Working It Out
Book 1
© 2000 by Don Hanratty
dhanr1@msn.com

Part 1
    
        The university had pushed up its start date a few weeks so that the first semester would be finished by Christmas this year.   The afternoon autumn sun turned everything to gold as traffic wound slowly through the campus and around the dorms. Newly minted freshmen unloaded their clothes, computers and stereos before trundling everything inside their plain, brick dorms.   Kisses and hugs from moms and dads, and by dusk the younger generation was finally on their own
        "About time!" Mike Berman said to himself as he sat down on one of the two single beds in his new dorm room.   He loved his parents and younger brother and sister dearly, but more so from a distance.   He was ready to move on from being the apple of his parents' eye to some measure of independence, and an out-of-town school was just the place to get started.
        Turning his head, Mike looked into the large mirror on the sliding closet doors.   Looking back at him was a seriously cute (or so he had been told) dirty blond with a high and tight haircut, small ears, modest nose, piercing blue eyes and pleasant expression.    His eyes moved over his well-earned swimmer's build on its 5'11" frame, wearing a cutoff tank top, gray gym shorts, and Nikes with no socks.   Six-pack abs, and good, defined pecs filled out the tank top, and a bubble butt attached to muscular legs, the latter lightly dusted with blond hairs, completed the picture.   His package looked good and big in the shorts, with a treasure trail leading down to it from his navel.   Mike smiled and made the "OK" gesture to his image.
        From 8th grade on, there had never been a time when the girls were not crawling all over him, and he them.   He had dated a variety of them up until the middle of his junior year in high school and had lots of sex.   Everything changed for him the night he and his cute swimming teammate Jason got wasted and had sex, and Mike found out what an orgasm was really supposed to be.   Thereafter he publicly dated the girls for show, and privately got it on with Jason for pleasure.   Now the plan was to study hard for the next four years, and do a lot of beautiful boys.   No commitments.   He wasn't ready for that.   It was time to play the field.   Discreetly, of course.   He was only going to be 17, soon to be 18, once.
        His roommate hadn't arrived yet, and he glanced around the room.   It was bigger--about 20' by 25'--than he had expected, with built-in closets, cleverly recessed bookcases and desks with attached computer stations, two beds, and an adjoining bathroom and shower.   Because it was a corner room, he and the roommate wouldn't have to share the bathroom with the guys next door.   There was a mini fridge for ice cubes and soft drinks.   The school obviously took care of the jocks there on scholarship.   Mike's swimming scholarship was paying most of the freight for his education.
        "You're not gonna unpack yourselves, I spose," he said to the suitcases.   Peeling off his sweaty tank top and throwing it on one of the beds, he began to unpack and stow his gear.
        A light knock sounded at the door, and in walked. . .a god in human form!  Mike's jaw almost hit the floor as a handsome guy who looked like he had been poured into his 501's and a T-shirt extended his hand.
        "Hi.   Matt Broman.   Guess you're my roommate."
        "He-hey,"  Mike stammered.   "I'm Mike Berman."
        "Hmmm.   Berman and Broman.   B & B.   I see that the placement people really put their creativity to the test in matching up roommates,"  Matt quipped.   "I'm sorry I'm so late getting here, but my plane flights have been screwed up all day.   I just got back today from a trip with my home town church youth group to Honduras.   We left Tegucigalpa at 4 a.m., and I'm whipped!"  With that, he fell back on the nearest bed.
        Oh shit, Mike thought to himself, this guy is a world traveler and religious to boot!  Broman.   Broman.   Why do I know that name?  It came to him.
        "Weren't you the state high school wrestling champ in your weight class last year?" Mike asked.
        "Well, ah, yeah,"  Matt said, turning a little red and modestly looking at the floor.
        "You're here on a full-boat ride, then.   That's great!  I'm here on a swimming scholarship."
        "Excellent!  You look like a swimmer.   Listen, Mike, before we get better acquainted, I gotta run downstairs and bring up the rest of my stuff.   If it's OK, I'll take the bed and desk and dresser over here."
        "That's cool.   I'll come down and give you a hand."  At least he's not an arrogant prick, Mike thought.   In fact, he seems like a pretty nice guy.
        Mike grabbed a shirt and followed Matt out the door and down the hall to the elevator, and almost got hard watching the ass on this Adonis leading the way downstairs.   Damn, guys with nice butts in Levi's made him hot!  The two picked up a couple of suitcases and Matt's laptop from under the watchful eye of the security guard at reception, and made their way back to the room.
        Making small talk, they put their clothes away and put fresh sheets on the beds.   When they checked their schedule for orientation the next day, they found they were each supposed to report to the same building and room on campus at 9 a.m.
        "Well, it's a shower and bed for me!  I'm wiped," yawned Matt, and headed into the bathroom.   He closed the door, but when the little exhaust fan in the ceiling didn't go on, he opened the door back up a little to vent the steam.
        From his vantage point on the bed, the mirror on the closet door gave Mike a perfect view into the bathroom as Matt stripped for his shower.   Work boots, socks, Levi's, T-shirt, and white briefs ended up in a pile in front of the sink.   The body Mike saw emerge was probably the most perfectly proportioned physique he had ever seen--everything looked just right for Matt's height at 5'10".   The kid was well hung--about 7 inches soft--perfectly shaped with a mushroom head, of course, snaking down over low hanging balls.   Except for his crew cut head, underarms, and curly brown pubes, there didn't appear to be another hair on his body.   His warm brown eyes and handsome, chiseled features gave Mike butterflies in his stomach.
        Mike popped a bone, and when he heard the shower start and the shower curtain close, he stripped down to his boxers, got under the sheets, and began to jack off.   He quickly blew a big load into a sweat sock, fantasizing about the beautiful body he had just seen..
        Mike feigned sleep when Matt emerged from the bathroom, but watched across the room out of the corner of his eye when Matt pulled on a fresh pair of white briefs over that beautiful butt, got into bed, and was soon snoring lightly.   Mike breathed in the smell of Matt's freshly washed, male body.   The "Matt smell," he would come to call it.
        "Shit, I'm in love!" Mike kidded himself before he drifted off to sleep.
                                                                                       *  *  *
        The two roomies settled down into a comfortable routine over the next two weeks.   They had a few of the basic freshman liberal arts classes together during this first semester before more advanced classes in their respective majors kicked in.   Matt was pre-law, and Mike was pre-med.
        After classes, in the late afternoon, Matt worked out with the wrestling team and Mike with the swim team.   Between athletics and their studies, there wasn't a lot of time for socializing, but they usually talked for a while before bed about their courses, complained about their professors and dorm food, and compared notes on the pretty girls in their classes.
        They found out they had a lot in common.   Both came from well-to-do, upper-upper middle class families, both had a younger brother and sister, both of them had been jock heroes in their high school days, and--this blew Mike's mind--they both loved motorcycles.   Each of them owned a Honda CBR 900, as a matter of fact, and shared "a need for speed."  Their lament was that they couldn't have their bikes at school during their freshman year.
        They were very popular with their teammates on the wrestling and swim teams, and there were always a lot of guys and even a few girls wandering in and out of their room at odd moments.
        Matt was a pretty good Episcopalian, and Mike a casual Roman Catholic, so on their first Sunday in residence, Matt talked Mike into going to mass at the Canterbury Center, with the promise that he would go to mass at the Newman Center with Mike the next week.   Mike received communion at Canterbury, and on the way back to the dorm Matt kidded him,  "Mikey, the Pope is really pissed off at you now!" and they had a good laugh.
        As the days passed, Mike realized that Matt was as beautiful a person on the inside as he was on the outside.   Mike just didn't see any flaws in this guy at all--he seemed honest, hardworking, serious about the serious things, but with a killer sense of humor and an infectious laugh.   And he was very laid back and easy to get along with.   He was also very demonstative, and was constantly pulling pranks.   He thought nothing of grabbing Mike around the neck and giving him nuggies, or putting him in a full Nelson and letting him struggle vainly to get away, or when they were sitting around in their underwear, snapping the waistband of Mike's boxers, and telling him, when he jumped, that he needed to learn how to relax.   When Mike retaliated on occasion, his only assets were speed and dexterity.   Matt couldn't catch him in a flat-out run down the hall, and Mike was slippery as an eel when cornered.   Once Matt had his hands on him, though, it was all over.
        Matt had been complaining about not feeling up to par for the past several days, and the Thursday night of their second week in residence something happened that moved their relationship to a new level.
        Mike woke up in the middle of the night, and he thought he heard Matt say his name.   He glanced at the luminous face of his watch, and it was a little after 2 a.m.
        "Mike."  He heard it again.
        Mike snapped on his reading light, and glanced over at the bed across the room.
        "Mike," Matt croaked out, "can you come here for a sec?"
        Mike rolled out of bed, and went over to Matt.   He had kicked all his covers off, and he and his sheets were wringing wet.   The sweat was dripping off his body.   His briefs were soaked through to the point of being almost transparent, giving Mike a jolt.
        "Mike, I don't feel so good!"
        "Hold on a sec, Matt."  Mike blessed his mother for putting a thermometer in his first aid kit.   He retrieved the thermometer, and sitting on the edge of Matt's bed, shook it down and put it under Matt's tongue.
        Matt mumbled something, and Mike told him not to talk.   When Mike pulled the thermometer out and checked it, it read 102̊.
        "Dude, you have a bad fever."
        "No shit, Sherlock!"
        "No, this is serious!"  Mike said.
        He grabbed Matt's wastebasket, dumped the crumpled paper in it into his own wastebasket, and took the empty one into the bathroom to fill it with cold water.   Snatching some hand towels, he stopped at the little refrigerator and put all their ice cubes into the water.   Carrying his makeshift pail back to Matt's bed, he sat down and began to soak the towels in the cold water.   He knew that if Matt's temperature got much higher, he could go into convulsions or a coma, and possibly incur neurological damage.
        Mike wrung out the cold towels, folded them, and put one over Matt's face, one around his neck, and one over his abdomen.
He dipped the towels back in the water and rotated them every few minutes, and after 10 minutes, checked Matt's temperature again.   Still 102̊.   This wasn't good.
        Ten minutes later Matt's temperature was the same, and Mike asked him if he thought he could swallow some aspirin.   Matt thought he could, so Mike broke two aspirins in half, got a glass of water, and Matt managed to get them down.
        After 20 minutes more, the thermometer was still reading 102̊, and Mike told Matt he was going to wake up the RA.   Matt protested and tried to sit up, but Mike pushed him back down, made the call, and explained the problem.
        Not two minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door, and Jim Hollister, the RA, came in rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and carrying a digital thermometer.
        "Hey, guys. Whassup?"
        "Matt's not doing so well," Mike said.   "I've been trying to cool him down for about a half hour, but my thermometer is still showing 102̊."
        "Lemme see," Jim said, and replacing the plastic throwaway piece on his own thermometer with a new one, he plugged it into Matt's ear and pulled the trigger.
        "Yep, 102.   You're right, Mike.   Let's get emergency services up here right now.   Call 911."
        "No," Matt protested again, but was ignored.
        "OK.   Keep changing those towels, though."  Mike got an outside line, called 911, and gave directions to the room.   Then he called the front desk to let security know that the EMT's were coming.
        Ten minutes later, Mike saw red lights flashing outside, and in a couple more minutes, two paramedics came in rolling a collapsible gurney with bags of meds and equipment on it, and bent over Matt's bed.   They checked his vitals, and radioed them to the hospital along with Matt's personal stats.   The answer came back almost immediately:  "Bring him in."
        The EMT's loaded a complaining Matt on their stretcher, strapped him down, put an IV in his arm, and covered him with a blanket.   Mike threw on a pair of sweats, shoes and a T-shirt, and told the paramedics, "I'm coming with you."
        "Are you a relative?" one of them asked.
        "Yeah, for now," Mike responded, and they didn't say anything else.
        Hollister locked the room, and followed them down the hall.
        "You got Matt's home number?" he asked.
        "I'll get it from information," Mike said.   "I know where they live."
        "Call me, then, and let me know what's happening, OK?"  Jim instructed.
        "I'll let you know as soon as I know anything.   Thanks for your help, Jim."
        Security held the building doors open, the EMT's loaded Matt into the ambulance, and Mike climbed in beside him.   Matt's face looked ashen despite his tan and he was shivering and sweating at the same time.   The ambulance pulled away with lights flashing.
        "Can't you have 'em put on the siren at least?" Matt said to Mike, and the paramedics laughed.
        "No traffic, no siren," one of them responded with a grin.
        Five minutes later they arrived at the hospital emergency entrance, and Matt was rolled inside with Mike still hanging on to the gurney.   The paramedics went through their litany of Matt's vitals for the hospital staff.   Surprisingly, hospital staff let Mike into the bay with Matt while they took his temperature yet again and drew some blood for tests.   "103," one of nurses told the doctor.   Matt was passing in and out of consciousness.
        The resident looked at Mike.   "He's a university student, right?"
        "Yes."
        "You his roommate?"
        "Yeah."
        "Has he had any symptoms before tonight?"
        "Well, he's been complaining about being tired the last few days."
        "Did he eat anything unusual in the last 24 hours?"
        "Yeah, dorm food,"  Matt woke up and interjected with a wan smile.
        "Other than that?" the doctor said.
        "No, I don't think so," Mike said.
        "Has he been exposed to anybody with the flu or anything else contagious?"
        "Not that I know of."
        "Any vomiting or diarrhea?"
        "No."
        "Has he traveled outside the country recently?"
        "Yeah, as a matter of fact," Mike said, "he just got back from Honduras about two weeks ago."
        "Hmmm."  The doctor ordered an additional blood test, and one of the nurses hurried off.   "We're probably going to admit him, and may have to pack him in ice to get his temperature down.   Can you get in touch with his parents and let them know what's happening?"
        Mike glanced at his watch.   3:30 a.m.
        "Yes, I'll give them a call in a few minutes.   They'll probably freak, though."
        "Well, wait a few minutes before you call.   Let's see if he starts responding to treatment," the doctor said.   "The phones are out there"--he pointed in the general direction of the waiting room--"and you can have a seat.   I'll come get you as soon as I know anything."
        About an hour later, the resident came out and sat down beside Mike.
        "We got his blood work back, and thanks to having a hint about what to look for, we're giving him some strong antibiotics.   The ice did its job, his temp is on the way down, and we're hydrating him.   He apparently picked up a bug in Honduras, one that we don't see much of here in the states."
        "He's gonna be OK, then?" Mike asked.
        "As I said, we're going to admit him, and he'll probably have to stay here for a couple of days, but yes, he's going to be fine.   You can make that call to his folks anytime now."  The doctor stood and started to walk away, and then came back.
        "I understand from the paramedics that you iced him down back in the dorm.   You should know that you probably saved his life.   Once somebody's temp hits 105̊, and his very likely would have, all bets are off.   Good job.   How did you know what to do?"
        "I just remembered something about the danger of high temperatures from my high school hygiene class," Mike shrugged.   "No biggie!"
        "Very biggie," the resident contradicted with a smile.   "You wanta be a doctor, by chance?"
        "Yeah, I'm pre-med.   You found me out," laughed Mike.
        "You ever need a job in a few years, come see me."
        "Thanks.   Can I see Matt after I call his folks?"
        "Sure.   Let me get him admitted, and you can ask at the desk where they put him."  The doctor strode away, and Mike went to the bank of phones.   5 a.m.   Mike got the Bromans' phone number from information, and put the call on his phone card.
        "Hello?" a sleepy male voice mumbled.
        "Hello.   Mr. Broman?"
        "Yes."
        "I apologize for waking you up so early, sir, but I'm calling about Matt.   I'm Mike Berman, Matt's roommate, and I'm with him at University Hospital."
        "What's wrong?" Mr. Broman asked.   Mike could hear the apprehension in his voice.
        "Matt apparently picked up a bug in Honduras, and he has a high fever.   But the doctor says he's going to be fine.   They're going to admit him for a couple of days, though."
        Mike heard Mr. Broman relaying what he had said to a third party.
        "Mike, thank you so much for this call.   Matt's mother and I are going to get ready to drive down.   Tell Matt we love him and we'll see him in about four hours."
        "I sure will, Mr. Broman.   I know he'll be glad to see you.   Please don't worry, now.   He's doing great."
        They hung up, and Mike called Jim Hollister back at the dorm with an update, and then went to find Matt in the general hospital.   He was sound asleep with an IV still draining into his arm, but he had stopped sweating so profusely and his color was better.   Mike felt his forehead, and it was cooler.
        "Matt, your folks are coming down, and said to tell you they love you,"  Mike whispered.   And so do I, he thought to himself.   He sat down in a chair beside the bed, and promptly fell asleep.
                                                                                        *  *  *
        Two days later, Matt was back in the dorm with strict instructions from the doctor to stay in the room except for an occasional walk down the hall.   He was very weak.   The first day Mike had to walk him to the bathroom, hold him while he stood in front of the toilet to urinate, help him undress for a shower, wash his back, and hold onto him so he didn't fall while showering.   Matt had been told by the doctor to stay away from wrestling practice for two weeks, and Mike was instructed to take him his meals in the room until he was stronger.   Mike tried to keep the stream of visitors to the room to a minimum, but Matt was so popular, that was a vain hope.
        Matt's parents had stayed in town while he was in the hospital, and they were warm and wonderful people.   Matt's mother had hugged and kissed Mike when they left town, and told him how grateful they were for what he had done for Matt.   They said he had a standing invitation to come home with Matt any time the boys had a vacation.   That made Mike feel pretty good.
        Matt didn't have much to say about the whole hospital episode for the first few days he was back in the dorm, but one night after all the visitors had cleared out of their room, he came up to Mike, and much to Mike's surprise, put his arms around him.
        "I owe you big, bro!" Matt said quietly.   "You saved my life, and I won't forget what you did for me."
        Mike's eyes watered a little in spite of himself.   "Hey," he said, "you don't think I wanted to break in a new roommate at this late date, do you?"
        "You can kid around all you want, Mike.   I'm serious.   It was a near thing. and we both know it.   I 'm really thankful for everything you did."  He hugged Mike hard, and he could feel Matt's stubble against his cheek.
        "Well, look, I'm glad I was here for you.   We haven't known each other very long, but we're supposed to be here for each other.   I'm just happy you're OK.   Let's let it go at that."
        Nothing more was said, but as time passed it was clear that their bond had deepened.   More and more, they began to include each other in activities after their respective teams had practiced in the afternoon.   Matt began to take Mike to the university fitness center for an hour in the evening two or three times a week for some light work on the machines, and showed him some basic wrestling moves.   Or Mike would take Matt with him to the pool and they would swim laps together.   For Mike, seeing Matt in speedos was a dream come true.   Supporting the other by attending his competitions became a matter of habit for both of them.   And they studied well together, only occasionally breaking the intensity to pelt one another with pencils or wadded-up paper as the mood struck them.
        Their respective teammates began to kid them that they were like an old married couple, but Matt and Mike just laughed it off and thoroughly dug each other's company.   They began to double date some of the prettier girls, and had some great times.   Mike enjoyed those times, but knowing he was probably gay, tried not to lead on any of the girls into thinking there was anything serious going to happen.   He'd learned his lesson about that in high school.
        In fact, Matt and Mike's only bone of contention over the first few months was that sometimes, on rare occasions, Mike liked to smoke some weed, and Matt hated it.   In deference to Matt, if he just had to have a few tokes, Mike would leave the dorm entirely, find a secluded spot, and get relaxed.   Well, get wasted, actually.   Whenever he did it, Matt refused to talk to him for awhile after he came back to the room to reinforce the fact he didn't like it.   The only time Matt ever said anything after the subject had first been argued was to question how a gifted swimmer could do that to his lungs, and then he'd shake his head.
                                                                                        *  *  *
        Midterms came and went, and all Matt's and Mike's studying had paid off.   They each had gotten four A's and a B, and were on the dean's list.   Their coaches were ecstatic because a lot of their charges barely maintained their athletic eligibility.
        Matt used a notebook computer and a little bubble jet printer for his work, and Mike used a fast, full sized CPU with a nice 17" monitor and laserjet printer.   Sometimes when Matt wasn't around, Mike would fire up his computer to check out stories in the Nifty Archives, or chat in gay.com or look at some of the hot gay porn sites.   He always cleared his URL site history and made sure he shut the computer down completely before he left the room, though, and his password was required to fire it back up.
        The day he forgot his normal computer shut-down routine, he had left the room in a hurry because he was late to class.   It was the same day that Matt crashed his notebook, and needed to pull some information from a URL for his next class.   When Matt moved the mouse to wake up Mike's computer, up popped gay.com, with Mike signed in as SwimStud1.   Matt shut gay.com down, but couldn't resist looking at Mike's site history list.   Lots of gay sites.   Then he went ahead and pulled up the site and information he wanted for class, and left.
        Mike got back a little early from swim practice that afternoon, and grabbed forty winks before starting to study.   Matt came in, said hi, and was unusually quiet, but Mike thought he was just tired or something.   They both got down to studying, but Matt didn't have much to say all evening.
        Before they got ready for bed, Matt swiveled around in his chair and looked at Mike for a long moment.
        "Mike?"
        "Yeah."
        "Are you gay?"
        Mike nearly passed out.   Pulling himself together, he swiveled around to face Matt.
        "Why the hell would you ask me such a stupid question?"
        "I used your computer today because my notebook crashed.   I saw some stuff."
        "Oh."
        Long silence.
        "The answer to your question is, Yes, I am gay, I'm pretty sure."  Tears began to form in Mike's eyes.   "I know you probably hate me now.   I didn't say anything before because I didn't want you to look down on me.   I know how much most jocks hate fags, and I certainly won't give you any trouble if you want me to move out so that you can get another roommate."
        "Are you out to anyone here at school or at home?"
        "No.   Only one guy I grew up with at home knows.   My family doesn't have a clue.   Are you gonna out me?"
        "Mike, don't be ridiculous.   You are what you are.   You're my best bud, and this doesn't change anything.   And you're not moving out.   You think I want to break in another roommate at this late date?" Matt asked with a grin.
        Mike covered his face as the tears really began to fall.   "I'm sick about this."
        "Knock that shit off!  Now I almost wish I hadn't asked."
        "No, I'm glad you did.   The closer we've gotten, the worse I've been feeling about lying to you about who and what I really am.   I hope you can forgive me someday."
        "There's nothing to forgive," Matt said.   "Let it go.   Nothing's changed, OK?  If you ever feel comfortable enough to discuss it with me, and want to, then we'll talk.   Until then, I don't want to hear any more about it.   And I apologize to you for using your computer without permission and butting into your business.   And I'm going to bed."
        And he did.
        His brain spinning, Mike didn't drop off to sleep that night for a long time.
                                                                                        *  *  *
        Mike watched closely for signs that his relationship with Matt had been damaged by what had transpired, but Matt's attitude and the way they interacted hadn't changed, at least on the surface.   Mike felt somehow that something else needed to be said to bring closure, but for the life of him, he didn't know what.   On the one hand things were the same between them, but the subject of Mike's sexual orientation still seemed to hang between them like a dark curtain.
        Christmas break was coming, and this year it came at the end of semester finals, giving them more time than usual away from school.   Matt surprised Mike by asking him to spend as much of his vacation as he could with the Bromans.   Mike was really pleased, and let Matt know that, but said he thought he should stick close to home with his own family because he hadn't seen them for several months.
        That plan went south when Mike's mother called to say that Mike's 75-year-old grandmother in Ft. Lauderdale had fallen and broken her hip, and that the whole family would be in Florida over the holidays and for an indefinite period thereafter.   She gave Mike the choice of coming to Florida or staying at home--alone.   Mike said he'd let her know.   It looks like I'm the home-alone kid, he thought to himself.
        When Mike explained the situation with his family, and asked Matt if the invitation to go home with him was still open, Matt high-fived him exuberantly.   "Hell yes, man!  We'll have a great time, and you know my folks will love to see you."
        Mike called his mother back, told her what he wanted to do, and got her blessing.   She did ask him to call the family in Florida during the holidays, though.   Now Mike really started to look forward to vacation.
        The roommates slogged through finals week, studying hard, and they both felt pretty good about how they did on their exams.   The night after the tests were over, the dorm exploded with life, and Matt's and Mike's room was full of partying teens until the wee hours.
        Matt's younger brother Jeff had been dispatched from home with a car to pick them up, and arrived about noon the next day.   Jeff was a clone of Matt, except a little taller and not so muscular.   Handsome kid, though, a junior in high school.
        Matt and Mike threw their suitcases and garment bags in the trunk, and when Matt offered to drive, Jeff gladly lay down in the back seat and promptly went to sleep.   The roomies listened to some tunes and talked quietly about nothing in particular.   After they stopped for gas and to use the facilities a couple of hours later, Mike took the wheel because Matt said he was sleepy.
        "Man, this thing's a boat!  I've never driven a Cadillac before," Mike said.
        "What kind of car does your family have?"
        "Two Lexuses, actually.   Dad's is red, Mom's is white."
        "I've never driven a Lexus, so we're even."
        "Yeppers."
        Matt slept for an hour, and Mike woke him up for directions when they got closer to the Bromans' house.   They were driving down a quiet suburban road when a tall brick wall appeared on one side of the road, and continued for several miles.
        "Slow down, Mike, the gate is just up here."
        They drove through a wrought iron gate, standing open, and up a winding driveway and into a courtyard with a fountain in the center of it.   One side of the courtyard was bounded by a six-bay garage, and the other two sides by a venerable-looking, red brick, English country house.
        "Holy shit,"  Mike said.   "Your house is humongous!"
        "Yeah, bigger than we need," Jeff chimed in from the back seat.   "But it's been in the family since before the Revolutionary War."
        The front door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Broman emerged, accompanied by Matt's and Jeff's sister, Martha.   Mrs. Broman grabbed Matt and kissed him soundly.   Matt shook hands with his dad, then hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.   Mike went to shake hands with Mrs. Broman, only to be hugged and kissed instead.   Mr. Broman shook hands with Mike, and clapped him on the back.
        "Mike, welcome.   We're so glad you could come for the holidays," he said, and Mrs. Broman echoed his words.
        Matt introduced Martha, who appeared to be about a freshman in high school, to Mike, and she looked at him with big eyes.
        "Martha, he's a college man and too old for you," Jeff kidded, earning him a smack on the shoulder.
        "Let's get your things out of the car, and get in out of the cold,"  Mr. Broman suggested, and they grabbed their bags and went inside.
        The hallway was huge and rounded, with various doorways to first floor rooms opening from it, and a circular stairway against the back wall winding up to the second floor.   In the center of the hall hung the biggest crystal chandelier that Mike had ever seen, and underneath it sat a giant Christmas tree with all the decorations.
        "Matt, you and Mike help Branford take the bags upstairs, then come down and see Grandma Hagerty and Uncle Jack and Aunt Judy, and introduce Mike to everybody,"  Mrs. Broman said.   A distinguished-looking, middle-aged man in formal attire stepped forward silently and took two of the bags.   "Branford, this is Mr. Berman."
        "Good evening, sir.   Good evening, Mr. Matthew.   Please follow me."
        "Where are you putting Mike?" Matt asked his mother.
        "Well, we weren't really expecting Grandma.   She flew in from Boston yesterday--you know how unpredictable she is--so the bedrooms are full.   If it's all right, we'll put Mike in your room."
        "No problem, Mom.   Come on, Mike."
        They followed the butler up the winding stairs and down the hall to the third door, and entered a large room with windows overlooking a brick patio at the back of the house and a lawn which swept down at least a half mile to what appeared to be a river in the distance.   A private bathroom was equipped with a separate shower and whirlpool tub.   There were comfortable chairs and some antique tables scattered about the bedroom, and an entertainment center, and computer, and even a fireplace, but only one double bed.
        "Will there be anything else, Mr. Matthew?"
        "Thank you, no, Branford.   Tell my mother we'll be right down."
        The man nodded, hung up the garment bags, and withdrew, shutting the door.
        "Who gets the bed?" Mike asked slyly.
        "We'll argue about that later, dufus!" Matt said.   "Just leave the bags here--we can unpack later."
        "OK."
        "Come on, I want to introduce you to the rest of the family."
        They went back downstairs, and entered one of the doors off the hall leading into a library.   The library ceiling was two stories high, and had a second story walkway around the edge to access the upper bookshelves.   There was a small fire burning in the fireplace, with people sitting on couches and overstuffed chairs around it.
        "Matt, dear."  An elderly lady with gray hair looked up expectently.
        "Grandma,"  Matt said with enthusiasm, and went over the couch to engulf her in a hug.
        "You sweet boy, you look wonderful," she said, kissing him.
        "So do you, Grandma.   I'd like to introduce my roommate from school, Michael Berman.   Mike, my grandmother, Mrs. Hagerty."
        They shook hands politely, and Mrs. Hagerty said, "Michael, I've heard some interesting things about you!"
        Mike looked over at Matt nervously.
        "I understand we owe you my grandson's life," the old lady said.   "It's a privilege to meet you at last."
        "That's an overstatement, m'am," Mike said.
        "Not according to my daughter and son-in-law.   We deeply appreciate what you did."
        Mike turned red and didn't say anything.
        "Mike, I want you to meet my aunt and uncle, Jack and Judy Hagerty," Matt continued.   A balding, middle-aged man stood to shake hands, and a somewhat younger, very pretty woman extended her hand from where she sat.
        After the pleasantries were exchanged, Mike sat down between Mr. and Mrs. Broman, and the afternoon passed quickly in conversation, with everyone asking Matt and Mike a lot of questions about school.   Mike didn't ever remember having such a good time with adults before.
        Dinner was served in a dining room covered in beautiful wood paneling.   Another chandelier hung down over a long table, which was graced with tall candles.   Mike was so impressed with the surroundings, he hardly knew what he ate, but whatever it was, it was delicious.   Matt and Mike had wine with dinner with the grownups, leading to big complaints from Jeff and Martha when they got none.
        After dinner, they all adjourned to a sitting room on the other side of the big front hall, again enjoying a fire in the fireplace and some more good conversation.
        About 10 o'clock, Matt kissed his mother, and excused himself and Mike, saying they were tired from the trip.   They went upstairs to Matt's room and got ready for bed.   They unpacked their clothes and put them in a huge dresser on one wall, and their toilet kits in the bathroom.   Matt took his usual evening shower while Mike watched TV.
        Matt came out of the shower with a towel around his waist, looking very sexy, Mike thought.   Matt slipped the towel off and put on a fresh pair of briefs.
        "I don't know how you can wear those things,"  Mike told him.   "Too confining!"
        "Well, that way, when I get a hard on, no one can tell," Matt said.
        "With that mini wiener you have, no one could tell anyway."
        "You piece of shit!  You're gonna pay for that."
        Mike grinned.   "Yeah, yeah, promises, promises."
        Matt started over toward him, but turned back when Mike got up and dodged around a couch.
        "I owe ya," Matt muttered to himself, turned down the bed, and climbed in.
        Mike finished watching a Law and Order rerun, shut the TV off, and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.   Coming out, he stripped to his boxers, grabbed a pillow and blanket out of the closet, and headed for the couch.
        "Mike, what are you doing?"  Matt asked.
        "Going to sleep, what's it look like?"
        "We can share the bed, you know."
        "That's OK, the couch feels pretty comfortable."
        "Mike, get your ass over here."
        "No, really. . ."
        The next thing Mike knew, Matt was out of the bed and sitting astride his chest on the couch.
        "Now we can do this the hard way, or the easy way, your choice,"  Matt said.   "Come on, get in bed, I wanna talk for awhile."
        "Oh, all right," Mike said with reluctance, pushed Matt off of him, and walked to the bed.   Climbing in, he pulled the sheet up to his neck.
        Matt joined him, and they lay there quietly for a few minutes.
        "I want to talk to you about the gay thing," Matt said finally.
        "The gay thing?" Mike shot back.   "What the hell is the gay thing?"
        "Don't make this more difficult than it is," Matt said.   "I don't think we've said everything that needs to be said, and there haven't been that many opportunities to talk about it.   You know I care about you, and I just want everything out on the table."
        Silence.
        Finally Mike spoke up.   "All right, you asked for it!
        "My gay sex experience is very limited," he began.   "I've only had sex with one guy, my best friend on my high school swim team, and we did it a lot during my junior and senior year.   That's it.   Before that, I was pretty hot and heavy into girls.   Once I had had sex with a guy, though, I knew I was gay.   You don't know how much I just wanted to be normal, but no such luck.
        "My plan when I came down to school was to fuck as many beautiful boys as I could.   I mean lots of guys.   The last thing I wanted to do was to fall in love with anyone, male or female."
        Mike paused.
        "This is really hard for me," he said.
        Matt was quiet.
        "Then you and I got to be roommates," Mike said.   "I was attracted to you physically right away, but that's as far as it went at first.   You probably don't even think about what a beautiful bod you have."
        "I look OK, I guess," Matt responded.
        "Let's not bullshit each other, bud.   You are fucking gorgeous!  I've had trouble not boning up every time I see you,"  Mike said.   "And the better I got to know you, the kind of person you are, the more I thought of you.   After awhile I never even thought about getting it on with anybody else.   There was no competition."
        Long pause again.
        "I don't know how to say all this."
        Another pause.
        Mike took a deep breath and continued.
        "I love you very much as a human being, Matt.   I really believe you love me that way, too.   The difference is, I don't just love you and admire you, I'm in love with you.   I'm so much in love with you that, if I could, I'd get under your skin and be you.   That's why living with you is so tough for me.   I fantasize about you all the time.   And I know you can never respond to me the way I want you to.   I'd feel terrible not being around you, but I'm hurting every minute, dude.   That's why we need to give some thought to this roommate thing, and maybe I need to move on."
        He added, "Now, can I stop embarrassing both of us?"
        Matt moved his head over on his pillow until he touched Mike's head, and said quietly, "I'm not embarrassed, man.   I'm stunned.   I just didn't know.   I think I'm hopelessly straight, but if it were ever to be another guy, you'd be the one, and that's the truth.   I've had a lot of friends in my life, but I never had these feelings for them."
        Matt was quiet for a minute, and then continued slowly, "You got it right when you said you believe I love you--and I've never said that to anyone but family."  He paused. "Well, maybe I've said it to a few women along the way.   But I didn't mean it!  Anyway, the fact is, I care about you more than I can put into words right now.   And not just because you saved my life, don't think that.   I never thought I would ever say anything like this to another guy, but I'm begging you not to move out on me.   Please.   I know I have no right to ask, but please stick with me, roomie."
        Mike sighed "You're tough to say 'no' to, bro.   Let's just think about it though, OK?"
        Matt said nothing, but turned on his side, put his arm across Mike's chest, and they fell asleep head to head.

Part 2

        Mike had already learned a great deal about the Broman extended family during his stay.   Matthew James Broman, Matt's dad, was an attorney and senior partner in the law firm of Hagerty, Broman, Arpels, Schiffmeyer and Dixon, one of the most powerful and respected law firms on the east coast.   His particular specialty was corporate law.   He had reportedly turned down numerous offers of state and federal judgeships to remain in private practice.
        Matt's mother, Jane Broman, was partner and senior designer of a large jewelry retail company, and had the luxury of doing her design work in her home studio, only rarely going to their headquarters.   She had received numerous awards for the freshness and creativity of her designs.
        Emily Hagerty, Matt's grandmother (Jane's mother), was the widow of Thomas Hagerty, formerly a senior partner in the law firm.
        Jack Hagerty (Jane's brother), was CEO of a large bank with branches up and down the east coast.   The bank stock was closely owned by only a few families, and of those, the Hagertys had the lion's share.                
        Judy Hagerty, Jack's wife, was owner and head broker of Hagerty & O'Toole, the largest and most prosperous real estate firm in the region.
        These people were all very rich, and obviously not slackers.   Mike had a better sense of where Matt's drive to succeed at everything he did came from.
        So far, his vacation with Matt at the Bromans' house was as close to perfect as you could get, from Mike's point of view.   Visitors, both adults and many of Matt's former high school classmates, streamed through the house constantly The youngsters had accepted Mike into their group as if he had grown up right in the area.
        The day before Christmas, Mike asked Matt to take him to a mall on the outskirts of the nearest town so that he could buy gifts for the family.  Mike was very taken with them all, especially Mr. and Mrs. Broman, and felt as if he had known them all his life. He missed his own family, of course, particularly after talking with them on the phone, but these warm people were the next best thing.  And being around Matt, sleeping in the same bed with him, gave Mike intense joy.  After their talk on the night they had arrived, Mike felt closer to Matt than ever now that there were no secrets between them.
        On Christmas Eve, the entire family went to Midnight Mass at nearby Old St. Paul's Episcopal Church, and Mike had to admit he was impressed with the beauty and pageantry of the service.  When a young man in his vestments processed down the center aisle ahead of the crucifer and choir, swinging the thurible in a 360 degree circle every few feet while incense billowed, Mike figured he was in for a show.   The music was magnificent, and Mike could feel the bass notes of the pipe organ resonate in his gut.   When the organist added the state trumpets at the back of the church to his mix of sound just as the three priests processed, the hair on the back of Mike's head stood up.   Even the celebrant's homily was good.   Mike went up to the altar rail with the family to receive communion, and felt a real sense of peace and belonging.   But he couldn't help noticing how cute the high school boys who were serving at the altar looked in their red cassocks and white surplices.   He was still human, after all!
        Before he left the church, Mike went into one of the transepts and lit a votive candle for his family.
        After church, the Broman clan returned home and gathered in front of the fire in the library for a light buffet and to exchange gifts.   Mike hadn't been forgotten by anyone, and he was glad he had gone to the mall so that he could reciprocate.   Everyone seemed pleased with what he had selected for them, and he received some very nice things.   He had bought Matt a new leather billfold to replace the ratty old thing he was always complaining about, and Matt gave him a beautiful, lined flannel shirt.   Later, in private, Mike gave Matt a gold ID bracelet with the engraved initials MB entwined on it, and Matt gave him a pocket watch with MB likewise engraved on the back.
        "Great minds think jewelry," Matt said laughingly, punching Mike lightly on the shoulder.
        "You know it!  Thanks, man!" Mike said.
        "No, thank you!"
        "No, thank you!"
        "No, thank. . ."  Matt didn't finish his sentence.   "Commere, you pissant!"  He grabbed Mike around the neck and gave him really hard nuggies until he begged for mercy.
        They got ready for bed and both slept soundly.
        Christmas morning dawned crisp and clear, with the promise of an extraordinarily warm day for that time of the year.   By eleven o'clock it was 60̊, and after a leisurely breakfast, Matt told his folks they were going to throw a battery in the CBR and take a ride.   Matt borrowed some leathers and a helmet from Jeff for Mike, and they walked down to the garage.   Sitting in the fourth bay were two dirt bikes and the CBR 900.
        Mike glanced over into the adjoining bay, and stopped dead in his tracks.   There sat a fairly new Nissan pickup truck, dark blue with red pinstriping, with a vinyl cover over the truck bed.
        "Are you trying to weird me out?" he asked Matt.
        "Whaddaya mean?"
        "How did you get my truck up here?"
        "That's not your truck, it's my truck!"  Matt said.
        "I don't believe this.   I have a truck exactly--exactly--like this at home.   My mom and dad gave it to me for high school graduation,"  Mike said.
        "This is too eerie!"  Matt responded.   "My folks gave me this truck for my high school graduation.   Since I can't have it at school this year, Jeff's been driving it."
        "Jeez, we have the same bike and now the same truck.   This is just so weird!  Are we clones, or what?  You're gonna have to get rid of your bike and truck, or people will talk!" Mike kidded.
        "In your dreams, man.   You get rid of your stuff."
        "I don't think so.   If you were a really good host, you'd get rid of your stuff!"
        They continued to bicker while Matt took the motorcycle battery off the charger, seated it in the bike, hooked up the terminals, and put the panel cover back on.
        The bike roared to life on the second try.
        "I'll drive first, then you can have a shot,"  Matt said.   They put on their helmets and gloves, and they were out of there.   Mike held on to the pillion, and gripped Matt's legs hard with his knees as they ripped out of the driveway doing a wheelie.   What a rush to be out on a bike again, Mike thought.   I've really missed it.
        Traffic on the country roads was practically non-existent, and Matt didn't spare the throttle.   In about 30 minutes, he pulled over in a secluded spot, and they traded places.   Mike started out slowly, but warmed to the task, and on one straightaway he hit 125 mph.   Matt was impressed with the way Mike handled the bike.   After an hour and a half of trading back and forth at the controls and really putting the CBR through its paces, they headed back to the house feeling good, and parked the bike in the garage.
        "I have a surprise for you," Matt said as they walked up to the house.
        "Will it hurt?" Mike asked with feigned innocence.
        "Not unless you keep fucking with me, wise ass!  We have a pool.   Indoor.   How about a swim?"
        Mike stopped and gaped at him.   "Oh, shit!  Are you serious?  This is too good to be true!"
        "I figured you'd approve.   Let's get changed and swim before dinner."
        "Awesome!  Do you have a suit I can borrow?  I didn't bring one from school."
        Matt pretended to look him up and down.   "Well, you're kinda scrawny.   A pair of my trunks might just fall off your pitiful ass."
        "Revealing nothin' you ain't seen before, yo!  But we'll make it work!"
        They hurried upstairs and quickly changed into their suits, inviting Jeff and Martha to come along to the pool, which they did.   The pool area was everything Mike expected it to be, given the rest of the property, and included a nice diving board.   He swam some laps, gave the others a few tips on their swimming techniques, and they all just horsed around.   The next thing they knew, Branford was there to say that dinner would be served in a few minutes.
        "I have another surprise for you," Matt said as they went upstairs.
        "You're just full of it, aren't you?  Surprises, I mean," Mike responded.
        "Why do you make me hurt you before you'll be nice?"  Matt sighed.   "Anyway, we're having a New Year's Eve pool party before we go back.   It will give us a chance to see all the kids again, and you'll be in your natural milieu, won't you, water  boy?"
        "Outstanding!" Mike said.   "Just don't turn your back on me around the pool, shithead, or you'll get wetter than you planned."
        Vacation passed by all too quickly.   The boys watched movies, listened to music, had great talks with the Broman clan, and even got the CBR out on the road one more time.
        New Year's Eve finally arrived.   Mr. Broman gave the kids the run of the pool and the far wing of the house, with the proviso that he didn't want anybody using alcohol or drugs.   Matt argued for having beer at least, but to no avail.   Food and soft drinks aplenty were laid out, and about fifty kids showed up.   Matt had moved his stereo down to the pool so they could have tunes, and pretty soon things were in full swing.
        Jeff had wrangled an invitation to the party from Matt, and was obviously as popular as his brother despite being two years younger than the rest of the gang.   Mike roamed around freely talking with people, and later, in an impromptu swim contest, whipped all the hot shit jocks who thought they were such great swimmers.   His reward, at Matt's instigation, was to be grabbed by the arms and legs by about 10 guys and given the old heave-ho out into the center of the pool.
        Mike noticed that Matt was spending a lot of time with a cute little brunette, and even saw him kissing her.   When Mike asked who she was, Jeff told him that the girl had been Matt's steady during his senior year, but that they had gone their separate ways by mutual agreement when they went off to college.   Get used to it, Mike told himself, and tried not to let it bother him.   But it did.
        The party wound down about 3 a.m., and Matt, Jeff and Mike made a stab at cleaning up the pool area, but soon called it a night.   When Matt and Mike finally hit the bed, they were asleep almost immediately.
        They spent the New Year's Day being couch potatoes, watching the various bowl games, and recuperating from the party.   That night they got a start on packing to go back to school.   Jeff was going to drive them back, and Mike went out of his way to let him know how much he appreciated his making the long trip.
        They had breakfast about 8 o'clock the next morning with the Bromans, and then loaded up the car.   Mike was feeling overwhelmed by all the kindness he had been shown over the past two weeks.   Mrs. Broman hugged and kissed him, and told him they loved him and wanted him to come back with Matt whenever he could.   Mr. Broman started to shake his hand, but then pulled him into an embrace.   Mike gave Martha a hug, and told them all that they felt like his second family.   Hiding his emotions, Mike quickly got into the car and waited for Matt and Jeff.
        Jeff drove first, and then climbed in the back of the car for a snooze when Matt took over.   Mike felt good when he looked over and saw that Matt was wearing the ID bracelet he had given him for Christmas.
        Mike took the wheel later, and Matt glanced into the back seat to make sure that Jeff was asleep.   He was.
        "Have you decided what you're going to do about the roommate situation?" Matt asked Mike quietly, prepared to hear the worst.
        "Yes."
        "Well?"
        "I'm gonna stay with you, if that's cool."
        "Dude, you have made me so happy!"  Matt closed his eyes for a moment in relief.   "Can I ask why?"
        "Well, because I'd rather be celibate and horny living with you, than having lots of sex living with anybody else," Mike said.   "It's that simple."
        Matt looked thoughtful, and the subject was closed.
                                                                                        *  *  *
        The second semester started, and the roomies were soon back in their normal routines of classes, athletics and studies.   Matt had yet to lose a wrestling match in his weight class, which sat well with the athletic staff, needless to say.   Mike had lost only one event at swimming, and the coach was always holding him up as an example to his teammates about how to train faithfully and expend whatever energy it took to win.   That made Mike a little uncomfortable.
        There was one big difference in their routines, though, Mike noticed.   He had never known whether Matt ever jacked off to relieve stress and sexual tension, or not--he had never seen or heard him masturbating during all the time they had lived together.   He assumed he did, but didn't know for sure.
        But after they got back from vacation, as soon as they hit their beds at night and the lights were out, Mike starting hearing Matt jack off at least three times a week, then cleaning himself up and going to sleep.   It was so blatant, and represented such a huge change, that Mike wondered whether it had anything to do with his own comment about being horny when they were in the car coming back to school after Christmas.   Whatever the reason, it was all the permission Mike needed to go at it himself without hiding what he was doing, and he slept a lot better as a result.   Neither of the roommates ever spoke of it.
        The boys had always done their own laundry separately every week, but they decided it made sense to throw it all in together and trade-off duty at the laundromat every other week.   Mike was sorely tempted to check out the "Matt smell" on the his roomie's jocks and briefs when it was his turn to do the laundry, but mostly he resisted, feeling a little like a perv for even thinking about it.
        The two guys had regained most of the easy camaraderie which had marked their relationship when they first met, and were back to joking around and playing pranks on each other.
        One night Mike found a poem on a gay computer site, and he told Matt that he wanted him to memorize it and use it for his mantra:
                THE PERFECT MAN IS GENTLE,
NEVER CRUEL OR MEAN.
HE HAS A BEAUTIFUL SMILE
AND KEEPS HIS FACE SO CLEAN.
THE PERFECT MAN LIKES CHILDREN
AND WILL RAISE THEM BY YOUR SIDE.
HE WILL BE A GOOD FATHER,
A GOOD HUSBAND TO HIS BRIDE.
THE PERFECT MAN LOVES COOKING,
CLEANING AND VACUUMING TOO.
HE'LL DO ANYTHING IN HIS POWER
TO CONVEY HIS FEELINGS OF LOVE TO YOU.
THE PERFECT MAN IS SWEET,WRITING POETRY FROM YOUR NAME,
HE'S A BEST FRIEND TO YOUR MOTHER
AND KISSES AWAY YOUR PAIN.
HE NEVER HAS MADE YOU CRY
OR BATTERED YOU IN ANY WAY.
TO HELL WITH THIS ENDLESS POEM...
THE PERFECT MAN IS GAY.

        Matt almost fell on the floor laughing.
                                                                                           *  *  *
        Midterms were just completed in late February when the two roomies were sitting down about 7 o'clock one night to study.   The telephone rang, and Matt picked it up, said hello, then handed the phone to Mike as he mouthed the word, "Police."
        Looking puzzled, Mike said hello, confirmed his identity, and listened.  His face turned white. Matt thought he was going to fall down, and pushed a chair under him.
        When he hung up the phone, Mike stood up, went over to his bed, and sat back against the wall. His face was ashen.
        "Mike?"
        No response.
        Matt went over and sat next to him on the bed.
        "Mike, what's wrong?"
        Mike looked at him slowly.
        "My parents, my brother and sister, and my grandmother were killed in a private plane crash late last night on the way home from Florida."
        "Oh my God!" Matt said, and sat there looking at Mike.   He didn't know what to say, and just kept staring at his roommate.
        "I don't know what to do," Mike whispered. "What am I supposed to do?"
        He shut his eyes, and became almost catatonic as the two continued to sit in silence. There were no tears. Matt watched him, paralyzed himself.
        Matt eventually got up and left the room to use their neighbor's phone, and when he returned, Mike was in the same position, sitting in his bed with his back against the wall.  Matt sat down beside him again.
        "Mike?"
        No answer.
        "Mike, do you want me to call a priest?"
        Mike shook his head, "No."
        "My mom and dad are coming down here to get you tomorrow, and take you to your house, OK?"
        No response.
        Matt moved closer and put his head against Mike's, and they sat that way in silence.
        When Mike hadn't moved at all by 9 o'clock, Matt decided to put him to bed.   He leaned down and took off Mike's shoes and socks, pulled his T-shirt over his head, and removed his Levi's, leaving his boxers.   He walked him into the bathroom, and had him use the toilet and brush his teeth.   Then he walked him back to his bed, and put him under the covers.   He leaned down and caressed Mike's forehead, and then got ready for bed himself.
        Matt lay in his bed, staring through the darkness at his friend, feeling totally helpless.   He said a silent prayer for Mike and his family.
        Mike awakened about 1 a.m., and the enormity of what had happened finally hit him.   He began to weep, silently, he thought, so as not to wake Matt up.
        Matt heard him, though, and got up and went over to Mike's bed.
        "Scoot over, Mikey."  Mike complied, turning on his side and toward the wall.   Matt slid under the covers and cradled him.   Mike felt Matt's breath on his neck as they drifted off to sleep.
                                                                                        *  *  *
        When Mike woke up the next morning, Matt was sitting at his own desk in his briefs, studying.  Even in the midst of his pain, Mike couldn't help admiring the beautiful body of that beautiful man as Matt sat there making notes from one of his readings.   Matt's skin glowed with health, and there wasn't a blemish on it.
        Matt glanced over at him.
        "Mike, good, you're awake.   I'm going to run down and get you some breakfast."  He reached for his pants, shirt and a pair of Nikes.
        "Thanks, but I don't want anything."
        "How about a little juice and some toast?"
        "No, that's OK."
        Matt got dressed and left, returning a few minutes later with orange juice and toast.   He sat on Mike's bed, and put the tray on Mike's lap.
        "I can't eat right now," Mike protested.
        "I'm not letting you get sick, bro.   This is a tough situation.   You gotta eat something."
        "Jeez, you're worse than my mother. ."  Mike's eyes got tears in them when he realized what he'd just said.
        He picked up a piece of toast and bit down on it just to shut Matt up.   Matt didn't take the tray away until Mike had eaten two pieces of toast and drunk the orange juice.
        "Tell you what, why don't you grab a shower and I'll make a few phone calls," Matt said.   "I don't know exactly when my folks are going to get here, and we have to pack your bag."
        Mike climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom without replying.
        When Matt heard the shower start, he pulled the school directory out of his desk and phoned the dean's office, each of Mike's professors, and the swim coach, and explained what had happened.   Each of them sent Mike his condolences, and offered to help in any way he could.
        When Mike didn't get out of the shower in a reasonable time, Matt went into the bathroom and looked behind the shower curtain.   Mike was just standing there in the spray as if he were comatose.   Matt turned the water off and told Mike to step out of the tub, and dried him off.   Now Matt was really worried about him.
        He sat Mike down on his bed again, and picked him out fresh boxers, a clean T-shirt, some Levi's, and clean socks, and told Mike to put them on.   He did, slowly, and then sat there blankly watching Matt.
        Matt went to the closet and took down one of the suitcases, put Mike's shaving kit in it, and began to fill it with underwear and socks for at least a week.   He pulled a pair of dress shoes out of a shoe bay, gave them a quick brushing, and dropped them into the suitcase with a necktie and clean handkerchief neatly folded up in one of them.   He put Mike's best dark suit in a garment bag along with a trench coat, placed several folded white shirts in one of the garment bag pockets, and hung the bag back up in the closet.
        "Did I forget anything, Mike?"
        "I don't think so.   Thanks."
        "Mike."
        "Yeah?"
        "You know I love you, and my family loves you, and you're not gonna go through this alone, don't you?"
        Mike's eyes teared up, but he didn't say anything.
        About half an hour later, there was a light knock on the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Broman came in.   Matt met them at the door and kissed them, hugging them long and hard.
        Mike stood up, and the adults embraced him.
        "Mike, I don't have the words to tell you how sorry we are," Jane Broman said, and hugged him again.
        Leaving Mike with his mother, Matt pulled his father into the bathroom.
        "Dad, I hadn't planned to go with you," Matt said, "but I think I'd better.   He's going to need me, and all of us, right now.   He already seems to be going into a depression, and I think we should have Dr. Peterson see him as soon as possible.   I don't want to hold you up, but can you wait while I pack my stuff and let the dean's office and my professors and the coach know that I'm leaving?"
        "Of course, son.   I hate to have you miss school, but I do think it would be best if you came along."
        "Does anyone know exactly what happened," Matt asked his father.
        "Yes.   The plane was a charter out of Ft. Lauderdale last night on instruments.   They were making an approach to a small airport in Georgia to refuel, and about twenty miles out they plowed into a newly constructed radio tower.   It wasn't on any of the maps, and the contractor was only one day away from marking the damn thing with lights.   That was all she wrote," Mr. Broman said.
        "Can any of your staff help straighten things out for Mike?"
        "I have people working on it right now, Matt.   I'm going to see that he gets the best advice that's available.   I'm going to do for him what I would want done for you in the same circumstances."
        "Dad, thank you!  I really appreciate your being here for Mike.   I wonder if Mike's going to have any money problems?"
        "You don't know who his family was, do you?
        "No, we never really talked about his family much."
        "His dad was Andrew Berman, CEO of Berman Engineering Worldwide, Inc.   That's a ten billion-dollar company traded on the big board, and a big chunk of it is family owned.   If Mike is the sole heir, he's going to be a very rich young man," Mr. Broman said.
        "Wow.   I guess that answers that question."
        They rejoined Mike and Mrs. Broman.   Matt packed, made his telephone calls, and they left quickly.
                                                                                    *  *  *
        The trip was fast and uneventful, with Mr. Broman driving well above the speed limit.   They drove to the Bromans' house for the night, with plans to go on to Mike's parents' house the next day.
        His hosts were going to put Mike in a bedroom of his own, but Matt demurred, insisting that he stay in Matt's room.   He also insisted that Dr. Peterson, their family doctor, be contacted to make a rare house call the next morning to check Matt out, and possibly prescribe some medication.
        A few hours after supper, Matt made Mike get into swim trunks, took him down to the pool, and swam laps with him for an hour.   Matt was whipped when they were finished, but Mike seemed energized and more alert.
        When they got back to the room, they changed into dry clothes, and Matt checked Mike out.
        "You know, we won't have time to get to a barber shop before we leave.   Why don't I give you a little trim so you'll look good for the trip?" he suggested.
        "OK," Mike said.
        Matt put a straight backed chair in the bathroom in front of the big mirror, took out a hair cutting kit, and sat Mike down.   He put a towel over his shoulders, and began to run the clippers in long, even strokes over the top of Mike's high and tight.
        "How long have you been wearing a high and tight?" he asked.
        "Since I was a freshman in high school.   I thought I wanted to be a Marine.   When I found out I was gay, I changed my career plans, but kept the hairstyle."
        "I could shave your head completely, like some of the guys on the swim team," Matt suggested.
        "I could shave your butt, too, but it's not gonna happen!" Mike shot back.
        Matt laughed, and continued trimming and checking his work in the mirror.   He shaved off the hair growing low on the back of Mike's neck, and shortened up the sides, Marine style.   Then he wiped the loose hair off his face and neck, and said he was done.
        Mike looked at himself in the mirror.   "Good job, bud.   You missed your calling."
        They went to bed early.   Mike awakened in the middle of the night and wept again.   Matt held him until sleep overcame grief, and then counted his own blessings over and over before falling back to sleep himself.
        The next morning Mike seemed lethargic and withdrawn.   Dr. Peterson came to the house and talked to him, and confirmed that Mike was indeed in the beginning stages of a simple clinical depression.   He prescribed a light dose of Paxil to see if Mike's system could tolerate it, reminding the Bromans that the medication wouldn't kick in right away.   He asked Matt to make sure Mike took his pill every day.
        Matt decided that he would follow his parents' car in his pickup for the trip down in case Mike wanted to take some of his personal things out of the family home right away.   Then if Mike wanted to do so, he could put his CBR in his own pickup, and they could return in three vehicles.
        When they were ready to leave, Mike walked to the truck with his head hanging down.
        "I could off myself right now with no problem," he mumbled to Matt as they climbed into the pickup.
        "No, no, no, no,"  Matt responded, scared and upset.   "We're going to get through this together, one day at a time, bro," Matt said, vowing to watch Mike more closely than ever until his medication took effect.
        They rode in silence for awhile, listening to some of Matt's CD's.
        "Were you really close to your mom and dad," Matt asked.
        "Not as close as you are to your folks, I guess" Mike said.   "I was closer to my mom than anyone, though.   I could talk to her about anything and everything.   I never heard her say a mean word to anyone, ever, even to us kids.   She supported me in everything I wanted to do.   A class act.   My heart is broken to lose her.   But my dad wasn't around all that much when I was growing up--he worked all the time.   I loved my grandma.   She was a sweetheart.   I got along with Kevin and Carol all right, I guess, but we never hung out a lot."
        The two boys segued into talking about some of the good times they had had in high school, and some of the wilder escapades they had been involved in.   They agreed that they would probably be in jail today if they had been caught by the authorities pulling some of the shit they did.
        Mike used his cell phone to call his parents' house and alert the staff that they were coming and to have some rooms prepared.
        They arrived in town at about five o'clock in the afternoon and had a quick supper at a nice restaurant before going to the house.   It was an enormous place in the style of a French chateau, with a mansard roof, surrounded by about 100 acres of grass and trees.
        A woman whom Mike introduced as Mrs. Brighton, the housekeeper, greeted them at the door.   She hugged Mike with tears in her eyes.   She and Mrs. Broman clicked immediately, and went off to discuss household issues that needed to be dealt with.   Mike asked a male staffer to unload the Bromans' car, and helped put the luggage in the right rooms.   Matt said he wanted to stay with Mike in his room, and so it was arranged.
        Mr. Broman got on the phone to the Berman family lawyers at their respective homes, introduced himself, and said he would be representing Mike on the estate issues.   Meetings among the attorneys were set up for the next day.
        Mr. Broman then called Sacred Heart Church, which Mike identified as their family parish, and talked to the pastor about the visitation and funeral.   The visitation was to be from 6 to 10 o'clock the next night at the funeral home, with the funeral mass scheduled at the church for the morning after the wake at 10 a.m.
        Mike seemed very tense and yet somehow oblivious to most of what was going on around him.   Back in the bedroom, Matt kneaded Mike's neck and shoulders, and they were tight.   He suggested that Mike take a hot shower, and that then he would give him a rubdown before bed.
        Mike agreed.   He showered, and lay on the bed, face down, in his boxers.   Matt found some lotion in the bathroom, and poured some on Mike's back.
        Mike jumped.   "Ow, you rat, that's cold!"
        "Just trying to see if you're awake."
        Matt's hands were very strong, and Mike groaned for the next 20 minutes as Matt worked his torso over thoroughly, front and back.   When he was finished, Mike lay there like a lump, perfectly relaxed.
        Matt watched TV for a few minutes, then stripped to his briefs for bed.   He raised Mike up in one arm and held him while he turned down the bed with the other.   Then he crawled in and pulled the covers up over both of them.
        "Matt."
        "Yeah?"
        "Thank you for everything you've done for me.   If it weren't for you and your parents, I'd be in deep shit.    I love you very much."
        "And I love you back, my bud.   I'm here for you."
        Mike moved over as close to Matt as he could without being too obvious, and they both slept soundly all night.
                                                                                        *  *  *
        The wake and funeral went smoothly.   Almost 600 people attended the visitation, which had to be extended until 11 p.m. to accommodate everyone who wanted to pay their respects.   The five closed caskets were a vivid reminder of the family's terrible tragedy.   Many of the employees of Berman Worldwide made a point of speaking to Mike about their personal sense of loss at the death of his father.   Mike began to think more highly of his father as he began to grasp the positive impact he had had on so many lives.
        Sacred Heart was packed with 700 people the next day, the funeral mass being graced by such luminaries as the city's mayor and state governor.   The burial was simple, and sad.
        The only jarring note in the proceedings for both Matt and Mike was when Jason Stelling, Mike's boyfriend from high school,  had shown up at the wake.   Mike had introduced Jason to Matt, and the three of them had talked for a bit.   Jason was a freshman at a nearby college. The kid was tall and handsome, but his face was already giving clear indication that he had been burning the candle at both ends for some time.   There was something about Jason that Matt just hadn't liked, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he had a past with Mike. Or so Matt told himself.
        Matt knew he was right about Jason, though, when out of the clear blue sky at the wake he had asked him with a sneer if he were "Mike's latest fuck toy."
        Mike had turned crimson and walked away.   Matt was cool, though, and gave Jason a level stare.   "You mean, like you were a couple years ago?"  It was Jason's turn to blush as Matt turned on his heel and strode away.   Jason was gone the next time Matt had looked around.
        Mr. Broman's meetings with the Berman personal and company lawyers had gone well, and he felt he had a good grasp of the immediate decisions which would be facing Mike in the days ahead.   At Mrs. Broman's suggestion, the Berman household staff were all retained until some decisions were made about the property.   She suggested a three-month severance payment for each staffer should the property be sold in the immediate future, and Mike thought that sounded fair.
        Mike confirmed with Mr. Broman that he could store his truck and his motorcycle in the Bromans' garage if he were to take them back with him.   Matt and Mike charged the battery in Mike's truck, and it started right up.   The local motorcycle dealer brought some ramps, and they loaded the CBR into the pickup and tied it down.   The bike was so long, they had to secure it on an angle to make it fit in the truck bed.   The two boys and a couple of staffers loaded Mike's stereo and a big screen TV, wrapped in plastic and cushioned with rubber mats, into Matt's truck, and secured a tarp over the whole load.   Matt thought Mike should keep his mother's vast collection of classical music CD's and LP's, and so they put them in Matt's truck, too.
        At Matt's suggestion, Mike took one personal item belonging to each one of his family members as a remembrance, as well as pictures of his family and of his grandmother in happier days.
        The reading of his parents' and his grandmother's wills was carried out two days after the funeral.   Mike was the sole heir to all their properties and assets, but as the family lawyer droned on, the information mostly went over his head.   Mr. Broman was present, however, and secured copies of the wills before they went to probate.
        With the loose ends mostly tied up for the moment, it was time for the Bromans and Mike to leave.   He bid an emotional goodbye to Mrs. Brighton and the rest of the staff.   Mike looked back sadly as he pulled away in his truck, realizing full well that he really had no home any more.
        The three vehicles convoyed back to the Bromans' at a leisurely pace, arriving fairly late, and the boys put the two trucks in the garage for the night without unloading them.
        They were both tired, and after showering, curled up in bed together and slept almost immediately.
                                                                                        *  *  *
        The roomies stayed two more days before Jeff was supposed to take them back to school.   They would leave on a Saturday so Jeff wouldn't miss school himself.
        The afternoon of the second day, Mr. and Mrs. Broman asked Mike to join them in the library.   They made small talk for a few minutes, and then Mr. Broman said that there several issues that required some discussion.
        He said that the provisions of the two wills required, by going into effect before Mike was 21 years old, that a conservator be appointed by the court to oversee the two estates following probate.   He told Mike that he would be willing to take on that responsibility, at no charge to the estates, if that was Mike's wish.   Mike felt relieved, and quickly agreed, with thanks.
        Secondly, Mr. Broman said that state law required that in order for Mike to enter into any major contracts between ages 18 and 21, that a personal guardian needed to be appointed.   He said that after discussing the matter with Matt, Jeff and Martha, that he and Mrs. Broman wanted to become his guardians, and for him to become part of their family.
        Mike was stunned, and put his hands over his face to compose himself.
        "I don't know what to say," he responded at last.   "I'm just so overwhelmed with everything you have done for me already that. . ."  He couldn't finish the sentence.
        "We want to take care of you just as we would want someone to care for our kids if this happened to us," Mrs. Broman said.   "Very honestly, you've grown on us.   First we liked you, and then we came to love you," Mrs. Broman said.   "And Matt thinks the world of you."
        Mike was silent for a moment.
        "Well, first I need to tell you something that may change your minds on the guardianship thing."  He took a deep breath, and then just blurted it out.
        "I'm gay."
        Neither of them reacted, except that Mr. Broman cleared his throat.
        "Mike, this is none of my business, really, but are you and Matt sleeping together?" Mr. Broman asked.
        "We've slept together lots of times, but not for sex," Mike answered.   "Matt is, as he once told me, 'hopelessly straight.'"
        Mike thought he saw a flicker of relief in their eyes.
        "Well, Mike, your sexual orientation isn't really an issue for us, but we appreciate your honesty," Mrs. Broman said.   "We would very much like to have you join our family, if you can stand us.   You saved our son's life last fall, without a doubt, and acting as your guardians is something we really want to do."
        "Then I very much want that to happen," Mike said.   "You already seem like second parents to me."
        "It's settled, then," Mr. Broman said.   "I'll have the papers drawn up for court, and send them down to school for you to sign and have notarized.   And I'd like you to sign a power of attorney for me before you leave."  He leaned over and shook Mike's hand.
        He turned to his wife.   "Now, my dear, if you will excuse us, I need to talk to Mike as his lawyer."
        "Of course."  Mrs. Broman stood and came over to Mike, and leaned down to kiss the top of his head.   "We love you, Mike."
        Mike stood, and embraced her.   "Thank you for everything, for doing all this for me.   I am so grateful I don't know what to say."
        "You just said it."  She left the room.
        Mr. Broman pulled a yellow legal pad out of a desk drawer with a list of items written on it.
        "Just a few things for now.   First of all, and you probably don't know this, but your grandmother had just sold her home in Ft. Lauderdale for $1.2 million, and she and your parents had jointly purchased a penthouse at one of those high-rises on South Beach for $4 million.   I don't know whether or not you're interested in the property or not, but I would recommend in any case that you keep it for investment purposes.   Property in South Beach is still appreciating rapidly."
        "That sounds fine to me," Mike said
        "Secondly," Mr. Broman continued, "I need to get some idea of what you want to do with your family home.   The house and land is probably worth about $25 to $30 million."
        "I've given some thought to that.   I would like to make a gift of the house and property to the state for a park, provided that they are willing to name it the 'Andrew and Emily Berman Recreation Area.'  I want to honor my mom and dad."
        "I think that's a wonderful idea.   Let me have my tax people take a look at that, too.   I know you're not doing this for tax purposes, but if the law provides a tax break, you should take it."
        "OK," Mike agreed.
        "Lastly, at least for now, your parents owned a condominium in Snowmass, as you know.   I need to know if you want to keep it, or sell it.   The real estate market out there in ski country is always strong, so there's no hurry on a decision."
        "I think I'd like to keep it, at least while I think about it.   I've always loved that place," Mike said.
        "Good.   That's all the business I have for the moment.   I'll need to talk with you about your stock in Berman Worldwide and about insurance settlements at some point, but that will keep for later," Mr. Broman said.   He sat back and looked intently at Mike for a moment.
        "You will have a lot of money after the wills are probated," he said.
        "Yeah, I guess so.   It really hasn't sunk in yet."
        "I think I'm kind of a dinosaur in the way I believe money should be handled, Mike.   The Bromans represent 'old' money, and the Bermans, 'new' money, I guess you'd say.   I've had lots of time to consider what I view as the responsibilities of being rich, and I don't think much of the way those responsibilities are being carried out by most of our leaders in government and commerce today.
        "I admire capitalism, and my family has benefitted from it greatly," he continued.   "It unleashes more energy in society than any economic system ever known to man.   But the truth is, it's a great servant, but a bad master.   Without the constraints of law, custom, and a sense of community, it comes to operate like the law of the jungle--the survival of the fittest, the fittest being the strongest, most focused and most rapacious.   'Take the money and run' needs to have some brakes put on it from time to time, don't you think?  Do you understand what I'm saying?"
        "Yes, sir, and I agree with you," Mike said.
        "Some of the worst mistakes by the rich are how we raise our children, and that's why I'm talking to you about this.   I look at some of Matt's peers who come from wealth, and they are spoiled, hedonistic, lazy and corrupted in many cases.   It's more their parents' fault than their own.   It's sad.   I don't know why your folks didn't send you away to a fancy prep school somewhere rather than keeping you in a public high school, but I can tell you why we didn't and won't send our kids away.  I just don't think much of the product these places turn out.   More often than not, youngsters emerge from these settings as elitists who will never do a day's work in their lives, and for whom public service is not even on the horizon.
        "One of the things Mrs. Broman and I like about you, Mike, is that you're disciplined and hardworking, if your academic and athletic records mean anything.   Yes, I had you checked out before we decided to bring you into our family."
        Mike looked surprised, but said nothing.
        "I'm getting to my point.   We're scared to death of our own kids in this country today, and for good reason," Mr. Broman said.   "As a whole, we aren't establishing relationships of mutual respect with our youngsters in which real supervision and guidance by parents can take place.
        "That's not a mistake Mrs. Broman and I have made with Matt, Jeff and Martha, and although it's pretty late in the game, we're not going to make that mistake with you.   I intend to work with you collaboratively in deciding how your money is going to be used until you reach 21, but once I make a decision on issues, very frankly, that's it.   You're not going to go on any wild spending sprees while you're under my supervision, even if it is your money.   If that sits all right with you, we'll proceed."
        "Yes, sir, I agree," Mike said.
        "One last thing.   I want you and Matt to be thinking about what kind of work you want to do this coming summer.   I don't care whether it's physical or mental, I want both of you to find a job.   You'll have two weeks after school is out to play around, and then I want you working.   There will be no sitting around the pool on your asses all summer for you two!"
        "That sounds fine to me, Mr. Broman."
        "Now, before I let you go, I want to know how you're feeling mentally and physically, Mike."
        "Physically, I'm fine, I think.   Mentally, I'm feeling low, as you might expect.   But the medication Dr. Peterson gave me seems to be helping, so I'm going to make it, thanks to you guys."
        "You've had a terrible shock.   Any of us would be in trouble if we had been on the receiving end of a blow like this.   You're a tough kid, though, and you're going to make it.   You're our tough kid now."
        They stood and embraced.   As Mike had seen Matt do so many time, he kissed Mr. Broman on the cheek, and the man hugged him harder.
        Mike went upstairs to the bedroom, saw Matt napping on a couch, and slammed the bedroom door to wake him up.    Then he did a little dance at the door, and ran over and jumped on Matt, full length, and held him down.
        "Ow, get off me, you dufus!" Matt yelled.
        "Get used to it, studly.   I'm really your bro now, and your suffering has just begun!  You knew what your folks were going to say to me, and you didn't give me a clue.   Now I'm going to make your life miserable!"
        "My life has been miserable ever since I met you, you little twerp.   Prepare to die!"  Using his superior strength, he raised Mike straight up in the air, dumped him gently on the floor, and sat astride him.   He held both of his victim's wrists in one hand, pulled Mike's T-shirt up with the other hand, and began to tickle him.
        "Quit it, you perv!"  Mike said.   "You're giving me a woody."
        "Shoot, I didn't know that pitiful little thing you call a penis could get an erection!"  Matt tickled him some more, and then jumped up and ran around to the other side of the couch.
        Mike lay there on the floor with his pants tented up, and Matt pointed at him, laughing derisively.
        That night in bed, Matt pulled Mike over close to him, massaged the back of his neck, and rubbed his chest.
        "You're my bro, Mikey, you're my bro!"  He kissed Mike on the side of his head.
        Mike went to sleep with a big smile on his face, feeling settled and content for the first time in many days.

Part 3

        Jeff dropped Matt and Mike back at school right on schedule, and they had to scramble to catch up with their course work and get their edge back in wrestling and swimming.   Their social life, such as it was, was eliminated entirely for awhile by an endless round of classes, studying, athletics, and sleep.
        Their professors offered them special help, however, as did the coaches, and after several weeks the boys felt they were enough on top of things to actually go to a movie and a meal off campus one night.
        Matt resumed dating on an occasional basis.   At the same time he amazed Mike by beginning to point out the cute guys they would run into on campus as they came and went from classes.   He'd give Mike a nudge if Mike missed seeing one.
        "For a straight guy, you sure can spot the good looking men," Mike kidded him.
        "Hey, I'm straight, not blind," was Matt's laughing rejoinder.
        They talked several times about what kind of job they should get for the summer, and decided that whatever it was, they wanted to work together.   Matt leaned toward trying to get something in the trades, in construction, so they could work outside and stay in shape, and Mike didn't really care what they did.   They telephoned their family, and Mr. Broman said he would see what he could line up for them with a friend of his who owned a construction company.
        Mike continued to take the Paxil that the Bromans' doctor had prescribed, and the gray cloud of depression that had hung over him following the death of his family had gradually dissipated.   Matt welcomed the change in Mike's demeanor and began to lighten up on watching over him every minute.   Mike started serenading him occasionally with "What a Friend we have in Paxil," to the tune of "What a Friend we have in Jesus."  Matt would frown at him disapprovingly, but inwardly he was delighted as the old Mike emerged again.
        Finals week was hectic, as usual, but both of them felt that they had done at least as well on their tests as they had the first semester.   On the athletic side of the equation, their lost time hadn't hurt them too badly.   Matt ended up with that perfect record in his weight class he had been striving for, and Mike maintained his record with only the one loss previously incurred.   They were pleased with what they had accomplished, all things considered.   Both their coaches saw them as the top performers among their freshman classmates, and their scholarships were secure for another year.
        Jeff drove Matt's truck down to school the day after finals to pick them up with all their things.   Mike sat on his bed in the newly emptied dorm room before he left and thought of everything that had happened since he had arrived.   The tragedy of his own family and his great good fortune in having Matt for his friend and brother and acquiring a new and very nice family coursed through his mind.   Leaving, he shut the door on the room with positive feelings about the future.
                                                                                    *  *  *
        The boys moved their things back into the Broman house.   The first face he saw after greeting the family was that of Mrs. Brighton, his parents' former housekeeper.   Mr. Broman had closed the Berman house, paid a generous severance to staff, and posted security people there until the state formally took possession of house and property.   Mrs. Broman had asked Mrs. Brighton if she would accept the housekeeper position at their home to assist the butler in running the household, and she had accepted.   For Mike, having her there provided a happy piece of his old life as he moved into the new, and he was very moved when he greeted her.
        Matt didn't see any reason why Mike shouldn't continue to share his bedroom, and asked his mother to get a matching double bed and put it in the room for Mike.   She did so.
        Mike's relationship with his new family really began to develop once he had moved in for good.   Jeff and Martha were easy to be around, and Mike felt they had really accepted him when they started treating him as casually and disrespectfully as they did Matt.   Mike began calling Mr. and Mrs. Broman "Dad" and "Mom," at first infrequently and somewhat hesitantly, but then with increasing meaning for all of them as they got to know one another better.
        Mr. Broman had made good on the construction job for Matt and Mike, as promised, and after their two week respite after school was out, they started getting up at 6 a.m. to get to work in the city by 7 a.m.   They had to join the bricklayers and hod carriers union, but Mr. Broman fronted them their hefty initiation fees.   Dan Sullivan, the crew chief who was ramrodding the current job on a big highrise, and the other workers, soon found out the boys weren't slackers and were willing to work.   At that point the hazing of the "new guys" by other crew members slowed down and then stopped altogether.
        The crew of ten bricklayers was a diverse and interesting group, Matt and Mike thought.   All of them were somewhat older than they--most of them in their mid-twenties--but almost without exception they were buff and good looking.   One of the guys, Rick Scott, a six footer with great pecs and abs, tree trunk legs, and a great head of black hair, took the two boys under his wing and oriented them to the job as they went along.   They got in the habit of eating lunch with Rick every day, sitting at street level and checking out the women as they went by.   The three of them looked so good that the women checked them out right back.   Matt and Mike liked Rick a lot, but got the clear idea that he liked to live life on the edge.   That didn't deter their friendship, though.
        Several weeks after they had started work, Rick asked the boys if they wanted to drop by his place for a few beers.   Matt said he would, but Mike couldn't make it because he had a dentist appointment right after work.   Rick gave Mike his address, 121 Altorfer, for later if he wanted to drop by.   The boys had each driven their pickups into town because of Mike's appointment, so they went their separate ways after work.
        Mike had to have one filling replaced and a new cavity drilled and filled.   His jaw was still numb after what seemed to be a protracted procedure, and he decided he would pass on partying with Rick and Matt and go home.   He ate soup and cereal for supper to spare his jaw, and then read, surfed the net and watched television until 10 p.m.   TV was all reruns, but he hadn't seen any of the programs the first time, so it didn't matter.   He showered, went to bed, and fell asleep right away.
        He awakened with a start at 1 o'clock in the morning, and snapped on his bedside lamp.   Matt's bed was empty.   He sat up and collected his thoughts.   It wasn't like Matt at all, as disciplined as he was, to stay out until all hours when he couldn't sleep late the next day.   Mike got up and used the bathroom, and then sat on the side of his bed, worried.   On impulse, he pulled his clothes on, quietly left the house, and got in his truck.   He was back in the city within 20 minutes and looking for 121 Altorfer.   He stopped at an all night gas station, and the kid behind the counter pointed out the approximate location on a big wall map.
        "That's not a very good neighborhood, dude, " the kid said to Mike as he was leaving.   "I wouldn't wander around down there alone."
        "Thanks for your help,"  Mike replied, and got back in his truck.
        The kid had been right.   The entire area was undergoing industrial redevelopment, and it looked like a war zone.   The only remaining houses were widely scattered here and there, and bricks and debris were strewn everywhere else.
        A few young guys who looked like they were up to no good skulked around on the darker corners.
        He found where 121 Altorfer should have been, but it was a vacant lot.   Increasingly apprehensive, Mike continued to drive around, and several blocks later he found Matt's truck parked in front of the only house in that block which had thus far escaped the wrecker's ball.   The address wasn't "121," and it wasn't on Altorfer Street.   Dim light emanated from a large, painted-over front window.
        Mike got out of his truck, and went up the rickety front steps.   He knocked softly, but there was no response.   He tried the door.   It was unlocked, and he crept in with every sense on the alert.   The living room was full of old, ratty, overstuffed furniture, and was softly lighted by one lamp.
        He heard loud music and some kind of rhythmic slapping sound coming from nearby, and inched his way forward into the next room.
        A boombox was sitting on a table, set at top volume, with Michael Stipe of R.E.M. meandering through "Losing My Religion."
        Mike gasped as he saw Matt's body, naked and spread-eagled on his tip toes against the wall of the room, his wrists and ankles shackled to metal rings.