If It Weren't For the Two of Us Chapter 30
Thank you for your support of the story. This chapter will take things in a new direction. I hope the emotions behind it still resonate with you.
30
"You told me to call you every day. I'm calling." I left the voice mail.
Lance should have been home by now. Work went fine, but all throughout the day my mind kept flashing back to Lance. Part of me was a nervous wreck. Did he make it to work? Was he drinking already? How is he today? Where the hell was he??
My phone buzzed.
"I'm home. I'm okay."
"Did you make it to work okay? How do you feel? Want to talk?" I texted back.
"Too embarrassed. Tomorrow."
—
Mike joined me for lunch Tuesday afternoon. I had limited time at the station, so he brought us something. There was a small courtyard in the complex, so we ate outside.
I told him that I had confirmed one of my coworkers was gay. I had suspected it but being new, I wasn't going to approach anything.
"July 4 is on Saturday, so we all can take Monday off. Well, most of us can. The station still goes on, but my work isn't involved."
"Three-day weekend, huh?" Mike thought. "Want to attempt to get out of town?"
"Let's think about it. Couldn't be far. It's only three days."
We were halfway through our meal. Mike finally brought up Lance.
"Talked to him? How is he?"
"He won't talk to me yet. To be honest, I don't know how much he would remember about Sunday."
"He remembers enough to where he's embarrassed to talk to you," Mike said. "Trent, I know he's your best friend. You guys are really close — so close I'm a little envious, if not jealous. But pleeeease don't let him drag you down into his mess. You cannot be responsible for him."
"I – I know. I hear what you're saying. But I will always have his back." I took another bite. "I'm scared to death, Mike. I really am."
—
"H-hi," Lance said as I picked up the phone.
"Hey, buddy. How are you doing?"
"Okay."
"Work?"
"Okay."
We both shrunk into the drywall of our two apartments not knowing what to say. Lance was my best friend. How did I not know how to talk to him? All I wanted to know was if he had been drinking.
"Ready for Evan?"
`I guess." Another short answer.
"I will look forward to meeting him. I don't know what Mike's and my plans for the weekend. We hope to do small little trips over the three-day. Maybe we will meet him."
"Maybe."
"You're a bit quiet."
"I guess."
"You've been on time to work this week, right?"
"Um hm."
Lance was not himself.
"Can I ask if there is alcohol in the apartment?"
I didn't know how he would take the question. Would he be defensive? Embarrassed? Angry?
"A little."
"Okay." Hm. That did not indicate if and how much he had drank since we saw him a few days ago. "Just be careful. You'll want to be your best to welcome Evan."
"Yeah. I should."
Another moment of silence stretched into what felt like hours.
"I – I – I guess you aren't really up to talking tonight. I'll let you go, buddy."
"Okay."
"Love you."
"Yeah."
We hung up. It was the weirdest call we had ever had. I put my phone on my nightstand. A minute later Lance texted back.
"Love you."
July 2
I finally talked to Lance. He says he knows he has to be better. He tells me he hasn't missed any work. I believe him but have to wonder. When I ask if there is alcohol in the apartment, he said "a little." What's a little to a drunk? I try to bring up Evan, trying to encourage him to shape up for his cousin's arrival over the weekend.
—
I had learned so much at work. After two weeks, I'd already been given more responsibility. I'm only the assistant producer, but I felt like I was learning the ropes well. After work today, it was a three-day weekend. Mike and I decided to stay in town but planned to spoke out each day on a simple diversion. Those had yet to be decided, but we had a few options in the debate.
I arrived at Mike's place around 6. We were eating something fast so that we could make a 7 o'clock show. Mike wasn't into sequels as much as I was, but it was fun to see the latest installment in a Pixar franchise. It was mindless to a degree, but we laughed a lot. We planned on sharing a bottle of wine to end the night. I think we were counting on fireworks of our own before the holiday tomorrow.
We pulled into the driveway at 10:05. Mike went into the kitchen to get the bottle.
My phone rang. It wasn't a number I recognized. It seemed too late for a robocall.
"Hello? Yes, this is Trent."
Mike looked over, wondering.
"Nooo!! Is he okay? Is he – he ... ?"
"Shit," Mike whispered, putting down the bottle to move closer.
"Can ... can I come see him?"
Mike wrapped his arms around me from behind.
"Okay. Thanks."
Mike squeezed me hard. I sobbed.
"Tell me."
Between gasps for air, I spit out: "It was Jackson Methodist Hospital. Lance was in a car crash. He's in the emergency room. He might be able to see visitors. They won't know until he's out of examination."
"How did they know to call you?"
"I was one of two numbers in his emergency contacts. His dad and me."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"At this point, no. I'll call you when I know something. Hopefully, we can still have some time this weekend. I'm sorry."
"Go to him." Mike stood silent. "And knock some goddamn sense into him."
I arrived at the hospital around 10:30. With it being later in the day, the visitors' parking was wide open. Unfortunately, the staffing was reduced at night. It took me a moment to find out where I needed to go.
Once I got to the right place, I was told Lance was still under examination. It may be awhile. I tried to remain calm. I was a wreck.
Only one other person was present in the waiting area. She didn't seem as worried as me. In fact, she seemed to be trying to nod off. She must have spent much of the day waiting. I, on the other hand, was pacing back and forth. Maybe this other person had their eyes closed because I was making her nervous. After pacing for 20 minutes, I finally sat down. At about 11:15, Lance's father came in. We recognized each other, and I went over to hug him.
"Have you heard anything?" Mr. Wheeling asked.
"No. I've been here about 50 minutes. Hopefully, they can tell us something soon."
"Oh my God. What has my boy done? Do we know any details of the wreck?"
"No. I haven't spoken with a policeman or anything. The hospital just called. That's all I know."
We both sat down.
"Mr. Wheeling, I don't ..." I stopped. I didn't know if a father wanted to hear the full truth about his son.
"Go on, Trent," he said.
"I don't know if I should tell you, but Lance has ... we've seen ... he has a drinking problem, sir."
Mr. Wheeling sighed. His exhale indicated he had suspected the same.
"Did you know?"
"I know a lot about my son. I wasn't sure, but I saw signs. When we visited, he didn't even bother to hide all the cans in the trash. I was hoping it was just the `college party' phase, that maybe his roommates had several of those. On a phone call or two, I could tell a little by his speech, even if slightly. I take it you feel that had something to do with the car crash."
"I ... I really have no details. But yeah. I do. My boyfriend and I had to pick him up from a bar the other night. The bartender took his keys. I was hoping that might be the straw to break the camel's back. Maybe it would be a wakeup call. I'm so worried, Mr. Wheeling. He's been scaring me to death these past weeks."
"You're a good friend, Trent."
"Thanks. I've been feeling really helpless lately."
We sat quietly for a couple of minutes. Mr. Wheeling looked uncertain of what to say. We looked at each other for a moment. He finally said something.
"Trent, Lance loves you."
I caught my breath. Fuck! What did that mean? Did he mean as a friend? What does he know?
"Well, yeah. We're best friends. We've got each other's backs. I love him too."
He put his hand on mine. "Lance. Loves. You."
I looked him in the eyes. This is why he looked at me strangely on previous occasions. He knew.
"You know ..."
"I know he's gay. I've known for years."
"Well, technically, he's probably bisexual. But ... did Lance say something to you?"
"Lance has been afraid to say anything. Ever. I've tried to be supportive. Loving. Patient. He's just ... never come forth. But I've known. I wish he wouldn't keep it inside."
Wow. I felt like I had been hit by a truck.
"Lance doesn't know you know?"
"No. I don't think so anyway. There has always been talk about dates with girls during school. I thought maybe I was wrong. But this spring ... I knew he loved you before school was out. We'd talk about things — basketball, classes, dates ... you know, school — but when we talked about you, he lit up like crazy. Even over the phone, I heard it in his voice. When we went out to dinner with your folks, I saw it in his eyes. I could tell. I had never seen it before. I knew it was something special. He finally loved someone."
"You are the second person to tell me that."
"He loves you, Trent."
"Are you okay with him being ...?"
"Absolutely. He's hiding it though. My guess is because of his brother."
"Oliver?"
"You are aware of him, I see."
"Lance hasn't told me much. Just that he has a brother. They aren't super close because of the age difference."
"That may be part of it. But there's more. Lance looked up to his big brother, but when they became older, particularly Oliver — around high school — Oliver would use words like "fag" and "queer" in his discussions about other people. I don't think he was even referencing gay people. He just used them in a derogatory way. His mother and I tried to encourage him not to use those words. It didn't change. Lance heard all that. Even in middle school, I started to wonder if Lance could be gay. I mean, that's early. I wasn't casting him into a mold or anything. But ... I wondered. And I was fine with it."
"Lance is lucky that way. My father has shut me out."
"That's not fair. I'm sorry you have to deal with that. I'd never do it to Lance. Oliver, I don't know. Even when he came home to visit when Lance was in high school, I could see Lance trying to act different. He'd try to be as macho as he could. Oliver would throw out "fag" at ... anybody — a joke, an insult, a barb. I just watched Lance absorb it. Oliver would say anything he didn't like was `oh, that's so gay.'"
"Wow," I said softly.
"Oh, Trent, I worry that I have failed my son."
"Are you kidding? You sound so supportive."
"We both think he has a drinking problem. How supportive could I have been?"
"Is anyone here for Lance Wheeling?" a voice called from the side of the room.
We both sprang up. "Yes."
I held Mr. Wheeling's arm.
"The good news is we thoroughly checked Lance's vitals. We checked for internal bleeding. X-rays only revealed a fractured wrist. His shoulder was dislocated. We fixed that and he has to be in a sling. His wrist is in a cast. It will be for about two months. But we do think that is the extent of it. Well, some bruises for a few days. He's going to hurt."
"Thank God, he's okay," Mr. Wheeling said.
"However," the doctor continued. "He had a high alcohol level. That's reported to the police. It's something you as a family should address. Address it seriously."
"Yes, sir."
"With all that said, there really is no reason to keep him here. It's fairly late; we could keep him overnight. But we think it best he goes home. How do you feel about that?"
"You don't want to keep an eye on him overnight?" I asked.
"We could. There just doesn't seem to be a reason to. Lance just needs to heal."
"Okay. I'll take him home," Mr. Wheeling said.
"I'll come with you."
"Okay. Good. Someone will bring Lance out in a little while and give you some instructions," the doctor said.
We returned to our seats.
"Oh, thank heavens," I said. "I mean, it's bad enough, but it could have been worse."
"Right."
"When we get home, I'm taking every bit of alcohol out of the apartment," I announced.
"That only helps temporarily."
"I know. I just ... I just need to do something." I sounded angry.
"I will have a talk with him tomorrow, too. But it really is all up to him."
"I wonder what his car is like. Fuck." I looked at Mr. Wheeling because of my outburst. "I'm sorry, I mean ..."
"Trent, please. I've heard the word."
"Where is his car? How do we get it? I ... just don't know where to begin."
"I'm not sure either. I guess we will have to contact the police."
"Oh, I guess I should call Mike. I'm sure he's worried."
"Mike ...?" he asked.
"My ... um, boyfriend. He and Lance are friends as well."
"The older gentleman who helped with the move?"
"Yeah, the older gentleman."
"Sorry. I didn't mean for it to be taken judgmentally. I just sort of ... was describing who I remembered."
I stepped away and gave Mike a call. After getting him up to date, I told him I would stay overnight there. After a few minutes of discussion, I saw them bring Lance out in a wheelchair. Before we hung up, Mike offered to bring breakfast by in the morning.
"Okay. Let's sit down a moment. I'm going to need a few signatures here," said the attendant.
"I'll take care of that," Lance's father said.
"Now, I have a few pain relievers here. It will get you thorough 48 hours. Here is a prescription for a few days more, but by next weekend, no pain relievers, okay?"
We understood.
"We've given him one already. He should take one at lunch and one before bed. Try to take that one with just a little food. He may want one more frequently, but that's a `no.' Lunch and bed, okay?"
Lance was listening, but I'm not sure what all he was absorbing. He didn't look up; he just stared at his legs. Mr. Wheeling and I paid close attention.
"Here is the name of the police officer. You will need to contact him about the car. He can probably answer other questions."
Mr. Wheeling took that along with some of the papers the nurse was providing. I'm glad I didn't take them. My hands were trembling.
"Lance shouldn't do anything crazy. He should be able to work in a couple days, but I'd like for him to wear the sling until Wednesday. He may need help doing a few things. Obviously cover the cast completely while he showers. I know it is kind of late and you might not remember everything in the morning. I've circled the number on that sheet there if you have any questions. But basically, Lance needs to take it slow so that he can heal."
Lance had said nothing. We moved the wheelchair down the hallway to the front door of the hospital. I stayed with him while Mr. Wheeling went to get his truck. I gently stroked Lance's hair but didn't say anything. I was hoping my touch conveyed what I felt. We worked him into his father's SUV. I knew the way better, so I just told them to follow me so that Mr. Wheeling wouldn't have to use GPS.
We pulled in about midnight. Lance's keys were in his personal articles contained in a bag. He slowly walked into the apartment. We sat him on the couch and asked if he needed anything. He shook his head. He picked up some magazines off the floor and placed them in a neat stack on the coffee table.
I went into the kitchen and took all the beer out of the fridge.
"I'm taking this."
I went outside and put it in my car trunk. When I came back in, I knelt in front of Lance.
"Is there anything else here?"
Our eyes locked.
"In my nightstand, there's a bottle of whisky. Take it. I want it all gone."
I went into his bedroom. I pulled open the drawer. I barely registered seeing a gay magazine. The drawer below was the bigger one. I found a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam. When I came out, I looked at Mr. Wheeling to see if he wanted to take it. He shook his head.
"My wife and I don't drink."
"No. Just their fucked-up son," Lance muttered.
I went to the closet and got a set of sheets.
"We just washed these. I'll make the bed for you in Evan's room, Mr. Wheeling."
"Oh, I can take the couch, Trent."
"Absolutely not."
I heard them talking softly to each other while I made the bed. I never expected to do it again after I abandoned the room just last week. I put a towel in the bathroom too. I grabbed a blanket and a spare pillow off Lance's bed for myself.
"I need to pee," Lance muttered.
"Do you ... need any help?" I offered.
"I think I can manage."
Lance slowly walked into his room. I couldn't tell if it was alcohol or pain, but he moved slowly. Mr. Wheeling and I just watched with extreme concern on our faces. I grabbed his arm again; I felt utterly helpless. Once Lance was out of sight, I had to catch my breath. I let go of his arm. I started to sob but did everything in my power to regain my composure. Mr. Wheeling moved over to put an arm around me.
"We'll get him through this," he whispered.
I leaned into him and hugged him. "Will we?"
Two minutes later, Lance came to the bedroom door. He didn't come back into the room.
"I think I should sleep," he said.
We agreed. His father and I helped him get his jeans off. We left everything else on and let him get positioned in bed. I brought in a glass of ice water.
"Anything else?" I asked.
"Nah."
"Okay. Well, rest up, buddy. I'll be right in the living room if you need anything. Just holler."
His bedroom door was left open just slightly. Mr. Wheeling and I turned in. I spread the blanket out on the couch. There wasn't another sheet, but this would do. Like Lance, I slept in my underwear and a T-shirt. I stared at the ceiling for a long time. I felt like pouring my heart into the journal, but I didn't have it with me. I cried myself to sleep.
—
It was 3:45. I felt something change on the cushions I was sleeping on. I awoke with a startle.
"Wha ... huh? Lance? What is it? Are you okay?"
"I hurt."
"I know, buddy, but we can't give you the next dose until lunch. Maybe an aspirin or Tylenol?"
"I just swallowed one."
"Oh. What can I do?" I said into the darkness.
"Please hold me."
"Okay, buddy."
I laid down again and he slowly, carefully, gently reclined his body on the couch in front of me. I placed my arm around him and held him gently, but with enough strength so he could feel it.
"Thank you," he quietly said.
I pressed my face into the back of his head. I wondered what was going through his mind. Pain, shame, uncertainty, regret. His dad. Me.
Within a few minutes, both of us were asleep.
—
Light started coming in around 6:20. I estimated I had maybe five hours of sleep. Today was going to be tough. I realized Lance was gone. He went back to bed.
Lance was not a coffee drinker. In case Mr. Wheeling was, I got up and quietly dressed. I slipped out and brought back some from a coffee shop that was open, in spite of the holiday. I placed it on the kitchen counter.
It was 7 a.m. I laid back down. I thought if I closed my eyes, I could sleep just a little more. I laid there. Thinking. I laid there thinking. Thinking. There was no way I was falling back asleep. The next thing I knew, it was 8:05. Mr. Wheeling was sitting at the kitchen table.
"Did you sleep okay?" I mumbled, walking into the kitchen.
"I suppose. As well as a father in this situation could. I assume I have you to thank for the coffee?"
"Oh, yeah. Lance is not a coffee drinker."
"Never liked it."
I poured myself a cup and placed it in the microwave.
"I got up to use the bathroom. I saw you two sleeping together."
I whirled toward him.
"We had our clothes on. We just slept."
"I realize that."
"He came out to me and said he was hurting. He wanted me to hold him."
"Because he loves you. You would comfort him."
The microwave beeped. My coffee was hot.
"I would never hurt him, Mr. Wheeling."
"Not on purpose."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I was so close to my roommate my junior year in college. That was a long time ago, obviously. We did everything together. We were closer than brothers. We spent so much time together. Then in the spring, I think he had a few drinks. We were turning in for the night; he walked up to me and kissed me. He said he had to do it. He was in love with me. I froze. I ... I told him I couldn't love him that way. He said he knew that, but that ... he had to do that."
He sipped his coffee.
"I had no intention of hurting him, but I knew things changed after that. We tried to keep the friendship the same, but I knew he was aching on the inside. I couldn't love him the way he loved me."
"And you think that's what's happening here."
"I could be totally wrong, but I think so."
"You know, he talks about male stuff, but then will go on a date with a girl the next day. He asked if I would be a friend with benefits ..."
"Oh, that never is a good thing."
"And I told him I couldn't. I don't want to hurt him, Mr. Wheeling. But if I stepped out of his life, it would kill him. I don't think he could recover. It would kill me too. We have a deep friendship. I love him that way."
"Just tread carefully. But ... I'd hate to see you lose this friendship. During my senior year, my friend ... we never talked that whole next year. I figured he was just hurt ... that he couldn't be with me. I'd see him across campus and miss him so much. It killed me."
We both drank some more coffee.
"Mike is bringing us breakfast. He should be here within the hour."
"He seems very kind."
"You have no idea. I was a wreck in my own way in the spring. He helped me through it all. We didn't expect to fall in love. As everyone LOVES to point out, he's older. But we did. I love him so much. I think Lance got ran over a little along the way, trying to figure out his own path."
"If not for Oliver, who knows, the two of your may have found your way together."
We both sipped our coffee. We heard the toilet in Lance's room flush. We assumed he was awake.
"Morning," he said in a mumble, entering the kitchen.
"Mike will have breakfast for us soon," I said.
"Okay. I guess everyone knows I fucked everything up, huh?"
"Come. Sit," his father said. "How do you feel?"
"Ohhh, let's see. I hurt, but I seem to recall something about having to wait for lunch. I'm embarrassed as hell because I let my life fall apart. I can't begin to think what I'll do without a car. And frankly, I see no reason to even get up anymore. So. I'm. Just. Swell."
"Let's just get through today. We'll take it one day at a time," I said.
Lance grabbed some orange juice from the fridge.
"Want to go for a run?" I joked, trying to break a little of the tension.
"Ha. Ha." he said flatly, his eyes barely open.
We made small talk, trying not to get too deep or too serious to start the day. Mike showed up just before 9 o'clock. Breakfast burritos were a great choice. He and Mr. Wheeling shook hands and made pleasantries. Mike had done well; they were delicious.
After cleaning up, I poured the last of the coffee. Mike had grabbed more with the burritos, but the three of us drank a lot. As we sat there, it went silent for a moment. It was slightly awkward.
"Well," said Lance. "I've gathered you all here to make an announcement. I'm a fucking dick. I've successfully ruined everything."
I'm not sure if any of the three of us knew the proper response to that.
"You've got three people sitting next to you who love you," Mike started. "How about we look forward instead of backward."
I thought that was a good answer. None of us said anything further. We finished our beverages and put the cups and glasses in the dishwasher.
"What time does Evan get here?" I asked.
Mr. Wheeling and Lance looked at each other.
"Is it still around 4 o'clock?" his father asked.
"Yeah, I think so," Lance said.
"I have an idea," I said. "How about we all get cleaned up. They have a good food truck festival going on downtown. I think we can do that fairly easily. That's simple. Then we can let you relax and nap this afternoon. If you want, we can come back, meet Evan, then show him the town a bit and maybe watch fireworks? Does any of that sound okay?"
"Actually, it all sounds great. I'd like that," said Lance.
"Then it's agreed," his father offered.
I went to the couch to fold up the blanket. I wasn't sure if Mr. Wheeling would be staying another night, so I left it at the side of the couch. Lance walked into the bedroom to take a shower, but then came back out.
"Uhh... I may need some help."
I instantly had multiple things race through my head. The thought of Dad helping me in a shower while I'm naked ... ugh! But I figured Mr. Wheeling didn't think Lance and me together while he was naked would be a good idea. But I guessed I should do it.
"I'll be happy to help you, Lance," said Mike.
I was surprised. That was big of Mike.
"Mr. Wheeling, I wasn't sure if you were able to pack anything for overnight," Mike said. "I brought a few shirts in my car if you'd like to have something fresh to wear. It may not be a perfect fit, but something might do."
"How kind. Thank you." Mr. Wheeling turned to me. "I see why you like him."
We got some plastic wrap and rubber bands from the kitchen to protect the cast. Mike and Lance walked into the bedroom. It was awkward, but probably weirder for me. The two men I've had sex with are going to be in a room with Lance totally naked. I couldn't even picture how that would go.
I brought in the shirts Mike had in his car. Mr. Wheeling felt he could fit into the T-shirt easily enough.
He gathered some things from the bedroom and took them into the bathroom off the hall. I was curious to go into Lance's bathroom to see what all was happening, but I wasn't going to go there.
I looked for anything we could straighten before Evan arrived. I'm sure Lance's bedroom was kind of a mess, but the rest of the place was actually good. I took out the trash from the kitchen. It only needed a little work.
I finally heard the shower start in the hall bath. I wondered if Lance was done yet. I felt odd just sitting in the living room by myself.
Mike poked his head out of the bedroom. "Baby, I'm sorry. It didn't don on me to bring you something. I was just sort of used to you living here completely forgetting we took all your stuff out."
"He can wear anything of mine he wants," Lance called out beyond his shoulder.
Mike opened the door. Lance was at his dresser pulling some briefs out of the drawer. His dick was looking as gargantuan as ever. I assumed Mike would be dressed but thought there would be a possibility he might have to go in the shower with him. I just didn't know.
"I'm jumping in your shower, Lance," I said.
As I figured, both the bedroom and bathroom were fairly cluttered. He had only lived here for five weeks, so it couldn't be too horrendous, but it screamed "Lance."
I grabbed a towel from his bathroom closet. Some things looked like they had never been touched; it seemed neat. Other shelves looked like towels were just shoved into place after being washed and dried.
After I lathered up my hair and rinsed it out, I dried my face. As I looked out of the glass, I saw both of them standing there watching me.
"What is this??" I called out over the shower spray.
"We both just enjoy the view," Mike said. They smiled at me.
"Whatever!!"
I glanced back seeing them gaze at my body. Mike was probably doing this to lighten Lance's mood. I got hard knowing both were staring at me. Seeing my erection, Mike shushed Lance out of the bathroom. Lance giggled. It was the first hint of him feeling okay.
I grabbed a pair of Lance's underwear and a Chicago Bulls T-shirt. I put my own jeans back on but pulled a pair of socks out of his drawer.
Once everyone was back in the living room, his father asked Lance how he felt.
"Sore. The shower definitely helped. I feel clean at least. The pain killer will hopefully come soon. My wrist is throbbing."
I thought he looked a lot better if nothing else.
"I want each of you to know that I appreciate you being here. I don't deserve your friendship," he said, looking at Mike and me. "Dad. I don't know what to say. Please forgive me. I'm so ashamed. I swear, from this day forward, I will try to be the son you want me to be. Please don't hate me."
They gently embraced.
—
We thoroughly loved the food truck festival. We shared some items so that we could try a lot of things. We didn't want to wear Lance out too much. We handed him his pill so that he could feel better in that regard.
This probably would not have been what Mike and I had planned on doing for the day, but it was a very pleasant experience and captured a bit of the essence of the holiday. Townsfolk seemed to be enjoying it.
Mr. Wheeling treated us all to ice cream, and then we headed back to the apartment.
"We're going to let Hot Rod Wheeling get some rest," I said. "You two probably need some time together as well. We'll be back at 4."
We left my car and drove back to Mike's place in his vehicle.
"Could you have been any more awesome," I told Mike.
"What?"
"Breakfast, the shower, the extra clothes ... you are amazing. Your heart ... you are amazing, Mike."
"Don't make too much out of it. Before I came over, I just thought of what might be helpful. I didn't plan on the shower thing, though, but ... I've seen Lance naked before."
"Up close, as I remember."
"Ugghh!" Mike twisted his face up as he always did when recalling that encounter. "That dick! Anyway. Once we got his wrist covered, he was able to do most things for himself. He just had to hold it up out of the spray. He could do most things one handed. I only had to help a little. When he was done, I helped him dry off."
"What will he do on his own?"
"Medical supply stores should open on Monday. He'll need a simple waterproof glove. He should be able to snap rubber bands on it. He'll manage."
"Do you think something has changed? He seems like he wants to be better."
"I hope so. We can't go through this again," Mike said. "With his father here and then his cousin moving in, hopefully he can resist temptation. We've got all the alcohol out of the place, and he currently doesn't have a car. That has to help the situation."
"We probably should say something to Evan, but that's a smack in the face for when you move in."
Mike was quiet. He didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. I wondered if something from the weekend had affected him. The look on his face seemed somewhat deep in thought.
"It's funny that you thought I was something special. You were the one that amazed me this week," he finally said.
"Me? What? With Lance?"
"No. I mean, yes, you're the perfect best friend, but ... you impressed me at work."
"How so?"
"When I got the papers for you and dropped them off, you had no problem introducing me to a couple of people as your boyfriend."
"Was that wrong? Should I not have done that at a new job?"
"That's not it. You showed courage. In the past months, you've become so confident. You are sure of who you are. I've taught at that school for eight years, and I'm still hesitant to be open. I thought you were amazing. I'm so proud of who you've become. I need to be better."
I wasn't expecting that compliment. It's nice that he noticed something about me. I hadn't really thought about it. I guess I had made a huge leap from being a freakish psychopath over the whole gay thing to being confident and proud of myself. It seemed gradual, but it really did happen in just mere months.
As we pulled into the driveway, I playfully asked. "Bedroom fireworks this afternoon? Or tonight?"
—
I wiped Mike's cum off my balls and my cum off my chest. Afternoon sex was a good stress relief. It probably released a lot of tension. I still felt sticky. I grabbed a washcloth and got it wet. I looked at the clock in Mike's bathroom.
"We need to hurry," I said.
"Well, that nap did us in."
"Yeah, but we needed it."
I got dressed. I looked at myself in Lance's shirt. It just seemed slightly off, but at the same time, the two of us shared everything. How could I possibly distance myself from Lance? I can't be in love with him, but he's like a second half of me. I do love him.
—
Evan wasn't what I expected. He didn't look anything like Lance, but cousins shouldn't resemble each other, I guessed. He was a couple inches shorter, but completely adorable. Not a rugged sexy handsome, but the boy-next-door kind of cute. Clean shaven, five-foot-eight, wavy black hair. I thought he was good looking.
We introduced ourselves.
"Uncle Blake, I wasn't expecting you to be here. This is a nice surprise."
"Actually ... Lance was in a car wreck last night," Mr. Wheeling said.
Lance held up his wrist.
"Oh my gosh!"
"I'm sorry. Things will be a bit clumsy the first few days," Lance said. "It's not the way I would have preferred to welcome you."
Most of Evan's things were here, but he still had a carful of boxes. We helped bring them in. The five of us piled in the SUV and drove around Jackson Bend showing Evan things that we thought he'd find helpful. Or fun. I suggested Señor Miguel's for dinner. I knew Mike would truly enjoy a margarita, but we all refrained from any alcohol. I knew he and I still had that bottle of wine at his place.
Lance said he was feeling okay, so we staked out a place of our own in downtown to watch fireworks. Mr. Wheeling had a blanket in the back of the SUV, so that worked out perfectly.
We had at least an hour before the display started. We let Evan do a lot of talking so we could get to know him better. He quickly figured out that Mike and I were a couple. We didn't try to hide anything. He didn't seem fazed in the slightest. That was kind of nice. Everyone seemed to be perplexed by our age difference. Evan wasn't. As we rested waiting for the show, I laid my head on Mike's belly.
The fireworks were good. It wasn't a long show, maybe 20 minutes, but certainly provided the celebration of the holiday. Traffic was the worst part. Following the show, it was just parking gridlock. It took almost 45 minutes for it to unwind before we could get out.
Back at the apartment, we told Evan it was very nice to meet him and welcomed him once again. Before saying our good nights, I wrote my number for Evan in case Lance needed anything. I really wanted him to have it in case there was an issue. I didn't bring up the alcohol — yet — but if things didn't get better, I wanted Evan to let me know.
We said goodbye to Mr. Wheeling. We were expecting handshakes, but he gave each of us a hug. I felt mine was stronger.
"Thank you for taking care of my son."
* * * *
This chapter will change things for Lance forever. For those readers who have stayed with the story since Extracurricular, you most likely have some feelings about what has happened. I encourage you to share.
Blog: timothylane414stories.blogspot.com
Email: timothylane414@gmail.com