Briarwood

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"BRIARWOOD"

Copyright Ritchris, 2005

aka "Whence Cometh My Help"

Copyright Ritchris, 2003

Revised Version

A dramatic saga

by

Ritch Christopher

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BOOK SEVEN

"I WILL LIFT UP MINE EYES"

Chapter-Sixty-eight

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For nearly a year, Chris has tried to keep a discreet tab on Andy Thompson's condition after he left Cole Institute to be treated by specialists for Andy's unusual testicular cancer. Chris still carried a mountain of guilt on his shoulders for his behavior toward Andy when Andy showed up unexpectedly in Briarwood.

Chris had known Andy since Andy was fourteen years old while Chris was assistant rector of St. Thaddeus Catholic Church in Atlanta. Twice or three times a day, Andy, along with two other young boys, helped Chris deliver free meals to the sick and indigent in the St. Thaddeus community. Most of their clients were sufferers from the HIV virus or AIDS. One young client who had died from Hepatitis C was Mark Stanley. Mark was gay and had been disinherited by his overly religious parents in River Oaks, Virginia. He moved away to Atlanta leaving no forwarding address, but upon his death, Mark's 'straight' brother, David, had flown to Atlanta to identify Mark's body and make arrangements to dispose with Mark's remains.

Chris had been close friends with Mark and during David's week-long stay in Atlanta, Chris became close friends with David...well, almost MORE than just close friends as Chris, being a closeted Catholic priest became overly fond of David and the two wound up kissing one evening. During this week, many strange things happened to David. An Atlanta detective, also gay, had been awestruck by David and even tried to lure him into having sex, but David resisted the temptation as he was heterosexual and was engaged to be married to Jenny Fairbanks back home in River Oaks, as soon as the two of them graduated college in two years. However, Mark's ex-boyfriend, Randy Carpenter, a rich bad kid who turned out to be a rich good kid, did manage to have one sexual encounter with David which left David's sexual psyche a bit unbalanced. Then, all in the same week, down from Virginia came Luke Sparks, Mark's first teenage boyfriend to attend Mark's funeral. Luke and David began reminiscing about old times with Mark and within a matter of days, Luke and David fell in love and left Atlanta after the funeral to go back home to start a new life, sans Jenny, David's fiancée and without the approval of the River Oaks community, especially from Luke and David's parents.

This all happened during one week. Andy, Chris' helper was now sixteen and had fallen deeply in love with his priest, Father Chris. In a weak moment, Chris had sex with Andy only once. As soon as Andy's parents discovered their son's infatuation with the assistant priest, they reported the incident to the rector of St. Thaddeus, an older and more conservative priest and to put it plainly, the shit hit the fan! Chris wrote a letter of resignation to his boss, the rector, and a 'Dear John' letter to Andy and left in the middle of the night to only God knows where.

By some miraculous intervention, Chris, after leaving Atlanta, just happened to drive through the small town of Briarwood. Call it God or fate, but something led him to go inside St. Genesius to pray. Fifteen minutes later, Chris met Father Cliff. Cliff took Chris home to meet Roger...and in a matter of days, letters, and phone calls, Chris had denounced the Roman Catholic ministry and had accepted a position as an Anglican priest and Cliff's new assistant at St. Genesius.

Months later when the Cole Institute for AIDS Research was going strong, Chris met and became friends with the Cole Administrator, Ed Middleton, a very handsome, but very 'straight' unmarried doctor. The two, having no 'real' families became rather CLOSE friends and after much soul-searching concerning sexuality on Ed's part, the two became lovers and were best friends with Roger and Cliff...and Ed and Chris had lived happily ever after until Andy Thompson, who was now twenty-four years old appeared suddenly in Briarwood looking for his 'jilted' lover of one night, Chris.

Andy confessed to Chris that during the past eight years, he had traveled across the country procuring himself to any man who could afford him for the evening. Next, Andy lied to Chris, saying he had full-blown AIDS and had come to Briarwood to seek treatment at Cole Institute. Andy's lie turned out to be worse than a lie. He didn't have AIDS, but Ed, the doctor and Chris' lover, discovered that Andy had a rare form of testicular cancer which was metastasizing rapidly.

All along Chris had avoided seeing Andy in the hospital for fear that Andy had actually come to Briarwood to cause trouble for him and Ed. Ed, being a world renowned physician, felt that his specialty was HIV and AIDS and perhaps doctors, such as the ones who had treated and cured Lance Armstrong were more qualified in treating Andy's condition. So Andy was sent to the hospital where Lance had been cared for.

Chris had tried to reach Andy by phone several times, but on each attempt, Andy refused to take any of Chris' calls. This continued for nearly a year until the final call Chris made where he learned that Andy had passed away after months of chemotherapy and experimental treatments. Chris, for some unknown reason, especially to himself, had not told Ed about his calls to try to reach Andy and now that Andy was dead, Chris didn't know how to explain his secretive inquiries concerning Andy's condition to Ed. Because he had not told Ed, only added to Chris' guilt. Chris wasn't being unfaithful to Ed as he had no romantic inclination toward his young friend from Atlanta, but somehow Chris felt he had betrayed both Ed AND Andy by not being honest with either of them by the way he felt.

Chris loved Ed deeply and would never do anything intentionally to hurt him, but Chris suddenly got the same urge to leave Briarwood, St. Genesius, Ed, Cliff, and Roger the same way he had vanished in the middle of the night in Atlanta. His first impulse was to go to confession and tell his true feelings to Cliff because Cliff's vow of confidentiality would keep anyone else but Cliff from knowing why he left.

In the eyes of the church, Chris had not committed a mortal sin...actually what he had done was no sin at all. He had just kept his true feelings to himself and secrets from everyone he loved or everyone who loved him. If only he could 'get away' for a few days. Away from the church, the hospital, even Ed...but where would he go? Was there anyone who lived away from Briarwood that he could go visit and talk with? How could he explain his wanting to getaway to Ed?

Suddenly, Chris remember Roger! Roger left Cliff in the middle of the night and went halfway around the world without telling anyone why or where! Cliff told Chris about Roger's journey of discovery...to find himself...PLUS how great Roger and how much he had changed for the better when he returned.

Roger was no longer a priest, but could he be bound by a vow of confidentiality if Chris asked him. Would Roger tell Cliff? Would Roger encourage Chris to take a sabbatical or would he insist on asking Chris to stay and try to work out his personal problems with him and Cliff acting as counselors? So many questions crossed Chris' mind. Should he just get in his car and drive away...go catch a plane...and go where? He couldn't afford to go where Roger went. If there was just some place with no religion, no hospital, no sick people, no people with things to confess or seek advice!! GOD! Was he cracking up? Chris had spent years at the Institute working with suicidal patients or clients who were losing their sanity from worry and grief. He knew all the symptoms of a psychotic break and he had to get help...medical or psychiatric...his guilt was overtaking his rationale. The one person he SHOULD be able to talk with was Ed, the person he loved most, but Chris' torment would only become an additional burden on Ed. 'HEAL THYSELF' was what kept flashing before Chris' eyes. But HOW COULD HE?

Chris fell to his knees at the altar and prayed while he shed tears of guilt and self-anguish. He must had stayed that way for over an hour until he reached the conclusion that he simply HAD to trust Roger. Roger must have felt something like Chris was experiencing and Roger would be the ONE person to understand if anyone would.

Chris knew that Cliff was making visitation rounds at Cole, and hopefully Roger might be at home if Chris called him. He went into his office and dialed the Cole estate and as fortune would have it, Roger DID answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Roger?"

"Chris? Is everything all right?"

"Why did you ask?"

"Your voice...it sounded a bit unusual."

"Do you have time to talk with me?"

"Of course...I'll MAKE the time. Would you like to come here?"

"No, I...I'd rather meet you some place privately."

"Chris, are you sure you're all right? This sounds so mysterious. What's wrong, Chris?"

Chris broke into tears. "Roger, I know there's no medical term for it, but I think I'm having a nervous breakdown...I'm cracking up, Roger."

"Are you in any condition to drive?"

"I'm not sure."

"Listen, where are you?"

"At the church in my office."

"Is Cliff there?"

"No, he's at the hospital."

"Then why don't I drive down, pick you up and we'll go some place where there's no one but us?"

"I...I think I would like that."

"Just hang on and I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. I'll park in back if you want to come out the back way."

"That...that's fine. I'll be waiting."

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Basking in the glow of their love for each other, Tom and Mike almost didn't care where their driving trip took them, as long as they were together. Tom, however, realized that they should have some geographic goals toward which to head, so Tom asked, shortly after leaving Briarwood, if Mike would like to re-visit his old home town in Alabama. As much as Mike would have liked to show off his new husband and his newly acquired wealth, there was really no one in Dothan that he needed to impress. So the plan to detour through Alabama was ditched. However, the two of them did stop in Chattanooga, Tennessee. All his life, Mike had seen signs all over his hometown saying, "See Rock City" and "Be sure to visit Ruby Falls". Mike had never been able to go to see either, due to lack of transportation...and money. So that became the first stop on their westward trek.

They stopped on Market Street and saw the "Little General", the locomotive used in the Civil War, which was now permanently housed in Chattanooga. They had dinner at the railroad museum and walked two blocks to a gay bar and watched a fantastic drag show. The next morning, they drove the Winnebago to a section of the city called St. Elmo; they stopped and rode the incline cable car up Lookout Mountain and walked to Point Park to see Moccasin Bend. It was advertised that you could see seven different states from the viewing point. From there, Tom rented a car and drove Mike to Ruby Falls, and later they spent the day at Rock City. It was like a trip to Disneyland for Mike. He'd never been to a tourist attraction in his whole life. Tom watched Mike as Mike was taken away by all he had seen. Ruby Falls and Rock City were old, quaint, and nice, but Tom kept wondering what Mike would say after he'd seen Disney World or Disneyland. He'd be blown away...but that would come much later on their trip. For now, Mike's wonderment was enough to bring happy tears to Tom's eyes.

They got back in their RV and started to leave Chattanooga, but first, Tom asked, "Where to now, Sinbad?"

"Does it matter?"

"Sure, my little love, I want you to be happy and I want you to see everything you've ever wanted to see."

"It doesn't matter, as long as I'm with you," Mike replied, gripping Tom's hand tightly.

"So you wanna just park this roving motel on the side of the road and live on I-75?"

"No, silly, I don't know where to go next."

"Well then, how about New Orleans?"

"Oh, I'd love that. I used to see pictures of the Latin Quarter. I heard they only speak French there."

"Well, actually, some speak French, but mostly Cajun."

"Oh, please, Tom, let's go," Mike said as a little child begging to go to camp.

"Then, after that, how about the Space Center in Houston and after that, we could swing down to San Antonio, see the Alamo, drive up through Fort Stockton to El Paso, and then New Mexico...the Painted Desert...the Grand Canyon..."

Mike's hand gently covered Tom's mouth. He looked at Tom and said "Have I told you today how much I love you?"

"Not really...I've been waiting..."

"Well, I do, Tom. I love you more than life."

"And I love you, too, slugger. I know now what's been missing my whole life...and you're it!" Tom said. He was driving toward Memphis, but took time to kiss Mike when Mike walked behind him in the luxurious RV and gave him a hug.

"Wanna hear some real jazz on Beale Street?"

"Could we?"

"I don't see why not. After that, you can compare it to the jazz on Bourbon Street!"

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When Roger drove into the back parking lot of the church, he saw Chris leaning against the railing leading up the back steps. Roger was even more surprised to see Chris smoking a cigarette. This was a first. 'Something must really be wrong,' Roger thought as he opened passenger door of his car to invite Chris in. Chris dropped the cigarette and stepped on it before getting into the car.

"Thanks for coming, Roger," was Chris' opening remark.

"I'm glad you called. I was getting bogged down at the house with figures and blueprints and needed a break. I was about to take a stroll across the lawn when you called."

"I...I'm sorry if I disturbed you, it's just that I...I need to talk with someone..."

"I'm pleased that it was I, whom you thought of. Would you like to go get a drink...or coffee, perhaps?"

"No, let's just go some place where it's quiet and away from people."

"I think I know just the place."

"Thank you," Chris said, solemnly, as Roger drove out of the parking lot and headed toward Grissom Park.

Chris tried to appear calm, while inside he was shaking badly. Once again, he had a flat affect expression on his face as if he were in a daze. Roger couldn't decide whether or not to begin a light conversation or if it were best to remain silent until Chris was ready to talk and reveal whatever was bothering him.

Roger turned into the park and drove around to the far side of the lake to the gazebo where Cliff had met Jay many years ago. The air was chilly with an early autumn breeze ruffling the fallen leaves from the huge oak and elm trees seeming like they had given up hope for the rest of the year and would remain bare until the rush of spring sap in March. There was absolutely no one in the park and Roger thought it would be a good place for Chris' private chat.

Both of them were wearing heavy jackets and gloves so the chill wasn't a factor to bother them. Roger pointed out the gazebo to Chris and they got out of the car, walked toward it and sat down on either side of the picnic table which the white ornate structure enclosed.

"I...I love this time of the year," Roger said, trying to begin a conversation. "Football weather is the greatest...Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's eve,,,"

"What?" Chris said, coming out of his lost state of mind..."oh, the weather...yeah, it's...it's nice..."

"Chris, I don't want to rush you, I know that something is troubling you, so take you time...say whatever you want when you're ready."

"Uh...Roger, would you mind if I...if I had another cigarette?"

"Of course not...I was never aware that you were a smoker."

"I'm not really. This pack in my pocket isn't even mine. I...well, I won't say who, but I took it away from one of my acolytes and put it in my desk. Somehow, today, I felt like smoking...I USED to smoke when I was in college and seminary, then the cigarettes got too expensive in Jersey so I gave up the habit, mostly to buy food,"

"I don't know what cigarettes cost in Jersey while you were in school, but I heard on the news the other night that in New York, some places are charging as much as seven and eight dollars per pack. Can you imagine an average man who smokes paying seventy or eighty dollars for a carton? Multiply that times four cartons per month and cigarettes are more expensive than the average car payment."

"Ha! And I couldn't afford them when they were two-fifty a pack."

"Go ahead and light up, Chris. I'm sure it will relax you..."

"Roger, I'm afraid I'm beyond 'relaxing'," Chris said.

'At last he's opening up...',Roger thought,

"I know I said I wouldn't rush you...but what's wrong, Chris. You can tell me anything and I won't reveal a word you say...not even to Cliff. Of course, you know him almost as well as I and you know about his uncanny ability to read someone's mind."

"I suppose he already knows what's wrong, although we haven't talked. I even thought about telling him what I was thinking in the confessional, but I couldn't even do that."

"It's something that you can't talk to Ed about?"

"I could, I mean Ed's my lover, my other half. I should be able to talk to him about anything...but...I know it's probably my imagination, but Ed seems so distant lately. I realize how important his work is to him, but sometimes he doesn't hear me when I'm alone with him...at the dinner table or in bed..."

Roger stopped short of saying what was on his mind, but he let Chris continue.

"Roger, I know bits and pieces of what you did when you and Cliff were together at the beginning. You...you just disappeared and no one knew of your whereabouts until you returned. Then I heard that you had gone on some kind of self-discovery expedition and finally wound up having private sessions with the Dalai Lama."

"I...I did."

"And when you returned, you felt better."

"I did...and going one step further, I'll say that Cliff's and my relationship bonded tighter when I got back."

"And you never had the desire to leave again...?"

"Never."

Chris was silent again.

"Tell me, Chris, is that what you want to do...get away...discover yourself...find a new meaning in your life?"

"I...I'm not sure."

"Would YOU like to go to India or Nepal?"

"Heavens no! I'd never go away that far."

"Other than Ed's...'forgetfulness', are the two of you having any other kinds of problems?"

"No, no...we're still very much in love. Our...our love life is not as frequent, but it's still solid and good."

"So..."

"Roger...it's all those faces...all those voices...I see and hear every day! Problems...confessions concerning adultery, thievery, cheating at business and at home, dishonesty...then I'm supposed to bless them and tell them God will forgive them...then I go to Cole every day for visits, never knowing who's going to be alive today or who's died during the night...the stories the patients tell me about their problems with their families, friends, lovers...how they got HIV ...on and on...it just never stops. I go home to be with Ed and I can't get the faces and voices out of my head. I see and hear them when I eat, when I sleep, when I'm reading or watching TV...even when I'm sitting on the john taking a crap!"

"You know I can commiserate your feelings. For years, Cliff and I have gone through what you're experiencing now. I'm only surprised it hadn't affected you earlier than now."

"But how do you and Cliff cope? How can you go on day after day seeing the same things, hearing the same phrases...again and again?"

"I suppose both Cliff and I could let our positions get us down if we hadn't learned to shut our bedroom door at night."

"What do you mean?"

"When we're ready to go to bed, we not only shut the bedroom door, we lock it...and symbolically speaking, it's that moment that we lock the world out. Cole Institute, St. Genesius, and the problems of the world cease to exist. That's Cliff's and my time to be alone in our own world. We go to bed...sometimes we make love, sometimes, not...sometimes we embrace while at others, we hold hands and we're the only two people living in our world. No one can enter or interrupt our reverie. The next morning, we unlock the door and go back to face the other world."

"God, if only..."

"I know, Chris..."

"You remember that kid, Andy, the one with testicular cancer?"

"Yes. How is he doing or have you heard? Was he cured?"

"He...he died, Roger."

"My God! I thought surely where we sent him that..."

"So did Ed."

"Chris, surely you're not blaming yourself over something none of us had any control over..."

"I could have been nicer to him...less suspicious when I found out how sick he was..."

"You weren't in love with him, were you?"

"No way...I thought I was nearly ten years ago...love had nothing to do with it. It's just that hearing of his death sorta tipped me over the edge. It was like piling on the 'final straw'..."

"And it made you want to run away...?"

"You got it!"

"Chris, you're a priest, a man-of-the-cloth, as I was once. I'm not the firm believer I used to be. I still HAVE to believe because of Cliff's sake. But, I'm sure you know that passage in the Koran that says 'God will not burden any soul beyond its power'?"

"That's also stated in another way in St. Luke," Chris added.

"So do you believe it. Do you think you've reached your limit?"

"I'm not sure, Roger...I don't know how much more I can bear."

"Suddenly, I feel as if I'm the one who would like to run away," Roger said.

"Is there something wrong with either you or Cliff?"

"No, Chris. It's just that I know something you apparently aren't aware of and I also know this is NOT the time for me to tell you. However, if there's a chance you might just 'disappear into the night', it's almost necessary that I add to your burdens."

"What is it, Roger?"

"What I have to say, I've not even said to Cliff."

"You're not seriously ill, are you? Or one of your 'boys'?"

"No, Chris!" Roger took a deep breath, swallowed, and exhaled slowly. "Chris, it's about Ed."

"What about Ed?"

"He's quite ill, Chris."

"He seems to be all right. I mean he looks healthy. He hasn't said anything about being ill."

"You remember a few weeks ago when he, Mike, Tom, and I went to Washington?"

"Sure."

"One afternoon while we were free, Ed told me he wanted to go to Walter Reed to check on some kind of AIDS medication they were experimenting."

"FUCK! Roger! You're not saying that Ed has AIDS?"

"No, no...the thing Ed DIDN'T tell me was that he was going to Walter Reed to be examined. I only found out about it a few days later when we got back to Briarwood and he and I were having a powwow in his office when his Sarah walked in with a FedEx envelope containing the results of Ed's exam. He wanted to open it immediately so he asked if I would excuse him while he read this very important report he was expecting. Little did I know that the tests results were his own."

"AND...?"

"After he read the first two pages, Ed sorta slumped back in his chair and sighed. Then he practically pitched the report toward me to let me read it, saying, 'Looks like I'm going to be tendering my resignation, really soon, Roger."

"GOD DAMN IT, ROGER! DON'T KEEP ME IN SUSPENSE! WHAT DID THE FUCKING REPORT SAY?"

"Chris, I'd almost rather you hear this news from Ed, himself. I can understand why he's kept it from you, but since you asked my advice whether you should stay or get away for a while, I guess I might as well tell you. Only PLEASE, if and when Ed tells you, don't let on that I've already told you that the scan they took at Walter Reed on Ed came back positive for onset Alzheimer's."

"DEAR GOD! I don't believe this. Ed is barely thirty-eight years old. People his age don't get Alzheimer's!"

"I thought the same thing at first, Chris, but actually, some people are diagnosed much earlier, some times in their twenties."

"But surely to God, there's something that can be done!"

"I asked Ed in a very lucid moment what it meant and what action should be taken."

"AND...?"

"He said, the only thing to do is 'wait'!"

"WAIT? WAIT FOR WHAT? WAIT FOR ED TO DETERIOATE AND DIE?"

"That was Ed's prognosis..."

"Oh my living God, Roger! What are we going to do?"

"Well, the first thing Ed did was write his resignation. He said it was best, being in his position, he shouldn't be allowed to make medical decisions which might prove to be counterproductive later."

"You mean after he's brain dead?"

"That's a rather cruel description, but...yes..."

"How long does he have? I mean will his brain cease working before his body starts shutting down?"

"No one can be sure, Chris, There's no set pattern on Alzheimer's deterioration. Each case is different with its own debilitating traits. It's like a phantom growth that stalks the brain with us never knowing where it will strike next or which part of the body or its functions, it will attack."

"In other words, he's dying piece by piece, organ by organ, body procedures such as eating, tasting, smelling, talking, and THINKING?"

"In most cases, yes."

"GOD DAMN IT TO MOTHER FUCKING HELL! And here I WAS feeling sorry for myself! Jesus! Roger! I can't live without Ed. He's my life!"

"During the past few days, I...I've imagined myself in your situation. What if it were Cliff, what would I do? How would I go on? WHY should I go on?"

"What do YOU think I should do, Roger?"

"Well, he seems to be functioning fine for the time being. He still has his intelligence although I DID get concerned when you said just now that he's been in a...well, like a daze where he hasn't heard what you said to him..."

"God! Things make more sense now. In my selfish attitude, I kept trying to persuade myself that Ed wasn't growing tired of me. GOD! What a fool I've been!"

"How could you know? Who would've suspected? I certainly didn't and I spend almost as much time working with Ed as you do living with him at your home. He must have surmised something was wrong before we went to Washington. He had arranged to be examined at Walter Reed weeks before we went there."

"You still didn't answer...what should I do? You're the head and owner of one of the biggest research hospitals in the world. Surely there's something you can suggest!"

"I can only say that he's going to need you now, more than ever. It could be a year or two, months, a matter of weeks, before his symptoms begin to show outwardly. Then IF and when he should get bedridden or lose his thinking ability, they YOU'RE the one that's going to need help. You know that Cliff, I, or all of our boys are here to help and do whatever needs to be done."

"Well, he's not dead...YET! I expect to go home and see the same Ed I saw at breakfast this morning and the one I went to be with last night. He won't have changed in a day."

"Yes, but you can't let him know that you know. It's possible, though I hate to think it, but Ed's mind could go before he even tries to tell you."

"Then, I'll be living in ignorant bliss with nothing to do but stand by his side and watch him die a little bit more every hour of every day."

"That's the horror of the disease. Of course, we can still have our 'secretive' staff to continue with some stem cell research on the 'Q.T.', thank you Mr. Bush!"

"Roger, I feel as if a big part of me just died."

"But it didn't! You've got to live twice as hard for you and Ed both. Look! Let me suggest something...you wanted to hear what I thought...so here it is...Ed, for the most part is still active, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He might stay that way for some time..."

"So Ed and I should just stay home and watch 'Oprah' until the onslaught hits?"

"No, I think you BOTH should get away. Don't let on that you know about him. Tell him, just as you told me earlier, that you need to get away. The church and the hospital have bogged you down and you need a long vacation, only INSIST that he goes with you."

"Where to?"

"Hell, it doesn't matter as long as it's some place you both will enjoy...Paris, London, Rome, Disney World...Pocatello, Idaho! ANYWHERE! And FUCK the cost! I'll pay for everything carte blanche for as long as you want to be gone. Tickets! Hotels! Meals! Spending money! The sky is the limit! That's the very least I can do for someone who has given the Institute so much of his time, work, and knowledge. If he needs doctors, specialists, hospitals...whatever, just call Walter...Jeff's dad, and he'll see to it that you get whatever you need. You know he takes care of all my financial matters. Just go some place and have a real honeymoon, so to speak...because the time may come when..."

"I know...you don't have to spell that out for me."

"So what do you think of my suggestion?"

"I think it's a good idea, frankly. Of course, convincing Ed to go on a trip might be difficult."

"His resignation won't take effect officially until the first of the month. By then, I'm sure he'll try to offer you some lame excuse why he's leaving his job...in case he doesn't want to reveal the REAL reason to you. He might jump at the chance to get away with you...considering that he has already thought of the consequence facing him...and you."

"Roger, can I ask what you're gonna do about finding a replacement for Ed at the Institute."

"I mean this sincerely, Chris, Ed cannot be replaced in more ways that one...especially in your life, not to mention mine, Cliff's, and thousands who depend upon his medical expertise. Very honestly, I haven't even looked as I didn't want to stir up false rumors before YOU knew and I didn't want anyone to know what Ed had told me in strictest confidence."

"Roger, I think I would like you to take me home, now. I have a lot of decisions to make. I'll call Cliff and tell him I'm not feeling well and had to go home. Then, I think I'll prepare a special dinner for Ed...all of his favorites...and put on a happy face and give the performance of my life why I'm worked down and need to go on a trip...PREFERABLY with him."

"You can call me if you need me...any time. You know that. Please call me tomorrow to tell me how the idea of a vacation appealed to him. Then, if he needs a little more persuasion...then just ask Cliff, persuasion is my specialty!"

"I don't have to ask Cliff. I already know that...as do all of your Briarwood Boys."

"OK, then, let me take you home."

Roger put his arm around Chris' shoulder and led him back to the car.

• • • • • • • • Chapter Sixty-eight-PART TWO * * * * * * * *

"The Fantasticks" ACT ONE:

El Gallo: There's a song he must sing.

It's a well-known song,

Though the tune is bitter,

it doesn't take long to learn.

Matt: I can learn.

"I Can See It", from "The Fantasticks"

Lyrics by Tom Jones

Music by Harvey Schmidt

Copyright...1959.

Lee Malone and his year-younger brother, Jake, were the sons of Reverend William (or Bill) Malone, the pastor at Minaret Ecclesiastical Baptist Church in Fort Stockton, Texas, a small town of less than 9,000 residents, located halfway between San Antonio and El Paso. Both were students at Pecos County High School, Lee being a senior, and Jake a junior. They were as different as daylight was from dark. Lee was a tall slender blonde, immaculate in dress, sensitive, and a good scholar, whereas Jake was short and stocky with raven black hair, fair-skinned with freckles across his nose. His upper teeth were spaced apart like Ernest Borgnine's. Jake could care less about his studies; all he wanted to do was play football. He was a roly-poly defensive tackle on the Rangers football team and had drummed up quite a reputation by scoring the most tackles in the West Texas High School League. Though his games were seldom seen by anyone other than the local residents, Jake always hoped that some college scout would get stranded in Fort Stockton, due to car troubles, see him, and offer him a scholarship to one of the big colleges.

Lee, who was now eighteen, had been studying piano and organ since he was six years old. He had had two music teachers; the first was Mrs. McLain, organist at his dad's church. She died from a heart attack when Lee was thirteen and he had continued his studies with Mrs. McLain's son, Buddy, who was four years older than Lee. Buddy had studied advanced piano at Creighton Conservatory of Music in Dallas. Upon his mother's death, he had taken on her piano students, at least temporarily, until a new teacher could be found for her students.

Lee, who had been reared in a rather religiously strict fashion by his father, had been taught about the sin of premarital sex. His curiosity about sex, however, remained aroused by the constant erections in his jeans. Buddy, on the other hand, had learned all about sex, gay sex in particular, from his roommate in Dallas. Buddy's desire for male sex had increased since he returned to Ft. Stockton. He had found out how scarce gay sex was in his small town.

Buddy taught Lee for four months, noticing Lee's ever-taut trouser pouch whenever he sat next to Lee on the piano bench either to play a piano duet or to show Lee the proper fingering for a musical passage. Buddy wanted to be sure of Lee's trust and young sexual wants before he, Buddy' made the first move. The last thing Buddy wanted was to be exposed, "outed", or charged legally for a homosexual advance.

One afternoon while Buddy was giving Lee a lesson. The two of them were playing the piano side by side, and Buddy "accidentally" dropped his pencil, which also, "accidentally", dropped on the floor between Lee's legs. Buddy's used his left hand to steady himself as he reached for the pencil, only his left hand, "accidentally" was placed on Lee's bulging crotch. Buddy knew that Lee was hard.

"I'm sorry," Buddy said.

"It's OK," Lee blushed.

"Are you always that way?...Hard, I mean?"

Lee was stunned by Buddy's inquiry. He didn't know how to answer. His face turned a deeper shade of red. "Uh...I don't know. I suppose so, I guess."

"Well, you can take care of it once you get home."

Lee ignored the comment for a moment and went back to "letter C" on the music. The lesson lasted another fifteen minutes. Lee was the last student on Buddy's calendar for the day. He gathered all his piano music from the stand and arose to leave.

"Lee, you get better with each lesson," Buddy said.

"Thank you," Lee replied, "I practice a lot."

"It shows."

Both of them stood there for a second, just looking into each other's eyes. Each wanted the conversation to continue, but, at the moment, they were out of words and couldn't find anything to say.

"Well," Buddy said, finally, "I guess I'll see you at church Sunday and then at your lesson next week.'

"I guess so," Lee said, extending his right hand. "Well, goodbye."

"Goodbye, Lee...until next time."

Buddy walked Lee to the front door and opened it. Lee did not exit. He stood silently, trying to get the courage to ask Buddy a question. Lee sighed, and finally spoke.

"Buddy, can I ask you a question before I go?"

"Sure. Is there something bothering you? You seem upset." Buddy replied, hoping against all hope, that Lee would not go home and tell his father about the 'accidental' touch.

"You said, I could 'take care of it', once I got home."

"Oh, don't pay any attention to what I said. What you do in the privacy of your bedroom or bathroom is your business. I'm sorry for making that remark. It was in bad taste and I apologize."

"Oh, you don't need to apologize...what happened and what you said, wasn't done on purpose."

Buddy thought to himself, 'Like hell it wasn't!'

Lee continued, "I just wish I knew what you meant by 'take care of it'?"

"Lee, how old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Then you should know that I was only talking about masturbation. Please don't be offended by my saying that. It was bad judgment on my part. I assumed that you do masturbate."

"Actually, I don't. I've read about it-- masturbation, I mean, but Dad always said it was wrong."

"And you mean to say that you've never tried?"

"This is rather embarrassing, but I do rub myself down there, at night, after I go to bed. But that's all I do."

"Oh, now, I wish I'd never said anything," Buddy said, almost exasperated. "The last thing in the world I want is to be the topic of one of your dad's sermons."

"I promise I won't tell," Lee replied. "There's lots of things I don't tell my dad about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, my dad would pitch a fit if he knew about my movie star picture collection. I keep it hid, way in back of the closet."

"Oh?" Buddy seemed interested. "What star do you collect the most pictures of?"

"I'm a bit ashamed to say...but Brad Pitt, Devon Sawa, Jared Leto, James Marsden, Ryan Philippé, and most recently, I've started collecting that Irish movie star, Colin Farrell."

"All guys, huh?"

Lee dropped his head, "Yeah, I guess."

"You...uh...are attracted to good looking young men?"

It was difficult, but Lee managed to say a quiet, "Yes."

"Don't be embarrassed Lee, I like Brad Pitt and Colin Farrell, too. I don't collect their pictures, but when I lived in Dallas, I rented all their movies at Blockbuster."

"Guys turn you on?" Lee asked, raising his eyes to look directly into Buddy's."

"Yes, I guess I am," Buddy replied.

"Do...do they...do they make you, you know, swell up, down there?" Lee asked, only slightly indicating Buddy's crotch.

"Yes, and then some."

"How do you get it to go down?"

"Guys don't usually say this to other guys, but I masturbate."

"You aren't afraid you're hurting yourself, or committing a sin?"

"Good Lord, no! I don't mean to steer you wrong from the way your dad has brought you up, but every guy I knew in Dallas masturbated all the time without any kind of fear. I know...my mother told me never to try it or I would get warts in my palms, go blind or crazy, but I think if I DIDN'T do it, I'd go crazy."

"You still do it...I mean, even after you came home to Ft. Stockton?"

"Every night...sometimes twice a day. Do you see any warts on my palms? Am I blind or crazy?"

"No."

"So?"

"Buddy, just suppose I was to ask you to tell me how to do it, could you...or rather, would you?"

"I don't know, Lee, what I can tell you in words would probably better explained in the books at the high school library."

"I've looked...and either the books are missing or the pages have been torn out."

"Lee, look, I don't want to risk the wrath of your father. Surely you have a friend at school who could tell you about it better than I."

"I only have a few close friends at school, and with me being a preacher's son, I don't think one of them would ever talk to me about sex."

"Good heavens! Don't people here ever look at their calendars? This is the twenty-first century! You'd think that the residents are hiding in a vacuum and living in the dark ages."

"Well, if you can't tell me, would you show me?"

"Whoa, now! I'm not getting into trouble over your curiosity."

"Buddy, no one but you and me will ever know, I promise. I won't tell a soul...especially my dad."

"I know I'm gonna live to regret this...I already do...but come with me into my bedroom."

Lee was elated, but inwardly scared as he followed his piano teacher into the bedroom.

"Sorry about the mess," Buddy said, straightening the sheets, pillows, and the spread on his bed. "No one ever comes in here but me, so I don't keep this room as tidy as the rest of the house." Buddy smoothed out the bed, almost completely before turning back to Lee. "I still have doubts about this and I don't know exactly where or how to start."

"You wanna pretend that I'm not here...and it's night...and you've gone to bed by yourself? I can sit in that chair and watch. Just forget that I'm here with you."

"You don't want a lesson, you want to watch a show," Buddy said.

"Well, that way at least I'd have a better idea of what you're talking about."

"I'm a bit reluctant to take my clothes off in front of an audience. Maybe if you undressed, it would relax me and get me in the mood."

It never dawned on Lee that he would have to remove his clothes. No one, not even Jake, had seen him naked since he first began to sprout pubic hair at age thirteen. His first instinct was to thank Buddy and forget about the whole idea and then leave. But this was his first---and maybe his only---chance to discover the mystery of masturbation. Lee took a deep breath and began to unbutton his shirt. Neither of them wanted the other to get ahead of him, so they both removed the same article of clothing at the same time...shirt, shoes, socks, and finally the pants. The two of them awaited the other's move before peeling down their Jockey briefs. Buddy put his thumbs on either side of his waistband and Lee did as well. They slowly lowered their shorts. Due to fear of the moment, Buddy's organ was limp. Lee's, on the other hand, sprang up like a divining rod, discovering the fountain of youth. Buddy was instantly attracted to what he saw once Lee stepped out of his briefs. It didn't take more than a few seconds for his own sexual arousal to occur.

"God, you've got a big one!" Buddy said.

Lee became embarrassed by Buddy's remark and tried to hide his genitals, but there was no way to cover all of his swollen member, even with both of his hands. "Buddy, don't look at me, please! Remember, I'm not here. You can't see me!"

"That's like saying, 'don't think of elephant'!"

"Pardon?"

"Just an expression. OK, I'll try, but it's gonna be difficult to imagine you're not here, especially after I've seen what you just revealed."

"I'm sorry, but I can't control what you just saw. It stays this way most of the time."

"OK, if you'll close the blinds and make the room darker, I'll see what I can do."

Lee's penis bounced as he crossed the room to the window to shut out some of the light. Buddy, in the meanwhile, had pulled down the spread and top sheet on his bed and lay back on the pillow. Lee returned to sit in the easy chair, about six feet from the bed. The room wasn't dark but it would have to do. It took less than five minutes but Buddy demonstrated the art of masturbation to a very excited onlooker, Lee.

"That was amazing!" Lee exclaimed. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Hurt? Heck no! It's the greatest feeling God gave to man!" Buddy replied, but quickly added, "I didn't mean to sound sacrilegious."

"No, no, that's all right," Lee said, "It was just all those noises you were making. I thought you were experiencing pain or something."

"Do you think you've learned enough to go home and try it yourself?"

"I think so...but if Dad catches me...well, you know what'll happen."

"Do it while he's at church during the day or weekend."

"Then I stand the chance of Jake catching me."

"You think that Jake would tell your dad?"

"Probably. Even if Jake promised, he would let it slip out to Dad."

Buddy thought for a long while, pausing, before saying, "OK, if I leave this room and you have it all to yourself, you wanna try it now?"

"I guess so...only, you don't have to leave the room if you don't want to."

"Are you sure?"

"Might as well, you've seen me naked, you may as well see everything else."

"Why don't you lie on the bed while I get you a clean towel from the linen closet? You can practice while I'm gone."

"OK," Lee said, conscious that he lay on the same spot Buddy had. Buddy left the room as Lee began the same movements he had witnessed a few minutes earlier and almost instantly, Lee achieved his first orgasm. Just as Buddy re-entered the room, suddenly forgot himself and who was in his bed and lowered his head to orally clean up the mess Lee had made on his own stomach.

Lee's breathing returned to normal. He was aware of where Buddy's mouth was, but he couldn't look down at him. Buddy's face flushed when he realized what he had just done...AND to whom! His life may as well be over, he thought. He'd at least have to leave Ft. Stockton on the next bus. Once Lee's dad or any of the townsfolk found out what he'd done, he'd be tarred and feathered, hung up on a pole by his balls, or both. Buddy couldn't look up at Lee either. He slowly removed his mouth from Lee's abdomen.. He stared at Lee's navel and uttered, "Oh, my God, Lee, I am so sorry---I don't know what made me do such a thing to you. What can I say? How can you ever forgive me?"

Lee caught his breath and said, softly, "Buddy, there's nothing to forgive. I guess what you did was what I wanted."

"Then...then--you're not angry?" Buddy asked, lifting his head slightly.

"No, but I was just wonderin' how long does it take before I can do it again?"

"Fifteen or twenty minutes...depending on how soon you get excited again."

"Well, I'll just wait!" Lee said. "I wanna do it again...only this time, I wanna do it with you...that is, if you're willing!"

"Lee, I think we're carrying this too far, and way too fast," Buddy said, "I think you'd better go home before we both get into a lot of trouble."

"You've had other guys' penises in your mouth before, haven't you?"

"A few...when I was in Dallas...but never in Ft. Stockton."

"Then this was kind of a first for both of us. I can't see why Dad is so opposed to something that feels so terrific."

"'Sin of the flesh', your dad would say."

"Would you let me touch yours?"

"I don't think so."

"Come on, you touched mine, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that was just..."

Lee interrupted, "Then turnabout is fair play. Come on and lie down beside me!"

"You sure?" Buddy's disbelief showed on his face.

"Yep, come on!"

Buddy hesitated a moment, then slowly crawled over Lee to lay on the vacant side of the bed. Almost immediately, Lee reached between Buddy's legs and grabbed him.

"You're all swollen up again, aren't you, Buddy?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Then let me see what I can do to make the swelling go away," Lee said as he moved his head beneath Buddy's waist.

Two hours later, at 5:00 PM, Lee had been indoctrinated into the pleasures of manual and oral sex by his piano teacher. Lee felt no guilt from his actions, while poor Buddy lay in mortal fear of the things he had just done.

"Can we do this next week after my lesson?" Lee asked. He was totally dressed, music books in hand, and, reluctantly, ready to leave to go home for supper.

"That's a week away, Lee. Let's see how we feel then."

Lee scurried out of Buddy's house, happy as Columbus when he had found a whole new world. Buddy, drained and exhausted, went into his bathroom to shower and try to relax. He stopped before the medicine cabinet mirror, long enough to accuse himself of his sinful actions. He and Lee had gone far enough to kiss one another, but Buddy couldn't remember Lee giving him a 'hickey' on the left side of his neck. There was a dark brown splotch three inches below his left ear. He took a washcloth, soaped it, and tried to wash it off. No matter how hard he rubbed, it wouldn't move, it only became red, around the area the spot encompassed.

"That's strange," Buddy thought. "I've never noticed that before. I wonder what caused it?"

<><><><><><><><><>

Lee was all aglow leaving Buddy's house. He had no regret over what he and Buddy had done...no guilt, either. But he was still aware of what his dad would say if he ever found out about his older son and his piano teacher. It was after 6:00 PM before he returned home.

Luckily, it was Jake's turn to cook supper; it was Lee's night to do the dishes while Jake piddled at doing his homework and their father, Pastor Malone, read his bible, taking notes for next Sunday's review of mortal sins and how they lead to eternal hell and damnation. Reverend Malone's sermons scared the living daylights out of all his congregation. but they feared them even more when they didn't attend church. Non-attendance to Sunday worship was not only a sin in the eyes of God, but also in the wrathful eyes of their preacher.

The Malone household didn't own a TV, so when night fell, if it was too cold to take a walk, the only possible activity was reading. If you chose not to read, the last alternative was to go to bed. Lee was so ecstatic with memories from his afternoon at Buddy's, he wanted to go to bed early and relive every moment he'd experienced before he forgot any of them.

He and Jake always slept in their skivvies and t-shirts. Lee took off his jeans, folded them and placed them on a chair so that he could wear them to school the next day. He lay on his bed and tried to remember the first thing that had happened at Buddy's that began his afternoon interlude. The very thought of Buddy gave Lee an instant hardon. God, how he wanted to touch himself and climax, but sure as shooting, as soon as he started, Jake was bound to come in and catch him. Jake, in turn, would tell his dad and there would be havoc in the Malone house. Maybe Lee could do it just a 'little' after Jake had gone to sleep, so Lee decided to wait.

Thirty minutes later, Jake came into his and Lee's bedroom. Jake took off his shirt and jeans and piled them on the floor as usual. Jake was tired after his basketball practice earlier in the afternoon. He looked at Lee, whom appeared to be sleeping and turned out the light and went to his bed. Lee waited silently for only God knows how long for the sound of Jake's sleep noises which Jake made every night. It was almost an hour later when Jake began to groan and breathe heavily. The coast was clear and this was Lee's chance to commit every moment that he could to memory. Once again, his erection sprang up, full-force. He quietly put his right hand beneath the elastic in his shorts and he grabbed himself.

'Gosh, this feels good...' Lee thought to himself. The sensation was there, even without Buddy being present. If only he had known how great this felt, he would have been doing this over and over, despite his dad's warnings.

He got so caught up in the action that, before he knew it, Lee was moaning and longing to reach a climax. He was too far over the crest. He had to finish and feel that ecstasy one more time. Lee was not aware that Jake had walked over to his bed and was watching him in the light that spilled from the street l ight outside.

"What do you think you're doin'?" Jake asked, almost in a loud voice.

Upon hearing Jake's voice, every feeling in Lee's body seemed to drain out of his bowels. His penis became limp immediately.

"Nothing..." Lee managed to say.

"I know," replied Jake, "you were spanking the monkey, weren't you?"

"Spanking the monkey? What on earth are you talking about?"

"You know...pumpin' the muscle, chokin' the chicken, charmin' the snake, milkin' the bull, cruisin' for an oozin'..."

"Good Lord, Jake! Where did you learn those phrases?"

"Wake up, bro! You're the only one who doesn't know!"

"Know what?"

"What you were just doin'! I heard you and it woke me up!"

"Jake, I wasn't doing anything wrong."

"I know you weren't," Jake said, smiling, "I've been doin' it for almost two years, only you and Dad didn't know."

"When? Where? How?"

"Mostly after school when all the rest of the team has gone home. I'm always the last guy in the showers. I do it then, before I come home."

"Why didn't you say something to me about it?"

"Are you kiddin'? I was sure you'd tell Dad and he'd shit a brick."

"Jake! I've never heard you say a curse word in your life!"

"Shit? That ain't no cuss word...neither is fuck, piss, fart, turd...none of 'em...as long as I don't use the Lord's name in vain."

"Does Dad know that you know?"

"Shit! What do you think?"

"You and I both know the answer!"

"Did you finish?", Jake asked.

"Well, no! You almost scared me to death."

"Why dontcha? You'll get blue balls if you don't."

"What?"

"Blue balls! That's when you need to get off and you don't...your balls swell up and get infected."

"Jake, where did you learn so much?"

"Watchin' the guys in the shower at school I even asked them if I could join 'em."

"You did that with your school mates?"

"Sure...we even help each other out sometimes."

"Jake, you're my kid brother, but now I'm feeling like I'm really the kid brother. I don't even know you."

"Hell, if you wanna get off...go ahead. I'll join you if you like."

"Jake, I'm not sure that..."

"Will you shut the fuck up and drop your drawers?" Jake said, pulling down his Jockeys and stepping out of them.

Jake's private parts were a mystery to Lee, just as he had kept his own nakedness from his brother. He was amazed looking at Jake's erection and the full patch of black pubic hair encompassing it. Lee sat up on the side of his bed and slowly removed his shorts. If Jake's hardon hadn't been so vivid and close, Lee would have been too embarrassed to reveal his to his brother. Once Lee freed both feet from the elastic waistband, Jake said, "Move over, so I can sit beside you."

Lee scooted toward the head of the bed as Jake's bulky body weighted down the middle. Without the slightest hesitation, Jake took Lee's hand and placed it on his organ, while Jake grabbed his brother's.

"Let's do it together," Jake suggested.

This action caused Lee to be filled with shock and alarm, yet satisfaction and excitement. Each of them slowly began to masturbate the other. It took less than a minute for each of them to reach his climax.

"Shit! That didn't take long," Jake laughed. "Wanna do it again?"

"We have to wait fifteen minutes," Lee said, offering his expertise.

"Who says so?" Jake replied, "I'm still hard."

"Why don't we clean up some of the mess first?" Lee asked.

"Why? It feels better if your dick is all slippery."

Jake was right. It didn't take Lee fifteen minutes to become aroused again. Jake was also right about how good the slippery semen felt as his hand was going up and down his shaft. The years that had kept Lee and Jake apart soon vanished. They became even closer as the night wore on.

<><><><><><><>

Buddy McLain was sick nearly the whole night after Lee left. He had gone to Taco Bell and ordered two burritos and two tacos for his evening meal. He'd eaten these countless times for dinner with no after-effects, but tonight he had diarrhea and the last time he had gone to the john and wiped himself, he noticed that the toilet tissue was filled with blood. He knew he had no hemorrhoids, at least on the outside of his anus. He felt weak. Either he had food poisoning or something else was wrong with him. He thought if he didn't feel better by morning, he would call Dr. Gonzalez for an appointment.

<><><><><><><>

Johnny interrupted his duties at the Mackintosh Center to return home. Jeff had left word with Johnny's secretary, Bobby, while Johnny was out on a call, to come home as soon as possible. Johnny rushed home at break-neck speed. He knew that there must be some kind of emergency, for never had Jeff left such an urgent message for him. He parked his car as quickly as possible and ran up the stairs into the house at a frantic pace.

"Jeff? JEFF? JEFF!!!" Johnny called.

Jeff came from the kitchen to meet his lover. "Calm down, will you?" Jeff replied.

"What's wrong? I'm worried sick!"

"There's no cause to be alarmed," Jeff assured him. "I have something important I want to discuss with you and I wanted to do it in the privacy of our home."

"It sounds serious."

"It is," Jeff said, clearing his throat.

"Well, for God's sake, what is it? Don't keep me in suspense!"

"About an hour ago, I had a call from Roger at Cole Institute."

"And?"

"He was distraught."

"My God, has something happened to Father Cliff?"

"No, he's fine."

"Then I don't understand. Why was Roger distraught?"

"He said they had just lost a patient at the hospital."

"Good God! Who was it? One of our brothers? Your dad or Daddy Dave?"

"No, no one that either of us knows. It was a woman patient. Her AIDS had become so severe that there was nothing anyone could do to save her."

"So?"

"An hour before she died, she gave birth to twin boys."

"Jesus! Are they all right?"

"They are fine and with the preliminary tests, they appear to be HIV negative. Of course, they'll have to be monitored month to month for the first year."

"That's the normal procedure, but why did Roger call you? Does the father have HIV?"

"No, it seems the father of the boys died from AIDS about six months ago."

"Damn! That's really pitiful!"

"Now, here comes the reason I called you home."

"Oh?"

"Yes....Roger asked if you and I would be interested in...adopting them?"

"Good Lord, Jeff! I don't know. I always dreamt of us having kids one day, but are you sure we're ready?"

"If it were two years ago, I'd have said 'no'. I wouldn't want to raise kids in Mackintosh if it were the way we found it. But now, with so many residents getting better, maintaining a regular life, and the way the town is growing and prospering, I'd seriously like to consider adoption. But I wouldn't do it unless you were 100% in total agreement."

"Let me get my breath and think. I was so fucking worried about what I would find when I got home, I have to let this proposal sink in before I say 'yes'."

"Sweetheart, it's nothing that we have to decide today. I mean, if you think it's possible, I'd want us to go to Briarwood and see the boys first."

"I'm sure there must be dozens of couples who'd be willing to adopt them, if we don't."

"There are, but Roger wanted to give us first option if we were interested."

Johnny paused for a moment. Then he turned to face Jeff. "What do you think, babe?"

"I want whatever decision that's made to be made by both of us. I don't want to be the deciding factor."

"Jeff, if there was no 'me'..."

"Don't finish that! I don't even want to think about it. There IS you and we're one, and we have to decide together or not at all."

"OK, suppose I say, 'yes'. That's half a vote. Does your answer comply with mine?"

"Only if you mean it."

"OK, I MEAN it! Now, what's your answer."

"Nothing would make me happier, Johnny."

"Then, for God's sake, let's do it!"

"Are you sure?"

"Totally! Call Roger."

"Dad can draw up the papers and cut through the legal process. You know how happy he'll be to have two more grandkids."

"Are their names on the birth certificates?"

"Of course not," Jeff replied. "The mother never even got to see them. The naming will be left up to us."

"I don't think we have a choice, do we?"

"Not if your mind is going in the same direction as mine."

"Then if you agree, I guess you'd better tell Dad that he better fill out the documents with the names, 'Cliff' and 'Roger'. Is that what you were thinking?"

"You know that we think alike. Of course, they'll need a surname."

"How about Kane-Clayton or Clayton-Kane?"

"With a hyphenated last name, would they need a middle name?"

"Not especially."

"Then how about Roger Kane-Clayton and Clifford Kane-Clayton?" Jeff asked.

"Not Clayton-Kane?"

"No---I want your name first."

"Damn," Johnny said, "no wonder every time I look at you, I feel like I've won the biggest prize in the world."

"It was 'I' who won you, don't you remember?"

"No, but it doesn't matter, as long as we have one another."

"You can soon start saying 'now that our family has found one another."

"Oh, God, Jeff, when can we fly down to Briarwood and see them?"

"I've cancelled everything on my calendar for the next two days, just in case you said, 'yes'. So we can leave tonight if you wanna."

"Am I THAT easy a target? You KNEW that I'd say 'yes'?"

"I said that we think alike, didn't I?"

"Then I don't have to tell you how much I love you. You already know."

"I do, but I like to hear you say it, anyway."

"I love you, Father Jeff Clayton."

"And I love you just as much, Mr. John Kane."

They exchanged a long kiss before Jeff called Roger in Briarwood with the news, and after that he called the air line for reservations for two, with possible return tickets for four."

<><><><><><><><>

"Buddy," Dr. Gonzalez began, "I'm sorry, but I have some very bad news."

Buddy cringed with fear. "What is it, Doctor?"

"Have you heard of Kaposi's sarcoma?"

"No, sir."

"Kaposi's sarcoma was named for Dr. Moritz Kaposi who first described it in 1872. It's a cancer that develops in connective tissue such as cartilage, bone, fat, muscle, blood vessels, or fibrous tissues related to tendons or ligaments."

"My God!" Buddy gasped. "Is it fatal?"

"Not in all cases. Sometimes it responds to chemotherapy, but in your case, that might not be possible."

"My case?"

"Yes, son, when it's correlated in association with human immunodeficiency virus and the acquired immunodeficiency syndrome, or in other words, HIV and AIDS."

Panic struck Buddy down through his bowels as he heard the doctor's explanation. "I have HIV? I'm HIV-positive?"

"Buddy, I'm afraid you're more than just HIV-positive, you have full-blown AIDS."

"Does that mean I'm gonna die?"

"Your prognosis doesn't look good, unless we can lower the infection count in your bloodstream...and even then, there's no certainty that that will help."

"Jesus! How long do you think I have to live?"

"I hate being pessimistic, but in your case, I'm surprised you're still alive."

"It's that bad, huh?"

"Yes, at the moment."

"Then I might only live a week or two?"

"Without treatment, yes," Dr. Gonzalez replied. "Tell me, have you had unprotected sex with anyone, say...in the past six months?"

"Only oral, but that's safe, isn't it?"

"Not always."

"But all the things I heard or read about oral sex, most doctors say that oral sex IS safe sex."

"That's not always true. Would you know how many partners you've had.. lately?"

"Only one since I've returned from Dallas."

"Do you know how to reach him or her?"

"Yes."

"Then I suggest that you call your partner or visit him or her in person and have him or her get tested."

"God, I don't know if I can."

"Well, IF you can, it might be wise. I'm not saying that your partner is infected, but it might be well to be checked. If it had been recently, your partner stands a better chance of fighting it."

"You mean, a better chance than I have?"

"Well...yes."

"Jesus! What have I done?"

"What do you mean, Buddy?"

"I may have just ended an eighteen-year-old's life."

"Maybe not."

"My God, I hope not!"

<><><><><><>

While Tom drove the RV, Mike was singing at the top of his lungs, "Woncha come along with me? Tooooooooo the Mississippi..."

Mike wasn't drunk, but he was pleasantly high on gin fizzes. This was the first time in his life he'd ever had too much to drink. The extent of his experience with liquor had only been champagne...one glass, and an occasional glass of wine at dinner. Tom was stone sober, having had only one drink at the jazz club. Like Mike, this was the first time Tom had ever heard real Dixieland jazz. "The White Car" was a black jazz joint on the main drag of Basin Street. It catered to white clientele as well, usually tourists visiting New Orleans for their first time.

The band consisted of piano, bass, drums, trumpet, trombone, and a sax player who doubled on clarinet. Just as Tom and Mike had seen on TV and in the movies, there was a rather hefty, full-figured black female singer who knew just how to "get down" with the blues. On her second set, she had sung "Basin Street Blues", and Mike, just beginning to feel his gin, became enamored with the song and tipped her fifty dollars to sing it again. The singer took the fifty and rolled it until it was about the size of a cigarette and neatly placed it between her enhanced bosom. The second time through the song, she took a hand mike and wandered down to Tom and Mike's table and made Mike sing along with her as she slowly fed him the lyrics to the next line. During the second chorus, Mike became familiar with all the lyrics, got the hang of it, and sang louder than she. Tom was pleased and amused to see Mike having so much fun. The crowded tables burst into applause when they had finished the duet.

The band took their second break and Mike made a beeline for "Old Jessie", as the singer was called, and begged her to do the number one more time during the third set. The band wasn't too pleased at having to perform the same number until Tom called the trumpet player over to his table and secretly gave him five-hundred dollars to split with the band if they would accommodate Mike's request. Mike had already given Old Bessie an additional hundred bucks, unbeknownst to Tom.

The third time through the song, each member of the band played a solo chorus, then the musicians doubled with duets, trios, and ensemble until they had played the tune over a dozen times...Mike singing with each solo instrument. It was then that Tom realized that Mike had a pretty good singing voice...just one more reason to love Mike even more.

"That's the best time I ever had in my life!!" Mike screamed.

"Oh?" Tom asked wryly. "The BEST time?"

It took Mike a couple of seconds to get the hint. "Well, the second best time, anyway. Nothing could ever compare to our wedding night. THAT was the BEST time."

"Well, young man, you have that EVERY night. You don't always get to sing with a genuine New Orleans combo," Tom mused.

"That's OK," Mike joked, "you can buy me one for my next birthday."

"Won't our new house be a bit crowded?"

"We'll build separate quarters just for them. How much do you think that will cost?"

"For you, my little love, money is NO object."

"And we can sponsor a junior football team and you can be the coach."

"Thanks...I think?"

<><><><><><><><>

The day after Lee's afternoon encounter with Buddy, and the subsequent "five finger exercise" with his brother, Jake, Lee went to school acting more mature and gregarious than ever before. He was like a stud who have just had his first piece of ass. He spoke to everyone he met, male and female, up and down the halls of Pecos County High. His 'over-friendly' new attitude even caused some of his classmates to remark to one another, "Hey, what gives with Lee Malone?" and replies such as "I don't know, but he acts like the rattlesnake who was just fed his first white mouse!". "Maybe his old man died and went to heaven!". "No way, God don't want him up there telling Him how to run the place!". "Well, something definitely has happened in Lee's life!".

Lee heard many of the remarks. Some made him smile, others, he ignored, but he put his hands in his pockets, started whistling a-la-"Mayberry RFD", and walked down the hall to his locker. Maybe Lee hadn't busted some cheerleader's cherry, but as far he was concerned, he was no longer a virgin. He'd had sex two times yesterday, and with two different people. No one would ever know that one of the two was his own brother. It was still difficult for Lee to believe that Jake had kept his masturbation a secret for two years. He felt no guilt or remorse for the incident, as a matter of fact, he couldn't wait to do it again, the next time the two of them were alone in the house without their dad.

Jake, on the other hand, was glad that from now on, he'd have a regular jack-off partner. His encounters in the gym shower always ran the risk of somebody catching them and telling his dad. Jake was not quite as afraid of his dad as Lee, but he was cautiously terrified at the least.

At the sound of the final bell at school, Lee rushed home to be alone. His dad would be at church and Jake would have to stay for basketball practice. Lee would be alone and would have the chance to experiment with his new extracurricular activity that Buddy had taught him so well.

However as he approached his house, he was pleasantly surprised, but even more curious, to see Buddy waiting for him, sitting on the front stoop.

"Hey, Buddy!" Lee called.

"Your daddy is at church, I suppose," Buddy said with a very serious look in his eyes.

"Sure!" Lee replied, building up hope for what could happen in the next half hour alone with his mentor. "You wanna come inside?"

"NO! I can't, Lee."

"What's wrong, Buddy? You look like someone's frightened the daylights out of you." Then Lee cringed and added, "Good Lord, don't tell me that someone spied on us and caught us yesterday?"

"No, but I almost wish someone had stopped us before we did what we did."

"You're not sorry, are you? I'm not. I left without thanking you for all that you showed me."

"Lee, I came by to tell you that I won't be teaching you piano any more."

"What?"

"I gotta leave town."

"Why, for heaven's sake? Where are you going?"

"I dunno. Dallas, maybe."

"You still didn't tell me why."

"I don't know if I can. I know I should, but then again..."

"Why are you being so mysterious if no one caught us?"

"I...I'm sick, Lee. I'm very sick and I have to go away to see if I can get well."

"What kind of sick?"

"Please don't ask. I really wanted to know if you or your dad had scheduled you for a visit to the doctor in the near future?"

"Heck, no! Dad doesn't like doctors. He prays my illnesses away, rather than spend the money and gamble on what the doctor would find."

"In that case, I want to you go see Dr. Gonzalez, without your dad knowing about it. I didn't find out until today that I was sick and I want to make sure that I didn't give it to you."

"Buddy, you're not saying that you have one of those venereal diseases, are you?"

"Well...maybe. Look, I don't think I can give it to you by the few sexual things that we did, but you might want to check it out just to be sure. Will you do that?"

"Doesn't Dr. Gonzalez have penicillin or whatever it takes to get rid of venereal disease?"

"...You see, I have a very special kind of VD...and...it might require an operation or something that Dr. Gonzalez can't treat in his office," Buddy said, hoping that his lie would satisfy Lee.

"So you're going to the hospital in Dallas, huh?"

"Yeah, that's it! I'm going to have the operation done in Dallas."

"Well, what if I have it? Will I need an operation, too?"

"...I don't think so. I mean, I don't really think you have anything to worry about. I just wanted you to play it safe! Will you do that? Will you go see Dr. Gonzalez?"

"Yeah, I guess," Lee replied, but was still puzzled. "When are you leaving?"

"As soon as I leave here. I have a few things packed and I should get to Dallas late tonight."

"Will you call me?"

"...Sure, I'll...I'll call you! You'll be the first and only one to know."

"Well, hurry back. I'm really looking forward to my next lesson...if you know what I mean..." Lee said, with a wry grin.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm looking forward to it myself," he lied.

"All I can say is, drive carefully and know that I'm waiting to hear from you."

"You will," Buddy could think of nothing more to say. "So, goodbye, Lee, and keep practicing."

"Don't worry. I was going in the house to practice before I saw you."

"That's good. Well, bye!"

"Goodbye, Buddy."

Buddy hurried away toward his home as fast as his weak legs would carry him. He still didn't feel sick, but he hadn't stopped trembling since Dr. Gonzalez pronounced his death sentence. Lee stood on the steps watching Buddy until he turned the next corner and was out of sight.

Lee quickly went into his house and then on to the bedroom where he stripped off his clothes to examine his body carefully for any signs of venereal disease. He really didn't know what to look for, but from all that he could see, his body looked well...the same as always. He walked to the full length mirror on the back of his bedroom door and took one last inspection of his naked body. He'd never looked at himself in a sexual manner. Suddenly his nude torso appeared different to him looking at his reflection. His body and his life had a new meaning. He was looking forward to Jake coming home.

<><><><><><><>

"My God, Johnny, they're beautiful!" Jeff said as he looked into the nursery at the newborn twins.

"One of them has hair lighter than the other," Johnny replied.

"The brunette is Roger and the dirty blonde is Cliff."

"Sweetheart," Johnny began, "I know that this is a stupid question to ask, but now that you've seen them, are you still sure you want them?"

"Oh, yes, Johnny! It's like some gift that God has given us. We'll raise them and give them a wonderful life."

"Then, it looks like we're a family!"

"We were before, only now, the family's bigger!"

<><><><><><><><>

(To be continued in "Briarwood"--BOOK SEVEN--chapter--sixty-nine.)