All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language, please exit now.
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"AS I REMEMBER HIM"
A story by
Ritch Christopher
"And if you knew him, you would understand just why,
As I remember him, I cry."
Portia Nelson, 1995
Chapter Seven
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Randy supervised David's wardrobe choices, then registered full approval before taking him to a Polynesian restaurant in downtown Atlanta, similar to the Mai-Kai in Fort Lauderdale. It was replete with entrees served on flaming swords, tropical drinks, and an authentic Polynesian floorshow with women and men dressed in grass skirts, juggling torches and machetes, beating native drums, both tall and short, as accompaniment to dances so vibrant, so sensuous that every part of the dancers bodies was shaking, wiggling, or telegraphing a sexual innuendo.
David felt like a new...well, a different person in his new modern-style clothes. It was as if Randy had ordered the entire UnderGear catalogue at one time or another and suddenly presented David with the lot. He also felt like a different person, after having had had his first experience of gay sex, even though he had been merely the passive receiver of Randy's oral excursion.
While he should have been mourning for his deceased brother, all troubles seemed to vanish, at least temporarily, for David. There was no doubt that, when he and his handsome male companion entered the restaurant, walking through several dining areas before they reached their table, all eyes...female AND male had noticed that they were an attractive couple---and probably assumed that the couple was gay!. Strangely, David realized that it didn't seem to bother him, and he noticed that Randy certainly didn't mind. Time had regressed for Randy and he was once again with his former lover, Mark, introducing him to a new place, a site with lavish decor and elegant food, and elegant people.
David accepted the fact since he would be returning to Virginia in a few short days; if everyone staring at him thought he was gay...what difference did it make? No one here knew him and God knows, he knew none of them either, so fuck them!. Randy loved having a chance to show off, especially when trying to impress David, speaking to the waiter as he ordered drinks and items from the menu in some Polynesian, Tahitian, or native Hawaiian tongue.
The two had a wonderful time eating strange pork and seafood concoctions, smothered in tropical fruit and drinking rum drinks mixed with mango and pomegranate juice. The Polynesian show was unlike anything David had ever seen before. Suddenly the thought occurred that he and Mark had lived a sheltered life at home. Mark must have had a blast being escorted by Randy during the months prior to the onset of Mark's illness.
Several times, Randy toasted David with their drinks and then 'retoasted'...each time making sure their hands touched. David found no reason to be shy, even when Randy reached to hold David's hand when the lights were dimmed for the show. Randy had been aware of Mark's two drink limit...the same that David had revealed about himself, but before dinner was over, David had consumed four 'fruit' drinks before he knew it. The fruit juices masked the alcohol flavor and soon David was far beyond his limit and the merely 'feel good' stage. Had they been in a private, secluded dining room for two, Randy could have stripped David nude and had him, right there on the table.
Needless to say, Randy was fighting a mental battle with himself. Should he take David home and take full advantage of David's drunkenness or be a 'gentleman' (which was certainly not his usual demeanor) and respect David's being straight? He decided to wait and see what kind of mood David would be in once they returned to his apartment before 'taking the big step'...or NOT taking it at all.
Randy was not at all high or even slightly tipsy when he paid the check without even counting the money he placed on the tray and then tipped the valet twenty-dollars when his Porsche was brought to the front door of the restaurant. David was trying to sing some kind of chant he had heard during the show and was beating the dashboard of the car with his hands as if it were a Tahitian To'ere drum, which amused Randy.
Once they arrived at Randy's, Randy took David's hand and led him to the door and inside his apartment.
"Would you like another drink, or some coffee?" Randy asked, cordially.
"Does your fancy espresso machine make some kind of fancy coffee with pineapples or bananas?"
"I...I've never heard of making coffee like that, however, if you really want it, I can make you a cafe au lait with coconut milk."
"Sounds good to me...!"
"I can add some Hawaiian rum to yours, if you're game..."
"Randy, the way I feel...I'm game for almost anything...!"
"Would you like to get out of those clothes and into something more comfortable while I get the ingredients and start up the machine?"
"These clothes are wonderful!" David said, with a drunken slur..."HOWEVER, if you do have something more comfortable, let me try it...hell, let me try EVERYTHING!!!"
"Come with me into my bedroom and let's see what we can find..."
"Lead on, Jeeves..."
Again Randy took David's hand, like a father would take his child's hand at Disney World and sat him on the bed while Randy began rummaging through one of the many drawers which were built right into the bedroom walls. Then he found a garment and turned around.
"Here!---These ought to fit you and they sure as hell are comfortable!"
Randy handed David a pair of chocolate brown silk pajamas as filmy as a woman's lingerie.
"Man, these are kinda skimpy, aren't they? I mean, I can see my hand right through them!"
"There's no one here except you and me...and since you have nothing to hide from either of us...well, they ARE comfortable."
"You know, you're right! Who the fuck cares?" David exclaimed.
"Put them on while I go into the kitchen."
"Should I leave your fancy underwear on underneath them?"
"That's up to you...but if you really want to be comfortable...."
"You're right again! You've already made friends with my dick. Why should I hide your old friend?"
'David is more looped than I thought!' Randy said to himself as he left the bedroom.
David removed all his clothes, including the underwear, and slipped into the silk pajamas. The fabric was so soft and smooth, the mere touch of it gave David an additional sensation in his loins. "Who the fuck makes these? Viagra, Levitral, or Cialis? They give me an instant hard-on!" His voice carried all the way to Randy's ears.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Randy screamed from the kitchen.
"Skip it! You've already seen me this way...and up close to boot, come to think of it!"
David walked barefoot from the bedroom to the kitchen with no shame and without trying to hide or cover the manly protrusion tenting the bottoms of the silky pants.
"How do I look?" David asked, turning around as if he was modeling.
"Sexy...sexy as hell!," Randy replied, highly amused at his inebriated house guest.
"What about you? Are you gonna get into something comfortable too?"
"I suppose I should...?"
"Hop to it! I don't want to feel like I'm the only one on display."
Randy laughed and gave David a slight swat on the butt as he passed on the way to the bedroom. Instead of pajamas, David put on a pair of short shorts and a fishnet wife-beater with a pair of leather flip-flops. He brought an extra pair of the sandals back with him for David to wear.
Looking at Randy's new outfit, David remarked, "Hell, I feel overdressed!"
"Believe me, if you were any more UNdressed than you are in those PJ's, you'd be arrested."
"My God, that see-through undershirt really shows off your chest," David remarked.
"I have others like it if you'd like to put one on..."
"And compare my chest with yours? You've gotta be kidding!"
"David, you have a great chest. Hell, you've got a nice build all over."
"You're just saying that because you want my body...Shit! You've already HAD my body...the front of it anyway...but you're not about to get at my backside. I know what you fags...what you gay guys do. I read all about it and I want no part of that action!"
"David, you know I told you I wouldn't force you to do anything. That's why I told you about the lock on the guest room door."
"Just as long as you don't have a key." He snickered at his joke.
"The door has no key. It can only be locked and unlocked once you're inside the bedroom."
"That's good to hear."
Randy suddenly changed his plan. "Listen, David, I think I'd better make the espresso with just the coconut milk and leave out the rum. I'm going to be the mean old bartender and cut you off. I'd hate for you to accuse me of something that didn't happen...or something that WON'T happen, not as long as you're under the influence..."
"You mean like Michael Jackson?"
"Well, kinda...only you're older than I. As a matter of fact, neither of us is underage."
"Like we're 'consenting' adults?"
"In a court trial, the term, 'consensual', only applies if both parties are stone-sober...and I'm afraid you wouldn't qualify, my beautiful friend."
"You don't have any 'roofies', do you?"
"THOSE I've never had...nor have I ever had a reason to need them."
"That's good to know, too!...Only let me ask something...What if the drunken 'victim' becomes the aggressor?"
"Meaning...?"
"What would've happened if one of the kids attacked Michael Jackson? Could Michael sue him?"
"What are you getting at, David?"
"All right, I'm the one who's had a little too much to drink. You're almost sober. I'm straight. I don't like men. You're gay. You DO like men, don't you? What if I were to attack you, would you have me arrested?"
"I don't think that's gonna happen, but IF that were the case, I don't believe I would. Why did you ask?"
"Dunno. I was just wondering...."
"David, why don't you go into the living room and sit or lie down on one of the couches and I'll bring you the espresso as soon as it's ready. OK?"
"All right..."
When the brew had steamed and Randy had poured the cafe into a delicate demitasse, Randy carried the hot drinks into the living room only to discover David had passed out, sound asleep. Randy smiled at seeing his guest curled up. In the brown pajamas on the orange sofa, it reminded him of his favorite piece from a Whitman's Sampler, chocolate with orange cream center. Lord knows, David looked good enough to eat! But, using his last ounce of better judgment, Randy resisted the urge to take advantage of his former lover's look-alike brother. Instead, he went to the hall closet and took down a large 'throw' blanket to cover David, turned off the living room lights and took the cup of coconut coffee to his bedroom and turned on TV.
Randy's cable company had just signed on the new 'Here!' channel for gays and lesbians. Randy tuned that channel in and flicked on the movie, "Latter Days", the story of a gay Mormon trying to come to terms with his suppressed homosexuality versus Brigham Young's anti-gay tenets and the physical torture that must be inflicted on any member who might stray away from the tract-toting tribe.
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Always when Chris' phone rang after midnight, it was bad news, usually denoting a death or someone about to meet his maker who wanted to receive a final dose of holy water or a holy oily cross traced on his forehead. He had received hundreds of these calls during his short term as assistant curate of St. Thaddeus, but he had never been quite so upset or disturbed as he was after answering the phone call he received from Marcia Thompson with her news about her son, Andy. Every emotion from 'a' to 'zed' went through Chris' mind all at once. He couldn't breathe and could barely respond verbally to Marcia.
At first, what Marcia said didn't make sense to Chris...something about Andy overdosing? The kid didn't use drugs! Chris was sure of that. He had been talking with Andy just over six hours ago...and then he suddenly remembered their conversation and Andy's confession of love to him. Had he spurned Andy's declaration to the point of leading Andy to attempting suicide at the rejection? Rejection that he, Chris, had verbalized in such an off-hand manner??? 'Oh, my God! Did Marcia say that Andy was dead...or nearly dead...or was found dying?' These thoughts ran through Chris' cloudy mind. Did Marcia say she wanted Chris to hurry to her house or meet her, Todd, and Chris at the hospital.
'Oh, God! Not again! The emergency room where Chris had given last rites to Alex only twenty-four hours earlier...ALSO from an overdose...but Alex O.D'd on cocaine. Could history repeat itself so soon with another teen death? Only this one struck even closer to Chris than Alex had...or even Mark, for that matter, whose death occurred as a result of an illness.
It took Chris nearly three minutes to comprehend that Andy had apparently swallowed a bottle of Marcia's sleeping pills. At the moment Marcia called, Andy was not dead. He was breathing and Todd was attempting to perform CPR until the EMS arrived. Chris was to meet them at the county hospital ER where Alex had been taken several hours before.
Chris hurriedly put back on the same clothes he had piled in the chair next to his bed...black trousers with the semi-formal, sewn-on clerical collar. His emergency clergy kit, containing his shawl, oil, and communion sacrament, was where he always left it, in the glove compartment of the Buggy Buddy wagon. "Oh, Mary, Mother of God, please don't let me have to perform final unction to Andy," Chris prayed. Three deaths in two days! That's too much for anyone, even a priest!
Half asleep and half in shock, Chris got into his car and sped away to the hospital hoping the news would be good or at least not quite so 'final' when he arrived. Marcia and Todd were waiting at the hospital triage station. Todd was at the admitting desk giving the clerk Andy's medical history and digging through his wallet for his insurance cards. Marcia was nervously trying to peek through the big swinging panel doors through which her unconscious son had been rushed.
Inside one of the treatment rooms, a staff of two interns, an RN, an LPN, and a nurse's aide were busily working on Andy. A tube, connected to a pump, had been inserted down Andy's esophagus after first administering a liquid to induce vomiting. Patches with wires leading to monitors had been attached to Andy's chest, arm, and index finger to evaluate his vital signs.
When Marcia saw Chris' wagon enter the parking lot, she rushed outside to meet him. Chris could hardly get out of the seat before Marcia had both hands around his neck, sobbing fiercely. Her actions and demeanor caused Chris' heart to sink. He knew that Marcia was about to tell him that Andy was dead.
"Father Chris...thank God, thank God, thank God that you're here!"
Chris didn't want to ask but it was his paternal duty..."Tell me, Marcia, is Andy...?"
"He's not dead, if that's what you want to know...but they're still working on him inside. Please go in to him, Father. They won't let Todd or me go in to where he is. I KNOW they'll let you see him..." Marcia's voice broke, "In case he...in case you need to..."
"Come back inside with me, Marcia. Let me see what I can find out about Andy's condition..."
"YES, FATHER! PLEASE LET'S GO!"
The two of them rushed back into the ER waiting room. Todd raised his hand to acknowledge he had seen Chris and then pointed toward the double doors.
The admitting secretary seemed annoyed that Todd had stopped giving information long enough to turn his attention to the young priest that had just entered. "Sir, you do realize that with your insurance, you must pay a thousand dollar deductible! Do you want to pay by cash or credit card? We do not take personal checks. That's hospital policy!"
"Jesus Christ, woman!" Todd yelled at the secretary. "My son is in there dying...he may be dead by now and all you can ask me to think about is your fucking money?"
"Sir, I will not tolerate foul language from you. I'll have to call Security if you can't compose yourself."
Unable to control his anger, Todd slapped what looked like a dozen different plastic credit cards on the counter and said, "HERE! Take any or all of them. They're ALL good. When you find the one you want to use, take the rest of them and shove them up your ass!"
"I warned you, sir! I'm calling Security now!"
"GOOD! Make sure they come with their pistols in hand. However if they attempt to shoot me, I'll do everything I can to duck to make sure that one of their bullets strikes you in that dumb head of yours!"
Chris ran to the secretary's desk to intercede. "Miss, is it at all in your comprehension to show a little pathos for this man? He's nervous and frantic as I'm sure you can see...and you're petty aggravation is only making matters worse for him..."
"And who are you, the Pope?" the secretary snapped at Chris.
"I am the assistant rector of St. Thaddeus Catholic Church where Marshall Parker Unger is a member and a very close friend of mine."
"So...?"
"Marshall Parker Unger is the chief administrator of this hospital and is probably your boss's boss's boss! So I hope, if you wish to keep your job tomorrow, you'll change your attitude and show a little compassion and dignity!"
All the red blood of rage in the secretary's face was suddenly replaced with a mask of white fear. She reluctantly lowered her voice and addressed Todd in a quiet civil tone, "I'm sorry, sir, but we DO have rules...".
"Father, please go see about Andy," Todd replied to Chris.
As Chris entered the big doors, he could hear Andy coughing and sputtering as if he was regurgitating. Chris thought this a good sign. Dead bodies don't vomit! He was guided by the noise until he reached an area cordoned off with large white canvas dividers. Peering through an opening, Chris could see that Andy's eyes were open and an LPN and nurse's aide were holding his tilted head to purge the pills from his stomach into a plastic bucket-like container. Andy's forehead was beaded with sweat as was the neck of the hospital gown someone had put on him after removing his clothing. Andy was groaning in between gushes of brown liquid, each followed by several dry heaves.
When one of the interns thought Andy had rid himself of the sleeping pills, he ordered the RN to begin an IV of clear liquid. Chris had no medical expertise and assumed the IV drip was either saline or glucose. The aide wiped Andy's mouth and face with a wet cloth and tried to make the boy comfortable..
"Is that it?" the LPN asked the intern.
"Appears to be...", the intern replied. "You know, of course, that this has to be reported to the Atlanta authorities..."
"Yes, sir..."
"Just make certain that your nurse's notes include all the procedures, the time, date, and so forth..."
"Yes, sir."
Andy's eyes began to look around the room at the medical staff which had just saved his life. The one person he didn't expect to see or WANT to see was Father Chris for, as his eyes made contact with Chris', he looked away instantly. The doctor observed Andy's reaction to the young priest who had just entered the cubicle and asked, "You're the patient's minister?"
"Yes, I am..." Chris replied, with reluctance.
"It's all right if you'd like to talk with him," the intern said to Chris.
"Thanks, Doctor," Chris said. He turned and slowly walked toward Andy, reaching to take Andy's hand. Andy pulled his hand back with a jerk, as if he'd been burned.
"Don't!" Andy said as all eyes in the room exchanged glances among themselves observing Andy's reaction to the priest. Chris felt all the staff staring at him...almost accusingly, as if he might have been the cause of Andy's suicide attempt. Since the media had recently had a field day covering priest/altar boy molestation charges and court trials, everyone was acutely aware of priests' potential proclivities toward young men. Chris was fully aware that he was innocent of any wrongdoing, but the skeptical leers from the medical staff still made him feel guilty of a crime which he hadn't committed.
"Could I see Andy alone?" Chris asked, with trepidation.
"I...I think one of the nurses should remain in the eventuality that the patient have a seizure or something which requires immediate attention," the intern said.
'Like my reaching beneath his hospital gown and grabbing his penis?' Chris thought to himself. He knew what everyone in the room was thinking and he became very angry, but thought it best if he remained calm and compliable to the doctor's instruction. "That would be nice," Chris said. patronizing the intern.
Everyone left Andy and Chris except the LPN who stayed to 'chaperone'. Chris took a step closer to Andy and said, "How do you feel?"
Andy's voice was weak but he managed to reply, "Like someone just ripped on of those alien monsters from my insides."
"Andy, I won't ask why you did what you did. I'm sure you had your reason and, in time, when you want to talk to me about it, I'll be there for you. OK?"
"I guess..."
"Now your mom and dad are just outside in the anteroom and I'm sure they would like to see you. I know they're going to be ecstatic that you're gonna be all right."
"I don't want to see them!" Andy said. He still had made no eye contact with Chris and kept his gaze focused on the opposite wall.
"I'm sure the doctor wants you to spend the night here in the hospital, so maybe you could just say good night to your parents. I'm sure that would help to make them feel better."
"Oh, all right...but just 'good night'. I don't want to talk with them about anything."
"That, too, can wait, Andy. I'll just step outside and get them," Chris walked away from the bed and turned back to Andy and said, "Would you like me to pray before I leave?"
"NO! I didn't die so I'm not going to hell...at least not tonight."
"Very well," Chris said, leaving. Chris was relieved that Andy had made no accusations or incriminating remarks about his and Andy's earlier conversation in the car.
Both Marcia and Todd broke into tears at the news that Andy was going to be all right...but the big mystery remained with them. Why would Andy want to take his life? He'd never appeared at all depressed. He wasn't angry before he went to bed. Then Marcia remembered how quiet Andy had been when returning from the evening-meal route. Andy had barely spoken to either of his parents. He had opted not to eat the dinner which was still at home in the warmer.
'Oh, heavens!' Marcia said to herself. 'The warmer! I completely forgot to turn it off before I went to bed. Andy's supper must be as dried out as sand paper'.
"Thanks, Father Chris, I...I'm glad the end of this is joyful and I apologize for getting you out of bed..." Todd said to Chris.
"Todd, I would have been hurt and angry if you hadn't called me. Andy is one of my team. I couldn't operate my meal service without him, Jeff, and Tommy," Chris replied.
"Oh, my word!" Marcia said, "can you get by without him on the breakfast run? I mean, will you, Jeff, and Tommy be enough or will you need someone to take Andy's place."
"We'll manage just fine, Marcia. No one can take Andy's place."
"He loves you so much, Father Chris..."
Marcia's remark made Chris wince. How he wished she had phrased it differently!
"And Jeff, Tommy, and I feel the same way about Andy," Chris slightly scoffing. "Marcia, if you or Todd or ANDY need me this morning or later on, please don't hesitate a moment to call me."
"Thanks, Father, you're so wonderful."
"Thanks, Father," Todd echoed his wife.
Chris bade them a fatherly adieu and left the hospital. He was thankful that Andy was all right, but he was very much relieved to get out of the place before he found himself falsely accused, falsely arrested, or worse from an innocent remark Andy had said in private like a lovesick school boy.
Before he drove out of the parking lot, Chris looked at his watch and reasoned there was no time to go back to bed. He could use the extra half hour or so to begin preparing breakfast for the morning run. Tommy and Jeff would be at the church kitchen soon, but Chris would have to take over Andy's duties.
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By 12:15AM, Thad's anxiety over waiting to hear from David had turned into a nervous rage. Although he would never admit it, even to himself, part of Thad's restless fury was based on more than just a little jealousy. IF anything sexual had transpired between David and Randy, Randy had better beware.
Several times, Thad walked outside, pacing around the apartment's parking lot, then back into his apartment, each time slamming the door a bit harder than the time before. Coming back inside for the eighth or ninth time, (who was counting?) Thad accidentally stumbled over an ottoman in front of his one and only living room chair. He cursed the ottoman, picked it up, walked outside with it and threw the shabby piece of furniture into the dumpster. This action gave him an emotional release...one of satisfaction.
He walked back up the stairs and looked around his living room.
"What a fucking dump this place is!" Thad exclaimed out loud. "God damn! My place looks like a rat hole! Why the fuck would David want to come here...David or anyone else, for that matter!!!"
Suddenly remembering the rush he had just experienced throwing away the ottoman gave him an incentive to do some radical house cleaning. He began moving and joggling everything in sight...down the stairs toward the dumpster...lamps, curtains, tables, chairs, night stands, the dirty piece of carpet on the living room floor, EVERYTHING! He struggled successfully with the divan and the dresser in the bedroom. Two hours later, the only thing left in his entire apartment was his queen size prize mattress. Everything was moved outside to the trash. Before reentering his apartment for the last trip, he gave one final look at the piece of living room furniture that had incited his riot...and everything which now surrounded it and jokingly called himself, 'the ottoman umpire'!
The next thing he did was call his bank and check on his savings and checking account balances. He punched in his Social Security number on the phone pad and entered his pass code and waited for the automatic teller to reveal his total cash assets. He was in total shock to learn he had accumulated over sixty-two-thousand dollars. Tomorrow...or later today, he would use most or all of his savings to buy new furniture and decorate his apartment to allow for decent living.
God, how could he have sunk so low? How could he ever expect to meet someone and impress him with that collection of filth and manginess Thad had learned to call home? Since he had moved into his apartment several years ago, he couldn't remember ever sweeping or vacuuming. He had had many sexual partners, but never once brought any of them home with him...and no wonder!!!
David was the kind of person Thad wanted in his life. Getting to know David suddenly made Thad realize that fact...and if it cost him his last cent, he was turning over a new leaf and living in a bit of luxury with more than merely a new mattress. It was Thad's own damned fault and he knew it. Hell, he must've known it long ago, but something had happened to him while waiting for David to return...something DRASTIC! For the first time ever, Thad felt loneliness. He finally understood the meaning of 'alone`. There was no one or nothing in his life except his job and the dirty vagrants, petty thieves, and drug hustlers whom he arrested nightly.
Lying in bed the night before, with David at his side, made Thad realize what was missing in his life...a companion, someone to share his life and the hours between 5:00PM and midnight which had become almost unbearable for Thad. Christ! Why hadn't he felt this way with Alex...or even two years ago when he first met Mark?
Thad was also aware of his incompetency as a decorator. Could he fix up his place in one day and have it look enticingly presentable? If David came by to pick up his luggage, would David be impressed? Thad wanted everything to match...furniture, drapes, carpet, light fixtures...EVERYTHING. Thad had never denied being gay, but suddenly he wished he had just a little bit of 'faggot' in him. Hell, all the tricks' homes he visited were nicely furnished. Of course, he had almost failed the color blindness test at the police academy and could barely tell blue from green from gray. He needed help...badly and quickly.
He rummaged through the Yellow Pages of the telephone directory for furniture stores...stores that would deliver in one day. He began with the 'A's' and made through the 'C's' and finally saw...Curry Furniture Store. That belonged to Tim Curry, a guy about his age with whom he had tricked many times. Tim could help him make his decor selections with good taste and everything would match. The ad in the directory said that the store opened at nine o'clock. That was a little over five hours and Thad was determined to be at the front door of Curry's when it opened.
With a little finagling or bamboozling, Tim could probably have everything delivered by noon...and by three o'clock...SHIT! The WALLS! The fucking WALLS need painting! And CLEANING! The bathroom and kitchen fixtures had to be cleaned. Well, Tim would just have to arrange to have the painting and cleaning done by mid-afternoon, no matter what the fucking cost! If he had to spend his entire bankroll, then so be it! Thad's place would look like a mansion...at least in his eyes. THEN, let David come back and reassess his feelings for Thad. Yes, things would be different later that afternoon! Just wait!
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Jeff and Tommy were unusually chipper that morning when they arrived at the church kitchen to do their breakfast chores. Occasionally, one would look at the other and they'd break out giggling. Chris, however, was reliving the Andy episode in his mind over and over. He tried diligently not to get curious about the boys' mirth. He assumed they had had a fun night together in bed; perhaps they had discovered something new they could try. He was very familiar with the look in their eyes, pretending to hide something wonderful that had happened to them, for he had experienced many sexually fun evenings when he was about their age.
The breakfast meal was almost finished and Jeff suddenly realized Andy hadn't arrived yet.
"Did Andy call in sick?" Jeff asked Chris.
"Oh? Didn't I tell you?" Chris replied, off-handedly, "Andy's mother called to say he wouldn't be in to help this morning or this evening. I'm not sure what he ate after I took him home last night, but his mother said he developed some kind of food poisoning or virus...something to that effect, and she and Mr. Thompson had taken Andy to the emergency room early this morning. He might have to stay in the hospital for a few days until he feels better."
Jeff and Tommy looked concerned but they seemed to believe the story Chris had told them.
"Jeff, do you know if Andy had any tests scheduled at school today? You know Mrs. Brubaker, she's notorious for pop English quizzes."
"Idiot!" Jeff replied, "Why would Andy miss school over a pop quiz. You can't study for those. Now if Andy knew that Mr. Bates was planning a Physics test, that could've made Andy sick. That's make anyone sic ! Even when you study for one of his tests, it's almost impossible to get a passing grade."
"Look, jerk, can't you accept what Father said...that Andy DID get sick? Not everyone fakes an illness to miss a test...like a certain someone I know."
"Shoot! You stayed home with me and you didn't even have an exam scheduled."
"You were kinda glad I stayed home, weren't you," Tommy said, much too quickly without thinking. Tommy knew that Father Chris was very fast on the uptake and thought the priest might have caught the hidden meaning in his remark. The last thing either Jeff or Tommy wanted was for Chris to know about their relationship, even though both suspected that Chris already knew.
Chris did know, but this was not the time to confront them with it. Maybe there would never be a right time to talk to them about being gay. Hell, they're young. They're in love! Why spoil it?
"Do you think we should stop by after school and visit him at the hospital?" Jeff asked.
"I don't think so...you see, there's a chance he might be discharged to go home this morning and a trip to the hospital would be needless."
After a moment's hesitation, Chris asked "Boys, can I ask you a question about Andy and just keep it between us three?"
"Sure, Father," Jeff said.
"Sure," Tommy echoed.
"Besides the two of you, does Andy have any friends? Close friends or casual acquaintances...either boys or girls?"
"I don't think so, Father," Tommy replied.
"Me either," said Jeff. "We're about the only ones he hangs out with. I guess we're his only friends...except you, of course. Andy really likes you."
"Yeah," Tommy added, "he likes you even better than he likes us."
"Oh? How do you know?" Chris asked, trying not to delve into the matter too obviously.
"Andy's never come right out and said anything, but Jeff and I are always kidding him about being queer for you!"
"Tommy, I don't think that's something you should be kidding Andy about, even if it were true. He's rather sensitive...I'm sure both of you have noticed."
"Aw, he knows we're only joking. We just like to see him riled up. It's a way of making Andy show some kind of emotion when he gets angry."
"There's also another reason...a big one why you shouldn't say things of that nature to Andy or to anyone," Chris continued. "What if someone besides Andy heard you and that 'someone' didn't know you were kidding and decided to question the time I spend with Andy or with each of you. Andy's reputation could be at stake. And priests' personal lives are being carefully scrutinized all over the world, not just here in the United States."
"I guess we didn't think of that, Father. I...or rather, WE, are sorry and promise that we won't do it again."
"I'm curious, has Andy ever given either of you any reason to think that he might be gay?"
"Not really, but he never talks to girls at school, Jeff and I figured he felt like we...damn! what am I saying?"
"Let me assure you---BOTH of you---that Andy is not gay."
"How can you be so certain?" Tommy asked.
"Well, do both of you tell me EVERYTHING in confession?"
Tommy and Jeff's faces flushed and each got a sinking feeling in his abdomen as they glanced at each other.
"Sure...of course we do!" Jeff said, emphatically, trying to cover his lie.
"Yeah, I do! Don't you, Jeff?"
"I just said I did! You got a fart in your ear?"
"Then, without revealing anything confidential, that's how I know Andy is not gay." Chris said, smiling as the all-knowing padre de confessionale.
"Yeah, I guess you WOULD know, Father!" Jeff replied. "I mean if anything queer was going on between Tommy and me, you'd know about that too... wouldn't you?" Jeff was fishing.
"Since neither of you have ever confessed anything along the line of homosexuality, I only have to take your honest word by what you say to me in the confessional booth."
Chris didn't respond verbally, but gave the boys an overly-innocent look which made each of them squirm. Chris finished cooking the scrambled eggs and turkey-bacon and began dishing them out onto individual paper plates.
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Andy lay on the hospital bed, wishing his suicide attempt had been successful. To him, facing death was a lot easier than facing life and now life for him would be much worse. His failures would be compounded if word got out at school about his 'attempt'. The police had stopped by to make a report of his episode. He couldn't understand the reason of the law...if he had died, everyone would have pitied him...cried at his funeral...made long speeches about what a wonderful kid he was, but one too few pills, or a mis-aimed gun to the head, or a slashed wrist not cut deeply enough, any attempt that failed to end one's own life, and all of a sudden, you had a police record almost as if you had committed a crime or a felony.
A 'failed' suicide could lead to long therapy sessions, being watched constantly by one's family and friends to deter a second attempt. To one's peers, the unsuccessful attempt meant you were mentally unbalanced and were often the reason to be ostracized socially.
'Why the fuck did my mom and dad find me?' Andy kept thinking over and over. 'Why didn't I just die before the paramedics arrived?' 'What must Father Chris think of me now because I had almost committed a sin against the Church?' 'What kind of explanation could he give to his parents OR to Father Chris or even Jeff and Tommy once they had heard of his near-death endeavor?' Andy wanted to die more than ever rather than have to face the world and go on living under these new circumstances.
After Father Chris left Andy's bedside at the hospital, Marcia and Todd came rushing into the cubicle to caress their son, cry a bit, and declare their love for him. Andy's body tensed as he awaited the inevitable auto-da-fe of "Why son, why? Are you having trouble in school? Did someone hurt you? Is it something we've done? Are you physically ill? Are you depressed? Is something bothering you? What can we do to help?"
'Jesus! Why won't they just shut the fuck up and leave me alone?' was Andy's response to all of the probable queries, although he didn't verbalize it.
"Mom, Dad, I'm awfully tired. If I can go home now, please take me. If I'm supposed to spend the night here in the hospital, would you just go home and let me get some sleep?" Andy asked his parents.
"Of course, son," Marcia replied. "We just thank God you're all right! We just want you to know that we love you and will always be here for you."
"Thanks, Mom. Now would you please leave?"
"Sure, dear. I'm sure things will be better in the morning after we all get some sleep. If you like, I'll call Father Chris and ask if he'll stop by after the breakfast run to pay you a visit."
"NO, Mom! I don't want to see Father Chris. I'm not going to work with the Buddy Buggy meal program any longer. The way I'm feeling right now, I never want to go to church again."
Todd was alarmed by Andy's remarks but felt that Andy was saying things which he wouldn't mean later, so he disregarded Andy's words and put his arm around Marcia and said, "Come on, honey, let's go home and let Andy have his privacy."
"Thanks, Dad..."
"We'll see you soon...OK?"
"Yeah..."
Marcia and Todd left the cubicle and went out to the anteroom, heading toward the hospital parking lot when they were stopped by two young policemen.
"Mr. and Mrs. Thompson?" one of the policeman asked.
"Yes?"
"I'm Officer Manis and this is my partner, Officer Blane. Would you mind answering a few questions concerning your son's incident?"
"Is it necessary?" Marcia asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Officer Manis said. "We have to make a complete report when something like this happens."
"Oh, all right..." Marcia replied, sitting down as Todd joined her.
The police interview was filled with the obvious 'fill-in-the-blank' questions...name, address, age, etc. including prior arrests or police-reported episodes.
Then Officer Manis continued, "Now would you please tell me how your son appeared to be, just before he...did what he did?" The policeman was reticent to use the term, 'suicide'.
"My son does volunteer work at our church. He helps deliver free meals in the mornings and evenings to those less fortunate. He came home as usual around seven-thirty or seven-forty-five..."
"Did he drive himself home, ma'am?"
"Oh, no! Father Chris, our assistant rector at the church, always brings him home."
"Did your son seem to have had something troubling him? Perhaps he and your priest had a quarrel or conflict earlier?"
"Heavens, no! My son adores Father Chris...we all do!"
"Sorry, ma'am, it's just that there's so many stories on the news about priests these days...priests and young men, if you know what I'm talking about..."
"I'm afraid I do and I'm a bit offended that you asked such a question."
"Sorry, ma'am, I'm just doing my job."
Marcia continued answering the police questions, but Todd began concentrating on the inquiry concerning Father Chris and his son. Why had Andy emphasized he didn't want to work with the meal service? Why did he say he didn't want to see Father Chris and why had he expressed his desire to quit going to church. Todd's mind was filled with questions of another nature as he blocked out Marcia and Officer Manis' conversation. 'Was something unethical, going on between Andy and Father Chris...something that would warrant his son's suicide attempt?'
Finally the two young officers had more than enough details to complete the required report and Marcia and Todd were free to go home and try to sleep through the remainder of the long night. Todd realized he would never get through an entire day's work after having little or no rest, plus the added stress factor of Andy's episode. He decided to stay awake until he could call in sick at work. Surely no one at his office knew about Andy, but without Andy's explanation of his action, whatever Todd said to anyone would be made-up or unfounded.
However, on the way home from the hospital, Todd thought he would casually start up a discussion with his wife concerning the Andy/Father Chris situation as Todd wasn't ready to exclude the sordid thought from his mind. There was SOME unknown reason behind Andy's attempt and bringing up the subject was as good a way as any to feel the subject out.
"Honey?"
"Yes?"
"When the officer asked you about Andy and Father Chris' relationship, you dismissed the idea immediately that something of a private nature was occurring between them."
"Of course, Todd. The thought of anything out of the ordinary going on between our son and our priest is absolute nonsense."
"But just suppose it WASN'T nonsense? I mean, most of the cases on the news or in the media concerning priests and young men or boys were priests who were loved by the victim's family. No one ever had an reason to believe anything unusual was going on. It's always the kindly 'father' who's respected by all his parishioners that's found guilty."
"Todd, no matter what you say, I will NOT believe that about Father Chris and definitely not about our son."
"All right, let me ask you this...If you were single and about Andy's age, and of course being a female. would you find Father Chris attractive?...I mean if he weren't a priest?"
"Do you mean do I find him good looking and sexy...the answer is definitely 'yes'!"
"Now, suppose Andy is gay..."
"Todd, our son is NOT gay..."
"But just suppose he WAS? Do you think he would find Father Chris attractive."
"I could ask you the very same question, Todd...because I think all women and most men, gay or otherwise, would find Father Chris handsome and attractive!"
"That's what I thought you would say and for the moment I'm not rejecting the idea that something happened between the two of them. Maybe it's my masculine instinct, but I've thought for some time that Andy might be gay."
"I don't!"
"Could you accept him if he were?"
"Of course! Being gay is not the end of the world and certainly not the end of a parent/child relationship. It just takes a few minor family adjustments to put everything right."
"Well, dear, since you seem to be so open-minded about the subject, I hope you won't object if I confront Father Chris...in a nice friendly manner...to see if there's any truth to my speculation and if there ISN'T, perhaps he can point me in the direction of truth to find out what Andy's been keeping from us and why he did what he did last night."
"I won't object if you won't make your inquiry sound like an accusation. Our whole family has been close to Father Chris for a long time and I don't want anything to break up our relationship!"
"But, honey, suppose it turns out to be true...then what?"
"If it's true, Todd, then I hope you won't mind having a priest as your son-in-law!"
"Good God! Marcia!" Todd replied very exasperated. "Maybe I WON'T talk with Father Chris. Maybe I don't want to know..."
"'Don't ask, don't tell' is what Bill Clinton taught us!"
"Then I WON'T ask and I definitely won't tell a soul..."
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Somewhere around 3:00AM, Randy awoke. The TV screen had a PPV announcement saying that the movie was over and Randy felt the need to pee before falling asleep for the rest of the morning. After peeing and before going back to bed, he decided to check on his guest, David, whom had been left sleeping on one of the living room sofas.
David was still sound asleep and it appeared he hadn't moved an inch from the way Randy had left him while tossing the 'throw' over him. Randy stood closely to David and stared down at him for several seconds. Carefully, Randy leaned down and pushed back the lock of hair which was half hiding David's forehead. It was a real moment of deja vu for Randy. How often in the past had he brushed Mark's hair from his forehead? David's hair was the same shade and texture as Mark's. The room was almost dark except for the spill of light from a few appliances in the kitchen and, in the shadows, David's face was identical to his younger brother's.
Randy did all he could to resist the urge of kneeling and taking David into his arms, but all he did was plant a delicate kiss on David's cheek and whispered..."Good night, Mark. I'm so glad you came back to me..."
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(To be continued in Chapter Eight of "As I Remember Him").