Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.
Back to the story in progress.
Jack
I started to rethink the entire trip right when the plane started landing. I tensed up, suddenly wondering what the hell I was going to do, and Josh, feeling me stiffen against his side, took my hand. He glanced over at me, probably thinking that I was nervous about the landing, but his eyes widened, and I figured something in my face must be giving me away.
"Jack?" he asked, holding my hand tightly with one hand while he lifted the other to gently caress the side of my face, his fingers stroking soothingly over my cheeks. "Jack, are you ok? Is it an attack?"
We both lived in a kind of anxious terror of my panic attacks. They were few and far between, but when they came they scared the hell out of me, and Josh dreaded them because they upset me, and because there wasn't really anything he could do other than just hold me and try to calm me down. I didn't want to have one in an airplane, of all places, and I really hated having them in public. The loss of composure was bad enough, and somewhat embarrassing, but I was also worried in the back of my mind that someone would be there with a camera, and that I'd see some tabloid in the grocery store with pictures of me hyperventilating while Josh held my hand rather helplessly. I didn't want to cause him any embarrassment, either, even though he'd insist that I shouldn't worry about it.
I didn't think I was about to go into an attack now, or, at least, I hadn't been thinking about it before he brought it up. Sometimes they came out of nowhere, but I usually felt something right before my heart started racing, and I didn't feel that now. I did feel a little lightheaded, though, and began to breath deeply, squeezing Josh's hand. I reached up and caught his other hand, and held them both tightly in my own as he watched me anxiously.
"I don't think it's an attack," I said carefully, still breathing deep. "Just hold onto me for a second, ok?"
I hated this, hated being so weak like this, but there was nothing I could do. Josh kept holding my hands, not leaning over to kiss me or moving in his seat at all, because he wasn't sure if it could trigger me or not, and, truthfully, neither was I. I continued to concentrate on keeping my inhales and exhales even, my eyes fixed on his as I watched them urgently search my face. I began to calm down, but I still kept his hands gripped in mine, not wanting to let go until I was sure I was safe. The backs of Josh's hands are dusted with light brown hairs that turn blond as he tans, and his hands are soft, but strong, with long fingers, like mine. They're hands that I know very well, and they're one of the parts of Josh that always makes me feel safe.
"We'll be down soon," he said, keeping his voice low. "I can take you somewhere private, and we'll get a drink, ok? I'll get you some water or something. I can't ask the attendant for one, because we're landing, but I promise I'll get whatever you need as soon as we touch down, ok? Just tell me what you need, Jack. I love you, and I'm here for you. I'll never let anything happen to you again."
"I know, Josh, I know," I said, looking down at our entwined fingers. I was almost as tan as he was now, and our silver rings stood out. We were keeping them after the ceremony, adding a second band. I still hadn't had the nick smoothed out of mine, because I hadn't taken it off since Josh gave it back to me. "I think I'm ok. I think. I'm just nervous. Maybe this trip isn't a good idea, Josh. Maybe I should just leave well enough alone."
Josh smiled at me, keeping his eyes locked onto mine. I saw his concern, and underneath his love for me.
"If that's what you want, Jack, you know that's what I'll do," he said, squeezing my hands. "If you want to buy another ticket, and get right on the next plane out, just say the word. Is that what you really want?"
"Josh, I don't know," I sighed. "I know I was all gung ho to get out here and demand answers and stuff, but really, it's not going to change anything, and I don't know if I even want to be here. This place is, well, it does things to people, Josh. I just, I don't like to come back here."
Josh nodded, and I knew that if I got off of the plane and walked immediately to the ticket counter he would follow without saying a word, but he would be disappointed in me. Josh didn't want to admit that my family wasn't like his, no matter how many times we argued it, and he didn't want me to just give up on them. I also still felt like my family should be at the wedding, almost like they owed it to me to show up, but that anger was now tempered by my reluctance and almost pathological avoidance of my hometown.
"What do you want to do?" Josh asked, waiting.
"Let's go find my parents," I sighed, as we taxied down the runway. "Even if they don't come, at least I'll have said my part."
Josh leaned over and kissed me on the cheek as I began gathering up our bags, tucking our books back in and putting our snacks away.
"What was that for?" I asked, automatically leaning over to kiss him as well.
"Because I knew you wouldn't back down," Josh said. He squeezed my hand again. "I know I don't always say it, or I didn't before, but you make me really proud of you sometimes, Jack. You're not afraid. You face the things that bother you, even if it does take you a little while sometimes."
I smiled at the backhanded compliment, knowing the thought behind it, and we got off the plane. Collecting our bags, we stopped at the car rental counter and picked up our reservation, and then I gave Josh directions as he drove us carefully toward my family. Josh wanted to stop at my house, but I knew that at this time of the day there wouldn't be anyone there. My father would be at work, my brother was off wherever he was living, and my mother, as always, would be at the club. I didn't know if it was still the day for bridge, or if maybe today had become the day for the social planning committee, or the charitable works committee, or something. Whatever the day, there was something at the club every afternoon on weekdays, to make sure that the wives had something to do, something to occupy their time. Two income families were not the fashion among my family's circle.
We parked in the visitor spaces, as I no longer had a member pass for my car. As we got out, Josh watching me carefully, I noticed for the first time that he was wearing my clothes. He had mirrored my outfit almost completely, rather than wear some of his usual stuff. I didn't want him to smother himself for me, but I also appreciated the fact that we wouldn't be walking through the club, past people I knew, with him in leather pants or something fringed. Taking a deep breath, I looked around the parking lot, not recognizing any of the people walking to and fro, and I realized that I had no idea what my mother was driving now. I took Josh's hand, glad to have him there even as a tiny voice in the back of my head reminded me that boys shouldn't be holding hands in public, and we walked to the front doors.
Nothing had changed. I could have left yesterday. The lobby was still dominated by the front desk, and still decorated exactly as it had been the last time I was here. Jones, the man who staffed the desk, looked only slightly older, his hair barely graying, even though I realized he had to be well into his sixties at this point. As Josh and I approached the enclosed desk he continued writing, his hand hidden below the frame of the window. We stood in front of the counter, waiting, and when I cleared my throat he slowly raised his head to stare down his nose at us with the same barely disguised contempt he used on everyone. I knew from the summer when I'd worked here that the floor of the room the desk was in was higher than the lobby, so that he could stare down at everyone, and even though I knew he gave everyone that look, I still felt myself getting rankled already. I tried to smother it, knowing it wouldn't be productive.
"How may I help you, young Mr. Springer?" Jones asked imperiously. Just like that I felt like I was ten years old again, like anything I said was an imposition, and then I felt Josh squeeze my hand, and I found my voice. Mr. Springer was my father, and my brother and I would apparently always be "young Mr. Springer" until he died.
"I need to sign in my guest," I said. Jones waited, as if he didn't know who Josh was, and I realized that he actually might not. "Joshua Chasez. Is my mother here?"
"I believe that Mrs. Springer is currently on the grounds," Jones answered, entering Josh's name in the registry.
A couple people passing through the lobby glanced at us and did rather amusing double takes. I wasn't sure if they were because of Josh, because of the hand holding, or because it was a surprise to see me here after I'd loudly sworn at my high school graduation party, held just down the hall in one of the banquet rooms, that I'd never set foot on the grounds again. From the way my mom had carried on at home, lecturing me, you'd think it was the height of scandal, on par with Watergate or something. I'd embarrassed the entire family, again.
"Would you happen to know where?" I asked icily.
"I believe she is playing bridge in the west lounge," Jones answered.
"Thanks," I said dismissively, pulling Josh away from the desk with me.
"You ok?" Josh whispered. I realized that we were walking rather quickly down the hall, and forced myself to slow down. "You seem, I don't know, I just don't think I've ever heard you take that tone with someone before."
"I'm sorry, Josh," I said. "It's this place. Let's just find my mother, and get out of here, ok?"
"Sure," Josh said, shrugging. He looked around, as if wondering what could be so awful about the country club. When he looked back at me I paused and raised my eyebrows expectantly. Josh realized what I was waiting for. "Jack, I don't mean to, you know, downplay your experiences or anything, but really this place doesn't look so awful. I mean, it actually seems kind of nice."
"Josh, I promise, I'm not playing poor little rich boy, ok?" I said. "It looks kind of nice, but that's the problem. Everything here is always about how it looks. It doesn't really matter what happens to you, or how people treat you, as long as everything looks ok."
"I can't believe you're still saying that, Parkie," a loud, booming voice said from behind us as a hand settled onto my shoulder. I saw Josh tense up, watching me, as I turned.
"Trevor," I said carefully. "Josh, this is Trevor, one of the people who went to my school. Trevor, please take your hand off of me."
Trevor hadn't changed a bit, either, as he stood in the hallway in his tennis whites, a little sweaty, still tall and good looking. Walking down the hall behind him I could see the rest of his usual crowd, all in their tennis whites, all watching with detached amusement as they realized who I was. I wondered for a second what they were all doing together still, and realized that they'd probably all married each other or something. Trevor removed his hand from my shoulder, shrugging.
"I'm sorry," he lied, sneering. "I heard somewhere that you liked that."
Josh's jaw locked, and I gave him a small shake of my head, squeezing his hand.
"I do," I said. "I just don't like you. Did you want something?"
"No, no," Trevor said, shaking his head, stepping back. I saw one of the girls, Missy, whisper something behind her hand to Derek, the guy next to her, as they both stared at me, and they giggled in a ripple of tennis whites. "I was just surprised to see you here. I didn't realize you were still a member, and thought I'd come make sure. You know how it is. We have to make sure that the lower elements stay where they belong."
He stared at Josh pointedly when he said that, dropping his eyes down to our locked hands before lifting them back up to mine. Josh was getting pissed, I could tell, but he wasn't going to react until I did. The really sad part was that Josh had more money than any of these people ever would, but he wasn't one of us. One of them, I corrected silently. As annoyed as I was to have them sneer at me again, I was pissed that they were upsetting Josh, and I thought about kneeing Trevor in the balls. My, wouldn't that be a loss of decorum for us both?
"Oh, I understand," I said, nodding. "Fortunately, my lifetime membership appears to still be in order, and I'm well aware of the guest policy. Thank God we have ever-vigilant members like you, to make sure everyone stays where you think they belong. Excuse us."
"It was nice seeing you again, Parkie," Trevor said as we began to walk away. The group behind him watched, just like they had in high school. "We really miss having you around. You always bring such color to the place. Practically a rainbow."
"Get used to missing me," I said, not looking back. Josh, on the other hand, continued to glare over his shoulder at them.
"I'll just be down the hall in the showers, Parkie," Trevor called, and I felt my shoulders tense against my will as the others, and Trevor, all laughed. Josh glanced at me, and I saw his anger dissolving in concern as I fought not to let old hurts bother me.
"Jack?" Josh asked. "Jack, talk to me."
I pulled him into an alcove, and realized that I mustn't be holding up as well as I thought, because he wrapped his arms around me, and I was glad to have him there, holding me. I took a deep breath, and then stepped back, looking up into Josh's eyes as he kept his hands on my shoulders.
"When we were seniors in high school, I had gym class with Trevor," I began, keeping my voice low. "We were in the showers once, and it was just me and him, and he was washing himself, and I forgot to be careful, and I started watching. And then he saw me, and I was, you know, I got hard."
"Oh, Jack," Josh said, not sure of what to do. I think he was waiting for the rest of the story, but thankfully it wasn't as bad as it could have been.
"He called me a fag, of course, and left the showers," I said, wondering why this all still bothered me so much. "I didn't think that was so bad, but he told everyone, Josh. It was all I heard for the rest of the year. My brother heard it, and told my parents, but they never talked about it. It just turned into one of the big unmentionables in my house, like my father's mistresses."
"Jack, I'm sorry," Josh said, hugging me. I pressed against him, seeing how close to tears he was. Really the story wasn't that bad, but any time that I was hurt Josh was upset, and I think he was realizing now why I hated it here so much.
"Josh, it's ok," I said, pulling us out of the alcove. I didn't let go of his hand. "It's ok. I don't live here anymore, and we're not staying. Let's just go find my mother."
"OK," Josh said, following. He was still looking around, but I could see the change in his face. Sometimes I was envious of the way Josh grew up, and I knew that Justin was as well. Josh somehow lived in a world where everyone was nice to him, and he never wanted anything. He always seemed kind of surprised to realize that everything wasn't really like that. "Jack, can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer if it's going to upset you."
"You can always ask me any question, Josh," I said, squeezing his hand. "You know that."
"Why do they call you Parkie?" he asked, waiting for some horrible story. I could see it on his face.
"It's part of my middle name," I said. Josh looked at me blankly. "Parker. It's my mother's maiden name."
"Oh," Josh said, looking a little confused. "I didn't know that was your middle name."
"I never use it," I said, shrugging. Josh was still making a face. "What? What's wrong, Josh?"
"I just, I can't believe I didn't know that," he said, looking at me thoughtfully. "I thought I knew everything about you."
I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, not caring who was watching as we finally walked toward the doorway of the west lounge.
"Josh, you know all the important parts, ok?" I said, squeezing his hand. "I love you, and there's stuff about you that I don't know, too, I'm sure. Now don't worry about it. Look, there's my mother. Let's go get on the schedule for dinner."
The room was filled with matronly ladies, all sitting in fours around their tables, playing bridge and gossiping as the serving staff filtered quietly among them, bringing them drinks and snacks on tiny plates. There was an unwritten rule among the club about where your bridge table was, who you played with, and what it said about your social status in the city. The closer to the windows you were, the higher up the ladder, and my mother was at a table right against the glass. I heard brief lulls in the gossip as Josh and I stepped inside, Josh looking around as I scanned the windows to spot her. There were tiny bursts of silence as we walked through the room, hand in hand, and then the whispering started. Maybe I should have let go of Josh, but I wasn't letting anyone in this room make me feel ashamed, not even my own mother. Besides, I needed him. Josh was part of who I was, but these people were just part of who I used to be.
My mother looked up as we approached the table, the shift in gossip and noise in the room signaling us before she actually noticed us. When she did raise her head, I saw her eyes narrow a little, but that was the only crack in her normal poised, icy composure. She smiled, but it was a tight smile that didn't touch her eyes, and the three ladies playing with her all paused, looking at Josh and I with practiced disinterest that I knew would fade to gossiping bitchiness as soon as my mother left the room. While she stayed, they would listen sympathetically to whatever she might say about her disappointing failure of a son, but once she was gone the mudslinging would begin, and she knew it as well as I did. I'd seen her do the same thing.
"Jackson," she said, her voice neutral. "What a surprise to see you here."
"Mother," I said, leaning down to dutifully kiss her on the cheek. I nodded to the other ladies. "Mrs. Barnes, Mrs. Satler, Mrs. Cunningham. Mother, could I borrow you for a moment?"
"Of course," she said, laying down her cards. The other ladies clucked sympathetically as she apologized to them for having to step away. "You know how it is with children, dropping in unannounced and demanding your time. I'll be back shortly."
Josh and I dutifully followed as she led us out of the room, smiling and nodding at the tables she passed, her heels clicking loudly on the floor. Maybe the sound just seemed to carry more because there was so much less talking to cover it. When we reached the hallway she stepped off into a side room, and I pulled Josh in along with me. I felt myself already getting annoyed at being referred to as a child, as if I weren't twenty six.
"Mother, this is Joshua, my fiancee," I said, not wanting to use the word "boyfriend" because I wanted her to see that this was serious.
"Hello," she said, ignoring Josh's outstretched hand. She turned back to me, dismissing him. "Jackson, I wish you had called. We could have arranged a more convenient meeting time. As you can see, I have plans for the afternoon, which you have chosen to disrupt."
"I didn't think seeing your kid would be such a disruption," I said, watching as she crossed her arms.
"As I was saying before you interrupted me, I would have liked for you to have called," she continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "Your brother would have called. And your brother would never have made such a scene, either. I see that your manners have yet to improve. I cannot believe that, once again, you would embarrass me like this, but, then again, you've never cared about such things."
Josh was just staring at her, his mouth hanging open a little.
"I'm not going to bother arguing with you about this, mother," I said. "It's not my fault if your friends are small minded and shallow. I refuse to be embarrassed about Josh. I love him, and he's about to be your son in law. You might want to at least look at him."
"Jackson, I've told you before that I won't ever understand the choices you've made," she said, her chin lifting a little. "I know you want to go be free, and live your own life, or whatever it is you're carrying on about, but I cannot believe that you would have the gall to just bring him here and throw your lifestyle in everyone's faces like this. I'm very disappointed in you."
"Stop it!" Josh said suddenly. Both of us looked at him. "How can you talk to him like this?"
"I don't believe this concerns you," my mother said icily. Josh refused to shrink beneath her glare. "I am not in the habit of discussing my family matters with guests. As for you, Jackson, how long will you be staying on this visit?"
"Just overnight," I said, impressed that Josh stood up to her, but not surprised that she had dismissed him again. "I was hoping we could stay at the house, and have dinner with you and my father tonight, if you're free."
She sighed, forever the martyr.
"You may stay at the house tonight, and I will join you for dinner," she said. "Your father will be unable to attend, as he is in Sweden on business with his personal assistant."
Great. We only had my mother, the ice queen, because my absentee father was in Sweden with his personal assistant, having an affair. Again. This was another discussion we weren't having here, and I'd already explained it to Josh to keep him from saying something stupid. When I told him on the plane he hadn't really seemed to believe me, the same way he hadn't really believed anything I'd told him about this place. I could tell that it was rapidly sinking in, though.
"Fine," I said. "We're going to get out of here, then, and let you get back to your game. Josh and I will see you at dinner."
"I'll ask Carmelita to cook for three, and make up the guest room," my mother said. Hey, that was almost like saying she was looking forward to it.
"That could have been worse," Josh said quietly as we walked down the hall, our fingers still locked together. "At least she didn't send us to a hotel, or a restaurant."
"Josh, how would that look?" I asked, impersonating her tone. "What kind of mother would force her son to stay at a hotel? What would people think?"
When we got into the car, Josh leaned over and hugged me before starting the engine.
"Jack, I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I just didn't really think anyone could be like this."
"Josh, it's ok," I said. "This is why I left, Josh. I don't want to be like these people."
"Jack, do you want to give up?" Josh asked. He'd talked me out of it on the plane, but that was before our magical misery tour through the country club. "I mean, she's not going to come around, Jack. She wouldn't even look at me."
"Josh, I'm sorry she treated you like that," I said, holding onto him. I hadn't realized how much he'd be hurt by the way she'd treated him, but only because I was used to it. I wanted to get out of the car and go back in there to demand an apology. All of the anger I'd felt when I looked at that response card, with the "unable to attend" box checked, came surging up again when I saw Josh in pain. "We're not giving up. We're going to the house, and we're going to have dinner, and she's going to talk to me, face to face. I don't care how embarrassed she claims to be, or how uncomfortable this makes her. I'm not going to let her treat you like that again."
Josh blinked at me, seeing that she'd tripped my switch again. I really needed to start controlling my temper better.
"Jack, this is upsetting you," he said, caressing the side of my face. I caught his hand, and squeezed it tightly.
"Josh, I knew it would be like this here," I said. "It always has been. I'm just sorry I brought you, because I don't like to see you hurt."
"I wanted to come," Josh said. "I didn't want you to go through this alone, and I wanted to see your family, finally. I never really thought that people could treat their own children like this, Jack. And the rest of these people are just as bad."
"They can't help it," I said, shrugging. "Let's just go to the house."
My family home was a sprawling Victorian on the better side of town, and the spare key was right where it always had been, hidden beneath a flowerpot on the porch. I lifted the pot, fishing the key out, and then put it back as Josh stood with our bags, waiting. I'd tried knocking, but Carmelita was out, probably at the store. When we finally got inside, I led Josh upstairs, showing him the guest room and setting my bags down in my room. I looked around, seeing how little had changed here, and marveled at how little of me there actually was here. When we were at Josh's house, his room was filled with things fans had sent, and trophies from when he was younger. There were posters on the wall, and childhood toys in the closet, but my room held none of those things. There were some framed pictures of various friends and I on the dresser, but I'd taken everything important to me with me when I went to college, because I'd known I wasn't coming back.
"Hey," Josh said from the doorway. I looked up from where I was sitting on the bed.
"Hi," I said. "The guest room's ok?"
"Yeah," he said. "Can I come in?"
"Sure," I said. Josh walked in and looked around carefully, taking in the blank walls and the shelves with only random knickknacks on them. He started looking through the pictures on the dresser.
"These are your friends from high school?" Josh asked. I nodded, smiling, but my smile faded when he held one up. "This guy's in a lot of them. You must have been good friends."
"You could say that," I said, looking down. Josh carried the frame over and sat next to me. "We were really close."
"Jack, you don't have to tell me anything," Josh said. "I just want to know more about you, but if this is going to turn out to be something else that hurts you, maybe you should stop. Maybe you shouldn't tell me."
"Josh, I love you, and I told you that you can ask me anything," I said. I took the picture from his hands and glanced down at it. This picture had been important to me, too, but I couldn't bring it with me. I hadn't looked at it in years, because it hurt too much. "Josh, this is the boy I told you about. Remember when I said that there was a guy I fooled around with in high school? This is Jason. He was my friend, and he was the guy I had sex with."
"Your first boyfriend?" Josh asked, smiling at me.
"Not exactly," I said, holding Josh's hand. "We never called each other that, because we weren't ready to. You've seen what it's like here, Josh. We both knew how we were, and what we wanted, and we found each other. Jason was a year older than me, and when I was fourteen, I was staying over at his house one night, and he gave me a handjob."
Josh was still smiling a little, but I wasn't. I knew how the story ended.
"It wasn't just about the sex, Josh," I said, trying to articulate what it had been like to be so young, and confused, and even a little scared. "We didn't even have it that often, and we never did anything besides handjobs and a few blow jobs. It was just that I had a friend. I had someone I could talk to, and he knew what I was feeling. He knew what it was like, and we could talk to each other about it. We could lean on each other, and we were there for each other. Jason helped me understand who I was, and accept it."
"He sounds like a really good friend," Josh said, squeezing my hand. "I'd like to meet him, and thank him."
"You can't," I said sadly. Josh looked at me, waiting, and I felt my eyes filling up with tears as I continued. "He's dead, Josh. Jason was a year ahead of me, so he graduated a year before me. We didn't really make any plans. I kind of thought I might go away to the same school, since it was the one both our fathers went to, and maybe that we'd be roommates or something. We started out writing a lot of letters, but they kind of dropped off. I still wrote, but he didn't write back as much. And then, at Christmas, Jason came back home for the break. He didn't look good, but he told me everything was ok. He told me that I was the best friend he ever had, and that I was the only person who had ever accepted him for who he was."
Tears were streaming down my face as I continued, but I couldn't stop, and Josh held my hands tightly.
"I believed him, Josh, because he was my friend, and he hadn't ever lied to me," I said, sobbing now. Josh held me tightly, hugging me against him now. "And while we were all at the club, at the Christmas Holiday formal, Jason drove back to his house and hung himself. He left a note for his family that he couldn't be something he wasn't, that he couldn't deal with the pressure, and that was all he said."
"Jack, I'm so sorry," Josh said, holding onto me. We sat like that for a while, as I calmed down and got myself back under control. When my tears had finally leveled off, Josh kissed me, and I could see that he had been crying, too. "Jack, I'm sorry you lost your friend. I'm sorry that every story here ends so badly."
I laughed, and Josh smiled a little uncertainly.
"This one doesn't Josh," I said, and now he looked really confused. "Jason saved me. When he died, I realized that I had to be who I was. What he did showed me that I had to be free, and I promised myself that I would be strong enough to do all of the things he hadn't been able to. And after a while I stopped doing it for him, and started doing it for me. If he hadn't done what he did, I wouldn't have left here, wouldn't have broken away from all of this. In a way, if it hadn't been for Jason, I wouldn't have you, and you're the happy ending to my story, Josh."
Josh hugged me tightly.
"Jack, I love you so much," Josh said. "I know I don't always have the right words, but I love you."
"I know, Josh, because that's the way I feel about you, too," I said, hugging him just as tightly, wrapping my arms around him. "Now come on. Let's wash our faces, go play a couple rounds of chess, and wait for dinner."
Holding Josh's hand, I led him to the bathroom, stopping to put the picture of Jason back on the dresser on our way.
To be continued.