All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language, please exit now.
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"BRIARWOOD"
aka "Whence Cometh My Help"
R.S.V.
A dramatic saga
by
Ritch Christopher
literary enhancement
by
Les Martin
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BOOK ONE
Chapter Nine
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"Demons are prowling
Everywhere
Nowadays.
I'll send 'em howling,
I don't care---
I got ways.
No one's gonna hurt you,
No one's gonna dare.
Other's can desert you---
Not to worry,
Whistle, I'll be there.
Demons'll charm you
With a smile
For a while,
But in time,
Nothing's gonna harm you,
Not while I'm around!
Stephen Sondheim,
"Sweeney Todd", Act II(1979)
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It was just past midnight when Cliff and Roger reached the jail. Timmy was in a holding cell waiting for his father--or someone--to post bail. As much as Rob wanted to be there for Timmy, he couldn't be seen there involving himself and possibly ruining his reputation. Tom Woodrow, Timmy's father, was nowhere in sight either, Cliff noticed. By this time, Tom had already disavowed himself of any knowledge of his son's sexual preferences. For all Tom knew, Timmy was guilty and if he even offered to put up money for his son's bail, it would appear he was condoning Timmy's alleged actions.
'Alleged' was a word Cliff hated. No matter the size of the town, large or small, when someone was accused of molesting a child, he was already assumed by one and all to be guilty. The reporters from the media, both press and TV, had a field day. One asshole from "The Briarwood Chronicle" had already visited Timmy's home and asked his mother how long had Tim been molesting his students? Also, how many? The vultures of the fourth estate always seemed to leave out the word, 'if'. To save face in the town, Tom Woodrow had no choice but to lock his son out of his house. He certainly wouldn't want people to think he was harboring a criminal even though it was his own flesh and blood who was being accused,
Roger was furious with the desk sergeant. He demanded to know the amount of the bail and how soon could Timmy be released.
The sergeant smugly said, "It's his first offence---that we know of, although he's probably had others---so it'll take $50,000 to let him out."
"Will a check do?" Roger snapped.
"If it's good.", the policeman smartly relied to Roger. "If it's bogus, then we'll have to arrest you for contempt."
"Jesus Christ! There's no way I can get that kind of cash from an ATM this time of night...Of course the goddamned check is good."
"Will you vouch for this man, Father?", the policeman asked Cliff.
"The check would be good if he added several zeros behind the amount." Cliff quipped back at the officer.
"All right, I'm releasing him to your custody...and if your friend wants to see his money again, just make sure that Mr. Tim Woodrow doesn't skip town.", he added, nastily.
"I can assure you that Tim is going nowhere." Cliff replied.
A few minutes later, a very frightened Tim Woodrow appeared. His face was pale white and there were marks on his cheeks where tears had rolled down,
"Let's go, Timmy." Cliff said.
"Where to? My father hung up on me when I tried to talk with him on the phone. He told me not to bother coming home, if I found someone stupid enough to post bond."
"So much for the Southern Baptists and their doctrine of forgiveness." Cliff thought to himself.
"You're going home with us, Roger and me...What's one more at Cliff's Home for Wayward Guys?" Cliff said, joking to Roger..."The more the merrier, or 'gayer', as the case may be."
Timmy rode in the backseat of Roger's Lexus. As soon as they drove away from the police station, Cliff turned around in the front seat and looked squarely into Timmy's eyes.
"Timmy, we're not in church and I'm not here to be your Father Confessor, but as your friend. I want you to tell me everything that happened."
"Nothing, Father Cliff. Absolutely nothing. I was as surprised as you are when the police knocked on my door and arrested me. I don't even know who accused me. I sat in that cubicle going over the names of everyone who might even do such a thing to me...and I came up empty...I can't think of anyone."
"I already know the answer to this one, but I'll ask anyway. Did you do the thing the police accused you of?" Cliff asked.
"No, Father, since we had our talk and you got me and Rob together, I haven't had a bad thought about any of my students. Please believe me."
"I knew that's what you would say and I thank you for saying it...because I DO believe you."
"I do, too," Roger spoke up.
"Well, besides Rob, you're about the only two who believe me."
"What about your Dad? Doesn't he know you well enough to know you'd never do such a thing?"
"Father Cliff, you know that my Dad is principal of the school, and he would take the school's side over mine every time just to keep his job. I guess Dad felt he had no choice but to suspend me until I get my name cleared."
"Do you think your Mom would pack a bag or two of your clothes, toiletries, and things if I called her to say you're staying with me at the rectory?"
"She would if Dad didn't find out she'd done it."
"I'll call her around ten in the morning, after your Dad goes to work, in case he's not too embarrassed to face the students and your fellow teachers." Cliff offered,
"Won't the house be a little overcrowded if I stay there?" Timmy asked.
"Not really. The way things were looking before Roger and I left, we might just have a spare bedroom by the time we get home."
"Oh, is someone moving out?"
"Heavens, no! Let's just say we've had a merger in the household, making it possible to add another housemate."
"If things keep going the way they are, we'll have enough to have our own baseball team by spring," Roger joked. "We only need four more...but then, who's counting?"
"You know, Roger, I may have to take you up on your offer about adding a new wing onto the rectory." Cliff said, teasing to lighten the mood.
"Just draw up the plans, only make them so we can add on to it if we have to...The St, Genesius Dorm...How does that sound?"
"Scary as hell!" Cliff replied.
"Wouldn't it be great if Rob could move in with me?" Timmy asked eagerly, not realizing what he had just proposed.
Cliff looked at Roger, he looked back at Cliff, and they rolled their eyes upward and over, looking at the visors above the windshield.
Jay didn't mind moving into Troy's room, at all. In fact, Cliff was surprised to discover Jay had already done so by the time Roger and he returned with Timmy, Jay hurriedly moved his clothes and personal dildos and such to Troy's closet while, at the same time, he cleaned up his old room for Timmy to move in.
"Timmy, would you like a drink to calm down?" Roger asked.
"A glass of white wine would be nice, thanks," he replied,
"How about you, Cliff?"
"I'd like a full glass of scotch mixed with a little vodka and a shot of gin floating on the top...no ice. please...and while you're at it, fix me a tumbler of bourbon for starters!" Cliff joked. "No, Roger, I'll just have a glass of wine, too, and thanks."
Roger left to tend to the bar duties.
"We all have piled a lot on your shoulders, haven't we, Father Cliff?" Timmy asked quietly, his personal feeling of guilt showing through.
"No, Timmy, things like this come with my job...but usually, not all at once." Cliff sighed. "Fortunately, I have Roger with me to help sort things out."
"I'm sorry, Father. I truly am."
"Timmy, I don't know what's going to transpire in the next few days, but I want you to try as hard as you can not to worry...Let Roger and me do the worrying for you. I want you to stay here with us and feel safe. No one's going to hurt you. I just don't want you talking about anything to anyone outside the members of this household. Keep in touch with Rob and let him know you're all right and tell him to come visit you as often as he can, so long as he does it discreetly."
Roger returned carrying three crystal glasses of white wine.
"Timmy, I have a friend who's a lawyer, Walter Clayton, and he handles all my financial affairs. I'll ask him to find the best criminal lawyer he knows to represent you." Roger said. "First, we gotta find out who made the false accusations. Do you have any ideas?"
"I've thought of a couple of students...One I kicked out of band practice for being late constantly. The other is a kid I wouldn't let in the band because he just couldn't play. He had no talent." Timmy said..."But I've never had private conversations with either of them. I can't imagine either of them saying anything about me." Timmy said.
"Timmy, I know you told me in strictest confidence, before you started meeting privately with Rob, that you had had ideations of having sex with one or more of your students. Did you ever approach any of them to the point he, or they, might think you were trying to make advances toward them?" Cliff asked.
"NEVER! I swear to God, I never did, Father!"
"All right. I believe you." Cliff assured him..."But it would seem SOMEONE is out to get you...Do you know of anyone trying to get the band director's position from you?"
"No, with my Dad being principal and all, I never had any worries about my job in the music department."
"Whom do you think your dad will get to replace you?"
"I don't know. It shouldn't be too difficult to find someone now, since football season is over and we don't have to prepare half-time routines."
"Maybe he won't have to look if we can get this mess cleared up soon." Roger said.
Just then the phone rang and Roger answered.
"Hello?"
Roger listened for a moment before slamming the receiver on its cradle.
"BASTARD!!" Roger muttered.
"My God! Rog...who was that?" Cliff asked.
"Some asshole! It didn't take long for the town criers to find out where Timmy was staying! The fucking hypocrites! It's always the media that stirs up things like this! They try and convict someone every time they hear the word 'molester', without an ounce of proof to back up an accusation!" Roger preached. Maybe he'd left the priesthood too soon. or better yet, maybe he should have switched over to another denomination like the Southern Baptists. They were known for shouting their sermons.
"That was probably the first of many crank calls we may get, so I'll just connect the answering machine and one of us can monitor each call as it comes in. The main thing is for you, Timmy, NOT to answer the phone for any reason. I heard at the police station that your mom and dad have already been approached for interviews by several reporters. I don't think they got much because I heard your mom slammed the door in their faces," Cliff told him.
"Yeah, both my parents are good at slamming doors in faces...mine included." Timmy said solemnly.
Jay entered the bedroom smiling, "Guess who I heard tap, tap, tapping at our back door?"
"Well, since ravens don't fly at night, it must've been someone else." Roger said.
"TA DA!" Jay exclaimed, holding his arm in the air, as Rob entered, rushing to Timmy and embracing him.
"I'll leave all of you, if you don't mind. I have things to unpack...and a deep massage to give," Jay said, exiting.
"My God, little guy, how are you and who put up your bail money?" Rob asked.
"I'm fine, babe, and the money was posted by the generous angels of St. Genesius."
"Damn! Father, I don't know how much more we can ask you to do. It seems since you arrived you've been in a constant flow of dilemmas and personal problems that've been piled on you. I bet you're sorry you ever came to St. Genesius'."
"No, Rob, I'm just glad I was here to help. However, I have someone special besides God in my corner." Cliff said, smiling at Roger. "Rog and I have been a team all our lives and we've always been there for each other...and for anyone else who needed help."
"I bet the church selection committee didn't know they were getting a package deal when they hired you," Rob replied, smiling his thanks.
"We'll just keep that a secret among the six of us...you, Timmy, Troy, Jay, Rog, and me." Cliff said. "What the others don't know...well, they don't have to know."
"God bless both of you." Rob answered, the sincerity showing plainly in his voice.
"Rob, do you know who started this rumor?" Roger asked.
"No, but I have a pretty good idea."
"Who?"
"It sounds like something the alluring, elusive Miss Kitty might have done...some of her malicious handy-work!" Rob said.
"I can't believe she would do a thing like this, with Kendall's death and all." Cliff said.
"You're new here. You just don't know what she's capable of. She's known for her vengeful vendettas. I just can't understand why she chose Timmy to be her latest victim."
"Well, we just can't openly accuse her without having any proof."
"I bet I can hire a private detective to find out." said Roger.
"What would he do? Pretend to be some student's parent?" Cliff asked.
"With her money and deviltry, she thinks she can do anything she wants and get away with it!" Rob replied.
"I wonder if I could trap her if I talked with her, privately?" Cliff interjected.
"I don't think so, Cliff. She still blames you for Kendall's accident." Roger added. "However, if she DID cause this trouble for Timmy, then I'm afraid Miss Kitty doesn't know she's finally met her match. I'm prepared to spend whatever it takes to prove Timmy's innocence."
Cliff looked at Roger trying to read the plan in his masterful eyes.
"Hey guys, it's late. We should get some sleep. I have to start a new week with Morning Prayer in about three hours." Cliff said, trying to stretch the tension out of his shoulders and neck. "Rob, can you spend the night with Timmy?"
"That's why I came by. I thought he might need me." Rob said.
"I do, Rob--I really do." said Timmy.
"Rog, you ready to hit the sack with me?" Cliff asked.
"On one condition."
"I KNOW!...TAKE THE GODDAMNED PHONE OFF THE HOOK!!"
"You got it!" Roger shouted. He put his arm around Cliff's neck and led him toward their bedroom. Rob and Timmy were locked in an embrace as Roger and Cliff left. If anything, this latest event would only bring the two of them closer together.
As Cliff went down the hall, he stopped to tap on Troy's door.
"Everything all right in there?" Cliff asked.
"Not exactly!" Jay yelled, "Troy wants me to do something 'dirty' to him while he dangles from the trapeze bar and I've already broken two teeth and gotten a bloody nose."
Roger spoke loudly through the closed door, "Just remember, Jay. Since you've moved in with Troy, you no longer qualify for workman's comp."
"I'm not worried about myself," Jay continued to joke. "I'm just afraid I'll give Troy AIDS from all the blood spewing out of my nostrils... JUST KIDDING, JUST KIDDING!!"
Cliff often had the thought that Jay's mental faculties remained just short of a quorum. Jay always seemed to find something funny to say and lighten the mood, no matter how serious the situation was. That's one of the things Cliff loved most about him. A week ago, Jay was near death's door, and in spite of that, he had never lost his sense of humor. Cliff was glad he'd found Jay in the park that day...but better yet, Cliff was glad Jay came into Troy's life. Cliff didn't know how serious Jay and Troy's relationship was, but somehow he felt it was an act of God that they had found each other just when they had. From Cliff's viewpoint, Troy and Jay were a match made in heaven...just as Roger's and his was. Cliff thought, 'God must've been having a good day when he created Roger, and God must've loved me a lot to place Roger in my life.'
Deep inside, Cliff knew everything would work out all right for Timmy. Cliff's faith in God was evenly balanced by his faith in Roger.
With less than two hours for sleep, there wasn't much time for 'billing and cooing' with Roger tonight. Cliff had almost reached a point he was afraid to make love with Roger for fear the goddamned phone would ring with bad news. There would be many more nights when they could indulge in bodily pleasures, but this morning Cliff just wanted to be held. In his vocation he realized that one always had to put on a facade of strength while having to stand up against the evils of the world and all the problems that confronted the members of his parish. Cliff only allowed his weaknesses to surface when he was alone with Roger, for in him Cliff found the courage and fortitude to face his duties and responsibilities to those who needed him. In Roger's arms, Cliff could, once again, become that fifteen year old kid who used to like wrestling in the nude with his best friend and lover. In Roger's arms was the only place Cliff felt safe and secure from all the woes he couldn't face...the problems he couldn't solve...and then he could carry on the duties with a strength he sometimes had to fake. Usually after they had had sex, Cliff could drift off into sleep almost immediately with the comfort of knowing Roger would be beside him when he awoke to face a new day. Often 'love' is difficult to define, but when anyone had a love such as theirs, there was no difficulty at all. With Roger, Cliff knew the infinite meaning of the word 'love'.
Cliff lay down next to Roger, who immediately encompassed Cliff in his arms. Cliff kissed him and said, "Roger, you DO know how much I appreciate you and all that you do for me and my little friends, don't you?"
"Cliff, thanking me is like thanking yourself. Everything we do or say comes out of our being one. I'm so glad I left my church and rushed to be with you. Two halves make a whole only when they're together, NOT 600 miles apart."
"Do you think we'll be able to help Timmy?"
"Sure, 'the truth will out' is what they always say...Now go to sleep and let me see what I can do tomorrow."
"OK! Good night...I love you." Cliff whispered.
"Good night, 'Alexander'. I'll make sure your horse is shod and bridled before you go crusading on the morrow. And, oh, yeah--hey! I love you, too."
They slept.
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The accusation made against Timmy had been voiced secretly behind closed doors to Judge Wilkinson, who happened to be the head deacon of the First Baptist Church of Briarwood. His appointment to the judgeship had been made by the Republican administration before President Clinton took office. He was a notorious right-winger and defender of his faith. In spite of the oath he took at the onset of his life-long appointment, to uphold the law for all people regardless of race, creed, etc., it was generally known he showed no mercy for gays or lesbians. His daughter had married a young man who later admitted he preferred men over women. She was heart-broken and embarrassed over the ordeal, thinking society blamed her for not making her husband happy. Her father, the judge, silently swore revenge on all men and women who liked their own sex best.
If there was to be a trial or a hearing for Timmy and if it happened to be held in Judge Wilkinson's courtroom, Timmy stood a better chance of being voted Miss America than he did getting acquittal of the charge of molesting a student of his own sex. Whoever Timmy's lawyer was, he would have to have the persuasiveness of Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan, combined, to get a not-guilty verdict in that hall of injustice. The only hope was to find enough evidence to prove Timmy's innocence before a trial ever began...and that was going to take some real detective work.
Roger not only called Marcia Clark who had been chief prosecutor for the O.J. Simpson trial, but he also called Johnnie Cochran, counsel for the defense, asking each for advice. Hell, Roger left no stone unturned, he even called Mark Fuhrman, who was now a private investigator, to see if he could come to Briarwood to dig up some dirt to help clear Timmy. If Kitty Marsden WAS the culprit, then God help her by the time Roger was through with her.
Cliff returned home from church chores around lunchtime and the house had taken on the atmosphere of a Wall Street brokerage. There were yellow legal pads and wadded papers strewn all over the couch and about the living room. Cliff didn't know where or how Roger had gotten them, but, in addition to the one phone at the rectory, Roger now had three cell phones on which he was dialing, answering, and cursing at, all at once. Rob had gone to work and Timmy was sitting quietly in one of the winged-back chairs staring, in total awe of Roger's legal expertise. Troy was in his bedroom exercising with dumbbells and Jay was running all over the house straightening things and trying to keep the house in some simulation of order. Jay was also busy making cookies in the kitchen and seeing to it that Roger's cup stayed filled with fresh hot chocolate. Neither Roger nor Cliff, were coffee-drinkers. Cliff often thought if coffee only tasted as good as it smelled while it was brewing, he would probably love it...but it doesn't.. and Cliff didn't...and neither did Roger.
Cliff was afraid to ask, but he did anyway..."How's it going, Sherlock?"
"Great...I think we may be ON to something. I don't want to say anything yet and get Timmy's hopes up. but things look a lot rosier today than they did early this morning." Roger said excitedly. He put down two of the phones long enough to ask, "Timmy, do you know or have you ever heard of a man named Howard Errico?"
"No, not off hand, I don't," Timmy replied..."Why?"
"I just wondered...that's OK...never mind." Roger said, mysteriously...and then once again he was back on all three phones at the same time.
Jay crossed through the living room, hawking, "Anyone care for a massage when I get through with Troy's? My fingers are magical in case you've never felt them up and down your thighs."
" 'sfunny, Jay, but I thought when a person gave a massage, he was suppose to relax muscles not stiffen them." Cliff joked.
"That's what makes my fingers so magical...I can relax every muscle in the body...all but one...and with that 'one', you could raise a flag on it and sing two choruses of 'My cunt 'tis true to thee'."
"Get outta here and go do your magic on Troy." Cliff yelled at him, laughing for the first time today.
Since Troy had moved in, Jay and Cliff hadn't had time for a serious one-on-one conversation with all that had been happening. How could either of them've found the time? With Roger being busy on the phone, concerned with Timmy's plight, Cliff noticed Jay motioning him with his head to meet him in Cliff's bedroom. Cliff excused himself and nonchalantly made his way to find Jay, who was already sitting on Cliff's bed and looking up at him the way a baby bird would look up to his mother for food.
"How's it going, pal?" Cliff asked.
"I wanted to talk with you privately, Cliff, but there never seems to be the right time." Jay said.
"Is anything wrong? Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm feeling fine...not the way I spelled 'fine' to Troy, but REALLY fine. That's just it! I'm feeling TOO fine."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Do you think it's wrong of me to engage myself in a serious relationship with Troy?"
"No, I don't think it's wrong. How does Troy feel about it?...I mean, does he love you?"
"He says he does."
"And you?"
"Cliff, after I lost Lonnie and found out I had the plague, I thought I'd never be able to love anyone again. I didn't want to get involved due to the reality of my mortality."
"Jay, in today's world of bombings, shootings. diseases, car accidents, heart attacks and all, one no longer asks 'how long will I live?', but rather 'do I have time to do today, the things I want to do in case there's no tomorrow'. We live in uncertain times. Sometimes we plan too far ahead without taking time to enjoy the present and what we already have. I have no guarantee that Roger or I will be alive later today or tomorrow, but at the moment, we have each other and I'll treasure every minute of this life I have with him."
"Whew! That's sounds so negative coming from a priest."
"I'm not being negative at all. I'm just being realistic and that's what you should do. Be glad you've found someone that you can love, if it's only for one day...and if you both live to see tomorrow, well, then, hooray! you have one more day to be happy. Since I don't have AIDS, as you do, it's a bit difficult for me to relate to how you are feeling, but remember you've had this condition for over a year, and you're still here and you've met someone you deeply care about. Look at Troy, he was alive and well before his accident, and in one brief moment he could've lost his life and now he would only be a memory. But he's NOT a memory. He's alive, alive to create more memories for those who love him. Roger's credo is ...'seize the day'...and I've adopted that as my watchcry as well."
"Seize the day, huh?"
"Exactly. Wake up every morning and decide to fill your day by doing as many good deeds as you can in case you won't see tomorrow."
"Then you're saying it's all right for me to love Troy and ask him if we can be lovers with or without being sex partners?"
"Little guy, I'm not just saying it's all right, I'm TELLING you that you have my blessing...and Roger's. When two people love each other, don't waste a minute because a 'minute' is only a memory a minute later, if you get my drift."
"I gotcha." Jay said, running to hug Cliff. Then he left Cliff's bedroom and all but skipped down the hall to return to Troy.
It was moments such as this that made Cliff's seven years of schooling after high school worthwhile. Seeing a smile on Jay's face was worth more than ALL of Kitty Marsden's millions. She would probably give her last dime to see a smile on Kendall's face one more time. She had had her chance to see lots of smiles on his face, but she squandered her moments, trying to live his life for him...and now she had nothing but a coffer full of memories...most of them unhappy.
Cliff walked across the living room trying not to interrupt Roger's sleuthing activities, to get the mail. There was the usual tripe of ads, magazines, bills, and requests for donations and prayers, but also included was a bulging large manila envelope addressed to Cliff with no return address on it. He went into his study and opened the mysterious package carefully. It didn't feel like a bomb (whatever bombs felt like!) and thought it was too early to get flack from Timmy's dilemma unless someone had placed this object in Cliff's mailbox without going through the usual process....but no, it had a postmark on it...so Cliff assumed it would safe to open.
Inside, he found a letter and two rectangular boxes about six inches long. Outside the envelope containing the letter, it said, "To my Father". He slowly unfolded the paper and read:
"Dear Father Cliff.
You won't recognize the handwriting in this letter.
I am dictating it to Lars, the only one at my house I can
trust. I've told the nurse to call you because if I'm dying.
you're the last person I want to see. In less than one week,
you've taught me how to forgive and be forgiven and you're
shown me how to live my life for the first time in my fourteen
years.
If I should die before you get here. I want you to know
that the most important thing you taught me is how to love.
You see, you don't know it, but I love you with all my heart,
more than I've ever loved my mother--or anyone. I'm sorry for
the things that happened to Troy, and I figure since he's for-
given me, then maybe God will too.
I've told Lars where I keep my cash allowance and if you
see a couple of boxes with this letter, I told Lars to not tell
my mother, but I wanted him to go down and buy gold ID bracelets for Jason and Tony. I thought if I didn't ever get to be an acolyte with them, they could look down at their wrists and know I was serving mass with them.
Boy, I sure wanted to get to know them and be their friend. Maybe if I get better I will. And if I don't, maybe we'll get a chance to serve mass some other place.
That's all I have to say except to tell you one more time that I love you,
and I hope you hurry and get to the hospital to see me.
Your almost acolyte,
Ken"
Cliff didn't even try to see the bracelets because of the flood of tears in his eyes. He put his head on his desk and wept. Cliff needed to cry. He hadn't realized fully the amount of pressure and emotion that had built up inside him...and he wanted to get it all out!...let loose!...He still had other problems to face, but for now, he needed some relief.
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"And when one of us is gone,
and one is left to carry on,
well, remembering will have to do..."
P.Williams/K.Ascher
"You and Me Against the World" (1975)
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Cliff called Jason's and Tony's mothers and asked if they would drop the boys off at the church after school. He told them he needed some input about the colors of the new vestments. Cliff had heard of boys refusing to become acolytes because they didn't want to wear laces and frills on their 'uniforms', but the real reason for inviting them was to give them Kendall's gifts.
By 4:30PM, the two of them met outside the back door of the church and entered to find their way to Cliff's office. Cliff always smiled just looking at them. They were both fourteen years old, about the size of Michael J. Fox...dark brown hair and eyes. If anyone ever decided to do a remake of "The Bobsey Twins", Jason and Tony would win the roles hands down. If anyone watched them from a distance, they looked like of a couple of chipmunks clamoring over an acorn. They were cute enough to almost make a gay man turn straight and want to have kids...well, maybe not quite THAT cute, but they WERE cute.
"Come in, guys!" Cliff invited. "Have a seat. How was school?"
"Fine" and "OK" were the answers.
"What's up, Father?" Tony asked.."...we do something wrong?"
"No, no, quite the contrary...You did something right...very right." Cliff replied.
"What'd we do?" Jason asked, completely mystified.
"Without knowing it, you made someone very happy, by just being yourselves."
"So what'd we do, Father?" asked Tony.
"It seems that the great job you guys do every Sunday made a big impression on one of the members of our congregation."
"Wow! Who?"
"Somebody who wanted to be just like the two of you."
"Father, are you talking about that boy 'Kendall'?" Jason asked. '...the one who was supposed to meet with us a week ago so we could teach him about acolyte duties?"
"Yes, I was referring to Kendall."
"You know, Father, we never even got to meet him. We saw him at church every Sunday morning sitting with his mother, but we never got so much as to say 'hello' to him...and then he got killed."
"I got to know Kendall very well before his accident and he told me time and again how much he admired you and wanted to be your friend, helping you with the mass."
"Why'd he wait so long to ask? Heck, Jase and I've been serving mass since we were twelve...since right after we were confirmed."
"Things just weren't right for Kendall to do what you did when you were younger...and when things DID become right, unfortunately it was too late for him." Cliff tried to explain.
"You mean his mother was standing in his way, huh, Father?" Tony blurted out.
"Now there's no need to start casting blame. Let's just say Kendall wasn't quite ready to be friends yet...The reason I asked your moms to bring you over to the church is that Kendall got something for you both---something he wanted you to have."
"Wow!", "You're kidding!" they replied in unison.
Cliff handed each of them a wrapped gift box, the contents of which Cliff had never seen. They glanced at each other in unison, and then timidly reached for the small boxes, tore off the paper and slowly opened the cases. Their faces lit up the way Superman's always did when he looked at kryptonite.
"Gosh", "Golly" they exclaimed.
"My name is written on it!" Tony said, holding up his 24 caret solid gold ID bracelet.
"Mine, too." shouted Jason. "Look, mine's got something written on the back side."
"So does mine."
"What does yours say?"
"It's written in tiny letters. It says, 'lo, I am with you always. Matthew 28'."
"Mine does, too!"
"Father, was Kendall talking about Jesus or himself, about being with us always?"
"I think you can take it both ways, or either way you want to interpret it...We'll never know exactly what Kendall's intention was." Cliff said. "You boys never knew it but Kendall loved you from afar."
"I think we'd have liked him, too, if we'd ever got to know him,"
"I'm sure you would've...Just think, there may be some other kid in the congregation that's admiring you the same way Kendall did."
"Wow, I never thought what we do is that important." Jason said.
"That's why you should always try to set an example for others every chance you get. You never know whom you're impressing."
"Father, as long as we're here, could we talk with you about something?"
"Of course."
"Can you keep a secret?" Tony asked as his bright eyes widened.
"You know I can't say anything to anyone that's said to me in confidence."
"Not even to our mothers?"
"Not even to your mothers." Cliff assured.
"Well, Tony and me have been 'doing things' with each other at home after school."
Cliff had suspected this but didn't know he would be confronting the topic this soon.
"Oh? What kinds of things"? Cliff asked, sincerely.
"You know, 'things'...touching each other's pee-pees...'things' like that...and we wanted to know if it was wrong."
"Have you talked to your parents about this?"
"WHAT? And not to be allowed to see each other ever again?"
"You think your parents would react that harshly?"
"Heck, I know they would. That's why we wanted to talk to someone else...someone we could trust." 'Trust'? Cliff found his heart filled to overflowing.
"All right, but I want to be careful about the things we talk about. I don't want your parents coming down on me with fire and brimstone."
"Don't worry, Father, anything you say will be just between us."
"OK, I presume you both know the meaning of the word, 'masturbation'?"
"Sure...beatin' off! We both know about that."
"So what seems to be the problem?"
"I don't know quite how to ask this, but if we put each other's pee-pees in our mouths, will we get a disease or something...you know, like they talk about on TV...AIDS and stuff?"
As much as Cliff respected their parents, he wondered where the home education policy had faltered? Cliff's parents had taught him more than Jason's and Tony's before he was eleven years old.
"First of all, if we're going to talk about adult things, maybe we should use adult terminology."
"Like what, Father?"
"Well, for starters, 'fourteen' is a little old for referring to a penis as a 'pee-pee'."
"Heck, Father, we know OTHER words, we just didn't want to embarrass you...we say cock and dick and goober. things like that, all the time."
Maybe they DID know more than Cliff had given them credit for.
"Guys, I don't feel it's my duty to explain sex to you. But I do think it's my responsibility to tell you about 'safe-sex'. I assume neither of you has been 'doing things' with other people and because of that, I don't think you're in danger of getting a disease."
For the next fifteen minutes, the boys' eyes stayed glued on Cliff as he spieled out the pros of condoms and various other precautions they should be aware of in their early pubescent experimentation, as well as later on in their adult lives. Cliff tried to make his lecture personal, more on their level, than using the clinical approach he often took for young married adults. As he talked, their eyes squinted and widened as the subject of different kinds of sex kept changing. When Cliff thought he had said enough, he stopped to get their reactions to see what kind of impression his speech had made.
"OK, Father, you told us how to keep our 'penises' safe, but what about our souls? Will we go to hell for doing the things we're doing?"
"I don't know what other churches might tell you about this, but in OUR church, we look on the relationship between two people of the same sex as natural. No, we don't teach that you're going to hell for what you're doing. Someday, I believe that OUR church will sanction same-sex marriages."
"You mean, someday Tony and I could maybe get married to each other?"
"Same-sex marriage in the continental USA is a long way off, but if it does come to pass, and IF you two love each other, then, yes, it's possible."
"But we love each other now!...Is that wrong?"
"Of course not, but just be careful when and where you display your affection toward each other. Not all of society approves of such activities."
"You mean like the Baptists?"
"Among others" Cliff said. "You know what? I think you SHOULD tell your parents about the way you feel. Who knows? They might like the idea of having a new son in their families."
"You really think so?" Jason asked, excitedly.
"I'll tell you what. If either of you has a problem after telling your parents, maybe I can arrange for all of us to get together and see if we can find a remedy."
"That's great, Father. You're super!!"
"OK, now scoot out of here or you'll be late for supper...and I don't have to remind you to take good care of your bracelets."
"We will, Father. We promise."
Cliff always found it delightful to talk with them. They knew each other so well. They finished each other's thoughts and sentences. Cliff suddenly wished he had a crystal ball and could see where they both would be ten years from now. He showed them out and locked the door as he wanted to call Roger before he left for home to see if Jay needed anything from the store for supper.
Cliff called the rectory number since he assumed Roger's three lines would be busy. However, he forgot about the answering machine, but as soon as Roger heard Cliff's voice, he picked up the phone.
"Hey, babe!" Roger answered.
"Is this the infamous Jessica Fletcher?"
"You better believe it! BOY! Do I have news for you!!!"
"WHAT?...TELL!" Cliff said.
Roger started singing in a nursery rhyme, "I know who the culprit is...and I know how to stop him..."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Cliff asked.
"I'm saying that I know who framed Timmy!"
"Well, tell me, damn it!".
"What'll I get if I tell you?"
"I don't know, but I KNOW what you WON'T get if you DON'T!"
"Ah hah! Thou doth threaten me with volatile threats!" he exclaimed. "Listen, sweetheart, I don't want to tell you about it over the phone. Be careful and hurry home and I'll tell you everything...but it looks like happy days are here again for Timmy...and for us!"
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(To be continued in "Briarwood" Book One-chapter ten)