Part TWO
This is a work of FICTION/ FANTASY/ REALITY. Some things in this story happened, others were imagined. Please e-mail. I love it all- hate e-mail or fan e- mail. Let me have it with both barrels. And so far, I have received the sweetest replies imaginable. Thank you profusely. With people such as yourselves in the world, it is impossible to comprehend the hate and the violence. So however this chapter develops, or wherever it goes, I hope you enjoy the ride: God knows I did.
Before I begin, let me say this- Sean, you were the one that gave me the most. You gave me everything I have now. And although I still catch myself lusting for you, longing to be with you in the most intimate ways, please know that your love and friendship and compassion is all that matters to me. I love you Sean, and I always will. Thank you for being my best friend and brother. We were not born into the world together, but we found each other, and I would not have it any other way. This story is for you.
The Kiss
Previously I covered a little of my feelings for someone. Maybe I got overly mushy, maybe I didn't. I'm not one for mincing words. Play it straight, rather forward (never "straight," always "forward!"), from the hip, caution to the wind. Dealing with the resulting actions, sure I can do that. Most often they are not favorable, but they cam be dealt with. Wonderful words and enveloping music comprise a large part of my world, sitting alone and listening to sweet sounds floating from hidden speakers. What a wonderful world, huh? Music and words are a large part, but not the main part. There has to be a reason to enjoy these things. That one thing, animate or inanimate, imaginable or real, which makes one appreciate. Appreciate what? Everything. Anything. Anyone. Peace or war, silence or roaring noise. Simple appreciation.
It's all or nothing for me. Either I have him, or I have no one. I want every single thing from him, or I want nothing at all to do with him. Such extreme emotions are possibly harmful, but they are a part of me. They are a part of my relationship with him. I've written things before, comparing my feelings for him to a type of religion. Scary. But faithfully I call him every day. Deliberately I make a point to see him. Strictly and precisely I make sure that we do not part company, or go to bed, upset or mad with each other. Maybe I do treat it as a religion. Maybe that is unequivocally the respect the relationship deserves. Or maybe, as stated previously, this is simply an extremity of my behavior. Who's to say?
"Honey, come on now. I can hear it in your voice. You're ate up with this guy!" She leaned in to get a light from me.
"Yeah, so? Is it such a big deal? Like I told ya earlier, you would love him too if you could see him." I'll be damned, I thought to myself, I am starting to like this woman. "He isn't one of those rock hard abs and killer biceps type guy, but he is outrageously attractive. Not in a spectacular way, but more of a cute- enough-to-eat way. Know what I mean?"
"Yes, doll, I do know. As a matter of fact, I think you are too. And I think that he is stupid for not being in love with you." She sipped the final drops of alcohol from her glass.
My defense mechanism kicked into overdrive. Did she just call Craig stupid? "Look, lady, he isn't stupid. It's just that he isn't..." I caught myself in a heartbeat. I was about to admit to the truth of the matter, and I couldn't do it. I don't care if he plays it straight, but I still hold out for, well, for whatever. Looking down at the bar I shook my head and said, "He just isn't stupid."
"Kind of the defeatist point of view, isn't it?"
"What? What are you talking about? I just said he wasn't stupid. You're reading too much into this."
"I don't think so. And stop calling me lady. I'm Clara. And you are?"
Doc heard someone ask my name and came bounding to where we were seated. "This guy here? That's Jayson-with-a-y." He snickered. I had always told people that I spelled my name using the letter "y" instead of the usual way. I guess Doc didn't believe me, because he always insisted on performing my introductions.
"Well Doc, how come I have never meet this wonderful guy before?"
Doc offered his hand to Clara and said, "Well, baby, Jay is usually here every night but Tuesdays and Thursdays." Doc kissed Clara's hand politely and started to turn back to the register. Then he stopped and spun back towards us.
"No, Doc, I don't like the look in your eyes. What?"
"Jay, why are you here tonight?"
I knew it was coming, but I hopped to avoid it. And the bitch of the situation was that he probably knew already. "Alex and I kinda got into a squabble. He went off to a friend's house and I tried to go see Craig, but he wasn't home. So here I sit."
Doc took the empty glass from Clara and dipped it into the washing water. "To be honest Jay, Alex stopped by here about half an hour before you got here. He wanted to see if you were here. And he's probably back home already. And," he added with emphasis, "You know Craig will show up sometime." He went back to his business as if he just solved an international crisis.
"Jay, hon, I can tell that man cares for you." She nodded at Doc who magically produced another scotch and water.
"Yeah, he doesn't much like his son. So I guess I'm his replacement. And Mack is a prick. No common sense. Isn't that right, Doc?" Clara and I got a kick out of watching Doc's glasses bob up and down on his head when he answered to the affirmative.
"Well darlin', I'm gonna have to go here pretty soon."
"Duty calls, huh?"
She grimaced and shook her head. "Yes, duty will call soon enough. But as I was going to say, before I was interrupted, I am just as happy right now listening to you. So continue on, and I'll order us up another drink."
I told her to go on an order as I walked to the jukebox. I know I didn't need to hear any of the songs on the piece of crap box, but I felt like hearing something as my narrative progressed. I could picture it in my mind- crying my eyes out on the shoulder of a working girl. "God," I spoke to myself, "Have I gotten this out of control?" punching in a couple of numbers from memory, the first CD started spinning. George Michael's music rolled through the entire place and I knew the lyrics were going to hurt, but I steeled myself to the inevitable. And on cue, perfectly, George Michael's voice entered my mind.
Turn down the lights/ Turn down the bed/ Turn down these voices/ Inside my head/ Lay down with me/ Tell me no lies/ Just hold me close/ Don't patronize/ Don't patronize please/ `Cause I can't make you love me if you don't/ You can't make your heart feel/ Something it won't/ Here in the dark/ In these final hours/ I will lay down my heart/ I feel the power/ But you won't/ No you won't/ And I can't make you love me/ If you don't.
As soon as I settled back at the bar, Clara poured herself over me saying, "My God! I just love this song! I thought it was going to be Bonnie Raitt, but no! It's George Michael!"
Her electricity energized me. For a brief flicker I was happy. "So, you know George Michael's music?"
"Of course I do! He is absolutely the bomb!"
"The `bomb'? How old are you? If I can ask?" I flicked my lighter for her waiting cigarette.
"Well, I turned thirty just last month. Do I look that old?"
I snickered. "Honey, that isn't old at all. I turned 30 in April. And everyone still calls me a kid. Go figure."
The silence built itself between us and I decided to carry on my little story of Craig. She knew his name, and if things continued, she would know a lot more. "I guess I should get on with the story."
And no more had I said that than the next song started to play, and with the beat and the magical lyrics, I allowed my mind to drift to the past, not more than eight years prior.
Passion. Complete, unrelenting, unbridled passion. Wrapped up in time, totally immersed in the moment, from the top of the head to the bottom of the feet. Enthusiastic, unabashed and unashamed. Down to the millisecond of an hour. I was completely within his power. It was overwhelming. The touch of his finger tips over my naval lit fires in the wake. The muscles of his biceps drummed a rhythm in my rib cage. His breath, that sweet, delectable aroma, flowed warmly past my ear, causing gooseflesh to erupt on the back of my neck. I could feel every place where our bodies made contact. And the kiss, the kiss we just shared was unfathomable.
Of course we had been drinking, maybe he more than I. But that kiss. Damn, I could taste the remnants even while we were wrapped in embrace. The salty taste of his saliva, the smooth coarseness of his tongue as it glided over my teeth and gums. And his lips, those delectable brush strokes of red. My God, we kissed. We kissed well. I could feel the sweat forming on my brow. I had to get control of myself. I could boil in my own skin with the heat he just created within me.
He whispered, "Is that what you wanted?"
How could he ask me that? I stammered, "Yes, that was perfect." Something in his eyes caused me slight alarm. To this date, we had only been friends a short time. Gay-basher popped into my head. "Why, what's wrong?"
"I've never kissed a guy like that." He looked toward the fence behind his house.
He appeared so shy. I had to say, "Well, I think you've passed the test. I mean, I know you're not gay, but you do kiss well." I tried to lean into him again but he pushed me away softly. "What? What now?"
"I hope that you don't think I'm gay. We've had fun, but it isn't gonna happen."
From Heaven to Hell in record time. I thought, just great! I scratched behind my ear in confusion and said, "Well, I just thought that maybe we could, I don't know, maybe do a little more?" I hated it when I begged.
"Other guys have tried to do things with me. I never could even kiss them. You got a lot further." He flashed a nasty little smile. "But no, I don't think so. Maybe we should call it at friends. You know I do like you, right?"
I could tell. It wasn't a question he was asking. Shrugging my shoulders I have to agree with him. "If ya say so."
He looks at me. "What? What does that mean? You don't think I like you?"
"It isn't that, Craig, it's just that I find myself so totally into you. You know?"
"I can't do anything like that." He waved his hands up and asked, "What? Does that make you mad?"
So damn defensive he is. He asks me that every time he tells me no. "No, I'm not mad. Maybe a little disappointed, but not mad." I smiled and brushed a strand of his hair from his eyes. "How can I be mad? You did just kiss me."
"Yeah, I did kiss ya. And I am glad that I did well for you. And I am glad that we're turning into friends." He goes and sits on the brick retaining wall by his bedroom door, looked up at me and said, "Jayson, I would be the luckiest man alive if that did it for me."
"God damnit, Craig! Do not quote stupid movies to me!" I turned and went to my car. "If you're gonna do that, find another friend. I don't wanna hear it!" I knew he was going to stop me. He grabbed my arm and turned me to look at him. "What?"
"Why are you getting all mad for? Maybe it was a quote from a movie, who cares? I wish that I wrote it, `cause it is true. I do feel lucky."
His self-righteous fervor was spent. He couldn't look at me anymore. "Damnit! I'm sorry, Craig. Come on, don't get upset. Come on and let's talk some more." He knew that he'd be in for a lot more preaching, but he surrendered nicely. "Come on," I took his hand and led him to the bench, "Let's sit here for a bit."
The birds came out for the morning. We'd been together for a few hours now, since nine last night. And there I was, sitting next to Craig, in his grandmother's backyard, about to tell him over and over that I love him. My life sucked. "Craig, ya know I love you. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I'd love you."
"Yeah, yeah, and at first you were drawn by lust. I've heard you say it before. Tell me something new? Tell me that I make you happy, that I make you want to achieve your dreams! Tell me something I haven't heard a few times before!"
His voice sounded so pleading. "I've already told you stuff like that. I haven't anything new to say! I mean, damn, words are too over-used as it is. I just figure that `I love you' is kinda universal." I offered my hand and we shook hands in our special way- top to bottom, left to right, back to front, pinky wrapped shake. I pulled his hand to my lips and kissed gently. This he allowed. My submission move. But I was startled when he returned the gesture.
"Jayson, you say you love me and that's fine. I am glad you do. And I guess that on some level I love you, too. But you can't confuse love and sex and lust. Too many people do that as it is."
"Look," I had to light a cigarette; there's no telling how he's going to take this. "Sexual relations is just a part of love. Actually, it's more a part of reproduction. But love is strong. It binds fast and firm. Since January I have been falling steadily in love with you. I cannot control it, nor do I want to. I cannot contain it, nor do I want to. But what I do want," again I take his hand, "is for us to be friends."
He stands. "What do you think we are? Fuck! I mean, why do you have to drag that up? Don't you think I know you're in love with me? I'm flattered, Jayson, honestly. And you have my friendship. Just give me some time, okay? We barely know each other. Good things will happen soon enough. Heck, you're in my backyard. Most people don't even know where I live!"
I hated crying in front of him. Of course, I did make sure he saw though. "I'm sorry, Craig."
He bent and wiped my eyes clear. "Listen, I'm gonna go on in my room and go to sleep. Maybe you should too. We can hang out again later."
Anger began to seep into my blood. I had to count to ten. "Craig, I am going, and I will call you later. Maybe we can catch a movie or something." I didn't mean it to sound like a question. I think I meant to sound like a dick.
He just said, "Sure, I'd like that."
And before I could reach the car, his arms pulled me around and into his embrace. And once again he kissed me on the lips. No tongue, no spit, just a passionate kiss on the lips. I smiled as he pulled away. "Thank you, Craig. That was a sweet way to say bye. I'll call you later, k?"
He turned back toward his room and said over his shoulder, "Sure thing, Jayson. I'd like that. Give me a call."
I sat in my car and watched him walk away. My mind raced with possibilities and what-ifs and I could feel my dick getting hard. Maybe I don't know the difference between love and lust and friendship. Who gives a fuck, I thought, I got a good thing going. I am his friend.
A slamming door drew me back to reality. I turned to look at the entrance and saw Alex walk in. Doc immediately came to report. "Hey, Jay, Alex just got here. I think he's looking for you."
"No shit, Doc! Jesus, sometimes I wonder about you. Of course he's looking for me!" I grabbed my money and my beer and went to where Alex was sitting alone, looking all sad and depressed. The look he bares when he's ready to quarrel about something. He stood as I approached. "Hello Alex, what are you doing here?"
He just sat and crossed his arms over his chest. "I was looking for you. What are you doing here?" He glanced around the room kingly. "Doesn't look like Craig is here, so why are you?"
The way he said it burned me. "Damn it, Alex! This is why I left tonight! He is a friend of mine! Christ! I am sleeping with you! What more do you want?"
"Quiet your voice, Jayson, we don't need a scene!" He pushed out a chair for me to sit in. "Come on, sit with me and calm down."
"Alex, look, I don't want to calm down. I don't want to sit down. I don't want to down anything but this beer!" I was too harsh, I knew, but I didn't expect him to up and leave. "Alex, where are you going? Come on, I am upset. Please!" But it was too late. He was out the door. Looking at the floor I shook my head and said, "Damn."
A moment ago I noticed Clara over by the jukebox. I knew she'd be playing music I didn't want to hear, let alone sit through by myself, with a bar hooker no more than a foot away. I wanted so badly for Alex to come back in and drag me home. But I knew that wouldn't happen. And what's worse, I longed for Craig to come into the bar, right at this moment, grab me and look into my eyes, and then kiss me again. Kiss me in front of everyone so there would be no question. Another pipe dream, concocted by a depraved and utterly alone mind. I wonder what Carl Jung would say to me?
Clara's voice sounded over the crowd, "Hey sweetie, listen to this song!"
She's kind of nice, I decided, and went to regain my place at the bar. Not really wanting to, but knowing that at this minute I didn't have anywhere to be that was more inviting.
-Please, as always, send any e-mails on whether I should continue or not. This is my first attempt at submitting a story, so I would appreciate feedback at Dkellek932@aol.com. And make sure you make some mention of the story in the subject line. I believe I deleted a few thinking they were Spam. And from what I have seen, I love the responses. Thank you again.