said, “She’s very pretty.”
“Where do you think I get my looks from?”
Mason screwed up his face, as if looking for the answer and said, “It must be your dad.”
“Ouch,” Tommy muttered.
“Well, I’m not a supermodel, “Balliol admitted. “And mom was. Back in England, where she met Dad.”
“Your whole family’s English?” Tommy said.
“Dad’s Scottish,” Balliol said. “Yes, I’m the only Yank. And not that much.”
Mason said, seriously. “You’re British. That explains so much about you.”
Balliol just gave him a small smile and kept talking.
“My mom was one of those lucky bitches who got paid someone else’s year salary just to walk down a catwalk in a thong and a raincoat.”
“I need to walk down a catwalk in a thong and a raincoat,” Mason said, thoughtfully. “Or maybe just the thong.”
“Oh I’d certainly pay to see that,” Balliol said.
Mason turned to Tommy.
“Me too,” Tommy said, blandly. “I mean, what are friends for? But I couldn’t pay you fifty-thousand dollars. I think I’ve got ten-fifty in my account right now. Balliol, can I use your bathroom?”
“Do I make you nauseous?”
“Huh?”
“Every time I see you, you’ve got to go to the bathroom,” Balliol said.
Tommy smirked. “Weak bladder.”
“I guess,” Balliol said, and pointed to the bathroom door.
When Tommy had closed the door and they heard the flusher, Mason said, “He does that so you can’t hear him peeing.”
“I do that too,” Balliol said, amazed. “Whenever I’m in public. But... I try not to use public restrooms. They’re...”
“Undignified?”
“Just the word I was looking for.
“Look, Mason,” Balliol said, reaching into his pillows. “Before Tommy gets back.”
“Why? A Bible? You were reading the Bible?’
“I’m not an atheist, just an Anglican. And while I’m sure to the casual observer the two might look a lot alike, I am a Christian.
“I’m just feeling, I’m reading all sorts of weird things, and I find myself sitting around reading the Bible and smoking and drinking and... I guess meditating. I feel a little like I’m losing my mind. Or like, I should be lonely. I think about calling people. I think about calling you up actually. And I like us hanging out, but I also like my... loneliness, I guess. I like being alone. You’re not supposed to l—”
“The toilet flushed again, and then they could hear the faucet in Balliol’s bathroom.
Balliol stuffed the Bible back under the pillow.
“It’s just my life is changing a lot and I feel a little cracked and if I told Tommy he’d think I needed to get saved or something... I can’t be bothered with that bullshit.”
“Maybe it’s Sully,” Mason said.
“Uh?”
“I know I’m not... Well, I try not to bring it up, because he’s your friend and all. But he was your best friend and now he’s hanging around with Chris and the football team. Like their mascot or something. Maybe you need to talk to him.”
The door opened and Tommy was coming out.
Balliol said, “I don’t want him around right now. That’s the oddest part. Sully that is,” Balliol told Tommy. “Everything’s changed and everything’s weird. But it’s better too.”
“My dad says,” Mason told them, “that sometimes losing your mind and finding yourself look a lot alike. And he’s gotta be right because—even though I’d trust him totally with my life—he’s still the craziest fucker I’ve ever met.”
2
WEEKEND PORTION
There was a knock at Balliol’s door and when he said, “Come in.,” he was surprised to see Mason and Tommy.
Balliol rolled off the bed, greeting them as he chucked the book he was reading under the pillow, all in one swift move. Cigarette smoke was in the room and he was holding a glass of wine.
“Your parents let you drink?” Tommy said.
“No,” Balliol told him. “So, what’s up?”
“We just came over to see what you were up to,” Mason told him. “I wasn’t doing anything and Tommy wasn’t doing anything and we thought you might not be doing anything so I thought we should all do nothing together. Unless you’re busy?”
“I’m busy doing this,” Balliol gestured to the wine with his cigarette. “And that’s about it.” He took one last puff and crushed it out.
Balliol’s bedroom was built out of the house so that there were windows on every side except for the south where was the door, and next to the door was a door that led to a full bathroom.
Mason said, “This room is the size of my house.”
“It is not,” Balliol said. “I’ve been in your house.”
“I could live here and you would never notice me,” Mason said, running his hands over the posters of Balliol’s bed. “You actually have posters. Christ. This is fantastic. The walls are a little bare, though.”
Balliol was actually relieved at the criticism. Sully was the only person who ever came to his house, and Sully never criticized or made comments. Not really. For the first time Balliol felt a little embarrassed about having money.
“Firstly,” Balliol said, rising to the challenge, “I’m not an artist, so I don’t have your creative flare.”
“Swear to God,” Mason told him. “I’m not gay, but for a million I’d totally redecorate this motherfucker for you. I mean, I’m thinking a big old blood red horse head over your bed, a monster over there.”
“Um,” Balliol smiled and made a contented sound, “I always wanted a horse head.”
“Everyone needs a good horse head,” Tommy remarked.
“Tommy said—” Mason began.
Tommy’s eyes darted over to Mason.
“That you mom is totally hot.”
“Mason!”
Balliol grinned.
“Well, she is,” Mason said. “She looks like Naomi Campbell. Is she Naomi Campbell, because she’s got the accent. Balliol, she’s hot.”
“She’s my mother” Balliol said, rolling his eyes and collapsing on the bed. “I guess she is hot... I just don’t think about it. I mean, she breastfed me for God’s sake.”
“Lucky baby,” Mason remarked.
Balliol got up and punched him in the arm and then sat back down on the bed, grinning.
“Is that a smile I see, Lincoln Balliol?” Mason said. “Because the Lincoln Balliol I know and pretend to love does not grin and get embarrassed.”
Balliol took out another cigarette and said, “The Lincoln Balliol you knew didn’t have to put up with a Mason Darrow. So, Tommy, my Mom’s hot to you?”
Tommy blushed and said, “She’s very pretty.”
“Where do you think I get my looks from?”
Mason screwed up his face, as if looking for the answer and said, “It must be your dad.”
“Ouch,” Tommy muttered.
“Well, I’m not a supermodel, “Balliol admitted. “And mom was. Back in England, where she met Dad.”
“Your whole family’s English?” Tommy said.
“Dad’s Scottish,” Balliol said. “Yes, I’m the only Yank. And not that much.”
Mason said, seriously. “You’re British. That explains so much about you.”
Balliol just gave him a small smile and kept talking.
“My mom was one of those lucky bitches who got paid someone else’s year salary just to walk down a catwalk in a thong and a raincoat.”
“I need to walk down a catwalk in a thong and a raincoat,” Mason said, thoughtfully. “Or maybe just the thong.”
“Oh I’d certainly pay to see that,” Balliol said.
Mason turned to Tommy.
“Me too,” Tommy said, blandly. “I mean, what are friends for? But I couldn’t pay you fifty-thousand dollars. I think I’ve got ten-fifty in my account right now. Balliol, can I use your bathroom?”
“Do I make you nauseous?”
“Huh?”
“Every time I see you, you’ve got to go to the bathroom,” Balliol said.
Tommy smirked. “Weak bladder.”
“I guess,” Balliol said, and pointed to the bathroom door.
When Tommy had closed the door and they heard the flusher, Mason said, “He does that so you can’t hear him peeing.”
“I do that too,” Balliol said, amazed. “Whenever I’m in public. But... I try not to use public restrooms. They’re...”
“Undignified?”
“Just the word I was looking for.
“Look, Mason,” Balliol said, reaching into his pillows. “Before Tommy gets back.”
“Why? A Bible? You were reading the Bible?’
“I’m not an atheist, just an Anglican. And while I’m sure to the casual observer the two might look a lot alike, I am a Christian.
“I’m just feeling, I’m reading all sorts of weird things, and I find myself sitting around reading the Bible and smoking and drinking and... I guess meditating. I feel a little like I’m losing my mind. Or like, I should be lonely. I think about calling people. I think about calling you up actually. And I like us hanging out, but I also like my... loneliness, I guess. I like being alone. You’re not supposed to l—”
“The toilet flushed again, and then they could hear the faucet in Balliol’s bathroom.
Balliol stuffed the Bible back under the pillow.
“It’s just my life is changing a lot and I feel a little cracked and if I told Tommy he’d think I needed to get saved or something... I can’t be bothered with that bullshit.”
“Maybe it’s Sully,” Mason said.
“Uh?”
“I know I’m not... Well, I try not to bring it up, because he’s your friend and all. But he was your best friend and now he’s hanging around with Chris and the football team. Like their mascot or something. Maybe you need to talk to him.”
The door opened and Tommy was coming out.
Balliol said, “I don’t want him around right now. That’s the oddest part. Sully that is,” Balliol told Tommy. “Everything’s changed and everything’s weird. But it’s better too.”
“My dad says,” Mason told them, “that sometimes losing your mind and finding yourself look a lot alike. And he’s gotta be right because—even though I’d trust him totally with my life—he’s still the craziest fucker I’ve ever met.”
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
CHRIS POWERS WAS STANDING IN the small huddle of the last of the football team members heading home after practice when he greeted Seth.
Seth was walking towards his truck with Addison Cromptley.
“Chris,” he said levelly, gave him a slight wave and walked on.
“Nice of you to acknowledge the trash you used to associate with,” Ryan Albert said.
Chris shrugged and said, “He’s just got problems. That could be any of us.”
Seth’s truck revved up. It needed a new engine. It turned around and puttered out of the parking lot onto the street.
“End of the season party at my house tomorrow,” Mercurio said, as he hopped into the passenger seat of Hardesty’s car.
“We’ll be there,” Chris said.
“Later, Powers. Later, Sully,” Hardesty added and the two of them rolled of the empty parking lot.
“So, now what do you want to do? My house or your house? Ooh!’ Chris lifted a finger before Sully could say anything. “You mom’s cooking tonight, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Sully said. “But, I could tell her not to. I mean, we could go to your house if you wanted to.”
“No,” Chris looked incredulous. It was getting dark, the parking lot was almost completely empty at Saint Vitus’s. “That would be totally rude. Let’s go, Sullivan.”
They were walking together to the corner when Sully said, “You told Mercurio that we’d be at the party?”
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t say I. I mean,” Sully told him. “You said we.”
“Yeah,” Chris said. “You and me. Oh, wait? Did you have plans?” Chris furrowed his brow. “That’s what I do! I’m always making other people do stuff. I just assumed that—”
“No,” Sully said. “Of course I don’t. It’s just.... I’m not a football player and—”
“But they all like you,” Chris said. “You’re one of us.”
They kept walking down the street.
“The night’s so pretty,” Sully said. “That’s the best part of this time of year. The sky is perfect, and you can hear the birds. I don’t want winter to come. Winter’s so cold.”
“Have you ever been skiing before?” Chris said.
“No.”
You should,” Chris said. “My Dad always takes us skiing around Christmas. If your mom doesn’t mind you could come.” Then Chris added, “But only if you want to.”
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Say stuff like, ‘but only if you want to’”
“Because... I think I have—or so I’ve been told I have a forceful personality.”
Sully chuckled and shook his head. “Not really.”
Chris was looking at Sully. Sully was smiling at him. The night was getting darker and darker, Lights were coming home. A block away was Sully’s house.
“But—” Chris started.
And then he just kissed Sully.
The two of them looked at each other. Chris looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Sully.
“I don’t mind,” Sully said.
Chris bit his bottom lip, nodded, and they walked on toward Sully’s house.
Seth was walking towards his truck with Addison Cromptley.
“Chris,” he said levelly, gave him a slight wave and walked on.
“Nice of you to acknowledge the trash you used to associate with,” Ryan Albert said.
Chris shrugged and said, “He’s just got problems. That could be any of us.”
Seth’s truck revved up. It needed a new engine. It turned around and puttered out of the parking lot onto the street.
“End of the season party at my house tomorrow,” Mercurio said, as he hopped into the passenger seat of Hardesty’s car.
“We’ll be there,” Chris said.
“Later, Powers. Later, Sully,” Hardesty added and the two of them rolled of the empty parking lot.
“So, now what do you want to do? My house or your house? Ooh!’ Chris lifted a finger before Sully could say anything. “You mom’s cooking tonight, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Sully said. “But, I could tell her not to. I mean, we could go to your house if you wanted to.”
“No,” Chris looked incredulous. It was getting dark, the parking lot was almost completely empty at Saint Vitus’s. “That would be totally rude. Let’s go, Sullivan.”
They were walking together to the corner when Sully said, “You told Mercurio that we’d be at the party?”
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t say I. I mean,” Sully told him. “You said we.”
“Yeah,” Chris said. “You and me. Oh, wait? Did you have plans?” Chris furrowed his brow. “That’s what I do! I’m always making other people do stuff. I just assumed that—”
“No,” Sully said. “Of course I don’t. It’s just.... I’m not a football player and—”
“But they all like you,” Chris said. “You’re one of us.”
They kept walking down the street.
“The night’s so pretty,” Sully said. “That’s the best part of this time of year. The sky is perfect, and you can hear the birds. I don’t want winter to come. Winter’s so cold.”
“Have you ever been skiing before?” Chris said.
“No.”
You should,” Chris said. “My Dad always takes us skiing around Christmas. If your mom doesn’t mind you could come.” Then Chris added, “But only if you want to.”
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Say stuff like, ‘but only if you want to’”
“Because... I think I have—or so I’ve been told I have a forceful personality.”
Sully chuckled and shook his head. “Not really.”
Chris was looking at Sully. Sully was smiling at him. The night was getting darker and darker, Lights were coming home. A block away was Sully’s house.
“But—” Chris started.
And then he just kissed Sully.
The two of them looked at each other. Chris looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Sully.
“I don’t mind,” Sully said.
Chris bit his bottom lip, nodded, and they walked on toward Sully’s house.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
“So how was that for you?”
“How was what for me?” Seth said to Addison.
“The great and powerful Chris Powers speaking to you?”
“Chris Powers is a fag,” Seth pronounced. “If I wasn’t that close by, and he could get away with it, he wouldn’t have even said anything. He gets all guilty and shit like, we used to be friends when we were five, so he better speak to me now. Whatever.”
“I don’t know him,.” Addison said philosophically.
“You’re not missing much,” Seth told him. “Actually, if you haven’t met anyone one on the football team, you’re not missing much.”
“Was that Sully Reardon?” Addison asked.
“Hum?”
“Sully Reardon. With Chris Powers?”
“I guess,” Seth shrugged. “You’re pretty fucking curious about people you normally don’t care about.”
Addison shrugged. “It’s just that Balliol is hanging with us now. With Mason, mainly, and I tend to take sides. Like, if Sully was his friend, but not now, and Balliol is more or less cool, then Sully can’t be cool too. You know? Someone’s got to be to blame. Even if it’s got nothing to do with me I wonder. Like with Hollywood breakups.
“Well,” Seth said as he turned onto Breathmore, “the way I see it if Powers is a faggot and a tool—and he is, and he is—and Mason is cool, and he is, and Powers is hanging with Sully, and Balliol’s hanging with Mason, and I more or less like Balliol, though I don’t know him like I know Mase, then I’m gonna say that it’s Sully who was the fuck up in that group. But then... You never know.”
“But you and Mason and Chris grew up together.”
“Our dads are best friends. Chris Power’s dad is actually Mason’s godfather. Did you know that? My Dad was his Confirmation sponsor. It’s all incestuous and shit like that. Sidney is my godfather and Chris’s dad sponsored me when I got Confirmed and yada yada.”
“Well,” Addison looked mystified. “It’s just odd thinking that you and Mason and Chris are connected like that.”
“Odd but true. And Mason was younger than us. But everyone always liked him. He’s got that way about him, which is probably why I still talk to him and not Chris.”
“But Chris is popular,” Addison argued. “People like him.”
“No,” Seth disagreed. “Chris is a football player. He’s popular and important. People like Mason. They envy Chris. Trust me, Add, when it’s all said and done, nobody likes Chris Powers.”
Tina Reardon liked Chris Powers. It was nice to see her son with a friend, and because she wasn’t a very thoughtful woman, she never reflected that Sully had always had one friend and the last one had been replaced by this new one. The truth was that there had never been much talking to Balliol. He was always courteous and Tina got the feeling... not that Balliol thought that he was better, but that he actually was better, loftier, that he was always putting up with her. When Sully had been friends with Balliol, Tina Reardon was always conscious of the fact that the Balliols lived in another world and were far above her. Which made Lincoln Balliol far above her son.
Balliol didn’t come in the house and fill it with laughter the way Chris Powers did, and Balliol and Sully were never equals, the way he and Chris were becoming. Chris always walked into the house and announced how good it smelled, how nice she kept it. He appreciated her.
“My mom used to make that,” Chris would say whenever Tina cooked something she thought was common.
Yes, his mother was dead and while Tina couldn’t really replace her, she filled that roll a little bit. She liked mothering him. She privately thought that Balliol was gone for good. Balliol was... his whole problem was that he was just so damned self-sufficient already. Everything about him said he didn’t need anything. That hadn’t been good for Sully who could be, and Tina admitted this, looking at her son... needy.
“Mrs. Reardon, can I talk to Sullivan for a second?”
“Boy talk?” she said with a wink, and waved them out. “Go on out. Dinner should be ready in about five minutes.”
“Let me lay the plates out,” Chris offered.
“Get out,” she said. “You’re a guest.”
Chris shrugged and out in the hall he said, “Sullivan, I’m sorry.”
Sully looked at him.
“I don’t know what that was all about. I am so sorry. It won’t happen again. I,” Chris started over. “I swear, I’ve never done that, and... You’ve been looking all weird tonight.”
Sullivan Reardon had been feeling all weird tonight. For him the moment outside, a block away from the house, has been very different than it was for Chris. Maybe. Even with people he liked there was always a gulf between Sullivan and the other. He didn’t know that until it had been filled just a few minutes ago. When Chris had started rambling, as he often did, Sully felt the gulf growing smaller and smaller, Chris coming closer and closer. Chris had been getting closer and closer until suddenly, they were together. It had just happened and when it was over Chris was blinking at him and Sullivan was still feeling Chris’s lips on his, Chris’s mouth. He could still feel them now.
“I’m not mad at you, Chris,” Sullivan’s voice was without force, like a stereo where all the bass and the dimensions have been turned off. “I just...”
Chris cocked his head. This was so strange. Sullivan didn’t want to think about how he felt. He generally tried not to think of how he felt around Chris. But Chris was waiting.
“I liked it,” Sullivan said, at last.
Chris raised an eyebrow. His mouth was still open. They were both confused.
Sullivan Reardon decided that it was his time to speak now. He’d better take charge, Chris seemed incapable of it.
“I... There’s no point in pretending it didn’t happen. It’s alright. I liked it,” he repeated. “I... like you, Chris. I do. I think that’s what it is. That’s why this is different from other stuff. I... don’t know what this is. I think, I’m afraid of what will happen when we’re around each other.”
“Are you afraid we’ll end up gay?”
“How was what for me?” Seth said to Addison.
“The great and powerful Chris Powers speaking to you?”
“Chris Powers is a fag,” Seth pronounced. “If I wasn’t that close by, and he could get away with it, he wouldn’t have even said anything. He gets all guilty and shit like, we used to be friends when we were five, so he better speak to me now. Whatever.”
“I don’t know him,.” Addison said philosophically.
“You’re not missing much,” Seth told him. “Actually, if you haven’t met anyone one on the football team, you’re not missing much.”
“Was that Sully Reardon?” Addison asked.
“Hum?”
“Sully Reardon. With Chris Powers?”
“I guess,” Seth shrugged. “You’re pretty fucking curious about people you normally don’t care about.”
Addison shrugged. “It’s just that Balliol is hanging with us now. With Mason, mainly, and I tend to take sides. Like, if Sully was his friend, but not now, and Balliol is more or less cool, then Sully can’t be cool too. You know? Someone’s got to be to blame. Even if it’s got nothing to do with me I wonder. Like with Hollywood breakups.
“Well,” Seth said as he turned onto Breathmore, “the way I see it if Powers is a faggot and a tool—and he is, and he is—and Mason is cool, and he is, and Powers is hanging with Sully, and Balliol’s hanging with Mason, and I more or less like Balliol, though I don’t know him like I know Mase, then I’m gonna say that it’s Sully who was the fuck up in that group. But then... You never know.”
“But you and Mason and Chris grew up together.”
“Our dads are best friends. Chris Power’s dad is actually Mason’s godfather. Did you know that? My Dad was his Confirmation sponsor. It’s all incestuous and shit like that. Sidney is my godfather and Chris’s dad sponsored me when I got Confirmed and yada yada.”
“Well,” Addison looked mystified. “It’s just odd thinking that you and Mason and Chris are connected like that.”
“Odd but true. And Mason was younger than us. But everyone always liked him. He’s got that way about him, which is probably why I still talk to him and not Chris.”
“But Chris is popular,” Addison argued. “People like him.”
“No,” Seth disagreed. “Chris is a football player. He’s popular and important. People like Mason. They envy Chris. Trust me, Add, when it’s all said and done, nobody likes Chris Powers.”
Tina Reardon liked Chris Powers. It was nice to see her son with a friend, and because she wasn’t a very thoughtful woman, she never reflected that Sully had always had one friend and the last one had been replaced by this new one. The truth was that there had never been much talking to Balliol. He was always courteous and Tina got the feeling... not that Balliol thought that he was better, but that he actually was better, loftier, that he was always putting up with her. When Sully had been friends with Balliol, Tina Reardon was always conscious of the fact that the Balliols lived in another world and were far above her. Which made Lincoln Balliol far above her son.
Balliol didn’t come in the house and fill it with laughter the way Chris Powers did, and Balliol and Sully were never equals, the way he and Chris were becoming. Chris always walked into the house and announced how good it smelled, how nice she kept it. He appreciated her.
“My mom used to make that,” Chris would say whenever Tina cooked something she thought was common.
Yes, his mother was dead and while Tina couldn’t really replace her, she filled that roll a little bit. She liked mothering him. She privately thought that Balliol was gone for good. Balliol was... his whole problem was that he was just so damned self-sufficient already. Everything about him said he didn’t need anything. That hadn’t been good for Sully who could be, and Tina admitted this, looking at her son... needy.
“Mrs. Reardon, can I talk to Sullivan for a second?”
“Boy talk?” she said with a wink, and waved them out. “Go on out. Dinner should be ready in about five minutes.”
“Let me lay the plates out,” Chris offered.
“Get out,” she said. “You’re a guest.”
Chris shrugged and out in the hall he said, “Sullivan, I’m sorry.”
Sully looked at him.
“I don’t know what that was all about. I am so sorry. It won’t happen again. I,” Chris started over. “I swear, I’ve never done that, and... You’ve been looking all weird tonight.”
Sullivan Reardon had been feeling all weird tonight. For him the moment outside, a block away from the house, has been very different than it was for Chris. Maybe. Even with people he liked there was always a gulf between Sullivan and the other. He didn’t know that until it had been filled just a few minutes ago. When Chris had started rambling, as he often did, Sully felt the gulf growing smaller and smaller, Chris coming closer and closer. Chris had been getting closer and closer until suddenly, they were together. It had just happened and when it was over Chris was blinking at him and Sullivan was still feeling Chris’s lips on his, Chris’s mouth. He could still feel them now.
“I’m not mad at you, Chris,” Sullivan’s voice was without force, like a stereo where all the bass and the dimensions have been turned off. “I just...”
Chris cocked his head. This was so strange. Sullivan didn’t want to think about how he felt. He generally tried not to think of how he felt around Chris. But Chris was waiting.
“I liked it,” Sullivan said, at last.
Chris raised an eyebrow. His mouth was still open. They were both confused.
Sullivan Reardon decided that it was his time to speak now. He’d better take charge, Chris seemed incapable of it.
“I... There’s no point in pretending it didn’t happen. It’s alright. I liked it,” he repeated. “I... like you, Chris. I do. I think that’s what it is. That’s why this is different from other stuff. I... don’t know what this is. I think, I’m afraid of what will happen when we’re around each other.”
“Are you afraid we’ll end up gay?”
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Sullivan laughed out loud and surprised himself. “That’s not the issue.” What he meant was it seemed too late for that, but Chris wouldn’t want to hear that. “What I mean is… if I like it. If I like you, if I open up and let things happen… Whatever happens... I don’t know that this is how you feel too.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Sully.”
Sullivan wasn’t quite sure he understood either. He clenched and unclenched his hands trying to say what was on his mind and then said, “I don’t care what happens between us. Whatever happens is fine with me. I don’t care where it runs its course. I trust it. I trust us. But I need to know that you don’t care either. That you’re okay with whatever happens.”
“Okay,” Chris said eagerly.
It was almost too eager and Sullivan pressed his luck.
“I need to know that before you go home tonight we can kiss again. I’d like that. I want to kiss you.”
Chris looked around to make sure Tina wasn’t coming out of the kitchen and then, quickly, he caught Sullivan’s face in his hands and kissed him on the mouth. It felt so good. It excited him, just like that first time. More than the first time.
The kitchen door swung open and the two boys parted immediately.
“Dinner’s ready!” Tina cried.
“Halloween is coming up,” Mason reported, scribbling off the last of his Latin homework. “And I’m not sure I know what I want to be this year.”
“I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since,” Balliol cocked his head and then said, “I can’t remember.”
“Not since I stopped trick or treating,” Tommy said. “But this year I’m going to visit Derrick and his friends.”
“The Jesus freaks?” Addison said.
Tommy eyed him, and then went on. “Instead of dressing up as terrible things that glorify the Devil, we’re going to dress up like heroes and biblical characters. Sara, Derrick’s girlfriend, is going as Faith.”
“Faith?” Balliol said.
“You know,” Tommy elaborated, “the virtue of Faith.”
“How do you dress up as Faith?” Mason wondered.
“I’m more interested in how you dress up as Fornication,” Addison said with a cackle. “No,” Addison told them, “Balliol, you have to come with Mason and me. Seth McKenna and Andy Rathko are going to have this totally kickass party.”
“Will you be glorifying the devil?” Balliol said in a serious voice.
“Certainly not,” Addison told him. “I think I’m going to go as a Christian.”
“Addison!” Tommy said in a wounded voice.
Addison shrugged lazily. “It’s the scariest thing I know.”
Andy Rathko, Adam Benet, and Rebecca Angstrom had all gone to the same K-8 school. Now, except for Becky, they all went to Saint Vitus.
Every school has different societies and each of these societies has further divisions. There were the athletes, and then they were divided between King Football and Prince Basketball. After that came the minor courtiers; soccer, lacrosse, track and field, ra ra ra ending in the various swim teams which basically had a ranking slightly above chess or debate team. Swimmers were in a gray area, no doubt, and didn’t count much as athletes, except to themselves and they had their own internecine rivalries.
And then there were the Dork Squads, starting with the attractive intelligent kids who would go off to Harvard and ending in the pimply faced kid who never washed, got shoved into lockers and always wound up in detention because he spaced out and could never answers teachers’ questions. He’d never get to Princeton. Dork Squad started with the newspaper and yearbook committee and its lowest manifestations were chess team and Jack Moskowitz’s newly formed Checker Club.
There were also the Drama Fags. Nobody liked them as well as they liked themselves. Their hair was always perfect. They weren’t just doing the next school musical, they were always chatting up the school librarian about the new part they got at the dinner theatre downtown or at the community playhouse. “I’m the youngest guy to ever have the role... blah blah blah,” and so forth. Drama Fags weren’t only in drama club. The people who did the light for the plays and musicals were also Drama Fags. The members of the choir—the very mediocre choir—were Music Fags, but they counted as Drama Fags too. The most normal and acceptable of the Fags were the Band Fags, who knew they were band fags and generally had bad skin and a predilection to openly discussing masturbation. They could never be loved, but they could be tolerated.
Last were the Black People. They were all middle class, and fairly well off, but slightly apologetic for it and made a habit of wearing their pants as low as dress code would permit, maligning white people loudly as possible and walking around in very small, very sullen groups. They had their own table in the cafeteria, they had their own section in the gym for pep rallies and for the all school Masses, though few of them were Catholic and the ones who were had renounced the faith because “It’s so dead... It’s so white...”
Of course, very few people belonged to just one of these groups, and so it was the endless permutation of societies resulting in a multiplicity of backstabbings and minor betrayals that made the wheels roll at Saint Vitus. None of these groups really liked each other, and precious few people acknowledged this.
But some people did. Some people didn’t want to make the Wheels roll. They generally knew each other. They could just look each other in the eye and see it there, the look of someone who just didn’t give a fuck about any of this. Some of them didn’t cut their hair and they smoked lots of pot. Some of them were into magic, or into Jesus or into something else. Some of them just kept quiet and made little sarcastic remarks. Some of them sat smoking cigarettes on the ledge of the bathroom window. No one knew the name of their group because no one dared to name them. But they had named themselves.
“I think,” Balliol said, “we should just be called the Bitches.”
HAVE A SEXY WEEKEND. AND WATCH OUT FOR THE TUNA FISH!
“I don’t know what you mean, Sully.”
Sullivan wasn’t quite sure he understood either. He clenched and unclenched his hands trying to say what was on his mind and then said, “I don’t care what happens between us. Whatever happens is fine with me. I don’t care where it runs its course. I trust it. I trust us. But I need to know that you don’t care either. That you’re okay with whatever happens.”
“Okay,” Chris said eagerly.
It was almost too eager and Sullivan pressed his luck.
“I need to know that before you go home tonight we can kiss again. I’d like that. I want to kiss you.”
Chris looked around to make sure Tina wasn’t coming out of the kitchen and then, quickly, he caught Sullivan’s face in his hands and kissed him on the mouth. It felt so good. It excited him, just like that first time. More than the first time.
The kitchen door swung open and the two boys parted immediately.
“Dinner’s ready!” Tina cried.
“Halloween is coming up,” Mason reported, scribbling off the last of his Latin homework. “And I’m not sure I know what I want to be this year.”
“I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since,” Balliol cocked his head and then said, “I can’t remember.”
“Not since I stopped trick or treating,” Tommy said. “But this year I’m going to visit Derrick and his friends.”
“The Jesus freaks?” Addison said.
Tommy eyed him, and then went on. “Instead of dressing up as terrible things that glorify the Devil, we’re going to dress up like heroes and biblical characters. Sara, Derrick’s girlfriend, is going as Faith.”
“Faith?” Balliol said.
“You know,” Tommy elaborated, “the virtue of Faith.”
“How do you dress up as Faith?” Mason wondered.
“I’m more interested in how you dress up as Fornication,” Addison said with a cackle. “No,” Addison told them, “Balliol, you have to come with Mason and me. Seth McKenna and Andy Rathko are going to have this totally kickass party.”
“Will you be glorifying the devil?” Balliol said in a serious voice.
“Certainly not,” Addison told him. “I think I’m going to go as a Christian.”
“Addison!” Tommy said in a wounded voice.
Addison shrugged lazily. “It’s the scariest thing I know.”
Andy Rathko, Adam Benet, and Rebecca Angstrom had all gone to the same K-8 school. Now, except for Becky, they all went to Saint Vitus.
Every school has different societies and each of these societies has further divisions. There were the athletes, and then they were divided between King Football and Prince Basketball. After that came the minor courtiers; soccer, lacrosse, track and field, ra ra ra ending in the various swim teams which basically had a ranking slightly above chess or debate team. Swimmers were in a gray area, no doubt, and didn’t count much as athletes, except to themselves and they had their own internecine rivalries.
And then there were the Dork Squads, starting with the attractive intelligent kids who would go off to Harvard and ending in the pimply faced kid who never washed, got shoved into lockers and always wound up in detention because he spaced out and could never answers teachers’ questions. He’d never get to Princeton. Dork Squad started with the newspaper and yearbook committee and its lowest manifestations were chess team and Jack Moskowitz’s newly formed Checker Club.
There were also the Drama Fags. Nobody liked them as well as they liked themselves. Their hair was always perfect. They weren’t just doing the next school musical, they were always chatting up the school librarian about the new part they got at the dinner theatre downtown or at the community playhouse. “I’m the youngest guy to ever have the role... blah blah blah,” and so forth. Drama Fags weren’t only in drama club. The people who did the light for the plays and musicals were also Drama Fags. The members of the choir—the very mediocre choir—were Music Fags, but they counted as Drama Fags too. The most normal and acceptable of the Fags were the Band Fags, who knew they were band fags and generally had bad skin and a predilection to openly discussing masturbation. They could never be loved, but they could be tolerated.
Last were the Black People. They were all middle class, and fairly well off, but slightly apologetic for it and made a habit of wearing their pants as low as dress code would permit, maligning white people loudly as possible and walking around in very small, very sullen groups. They had their own table in the cafeteria, they had their own section in the gym for pep rallies and for the all school Masses, though few of them were Catholic and the ones who were had renounced the faith because “It’s so dead... It’s so white...”
Of course, very few people belonged to just one of these groups, and so it was the endless permutation of societies resulting in a multiplicity of backstabbings and minor betrayals that made the wheels roll at Saint Vitus. None of these groups really liked each other, and precious few people acknowledged this.
But some people did. Some people didn’t want to make the Wheels roll. They generally knew each other. They could just look each other in the eye and see it there, the look of someone who just didn’t give a fuck about any of this. Some of them didn’t cut their hair and they smoked lots of pot. Some of them were into magic, or into Jesus or into something else. Some of them just kept quiet and made little sarcastic remarks. Some of them sat smoking cigarettes on the ledge of the bathroom window. No one knew the name of their group because no one dared to name them. But they had named themselves.
“I think,” Balliol said, “we should just be called the Bitches.”
HAVE A SEXY WEEKEND. AND WATCH OUT FOR THE TUNA FISH!
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
Well I finally got to these portions and it was worth the wait! I have learned a lot about these characters and am eager to learn more. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!
