Drummer Boys

Drummer Boys By Kevin Carson

This story is about my relationship with my friend and, well, more-than-a-jack-off buddy. Yes, it includes gay teen sex stuff. It's based on true experiences but some of the names and places have been changed for privacy. Hey, if this is illegal where you're at or if you're too young to be reading this, then you better not. Getting in trouble isn't cool. All rights reserved. No reproductions permitted without prior permission.

Thanks to everyone who has written to me. I really appreciate your comments/feedback and questions about this story. My email is: kc.drummerboy@yahoo.com.

Sincerely, Kevin.

Part 30.

As soon as we got back to the Shawnee Inn, Dad and I each quickly showered and changed; then we checked out and had lunch. We really worked up an appetite with all that paddling downstream! BLT's on white toast (mayo on the side), chips and iced tea, for both of us. Like father, like son! Well... we're not exactly alike in every respect, haha! Since I had had my share of bacon during the week at camp, I gave mine to Dad, and I just ate the lettuce and tomato. I don't know what I was thinking when I ordered the BLT. We took our time, having lunch, because it really didn't matter what time we got home. It was only about a two-hour drive across Jersey from where we were on the Delaware River.

Once we were on the road, I didn't know what to talk about. I couldn't very well act as though nothing had happened, like nothing was said. I knew full well that my delayed honesty about myself and Mark would shape future relationships... good or bad... like it or not. So Dad broke the ice and started the conversation... or should I say cross-examination... about the obvious. At first I was a little squeamish about what he wanted to know, but later I realized what he was asking and what he was saying was only in mine and Mark's best interest.

"So, Kevin, do you think Mark's parents know about the two of you... your relationship... how far it's gone?"

"I don't think so, Dad. I mean, no, they don't know anything as far as I know. Not as of last Friday."

"Do you think you should tell them? Or, at least do you think Mark should have the opportunity to tell them?"

"Well... I dunno, I guess... I mean it's up to him... er... well... why?? Are you gonna say something to them?"

"No, no... I'm just saying, by telling me, it took courage and trust... and you're a stronger person now because of that. Wouldn't you want the same for Mark?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll talk to him about it."

"I'm wondering... should we talk to Mark together...?"

"HELL NO!!!!!!!" I screamed! Dad slammed on the brakes.

"Jesus, Kevin! Don't yell!!! I thought something was wrong!"

"Alright, alright! It's just... you're willing to talk to Mark? I mean, he's still allowed to come over and stuff, right?"

"What? I don't believe you're asking me that. Of course he's welcome in our house. I suppose if I really disapproved of something, then yes, I'd object. But... you guys are our kids. It would take a hell of a lot more than my son being gay for me to turn my back on you... and someone as important to you as Mark."

But, Dad, I'm sure he's gonna feel embarrassed, and self-conscious, once I tell him that I told you and..."

"And... who? Your brother?"

"Well, yeah, that... and I also told Townsend."

"You did?" Dad seemed surprised.

"Yeah, I did. Believe me, it's OK. I trust Townsend completely. He gave me his word that he'll never tell anyone, and I dunno, Dad... I really believe him. It's weird. He gave me his word."

"It's up to all three of us to make sure Mark continues to feel comfortable in our home. I've always liked him, he's a good kid. Of course, you should talk to him first. I was just thinking out loud about both of us talking to him. I just thought that a show of support from me would be good... but it's your decision."

"Thanks, Dad. Really." We changed the subject, and I told Dad a lot about what we did at camp during the week, how much fun it was, and what we learned.

We also listened to a pretty healthy dose of music, too: mostly Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen, two of Dad's favorites. Excellent sound system in the Volvo! And who else should we be listening to driving across New Jersey than Bon Jovi and Springsteen?!

After we crossed into New York, Dad decided to call Keith, giving him fair warning we were almost home. In other words, stop doing whatever it is you shouldn't be doing and clean up any messes you made...stat! There was no answer at home, but Dad got him on his cell and he said he was out and about with Lisa, and that he'd meet us at the house.

I was really tired, yet excited. I wanted to tell Keith all about my week, and of course I couldn't wait to see Mark. We pulled in the driveway, and it felt so good to be home. As soon as we unloaded the car I took my stuff to the laundry room and unpacked. There wasn't much, but what I had was pretty rank, being in that duffle bag all week. And I did keep the civil war underwear. I couldn't imagine they'd want those back! Besides, I wanted to show Mark... maybe even have him try them on so I could check him out.

I ran upstairs as soon as I heard Keith's car. He came in the house and said hi to Dad, then me.

"How was camp, Little Dude?" Keith seemed preoccupied, not really waiting for, or wanting, an answer from me.

"Great! So... how were things here during the week?" I wondered.

"Dad, Kev... I've gotta talk to you two..." Now I noticed Keith was more than preoccupied... his voice was shaking and he was visibly upset. I've never seen him like that. The three of us sat down.

"What's going on?" Dad asked. "What's the matter?"

Keith's eyes filled with tears. "Something really terrible has happened. I don't know how to tell you this... but, it's about Townsend Miller." Keith covered his face and was barely understandable. "He's gone. He was killed. I just found out."

"WHAT??" I screamed. "NO!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Oh my God, what happened?" Dad asked.

"This is a joke, you're kidding... NO!!! It's not true... NO!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Keith, are you sure?? How??... When??... Oh my God..."

"We heard about it, just now, right after I talked to you on the phone. We drove past the Miller's on the way back to Lisa's, and there were a bunch of cars there. I didn't think anything of it, it wasn't any big deal at the time. But when we got to Lisa's, Mr. Walters was on the phone with Mr.Graham. I guess something went wrong with the plane, and it crashed... late last night."

At that moment, from what I actually remember, our phone rang and it was Mr. Walters. Dad took the call in the other room while Keith tried to calm me down. Needless to say all three of us were in shock.

"Does Mark know?" I asked Keith.

"Well, yeah, he's pretty upset, too."

"Keith, I gotta see him, please take me over there, I gotta be with Mark... please..."

Dad was finishing up with Mr. Walters... "Yes, I understand... and I'll take care of Kevin. Thanks for calling..." When Dad hung up he had tears in his eyes too. "Jesus, I can't believe this... how the FUCK does something like this happen?? WHY??" Dad slammed his hand on the counter top. For Dad to say "fuck" like that it must be pretty bad. And it was.

"Do they know for sure what happened?" I asked.

"Apparently, they were delayed leaving Ohio because of the weather, but I guess the plane developed mechanical problems... They're still investigating, but from what they know, the pilot requested to make an emergency landing. The plane went down in a wooded area about 10 miles from Westchester County Airport, never even making it close to the runway. I guess it took a while to get to the wreckage... to even find it. They're not sure why he didn't try to get to Islip, where they were supposed to land."

I was unrealistically optimistic. "Denial" was more like it. "M-m-maybe they're just hurt... they're in the hospital, right? Maybe the doctors can do something... maybe it's not that bad..."

"Kevin," Dad paused... "No one survived. It was only Townsend, the pilot and co-pilot... and there was nothing they could do... according to Mr. Walters."

"FUCK NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! THIS ISN'T T-TRUE. THEY'RE LYING... DAD... DAD!!! PLEASE!!! IT'S NOT TRUE..." I fell apart. Dad held me, and Keith too. This was a thousand times worse than anything I ever experienced... waaaaay more terrible than any of the bullshit that happened with Emily at school.

"Boys, I am so sorry about all of this. What a thing to come home to... We had such a good time, and now this... it's unreal. Listen, Kev... Mr. Walters is deeply concerned. He wants to talk to you. We thought tomorrow would obviously be better than now."

My cell phone buzzed. It was Mark... crying.

"Oh my God, Kevin... what are we gonna do?" he sobbed.

"I just can't believe it," I said. "We took him to that fucking airport and that's the last I saw him... the last I talked to him.... Jesus fucking Christ, I spent the whole... w-w-week with him, and now he's gone?? That fast?? Oh God, Mark..."

I tried to calm down, and Mark tried to get control, but our efforts failed. Then Dad talked to Mr. Graham and invited all of them over... he said because during times like this, people need to be with people they care about. "We'll get some pizzas or something. The kids need each other right now... I think it would help." I heard Dad say... I kept telling myself this was impossible.

I had missed Mark so much and wanted more than anything to be with him. But I never, ever expected seeing him for the first time after the trip would be under circumstances like this. What the fuck?? One of our best friends is dead?

I thought it was all gonna be different... that we'd get home and I'd call Mark, first thing. Then Dad, Keith and I would have dinner and I'd tell them all about camp...about everything. Well, almost everything. Then after dinner Mark would come racing over and we'd spend the whole night together... laughing, giggling, talking, kissing. I couldn't have imagined anything like this. I thought it was all gonna be different...

My phone rang again, and it was Nora... sobbing. She heard the news from Amy, and she said Brigette knew, too. I wondered about Eric, and the Kramers... and Andy Grimes. Sure enough, everyone's cell phones we're buzzing all night long.

I burst into tears the minute the Grahams walked in. Mark and I stood there... in the middle of our living room, hugging, crying and holding each other. I was too upset to really give a fuck what anyone might have thought, being that our embrace was intimate, loving and unending.

Dad gave Keith money and told him to take care of the pizzas, and he poured the Graham's and himself some wine. The phone rang again, so I answered. It was Ms. Kirsch... "Dad... it's for you..."

Dad talked to her a few minutes, in a low voice, and then told us all that "Debbie" sends her regards, and was especially concerned about the kids... At first I was a little curious why she called, but I realized she's a good person... she really cares. And she's Dad's friend. I knew I had to cut her some slack. Maybe in the back of my mind I thought she was going to steal Dad away from me. See... I have some serious growing up to do.

Mark and I went down to the drum room to be alone. Besides having to deal with all this with Townsend and the plane crash, I had some other important stuff to talk to Mark about. The minute we walked through the door I held him again, extremely tight, and did what I'd wanted to do for well over a week: I kissed him. It was a 'love' kiss, not a 'sex' kiss. There's more to this relationship than just sex.

"I just can't believe this is happening," I said when we came up for air. "Shit, what a week... the last couple of weeks, in fact. God, Mark I'm so overwhelmed by this with Townsend that I haven't even asked how you are... how's your throat... after the surgery and all?"

"I'm fine, sweetie. There's not really any pain. I went back to the doctor Friday for a check-up and he said everything looks normal... no bleeding and or swelling. And I can swallow just fine!" He said with that sexy-mischievous smile of his.

"Stop! You're making me blush!"

"Yeah, well, I like it when you blush!"

"I gotta say, you look a hell of a lot better than you did the last time I saw you, in that hospital bed, unable to talk. I hated seeing you like that. And I've missed you."

"I missed you, too, like you wouldn't believe."

"You're staying tonight, aren't you?" I begged.

"Well... are you sure? I mean, you just got home, and with all this happening..."

"Mark, you gotta stay. Please..." I started to cry again. We sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch with our knees up, arms around each other. "Fuck this! I gotta get a grip..." I said, rubbing my eyes. That clear salty stuff was running out of my nose and I was starting to lick it off my lip. I finally wiped it on my sleeve.

"I don't know if my mom will like it if I stay, but..."

"Don't worry... you'll think of a way to shut her up. You're pretty good at that." We somehow had to focus on happier thoughts.

"So, how was the civil war camp? I know you told me a little about it, but I was just so excited to hear your voice when you called the other day, I don't remember everything you said."

That made me laugh a little. "You sure it wasn't the painkillers you were on??"

"No, silly... So, what did you guys do?"

As Mark and I sat there in the drum room, with only the Christmas lights on and I was telling him everything, I'd be OK for a few minutes, then I'd get choked up. Then I'd pull myself together and tell him a little more, then fall apart again. I really had a rough time when I told him about sleeping next to Townsend in that hot little dog tent. And I totally lost it telling him about my dream... all the things that were so real to me.

"It was snowing... even though it was hot weather for real. It was just like the night when we were leaving the Empire State Building and were driving up to your Grandpa's cabin... just like that. Then Townsend woke me up..."

"Sweetie... you know what? Did you ever notice how there's always snow involved when major things happen with us? It's like... our thing... Snow!"

"Yeah, you're right!"

"I'll never forget that night, Kevin. You and me at the Empire State Building."

"I won't either. Never, ever ever!!"

"Pizza's here..." Keith called down to us. "Come and get it!"

"OK... be up in a few!!!" Mark yelled back...

I bawled my eyes out again when I admitted to Mark that I told Townsend about him and me. "He was our friend, Mark. One of the best. We're really going to miss him. I just can't believe he's dead."

"I know, sweetie, I know... Townie and I go way back, like to 2nd grade. We became friends in baseball when we both played for the 'Little Mets.' There's always been a dark, hidden side to him. As well as I think I knew him, he always kept me guessing on a few things, you know?"

"I saw his dick." I said, out of the blue.

"GET OUT!!! You actually saw it?" That seemed to lighten the mood a little. "Jesus! Was it...?"

"Yes! Just like you thought! Wait a minute... I thought you said you saw it before..."

"Well, yeah, once, at the pool. It was after swimming, but just a quick glance. And you know, things kind-of shrivel up when they've been in the water, haha!" He laughed. "Hey! I thought you said nothing happened between you and him..."

"Calm your ass down... it was in the shower, and I couldn't help it. I had to look... there was no avoiding it." I sighed. "OK, that's not entirely true... but he was right there, practically waving it in my face. What was I gonna do? Shut my eyes?"

"So what DID you do...? I mean, besides... stare?" When I didn't answer, Mark figured it out that the mere sight of Townsend naked turned me on. "Jesus Christ, sweetie, you popped a boner when you saw it, didn't you?" Mark teased. "You DID, you bastard!"

"Well, yeah, I did, but I turned around so he didn't see me. And you know, in my dream, I saw Sgt. Dave naked in the shower, too, but that was just a dream." We laughed.

"I wanna hear more about this "Sgt. Dave" guy you keep talking about. So, he was really hot-lookin' huh? You said he sorta looks like me?"

"Yeah, he kinda does! I should call him about Townsend, and the other guys too... Alex and T.R. from Michigan. Not exactly the type of call I ever thought I'd have to make... not so soon." We stopped at the top of the steps because I suddenly was overcome with emotion again. Mark hugged me and said it was OK. "I'll call them tomorrow," I said.

Dad and the Graham's had been talking about all the usual stuff, like flowers, food, donations... when the service will be... and most of all... emotional support. I didn't realize that Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Miller had been friends since they were children, having grown up in the same neighborhood and going to school together.

After the pizza and a few more glasses of wine, Mr. and Mrs. Graham decided to leave, but Lisa and Mark stayed. On the way out, Mrs. Graham told them 'not to be late.'

"Actually, Mom, I'm staying here tonight," Mark told his mother.

"Well, I don't know... you're still recovering from that throat surgery..."

"Ellen, it's OK, he'll be fine." Dad said. "Don't worry... I'll keep an eye on them."

And Mr. Graham snapped at her, "Jesus Christ, Mark's a big boy. Now let's go..."

I wasn't used to seeing or hearing anything like that from Mr. Graham. He's usually the quiet type... quieter than me. With the dirty look she gave him I don't think he was gonna "get any" that night!

Not long after the Grahams left, Keith and Lisa went out too. I could tell Dad was beat. Tired from all the driving, then the canoeing. And the devastating, God-awful tragic news about Townsend hitting us in the face the minute we got home... No wonder Dad opened another bottle of wine. He and Mark and I sat and talked some more.

"I feel really bad, because he should have come home with us. Why did his dad insist on him flying? Come on, most people don't fly around like that in a company's jet."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Kev," Dad said. "I knew a girl in college whose father was quite wealthy... they owned an advertising agency with several regional offices, and they did the same thing. They'd fly to Nantucket several times a year, and to the Bahamas for Thanksgiving. If they didn't fly in the private plane they sailed their yacht. I don't think the Miller's have THAT kind of dough, but they have plenty... stuff most people don't have."

"Just think... I could have been on that plane, too. Remember? Townsend's dad offered, but you said no, you and I had plans... Jeez, Dad, it's like you had a premonition..."

"Well, I wouldn't say that, but it did give you and me a chance to talk about some very important stuff..."

I changed the subject fast... "I think they should establish a scholarship in Townsend's name... and have it be music related... maybe send a deserving student to a music clinic or award it to a graduating senior who plans to major in music."

"That's a great idea, Kevin," Dad said. "Maybe we could suggest it down the road."

Our moods kept changing. We were somber for a little while. Then, someone would say something funny or lighthearted and we'd feel better. But then it was right back to remembering something uniquely "Townsend." Something we did together or something he said or did... or that we wished we would have done. And our eyes would well up with tears all over again.

I think the combination of being fucking exhausted and grief-stricken, plus the wine, contributed to Dad's slightly-slurred speech. "You boys wannaglassawine?"

Somewhat surprised, Mark and I simultaneously said "Yes!" So Dad opened another bottle. Mark downed it pretty well, in spite of his still-healing throat. Me?? Two glasses of that shit was enough. I felt really warm. Dad said goodnight, and soon Mark and I went to bed. We weren't drunk, though. Just warm.

First, we went to the bathroom, together, and brushed our teeth, together, and I decided I wanted to take a hot, relaxing shower. As if the wine didn't have a calming effect on me! Mark waited in the bathroom, watching me. But after a few minutes, he stripped and joined me in the shower. The red glow of the heat lamp was our only light. We let that steaming hot water hit our faces and our backs, and we wrapped our arms around one another tight, holding each other for a long time. And we kissed under that hot spray... a long, deep, wet kiss. When I buried my face in the crook of Mark's neck, I teared-up again. I couldn't help it.

"I can't believe we'll never see him again."

"I know..."

Mark and I stood together for quite a long time in that hot shower, and it felt so good. We finally got out, dried off, wrapped our towels around our waists and went into my room. I nervously fumbled around in my drawer and threw a pair of clean boxer-briefs at him.

"T-shirt?"

"Nah... it's too hot..."

We lost the towels, neither of us putting the boxer briefs on, and got in bed naked, with still-wet hair. I pulled the crisp, white sheet up to our shoulders and Mark put his arms around me... and his leg up and over mine. We kissed... a million times. And in between, we said, "I love you," a million times. Jeez, that was wonderful.

And in the middle of the night, like we've done a million times, we woke up... at the same time. His arms still around me, I turned so we were face-to-face. I could feel his breath and his body heat, and in the eerie, bluish calm of my room, I felt safe.

After about five minutes of staring into Mark's eyes, I whispered softly and confessed: "My brother knows about us."

"What??"

"And my Dad knows too."

"He does?? How??

"It's a long story, and I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you before your surgery, but I wasn't keeping it from you, either... honest. Actually I didn't tell my Dad everything until just the other day. But..."

"But... what?"

And wouldn't you know it, I started to fucking cry again. Jesus! It took me a while to finally say it, but eventually I got the words out... "Emily..."

"No!!!!! You gotta be kidding!! Did she have something to do with this?"

"I couldn't lay this on you when you were sick... the day before your surgery. But the bitch flipped shit at me on the last fucking day of school. Right there at my locker. No one else was there, or so I thought. Except Keith. I didn't know he heard us arguing. It was loud and ugly, and I lost it. When I saw him I almost shit.

"Oh, fuck... what'd he do??"

"He... basically threatened her. I really thought he was gonna smash her face in."

"She could still be trouble... like she could blackmail us. I wouldn't put anything past her."

"I don't think she'll be a problem any more. She won't mess with Keith... he was pretty emphatic and I think she's scared of him. Me?? No. Keith?? Yes. But she knows about us, because... she was at the library that night. Remember when we saw someone there?"

"Fuck no!! Son-of-a-bitch!! Does Keith know about THAT, too... us getting busted?"

"No... no. He didn't hear that part, and I never told him. But, he stuck up for us. Honestly, it was weird. It's not the way I wanted him to find out about us, and he said the same thing, that he wished I'd have just come to him and told him on my own. But I didn't."

"So... what else? What about your Dad?"

"Well, Keith said I needed to tell him, and he was right... my Dad shouldn't hear shit about us from someone else. This way, it was from my lips to his ears."

"Does... your Dad know about the... cops?"

"No, I didn't tell him, either. I kept remembering what you said before... if it ever comes up, we'll deal with it. Until then, I'm keeping my mouth closed."

"Well, sweetie, I'm kind-of... nervous myself. And embarrassed. I'm glad you told me, but now, how am I going to face your Dad and brother?"

"You did tonight, and nothing was different. They love us, Mark. If they didn't, believe me we'd know." Then... the tears... again... "But the sad part is Townsend. When I told him, do you know what he said to me? He promised he'd never tell anyone, that our "secret" was safe with him. And he sure kept that promise, didn't he?"

"Yeah..."

"And you know what else he said? When we dropped him off at that airport I had the weirdest feeling... like I was abandoning him. I shouldn't criticize his family, but isn't that what they've sort-of done? Abandon him? They fucking left him alone all the time. Anyway, I told him to have a good vacation and be safe. It was just something to say... but it was the last thing I said to him. And the last thing he said to me was, he would, "if the Lord's willing'... that's what he said. He's said stuff like that before, but I never thought anything of it. Then we drove off. We left him there. I didn't even say a real goodbye."

"Jeez, it's like he knew something was gonna happen. But you can't blame yourself, Kevin. None of this is your fault..."

"Yeah, but, that's the other thing... it sort-of IS my fault. You got sick because of me, and couldn't go on the trip. If you hadn't gotten sick and needed the operation, you'd have gone. And when he got busted, his parents weren't going to let him go. But I had to stick my fucking nose in that shit, too. I told them I was partly responsible for Townsend's stealing, and by never saying anything about it, he kept doing it. I told them if I had been a better friend to him, maybe I could have gotten him to stop, which would have never resulted in him getting in trouble... that they should blame me, not him. So that's why they let him go. But now, I think about it differently. Maybe if I kept my mouth shut, I would have gone in his place and he'd still be alive."

"Kevin, I didn't know you did all that, that you talked to his parents. Maybe I don't remember because I was sick and on all that medicine. It was ballsy, to stand up to Townsend's old man... but you can't think like that. Really, you did the right thing, you did nothing wrong. I hope you know what a rock you are."

"Shut up, Mark. I'm a fuck-up, not a rock. I've fucked everything up. Everything."

"OK, stop right there... Quit feeling sorry for yourself. You're NOT a fuck-up. I love you... Stop blaming yourself."

"But he's never coming back..."

"I know... I can't believe it either." We sat there touching each other. "So... what was his reaction when you told him about us? I take it he wasn't shocked."

"No, he wasn't... not really. I think he knew us so well, he could just tell. Just like Arlo. You know what Townsend told me once? That you and I were his best friends, and without us he'd be lost. That's hard to believe since he was so outgoing and social. But I think that's just him. And deep down, you and I were the two who mattered to him.

"Yeah... the three of us... we were a good thing, weren't we? Three best friends. I guess he liked us as individuals... but he loved "us."

"And really, I don't think anyone else really knows about... us..."

"Oh, no... let's see... besides Townsend? Just, two cops, Emily, your brother and your Dad... that's all."

"Wait a minute... we'll probably never see those two cops again, and they really don't know who the fuck we are. Remember, Mark, when I was worried sick about that whole thing you made me feel better about it. Take your own advice." He just looked down and didn't say anything to me. "As for Emily... fuck her. She's a non-entity in my book. She can say and do whatever... I'm not afraid of her. And my Dad and brother... if they were anything to worry about, don't you think they would have been different? Like tonight... my Dad encouraged you to stay. It doesn't matter to him or Keith about us. He just doesn't want us to get hurt, that's all."

"I know, but... it's just having to face it... people finding out... plus Townsend's death, all at the same time... it's a lot for both of us. Keith will probably tell Lisa, then she'll tell my parents, and I don't think they'll be as understanding as your Dad... so, I'm pretty much fucked."

"No you're not! Don't talk like that! Keith won't say anything, and there's no hurry to tell your parents. Whenever you're ready. But I'll be beside you every step of the way. I know things don't always work out like we've planned. I never thought how I was gonna come out to my Dad, or my brother. But now that it's done, I feel a whole lot better. Yeah, it's not easy. But it's done!"

"You know, Kev, just when I think I have my shit together and I have a plan, I really don't..."

"Could have fooled me! You always know what you're doing... what to say, how to act... you're so confident and smooth. I love that about you and I wish I were just like you. When I see you in action, like with the cops, and with that prick Chief Grubek... I'm awestruck."

"No you're not..."

"Yeah, Mark, I am! Really. Look, I thought that if I ever did have to come out to my Dad, I'd want us to do it together. It didn't quite work out that way, but I'll be there with you when you need me. I'm not ashamed of us one bit, no way."

"God I love you. What was that you said about that Arlo guy a few minutes ago? He's that mean dude who works at Walgreens, isn't he? He knows too?"

"Come on now... he's my friend! He said he could tell you love me. And he could tell I love you, he just knew!"

"He did?? When did he tell you that? You never said anything to me..."

"Oh, a long time ago." I leaned in and pressed my lips to Mark's. Every body part of mine was intertwined with every body part of his. We kissed and held each other so tight, until we were out of breath.

"We'll get through this, sweetie. We'll make it through."

I think we fell asleep kissing. What a day it had been, and what a night.

Monday was anything but "normal," but who can define "normal" anymore? I woke up first, and kissed Mark on the cheek, then quietly slipped out of bed to go to the bathroom. My morning woodie was already gone, but I couldn't help noticing Mark was still at full-mast. You know, "normally" we would have fucked our brains out, after being away from each other a whole week. But we didn't. The situation was different, with the sad news and overwhelming grief we were dealing with. I won't go so far as to say sex wasn't on my mind, but in the whole scheme of things, it wasn't a priority. Just being with Mark was enough.

It's a good thing that I put on the boxer-briefs and t-shirt before I left my room, because Keith was already awake. If he saw me parading around naked with Mark sleeping over, it would have been a disaster, knowing what he knows. I wouldn't have done that anyway... well... maybe I would have.

Mark went with me to do my mowing jobs, since he hadn't yet started back at the grocery store. It was good to have him with me. In fact, we were inseparable the whole week. Townsend was always on our minds. Monday night I called Sgt. Dave and emailed our friends Alex and T.R. We went to the school to see Mr. Walters, and one night Ms. Kirsch came over to our house to talk about everything. Mark and I got together with all our friends every night, and had lots of good crying sessions.

During the week I also had a chance to tell Keith that I had spoken to Dad, about... well... everything. It was one of those moments when you don't have to say a whole lot to know things are understood, and all is good. I have to admit, my brother was right. Things were alright between Keith and me, where Mark is concerned. And I also told him Mark isn't ready to tell his family yet. We agreed to give it time, and he promised he would say nothing to Lisa, even if she ever suspected anything and brought it up to him.

"I got your back, Little Dude... and Mark's too. But I won't lie for you. If Lisa ever says anything to me, mum's the word. But it'll be up to Mark to do the talking."

I told Dad, too, that Mark knows about me coming out to him and Keith. He gave me a one-arm hug and a head full of messed-up hair to go along with his loving smile of approval.

Townsend's funeral was going to be Friday, at St. Anne's church, and that would be the only service... no wake or funeral home visitation. In some respects, I guess that was better. All week the sadness built up inside me, to the point that if it weren't for Mark I don't know what I would have done. There were good days and bad, but nothing could have prepared me for Friday morning at 11 o'clock.

Mark stayed over Thursday night. I don't think we slept at all. Friday morning I couldn't eat. I wanted to throw up. I ran up to my room and got the shoes Townsend gave me that I kept in "the box" in my closet. I held them and sobbed, and put the laces in my pocket.

St. Anne's was packed. And not a dry eye to be found. Townsend's casket was closed, of course, and there were of a ton of pictures... of him alone, with his brothers and family, from school and band... and even the antique-looking one taken at civil war camp. I found out later that Sgt. Dave sent it to Mr. and Mrs. Miller right after I called him with the horrible news. Toward the end of the service they played a video/slide show with Townsend's favorite song: "May It Be" by Enya, from "Lord of the Rings." I cried when they played that, because I vividly remembered him telling me last winter it was his favorite. I re-lived that night in my mind... the night he gave me those shoes and wanted me to stay, and I didn't. If I could just go back...

I was numb, walking out of the church, down those steps, my eyes fixed on the black hearse. My stomach was churning during the entire ride to the cemetery. Then we were there, in silence, except for the roar of an occasional jet plane overhead, taking off from LaGuardia Airport. And the whispers and cries, and the slamming of car doors. We walked to the gravesite, Dad, Keith and me. "I'm not good at this," I thought to myself.

It was one of those crisp, blue-sky days... not a cloud in sight. The bright, warm sunshine feels good on your hair, and the cool, light wind soothes your face. Suddenly I was five years old again, and Keith was seven. My mind flashed back to a vague, hidden memory I had tucked away ten years ago.

I blinked... and then the Graham's joined us, Mark standing beside me. He and I instinctively held hands, and at that point my tears were unstoppable. As soon as Townsend's parents and brothers were seated, the priest said a prayer and spoke softly to the crowd. Most people placed a single flower on top of the casket as they walked away from the grave. I put the shoelaces there. And I can still hear the priest:

"The beat of his drum, and the song of his voice, are now the melodies of an angel... as gentle as the ocean breeze. And as lasting as the evergreen."

(To be continued...)