Welcome back. For disclaimers, see Chapter 1. Please, donate to Nifty to keep this free service going. Also, always be safe.
This is Marty's chapter. He beds with his little "brother", he learns of a boy in need, he celebrates a special birthday, and he plays baseball. But the toughest thing he has to do is confront Noah and try to get his young friend through a rough stretch.
Please write, I love your comments. Douglas at thehakaaen@hotmail.com.
CHAPTER 11 MENTORS (1)
[MARTY]
<Sunday, July 27>
One thing the program I am in tells us about staying sober is that our sobriety is a gift. And it says we have to give away that gift we got in order to keep it. Yeah, I know that sounds totally weird, but what it means is that by doing stuff that helps keep somebody else sober, what you're really doing is keeping yourself sober. When you help others do anything, you're helping yourself. It is all starting to make sense to me, which is what counts.
I went with Mr. B to the Sunday night meeting in Centralia. The last Sunday meeting of the month is birthday night, which means I was going to get one of those cheap plastic chips for being sober for six months. It actually has been almost seven months, but my sobriety date is January first, which makes July first six months. We get our chips on birthday night, so I just had to wait until that day came. Mr. B says it was just another way for me to learn patience and acceptance.
The last chip I got was my three month chip, but they skip the next two months before giving out another chip. I guess they think you're figuring things out better and don't need to have your butt patted every thirty days. The chip might have been plastic, but as far as I was concerned it was made of gold. I was pretty proud of my six months, especially since this time I was really trying to do all the shit everybody told me I was supposed to do to stay sober.
When I got my chip I was supposed to tell everybody what I did to stay sober for six months. Right then I wished I could've gone to the Saturday night youth meeting with Donald, but Bobby's memorial service had me coming here. I felt nervous telling a bunch of adults about the good things I'd been doing. But then I figured I'd talked in front of adults at team banquets and this wasn't any different. Besides, Mr. B, Donald, Bobby's mother Cindy, and even The Schnoz were all at the meeting. I knew they'd like whatever I had to say.
So my fourteen year old self told all these adults what I was doing to stay sober. I don't know if what I said made any sense, but they all told me to keep coming back.
After the meeting we had chocolate cake. It was store bought, which I like because store bought cakes have a ton of thick and sweet frosting on them.
Bobby's mother and Donald rode with us to the meeting, so of course they rode back to Mayfield with us. After Mr. B dropped them off, he asked if I wanted to go home or spend the night at his house. Since I knew that nobody at my house really cared all that much about my plastic birthday coin, I decided to spend the night at Mr. B's. I called my mom and she said she'd see me tomorrow. I wanted to show her my coin in the worst way, and I know she'd tell me it was nice that I got it. But she wouldn't really understand how important it was to me. My brother John would think it was cool, but that would be it. And as for my dad, well, he's probably sitting in his chair drunk by now.
When we got into Mr. B's house we were met by Hurricane Jeffrey, who tried his best to jump on us both at the same time to give us hugs and kisses. Mr. B's eight year son was wearing his Tigger pajamas. He finally ended up hanging on to me, his legs wrapped around my waist, and he busily kissed both of my cheeks and then my lips.
"Tigger helped me bounce right into your arms," he announced. "Are you staying the night? Can I see your coin?" Jeffrey can talk and ask questions non-stop, and will go on forever if you let him.
"Yes, I'm staying the night, and I'll have to put you down to show you my coin."
"Shit, I was hoping to hang on to you all night."
"Jeffrey!" Mr. B said sternly. "You know that language is not proper."
"I hear Marty say it all the time." I could feel myself blush and I worked hard to not have to look at Mr. B. Even so, I knew he was glaring right at me.
"Then you need to set the example for your older brother," Mr. B. said. Me and Jeffrey called each other brothers, which worked for me, since it's hard to call an eight year old your friend when you're fourteen.
Jeffrey giggled at his dad's comment, and then dropped down. I took my coin out of my pocket and showed it to him. He took it, held it a moment, and then handed it back. "I can't call you drunk boy any more."
"Well, you can't do it today, anyway," I said as I gave him a version of the "One Day at a Time" line.
Jeffrey tugged at my arm and asked me to tuck him in and read to him. "Then you can sleep with me," he added.
I told him I'd read to him but I wanted to talk to his dad about something and then I'd stay downstairs and sleep in the guest room.
"I don't think so," he said with his hands on his hips. "You're hardly here any more and I like it when you're here."
Mr. B laughed and told me to take care of Jeffrey. He said we could talk in the morning. Jeffrey grabbed me by the hand, then stopped and let go. He grabbed his dad by the waist and hugged him, then had his dad bend down so he could kiss him on his cheek. "I love you, daddy."
"I love you, too, son."
"And you love Marty, too."
"Yes, I love Marty, too."
"I'll tell Marty not to use the f-word tonight and I won't use it either."
"That sounds like an excellent idea, Jeffrey." I could see that Mr. B was working hard not to start rolling on the floor laughing.
Jeffrey and I went up to his room. I stripped down to my boxers and then we took care of brushing our teeth. I had my own toothbrush in the bathroom Jeffrey shared with his little brother, Sammy. I also had a spot in one of his dresser drawers where I kept some fresh underwear and a t-shirt.
After we got back to his room, Jeffrey took off his pajama top and we got into his bed. I knew he took his top off because I didn't have a shirt on. That was just the way he was.
He decided we were going to start reading "Charlotte's Webb". He told me his dad recommended it. "He said we should read a classic," Jeffrey said. "A classic is a book everybody thinks is extra good."
"Sounds like a plan to me." We got through the first chapter, but I knew the reading wouldn't go much farther and I was right. Jeffrey liked being petted by me and when he placed his hand on his skinny little chest I knew he was ready for petting.
Petting him means I rub his chest and his stomach and play with his little nipples, and then my hand goes to the waistband of his pajama pants. Then I pet some more, only now my hand slips inside his pajamas until I'm petting his smooth pubic area. And finally I play with his hard little dick and with his balls. It works the same way almost every time.
After I play with his dick he tells me to take off his bottoms. Once he's naked he wants to have a "Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeejay" which I eventually give to him. I like to tease him some by doing more petting of his naked body and his dick and balls before I suck him. When we get to the naked petting he starts tugging on my underpants and I pull them off. That leads him to say, "You're really big and you got the baby stuff leaking out again," or something close to that. He then puts his little hand around it and jerks it a few times, making me moan a little.
When he gets tired of that he says again that he wants a "Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeejay", and I put his hard little dick in my mouth and suck on it. Sometimes I put his balls in at the same time. He's so little I can do that. He rubs on my cock while I suck on his until he gets "the cum feeling" and has a dry cum that makes him shake.
Usually he finishes me off, but he also likes to watch me jerk myself off. Either way I have a nice orgasm. He loves watching me shoot over myself. We both take a taste of my cum, I clean myself off, and we stay naked and fall asleep. I tried hard not to cuss when I came, and I succeeded. But I knew I'd be saying fuck again—for some reason I just gotta cuss when I cum.
Jeffrey has asked if he could suck on my cock, but I told him he has to wait until he gets older. No way am I going to cum in the mouth of a little eight year old kid, even one as wild about sex stuff as Jeff is. That doesn't mean he hasn't licked my cock a couple of times, but no way he blows me. Maybe when he's twelve or thirteen, if he still likes doing this kind of stuff, I'll think about it.
So, we slept naked. Jeff loves cuddling up to me when we do that, and I like it, too. It's way different than with Rich. If I had to pick between the two, I'd pick Rich. I mean it's way different having sex with somebody who actually knows something about sex than having it with a little kid. But, I love the Hurricane. Making out with him is special in its own way. And, having his smooth little body against mine does feel pretty damned good.
<Monday, July 28>
The next morning I woke up before he did. I managed to get out of the bed without waking him and took a shower. I was back in the bedroom getting dressed when his eyes blinked open.
"Hi, Marty."
"Hey little dude.
"I wanted to shower with you."
"Next time."
"You promise?"
"Total promise, little dude." That is how I now told him that I was giving him my most solemn of promises.
"Cool, it was fun last night. I like being petted and sucked. I wish you lived here and were here every night. This would be both our rooms."
"It wouldn't be as much fun if we did it every day." As much as I loved the Hurricane, the thought of sharing the same bedroom and bed every night with him gave me shivers.
"It would be zillions of times more fun, because we'd have fun every day instead of just sometimes." Since I knew I would never win a war of words with Jeff, I said nothing and finished dressing.
"I'll see you downstairs later," I said.
"Have fun talking to daddy. And tell my mom I want French toast for breakfast."
I headed downstairs, gave Mrs. B Jeffrey's breakfast order, knowing she was going to make whatever she wanted to make. Mrs. B said the coffee was ready and I poured me a cup. Yep, coffee. I've kind of picked up a taste for it. I mean it's what everybody drinks at the meetings, so I figured I might as well join them. . I found Mr. B in the solarium. We exchanged good mornings and talked a little. He then asked me what I wanted to talk about.
"Well, you're my sponsor, and my teacher, and things like that when it comes to staying sober."
"You could call me your mentor, too."
"Yeah, mentor. That's a pretty good word. Well, what I wanted to know, how do I know when to become a, well, a mentor? I mean we're supposed to help people, but it's hard for me when I'm just fourteen, to help somebody else stay sober."
"That's a good question, Marty. First, you help somebody every time you go to a meeting and share your story. You help somebody by being sober, especially when we know how your peers sometimes pressure you to drink. You help your brother and your parents by staying sober.
"I even help my dad?"
"Yes, you do."
"Damn. Well anyway, yeah, my friends always want me to drink. They don't get that I can't do it. Connor is always trying to get me to drink." I used to not tell Mr. B when my friends talked to me about drinking, but now I do tell him, because I know talking about it helps keep me from listening to them and drinking.
"As far as finding somebody to help...well, the best way to find somebody is to not look."
"Huh?"
"When the time comes for you to step up, you will know it. You have a great instinct for dealing with people. You will know when the time comes."
"And if it does, will you help me if I need it?"
"Always, son. I am always here for you."
We were interrupted by Mrs. B calling us to breakfast. Jeffrey got his wish—French toast, along with bacon and orange juice, as well as coffee for me and the adults. I didn't know it then, but my chance to be a mentor and a sponsor would happen not once, but twice in the next few days.
Mr. B said he had to get to work and asked if I wanted a ride home. He was working at his Mayfield office so he was able to sleep in a little bit later. I told him I didn't mind walking home, so he took off for work.
I spent part of the morning playing board games with Jeff. We even let his little brother Sammy play some. Sammy is five and the opposite of Jeffrey. He is quiet and easy going, but really friendly in his own way.
I left around eleven. Jeff begged me to say, but I said I had things to do. Truth be told, I could handle only so much game playing with two little kids.
On the way home I went a couple of blocks out of my way, although I couldn't really tell you why. My route took me past Randy's house. I guess I just wanted to see it. Randy was going to be a frosh like me. He was the one who sold me my booze and weed when I had the money for it. I went to a couple of pretty crazy parties there, too. I knew it was silly of me to go past the house and I decided to get moving fast, but moving fast isn't what happened. Randy must have seen me out of the window because the door opened and he yelled at me. I thought about just moving on like I hadn't heard him, but that would look kind of stuck up, so I stopped and walked into his front yard.
"Hey, Randy."
"Marty, wazzup?" Randy stood at the door and didn't come out. I could see he was just wearing a pair of black boxer-shorts.
"Nothin' much, just walking home."
"I haven't seen you much this summer.
"I've been busy with baseball and shit."
"Come on in and let's chat some."
"I gotta get home. I got things to do and then practice later; maybe some other time." I was about to turn and leave when I saw something move behind Randy. I was gonna ignore it, but for whatever reason I didn't. Later I would think about how I went a couple of blocks out of my way, and then how I waited to see who was behind Randy, when I could have walked away.
What I saw was Dallas, who was a little sixth grader I'd seen once at a party. He was totally and thoroughly wasted at that party. Even I wasn't wasted like that when I was in sixth grade. Buzzed, maybe even drunk sometimes, but at least I waited until seventh grade to start getting really drunk on my ass. He was standing behind Randy, his head peeking around. I stepped into the house to see more of him.
Randy stepped aside to let me in, and then I could see all of Dallas. He was wearing nothing but a pair of saggy white briefs which had seen their better days. They were grayish in color, except for the front which was yellow. I could smell the pee on him. He had a paper cup in his hand and took a swig out of it.
"JD," Dallas said. "Good breakfasssht." He was teetering some and there was no question he was drunk, and it wasn't even noon yet.
"Hey, Dallas. Looks like you had a fun night."
"The besht. Want me to suck your dick? I sucked dicks. Lots of dicks." He took another swig from the cup. I had an image in my head of my last party when I drank hard alcohol like water and ended up in the hospital.
"Dallas is the coolest eleven year old on the planet," Randy said.
"I'm twelve."
"Not yet. I got your birthday party planned. You should come, Marty. It's going to be the biggest middle school blast in the history of this sorry town. Drink and toke until you drop."
Dallas staggered away from us, his briefs hanging low enough that his crack showed over the top of the waistband. Dallas was actually pretty cute and had a fine looking little ass. Even so, he looked like hell.
"He's kinda young for that, don't you think?" I said, knowing I sounded stupid. Randy thought I sounded stupid, too.
"Fuck, Marty, when did you become a pure boy? We were doing the same shit back when we were his age, probably worse. And his old lady don't mind. Says being here partying keeps him out of her hair while she's busy fucking whoever it is she fucks." Dallas's mom sounded like what Bobby's mom used to be like, only Bobby never let himself go to shit because of it.
Dallas came back with a loaded pipe and a match, asking Randy if he would light it for him.
"Stupid little fucker can't light his own pipe," Randy said. Randy lit it, taking a long toke and handed it to Dallas, who took an extensive, deep hit.
"Fuuuuuuuuck, good shit," Dallas said, his high pitched boy's voice sounding scratchy. "Wanna take a hit, Marty?"
I shook my head no.
Randy gave me a disgusted look. "Come on Marty, you're being totally weird. Hit some weed with us. I mean some of your teammates have been here buying the shit, so it's not like you'd be the only one. I've sold some to Connor and to Vince."
Truth was I did want to take a hit. I wanted it bad. I wanted a paper cup full of Jack Daniels. I could feel myself shaking I wanted it so bad. I was in the wrong place and I knew it. Stay away from slippery places, I kept being told, and this place was about as slippery as it gets. I felt really and truly about to slip.
I put my right hand in my pocket and felt my six month coin. I'd forgotten it was there. I clutched it hard, trying to squeeze some good mojo out of it. "I better go," I said. I didn't wait for anybody to say anything. I turned and went out the door. I could hear Randy saying something, but I shut it out. I knew he wanted me to come back, and I wanted to go back, to get high, to pull the dirty briefs off of Dallas and suck his little pissy cock, to be stoned and get my dick sucked. But I walked away—this time.
One good thing did happen at Randy's house; I saw a very fucked up little boy, who I would not forget. For some reason, he would also not forget me. It would take time, but Dallas and I would end up being good for each other.
When I got home I called Donald and told him about what happened, leaving out the sex part of it. He came over to my house and we talked. He said what I already knew. "You can't ever go back to that house. Ever."
"I know." And I never did, except for one time.
By the time afternoon came I was feeling a bit more grounded. I showed up for practice early. Noah's older brother dropped him off just after I showed. I said hi, but Noah didn't say anything back. Later, after Eric came, he got the same response. "Noah's eyes are dead again," Eric said later. "I'm worried about him."
I was worried too, but I also knew there was nothing I could do. It was up to his parents to help him though all of his shit. I didn't know Noah well enough to help and I didn't know enough about how to help even if he wanted me to.
After practice I went to Rich's house and spent the night. Like I said, as much as I love Jeffrey, having sex with Rich was way better. I fucked him and kissed him and loved him. Rich is maybe the sweetest person I know, and it still ate at me how I treated him in my dark days.
<Tuesday, July 29>
[MARTY]
That evening we played Lacy in the first round of the league tournament. The tournament was double elimination and was being held in Monte, which meant we had the long drive there and back. Luckily we had the early 5:30 game.
Rodney was the starting pitcher. He'd had a bad game against Lacy the week before, but that was our first game after Bobby's accident. This time he was lights out and we ended up winning 4-1. I have to admit I helped by hitting a two-run homer in the fifth inning to give us a 3-1 lead. Mr. B and Jeff were at the game and I could hear the Hurricane cheer the whole time I ran around the bases. I do so love that little fucker.
Noah seemed to be in better spirits than at practice. He asked to be the person to hang Bobby's uniform shirt in the dugout. It was an emotional moment for the team.
The first thing he did with the shirt was to carry it out of the dugout and rub in the grass and dirt, putting a stain on it. Then he hung it up and carefully pinned a picture of Bobby to the uniform. I swear I was this close to losing it and bawling my eyes out. We all were.
Noah played two innings at second and got to bat. He ended up flying out to left. What he didn't do was his usual cheering and chatter in the dugout. Like Eric said, he just didn't have the same life in him.
Our next game was going to be Friday. Coach said we'd have practice on Thursday. What I didn't know was that I would miss that practice and have two of the most intense days I could remember.
As we left the field Rich asked if I minded if he invited Eric to spend the night. He said he felt Eric was being left out of things since he and Scott quit being really close. I said I didn't have a problem with it. Eric was the guy on the team I felt closest to after Rich.
Eric smiled when we asked him over. His parents gave the okay and he hopped into Rich's van with me and Mikey, Rich's little brother. As for me, it was going to be my third straight night away from home, which I'm sure my mom and dad didn't like, but you know what? I didn't really give a shit.
<Wednesday, July 30>
[MARTY]
We woke up pretty late in the morning. Mikey and Rich slept in Rich's bed while me and Eric were laid out on the floor with some blankets over us. I'd sucked Eric's cock twice and he did me once. Damn, he's a really good cocksucker. No way can Scott's girlfriend suck Scott like Eric had. Mikey sucked Eric off, too, while me and Rich fucked on Rich's bed. Eric is a really horny dude, but seeing as he's going to be thirteen on Sunday I guess I can understand it.
I felt sorry for him in a way. I mean here we are in the league tournament on the weekend of his birthday—his thirteenth birthday even. He's gonna be a teenager and he can't even schedule a party because he doesn't know when our game is going to be. After winning yesterday we're going to have one game on Saturday for sure, and could have even more depending on how our Friday and Saturday games went. We could even be playing on Sunday.
I got up to pee. I found my boxers on the floor and put them on. I sure didn't want to run into Rich's parents with no clothes on. When I got back, everybody was awake except for Eric. From what Eric says the fact we all woke up ahead of him has to be looked at as being weird. He keeps bragging about being a morning person and getting up early all the time. Of course Rich and I gave him a raft of shit after we shook him awake. And being the good sport he is, he gave it right back to us.
We all went to the kitchen to eat. We didn't bother to put any clothes on. I really didn't need to put my boxers on to pee. I forgot it was Wednesday and his `rents were at work. Oh well, I didn't have them on for long. We got us some breakfast and then had some morning sex. I got to sixty-nine with Mikey while Eric and Rich did the same thing next to us. It was pretty hot to see one of my best friends having sex with my boyfriend.
Wait? Did I say boyfriend? Hmm, maybe I need to talk with him about that, even if it kind of scares me.
After our sex we showered keeping the same pairs, but none of us had another cum. Eric had worn his uniform here and so had I, but I kept some clothes at Rich's house now. Eric had worn some gym shorts under his uni, plus he had his undershirt, so at least he didn't have to walk home wearing his uniform. We packed up our gear and headed out. I had to go by Eric's house to get to mine, so we decided to walk together as far as his house.
And who should we come across on the way but Randy and little Dallas. They were both carrying plastic bags from the grocery store that was downtown.
"Hey, guys," Randy said. "Want some candy?" He opened his bag to show us what he had.
"Looks like you guys cleaned up," Eric said.
"Gotta spend my money somewhere. Besides it's good for the munchies." That got Dallas to start giggling.
I looked over at Dallas to see if he was stoned or something, but his eyes looked clear. He looked a lot better than the last time I saw him. Other than the times I saw him in school this might be the only time I've seen him when he wasn't fucked up.
"You guys want to come by my place and get messed up with us?" Randy asked.
"Is that all you do is get messed up every day?" Eric asked.
"Nothing else to do all summer," Randy said. Dallas shook his head in agreement. "Smoke some killer weed and have killer sex. That's what life's all about. You know that, Marty. Quit being a dweeb and party with us. You too, Eric. Time you learned to live some."
"It's cool," Eric said. "I think I live pretty good without that stuff." As far as I know Eric has never even had a buzz, let alone gotten fucked up.
"One of your friends doesn't think so," Randy said. "It was his money we spent at the store. And here I thought he was the ultimate geek."
Eric looked at me and I looked at him and I think we both got the same shot of fear in our guts. "What friend was that?" Eric asked in a scared sounding voice.
"The little dude with the glasses. You know, the one with all the brains. Looks like he's figured out he needs more than brains for the summer. A little weed and booze helps too. Gotta be tough to have a friend kick the bucket like his did."
"He bought weed and booze?" Eric asked. I knew Eric was upset, because he usually doesn't go asking dumb questions about stuff he already knows the answer to. As for me, I was ready to clean Randy's clock for his stupid "kick the bucket" comment.
"Hell yeah. Some killer bud from Canada and Marty's fave booze."
"Must be vodka."
"Hell yeah. I always had dad stock vodka at the house cuz that's what you loved to buy."
"Hey, we gotta get going," I said. "See ya around."
"You gonna go get high with your little dweeby buddy? He looked like he could use some company, maybe some help. I have a feeling he don't have a clue how to roll a joint or hit the bud."
"Maybe," I said. "Come on Eric, we gotta get to your house in time for lunch." I didn't want to say anything else in front of Randy. I knew Eric was upset about the news and I knew I was upset, too, especially with Randy's cold blooded talk about kicking the bucket and shit. We needed to go figure out what to do. Eric's house was just a couple of blocks away and we got there in record time.
"We gotta get over to Noah's house now," Eric said. "We gotta stop him."
"Ain't no way we can stop him from getting messed up if that's what he wants to do."
"So we aren't going to do anything?"
"You're not going to do anything," I said. "I'm going over to Noah's house to chat with him."
"I want to be there, too."
"Let me try first. I've been there and done that when it comes to getting fucked up because I think life sucks. If I think I need you, I'll call, so hang loose. But first, what's for lunch?"
"You have to go now," Eric said. "Every second counts."
"He got the stuff a couple of hours ago. He's either started using it or he hasn't. Either way, I'm hungry and I don't want to worry about eating when I get there. I need me on a full stomach to do this."
I don't think Eric agreed with where I was coming from, but he gave in and got out the fixings for a sandwich. I wolfed the sandwich down along with an apple and a can of soda. I felt ready to tackle whatever it was I had to tackle.
"I'm gonna jog over there, so I'm leaving my gear here." I've taken up jogging to get into better shape and I've found that I love it. I like to run the jogging trail in the park. Sometimes I run with Mr. B, who got me started.
Going over to Noah's I did more of a sprint than a jog. I was pretty sweaty by the time I got to his house. Mayfield wasn't a very big town, but it was big enough that Noah's house was over a mile away from Eric's.
When I got there I rang the doorbell. Shane answered the door. Like me he was going to be a freshman. We've had lots of classes together but we weren't really friends.
"Hi, Marty. What are you doing here?"
"Just wanted to check on Noah. Is he home?"
"I think he's down at the cabana. I saw him go there awhile ago. I thought he was going to come out and swim, but I never saw him, so I don't know what he's doing."
Shane led me to the back of the house and out on the deck. I've been here a few times and told him I knew where to go. I went past the pool and down the steps leading to the door of the cabana. I knocked, but nobody answered. I figured, what the hell, Shane knows I'm here, I'll just go ahead and walk in if the door wasn't locked. It wasn't and I stepped inside. The blinds were all closed and the lights were off. I could see Noah sitting on the couch staring at nothing. He was wearing just a pair of shorts.
"Who is it?" Noah said. I couldn't tell if he was under the influence of not. I didn't smell marijuana smoke, but I could smell the fresh bud. As my eyes adjusted I could see the vodka bottle and the weed on the small table in the middle of the room.
"It's Marty. I just came to check how you were doing. I heard from Randy about what you bought from him."
"I'm doing great, as you can tell. So you can go now." This was not the Noah I knew. That Noah was the sweetest person you'd ever want to meet.
"Maybe I don't want to go."
"And maybe I don't want you here." It was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Unless you want to show me how to smoke this stuff. I thought, after looking it up on the net, that it would be easy to roll a joint and take a hit. I haven't gotten step one figured out yet."
"So you just drank the vodka instead?" I asked, testing out the waters.
"Oh no, not yet. That's for tonight after mom and dad go to bed. I think they could tell if I'm drunk, but they don't expect me to get high, so I bet they would have no clue." I knew he was wrong about that, but I didn't disagree with him.
"Why do you want to get messed up?" I asked the question even though I knew exactly why he wanted to get high.
"Because life sucks; it hurts."
"Lots of things in life hurt. Part of us growing up is us learning how to live with things that hurt. Me and Eric were together when Randy told us about you buying all of this shit. Eric wanted to come, but I told him I wanted to be the one to help you not do this."
"That sounds weird coming from you. You're supposed to be the Mayfield Middle School drunk."
I pulled my six month coin out of my pocket, walked over to the couch, and sat next to him. I took his hand and placed the coin in it. "It ain't much, but I earned it. It was one of the toughest things I've ever done in my life and it won't get easier. And since I am the Mayfield Middle School drunk, I don't want you to see things like I did. This shit doesn't help anything."
"But you never hurt like I do. Your boyfriend isn't dead."
"There are other things that are painful. Just living with my old man is a start." I thought about ending it there, but I didn't. I told him what it was like to live with a parent who didn't love me. I told him how figuring out I was gay was painful for me, even if it hadn't been for him. I told him about my coach, who had me sucking his dick when I was ten and wouldn't ever return the favor; who never did anything to make me feel good. I told him how I made myself miserable by doing everything I could to ruin all the good things I had, like Rich, and baseball, and football, and my other friends. I told him about how being alone, and worse, being lonely, and not having a single friend I could trust was painful.
"But all the pain went away when you got drunk and stoned didn't it?"
"Yeah, sometimes. But it all came back the next day, sometimes even worse. So I got fucked up to make it go away again, and then it came back again, so I got fucked up again, but the pain kept coming back. Only it wasn't pain, it was misery."
"What's the difference?"
"From what I've learned, pain is part of life that we gotta just learn to deal with. It happens and we can't control it. But misery...well, misery is something we make for ourselves. I was miserable because I never wanted to deal with all the things that hurt. I just wanted it to go away, not learn how to live with it and let life go on, so I got fucked up almost every day to kill my misery, only it never worked."
"It had to work sometimes."
"Maybe it worked when I started, but not at the end when I quit. I got a lot to learn about living, and sometimes I still don't want to learn it. But what I have learned is if I try to drink and toke my misery away, it's only gonna get worse. Nothing ever got better because I got drunk over it. Nothing. Ever. Lots of days things still hurt, but I'm learning right now how not to be miserable. And like Mr. B. tells me, I'm always welcome to go out and drink and he'll gladly refund my misery. I don't want to grow up being miserable, so I keep not drinking every day."
I hadn't realized until then that Noah and I had both of our hands together and they were clasped around the coin. We sat there quietly, holding hands, saying nothing. I could tell Noah was thinking. I was hoping his brain was working the way it usually worked. He might just be twelve, but he was smarter about life than half the adults I knew, especially my old man. But this afternoon, I knew a little more about the shitty parts of life than he did.
"What if I could have kept the accident from happening? Shouldn't that make me feel miserable?"
"Noah, that's dumb. There's no way you could have kept it from happening."
"But what if?"
"That's another thing I'm learning, I think. I'm learning that we can't play the `what if' game. It just makes you...well...I guess it makes you miserable."
"I never told him to..."
"To what?"
"Never mind."
We sat awhile longer when Noah let go of my hand. But he kept the coin in his. "Can you get another one of these?"
"Sure, I think so anyway. Why?"
Noah stood up. He grabbed the baggie of weed and the paper. He walked into the bathroom and dumped the weed into the toilet. He came back and took the bottle, returned to the bathroom and poured it into the toilet. Truth be told, it kind of hurt to see perfectly good weed and vodka being thrown out. I had a lot of friends who could have used it, but I didn't say anything. I knew I didn't want to be in charge of it, because that would be totally slippery. I was amazed that the whole time I was sitting here with all that good shit right in front of me that I'd had no desire to use it. That was way different from how I felt when I was at Randy's house.
I heard the toilet flush and Noah came back out, sat next to me, and finally answered my question. "I want a coin to remind me that it's okay to hurt, but not okay to be miserable."
"What if I get you a different coin? One that fits you."
"What?"
"A twenty-four hour coin. It will remind you that every day you can make your own misery if you want. But it will also tell you that every day you don't have to make yourself miserable if you live life right."
"I like it."
We sat again for a long time. Once again Noah broke the silence. "You and me, we've never had any kind of sex."
"No, we haven't." I wondered where he was going.
"It's cool that you're gay. I mean you're a gay stud like I'm a gay nerd."
"You're no nerd, Noah."
I'm no stud either, so maybe I'm a gay geek. That has a nice sound to it. But I asked because I wanted you to know that you can have sex with me if you want."
"I don't want to."
"Don't you think I'm cute and sexy?"
"I think you're both. But that's not why I came."
"I know, but I just wanted you to know how I felt. I haven't thought about sex since the accident. I haven't even jerked off."
"I guess things are getting a little better if you're at least thinking a little bit about sex."
"Dr. Sabine says it will take time for me to get better. She says she can help. But she's a real dweeb. You helped me more than she ever has. Thanks Marty."
"Not a problem. That's what friends are for."
"I'm glad you're my friend. And I am going to have sex with you, just not now. But when it feels right, will you let me have sex with you?"
I answered without hesitation. "Yes, I will."
Noah gave me his big smile, one I haven't see on him since the accident, and I bet nobody else has either.
"I owe you an apology by the way," I said.
"You do?"
"Yeah. I once called you a something like a four-eyed gay geek . I was wrong. You're no geek, even if it sounds cool to say it. You're smart and caring and wonderful and a good friend. Bobby was lucky to have you in his life." And with that another amends was taken care of.
"I never heard you call me a gay geek, or I don't remember it."
"I remember, and I wanted you to know that's not what I think of you."
Noah got up again, opened the blinds and let light into the room. He pulled off his shorts and tight red briefs, standing naked in front of me. "Maybe we won't have sex today, but nothing says we can't go out skinny dipping for awhile. Wanna do it?"
My answer was me standing up and undressing as fast as I could. We ran out into the warm, sunny afternoon and joined Shane and Nicky, who were already in the pool. The brothers were surprised and pleased to see Noah come out to join them. After we splashed and swam for awhile, Noah came up next to me, his smooth, naked body touching mine.
"Did you know that Bobby and I were cum brothers? We mixed our cums and rubbed it all over our bodies. Is that cool or what?"
"Yeah, it's cool," I said. And it was cool. I wished I had a cum buddy I could do shit like that with.
"Do you think his cum is inside me somehow. I mean, since we're cum brothers, not because we had sex. That it all soaked through my skin and never got digested like cum I swallowed."
"I'm sure it's in you somewhere."
"I'll try not to be miserable. I was thinking—when I learned about meditating my mind felt so good when I did it right. I looked inside me to feel good instead of looking outside of me."
"That makes sense, I guess." I wasn't sure if it made sense or not, but I felt like he wanted me to agree and I couldn't think of any reason not to.
"So, if I look inside me, I feel the hurt and the pain. But if I look outside, I get miserable. I guess I'll try meditating."
"Just stay away from the bad shit you wanted to use and you'll be okay."
"Thanks, Marty." He looked at me with a sweet, yet sad look on his face. "What are you going to tell Eric?"
"The truth."
"Good."
And so I helped Noah without him even taking a drink. I don't know if he would have gone through with it. I have this feeling that he wouldn't have. I mean he had plenty of time to drink and toke before I got there. I think he was just making an excuse not to get high when he told me he didn't know how. But I might be wrong. All I know is, I was willing to give away what it was I got from being sober. I knew it felt really good, especially when I could give it to somebody who was becoming one of my best friends. I was hoping he'd listened to what I said and not have to go through the misery I did in order to learn. But I was going to find out that maybe he still had things to learn.
Next: Mentors-2