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"
Copyright Ritchris, 2006
A dramatic saga
by
Ritch Christopher
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BOOK NINE
"A NEW HEAVEN AND A NEW EARTH"
Chapter Ninety-five
Nights are long since you went away
I think about you
All through the day.
My buddy... My buddy...
Nobody quite so true
Miss your voice, the touch of your hand
Just long to know that you understand
My buddy... My buddy...
Your buddy misses you
"MY BUDDY"
Lyrics by Gus Kahn
copyright--1922
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Lee came tiptoeing barefooted down from the third floor of Hunter's townhouse into the kitchen, wearing nothing but jockey briefs and a t-shirt. Hunter was seated at the breakfast table, perusing a newspaper. Hunter looked up from his paper and was astonished to see Lee so scantily clad. Hunter was in his underwear as well, but he was wearing a white, thick, terry-cloth robe and slippers.
"I see you're dressed for breakfast!" Hunter said, coyly.
"Heck, man! I was going to take a shower, but I first thought I'd take you up on your offer for borrowing some of your clothes...say, a pair of Bermuda shorts or jogging shorts?" Lee asked, while covering his crotch by folding his hands in front of himself.
"Jeez! What a disappointment!" Hunter joked. "And I thought you came dressed like that to offer yourself to me for breakfast."
"Hunter..." Lee said, half-warning his new landlord.
"Sorry. You know I didn't mean that. Did you sleep well in your new bedroom? After we got home at 3:00am from the Empire State Building, I thought for sure, you'd sleep until noon."
"No matter how late I get to bed, I'm always an early-riser. Did you get much sleep?"
"Probably less than you. Some delivery boy was knocking on my door at seven and so I just stayed up, jogged once around the block, bought some orange juice, and a ShowBiz magazine to look at casting calls."
"What kind of delivery person delivers at such an ungodly hour?"
"The one who brought that pile of packages in the foyer. Did the morning garbage man awaken you?"
"BOY! WAS THAT LOUD! What was it? About five-thirty?"
"Somewhere around that time."
"No wonder that song says, 'I wanna wake up in a city that never sleeps!'. People in New York stay up all night and as soon as they get to bed, the garbage men wake them up!"
Hunter laughed. "Are you gonna be ready for breakfast after your shower?"
"I suppose so..."
"You could do me a favor."
"Name it!"
"Those boxes in the foyer. They are full of stuff I bought to enhance my wardrobe. The closet in my bedroom is pretty much filled up until I throw away a few items. So, I was wondering if you would store the contents of the boxes in your bedroom until I can find room for them in mine?"
"Sure."
"You'd be a real sweetie if you opened all of them up and put the clothes on hangers for me. I'm sure there are plenty of extra hangers in your closet."
"Sure, I won't mind."
"Thanks, buddy."
Lee walked to the foyer and saw over a dozen boxes of various sizes. The name on the boxes was the same men's boutique where Lee had bought his jeans and shirt the day before. He wasn't aware of Hunter's buying anything while they were there shopping. Still, he said he'd do Hunter a favor. It took Lee nearly four trips up three flights of stairs to carry up the clothes boxes. He remembered Hunter hadn't said anything about loaning him a pair of shorts, but Lee would ask again after he'd unboxed all the merchandise.
Lee was awestruck by the dozen pairs of slacks, the array of colorful shirts, underwear, socks, etc. Yes, there were even two pair of running shorts in one of the boxes. Lee opened his nearly empty closet to get a handful of hangers and began to hang up the shirts, one-by-one. They were BEAUTIFUL. On a certain black silk shirt, a monogram was embroidered in a twine of gold and white silk thread. The initials read, 'L.M.'. "L.M.???" Hunter's initials were 'H.M.'...NOT 'L.M.'. Apparently the embroiderer had made a mistake by sewing the wrong initials. Lee decided to put the monogram shirts back into their boxes in order for Hunter to return them.
So, Lee decided to hang up the trousers, instead. Then he noticed, in the seam below the pants' pocket, the same error had been made. Tiny initials spelled out, 'L.M'. Lee stopped ALL the unpacking and thought he'd better call these errors to Hunter's attention. Lee hoped that Hunter had arisen on the 'right-side-of-the-bed', this morning. Otherwise, he could have a screaming fit by so MANY sewing mistakes. Lee took one shirt and one pair of pants back down to the kitchen.
"Did you finish so soon?" Hunter asked.
"No. I...I, well, I kinda quit..."
"Oh? Why?"
"Hunter, I hope this won't make you too angry, but some idiot embroidered the wrong initials on ALL of the pants and shirts!"
"You're kidding?"
"Nope! See for yourself!" Lee said, handing the shirt and pants to Hunter.
"Hmmm. They look correct to me."
"Does your first or middle name begin with an 'L'?"
"No, 'M'! My middle name is Miller."
"So, why is there an 'L' on all of them?"
"'L' is YOUR first initial, isn't it?"
"Well, yes! But these aren't mine!"
"Well...it'd be a shame to take them back and have ALL the 'L's' made into 'H's'. So why don't YOU keep them?"
"I can't afford these things. There must be hundreds of dollars of clothes in those boxes!" Lee looked at the price tag on the pants and the shirt. "HOLY TOLEDO! THESE PANTS ARE TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS AND THIS SHIRT IS...GOOD LORD! THREE-HUNDRED-TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS?"
"They look as if they're priced accurately," Hunter said, turning to the next page of his paper.
"BUT!"
"Look, Cowboy! You're in New York City now and I'm going to take you to a lot of fancy places. I can't let you go looking like Roy Rogers or Tom Mix."
"YOU bought these things for me yesterday while I was in the changing room?"
"I had to buy them in a hurry because you went in and out of the booth so hurriedly. I hope the sales clerk got all the right sizes for you..."
"I don't know WHAT to say."
"Just tell me if they all fit. If not, we'll go back and I'll take that salesman into the back room and have him MAKE it right!"
"I'm speechless..."
"GOOD!" Hunter dropped the paper below his face to smile at Lee then went back to the next page. Lee, silently, turned to ascend the stairs once more and Hunter stopped him. "HEY LEE! The two Briarwood Boys who are stars on Broadway..."
"What about them?"
"Tim Woodrow is the conductor, right?"
"I think so."
"And Rob Hawley is the Tony-award winning actor?"
"Yes."
"This article, here, says, Tim has written a new musical for Rob to star in..."
"So..."
"SO! They're having Equity calls today and non-Equity cattle calls, tomorrow."
"What's the name of it?"
"It seems that Tim has adapted William Inge's 'Dark at the Top of the Stairs' into a musical drama. Rob is playing Rubin Flood...the part Robert Preston made so famous."
"I've seen that movie about a dozen times. It's one of my favorites!" Lee said.
"It should make a GREAT musical. Christ! There's a role in it that 'I'd' be perfect for."
"You mean, Sammy, played by Lee Kinsolving in the movie?"
"That's the one! You know, Lee committed suicide shortly after the film was made."
"No, I didn't know that...just as Sammy does in the play."
"Yes, his dad was a Bishop or Archbishop of the Episcopal or Anglican Church. After Lee killed himself, his dad went somewhere out west and looked for Lee's soul in the desert...or something like that."
"He was a handsome boy. I remember that!"
"Handsome as I?" Hunter fished.
"Well, actually, no. I...well, come to think of it, you might make a good 'Sammy'".
"If I could only get an audition."
"Oh, no...! You're not going to ask me to call Tim and Rob to see you, are you?"
"Well, you KNOW them...and you and I ARE roommates. Well, last night and this morning on the Observatory, I...well, I think we were MORE than just roommates."
"Yes, but don't you think it would be better and more honest if you tried out and won the role with your talent...not by having a connection with someone who kissed you a few times?"
"I suppose. But as I remember, there's no chorus or crowd scenes in the straight play...just leads. I'm sure every young guy in New York is vying for the part. I'll bet their agents have been on the phone ever since Tim announced the auditions. I don't have an agent...but YOU could be my agent."
"Yes, I could be your agent because I know Tim and Rob, huh?"
"OK. I won't ask you to call them and put them on the spot by doing a Briarwood Boy favor to another one."
"I told you, I'm not really a Briarwood Boy."
"But you LIVED with two. Doesn't that make you one?"
"Heck, I don't know."
"All right, I'll just go to the audition tomorrow by myself and see what happens."
"I can go with you, but don't let on that I know you IF either of them see me."
"Are you going to stand in the kitchen, half-naked, all day and get me sexually aroused or are you going to go up and take your shower, put on some new clothes, and come back down for me to make your breakfast?"
"I'm going to shower! RIGHT NOW!" Lee cried out. "What restaurant are we going to tonight?"
"One of mine and my dad's favorites, a little French place called, 'Chercher L'Homme!"
"Merci, Monsieur!" Lee called back.
"Vous êtes très bienvenu, ami !" Hunter replied.
"If you say so..."
Lee took the shirt and trousers back up the stairs and went into his bedroom to gaze at the stack of boxes. He was sure that Hunter had spent thousands of dollars on the new duds. The least he could do would be to introduce Hunter to Tim and Rob and say...what? 'This is my roommate who bought out half of a store for me yesterday'? Or, 'Rob, Tim, this is my new gay lover. As a favor to me, would you cast him in the role of 'Sammy'?' That was too far-fetched to be believable. Still, by the way Hunter sang last night...he DID have a good voice! Hunter WAS handsome and would look sexy in Sammy's military uniform. Heck, Lee HAD to take his shower and get back downstairs for breakfast!
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An appointment was made for Will Danforth to see Dr. Van Herbert, a noted psychiatrist, at the Cole Institute. Valerie, Will's mother, was pleasantly surprised by the sudden change in her son's demeanor after just one visit with Father Chris. Since Valerie didn't drive a car, herself, unbeknownst to Will, Valerie asked Kathy Huffaker, Will's 'intended', to take him to see the doctor at Cole.
"Mother? You didn't!" Will exclaimed.
"What, dear?"
"Tell me that you didn't ask Kathy to take me to see the doctor at Cole Institute!"
"But, Will, honey, you've scarcely talked with Kathy since you came home."
"Did you ever think that there might be a reason for it?"
"No, dear. If Kathy is to become your wife, it's time she got indoctrinated into wifely duties."
"Like chauffeuring me around?"
"Sure, dear. You know that I don't drive, but most wives drive their husbands to various places...the grocery store, to work, and sometimes to a doctor or dentist."
"Mother! I'm not ready to have a long, private conversation with Kathy. There are things about my illness she shouldn't know."
"Are there things which you are keeping from me, son?"
"Mother, you are NOT a psychiatrist OR a psychologist. I made a deal with Father Chris that I would seek professional help...and since he arranged this appointment for me at the Cole Institute, I intend on keeping my word to him!"
"Well, since I haven't made other arrangements for your transportation, I can't possibly think of an excuse to call Kathy to tell her not to come get you!"
"That's fucking bullshit!"
"Will Danforth! How dare you use such language in my presence! I suppose that's 'army' talk which you learned overseas."
"Mother, don't you ever watch cable TV. 'Fucking' and 'bullshit' are said on nearly every HBO and Showtime movie!"
"Yes, but I can turn them off, but I don't know how to turn off my own son's filthy mouth!"
"FUCK!"
Just then, a car was heard coming up the drive to the Danforth mansion.
"Oh, look, dear, there's Kathy now!"
"GREAT! Glory-fucking-hallelujah!"
Valerie ignored Will's remark and ran to the door and out onto the veranda to welcome Kathy. Kathy got out of her sports car, beaming, smiling from ear-to-ear when she saw Mrs. Danforth.
"Hello, there, Mother Danforth!" Kathy chirped.
"My, my, Kathy, it's SO good to see you. I just can't thank you enough for coming by to take Will to his appointment."
"I wouldn't miss my chance of seeing my true love, could I?"
"Of course not, dear. Come on in! Will is waiting for you in the living room!"
Valerie and Kathy went into the house and on into the living room where Will was sitting rigidly in a straight back chair. He didn't look at Kathy when she entered the room, but stared, as in a daze, at the far corner of the room. One would have thought Will was catatonic as he sat there emotionless.
"Will?" Kathy called to him, quietly.
Will didn't look her way.
"WILL?" Kathy said, a little louder. Then she turned to Valerie, looking almost helpless. "Is he all right?"
"Yes, Kathy. Will and I were having a mother-son conversation just as you drove up." Valerie walked toward Will. "WILL? Kathy is here. Don't you want to speak to her and make her welcome?"
Will remained silent with a look of aphasia on his face.
"Will, darling?" Kathy began again. "Can I, at least, have a hug?" She walked past Valerie and tried to put her arms around Will, but Will remained steadfast in his silent demeanor and didn't move OR respond. "Honey, it's me...Kathy!" Kathy moved in to give Will a kiss on the cheek when all of a sudden, Will slapped her hard across the face. Kathy was stunned and felt the sting of Will's open hand on her cheek and nose. "My lord, Mother Danforth! What's wrong with him. Has he been this violent toward you?"
"No, Kathy, he hasn't...". Valerie was totally confused by Will's belligerent behavior. She wasn't sure if Will was 'putting on an act' or was deep in post traumatic stress. Valerie was somewhat skeptical, but not completely sure, herself. "WILL? WOULD YOU BEHAVE YOURSELF?" Valerie screamed at her son. "You practically broke Kathy's nose..."
When Valerie screamed, Will turned to look at his mother. "What?" Will replied.
"I said you almost broke Kathy's nose!"
"Who's Kathy?" Will asked in a monotone.
"Kathy...YOUR fiancée! The beautiful girl standing right in front of you!"
"Oh? Your name is Kathy?"
Kathy gasped. "Oh my God! He doesn't even know me!" Then she broke into tears. Once again she tried to approach Will, but carefully. "Oh, my darling! What did that mean old war do to you? I wish to God, you'd never have gone to Iraq! Mother Danforth! This is TERRIBLE!"
Will looked at Kathy curiously and asked, "Did you say that you went to war in Iraq? I did, too."
"Oh, Mother Danforth! Did any of the army doctors say how long he would be in this condition?"
Valerie, still addled and confused, replied. "I...That's one of the reasons he's going to see the psychiatrist at the Cole Institute. But...I can't fathom WHY he's acting this way. He was quiet when he first came home from Iraq, but then when Father Chris came by to see him, Will was his old self...talking, laughing, more like he was cured and normal again."
"Will, darling, I came by to take you to see your doctor. Would you let me take you?"
"What doctor?"
"The psychiatrist, Dr. Herbert, at the Cole Institute," Valerie replied.
"I'm not going to see some fucking shrink!" Will replied.
"Oh, Mother Danforth, I don't know WHAT to do!" Kathy cried out, through her tears.
"Kathy, perhaps, you'd better leave, dear. Will seems quite upset."
"Oh, my word! Am I causing it?"
"I don't think so, Kathy, but I'll see if I can calm him down with some of his medication after you leave."
"Oh, Mother Danforth! You WILL call me if there's a change in him, won't you?"
"Of course, Kathy. Darling, I'm so sorry you had to experience this trauma. You must be torn to pieces by seeing it!"
"I AM. I...I'd better leave!"
"GOOD!" Will said, loudly, making Kathy cry that much more. She sobbed as she went out the door to her car and left.
Valerie followed Kathy to the door and shut it behind her. She wasn't sure just what to say to Will. Did he have a sudden traumatic relapse? Should she call and cancel the appointment with Dr. Herbert? Better yet, should she call Father Chris and get him to come over? As she stood in the foyer weighing her choices, Will spoke to her.
"NOW, Mother, dear! Would you call me a fucking cab so that I won't be late for my appointment?"
"You're going?"
"I told you that I promised Father Chris, didn't I?"
"But the way you treated Kathy...so rudely, just now..."
"I got rid of her, didn't I?"
"Will, I just don't understand..."
"You will, Mother, in time, you will!"
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Planning an impromptu trip to New Hampshire via a stopover in New York City might easily have been accomplished without the overzealous, enthusiastic assistance of Jay. Jay, all but insisted, on packing the suitcases for Cliff, Roger, AND Billy. Jay was certain he knew just what clothing to choose for each. He kept flitting from Cliff and Roger's closet to Billy's closet in Billy's bedroom. He wanted to make them a snack to take on the plane. Since meals were no longer served on most flights, Jay couldn't see Billy traveling with just a package of peanuts and a diet Coke.
No matter how many objections Roger shouted at Jay, Jay ignored Roger and kept on as he was doing. Cliff was more than amused by the whole ordeal. Cliff had lived with Jay long enough to know better than to overrule his 'master-planning'. Cliff called the airlines to reserve three first-class seats. Before that, he called Chris to give instructions concerning the church services for the next two weeks.
Chris was still in shock over the news about Chuck. He KNEW that Billy would be devastated once he learned of Chuck's suicide and thought Cliff and Roger were doing the right thing by getting Billy out of town before Billy heard anything of Chuck's demise. Chris assured Cliff that he could handle everything and also told Cliff of his visit with Will and about the appointment he'd made for Will at the Institute. Cliff was so glad he had sent Chris to visit Will as Chris assured him that everything was under control. Chris mentioned none of things Will had said to him in confidence. So Cliff was totally unaware of Will's new sexual identity crisis.
The flight to New York City was at 2:00pm. Jay drove Cliff, Roger, and Billy to the airport at 1:00pm. Everything they all wanted to keep from Billy had been successful. When the three 'travelers' boarded the plane, Chuck's death was oblivious to Billy's knowledge. The movie on the flight was Meryl Streep in 'The Devil Wears Prada'. All three were entertained and laughed heartily at the comedy.
While Jay was 'packing', Roger had called the Waldorf to reserve his penthouse suite...and everything was going according to schedule. Billy was chipper and in a great mood...which made Cliff and Roger feel much better. Unbeknownst to them, Jay had telephoned Rob and Timmy in New York to meet the entourage when they arrived at Kennedy Airport...and as planned, by Jay, Rob and Timmy were awaiting their benefactor and mentor, and their offspring when the United flight landed.
As the three 'fliers' descended the ramp into the rotunda of the airport, Rob and Timmy were there screaming and waving their hands as if they'd seen the Beatles arrive from Liverpool. Roger, Cliff, and Billy, all three, broke out into great big smiles as the five ran to give one another hugs and kisses.
"But how did you know to meet us?" Roger asked.
"How the hell do you THINK they found out?" Cliff asked.
Then all five answered in unison..."JAY!" as they all laughed out loud.
"My goodness, Billy, how you've GROWN!" Rob said, squeezing Billy into his chest. "You're almost a man, now."
"Not almost, Rob," Roger corrected him, "Billy IS a man, now! I'll tell you all about his maturity later!"
Cliff was overjoyed to see his two Broadway Briarwood Boys. "You two are a sight for Broadway marquees! I can't wait to hear about your next production."
"We kept it a secret until the casting calls were published," Rob said. "Tim wrote, both music and lyrics."
"How marvelous! I hope you'll play us the score while we're here!" Cliff replied.
"It's good, Cliff, REALLY good!" Rob said.
"Too bad you aren't the critic for the New York Times!" Timmy joked.
"Tell me, guys," Roger interjected. "Do you have the entire production financed or can some angel buy a few shares. Walter Clayton told me that one of my wisest investments was the money I put into 'Brigadoon'!"
"There MIGHT be a few shares left for the 'right' backer!" Rob replied.
"Rob, can't you read through your Uncle Roger's bad Latin? He's asking you if you want him to back the entire show," Cliff interjected.
"Why, Cliff, you make me sound greedy!" Roger joked.
"How can the richest man in the world be greedy?" Cliff retorted.
"Daddy Roger," Billy asked, "are you REALLY the richest man in the world."
"Son, I don't know. You'd have to ask your Uncle Walt about that. I've never known how much I have."
"Then, does that mean I can ask for a raise in my allowance?" Billy asked.
"Good Lord!" Cliff said, "The acorn DOES fall next to the tree!" Then he turned to Billy. "Billy Cole! You've NEVER had an allowance since you became our son! Anything you've ever wanted, you Uncle Jay has seen that you got it!"
"Yeah, Daddy Cliff, but what if I see something I want to buy in New York...some sight I want to see real badly? Uncle Jay's not with us."
"Just name what you want to buy or what you want to see, and you'll get the money for it," Cliff replied.
"ANYTHING?"
"Most anything..."
"Uh oh, such as what...?"
"Suppose I wanted to go to a strip club?"
"Get your Daddy Roger to accompany you. I'm not sure if he's ever seen a naked woman!" Cliff joked.
"NOT WOMEN, Daddy Cliff! Naked guys!"
"You'll STILL have to get Daddy Roger to take you!" Cliff quipped as Rob and Tim laughed.
"Billy, we have a young man, about your age, staying with us at our apartment. I think the two of you would hit it off just great!" Timmy said,
"How old is he?" Billy asked.
"He's sixteen," Timmy replied.
"Well, I'm ALMOST sixteen."
"You two aren't adopting a teenage boy are you?" Roger asked.
"No, this young man flew in from L.A. to audition for our new musical. I promised his agent in Hollywood that he could stay with us and we'd take good care of him."
"Heck!" Roger snorted. "Just when I thought I was about to get a new teenage grandson..."
"Who knows?" Rob replied. "It's not impossible."
"Doesn't the kid have parents?" Billy asked.
"He did have. Both of his parents are well-known Hollywood screen stars, but their careers took precedent over their son. They've shipped him off to boarding schools and nannies his whole life. I don't think they've seen him in years," Rob explained. "What NEITHER of his parents know is just how talented he is. He sings, dances, and is a terrific little actor to boot!"
"Well, are we going to spend all afternoon at the airport?" Roger asked. "There must be a great restaurant where we can all meet and continue this family reunion until deep into the night."
"What's the kid's name?"
"He goes by the professional name of Marc Carlton," Rob said.
"Can he come to dinner with us?" Billy asked.
"He surely can or otherwise he's going to get plenty hungry by himself in our apartment."
"Oh, goody!"
"Are you staying at the Waldorf, Roger?" Tim asked.
"Sure," Roger replied.
"If the truth be known, Roger probably bought the Waldorf years ago!" Cliff said, "He probably forgot to ask Walter if he owns it!"
"Do you really think I MIGHT have..." Roger asked, very quizzically.
"It DOESN'T matter, my love. What's one more hotel?" Cliff joked.
"I've got to call Walter as soon as we get home to find out if..."
"Come on, let's go!" Cliff said. "Do you two have a cab waiting?"
"No. Remember it was Jay who planned this airport reunion. The same limousine Jay arranged to pick up Tim and me, is waiting for all of us in front of the airport."
"Why did I even bother to ask?" Cliff said. "There HAD to be a pre-arranged limousine...arranged by Jay, of course!"
The redcap retrieved Roger's, Cliff's, and Billy's luggage (packed by Jay) put it into the trunk of the limo and they drove away to the Waldorf. Then the chauffeur continued taking Rob and Timmy to their apartment on the upper East Side.
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***Author's note: (This next section refers to Will's views about the Iraqi War and current administration in Washington. If you are easily offended by such, skip this section and scroll down to the next '<><><><><><>' marks, beginning with "At the Waldorf...") R.C.
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Will was escorted into Dr. Herbert's office by his secretary, Lydia. Will was somewhat surprised when he saw the psychiatrist. Van Herbert was far from the stereotyped Freud. He had no beard or facial hair. He was not gray-headed, nor was he old. Will would guestimate that Van Herbert was in his early thirties...tall, blonde, perfect skin covering his handsome face with glowing green catlike eyes. Perhaps it was Will's new sexual orientation, but he found he found he was extremely attracted to the doctor in more ways than one.
"Mr. Danforth?" Van said, extended his hand for Will to take.
"Will, sir..."
"Pardon?"
"Call me 'Will', sir. Whenever I hear 'Mr. Danforth', I always assume that someone is referring to my late dad."
"Very well! WILL, it will be!"
"I suppose I should thank you for seeing me on such a short notice. The nearest appointment I could get with the army Psych doctor was months away."
"Let's just say that you have a very caring minister. He told me about some of your problems and thought that they could not wait for months to see an army doctor. I understand that you were diagnosed in Germany as having PTSS."
"Yes, sir."
"From what I learned at my last seminar, there are literally thousands like yourself who have come home from the Iraqi War."
"Yes, sir. The psych unit in Germany was overflowing. Most guys in my combat unit thought that anyone who showed signs of traumatic stress were pussies and were faking it to return home."
"There might be cases like that, but from what I've read and heard on the news, I'm really surprised there aren't one-hundred-thirty-thousand cases in our military in Iraq. Can you describe what it was like and how it made you feel going into combat every day and night?"
"I'm no pussy, Doctor, but it was horrible. I listen to the news too, since I returned and I keep hearing Senators and Congressmen talking about our brave soldiers. The only ones who are brave are idiots. They have no concept of what's really going on...GUNG HO assholes who want to shoot somebody. I remember seeing western movies when I was a kid and some soldier, dressed in blue, would say, 'Let's go kill us some, Injuns!' or in war movies, 'Let's go kill us some Japs!'. Now it's let's go kill someone who's wearing middle eastern garb...it doesn't matter if they are Sunni, Shiite, rebels, or insurgents. According to the New York Times, we've done a pretty good job. Today's paper said that over fifty-thousand Iraqis have been killed since we invaded the country."
"Yes, I heard that report, too."
"Then there are the 2,500 Americans who have been killed and nearly ten-thousand wounded or had a leg or arm blown off."
"People like to play war...little boys learn to play war at an early age."
"That's what I heard on MSNBC news that the current administration in Washington has had NO military experience at all. Chris Matthews said that he doubted if anyone in the Bush administration had ever had a school playground fight."
"Do you think it was wrong to invade Iraq?"
"Doctor, I'm from a very rich family and my folks always vote Republican, but anyone can plainly see that this war was only started to make Cheney's company, Halliburton, one of the richest enterprises in history. Halliburton won the government contracts WITHOUT bidding on them. They supply ALL our weapons, arms, uniforms, vehicles, meals, even body bags. They have contracts to rebuild what we tear down daily. Hell, no one in the cabinet wants to see this war end. There's too much profit for the sons-of-bitches to make. Cheney couldn't find a reason to get us into the war, so he had his hand-puppet blame it on nine-eleven and WMD's. The Iraqi citizens didn't ask our government to democratize their country. Bush saw himself as Richard the Lion-hearted, leading a religious crusade and by some evangelical miracle, turning all the Muslims into Church of God Christians."
"Will, are these your personal feelings or do many other soldiers feel as you do?"
"Thousands of them feel as I do...especially those National Guard weekend warriors who are doing their third and fourth tours of duty. For nearly a year, none of them got their military pay. There was some fucking computer glitch at the Treasury and wives and children stateside were evicted and had to move into shelters because their soldier husbands had no money to send to them."
"I had heard that, as well..."
"Remember after the Vietnam war when the vets came home and were treated like ex-citizens? Almost the same thing is happening daily. Guys, whom I served with, are being killed every day and their bodies shipped home in the dead of night when no one can see their flag-draped coffins...as if they were to be dishonored or disgraced for being stupid enough to get killed. None of us slept soundly at night. There was always a faraway or nearby explosion to awaken us. Some in my platoon got irritable bowel syndrome from sheer nerves. Our hands would shake just before we fired our weapons. We never knew if we were killing an insurgent or a five-year-old kid and her grandmother. Remember Robert Duvall's famous line in 'Apocalypse Now', 'I love the smell of napalm in the morning'? Well, all we smelled twenty-four-seven was shit and blood. Those who were ready to go home suddenly found out that they had to stay another six months, a year, or eighteen months. Guys were cracking up all around me...AMERICANS. Those who thought that they knew the reason WHY we were there, changed their opinions very shortly...say, after the first week or month. NO ONE HAS ANY FUCKING IDEA WHY WE'RE THERE...and NO ONE IN WASHINGTON...DEMOCRAT OR REPUBLICAN KNOWS HOW TO GET US OUT!"
"Will, you used the phrase, 'cracked up'...is that what happened to you?"
"I...I suppose."
"Do you remember the first time you felt you were cracking up?"
"Several times...but not until my best buddy, Rick was killed right in front of me."
"How long had you been buddies?"
"Two or three months."
"How close were you?"
"Doctor, are you hemming and hawing around a way to find out if we were MORE than buddies?"
"Were you?"
"I...I was in love with him..."
"And Rick?"
"He was in love with me..."
"Did the two of you ever find a way or time to get physical?"
"Did we have sex?"
"Yes?"
"Hell, yes. We had sex many times."
"Was Rick the first male you ever had sex with?"
"Sure, he was. I would never have thought looking at any guy that way before I met Rick."
"You had no homosexual experiences or desires before him?"
"Absolutely, not!"
"And since then. Do you look at men the way you used to before Rick or do you look at them in a different way now."
"I'm going to call off my engagement to my girlfriend."
"You were in love with her before you went overseas?"
"I thought I was."
"And now..."
"I want no part of her. My mother will have a calf when she finds out."
"Is it ALL women or just your fiancée?"
"I...I think it might be ALL women."
"Have you seen or met a guy with whom you might be attracted to?"
"A...a couple."
"Oh? Have you told either of them how you feel about them?"
"No...and I'm not sure if I can."
"Are they in the military?"
"Not exactly..."
"May I pry and ask their occupations without revealing their identities?"
"Doctor, NOW you're putting me on the spot?"
"How so?"
"What if I were to say that one of them is a priest and the other is a...doctor?"
"Both professional occupations."
"Well, actually, their occupations have nothing to do with the way that they attract me."
"Can I pry into a more personal depth?"
"You can, but I won't promise to give you the correct answer."
"Is the priest, Father Chris?" Will's face turned beet red. "You don't have to answer that, Will."
"Doctor, would it scare the hell out of you if I said that the doctor is...you?"
"You're attracted to me?"
"Very much so!"
"Is it my position of being your doctor?"
"Hell, no! It's sitting here talking to you...looking into your green eyes and hoping against all hope that you won't notice the erection you've given me."
This time, it was the doctor's turn to blush.
"You...you flatter me, Will."
"Hell, you ought to take a good look at yourself the next time you jump out of the shower stark naked. YOU could turn ANY man or woman on..."
"Thank you, but, I hope this doesn't deter our doctor-patient relationship, but...I'm taken."
"That still doesn't stop the way I feel or the way I look at you."
"You haven't said anything to Father Chris about the way you feel about him?"
"Fuck no! I don't want him hiding from me at church when he sees me coming."
"How much sleep do you get, nightly."
"About an hour or two, soundly, then I wake up. I stay awake for an hour or two and then fall BACK to sleep for another hour. This goes on EVERY night."
"I don't know WHAT medication your army doctors prescribed for you, but I'm going to write you some new scrip's and see if they help your insomnia, your depression, and your panic attacks."
"Can you prescribe them in different colors? I never know which pill to take for what!"
"The sleeping pills are bright yellow, the antidepressant is bright pink, and the panic medicine is bright blue. I'll have the pharmacist to write what each does in bold letters...SLEEP, SAD, and PANIC. It will take about three weeks for the antidepressant to work up to its potential max. The sleeping pills should work in a matter of minutes."
"When do you want me to see you again?"
"Next week at the same time."
Lydia buzzed Van on his intercom and Van picked up the receiver.
"Thanks, Lydia. I'll tell him and see how he feels about it." Van held the receiver in his hand while he turned to talk with Will.
"Is that about me?" Will asked.
"Yes, it seems that Father Chris is in the outer office and would like to know if you need a ride home. If seeing him is going to put added stress on you, I'll tell him that you've already arranged return transportation."
"No. I can't avoid him. I'll see him at church on Sundays and I'll go to confession on Thursday evening. Tell him 'thanks, that I'd appreciate a ride."
"Lydia, tell Father Chris to come into my office. Will would like a ride home with him."
Chris walked in, looking sternly at Van, awaiting his verdict on Will's condition. "Hi, Van...Will..." Chris spoke.
"Father Chris, it was nice of you to drop by."
"Well, with Father Cliff on vacation, I had to do his hospital visitations and thought I'd drop by to see how you two were getting along."
"Famously!" Will answered.
"By inviting me to come in, I assume that this session is over."
"For today. I told Will I wanted him to stop by next week at the very same time. I'm writing him three new prescriptions, Father. Perhaps you could stop by the pharmacy on the way to Will's house and have them filled."
"I'd be MORE than happy to..."
"So, I guess I can go?" Will asked.
"For now..." Van replied.
Will stood up to leave and Chris put his arm around Will's shoulder to guide him to the outer office.
"Thanks," Chris said to Van.
"Thank you for helping him," Van replied. "I've got a lot of work to do with him and a lot of it is going to require YOUR participation," Van said to Chris.
Will and Chris exited the Cole Institute, got into Chris' car and headed toward the pharmacy. Will was quiet for the first part of the ride. Finally, he said, "Father, isn't St. Genesius on the way to the drug store?"
"Yes, it is. WHY? Would you like to stop at the church for a few minutes?"
"Please."
Chris parked his car in front of the main entrance to the church, unlocked the door. The apse was lit by candles with an ethereal look. Their heels echoed on the floor of the center aisle. Will walked in front of Chris and turned left to one of the intercessory prayer altars and lit a candle. Will prayed a short prayer, crossed himself, stood up and walked toward the nearest confessional. Chris didn't understand what to make of Will's reverential actions, but kissed his shawl and donned it around his neck, entering the confessor's booth. He sat and waited to see if Will wanted to make a confession.
At last, Will said, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."
Chris replied, "How long has it been since your last confession?"
"A couple of days ago in my bedroom when I spoke to you..."
"And you feel you have some new sin to which you'd like to confess?"
"Several."
"What sins do you accuse yourself for having committed?"
"I accuse myself of impure thoughts, Father..."
"And what made them impure?"
"I...I masturbated six or seven times in the past couple of days."
"The church no longer looks on masturbation as a major sin, but as a physical release."
"Yes, but it was the thoughts BEHIND my masturbation that made them impure."
"What thoughts were these?"
"I fantasized about having sex with a man. I fantasized about oral AND anal sex."
"Might I ask personally, if you were fantasizing about your buddy, Rick?"
"No, Father. After you left my bedroom the other day, I've thought of nothing but going to bed with you..." Suddenly, Chris was stunned. He didn't know what or how to pursue the remainder of Will's confession. "YOU, Father, are the closest person I've ever met that reminds me of Rick. What I felt for him, I feel as if I could feel the same for you. I realize I'm making a fool of myself, especially since you are grieving over Dr. Middleton, but I thought, if you're ever willing to find someone new in your life, I'd like to be considered."
All the empty, lonely feelings which Chris had been harbouring inside since Ed's death, subsided for an instant and he felt the urge to leave his seat and go inside the left booth which housed Will. Chris was bursting inside to take Will into his arms and hold him.
Instead, Chris, calmly said, "I...I feel incapable of absolving your sins. Let me ask God for guidance of what to say to you. I...I'm at a complete loss for words."
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At the Waldorf, Billy was in one bathroom cleaning up and getting ready to go to a fancy French restaurant which Roger had chosen. Cliff was showering in the bathroom adjoined to his and Roger's bedroom. Roger was sitting on the side of the bed, waiting to shower once Cliff had finished. Both Billy's and Cliff's bathroom doors were shut. Seeing that he had total privacy, Roger picked up his phone and dialed Walter in Briarwood. When Walter answered, Roger asked, just above a whisper..."Walt? Roger, here. Yes, we had a nice flight. We were met at the airport by Rob and Timmy and we're all going out for a nice dinner. I made reservations at a little French place called, 'Chercher L'Homme'.
The reason I called...Walt? Do you know whether or not I BOUGHT the Waldorf hotel? You know, for the life of me, I couldn't remember. OH? I see. Well, thanks very much and don't ever let Cliff know that I called you to find out that information. Good night!"
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(To be continued in "Briarwood"--Book Nine--"A New Heaven And A New Earth"--chapter ninety-six).