"Montana Comes To Harvard" - Chapter Eighteen
By Griz
umgriz@protonmail.com
Hiya;
I need to explain something to you, about what you likely saw at the end of Chapter Seventeen. Right after Jeff responds to Anders' direction to take Marc home', there are lots of other brief conversations between folks in the story. Remember when I wrote that I get inspired for some detail in the story, or comments back and forth, and write em on sticky notes that end up on my bedroom wall?
It dawned on me yesterday while writing that chapter that the more expedient note--taking is just going to the very bottom of the work as I'm writing it, and park my ideas right there. They don't get lost on a wall, and they're a lot closer to me, wherever I am in this place.
The reason you're seeing all that stuff is because I finished the chapter at 2:00AM Tuesday, 30 January, and was so daggonned tired, I edited everything------except deleting my notes at the end. Well, fuck it! Now you know part of my process.
I've met great guys through this story, and I thank all of you for emailing me. There have been some good stories about readers growing up on farms. It makes me happy to see gay boy farmers, like Jeff, who can relate their love of the land, family and friends---including dogs and steers----with what they read here. Please continue to let me know you're reading; it makes me (as my grandpa would say) `real darned tickled'.
With Sincere Respect and Gratitude for Each and All of You;
Griz
*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.
All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***
Anders and I shared a hug at my truck. I know I talk a lot here about hugs: Marc, Anders, Tommy, Kristi; Mom & Eva. They're instinctual for survival. They say, I have something you need', or you have something I need'. In both cases: we can't make it through Life on your own; let's hug', in big, bold print. At that moment with Anders, that hug might've said, Tonight shot us both past the point of no return. Let's get our Loves through the night and welcome them into our future.' Or, it might've just said, `I love, respect and need you, Brother'. Could be both, but that'd be one ugly run-on sentence, and no one wants that.
Anders and pulled back and smiled at each other. The smile you give when you want to remind the receiver the moment isn't happy, it isn't sad; the glass is neither half-empty nor half-full. It's just an empty glass, waiting for someone to do something with it. The fair was over, at least for us. Probably for most people.
Sunday is for clean-up. The fairgrounds are swept up, tidied and the trash taken away. Lots of folks saw Marc begin that process early. Now four somber people in two trucks were ready to drive West, where the only sounds of any crowds would be crickets chirping, frogs croaking and a barn owl hooting. No women screaming in pain and agony, no small-town terrorists shouting while they're dealt some defensive justice. I don't know what else to say about that, so I'll just keep quiet.
I was in my truck next to Marc. He looked straight ahead, but reached over and put his hand on mine, both of us holding onto the gear shift.
"Jeff, I don't regret a single moment of this evening. But I will have serious regrets if I've done anything to be hurtful or damaging to your family."
"Marc; Babe! Not at all. What you did.....for Eva.....is what any man would've at least attempted, had we gotten to that vile viper first. The results wouldn't have been the same, but in the end, the imperative was stopping Junior from killing Eva. You were superior to that task.
I already think Team Wojtowicz is all that', but you're one of us now, and you protected another one of our own. There was hurt and there'll be damage, but not from you. You're not the one who'll be arraigned on some serious charges. You'll also never be known as the meek and mild professorly type from Harvard'. Not here."
Marc smiled and laughed a little. Then he knitted his eyebrows together, tilted his head a little and looked at me.
"Am I missing something, or is Tom's brother Trace still here, simmering away in some giant stock pot?"
"Oh, geez.....yeah, he probably is! He didn't leave with Tommy and Kristi."
We were still parked and the engine wasn't on yet, so I called my boy.
"Hey, Jeff."
"Tom. You two okay?"
"Will be. That was some closing night. How're you guys?"
"Fine here. Serious mood for all of us, I think. Um, have you talked with Trace?"
"No.....OH, DAMN! My big brother gets a bronc trophy, and I leave him in a hot tub! Geez! Turnin' around right now!"
"Tommy, don't. Take care of your girl. Marc and I have this. He's the one who remembered Trace was going to relax after the rodeo. We're gonna go see if we can find him. We'll get him out to your place."
"Damn.....thanks. My mind has been elsewhere recently, I guess."
"As I'd expect it to be for all of us for awhile. I'll check in with you when we're headed out."
"Appreciate it, Bud."
"See ya, Tommy."
I ended the call and looked over at Marc. His gaze was out the side window of my old truck.
"Unless that's his twin, I think I see Trace sitting on the tailgate of that other guy's truck."
I craned my neck around to look out the rear window. Yup, looked like Trace. I smiled at Marc and we both got out and walked over to where the two guys were.
"Trace! Incredible ride! Did your sore bones and muscles melt and move back into place?"
"Heck, yeah, Jeff! Get in, stay in awhile, get out, cool off; repeat, repeat, repeat. Maybe a few beers along the way, too. You know Toby?"
"No. Hi, I'm Jeff Wojtowicz. We're friends and neighbors of the Sanger family and farm. This is Marc Taylor."
Toby was pleasant, and also had some beers along the way.
"Jeff, you seen my kid brother? He and Kristi rode in with me."
"So, Trace; there was a little excitement earlier, over at the exhibition barn. You didn't hear about it?"
"Heck, no; guess not. What happened? Tommy okay?"
"He's fine. Remember Junior? Lyle Connor The Younger?"
"I was doin' just fine not remembering that asshole, and then you just had to bring him up, dincha? And why you doin' that, anyway? Now I'm not relaxed anymore, ya little fucker!"
We all laughed, but I was actually kind of glad to see and hear Trace's reaction to hearing Junior's name. I really didn't want to run into anyone who was in that fucker's corner of the ring.
"He showed up out of nowhere and attacked Eva tonight. Tommy and Kristi were with us when it happened. After it got handled, Kristi was pretty upset. Tommy took her home in your truck."
"Good move on his part. Goddamned asshole Lyle Junior Connor. You said it `got handled'; how'd that work?"
"Well, um, Marc here was the fastest one of the crowd to stop him from inflicting more on Eva....."
Both Trace and Toby whistled, and at the same time giving Marc the once-over. They saw he was capable of stopping Junior. Trace smiled.
"Didja leave any part of him for me and the rest of the county to take apart?"
Toby nodded in agreement and swigged on his bottle of Oly. Hmmmm.....did I just see him give several follow-ups to the `once-over' Marc got from him? I saw Toby's plates. He was over from Fallon County. Baker, Montana. East of Fergus, but we get folks from all over the state. Marc shook his head, but didn't answer. I spoke more about the moment.
"Dan Gremaux saw the attitude adjustment Marc gave Junior. He took over, and cuffed the snake. Hauled him away and read him his rights. No doubt he's in the county jail right now."
"Good. He can rot there."
"Trace, we're headed out to my farm. You want to ride with us? I can drop you at your place. Already talked with Tommy about it. He's not comin' back for you. Gonna stay with Kristi for awhile longer, make sure she's okay."
Trace gave a kinda-sorta sideways glance at Toby who glanced back at him.
"Uh, y'know, I think Tommy has everything going right. Thanks, Jeff; I'm gonna soak some more, and Toby's got that big fifth wheel rig right there. I, uh, I think I'll crash here. That okay with you, Toby?"
"Yeah."
Oh. Well. And that was that.
"Okay. Well, we're gonna scoot. You have a phone to call your folks or Tommy about your plans?"
"Yeah. I'll figure something out. Thanks, Jeff. Good to meet you, Marc. Rather meet you here and see you smilin' than you not smilin', and we're both at the dead end of a dark alley! I don't need more beat-up muscles!"
We laughed and all shook hands. Marc and I got back in the truck and drove out to the highway. It wasn't even yet Midnight, but the evening seemed hours longer for us. `Instant Replay' was on an endless loop in my mind, and I suspected it wasn't much different for Marc and the others. My boyfriend was back to being quiet as I got to the street he lived on.
I pulled up to his house and shut the motor off.
"Are you coming in, Jeff?"
"For a moment, Marc."
"Oh. Okay....."
"Just long enough for you to get your toothbrush, Babe."
Marc turned his smiling face to me. Now, THAT was a smile. We got out of the truck and into the house where he put some fresh clothes in his backpack, along with toiletries, his iPad and a couple of charging cords, and reading glasses. All zipped up, he left the little light on in the bedroom and another over the kitchen sink. We got to the front door, and I reached to twist the knob. Marc's hand again went over mine. He squeezed just a little, and I looked up and over my shoulder at him.
"Just a moment, Jeff."
I turned so I could now face him. Was he feeling uncertain about coming home with me? I couldn't read him well at that moment. It was a reminder to me that we had a lot to still learn about each other, but it seemed to me when we were in his house, his demeanor was a little different. It's like he's not `on'. Or he's a little reserved. Not as conversational as when we're talking on the phone or in my truck. Curious.
"We are having another first', but before we get in your truck and drive away from this night, kiss me. You told me we're okay after the nightmare earlier, but I only saw your lips moving. I want to feel them on my own. Honestly, Babe; I wanted that when we were watching the two drunk people bickering. I thought, That will never be Jeff and me. If they'd just kissed each other before arguing, they could've headed off some of their own troubles.' That won't be you and me, Babe."
"About that kiss, Marc?"
I leaned in and started a nice, slow but determined kiss. Soon his backpack was off his shoulder and on the floor, and I had Marc backed up against the door, held there by 210 pounds of farm boy. After a couple of minutes, we both came up for air. Marc smiled at me and moved his hand to the side of my face. I did the same in his direction and leaned my forehead against his.
"And that, I hope, will always be us, Boyfriend."
Just to make sure we knew what we were talking about-----and committing to-----we resumed the kiss. Of course, that sprang our Springers into action, and speaking only for myself, I knew I was spreading more of my scent in my sexy professor's sexy briefs. I hoped he was doing the same in mine. I still laugh to this day that we surreptitiously wore each other's underwear on our first public date with friends. Horn-dog Fergusians, anyway.
The drive home was anything but quiet. Lewistown's Main Street was alive with visitors and locals alike. We have our share, perhaps more than our share, of liquor licenses. From the number of folks I saw all over the place, I was guessing whomever was appearing at the night show wasn't much of a draw. Someone on the fair board decided a couple of years ago that bringing in religious-country performers was the way to go. I joked with Father Tim about that and said I'd buy a ticket when the Dixie Chicks performed `Ave Maria'.
Driving West on the main drag, there were people who recognized my truck----and me, and Marc. Probably several of `em had seen what happened within the past couple of hours. Honks, waves, shouts, whistles, and from at least a couple of women's voices: "THANK YOU!!!!!" Marc just blushed and waved a little. He wasn't born to be in a spotlight, but I'll be danged if he can't dominate it if one comes for him.
Damn, can we please just let the judicial system deal with it now, and everything that happened can be a lesson for everyone? The first lesson being: Never Hit A Woman', because if we see you do that, you'll reap ten-fold what you've sown'? I've yet to understand bullies. I know it's not as easy as telling them, change because we tell you do'. There's pathology going on in there. I don't have an answer, but that won't stop me from asking the question.
We got out of town, driving up Main Street Hill and past the hospital to our right and the airport to our left. Traffic was quieting down at this distance from town, and more bugs were crashing into my truck's windshield.
Do you know the last thing to go through a bug's mind when it hits a windshield? Its ass! HAHAHAHA!!! I can't stand me, I'm so funny!
We reached the turn-off from Highway 200 to the graveled county road. Barnyard lights were on with each place we passed. Dust was heavy in the air, thanks to big machines everywhere disturbing soil and crops. Mom and Dad used to chuckle at the out--of-staters who'd move here, enrapt with the idea of owning a couple of acres and living in a new-but-built-to-look-old farmhouse. Invariably, they'd paint it white. Within two years, they'd do one of two things: paint their house gray, or move back to wherever they came from. Neither one of those was the wrong choice.
`Common Grounds' was dark. We anticipated that, since Kim had made a sign to hang in the window to indicate they were closed for the fair Saturday night. What happened earlier heightened my awareness that two young women were living in a little house by the side of the road. We live in a darkening world, all over the World. Anything can happen to anyone anywhere, and lightning can strike twice. I parked a thought in my head to talk with Anders soon about my observation.
A few minutes later, I was turning off the road onto the drive down to our place. Anders' rig was already there. That's good. I hoped Eva was recovering well. I didn't know what it would take for that to happen, but I was sure all of us would do what we could to assure her she was safe that night with us.
I pulled up next to Mom's rig. Marc and I got out, and he grabbed his backpack. We were right by the big end door of the barn. I told Marc I wanted to check on Lola Cola and Family, since I suspected Anders was at the moment paying closer attention to his own. Marc used the restroom while I got up to a wagging Lola Cola who seemed to finally be out of the post-surgery blues. She bounced up and down on her hind legs, so I unfastened the protective net and opened the stall door for her. Note to self: lay down new straw and bedding Sunday for them.
With Lola Cola out back, I scratched OC's ears and thanked him for being such a good uncle. I found a duck heart for him, and I'll be danged, I heard him purr. Will wonders never cease? My little guy was between two others. Rather than pick him up, I just gave him a few strokes, and then bestowed similar uncleness on the others, as well. They were all doing so well, and yeah, I attributed a lot of that to the humans' ministrations with puppy formula, but also OC. He saved Lola Cola's life, I am convinced. Oh, I'm a softie; have another duck heart, you fantastic not-so-feral-after-all feline, you.
I was satisfied they were all right, and once Mama Dog was back with her kids, I closed the gate and re-fastened the net. Marc and I looked around, but it was dark enough in there with only a light on 50 feet away, we couldn't see Barn Owl. Maybe he went out for a little nosh. Better out there than in here, you redoubtable raptor.
On the approach to the house, I reached for Marc's hand and held it. He was still being quieter than usual. No rush back to Normal for my sake, Boyfriend.....you are mine; this way or any way. Marc squeezed my hand gently and sent a little smile my way. He stopped walking and pulled me back to him.
"Babe, I know you know your heart, and you're smart enough to read a room. I am a little anxious, though, that this is too soon for your family."
"It was my family's, well, my brother's suggestion. I told him I was going to take you home and stay with you, and he said to take you to our home. You don't hear what Mom, Anders and I say when we talk about our immediate lives, but you are a topic of conversation----an in only the most positive of regards.
When I left here yesterday to come to your house, Mom hugged me and told me to have a good time with you. She even said I should tell you hi from her, but retracted that, as she thought you might think that was weird. Marc, trust me and trust my family: you are welcome here. And just so you are aware: Eva is here, too. For her, though.....I'm not sure she will ever live anywhere else now."
"Wow, Jeff.....all right then, to all of that. Thank you. I don't mean to not trust you. As I said last night: all of this is new to me, including this very moment."
"Me, too. We'll be fine, Marc."
I pulled Marc into a kiss. Not like in his house before we began driving, but the kiss I'd wanted to give him right there, the first time he was out here earlier in the week. Marc stayed in the kiss with me for a moment, and then we broke, smiling at each other.
"I like you, Farm Boy."
"I like you, Ass-Kicker-And-Name-Taker."
"What....?"
"Later. Trust me, it's a good thing."
The door into the house opens right into the kitchen. There's an actual front door on the east side of the house, but no one uses it. I can't remember a time when I saw anyone walk through it. Maybe we can let the stork use it when the first baby comes.
Mom, Anders and Eva were at the kitchen table. Eva was not crying, and seemed to be less scared and on edge. Anders had an arm protectively around her. Mom was holding Eva's hand atop the table. They all said hi to Marc and me before we could offer the same. Smiles, too. I was relieved. I was as prepared as I could be to walk into a very dark moment.
Mom stood and walked to us, giving me a hug and rub on my back, and then she moved to Marc. That hug was one of gratitude and relief. Once she pulled back, she took Marc's face in her hands and stared into her eyes, the smile still on her face.
"Thank you."
Marc just smiled back. How does a guy respond to that? `No problem'? There was a problem, a big one, which Marc addressed; now the five of us would close the night, the fair and the first day of Harvest, just ourselves. Anders and Eva followed Mom, and Marc and I twice again got hugs. It was really cool to watch my big brother embrace my big boyfriend. Yeah, you're in, Marc. Dziękuję, Aleksy.
We joined them at the table. I noticed their coffee mugs. I grabbed two more and the coffee pot. All we needed was a cheesecake and a three-camera set--up, and we could have our own sitcom. I think Marc's and my appearance lightened the mood some more. While we didn't break out the Monopoly' board, we told Mom about the rodeo and riding the double Ferris Wheel. I get my abhorrence for heights from her side of the family, and she shuddered (we both did) when Eva laughed and said she was losing her mind because Anders kept rocking the seat they were in. Even Marc grimaced and shook his head NO!'
Any discussion involving Junior was avoided outright. I wanted to tell about Tommy driving off in his brother's truck, leaving Trace to stew in the hot tub, but I chose against it. The logical question from Mom, Anders or Eva could've been, `Why'd he do that?', which would've led to only one honest answer: Because Kristi had had enough. My boy, too. Just because I could and just because I'm Jeff, my mind drifted a little to Trace and Toby and that trailer. Absolutely NONE of my business! I KNOW! But, damn.....
MOVING ON!
Maybe 15 minutes later ending in a few moments of silence, Anders said he and Eva were going upstairs. Not to bed', not to look for spiders in the attic'; just `upstairs', and the comfort that would bring them both. Eva smiled a half-smile, but still an Eva Smile, and they left the kitchen. She held her head high, feeling safe and surrounded for the night. Their walk up the stairs was not fast. Nothing fast needed to happen anymore tonight.
"Jeff and Marc, will you stay with me for a moment?"
"Sure, Mom; are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Well, I think so. This day has been a roller coaster ride, and I didn't even need to go to the fair for it. You both were so brave, taking care of Eva. Marc, I don't think I've ever seen anyone move so fast."
"Wait.....Marie, how'd you see that?"
"Oh, you're all over social media, Marc. See?"
Mom opened her phone and pulled up an app, which I know she didn't use normally, but after being tipped off about tonight, she got on it.
There was the video, but even on a small screen, Marc made it all bigger than life. The text below it was hilarious: `Hirsute Hottie Hits, Hacks And Hammers Horrible Hostile Hick!' Well, I had no argument with that, really; that's exactly what Marc did. And that's an all-too-appropriate description of Junior. So, there is some truth to be found on the internet, after all.
Marc turned red, but watched intently. I suppose he was looking to see if he did anything to Junior that could land him in hot water, too. If he did, whatever it was stopped Junior from attacking Eva. Worst case scenario, Marc? You go to jail, Eva bakes you muffins, and I bring `em to you. On conjugal visits, of course.
"You boys are gonna be famous at least locally for awhile. Marc, you took the overall, grand-high-poo-bah purple ribbon for the entire week of the fair. I know the News-Argus is going to want someone talking with you. More than anything, I want you both to know I'm glad you're here, Marc. You are welcome in this house, on this farm, and in this family. You took care of one of our own tonight. Now, if you don't mind, give me a couple of minutes with my youngest, please."
Marc smiled and stood, reaching for his backpack on the floor by his chair. I smiled at Marc.
"Light switch is just to the left of the door as you walk in. Two doors down is my bathroom."
Marc was walking out of the kitchen. He called back to me.
"Thanks, Babe. Oh, shit.....um, Marie....."
"Yes, Marc?"
She and I were smiling and then laughing silently at each other, and at Marc's sudden discomfort. He couldn't see us, since he was in the living room and seemed unable to turn around and face us. Ya hirsute hottie COWARD!
"Did I just cross a line.....?"
"`A line', Marc?"
"Uh, when I called Jeff `Babe'....."
"And now you've done it twice. No, you didn't cross a line, unless Babe' means something different now from when the boys' father used to call me Babe'. It doesn't mean Bozo' now, does it? Or Beetlejuice', perhaps?"
Mom and I burst out laughing, and Marc finally turned around, red-red-red, and laughed along. We take each other seriously, literally, and sometimes in this family, we take each other with a grain of salt. Marc reached the stairs and climbed them. I could hear him walking down the hall to my room, the old floor boards squeaking with each step. Dad told me once that's how he would be able to tell if I was sneaking out to go drinking. I told him and Mom:
"Why would I have to sneak out for that? There's a bottle of vodka in the back of the linen closet in the hall. I chase it with Cherry NyQuil."
I was twelve years old. It took them a moment to realize I was kidding, but that was only fair; it took me a moment to realize Dad was kidding initially. I thought I'd pulled one over on my folks with that back-and-forth, but I think the matter wasn't fully resolved until after Dad snuck up the stairs in the middle of the night and searched the linen closet. The squeaky floor gave you away, Dad. And stay out of my stash!
"Jeff, is there anything you want to say, or ask, or otherwise discuss?"
"Ah. You mean Marc being here?"
"Whatever you want to talk about, but sure; that, too."
"Umm.....only a couple of things, I guess."
"Okay; go."
"I would've wanted to talk with you about this, before you talked with me. Anders, you and I seem to think with one mind about people we care about. Anders actually made this really easy for me; I was going to stay in town with Marc, but Anders basically said, `that's a house; this is home'."
"I could not agree more with any of that. And Anders was right to suggest you bring Marc home. You heard me tell him he's welcome here. What's the second thing?"
"I'm pregnant."
"JEFFREY!!!"
"NOT `JEFFREY'!!!"
"Oh, FUCK, yes, `JEFFREY'!"
"MOM! HAHAHAHA!!!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"
Well, the REAL second thing' was to tell Mom Marc and I consider each other ours'/his'/mine', and that if this evening's moment turned into a scandal involving him, that I had every intention of standing by him throughout. I can share that another time. Right now, though, this day ended with laughter. If you'd asked me two hours ago if anyone would be laughing that night, I would not have bet on that long shot.
Mom and I wound ourselves down from the belly laughter. We both stood and hugged. We're huggers. She moved to the kitchen door and locked it, including the deadbolt. Speaking of `first-time-for-doors', that was the first time I ever saw it locked from the inside. If we left the farm, of course we locked it. Mom saw me looking at her with a curious expression on my face.
"Reality doesn't arrive in a semi truck, all at once; just pieces here and there make their way to you. I think there are real threats, and we're not immune to them. Junior is bad news, but you know, there's always someone worse out there."
I had no argument with that. It's one thing to have my 9mm underneath my bed, in case someone gets in here; it's another thing to deter them from getting in, in the first place. Nothing is guaranteed----particularly your and your family's safety.
Tonight, I'd have another weapon of defense on top of my bed. Before heading to my room, I stopped at the bathroom and washed my face and brushed my teeth. Really, though.....I wanted to shower to just wash the day and evening away. Hmmm..... Back to the bedroom.
Marc was not under the covers. His clothes were on, but his boots were off. He had loosened his belt and the top button of his jeans, though. I was looking forward to peeling these jeans off myself, too. Marc had his reading glasses on, which soooo stereotyped him. He looked like he was about to deliver the most comfortable history lecture in history. His iPad was open, the blue light reflecting off his glasses. I could hear the very faint sound of music coming from the device.
Marc looked up and smiled. He was winding down, too. My boyfriend looked tired. I know I was feeling my own fatigue. I was kind of jealous of Trace and his human-sized CrockPot. We have ours, but Marc and I were `in' for the night. We needed four walls around us, and nothing and no one more. I smiled back at Marc.
"Babe, I'm dirty, dusty, oily and smelly. I'm gonna take a shower. You want to join me?"
"Oh, HECK, yeah. I feel the same way, but I'll try to come up with three other words to describe my condition after this day."
"Why three?"
"Oh. I thought we were re-naming the Seven Dwarfs."
"Geez. Let's get naked and get clean."
"Don't have to tell me twice!"
We stripped, and just as I expected him to, Marc folded his clothes carefully and stacked them on the chair at my desk. This guy.....classy in and out of his classroom. Down to our underwear, we walked to the bathroom. I told you previously that Anders and I both have our own bathrooms; that's true.
When the house was being planned, my great-greats knew there'd be a house full of kids, and as they got old enough, they'd be going into town to the new high school. Grandpa didn't want his kids being shamed by the Townies or anyone else for not being impeccably clean with the best hygiene possible. Because it was a coin-toss to guess how many boys and how many girls would be in which generation, they decided to have a boys' bathroom and a girls' bathroom upstairs. A third bathroom would be on the ground floor where the primary bedroom was planned, usable by guests and company alike, too.
There were multiple kids in each bedroom, and everyone needed to be awake and preparing for their day, whatever and wherever. Today, two W Boys had the entire second floor, and each had his own bathroom. Mom was not coming upstairs at all, unless we had Covid or broken bones. Cleaning anything past the top step was our responsibility. Anders and I took that on willingly, and both of us being fairly anal retentive in terms of keeping our surrounding clean and orderly, we didn't have to be reminded.
In each other's purloined patriarchal panties (yeah, I'm rolling my eyes, too), we walked the short distance from my room to the bathroom. Baths were still The Thing when the house was built, but all of us were bathtub-averse. When Dad got the hot tub and the on-demand water heaters, he heard Mom and me whining about all the room the bathtubs in the house took up. Out they came, and were given to a friend-of-a-friend who was remodeling a house in town into a bed & breakfast.
Showers were installed, and there was happiness in the valley. Either Dad anticipated future kid corpulence or there was a sale on tile, he had the showers made larger, essentially covering the same space as the bathtubs they replaced. I knew I wasn't going to say anything about that; I suspect Mom came to the same decision. Regardless, the result was a shower that accommodated a work-strong man and a gym-strong man, at the same time. Oh----with endless hot water for them both.
The bathroom fan was powerful and did its job well, but emulated the deafening decibels of a full-throttle middle engine on a DC-10. Instead, I opened the double-hung window. Middling performance, but perfect in its silence. We got out of our underwear, and in the full light of the bathroom, saw each other completely naked for the first time.
My cock rose faster than house prices in Seattle. I couldn't take my eyes off Marc. THAT was my boyfriend?! That image of perfection, only five feet from me? Oh, damn. His smile only increased his beauty exponentially. I just shook my head as if I weren't sure what stood before me was real or not.
"See something you like?"
"Several somethings. And a someone."
"Well, the `someone' already told you he's yours. Lucky for you it's a package deal."
"Oh! So I can have the package, too?"
"On occasion. If you're nice."
"I'll have to work on that. How's my credit until then?"
"Interest free, but only accepted in one location, I'm afraid."
"Why are you afraid? I'm the one who's gonna run up that account and likely end up in debtor's prison. But I WILL try to be nice. I promise."
"I can ask for nothing more. Except some hot water and a bar of soap."
"Marc....."
"Jeff?"
"I'm real glad you're mine."
"I'm glad, too, you're mine."
We joined and kissed, and then stepped in the shower and repeated the sentimental action under cascading hot water. I felt the dirt and grime of the day were washed away, and stress and anger and fear and loathing along with them. Would I have done that, had it been just me? I probably would've just got into bed, hugged my pillow and begged Sleep to come for me, sooner than later.
Since, however, I did not come back here alone, that was a `what if?' that would never need answering. My life took a turn this week I could not have ever imagined coming. Marc arrives, Daddy leaves. Anders comes back, dog(s) in tow. I was questioning my academic goals suddenly. Marc and I move into each other's lives. Junior fails to learn Lesson Number One, and is made to pay a painful, heavy price for it. And then, summing up the entire week, a man is in my shower with me, but he's not just a man, he's family; he was told that by my mom and my best friend. There's no perfect word for this perfect man; he's just mine.
The Sunday in July when Harvard came to Montana, everything changed, except Change itself. It brought with it a perfect storm of Loss and Gain, and I was hoping, standing under the hot water with Marc, that storm would pass. I knew all three would be back, but all I wanted was a little time to adjust to what they brought on this trip.
`Dad.....well, I guess I got nothin' this time. G'Night, Dad. Love you.'