Welcome Back. The disclaimers from Chapter One apply now and forever. Please, donate to the Nifty Archive. Be safe—always.
This chapter is about Marty and Rich. It is about Rich finally getting a backbone, and Marty realizing who his real family is after being forced to make some tough decisions.
Please write. Douglas at thehakaanen@hotmail.com
CHAPTER 19 MARTY AND RICH
<Saturday, November 22, Rich's house>
Things became routine for the eighth graders at Mayfield Middle School, as well as for the freshmen at the high school, as Thanksgiving break approached. Football, soccer, school, and homework occupied much of their time. The building of relationships was also a part of their lives, as were attacks of teenage angst (not to mention an occasional zit or two).
With football and soccer finished, the thoughts and energy of many boys turned away from sports. Lars, Hunter, the twins, Chandler, Korey, Jerome, and Rodney played basketball, and their turnouts had started. For whatever reason, be it the end of fall sports, the alignment of the planets, storms on the sun, or just coincidence, the foundations of the relationships of the couples who would still be together at the state tournament in Pasco a little over three years later would be laid over the next few months. One of the first to admit that they were boyfriends was Rich and Marty. After months of waffling, Rich was finally ready to commit and stay committed.
It started while they were sitting on the sofa at Rich's house watching the University of Washington Huskies playing the Washington State Cougars in the annual Apple Cup football game. Mikey was sprawled prone on the floor and Rich's dad was in his favorite chair. Normally Rich and Marty would have at least half the couch between them, if for no other reason than it looked good. The two freshmen didn't want Rich's parents to get the "wrong" idea. They didn't particularly care what Mikey thought since he knew the two of them were sexually active. He often participated in the fun with them.
This time, however, Marty couldn't help but notice how close Rich was to him. Nor could he help but notice how Rich seemed to keep edging closer until his leg and Rich's leg were touching. Soon, their bodies were against each other, causing Marty to wonder just what Rich was thinking. It wasn't that he minded Rich touching him, he loved it in fact. He was just worried what Rich's dad would think if he looked at them carefully.
Rich's next move sent a jolt of electricity surging through Marty's body. He put his hand on top of Marty's and then squeezed it tightly. The next thing Marty knew they were holding hands right there on the couch with Rich's dad sitting in the same room. Rich's advances had Marty turned on and somewhat frightened at the same time. Mikey turned and looked at them as a commercial break began. The eleven year old could easily see his brother and Marty holding hands, something Rich's father wouldn't be able to observe without getting out of his chair, which he did just after Mikey turned his head.
"Time for another beer," he said as he left the room. The two teens promptly let their hands go free.
Mikey raised himself off the floor and sat next to Rich. "You guys are being nasty," he said.
"All we're doing is holding hands," Rich said.
"That's gay stuff."
"Like you don't do gay stuff?"
"That's different. We're just messing around. You're acting like he's your girlfriend or something."
"Who are you calling a girl?" Marty asked with a smile.
"You know what I mean." Mikey couldn't quite explain what his point was even though he knew what he meant to say.
"No, I'm afraid I don't."
"When a guy sits with his girlfriend watching television, they hold hands. But if it's two guys doing it, then that means they must be gay or something."
"It might," Rich said. "But one of them can't be a girlfriend since he's a boy."
"But then the other guy would have to be a boyfriend since they're both...um...you know, like, both gay."
"Something like that," Marty said as he looked Rich in the eye.
Rich's dad came back with a bottle of beer and poured it into the glass he had set on the table next to his chair. As soon as Rich felt it was safe, he wrapped his hand around Marty's again. Mikey stared at the spot where the two hands were.
"Mikey, quit staring," Rich whispered.
"Sorry, it's just that it's so..."
"Mikey!" Mikey quickly looked away and back at the game.
"Is something wrong?" Rich's dad asked.
"No, everything's cool," Rich said.
"Is your brother right about that?" he asked Mikey.
"Yes, sir, he is," Mikey said.
"I'll take your word for it."
The game soon started to get out of control. When the Huskies kicked a field goal to take a 34-7 lead at the start of the fourth quarter, Rich told Marty that they needed to talk. Marty told Rich there was no doubt about that. The two young teens let go of each other and started off to Rich's bedroom.
"You guys aren't going to watch the thrilling conclusion?" Rich's dad asked.
"The game's getting boring," Rich said. "We're going to my room to chill."
Rich and Marty didn't notice that Mikey was behind them until they entered Rich's room.
"Scat!" Rich said. "Marty and I have things we need to talk about."
"Like holding hands and being boyfriends?" Mikey asked.
"Something like that."
"Can I listen?"
"It's private stuff."
"But I want to find out if you're gonna be gay or not," Mikey said with a bit of a whine to his voice.
"I promise that when we figure it out you'll be the first to know."
"Okay." Mikey knew that Rich always followed up on his promises. Rich had learned that by doing so it made life between him and his little brother much less difficult. Mikey was much more willing to do what he was asked knowing that his brother would follow through on whatever it was that was promised. "But you're gonna have to tell me which one is the girl." Mikey slipped out of the room, leaving Rich and Marty alone with each other.
"You got really weird on me all of a sudden," Marty said.
"How?"
"You know how. You were almost sitting on top of me and then you started holding my hand."
"I didn't notice you moving away or letting go of my hand."
"Good point. But how come you all of a sudden wanted to do that?" Marty saw that Rich was somewhat flushed by the question.
Rich took a deep breath as he sat on his bed. "Come sit next to me," the slender thirteen year old told his friend. Marty obliged and wasn't surprised when Rich took hold of his hand again.
"So, tell me what's going on," Marty said.
"I've been thinking about what you said back when Trish and me broke up. You know, about being boyfriends and stuff."
"I talked about being boyfriends more often than that. I seem to remember you agreeing to us being boyfriends and saying you were probably gay. I can remember that the next day you'd act like you never said anything. What kind of thoughts do you have this time?"
"I guess I want us to be boyfriends."
"You mean you really are gay?" Marty asked. "Or is it just how you feel today?"
"I dunno, but it's not like what Mikey said. He made it sound like we were going to decide if we're going to be gay, and that's not how it works is it?"
"It didn't work that way for me. I kept trying to decide NOT to be gay, and that sure as fuck didn't work too good."
"What if I said I'm not sure if I am gay or not? I mean I'm only thirteen, right?"
"I knew it when I was thirteen," fifteen year old Marty said. "Hell, I knew it when I was younger than that, I just couldn't admit it. But the way I see it, shit or get off the pot. I'm tired of this gay today and let's be boyfriends, followed by straight tomorrow and forget about being boyfriends. I just want to know, one way or the other."
"I could never get turned on by Trish," Rich said. "At least not the way I get turned on by you. I missed you so much when you left me I had to find me a girl. I knew I wasn't going to find me a boy."
"You know how I feel," Marty said. "I told you I want us to be boyfriends, and I still do."
"Why me? Why not somebody else, like Eric, who you said you have a crush on."
"Having a fucking crush is not the same as...the same as...," Marty's voice faded down to nothing.
"The same as what?" Rich asked in a hoarse whisper.
Marty squeezed Rich's hand. "Not the same as loving somebody." Marty then planted a kiss on Rich's lips and the two were quickly side-by-side on the bed, kissing each other with a sudden burst of passion. They were soon groping each other, grabbing at each other's clothes, pulling things off, rubbing body parts, tossing clothes on the bed, on the floor, off the wall, rolling around the bed naked. They were lost in each other in a way they had never been before. They both wanted more than what was happening, but they didn't want to break off their kisses, or let their bodies break apart, or stop their hard, leaking teen cocks from rubbing against each other.
The only noise in the room was the sound of their bodies moving and thrusting, their heavy breathing, their kissing, the lower range moan of Marty and the higher range of Rich's not yet breaking voice. They were horny, passionate, young, and soon cumming almost simultaneously over each other's cocks, bellies, chests, and pubic hair. Even when they finished they couldn't stop kissing, they couldn't let go of each other. They both had wanted to fuck, but in a piece of young adolescent irony they couldn't let go of each other long enough to decide who was going to do what. And when they finally had their orgasms, they both sensed that the way they had achieved their climaxes was the way it had to happen—it had made them equals in sex.
"That was fucking amazing," Marty finally said somewhat breathlessly. "I guess that makes us boyfriends."
"I guess it does," Rich said. "Um...except for one problem."
"Problem? What problem? Like you're not going to tell Mikey—is that the problem? Or is the problem that you want to be able change your mind tomorrow?"
"It's not like that. I deserve your being mad at me for always wussing out. But the problem is that one reason to be boyfriends is so we can hold hands on the couch watching TV without being afraid of being caught."
"What the fuck are you saying?"
"I'm saying if we're going to be boyfriends, I want my parents to know along with Mikey."
"No fucking way, dude. They'll kill us both."
"Trust me, I know they won't."
"You know this how?"
"I just know. I mean I live here, right? I hear what they say about stuff. Mom is always saying how we must be really special friends because you spend so many nights here. What I'm saying is I think they already know about us."
"If you tell them, they'll tell my parents."
"Not if we ask them not to," Rich said.
Marty looked right into Rich's eyes. "But they're adults. Who knows what the fuck they'll do?"
"That means that you don't want to be boyfriends?"
"It means I do want to be boyfriends. But, if anybody tells my `rents it's gonna be me, and I'm not ready to do that, because my dad really will kill me."
"Then when will you be ready to tell them?"
Marty draped his arm around Rich's bare shoulder. "You don't want secrets from your parents, right?"
"I got secrets. All kids do. But I don't want this to be a secret. I don't know...I just want an answer. I want to know what it's going to be between us."
Marty squeezed Rich with his strong young arm. "Yeah, you deserve that after all the shit I've given you the last year, although you gave me a little of it back with you being so wishy-washy. How about we do it like this—I'll talk about it with Mr. B. and see what he says. And I'll make up my mind how I want to do this by, um, well, by the time baseball starts."
"That's too late. I can't wait that long. I want to know one way or the other."
Marty wanted to make a remark about how Rich had kept him hanging with his constantly changing his mind. But he knew he was the one harboring a resentment right then, and he knew he had to let that resentment die. So he elected to say nothing. "Then, how about the first of the year? Can you be a secret gay boyfriend until then?"
This time, Rich hugged Marty. "I guess I can. Do you promise to tell me one way or the other by then?"
"I promise and I hope my promise is gold."
"Your promises didn't used to be," Rich said. "But they are now."
<Thursday, November 27. Marty's house>
[MARTY]
After what Rich told me, I really wanted to talk to Sparky bad. But it was the week before Thanksgiving and nobody had time for talking. We had to skip our regular Wednesday meeting because he had relatives at his house. His sister and brother-in-law and their kids were visiting: two boys and a girl. I never met them, but I've seen pictures and the two boys were really fucking gorgeous. They were thirteen and eleven. Their sister was sixteen, I think.
My Thanksgiving was going to be at home with mom, dad, John, and no relatives. We didn't have any relatives who lived nearby. My dad had a brother who lived in Idaho and my mom had a brother who was in the army in Iraq. Dad's brother had five kids. His wife popped the newest one last summer and the oldest one was a thirteen year old boy named Joey. I think he and his brother, Dusty, might be alkies like me. Dusty is only eleven.
We went to Idaho to visit a couple of times. One time we visited was when I was twelve and my cousins were eleven and nine. They were already high on weed when we got there. When our parents started partying, so did we. We drank all we wanted and nobody cared. We all got totally wasted along with my brother, John. Everybody thought we were cute when we were drunk.
I remember Dad and Uncle Jerry got into an argument after Joey and Dusty and me smoked pot with the adults. I don't know what the argument was about; I think they just liked to argue. I ended up puking on the kitchen floor and Uncle Jerry slapped Dusty for getting so drunk he pissed his pants. Fuck, he was only a little kid. Even I pissed my pants a few times when I got drunk. I remember people screaming and yelling and I passed out. It wasn't a pretty night at all, but we were back to doing the same thing the next night. At least I didn't get slapped when I was the one who pissed his pants. That trip happened before my dad started hitting me. That trip was just fucking nuts, I was drunk and stoned all five nights we were there, and I totally loved it. Joey and I started drinking during breakfast the last two days to try to kill our hangovers. Looking back, that whole scene was totally insane.
I had a little bit of sex with my cousins. I mean how could we not have a circle jerk? But even when they were fucked up we never even got to sucking. Uncle Jerry made my dad look like a liberal when it came to gays. He says a big reason he moved to Idaho was because Washington was loaded with tree huggers and faggots. Besides, we got so drunk and stoned poor little Dusty couldn't even get his little pecker hard half the time. Me and Joey made Dusty wear just his underpants so it would be easier to hide him pissing on himself, which he did two more times.
Anyway, this isn't supposed to be a fucking drunk-a-log, this is supposed to be about how Rich and I finally became official boyfriends, or whatever it was we ended up being.
Now you know why there were no relatives around our house at Thanksgiving. Mom wasn't the greatest cook in the world, but even she couldn't fuck up baking a turkey and making mashed potatoes. She bought the dressing and the pies.
Thanksgiving wasn't all that great, though. Dad decided we'd have wine with dinner, and by "we" he meant me as well. He poured out four glasses, and I don't mean wine glasses. We didn't even own any of those. All we had was regular drinking glasses. Not that the kind of glasses mattered since it was cheap wine. When I told dad I didn't want any wine he got all pissy and filled all four glasses, which was his way of telling me that I had to drink the wine.
"I ain't asking you to get drunk," he said. "I'm asking you to be part of this family and drink wine with Thanksgiving dinner like the rest of us."
"Well, you asked and I said no." I wasn't trying to sound like some fifteen year old teenage asshole, but I think I ended up doing just that.
"Son, this is Thanksgiving. It's a family holiday. Do you think that maybe you could be part of the family for once? Hell, I'm surprised you didn't ask to go spend the day with your fag lawyer friend."
My mother finally chimed in. "Lewis, I don't think..."
Dad cut her off in a hurry. "You keep out of this. This is man's business between me and my son." He looked right straight at me. "Drink your wine."
I wanted to eat my Thanksgiving dinner, but I didn't want it to happen this way. I was not going to let the bastard get me to drink. I mean I was less than two months from my first birthday. I wanted that one year chip. I wanted to get to January the first, which would be one year since my last drink. I've been working hard for this, and since that night in Vince's basement I've worked even harder. But I also wanted a peaceful Thanksgiving dinner. Why did my father have to ruin things by being such an asshole?
Finally, I decided to drink the wine. I knew mom didn't want me to, but right now she wasn't taking my back. Hell, she never had my back when it came to me and dad. I'll give her credit for at least opening her mouth this time.
I decided one glass wasn't going to hurt, it would keep peace in the family on Thanksgiving, and I could just lie about having one glass of wine. That compulsion to drink hit me hard as soon as I picked up the glass and smelled the wine. I knew deep down inside of me that one glass of wine wasn't going to be close to being enough for me to drink. I thought about getting up from the table and calling Sparky. I wanted to listen to him telling me not to drink. But the compulsion was too much—I wanted to drink more than I wanted to listen to Sparky. Nobody was going to stop me. I wasn't as healthy as I thought, and I didn't give a rat's ass. I wanted to show my father I could drink the wine and not get drunk, even though I knew I couldn't. But what I really wanted was to just get him off my back so I could have Thanksgiving dinner.
It was then that John took my back. I couldn't figure out why, but ever since I became sober he had been one of my biggest supporters. He didn't seem to have the alcoholic gene like me. He could drink and not get drunk if he wanted to. He didn't have to get drunk the way I did. When he opened his mouth it wasn't the first time he had been there to help me.
"If you make him drink that wine, then I'm not drinking mine," he told dad.
"Shut up. This ain't none of your business either."
"It is my business. He's my little brother and it's my job to look out for him. You know he can't handle booze. You know he's worked his ass off to stay sober. But you keep pushing him to drink and it's not right. It's fucking Thanksgiving—let him be and let us all enjoy our dinner." John got up and walked over to the kitchen sink with his glass. It was obvious he was ready to pour his wine into the sink. "Come on bro, we can pour ours out together."
I looked at my glass, I smelled the wine again. I put the glass to my lips. I wanted the wine so bad. Two voices hit my mind at the same time. One was inside my head and simply said, "Have the courage to change the things I can."
The other was John. "You don't want it bro, you know you don't want it." I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks. The glass was at my lips and my hand was shaking so hard I had to move the glass away to keep from spilling the wine all over myself. John was standing next to me with his hand out. I knew what he wanted and I gave it to him. He took the wine from me and poured it down the sink along with his. I was fighting hard not to start sobbing, but I lost the battle.
He opened the fridge, pulled out two cans of soda, and sat back down at the table. "Let's eat before everything gets cold," he said.
"Maybe after the little faggot quits crying," dad said. He just couldn't give it up. I saw that my mom was crying, too.
John took a bite of turkey and again said, "Let's eat."
And that's how my Thanksgiving went. I managed to get control of my crying and ate what was to be a pretty tasteless dinner. But I did eat it. Nobody said anything much. All we did was eat, and my dad drank enough wine to make up for me and John. I knew that November was gratitude month and that in our meetings we kept talking about the things we were supposed to be grateful for. As I ate my dinner I couldn't think of a single thing I was grateful for, not a single thing.
After dessert John and I helped mom with the dishes. I was a little bit grateful to get a hug from mom. Mom was okay, she just lets dad push her around all the time and never stops him from pushing me around.
When we finished I went up to my room and lay back on my bed. Looking down at me from the shelf over my desk was Mortimer. I knew I shouldn't pull that ragged bear down. I mean I was fifteen and what fifteen year old still had his teddy bear? But I took him down anyway and sat him on my chest with my arms around him.
As I lay there I thought of what I had to be grateful for now that I was away from the table and away from sitting next to dad. I knew I was supposed to be grateful for being sober. I always had to be grateful for that. But there was something else for me to be grateful for. No, make that somebody else.
I got up and looked to see if John was in his room. He wasn't, but I went in anyway and lay on his bed. I carried Mortimer with me—I didn't care what John thought. You see, I was grateful to John. He stood up to dad for me when I became afraid to. He saved my sobriety, maybe my life. I felt a love for him like I never had before. We had always gotten along okay for brothers. Hell, we'd jerked off together, jerked each other off, I'd even sucked him off, and we got drunk and stoned together. But we did more than sex stuff. We fished together, rode our bikes together, went to each other's ball games, and he supported my sobriety. I was grateful for what a great big brother John was.
I fell asleep on his bed and didn't wake up until he woke me up when he came into the room.
"Hey, bro, what are you doing on my bed?" he asked.
"Waiting for you."
"You and Mort both, I see."
"Yeah." John gave me shit about Mortimer sometimes, but this wasn't one of those times. "Thanks for stopping me today. I couldn't do it by myself."
"Hey, that's what big brothers are for. Dad can be an asshole at times, especially about you and your drinking, or not drinking I guess it is now. Whatever it is you do or don't do ain't right in his book. But I think he's an alcoholic just like you are."
"Yeah, you're right about that. You told me that back when you gave me shit about all my drinking and said your `It takes one to know one' line about me and dad."
"Bro, I want you to know this. I stopped you because I'm prouder than hell of you. You got almost a year of not drinking in. Hell, a year ago I might have thought it was cool to watch dad get you drunk at our Thanksgiving dinner. I might have even helped him, because you were funny when you were fucked up. But this time I sure as fuck wasn't going to let our father screw that up for you, especially not on Thanksgiving. I was about to knock the fucking glass out of your hand, but I didn't have to do it—you gave it to me. You're the most courageous fucker I know and I've been waiting a long time to tell you that."
I don't remember him getting on the bed with me. But he was there and we were wrapped up in each other's arms and I was sobbing like a baby. "I love you so much, bro." I sobbed onto his chest. "You saved me. I mean it. You saved me." I knew that if I'd drunk that wine it wasn't going to be my only drink of the day, or the weekend, or the month, or of the rest of the year. I knew how close I was every day to going back to being the loser I'd been when I was drinking.
John rubbed my back for awhile and then grabbed a tissue and wiped the tears off of my face. "I love you, too, bro." Thanksgiving sealed a special bond between my brother and me that didn't quit for the rest of our lives. I never would have made it sober through that day without him.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" We hadn't slept together since I was maybe nine or ten and he was around eleven or twelve. But for whatever reason, I needed to be in bed with him, to feel his body and touch his love. Maybe in some ways that was how Hurricane Jeffrey felt about me.
"If dad catches us, he'll call us faggots."
"In my case he'd be right, so I don't give a fuck." I didn't realize until too late what I'd just done. But once again, John was in my corner.
"I know what you are, and I don't give a shit," is what he told me.
"You know?"
"Yeah, I kinda figured it out. You really liked to suck cock, and that was drunk or sober. Not that I haven't had a dick in my mouth when I was drunk, but somehow it was different with you. Plus, you've never had a girl friend, but you and Rich just seem to be...more than friends. And I've heard the stories of you and your jack off sessions at school, though I know straight guys who act like that, too. "
"That means dad knows?"
"He's too drunk and stupid to really know. He just calls you fag and shit like that to piss you off. He thinks you gotta fight and drink and cuss to be a real man. I love you no matter what you are."
"So, I guess that means we better not sleep together."
"Dad won't catch us, and if he does I don't give a shit what he thinks. And I don't care what you are. I think you need me tonight, and I'm here for you. Mort simply can't hug you the way I can." I started to giggle. "What's so funny?"
"You telling dad I was your little brother. I'm taller than you are."
"You could grow into a giant and you'd still be my little brother."
"I love you, John."
"Just shut up and get under the covers."
That's how we ended up in bed together for the first time in around four years. We weren't naked, but were stripped down to our boxers. I wrapped myself around him and held him tightly, like Jeffrey does to me when we're in bed together. I got a boner but I didn't care. It popped out of the front of my boxers, but I didn't care. John's popped out of his, but he didn't care. I rubbed my cock against his, and he didn't care. I kissed his lips, and he didn't care. I shot my wad over his cock and his boxers while our tongues were battling in his mouth and he did the same over me, and neither one of us cared. I loved my brother, and he loved me and that's all we cared about. Our crotches, and boxers, and his sheets were sticky with our cum, but who cared? I fell asleep as he held on to me making me feel warm and safe
<Saturday, November 29, Mr. Bednarzyck's house>
Mr. B's company left Saturday afternoon. I was invited to his house for dinner and then we were going to the meeting in Centralia. I was really happy to go there. Friday at my house was the pits. Dad didn't talk to me or John all day. Rich was gone all day, so I couldn't go there, so I ended up hanging out with Connor and Vince at Vince's house. I had fun with them even if they did talk too much about girls and beer, including a kegger that night at Steve's. Like always, I thought about going to it, but I remembered the things I was supposed to remember and didn't say anything. It wasn't like the day before when I wanted to drink that glass of wine worse than I wanted anything in the world.
I slept with John one more night just because I could. I thought about sucking his cock, but I didn't. It seemed too much like sex when all I wanted was for John to hold me. But fuck, he's seventeen and I'm fifteen and we were in bed together. We had to rub off again, which didn't seem like sex. It was the same as the night before. It was us being brothers and showing our love. This time John wasn't shy and we slept naked. He didn't even mind Mortimer keeping us company.
Anyway, I was more than happy to be at Mr. B's house on Saturday. Jeffrey, my little "brother", was more than happy to see me, too. I need to mention that Mr. B. is Mr. B when I'm around him, but he's Sparky when I'm not. Like I said before, me thinking of him as Sparky is like me thinking of him as being my dad.
After dinner, Mr. B. and I left for Centralia. I told him about dad and the wine and about John rescuing me. I even told him about me and John sleeping together the last two nights, but I didn't say we had sex. I think he figured it out though. We talked about the kegger last night and Connor and Vince wanting me to be there and how hard it was to say no.
"But you did say no," Mr. B. said. "You could have always called me, you know."
"I know. I would've called before I went to the party." He gave me a look that said he wasn't totally sure about that. "I swear."
"Six months ago I would have doubted you. Tonight I believe you, especially after what you had to go through with your father." He went on to tell me that his house was always a safe haven if I needed it. He's told me that before and each time I told him what I told him this time: Thank you, but I don't think I'll need it.
The meeting was okay. Mr. B. likes them more than I do. But I shared, which I don't do as much as he thinks I should. I talked about wanting to drink so bad over the weekend and how I used the things I learned not to do it. I didn't give them the details; that wasn't any of their business. Mr. B told me after the meeting that I did the right thing about not going into how my dad wanted me to drink. I did say my brother helped me, but I didn't say how.
On the trip home I told him about me and Rich wanting to be boyfriends. I told him how he wanted to come out to his `rents and how I was afraid my dad would find out from them.
"You know your father will make your life miserable if he ever finds out you're gay," Mr. B. told me.
"Yeah, but he makes my life miserable all the time anyway. Rich thinks his parents won't tell. He thinks it's, like, worth the gamble."
"When are you going to decide?"
"I said I'd tell him by the first of the year. We wanted to have it all figured out before baseball started."
"That would be right on your first birthday."
"If I get that far. I mean you said I think about it a day at a time, right?"
"Absolutely right," he said with a big smile.
"I'll tell you before we make coming out all official like."
"I appreciate that. But I do have to ask if this is what you really want?"
"I got no doubt."
"Then why not do it now?"
"Because I'm not fucking ready now." I know I shouldn't cuss in front of him, but sometimes it just slips out. I can tell by his looks that he's never happy about it, but he quit giving me shit over it. He knows I won't do it in front of his kids and Mrs. B. Well, that's not totally true. I do cuss in front of Jeffrey when I have an orgasm.
But what I didn't tell him about me not being ready to be official boyfriends is that I was scared. Not scared of Rich or scared of being his boyfriend. I mean I've wanted this for a while now. The thing I was scared of was my dad finding out and me getting pissed at him and wanting to get drunk just to show the bastard I could be a man.
I spent the night at Mr. B.'s. Of course I slept with Jeffrey. It's weird about how dad thinks Mr. B. is some faggot getting off on kids like me, when what really is going on is me getting off on Mr. B's eight year old son. I think that's what my English teacher calls irony.
Yeah, me and Jeffrey got naked before we got into his bed. Then I read to him some because he likes that. And this time I told him there wouldn't be any sex play, which didn't bother him any. He can take it or leave it, which was something that would change in a couple of years. My little "bro" and I fell right to sleep after I finished reading.
<Friday, December 12>
[MARTY]
I took some time to figure out what to do with Rich. I knew what I was gonna do, I just didn't know when. I talked about it again with Sparky and finally decided not to wait until the January deadline. I went to the basketball game on Friday night with Mikey. Rich played on the JV team. I watched all of the JV game with Mikey and all of the varsity game with Rich. The JV lost 54-50, but the varsity won 65-53. Rich scored six points in the JV game.
Mikey took off to sit with his sixth grade buddies during the varsity game. Mikey was going to be having a sleepover downstairs with Chandler, Korey, and Drew. Mikey told me and Rich that we could join in if we wanted, but we told the boys to have fun and we'd join in next time.
"Turning down that invitation wasn't easy," I told Rich as we sat on his bed after we got home. "Those are some sexy sixth graders."
"Who says they're gonna have sex?" Rich asked.
"You're kidding, right?"
"It's kind of tough to do it downstairs, even after mom and dad go to bed."
"I know those kids. They'll find a way. I almost feel like changing our plans and telling them to come on up here." I was getting horny thinking of those four. All four were eleven year old horn dogs. But before we found out about the sleepover, I had told Rich I needed to talk to him. I guess I could have put it off for another night, but I knew if I did I'd start chickening out. I needed to say what I had to say now because time was running out. What I had to say was more important than messing around with Mikey and them, that's how important it was.
"I made up my mind," I said.
"Oookay. You made up your mind about what?"
"What we talked about, you know, about being boyfriends." What else did he think I had to make up my mind about?
"You decided not to wait until the first?"
"I can't wait, I need to tell you now." I wasn't always the most patient guy in the world in case you haven't noticed.
"I guess that's true if you go passing up a chance to mess around with Mikey and his buds. So what did you decide?"
I decided to play hard to get and asked him what he thought my decision was. He didn't disappoint me when he broke out into a big smile and said, "You decided that we're gonna do it." He leaped on me and gave me a big kiss.
I spluttered and asked him how the fuck he knew I'd say yes.
"I know you. Besides you brought it up to start with. I'm the one who set all the deadlines and kept changing my mind on you, so I should have brought it up. I was hoping you'd say yes, but not right away— like maybe you'd do it ten years from now or something. I was hoping you'd say fuck the deadlines."
"You mean you don't..."
"No way. I just mean I was scared, but now I'm not as scared. I mean I'm thirteen and I got a right to be scared. What if I end up not being gay?"
I rolled him off me, gave him a nice kiss on the lips, and said, "Then you'll have to make me the best man at your wedding."
Rich laughed. "You're so funny and I'm so happy."
"Just one thing."
What?"
"We don't tell your dad until after the first."
"Fair enough. Are you gonna tell yours?"
"Yeah. That's why I want to wait until after Christmas."
"You could wait forever if you want."
"I could, but I want him to find out from me instead of from somebody else. I just hope he doesn't break my door down so he can bust my chops after."
"I'll be there with you."
I gave one of the best persons in my life a squeeze. "Sorry. I love you for saying it, but it's gonna get ugly. I'll tell you all about it. I might even need to spend that night here—except it would be a school night and that won't work, so maybe..."
Rich put his hand over my mouth. "Hey, aren't you the one who keeps telling me not to future trip?"
He had me there. That's something Sparky keeps telling me, "Don't future trip, Marty. You can't control what's going to happen. Have faith that things will work out the way they're supposed to."
"But what if the way it's supposed to work isn't how I want it to work out?" I asked him.
"It means God has different plans than you have. And since you're not God, you have to learn to accept his plans over yours." Sparky was hard to argue with when he got into God's plans and all that shit, but damn if he wasn't always right. Often I'd get what I wanted, but not the way I wanted to get it, like getting Rich. I mean, I wanted Rich to be my boyfriend in the worst way. I just wanted us to say we were boyfriends and get horny and have lots of sex. But God didn't do it my way. He said that to be boyfriends with Rich I'd have to pay a price. I think it's gonna be worth it, I really do.
Next: Coming Out