Ascension

Ascension Chapter 11

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29

"We haven't discussed the play. Let's go there," Trevor said.

"What would you like to know? You saw it, right?"

"I did. As well as The Brutal Reality. I had read an article on this new, young, gay playwright. Then the show was performed in my city. I was intrigued by what his next effort might be."

"Trent's very good. He's so talented."

"But Signposts was based, at least in part, on your life."

"Some, but it was by no means a biography. Obviously, we all know I haven't wound up being a singer in a country & western bar." I laughed.

"But at the same time, it was your life's events that inspired Trent to write this play. Isn't that correct?"

"Yes. He even asked my permission. People quickly associated me with the play. I went on Trent's radio show one morning. As much as we tried to emphasize it wasn't my life, people still think that."

"Thanks for tuning in to `The 10:00 Morning Show: For Your Information.' I'm Tara Martinez."

"And I'm Trent Kyriazi."

It was interesting to watch the two of them work. All I had to do was be quiet for a few minutes until they began discussing the play. Trent looked so comfortable talking on the radio. I was a nervous wreck. What if I came off sounding like an idiot? Or had no personality? I kept wiping the palms of my hands on my jeans. I was sure when I took the headphones off, they would be sticky with sweat. Tara was sure to think I was a complete waste of time.

"Trent, I'm excited about this. Your play debuts this upcoming weekend at The McNay. I cannot wait to see it."

"You're my co-host. You have to say that."

They both laughed.

"Are you nervous?" Tara asked Trent.

"To be honest, no. I was really happy with how it turned out. Obviously, it is in the director's hands. But he has spoken with me a few times. I feel confident in his vision for the production."

"It's been just over two years since your first play was a sold-out smash. This one seems to have great advance sales too. There are still some tickets left though, right?"

"I believe so. Again, the theater really is in control here. I'm just glad the company is willing to premiere the show here in Jackson Bend before taking it on the road."

"On the road. That has to be exciting."

"Well, it's not going to Broadway or anything. But it is signed on to do eight cities, so that's pretty cool."

Tara looked at me. I sucked in my breath knowing I might have to say something any second.

"This play is called Signposts. One of your close friends was the inspiration for this story. Correct?"

She knew the answer to that. That's why I was there. It just set up the segment with me.

"Right. He's one of my dearest friends. But before I had a chance to know him, he had to endure a lot of challenges. I knew the emotion had to be raw there. I tried to capture those feelings in Signposts."

"Okay. Right after the break, we'll be talking with that very friend. Stay tuned."

After Tara said that, the station went to commercials. The assistant producer started talking into my headphones. The three of us could hear. I tried to manage a smile in my expression, but I was scared out of my mind. What should I say? What if I went blank?

"You ready, Jakob?" Trent asked me.

"Sure." I lied.

The assistant producer gave us the 30-second notice. I drew in a deep breath and held it. Then I let out a slow, relaxing breath. I looked down. I psyched myself up to do this. I hated every second of it. I looked up. Trent smiled and winked at me. If it weren't for my love for him, I would have run screaming out of the studio. I tried to force a smile again.

"We're back," Tara said. "You're with Tara and Trent. And for your information, something is coming to Jackson Bend this weekend. A world premiere in fact."

Trent laughed. "You make it sound like the latest blockbuster."

"It's even better," Tara chuckled. "It's our very own Trent Kyriazi's second play. It's called Signposts. Tell us about the title Trent."

"The lead character, who is named Paul, goes through certain stages of his life. They are noted by key events, which I feel are signposts along his journey. That's how I came up with the name."

"And this character, Paul, is based on a friend of yours."

"To a degree. I should point out that this is not a biography. Much of this story is fiction. But it was inspired by ... not only the events of my friend's life, but also his rise ... his ascension ... above the cruelty he had to endure."

"And he's with us today. His name is Jakob Morgan. Welcome, Jakob. We're glad to have you with us in the studio."

"Thanks ... thank you. I'm glad to be here." I knew I sounded stiff.

I looked at Trent. He mouthed the word "breathe" to me. Then he smiled a big smile. That made me smile. I took a deep breath.

"As I mentioned, the play is not a factual account of your life, but I've pulled some things from your experiences. Jakob, you were kicked out of your home at 17. Tell us about that."

"Well ... yes ... that did happen." Breathe. Tara had an expression that indicated she was questioning if I was going to be a good interview. "It was ... it was harsh. I was scared out of my mind. I had no idea what I would do."

"Why did this happen, Jakob?" Tara prompted.

"My parents raised me to be honest. I was proud that I was a very reliable person. I was truthful. At that time in my life, I realized ... that I was gay. I developed a boyfriend in high school. He came out to his parents, and it was great. They loved me. Right away. It built up inside me. I felt I was living a lie, even though I hadn't said anything at all. But I wanted to be upfront. I wanted to be myself. So I told my parents."

"And what happened?" Tara asked.

"The complete opposite of my boyfriend's parents. I was told to give up that lifestyle, or I would have to leave. I was only 17, but I knew I was gay. It wasn't a choice. I knew it was what it was. I also knew I loved ... him. His name was Anson. And I loved him."

"And your parents made you leave," Trent added.

"Yes. It was really terrifying."

Once the three of us were just talking, I completely forgot that there were people out there who were listening. We just talked. I relaxed, and it went quite well.

On the next to last break, Trent and Tara told me I was doing a good job. They were going to take a few calls from listeners, so they told me I probably wouldn't have to say much.

They were mistaken. Most of the callers wanted to let me know that they were very moved by my circumstances. I was very touched by a young man who said he had endured something similar. I hated that young people were still having to deal with crap like that. I wondered what I could do to make things better for kids.

Several listeners said they were now looking forward to the play more than ever. It was certainly a good last boost for Trent's play, but for just a moment, I felt like a celebrity.

"Did you like being on the radio?" Trevor asked.

"Not at first. I was really scared. But I relaxed and then it was okay. I enjoyed it. Several of the callers were very interested in my life."

"From what I hear, you became rather famous in both Jackson Bend and Von — at least for a short time."

"Oh, whatever. I did have a few customers come into the store and tell me they heard me on the radio. It was all a bit too much for a couple of days. I guess it was a little fun."

"You were famous."

"I think it was all just a bit overblown."

"And yet, here we are. You and I are both talking."

"It was kind of a weird time."

"What was it like when you saw Signposts?"

It was intermission. Mike, Trent, Lance, Tara and I were on row five. Tara stepped over to me. She gave me a hug.

"How much of that is true?" she asked.

"Um. In this first act, a lot of that happened to me, yes. I didn't say those things exactly, but Trent has captured the terrifying hell I went through when I got kicked out."

"I'm ... I'm so moved by it all. I'm very sorry you had to go through this."

"Thank you. Trent has crafted a really great story here."

We all turned to Trent and started showering him with praise. Trent had shaved. Lance typically likes beards on men, but with Trent, he prefers him the way he was in college.

"I'm very happy with it. The cast is doing a great job. The lead is stellar." Trent paused. He looked at me. "Your family is coming tomorrow. How do you think they will react?"

"Vilified. But I don't think they can disagree with how things transpired. Luckily, no one will know who they are. It's all portrayed pretty accurately to my case, so ... I think it will hit them hard." I thought about my family. "I think it will do them some good."

Mike returned with a drink for Trent and Tara. Lance's father came up with a Diet Coke for Lance and me. My husband and I visited with his parents briefly before the intermission ended. They were sitting a few rows behind us.

An hour later, the audience erupted into a standing ovation. It was huge. The uproar of applause was encouraging and well deserved. Trent and I hugged each other.

After the cast took their final bows, the curtain dropped, and the director came onto the stage.

"Thank you for coming tonight. I'm Stan Falfas, the director. If I can invite you to have a seat, we are blessed to not only have the playwright who wrote Signposts, but also the person who inspired the play with us. Here. Tonight!"

He motioned for us to stand. Eek. I wasn't expecting that. Following his remarks, Trent and I were surrounded by people. Several told Trent they listened to him every day. He was gracious in accepting their kind words. I had different types of comments.

"How often do you play at the country & western bar? When can we see you?"

"Does your high school boyfriend regret leaving you after you became a famous singer?"

"Did you plot revenge on your parents?"

Fortunately, most people were kind and commented on how courageous I was to rise above life's cruel experiences. One young man even thanked me. He had a similar circumstances. Knowing that I rose above those challenges gave him hope. I asked him if he was able to find a place to live after that. Thankfully, he was able to stay with a cousin.

Then Gerard found me. It was wonderful to see him. He hugged me. He told me he was so proud of the strong man I had become. So much had really changed in just two years. I thanked him again — for the millionth time — for his support and compassion. It wasn't as if I would ever miss the shelter, but I still felt I missed him. He was a kind soul, and I thanked him for the good work he does.

The crowd was thinning. As we finally started working our way from the theater, I saw two people standing to the side. It almost seemed like they were waiting for Lance and me. It only took a moment for me to recognize them. It was Graham. Almost seven years after he and I had roomed together, we saw each other again.

Graham.

My expression must have been one of complete shock. I couldn't believe it. He was standing with a Black man. I didn't know if this was Kenneth, the gentleman he moved out to be with or if it was someone new. We just looked at each other. It only took a moment to find ourselves in each other's arms. I must have had a vice grip on him for a long time.

"I can't believe this," I said.

"There's so much I want to ask you," he said.

"Oh, this is my husband, Lance."

"Hi, Lance, I'm Graham. This is my husband, Kenneth."

We all shook hands. There was something familiar about Kenneth. I couldn't put my finger on it. Once Graham told Lance that Kenneth was a cop, that triggered it. Kenneth was the officer that came up to me in the park. He encouraged me to find the shelter. I didn't figure that was important to bring up right now. Graham, however, looked more handsome than ever.

"How much of this is true?" Graham asked.

"Um, the first half is a lot me. Unfortunately, I haven't become a highly regarded country singer."

Graham smiled. Then his face turned serious.

"Were you ever homeless?"

"Yes." I bowed my head.

I glanced at Kenneth. He didn't recognize me at all. It was just a brief moment two years, so no one would expect him to.

"It was just for a couple of weeks, then I moved into the shelter for a few months."

"We so need to catch up," Graham said. "It's late now, but maybe in the next week or so we can meet for coffee or something?"

I conveyed that I would love that. We exchanged phone numbers and email, and I told him that we now live in Von. He was willing to make the drive. We set a date for just over a week away.

The drive home was quiet at first. The play, the applause, Graham, the attention, Trent, Tara, the questions — it was a pinball in my head.

"So ... Graham. Tell me about him," asked Lance.

"I'm not sure how to begin. Wait until bed. I need to think."

"He's gorgeous."

"Yes, he is."

We were ready to turn in once we were home. It was a fantastic day, but we were tired. After brushing our teeth we moved into bed. I pulled Lance into my arms.

"You don't mind if I meet with Graham in a week, do you?" I asked.

"I suppose not, but it would help to know a little more about this incredibly beautiful man that wants to meet with you."

I kissed him on the top of the head.

"Well, you know my rooming situation in my early 20s wasn't great. It was a revolving door of sorts. Victor was the mainstay through most of it. He and I worked at the same restaurant — in the beginning at least. A few years. Victor was loud when he drank with friends. Graham was a college friend of his and they shared the apartment. I didn't have a bed — or a bedroom — so on a few nights when Victor was noisy with friends, Graham invited me to his bedroom so I could have a chance of getting some sleep."

"Hm. And ...?"

"While they were friends, they were totally opposite. Graham was in a weird place in his life. Good looking guy but didn't feel like he fit in with the rest of the gay world. I became someone he trusted. He opened up to me."

"Were you ever a couple?"

"Heavens no. As you can tell, he prefers a different type."

"And when you shared his bedroom, did you share his bed, I assume?"

"Yes. That didn't mean we always had sex. But. If you are wondering, we did have sex a few times. Lance, you know I had sex with all my roommates. It was not a good situation, but I can tell you that Graham is the only one that was ... kind. He was different. He didn't look down on me."

"Why should he look down on you?"

"Well, as you noticed, he's pretty good looking. But he treated me so kindly. He didn't make fun of my dick."

"Why would anyone make fun of a dick?"

"Lance, you don't know what it's like. If you have a small dick, you have to turn your back to others when getting undressed. You never had to worry about that."

"Except if I got hard undressing with my teammates."

"That's different. Straight, gay ... whatever. If you don't have a nice dick, you have to worry about what others think. Guys can make fun of you."

"Really? I've never really noticed."

"Because you have a huge dick. You wouldn't really pay attention to dick jokes and things. It didn't affect you."

"I've never made you feel that way, have I?"

"No." I squeezed him in my arms. "You're my angel. But ... you just don't know what it is like. You've always had this amazing cock hanging from your crotch. As considerate as you are, you can't relate to guys who aren't hung. It's like white privilege, except with penises. It's ... it's dick privilege."

"Oh."

"But Graham was kind like you. Sadly, he was only there for a little while. Then it got worse and worse on the roommate front. "

I sighed. I remembered the whole lineup of roommates. They weren't all horrible. But I thought about all the drinking and sex. Looking back on that sex, none of it even sounded enjoyable. Now that I found love, it was so different.

"Remember the play?" I asked him.

Lance held me tight. "Yeah."

"That showed the sadness of it all, but not the long-lasting pain. I hurt for so many years. At the time, I just survived. I don't know if my emotions were fully engaged. I was just numbed to pain and rejection ... and maybe a little depression. I just made it day to day. That's all."

"Part of me just dies when you talk about those years. I hate that you went through that hell."

"But you saved me from it."

Lance turned to kiss me deeply.

"And you saved me. I love you, Jakob. I always will."

We kissed again.

"If I wasn't dead tired, I'd make love to you right now," he said. "But I'll be amazed if I'm awake 60 seconds from now."

"Having you in my arms is all I need."

Lance grabbed my dick. It wasn't hard, but his hand still felt good on it. True to his word, I could tell he had fallen asleep a minute later.

"I saw the play. It was excellent," Trevor said. "Since then, I've tried to peel the fiction from the truth of the backstory. Tell me what parts were truly based on you."

"When I got kicked out, moving in with Anson's family and all the horrible roommate situations — that was all true. I wasn't wild about how Anson's family was written. They weren't really portrayed as mean necessarily, but they cared more than what came off on stage. Eight years of roommate hell was condensed into a much shorter timeframe within the story. But ... Trent really captured some of the more abusive times. It wasn't quite as graphic on stage as real life, but that pain was captured quite well."

"It was very dramatic."

"I'm glad he left out me seeing Teresa at the art fair. That would have been too hard for me to watch."

"Your family saw the play after you did. That couldn't have been easy for them."

"No. It was hard. I heard from my brother the day after."

I was hanging my towel when Lance walked into the bathroom. He was talking to Keaton on my cell phone. I guess he explained I had been working in the yard a bit and was finishing up a shower. Since I was about done, he talked to him for a couple of minutes.

"It's Keaton."

He handed me the phone.

"Hi. What's up?"

Lance stood behind me. He could barely make out the conversation. His arms wrapped around my naked body, and he held my cock.

"Everyone went last night, huh?"

Lance fondled my balls as he listened over my shoulder. He started getting me hard. I pulled from him and gave him a look that said both "I love you" and "Leave me alone." The two of us went to lie on the bed, me naked, him fully dressed.

"They knew it wasn't a biography of your life, but ... the scene where you got kicked out was hard. Mom was crying," Keaton said.

"I really wish they hadn't gone. I knew it would be hard."

"I could hear Mom crying in the rape scene. I looked over and saw a tear run down Dad's cheek."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Teresa grabbed my hand at that part."

"So ... when it was over, what ... what did they say? Anything? In the car? At home? Did they like it? Did they hate it?"

Lance rolled over to put an arm around me. He was watching my face to read my expressions.

"Dad asked Mom to drive home; it had not set well with him. Teresa said it was very powerful. She saw the first play by ... by ..."

"Trent. Trent Kyriazi."

"Yeah. I think they all did. I hadn't. She was comparing the two. Mom said it saddened her. She thought it was good, but she knew it was you."

"It was a character. I'm not a country singer."

"Yeah. Yeah. Getting kicked out at 17. Roommate abuse. Drinking problem. There was too much of you to ignore. It was hard on Mom. Yeah, I wish she hadn't seen it."

"Yeah."

"We haven't talked about it today. We went off to church and then had lunch. Dad left right after that. I'm on my way home now, about halfway. Teresa was staying through the afternoon. It was a weird weekend."

"I wonder if Mom and Dad will even mention it to me."

"Hard to say." Keaton got quiet for a moment. "Jakob, I ... I know I didn't have anything to do with Dad's decision, but ... I. Am. So. Sorry. I can't imagine the years of hell you had to go through. I ... almost tried to get a single ticket for tonight's show. I felt like I needed to sit through it again. It really was good, but knowing the truth behind it ... it cut deep. You know I love you, right? As brothers we really don't say that to each other often ... or hardly ever. But all those years, I missed you. I hoped you knew I loved you, but ..." Keaton started crying on the phone. "I didn't do enough. I should have found you. I should have helped you. No matter what I think about ... you know, the gay stuff ... you're my brother. I let you down. I'm so sorry."

"I love you too, Keaton," I said, as my eyes welled.

Lance squeezed me tighter.

Keaton's voice quivered. "Thanks. I just wanted you to know."

"I'm glad you called. Drive safe."

I hung up and rolled further into Lance's embrace.

"Could you hear?" I said.

"I think so. Sounds like it hit them."

Lance's hand gripped my ass cheek as we held each other. I put my hand behind his head and slid my fingers through his hair. I moved my ear to his chest so I could listen to his heart. I could barely make it out through his T-shirt, but it was there.

"I knew it was a risk for them to see it. I figured it would hit them hard. Even though my father was played well — it was his point of view — there was no way for him to come off as anything other than a villain. At least they showed some positive traits mixed in with the harsh ones."

Lance's hand moved to cup my balls. His thumb gently circled each of them, one at a time.

"Do you think you'll talk to them about it? How do you feel about it, I mean them seeing it?"

"I'm not sure. I know I won't bring it up. But ... if they say they were made to look like bad people, I won't know how to respond to that. It was pretty accurate. Trent really asked me about the details."

Lance didn't know what to say. He just held me close. I held him.

"I love you, hub," he finally said.

We got up. I got dressed. I put on some water to boil to make tea.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Lance was in the kitchen. I was on the couch and got up to answer the door.

It was Dad.

I was surprised. I had to look startled. I wasn't expecting him. He had never been to our house once. He didn't say anything. All I could think was "Oh, crap." I had no idea what anger might spill from him. I wasn't sure I was mentally prepared to take any type of verbal attack.

Dad's breathing got heavier until he almost gasped. He still said nothing. His eyes looked into mine and he lunged for me. His arms wrapped around me, and he began to sob. I was not expecting this.

"Jakob, who was at the ..." Lance said as he rounded the corner.

Lance froze. My look of total shock and surprise conveyed to him I was totally surprised.

"Dad, come in. Sit down." I shut the door.

I guided my father to the couch. I sat on the adjacent love seat. It was perpendicular with the end table between the two. We could see each other.

Tears kept flowing from my father's eyes. He buried his head in his hand. I got up to move a box of tissues to the end table.

"Dad. Talk to me."

"We ... we went to the play last night."

"I know."

"I just watched it. I was in a glaze. I ... I couldn't bear to see what you went through."

"Dad, I'm not Paul Reynolds. That was a character."

"It was you! It was based on you," my father insisted.

"Well. I can't really sing you `Friends in Low Places.' It wasn't all me. A lot was made up."

"I wasn't made up. That portrayal of me ..."

"Dad, it was just a ..."

"It was dead-on accurate."

Lance came in with some iced tea for the three of us. My father nodded to Lance in acknowledgement.

"Thank you," he softly said, almost inaudible.

Lance sat next to my father.

"How much of that was true?" my father asked.

"A lot, mostly in Act I. The ... the abuse ... the borderline rape ... that happened."

"Oh God! It's my fault. I did that to you!"

"You didn't do that to me. Those were other people."

"I pushed you out," his voice quivered. "It's all because of me."

Dad took a sip of tea.

"Uhk. Do you have any sugar?"

Lance got up to get my father some sugar. He returned seconds later with a sugar bowl and spoon. Dad stirred some in his tea.

"We've never had this discussion before. I hate talking about it. I hate remembering it. But ... if you want to know, I'll tell you," I said.

For 10 minutes I recapped my life since being forced out. The Petriellos, the restaurant, the drinking, the revolving door of roommates, the two weeks of being homeless, the shelter. Lance had heard some of it before but not everything. He sat next to my father and listened. I saw that he had placed his hand on my dad's arm. I poured it all out for them. All of it. The sexual abuse and rape moments weren't graphic, but I didn't hold back on having sex to pay bills or the roommates that treated me poorly.

Lance grabbed a tissue for himself and one for my father. Both Dad and Lance were weeping, listening to my life stories. I hadn't seen Lance cry since we moved from Jackson Bend. Through it all, I told him that I lived my life honestly. He and Mom always taught me to be honest.

"And because of your honesty, I pushed you out. I was so blind. I ... I ... I was wrong. Son, there is no way you can forgive me, but please know that I am so sorry. I am so very sorry. I hope one day you can find a way ... to forgive me."

The room was still.

"I can forgive. But I can't forget, Dad. Had you listened to me that night when I was 17, I would have felt like I mattered. But ... you didn't. And I didn't."

"I thought I knew what I was doing," Dad said through tears. "I just figured it was a youthful impulse. I just assumed it was a choice. I was certain if you were forced to choose between that and living at home, you would choose to remain at home."

"And yet, I was honest. I was gay. I knew I was. I knew that wasn't going to change. Your words that I didn't belong cut deep. That wound ... has never fully healed. But I can forgive you for one reason."

Dad and Lance looked up.

"I'd go through it all again if I knew Lance was waiting at the end. He's the love of my life. I need you to accept that, Dad. If you can, then I can forgive you."

Lance squinted his eyes closed to hold back any more tears. He bit his lips. This was hard on Dad but hard for Lance to hear too.

"I was wrong. And, yes, I see how happy Lance makes you. I don't have the answers. I still believe I know God's words will guide me. But I know how much I have done my son wrong. I hate myself for that."

"Hating yourself will not accomplish anything."

"Through all those years, I hope you know I still loved you. You knew that, right?"

"No. I didn't. You've never told me you loved me."

"Well, sure I did."

"No, Dad," I said authoritatively. "Not in words. In the half of my life I remember growing up at home, Mom said it, but not you. So when you pushed me out the door ... sorry, no, I didn't think you loved me. I'm 29. I guess it is nice to hear it eventually."

Dad's tears started again. I just let them flow. I needed this cleansing too.

"Does Mom know you're here?" I asked.

My father shook his head. "I should head back."

"I'll text her to know we talked, and that you are on your way home."

Dad stood. He hugged me again. I didn't want to accept it fully, but I did. This was a huge step for my father. It was a first step for us.

He let go of me and turned to Lance. I think Lance was ready to extend his hand, but my father pulled him in for a hug. Lance was not expecting it. Neither was I.

"Thank you for loving my son. Thank you for being there when I wasn't."

I saw Lance move his arms to press my father into him further.

"Keaton called to work through some issues he was having. We had a simple chat, but it was good. But my father surprised me with a visit that day."

"What was his response to the play?"

"I figured he would be outraged. But he broke down in front of me. I was able to explain the last 12 years of my life, particularly the nine after he kicked me out. It was hard for him to hear. It was hard for me to tell it. It was difficult for Lance too. Along with my father, he now knew it all. But it was good for me to let it go. It was all out there."

"And your father?"

"He wanted my forgiveness."

"And how did you respond?"

"I wasn't ready to let him off the hook. I mean, I told him I could forgive him, but only if he accepted that Lance was the love of my life. He had to fully accept who I was."

"And did he?"

"I believe he tried. Since that day, he welcomes both of us. My family is closer now. It's nowhere near what Lance has. I could spend days at every holiday with his family. But I have to admit, we are a family again. Light years better than what it was a decade ago. But I don't think I will ever be able to just forget those horrible years. I can forgive. I can never forget. As much as I'd love for that to go away, there will always be a wedge forced in there."

"Was there anything positive about the play for you?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, it was good. It was good for me. Yeah, there were some tough moments. I think if Trent knew how those hurt, he would be horrified. But he was upfront with me the whole time. I think Lance kept the painful parts from Trent. I wouldn't say anything. It was a great piece of work."

"I agree."

"And that week after, I actually had some customers stop into the store. One even asked me to autograph their program. That was ridiculous."

"So your moment of fame wasn't all bad."

"Not from a business standpoint. Word of mouth was flying. >From my radio interview, a lot of people who knew me from the store went to see it. Even though my name wasn't anywhere near the performance, people became aware. We saw a 10% increase that week just from people coming in to talk. Marshall even said a few people from the original store came in to see if I was still there."

"Nice."

"Trent's first radio show following that weekend was all abuzz about the play. Rave reviews from callers. I had it on in the office. I found it comical that a lot of listeners called in to say they wished I was on again so they could call with more questions."

"Did you find that rewarding?"

"I guess. Yeah. The biggest reward was Graham."

"Jakob, you look amazing," Graham said.

I laughed.

"Seriously. You look so professional now. You've matured well. You have a glow to you almost."

"Call it a lack of poverty."

We both took a sip of coffee. Mine was black, Graham liked his with cream and cinnamon.

The two of us easily fell into a bottomless well of hearing each other's life stories. Graham had done well. He and Kenneth were together for five years before deciding to get married. Graham talked about overcoming some of the obstacles in their path: an ex-wife and a child, Kenneth having been shot on the job and recovering, and Kenneth's acceptance that he was gay.

"That's a lot. You had to have been very patient," I said.

"I suppose. I thought he was worth it. He kind of was what I was looking for. Albeit just coming out and having a kid demanded some compromise on my part. We were attracted to each other right away."

"You're both very handsome; how could you not?"

"You're sweet. You always have been."

"Was I? I just remember kind of stumbling through life, just trying to make it one day at a time."

"No. Even back then I found a strength in you. But I was always taken by the kindness in your heart. You're a wonderful person. When I left, I was hoping that things would finally go your way. I feel ashamed I never stayed in touch."

"You had a new life. You might appreciate knowing that simple kiss out the door each morning was the best part of my day those few months."

"Really? If it weren't for you, I'd never have started a life with Kenneth."

"Me? How is that possible?"

"You listened. I was ... afraid, actually. You listened to my fears and helped me accept them and overcome them. For the first time, I allowed myself to just be myself. Kenneth was in a vulnerable place too, and we just worked."

"Nice."

"Of course, his dick isn't as perfect as yours, but I ..."

I burst out laughing, almost spitting my coffee. I laughed hard for a couple of minutes. People at Morning Brew turned to look at me. I hadn't intended to make a scene, but Graham's comment was so ludicrous.

"Okay. What was that all about?"

I whispered, "Perfect dick. Whatever. Like that isn't hysterical. It's nothing."

"Well, it was perfect for me. Kenneth is pretty big. This is really TMI, but it took a few weeks to get our groove. Because we both were drawn to who we were as people and not just sex acts, we worked it out. He likes being the bottom, and I'm good at being a top. On those nights. Twice a year I get fucked: Valentine's Day and his birthday. It hurts, at least at first, but we get to where I enjoy it. On those days I remember how perfect it was with you."

I was almost humbled. Wow. To think Graham remembered those "practice" moments — that he really remembered me at all — made me amazingly happy. It was a warmth I was not expecting to feel.

Jane came by and warmed our coffee. Seconds later she came back with a stack of pancakes. Mine were plain, Graham had his covered with berries and whipped cream.

Although we had shared, I had let Graham do most of the talking. I wasn't ready to really talk about my life.

"Back in Jackson Bend, we had a friend in our AA group. His name was Cooper and he had been married ... and had a child. We heard a lot about how his new boyfriend had to accept all that. What was that like for you?"

"Good. I guess. Little girl. She's 10 now. She has always known me and Kenneth as a couple. She was very little when they split. I'm not sure how much she remembers."

Graham pulled out his phone and showed me a couple of pictures. One was of the three of them from last Christmas, and one was just of her.

"Simone."

"You guys look like a great family. And she's fine having a gay dad?"

"Yes. You never know with a young child. Kids can be so cruel. We hope she doesn't have to put up with a lot at school, but she seems well adjusted. Her close friends know. I love her to death, and she loves me." Graham put his phone away. "You mentioned your AA group. I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. They saved me. After you left, I don't know how much you would have liked me. I started drinking a lot."

"With Victor in the apartment, it's no surprise."

"I can't blame everything on him ... or anyone else. I guess I just wanted to fit in, and they all drank."

"In the play, Paul Reynolds meets his boyfriend in jail, both for drunken disturbance. You weren't in jail, were you?"

"No. Ha. I've had to dispel that myth for everyone who still wants to believe it is based on my life. If I could change one thing in the play, it would be that."

"But when he sings that song in his cell ... ooo. That was moving."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "I met Lance in AA. Kind of like you and Kenneth, we were equally vulnerable, otherwise I wouldn't be in his league."

"Don't say that. You're in anyone's league."

"Whatever. Most of Act I was fairly accurate. That jail part wasn't."

I tried to share some of the pleasant times that Lance and I shared. I spoke of our wedding and the honeymoon to Colorado. I told him how much I loved his family. I mentioned mine a little. Graham had some questions of how we fell in love. I adored telling him about all that. I told him about Friendsgiving and how it had become important to me.

I looked at the time. I knew I had to open up the store. We quickly paid the check. I said goodbye to Jane and told her I would see her next week.

Morning Brew was right next to Visions. Graham came in as I unlocked the store. I flicked on the lights and gave him a two-minute tour. He seemed impressed. Other staff members came in. I introduced Graham to them.

The store looked great. All the displays were beautiful, and we had numerous wedding displays up. Graham noted a same-sex reference and asked if we had a big gay clientele. Von wasn't Jackson Bend, but we did have a loyal following. Since opening, we had worked with about a dozen gay weddings, so that had been exciting for me. Visions was at least becoming known.

Graham knew I needed to work, so he prepared to take off. I thanked him for driving to Von, and we promised to stay in touch. I contemplated inviting him to Friendsgiving this November.

Felix and I were working on a shipment in the back room.

"Hey, Jakob? Remember when I talked about ... you know ... all those months ago?"

I remembered the conversation and nodded. He had never mentioned the subject again, but I had frequently said comments to make the employees feel good about their talents and work ethic. We had a good staff, and I had done a better job of appreciating them.

Felix looked around to ensure we were by ourselves.

"It happened last night."

"Oh?" I said, not understanding fully but had my assumptions.

"I finally slept with someone."

"I see."

I hated using words like "congratulations" for such acts. However, I knew it meant a lot to him. He carried it like a weight on his shoulders.

"How do you feel about it?"

"Good, I guess. We both seemed to like it. She stayed the night."

"I know this was important to you, but, Felix, this doesn't change how I feel about you. I have always thought you were a great person. This doesn't change that at all. It only means something to you. But if you feel good about it, then I'm happy for you. Just remember, that's only a tiny part of you. You're a terrific person."

"Thanks," he sheepishly said.

"And be safe. Responsibility comes with that."

"Yes, Dad," he said to me sarcastically. "I was. We were."

"All you had to do was be yourself."

I remembered telling that to Graham all those years ago. I was glad that I never pretended to be something I'm not.

"It had been so many years, but we still felt a friendship, and our lives had changed dramatically in so many ways, especially mine. Graham is such a wonderful person. That was a real blessing to reconnect with him."

"Did you ever hear from any of your other roommates?"

"No. I'm sure if they heard anything good about me or noteworthy, they would assume it had to be a different Jakob Morgan."

"Spelled with a `K'?" Trevor smiled.

I smiled back.

"The year of the play was kind of an up and down year."

"Elaborate."

"I wasn't super comfortable with suddenly being known. I mean, people didn't come in for autographs or anything stupid like that, but people did talk to me about it. Between the radio interview and the play and I was really known on Crestview Street — and a little bit throughout the city — I guess there was a part of me that liked that. I don't think of myself as shy, but I'm certainly not my husband."

"How was he through this time?"

"Meaning the publicity? Lance is always proud of me. He has been since we met, even when I had nothing." I sighed. "God, I love him. He doesn't always pick up on my feelings, but I'm equally at fault though in that I sometimes keep things bottled inside."

"Like?"

"It's Anson," I said to Lance as he walked into the house and saw me on the phone. Lance waved. "Lance says hi."

We had been talking for less than 10 minutes. He had called to let me know his father had a sudden heart surgery. I felt he was so young — and I remembered Dr. Owens — so I was very pleased to hear he was recovering nicely.

"So. This play. Tell me about it," Anson inquired.

"Well, the play was outstanding. Trent is a brilliant writer. For his age, I think he is amazing. I could see him one day being on Broadway as a playwright."

"Does he only do plays?"

"You know, I don't know. I know his two works, that's for sure. He's writing another with his husband. But I don't know. I'll ask him the next time we talk if he ever wants to do novels or TV or anything. Good question."

"This play was about you though, right?"

"Not exactly, but kind of. Trent pulled some experiences from my life and incorporated them into this fictional character."

"Like how much from your life?"

"Well, I wasn't in jail — which is what everybody asks — but a lot. Being kicked out at 17. Falling in love with you and saying goodbye was in there. Being on my own ... drinking problem ... homeless — all the fun moments."

"Man."

"You would have loved the guy that played you. He was super cute."

"Wait. What?!"

"The actor that played you was very good looking."

"Was he called Anson in the play?"

"Oh no, everyone's names were changed for the characters. But ... Trent did a really good job of writing how we fell in love ... at least for a while ... and how I spent time with your family. The goodbye scene was a tear-jerker."

Anson didn't respond.

Anson didn't say anything.

Anson was quiet for a long moment.

"You still there?"

"Yeah," Anson softly said, his voice kind of shaking.

"Anson?"

"I'm so sorry, Jakob. I am so sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"Us. You. Me."

"I don't understand, bear."

"Bear. Fuck!!! Did my character get killed off or anything? Or ... or ... stuck in a meaningless life?"

"You are confusing me. Where are you going with this?"

"Oh, Jakob, I did you so wrong."

"What are you talking about? You loved me. Your family took me in."

"I was shit. I did love you. I loved you as much as an 18-year-old can love another person. Everything about us was great. But then we got our jobs, you at the restaurant and me at Threads. We had a great staff there. I felt like I wanted to spend more time with them ... and I started to push you away. They were older, and I thought they were cool. A few of them were gay. Older and gay — they seemed so mature and sophisticated and knowledgeable. One was incredibly handsome. I just ... had the hots for him. I pulled away from you. It wasn't fair. You didn't do anything wrong. I thought he was better looking and I ... I ... went for it."

I listened to Anson's voice quiver, and I could tell he was fighting back tears. I didn't know what to say. It had been more than 10 years ago, but hearing his words still hurt me.

"He ... he liked the attention, I guess. We hit it off. He was 21. That sounded so cool. We starting making out in the back room from time to time. I went over to his place one evening. You all thought I was working late. I lied. I went to see him. He ... he fucked me. It was my first time. I came home that night. You told me you loved me ..." Anson wept. "And ... and ... I didn't say it back. I laid awake for hours, in your arms ... thinking about what I had done to you. But ... I wanted him."

"I see."

"Jakob, I am so sorry. I thought he had this nice dick and was so handsome. We dated each other for a few weeks, a little over a month, then he broke it off. I had pulled away from you. I just hated myself. I think we fooled around a couple of times, but it wasn't the same. I felt like shit."

Anson took a deep breath before continuing.

"When we drove off and you said, `Goodbye, bear,' I knew I loved you and I treated you wrong. I hated myself for months."

I wasn't sure why this crushed me. It was so long ago. I was happily married to Lance. My life was great. But all I could think about was he didn't want me. He wanted someone better looking.

"We were young, Anson. We were only 18." That's all I could think of to say.

"I know. Maybe. You deserved better. And we left you. Alone."

—

I don't know why Anson's confession stayed with me. I couldn't get it out of my head for a week. I snapped at Lance last night. I didn't know why. I held him tightly in bed to let him know that I didn't mean it. But I didn't say it.

He had dinner waiting for me the following night. He had been given a new recipe from one of the trainers at the gym. We both thought it was pretty good, but we weren't completely sold. It leaned just a little bit toward "too healthy," meaning the flavor wasn't quite satisfying enough. But we agreed we could have it from time to time.

As we were cleaning dishes, Lance remembered something from work.

"Oh, you know Dexter at the gym? Dexter. Hmm. Maybe you don't know him. Totally gorgeous. Anyway ... we were walking the track after I got off and had a really nice conversation going. I guess he had just broken up with his boyfriend. They weren't quite together a year. After walking for 15 minutes, he hits on me! He said: `I know you are married, but if you weren't, I'd ask you out. You're a very handsome man, Lance. I laughed. I told him I was faithful to you — and he knew that — but being hit on at work was kind of out of the blue."

Swell.

"Do you have a picture of him?"

Lance had pictures of most of the members. He tried to know everyone's name. He'd ask if he could take a picture of them, and he tried to memorize names flipping through them on the computer. Most people agreed, but a few didn't want their pictures taken. Lance had driven membership at the Von location up by 25% in the two years we had been here. Less than two years. Jason gave him a nice bonus at the end of last year and recently a raise.

Flipping through the images he had in a computer folder, he finally found Dexter.

"Wow. Yeah, he's gorgeous."

Perfect hair. Gorgeous smile. A muscular chest that killed. A hairy chest — at least what was sticking out of the tank top — which Lance liked.

I remembered the first few weeks Lance and I shared a bedroom in Jackson Bend. He wanted me out of the shelter. I told him he could have any man he wanted. And here it was — proof.

Lance was really in shape. The best he'd been since I've known him. Managing a gym had its advantages. My husband really was a beautiful man. And with his cock — that dick — he really could have any guy he wanted. Would he be like Anson one day and just want someone better looking?

My outlook became bluer.

Not in the mood to do anything, I went out to the back porch. I stared at the sunset. I somehow found it both beautiful and sad. I didn't know why. Damn. Why did Anson tell me that? Five years ago I would have grabbed a beer. That didn't sound good to me at all, but my body felt like I should do something. Something sad. Why would I want to do that?

Five minutes later, Lance came outside. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

"Hm. Did you need something?"

"Well. I don't know. I needed you, I guess. I didn't know where you were."

"Out here."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I guess."

He took my hand and moved us to the swinging loveseat on the porch.

"What's wrong, hub?"

I told him what Anson had said last week. He listened. He held my hand as I told him how it hit me. Then when one of the most handsome men ever — even his name was handsome — hits on him, I confessed that I felt like he could have anyone he wanted. How long would he want me?

"First, Anson learned from his mistake. I don't have to," Lance said to me, looking deeply into my eyes. "I know what I have. I have the greatest man in the world. Whom I adore. And love. And always will."

Ten minutes later, after kissing me passionately, I felt Lance's enormous cock enter into me. His flesh was my flesh. Our naked bodies held each other, and I felt loved.

"I told Anson about the play and the person that played the part of him. It prompted him to confess why he pulled away when we were young. He wanted someone better looking."

"That couldn't have been easy to hear. Then what?"

"He was super apologetic; he even said he realized he loved me when the family drove away. But ... the words hit me. They cut me. I carried them around for a while. When Anson and I had first reconnected when we lived in Jackson Bend, we went for a walk in the park. Our conversation got a bit racy. He made so many comments about guys and ... well, large dicks. At the time, I thought that was maybe why he pulled away in high school. That wasn't it — or, well, only part of it. And then something happened with Lance with a gorgeous man at work and ..."

"Clarify," Trevor said. "Lance didn't cheat on you, did he?"

"Oh no, far from it. But ... it was a low point. I had just bottled up too much. He helped bring me out of it. Lance was so loving for a few weeks. He went overboard to make me feel loved. I finally told him to stop it. But he gave me the perfect gift to lift my spirits. We got a dog. He's awesome. His name is DaVinci."

"Great name."

"Yeah. It was a spark I needed. And then we had the holidays. Friendsgiving was wonderful as usual. It kept growing. Graham came that year. Now that I think about it, it was the last time we saw Cooper and Mitch before they had a horrible split as a couple. It happened shortly before Christmas. But despite that, the holidays were great. Lance and I had done a really good job dividing time between both families. We never laughed so hard at my house. My father was like ... a new man. I mean, he still had his convictions ... didn't support the gay idea ... but he told me he loved me — more than once — on each visit. He was a new person. I could tell Mom was happier too. My family had healed in a lot of ways."

"That's nice to hear."

"It is. I now feel like we are more like a regular family. Not perfect, but not broken either."

"Sounds like a nice change."

"For sure. Another change came next. It wasn't too long after that, Valentine's Day actually, that we met Marc. Lance met me at the store, and after work we had a great dinner down Crestview at Larkspur. It was lovely. Walking back to the car, as we were on the sidewalk, we heard a loud crash inside Casey's Dugout, a sports bar. I knew the owner ... Casey ... and we rushed inside to make sure everything was okay. There are glass partitions between booths all around the restaurant. When we went in, we saw one shattered and a man on the floor. Four other men were restraining a guy. Most people were just in shock. I heard the bartender confirm to Casey that 911 had been called. It looked like someone — I assume a friend of the person being restrained — was trying to calm the angered man. The man lying in the glass was also being attended to by a friend."

"What happened?" Trevor asked.

"An argument of sorts. What I learned later was that an ad for a program came on the screen on some of the bar televisions. This idiot — who had too much to drink — said some bigot comment like `Gays are taking over all the shows on TV.' Marc, the man injured, told me later that he and his partner engaged with the man asking him what he meant. The irate gentleman went on to release a barrage of comments saying TV was pushing the gay agenda on people. The debate over simply having gay characters was just diverse representation and this dick insisted gays were ruining America."

"Lovely. It sounds somewhat like your restaurant experience all those years ago."

"Right. Casey knew me, so we stepped in to help. First, Marc said he didn't need to go to the hospital, but he obviously had some scrapes and cuts. Once the police arrived, the focus became processing this ... idiot. I offered to walk Marc down to our store just down the street. We had first aid equipment in the back room and the police agreed as long as we stayed put so they could take statements shortly. It was a long night."

I remembered how Lance and I didn't even realize we didn't have sex on Valentine's Day until a couple days later. We were shook up a bit that night. That could have been me all those years ago, not that we had glass partitions in my old restaurant.

"This all sounds horrible. You said it was a change. What do you mean by that?" Trevor asked.

"Lance and I talked to Marc and ... his boyfriend ... why can't I remember his name? ... for a while before the police came down. They were shaken to the core. Being out of that environment was helpful. Of course the police had to do their job. They double checked to make sure Marc wasn't injured seriously, but recommended he have anything checked out that seemed to be serious the next day. They inspected the bandages we applied. Lance went back to offer to help Casey clean up. Once Marc and his boyfriend left Visions, I also went down. Things had calmed, but the place was a little on edge. Casey didn't take any more customers that night. The damage in the restaurant was pretty isolated. This jerk just picked up Marc and threw him through one of the glass partitions. Ironically, it was Marc's boyfriend that argued with the man the most. I guess when Marc joined in, the guys screamed, "Well you two must be fags, I guess. It's such a shit show that you are now allowed to be everywhere.' He just said hateful things." I looked at Trevor. "Can you believe that? In this day and age?"

"Sadly, Jakob, I can."

"The next day, Marc came into our store. He was very thankful."

"I just wanted you to know that I really appreciated your kindness last night," Marc said.

"Well, sure. Absolutely. How are you today? How's your arm?"

"Everything seems okay. It's just where the cuts are that are a bit sore."

"Do you think you should have them checked out by a doctor?"

"That's what Casey said. I'm fine. Still a bit shaken, but my injuries are pretty minimal. Just typical cuts and bruises. When you bandaged me up last night, we could tell nothing was too deep; nothing needed stitches or anything."

"I'm glad. I mean, I'm glad it wasn't worse."

"Again, thank you for helping." Marc stared out the window a second. "Um. That other man ... Lance? ... was he ... was he a boyfriend?"

"He's my husband actually."

"Wow. Really."

"Why, Marc?"

"You might think this silly, but just seeing you two together made me feel better. I thought you were a couple. I ... I'm not really out to my family. Hardly anyone actually. I'm only 20, so I can't go to bars and clubs. I don't drink..."

"Drinking is overrated."

"... I only admitted to myself just a few months ago that I was gay ... and ... it's scary. How did you ... fit in?"

"Oh, Marc, I'm not a good example. My family was not accepting. At least at first. We're good now. It just gets better. Be patient. Not everyone is like that jerk last night. At all. Yeah, you'll find a nutball every now and then, but — thankfully nowadays — things are better. Be yourself."

"That's kind of hard. It's scary. But ... I want to. I'm not sure I know how."

"We talked awhile. He appreciated our help. But ... I got a sense Von could offer more. We aren't a big enough town to have a lot of diverse services that bigger cities do, but I wanted that to change. I wondered what we could do about offering some LGBTQ services."

"Go on."

"I went to the mayor's office. As it turned out, Marc was his nephew. He had already heard about what happened to him. After seeing me and Lance, he felt confident to come out to his family. Most of them had already suspected, I believe. The mayor was extremely grateful for what I had done. The youth center was underway. We began some initial talks about adding a community center complex. Von could offer services — youth, LGBTQ, AA, women's health, a food pantry ... that type of thing."

"That's quite an endeavor. Lots of money."

"It is. The easy answer is to just `add a tax,'" I said in air quotes. "But we brainstormed a committee. Several people were eager to help."

"How did it go?"

"Extremely well. We found donors and before long, we had a building undergoing a renovation. If not for this vacated property becoming available, we wouldn't have been able to move as quickly."

"How involved were you?"

"Very, I suppose. I guess it became a cause of sorts. My next year was a frenzy."

* * * *

This is the next-to-last chapter of Ascension: Jakob's Ladder. See more notes on the blog: timothylane414stories.blogspot.com

Feedback: timothylane414@gmail.com