JUST SEX...
This is more or less a love story. It may or may not include explicit sexual content. One thing's for certain -- it's not masturbation material.
Still, if gay stuff offends you...why the hell are you here?
This story contains personal aspects of my life but is by no means an autobiography.
Contact me at ghostofoldtrafford@yahoo.com
CHAPTER II -- FRIENDS
As soon as I shut the door behind me, I got the urge to scream out "Honey, I'm home!" Okay, okay, the "honey" part probably only serves to reinforce your idea about this whole thing being an incestuous relationship, but I swear...nothing like that. I was simply bitter, what with no one being there to meet the prodigal son upon his return and everything.
I dropped the two large suitcases I was carrying by the door, but kept the backpack. I slowly ventured inside the house I'd called home for so long. The weather outside was getting increasingly worse and lightning was starting to streak across the sky. Throw in the house's eerie quiet and perhaps a creaking step or two in the staircase and I was convinced an axe murderer would be awaiting in my old room.
There was no one on the ground floor. The absence of food cooking was particularly noticeable. I mean, sure, I wasn't expecting a feast, but at least give me an omelet. So, up the stairs I went, checking rooms one by one as I got to the second floor. No one was home. Not my mom, not my stepdad, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. So, I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I went to my room and went to sleep in my old bed.
I woke up to the sound of movement in my room. I cracked open one eye, enough to see that the room was bathed in sunlight. I shot up in bed. "Morning, sleepyhead." My mom said. Blearily, I stared at her. She was smiling broadly as she was folding my clothes and packing them into drawers. Ooookay...
"Umm...Hi?"
She chuckled. "My, you are still a messy boy. Not only did you not pack your clothes the way I taught you, you left your bags in front of the door last night. Your...Nick almost broke his neck when he came in. I swear, you'll never get organized." She smiled, so it came across as a friendly jab, rather than an insult. "Not until you find a nice, tidy girl to put you in your place, that is..." Ugh. God, give me strength.
I ran a hand through my unruly hair and then rubbed my eyes with the bridge of my hands. "Mom, we've talked about that..."
Now her smile threatened to split open her face. I always felt her fake smiles were far too forced and obvious. "Yes, dear, and your cousin said..."
"Well, John's an idiot! Mom, you're sick and that's the only reason I came back home. I don't want us to get back into this. Especially not on my first day. Don't worry, I won't be bringing home a guy to meet the parents, especially in this conservative heaven town, but I'm gay and that's that. I won't embarrass you publicly, but at least show me the courtesy of not trying to change something I can't friggin' change, okay?"
She stared at me for half a minute, then nodded stiffly and made for the door. She paused just before exiting. "Some of your old friends have been asking about you. A couple of `em are married, you know..." and she was gone.
Yes, I fucking know they're married. I got their invitations. But I had no intention of going alone, in order to assaulted by single young women desperate to be the next ones in line to throw the bouquet. And I wasn't particularly fond of coming out in my home town, so going with my boyfriend was out of the question. So, I politely declined the invitation. Busy class schedule and all that. Not like they'd know the difference.
Let me tell you something about my friends. They settle. They settle for the high-school sweetheart, they settle for low-paying jobs. They settle for staying in their hometown, like their parents and grandparents before them. I used to think I was so much better than them. Now, here I am, back in the pack. What the hell does that make me? My phone chirping brought me out of my reverie. Text message. "Beer with the guys 2tine, pal." Double ugh. New message. "By the way, this is Costas. :p". Costas. Nice Greek boy. One of the married ones. He was 20 when he got hitched. I wondered about any rug rats running around. Well, it was gonna happen sooner or later. The gang was getting back together again. And that usually spelled trouble.
I decided to spend the day looking for a job. Sent out a few resumes, called in to a few places, got a couple "We'll get back to you" and I was cursing the bad economy by the time 5 o'clock came around. New message. "8 sharp, Pappy's". Pappy's was a place in town we used to hang around in after school. Pappy was Costas' grandfather. He used to herd us into the backroom, kept for private parties, where he'd give us booze. "A real man needs to handle his drink and know when to enjoy himself. You old enough to have hair on your balls, you old enough to drink, in my book. Besides, this will put hair on your chest, not just your balls" he'd say. I still curse him each time I have to shave my chest.
I had three hours to kill, so I decided on a trip down memory lane. I took out a dusty photo album and started skimming through it. Costas was in most pictures, more often than not hanging by my arm or neck. We were inseparable growing up. I don't know if it was something in the water or whatever, but aside from 3 girls, the neighborhood kids as was growing up were all boys. That made for a lot of fun, as there was never a shortage of players for whatever sport we were trying to screw up that week, and it meant no shortage of trouble for the parents trying to maintain sanity. We were around two dozen guys around the same age, and we were all fairly close. But no matter how close you are with the group as a whole, there's always that special person, to whom you're attracted. Not in a sexual kind of way, mind you -- though Costas was plenty hot -- but from a personality point of view. It was magnetic. Costas was THE friend for me. We were two pees in a pod. I'd always follow him into trouble, and he'd always have my back. In high-school, we started drifting apart. There was no conscious decision about it, at least not on my part. There was no fear regarding any lingering feelings, I wasn't trying to push him away because of my whole gayness thing. It just...happened. I guess that's what made my decision to leave it all behind so easy.
When we were in grade school, we made plans together. High-school, college, marrying two pretty blondes and living in adjacent houses, our kids growing up together like we did. But, even though I'm no scholar myself, Costas was...well, not really academically inclined. It was obvious by the time we got to 8th grade that college would not be his thing. But he did love to work with his hands. And he was good at it. So it came as no surprise when he started working part-time for a construction company. We saw less and less of each other. Our classes were completely different and, as busy as he was with work, we only got together with the entire group at Pappy's. The absence from each other's lives did not make the heart grow fonder. We spent little time together one-on-one, so, in the end, when I got accepted into college and he stayed behind to work full-time, we simply parted with a handshake and a manly one-armed hug. Would we go back to being close friends? Casual acquaintances? Drinking buddies?
I kept looking at the photos. Paul, the ladies' man, the one I thought would contract half a dozen STDs by the time he turned 16, considering the pace he went through girls, each time without protection, as I was (un)fortunate enough to once witness. Andy N., Paul's shy sidekick. Reserved he might be, but he knew how to keep Paul in check when he would have otherwise went down in a blaze of glory. Andy V., the long-haired pacifist of the group, who'd get shouted at for always running with his eyes down, thus not seeing the endzone when we played football. The third Andy, Andy B., or Big A, as he was the oldest of the group, four years my senior. A natural athlete, he excelled at pretty much everything he did. He fell in love and followed a girl to England. She ended up breaking his heart, but he fell in love with London anyway, so he stayed.
Then there was Stephen, Big A's little brother, the youngest of the group. We tolerated him because he was Big A's little bro. He was cool, in a skinny, short, nerdy kind of way. He was starting high-school as I was leaving for college, and we've barely spoken since, IM-ing once or twice. There was Manny, the one fat kid we'd always poke fun at as we were growing up, but whom we'd protect from others, because he was OUR fat kid. His older sister, Alina, was one of those rare girls. She was cool, but they didn't have a particularly wonderful home life, so she was quick to get the hell out. Last I heard of her, she was in Vegas.
There was the lanky, dark-haired Russian who started shaving when he was 13. To be honest, I don't really know his name. I think it stars with an S, but we just called him "Russian". That or comrade. He had a good sense of humor, though, so he didn't mind. There was Alex, Stevie and Colin, the potheads. The guys would pretty much smoke anything, and their mental faculties did seem to suffer from it. Stan was the gambler. The guy was addicted. I'll never forget the beating he got from his dad when he was about 17, when his parents found out he had sold his laptop, his camera, DVD player and traded in his brand new cell phone for a cheap model, in order to cover his debts. He, too, ran off to Vegas. I expect his body will be discovered in the desert at one point.
Chris, the car wiz, was Alex's big brother. Just a year older, but what a difference that made. Chris was sensible, level-headed, bright and God-fearing. He had cool blue eyes you could get lost in and when he talked, you couldn't help but hang on to his every word. He was also my crush throughout high-school. Naturally, he became a mechanic and got married when he turned 21.
Reed, aka Mittens, the guy who wouldn't leave his house without his lucky mittens, regardless of the season, was fresh out of the Academy by now. Law was the family business for him. Two lawyer uncles, another prosecutor, his dad and granddad cops, I was always convinced he'd make a great police officer himself. He always protected the kids getting picked on, even when it meant standing up to one of his friends in order to do so. That's why his friendship with Jimmy never made sense to me. Jimmy was the bad boy. Started smoking when he was 12, was an alcoholic by 16. Lost his virginity to a hooker when he was 13, enjoyed beating up smaller kids, shoplifting was his hobby. Reed's best friend, and occasional worst enemy. They were a dysfunctional pair, but I once stumbled upon Reed holding Jimmy as he was crying his eyes out. I never knew the reason, but I imagine being Jimmy wasn't easy. Reed understood better than anyone and I think he was the one thing that kept Jimmy sane and out of prison.
Randy was the football star. We always knew he'd make it big. He had just received word that he had gotten a football scholarship when a big rig rammed his sedan at an intersection. He, Jenna, his girlfriend and Marc, the other football stud, died on impact. Carl, who loved to climb trees and throw water balloons down on passers-by, who loved to sit perched on his window sill and draw the world outside fought for his life for a month and eventually won, but he still paid a price. Carl, who loved to swim, would never walk again.
Darren, the librarian's kid, predictably loved books. And he loved foreign languages, something he presumably inherited from his father, who taught high-school French. His family moved to France as soon as he finished high-school. It had been his parents' dream for years, and an inheritance from a rich aunt meant they could finally do it. And what better way for Darren to learn about European culture than to actually be in Europe?
Scott liked guns. I always thought he'd either end up a sniper or a serial killer. Possibly both. He joined the Army on his 18th birthday. Gretchen was a tomboy. She wanted to study agriculture at college and have her own farm one day. She fell in love with the wrong sort of guy, in her mom's opinion. They eloped and I got an e-mail from her a year later. She was living in Italy and had a boy.
David was the music geek. He even had a radio program in high-school. He became a DJ for a local station and he was the voice that most people woke up to in town...
7:45. Time to get a move on. Time to see my friends again. I headed downstairs, checked my hair in the hallway mirror as I walked by, peered into the kitchen to realize that the only thing there was a note proclaiming Nick took mom to the doctor, and then walked out the door. I promptly stopped in my tracks. How in the hell was I supposed to get to Pappy's? I groaned as I ran my hand over my face, getting ready to fish out my phone and try to locate one of my friends, hoping for a ride. The sound of a car horn made me look up. I could have recognized that rusty grey Toyota pick-up anywhere and sure enough, there was Costas behind the wheel, big grin on his face, left hand hanging out the open window. His hair was longer than I remembered. He never liked his curls growing up, so he always cut it very short. But otherwise...he was the same guy. He parked right in front of me and let me stare at him for a good minute before he broke into my thoughts.
"Yo, asswipe, gas ain't cheap. You getting in or what?"
"As if. You probably drained the gas from your dad's car, the way you've been doing since you were 16."
He rolled a shoulder in a shrug. "Well, I keep forgetting to fill `er up. It's not my fault dad doesn't keep a canister full, and I have to get it directly from the source."
"So, you still living with Ma and Pa? Man, I always figured you'd assert your independence by now. "
He arched an eyebrow. "That so, huh?" He pointed to the house behind me. "Unless your mom finally won the lottery and has moved to Hawaii, I do believe you're back with the folks..."
"I had four years of independence. But...point taken"
"Hey, when you're still a young family man, trying to build a business, you take what you can. Living at home cuts down on expenses."
"Business?"
"Yup. Started my own contracting business. Small thing. You know...I do only what two men can handle. Me and the Russian."
"The Russian?"
"Yeah, we're partners. Get in. I'll tell you all about it on the way to Pappy's." I moved around the other side of the car and got in. He put the truck in drive but paused for a second, then glanced at me. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, man. I've missed you. A lot." I just nodded like a dumbass. We set out and he informed me about his business. Small remodeling, refurbishing, electrical and plumbing. He had enough clients from the neighborhood to stay afloat, but was hoping word would spread and he'd get more jobs. He wanted to buy a house for Victoria, his wife. They were holding back on kids until they had their own place, despite his parents' pleas for grandkids and pledge to help out in whatever way they could.
Before long, we were at Pappy's. "Well, here we are. Old place still hasn't burned down, despite my grandfather's best efforts."
"Huh?" I chuckled.
"The man still thinks he can run the place by himself. Let me tell you, dementia runs deep in my family..."
"I always knew you were demented. Nice of you to confirm that suspicion."
"Hardy-har-har. I'm serious. He's only 70, but the old noggin' ain't what it used to be. Since grandma died..." He shook his head. "He hasn't been himself."
"Yeah. I'm sorry about your grandma. I wanted to come, but..."
"School."
"Yeah." That time for real. I had an exam the next day.
He sighed. "I missed you the most at my wedding. For a while, I thought about making you my best man."
"Really?"
"Why are you so shocked? We were best friends."
"Were. Costas, I'll be honest with you. I've been dreading this reunion. You, the guys, this whole thing...It's not me anymore. It's not that I'm better than all of it, it's just...I'm..."
"Different."
"You can put it that way, I guess. I've changed, man."
Costas smiled wistfully. "Not too much, I hope. Yeah, I realize things have changed. Hell, they were changing in high-school. One day, we were attached at the hip, the next...we each had separate lives, and we didn't seem to cross each other's paths anymore. And hell, maybe we'll never recapture that magic again, but at least we have a chance. We were the best of friends. Maybe we can be again."
I smiled and felt at ease for the first time since I got home. "We can try. And just who was the best man?"
"The Russian. I didn't so much as touch a bottle of booze for a month after my bachelor party. Damn bastard almost put me in a coma that night, with all the shit he made me drink."
"I very much doubt he made you do anything."
"Well, you know how I am when it comes to challenges. I can't back down from a drinking contest. How was I supposed to know his bottle had water in it, instead of vodka? I just thought that's how Russians are naturally made, resistant to alcohol. Turns out the fucker can't hold his liquor for shit, but he's a sneaky bastard. All the times Pappy gave us booze, he'd nurse his drink and make us think he was on his fifth shot, instead of the first."
I laughed as we went into the old one-storey brick building with the red neon sign above the door I knew so well. Cheers erupted and as my eyes got adjusted to the dimly-lit interior, I made out the smiling faces of Chris, Alex, Colin, Paul and Andy N, as well as Manny, who rushed forward and grabbed me in a bone-crushing hug. He was bigger than I remembered, but where before there was fat, now was hard muscle.
"Dang it, Lee! You don't call, you don't write!" he said, as he let go and started looking me up and down. "I tell ya, it's enough to give a guy a complex. Made me think you didn't like me." I started to object, but he stopped me. "Then I find out you barely keep in touch with any of the guys. And I figure you're just a big city boy now, too good for us." I at least had the good grace to look sheepish. "But you're still good ol' Lee, come back to take care of his mom. So, we forgive you!" And he hugged me again.
"Speak for yourself!" Paul said, walking over, trying to look pissed off, the hint of a smile giving his hand away. "I mean, I understand not calling any of these losers, but me? Damn it, Lee! I thought you liked hearing about my sexual exploits. And I was so looking forward to hearing about yours in the big city."
"Oh, God! And you wonder why I didn't call!"
"Hey, I wanted to live vicariously though you."
"Are you friggin kidding me? You had a new girl every other day!"
"Exactly. This isn't a huge metropolis, man. You can only go through so many girls before getting a repeat. I actually had to go out with one girl for a couple of weeks, so as to not waste the supply too soon."
"Oh, the horror!"
"You laugh, but it's hard for me, man..."
"I bet." Manny said, rolling his eyes.
"Not what I meant. Honestly, and you people say I have a one-track mind. Anyway, I was hoping your escapades would provide ample entertainment for me, perhaps even motivation for an extended visit."
"Alas, it was not to be. Now come here!" It was my time to crush someone in a hug and damn it felt good. I was suddenly realizing how much I had missed these guys.
"Group hug!" Alex yelled and I found myself at the center of a mass of bodies, with everyone gathering around me, except Chris who, reserved as always, just smiled kindly and shook his head in amusement.
"Okay, okay, break it up!" came the sound of a new voice and I turned around to stare up at Reed's smiling face. "Do I need to bring you all up on assault charges? Let the guy breathe!" He stuck out his hand and I shook it, then grabbed his arm and pulled him in for an awkward hug. The guy was almost 7 feet tall, so pretty much anyone hugging him would look comical. "Welcome back, Lee." He said once I let go.
"Thanks, man. It's...it's actually good to be back."
"Note the reluctance." Costas cut in and I shrugged.
"Like I said..."
"Yeah, yeah...you changed." Costas turned to Reed. "So, what kept you?"
Reed's features darkened a bit and he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I went to visit Jimmy. He's not doing too well."
"Next time, I wanna come with you." Costas said.
"I don't think that's a good idea. He didn't even seem too thrilled to see me. I think he's afraid you'll just judge him."
"Christ Almighty! He's been a screw-up for as long as I can remember. And as much as I think he'll keep screwing up, I have always been and always will be in his corner."
"Guys? What's this about Jimmy?" I asked, curious.
"He's in rehab. Second time this year." Reed answered, his shoulders slumping. "He's been getting worse and worse. I don't know what to do about him anymore. We've all tried to help over the years, but..."
"He needs to want help, and he isn't there yet." Alex said, coming next to us. "I almost went down that same path, but I had the good fortune of Chris literally beating some good sense into me."
"Nothing you didn't deserve, little brother." Chris said, coming up behind Alex and slinging his arm around his brother's shoulder. "But like you said...You were willing to listen after that. Jimmy...he isn't. Not yet."
"Well, enough doom and gloom. We're here to celebrate. To Lee and to home!" Costas said, raising his beer bottle.
I grabbed mine and raised it as well. "To friends!" I took a swig and put down the bottle, intent on heading to the bathroom. As I turned, I walked straight into someone. "Excuse me."
"Well, it's good to see you too."
I peered into those big chocolate eyes and felt myself going weak in the knees. Cute button nose and dark, curly hair, cut short on the sides. Broad shoulders and from what I could feel upon impact, a hard body. Shorter than me, about 5'9". His t-shirt revealed slightly tan, well-developed arms. He broke into a dazzling smile. "It's been a while, Lee."
Damn, Stephen had sure grown up!