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. He had a black hood
over his head, and was making muffled sounds as Rick beat him with a heavy
strap. Matt's butt and upper legs were bright, bright red and
covered with welts as if a whip had been used earlier. A butt
plug was stuck in his rectum.
Rick, stripped to his briefs and sporting
a huge hard on, was talking to Matt as he beat him, asking him how he liked
it, and asking him if he wanted more. Rick didn't see Mike standing
there.
Knowing he wouldn't stand a chance
with Rick in a one-on-one, Mike looked around, grabbed a heavy glass ashtray
off a table, and smashed Rick in the side of the head with it.
The man went down like a sack of rocks and lay there, unmoving.
Mike turned off the music, went to
Matt and snatched the hood off his head, and undid a strap which was holding
a gag in his mouth. The hood was damp with Matt's tears from
the beating he had sustained.
"Matt, it's me. Mike."
"Mike. Get me down from
here," Matt said weakly.
Rick began to stir.
"Just a sec, Matt. I hafta
take care of Rick, here." Mike found Rick's Levi's, removed the belt,
and turning him over roughly, tied his hands behind his back.
Then he took off his own belt, and secured Rick's legs.
"Stay down, you sonofabitch!" Mike
told him, punctuating his instructions with a kick to the ribs.
Mike spotted some keys on a table,
and used them to release Matt's arms and legs from the cuffs on the wall.
He helped him over to the couch, and removed alligator clips from his nipples.
He took off a heavy weight which had been secured to his testicles,
and a cock ring, and gingerly pulled out the butt plug. Matt
couldn't sit because of his wounds, and twisted around halfway to lie down.
"Damn it, Matt, what the hell happened?"
Mike demanded.
"One minute I was sitting here on the
couch having a couple of beers--and I mean two beers--and the next thing
I knew I was on the wall getting the shit beaten out of me."
Searching for something to cover Matt,
Mike walked into a bedroom and pulled a sheet off the bed, and gently draped
it over his friend.
Mike went over to a table with some
mail on it, and found Rick's address on an envelope. He took
out his cell phone, called 911, and gave the address. Five minutes
later he admitted two young patrolmen in their early twenties.
The two officers smirked throughout
the interview as Mike explained what had apparently transpired.
They hemmed and hawed when Mike asked if they weren't going to arrest Rick,
who by this time was awake and asking to be released. The cops
freed him, sat him up, and gave him his pants. When Mike asked
them to call the paramedics for Matt, they refused, saying he didn't require
medical attention.
Mike's temper finally boiled over.
"You need to be arresting this asshole! Look what's he's done to this
man!" he said loudly, motioning toward Matt.
"Hey, punk," one of the rookie officers
responded, "we don't know what really happened here. We don't
care what you weirdos do in the privacy of your own homes. For
all we know, your boyfriend, here, begged for this. You should
probably be arrested for knocking this guy out," he said, pointing at Rick.
"It's his house."
Mike decided not to argue.
It was now after 2 a.m. He went into the living room and called
the Broman house. Mrs. Broman answered the phone.
"Mom, it's Mike."
"Mike? I thought you were home
here in bed."
"I was, but when Matt didn't come home
by 1 o'clock, I went looking for him. Is Dad there?"
"No, Mike, you remember, he went to
New York for a few days for some meetings. What's the matter?"
"Mom, I'm gonna need some help.
Matt's been beaten up pretty bad, and the police are saying they think they
should arrest me because I hit the jerk who's responsible."
"Where are you, Mike."
"We're at 127 Rudden Street, in the
city. A house. Don't come in here alone, though,
Mom. You wake up Jeff and bring him with you."
"I'll be all right."
"No, Mom, promise me you'll bring Jeff."
"All right, I promise.
Give me a rough idea of where Rudden is, and I'll see you in a half hour."
He gave her directions as best he could.
She was true to her word, and walked
in the door with Jeff not 25 minutes later. Mrs. Broman gasped,
and Jeff's eyes got big, when they saw Matt half sitting, half lying on the
couch, covered with a sheet. Mrs. Broman went over to him and
lifted the sheet, seeing the results of Matt's ordeal. Her eyes
flashed.
"I want you to get your watch commander
and a detective down here right now!" she told the two patrolmen.
"I'm sorry m'am, that's just not possible,"
one of them responded.
Mrs. Broman pulled an address book
out of her purse, looked up a number, and dialed on her cell phone.
A sleepy voice answered.
"Chief Richmond, please," she said.
The two patrolmen looked at each other
nervously.
"Speaking."
"Bob, this is Jane Broman.
Sorry to disturb you at home so late, but I have a situation that I think
you can help me with. I'm with my son and his two brothers at
122 Rudden Street. My boy has been injured, and the two patrolmen
who responded to the 911 call don't seem to want to carry out an investigation.
I asked them to contact the precinct watch commander and a detective, but
they refused. What do you recommend?"
She listened quietly, and hung up.
"The Chief said he would be here directly,
gentlemen, and will be bringing the watch commander and a detective."
The patrolmen looked even more nervous,
and said nothing.
The Chief strode in a few minutes later,
in full uniform, with a Lieutenant Smith, the watch commander, and Detective
Art Dominic. Chief Richmond kissed Mrs. Broman on the cheek,
and introduced Smith and Dominic.
Dominic interviewed Matt, Mike, Rick
Scott and the two young police officers, and then the watch commander sent
the two rookies out to their car with instructions not to leave until they
were told. Rick's story to the detective was that Matt
had come to the house specifically for "bondage and discipline."
Dominic ran Rick's name through NCIS,
and found one arrest, no convictions, for aggravated sexual assault.
Based upon what he had heard in the interviews and the fact he had been previously
arrested for a sex crime, he placed Rick under arrest and called the precinct
with instructions to wake up a judge to get a search warrant for the house.
When the warrant came an hour later, the Chief and his officers donned rubber
gloves and conducted a search. They didn't have to look far to
turn up what appeared to be drugs in the kitchen.
"Looks like roofies," Lieutenant Smith
said.
"Roofies? What are roofies?"
Jane Broman asked.
"Rohypnol, m'am," Smith said.
"It's like valium, but much more powerful. They call it the 'date-rape'
drug."
The officers stored the substance that
they had found in plastic bags, and put the empty beer cans sitting in the
dining room into bags, too. They found an unregistered .38 Police
Special in one of the bedrooms, bagged it also, and then tagged everything.
Much to Matt's embarrassment, they
then took the sheet off him, put him on his stomach on the couch, and took
polaroid pictures of his ravaged buttocks and legs from several different
angles. They also took pictures of the metal rings set into the
wall from which Matt had been hanging when Mike arrived.
That wasn't the worst of it.
Dominic asked Matt if he had been sodomized, and when he said he didn't know,
the detective got a rape kit out of his car and took swabs from Matt's rectum
and sealed them in test tubes. Even though his mother had excused
herself to go to the kitchen during the procedure, Matt was mortified.
Finally they finished.
"Jane," Chief Richmond then asked,
"Do you want to take Matt to the hospital, or get the paramedics here, or
just take him home? His wounds look more painful than serious, frankly."
Mrs. Broman looked at Matt inquiringly.
"Home," was all he said.
"Home it is," she said.
Chief Richmond told her that the District
Attorney's office would be in touch with her and Matt within the next few
days as to what charges would be brought against Rick Scott.
Mike collected Matt's clothes from
where Rick had stripped him. He put Matt's sneakers back on his
feet, but left the sheet wrapped around him because dressing him would have
been too painful. Mike threw a jacket over Matt's shoulders and
they all went outside. Rick was loaded into the rookies' patrol
car, hands cuffed behind his back. Mike heard Lt. Smith telling
the two rookies in a barrage of profanity how displeased he was with their
performance, and to report to him personally at the beginning of their shift
the next night.
Mike and Jeff put Matt, lying on his
stomach, in the back seat of the Cadillac. Jeff drove Matt's
truck, and Mike followed behind. Mike stopped at an all night
drug store on the way and picked up a big bag of antiseptic, cotton swabs,
disposable rubber gloves, and various unguents in case they didn't have what
they needed at home.
It was 4:30 a.m. when they arrived
back at the Broman house, and Mike helped Matt upstairs. Matt
embraced his mother and thanked her, hugged Jeff, and told them that Mike
would take care of his wounds. After asking Mike if he needed
anything to help Matt, Mrs. Broman took Mike's face in her hands and kissed
him.
"You know," she said, "You're Number
One in my book about now, Mike. Thank you." She turned
and went toward her room, and Jeff went off to bed as well.
Mike steered Matt into the bedroom,
and slowly unwound the sheet. In good light, Matt's wounds looked
bad. There was no overt bleeding, but some seepage.
"I don't think you can shower right
now, Matt. Can you stand up long enough for me to give you a
sponge bath? Then I'm gonna clean up the painful part."
Matt said he could stand, and Mike
took him into the bathroom. He filled the basin with lukewarm
water, and put some liquid soap in it, swirling it around. Taking
a wash cloth, he gently washed Matt's face, neck, arms, torso, back, and
then his genitals and the front of his legs as he stood there, leaning on
the sink counter, still in shock.
After drying Matt off, he fed him three
extra strength Tylenol. Then he walked him back into the bedroom,
turned down his bed, and had him lie face down. He put on a pair
of latex gloves.
"There's just no way that this antiseptic
isn't going to hurt like hell, bud," he warned.
"Do I have a choice? Do it!"
Mike soaked a large cotton swab in
the antiseptic, and began to apply it to Matt's buttocks and legs.
Matt screamed into a pillow for the next 5 minutes as Mike completed the
job as quickly and gently as he could. Then he applied some salve
liberally to the damaged areas.
Mike said, "Matt, this is kind of embarrassing.
But how badly did that jerk tear up your asshole with that plug thing?
Does it hurt bad?"
"Yes. Is it bleeding?"
"I don't see any blood.
But I bought some stuff for hemorrhoids that has a pain deadener. It
might give you some relief. Do you want to put it in?"
"Yeah." Matt tried to turn his
torso to reach his butt, but grimaced in pain.
"You're gonna have to do it, Mike,
I can't twist around that far without hurting."
Mike screwed the nozzle which had been
supplied with the product on to the tube of gel, and spread Matt's cheeks.
Sticking the nozzle into Matt's rectum very slowly and gently, he squirted
the medication into it.
"Man, that helps a lot, Mike.
Thanks." Matt visibly relaxed.
"Sure," Mike said.
"This is so fucking humiliating.
Why me?"
"You didn't do anything wrong, bro.
It could have been me, or both of us, for that matter, that Rick took advantage
of. Please don't think all gays are predators like Rick.
I'm sorry you're hurt, but you have nothing to feel guilty about.
We both thought this guy was a friend. It's just not a friendly
world out there, that's all. Everybody's at risk, all the time."
"I guess. This is a hell
of a way to learn a lesson, that's all I can say." He looked at his
watch. "We're gonna have to leave for work in a few minutes,
you know."
"Not we, kino sabe." Mike looked
at his watch, too--5:30 a.m. "You're going to stay right here,
and I'm leaving for work. I'll fill Dan in on why you didn't
make it."
Matt didn't argue.
Mike moved Matt up more toward the
head of the bed, and put a blanket over his neck and back, and a sheet over
his buttocks and legs. He kissed the back of Matt's head, and
then made a beeline for the shower. Matt was fast asleep by the
time Mike finished getting ready and left for work at 6 a.m.
* * *
Mike pulled Dan Sullivan aside at the
beginning of the shift. Withholding the full details, he told
him that Rick Scott had been arrested for beating up Matt, and that Matt
would be recuperating for at least the next several days before coming back
to work. Dan was shocked about Rick, and not a little exasperated
at being short two men, but he said they'd make the best of it.
When the other guys asked where Matt was, Mike told them he was sick.
Mike got through the day somehow on
autopilot, and when he got home, collapsed in bed. Mrs. Brighton
woke him to eat some soup and a sandwich later that evening, and then he
slept through until the next morning.
The District Attorney's office called
within a couple of days. They said that the gun they had found
in Rick Scott's house was linked to the robbery of an all night convenience
store in which the young clerk on duty had been wounded. The
police put Rick in a lineup at the precinct, and the kid had picked him out
right away as the perpetrator. The lab tests on the swabs which
had been taken of Matt's rectum revealed no traces of semen.
The Assistant D.A. suggested that the charges for the assault on Matt be
held in abeyance while they charged Rick with robbery and attempted murder.
She felt she could get a conviction, but if anything went wrong at trial,
then they would indict him for the assault.
Matt was relieved, to say the least,
about the lab results and the D.A.'s decision to hold off on the assault
charge. He was not looking forward to testifying in graphic detail
at Rick's trial about what had been done to him, and if the attempted murder
and robbery charges did stick, Rick would get a longer sentence for those
crimes, anyway.
Mike continued to put salve on Matt's
wounds every night, and they were healing nicely. After a couple
of days Matt said he wanted to get back to work and not lie around the house
anymore. He had Mike buy him a couple of pairs of loose-fit Levi's,
and started borrowing Mike's boxers to wear instead of his customary briefs
because they were easier on his skin as it healed.
Mike noticed several changes in Matt's
behavior as he got back into circulation. He stuck close to Mike
all the time now, and they were rarely out of one another's sight.
He didn't seem apprehensive about anything in particular, but it just seemed
he was content to be in Mike's company anytime he left the house.
On the job, Mike caught Matt intently
watching him work, and more than once. When his glances were
noted, Matt just smiled and continued working.
Another change was that Matt didn't
seem to want to sleep alone. Either he would ask Mike to come
into his bed, or he would ask if he could sleep in Mike's bed.
Mike loved sleeping next to him, of course, even though there was no sex.
The first night they were side by side, Matt told Mike how much he appreciated
the rescue from Rick Scott. He touched Mike's face gently, told
him he loved him more than ever, and kissed him lightly on the cheek before
they went to sleep.
At first, in response to their new
sleeping arrangements, Mike made sure that the bed that they hadn't slept
in was messed up the next morning so the maid wouldn't know they were sleeping
in the same bed. Matt finally put a stop to that.
He said it was nobody's business where they slept.
One night, after one of their weekly
conferences on Berman estate issues, Mr. Broman told Mike that after talking
with Matt, Jeff and Martha, he and Mrs. Broman wanted to adopt him formally.
He said they had come to love and respect him so much, and were deeply grateful
for his part in their family life. Mike was greatly moved, and
said he would like that. He asked if he would have to give up
the name "Berman," and Mr. Broman said he wouldn't unless he wanted to.
Or he could hyphenate the two last names, if he wished. Ultimately
Mike decided to use the initial "B" to represent "Berman," and to use "Broman"
as his last name. A court formalized the decision a month later.
Matt and Mike talked Mr. Broman into
creating a small fitness center at poolside, arguing that it was something
the whole family could use. They got a treadmill and three very
versatile machines which could be set to develop different parts of the body.
The boys got in the habit of taking a swim after they got home from work,
and then working out for an hour on the machines before dinner.
Between their physical labor on the job, the swimming and the workouts, they
were both magnificent specimens of healthy young males as the summer progressed.
Matt continued, however, to be somewhat
reclusive in his daily behaviors, and eventually Mike broached the subject
one night while they were vegetating, listening to some tunes.
"Dude, we gotta talk."
"Huh? What about?" Matt
asked.
"Well. . .this is kinda hard to put
into words, so just let me say it. You've changed a lot since
that mess with Rick."
"How so?"
"You just don't seem as outgoing as
you were. You've always been a 'balls-up,' 'out there' kind of
guy, and now it seems like you're hiding out a little. I understand
why to some extent, but I'm worried about you."
"I admit I'm still seriously bummed
by what happened. But I'm fine," he reassured Mike.
"I wish I could believe that," Mike
said. "I think that you have some thoughts and feelings that
aren't getting handled. Would you be willing to talk to somebody
about it?"
"Absolutely not. If you
think I'm gonna relive that experience with some stranger, think again!"
"I really think you should."
"Chill, dude. I'm just
fine. The subject is closed."
Mike could tell Matt was angry with
him. Later that night when they turned out the lights, Matt didn't
come into his bed and he wasn't invited into Matt's bed. He went
over and climbed into Matt's bed, anyway.
"Don't be mad, bro," Mike said quietly.
"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Just promise me you'll
think about what I said. I love you so much I'd give up my life
for you, I hope you know that."
Matt said nothing, but held him tightly
as they went to sleep.
Toward the middle of July, though,
Matt told Mike that Mike had been right in what he'd said, and began to see
a therapist three times a week right after work. By the end of
August, Mike could see some good changes occurring, and soon the old, outgoing
Matt was pulling pranks on him again.
* * *
The boys had quit work for their two
week vacation before school started, just as their dad had told them at the
beginning of the summer they could. Matt asked their parents
if he and Mike could ride their CBR's up to the Broman summer cottage, situated
on Lake Marston about 150 miles north of the main residence, and they assented.
They threw swim suits and a change
of clothes into bags early Saturday morning, bungeed them to the bikes, and
took off for a week of fun in the sun.
The ride up was glorious.
The sun was warm but not too hot as the road curved gently right and left,
and then went up to a higher elevation. The bikes were running beautifully,
and both boys relished the sense of freedom that biking always gives those
who love to ride. They stopped for lunch at a little inn with
a fishing pond beside it, and after lunch they sat in the sun and watched
some little kids throw their lines in and occasionally haul in a fish.
In self defense, the adults watching the action would usually take the fish
off the hook and throw them back, since fish don't travel well.
Rested, Matt and Mike punched their
starter buttons and the bikes roared to life. They took off,
and maintaining a steady pace, arrived at the lake about 5 p.m.
They took their bags inside, and Matt
busied himself turning on the water pump and the propane, and checking the
fuel level for the heater in case they needed a little warmth in the morning.
The "cottage" was a large, plain clapboard
house, square in shape, with four bedrooms, situated on a large lot.
It sat not 30 feet from one of the bluest and most beautiful lakes Mike had
ever seen. The lake was about 4 miles across and 8 miles wide,
and spring-fed. Inside an old boat house which hugged the shoreline of the
Broman property was a vintage Chris Craft speedboat, with mahogany and chrome
highlights which testified to an earlier age of craftsmanship.
A pier ran 20 feet out into the lake, which had quite a few boats on it engaged
in various activities, even at this hour.
"For water skiing, bro!" Matt
said, pointing to the Chris Craft. "I'm looking forward to seeing
you take a header into your favorite element, H2O, at thirty miles an hour!
We'll see how frisky you are then!"
"Not on your best day, jack!
I'm gonna drag your ass kicking and screaming all over this lake! You
won't need to take a drink of water for days, if you survive at all."
They continued to badger each other
while Matt took some frozen hamburger out of the freezer, and nuked it in
the microwave to defrost it. They took some folding chairs out
on the front lawn and sat down for a few minutes as the sun began to dip
low across the water. It was peaceful in the extreme, and both
boys soaked it up.
As the sun sizzled red and sank into
the water, Matt fired up the gas grill, made patties of the hamburger, and
threw them on the grill. They sat down again for a few minutes
on the front lawn.
"Mike, did you hear the story about
the man who found a hair in his hamburger?"
Mike groaned. "No, please,
not a story! We're here to have fun!"
Matt was undeterred. "Yeah,
but this could even be true. A man went into a restaurant and
ordered a hamburger. The waiter brought it out and put it down
on the table, and there was a hair sticking out of it.
"He called the waiter back, and said,
'Hey, there's a hair in my hamburger. Take it back and bring
me another one.'
"The waiter apologized profusely, and
took the hamburger back to the kitchen.
"In a few minutes, the waiter came
back with another hamburger and put it down in front of the customer.
But there was another hair in it.
"The customer angrily summoned the
waiter again, pointed out the hair, and demanded yet another hamburger.
This time he followed the waiter back to the kitchen and hid where he could
watch the cook.
"The cook opened a fresh package of
hamburger, made a portion of it into a ball, slapped the ball of meat into
his armpit, lowered his arm, and out came a hamburger patty.
"The customer was outraged.
He jumped out of hiding and yelled at the cook unmercifully, but the cook
didn't seem to care.
"'Listen, Mister,' the cook finally
said, 'this is nothing! You should be here on Wednesdays when I make
the donuts!'"
"Eeewwww, gross!" Mike had to
laugh in spite of himself.
"So, bud, if you find hair in your
hamburger, you'll know what happened," Matt said.
"We're not having donuts for breakfast,
are we," Mike asked.
"No, wiseass."
When the hamburgers were cooked, the
boys ate, and then sat on the screened-in front porch. There
wasn't even a hint of wind, and the moon was blazing a yellow-gold path across
water like a mirror.
"I could get to like this," Mike said
softly. "I haven't felt so relaxed in a long time."
Later, while Mike watched some TV,
Matt pulled some sheets out of a linen closet and popped them into the dryer
to get the dampness out of them. Then he made up one of the beds
for the two of them.
They stripped to their underwear and
climbed into bed about 10 p.m., and listened to the night sounds of a lone
cicada buzzing, and crickets chirping, and the lake lapped gently against
the shore.
"Mike."
"Yeah?"
"I need to talk to you."
"Sure." Mike turned on his side
toward Matt. "Whassup?"
"I've been wanting to talk to you for
quite a while about. . .us."
"That sounds ominous. What about us?"
"No, it's nothing bad.
I just have to find a way to say it, that's all."
Mike was quiet.
"We've been through some pretty bad
shit this last year, and we went through it together. Really
together. I knew I could count on you no matter what happened,
and I hope you feel the same."
"You know I do."
"There isn't another human being on
this planet that I love as much as I love you," Matt continued.
Silence.
"I feel like I'm on a cliff right now,
and if I tell you what I'm thinking and feeling, I'll fall off with no way
back up. I'm scared," Matt said.
Mike put his head against Matt's.
"Go ahead," he said quietly.
Matt hesitated. "You told
me once, a little while after you first admitted to me you're gay, that you
loved me. And you said that you not only loved me, but that you
were in love with me. Has that changed?"
"Not at all," Mike said.
"If anything, I'm more in love with you than ever, because I know you to
the core. In my eyes, you're the most wonderful person I've ever
known. You're complete in every way. I don't use
those words lightly. And you're beautiful on the outside, too.
I don't know how anyone could help falling in love with you, frankly, male
or female. You turn me on mentally, physically and emotionally
every day I'm around you."
"God help me, Mikey, I feel the same
way about you. It's time for me to be as honest with you as you
have been with me, and fall off that cliff I was talking about.
I'm very much in love with you, too, body and soul. And scared
to death about it."
"Why?"
"I never thought I could fall in love
with a man. But I have. And I know that if our relationship
is going to survive and continue to grow--and it has to, because I don't
think I can make it without you in my life--then it has to move into the
physical and sexual. I want that to happen, but at the same time
it scares the shit out of me."
"I think I understand," Mike said softly.
"It's a hell of a transition when you, Matt Broman, have to face the reality
that the person you're in love with is male, too. I think you
probably loved me as a person long before you knew you loved me as a man.
On the other hand, I was on the bone for you from the first time I saw you,
but I finally realized along the way how much I love your whole being.
I think we're meeting in the same place now."
"That says it perfectly."
They were quiet.
"Mike, can you just be a little patient
with me on the physical side of our relationship? I want to show you
how much I love you and how much you mean to me, but I'm just not sure I'm
ready for that yet. Or know how to go about it, for that matter."
"As long as it takes, bro.
You've made me one happy guy tonight, maybe the happiest guy in the world.
We'll work it out, you can count on it!"
He caressed the contours of Matt's
face, and kissed him lightly, very lightly, on the lips for the very first
time.
Part 4
The days following Matt's admission
to Mike that he was in love with him were ecstasy for both of them.
Days of golden sun, blue water and vigorous exercise water skiing and swimming
were a perfect prelude to nights of tentative exploration in their new sexual
relationship.
Mike was keenly aware of his promise
to let Matt escalate the sexual side of things at his own pace, and so he
followed Matt's lead. The boys had immediately dispensed with
sleeping in their undershorts, their nakedness making inevitable the uninhibited
contact they both wanted. The night after their talk, when Matt
ran his hand down over Mike's abdomen and gently cupped his package while
he kissed Mike's face, fantasy and reality had met at last. Almost
twelve months of sexual frustration escaped in Mike's sigh of anticipation
as for some inexplicable reason he remembered the old axiom that the ultimate
sex organ is the human mind.
The first sex act for each, after slowly
exploring one another's body in bed and while showering together during those
first days, was to masturbate in bed, side by side. It wasn't
long, however, before each passed that pleasant duty on to his partner, resulting
in copious orgasms for each of them. When he first tasted Matt's
cum on his own hand, it was as Mike had expected: pungent and sweet
as the man himself.
For Matt's part, as slowly as he had
arrived at admitting his desire for a physical relationship with Mike, there
were no uncertainties now as they became more and more intimate.
His sexual relationships with the many girls he had been with in his life
could not compare with the explosion of love and longing he felt for Mike.
He wanted to touch him all the time, and they were spending a lot of time
in bed.
Mike had been planning to invite their
brother Jeff to come down to the cottage midway in the week in partial repayment
for all the nice things he had done for both of them, but as his and Matt's
passion unfolded, he put that idea on hold for another time.
By the end of their week at the cottage,
they had each found out what the other liked and responded to, and were well
on the way to enjoying the full repertory of non-violent gay sex.
The first time they had 69'd to orgasm and then shared a deep kiss, each
thought he had died and gone to heaven. They also found out that
they were both tops, but that the other was willing to be versatile for his
partner's sake. Mike loved to rim Matt, and it was so pleasurable
for Matt that he would almost cum in the process without other stimulation.
The world had narrowed for the moment
to each other, time had stopped, and they positively glowed in one another's
company. Sometimes, passion temporarily spent, they just lay
quietly side by side, held hands, and said nothing. Nothing needed
to be said.
The last night they were at the cottage,
as they lay relaxed and intertwined after great sex, Mike asked, "What are
we going to tell the family?"
"I've been giving that some thought
myself," Matt said. "I think what we should do is to say nothing
for the time being and go back to school. Then we can think about
it some more and talk to them between semesters. I know they
won't like it, but on the other hand, we're not going to live a lie for anybody.
I think they'll eventually come around and accept the situation."
"I hope you're right. I'm
sure they wanted grandchildren from you."
"Well, then, Jeff and Martha better
turn out straight. 'Cause I'm sure not, thank goodness!"
He laughed and kissed Mike for the thousandth time.
Mike sighed with contentment, nestled
his head into Matt's shoulder, and they fell asleep.
They stayed in bed with each other
as long as they could the following morning, and after showering together
and then eating breakfast, packed their bags. Mike stood on the
front lawn taking a permanent picture in his mind of the lake while Matt
turned off the propane and the water pump. The two of them put
slings under the Chris Craft and using the pulleys, raised it out of the
water inside the boathouse. They checked the inside of the cottage
one more time, locked up, and threw their bags on the bikes.
With a last look at the place in which their lives had changed so dramatically
in a very short time, they jumped on the bikes and hit the road.
They dawdled on the way home, stopping
at several parks and sitting around, enjoying each other's company.
They arrived home just as dusk was falling, garaged the bikes, grabbed their
bags, and went inside. The family was glad to see them, and they
were precisely on time for dinner.
Mr. Broman talked with Mike briefly
after they had eaten, and said that the state had officially taken over the
Berman house and property. The new public park would be called
the "Andrew and Emily Berman Recreation Area," as Mike had wanted.
He also said that the tax write-off from the gift to the state would
be of considerable help in lowering Mike's tax liability for the year.
Mike thanked his dad warmly for all the work he had done, and hugged him.
The next week was busy.
Their Mom took all four kids shopping so she could make sure they got a few
dressy clothes, and then turned them loose to buy their own casual things.
Matt and Mike and Jeff were of the school of thought that you can never have
too many T-shirts and Levi's, so that's what they bought. Martha
was another matter, though, and she worked her mother's credit card over
pretty well buying some nice things.
Once home, the three boys went downstairs
to the big laundry room and threw their new Levi's in the washing machine
with the water set on "hot." They washed them five times in a row to
get the new look out of them and give them a better fit. Out
of Jeff's earshot, Mike told Matt that the first time he had seen him in
501's, he had nearly shot his load. Matt pinched Mike's butt
in response, and they had a little scuffle right there in the laundry room
while Jeff watched from a careful distance.
Matt got Mike down on the floor and
put him in a wrestling hold called the double leg grapevine.
Just when Mike thought he was going to escape, Matt rolled over on his back
and held Mike suspended in the air, still stretching his legs apart.
"Ow, Matt, that hurts," Mike complained.
"Ow, Mike, it's supposed to hurt."
"Well, let me go, you spaz!”
"First you have to say, 'Matt and Jeff
are the best brothers in the world!'"
"No!"
"Yes!" Matt put on the pressure.
"Ow, oh, all right! Jeff is the
best brother in the world!"
"You must love pain!" Matt said.
"Jeff, help!"
"No way, bro!" Jeff said.
"I don't love pain!"
Mike finally conceded that Matt and
Jeff were the best brothers in the world, and Matt let him go.
Mike edged away.
"The next time we're in the pool, I'm
gonna drown your raggedy ass!" Mike said. "Bring my jeans when
you come up," and he ran out of the room and upstairs.
Later that evening, Matt was in their
room surfing the net to check out some song lyrics, and came across some
words that moved him deeply. He printed them out.
All
of my life I've fought hard for
the things I have wanted,
Caught up in blindly believing
the strongest survive,
But here in your eyes
I see everything I ever dreamed of
and I am afraid.
If I rush in, if I move too fast,
I just might frighten my one chance away.
It's
easy to be strong,
I've done it for so long
but this time I have to remember,
this time to get what I want,
I have to surrender.
Here
I stand helplessly willing
and waiting for your love,When want became need,
I had no choice at all.
What will you do now,
it's up to you now,
it's so hard to wait but I will.
God give me wisdom,
God give me strength,
And the courage to simply stand still.
Here
I am, take me;
Somehow you've saved me
from a lifetime of not being
all that love could make me.
It's easy to be strong,
I've done it for so long
But this time I have to remember,
this time to get what I want,
This time I have to be tender,
This time to get what I want
I have to surrender.
["I Have To Surrender," written by Pat Bunch and Doug Johnson.
Recorded by Ty Herndon on the CD Living In A Moment. © 1996, Pat Price
Music.]
Mike was in the shower.
Matt put the lyrics on Mike's pillow and went down to the kitchen for a snack
before bed. When he came back, Mike was already in bed.
Matt stripped and slid under the covers.
Mike said simply, "Thanks for the beautiful
poetry, Matt," and moved over to hold him.
The next day was one of those typically
hot, humid, late August days, but the boys decided to wash and wax their
trucks and their bikes. Although they were working in shorts
and nothing else, the sweat poured off of Matt and Mike in rivers.
When they finished three hours later, the vehicles all looked almost better
than new, and the boys were pleased with their efforts. They
went upstairs to shower, and Matt stripped to his briefs before he went into
the bathroom.
"Commere, Matt." Matt walked
over in his jockeys to where Mike was sitting on the couch. Mike
got on his knees, and put an arm around Matt's butt. "Gimme a
couple minutes," Mike said. "I've been wanting to do this for
almost a year." And Mike put his face into crotch of Matt's briefs,
redolent of his sweat and manhood, and breathed deeply. Just
breathed in and out, nothing more. Matt smiled and just shook
his head.
* * *
Sunday, departure day, came all too
soon. As sophomores, Matt and Mike could have vehicles at school,
and they decided to take Mike's truck and Matt's motorcycle back with them
to the university. That way they could ride the bike during the
good fall weather, and then have the truck available when the weather turned
nasty.
When Jeff said he was disappointed
he couldn't come down with them and check out the university before his high
school classes started, Mike suggested that he drive the Matt's truck down
and stay over as long as he could. So it was agreed.
Matt and Mike traded places driving
the truck and riding the CBR to stay alert during the trip. They
arrived in the late afternoon with all of the other jocks reporting early,
and went to the sophomore dorms. Their room wasn't quite as big
or nice as they had last year, and they would be sharing the connecting bathroom
with their neighbors.
The boys stayed busy that evening getting
everything put away where they wanted it, and then made up the two single
beds. After several teammates from last year had dropped by and
gone, Matt gave his bed to Jeff, and climbed in with Mike.
"This single bed shit is gonna get
old real fast," Matt whispered to Mike as he spooned him.
"You ain't kidding!" Mike said, and
they slept.
The next morning they got up, showered,
and went down to breakfast.
"My, what a delicious repast," Jeff
opined as they ate greasy scrambled eggs, cold toast, and drank warm orange
juice.
"Get used to it, boy, you have years
of enjoyment ahead of you," Matt said with a smirk. "This stuff
is guaranteed to give you big, ripe, juicy, runny zits."
"Eeeewwww, that's appetizing, Matt!"
Mike said accusingly. "Spare us the graphics, will ya?"
Jeff laughed.
They went back to their room, and Matt
called the administrative offices and asked if there were anyone available
to provide a tour for a high school senior who might matriculate next year
at the university. The answer was "yes," and Matt gave Jeff directions
to the admin building and said they would meet back at the room at noon.
Matt and Mike went off to their respective
team meetings.
When Mike got back from his swimming
meeting, Matt was already there and was packing.
"Was it something I said?" Mike asked.
"No, man, stupendous news! I
heard at the wrestling team meeting that Jack Whittaker's dad had a heart
attack--no, I don't mean that's the good news. Anyway, Jack won't
be coming back to school this year at all, probably. He and his
roommate had this kickass apartment off campus last year, and the roommate
graduated last spring. I called the lady who owns it, and she
said she wants to meet us, and if she likes us, it's ours! Think double
bed, bro!"
"How do you know she'll like us?"
Matt swung Mike around to look at the
two of them in the big mirror on the closet door. Pasting a big
Tom Cruise smile on his face and showing his teeth, he asked, "Who could
possibly resist two clean cut, all-American boys like us, dude? Are we white
bread, or what?"
"To the core!" Mike agreed, and began
to pack his stuff. "Can we get out of our dorm contract?"
"No prob. I already checked.
We'll lose our piddly deposit, but we can stand it."
"Awesome!"
Jeff came in, and they put him to work
as well while they heard about his tour of the campus. They loaded
up the truck in short order and drove to the apartment address, which was
a large Victorian house within walking distance of the campus.
They rang the bell. An elderly lady with white hair and patrician
features, the widow of a longtime professor at the university, answered the
door.
"Mrs. Wilson? I'm Matt Broman,
and this is my brother, Mike. I talked to you on the phone, and
we're here to look at the apartment. And this is my other brother
Jeff, but he won't be staying with us normally."
"Come in, boys. I was afraid
the apartment would have to stand empty when I heard at this late date that
Jack wouldn't be in school this year."
They chatted for a few minutes, and
Mrs. Wilson was apparently pleased with them. She sent them to
look at the apartment, which was a separate two bedroom coach house over
a three-bay garage toward the back of a large lot. There were
two bathrooms, one with a shower and one with a tub/jacuzzi, a utility closet
with washer and dryer, a nice kitchen adjoining a small dining alcove, a
large living room, and a nice balcony off the back. The furnishings
all looked new.
"Perfect!" Matt enthused.
"Yeppers! How much?" Mike inquired.
"I don't know. Let's go
negotiate."
The rent turned out to be a little
more expensive than the dorm, but doable. They closed the deal,
which included two of the three bays of the garage for their use.
They could eventually bring down the other pickup and CBR if they wanted
because the space was so deep they could park the bikes in front of the trucks
and still close the garage doors.
Matt and Mike each wrote a check for
half the rent and half the deposit, and they were in.
Jeff stayed that night with Matt and
Mike in their new place, and was due to head for home the next morning.
Matt came back from class and caught up with him before he left.
"Jeff, I need to tell you something
before you go. I hope you won't be bummed."
"What?"
Matt cleared his throat.
"Well, Mike and I are. . .together."
"Yeah?"
"No, I mean we're a couple."
"Oh." Jeff didn't look too surprised.
"Well, it's pretty hard to miss how you two look at each other.
And you seem to sleep in the same bed all the time. So I admit
I've been wondering."
"Are you OK with it?"
"I guess so," Jeff shrugged.
"I love you both no matter what. You have to make your own decisions."
Matt let out a sigh of relief.
"I love you, Jeff, and I mean that.
Do me a favor and don't say anything to Martha or Mom and Dad, though, OK?
Mike and I are going to tell them when we come home between semesters."
"Cool. That's one job I
don't envy you. Say 'bye to Mike."
Jeff grabbed his bag, and Matt walked
him down to the truck. They hugged, and Jeff was on his way.
* * *
The jocks, having reported early, got
to register before anyone else. Matt and Mike got each of the
classes they wanted, and because they were easing more into their respective
majors, found that they would have fewer classes together than last year.
Within the next week the campus filled
up with students, and it was like old times. Matt and Mike didn't
miss the dorms at all, although they still had their food contracts if they
wanted to eat there. It wasn't long before their wrestling and
swimming buddies were dropping by fairly frequently, but the two boys were
agreed that they didn't want their apartment to become "party central."
About two weeks after classes started,
Mike heard somebody yell his name one afternoon as he was on the way to swimming
practice. He looked around, and was astounded to see Jason Stelling,
his old high school boyfriend, bearing down on him. He was still
handsome as hell, but didn't look very healthy, Mike thought.
"Jase, what are you doing here."
"I transferred in this fall.
I was wondering when I was going to see you around."
"Matt and I came down a week early
to start practice, and we lucked into an apartment off campus this year."
"Really? Lucky you.
I'm stuck in the sophomore dorms. I'd like to get together with
you sometime and talk about old times."
"Well, I guess we could do that," Mike
said slowly. "Maybe in a week or so when I'm more in the groove."
"Sounds good! Are you in the
book?"
"You'll have to call information."
"Will do. Catch you laters!"
They went off in opposite directions.
Mike told Matt about the encounter
that evening, and Matt was not happy.
"Mike, I just don't like that guy.
I don't know what's going on with him, whether he's doing drugs or what his
story is, but I don't like him and I don't trust him. Do you have to
see him?"
"Well. . .he is from my old home town.
I s'pose I don't have any reason not to."
"It's your decision, but I wish you
wouldn't. I admit I'm not long on trust after what happened last
summer," Matt said.
"Oh, come on! Jase is no Rick
Scott. Nothing can happen."
Matt shrugged, but had an uneasy feeling
in his gut.
A couple of weeks later, the phone
rang about 9:30 p.m. as Matt and Mike were studying. Mike answered.
"Hello. . .Oh, hi, Jase.
What up?"
Matt scowled.
"Yeah, I could do that," Mike said.
"Why don't we meet over at Houlihan's about 6:30? I should be out of
swim practice by then."
Mike listened, and then said, "OK,
see ya there tomorrow night."
He hung up the phone and looked at
Matt, who made a face and continued reading.
The next night Jason was waiting for
him at Houlihan's, an off-campus pub, in an out-of-the-way booth.
They shook hands and Mike sat down.
"So, Jase, how are ya? It's good
to see you."
"Thanks. Same here."
"So what's been going on? How
did you happen to transfer here?" Mike asked.
"Oh, I was kinda bored at home.
I needed a change."
A waitress came and took their order.
"Yeah, I was bored," Jason continued.
"And I got to thinking about you, and couldn't get you outta my mind."
"You were thinking about me after all
this time?" Mike asked, amused.
"Well, yeah, actually, I was.
We had some pretty good times, you know."
"Yeah?"
"I thought maybe we could have some
good times again," Jason said with a serious look on his face.
He pulled up the sleeves on his sweater, and then pulled them back down right
away, but not before Mike saw tracks on his arms.
"I'm partnered up with Matt Broman
now, Jason. In fact, you probably don't know it, but his family
adopted me after my family was killed. We're brothers."
"How nice for you, Mike," Jason said
sarcastically. "When you do it, doesn't that make it incest?"
The waitress brought their order.
After checking for anything additional they might need, she left, and they
started to eat.
"Jason, if you're talking about you
and me having sex again when you talk about having more good times, that's
out of the question!"
"Is it now?"
"That's right," Mike said grimly.
"Well, I could see things becoming
a little difficult for you, then, as far as your reputation on campus is
concerned."
"How so?"
"Because I'll out you without a second
thought!"
Mike was stunned. "Well,
you asshole!! I guess you'll just have to do what you have to do!
Once an prick, always an prick!"
"Mikey, Mikey, that's harsh!"
Mike threw down his hamburger and started
to get up. Jason grabbed his arm.
"I don't want your decision now.
You think about it for a couple of days. Think about how your
swimming buddies are going to react when they find out you're a fag.
I'll call you and let you know when and where to meet me to talk about it
some more."
Mike left, saying nothing, and sticking
Jason with the check.
Matt was more angry than Mike had ever
seen him when he told him about the track marks on Jason's arms and what
Jason had said.
"That drugged-up motherfucker, I'll
kill that asshole!"
"Matt, don't worry about it.
I'll find a way to handle it," Mike said.
Matt continued to fume, and neither
of them slept very well that night after they went to bed.
Two days later, Matt happened to come
in from class just as the telephone stopped ringing and the call went to
voice mail. He waited a minute, then dialed into their box number.
"Mikey, it's your ol' buddy Jason,"
the recording said. "Meet me again at Houlihan's tonight at 6:30.
And don't stand me up if you know what's good for you!"
Matt hit "7" to erase the message,
and didn't pass it on to Mike when he came home.
About 6:15 he told Mike he had to go
the library to look something up, and walked over to Houlihan's and went
in. He walked around until he found Jason, who started to get
up when he saw Matt. Matt blocked him and slid into the booth
beside him.
"So the fag boy sent you over to negotiate,
huh?" Jason said.
"Negotiate? No, Mike doesn't
even know you called or that I'm here. And this is no negotiation."
"I don't have anything to talk to you
about, Broman. Lemme outta here."
"I don't think so. I want
you to listen to me very carefully. Don't miss a word, you little
pissant," Matt said quietly. "You're a college man.
You probably learned at some point that there are 204 or 206 bones in the
human body, depending on how many bones you think are in the inner ear.
What you may not be aware of is that I am in my sixth year of learning how
to break most of the bones in the human body and make joints bend the way
they don't wanna go."
Jason said nothing.
"What I want you to know is that if
you damage Mike or his reputation in even the slightest way, I am going to
take you to a lonely place and break as many of your 204 or 206 bones as
I can, slowly, one at a time. Am I connecting with your smacked-out
brain cells at all?"
"You wouldn't dare!" Jason looked
pale.
"You don't want to find out," Matt
hissed. "You'll wish you were dead!"
Matt picked up a pitcher full of ice
water off the table and dumped it in Jason's lap. Then he rapped
him on the scull with the pitcher, and left. Jason looked exasperated
and intimidated at the same time as he stood up with cold water streaming
off his pants.
"That didn't take long," Mike said
when Matt got back to the apartment.
"Nope, not long at all."
Two days later Matt was just home from
wrestling practice when Mike came in with fire in his eye.
"What the fuck did you think you were
doing?" Mike asked.
"Whaddaya mean?"
"I ran into Jason Steller a few minutes
ago, and he mentioned the little encounter you two had at Houlihan's."
Matt looked at the floor.
"You deliberately withheld Jason's
message from me, and then lied to me about where you went."
"Mike, I did it because I love you
and I don't want you to get hurt. Wouldn't you do the same for
me?"
"No, I have more respect for you than
that. Do you think I'm so weak that I can't take care of myself?"
"No," Matt said sheepishly.
Silence.
"Look, Mike, I was wrong, and I apologize.
I promise I will never do anything like this again. I know I'm
overprotective, and I'll work on it. Please don't be mad."
Mike allowed himself to be held, and
his anger ebbed.
"Let me ask you one thing, though,"
Matt said as they embraced. "Did that asshole mention anything
about outing you?"
"No."
"Well, then, maybe he listened to reason,"
Matt said, and then added hastily, "Not that I went about this the right
way."
Matt kissed Mike on the lips, and they
headed for the bedroom to put the argument behind them.
* * *
The danger of Mike's being outed seemed
to be in abeyance for the moment. Mike knew the issue was far
from resolved, however, when he began to see Jason here and there on campus
watching him, always watching. Jason never approached him, though.
Mike didn't tell Matt he was being stalked because he was afraid of what
Matt might do.
The constant reminder that he could
be outed at any time made Mike reflect on taking the initiative and coming
out of the closet on his own. He obviously couldn't do that without
considering Matt, of course. But he did resolve to talk to him
about it.
One night after a long study session,
he broached the subject in a round about way.
"Matt, are you still thinking we should
tell the family that we're a couple when we go home between semesters?"
"I did tell Jeff before he left for
home, and he was OK with it. And not too surprised.
I did ask him not to say anything to anybody else yet."
"I didn't know you told him.
But I'm not surprised he already knew. He's a smart kid."
"Well, I think we probably should tell
Mom and Dad, too, don't you?" Matt asked.
"Yes and no. I want to
tell them, but I don't know whether Christmas is the right time.
I don't want to spoil the holiday for them."
"Hmmm. You may be right
about that. I sure hate to drag it out, though," Matt said.
"Yeah, I know. I've also
been thinking a little bit about how much we want to say about it on campus."
Matt looked at him sharply.
"On campus?"
"Yeah," Mike said.
"This may not be the right time to get into an extended discussion on this,
but we need to think about whether or not we want to stay in the closet."
"Jeez, why wouldn't we? We're
jocks. Do we really want to face the issue with our teammates
if we don't have to?"
"I don't want to face it at all, but
there's a price to be paid if we don't come out," Mike said.
"What price?"
"Take it from somebody who's been under
cover for a long time--it takes a lot of energy to hide who and what you
are, and do a convincing job of it."
"What do you mean?"
"Our secrets kill us," Mike said. "Psychologically,
I mean. They sap your strength after awhile.
I'd almost rather take every mean thing the world could throw at us than
pretend to be something I'm not," Mike said. "I'm tired of the
game. But it's a decision we have to make together."
"Are you bringing this up because of
Jason?" Matt asked.
"Well, he kind of started me thinking
about it, but the whole thing goes beyond whether he outs me or not.
We've earned some respect on campus, and if you and I were to come out, we'd
not only be standing up for who and what we are, we might also be some help
to other gays who are really down on themselves."
"Jeez, Mike, I hate the idea of becoming
a 'professional' gay. I don't want to go on any crusade.
I just want to get an education, enjoy my sport, be with you, and be left
alone."
"I understand that. But
I don't think we're gonna enjoy the best of both worlds and end up feeling
good about it down the road. We're going to suffer one way or
another, either from lying to others that we're straight or from taking some
heat from others for being truthful that we're gay. Let me ask
you this: if you want to stay in the closet here on campus, why do
you want to be up front with the family?"
"Because," Matt said, "they're
our real support group. I do think we have to be truthful with
those who love us the most. The rest, I'm not so sure about."
"Do you remember when you first confronted
me about being gay?" Mike asked.
"Yeah."
"I would have lied to you if you hadn't
already known the truth. But I learned something from that experience,
Matt. First, you taught me that difficult things should almost
always be faced head-on if you want good outcomes. And secondly,
I've come to realize that you and I wouldn't be together today if I had continued
lying to you about being straight. I would have lost the person
I love the most in this world for a lie.
"I don't think we're going to solve
this in one conversation, bro," Mike continued. "But it's a decision we have
to make together, and it's going to be status quo until we agree.
All I'm asking is that you think about it."
"I will. I respect what
you're saying, Mike. And I hope you know I love you with all
my heart."
* * *
For good or ill, nature abhors a vacuum,
and inertia seldom prevails very long in human events. Mike noticed
it first. Some of his swimming buddies began to shy away from
him when he was showering after practice and when he was at his locker getting
dressed. He didn't think too much about it at first.
When some of them also began to avoid sitting near him in class, he began
to wonder whether or not Jason was busy making good on his threat to out
him.
One night, at dusk, Mike was walking
home from practice when out of the blue a couple of second string football
players fell into step with him and began to harass him, asking him whether
he was gay and how he liked getting it up the ass. They ended
up putting him against a building they were passing and knocking him around
a little.
"Hey, dick heads!" a voice came out
of the darkness. "Is there a problem?" Mike's swimming
teammate, Dan Smith, a big guy himself, came down the walk and started toward
them.
"Fuck off!" one of the football hulks
said. "Mind your own business!"
"Definitely my business," Dan said.
"Move on, or there will be a problem!"
Mumbling and grumbling, the two disengaged
from Mike and walked off.
"You OK, Mike?" Dan asked.
"Yeah. Thanks, Dan."
"Is it true what they're saying?"
"They who, and what are they saying?"
"The guys. Word around is that you're
gay."
Mike looked down at the ground and
then looked Dan right in the eye.
"Yes, I am gay."
"Well, OK. I'm glad you
told me. I have a brother who's gay. You're still
one hell of an athlete as far as I'm concerned, and a nice guy.
You're gonna run into a lot of assholes like those two, though, you can count
on it."
"I know. It's human nature,
I guess. But I'm gonna hafta watch myself."
"Yeah. Well, I'll see ya
later, Mike."
"Thanks, Dan."
Mike walked on home and waited for
Matt. He was more shaken than he wanted to admit.
Matt came in, took one look at Mike,
and knew something was very wrong.
"It's started," Mike said.
And he told Matt the whole story, including his admission to Dan Smith that
he was gay..
"I didn't want to say anything before,"
Matt finally responded, "but I've kinda been getting some strange looks,
too, at wrestling practice. I just didn't think anything about
it. It looks like that pissant Jason has been busy."
"Matt, I know you didn't want to come
out on campus, and I understand why. I think if I move out of
here right away and get my own place, you can say you didn't know I was gay,
and your reputation will still be in good shape."
To Mike's surprise, Matt's eyes got
tears in them.
"I should kick your ass for saying
that, Mike! Do you think for one second that I'd let you go through
this alone? Whatever we do, we're doing together. And it looks
like the decision has been made for us."
They made dinner, and spent the rest
of the evening alternately studying and talking about what lay ahead for
them on campus.
Two weeks later they were lying in
bed early one morning listening to the campus radio station on their clock
radio when a news bulletin interrupted the music. Jason Stelling
had been found dead, apparently murdered, in a gravel pit about 10 miles
from school. Other details were being withheld by the police
pending an investigation.
Despite their dislike for Jason and
what he had done to them, Matt and Mike were stunned. They went
about their morning routine getting ready for classes in shocked silence.
Later that afternoon, as Matt emerged
from one of his pre-law courses, a young guy in a sports coat and slacks
approached him and flashed a badge.
"Are you Matthew Broman?"
"Yes."
"I'm Detective Ray Stans of the University
City police. We'd like you to come down to the station and answer
some questions, if you wouldn't mind."
"Questions about. . .?"
"The murder of Jason Stelling."
"Am I under arrest?"
"No, we just want to ask you some questions."
"OK, but I need to make a call first."
"Go ahead."
Matt pulled out his cell phone and
left a message for Mike on voicemail that he was going to the police station
to answer some questions, supposedly about Jason's murder. He
asked him to call his coach to tell him he might not make wrestling practice,
and then to call their dad and tell him what was happening.
Matt felt butterflies in his stomach
as he accompanied the detective to an unmarked car, was put in the back seat,
and driven off to the station. It occurred to him during the
ride downtown that the date was October 7, 1999--one year after Matthew Shepard
had been left to die on a fence in Wyoming.
Part 5
Detective Stans seemed to be a nice
young guy, and he and Matt made small talk about life in a university town
on the way down to the police station. The day was cool and windy.
There wasn't much traffic on the road, but a lot of students were walking
around campus right then, seemingly without a care in the world.
Sometimes, Matt thought to himself,
it's just you against the harsh realities of life--particularly when you're
in the back of a unmarked police car on the way to answer questions about
a murder you know nothing about.
Matt found himself wondering if Mike
had gotten his voice mail message to call their dad and to let the wrestling
coach know he wasn't going to make practice today. Had he asked
Mike to pick up a quart of milk for breakfast tomorrow morning or not?
His mind flashed on a thousand disparate subjects on that ride downtown.
Once inside the station, Stans took
Matt to the front desk to sign him in. Jeff Miller, a young attorney
who was waiting for them after being contacted by Mr. Broman, introduced
himself as Matt's lawyer, and asked Detective Stans for a room to confer
with Matt before questioning began.
"Fill me in on what's going on," Miller
said once they were situated and alone.
"I'll make it short and sweet," Matt
said. "A student named Jason Stelling has been murdered.
I met this guy twice, once at my adopted brother Mike's parents' funeral,
and once recently here in town at Houlihan's. Jason was Mike's
lover in high school, and was threatening to out him here on campus if Mike
didn't resume his relationship with him. Without Mike's knowledge,
I went to meet Jason one night at Houlihan's when he was expecting Mike to
meet him, and told him that I would break every bone in his body if he hurt
Mike by outing him. That's probably why the cops want to question
me. I also dumped a pitcher of ice water in Jason's lap before
I left, just to make my point, so plenty of people saw us arguing.
"You also need to know," Mike continued,
"that Jason was a drug addict, on heroin, I believe. Mike saw
tracks on Jason's arms during one conversation he had with him."
"Anything else I should know?"
"Yes." Matt looked Miller in
the eye. "Mike and I are not only brothers, we're lovers and
domestic partners."
"I'm glad you're telling me everything,
Matt. It makes it just that much easier to stop this before it
goes anywhere. Did you have anything to do with the murder?"
"Nothing!"
"What about Mike?"
"No! I'd stake my life
on it. It's just not in his character. He's not a
violent person."
"OK, I think I've got the picture,"
Miller said, and went to get the detective.
Stans came in with some cans of pop
for Matt and his attorney, and sat down across the table from them.
"Matt, do you or your attorney have
any objection to videotaping this interview?" he asked.
Matt and Jeff Miller looked at each
other, and Jeff said, "No problem."
Stans turned on a camera sitting in
its holder on the table, identified himself for the record, and asked Matt
and Jeff Miller to identify themselves. Matt also stated for
the record that he agreed to the videotaping, and the questions began.
"Did you know Jason Stelling?" Stans
asked.
"Yes."
"In what connection?"
"I first met him last year at the funeral
of my adopted brother Mike's parents. He came to the wake.
The next and last time I saw him was about two weeks ago at Houlihan's."
"Did you talk to him at Houlihan's?"
"Yes."
"What did you talk about?"
"We talked about Jason's threat to
out Mike on campus for being gay."
"What did you say?"
Mike looked at Jeff inquiringly, and
he nodded "yes."
"I told him that if he hurt Mike by
outing him, that I would break every bone in his body."
"Did you?"
"No, sir, I never saw Jason again."
"Anything else happen at Houlihan's?"
"I dumped a pitcher of ice water in
his lap before I left. That was it."
"Where were you at 5 o'clock yesterday
afternoon?" Stans asked.
"I was on a bus with 25 wrestlers coming
back from Werther College after a meet."
"We're going to confirm that, you know."
"I would hope so."
"So you're telling me that you didn't
murder Jason Stelling."
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know who did?"
"No, sir."
Stans looked down at his notes.
"I understand that your family is quite
wealthy."
"Yes."
"So you have some money to throw around?"
Matt laughed.
"No, not really. You would
have to know my father to understand that he is, well, tight when it comes
to handing out money, particularly to us kids. He thinks people
should work for their money to the extent they are able. If I
weren't on a wrestling scholarship here, I'd be working part time on campus
to pay some of my expenses. I have to talk fast for anything
I get, believe me."
"What about your brother, Mike?"
"Same thing, except that Mike is rich
in his own right because his natural family was killed in a plane crash and
he inherited. But our father controls his money as well for three
more years, so he's in the same boat I am. He has a swimming
scholarship, or he'd be working, too."
"Both of you have bank accounts here?"
"Yes, at University National."
Stans made a note.
"Are you gay?"
"Yes."
"Were you afraid Jason Stelling was
going to out you, too?"
"I was prepared for it, yes.
I don't lie about being gay when I'm asked, but I don't flaunt it, either.
I've pretty much concluded that at some point, it will come out, and we have
to live with what we are. I'm not ashamed, and I'm not prepared
to be victimized because I'm a homosexual, I can tell you that.
"Did you hire someone to kill Jason
Stelling?"
"No, sir."
"Do you use illegal drugs of any kind?"
"No! I hate them."
Stans paused and looked over his notes.
"Do you have anything else to tell
me?" Stans asked.
"No, sir."
"Thank you, Matt," Stans said.
"I think that's all the questions we have for the moment. And
thank you, Counselor. We'll be in touch if we have more questions."
He shut off the video camera.
The three stood up, shook hands, and
Matt and Jeff left the building.
"Good job, Matt," Miller said.
"You answered everything he asked, and didn't volunteer any information that
could be interpreted the wrong way. Text book technique!"
"Thanks. It must be all
those Law and Order reruns I've watched. But it's nerve-wracking
to be questioned, even when you're innocent!"
"Yeah, that's for sure.
Listen, do you need a ride home?"
"I'd appreciate it, Jeff."
Ten minutes later Matt was running
up the coach house steps.
He burst in the door of the apartment
prepared to tell Mike what had happened at the police station when a cloud
of marijuana smoke hit him in the face. In an instant rage, he
turned the corner from the hall to the living room, all ready to berate the
hell out of Mike for smoking dope. Mike sitting on the couch
in blood-stained boxers, holding a bloody hand towel to his head, and sporting
a big bruise on his right cheek and his right rib cage. His right
shin was swelling into a huge knot. He was smoking a huge, fat
doobie.
Matt stood there aghast, his rage gone
in a flash.
"Mike! What the hell happened
to you?"
"I got jumped on the way home after
swimming practice by three guys wearing ski masks and carrying baseball bats.
They worked me over pretty good. I don't think they like fags."
"Fucking son of a bitch!!" Matt
sat down beside Mike on the couch, and took the doobie and ground it out
in a saucer. "Let me look at you, buddy."
The head wound was small, and although
there was copious blood, it was beginning to congeal. Matt gently
touched Mike's rib cage, and was rewarded with a groan. The face
bruise was just that, a bruise, but the swelling on Mike's right shin was
about the size of a grapefruit.
"Mike, I'm worried about the ribs.
One could be broken. And the leg."
"Yeah? I'm not hurting
too much now. That's why I smoked pot. Don't be mad
at me."
"We can talk about that later.
I think the Student Health clinic can handle this. I'm going
to call the police and have them meet us there."
"I don't want to get the police involved."
"We have to!" The cumulative
anger and frustration of being questioned about Jason's murder, and now what
had happened to Mike, and the fact Mike had smoked the grass, boiled over.
"THIS SHIT WILL CEASE!!!" Matt shouted
as he stood up and punched his fist through the wall. Plaster
rained down on the couch. Matt's knuckles began to bleed.
Mike looked up at him in stoned surprise.
"We are NOT going to be victims of
this anti-gay shit, Mike. That is the bottom line.
I want this on the police record because, guess what, as of right now, I'm
a gay activist! You and I are not living our lives as victims,
and the motherfuckers who think they have the power to make us victims are
gonna get hurt, I promise you!"
Matt went to the telephone and called
the police station, asking for Detective Stans.
"Stans. . ." a voice prompted.
"Detective Stans, this is Matt Broman.
I'm glad I caught you. I need your help. Somebody
beat up my brother Mike pretty bad on the way home from swim practice late
this afternoon, and I'm getting ready to take him over to Student Health.
Is there any chance you could meet us there and take a report?
I think this battery was probably a hate crime, and we need to get it on
the record."
Matt listened, and then said, "Thanks.
We'll see you there in about 15 minutes."
"Mike, come on, let me help you get
dressed."
Matt helped Mike up and took him into
the bedroom.
"I want you to put on the same clothes
you were wearing when those assholes got you," Matt said.
"OK, the T-shirt and Levi's are in
the laundry hamper. But they're all bloody."
"The detective and the student doc
need to see exactly how you looked when those pricks left you," Matt explained.
Mike dressed slowly with Matt's help. Helping Mike on with his
jacket, Matt grabbed his Polaroid camera and cell phone as they went out
the door and down to the truck.
Matt and Mike walked in the door of
the clinic just as Detective Stans pulled up in his unmarked car.
A nurse at the reception desk took one look at Mike and motioned them through
the waiting room doors and into an examination room. The doctor,
a tall, thin blonde woman about 35 years old, came into the exam room, as
did Detective Stans.
"Doctor, uh, Lucas," Matt said,
reading her name tag, "I'm Matt Broman, this is my brother Mike, and this
is Detective Stans of the University City Police Department.
My brother was beaten up on the way home from swimming practice about an
hour ago, and I want to make sure that everything is OK with him.
He has a head wound, a bruise on his cheek, bruised or possibly cracked ribs,
and what looks to be a hematoma on his right shin. Secondly,
we want to file a report of the incident with Detective Stans, including
your documentation of his injuries."
"Mary Lucas," the doctor introduced
herself. "Doris," she instructed the nurse, "get a gown for Mike.
Mike, are you going to need help getting undressed?"
"Yes, probably," Mike said.
"Gentlemen, if you will have a seat
in the waiting room, we'll bring you in when we're finished with the exam,"
the doctor said.
Matt and Detective Stans went to the
waiting room. Matt noticed that Detective Stans had a Polaroid
camera with him, the same model as Matt's.
"Great minds. . ." Matt said, motioning
at the detective's camera with his own.
"Yeah," Stans said. "Do
you know anything more than you told me?"
"No. I relayed everything
Mike said to me. I just can't believe there were no witnesses."
"I don't like this very much.
This may or may not be a hate crime, but I'm wondering at this point just
how random it is. They could have killed Mike, you know.
Maybe they were scared off. Anyway, I'm hoping this isn't a pattern."
"If it is, it's going to stop!
I'm making an appointment with the chief of campus police tomorrow about
campus security. That's why I wanted you to come down here and
document Mike's injuries for the record. If I don't get any satisfaction
from the chief, I'll go to the chancellor of the university."
"Do you think you can get them to take
this seriously?" the detective looked at him quizzically.
"They will, believe me!
In addition to the hate crime issue, a big, fat lawsuit against the university
is a pretty good bargaining chip, too. Failing all else, you
should get prepared to talk to the national media about the incident by tomorrow
night, if that's what it takes. Because the media will be here
in town, and they'll be calling you."
The detective grinned.
"You don't fool around, do you, kid? I like that!"
Dr. Lucas came out and sat down with
them about half an hour later.
"Mike is going to be fine, and you
can take him home. He didn't lose consciousness during the beating
he sustained, so I'm not too concerned about a concussion. He
doesn't need stitches in his scalp. I shaved some of his scalp
hair so I could use a butterfly bandage on it. There are no broken
ribs. His rib cage is badly bruised on the right side, so I wrapped
it, but he can take the wrapping off any time he wants. The leg
isn't broken. I've put ice on it, and I want you to keep icing
it for at least 36 hours, 2 hours on and 1 hour off. From then
on, ice it whenever it's convenient. He should keep the leg elevated
as much as he can, and avoid walking on it for a few days. His
face will be fine, but if you have a steak at home, put that on it for a
few hours to reduce the bruise. It may or may not help, but try
it. Here is a prescription for Tylenol 3, and some samples to
get you through the first few days. If he needs anything stronger,
call me."
"Doctor, can we get some pictures now?"
Stans asked.
"Yes. If you need anything
unwrapped so the wounds can be seen, just ask Doris. I've dictated
Mike's medical record, and it will be transcribed first thing in the morning
and available to you, Detective."
"I'd like three copies as well, Doctor,"
Matt said. "One for the campus police and one for the chancellor,
and one for Mike's records. Is that possible?"
"Of course. I'll go and
make a note to that effect right now."
"Mike is on the swim team.
How soon can he get back to practice," Matt asked.
"Let's play it by ear," Dr. Lucas said.
"The ribs are going to send him a message if he's overdoing it.
But I don't want him thrashing around, even in water, with that hematoma
for at least a week or so. Let's just say I want to check him
out before he goes back to practice."
"Yes, m'am. Got it." Matt
responded.
Matt and Detective Stans went back
into Mike's room, and took as nearly identical pictures of Mike's wounds
as they could. At Matt's request, Stans signed and dated the
backs of the pictures that Matt took so there could be no doubt of their
authenticity.
Matt got Mike dressed, and the nurse
brought a wheel chair. Matt and Stans wheeled Mike out to the
truck, and they helped him in and shut the door.
"Call me tomorrow and let me know how
you do with the campus chief, will you?" Stans asked. "Maybe
I can be of some help."
"I will," Matt said. "And
thanks very much for coming down here. I really appreciate it."
"That's OK. I have a lot
of thinking to do about whether Mike's beating is linked some way to the
Stelling murder. We're going to want to talk to Mike at some
point about Stelling, by the way."
"I'll tell him. My dad
will probably want to have Jeff Miller there for Mike, so just let me know
when."
"I will. Take care of your
brother, now, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
Matt drove home slowly, trying to miss
the bumps in the road so as not to jostle Mike too much. They
reached the coach house, and Matt helped Mike up the stairs.
"Mike, do you want to take a shower
or a bath, or just skip it tonight?"
"I'd like to take a shower--but only
if you come in with me," Mike said with as much of a leer as he could manage
with his bruised, swollen face.
"I can tell you're not too bad off,"
Matt laughed. "I'm there, bro!"
He walked Mike into the bathroom and
began to strip Mike's clothes off as gently as he could. Then
he stripped off his own clothes, turned on the water, and adjusted it to
luke warm. He helped Mike over the threshold into the shower,
stepped in himself, and shut the glass door. Once inside he put
his arms around Mike and, chest to chest, body to body, held him tenderly
and kissed his face repeatedly as the spray wet them down. They
stood there like that for a good 5 minutes without moving, except they both
got erections. Then, fearful that Mike's hematoma might swell
more from standing too long, Matt took soap and a wash cloth and washed every
inch of his lover's body with great care.
Finished, they stepped out of the shower,
and Matt dried Mike off, and then himself. He put toothpaste
on Mike's toothbrush for him, and had him brush his teeth. Then
he gave Mike three of the Tylenols, and took him into their bedroom and turned
down the bed.
"Mike, if you want me to, I can sleep
in the other bedroom so I don't accidentally roll on you or bump you in the
night."
"Fuhgeddaboutit."
"Well, why don't you switch to the
left side of the bed instead of the right side until you heal.
Then I'll be sleeping on your good side.
"Good idea."
"Now, let's get that leg up on a pillow,
and I'll get some fresh ice for the ice pack."
"OK. Thanks."
"While I'm going in that direction,
what do you want for dinner?" Matt asked. "You know, I have to
defrost a steak for your face anyway. Why don't we put it on
your face for an hour or so, and then I'll cook it for you. Is
that a brilliant use of precious resources, or what?"
"You nimrod!" Mike laughed painfully,
holding his ribs. "No wonder America's great! Dad
would be proud!"
Matt roared, and went to defrost the
steak. When it was limber, he took it to Mike and gently laid
it over his bruised eye and cheek.
"Mike Broman," Matt observed,
"half man, half steak!"
"Thanks, Matt." Mike smiled,
and then paused. His expression grew serious. "You
know, I love you so much I can't stand it sometimes. Sometimes
my chest hurts I feel so much love for you. It scares me."
Matt regarded him solemnly for a minute,
very moved, and sat down on the side of the bed.
"Michael, let me tell you some things
that by rights I should have been telling you every day we've been together--and
now is as good a time as any to start. And please don't interrupt."
Matt took a breath and swallowed.
"Give me a minute. I'm not used to this." He composed
himself and then continued, his voice breaking a little.
"You are deep in my heart and in my
soul, Mike. You're as fundamental to my being as living and breathing.
You give me joy and humor and happiness in a world where all those things
are in short supply. I don't know what I could ever have done
to deserve you for my brother and my partner and my lover and my friend.
Everything I know about 'hanging in' when the person you love is hurting
or in trouble, I learned from you. Every day that goes by, I
am a better person because of you. You are my ideal.
I thank God for you every day of my life, starting the minute I wake up in
the morning. I'd write love poems to you all day long if I had
the talent, but I don't. I respect you for your toughness and
your tenderness and your honesty, starting with the standards you impose
on yourself. I'm infatuated with your mind and your body. You
know, I can remember what you were wearing last year the first time I ever
saw you--a cutoff tank top and those gray gym shorts that showed off your
cute little butt and your package--and I wasn't even into guys back then,
dude. You have been my partner in the most incredible sex I have
ever had, or ever could have.
"I hate it that you're hurting now,
but taking care of you is a gift for me because I can show you, just a little,
how much having you in my life means to me."
They stared at each other in silence,
and Mike put a hand over his one uncovered eye so Matt wouldn't see his tears.
Matt bent down, picked up Mike's free hand from the bed, kissed the back
of it, and then got up and walked out of the bedroom to straighten up the
apartment.
In between cleaning the apartment,
cooking dinner for Mike and himself, and cutting up Mike's food for him,
Matt called their mom and dad and filled them in on the beating that Mike
had just taken, the murder of Jason Stelling, and the police questioning.
The elder Bromans were very upset about Mike, and insisted on talking to
him, so Matt took him the phone. When they finished, Matt told
his dad about his plans to see the chief of security, and if necessary, the
chancellor, concerning the issue of campus security. Mr. Broman
thought that raising the issue was entirely appropriate, and asked Matt to
let him know if he could be of any help along the way in dealing with the
problem. He also said that Jeff Miller would be available if
and when Mike was questioned at the police station. Matt told
his parents to smack around Jeff and Martha for him because they got away
with far too much without their older brothers around. He thanked
them for all their concern, and told them he loved them. They
promised to call Mike in a few days to see how he was doing, and hung up.
Later that night, after feeding Mike
some more Tylenol and replenishing the ice pack on his leg, Matt eased into
bed. Due to the condition of his ribs, Mike could only sleep
on his back.
"Mike, are you OK?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna be all right."
"Do you want me to get you off so you
can sleep better? I'm a full-service boyfriend, you know."
"No, I'm hurting too much now to enjoy
it, but thanks. And quit making me laugh. It hurts."
"Sorry. But you wake me
up if you need anything, all right?"
"Well, this sounds stupid, but would
you just hold my hand?"
"Yeppers, I'd like to."
Silence.
"Mike, can I ask you something?"
"Yeah."
"Are you still taking your Paxil?"
Long pause.
"No, I stopped when we came back to
school."
"I'm not raggin' on ya, but could I
ask why?"
"I don't think I need it anymore."
"Do you remember the little conversation
you had with me after the Rick Scott thing, when I would hardly leave the
house without you?"
"Yes."
"You told me that I needed to talk
to someone about what had happened to me, and you did me a huge favor, Mike.
I really wasn't functioning very well, and you helped me get back on track.
I might not be back in school today if you hadn't, well, pressured me in
a very nice way to talk to a counselor. Now the shoe is on the
other foot. I don't think you're over your family's death by
a long shot, and this incident today isn't going to help. Now
I want you to talk to someone, and to start taking your medication again."
"Hey, bud, I'm not seeing it, myself.
But I don't want to be a churl about it, so if you want me to, I will."
"Outstanding! I think you'll
be glad you did. By the way, that word, 'churl.' Very nice.
You're just too literate for a jock, my man! Where'd you pick
that up?"
"Well, I'm an innocent young college
boy sitting at the feet of the wordmaster--that being yourself, of course--every
time I'm in your company. I must have picked it up by osmosis
or some such process," Mike said.
"We do what we can," Matt chortled.
"Sometimes it's an uphill battle."
"You're an uphill battle, you spaz!
What a trip you are! But I love you anyway!"
Silence.
"Mike?"
"Yeah."
"I want to apologize to you for losing
my temper and punching the wall this afternoon. That was so stupid
and uncalled for. I'm ashamed. I'll work harder on
my temper, I promise. That's not the kind of person I want to
be."
"I have to say I came down real fast."
"Well, that's not the way to handle
things. I do want to talk to you about the pot sometime, though,
but not tonight. Maybe later, 'K?"
"Yes."
"OK, then, goodnight." Matt kissed
the side of Mike's face tenderly. "Thanks for putting up with
me, dude. I thank God you're all right and you're here beside
me in this bed tonight."
"Love you."
"Love you more, more, more."
Mike just groaned in mock frustration,
and they slept hand in hand.
* * *
The next morning Matt got up later
than usual, about 8 a.m. Mike was hurting and little cranky.
Matt saw to it that Mike got to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and took
his Paxil and Tylenol. Then he put him back into bed, put fresh
ice on his leg, and fixed him his favorite breakfast--eggs over easy, home
fries, whole wheat toast with apple butter, crisp thick bacon, and orange
juice.
After showering, Matt put on a sharp,
dark blue suit with a blue and white striped shirt, a red print tie, and
shined black shoes.
"Damn, studly, you look like a model!"
Mike said. "Kickass ensemble, you know! I'd like to pinch
your tight little ass just to see you jump around a little and strike some
poses."
Matt smiled and wiggled his butt.
"Oooooo! Pinching. Now I'll be thinking about that
all day!"
"Who's first on your schedule?"
"First, I'm going to the clinic and
pick up your records, then to the campus security office to see the chief.
If I don't get any satisfaction there, I'm going to the chancellor's office."
"'Luck, dude!"
"Things are going to change, I promise
you that. Now, do you need anything before I leave?"
"No, I'm fine."
"OK, here's the TV remote.
There's a glass of water by the bed. Here's the phone, and I
have my cell phone. You call me if you need anything, and I'll
be here! All right?"
"Sure."
"I mean it, Mike."
"All right, already! I'll
call!"
"That's what I wanted to hear.
I gotta book! Stay off your leg! Love ya, bud!"
Matt leaned down and kissed Mike on the nose.
"Love ya back!"
The copies of Mike's medical records
were ready at student health, as Dr. Lucas had promised. Matt
picked them up and presented himself at the campus security office promptly
at 9:15 a.m.
When he gave the receptionist his name
and told her he wanted an appointment with the security chief that morning,
she said that the chief was booked solid all day. Matt responded
that either the chief could work him into his busy schedule that morning,
or he would take up his business with the chancellor's office.
The receptionist excused herself and went into the door marked "Chief of
Campus Security."
She returned in a minute, and said
that the chief would see him in 15 minutes. Matt took a seat
and began leafing through some magazines. When he had not been
called within 30 minutes, he stood and put on his trench coat.
The receptionist immediately picked up her phone and reminded someone that
Matt was waiting. He was ushered into the office of a man whose
expression said he didn't like being strong-armed for an appointment by a
mere student, and that he was feeling very put-upon.
"Matthew Broman, sir. I'm
a sophomore student here at this university. Thank you for seeing
me."
The man behind the desk didn't introduce
himself, offer his hand, or for that matter, ask Matt to sit down.
"What is it?" the man barked.
"Well, first of all, the courtesy of
being asked to sit down," Matt shot back.
"Sit, then. What do you
want?"
"Your name, sir, is. . .?"
"Cramer. What do you want?"
"I want to report a battery which occurred
on campus between 5:30 and 6:00 p.m. last night. A report is
already on file with the University City Police Department, but I want it
to be on file here, as well. Secondly, as a result of this battery,
which may have been a hate crime, I am requesting an immediate review of
security plans and manpower allocations for this campus with a view to increasing
the protection accorded students here."
"First of all, what do the University
City Police have to do with a crime on this campus? How did they
get involved?"
"I called them to come to the clinic
where my brother, the victim, was treated."
"On whose authority. . ."
"Chief Cramer, let's get something
straight. I am not some yokel who's going to be intimidated by
bullshit about who has what jurisdiction. I know that the City
police have full primary jurisdiction on this campus, and that your force
has concurrent jurisdiction. All I want to know now is whether
you are interested in receiving a copy of the reports already available so
that you can investigate, and secondly, whether you will entertain a review
of the security provisions on campus which allowed this crime to occur."
Cramer's face reddened.
"You punk! Get the hell out of my office!"
"With pleasure. You may want to take
a picture of this office to remember it by, because I don't think you're
going to be sitting in it much longer."
Matt stood, picked up his coat and
files, and exited while Cramer did a slow burn behind his desk.
Matt then went immediately to the chancellor's
office in the administration building, and approached the chancellor's secretary.
"Good morning, m'am. My
name is Matthew Broman, and I'm a sophomore student here at the university.
It's very important that I talk with the chancellor this morning about a
battery which was perpetrated on my brother, also a sophomore student here,
early last evening on campus."
"Do you have an appointment, Mr. Broman?"
"No, I don't. But I'm hoping
that the chancellor can work me in on an emergency basis, given the gravity
of this crime and the campus security issues it raises. There
are also some liability issues that the university may want to address early
on."
The secretary's eyes widened slightly
when she heard the word, "liability," and she asked Matt to be seated and
offered him coffee. Then she went into the chancellor's office.
She emerged a minute later, and asked,
"Mr. Broman, would you be able to return at 11 o'clock? The chancellor
would very much like to talk with you."
"Certainly. Thank the chancellor
for me, and thank you for your help and courtesy. I'll be here
at 11 o'clock."
Matt returned to the administration
building a few minutes before 11 o'clock, and was ushered into the chancellor's
office immediately.
A tall, gray-haired man arose and walked
slowly around from behind his desk, extending his hand, as Matt entered.
He had sad eyes in an animated, intelligent face.
"Don Edwards, Mr. Broman.
Please come in and sit down. May I call you Matt?" He sat
down beside Matt in front of the huge desk.
"Yes, sir, and thank you for seeing
me on such short notice. I wouldn't have been so insistent except
I think there is a violence problem developing on campus that has recently
touched me, personally, through my adoptive brother. He's a sophomore
student here as well."
"Tell me what's going on."
"My brother, Mike, who is here on a
swimming scholarship, by the way, was on his way home from swim practice
last night between 5:30 and 6 o'clock when he was set upon by three guys
in ski masks and baseball bats, and badly beaten. It wasn't a
robbery--they didn't take his money or watch. I have a copy of
his medical exam from the student clinic here for you. Detective
Ray Stans at the University City P.D. took a police report, and that report
can be obtained from him.
"This is particularly serious because
I think it was a hate crime directed at my brother because he is gay.
I need to tell you that he and I are domestic partners as well as adoptive
brothers, so I feel strongly about asking the university for a review of
campus security plans and deployments. I'm not what you'd call
a social activist, but I'm energized on this issue, for sure.
I'm asking for your help so that this kind of incident won't happen again."
"Matt, I'm very sorry and ashamed that
something like this could happen on our campus," Dr. Edwards said.
"Have you talked to campus security at all?"
"Yes, I was over there before I came
to your office earlier this morning. Chief Cramer threw me out
of his office, as a matter of fact. He wanted to discuss why
the City police were involved in taking the report rather than the campus
police, and I didn't see that as the real issue. We had a difference
of opinion."
"Just for my information, was there
a special reason Detective, uh, was it Stans, took a report?"
"Yes. I know the detective
personally. He's looking into whether there is a pattern of crimes
against gays right now, and I thought this incident might provide some additional
information for him. And, to be honest, since I knew I was going
to ask for a top to bottom review of the security apparatus, I wanted an
independent look taken at this case."
"Not a problem. Let me
make a quick call."
Edwards strode to his desk, hit the
intercom button, and asked his secretary to place a call to the vice chancellor.
Two minutes later, the phone buzzed.
"Vice Chancellor Taylor on Line 3,"
his secretary said.
Edwards picked up the phone.
"Jerry, I'm sitting with Matt Broman,
a sophomore student on our campus, who is reporting a battery on his brother,
also a student here. Last night the young man was on the way
home from swim practice and was set upon. Would you have time
to contact Chief Cramer and set up a meeting with me here in my office this
afternoon? I'd like Cramer to bring a copy of his report on the
incident,"--Edwards winked at Mike--"copies of his budget, and regular campus
deployment plans for security officers as well."
Hmmmm, it's true, Matt smiled to himself.
Shit does roll downhill.
"Good, 3 o'clock would be fine.
See you both then." Edwards hung up the telephone, and came back to
sit down beside Matt.
"Would you be able to attend this meeting
at 3 o'clock, Matt? I'm also going to invite the president of
the student senate so you and she can give us some input from the student
point of view."
"Yes, sir. I would be glad
to do that."
"Good. I'll look forward
to seeing you at 3:00, then." The chancellor stood and offered his
hand.
"I want to tell you how much I appreciate
your listening to me. I know there will be some grumbling in
the ranks before we're done," Matt said, "but I'm really really concerned
about this issue."
The chancellor smiled.
"Sometimes, Matt, we forget who our
customers are. Our customers are people like you and your brother.
We need to pay attention, don't you think?"
"Yes, sir. Forgive me for
saying that yours isn't a typical attitude for an administrator.
See you at 3:00."
Matt walked out feeling that the security
issue would indeed get a thorough review. He looked at his watch.
Almost noon. He pulled out his cell phone and called Mike.
"It's me," he said when Mike answered.
"Do you want me to bring you something for lunch?"
"Yeah, that would be great," Mike said.
"Bring me a gyros."
"A gyros! You're a gyros, you dufus.
Anyway, I obey your every command!"
"Then get home, you slacker.
I'm lonesome, and I miss you! TV really is a vast wasteland."
"On my way, and with good news!"
"Laters."
Matt stopped and picked up a gyros
and fries for Matt, and then drove home still feeling very up about the meeting
with the chancellor. Mike ate quickly while Matt filled him in
on his two meetings.
"You're such a charmer, Matt.
No wonder the chancellor couldn't resist you."
"How do you explain the chief, then?"
"His wife didn't give him any last
night, how should I know?"
"Speaking of 'any'..."
Matt lifted the sheet and saw that Mike was still naked. "I believe
I see some 'any' down there under this sheet." He stood up and took
off his clothes, neatly hanging up his suit for the 3 o'clock meeting, and
slipped into bed with Mike.
"You won't hurt me, will ya, mister?"
Mike simulated a whine.
"No intentional hurting.
But I am going to suck your dick until you implode."
"Jeez, Matt, that's really romantic!"
Mike complained.
"Can I help it if you've made me into
a horny cum slut? I used to be such a sweet, pure heterosexual
boy. I didn't have a clue how many functions the penis had until
you demonstrated the entire menu for me the first five minutes we were intimate.
You cast a spell and corrupted me."
"Shoot! You were a quick
study, for sure!"
"I learned from the master," Matt said,
flicking Mike's left nipple with his tongue several times. The
nipple engorged.
"Earth to Matt. You're
giving me wood. Don't start what you can't finish!" Mike cautioned.
" 'K, I'm on it. Literally."
Matt pushed himself down more toward
the foot of the bed, and pulled the sheet over his head. Being
careful not to lean on Mike's chest or legs, he took the head of Mike's penis
in his mouth and began circling it with his tongue. Just seconds
later, he tasted the first drop of his lover's sweet pre-cum, and heard Mike
groan.
Pulling off momentarily, Matt said,
"Bro, you are one glorious horny dawg. Tastes great, more filling!"
After thoroughly licking Mike's balls and as much between his legs as he
could reach without moving him, he went back to his labor of love, swallowing
Mike's stick whole and squeezing it in his throat. Eventually,
bobbing his head slowly and deliberately, he began patiently to coax out
the maximum in sexual pleasure for Mike. By now Mike was groaning
loudly and continuously as Matt skillfully brought him near to climax and
then eased off, again and again. After 15 minutes, Mike begged
to be allowed to come, and Matt escalated his efforts.
"I'm close, man. . . I'm sooo close.
.Get ready, here it comes. . .YES--AHHHHHHHHHHH."
Matt drew back so that just the head
of Mike's penis was in his mouth, and savored his lover's essence as he received
seven huge spurts of cum, coursing onto his tongue as he swallowed as fast
as he could. Matt tongued the last juices off of Mike's dick,
and came up for air.
Mike just lay there with his eyes closed,
as if he were dead. When he did open his eyes, they were just
slits.
"I know you don't like me to misuse
the Lord's name," Mike said, "but, OH MY GOD! You keep surprising
me, dude," he said weakly.
"See," Matt said, kissing him gently,
"Surprise keeps love fresh. And love is better in the afternoon!"
"If I ever doubt it, make yourself
available, will ya? You are incredible!"
"Well, you inspire me.
You were Cum Central today, dude."
"Don't you wanna get off, too?" Mike
asked.
"Later. For now, I just
want to lie here next to you."
Matt moved over as close to Mike as
he could without hurting him, and they dozed together for about 15 minutes.
Matt woke up, and got Mike some more
ice for his leg, and some Tylenol. Then he refilled Mike's water
glass, and lay down with him again until he had to dress for his 3 o'clock
meeting.
When he was ready to go, he kissed
Mike good-bye, and said, "I should be back about 4 o'clock. I
want to give you a shower before I head out to wrestling practice, if that's
OK. What do you want for supper, by the way?"
"You know what I have a taste for?"
Mike asked.
"Other than me, what?"
Mike smiled. "I'd really
like some of that blackened catfish and cajun rice from Houlihan's.
Would it be too much trouble to stop and get some on your way home?"
"No prob. Why don't you
call there about twenty of 4 and put in two take-out orders?"
" 'K."
"Do you need to go to the bathroom?"
Matt asked.
"No, I'm good. You better
get outta here, though, before I jump your bod! I love ya!"
"Love ya back, buddy, bigtime."
Matt kissed him again and left, clattering down the stairs to the truck.
Mike was so relaxed that the bed felt
as if he were floating on a calm sea, and he slept soundly for an hour.
At 3:40 he called Houlihan's and placed their take-out orders, and then waited
for Matt.
Matt came in about 4:15, and the aroma
of blackened catfish wafted through the apartment.
"Hey, Mike, when do you wanna eat?"
"When are you gonna eat?"
"After practice."
"I'll wait for you, then.
Why don't you put it in the oven on low to keep it warm?"
"OK."
"Now, tell me what happened at the
chancellor's office," Mike said.
Matt started his story as he went into
the kitchen.
"Good meeting, really.
Diane Shanley was there, you know, the president of the student senate.
She is very bright, and very much on board on the security issues.
I'm really impressed with the chancellor, and the vice chancellor is no slouch,
either. Cramer looked like the asshole he is once everybody saw
his deployment sheets, and how inadequate campus security really is.
I don't think he's gonna be around too long. I picked up on bad
vibes between him and the chancellor. By the way, he wasn't able
to get the a copy of the police report on your beating from Stans in time
for the meeting. Major embarrassment."
Matt came back into the bedroom from
the kitchen.
"I suggested to the group that in addition
to whatever the university can do to beef up the paid security force, that
we also create a student campus patrol. I'm not talking about
vigilantes, here, just people who would be willing to devote a couple hours
a week to watching what's going on. I also suggested that we
have plastic whistles made up for any students who want to wear them around
their necks, and that we call it the 'Whistle Me Safe' program.
They all seemed to like that idea, except for the chief, of course.
Anyway, we're all supposed to meet again in a couple weeks."
"Awesome, dude. What a
fertile mind you have!"
"Hmmmm. Speaking of fertile,
you're so fertile smelling that I think we better get you into the shower,
if you're ready. I should leave for practice in about 15."
"You're just smelling my pheromones,
horndog, and that's why you're so happy and horny all the time.
Like the young pup you are. But, yeah, let's hit it."
Matt pulled the sheet off of Mike,
and helped him up and into the bathroom. The bruise on his face
was better, but the swelling on the leg still looked angry. Matt
couldn't see Mike's scalp wound, but decided they should leave the butterfly
bandage on for another day. His rib cage was the most painful
of all when it came to moving around.
Matt stripped, opened the shower door,
turned on the water and adjusted it. They climbed in together.
"I could get used to this as a daily
routine," Mike said as they held each other.
"Me, too, at least until we got our
first public hardon in the gym shower some night when we're ogling each other.
That's generally frowned upon."
"Either that, or we'd be the most popular
guys in town!"
"Shut up, turn around, and let me wash
your back and that beautiful ass of yours. I don't know whether
to wash that ass or bite it."
"Nibbling is encouraged; biting, well,
maybe not."
Matt finished Mike's back, butt and
legs.
" 'K, now turn around and let me get
your front."
"You did my front a couple hours ago,
thank you, and your technique was great!"
"Just a portent of things to come--no
pun intended. Now shut up, I have to work fast, here."
Matt scrubbed him down, taking special
care with his rib cage and his bad leg.
"OK, we're done. I'd like
to spend the next two hours in here with you, but wrestling calls.
Step out, and let me wipe you off."
Matt toweled Mike off gently, gave
him a dose of Tylenol, and helped him back to bed.
"Thanks, Matt."
"Sure, bud, glad to do it.
Now, I gotta get dressed and outta here. You sure you don't want
to eat before I leave?""
"No, I'll wait for you.
Thanks."
Matt dried himself off, put on briefs,
Levi's and a T, and his jacket, and after kissing Mike, bounded down the
stairs and out.
Mike lay in bed thinking about Matt,
what a good person he was to him and to everyone else for that matter, what
a generous spirit he had, and yes, how physically beautiful and sexy he was.
I'm a believer, Lord, now that you've
shown me some of your best work, Mike reflected to himself.
When Matt got home from practice, they
ate and watched a little TV. They decided that since the next
day was Saturday, they would get back into their study routine on Sunday.
"You know," Matt said, "some of the
guys at practice are still giving me the fish eye. I don't know
exactly what to do about that."
"I'll tell you exactly what we're going
to do about that," Mike responded. "On Monday, we're going to ask the wrestling
coach if you can have two minutes to talk to the team before practice.
You're going to put me in a wheelchair, and take me over to the gym, and
let them see exactly what hatred can do to human beings. We're
going to tell them that our commitments to the school and to our sport are
exactly what they have always been, and that we are still members of the
human race even though we're gay. We're going to ask them to
accept us as their friends and teammates whatever their own orientation may
be. And on Tuesday, we're going to talk to the swim team and
say the same thing. No more secrets--everything's on the table.
Let's face the problem head on. I learned that from you."
"Two days ago, I wouldn't even have
considered it. Now, I think you're right. Let's do
it."
On Saturday, Matt did some grocery
shopping, rented a wheelchair for Mike, and bought plaster mix and fixed
the wall he had put his fist through.
On Sunday, he decided to go to early
mass at Canterbury Center, feeling he had a lot to be thankful for.
Mike wanted to go, too, so they threw the wheelchair in the truck, and Matt
wheeled him into church. It felt good to both of them to be there.
That afternoon, as they were talking,
Mike said, "You know, Thanksgiving's only about three weeks away.
I wanna go home, and I wanna go bad."
"Me, too. There's only
one potential problem. It could be bad for your leg for you to
sit up for that long a time, and the truck doesn't have a back seat to lie
down in."
"What if every hour or so I lean against
the door and put my leg in your lap for a few minutes? Between
that and icing it down, I should be OK. Especially in three weeks."
"That could work. Good
idea. If it's still swollen this bad, though, I'm gonna ask Dad
if we can't rent a car. I don't want to take any chances."
"Cool."
Later that afternoon, just to give
Mike a change of scenery, Matt took him downstairs, put him in the wheelchair
with the bad leg supported straight out in front of him, and wheeled him
around the neighborhood. The remnants of colorful foliage from
a brilliant fall season still graced the old university town.
It was very peaceful, and they enjoyed a great walk.
Later that night, after they were in
bed with all their needs except sex taken care of, Mike, still forced to
remain on his back, slicked down Matt's big dick with lotion, and jacked
him until he shot a foot and a half in the air. He continued
to shoot until his chest and abdomen were covered. Matt returned
the favor, being very gentle, and after they wiped themselves clean with
a hand towel, they kissed and then slept through the night like the dead.
* * *
The wrestling and swimming coaches
respectively gave the boys a couple of minutes at the start of practice on
Monday and Tuesday, and the two brief meetings went better than either of
the guys had expected. They pretty much played it as Mike had
suggested on Friday night. Without exception, the wrestlers came
up to Matt, and then to Mike, and shook hands with them. Several
of them said they appreciated the guts it took to be that honest.
There was only one guy on the swim team on Tuesday who seemed to have any
reservations about the situation, with the rest of the team members seeming
friendly. They said they wanted Mike back at practice and at the meets, and
quickly. Even the one holdout became friendlier after Mike's
friend Dan Smith had a little talk with him and the guy saw which way sentiments
were running.
From then on, Matt noticed that his
teammates, trying not to be too obvious what they were doing, casually alternated
with one another walking him out to the parking lot to his truck, or across
campus with him if he hadn't driven. When Dr. Lucas released Mike for limited
swimming practice a couple of weeks later, he experienced the same thing.
Nothing was ever said to either one of them, but the boys felt very good
about it.
Matt called Detective Stans, and suggested
that with Thanksgiving coming up fast, an appointment be set up for Mike
to be questioned about Jason Stelling's murder. To his surprise,
Stans said that they had two suspects, reputed drug dealers, already in custody,
and that they would likely be charged with the murder. Records
in Jason's room suggested he had owed them about $100,000 for heroin he was
dealing. Mike wouldn't have to undergo questioning after all.
The boys high-fived each other over that piece of good news.
The second meeting in the chancellor's
office on campus safety took place during the week before Thanksgiving.
Chief Cramer was gone, and in his place, a nice and seemingly competent older
man named Davis. The committee recommended to the chancellor
that contingency funds be used to increase the security force by 15 percent
immediately. They also recommended that 15,000 whistles be purchased
for Matt's "Whistle Me Safe" program, and that Chief Davis develop and submit
standards for training a student auxiliary patrol for campus safety.
Matt was jubilant.
The chancellor asked him to remain
behind for a minute after the meeting broke up.
"Matt, I want to thank you for stepping
up to the plate on this one. It took guts, and some vision."
He paused. "My own son was gay. He had a hard time of it growing up, and
I didn't do very many things right to make it easier for him.
He was one of the few men killed in Operation Desert Storm."
"I'm sorry, Dr. Edwards.
I didn't know." No wonder the man's eyes are sad, Matt thought to himself.
"Thank you. I hope you'll
stop by from time to time and bring me up to speed on how things are going
for you and your brother. Please. I'd like to see
you."
"I'll do that, sir." Matt offered
his hand. "You are a very special person. You handled
this issue perfectly, if I may be so presumptuous, and you're one heck of
a fine administrator. You'll probably get tired of seeing me
hanging around here."
"I doubt that. Have a great
Thanksgiving, you and your family!"
"Thank you, sir, and same to you.
See you later."
* * *
The boys had one class each on the
Monday morning before Thanksgiving, and then they were free as birds.
They packed quickly, loaded the truck, and were on the road by 11 a.m.
Mike's leg was looking much better, but they stopped and bought ice for the
ice chest before they left town. His ribs still hurt like the
devil.
They talked about their classes and
sports, and listened to some tunes.
"Matt, I was thinking we should talk
to Mom and Dad about, uh, our situation on this trip instead of waiting until
Christmas. We're sure coming clean with the rest of the world."
"I've been thinking the same thing.
Man, I dread this, though."
"I know. But we owe it
to them. And to ourselves. Let's not even think about
their reaction at this point. Sometimes people surprise you in
a good way when you're expecting the worst."
"Boy, is that the truth.
Right again, Ringo!" Matt reached over and put his big hand on Mike's
neck, and very gently swayed him back and forth. "Hey, I've got
a joke for ya!"
Mike groaned. "Oh, no.
.not one of your jokes. We're on vacation. Why
am I being punished like this?"
"No, you'll like this one!" Matt said.
"A blonde, a brunette and a redhead
enter an elevator together. As they walk in, they notice a small
puddle of white liquid on the floor of the elevator car.
"The brunette bends down for a closer
look, and says, very matter of factly, 'It looks like cum.'
"The redhead stoops down a little closer,
takes a deep breath through her nose, and proclaims, 'Yes, and it smells
like cum.'
"The blonde stoops down closer yet,
puts the tip of her finger into the puddle, touches it to her tongue, and
exclaims, 'Well, it's nobody from our building.'"
"Eeeeeewwwwww!" Mike said.
"I don't know where you hear this shit."
"Hehehe. Well, the wrestling
team has real men on it. That's where I hear this shit."
"Stop this truck right now!
I'm walking!"
Matt started singing, "O Solo Mio!"
at the top of his lungs.
"I'd rather be beaten with baseball
bats than listen to you sing. I'd rather listen to one of your
jokes, even."
"You just don't know talent when you
hear it, dude! Did I hear you say you wanna hear another joke?"
"NO!"
"Yes, I did, don't lie to your brother/lover/partner/friend,"
Matt said, obviously feeling good. "It's not nice."
"Have mercy!"
"This one is short and merciful," Matt
said. "And clean."
"A man went into a barbershop and said,
'I'm tired of looking like everyone else! I want a change! Part my hair from
ear to ear!'
"'Are you sure?'
"'Yes!' said the man.
"The barber did as he was told, and
a satisfied customer left the shop.
"Three hours passed and the man re-entered
the shop. 'Put it back the way it was,' he said.
"'What's the matter?' asked the barber.
'Are you tired of being a non-conformist already?'
"'No,' he replied, 'I'm tired of people
whispering in my nose!'"
"You are a very sick man," Mike said.
"LA LA LA LA LA," Matt sang loudly.
"I can't hear you!"
Mike reached down and turned up a Green
Day CD that was playing, and they moved their heads in time to the music.
They continued to aggravate each other the rest of the way home just to pass
the time, and finally arrived.
The front door flew open when they
pulled up, and the whole family and half the staff poured out into the driveway,
with Jeff and Martha leading the way. The elder Bromans headed
right for Mike. Jane Broman had tears in her eyes.
"My sweet Michael," she said as she
hugged him gently. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Other than
the psychic scars that come from living and traveling with Matt, I'm great."
Mr. Broman hugged Mike and kissed him
"We've been so worried about you, Mike. I was ready
to come down to school for you, you know."
"Thanks, Dad," Mike said, kissing him
back. "There wasn't much anybody could do but let me heal up.
Matt took good care of me."
"Hey, you guys, what about me?
I have a bad hangnail, and I need some comforting, too," Matt said to the
crowd.
Everybody hooted, and they all unloaded
something from the truck and went inside, Martha holding hands with Mike
and Matt.
They all ate supper, and caught up
on things. After a lazy evening swim, the boys were tired and
excused themselves to go to bed. Mrs. Brighton, the Berman's
former housekeeper, put her arm around Mike as she went upstairs with them
to see if they had everything they needed in their room. Everything
was fine, and she touched Mike's bruised face with love as she excused herself
and went downstairs.
The boys looked at each other.
"When are we gonna talk to them, and
how do you want to handle it?" Mike asked.
"I don't know. What do
you think?"
"I think we should do it tomorrow.
I don't want it hanging over our heads all the time we're here."
"OK."
"Would you have a problem if I started
with Mom," Mike asked. "I'd like to have her for an ally before
we tackle Dad."
"You want to talk to her alone, you
mean?"
"Yeah. I just have a feeling
that she and I can come to a good understanding, Matt. If you
don't want me to, though, I won't."
"No, that's cool. Take
a shot. You might wanna wait 'til she's in her studio, and go
see her there. She's always in a good mood there," Matt said.
"You know the one I'm most worried
about? Martha. How the hell are we going to explain
this to her?"
"I don't have a clue. If
you and Mom have a good talk tomorrow, ask her how she thinks we should tell
Martha. If anyone has the answer, she will."
" 'K.
"Let's keep one thing in perspective,
Mike. Coming out looms large to us right now, and we want everything
to go well, but whatever happens is a small blip on the horizon of the whole
universe. Very small. We're gonna be fine because
our happiness can't and won't depend on what anybody else thinks.
Let's remember that, too."
"You're right."
Matt took Mike's hand and walked him
over to the far wall of the bedroom, where there was a diminutive icon of
the Virgin Mary hanging on the wall with a candle holder under it.
He took a small votive candle out of a bookcase drawer, put it into a blue
votive glass, and lit it. They stood there in silence for a moment.
"Did you pray?" Matt demanded.
"Yes. I prayed for a Vehicular
'No Joke/No Singing' policy to be passed into law. The penalty
would be death."
"Do you want hard nuggies on your sore
head?"
"No. . .And I really did pray for good
things to happen in our family," Mike said.
" 'K. You wanna shower?
I'll wash your back," Matt offered. "And your butt. In fact,
I'll wash anything you want."
"I'm so ready."
"After you, Monsieur."
They showered, with Matt giving Mike
tender care, as usual. He put a fresh ice pack from the ice chest
on Mike's leg after Mike was in bed, and then climbed in himself.
They went to sleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow.
The next day would either be a coming-out
party or a wake, they just didn't know which.
Part 6
It was Tuesday before Thanksgiving,
back at home for vacation, and an unaccustomed late morning in bed for Matt
and Mike. A narrow band of sunlight lasered through the window
drapes where they weren't quite closed, and the light cut across the boys'
chests as they lay together in bed in the otherwise dark room.
Matt lay without moving and studied
Mike's form, gratified for the thousandth time by what he saw.
That handsome, fine featured face, now with a hint of morning stubble, full
lips, small ears, smooth, muscular neck, unblemished and glowing skin stretched
over the long, swimmer's muscles of his arms and torso. Six pack
abs. From the waist up, not a hair to be seen except his blond,
Marine style, high and tight haircut, a light treasure trail, and a blond
tuft under each arm.
Below the waist, the sheet covered
what Matt knew by heart. Long muscular legs, covered with blond
down, and a sandy colored bush. And a cock and balls that were
so perfect in their size, shape and texture that God could have sculpted
them Himself, personally. A God who loved generous portions,
Matt smiled to himself. Mike was hung.
They had awakened last night after
an initial hour of sleep, wanting each other. Their passion for
one another had matured over the past months. Their encounters
now transcended physical release alone and testified to a consummate joining
of heart, mind and soul which defined their relationship. And
so their lovemaking last night had been long, slow and intense.
Matt's breath momentarily caught in
his throat as he contemplated his beloved beside him, breathing slowly and
evenly in sleep.
Today was an important day for them.
Today was the day for sharing with parents and siblings the truth that they
were gay, that there would be no grandchildren to dandle upon the knee, no
nieces and nephews to indulge as they grew up. At least not by
the accustomed methods. A day for beginning the road to acceptance for all
concerned, or else the first step into an angry and despised rejection by
those closest to them. A year ago, without Mike in his life,
coming out to his family wouldn't even have occurred to Matt.
There would have been no need.
"The truth is its own reward," Matt
said to himself. Moralistic pap? No, Matt knew deep down
that it was right on the money.
Matt slipped out of bed and went into
the bathroom for a shower. He toweled off when he was finished,
and went back into the bedroom where Mike was still sleeping peacefully.
Still naked, he went over to the bed and gently lay face down right on top
of Mike, who kept his eyes closed and got a big smile on his face.
They kissed as Mike reached up and grabbed Matt's butt with both hands.
"Shawn? Shawn, is that
you?" Mike asked in a dream-like voice. His blue eyes popped
open. "Oh, Matt, it's you. Well, nice butt, anyway!"
"I'll Shawn you! You're
all butt, but I love ya." Matt nuzzled Mike's neck. "Want a nice
big hickey?"
"Wouldn't that look great for when
we talk to the family, you spaz!" Mike protested.
"Yeah, you're right," Matt said, and
licked Mike's left nipple. "We'll have to think of something
else."
"I thought I wore you out last night,
you horndog! You're like the energizer bunny with fresh batteries.
You must get inspired by all the crotches you grab in wrestling!"
"Bite your tongue! You've
been staring at those firmly packed speedos at the pool too long!"
Mike rolled them over, putting Matt
on the bottom, caressed his face and smelled his skin.
"Hmmm. You smell good,"
Mike said.
"Well, I'm not smelling you 'til you
shower! I bet you still smell like sex! Hehehe."
"Probably. You're so juicy
when you're passionate!"
"I'm juicy! When you came
last night, I thought I was in the swimming pool!"
"Nectar of the gods!" Mike said.
"That makes you a nectarine!" Matt
responded, giving Mike's chest a nip with his teeth.
"You're getting awfully personal, studly!"
"That's why I'm here, dude.
To get personal with you! It's my goal in life, my life's work!
And I will be getting personal early and often, even if I have to whup your
cute little butt once in awhile to get you to cooperate!"
"So you keep promising."
Silence.
"Today's the day, bud," Mike said,
looking into Matt's eyes. "I'm a little nervous."
"You know what we talked about, Mike.
It's time for some trust in the people we care about. They say
they love us. This is the right thing to do, and the right time
to do it. So let's not dwell on the negative."
"You're right. I know you're
right. Would you mind, though, if we lit another votive candle
and asked for a little help? For the family more than for us.
This won't be easy for them."
"Good idea." Matt rolled Mike
off of him, and they got out of bed and went over to the little icon of the
Blessed Virgin on the far wall. Matt put a candle in the blue
candle holder, and lighted it. After they prayed, Mike went to
take a shower.
A few minutes later they ate a quick
breakfast in the kitchen, and then, as the boys had planned, Mike went up
alone to their mom's jewelry design studio to talk to her first.
He knocked and went in.
The studio was huge, with floor-to-ceiling
windows with northern exposure, and a skylight as well. It was
organized chaos. There were workbenches against the windows and
the side walls, and all sorts of kilns and ovens and tools that Mike didn't
recognize scattered about. A drawing board was covered with sketches
of rings and necklaces and pins, and the top of one table was a riot of color
from precious gems of all colors, shapes and sizes.
Jane Broman shut off the acetylene
torch she was using on a piece of jewelry that was stuck into a vise, and
removed her mask. She was slim, very pretty and petite in a white
blouse and light brown slacks, and not a hair was out of place.
Classy. She gave Mike a big smile.
"Mike, come in, dear. I'm
glad you came. I've been wanting to show you where I work for
a long time."
"Hi, Mom. Are you sure
I'm not disturbing you?" Mike hugged and kissed her.
"No, I'm so pleased to see you.
I never get to spend enough time with you. Let's sit down.
Would you like some coffee or tea?"
"Coffee sounds good if it's not too
much trouble."
Mrs. Broman picked up the acetylene
torch, fired it up, and held it under a beat up old pan full of coffee.
It was steaming in about ten seconds.
"As you can see," she said, "we have
all the amenities here."
Mike chuckled. "It smells
good."
Mrs. Broman poured two cups and they
sat down at a rickety old table.
"This was my first kitchen table after
your dad and I were married. It's seen better days, but I can't
bear to throw it out."
"I wouldn't. It's still
serving a purpose, and it must hold a lot of memories," Mike said.
"Yes, it does. We struggled
financially at first, but they were good times. The Bromans always
had money, but you know your dad. He always wanted to make it
on his own. My family had money, too, but he wouldn't let me
take anything from them, either."
"Well, that idea took some getting
used to for me, but now I think it's the best way to get a grip on real life,
don't you?"
"Yes, I do," Mrs. Broman said.
"I hope you know, though, that if you ever really need anything, Mike, it's
yours. We're not trying to make life difficult for you kids by
keeping you on an allowance."
"I know. I don't even want
to think about where I would be today without this family. Alone,
and miserable, I'm sure, and ruining my life with too much money and a lot
of poor judgment. A bad combination. You're my anchor.
I love you all so much, and I'm so grateful for everything you've done for
me. But I need to--" Mike stopped and cleared his throat--"I
need to tell you something that will probably upset you, I'm afraid, and
I hate doing it."
"Nothing you tell me is going to change
how we feel about you, Mike. So let's have it!"
"Mom. . ."
Silence
"Mom, Matt and I love each other, and
we are a couple." The words flew out, quickly, under pressure.
Mrs. Broman lowered her gaze and traced
lines in the dust on the table with her finger. Then she looked
back up into Mike's face.
"When?"
Mike was nervous and talked fast.
"Matt told me how he felt about our
relationship when we went up to the cottage at the lake, just before we went
back to school this year. We never had sex before that.
I had told him my feelings for him last year, and wanted to move out of our
dorm room then because I thought he would be uncomfortable living with a
gay person. But he didn't want me to."
Silence.
"Mom, the reason this is so hard for
me to tell you is that I didn't want you to think I'm a sexual predator who
set out from 'day one' to get Matt. I've been afraid you'd think
I corrupted him and made him gay. I never thought there was the
remotest possibility that he could respond to me in a physical relationship
until we talked at the lake. I knew that's what I wanted, but
I didn't think there was a chance. I know now he loves me deeply
and completely, and I certainly feel that way about him."
"Mike, you didn't corrupt Matt.
Let me tell you some things about Matt that you may or may not know.
First of all, Matt is one of the strongest-willed people you will ever meet.
He is a wonderful young man, but he was far from being easy to raise.
You have no idea the number of clashes his father and I have had with him
over the years over a variety of issues, including sex. He's
been sexually active since he was a freshman in high school.
That's when I began to find the occasional condom on his dresser after date-night.
He was bound and determined to marry a girl he was dating when he was a sophomore
in high school. Nothing we could say would dissuade him.
Finally, we packed him up that summer and sent him off to a Franciscan friary
on Long Island. Along with being sexually active, Matt's always
been the most religious of my children, and he listened to the brothers with
respect. They gave him a sense of perspective on the marriage
issue that we couldn't. I thought he might even be a priest some
day. Anyway, he didn't get married."
"Wow!" Mike said.
"Matt is, for want of a better word,
willful! There is nothing you could have done to get him into
a gay relationship with you if it weren't something he was comfortable with
and wanted to do. He knows his own mind, and for the most part,
he does exactly as he wants to do. He must really love you.
So let yourself off the hook on the 'undue influence' issue, please.
"Along with being very strong willed,"
she continued, "I'm sure you know by now that Matt has one of the biggest
hearts on this planet. Every stray dog and cat that came to the
back door for a handout when he was growing up ended up with a place to live.
And as far as the human race is concerned, he has always stood up for the
underdog and the outcast. He would never let his friends, mostly
the strong and the popular kids, abuse kids on the bottom of the social ladder
when he was around. I know that to be true because I've heard
it from so many different people. He just has a kindness and
goodness about him that is very unusual at his age. He is a very
loving person, and I admire him so much, I can't tell you. I
wish his father and I could take credit for it all, but we can't.
"I'm not saying that I'm thrilled about
you two," she said. "I know the kind of barriers our society is going to
throw up against you because you're homosexuals, and how much harder it's
going to be to meet your personal and professional goals. I guess
things are improving to some degree out there for gays, but chances are you're
going to have to work a lot harder to do what you want to do than anybody
else. It's not right, but that's the way it is.
"Personally, I don't care what anybody
else thinks about this situation," she said. "My pride isn't an issue.
I don't feel the need to apologize to anyone about your relationship.
When you have as much money as we have, and for that matter, as you have,
you set your own standards and don't worry about other people's problems
with it. We have that luxury. But even if we didn't
have a dime, I'd just want you both to be happy, and respectful of one another,
and enjoy the love you feel for each other, because the world can be an ugly
and disheartening place for any couple, gay or straight. It's
always been the lovers against the haters, kid. I'm your mother,
not your judge, and I love you both. I always will."
"You blow me away, Mom.
Aren't you even a little disappointed about not getting grandchildren?"
"What if Matt married the most beautiful
girl in the world and she made him unhappy, or even if she made him happy,
they couldn't have children? Would I have to fix that?
Should I try to make you two do what I want? I won't be able
to pick Jeff's and Martha's spouses. Should I have special rights
when it comes to you and Matt?"
"You're just so rational about this.
It's such a gut issue for a lot of people, parents especially."
"Mike, I love you both, and you love
each other. Is there something else to be considered?"
"No, I guess not. How did
I luck out and get you for my mom?"
Mrs. Broman laughed. "Oh,
I have my moments, I guess."
"I wanted to talk to you before we
discussed it with anyone else. How do you think we should approach
this with Dad and Martha? Matt told Jeff last fall."
"What did Jeff say?"
"Matt told me Jeff was cool with it.
Jeff and I have never talked about it."
"I am a little concerned about Martha,"
Mrs. Broman said, "but not for the reasons you might think. She's
a very tolerant and easy-going person, so I doubt if she has any special
animus toward gays. But she has romantic ideas about you, Mike,
if you didn't know, and I'm not sure how your news is going to affect her."
"I didn't know that. Now
I'm really worried."
"Would you like me to talk to her?"
"It might make things easier," Mike
said, "but I feel as if we're asking you to do our dirty work for us.
It's asking a lot."
"Martha and I have a special rapport.
I think I can help her understand. But I won't talk to her about it unless
you want me to," Mrs. Broman said.
"Well, give it a shot, then.
I really appreciate this. I hate hurting her. It's
gonna be a real downer for me if she can't accept Matt and me as partners."
"OK, I'll talk to her today."
"What about Dad? Any advice?"
Mike asked.
"Just tell him what you told me, no
embellishments, no evasions. I'd be lying, though, if I told
you I know exactly what his reaction is going to be."
"Please don't be disappointed in us,
Mom."
"Mike, if every mother had sons as
fine and strong and good as you two are, this would be a happier world.
Nothing's going to change my mind about that!"
"Mom, I love you with all my heart.
And I'm so grateful to you. Thank you for being the person you
are."
They stood and held each other, in
silence, and when they stepped back, they both had tears in their eyes.
Mike kissed her cheek, and left without another word.
Mike went back to his and Matt's bedroom,
and found Matt lying on the couch, watching TV. Matt sat up,
looking worried.
"Well?"
"Mom is one fantastic woman," Mike
said. "She's awesome. How could she have given birth
to a skag like you? There must have been a mix-up at birth."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What
did she say?"
"She's cool with it. And
she offered to talk to Martha about us, so I took her up on it."
The boys high-fived.
"That's just leaves Dad," Matt
said. "Tonight after dinner?"
" K."
"Ya wanna go for a swim?"
"Yeppers. Sounds good,"
Mike said. "You hafta swim naked, though."
"Why?"
"Hehehe. I want instant
access to your moving parts, that's why! And I wanna watch your
cute little butt as you struggle to stay afloat."
"You horndog," Matt said.
"You have such a one track mind!"
"Yeah. Ain't cha glad?"
"Yeppers." Matt grabbed him and
gave him a kiss.
They changed into their suits, and
went down to the pool. Matt swam a few laps with Mike, and then
sat on the edge of the pool and watched Mike do lap after lap, seemingly
without effort. Mike was truly in his element, his arms and legs
moving rhythmically, his body cutting through the water with little resistance.
Poetry in motion, Matt thought to himself.
After awhile Matt slid into the water,
and intercepted Mike in the middle of the pool.
"Hey, maybe you've done enough.
Your leg might swell if you overdo it," Matt said.
Mike grabbed him and pulled him underwater.
Matt struggled, and suddenly went limp. Alarmed, Mike pulled
him to the surface, where Matt came to life and took Mike down and held him
under. They both came up laughing and sputtering.
"You are so devious!" Mike said.
"I don't know why I take pity on you."
"I learned all my tricks from you,
bud! In the water and in bed!"
"If there's a liars' corner in hell,
you'll be elected their leader."
They climbed out of the pool and went
upstairs to their bedroom. After showering together with lots
of horseplay, they dressed, and lay down on the couch to watch TV, Mike spooning
Matt to his chest. They napped in that position off and on until
it was time for dinner.
Everyone seemed to be in a good mood
at the dinner table. Mr. Broman told a couple of clean jokes,
Jeff talked about school and sports, and Martha chatted, but was giving Matt
and Mike curious looks. The boys assumed Mrs. Broman had kept
her word and filled Martha in on their relationship.
After supper, Matt said, "Dad, could
Mike and I talk to you for a few minutes in private?"
"This won't give me indigestion, will
it?" Mr. Broman smiled as they stood up from the table.
"We have the Tums ready," Mike said.
Mrs. Broman gave Mike a surreptitious
"thumbs up" and a smile as they left the dining room and went into the library,
sinking down in overstuffed chairs in front of the fire.
"Mike, are you pretty well healed up?"
Mr. Broman asked. "How're the leg and the ribs?"
"I'm good. The ribs still
give me a twinge every now and then, but nothing too bad. The
legs swells a little if I stand too long or exert myself too much in the
pool, but other than that, I'm in good shape."
"Did they ever catch the guys who did
it?"
"No. They wore ski masks,
and I was too busy covering up to get a good look at their clothes or anything."
"Matt, I understand you got some changes
made in campus policing practices," Mr. Broman said.
"Yes. The chancellor is
a wonderful guy, and we actually got a new chief of campus security out of
the deal. And a lot of volunteers for a campus watch and escort
system, so things really worked out well. I think everybody feels
a little safer, even the guys."
"I'm old fashioned, but that's the
kind of responsibility we need to take for our community, wherever we are,"
Mr. Broman commented. "That's leadership."
"Yes, sir." Matt agreed.
"Now, what's on your mind?" Mr.
Broman looked over his glasses at his two sons.
"Dad," Matt said, "this is very hard
for us to tell you, and it's going to be hard for you to hear."
Matt paused. "I've known
for a long time that Mike told you he is gay when he first became a part
of this family."
"Yes, he did. And your
mother and I appreciated his candor," Mr. Broman said.
"And you know that Mike and I have
been best friends and like brothers for two years now, even before you adopted
him. But our relationship, since this fall, has deepened to the
point that we are real partners now, including sexually. I realized
this fall, whatever classifications you use to describe my orientation, that
I love Mike deeply and completely, and he loves me the same way.
I guess I'm gay, Dad. We are a gay couple."
Mr. Broman put his hand to his forehead,
and was silent.
"Give me a minute," he said.
His eyes looked damp behind his glasses.
"I'll have to say I'm surprised, Matt,"
he said finally. "Given your track record with women, that's
the last thing I expected to hear."
"I know. But my relationship
with Mike is the best and most fulfilling relationship I have ever been in
with any human being. It feels right to us."
"Mike?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Are you sure about this?"
"Dad, I've always known I've loved
everything about Matt, including that he is a man. But I never
thought there was a chance that he ever would or could reciprocate with the
same feelings. Last fall, at the cottage, he told me he felt
the same way I do. The only thought that's been nagging at me
all during this new phase of our relationship is that you and Mom would feel
I preyed on him and made him gay."
"From what little I know about orientation
and gender, it doesn't happen like that. Science says that orientation
isn't shaped so easily or quickly that your two years together would do it,"
Mr. Broman said. "So don't think I'm blaming you for this, Mike.
But it's going to take some getting used to."
Silence.
"Do you know what grief is?" Mr. Broman
asked Matt. "I know Mike does."
"Sure," Matt said. "The
feeling you have when someone dies."
"Yes. Or when our ideal
mental image of someone dies. But it isn't just loss of people
or our ideas about them that we grieve. We can grieve almost
anything we perceive as negative. We grieve sometimes when we
fail to achieve an important task, we grieve the failure to attain our dreams,
we grieve loss of health, we grieve loss of wealth, we grieve the loss of
relationships. We can grieve a change in our sense of self.
We can grieve the loss of anything we prize when it's taken away.
And if we allow it to, grief can destroy us, inch by inch, until there is
nothing left but a bitter shell. Every joy in life can become
ashes when grief defines us. And most of mankind is deeply grieving
one thing or another, and suffering because of it. Unfortunately,
people get stuck in the grief process, and never make it back on track to
enjoy life.
"This partnership isn't what I would
have chosen for you, but the fact that you are a gay couple is not the worst
news I've ever heard in my life. I admit I'm grieving the loss
of my dream for you, Matt, that you would marry and have a family.
At the same time, I know that what is far more important for all of us is
the relationship of love that this family has. That's what has
to be maintained.
"So, please be patient with me.
I'll work through my sense of loss, and I don't want you to think that I
love either one of you any the less because of what you've told me.
I need to remember that this isn't about me, after all. I'm proud
of you for what you have each achieved so far in your lives, and I'll continue
to be proud of you. Coming to terms with this will be easier
for me because I know that you truly love each other. A lot of
heterosexuals should be as lucky as you two are in that respect, as lucky
as your mother and I have been."
Mike sat there stunned by the magnanimity
of what he was hearing. Matt reached over and took his father's
hand.
"I've always known you were a great
man," he said softly, "but never more than today. I love you,
Dad, and so does Mike."
"I know. You have a hard
road ahead, but I'm here for you when you need me." He cleared his
throat. "Now, what I need is a good, stiff drink!" He walked
over to the drink table. "Have you told your mother?"
"Yes, sir, I told her this morning,"
Mike said.
"Is she all right with it?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Good. What about Jeff
and Martha? Do they know?"
"Yes, they both know," Matt said.
"Jeff is OK with it, I'm not sure about Martha."
"Well, we'll all work through it.
Thank you both for not trying to live a lie for us. As hard as
knowing the truth is, living a lie is always a prescription for disaster,"
Mr. Broman said. "For everybody concerned."
There was a knock at the door, and
Mrs. Broman poked her head in.
"Hi, may I join you?"
"Come in, dear," Mr. Broman said.
"We've had our talk."
She came in and put her arms around
her husband, and kissed him.
"Thank you, Mom and Dad, for being
such incredible people. We're very grateful," Mike said.
The boys kissed them both, and went
up to their room. They shut the door, and just stood there holding
each other without a word for a long time. Their relief was palpable.
When they broke apart, Mike said, "I'm
so keyed up. I really need something to do. Something
useful, preferably."
He was lost in thought for a minute.
"Why don't you let me give you a haircut? You're looking a little
shaggy."
"Why do you want to do that?
You have a new fetish?" Matt asked.
"Honestly?"
"Yeah."
"I want to do something nice for you,
and I need to touch you. So. . ."
"You wouldn't do anything crazy with
the clippers, would you?" Matt asked.
"You mean other than carve my initials
in your scalp? Our initials, actually. No."
"Well, OK, then, but there will be
heavy retribution if you do something bad!" Matt promised.
"Understood."
Mike took a wooden chair into the bathroom
while Matt took off his shirt and undershirt, and put on a white T.
"You sure you're not planning something,
here?" Matt asked as he went into the bathroom and sat down.
"Rest easy, big fella.
Close your eyes, and t-r-u-s-t me!" Mike said as he got the clippers,
scissors and comb out of a drawer, and put a towel around Matt's neck.
"Trust is the last thing on my mind
right now. I know you too well. I'm watching you
every step of the way!" Matt said.
"Hmmm. I love tools," Mike
said, turning on the clippers.
"You are a tool," Matt responded.
"Insults won't affect the quality of
my work," sniffed Mike, "as you'll see." He added an adapter to the
clippers so they wouldn't cut too close. "This is such an easy
job, I could do it with my eyes closed. And maybe I will."
"If you so much as blink, I'm outta
here!"
"Relax. This is just a
plain old burr haircut, not exactly a stylistic challenge like a high and
tight, you know what I mean? Satisfaction guaranteed!"
" K."
Mike ran the clippers smoothly across
Matt's head as the brown hair began tumbling on to the towel and the floor.
Matt watched with approval as Mike gave him a good haircut, removing the
hair low on his neck, and gave him a nice even hairline on the back of his
head.
"Not bad for a swimmer," Matt allowed
when Mike was finished.
There was a knock on the bedroom door,
and someone came in.
"In here," Mike yelled.
Jeff came into the bathroom, and took
in the scene.
"Kickass trim!" Jeff exclaimed, looking
at Matt's head. "Will you give me one?"
"See, Jeff recognizes quality when
he sees it," Mike chortled. "Unlike some others.
Jeff, let me brush your brother off, and you're the next victim, er, customer."
"Cool," Jeff said, and took off his
shirt. Mike looked appreciatively at Jeff's torso--not as beefy
as Matt's, but somewhat more defined than his own.
"Looking good, bro!" Mike said to Jeff.
"Thanks," Jeff said. "I've been working
out three times a week."
"It shows," Matt said.
"You can't take me yet, though."
"You wanna try me," Jeff said, giving
Matt a light slap to the side of the head.
Matt sighed deeply. "What
is it with this younger generation? They all seem to have a death
wish."
Matt got up and went to get another
chair, while Jeff took his place in the chair in front of the mirror.
"Now, Jeff, what's your pleasure?"
Mike asked.
"Give me a twin of Matt's 'do."
"You got it. Where do you
want your initials?"
"Forget it! I can probably
take you if you mess up," Jeff said, looking at Mike's biceps.
"Maybe."
"Not to worry, my man.
I'll do my usual professional job."
Matt brought his chair into the bathroom,
and plopped down in it.
"Jeff, have you decided where you're
going to school next year?" Matt asked.
"Well, I've applied to several places,
but I'd really like to come your direction if the university gives me a thumbs
up."
"That would be great," Mike said.
"How are your grades?"
"Good," Jeff answered.
"Good! They're outstanding!"
Matt said. "Don't be so modest. You can have your
pick of schools, and you know it."
Jeff blushed. "Yeah, I
guess."
"Listen, Jeff, if you do come to the
university, why don't you live with Matt and me? We have that
extra bedroom," Mike said. "Wouldn't that be OK with you, Matt?"
"Absolutely. That would
be cool."
"Wow!" Jeff said. "That's
a really nice offer. I'd really like that."
"'Course, you gotta be our slave the
first year," Matt said.
"That wouldn't be much of a change,"
Jeff smirked.
"Do you think you'll get a scholarship?"
Mike asked.
"I concentrated on baseball this year,"
Jeff said, "so I applied for a baseball scholarship at all the schools.
But I also applied for an academic scholarship, so we'll see what happens."
"You know you're a shoo-in for one
or the other at the university," Matt said. "So start planning
now to move in with us."
"Well," Jeff said with mock uncertainty,
"is your personal hygiene good?"
"Mine's great," Matt said.
"Mike's? Well, so-so. Sometimes his armpits get a
little ripe."
"Just reverse that, Jeff," Mike responded.
"Matt wins all his matches by smelling so bad his opponents forfeit."
They continued to bicker until Mike
finished Jeff's hair.
"I gotta book, guys. Big
date," Jeff said.
"Who is she?" Matt demanded.
"Marlee Anderson," Jeff answered.
"Ooooo, cute!" Matt said.
"Do you have protection?"
Jeff's face reddened. "Shut
up, Matt!"
" K. Have a good time,"
Matt said.
"Thanks for the haircut, Mike.
Nice job. I appreciate it."
"'Welcome, bro. Anytime.
And you remember our offer," Mike said.
"Yeppers," Jeff said, and he was gone.
"Man, is he a great kid!" Mike said
of Jeff. "If I didn't have you like an albatross around my neck,
I could fall for him."
"Count your blessings, dufus!
And keep your horny paws off our little brother!"
After sweeping up the hair clippings
in the bathroom, they went to watch TV, and snuggled together on the couch
until bedtime.
* * *
The next morning was bright and cool,
but as the temperature rose, Matt and Mike decided to fire up Mike's bike
and take a ride.
The country roads were quiet the day
before Thanksgiving, and first Mike, and then Matt, got to open the CBR 900RR
up on the straight-aways, and felt their tensions melt away.
Several hours flew by with the miles.
On the way back, they stopped at a
mall with a movie complex, and as they were walking past the theaters, somebody
stopped them to ask if they wanted to watch a pre-pre-showing of a film called
Magnolia in return for answering a questionnaire about the movie afterward.
They agreed. They hated it most of the way through until things
began to come together at the end, and then they loved it. The
questionnaire got positive responses from them. They borrowed
one of Tom Cruise's lines from the movie, and kept telling each other, "Respect
the cock! Tame the cunt!" and laughing uproariously.
Closer to home, they stopped at a florist
and bought their mother a bouquet of roses, wrapping it carefully and riding
slowly the rest of the way back to keep it intact.
Once home, they got Jeff and Martha
to toss a frisbee around with them on the back lawn for awhile, and then
they all took a swim and worked out on the exercise machines at pool side.
Martha seemed friendly but reserved. Mike resolved to spend some
time alone with her before he and Matt left for school to find out how she
was taking the news.
After a light supper in prospect of
a huge Thanksgiving meal the next day, Matt and Jeff informally teamed up
against Mike and Martha in a game of monopoly in the library while Mr. and
Mrs. Broman read and enjoyed their children's company. It was a see-saw
battle all the way, but Mike and Martha definitely had the edge in money
and property when they called it quits about 10 o'clock.
"We're going to mass at 10 o'clock
tomorrow morning," Mrs. Broman announced as they folded up the monopoly board.
The kids all nodded, and kissed their
parents good night.
Back in their room, Mike surprised
Matt by putting his arms around him, and saying, "Matt, I want you to know
how much I love you. Tomorrow is a real Thanksgiving for me."
Matt looked into his eyes, brown into
blue.
"You mean more to me than anything,
Mike. We're so blessed to share what we do with each other.
What a privilege to be able to say that to you with no hesitation or reservation!
And not to have to hide it from anyone else anymore, either.
I'm the luckiest human being in the world."
They undressed each another, and took
to the bed to make sweet love.
* * *
The service at Old St. Paul's was a
low mass with hymns. Matt and Mike offered their special thanksgiving
for each other and for the love and understanding of their family.
Mike also prayed for his blood family,
and lit a votive candle for them after the service. He was perfectly
content now, but couldn't help wondering what his life would be like if his
parents and brother and sister and grandmother had not perished.
On the way home in the car, Mike suggested
that the whole family, along with Grandma Hagerty, Uncle Jack and Aunt Judy,
spend the Christmas holidays in South Beach at Mike's condo.
He told them it would mean a lot to him if he could repay all their kindness
to him in some small measure. Mr. Broman said he and Mrs. Broman
would talk it over, but that it sounded like a nice change of pace.
Mike figured that with a six bedroom condo, there would be plenty of room.
When they returned from church, Mrs.
Broman went into the kitchen to see how dinner was progressing, and Mr. Broman
and the kids went into the library, everyone's favorite room.
Dinner would be served at 2:00.
Mr. Broman offered Matt and Mike a
glass of wine. When Jeff asked if he could have one, too, Mr.
Broman said he could.
"Boy, it sure pays not to be the firstborn,"
Matt laughed. "You didn't let me have wine when I was in high
school!"
"Well, Jeff is very mature and responsible,"
Mr. Broman said. "Unlike others were at his age."
Jeff gave Matt the finger and a triumphant
look when his dad wasn't looking.
"Martha, what can I get you, dear?"
Mr. Broman asked.
"How about some cranberry juice, if
you have some," she said.
"Coming right up."
Mike took the opportunity to sit next
to Martha on one of the couches.
"Mart, I've been wanting to talk to
you," Mike said.
"Yeah, we don't get to see too much
of each other," Martha responded.
"Did Mom talk to you about Matt and
me?"
"Yes. I was surprised,
but I wasn't," she said. "You two have been through so much together
and it's made you close."
"That's true. Are you OK
with our relationship? It's a little unusual."
"I think so. I don't completely understand
it, but I care about both of you. If this is right for you both, it's fine
with me."
"That means so much to me." Mike
put his arms around her and kissed her. "I love ya, Mart."
"Same here, Mike. I wanted
you for myself, but Matt got there first. What a rat he is!"
"That's so true!" They both laughed.
"Is there anyone special in your life?"
Mike asked.
"No, not really. I haven't
done any serious dating yet."
"Well, there's time enough for that.
You're a beautiful girl, and you'll be a beautiful woman. You look
just like Mom. And that's hot, believe me. By the
way, I get approval of the lucky guy when the time comes. I'm gonna grill
him 'til I'm sure he's fit to be in your company. Many will undoubtedly
fail!"
"Yeah, right!" Martha laughed.
They went on to talk about their experiences
in school, and the time flew by. Matt and Jeff joined them, and
before they knew it, it was time for dinner.
The table was beautifully decorated
for the holiday, and was laden with a golden brown turkey and all the trimmings.
The candles flickered as they joined hands and Mr. Broman returned thanks
for a loving family and for the food they were about to eat.
Mr. Broman seated his wife, Matt seated Martha, and they dug in after pouring
more wine. Everything was delicious, and the three boys ate like
there were no tomorrow.
The remainder of Matt and Mike's vacation
was relaxed and carefree now that their major worry of coming out was behind
them. The day to return to school inevitably rolled around.
They packed up the truck, and the family came out to say goodbye.
Mike made sure he expressed his and Matt's special thanks to each of them
for their understanding and kindness as they prepared to go.
As they were pulling away, Mr. Broman stopped them, and told Mike that the
family wanted to take him up on his offer to go to South Beach for Christmas,
which pleased Mike immensely.
"If its too late to fly commercial,
we'll get Uncle Jack's company plane," Mr. Broman told them as they drove
out of the driveway.
Once on the interstate, with Matt driving,
they sang along with the CD player and talked more about how good it felt
to be out to everyone that counted in their lives.
"Hey, I have a story for ya!" Matt
eventually said with enthusiasm.
"I think they passed that no-singing/no-joke
law I prayed for, death penalty and all. You don't want to be
strapped to a gurney with that special sauce flowing into your arm, do ya?"
"No, you'll like this story, particularly
since you mentioned the death penalty."
"Do I have a choice?"
"No.
"Three guys go to the Amazon on a vacation.
While there they get lost, and are captured by a tribe of bad-ass natives.
They are taken into the deepest, darkest part of the jungle and tied onto
poles in a clearing.
"After night falls and a huge bonfire
is blazing, all the tribe members assemble and began chanting and making
merry in anticipation of a great evening's fun at the expense of the three
vacationers.
"Suddenly, a hush falls over the crowd
- the Chief has arrived! He goes over to the first guy tied to
a pole and asks, 'DEATH, or Uga Buga?'
The guy, not knowing what it is, answers that he'll take the Uga Buga.
The crowd breaks into an uproar!! Eight of the biggest, strongest
and most virile savages step out of the crowd, free the guy from his pole,
bend him over a log and sodomize him for 30 minutes. The crowd
is elated!
"The King walks over to the second
guy, and asks 'DEATH or Uga Buga?' The second guy looks at the first guy,
still gasping for breath and writhing on the ground, and swallows hard.
He thinks to himself, 'I don't know if I can take that or not, but I'm too
young to die.' He also chooses Uga Buga! Again, the crowd erupts in
glee. Eight more savages emerge from the crowd, take the second
guy off his pole, and sodomize him for 45 minutes!!
"The third guy is in a real sweat!!
The king approaches him and asks 'DEATH or Uga Buga?' The third guy
looks over at the first two guys. It's not a pretty sight. He
swallows hard and answers 'DEATH!' The Chief is astounded!
With a puzzled look he replies, 'OK, DEATH! DEATH BY UGA BUGA!'"
Mike coughed to stifle a laugh.
"You need some Uga Buga," he said.
"I thought you'd really appreciate
that story 'cause you're a swimmer. I hear all kinds of strange
things go down in the pool locker room after practice," Matt said.
"Yeah, we swim, we shower, we get dressed,
we leave. Not like you oversexed apes in the wrestling locker
room. Anything can happen over there, and usually does.
At least that's the rumor."
"Now I'm feeling negative vibes in
this truck! And negative vibes make me want to SING!
How about a little Right Said Fred? I know all the words, by
the way." And he started crooning, "I'm too sexy for my shirt. . ."
"Noooo! I loved your story!
It was the best I ever heard!" Mike said pleadingly. "Please
stop! It's against the Geneva Convention."
"I just don't understand why you don't
like my singing," Matt said. "I have a trained voice, you know."
"I've heard better singing in the dingo
house at the zoo," Mike responded. "Did they train you?"
"I'm too sexy for my hat, too sexy
for my hat, whatcha think about that?" Matt resumed singing.
"Slow down, there's a semi coming,"
Mike said. "I wanna hurl myself out on the highway.
If I'm lucky, it'll hit me."
"All right, I'll stop singing, but
it will cost you another story."
"Anything, but no more singing!!"
"OK, then. Two gay guys
decide to have a baby. They mix their sperm, then have a surrogate
mother artificially
inseminated. When the baby's born, they rush to the hospital.
"Two dozen babies are on the ward,
23 of whom are crying and screaming. One, over in the corner,
is smiling serenely.
A nurse comes by, and to the gays' delight, she points out the happy child
as theirs.
"'Isn't it wonderful?' one of the guys
exclaims. 'All these unhappy children, and ours is so happy.'
"The nurse says, 'He's happy now ...
but just wait until we take the pacifier out of his ass.'"
Mike again stifled a laugh.
"I'm reporting you to the Gay-Straight
Alliance the minute we get back to school," he said.
"Oh, oh, I'm feeling a negative vibe,
here! You know what that means!"
"Noooo! It was a really
cool story. I'm laughing on the inside!"
"I sincerely hope so. By
the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging me to sing and tell you stories."
"Now that's hilarious!" Mike snorted.
"You're no fun! Turn up
the CD!"
They continued their verbal jousting
all the way back to school, and loved it.
* * *
The next few weeks before Christmas
passed at blinding speed, as the boys concentrated on studying for finals
and each maintaining his competitive edge in his sport. Relationships
with their respective teammates continued to be good, and Matt and Mike felt
that they had chosen the right path in coming out to everybody who mattered
to them, especially their family. They felt completely at peace
with who they were now, with no secrets hanging over their heads.
Matt was really pumped when he heard
that he had been selected to represent the university in an invitation-only
Pan American wrestling meet in Mexico City during the second week in January.
Mike was really pleased to see Matt getting some recognition for his phenomenal
record--one loss in two years.
Their dad called them to say that he
wasn't able to get satisfactory plane reservations for everybody from home
to Miami International before Christmas, so their Uncle Jack's company plane
would take the rest of the family to Florida first, and then come back to
University City to pick them up and bring them down after their finals were
over.
"Bro," Mike said, "this is the first
'rich man' thing we've ever done. This is kickass!"
"You don't know how surprised I am
at Dad, laying out the cash for this. We've never done anything
like this in our lives," Matt said. "I'm so jazzed I can't stand
it! I can't wait to get there and catch some rays!"
They started counting down the days
and the hours before vacation.
A week before they were to leave for
Florida, Mike called Jeff Miller, the lawyer Matt's dad had retained when
Matt and Mike were under suspicion in Jason Stelling's murder, and went to
his office to make a will. Upon Mike's death, half his money
would go to Matt. The other half of his estate was to be divided
equally among Mr. and Mrs. Broman and Jeff and Martha, less $100 thousand
each to PFLAG and the Gay-Straight Alliance, and $100 thousand to Mrs. Brighton,
the Berman's former housekeeper. Should any of the named parties
pre-decease Mike, the money would be divided equally among the other parties
still living. Mike felt at more at ease about the trip once the
will was signed, witnessed, and filed, and a copy sent to Mr. Broman.
As always, the boys felt that they
had acquitted themselves well on their finals. After the last
test, they packed quickly so they would be ready when their Uncle Jack's
pilot called from the airport. Mike arranged for one of his swimming
buddies, Mark Epps, to drive them out to the airport the next day, and told
Mark he could use the truck while he and Matt were gone.
A shiny, new 8 passenger Learjet 31A
was sitting at off to one side when the boys arrived at the airport, and
after Mark dropped them off, they walked their bags out to the plane and
got on board. A cute female attendant greeted them and stowed
their luggage. Every inch of the cabin bespoke luxurious good
taste. The pilot came and greeted them, and after they had conversed
with him for a few minutes, they sat down in plush seats and strapped themselves
in. The pilot went back to the cockpit, and they heard the engines
wind up and begin a gentle roar. In a few minutes they taxied
out on to the runway, and then were airborne.
They reached cruising altitude, and
the seat belt sign went off. They loosened their belts, and sat
looking around. The attendant asked if they would like soft drinks,
and they asked for a couple of root beers. When she brought them,
Mike looked over at Matt.
"SoBe, here we come! I
can't wait to see some of the resident super studs struttin' around, showing
their wares!" Mike said.
"Oh, didn't I tell you, you're not
allowed to look at the merchandise down there. I bought you a
pair of opaque sunglasses to protect your eyes from the sun and the sight
of all those beautiful men," Matt said. "I don't want you to rev your engine
and bust something!"
Mike just snorted, and turned serious
as he looked around the cabin.
"What's wrong with this picture?" he
asked.
"Whaddaya mean?"
"I'm loving every minute of this trip,"
Mike said, "but what a waste of fuel just to haul our two sorry asses down
to Florida. If I'd talked to the family earlier about this vacation,
we could have flown commercial."
"I know. But flying private
is something everybody should do once in his life, so let's just enjoy it!
We'll plan better next time," Matt said.
"Yeppers, you're right.
And speaking of a plan, now that I'm thinking about it, and I'm always thinking
about it, ya wanna join the 'mile high club?'" Mike whispered with a leer.
"Can we both fit in the bathroom?"
Matt asked.
"I don't think so. Your
butt is too big," Mike said. "And if you cut one of your humongous
farts in that confined space, we'd both die instantly! It might
even kill the crew!"
"You're the only fart on this plane
anybody has to worry about."
The pilot joined them just then to
say that their travel time would be a little over two hours, and to ask them
if they wanted to see the cockpit. They went forward, and saw
a smaller version of the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. Lights,
buttons, displays, gauges, pedals and levers surrounded the two seats.
And what a view, as the clouds scudded by! The co-pilot got up
to take a break, and the pilot let the boys take turns sitting second seat
for a few minutes.
They went back to the cabin, and still
sleep-deprived from finals week, were soon dozing in their seats.
The next thing they knew, the attendant
was waking them and asking them to buckle up for landing.
* * *
There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and
the temperature stood at 75F. They stood on the ocean side of
the wide terrace that ran completely around the penthouse--which occupied
the entire 36th floor--and looked down on the ribbon of sand bordering the
ocean. The view was breathtaking. There was a nice
private swimming pool on their south terrace. The condo was furnished
beautifully, and Mike recognized some pieces of his deceased grandmother's
antique furniture here and there. He realized anew with a pang
that she had never had a chance to enjoy her new place.
There were just enough bedrooms.
Grandma Hagerty, Jeff and Martha each had their own room, and the Bromans,
Jack and Judy Hagerty, and Matt and Mike took up the other three bedrooms.
Over their own protests, Matt and Mike got the master bedroom and a private
bath.
Their dad and uncle left to buy a Christmas
tree and some decorations to kindle the spirit of the upcoming holiday.
Matt and Mike unpacked their suitcases,
and put on swimming trunks and sandals to walk down to the beach with Jeff
and Martha. On the way to the water they walked through Penrod's,
a bar-restaurant, and on down to the ocean, reveling in the sun, water and
sand. The water was warm, and they all took a swim and then came
back and collapsed on the sand to catch a few rays. Matt, Mike
and Martha watched the beautiful boys passing on the beach, and Jeff stared
at the girls.
They hadn't brought any suntan lotion
with them, so after 20 minutes of sun on their front and 20 minutes on their
backs, they ran in and out of the water to cool off, and then headed back
to the condo before they got burned.
When dinner time came, Grandma Hagerty,
Jack and Judy, and the older Bromans trooped off to a restaurant they wanted
to try, and the four kids stayed in and ordered pizza. After
they ate and dusk came, they all went out to the west terrace and watched
the sun begin to set across Miami Beach, Miami Bay and Miami itself.
The expanse of it all blew them away. They dragged patio chairs
to the rail of the deck and watched the stars come out to compete with the
emerging lights of the two cities.
The adults came back about 9 p.m. with
a light buzz on, and they joined the young people on the terrace.
Matt and Mike thanked their Uncle Jack for the plane ride, keeping to themselves
their reservations about wasting resources for just the two of them.
About 10 p.m., still tired from finals, Matt and Mike excused themselves
and went to bed. Their bedroom was on the ocean side of the building,
and they opened the sliding doors and let the gentle breeze off the water
billow the curtains.
"Uga Buga," Mike whispered in Matt's
ear after they had showered, and they proceeded to have wild and prolonged
sex, in every conceivable format, to make up for several days of deprivation
during finals week. They fell asleep holding each other, covered
with cum, and too exhausted to clean up.
The next morning, after breakfast,
the four youngsters put up the Christmas tree, put the lights on it, and
put other Christmas decorations around the condo in strategic spots.
After the Miami rush hour was over, Matt and Mike borrowed their dad's rental
car and drove up to Palm Beach to do their Christmas shopping, something
they had been too preoccupied with school to accomplish before vacation.
The amount of traffic on I-95, even at off hours, amazed them.
They split up at the shopping centers they visited so the presents they were
buying would remain a mystery.
They arrived back at South Beach mid-afternoon,
and took a quick nap out on the terrace after putting suntan lotion on each
other.
"I have a surprise for you," Mike said
when they went back to their room to shower before dinner. He
reached into his wallet, and pulled out two picture I.D.'s, one for Matt
and one for himself, which stated that they were 21 years old.
"Where did you get these?" Matt asked
in surprise.
"Mark Epps has a friend who makes them,
and I figured we might need them on this trip," Mike said. "They
look pretty good, huh?"
"Like the real thing."
"I thought we might go up to Ft. Lauderdale
to the Copa tonight," Mike said.
"What's the Copa?" Matt asked.
"According to the Damron gay guide,
it's a big dance club. I thought we should check it out.
Do you realized that you and I have never danced together publicly?"
"Awesome!" Matt said. "I'm
ready for some fun."
They borrowed the car again, and headed
for Ft. Lauderdale about 10 p.m. After paying a couple dollars
to park at the Copa, they went inside. It was cavernous, with
separate bars scattered all over the place and a huge, central dance floor
where huge speakers were pumping out music so loud you could feel it in your
gut. The crowd was sparse at 11 o'clock but by midnight the place
was jumping, populated with beautiful men and boys, and a few women, who
were set on having a good time. Both boys paced themselves on
alcohol consumption.
After a few drinks, Mike kissed Matt
soundly on the lips and dragged him out into the midst of the perspiring
crowd on the dance floor. They began to dance, one song segueing
into the next. Soon they began to perspire themselves, and were
really getting into it. After about an hour, drenched with sweat
despite the air conditioning, they went into a little side bar and sat down
for another drink. They were noticed and got cruised frequently
by guys on the make. There was a male porn flick on the monitor
over the bar, and they watched a little of that. They really
hadn't seen much male porn before, but neither of them saw anything they
hadn't already tried themselves.
Alternately dancing, stopping to drink,
chatting it up with some of the guys around the various bars, and watching
the flicks, the time passed quickly, and they finally left about 2:30 in
the morning, feeling happy and relaxed.
"Are you OK to drive?" Mike asked.
"Yeah. I haven't had anything
for the last hour, so I should be."
Once back on I-95 toward Miami, Mike
looked at Matt inquisitively.
"How did you like it?"
"Kickass, man! I needed
that! I haven't felt so good in a long time." Matt said.
"Me, too. It feels great
to touch you in public without worrying how people are gonna react, you know?"
"Yeah, I admit I feel freer in a crowd
of gays. I've never cared to see people make fools of themselves
in public with displays of affection, hetero or homo, but I think we should
lose some of our aversion to never showing any at all, don't you?"
"Yeah, as long as we're focused on
communicating something to each other, and not putting on a show for bystanders,"
Mike responded. "We don't have anything to prove to anyone else,
and certainly not to each other."
"You're wise beyond your years, and
hardly dry behind the ears!" Matt said.
"Why, thank you, dude!
May I say the same of you?"
"Certainly, my man. Feel
free!"
A Florida Highway Patrol car flew by
them, lights flashing, and stopped the car ahead of them for some unknown
reason. As they continued down the highway, motorists were pulled
over by the Highway Patrol every few miles all the way to the MacArthur Causeway
to Miami Beach.
Back at South Beach, they used their
entry card to the garage and parked under their building.
They showered and went to bed, where
fueled by alcohol and the erotic images they had seen on the monitor at the
Copa, they 69'd, both climaxing after prolonging the act as long as they
could. Then they kissed hungrily, tongues battling, each tasting
the cum from himself and the other before they swallowed.
"You're the most important thing in
my life, Mike," Matt said, holding him tightly.
No response. Mike was already
out and beginning to snore softly.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and
the family just lazed around, played board games and shuffleboard on the
terrace, and swam. Mrs. Broman looked up the parishes in Miami
Beach and Miami in the phone book, and they all decided to go to midnight
mass in Miami Beach that evening. The church was packed, but
the service was well done and satisfying. The choir was excellent,
and the priest could actually had a good singing voice for his part of the
mass.
They arrived back at the condo, and
opening their presents seemed to be the thing to do. Mrs. Broman
fixed drinks for the adults and gave the kids soft drinks.
Matt had bought Mike a Palm Pilot,
something Mike had been admiring in the electronics store windows for awhile.
Mike gave Matt a necklace with the same medium heavy gold links as the I.D.
bracelet he had given him last year. They were each very pleased.
There were oh's and ah's around the living room as everyone opened their
gifts. Mr. Broman told Jeff that when they got home, they would
go look at vehicles so they could place an order for a car or truck for Jeff's
high school graduation present. Jeff was ecstatic.
* * *
The remainder of their vacation was
pleasant and relaxing, and Matt and Mike were sorry to see it end.
The adults decided to stay a few days longer in Miami Beach after the kids
had to leave. Mike suggested that Uncle Jack's plane take the
four kids home, and that Jeff could then drive Matt and him back to school
rather than having the plane make an extra trip. So it was agreed.
Once back at school, the boys settled
into their familiar routine. Mike's leg was almost back to normal
from the hematoma, and he was again swimming full out. Matt worked
especially hard getting in shape for his Pan-Am wrestling appearance, and
before he knew it, he was on his way to Mexico City for five days.
He loved the city and the people, but the air quality was terrible, and he
could feel the effects in his lungs.
Matt won all his matches, and due to
a last minute forfeit by his final opponent, he caught an early flight home,
arriving back at the University City airport at dusk. He tried
to call Mike, but got no answer, so he took a cab back to their apartment.
It was dark by the time the cab dropped him in front of their landlady's
house, and he began carrying his bag up the driveway to the coach house.
Mike's truck was sitting out, and Matt could see the outline of Mike's head
in the back window. He's probably listening to some tunes before
going upstairs, Matt thought to himself.
He snuck up to the left hand door of
the truck, and yanked it open. The dome light came on.
Mike was sitting there with his fly
open, Mark Epps' head in his lap, getting a blow job.
Mike looked into Matt's eyes, his face
a mask of surprise and regret, before Matt slammed the door and ran up the
stairs to their apartment. Matt heard both doors of the truck
slam shut as he went inside.
He dropped his bag and sat down on
the couch in a state of shock. Mike came in and sat on the couch
beside him.
Silence.
"Why didn't you just take a gun and
kill me instead?" Matt asked, not looking at Mike.
"Matt, I'm sorry."
"How long has this been going on?"
"There hasn't been anything going on.
I didn't even know that Mark was gay until tonight. He wanted
to do it, and I was weak. Please don't hate me," Mike pleaded.
Mike put his arm over Matt's shoulders.
"Don't, Mike." Matt shrugged
off Mike's arm. He picked up his bag, took it into the spare
bedroom, and shut the door. Feeling terrible, he lay down on
the bed in the fetal position, and eventually drifted into a troubled sleep,
not waking until the next morning.
The next week was living hell.
Matt moved all his personal things into the second bedroom, and refused to
speak to Mike or spend any time around him unless absolutely necessary.
The shock of losing a soul mate took its toll on both of them--neither was
eating or sleeping properly.
After a week, Mike told Matt that he
knew Matt couldn't forgive him, and that it would be better if Mike moved
back into the jock dorm for the remainder of the year. He said
he would leave the truck for Matt, since the apartment was farther away from
campus than the dorms. He also said he would continue to pay
half the apartment rent through the end of the year. Matt didn't
say anything, and the following Saturday, Mike moved out.
The apartment was like a tomb to Matt.
He was numb and depressed. He was so low he didn't even jack-off
despite the lack of sexual outlet. He found one of Mike's flannel
shirts in the laundry hamper, and began to sleep with it just for Mike's
scent. His life consisted of classes, wrestling and back to the
apartment. He cared about nothing, and was dead inside.
He saw Mike across campus a couple
of times, and they nodded, but never approached each other.
Three weeks later, Matt got a call
from Bob Dalton, a teammate of Mike's, and Mike's new roommate.
"I thought you'd want to know that
Mike is in the hospital, Matt."
"What happened?" Matt asked, his stomach
suddenly in knots.
"They think he has meningitis.
They took him in last night."
"Where would he get that?"
"It's all over the news.
There's quite a little epidemic here on campus. For some reason,
he hasn't been sleeping very well. And of course, he's been working
as well as swimming. That's a heavy schedule. I think
his resistance was low."
"Working? What for?"
"He said he needed the money to pay
for the dorm room and for his half of the apartment rent. He's
been busing tables at Houlihan's."
Matt groaned. "Do you know
how he's doing?"
"Well, I'd get over to the hospital.
When I was there this afternoon, they said it didn't look good.
They gave me some shots, by the way, so they may want you to get them, too."
Matt thanked Bob, and hung up, awash
in guilt. Moving fast, he grabbed his cap and jacket, and ran
down to the truck. He was at the hospital in five minutes.
He went to the front desk, and asked
where Mike's room was. He was told he was in the ICU, and couldn't
have visitors.
Matt went to the ICU, identified himself,
and asked to speak with Mike's doctor, who came out to see him immediately.
"Mr. Broman, I'm Dr. Saxton.
I'm taking care of Mike."
"Thank you for seeing me so quickly.
Can you fill me in on what's going on?"
"Yes. Mike has Pneumococcal
Meningitis, one of the most serious varieties. It's bacterial
in origin, and occurs from an infection of the spinal fluid and the fluid
surrounding the brain. We confirmed the diagnosis with a spinal
tap. We got him in here later than we like--the earlier the antibiotics
are administered, the better the results are in combating this disease.
Mike is in and out of a coma, and I have to tell you that the prognosis is
not good at this point. He's not fighting back to the degree
I would expect from someone of his age and physical condition, and I'm very
concerned. I think you should notify your family right away."
"I'll call them. Can I
see him?"
"Well. . .we don't ordinarily allow
that in cases like this. He probably won't know you."
"I need to see him, Doctor, especially
if he's in as much danger as you say. I can help him fight this,
I think, if I can see him for a few minutes."
The doctor regarded him thoughtfully.
"OK, you call your family, and come
back here to the nurses' station for a gown and mask. I'll give
you some time with him. I'm going to give you some preventive
shots, too, just in case."
"You don't know how I appreciate this,"
Matt said. "I'll call the family, and be right back."
Matt called home, and Mr. Broman said
they would be on their way within the hour with Jeff and Martha.
Matt said they should stay at his apartment, and his dad said they would
after they came to the hospital.
Matt went back to the nurses' station.
The nurse took him into a room adjoining the nurse's station, and gave him
two shots. Then she gave him a cap, gown and mask, and helped
him to put them on. Matt asked for gloves as well, saying that
he wanted to touch his brother. The nurse complied, and led him
into quarantine in the ICU.
Mike was lying in bed, eyes closed,
and looking as white as his sheets despite his Florida tan. He
was hooked up to two IV's, the contents dripping down into either arm.
"Mike, it's Matt, can you hear me?"
Matt whispered through his mask.
Mike slowly opened his eyes, gave Matt
a half-smile and shut his eyes.
"Mike, please listen to me.
I miss the hell out of you. I want you to come back to the apartment
when you get out of here. We started this trip together, and
I'm not gonna make it without you."
No response.
"I forgive you, Mike, for what happened,
and I hope you can forgive me for taking so long to tell you.
I've been a prick, and I'm sorry. We're human beings, we make
mistakes. I love you, Mike. Please fight this thing
and come home."
Again, no response.
Matt caressed Mike's forehead, and
sat down in a chair next to the bed and held his hand.
He began to pray.
Part 7
The black hearse wended its way around
the circular drive in front of Old St. Paul's Church, its tires crunching
in the heavy frost on the ground, and stopped at the front entrance.
It was followed by several dozen cars. The tower bell tolled sadly
as car doors began popping open. Six of Mike's swim teammates gathered
at the back door of the hearse under a cold, gray sky that promised snow.
The funeral director slid the casket
halfway out. The six young men donned gray gloves, grasped the rails,
and walked the casket up the front steps to a rolling catafalque. They
paused briefly while an embroidered white pall was put over the casket, and
then, preceded by a crucifer and the priest, rolled the coffin toward the
altar as the organ played softly and the priest intoned scripture.
The family followed behind the casket, looking devastated. Seated on
either side of Matt, Mrs. Broman and Martha held his hands after they filed
into the front pew.
Once the casket was properly in place
in the chancel, the priest filled the thurible, censed the altar, and began
the Mass of the Resurrection for Michael Andrew Berman Broman, departed and
now ready to be commended to Almighty God.
* * *
Matt awakened with a start and sat
bolt upright in bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He shook off
the terror of his dream, and reached over to feel for Mike. He was
there beside him, breathing slowly and evenly until Matt's touch woke him.
"Matt? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, buddy. Go back to sleep."
Matt bent down and kissed Mike on the side of his head.
" K." Still very weak, Mike was
soon snoring softly.
Matt waited until he was sure Mike
was asleep again, and eased himself out of bed. He went into the kitchen,
microwaved a cup of milk to warm it, and sat down at the kitchen table.
The last week, prior to Mike's release
from the hospital, had been horrendous in its stress and tension. And
yet there had also been the joy of rediscovering the love and support of
family in time of need.
The Bromans had arrived at the hospital
from home to find Matt at Mike's bedside, distraught and exhausted.
They immediately set up a schedule so that one of them would be with Mike
at all times, 24/7, except when he was being bathed, medicated, or the bed
changed. When the head ICU nurse objected at having family underfoot
all the time contrary to the rules, Mr. Broman had a private chat with her.
She immediately grasped the logic of it all, and acquiesced.
Jane Broman had wanted to stay for
the first shift, so after she was gowned, masked and at Mike's side, Matt
led the way back to the coach house with Jeff in the truck, as his dad and
Martha followed in their car. They carried the luggage upstairs, and
Matt put his dad in the spare bedroom, and he and Jeff prepared to sleep
on the floor in sleeping bags so that Martha could have Matt's and Mike's
bed. Martha tried out the couch, and said she wanted to sleep there,
so Matt and Jeff took the bed. Jeff watched a little TV, but Matt was
so tired he went to sleep immediately, setting the alarm clock for 5 a.m.
When the alarm went off, he put on
a robe and went into the kitchen. Mr. Broman was already up.
Matt made him some eggs and toast and coffee, and they went over to the hospital
together so Matt could bring his mother back to the apartment. He saw
to it that she ate breakfast, and then she went to bed.
So began seemingly endless days of
catching meals on the fly and changing shifts at Mike's bedside. Slowly,
over the next four days, Mike began to respond to the family that surrounded
him with love and concern day and night. His medical indicators began
to improve.
Dr. Saxton told Mr. Broman that he
was amazed by Mike's turnaround in such a short time, given the fact that
he had been very close to death. The doctor also said that it was a
good lesson for people in his line of work--never underestimate the power
of love to stir a patient's will to live.
The Bromans left for home the day that
Mike was released from the hospital. Matt had already gone over to
Mike's dorm room, and picked up his shaving kit and other essential things.
He felt a little guilty that he hadn't told the family about the rift between
Mike and himself, but decided at that point that it was nobody's business
but their own.
Before the family left, Matt took each
one of them in his arms and thanked them for their love and kindness.
When they were gone, he wept that he had had no better way than that to express
the gratitude he felt for what they had done for Mike. And for him.
He felt that they had saved Mike's life.
Dr. Saxton took Matt aside for a few
minutes as Mike was being readied to leave the hospital. He told Matt
that the period of recovery from meningitis could be prolonged, and discussed
a multitude of possible complications: hearing loss, brain damage,
epileptic seizures, changes in eyesight, violent temper tantrums, aggression,
mood swings and learning difficulties. He said he wanted Mike in for
a follow-up exam every two days for the two weeks after he left the hospital,
and that Matt should make an appointment for him to have a hearing test as
soon as possible.
When Matt heard the doctor's spiel
about potential problems, he wondered momentarily whether he had made a mistake
keeping him at school rather than sending him home with his folks.
A few minutes of reflection, however, confirmed for him that Mike was his
responsibility, and that it was best that he took care of him himself.
Dan Smith, Mike's swimming teammate, had offered to spell Matt at the apartment
for the first few days when Matt had to go to classes, and Mrs. Wilson, their
landlady, agreed to sit with Mike while Matt was at wrestling practice.
Things seemed pretty well covered.
Mike's homecoming was low key on the
outside, but very emotional for both boys. Mike looked over everything,
and felt a deep sense of contentment to be back.
Just the short trip from the hospital
had exhausted Mike, and Matt put him to bed.
"Mike, do you want me to sleep in the
other room?" Matt asked. "Then I won't be waking you up. You
need your rest."
"No, please stay here with me.
I've been dreaming about having you in bed beside me since I moved back to
the dorm, and I'm not even talking about sex. Please don't leave me.
I'll even let you sing to me and tell me jokes."
Matt laughed. "I'm on you like
glue, bro. You're really gonna be tired of me by the time you're well."
"No way. I've missed you so much."
Mike's eyes teared up. "I know we need to talk about some things."
"Yeah, we do, but when you're feeling
better, not now, K?"
"Yes."
"Now, what do you want for supper?
I'll get you anything you want."
"Would a small steak be too much trouble?"
"I'll go to the store right now.
I thought you were gonna say pizza. What else should I buy?"
"Well, soup, canned stew, and some
ice cream, peanut butter if we don't have any, stuff like that. Maybe
we can order pizza tomorrow night."
Matt knelt down beside the bed and
gave Mike a big hug.
"You got it, Mikey! I'll
be right back. Don't go away! I'll give you a shower when
I get back, K?"
"I'm so glad to be back here with you,
I may never never leave this apartment again," Mike laughed. "And a
shower sounds great!"
Matt went to the store, and when he
got back a half hour later, Mike was sleeping.
Matt went into the kitchen, threw a
couple of medium sized potatoes in the microwave, and when they were nearly
done, put some small steaks in the broiler. He made two small salads.
When he judged the steaks were medium rare the way Mike liked them, he put
them on plates, cut Mike's steak up for him, split the potatoes and put sour
cream on them, and took Mike his meal with a bottle of A-1 sauce and a glass
of milk.
"I smelled the steak," Mike said, awake
and with a big smile. "This is really nice of you, Matt, thank you!"
"We gotta fatten you up a little, bro.
You look a mite puny."
They sat together on the bed, eating
supper and watching TV. After the rerun of New York Undercover they
were watching was over, Matt pulled Mike out of bed and took him into the
bathroom for his shower. He stripped him down and put him on the scale.
"Man, you lost about 10 pounds the
hard way," Matt told him.
Matt got undressed, and they got in
the shower together. Making sure Mike didn't fall, Matt washed him
tenderly top to toe, and then just held him in the warm spray.
"I've sure missed looking into those
baby blues," Matt said.
"Same here, bud. But I prefer
your baby browns, myself."
When the water started to cool, Matt
helped Mike out of the shower and dried him off, watched while he cleaned
his teeth, and then took him back to the bedroom.
"First, some ice cream for dessert,
and then I'm gonna give you a back rub, OK?" Matt told him. "You've
been lying on your back a long time."
"I think I'm just gonna stay sick if
this is what it gets me," Mike responded.
Matt chuckled and went for the ice
cream.
After they ate, Matt put Mike on his
stomach, warmed lotion in his hands, and rubbed his neck, back, buttocks
and legs for almost 20 minutes, accompanied by Mike's grunts and groans of
satisfaction.
"I feel like a cooked noodle, I'm so
relaxed," Mike said when Matt was finished.
"Good. That should help you sleep
better. Do you want fresh boxers, or are you going to sleep naked?"
"I'm fine the way I am. Matt.
.I love you so much. You and Mom and Dad and Jeff and Martha saved
my life. I know it. I was a goner. I could feel it coming
until you all were with me. I. . ." Mike began to cry.
Matt took a tissue and wiped Mike's
face, knowing that Mike's emotional state was in part the aftermath of the
meningitis.
"Don't cry, bud. I love you,
too. Who would crave my singing and jokes the way you do? We all love
you, and couldn't do without you."
Mike smiled, and not more than 30 seconds
later, he was asleep. Matt covered him carefully, kissed him, and went
out into the living room to study. When he finally went to bed beside
Mike, he felt complete again for the first time in many weeks.
* * *
Before he went to classes the next
morning, Matt called all Mike's professors, explaining that Mike had just
been released from the hospital due to a case of meningitis, and asking for
make-up assignments and any special help that might be available so that
he could catch up. Matt was given the names of two tutors, and said
he would call them.
Mike's swim coach already knew that
Mike had been hospitalized from Bob Dalton, Mike's swim teammate and former
roommate in the dorm, and sent his best wishes and said he wanted him back
at practice as soon as the doctor released him.
Dan Smith showed up before Matt left
for class, and said he would stay with Mike until noon. Matt fixed
breakfast for all three of them, woke Mike up, and they all ate together
in the bedroom. Matt gave Mike his robe, and Dan was taking Mike to
the bathroom as Matt ran down the stairs to the truck to go to class.
Matt attended the two classes he had
that morning, and hightailed it back to the apartment. Dan and Mike
were kibitzing and watching TV. Matt thanked Dan, who left to attend
one of his own classes.
Mike seemed a little more alert than
the day before, and very cheerful.
"Mike, do you want to shower now or
later?" Matt asked.
"Now would be great, if you have the
time. A shower would feel good."
"You got it, Mr. Man. Let's go."
Matt helped him out of bed, and took
him into the bathroom, once again getting in the shower with him so he didn't
fall. After the shower, he dried him off and gave him his meds, and
then put him back in bed.
"Ready for lunch?"
"Yeppers. I'm actually hungry."
"How about some soup and a sandwich?"
"Sounds good to me."
"Coming up," Matt said, and went into
the kitchen.
Ten minutes later they were slurping
soup and eating lunch meat sandwiches.
After they were done, Matt took the
dishes and put them in the dishwasher, and came back to the bedroom.
"Mike, how do you feel today?"
"Better. I feel stronger, and
I can actually put two thoughts together without passing out."
"Good. You need to let me know
when you can study again. Your profs gave me the name of a couple of
tutors, and I want them to come in and help you when you're ready."
"Outstanding! Thanks, bro."
Mike paused. "Matt, I don't think you can keep up this kind of schedule,
trying to study, and wrestle, and taking care of me and the apartment and
doing all the shopping. Don't you think I should go home, or at least
to the University clinic, until I can pull my own weight?"
"No. I thought it over, and I
want to handle as much of this as I can. You're my responsibility,"
Matt responded.
"I feel so bad about this. I
know I set myself up to get sick because I felt so bad about our situation.
And now you're the one who gets punished by having to wait on me."
"I thought we settled this early on
in our relationship. We're here for each other! Didn't
we?"
"Well, yes, but. . ."
"There are no buts, except for your
big butt! K?"
" K." Mike started to cry again.
"What's the matter with me, why am I crying all the time?"
"One of the aftereffects, of meningitis,
Mike." Matt went on to list some of the psychological aftereffects,
but for the moment skipped the potential physical problems that could result
from the disease. He figured Mike had enough on his mind right then.
Over the next week Mike got stronger,
although he stayed in the apartment except for his doctor appointments.
Dr. Saxton reported that Mike's hearing test showed no loss of hearing, and
there were no signs of any other permanent damage as a result of the meningitis.
Other than a few mild mood swings, Mike appeared to be home free, much to
Matt's relief.
Matt's schedule, on the other hand--attending
his own classes, going to wrestling practice, chasing down Mike's class assignments,
coordinating people to stay with Mike when he wasn't there, studying, cooking,
cleaning and doing laundry for both of them, was definitely wearing him out.
Still, Matt was glad he had made the decision to keep Mike at their apartment,
and from his demeanor when he was around Mike, no one would have suspected
how stressed out he was.
Mike continued to improve, and the
second week after his release from the hospital, the doctor cleared Mike
to begin attending classes and to watch swimming practice, but not to swim.
His teammates gave him a warm welcome back. The third week he was allowed
to get into the pool for some light swimming.
One night as they were going to bed,
Mike turned on his side and looked at Matt.
"Matt, are we back on track enough
that you'd feel OK about making love? If we don't do it soon, I'm gonna
hafta start looking for farm animals!"
"Are you sure you're horny?" Matt laughed.
"Horny? Monica Lewinsky looks
good to me! I haven't even had sex with my right hand since we
split up."
"Mike, I miss your body so much, but
you know we have some work to do before things are right between us."
"I know that, and I'm not trying to
avoid the issue. I want to rebuild what we had, even better.
And if you don't want to have sex now, I'll stay celibate for you as long
as it takes."
"No, I want you. I love you,
and I miss being close to you that way. I haven't had sex since we
split up, either, and I want to."
Taking that as acquiescence, Mike rolled
Matt on his back in the bed and proceeded to nibble and lick Matt's nipples
until they were engorged. Slowly, Mike began to lick Matt's flawless
skin all over. Mike then rimmed him repeatedly as Matt began to groan
and leak precum from his rock-hard cock. Taking his tongue out of Matt's
ass, Mike inserted one finger, then two, and finally put the head of his
dick in after lubricating it with his own precum. Working his way in
slowly with Matt's legs over his shoulders, Mike fucked him to orgasm with
deliberation, massaging Matt's prostate repeatedly in the process.
Matt came so explosively he hit his own face, and then flooded his chest
with semen as Mike loosed his own load inside Matt. Mike lapped the
cum from Matt's face and chest eagerly after pulling out.
Afterward, they cuddled and nuzzled
one another, kissing softly. Drifting off, Matt clung tightly to Mike
as they lay facing one another, feeling satisfied and relaxed. Mike
gently stroked Matt's face and hair for a long time after Matt was asleep.
* * *
The next night the two boys set aside
the last half hour before they went to bed to talk about their relationship,
and decided they would do that three times a week until they understood everything
they could about Mike's being unfaithful to Matt.
They sat on the couch, cross legged,
facing one another. Both were a little uncomfortable, feeling their
way through unfamiliar territory.
"Well, bro, since this was my idea,
let me start," Matt finally said, looking Mike in the eye. "I want
you to know first of all that I didn't suggest doing this so we could pick
at a painful wound. I just think it's important to talk about it because
the biggest problem we can have--one that could break us up for good--is
if you can't forgive yourself for what happened. I forgive you completely
and I love you as deeply as I always have. But if you can't forgive
yourself, you'll end up resenting me, I just know it. So wherever we
go from here, how you feel about yourself and what happened is fundamental.
I wouldn't bother to bring this up if I didn't know you have high standards.
Have you really forgiven yourself?"
"No, I haven't," Mike said. "I'm
having a very hard time doing that. I don't know how to do that.
I betrayed what I believe in, and I hurt you. I don't know what to
do about it."
"Were you ever going to tell me what
happened if I hadn't seen you?"
"Yes, I would have. I acted like
a louse, but I'm not a liar. I would have had to tell you."
"Why did you do it, Mike? Are
you attracted to Mark?"
"No, Mark is just a friend. He
doesn't hold a candle to you in any way."
"Why, then?"
"Very honestly?"
"Yes."
"Because you're so perfect and so fucking
complete as a human being, Matt. I feel like I'm nothing compared to
you. Sometimes I feel swallowed up--like I don't have an identity.
I think I got it on with Mark just so I'd know I had some identity that didn't
depend on you, as pitiful as that sounds. I admit it was nice to be
wanted by someone outside of our relationship. Maybe I did want to
hurt you, but I didn't consciously plan it, and I'm ashamed it happened."
"Reality check, Mike. You're
physically beautiful, you're a gifted athlete, you're compiling a brilliant
academic record, even the macho males on your swim team care about you and
protect you from being gay bashed, and you're part of a loving family.
You've got it all, man. And I've always felt you were a full partner
in this relationship--you've certainly set me straight on things often enough
when I was wrong. What's this bullshit about feeling inferior?
I'm really surprised."
"I don't know what to tell you.
Everything you say about me is true, I know, but I feel like I'm in your
shadow. Tell me what I should do."
"I don't know. And if I did have
the answer, and you did what I said, it would just confirm in your own mind
that I have the answers and you don't."
"Common, Matt, I'm floundering here.
I need some help. I don't want it to be over between us. We've
always said we couldn't make it without each other. Well, we probably
could, but from my perspective it would be hell, judging how I felt when
I was living in the dorm again without you."
"Well, I can tell you what I do when
I have trouble forgiving myself for something, but it may not be right for
you. I go to confession."
"I can't get absolution for being gay."
"Being gay isn't what's bothering you,
is it? If it is, we've got a bigger problem than I thought."
"No, you're right. I don't think
being gay is a sin, or having gay sex in a committed relationship is a sin.
But the church thinks the sex part is," Mike said.
"If you feel you betrayed our relationship
and that's what you can't forgive yourself, then that's what you need to
confess. Being gay or having gay sex doesn't have anything to do with
it. You don't need to talk about what's not bothering your conscience,
although I know the church says different. If we're wrong on that,
God will sort it out later."
Mike looked at Matt thoughtfully.
"Why don't you think about it, and
we'll talk again in a couple of days," Matt said. "But I think it's
an important issue for us to put behind us before we move on to how you're
feeling about yourself."
" K," Mike said. "Thanks for
letting me be honest with you without getting mad at me and pushing me away."
"That's not in the cards, bro!"
They went to bed and made sweet, gentle
love, and then lay there for a long time just holding each other before they
drifted off to sleep.
Two nights later, a half hour before
bedtime, they were back on the couch, facing each other.
Mike started. "I've been thinking
your suggestion to go to confession, and I think it's a good idea.
Tomorrow's Saturday, so I'll go tomorrow afternoon. Do you think I
should go to Canterbury or Newman?"
"I don't think it matters. Either
one. I want to ask you something, though. Do I need to be going,
too, for anything I've done to make you feel bad about yourself in this relationship?"
"No, Matt. It would be so cool
for me if I could blame you in some way for what happened, but I can't honestly
do that. The problem is inside me."
"I guess I don't get it, as I told
you last time we talked. You and I are equal in so many ways, and you're
ahead of me in some."
"Well, for one thing, I never had the
family support you had when I was growing up," Mike said. "I had my
mother to confide in, but I didn't have the same security that you had in
your family. I'm not trying to blame my problems on my family--they
were what they were--but I honestly think you had a leg up on me. There's
so much love in the Broman family I can't believe it even now--and I've been
the recipient of a lot of it since I was adopted. My dad was never
around enough to be a role model for me, and he wasn't all that warm a person
around family, anyway. Kind of withdrawn. When he did talk to
me, it was to criticize. Again, he was what he was, but I still feel
bad that he never once came to a swim meet to watch me swim, and he even
missed my graduation. That didn't make me feel too cool about myself,
I admit. We were strangers, and that hurts me to this day."
"I admit I was incredibly lucky to
have been born into the family I was. I'm thankful. Your situation
with your dad doesn't sound cool at all. But you and I are only 19
years old, for gosh sakes. We don't think about it a lot, but we're
still growing up. The things that made us what we are, are very real,
but we're not set in stone yet. You must know that Mom and Dad saw
some wonderful things in you, or they wouldn't have adopted you. They
aren't stupid, and they're pretty good at reading character. I guess
what I'm saying is, you're what those who love you are seeing, not as you're
apparently seeing yourself-- as somehow deficient."
Mike looked at Matt with big eyes.
"So, you're saying I need to be listening
to today's messages, not yesterday's," he finally said.
"Yeppers. Exactly!
You're such a quick study," Matt said with a twinkle in his eye. He
moved forward, laid Mike back on the couch, and lay on top of him, face to
face.
"See," Mike joked, "here you are on
top again. This confirms my worst suspicions about this relationship."
Matt picked him up, and lay down again,
this time putting Mike on top of him.
"There!" Matt said, holding his face
and kissing him. "Mike, my heart is so full of love for you.
Please don't give up on us or on yourself."
Mike cried a little, and finally said,
"Not gonna happen, my bro. Not gonna happen."
They dropped off to sleep that way
for awhile until Matt woke up and carried Mike to the bedroom, undressed
him, and put him into bed. Climbing in beside him, Matt offered a prayer
of thanksgiving for Mike, for his recovery from meningitis, and for their
family.
The next afternoon, true to his word,
Mike went off to the Newman Center to make his confession. When he
came back to the apartment, he was calm and serene. He sat down beside
Matt, who was studying on the couch, and took his hand. Saying nothing,
he put his head next to Matt's, and they sat there quietly. In a few
minutes, Mike got up and went into the bedroom, where he changed into sweats
and fired up the computer to check his e-mail.
Later as they fixed supper togther,
Matt asked how confession went.
"Really well, I think," Mike said.
"I confessed what was on my conscience, and was absolved. I feel good
about it, but I still want to continue our conversations about the two of
us. I've learned some things. I feel as if I have a new lease
on life. I think our relationship is stronger than ever. I hope
you feel the same way."
"I do, Mike. I think it's a good
idea."
The next week, out of the blue, Mr.
Broman called early one evening while they were studying. Matt answered,
and they exchanged pleasantries as Matt inquired after the family.
"Matt, get Mike on the other phone,"
Mr. Broman said, finally.
"OK. Hold on." Matt put
his hand over the receiver. "Mike," he yelled, "Dad wants to talk to
us."
" K," Mike said, and Matt heard a click
as he picked up the other phone.
"Hi, Dad, how are you?" Mike said.
"I'm well, Mike. The question
is, how are you?"
"I'm feeling better all the time, Dad.
I want to thank you and Mom and Jeff and Martha again. I'd be dead
now if it weren't for you all. Seriously."
"I don't know about that, Mike, but
you know we wanted to be with you. We're just relieved you're doing
so well."
"Thanks."
"Boys, I've been thinking about next
summer. You know I've always thought it was a good thing if you worked.
And I don't think it's hurt you any. But as I look at what you've been
through the last couple of years, your mother and I decided maybe you need
to take this summer off and take a trip or something. Would that be
all right with you?"
The boys were speechless.
"You have a deal, Dad," Mike finally
said. "That would be so great, and we'd try to see some worthwhile
things, believe me."
"Thanks, Dad. That would be outstanding,"
Matt chimed in.
"Well, your mother and I wanted you
to have something to look forward to at the end of the school year.
Matt, you haven't had a summer off since you were 14. Mike, I don't
know how long for you. But that's the proposal, in a nutshell."
Excited, Matt and Mike thanked their
dad again profusely, and sending love to everybody at home, hung up.
"Oh, man," Matt said, "I'm so pumped!
And surprised at Dad, I might add."
When Mike joined him in the living
room, Matt picked him up and swung him around the room. "How will it
feel to be a man of leisure in a few months?"
"Kickass, bro! Where we
goin'?" Mike asked with a big grin.
"Shit, I don't have a clue. We'll
get out a map, I guess. And oh, the singing and the jokes we'll enjoy
along the way!"
Mike stopped smiling, causing Matt
to grab him again and rain kisses on his face. They ended up in a pile
on the couch, laughing and tickling each other.
* * *
The call from their dad had energized
both boys, and they looked forward to summer. Mike was attending all
his classes by this point and working with his tutors every day, and was
back swimming full-out and feeling good. Matt was so full of joy and
energy that he was sparking his teammates to wrestle well above their abilities.
Talk on the team was that he would be selected team captain next year.
And the fact that Matt and Mike were screwing like minks every night and
thoroughly enjoying each other didn't hurt their general attitude.
The only cloud on Matt's horizon was
his pre-law class. The professor was great, but Matt's section was
taught twice a week by a teaching assistant by the name of Neil Anderson,
whose distinctive nasal tone and supercilious attitude drove everybody in
the class up the wall. He would go out of his way to embarrass and
humiliate the weaker students when they would stumble on answers, something
Matt couldn't abide. He always treated Matt with respect, though, and
seemed to want to get to know him better, something Matt intuitively resisted.
Had Matt been less conscientious, he would have cut that class as frequently
as possible without a second thought. But being the bulldog he was,
he forced himself to go. Matt called Neil "the Weasel," and it seemed
to fit him. His long nose, thin, asymmetrical features and blotchy,
flaking skin were a fit complement to his personality.
Midterms were fast approaching.
Matt was confident, but because of the time he had lost from school when
he was sick, Mike was worried despite the intensive tutoring he was getting.
Neither Matt nor Mike had failed to make the Dean's List since they matriculated,
and Mike was fearful he wouldn't make it this time. Both were burning
the midnight oil getting ready for their tests.
It seemed as if the exams came and
went in a flash, and even Mike felt he had been overly pessimistic about
his chances of doing well. And then it was time for spring break almost
before they knew it. They talked about going to Aspen for some late
winter, early spring skiing, but decided since they were going to be gone
all summer, that they would go home. They also decided that they would
bring Mike's bike back to school so they could do some spring riding when
the weather broke.
The time Matt and Mike had invested
over the past weeks in talking about their strengths and weaknesses as individuals
and as a couple had borne rich fruit. Both of them felt that their
relationship was stronger and more loving than ever, and looked forward every
day to the time they could spend hanging out together, tormenting one another,
studying, and making love. They were aware of a balance they had achieved
as a couple that they had not been aware of before.
Tests over, they packed up the truck
and were on their way home, feeling exuberant.
"I miss Jeff and Martha," Mike said
as they drove out of town. "We gotta do some things with them this
vacation."
"I miss 'em, too. And we hafta
get Jeff prepared for his role as a slave if he's gonna live with us."
"You better watch it. I bet he's
really buff by now. He might knock you on your butt, dude!"
"In your dreams, Mikey, in your dreams.
And don't think you can hide behind him if I need to punish you for one of
your many lapses in good taste, bud!"
"My lapses. I could write a best
seller on your peccadilloes, spaz boy!"
"'Peccadilloes,' you say!
You used a big word, bro, and big words are forbidden in a redneck pick-em-up-truck
like this. That's punishable with, now let's see, what would be fitting?
Yep, that's right, a joke!"
"I don't suppose there's anything I
could say or do to stop you," Mike groaned.
"No, it's inevitable, like the sun
coming up, or my gettin' wood when I look at you. You know. Destined.
You'll like this one. It has confession in it."
"Bummer."
"A priest is in a church on Saturday
afternoon, hearing confessions.
"A man walks in and kneels down and
begins his confession - 'Father, it has been two weeks since my last confession,
and these are my sins. Last night I had sex with Nookie Green.'
"'That is your sin?'
"'Yes, Father.'
"'You are forgiven. Go out and say
one "Our Father."' The man leaves.
"Soon, another enters and kneels. 'Father,
it has been one month since my last confession. These are my sins.
I have had sex with Nookie Green every week for the last month.'
"The priest thinks to himself, This
Nookie Green woman is fairly popular with his male parishioners...
'Those are your sins?'
"'Yes, Father.'
"'You are forgiven. Go out and say
three "Hail Mary's."' The man leaves.
"Soon, another enters and kneels down.
'Father, it has been six months since my last confession. These are my sins,
I have had sex with Nookie Green twice a week for the last six months.'
"This time, the priest has to ask -
'Who is this Nookie Green?'
"'Just a woman I know, Father.'
"'Very well--you are forgiven. Go out
and say ten "Hail Mary's."'
"The priest closes the church for the
evening and leaves wondering who this Nookie Green woman is . . .
"The next morning, the priest is up
in front of his congregation saying mass. The doors fly open in the back
of the church and in walks this woman, a tall redhead with long gorgeous
hair, a green sequin dress, green sequined heels and a green hat with a long
green feather coming from it. She walks straight up the aisle and sits down
in the front pew right in front of the priest, her knees apart. The priest
cannot help but stop and stare.
"He finally catches himself and leans
over to ask the altar boy,
'Pssssst.. . . Is that Nookie Green?'
"The altar boy takes a long look and
says, 'No, Father, I think it's just the reflection off her shoes.'"
Mike looked out the side window, smiling,
and then turned back to Matt with his face a mask.
"That has to be at the top of the bad
joke list. Where's the Spanish Inquisition when we need it?" Mike asked.
"Spanish Fly, you say."
"No, you heard me."
"Mikey, I'm feeling those negative
vibes again. What have I told you about that?"
"I forget."
Just then the radio station they were
listening to began to play 'N Sync's Bye Bye Bye, and Matt began to sing
along.
Mike made a face. "How can such
cute guys perform such trash?" he asked Matt. "And how can you sing
it?"
"Hehehe. I do it for you, Mikey,
all for you, out of the kindness of my heart."
"Well, be cruel, and stop. I
can take it."
"You should just admit you love my
singing, and we'll go from there. I could be in a singing group.
I have the talent and the voice for it, you know."
"Yeah, the Backalley Boys. Your
trademark could be garbage cans crashing together as you do your tunes."
"You have such a cruel streak, dude.
I'm hurt. But every artiste has to endure insults. We grow through
our pain."
"You're a pain, and you know where.
Could you be quiet now? I hafta pray," Mike said with a sly sideways
look at Matt.
"Like as the hart desireth the water-brooks,
so longeth my soul after thee, O God." Matt said.
"Now that's beautiful!
What is it?"
"It's from the Psalms--Forty-something,
I can't remember."
"You amaze me sometimes with what's
tucked away in that little pea-brain of yours, bro."
"Speaking of pee, I hafta stop at the
next rest area. How about you?"
"Yeah, me too. Maybe they sell
earplugs. I'll pay big bucks."
They continued putting each other down
until they took the next ramp off the interstate into a rest area. Matt went
to the rest room while Mike filled up the truck with gas, and then Mike went
in. They met in the food service lobby, and had a snack before starting
out again.
As they were moving toward the on-ramp
with Mike at the wheel, Matt did a double-take as they went by the parked
cars. He thought he saw his teaching assistant from pre-law, Neil Anderson,
in one of them with a bunch of rough looking guys, but they were past the
other car so quickly, he couldn't confirm it. I'm losing it, he thought
to himself. I'm seeing the Weasel everywhere.
Back on the interstate, Mike didn't
spare the horses, and in an hour and a half, they were pulling into the Broman
driveway. As usual, the front door burst open and the truck was surrounded
with family and staff by the time it rolled to a stop. Mike got a lot
of special hugs and kisses, and Mrs. Brighton's eyes were full of tears as
she held him tight.
The boys grabbed their luggage out
of the truck bed, and everyone started for the house just as a clap of thunder
sounded, and it began to rain. Running the last few steps, they all
made it inside the hallway just as the storm hit with full fury.
"That's what I like--home in the nick
of time," Matt said. "Reminds me of when I was dating in high school
and had a curfew. I was always right on time then, too. Hehehe."
"Liar, liar," Jeff said. "I should
know--I used to have to cover for you with Mom and Dad!"
"Now the secret's come out," Mrs. Broman
laughed, "when it's too late to spank him."
"No, Mom, Jeff and I can hold him and
Martha can spank him," Mike suggested. "Just give us the word."
"All right, you guys, no rough-house,
now!" Mr. Broman said. "You two go get settled upstairs, and come on
back down, and we'll talk."
Matt and Mike went upstairs, unpacked
and put away their clothes. When they were done, Mike held Matt and
gave him a good long kiss.
"I gotta make up for all the smooches
you gave me when I was sick," he said. He reached down and squeezed
Matt's crotch. "Aha, just as I thought! You got wood, boy!
What are we gonna do about that, do you think?"
"You stud! You bring out
the beast in me!" Matt said. "We're not gonna do anything about it right
now. Wait 'til I get you in bed, though!"
"Shoot, you can't get it up after the
clock strikes 8 p.m. It'll be another night of sexual frustration for
me, I can tell."
Mike broke away, and ran out of the
room and downstairs, with Matt in hot pursuit. They entered the library
out of breath. Mike moved Mr. and Mrs. Broman apart on the couch so
he could sit between them.
"I'm sorry to break you two up, but
I need to sit here. I have to tell you that your Matthew has been mistreating
me terribly, especially on the trip home. I almost jumped out of the
truck to escape! I need protection!"
"And you wouldn't be havin' a little
of the devil in you, too, would you?" Mrs. Broman asked, simulating an Irish
accent.
"I used to have, but Matt made me go
to confession last Saturday, so now I'm pure. Very pure!
He still has the devil in him, though. I know that for a fact!
Look at his eyes!"
"Matt, is this true? Have you
been abusing our convalescent, here?" Mr. Broman put a protective arm
around Mike.
"Absolutely not true, Dad," Matt said.
"I was even quoting Scripture on the way home to try to help this boy.
Wasn't I, Mikey, and don't lie!"
"I thought it was Wiccan philosophy,
isn't that what you said it was?" Mike shot back.
"All right. I've heard enough.
I pronounce you both morons," Mr. Broman said, laughing. "College has
helped you torment each other in a much more literate way, I'll have to say
that. You're giving me second thoughts about letting Jeff go to school
anywhere near you two."
"Jeff, what have you heard about that?"
Matt asked.
"I got accepted at the University,"
Jeff said. "And I got a baseball scholarship. Cool, huh?"
"That is so great, man!
Congratulations!" Mike said, and got up and shook Jeff's hand.
"Outstanding, bro!" Matt said, following
suit. "Our offer is still good on the room, too."
"Just out of curiosity, Jeff, how many
schools accepted you, anyway?" Mike asked.
"Oh, I don't know," Jeff said, blushing.
"Seven," Mrs. Broman said. "Don't
be so modest, Jeff. You've earned the right to blow your own horn a
little."
"Wow," Matt said. "That's fantastic,
Jeff!"
"Martha, when you're ready to join
us at school, we'll build on to the coach house so you can have your own
room," Mike said. "I'll help you civilize your brothers, the beasts!"
"That's a lost cause," Martha said.
"If Mom couldn't do it, there's no hope. It's too late. I think
I read that the hardwiring of the brain is complete by age 5 or so, so there's
probably no hope for any of you. You're men! "
The three boys said, "Ouch!" simultaneously,
and laughed.
The family went on to talk about midterms,
life at school, and what had been going on at home. The evening passed
quickly and pleasantly. About 10 o'clock the youngsters stood up to
excuse themselves and go to bed.
"I just want to tell you all how much
I love you, and how much I appreciate what you did for me when I was sick,"
Mike said. "I know I was dying when you came down to school, and that
your prayers and being with me brought me back. Being part of this
family and sharing your love have made up for everything bad that's ever
happened to me. I don't know how I could have been so lucky."
He started to weep, and embarrassed, turned to leave.
"Come here, Mike," Mrs. Broman said,
and made him sit down again. She folded him in her arms, and kissed
his face.
"I'm sorry. I just wanted you
to know how I feel," Mike said.
"We know, dear. And you've had
a tough time," Mrs. Broman said.
"Mike's going to be fine, Mom, but
he's still recovering from the meningitis," Matt explained. "It leaves
his emotions a little raw sometimes."
"I know. That's why we're so
glad you came home for your break instead of running off to Lord knows where
for vacation. We're going to take good care of our Mike while he's
here."
"Thanks, Mom." Mike kissed her,
and left to go upstairs.
Matt lingered. "He's right.
I really think he was gonna die until you came down to school. We owe
all of you a lot," he said. He kissed his mom and dad good night, waved
at Jeff and Martha, and followed Mike upstairs.
When Matt went into their bedroom,
Mike was sitting on the side of the bed quietly. Matt went over and
sat beside him, and hugged him.
"You're my sweet boy, Mike, and I love
you to death," Matt said.
Mike was surprised--they rarely used
endearments for one another. They lay back on the bed with their arms
around each other, legs dangling.
"I feel so stupid when I can't control
my emotions around people," Mike finally said.
"Don't worry about it," Matt said.
"You're recovering right on schedule, and none of the really terrible things
that can come from meningitis have happened to you. You're doing great."
They held each other tightly, and then
got up to take a shower together. When they went to bed, Matt made
gentle love to Mike, and they fell asleep, entwined.
The boys spent the week and a half
that they were home bumming around with Jeff and Martha, catching up on movies,
listening to music, swimming and working out. Matt made an effort to
keep their vacation pace slow for Mike's sake.
It was too cold for a motorcyle ride,
but they made arrangements to get a ramp so they could load Mike's bike into
the truck and take it back to school for spring riding, and just in case
they decided to spend their summer of leisure traveling by bike instead of
taking one of the trucks. They had about decided to spend the first
few weeks of their summer at Mike's condo at Snowmass, and were looking forward
to experiencing spring in the Rockies. After that they thought they'd
go out to Vancouver and travel south along the Pacific coast through Washington,
Oregon, and California to Mexico. They thought they'd at least go down
to Ensenada. They were starting to get more and more excited about
the trip now that they were actually making plans.
Spring break over, they added their
luggage to the CBR in the truck bed, said goodbye to the family, and were
on the road back to school by midmorning. They were in a great mood
due to their summer plans, and were listening to music and having their usual
verbal jousts, Mike at the wheel.
"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, I'm really glad
you're feeling better because you've gotten spoiled while you were sick.
I'm gonna hafta take you in hand and get you straightened out," Matt said
as he reached over and squeezed Mike's neck.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, I think you
have been taking me in hand on a regular basis. That was you, wasn't
it? It felt like you. I'd know those fat, fumbling fingers anywhere."
"Oh, oh, negative vibes here.
And you know what that means."
"No! This is my truck.
I don't have to listen to this!"
Matt started singing, "Bye, bye Miss
American pie, took my Chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry. . ."
"I've heard you sound better when you're
gargling in the morning than you do right now singing."
". . .and this will be the day that
I die. . ." Matt sang louder.
"Lord, take him quickly and stop this
squawking in my ears," Mike said.
"All, right, now I'm really insulted.
You have to be punished with a good joke," Matt came back.
"No, I'm begging you. . ."
"You'll love this one, Mikey, it's
a travel story. . .
"A man and a woman were driving down
the road arguing about
his frequent infidelity.
"Suddenly the woman reaches over and
slices off the man's
pecker. Angrily the woman tosses it out the window of the
car.
"Driving behind the car is a fella
in a pickup truck with his 10 year
old daughter chatting away beside him. All of the sudden, the pecker
smacks the pickup on the windshield and flies off.
"Surprised, the daughter asks her daddy,
'Daddy what in the
heck was that?'
"Not wanting to expose his 10 year
old daughter to sex at such a
tender age, the father replies, 'It was only a bug, honey.'
"The daughter gets a confused look
on her face, and after a
minute she says, 'Sure had a big dick!'"
Mike struggled to keep a straight face.
"You know, your jokes just keep getting
worse. When are you gonna hit bottom?" he said.
"You're just jealous that wrestlers
have a joke repertory, and swimmers don't," Matt said.
"We don't need a repertory. We
just look at our sorry wrestling team, and that's all the humor we can stand!"
"Bad vibes again, Mikey. But
I'm gonna give you a sporting chance. If you can tell me the answer
to this question, no more jokes or singing from me on this trip, OK?"
" K, what's the question?"
"What do you call an Alabama farmer
with a sheep under each arm?" Matt asked with a big smile of triumph already
on his face.
Mike was quiet for a minute, and then
said, "A pimp!"
Matt's smile disappeared. "You dufus!
How'd ya know?"
"Ha! Just because swimmers
have the good taste not to tell bad jokes doesn't mean that we don't know
any! I win, nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah, silence is golden!"
"Stop gloating! If you
weren't driving, I'd give you a hickey that would take six months to heal."
"More promises, no delivery!
I've heard all this before."
They continued bickering back and forth
until they hit the next rest area on the interstate, where they stopped and
got gas and grabbed a burger and fries.
As they left, this time with Matt driving,
Matt looked in his rearview mirror and throught he saw the Weasel again,
in the same car as before with a bunch of guys, but couldn't be sure.
He didn't see them again once they got back on the interstate.
They arrived back at school without
incident and unloaded their luggage. They didn't have a ramp to unload
Mike's motorcycle, so they drove a short way into the countryside, found
a ditch of the right depth, backed the truck into it, and drove the bike
off on to level ground. Mike drove the truck, and Matt the bike, back
to their apartment.
Things were soon back in their old
routine, except that Matt and Mike were getting more and more excited about
their upcoming trip. They pulled up maps on their computers and continued
to make plans for what they hoped would be the greatest summer of travel
ever. The anticipation kept them energized as the school year wound
down.
* * *
One night Matt was coming out of wrestling
practice and was walking alone toward the truck, when a rusty old blue van
pulled up next to where he was parked. He neared his own truck and
turned to unlock the driver's side door, when the van's side door slid back
suddenly and somebody put a black hood over his head. Myriad hands
grabbed his arms and legs and hustled him inside the van. He felt his
limbs being bound tightly as the vehicle pulled away. He could hardly
breathe inside the hood. There had been no chance to signal the campus
patrol. Matt was furious as he lay on the floor of the van, being jounced
around. Whether this was gay bashing or only a prank, someone was going
to pay dearly for it.
One of Matt's teammates, coming out
of the gym about 30 seconds after Matt, witnessed what had happened, and
called the University City police. He wasn't able to give them any
information on the van other than it was a Chevy, dark blue and rusty, no
windows on the sides, no license plates. The first uniformed policemen
on the scene radioed what information they had to the central station, and
an all-points bulletin was put out by Dispatch on the van. Patrol cars
watched the main streets out of town for the vehicle. The uniforms also sequestered
Matt's truck, and sent for a tow truck to take it to the police impound just
in case something inside it would give them a clue about what had happened.
Meanwhile, Mike had arrived back at
the apartment from swim practice before Matt got home, as usual, and was
sitting in the living room reading when a knock came at the door. Mike
thought Matt must have misplaced his key, so he opened it, and was surprised
to see a stranger standing there.
"Hello, I'm Detective Ray Stans.
You must be Matt's brother, Mike." Stans showed his badge.
"Yeah, I'm Mike. What's wrong?"
"May I come in?"
"Sure."
They went into the living room, and
Mike motioned the detective to a chair.
"Mike, let me get right to the point.
One of Matt's teammates says he saw Matt being grabbed up by a bunch of guys
in an old blue van tonight after wrestling practice. Have you seen
him?"
"No! He's usually home
by now, too. What's happened to him?" There was fear in Mike's
voice.
"We don't know. We have an all-points
bulletin out on the van, and I'll be very surprised if they can get out of
the city without being spotted. Has Matt received any threats of any
kind recently?"
"Not that I know of. The gay
bashing incidents have dropped off to practically nothing here on campus
for the time being, and I don't know why anybody else would bother him.
This can't be happening!"
"Let's not get too worried yet.
This may turn out to be a prank," Stans said. "I'd like to have another
phone line and a tracing apparatus installed here in your apartment just
in case it's something more. Is that all right?"
"Yes, please. You think he's
been kidnaped, don't you?"
"It's too early to make that judgment,
but we want to be ready for any eventuality. Don't be upset.
We're going to get Matt back, and catch the guys who took him."
Mike got up and began to pace up and
down the living room. "Do you think I should call our dad and mom?"
"Why don't you hold off for a couple
hours, and let's see if you're contacted. If nobody calls, then you
call your family."
"OK. Isn't there something more
we can do now? I'm getting scared."
"Give the patrol cars a chance to spot
the van. Meanwhile, I'll get the technical crew in here with another
phone line and the tracing equipment," Stans said.
Within a half hour, the apartment was
crawling with technicians installing another phone line, recorders, and a
box that supposedly would provide an instant trace on incoming phone calls.
They had everything installed in about 30 minutes, and everyone left except
Detective Stans and two technicians who manned the equipment.
Mike made some coffee for the policemen,
and walked around the apartment nervously until 10 p.m., when he called home.
Mrs. Brighton told Mike that Mr. and Mrs. Broman had left for London just
that morning on business. Matt didn't tell her why, but said he needed
to talk with them right away. She said she would call them at their
London hotel when morning arrived over there, and have them telephone him.
Mike thanked her, and hung up.
Mike went to bed about midnight, really
frightened for Matt. The bed felt empty without him as Mike inhaled
his lover's scent on the sheets. He asked God to bring Matt safely
back to him and the family.
There were no calls all night, and
the only call early in the morning was from their mom and dad. Mike
gave them all the information he had. They said they were cutting their
trip short, and would fly into University City as soon as they could.
Their fear for Matt was palpable, even over the phone.
About 11 o'clock that morning the telephone
rang, and the technicians immediately started the recording equipment.
The trace started the minute that Mike picked up the phone.
"Hello."
"We have Matt. You want him back?"
"Yes."
"All right. You have Daddy Warbucks
get together $50 million in bearer bonds and cash for his little boy.
We'll call again with instructions for delivery."
The phone went dead.
Stans turned and looked inquiringly
at the technicians.
"Cell phone," one of them said.
"Tower One. Not far from the center of town. That's as much as
we can give you right now."
"Get more, and get it fast," Stans
ordered. "The clock's ticking, here."
"I'm going out for a few minutes, if
that's all right," Mike said to Stans. "I have something I gotta do."
"OK, but get back as soon as you can.
We don't know when they might call again."
" K," Mike said, and went out the door
after snatching up his wallet.
When he got to the bottom of the stairs,
he realized he didn't have the truck. He went into the garage, and
fired up his bike. First he went to a cash machine, and withdrew $1000
on his American Express card with no trouble. Then he headed for the
airport.
He parked in one of the lots, and climbed
off the bike, chilled to the bone. He hunted down the office for small,
private plane flights, and asked if he could rent a pilot and helicopter,
saying that he remembered seeing a nice little Bell 427 on its pad the last
time he was there.
"You got money, kid?" one of the guys
in the office asked. "The bird costs $250 an hour."
"No problem," Mike said. "Gotcha
covered."
"Where do you want to go?"
"I'm looking for a certain vehicle.
I want to start in the center of the city and fly in concentric circles until
I locate it," Mike said.
"It's your money. Let's go,"
the pilot said.
They went out to the pad and the pilot
took the tethers off the rotor paddles. They climbed into the cockpit,
the pilot in the right seat, Mike in the left. The pilot threw some
switches, and after a humming sound, the rotor began turning, throwing moving
shadows on the ground as it wound up. They sat on the pad for 10 minutes
while the engine warmed up and the pilot went over a checklist.
The pilot looked over at Mike as they
buckled themselves in, and stuck out his hand.
"John Davis," he said.
"Mike Broman," Mike responded as they
shook hands.
"What's goin' on, Mike?"
"My brother was kidnapped last night
from the university. I'm looking for the van they took him in."
"Cops know?"
"That I'm doing this? Nope."
Davis shrugged. "OK, let's go
up and look around."
He cleared them with the tower, pulled
up on the collective and moved the cyclic forward. They rose a few
feet, tilted forward, and cut across the airfield as they climbed and flew
toward the center of town.
"What kind of vehicle are you looking
for? I'll watch for it out my side, too," Davis said.
"A dark blue Chevy van, rusty, no plates.
I don't know how much detail we can see from up here, but that's all we know
at this point."
"All righty," the pilot said.
"Here we go." And he began to make gentle, clockwise, circular sweeps
around town.
They finished with the center of town,
the university and the older residential area in about an hour, doing a thorough
job and sometimes going back over the same area twice if a vehicle looked
at all similar to their target.
"Where'd you learn to fly, John?" Mike
asked.
"Nam. I was a warrant officer
in search and rescue."
"Wow. Lots of experience, then."
"Yeah. These birds are so expensive
to fly that we're not certifying a lot of new helicopter pilots today.
The stick time is too expensive. So us old timers are still holding
down the fort."
"I can see why," Mike said. "I
bet you saw some things in Nam!"
"Sure did! I never expected
to make it home, to tell you the truth."
They were now flying over a bunch of
factory buildings that had once been on the outskirts of town, but had been
gradually encompassed by new housing developments, and eventually been abandoned
for newer, more modern structures.
They were flying over one such abandoned
building when Mike thought he saw a dark shadow under a sheet metal canopy
at a one-bay loading dock. He asked John to go around again so he could
take a better look. Davis identified the building as an abandoned broom
factory, closed down for the past 10 years or so.
* * *
Matt had continued to fume as the van
bounced through the now-dark streets of University City, but it was a short
and leisurely trip, wherever they had gone. Within 10 minutes they
had stopped on what seemed to be a downward incline. Matt's arms and legs
were grabbed again and he had been carried out of the van, still hooded,
and from the sound of his captors' footfalls, into some huge space.
He was placed in an old wooden armchair, and his arms and legs re-tied to
the chair. Someone took off his hood, but it had been too dark to see
much.
He had heard his abductors talking
behind him, and one voice had stood out, even at a whisper. It was
the Weasel's nasal tones that he heard. Matt hadn't let on that he
heard anything, though, let alone that he knew someone who was involved in
this incident.
The night had seemed interminable,
although his captors had fed him hamburgers and released him from the chair
long enough to relieve his bladder against the wall. Some kind soul
had even thrown a blanket over him, and he got some sleep after he said his
prayers, asking for rescue for himself and protection for Mike and their
family.
As dawn had arrived, Matt could see
a little more of where he was being held. It looked like an abandoned
factory building. It was totally empty and swept clean. Ten I-beams
ran down the center of the huge space, each one supporting a continuous catwalk
50 feet up with a skylight in the roof above it. A few of the sections
of the skylight were cranked open a foot or so. The sun was shining,
and the sun-warmed spring air floated around the huge room. The entrance
to the building was 75 feet or so from where Matt was sitting.
One of Matt's captors showed up with
an Egg McMuffin and some orange juice, fed him, and let him urinate again.
Later in the morning, Matt heard a
helicopter flying around outside, and thought to himself that it would be
too good to be true if they were looking for him.
He asked the guy who was guarding him
if he could take a leak again, and was released from his chair. The
other men were all huddled together down toward the entrance to the building,
talking. Matt emptied his bladder, and on the way back to the chair,
on impulse, sprinted suddenly to the closest I-beam and jumped up on it.
Using his hands and feet, he began to climb rapidly toward the catwalk above.
His nearest guard jumped and made a grab for him, but Matt punched the man's
hands until he let go and fell back to the floor. Expecting to be shot
at any minute, Matt reached a rusty old ladder which reached halfway down
the beam from the roof, and easily ascended the rest of the way to the catwalk.
None of his captors seemed to be in good enough shape to climb an I-beam,
at least not quickly enough to reach him anytime soon, although one had made
it up about 15 feet.
Matt ran down the catwalk to an open
section of the skylight and wedged his way under it, rolling out on to a
broad expanse of roof. Now the question was, how was he going to get
down? There was a 75-80 foot drop to the ground, and his captors would
undoubtedly find a way to the roof before long. Maybe, he thought to
himself, he had outsmarted himself.
* * *
The helicopter had made another circle
and was approaching the abandoned factory again when Mike and the pilot saw
Matt roll out the skylight window and sprint to the edge of the roof, looking
for a way down. Mike recognized Matt's athletic jacket immediately.
"That's my brother, John. Pick
him up!"
Another figure rolled out of the skylight,
and began running toward Matt across the roof. A puff of smoke came
out of a black object in his hand.
"I can't land down there, Mike.
The roof of that old building won't hold this bird!"
Mike put his hand over John's hand
on the collective and pushed down gently. The helicopter dipped momentarily,
then continued to hover.
"Put this thing on the deck, John!
We're not leaving him here! We're going down there one way or
another!"
Their eyes locked and no one blinked.
Part 8
His eyes locked to the pilot's, Mike
kept his hand over John Davis' hand on the helicopter's collective.
Mike pushed it down yet again as a reminder he meant business, and the big
bird bobbed in the air.
"John, I'm not fucking around here.
You get down there and pick Matt up, or I swear to God, you won't like what
happens."
"Mike, I told you, I can't land down
there!"
"You get down there and hover, then!
You don't have to land! I can at least get Matt on the skid."
Cursing under his breath, Davis knocked
Mike's hand away and pushed the collective down to descend, turning on the
landing light in the nose and training it on the man running with the gun
as he did so. The light was so bright, even in daylight, that the man
was somewhat blinded and stopped running after Matt.
Other men, squeezing out from under
the skylight and on to the roof, saw the approaching helicopter and quickly
went back the way they had come. The man with the gun immediately followed
them inside the building, leaving the roof to Matt and his rescuers.
As the copter hovered a foot or so
above the surface of the factory roof, Mike opened his door and stepped out
on to the skid. Matt limped over and Mike hauled him up on the skid
and into the passenger compartment, remaining outside on the skid himself
and hanging on to the door frame. The machine began to lift rapidly.
Mike stuck his head in the door.
"John, can you radio the airport and have them send the police over here?
Tell them we have Matt Broman and that the kidnappers are still here."
He squeezed Matt's neck. "Matt, are you OK?"
"That guy shot me in the leg, Mike.
I think it's just grazed, though."
"You don't know how glad I am to see
you, bro!" Mike said.
Mike heard John on the radio to the
airport controller.
When John finished, Mike asked him
to head for the hospital landing pad so that Matt could be looked at, and
suggested that the airport controller also let Detective Stans know that
Matt was on the way to the emergency room.
From their vantage point in the helicopter
high above, they could see squad cars all over the city turning on their
Mars lights and heading for the abandoned broom factory. There were
soon about 20 police cars gathered there, and none of the kidnappers had
escaped from the building that they could see.
The helicopter arrived at University
Hospital's landing pad within several minutes, and ER personnel with a gurney
met them on the pad as they landed and powered down. Mike and John
assisted Matt in climbing down from the cockpit, and he lay down on the gurney.
"This gurney is like an old friend,
I'm sorry to say," Matt quipped.
"I know," Mike said. "I'll be
right behind you, Matt."
Mike turned to John Davis, who was
standing beside the helicopter, ready to go.
"I'm sorry I was so hard-nosed about
picking up Matt, John," Mike said. "But I honestly believe they would
have killed him rather than let him identify them."
"Kid, I would have done the same for
my brother. All's well that ends well. No hard feelings.
You got guts!" Davis said.
"Thanks, you too, not that you had
anything to prove! Now, how much do I owe you?"
Davis looked at his watch. "Well,
it's a little over two hours, but let's call it an even $500, and we're square."
"Fair enough." Mike counted out
five $100 bills and gave them to Davis. They shook hands, and Davis
climbed back into the copter, fired up the motor and took off as Mike gave
him a wave.
Mike headed for the emergency room
on a dead run, and encountered Detective Stans just going in. Stans
took his badge out of his pocket and handed it to Mike.
"Here, buddy, you should probably be
wearing this!"
"I don't think so. I just got
lucky, that's all!" Mike said, handing it back.
"Sometimes we make our own luck.
Is Matt hurt bad?"
"No, just a bullet graze on the right
leg, I think."
"Well, while they're working on him,
why don't we sit down and let me get a report started?"
" 'K," Mike said, and they headed for
some free chairs to talk.
Mike filled Stans in on all the details,
and within an hour, Matt was wheeled out of a treatment room and was ready
to go. Mike went to him, and hugged him and kissed him, spectators
be damned.
Since Mike had no transportation, Stans
offered them a ride back to the apartment. An orderly wheeled Matt
out to the unmarked police car, Mike helped him into the back seat, and then
climbed in front with Stans.
"Matt, Mike saved your bacon, in all
probability," Stans said. "The department should have been as on top
of things as he was. You can be proud of him."
"Well, it's not the first time he's
come through for me! And I'm always proud of him!" Matt responded.
"Do you feel up to answering some questions
when we get you home? I've already started a report with the information
Mike gave me."
"You bet! I want you to
catch these guys, and I know who you should start with!" Matt said, thinking
about the Weasel.
They arrived back at the apartment
and saw a rental car in the driveway. They got out of Stans' car, and
went upstairs. The policemen who had been assigned to the phones had
admitted Mr. and Mrs. Broman to the apartment, and the surprised and happy
parents were all over Matt as soon as he came in the door.
"You ought to be hugging and kissing
Mike!" Matt said. "I didn't do anything but get kidnaped. It
took Mike to get me out of it!"
Mike shrugged, but his mom and dad
enfolded him, too. Then the elder Bromans sat down on the couch and
cried with relief, both of them. The boys pushed them apart and sat
down between them with their arms around them.
The remaining policemen uninstalled
the extra phone line and the tracing equipment, and were soon on their way.
By then it was supper time, so Mike
borrowed the rental car and went to Houlihan's for some good take out, including
a meal for Detective Stans so he could talk to Matt for his report.
They all ate around the kitchen table, and then Mike brought the Bromans'
luggage upstairs, and got them set up in the spare bedroom. Their mom
and dad wanted to leave the next morning, and they phoned the airline to
arrange for their flight home at 9 a.m.
Detective Stans left about 8 p.m. after
completing his report and talking to the police station. He was informed
that 5 kidnappers had been captured by the police at the broom factory.
All were in custody, in fact, except Neil Anderson. Stans put out an
all points bulletin on him, and also ordered a squad car to be stationed
at the boys' apartment all night and every night until he was caught.
Matt was thrilled to be home.
He was also jubilant knowing that he wouldn't have to face the Weasel twice
a week in pre-law anymore.
By 10 p.m., everyone was in bed.
Matt and Mike lay on their sides in
their bed, looking into one another's face.
"I couldn't have gotten through this
without you, Mike," Matt said. "I don't mean your part in the rescue,
I mean just being a prisoner of those people. I had a hood over my
head most of the time, but every minute I was tied to that chair I could
see your face in my mind as clearly as I see it right now. That's what
kept my spirits up. That's what gave me the courage to try to get away."
Mike put out his hand and rubbed Matt's
crew cut. "I've been thinking about you and praying non-stop since
they grabbed you. I was scared for you, but I knew in my heart God
wouldn't take you away from me." Silence. "You mean more to me
than my own life, Matt," he whispered. "I don't have the words I need
right now to tell you how much I love you."
"You don't need to tell me, Mikey.
I know."
They just held each other. Matt
was exhausted. His eyelids soon drooped, and he fell asleep almost
immediately. Mike lay wide awake for several hours looking at Matt's
face and savoring their love before he eased out of bed, put on a robe, and
went into the kitchen. He warmed some milk, and sat down at the kitchen
table with a pad of paper and a pencil, and began to write, making new starts
and many corrections as he went.
"MATT
"We met in the early
morning of our lives,
And the sparkle in your eye penetrated deep
Into my soul, as yet almost unknown to me,
While my own eye caressed the muscular curves and hard planes of your body.
"Still a child,
I could not have known what lay beneath
Your perfect configuration:
A soul and spirit so quietly luminous that the power of them
Went unnoticed, until without warning, I was captured, enraptured by their
beauty.
"That rapture, that
joy I now encounter every day,
Converts my nervous and wandering inner self,
Capable only of sporadic glimpses of certitude,
Into a student who eagerly learns all that you can teach me from your very
nature.
"There is nobility
in that nature, without doubt,
Because lessons of love, lessons of forgiveness
Are hard to come by
Without the vessel of flesh that bears them to me, never counting the cost.
"And so, from that
first tiny spark of love and lust for you
Has grown a great conflagration
Which consumes my dross, and can never be quenched."
©2000 Don Hanratty
Finishing at last, Mike laid down his
pencil. For the first time since Matt had been kidnaped, he let go
of the tight hold he had on his emotions, and put his head down and cried.
Soon he stood up. Still not completely
satisfied with what he had written, he folded up the poem into a small square
and tucked it into the pocket of his robe.
Making his way back to bed beside Matt
was sweet culmination, indeed, to a very troubling few days.
* * *
Life at school settled down again into
its familiar routine. Mr. Broman was calling all too frequently, however,
and making noises about "security." The boys tried to assure him and
Mrs. Broman that their teammates were re-energized and watching out for them,
sometimes even staying overnight at the apartment in the spare bedroom and
on the couch, but parental worry was very much in play. Matt finally
took the heat off to some degree by making it clear, very firmly, that they
were going to tough it out with the current arrangements until the school
year ended, and revisit the issue before school started again next fall.
The calls from home moderated, but didn't stop altogether.
The bullet graze on Matt's leg really
had been superficial, and there was nothing but a red mark on his leg within
two weeks.
Neil Anderson had been picked up by
the Georgia state police when his car ran out of gas on one of their expressways
around Atlanta, and his name had turned up on their "wanted" list.
He was in the process of being extradited from Georgia. The other five
kidnappers already in custody were trying to outdo one another as to how
fast they could confess to their part in the kidnaping, each trying to cut
a deal with the prosecutors for lesser charges.
One morning after Mike had already
gone to class, Matt was having breakfast at the kitchen table in his robe
and spilled coffee all over himself. Not yet finished eating, he put
his own robe in the clothes hamper and borrowed Mike's. When by chance
he put his hand into the pocket, he found a small square of paper and unfolded
it.
The poem that Mike had written about
him two weeks before jumped off the page, and took his breath away.
He sat there stunned at the power of Mike's words, and amazed that they could
have been used to describe him. He began to realize more fully than
he ever had before that the relationship of love between Mike and him went
far beyond what most human beings are privileged to experience in their lives.
On impulse, Matt showered right away
rather than waiting until the last minute before class, and leaving the apartment,
stopped by the chapel at Canterbury. He sat there in that silent space,
deserted except for the Presence reserved in the tabernacle behind the altar,
and communed without words as he watched the flickering Sanctus light.
He sat there too long, and was late to class.
Arriving home that night from one of
the last wrestling practices for the year, he found Mike sitting on the couch,
reading.
" 'Sup?" Mike asked.
Saying nothing, Matt put his books
down and went over to sit beside him. He silently took Mike's hand.
"Don't be mad," Matt finally said.
"But I borrowed your robe this morning and found the poem you wrote in the
pocket. Awesome, Mike. I don't know what to say to you.
I'm really jazzed, it's so beautiful!"
Mike looked embarrassed. "It
still needs some work. But it's my crude way of saying what I feel,"
he said.
"There's nothing crude about it!
It's perfect, and I love it so much. Please don't change a word!"
"Well. . ."
"Well, nothing!" Matt said. "I'm
not giving it back, anyway, dufus! It has my name on it, remember?
I'm going to print it out on my computer, and have it and the original framed,
and hang them in our room."
Mike just nodded, pleased.
"Listen, we need to talk a little more
about our summer trip after we study, 'K? I had a few ideas today I
was thinking about," Matt said.
" 'K, sounds good. Hey, whaddaya
want to do for supper tonight? I'll treat at Houlihan's if ya wanna
go over there."
"You got a deal, bud. Just let
me change my shirt, and we'll go early and beat the supper crowd."
"Yeah," Mike said as they stood up
and gave each other a hug.
They drove over to Houlihan's and stuffed
themselves, and came back and studied for several hours. Then they
got soft drinks out of the fridge, and sat down cross legged and facing each
other on the couch to talk.
"I stopped by Canterbury today for
a few minutes before I went to class," Matt started out. "We've been
so busy, I didn't feel I'd said a proper thank-you for getting out of my
latest mess. I got to thinking about us. I want to ask you, first
of all, how you feel about 'us' at this point. We've been through an
awful lot of shit in a short time."
Mike regarded him solemnly. "Matt,
I've never felt better about myself or about us as a couple. I am so
full of love for you and for the whole world right now, even knowing that
there are assholes out there who try to hurt us sometimes, that I think I'm
gonna burst. Like this minute! Rose-colored glasses all
the way, as stupid as that sounds! And it all starts with you,
I hope you know that!"
"I feel exactly the same way about
you!" Matt said. "I don't think most people feel this way about the
people they're closest to. Mom and Dad certainly do. But there
aren't too many examples of what we have together. We're generating
a lot of love in this relationship, and I'm not only talking about sex.
There's so much love, it's overflowing. We hardly know what to do with
it all. It's energizing! Anyway, I got to thinking about
our trip this summer. This may sound strange 'cuz I don't know exactly
how to say it, but I've been wondering if we shouldn't put our love to some
good use rather than just kickin' back, traveling."
"What do you have in mind?" Mike asked
with a sly grin. "Becoming subjects at the Kinsey Institute?"
"No, you spaz! I was thinking
that maybe we could volunteer in a hospice or something like that for at
least part of the summer. Maybe we don't have what it takes to do that
kind of work, I don't know. It's tough duty. But I keep thinking,
'Give something back, give something back!'"
Mike sat there quietly, thinking, his
chin cupped in his hand.
"It's just a thought, Mike, we don't
need to make a decision now," Matt said. "I'll go along with anything
you decide. I don't want to disappoint you--we do have some awesome
travel plans!"
"Awesome travel plans? No, you're
awesome, bro!" Mike responded. "Everything you've said is right on!
Payback at a hospice sounds excellent to me. I wish I'd thought of
it. That's what really pisses me off. You're so damn good hearted!
Sometimes I'd like to get you down and beat some of that goodness out of
you so you'd be more of a selfish prick like the rest of us. I'm j-u-s-t
kidding, you know that. Really, hospice is a great idea. Doing
this together will be the best gift we ever gave each other, let alone what
we do for anybody else."
"Well, give it some more thought.
I'm serious about doing whatever you want. Part of me is hoping you'll
say we're just gonna travel. You know, the selfish prick part." Matt
said, smiling.
"Two months volunteering, one month
traveling," Mike said. "How does that sound?"
"Done, dude!" They bumped fists.
Then Matt pushed Mike back on the couch and climbed on top of him, grinding
his pelvis into Mike's. They were hard almost instantly. They
both jumped up and ran for the bedroom.
"Last one undressed is a love-slave,"
Matt said, stripping off his 501's and jockeys in one motion. He kicked
off his Nikes and socks, and his T floated to the floor as he jumped into
bed ahead of Mike, who still had his T-shirt and boxers on.
"You cheated!" Mike simulated a whine.
"I'm going to be a very benevolent
Master," Matt said. "Now get those boxers and that shirt off, and get
your cute little butt over here, Boy! Hehehe!"
Mike did as he was told, and lay down
on top of Matt. Matt cupped Mike's ass and squeezed his cheeks with
his big hands. "Your butt is one in a million," he said.
They kissed at length, tongues dueling,
exploring. Finally breaking their kiss, Matt propped his head up on
his folded pillow.
"Mike, I'm feeling really oral tonight.
Hehehe. Sit on my chest. I want you to feed me your beautiful
dick an inch at a time."
Mike straddled his partner, his 8 inch
cock standing straight up, almost against his abdomen. He reached down
and put the head of his dick in Matt's mouth, and leaned more toward Matt,
resting on his hands and arms. Matt began to run his tongue around
the corona, and inserting his tongue repeatedly in the slit. Mike made
approving sounds, and Matt tasted a sweet drop of pre-cum.
Matt cupped Mike's balls in one hand,
and with the other, reached around, parted his cheeks, and began to caress
Mike's rosebud with a moistened middle finger. Soon Matt put his finger
up Mike's ass to the first knuckle. Mike began to groan with pleasure
as Matt continued to circle the end of his dick with his tongue. Matt
pulled Mike toward his face and took another inch or so of his penis into
his mouth, at the same time sticking his finger as far he could up Mike's
chute. He began to massage Mike's prostate. Mike began to thrust
gently into Matt's mouth. Their eyes locked as they really got into
pleasuring one another.
Matt eventually took all of Mike's
8 inches as Mike thrust slowly in and out. Matt squeezed Mike's dick
with his mouth and throat every time he took him all in, and after about
10 minutes of escalating pleasure, Mike gasped and filled Matt's mouth with
semen. Matt counted at least 8 full shots of cum, which he swallowed
as rapidly as he could. Only a few drops ran down his chin. Mike
crumpled down on top of him with a deep sigh, spent and resting. They
kissed, and Mike tasted himself in Matt's mouth.
"Hmmmm," Mike mumbled. "That
was fantastic! Now, how do you want me to get you off, bud?"
"Let's 69. I want some more of
your juice. You've made me into a cum slut, you stud! And
do I love it!" Matt said.
They rearranged themselves on the bed,
head to foot, and Mike gazed at Matt's already hard cock, engorged to its
full 8½ inches. Matt gasped as Mike suddenly swallowed the whole
thing, right down to the pubes.
They began working each other up to
a climax. Mike could hear Matt groaning with pleasure as he sucked
Mike's dick. Mike teased Matt, repeatedly bringing him to the edge
of ejaculation and then slacking off. Mike was hard and horny again
himself, and just as he blew, Matt flooded Mike's mouth with at least 10
shots of hot cum. The boys lay dormant, still holding one another's
cock in their mouths, tongue washing them gently and letting them drain completely.
Eventually they let go, and crawled up, face to face at the head of the bed,
and kissed tenderly. They held each other and napped for about 15 minutes.
Then they got up and showered together.
"Ya know, I still bone up every time
I see your body. After two years, you're still a total turn-on for
me. Along with everything else, you've probably got the most beautiful
dick in the world," Mike said as he washed Matt's penis. "I thought
it looked perfect the first time I saw it-- I spied on you stripping for
your shower the first night we roomed together. You gave me wood, and
I jacked off in a sock. If there were a contest for the world's most
beautiful dick, I'd enter yours!"
"You devious little perv!
I knew I liked your style the first time we met!" Matt said. "But I
feel the same way about your bod. A swimmer's build like yours makes
me hard--it's those long muscles, I guess. That long muscle between
your legs should be in the art books, and your butt is wet dream material."
They were aroused when they went back
to bed, but too tired to do anything. They fell asleep in seconds,
pressed close to each another.
* * *
Beginning the next night, after they
had studied, Matt and Mike began to search the internet for hospices where
they might want to work during the coming summer. They were surprised
to learn on the web that most of the AIDS hospices had closed down due to
low occupancy rates, thanks to the new anti-viral drugs. The few terminal
AIDS patients who were in need of hospice services were now housed in general
hospices.
They focused their search mostly on
the midwest, figuring that if they worked there, they would be exposed to
a little different culture. They would also be in the center of the
country when it came time to choose their destination for their month of
travel. They finally settled on Mother of Mercy, a general hospice
on Chicago's near-north side, run by the Sisters of Mercy. They composed
a letter introducing themselves to the Sister in charge, explaining their
desire to volunteer without pay for two months, and some of their reasons
for doing so. Ten days later they received an enthusiastic acceptance
of their offer from Sister Angeline Martin of the Sisters of Mercy.
The boys called their mom and dad to
tell them that their plans for the summer had changed. Mr. and Mrs.
Broman seemed taken aback, but pleased.
"You know," their dad said on the phone,
"just when your mom and I think we have you two guys all figured out, you
surprise us. We're proud of you!"
"We love you," Mike said. "We
wouldn't have done much without you two behind us!"
"What you and Matt have accomplished,
you've done on your own, Mike," Mrs. Broman said.
"I don't know about that," Mike responded.
"Listen, we want to ask you something. We'd like to continue to pay
rent on our apartment here at school while we're gone for the summer, if
that's OK. We don't want to take any chances on losing it, particularly
if Jeff is gonna live with us starting next fall. Would that be all
right?"
"Sure," Mr. Broman said. "And
I'll deposit travel money, and rent money for Chicago, in your accounts,
too. We've got you covered."
"Thanks, Dad," Matt said. "We
appreciate it. Do you think there's any chance that you and Mom and
Jeff and Martha could come down to Chicago for a few days once we get settled
in? It's gonna be a long summer if we don't see you."
"Well, we'll try to do that.
Jeff and Martha will be working, but I'm sure we could get them a few days
off. Your mom and I haven't been in Chicago in years, so it would be
fun," Mr. Broman said.
They finished their conversation and
hung up. Matt grabbed Mike and swung him around the room exuberantly.
"YES!" Matt said. "This is gonna
be a great summer, even if I'm stuck with a skanky guy like you. You
are gonna wash your crotch and under your arms once the hot weather hits
Chicago, aren't you?"
"What about my butt, pilgrim?
Can that stay raunchy?"
"You mean, 'Why change now?!'
Because you're moving more toward the medical profession. You have
to be clean and spiff to be a healer! And speaking of healers, that reminds
me of a story."
"No-o-o-o! I'm not fully
recovered from the meningitis yet. This could send me back into a coma!"
"Au contraire, mon ami!
This will promote good health, I promise! The hero is your kind
of healer!" Matt held him so he couldn't get away.
"A homosexual was fearful of AIDS and
fed up with his gay lifestyle,
so he went to a psychiatrist for treatment. The psychiatrist said
his problems were so deep rooted, it would require extensive
analysis and many months of treatment before he would be cured.
"After almost two years of treatment,
the psychiatrist said,
'You've made remarkable progress. As a matter of fact it's my
opinion that you are now ready to take your rightful place as
a functioning member of straight society.'
"'Oh, doctor,' cried the patient, 'your
good news has made me
so happy I could kiss you!'
"'No, no,' said the psychiatrist, 'don't
do that... in fact,
I really shouldn't be lying here on the couch with you.'"
"That's the worst joke you've ever
told!" Mike wailed. "You should be disbarred by the Bar Association
before you're ever 'barred,' if you know what I mean!"
"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, I'm just warming
you up for our trip. Hehehe! There will be no escape once
we're in the truck, you know!"
"I've had it! The summer
plans are off, as of now!" Mike said. Using one of Matt's wrestling
tricks, he kicked Matt unexpectedly behind his legs and powered him backwards
to the living room floor, where he began to tickle him nonstop. They
dissolved into laughter and kissing.
Three days later, Mike was leaving
a late class, and looked for the truck where he had parked it. It was
nowhere to be seen. Mike called Matt on his cell phone to find out
if he had come and taken it for some reason, but he hadn't. Matt rode
his motorcyle over, and they went up and down the rows of cars, looking.
No truck. They called 911 and reported it, and a squad car pulled up
about 10 minutes later. The officers filled out their report, and put
the information out on the radio. They told the boys that the truck
was most likely stolen for parts, and that they should probably not plan
to get it back intact. Matt and Mike rode home on the motorcyle feeling
depressed.
The county sheriff's police did find
the truck two days later--about 30 miles from campus at the bottom of a pond
left over from some strip mining. The engine and everything remotely
usuable had been removed before the truck body was dumped. Mike was
sad at first because it was one of the last gifts he had received from his
blood parents, but then brightened.
"Ya know, Matt, this might be a blessing
in disguise."
"Whaddaya mean?"
"Well, both our bikes wouldn't fit
in the Nissan. If I get a new truck out of this, I'll get one with
a long bed, and we can take both motorcyles to Chicago and wherever else
we go," Mike said.
"You're right, dude! Lemons
to lemonade, yo!"
The insurance company was notified
that the truck had been found "totaled," and within a week, they paid off.
Mike talked to Mr. Broman, who had received the check, and he told Mike to
get some prices on a new truck.
Mike and Matt priced some long bed
trucks, and finally decided on a new Chevy Silverado, 4WD, extended cab,
dark metallic red, as the truck of choice. When they called their dad
to give him the price, he told Mike he was nuts for paying that much for
a truck, but to go ahead if he wanted it. They immediately added a
cassette and CD player to Mike's order, and finalized the deal after the
salesman confirmed all the details with Mr. Broman. They made sure
they ordered RV license plates so they wouldn't be restricted from traveling
certain local roads.
The truck was delivered 2 weeks later,
and it was so beautiful that Mike almost wanted to sleep in it the first
night. Their first purchase after they got it was a ramp for loading
and unloading their bikes. Then they dropped the truck off at a welding
shop, and had nested metal rings installed in the truck bed so they could
tie the bikes down for travel, and had grooves cut in the floor just inside
the tailgate so the ramp would seat securely when in use. March had
come in like a lamb, so during that first weekend they had the truck, the
boys washed and waxed their new toy and cleaned up their bikes as well.
They began studying maps of Chicago
on the net, and pinpointed the location of the Mother of Mercy hospice.
They were torn between trying to find a place to live in Boystown, the heart
of Chicago's gay community, or further north toward Evanston where Northwestern
University was located. They finally decided to look north for an apartment
because of the easy access to the Lake Michigan beaches so they could run
for exercise.
The boys contacted a realtor on the
net, and after looking at the floor plans and costs he e-mailed to them,
chose an apartment close to Howard and Sheridan Road, within a block of the
lake. They sent the realtor their security deposit and first and last
month's rent, and could take occupancy anytime after June 1.
They were getting more and more excited
about summer. The night they closed on the Chicago apartment, after
they made an attempt to study and were too pumped to remember anything they
were reading, they showered, went to bed and made passionate love, exploring
one another's body enthusiastically yet again. They stretched their
lovemaking out as long as they could, each captivated by the other.
Then they watched TV and just enjoyed each other's company.
"I can't get enough of you," Matt said
after they turned out the light. "I mean more than sex. I mean
the total package. I love the way you look, the way you talk, the way
you walk, the way you think. I suppose this is a cliché, but
you make me a whole person. I'm not the same guy when we're not together.
Knowing I'm going to see you when classes are over makes me happy all day."
"Hey, quit stealing my lines, dude!
Without a doubt, I'm the luckiest guy in the world to be your partner.
I ask myself sometimes what I could possibly have done to be blessed with
you in my life, and I don't have an answer to that. I don't deserve
you, but I'm happy as a pig in shit makin' you happy. It's just that
elemental."
"How come you didn't put the 'pig'
part in the poem you wrote me?"
"I'll make sure it gets in the next
one."
They snuggled together under the blanket
and were soon asleep.
Now that Matt was finished wrestling
for the year, he was starting to get antsy without the exercise. He
started making Mike go to the gym with him in the late afternoons and work
out, just so they could burn up some energy.
"By the time I get finished with you,
bro, you're gonna be so buff the swim team won't recognize you," Matt told
him at the gym. "Besides, I don't want Jeff terrorizing you when he
comes to live with us. It would be embarrassing for ya. He's
pretty buff already."
"Listen, dufus, Jeff and I may just
team up and make you our slave," Mike responded. "You're already my
love slave, so that should cover all the bases."
"Dream on, my man, dream on!
You two wimps aren't used to hand to hand combat like I am. You'll
both be cowering and quivering by the time I'm done with ya!"
Mike looked around the gym to see if
anyone was watching, and then gave Matt's butt a good pinch and ran off with
Matt in hot pursuit. It was no contest--Mike was too fast for him and
got away.
They had both done well on their midterms,
and knew they were down to the final stretch. They intensified their
studying so they didn't have to panic as they came down to the final weeks.
With the warm spring weather upon them, they also got the bikes out on weekends
and rode the country roads around University City, feeling the exhilaration
of wind and speed. Life was so good.
When finals week did arrive they studied
hard, but they didn't have to pull any all nighters. They felt satisfied
about how well they had done on their papers and on their exams, even with
all the challenges they had faced during the semester.
They threw a party at their apartment
after the last final, and most of the swim team and wrestling team were there
stag or with their girlfriends. There was plenty of beer, and some
BYO hard stuff. Matt and Mike adroitly rode herd on the festivities,
though, so no one got out of hand. They made sure that there were designated
drivers for every vehicle. By 4 a.m., all was quiet. The apartment
was in chaos, of course, with pizza boxes and aluminum cans and dirty dishes
everywhere. The bodies of those who elected not to try to get home
occupied the second bedroom, the couch, and the floor here and there.
One body, snoring robustly, was even in bed with Matt and Mike for awhile,
but whoever it was, was gone by the time they woke up the next morning.
A good time had obviously been had by all.
There were a half dozen guys and two
girls still around when Matt and Mike got up. Matt made coffee and
cleaned the refrigerator out of eggs and bacon fixing breakfast for everybody.
Eventually their guests all left, and the boys gave the apartment a good
cleaning before they started to pack for Chicago.
They decided they would pack and load
the truck, piling their luggage in the back seat of the extended cab.
They drove their bikes up the new ramp and secured them. Then they
took an early afternoon nap. By leaving early that night and staying
in a motel, they would only have one fairly easy day of driving to Chicago
left the following day. They went and paid their landlady three months
rent in advance for the summer, and at dusk, headed north to hit I-80 West.
They stopped at a motel about 10 p.m. after grabbing a snack.
The next day was one of those beautiful,
early summer days that people dream about. Blue skies, not a cloud
to be seen, and about 75̊. The boys grabbed breakfast at a handy Mickey
D's, and were on their way in high spirits, Matt at the wheel.
Matt glanced over at Mike out of the
corner of his eye once they were back on the interstate.
"You know, Mikey, I don't want to raise
a sore subject, but since you stopped swimming every day, I can't help notice
you've put on a few pounds. You're getting a gut, even though Lord
knows I've tried to keep you motivated at the gym!"
Mike looked down at his perfectly flat
stomach, and back over at Matt.
"I haven't gained an ounce, you dufus!"
Mike said. "But look how the fat rolls over your belt. Keep it
up, and you can wrestle Sumo class next year! If you gain enough
weight, you'll never see your penis again."
"Yeah, but I'll see yours!
And it'll be getting fatter, and fatter, and fatter. . ."
"Shoot! You won't even
be able to find a pair of 501's to fit ya. And jockeys will be a thing
of the past for you--it'll be boxers--big boxers the size of a barn--from
now on," Mike said. "I don't even want to think about it!
You'll be so big, you'll have to ride in the back of the truck!
People will think I'm being cruel to ya, but it'll just be the best way to
cart your big lard butt around, that's all. I'm glad we got the big
bed truck!"
"You mentioned penises, and that reminds
me of a story, Mikey!"
"No-o-o! You promised you
wouldn't do this!"
"I most certainly did not promise any
such thing! I would never deprive you of the pleasure of one
of my stories!"
Mike subsided into incoherent grumbling.
"There is a sign in the drugstore window:
'CONDOMS, CUSTOM FIT.'
"So a man walks up to the counter and
asks for a condom, like
the sign says. The man at the counter tells him to see Edna
in aisle 4. So the man finds Edna. Edna grabs the man by the
crotch, then gets on the PA system and says, 'Medium Condom.
Medium Condom.' Well, the man is embarrassed, but goes to the
counter to get his condom.
"Later, a second man sees the sign
in the window, and goes up
to the counter to get his condom. The druggist tells him to
see Edna in aisle 4. Same thing happens, Edna grabs his
crotch, gets on the PA and says, 'Large Condom, this man needs
a Large Condom.' The man is pleased, at least, to be a 'large.'
"Next a teenager, a swimmer just your
age, goes into the drugstore
to get a fitted condom, and is told to see Edna in aisle 4. Edna grabs his
crotch, gets on the PA and says, 'Clean-up in aisle 4, clean-up in aisle
4.'"
Mike suppressed a laugh.
"You know, they just keep getting worse!
But you know what I heard?" Mike asked.
"What?"
"I heard that Edna's retiring, and
you put in for her job. You'd be perfect for it, considering your extensive
experience at crotch-grabbing! I can attest to that!"
"If I weren't driving, I'd make you
suffer for saying that!" Matt said.
"I'm already suffering!
You're a sadist, and I'm telling Mom and Dad again! They won't
like it, either. They still think you're perfect!"
Satisfied he'd gotten Mike all revved
up, Matt smiled to himself and turned the radio way up to listen to some
Jonny Lang before they resumed bickering again.
* * *
The rolling hills of western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio gave way to the
plains of west Ohio and Indiana, with farm crops just beginning to poke up
out of the rich earth. The boys traded off at the wheel every two hours,
and stopped for a late lunch at an oasis on the Indiana toll road.
They filled up the truck with gasoline.
They hit the Indiana-Illinois state
line at dusk, and daylight faded quickly. The Dan Ryan expressway from
the south suburbs was bumper to bumper all the way into Chicago's Loop.
They left the Ryan when they got downtown, and drove toward the lake so they
could take Lake Shore Drive north to where they would be living.
They were traveling north on Lake Shore
behind a Chicago police car, when the second car ahead of them lurched suddenly,
hit a retaining wall next to Lake Michigan, flipped over the wall, and plunged
into the lake.
"HOLY SHIT!!" Matt shouted as the cop
car turned on his emergency lights and stopped suddenly. Mike, who
was driving at that point, braked to a stop behind it and put on his flashers.
The boys got out of the truck and joined
a rather corpulent police officer, who was standing on the road looking helplessly
down at the water. The submerged car's headlights were still on, and
the vehicle looked to be in about 15 feet of water.
Matt and Mike looked at each other,
and then sprinted back to the truck. They dumped their wallets, watches and
shoes in the truck, grabbed a small, waterproof flashlight and a small hammer
out of the glove compartment, and locked the vehicle. They raced back
to the cop, who was talking on his shoulder radio.
"Hey, you can't. . ." the cop said,
as the boys climbed on the wall and jumped feet first into the black water.
The water was so cold that they almost went into shock, but they doggedly
swam down and peered into the car with the aid of the flashlight. They
could see an African-American man and woman in the front, and two kids, about
8 and 10, in the back. The water was up to steering wheel already,
and rapidly filling the passenger compartment.
Mike tried to open the driver's side
door, but it was jammed. They went up for air.
"Smash the back window, Matt, and I'l