This is a work of pure fiction, based on the author's feelings, beliefs, and in some cases, experience. There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY!
Cast of Characters:
James Thomas Arthur (Jamey)
Harold Brian Arthur - My Brother (Habby)
Harold Garfield Arthur -- My dad
William Pitts -- Roommate (Will)
Ronny -- Will's best friend.
George Wiggins
Darrel -- George's roommate
Chapter 4
"Jamey -- I need to talk to you about your mother." Dad said.
"Okay." I said.
"James, you have to accept it -- she's been gone since you were very small."
"Dad -- I -- why do you keep talking about her as if she's here? Just last weekend -- when I bought the car -- you told me not to tell Mom about it -- because she would worry."
"Son -- I didn't say that. You imagined it. I just don't know what to do to get you to accept it. You talk to her sometimes as if she's in the room. You're 18 now -- and a man. I have to confess something to you. When you were younger -- I actually liked it when you would `see' her and talk to her. It almost seemed like she was actually here. But Jamey -- I have to move on. It hurts me each time I come back to reality and she's not here."
"Oh." I said. I kind of knew she was gone, but she keeps popping up -- and in all the right places -- like as if she should be there.
"So -- Jamey -- I have arranged for you to see a psychologist. But unless you are willing to cooperate with her -- it won't do you much good."
"Her?" I said. "Why a woman!? I don't want a woman."
"James, listen: You are from everything I can see - - gay. And I also know that you seem to become more infatuated with each new guy you meet. I think a woman will be safer for you -- your emotions. See? Can you try to understand -- and try to like her?"
"When do I have to go? I said, suddenly extremely tired.
I have told her you will call her. Here's her number.
He left me in my bedroom. I was home for another weekend. Will relented and decided to stay on as my roommate at least until semester break. He may not have been able to find another place, because he was not acting friendly at all, but I told him anyway - this time -- that I was going home for the weekend. "Kewl!" he said. "I'll see if Ronny wants to stay here for the weekend"
That hurt.
A shrink. I was gonna have to see a shrink.
"Maybe it won't be so bad!" I turned and mom was standing in my doorway. "Maybe you can get her to talk to your father. He thinks I'm dead."
She didn't seem too bothered by this. She looked down and seemed to almost disappear, then said, "But YOU know I'm here, don't you dear?"
"I -- don't wanna see the shrink! Go away Mom!" I said and I shook my head. She was gone in an instant.
"So James," Dr. Jones said, "or would you rater be called Jim?"
"Not Jim! Jamey will probably be best. That's what all my friends call me. And I want for you to be my friend. Can I call you Jane?"
Hey! I was trying here! "Don't worry! I won't come on to you -- I'm gay."
"Who told you that you were gay?"
"I did!" I said defensively. Already I was starting to dislike this woman!
"I'm not saying your not gay, James. But that's not an issue here. It's just that a lot of young men don't really know when they're your age -- if they are gay or not. With most it's the other way around -- boys denying they are gay -- when clearly there are. But it has been my observation that a boy doesn't really know until he is in his mid twenties sometimes. When did your mother die?"
"My mom's not - - huh? Oh." Back to reality. "She died while visiting her sister in Minneapolis."
"Did you get a chance to say goodbye to her?"
"Huh?"
"How old were you when she died?"
"Um -- it's confusing. Nine maybe."
"Did you get a chance to say goodbye to here -- at the funeral?"
"There was no funeral -- or at least not here. She went back there when my uncle died. I never knew my uncle. But Mom was killed in an auto accident. Dad flew back, but left us with Aunt Ethyl. Habby was only five."
"Tell me how you found out about - when she died."
"In the first place, she left suddenly. Her sister called and begged her to come back when Uncle George died. Mom left immediately -- went to the airport and caught a quick flight while I was at school."
"So -- you really never got a chance to even say goodbye then?"
"No. That's when I started talking to her."
"How about your brother -- Happy is it?"
"Habby. He was home when she left. He was in kindergarten, and only went half-days to school. Dad picked them both up and took Mom to the airport."
"So -- Happy got to say good bye to mom -- but you didn't."
"Habby. Yeah, I guess. What difference really does it make?"
"Sometimes it doesn't. We never know how certain things will affect a person's mind and subconscious. Children are especially vulnerable to all kinds of influences, suggestions and really nuances that affect how they see the world. Take you assuming you're gay, for example. There are lots of reasonable - quote and unquote - `reasons' why a person is attracted to their own sex. Problem is, one man, for example, has a weak or absent father image. But there are plenty of others who have a strong loving father.
"So there is this issue of whether it is something that is born into a person or is learned and conditioned into him. In my experience it doesn't matter. You are what you are -- especially as an adult. And in all my personal experience, I've never seen someone `change' from being attracted to one sex to being attracted to the other."
"So," I said warming up to this subject much more than talking about my so-called imaginary mother, "are you telling me that homosexuality is incurable?"
"Incurable may be an erroneous word. It suggests there is an illness. I have seen people who were clearly and outwardly attracted to their own sex -- change their actions. For example, a family is a tremendous motivator for some people who would otherwise be attracted to their own sex -- to ignore -- or push those cravings into their subconscious -- and `act' straight -- and be quite successful at it."
"Maybe they are bisexual?" I said.
"I don't like that word either. It suggests that there are some who are strictly attracted to one or the other. It is my opinion that we all crave only a few things. Food and water. Acceptance. Sex. Love. Everyone wants to love and be loved by someone -- or many people. The craving for sex is what perpetuates the race. The dominance for the opposite sex also perpetuates the race. But obviously, sex is what needs to be satisfied in the human instrument. It is not only essential, but acceptable in most societies, for most to be attracted to the opposite sex.
"We can live without sex -- but we don't want to. So most of us take the path of least resistance. For most that is toward the opposite sex. For a small minority, it is toward the same sex. For a great majority, it is probably to both sexes, but it is more `acceptable' to only come on to the opposite sex, so this is how the pattern is set.
"I want a family." I said
"Which brings us back to why you're here. You crave a mother so much, you have created her being here -- in your mind. Children need a mother -- in my opinion. So the gay man -- or lesbian -- has to make a choice -- if the welfare of children means anything to them."
"Either act straight -- or don't have children?"
"Mostly. There is evidence that a child is better off in the care of two same sex partners than in the best orphanages. But -- the optimum is a family that has a mother and a father."
"I've had a lot of friends who were really screwed up by their heterosexual parents."
"That's true. Many -- too many -- people are selfish to a fault. But it is not only heterosexuals. It is across the spectrum. And it's still -- in my opinion, Jamey -- preferable to have a good mother and a good father rather than 2 good mothers -- or two good fathers."
"But - "
"Jamey, we're about out of time, and I've allowed myself to be diverted off the subject somewhat. I want you to leave here with something today."
"What's that?"
"I want you to consider -- or be open to the possibility -- that you can have it both ways."
"Huh?"
"Is your conversation with your mother -- your imagined or fantasized communication with her -- is that hurting you -- in any way that you can see?"
"I -- I don't know. I don't think so."
"Well, I am a reality therapist, Jamie. I want to teach you to recognize reality. What you are doing gets in the way of you accepting other things in reality. I don't know what yet -- and we may never discover what they are -- but it has been my experience that as you let your thoughts and fantasies of your mother invade your life, it can't help but spill over into other parts of your life."
"I know."
"What do you know?"
"I know it spills over."
"What have you observed -- in your life?"
"It hurts Dad and Habby." She nodded for me to continue. "Sometimes when Dad makes a meal, I pretend it was Mom. More often when I make a meal, I act like it was Mom. I saw "Psycho". I know how Norman Bates became his mother. But until my dad talked to me last week, I really didn't see how it was hurting anyone."
"It hurts your dad, doesn't it, Jamey."
"Yes." For the first time in this first session, I felt like crying. She saw that.
"It's okay, Jamey -- you can cry. I recommend it. It cleanses. I want you to practice doing something this week -- and report to me next week."
"Okay." I agreed.
"I want you to think about your mother each day when you get up. Talk to her if it feels good. But only while you are not with anyone else. When you are finished, tell yourself that pretending that she was there felt good, but you know she wasn't. That's all. Do that every day. Maybe more than once -- several times if need be. But only do it when you are alone. Can you do that?"
"I'll try."
"Good. See you next Friday afternoon."
So I left the shrink with two ideas. One: (I had already pretty much figured this out) You can't cure something that isn't a sickness. Two: I can control what I thought were involuntary fantasies.
"Did you like the dinner, Dad?" I said proudly.
"You mean Mom didn't help?" Habby taunted.
"Habby!" My dad yelled.
Jane warned me that Habby might react in a way that was counter productive. She said he was probably dealing with his own stuff over it.
"The dinner was wonderful, Jamey." Dad said. "How are things with your room mate -- Will? Is he cooled down?"
"Oh yeah. He apologized for overreacting. He actually told me that he did the same thing to his parents when he graduated. We're tight again."
"How tight?" Habby ribbed. Dad allowed a lot of ribbing -- even of himself -- so I was used to it. I got even.
"Probably not as tight as Melanie-in-the-hot-tub!" I chided. I got a dirty look for that one -- from Habby and Habby fromDad.
"How's your new car running, Son?"
"Do I really have to wait 4 years to have my own car?" Habby whined.
"You at least have to wait til you have a driver's license." I said.
"And even then -- you can drive your mothers old car -- just as Jamey did." Dad said. "It's old but it's still got life in it."
"My car is great! I still wish it were a convertible. That would be much better in Santa Barbara."
"Kinda cold this time of year for a convertible." Dad said.
"Still, people drive with the top down. Then in the spring -- but mine's not, and I am happy with it! It's a great chick magnet!" I laughed.
"Since when did that matter to you?" Habby said.
"Habby, I'm getting tired of your mouth!" Dad said.
"It's okay, Dad. I still get lots of looks from them!"
"And from guys - - ?" Said Habby.
"HABBY!" Dad roared.
"I get lots of looks from guys -- and yes the car helps!"
"You're only encouraging him!" Dad said to me.
"It okay -- really, Dad. He's so jealous that I get more looks from guys than he does from girls! Haha!" Habby almost choked.
"What are you doing tonight. Son. I was wondering -- if I could drive your car to the honky-tonk."
"Cool, Dad! Is there someone there you want to meet."
"There might be." He smiled.
"Maybe I'll go with you." I said.
"Not in that car. No room to leave with anyone if I wanted to."
"I'll drive the minivan."
"What? Drive `Mom's car'? Won't she worry?" Habby taunted.
"Habby's becoming a royal pain-in-the-ass teen." I winked at my dad. I wasn't that bad - - was I?!" I said to my dad. Habby sniffed.
"You weren't nearly as bad. But you have to remember -- you didn't have a brother who is gay."
"That hurt!" I said, half serious. Habby had smug look on his face.
"Just saying the obvious. I have to stick up for Habby sometimes. I love him too -- even if he IS a huge pain-in-the-ass!" Another sniff. "Okay! But I have to warn you -- I doubt there are any gay guys at the honky-tonk."
"I'll take my chances." I laughed.
After my disappointment with Darrel -- and Will -- (why I fall for straight guys is beyond me!) and after my first session with Jane - I had secretly decided to give girls a try. I've always assumed that "Jamey is Gay" like everyone else. But - - I do want a family, and what she says about a child needing a mother -- makes sense.
Habby left before us and walked over to Melanie's. I wondered if Dad knew his little boy was doing his upper classman -- er woman. But I wasn't gonna say anything. But -- I did confide in Dad about my experiment -- tonight.
"Are you sure you want your first try to be with a cowgirl?"
"If she's like Shania Twain -- can't be too bad, can it?"
"No one over there is like Shania Twain!"
Dad talked me in to going to another dance-bar -- and said he'd go with me.
We went to a place Dad heard about called The Highlands, in Hollywood. I loved seeing Dad get ready for his time on the town. He too had been dealing with Mom's death too long. Raising two son's can't have been an easy task. The highlands is a huge place with a dance floor and seven bars. It also has five dining areas and a full service restaurant. Totally upscale and posh.
Most people on the dance floor were couples. After being typical wall flowers, we tried a couple of the bars. It was pathetic. "Maybe this isn't the place to find women, Jamey." Dad said as we left our third bar. We were walking to the next closest bar, when Dad said, "If we don't find anything here, let's go home. This is discouraging."
"Yeah, a little, but this is fun -- to be out scoping chicks with my dad!"
We made a turn into the barroom door. It was light in the mall between the bars and dark in the bars. Each time our eyes had to get used to the dark for a long moment. We had made it to the bar by the time we noticed we were surrounded by guys! Mostly couples again, but it was clear this was a gay bar. "Okay, time to go!" Dad said.
"Wait!" I said. "I'm curious what kind of guy would be attracted to my dad! Haha! Just sit on the bar stool, and do this for me!"
Dad's eyes went to the ceiling, but he sat. I remained standing, beside him.
"You two together?" A very hot looking guy of about 25 said with a twang.
"Yeah." My dad said. Dad really didn't have a clue.
"Too bad!" He said with a sweet smile. He was mesmerized looking at my dad.
"Oh!" I said. "We're no TOGETHER, together! He's my dad!"
The guy never took his eyes off Dad. "You want another boy, Daddy?" He crooned. Dad looked at me, terrified.
"I think I better go to the bathroom!" I said, and left not giving Dad a chance to protest -- or follow. At the bathroom, there was a line outside the door. There was a public toilet outside the bar, but this one was a one hole-er. I stood in line and watched as the hot guy talked to dad. Dad was not saying much except obviously answering some direct questions. I was enjoying the show. Funny thing! This hot younger guy had cowboy boots and a hat on, and looked like he could have been from the honky-tonk dad originally wanted to go in to.
"You really love that guy don't you?" The guy in front of me in line said. I turned suddenly, and looked into a gorgeous pair of clear blue eyes. I could also see a full set of ruby lips and a days growth of beard. Gray hair graced his temples. Something inside me flipped.
"Oh! Yeah! That's my dad." I said.
"That's so sweet! I can't understand why young guys like you go for old farts like us!"
"Huh?" I said I was about to say something else, when the door opened and it was my new friend's turn in the bathroom. He disappeared behind the door, but the door came open again.
"There is a toilet and a urinal in here, if you want to get finished quicker." The older guy said.
I didn't answer. I just walked in behind him, and locked the door. "So -- are YOU with someone tonight?"
"Me? No. I - "
It was like a movie. I stepped up to him and wrapped my arms around him and kissed his ruby red lips. He stepped back. "Whoa! What would your `daddy' say?" He said, but with an obviously pleased smile.
"Sir -- that's my real Dad! We both are -- um -- unattached -- tonight."
"Oh! Well -- that's certainly - - different!" He said amazed and amused.
"So -- where were we?" I said, eager to get back to those soft lips.
"There's a pretty good line going out there. We should maybe take this somewhere else." He said, pecking me on the lips and stepping up to the urinal. I stepped up with him and unzipped too. He looked totally amused at my forward actions. I know I was! Well, more amazed, actually. I don't know what got into me. Maybe that last drink? As we stood there, peeing our fill out, I put my hand around his head and pulled him into a kiss.
"Hey!" He said, laughing. "I don't want to pee on you -- not here -- not like this!" We both laughed and almost DID pee on each other!
"Then don't!" I said, and I kissed him harder. This time he kissed me back -- for the first time -- while we stood at the same urinal, peeing the best pee in my life!
"Well, THAT was interesting!" he said chuckling. "Never done that before!"
"Me neither!" I said, as we both tucked our equipment back and zipped up.
When we came out of the restroom, I was sure that every head would turn our way. No one did! "So," I started, "where does this go from here?" I said to my new friend.
"Where would you like it to go?"
"I have no idea. I'm new to this." I said, as we headed back to where dad was still talking to the guy.
"Looks like your daddy is doing okay." He said. Dad was laughing and smiling with the hunky young guy, both with drinks in their hands.
"Well, I know that most guys who come here single want to find a hookup for the night." The older guy said. "But that's not my style. What's your name, anyway?"
"James -- Jamey!"
"Well, James -- Jamey, I'm Carl! Nice to meet you. And what a nice way to meet!"
"Please call me Jamey, Sir."
"Only if you stop calling me sir! Makes me feel sixty! How old are you?"
"Me?" I said, suddenly feeling like a teeny-bopper. "I'm 18." I said it as low a voice as I could muster. I was surprised at how much I wanted this guy to like me!
"Oh! Omigosh! Talk about robbing the cradle!" He said. "I'm afraid that's a bit young for me!"
"Now see how you are!" I exclaimed. "You don't want me to call you sir and make you feel old and then you go and tell me I'm a baby! How old are you? Sir!" I chuckled.
"38! An embarrassed 38!"
"38 is just a youngster!" I said. My dad is 48!"
"Dad, this is Carl. I found him in the bathroom!" I said, as we walked up to them, and laughed.
"Thanks, SON," Dad said the son with special emphasis. "But I seem to have already found someone -- or - - he found me!"
"What?!!" I said. "Will you guys excuse us for a moment?" I dragged dad outside the bar into the hallway. "DAD! What the f -- what are you -- are you serious?"
"I'm as surprised as you are, Jamey. As that young man engaged me in conversation, I had my own conversation going on in my own head. If my son is willing to try something new -- why not me? Then it occurred to me -- I don't even know if I WANT to deal with another woman for the rest of my life! I hope it's not too awkward for you to tell your friend that I've already found a pal -- for tonight anyway."
"I thought you already made that pretty clear." I said, still trying to get used to the idea that my dad could have some latent homosexual feelings in him. "Besides, Dad, Carl's not for you -- he's mine!"
Dad's eyes got huge. "WHAT!!?" He hollered. Lowering his voice, he said, "He has to be twice your age!"
"More!" I said defiantly. "He's 38! But I think you have me beat, don't you? You have to be more than twice your hunk's age!"
"That's diff -- er -- no, I guess it's not! Actually he's only 23, so it's worse!" he admitted. `Guess we should get back in there -- before they give up on us and - " About that time, the two other guys walked out of the bar and stopped cold when they saw us.
"Oh!" Carl said. "We thought you guys had left us in your dust! Isn't this uncomfortable!"
"Sorry Daddy!" The hunk said to Dad. "But Carl, here, and I sort of really got along after you left. Maybe see you another time?"
They walked away, leaving us both with our mouths wide open. We looked at each other in amazement and then started to crack up laughing. I never had so much fun with my dad -- ever! "Next time we do this," Dad started, "We'll drive together. One of us is bound to get a ride home -- or - - somewhere!"
"You mean you want to do this again?" I marveled.
"Don't you?" He asked. "But -- this can't ever get to your brother!"
"Don't you think he'll figure it out?" I said.
"Not for at least the next four years. I won't lay this on a 14 year old!"
"I love you Dad!" I said.
"Not as much as I love you, Jamey!"
I believe he's probably right.
Notes: Okay, this was a complete surprise to me! But it was a fun little exercise too! No promises either way! Hell, I'm still trying to get used to the idea of a boy growing up without his mother! (Well, except for Jamey! He always HAD his mother -- didn't he?") Comments, as usual, are more than welcome and may be addressed to Steve at stevethomas535@hotmail.com. Please put "Jamey" on the subject line.