This is a work of pure fiction, based on the author's feelings, beliefs, and in some cases, experience. There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY!
Cast of Characters: Cole Alexander Stephanson IV -- Our hero Jazz -- (Jack Zachary) Coles oldest brother Diane -- Jazz's wife Rod -- Coles middle brother Igor (Iggy) -- Cole's Tutoring Pupil Cole Alexander Stephanson III -- Coles Dad Ethyl Stephanson -- Cole's mom Rex Remlin-- Rod's best friend Gus Hartwin -- Cole's Boyfriend Michelle -- Cole's old girlfriend. Dexter -- Iggy's boyfriend Ed -- Paramedic Manolo -- Paramedic Steve -- Manolo's boyfriend Diane -- Jazz's wife Randy -- Found Boy Curtis -- Found boy's brother Kian Willis-- Friend in Vancouver Nicolas Poole-- Friend in Vancouver Howard Poole -- Nicolas's Father Christian -- the pool guy
From Chapter 21:
"Nick, give your dad some slack."
"What?" he asked.
"Your dad is just coming to grips with the reality of something he suspected for a long time. That's not easy. Don't push him away. Let him love you."
"How do I do that?" He said, clearly confused.
"Just love him. Know that he will make some mistakes. Love him."
"Easy for you to say. Then you're off and we won't see you for months."
"If that's your way of telling me you love me, thanks. And I love you too -- even though it's been less than three whole days since we met!"
"S'matter babe?" Kian walked up, sounding as masculine as he could sound feminine at other times.
"Aww -- nothin'. I just feel bad that Cole and Gus have to go so soon."
"We got them three days more than we thought we would. And - - you ARE coming back -- right?"
"I think- uh -- YEAH! We'll be back!"
We all hugged -- close hugs -- and we almost ran out to our rented car. As soon as we were out of view of the Poole mansion, I dialed Christian's number. .
Chapter 22
"Hello?"
"Where are you Chris?" I asked.
"Home."
"Duh! How far away is that?"
"N-n-not far. I'll m-m-meet you at the shaw-shaw-shopping center c-close to where N-nick lives."
"You know where he lives?"
"W-well, yeah -- n-now that I know wh-wh-who he is! Everyone knows th-their place. It's kinda h-h-hard to hide - - you kn-know?"
"Guess you're right." I averred. "Where in the shopping center?"
"There's a big m-m-monument in the corner of the p-p-parking lot. I'm d-d-driving an old Datsun honey bee -- gold c-c-colored."
"What's that?" I asked.
"1970's car. From Ja-ja-japan -- it's Nissan n-now. It's p-p-pretty embarrassing sometimes!"
"Dude!" I answered. "I drive a 1957 Pontiac!"
"Wha-wha-wha! 1957!? It's still running? Wow! C-c-cool! I can't wait to see it!"
"No, not here. We have a white Chrysler rental car here. See you in a few minutes?"
"Yeah, Mom, it's -- y-y-y-yeah! Y-yes! I AM going! N-n-now!"
"Christopher!" I heard in the background. "Please don't talk to me like that!"
"I'll see you guys in a couple minutes." He said. And before he hung up, "Mom! I'm over 18 n-n-now! I'll g-g-go when I please! You can't - " Click.
"There's the monument." I said to myself.
"Huh?" Gus said.
"We're meeting him right there by that monument."
"Oh. Cool. What's he driving?"
"Some thing like a bee -- um -- honey bee -- or something."
"A -- what? Is it a Datsun?"
"Yeah that's it! Datsun Honey Bee!"
"Kewl!" Gus said. "Well -- not as cool as your 57, but -- it's s cool little car -- painted like a honey bee.
"That's weird." I said.
"Not really. You'll see. It's pretty cool."
It wasn't cool. It was a heap of trash. It might have been cool if it was preserved as my 57 was -- thanks to my dad. "Don't say anything bad about it, Gus -- he's pretty embarrassed about it."
"I can see why. Okay, we'll be nice."
The little car was noisy -- like it had no muffler. When it came to a stop, he jumped out with a grin on his face. "I c-c-c-can't believe this is r-r-really hap-hap-happening!"
"Hop in." I said. He didn't bother to lock his car. "Didn't you want to lock it?" I asked.
"N-nothing in it. M-maybe I'll g-g-get l-lucky and s-s-someone will s-s-steal the whole c-c-car!" He had a lot of trouble getting that out.
"You had an upset with your mom, didn't you?"
He looked down. "Yeah."
"Good!" I said.
"What?" He almost winced as he said it.
"That'll be a good place to start." I said. "Where can we go that's away from other people?"
"Th-th-the cemetery?"
"Oh!" I said. "Is anyone buried there -- that you know?"
"Both my dads." He said bitterly. "My m-mom insisted they b-b-both be b-b-buried here! I hate her for that!"
"That's pretty strong language." I said mildly.
"I d-d-didn't want that ass hole there with m-my d-d-dad!"
We drove up to the cemetery. I stopped and retrieved the tire iron from the trunk. I hid it in my pants as we walked on to the cemetery grounds. "Where's your step dad's body buried?"
"Over there!" he pointed. "I d-d-don't want to even go n-n-near that ass hole!"
"Chris -- you're gonna have to trust me on this. That is exactly where I want to go -- to your step-dad's grave."
"Oh." Was all he said. He led the way. "That's the one." He said, and he spat on it!
"Good start!" I said.
"Huh!!??" He exclaimed.
I handed him the tire iron. I looked around. No one was anywhere near. I looked with a bit of relief. The grass on the grave was brown and mostly dead. "Chris, hit the ground there where your step-dad is buried, with the tire iron." I was surprised at the ferocity with which he followed my orders. One hard hitting stroke. "THHHUMP!" I felt the ground shake.
"what do you want to tell him, Chris?"
"Nothing!" He said as he brought the tire iron down hard again. Then as he reiterated, he hit the ground with every word. "I got n-n-no-thing to s-s-say to that b-b-b-bastard." He beat the heck out of the ground, and he hissed the words out of his tight-lipped mouth.
"Yes! Yes you do, Chris! Tell him what you think of him!
He gritted his teeth. And hissed "You are a Bastard and an ass hole!" No stutter.
"Don't hold it back, Chris. Tell him! Holler at him! Scream out your anger and hurt him. He can't answer you back, Chris -- he can't tell you that you're stupid. He can't tell you you're wrong. You tell HIM what YOU think!" I was yelling and almost crying as I demanded that Chris yell at his step dad.
Chris then let loose with every thing he had. He looked around to be sure no one else was there, and then he started to yell and scream at his step dad. He was crying and cussing and hollering -- with less and less stuttering! He called him about every name in the book. I kept egging him on to say more. I was crying too. I remembered that when I saw this on the video, the facilitator there was crying. I didn't have to try very hard. The tears were flowing.
He was on his knees, beating the ground savagely. He got too close to the grave stone once or twice. I saw sparks fly as the tire iron hit the stone.
I kept hollering at him to give it all he had. To Really call him everything he had always wanted to. As if to punctuate the end of his long and voice ruining tirade, as he said, "I HATE YOU!" He attacked the grave stone. A large piece flew from it and toward my good eye. It seemed to fly in slow motion. I was not able to duck in time. It hit hard. I shook my head to ward off the pain. He was slumped completely to the ground.
I too was on the ground, my vision blurry. I shook off the discomfort I was feeling and grabbed his arm and hand. "Okay!" I said. "Let's go to your dad's grave. He led us to it and I told him to do similar to his dad that he had done to the step-dad.
"NO!" he protested. "I can't do that! I love him! I can't hurt him!"
"He's beyond hurting, Chris. But you are still hurting-- angry at him because he left you! Right?"
"N-n-n-n-no! He doesn't deserve I mean I can't -- I mean - "
"Do it, Chris!" I demanded.
"Dad -- daddeeeeeeeee!" he cried. Why did you leave me?" he blubbered. "Why did you leave me and mommy to that ass hole!!??" You should have never gone away! I hate you so much for leaving us -- me!" He stopped and said, "NO! I DON'T hate him! I can't!"
"You don't hate him -- but you HATE that he left you. Keep it up, it's working -- it's helping!"
Chris started sobbing in great huge gulping intakes of air as he wailed out his anguish that his daddy left him -- and left his mom -- to the evil step dad. He ended up in a ball on the grass on top of the grave, trying feebly to hug his dad's gravestone.
I took the tire iron and gave it to Gus. I curled my body up to his. "Close your eyes, Baby. Close your eyes, Christy." I cooed. HE did as he was told. Still crying, he seemed to melt into my arms and body. "I am your daddy now. It's okay, Baby. It's okay, Christy. I love you! I didn't leave you on purpose. I have been here watching you every minute. I have cried with every beating you received. Every time he yelled at you. Every time your mom agreed or remained silent as he abused my baby boy, I cried."
Chris trembled in my arms. Then, his eyes still closed, he started to kiss my neck and my face. "Daddy -- DADDY! I love you so much! I miss you so much! Please don't ever leave me again! PLEEEEEEEEEASE!"
"I'll never leave, you Chris. I'm always here with you."
Chris sobbed and sobbed. I cried too. I was so into it, I had no idea what Gus was doing. He told me later that he was crying too. I got carefully up, raising Chris with me. I whispered to him to keep his eyes closed. "Let's go to an open place now." I said.
He took us to a place where there were no graves and no grass yet.
As soon as he arrived, he remembered I had said something about his mom. "I can't. I just can't!"
"Do you love your mom?" I asked.
"Yes! I can't - "
"If you love her then you MUST do this -- either to her face -- or in her absence. It will free you to love her. Remember how you felt about your daddy?"
Whattaya mean?"
"How did you feel about your daddy after you told him how you felt?"
"I was -- erm -- I felt, umm -- clean -- or -- something. Like I loved him even more -- and like -- um - "
"Like he loved you more?" I offered.
"YES! Like he loves me more than I ever knew."
"This is why you have to do this for your mom too. Both you and she deserve for you to be clear about your love for her." I looked at Gus and for the first time, gave him a fearful look. I couldn't see his reaction.
I put out my hand. Gus placed the tire iron into it. I felt my way to Chris's hand. It seemed strange that it was so dark. Could time have passed so quickly?
I didn't have to coach him this time. He started out in e dead run. He had so much energy held back from his mother! I heard Gus crying at the same time as Chris was winding down. I wondered if he had worked on some of his own mom and dad issues. Chris hugged me so close when we were finished. I got out my keys. We must have been under some trees, because there was no light at all. I turned on my keychain light. It wasn't working. "Damn!" I said. My light doesn't work! We'll have to feel our way out, I guess. You know the way back to the car pretty well, Chris?"
"Um -- yeah." It sounded more like a question.
"Cole." I heard something scary in Gus's voice. "Cole, babe -- it's broad daylight."
I turned to him. "Huh?" I said.
"Oh!" Gus exclaimed. "You have an ugly bruise on the side of your face, Cole. I think we need to get you to a doctor -- quick! Can you see anything?"
I slumped to the ground. It has happened! I curled up in a ball. Gus was right there with me. "Baby, it's gonna be okay! Lets go to the -- Chris -- where's the nearest hospital -- emergency room?
"What? Oh -- no! Did I do that? What? Oh, yeah -- hospital! Yeah. Um -- maybe we should take him back to -- um the Poole's?"
"Gimme your phone babe!" I reached into my pocket and handed it to him. I heard beeps as he worked his way to the last call that was made to Nick. "Hello, Nick? Is you dad there? Thanks." After a short wait, Gus said,, "Sir, this is Gus. Cole can't see -- yeah like -- yeah that's right! Where? How do we -- oh! We are at the cemetery. I'll explain later. You -- what? You will? Okay. We'll wait here. Yeah a white Chrysler Sebring convertible. Okay. Thanks.
"He will be here in a few minutes. Let's get back to the car."
With a boy on each arm, I was led to the car. "Oh, Cole, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Chris was saying without the least stutter."
"It's not your fault, Chris. This has been coming on for a long time."
"Yeah but that piece of rock - "
"You were doing as you were told, Chris! It's not your fault!" I was being strong for Chris. I didn't feel as brave or confident as I was putting on. I felt tears involuntarily well up in my eyes. With them, I thought I could see flecks of light. All of a sudden I heard the purr of a 12 cylinder engine. Then I was swept up by strong arms. "Chris we are taking you to the best neurosurgeon in the country."
"Here in British Columbia?" I asked idly.
"No. It's in Seattle, actually. He used to practice here, but our wonderful socalized medicine has driven most of the good doctors out of the country. It will only be 45 minutes in the chopper.
In an hour, I was on an operating table. A anesthesiologist rubbed what I assume was some benzocaine on my temple. Then I felt a searing hot pain as a needle was sunk deep into my temple. I tried to remain still, but I felt 8 strong hands were holding me fast to the table, as I involuntarily tried to wrest free in my blinding pain -- well, if I wasn't already blinded.
I felt a sickening suctioning as the needle drew out liquid from my temple. Gradually, even in the searing pain, light started to creep into the edges of my sight. The anesthesia was finally taking hold, and I felt an elation come over as simultaneously my sight seemed to pour back into me and all the pain left me. I looked up into clear blue, worried eyes. I smiled, in spite of myself.
"Hello, Cole. I'm Doctor O'toole. You can call me Arnie. I believe you can see me now - - right?"
"Dr. -- um -- Arnie, I have to tell you something," I said.
"I know, Cole I know."
"What? You know what I want to tell you?"
"Yes, but say it anyway. It is the best, purest pay I can ever get."
"Arnie -- I love you!" I said, and I felt it whole heartedly!
"Thank you Cole. This is why I keep doing this. I could have retired years ago, but it's people like you that keep me coming back every day to this office -- in this hospital. You from Vancouver?"
"No. L.A."
"Oh! But Mr. Poole said - "
"Sorry I didn't make myself clear Arnie. This is my foster son. He saved my life and I in turn have adopted him for my own."
"He saved your life?"
"I'll explain in detail someday, Arn. What should we do to make sure there is not a recurrence or relapse of the condition?"
Arnie looked at me and then back at Howard. Then he turned toward me. "Never leave your bed -- or the security of your room, and you can be pretty assured that you will be safe." I gave him a sarcastic sneer. "That being impractical, try to be careful. Especially the next few weeks. Are you a hemophiliac?"
"Never had a problem." I answered.
He scribbled a quick prescription on a pad and tore it off. He handed it to Howard. Make sure he takes these three times a day with food or milk."
"Doctor!" A nurse's urgent voice said, "There is a patient that just came in -- in a lot of pain, her eye is out!"
"I'll be right there." He said as he ran for the door. "I'll want to see this boy in two weeks, Howard!" He hollered as he ran out.
"Guess you're staying with us a few weeks, huh, Cole? Gus?"
"You bet!" Gus said. "Whatever it takes!"
"Hi Dad. Had a little accident up here in Vancouver. No I'm okay -- for the moment. But I have to see the doc again in two weeks, and the Poole's -- yeah well, I'll explain about them -- the rest of the story -- when I get home. But I'm okay and Gus is okay. Okay. Love you too -- yeah, her too! Bye"
Chris was with us through the whole ordeal. We delivered him back to his car. Howard then said, "Do you want to come back to our place -- for a few days while Cole recovers?"
"Damn!" He started. "Oops! Dang -- do you mean it? Could you talk to my boss and tell him what happened, sir?"
"I could, but that wouldn't help you in the least. You make the call, and if there is any problem, we'll see what we can do."
Trembling, Chris dialed the hotel. "Sir? This is Christopher. Yes. Well, we had some difficulty -- yes one of my friends -- oh! Yes! Well, okay -- thanks! I'll be in tomorrow! Bye sir!" He hung up the phone. "He was so nice! He said they could cover my shift."
"You told us that they loved you!" I said.
"Guess I didn't believe it so much myself. Oh Cole -- I feel so bad about your -- er -- the accident. But -- um -- have you noticed anything?"
"Yeah, I have. You're not stuttering! But it may come back, especially when you go home. Just remember you can return to the cemetery any time you want."
"It's early, Cole, but are you as tired as I am?"
"I'm awfully tired." I agreed.
"It's only 7:30 boys. And if you don't eat something, you will wake up hungry in the middle of the night. Giselle will fix you some soup. And with any luck, the boys will return before you go to bed. I'm sure they will want to see you. They both were depressed when you left this morning."
Mrs. Poole said. We acquiesced.
As we were starting our soup Nick and Kian walked in. They both bolted for us when they saw us at the table.
"HALT!" Giselle commanded. "Ze boys had a grueling day. Be gentle. Ze Cole has been injured."
They stopped cold. "What first Gus and now you?" Said Kian, in a masculine voice. "Not another mugger!?"
"What happened?" Asked Nick. As I explained, they looked daggers at Chris.
"It's not his fault, guys. Stop! He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time -- doing as he was told -- by me!"
After a joyous reunion, Gus and I did go to bed. We were given a suite of rooms every bit as nice as those at the hotel. We soaked in a sunken roman style tub, then rinsed off in the generous shower attached. We went to bed.
Gus wrapped his body behind mine. As I relaxed into his arms, finally able to release what I was feeling, I started to sob. He joined me and we both cried ourselves to sleep.
I woke up and it was a little cold. Gus got an extra blanket from a hassock and snuggled up closer again and I went back to sleep in his arms. I dreamt that we were on a boat and I had already lost my sight. But it didn't matter, because Gus was now my eyes. He described everything to me and it was as if I could see it myself. When I woke up the next morning, I was greeted with total darkness, and then gradually light filled my eye until I could see clearly.
I didn't say anything to Gus about my dream -- or my experience waking up. But that was the last I ever worried about losing my sight -- or losing Gus. I was pretty sure the first would happen eventually, whether sooner or later -- but I was just as certain that Gus was mine forever. And for the time being, that's all that mattered.
Notes: We should all be so lucky in love. I know I wish I was! Comments may be sent to Steve at stevethomas535@hotmail.com Thanks and love! Steve