Fork in the Road

FORK IN THE ROAD By Scott Turner Chapter 15

"If you come to a fork in the road, take it." -Yogi Berra

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction that occasionally contains rather graphic depictions of sexual activity between consenting adult men. If that's not your cup of tea, or if it is illegal for you to possess or read such material, then please go elsewhere. This story is copyrighted, 2008, and may not be reproduced, reposted or published without the expressed permission of the author.

Scott and Greg were about twenty minutes west of Merrill, "The Loon Capitol of the World." The cabin was just a few miles east of town. Scott glanced over. "Any gas stations or convenience stores coming up? I need to take a leak and could use something to munch on."

Greg looked out and around to get his bearings. "Uhm...yeah. I think there's an Amoco about four or five miles up the road here. He was right on the mark. Scott pulled in and parked the car. He hit the men's room and then joined Greg among the bank of soda fountains, coffee makers and stainless steel food warmers blasting BTUs in yellow and orange lights.

Scott looked around. "Let's see here...we got breaded chicken parts under one lamp, alleged sausage rolling around on those tubular heated things, corn dogs on the same rolling things, french fries in grease-soaked bags and a lot of beige, crispy looking stuff that nobody could identify staying warm under a couple other lamps. And then there's the ever-popular cheese-flavored goo in a heated vat with a spigot. He took a couple steps and pointed at another display case. Then there's the who-knows-how-old pizza slices in triangular boxes keeping warm in this thing. Mmmm, mmmm! That's good eatin!"

Greg shrugged. "I'm just gonna grab a bag of beef jerky."

Scott dug into his pockets from both sides and grabbed both his cock and his sack.

Greg noticed the gesture and looked sideways. "Don't say it." Then he whispered, "You've had a boner since we left my dad's place. The name `beef jerky' is not an invitation for you to say something lewd." Scott smirked, and then Greg continued. "But I'm thinkin' the same thing, so let's get out of here."

An hour after they'd unloaded the car and mostly unpacked, Scott was standing on the bed, his head almost hitting the ceiling fan with every up and down thrust. Greg's head and shoulders were on the mattress, but the rest of him was propped up by Scott's arms. Scott pushed down hard on Greg's hamstrings forcing his feet up near the headboard. Greg was a skilled contortionist. Scott plunged downward with forceful squats and he listened to his lover beg and whine and groan. Greg stroked his crimson monster furiously, the head of his cock aimed downward toward his own face. Then he winced, his torso bucked and his legs shot up straight and rigid. He exploded. He whined again as he covered his own face and dappled his tongue with his own seed. The vision below and the tightening of Greg's chute around his pole was enough to make Scott growl and fire his own load into the rubber deep inside of Greg. He let go of Greg's legs and fell on top of his friend, still inside of him. He locked their lips, tasting his lover's semen. He licked another dribble from Greg's chin and shared it with him with another long kiss.

Standing under the hot spray of the shower, Greg swatted Scott's chest with the back of his hand and grinned. "You, sir, are a fucking animal."

Scott pulled him into an embrace, swatted his butt and licked his neck. "You, sir, bring that out in me."

They toweled off and snuggled back under the covers. Greg nestled his head on Scott's arm. "This was a great idea, if I do say so myself."

Scott held him closer and nodded as he sighed. "Mmmm hhmmmmm."

"In Madison I'm always afraid that Darrin's gonna come back unexpectedly, or that Craig or Brett will come walking in on us without notice."

Scott shook his head. "Not likely at the apartment. Craig's job with the paper has expanded a lot and they have him covering local bands that travel around the area, so he's gone a lot. Brett spends a lot of nights and most weekends over at Angie's. So it's just me, the dog and the fattest cat in the world a lot of the time. But the dog spies on us sometimes when I neglect to close the bedroom door.

Greg licked Scott's neck again. "You, the nosey dog, the fattest cat and me. Lucky me."

Scott kissed his forehead. "Lucky me, being here right now with lucky you. We couldn't make the kind of noise we just in your dorm room.

It was Thursday, their last full day at the cabin. The next day they'd tidy up the place, pack up their things and head back to Greg's home. Then Scott would return to his parents' house for a couple days. They'd both be returning to Madison during the weekend and then classes would resume on Tuesday.

It was a perfect, beautifully mild day with cloudless skies, very little wind and temperatures in the low thirties. The snowmobile trails were in fantastic shape. They revved up the machines and traveled thirty or forty miles round trip before returning to the cabin. Greg lit a fire while Scott fixed a lunch of tomato soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. They'd planned the food well. That was the last can of soup and they were down to four slices of bread, just enough for toast in the morning. Greg disappeared into the bedroom and came back after changing out of his snowmobile gear into just his sweats and a thermal long sleeve. He grabbed the spatula and swatted Scott's ass. "Go take off the snow gear and hang it in the hallway. Jesse's coming over here next week and will expect it just where he left it. I'll turn and tend to the sandwiches."

"Yes, sir. Don't let `em burn." By the time Scott came back out in his jeans and sweatshirt, Greg was slicing the sandwiches and arranging them next to the steaming bowls on a couple of plates. He added a couple of baby kosher dills to each plate. Then he handed Scott the spoons, napkins and the salt and peppershakers. He nodded sideways. "Meet you at the couch." They sat close with their feet on the coffee table, as close to snuggling as possible while still trying to balance the plates on their laps and eat.

Scott sipped his soup and reached for the pepper. "Mmmmmmm. I feel like a six-year old again. Tomato soup and grilled cheese sammiches on a crisp winter day.

Greg slurped and wiped his lips with his sleeve. "You were no six-year old last night."

Scott nudged him. "You don't know that. I was a gifted child."

Greg rolled his eyes and bit into his sandwich. A string of orange cheese drooled out onto his chin and he wiped it up and licked his finger in a hurry. He swallowed and jerked his head. "Yeah, right."

Scott suddenly got serious. "Uhm, Greg, I need to tell you something."

Greg paused. "Er, okay." He sunk his soupspoon back into the bowl and looked to his left. "Shoot."

"On the drive over here I told you the story about Marty coming to Madison and our going to dinner with my old nemesis, Kip and his partner Glenn."

Greg snorted. "Great story, too. Would like to have been there to see Marty's reaction at the restaurant."

Scott blinked. "There's more."

Greg looked back directly, his face soft and serene. "You guys hit the sack that night didn't you?"

Scott inhaled deeply. "Yeah, we did. How'd you know?"

Greg shrugged and chomped on a pickle. "You two are special together. Your friendship lights up a room." He swallowed the briny little cucumber. "I only met him once, but I think he's a great guy. Shit, Scott, when he came up to Madison last time and I was over there, the two of you were even finishing each other's sentences."

Scott coughed on a slurp of soup. "Really? We were?"

Greg smirked and nodded. "Yep. And when you told me about the drinks and dinner when he was up in Madison last weekend, I just assumed...well, let's face it. The guy's just plain hot, and," he pinched Scott's nipple through his sweatshirt, "and you're a sexual animal or a machine or something. I just figured, good times, a good meal a few drinks and you were all over each other." Scott squirmed, swatted Greg's hand and giggled.

Scott thought about it. "Well, he started it, if it matters."

Greg munched on the second half of his sandwich. "No, it doesn't, but don't worry about it."

"You're not pissed?"

Greg sighed. "Well, I'm not thrilled. I wouldn't lead the standing ovation and probably wouldn't join it. But like I said, you guys are special together." He paused and thought for a minute. "Day at a time, you and me...remember?"

Scott put his plate on the coffee table. The bowl was empty and there was just a bite or two of the sandwich left. He wiped his lips and fingers on the napkin and dropped it in the bowl. He took Greg's free hand in his. "It's the weirdest thing, Greg. It's like him and me have these two separate lives, but we have them together. We have this great friendship that isn't really a love affair. I mean I love the dummy, but..."

"But you're not in love with him."

"I think that's right. And I think my respect for his marriage has a lot to do with that. I want to always respect that. I mean I love Jill and Ashley and Lil' Scotty too."

"You guys are `fuck buddies' who happen to be dear friends." He mulled it over and before Scott could respond, Greg said, "Wait. Turn that around. You guys are great and special friends who happen to be fuck buddies now and again."

As Greg put down his plate and bowl, Scott dropped his head on his shoulder. Greg wrapped his left arm around his neck and gently rubbed his chest. Scott sighed. "You just nailed it." He looked up. "You sure it doesn't bother you?"

"Hey. I can't promise the same thing won't ever happen again between Nick and me. But more than that, you told me about it. That's more than I was going to do with you the last time I got together with him." He leaned down and kissed Scott's forehead. "You are a noble and honest gentleman, Mr. Scott Turner, Jr. And I'm glad you're here." He looked at the fireplace and grinned a lascivious grin. "I'll bet with two, maybe three more logs I could turn that into a raging fire."

Scott looked up. "Huh?"

"When we first talked about coming up here you mentioned making wild monkey love to me on a sweat-soaked sleeping bag in front of a raging fireplace." He craned his neck downward and gently kissed him.

Scott opened his eyes. "You tell me where the sleeping bag is and you can get the logs."

Scott was laying flat on his back when Greg stopped sucking on his nipples and rolled off of him. He lifted his head. "Huh?"

Greg leered at him and licked his neck. "Hang on." He reached over to grab the condoms and lube next to the sleeping bag. His tongue danced down Scott's torso from between his pecs to the head of his drooling cock. Scott closed his eyes and sighed. He heard Greg tearing the wrapper of the rubber and flinched when his lover grabbed his engorged member. The condom was rolled on and the pole stroked. Then he felt some lube being drizzled and finally stroked on and around his manhood.

When he lifted his head and opened his eyes, all he saw was Greg's firm, smooth butt descending onto the phallus he was holding upright. Greg was facing away from Scott and he was on a mission. His muscular back glistened and his trim waist quivered a bit as he forced his tight ring around the head of Scott's cock. He gasped, and then exhaled, "Ooooohhh, yyyyeaaaaahhhhhhh!" Slowly, Scott saw his rock hard member disappear into the hot, tight chute. Greg leaned forward, grabbing onto Scott's shins while he got used to the feeling of being filled again. Then he began to slowly wiggle and circle his ass left and right, round and round.

Scott was immediately delirious, throwing his head back down onto the pillow and unable to stop his eyes from rolling back in his skull. His hands reached up and grabbed Greg's hips to encourage him as he contracted and swiveled his amazing ass. All he could do was moan and gurgle, grunt and groan. Finally, he came back close to Earth and began bucking his hips in unison with many of Greg's movements and was repaid with grateful noises from above. He grinned when Greg's head turned upward so that he was looking at the ceiling, if his eyes were opened, and heard him whisper, "Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!"

Slowly, Greg leaned backwards until his shoulder blades were resting on Scott's pecs. The movement up and down ceased for a moment as he reached up and behind, craned his neck and pulled Scott's face toward his own. They devoured each other's tongues while Greg clenched and relaxed his sphincter. Scott reached around and gripped Greg's massive tool in one hand and pinched his left nipple, hard, with the other. "Ride my cock, babe," he mumbled into Greg's mouth. "I want to have bruises on my pelvis and thighs tomorrow morning. Ride it as hard as you can." He gently grabbed a bit of Greg's hair and stuck his tongue in his ear. "Now, dammit! Ride my fucking cock, hard!"

Neither one heard the footsteps on the porch stairs. The rush of cold air and slamming door jolted them both.

Jesse stared, wide eyed. "What...the...fuck!?"

Greg gasped and rolled off of Scott, leaving him there with his shiny and sheathed member fully exposed. "Jesse! What the hell are you doing here?" He grabbed the edge of the sleeping bag and did his best to cover them both up.

The older brother dropped two grocery bags on the floor. "I'm coming back over here in a couple of days to spend the week. Just ran over to stock the fridge and lighten my load when me and a couple of buddies move in." His eyes roamed up and down the sleeping bag. "I might ask what the hell you are doing here, but it's pretty obvious, ain't it little brother?" He folded his arms and stepped forward until he was standing at their feet. "So I was right. Little brother's a fucking faggot. Big time jock on the baseball team sucking dicks and taking it up the ass." His foot nudged Scott's, "And you, mister pretty boy college guy. I didn't like you when I first met you at my dad's place. Did you make lil' ol' Greggy a fag or did you two just find one another in that sea of queers in Madison?"

Scott didn't respond.

Jesse sneered down and nudged Scott's foot again. "You. Go. Go now. Get the fuck out of here and don't come back. And leave my little brother alone." He sneered now at Greg. "He may be a perverted piece of shit, but he's my perverted piece of shit, and I can maybe fix that. But for you, he is off limits."

Greg gulped. "Jesse! Calm down!"

"Oh, fuck you, faggot. I come into my dad's cabin, some of which I helped build and remodel and I find this sleazy butt pirate banging your ass! And you want me to calm down?"

Greg started to respond, but Jesse's raised both hands to cut him off. "Don't even talk to me, ya' queer! Here's how this is gonna go." He pointed at Scott. "You got exactly thirty minutes to get your shit together, get the fuck out of here and go wherever the hell you want. Hopefully you'll drive off a cliff. I'll see that Greg gets home with me."

He looked back at his younger brother. "And you an' me are gonna have some serious conversing to do." His lips curled and he eyes bore into Greg's. "You are breakin' your dear departed mother's heart, you fucking little fairy, and I can't imagine what Dad's gonna say." He checked his watch. "I'm goin' down to the intersection and have a beer at Clancy's." He pointed back at Scott. "Thirty minutes, butt fucker. Do NOT be here when I get back." He picked up the grocery bags and put them on the kitchen counter. He strode past the guys on the floor. "Half hour."

Greg sat up. "Jesse! Wait!"

The older brother opened the door and looked over his shoulder. "Thirty fucking minutes." He pointed at Scott. "And you better fucking be gone. For good." He slammed the door behind him.

Scott looked right. "We gotta get the hell out of here, Greg! I can be ready and gone in thirty minutes, but you have to come with me."

Greg plunged his face into the palms of his hands. "No. Just go. You gotta go."

He grabbed Greg's arm. "Greg, I can't just leave you here alone with him. He's one pissed off lunatic. Come with me and I'll get you back to your dad's. Hell, if you want, you can come back to my place for a few days until we have to be back in Madison."

Greg shook his head. "Scott. This is family shit. Serious family shit." He looked over. "No offense, but you don't have a place in what's coming. I just gotta get through this and you can't be here when I do. This is gonna be all about me and my brother and my dad. You don't belong there. It'd only make it worse." He sniffed. "Worse for both of us. You have to just pack up and go."

Scott grabbed the back of Greg's neck and pulled him close. He kissed his temple. "I want to be here for you. I want to try to help you. We can both reason with them."

Greg coughed out a laugh. "Reason. That's a good one. Ya' don't reason with my old man or my brother. Wasted breath that'd only make matters worse."

Scott wrapped his other arm around Greg's back and pulled him even tighter. "Then let's haul ass out of here and you can come back to my folks' place and spend the weekend. We'll go back to Madison together. Whatever you need to handle with your dad you can do over the phone. At least you can let him know you're alive and what you're up to, and we can sort all this shit out later."

He pulled away and gazed into Scott's eyes. "First of all, I have a lot of stuff at Dad's that I brought home for break. I can't just leave it there."

Scott checked his watch. "Well, it's just after noon on a Thursday, and we're only about ninety minutes from there. Your dad will be at work. We'll go back there, pack up your stuff and then head south together." He grabbed Greg's forearm. "I do not want to leave you alone with these bastards!"

Greg wiped his eyes and shook his head. "Scotty, you just have to trust me on this one. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you have no idea. You just have to leave and I have to deal with my brother and my dad. I have to do it today and I have to do it by myself." He sniffed again and grabbed Scott's hand. "Really Scott, the best thing you can do for me right now, all things considered, is to go away. Believe me. Just pack up and go. I'll call you when I get back to Madison, if not before."

Scott started to get up off the floor. "Okay, but make it before. Call me when you get back home to your dad's place. Call me tonight, call me tomorrow, call me every day. Call me every night for that matter. Forget about the time. Just call me and let me know what's up. I'll drive back up and get you if you want. Just say the word."

Greg nodded slowly. "Only if you leave now. The clock's ticking and you can't be here when Jesse gets back."

Scott nodded and kissed Greg on the nose. "Okay. You win. I'm out of here. Gimme ten minutes and I'm packed and gone."

Greg looked down shyly. "Thanks. It's best."

Twenty miles south of the cabin, Scott pulled into a gas station. He put the car in park, but let it run so it would stay warm. He looked at himself in the rear view mirror. "I have to go back and get him."

Then he heard Greg's voice again. "Scotty, you just have to trust me on this one. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you have no idea. You just have to leave and I have to deal with my brother and my dad, I have to do it today and I have to do it by myself."

`It would only make matters worse...you just have to trust me' echoed in his head. Scott drove out the exit, driving back south toward his parents' home and feeling sick.

By the third day back in Madison, Scott was calling Greg's cell nearly every thirty minutes, when his schedule allowed. Greg had not called Scott at all after the confrontation at the cabin, and that was nearly a week ago. He'd gone back to his parent's house, but quickly grew weary and tense over their questions about what was wrong. He made up a lame excuse for needing to go back to Madison a couple of days before he'd planned. He'd thought about driving north, but didn't want to make matters worse for Greg by showing up at his father's house.

Each time he called, Greg's phone refused to ring, going instead directly to voice mail. Shut off. He'd sent nearly a dozen e-mails and even knocked on his dorm room's door three times. No sight, no sound of the guy. And with a new semester starting, he was unsure of Greg's class schedule. He even went to the gym before practice one afternoon and found Coach Bidwell's office. He asked the coach if Greg was around. The coach told him Greg had left a message that a family emergency was going to delay his return to Madison.

He tried the cell again and blurted out a rambling message. "Greg! Man! You are freakin' me out here! You said you'd call." His voice cracked. "Not only haven't you called, you're either not back in Madison or you're fucking hiding out. Greg! I'm really scared here. At least shoot me a message telling me if you're back in Madison and that you're alive." He sniffed. "C'mon, man. I'm begging you here! This is driving me crazy." He coughed. "You're seriously scaring me, buddy. Man, I am begging you! Please, please get in touch!"

When he got back to his room and had taken a short nap, he booted up the computer. There was an e-mail from Greg. The time stamp said it was only thirty minutes old. "Tomorrow afternoon, 4:30. Lobby of the Memorial Library. Meet you then. G."

He closed the e-mail and grabbed his phone. At least it appeared that Greg was in his dorm. He speed dialed his friend. This time the phone actually rang, but went to voicemail on the fourth ring. Scott wanted to drive over to the dorm, but was pretty sure Greg wouldn't answer the door. No, this could only be handled on his terms. Tomorrow at 4:30 it would be."

Scott left class early the next day and was inside the library at 4:15. He paced, then sat, then stood and scanned the mall out front for any sign of Greg. He nervously bounced on the balls of his feet with his hands dug deep into his pockets. He was exhausted, having slept about two hours since getting Greg's message. Even the fattest cat seemed to sense his misery and kept close quarters through the night and into the morning.

Finally he spied the familiar stride of that very familiar body walking slowly across the open span near the dormant fountain. He wore both a cap and a pair of large sunglasses. His hands were buried deep in his coat pockets and a couple of times Scott thought he detected the hint of a limp in his gait. Scott walked out front and sighed. `Finally.'

Greg didn't smile when he climbed the few stairs to the entrance. His bottom lip was cut and still a little swollen. Scott saw the signs of swelling and faded bruising beneath both lenses of Greg's shades. "Hi, Scott."

"Jesus Christ, man. What the hell...?" But it was obvious.

Greg nodded toward the door. "Let's just go in and see if there's a reading room free and we can talk in private."

Scott turned on the light and closed the door while Greg eased into a chair. "Sorry for the stiff arm treatment, Scott. I didn't want to freak you out. I just didn't want you to see me...like this."

Scott sat down and leaned close. "Well, I really haven't seen you. Not all of you, anyway. Gonna take those shades off?"

Greg looked away. "I, uhm, I'd rather not."

Scott took his hand. "Please. I'm asking you, please?" Greg slowly took the cap off and Scott saw the bandage above and behind Greg's right ear. The sunglasses came off just as slowly. He was still bearing two huge shiners that had begun turning to that sickening shade of green-gray-yellow as bruises sometime healed.

"Oh, my God!" He grabbed Greg into a firm hug as his own eyes welled with tears. "That bastard!"

Greg coughed. "Make that those bastards. Jesse did a number on me at the cabin and then hauled my ass to the car. The bruises on my arms and back are worse, but easier to hide." Greg started to cry along with Scott. " He got back to the cabin just a couple minutes after you left. I was still lying on the floor wondering what to do, what to say when he got back. I didn't get to say anything. He actually beat me with a log that was next to the fireplace. Not a huge one, but a very effective club for beating up faggots. If I hadn't been inside the sleeping bag and able to roll up into a ball, it'd be a lot worse."

Scott clamped his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Greg coughed and pulled away, wiping his sleeve across his nose. "Then my loving brother had me get dressed, tossed me into the car, threw all my shit in the back seat and drove me over to our place. Then my dear old dad got to get his shots in."

"What did you tell them?"

"At first I didn't respond to their ranting at all. I just begged for the beating to stop. Finally, when I figured it might not stop until they dumped me on the bus for the trip back here, I finally went off. I shouted at both of them, `Yeah, I'm gay, God damn it! Your son and your brother is a fag, a queer, a fucking homo. Deal with it!

He wiped his nose again. "My dad ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head and said, `Then you're no son of mine. I'm gonna get you on the next bus to Madison. You can come back here and enter this house exactly one more time before you're gone for good. Next time, when you're able, you get your sorry ass back up here. All your stuff will be packed up and ready to move. Bring along your boyfriend to help if you want, but call ahead. I don't want to be here." He sneered at me and pointed. "And then I don't want you to ever, ever darken my doorway with that candy ass of yours again... ever!'"

"Didn't you call the cops?"

Greg chuckled and Scott noticed a chipped front tooth. "Yeah, right. Up there? My old man golfs with the police chief, and my brother is on a bowling league with two or three of the guys in the department. Helluva lot of good that would do."

Scott pulled him in again, and Greg broke down sobbing. He stroked Greg's hair and whimpered into his ear. "I'm sorry. I'm so damned sorry for getting you into this shit."

Greg coughed and then sniffed. "Don't. Don't apologize. It was my idea. I asked you to come up there and knew what I was doing and planning when I asked." He sniffed again. "And I'm glad you came along. Until Jesse showed up it was a great, really wonderful time with you."

He wiped his nose again on the cuff of his sweatshirt. "I probably should have gone with you when you said so. But, I suppose this would've happened sooner or later anyway. I am what I am. They are who they are. We were bound to collide at some point, I suppose."

"Sssshhh. That's all behind us now. We're gonna get through this. I know it hurts, but you don't need them." He pulled back a few inches and put his left hand on Greg's neck, stroking his cheek with the back of his right. "And you can't avoid me. You can't hide from me. You're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere until or unless you tell me to go to Hell." A small smile crept up. "And even that might not get rid of me." We're going to work together to make you all better, Greg. Some day, don't know when, but some day you're going to realize that you're better off without them, without all their bigoted, pig-headed bullshit. One of these days, you're going to feel the difference. You'll be glad that this load has been lifted and, even though it might still hurt, you're better off."

Greg closed his eyes and forced a nod.

Scott cleared his throat. "But you can't do it alone, Greg. You know I'm here for you, right?" Greg just nodded. "And whatever you need, I'll do my best. But I don't think that'll be enough. We need to get you some real help. We need to get you into some counseling. If you're ever going to feel completely whole again, you're going to need the help of somebody who knows a lot more about this shit than you or me. The bruises and cuts will heal on their own. But," he tapped a couple fingers lightly on Greg's chest, "you know there are a lot of other injuries and scars in there that will require expert help."

Greg looked down and shook his head. Before he could say anything, Scott gently cupped his chin and put his left palm on his cheek. "And you know I'm right on that one. Greg. You need some help to deal with the emotional baggage that's been hurled at you the past couple of years." Tears started streaming from Greg's eyes again and finally, he slowly nodded."

Scott picked up, and then hung up the receiver five or six times. He was wrestling with himself. He asked himself again, `Can I really do this? Pennington's going to go ape shit.' Then he thought of Greg again.

Finally he muttered out loud, "Aw what the fuck?" His mom had always told him, "Honey if you don't at least ask, you'll never know what's possible. Nobody ever died from being told `no.'"

He sighed and borrowed one of Evelyn's lines. "Let's run this up the flagpole and see if anybody salutes." He dialed the number to Andrew Pennington's law office. He nervously tapped a pen on his desk. Finally there was an answer. He cleared his throat. "Andrew Pennington, please. Uhm, yeah, tell him it's Scott Turner, Jr. on the line. Thank you, I'll hold."

He listened to some generic music for the better part of two minutes until Andy came on the line. "Scott! How are you? Keeping warm?"

"Well, you know the joys of taking on `The Hill' in January. Doing my best to avoid frostbite."

"Ah yes, I remember it well. I don't envy you. So what can I do for you?"

"Uhm, well, wanted to run a question by you about our last two meetings and all the budget talk we've been having."

Andy paused. "Okay. And?"

Scott fidgeted in his seat. "Well, there's still one area that has me really uncomfortable. I'm wondering what would happen, what the reaction might be, if I suggested at the next meeting that we reconsider the baseball decision."

Dead silence. Then he heard Andy inhale. Clearly, the cordial, back-slapping Andrew Pennington that Scott had been working with this year had obviously left the building. "That is simply, positively, plain fucking nuts! If we open up all the work we've done, simply to reconsider one single program, then the whole God damned thing could unravel. Jesus Christ! What the hell are you thinking?"

"Well, it's not a huge item in the budget and we've done a lot of good priority setting in so many areas. I was just thinking of asking the board to reconsider and do everything we can to keep the program."

He could hear Andy sneer. "Let me guess. You have a buddy or two on the team and you want to go to bat for them, so to speak. You haven't been discussing our deliberations with other students, have you?"

"No! No! Nothing like that. Of course not!" Now Scott was getting pissed.

"Look I don't have much time. I'm just telling you that if you even raise the question at the next meeting, I will rip you a new one in front of all thirteen other members. And I'll bet that more than a few of them, your buddy Abby included, will join in the fray. You'll be lucky to walk out of that room intact." There was another pause. "Do you understand me? If you try a move like that, you will seriously regret it. Why don't you go back to work to preserve the funding for the gay and lesbo groups running around over there?"

Scott sighed, rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Well, you've given me much to think about, Andy."

"Don't waste too much time thinking about it, because I'm telling you right now that a request like that will be Dead On Arrival, and you'll regret it for the rest of you tenure on the board. Any other questions?"

"Uhm, no. You've been very clear."

"Good. I have to meet a client now. I'll see you at the next meeting." The phone went dead.

Eight hours later, Scott was laying on his back staring at his bedroom ceiling. The dog hopped up on the bed and plopped his head on Scott's knee. Scott reached down and scratched his head. "Hey boy. Where's your dad? Oh that's right, it's Thursday, Angie's night off. He's over banging the ho'. The dog's tail flopped up and down a few times thumping on the mattress.

He sighed and looked down again. `What would Gran' do?' In her youth, and even her middle age and after, Evelyn Turner had been a hell-raiser, active in all sorts of social and political causes. She was willing, even happy, to go to the wall or even to jail, for a cause she considered to be just. But she was a principled hell-raiser. "Fight the good fight," he could hear her saying.

But Evelyn had a code. The good fight' was one waged against public or private policies and practices that were truly corrupt or unjust or immoral or dangerous to the average person. Did baseball measure up to Evelyn's standards? Scott sighed; no.' there was no right to have a baseball program, let alone a baseball scholarship. The decision that was pending with the Regents would be inconvenient and uncomfortable, particularly for Greg and for Scott. Cutting the program would threaten the guys' relationship in many ways, and it could end up with Greg leaving the UW. Scott didn't want to think about that possibility.

But when he honestly confronted the big questions, he couldn't rationalize raising hell about this one potential cut. The fees battle being waged within the WSA was a no-brainer. There was a principle of equal rights and equal representation at stake. The baseball question was self-serving for both he and Greg. And the latter didn't even know it was going on. He'd just have to hope for the best, that maybe the legislature would provide enough funding so that it wouldn't be necessary.

Scott actually got to the Regents meeting a little early, giving himself enough time to put a bottle of water in front of a chair and then pour a cup of coffee. He felt her petite hand on his back. "Hi there, stranger."

He turned and smiled. "Good to see you, Abby. How've you been?"

She took his hand in hers. "Good, Scott. We still have about ten minutes. Let's go for a walk."

He smiled down on the elfin woman. "Another dirty joke?"

Abby chuckled. "No, only one to a customer, and you've had yours." She led him out the door and they strolled down the hallway. She looked up at him. "Andy told me about your phone call to him regarding baseball."

Scott sipped his coffee and he shrugged. "Yeah, that chat was a little ray of sunshine into my life. The old `Andy the belligerent prick' was back."

She stopped walking, squeezed his hand and looked up directly into his eyes. "You need to get more sleep, dear. And I don't think `Andy the belligerent prick' is going anywhere soon. Get used it, son. It's who he is. And give him his due. He's worked hard to play nice with both of us this year."

Scott rolled his eyes and grinned.

She patted his hand. "Look, Scotty, I grew up with only a handful of rules. Love and obey your mom and dad. Tell the truth and speak your mind respectfully. Follow the rules and the laws, unless you can identify a greater principal that condemns those rules and laws. But before you start breaking them, try to change them. But before you try to change them, make damned sure there's a cause greater than yourself." She thought for a minute and a subtle smile crossed her lips. "And, love the Packers. Hate the Vikings and the Bears. Cheer for the Brewers, but be prepared to be disappointed. If need be, die for the Badgers. That was my old man, and I agree with him through and through."

Scott laughed, and then he sighed. "Sounds good to me. Your dad was a smart guy.""

Then the top half of her face suddenly signaled that she was serious. "Scott, I do love baseball. But that's mostly recreation and amusement. What we're doing here really matters. I take no joy in the prospect of cutting one of our teams, and I've sensed that it's causing you more than a little agony. But it just doesn't make any damned sense to keep it alive. The baseball team is a drain on the system's budget. We all know, even though the specifics aren't in yet, that we're going to need to shave stuff away again this year. It's either that or look at significant increases in tuition." She peered over her glasses. "And I doubt you want to go back there again." The previous year, Scott and Andy had gone nose-to-nose on the tuition question. Even though Scott had won, it hadn't been fun.

She continued. "And we're doing a good job with the other crap that doesn't affect teaching or learning. But this one cut will let us keep stuff alive in a few other areas for kids who don't even know the UW has a baseball team. They just want to get the education. It's our job, first and foremost, to deliver that."

He looked at his shoes and nodded. "I understand, Abby. Really I do." He smirked. "Not to worry. I'm gonna be a good boy."

She squeezed his forearm. "I knew you would."

He didn't say a word for the next four hours, and left feeling sick. `She's right. I do need to try and get more sleep.' He drove back to the apartment, walked past his roommates without saying a word, changed clothes and crawled under the covers. The fattest cat in the world jumped up and snuggled in next to his feet. Scott wiggled his toes to welcome the lardass, and he purred.

Author's Note: This Norwegian wants to offer a Happy St. Patrick's Day to one and all. Keep the comments coming to scotty.13411@hotmail.com Be well!