Kenny

To Everyone, a very HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

This is a story about a love between two young boys. The usual disclaimers apply: If you are under the age of 18, or reading such material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then please leave this story unread now. There are within the story explicit descriptions of sex between boys, but that is not the main theme; so if your thing is reading stories that are purely sex in nature then this story will probably not be to your liking.

The story is made up of both fact and fantasy. The people herein are real, but their names have been changed. The rest of the story, as I said, is a mixture of fact and fantasy . . . perhaps how I wish it had happened. As to what is fact and what isn't, I shall keep that to myself. Suffice to say that the details of the intimate encounters contained herein are more than likely not exactly as stated. The encounters did happen, but not necessarily as described here. After all, who was taking notes?

I have named this chapter "The Helicopters," not because it is all about helicopters, but because of a very special event that happened. I have played a dirty trick on y'all by forcing you to decide just what is fact and what is not. But I did want you to know that the helicopter incident is ABSOLUTELY TRUE! And so was its effect. To this day I have no idea if my analysis was correct or not, but it made sense to me then and it still does. I suspected Kenny of setting the whole thing up, as the Collins family was so good at doing, but he swore a thousand times that it happened spontaneously. He was so adamant that he'd not planned it, I just have to believe him. But there is no doubt in my mind that a simple little conversation that lasted no more than fifteen minutes changed my entire life!

Kenny_10: The Helicopters

A lot of the things that happened starting the end of August were pretty predictable, but at the time I would never have predicted any of them. There were also some surprises. In fact lots of them! We had really taken my father's comments seriously, and vowed to prove him wrong. Anyone who has had a Gay relationship, even in the 90's, knows that we are constantly on trial, as if everyone is waiting for the chance to say "There, you see? I knew it wouldn't last." They say that gay relationships don't last, that the social pressures are too great, that it's unnatural, two men can't live together, and on and on ad nauseam! Well, you are wrong, society! I don't think the Hetero record is all that great these days either. But the fact remains if you're committed, you're committed! If you're not, you're not! But back on subject, I think we did a pretty good job of cheering up too, but there were other things - things we hadn't counted on.

I was accepted by St. Lukes as their new organist. My induction ceremony was to be Labor Day Sunday. Oh yes, the music committee made a big deal out of it, saying that the organist was in many ways a Minister. Of course no one including myself was comfortable with calling me that, because of my age, experience, and total lack of any Seminary training; but functionally the committee went into a great deal of detail to explain that the organ was the first thing everyone who entered would hear, and so like it or not I set the mood. The organ starting and stopping was often the cue for various activities during the worship service, so timing was important. There were two Sunday services, morning and evening; youth choir Sunday afternoon, senior choir Thursday evening; and of course there were weddings and funerals. Of course in good teenage fashion I hadn't thought about all that, but I found the prospect strangely exciting.

Kenny got a good laugh when I told him I was about to become the Minister of Music, saying gleefully that he thought Minister of something else would be more appropriate. He didn't have to say what that something was, I already knew.

Before accepting the position I felt it only right to tell them about Kenny and me. John Whittaker was definitely against it, but I convinced him that since I was in a relationship they might find out anyway, so he went with me to tell George. George wasn't very thrilled about it, even going so far as to inform me that if he'd known at the outset, I would not have been a candidate. "But," he said, "I got to know you first, so I know you're not all bad. But I think we should keep this our little secret."

"But what about when the rest of the committee finds out?" I worried.

"You just leave them to me," he assured me. And so the date was set.

John was tutoring me almost daily now. I think it was as important to him that I do well as it was to me; maybe even more so! He didn't work very much on the mechanics of playing because he said that would come with time; but he lectured and demonstrated tirelessly on the techniques: which stops were appropriate for which occasions, when to soften the organ down, when to open it up. He explained and drilled me on the correct way to accompany a soloist, be it voice or instrument. At first I was nervous that he might make a pass at me, now that he knew I was gay. He had made it very clear that he found me very attractive, but he was always the gentleman, and aside from a few hugs, frequent caresses of my neck and shoulders, he made no offer to get intimate. Eventually I relaxed and just became his willing student. I think John and I definitely loved each other, but it was a different love; one that was unencumbered by sex.

I still had not found a job, primarily because I wasn't looking all that hard, so Kenny convinced me to at least finish high school since I had a good average and only one year to go. Frankly I was looking forward to that last year. There was in my mind something almost magic about being a Senior, almost as if I were part of the management. Any other alternative would probably mean being apart from Kenny, and that simply was unacceptable.

The week after our trip to the beach a carnival came to town. Kenny and I had planned to go on Friday afternoon, and we had invited Timmy along. We would have invited Ron too, but he was out of town. Ron had never shown any interest whatsoever in our bedroom activities, but he was so effeminate we were confident that there must be some gay bones in there somewhere. I guess we were as guilty of stereotyping ourselves as we accused people in general of doing. The plan was simple enough: Have a great time at the carnival, then back to my place for a night of fun. My father and Ellen would be going fishing for the weekend, as they always did during the summer. Transportation was not a problem because the longest distance between any two points in town was less than two miles. And so we walked.

We had a total blow-out at the carnival. We sampled every ride at least once, the Ferris wheel half a dozen times, even the "horsies" on the merry-go-round! We laughed at each other, ran about the midway playing tag and generally just acted like typical obnoxious teens. Of course we weren't trying to be obnoxious, and in our minds we weren't; but there were lots of adults who would dispute that point.

When the money ran out, we just roamed around a while, then we headed back to my house. When we got there, as expected, the house was deserted. Even the tenants, the two women who had rented my sister's and my rooms, appeared gone for the weekend. Perfect! I should say at this point that Timmy had no idea what was coming; or should I say we didn't TELL him what we were planning. Looking back, I have a feeling that he had his suspicions.

By the time we'd had something to eat and cleaned up, it was about 8:00 PM I called Timmy aside as Kenny and I had planned and asked him out of Kenny's hearing, "You remember what you asked me last year?"

"Yeah," he answered, looking rather doubtful after all that had happened since then.

"You still interested?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied, "But what about Kenny? I don't want to cause any trouble."

"I'll take care of Kenny," I assured him, "You just get ready for a good time."

A few minutes later, as I was in the den where I still slept on the day bed (when I wasn't sleeping with Kenny), Kenny had the exact same conversation with Timmy. The plan worked perfectly! Now Timmy was not only curious about the sex itself, but also how we were going to accomplish the whole thing, each of us apparently not knowing that the other had the same plan. This was starting to be fun already! Everything we said, every move we made, got a sharp look of expectation from Timmy. He was very nervous, but also anticipating what was coming and trying to analyze our every move for signs that we were starting to "handle" each other.

In the S&M community they have a thing they call a "safe word." This is a word or phrase that all agree to before a "scene" whereby the torturee can use if the activity gets too intense. Of course in 1954 I had never heard of S&M or safe words, but I did basically the same thing with Timmy. "If you want me to stop at any point," I instructed, "Just say 'that's enough' and I'll stop, with no hard feelings, ok?"

"Sure," Timmy said as I led him to the bedroom, "But what about Kenny? Where'd he go?"

"I think he's gone out to the garage," I told him, "But I told you, don't worry about him, I'll handle him."

The first thing I noticed was how small and delicate Timmy's hands were. I had never before thought of one's hands as being erotic, but Timmy's definitely were turning me on. They were like the rest of him: more child-like than bordering on adulthood. His fingers were long and slender, his nails perfectly manicured; the skin on the backs of his hands was so silky-smooth I could not resist rubbing them gently as we walked the few feet from the kitchen to the den. Once inside I gently pushed the door closed, then wrapped my arms around his small frame and planted a deep, wet kiss directly on his lips.

Timmy emitted a gasp of pure surprise, then another, this time it came from pleasure as my tongue found his. "Remember," I said when we'd broken the kiss, "'that's enough' at any time will stop whatever's going on, ok?"

"Ok," he panted, "But so far I'm ok. Or at least I will be if you kiss me again."

I did kiss him again, only this time he was ready for me. As I've said before, Timmy's stature bore no resemblance to the functioning of his brain. In that department he was fully developed, extremely bright, and a very quick learner. So when our lips touched again, his tongue was there, anxiously awaiting mine. I probed every crevice of his mouth, then he did the same to me. He was moaning softly as was I. This was going to be one killer evening!

Timmy broke the kiss suddenly and exclaimed "What the..." and then grinned. Kenny, who had been standing behind the door when we came into the room, had got on his knees and was now working Timmy's jeans off his small frame. He had somehow managed to undo the belt buckle and top snap undetected, and the said garment was now descending, revealing Timmy's shapely legs and pure white briefs. Timmy the quick learner had already figured out what we were up to, and the look on his face told us that we weren't going to hear "that's enough" any time soon.

"Can I do that to you guys?" Timmy asked shyly.

"You'd better," Kenny grinned, "We have a rule that says no one undresses himself." That being said, we all kicked off our shoes, I pulled Timmy's T-shirt off over his head, and Kenny and I stood there waiting for this totally gorgeous boy, now dressed only in his briefs, to pull our jeans down. I watched those hands - those beautiful hands, as they fumbled with my belt buckle. They were shaking nervously, or was it anticipation? But they were not shaking too much to do their job, and soon my jeans were also heading for the floor. He turned his attention to Kenny and did the same, revealing the loudest, pinkest boxer shorts I had ever seen.

"Boxers?" I questioned.

"Yeah, Kenny said, "Like 'em? I just got 'em."

"I love 'em!" I exclaimed, "Except--except I can't see those gorgeous buns of yours." With that I yanked the boxers downward, and Kenny was exposing his very hard member. Timmy gasped. Kenny reached his thumbs into the waistband of my briefs and they were around my ankles, revealing that I too was fully aroused. Timmy gasped again.

"Now for the main attraction," Kenny stated. We each pulled of our own T-shirts, then grasped Timmy's waistband: Kenny on the left, I on the right, and began pulling them down, making the action as slow and erotic as we possibly could. We could feel Timmy's entire body tense up. Again, we weren't sure if it was shock, fear, or anticipation. But he made no move to resist as his most private parts were becoming exposed. When the briefs had descended sufficiently, we were treated to the most perfectly shaped, uncircumsized four inch extremely hard penis I ever dared hope for. "WOW!" Kenny exclaimed, "Did anybody ever tell you you're beautiful?"

"N--No," Timmy chuckled nervously, "I don't think so."

"Well you are, man!" I assured him as I gently removed his glasses to complete the picture. Kenny and I were totally mesmerized by the sheer unashamed beauty of our friend, soon to become our lover. I found myself hoping, almost praying, that I would not hear our 'safe words.' I was beyond rationality now, completely lost in lust!

I picked Timmy up bodily and laid him gently on the bed. He was as light, and as limp, as a rag doll! Then Kenny and I both attacked him with our tongues, licking and kissing every square inch of his body. There was no hair anywhere, but his muscles were well formed and surprisingly hard. What he lacked in size he more than made up for in sheer magnificent beauty! I took his left ear in my mouth and ran my tongue around it. I looked down and Kenny was sucking his perfect erection. I released his ear and nuzzled his neck, while Kenny was working his way down the shapely legs to the gorgeous feet. Timmy made no sound, unless you count the constant soft moaning that came from deep in his throat.

Kenny had been the first to taste Timmy's boyhood, so I thought it only right that I be the first to sample his tiny butt hole. To my surprise when I arrived there, I found it had a distinctly different taste than Kenny's; and yet it was the same! Poor little Timmy's circuits were definitely going into overload when my tongue probed the sphincter, then entered more easily than I would have thought. He hadn't expected this, hadn't known what pleasure could be derived from an area of his body he'd thought was only for expelling waste. Kenny was back at his erection now, sucking in earnest. From my vantage point behind him I could see Timmy's ball sack, with its precious cargo of two orbs a little bigger than marbles. As the sack started to shrink, I felt his body tense, then shudder almost violently as Kenny's mouth was filled with Timmy's first ever orgasm. He had obviously been ready and waiting for this moment for a long time as volley after volley blasted into Kenny's mouth.

Out of consideration for Timmy, we both released him and lay beside him, running our hands over his body gently as he came down from the mountain. We were genuinely concerned that he might have a heart attack, so intense was his pleasure. "Oh man, that was something!" Timmy exclaimed when he could speak again.

"Was?" Kenny questioned, "You mean you're done?"

"We have only just begun," I whispered in his ear, "We have the whole night! You got any place you gotta be?"

"Well, uhhh, no!" Timmy grinned, "But I thought, when you, er, had an orgasm you were all through!"

"Not even close," Kenny assured him, "Besides, Charlie and I haven't had ours yet anyway. We usually have two or three before we quit."

"Does that mean you want me to--to..."

"All we want you to do," I interrupted, "Is what you want to do. We are getting indescribable pleasure out of giving you pleasure! You have a body most people only dream about!"

"But--" he said in a voice incredibly like a very small boy, "But I want to, you know... with my mouth."

"Not a problem," Kenny assured him, "But first I think you should rest a little while."

We hadn't rested very long when, to our surprise, Timmy took the lead. He wriggled out from between Kenny and me, and before I knew what was happening I felt the warmth of his lips on my now soft member, and was staring at Timmy's four incher, which was anything but soft! As the saying goes, what could I do? It was obvious what he wanted, so I began nibbling that delicious foreskin, then pushed it back with my lips and took the whole thing, caressing the head and the sensitive underside with my tongue. I stopped sucking for a moment to look down my body to see the incredible sight of Timmy sucking greedily on my person, then was inspired to resume my task. Just when I was beginning to wonder what Kenny was up to, I felt the familiar probing of a greasy finger at my back door. I concentrated on opening up for him, and soon he was in as far as he could go. We had never done it like this before, with me on my side and he on his side behind me. It was different to say the least, and I don't think the penetration was as deep; but under the circumstances, being impaled while involved in a 69 was totally HOT! It got even hotter when Kenny erupted in my mouth, giving me a pretty respectable load, considering that is was his second in a short time. Of course the anointing of my mouth set me off and I was giving Kenny his first taste of boy cum, while the spasms in my behind sent Kenny over the edge. I wanted to taste Timmy's ejaculate, savor it, analyze it; but the feeling of intense pleasure as I received in both ends, and contributed at the same time, completely wiped out all other feelings, all other thoughts.

"That was so awesome!" Timmy said softly when we were again lying side by side resting. Of course Kenny and I agreed, telling our new plaything how much he'd added to our enjoyment. "Now," he said, showing a lot more confidence that he'd had two hours before, "I want one of you to, you know, put it inside me, like you did to Charlie, Kenny"

"I don't know, Timmy," I said, "It kinda hurts the first time, and you're pretty small."

"You think I can't take it?" he challenged. We had to admit that so far there'd been no evidence that he couldn't do anything we did, so we finally agreed, and started taking turns loosening him up with our fingers while he just lay there and moaned happily, his hands always busy roaming over our bodies. To my great delight I was elected to do the honors, since Kenny was now considerably bigger than I was. Kenny of course wanted his turn, but we all agreed that the smaller the better first time around. Who ever said that bigger is always better?

I see no need to go into a lot of detail here about what occurred next. Suffice to say that after we had prepared Tim for our onslaught for almost an hour, I had another earth shaking orgasm inside him, and so did Kenny after I'd broken the path, so to speak. Timmy came through it fine, thoroughly enjoying the episode and more that I haven't mentioned at all. I don't even remember how many times each of us had orgasms (who was counting?), but I think pretty well everyone did everything to everyone else; when we finally settled down for sleep it was coming daylight. Needless to say we slept through Saturday morning and into the afternoon.

I would like to be able to say that we continued our relationship with Timmy, Not only did we like the little guy a lot, but he was so adorable, and the most insatiable appetite for sex I'd ever seen, before or since! He thoroughly enjoyed himself that night and told us so many times; but once was enough. To my knowledge he never had another gay experience. He'd been curious, had that curiosity satisfied, and moved on.

A few months after our fun night with Timmy, his father (also his doctor) found a hormone treatment for him that finally jump-started Timmy's growth hormones. I thought it was too bad in a way because he was so cute, but I was happy for him. He was never a very large man, nor was his father; but at least his voice changed, and he grew enough so he wouldn't be considered a freak. Thanks, Tim, for one barn burner of a night!

Sunday morning came all too soon for me. Kenny and I had spent the night at my house, and just the memory of what we'd done with Timmy set us off again. Then it was up early in the morning, we rushed back to Kenny's house for Kenny to get his church clothes, then the entire family, including Robbie and his new wife, were off to church to watch the induction service. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail about it because I'm sure everyone knows more or less how it went. It was a big deal for me because it was a definite milestone in my regaining some of my self respect; but the details of who did what to whom are really not important.

"Is your father going to be there?" Dad C. inquired.

"Naw," I answered, "He's on the river fishing. I figured he wouldn't be interested so I didn't tell him."

"Charlie!" Mom C. scolded, "That's terrible! This is a big day for you, and you didn't even give him the chance to be there?"

"I know," I defended, "But he's never shown any interest in me before, so why would I believe he cared about this?"

"You should have given him the chance," Robbie lectured. I wanted to tell him that he just didn't understand, that he'd always had his dad there for him, to support and cheer him on; but I let it drop. Besides, about that time we arrived at the church so we had to go in. It was an incredible day, with me being fitted with the organist's robe, which was the same as the choir robes except that the sleeves, instead of being very large and flowing, were cuffed so they wouldn't get in the way of my playing. At 9:30 there was a short choir rehearsal, at 11:00 the morning service; back to the church at 5:00 PM for the youth choir rehearsal, and then the evening service at 7:00. It was hectic, but it was going to be a way of life for me from now on, and I quickly came to love it! At the same time I missed singing in the choir, but then I always sang anyway, and as the organist/ pianist I could sing whatever part I was comfortable with.

The choir, and with it the accompanist, me, were directed by Mrs. Atkins, the same lady who had played the organ for the past six months while they searched for a new organist. She was a wonderful musician and a spectacular pianist, but by her own admission she was no organist, and was only too happy to relinquish the console to me. She, John Whittaker and I very quickly became close friends, and both of them taught me more than I can ever relate. And more important, they supported me, praised me when I did well, and they weren't shy about criticizing when I didn't do so well.

Tuesday, September 7, 1954: The first day of my last year in school! (Well, if I passed that is). We were really here, and we were together! Ron, Timmy, me, and of course Kenny! I had been dreading this day for weeks, as I suspect all teens dread the first day of school in the fall. But now that it was here I was to say the least exhilarated! We all were! We were in the home stretch! It was downhill from here! It felt so great to be seniors! To be the envy of every other student in the school! To be part of the group that would be having our group pictures taken this year to be hung in the hallowed halls of the school for all time! To be called out of class for this picture, that interview, that special yearbook quote! Was this not even better than our first year? Remember that? When we were six, or five, or whatever age we started? When the entire world was one big mystery and about to unfold and reveal itself to us? And now it was over! We already knew everything there was to know. Yes, we had one more year of school, but that wasn't for learning, was it? This, our senior year, was designed to give us the chance to lord it over all the underclassmen; to parade around in all our glory, showing how smart we were, how we were above all the others and their schemes. We were SENIORS! We were one step from having ARRIVED!!!!

Or, maybe not quite?

Our numbers had dwindled more than I would have expected this year, with over half the class that had started in ninth grade having dropped out. Most of our classes were together now, because the total graduating class was less than 100! Yes, it was a small school by today's standards, but we had never thought of it as being small, really. No matter though, those of us that were left all knew each other for the most part, and we were a close knit bunch, almost like brothers and sisters in many ways. Everything, it seemed, was more intimate; like it or not we all knew everyone else's business, including my relationship with Kenny. Most of the students had no idea of the extent of it of course, but it was common knowledge around the school that we were inseparable.

"Are you trying out for the swim team this year?" Ron asked Kenny.

"He doesn't have to," I answered proudly, "He's already qualified on last year's record."

"What about you, Charlie? Are you trying out?"

"No," I said, "I'm not that good. I'm kinda busy anyway."

And so the small talk went, each of us catching up on the other's lives, especially those whom we hadn't seen much of through the summer. I guess that's the thing I enjoyed more than anything else about our senior year: We had learned most of the scuttlebutt about each other, at least we had thought, and those of us who were left could be easily divided into two groups. There were the ones who for one reason or another were committed to finishing school, and those who had been coasting from the start. We had known each other now for at least three years, had got through all the gossip and bullying stage, and now we were ready to settle down and get the job done. It was refreshing in a way, but in another way I felt pangs of regret. We were growing up, and along with all the brightness and optimism that brings, it also brings a certain sadness. We were no longer children, and we were finally seeing concrete knowledge of that fact.

It didn't take long for the socialites of the school to get their acts together and plan the first school dance. It was to be in the gym as usual, on the second Friday that school was in session. Kenny and I could hardly wait, and we had even convinced Ron and Timmy to go. In my opinion they were far worse off than we: They weren't that interested in girls, or at least they didn't show it; but they weren't interested in guys either. But on the rare occasions we could get them to various functions, they always enjoyed themselves once they got there.

The dance was a blast! Gone was our shyness around girls. We were all good dancers and we knew it; we didn't have to worry about their impression of us because we weren't looking for anything long-term, just a dance partner. And you know what? The more we relaxed the more attracted to us they became. Actually the few who knew for sure that Kenny and I were lovers were very receptive to our advances. Evidently it was a welcome relief that we were not always trying to get into their pants.

In mid-October it seemed that this was going to be a great school year. We'd been to two dances, several house parties; our grades were coming along nicely and we were even getting along with all our teachers. I should have known that I was at the top of my roller-coaster life again and could only go down again.

I was on my way to the motorcycle shop one Saturday afternoon, for no real reason than to hang out while Kenny was at swim practice. A lot of drivers in that time and place had a very nasty habit that I hadn't learned to deal with. If they were planning to turn left, they would veer as far right as they could first, apparently to make the turn wider. I was following a car rather closely when it pulled over to the curb. Thinking it was stopping I started to pass him on the left. Like most teens would do on a powerful motorcycle, I was going too fast. The car was suddenly directly in my path, having turned left into a driveway. I didn't have time to even think about braking and I was flying over the car, my bike buried deep in the rear door of the car.

When I woke up I was in the ER, still not completely cleaned up, and in a lot of pain. I wasn't hurt seriously, they told me, but my face, arms and hands were a mess! I had apparently landed face down on the pavement, still traveling more or less 30 MPH, and had skidded to a stop, tearing all the skin on any part that contacted the road including my face. Kenny was there, as was my father and Ellen. "You gave us an awful scare," she said when she saw my eyes open, "Do you feel all right?" Oh yeah, I thought, party time! Never better! But I didn't answer. I looked at Kenny, and his eyes were... well, the sparkle was gone. It was obvious he'd been scared to death!

I spent a month in the hospital. Fortunately I had no broken bones, but they had to do a lot of digging to get all the sand and grit out from under my skin where I'd slid along the ground. So much for my grades at school. Kenny faithfully brought me homework and special assignments, but it wasn't the same. By the time I was ready to go back to school I was 'way behind. The insurance settlement had ruled in my favor so I had no problems getting the bike fixed, but there were a lot of medical bills that I couldn't pay, and I wasn't about to let my father pay them even if he offered, which he didn't.

"I have to go back to work," I told Kenny, "And I don't know if I can make enough part time to pay off those bills or not."

"I can get a job and help," he offered, "You can't quit school!"

"I'm not planning to," I answered, "But you're not quitting the swim team. You're just too god to give that all up!"

"But the bills!" he protested.

"They can wait. They can't collect what I don't have, and I'll get them paid off sooner or later." But it was obvious to me that there would be no college for me for at least another year or two.

By Christmas I was pretty well back to normal. I had a brand new bike, compliments of the insurance company. I tried to take the money for the bike and apply it to the bills, but the insurance company would not allow it. So I found myself a job as a technician at the telephone company. It was a good job, only part-time, with the possibility of going full time if I did well and wanted it.

Christmas 1954 was wonderful, even though I had very little money to buy gifts. My father and Ellen were planning to go to Boston to visit Ellen's sister. They had invited me along, but I had respectfully declined (I repeat, RESPECTFULLY! Could it be that I was growing up?). So at the Collins request I just gathered up my things and moved in with Kenny for the holidays. Christmas morning was a very special time that year. There had been all the usual preparations: food, carol singing, food, friends coming in, food, sitting around the tree on Christmas Eve, and FOOD! Then when it came time to open gifts, we all sat in a circle on the floor, Dad Collins pulled the gifts out from under the tree and handed them to us one by one. I had never experienced the opening of gifts this way before! Everyone waited their turn, so we all saw what everyone else got. I was so impressed that I have carried on that tradition to this day. It was, like everything else the Collins' did, more meaningful, more considerate of each other.

Christmas Day in 1954, in a small city in eastern Canada, was the day the entire world stopped. There were no stores open, no gas stations, no movies, nothing! One could not buy a loaf of bread even to ward off starvation. So after the gifts were unwrapped, the turkey eaten, the long distance phone calls made, there was absolutely nothing to do but sit around and enjoy each other's company. And reflect on the past year. And, what Kenny and I did, go to bed early. We were so relaxed and at peace with the world there were no thoughts of sex. We even wore pajamas, which was becoming a rare occurrence for us. We just lay there for several hours, talking about nothing in particular, exchanging "I love you's" every few minutes, caressing, and marveling that being quiet, doing absolutely nothing, could be so enjoyable! There is a popular expression these days: "Better than sex!" That expression could easily have been used that night as we drifted around the universe having no one, needing no one, except each other.

Christmas holidays that year weren't that great. There were a lot of people at the phone company off on vacation, so I was given lots of extra hours which I appreciated; but it was hell on my social life. No matter though, it was only two weeks, and then it was over and we were back in school.

The second week of January the weather turned bitterly cold with lots of snow. Kenny and I had walked to his house to do our homework, and hopefully something else if we could get some privacy. About 7:00 PM I was just beginning to think about going home when the phone rang. It was Ellen, and she asked for me.

"You need to come right home," she instructed. I bristled. I had never taken orders from her and I didn't plan to start now.

"What's going on?" I asked neutrally.

"Just get home," she ordered, "Your father's in the hospital."

"Hospital?" I questioned, "Why? What's happened?"

"Just get home!" she repeated, and hung up.

There had been a huge warehouse fire and my father had been there, which of course was nothing unusual. He'd been at the back of the building when a brick wall had collapsed on him and another cop, and it had broken his back. He wasn't paralyzed, but he was strapped down pretty securely to prevent all movement until they could assess the damage and do whatever they had to.

"You'll have to spend a lot more time around home and not over... there," he instructed. I noticed that there'd been no pleasantries, no "I'm sorry," no "I hope you're all right" from me, just instructions; how to care for the coal furnace, change the air filters, where the snow shovel was, where to get the car serviced, etc, etc. Of course I knew all these things because I'd been doing them all since I was 12, but I got the instructions anyway.

"Look at the bright side," I told Kenny Monday morning as we walked to school, "At least I have the car all to myself." But as if reading my mind, orders came from headquarters (the hospital), that I was not to use the car unless it was to take Ellen somewhere like the hospital the supermarket, or some other household errand.

By the end of February Father was out of the hospital, but still completely laid up. It wasn't nearly as serious as they'd first thought and he was going to recover fully; but it would take time.

"I've got to quit school," I told Kenny one Friday morning.

"But why?" Kenny asked, panic in his voice, "Isn't your father getting better?"

"Yes and no," I replied, "They say he'll make a complete recovery, but it may be a few months yet before he can work again. And his job on the police force is over. He has to find something else."

"But isn't the city paying him while he's off? After all he got hurt on the job."

"They're paying him part of his salary, but he says he really needs my board money now, so I've got to earn more money."

"Board? What board money? You're paying board in your own home?"

"Kenny, I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to know about that. Just forget it, ok?"

"I damn well won't forget it, Charlie! Now what's this about board? Why in the world are you paying board?"

"It was my choice. I volunteered!"

"But why? You mean to say you can't live at home any more unless you pay board?"

"Sure, I can live there. But not the way I'm living. I have pretty well complete freedom to come and go as I please, but that freedom came with a price."

"But Charlie! You've been doing all the work around home, taking Ellen all over the place, keeping things going. What would they do if you weren't there?"

"But I am there, Kenny! And like it or not he's my father and right now he needs me."

"What about all this freedom? Freedom to do what, Charlie?"

Kenny was obviously baffled. What could possibly be so important to me about freedom that I would choose to pay board? And why had I kept it from him? And then I saw the lights come on in his head.

"You were forbidden to see me, weren't you?" he asked, already knowing the answer. I nodded.

"He told me that I could continue to live there because after all I am his son, but that I would live by his rules, or relinquish my rights as his child and pay rent like any other boarder."

"Well that's easy," he brightened, "You can just move back with us."

"I thought of that," I admitted, "But of course I can't now. And besides, I can't go over and sponge off your parents just to avoid paying board at home. It just wouldn't be right!"

"What's not right," he said angrily, "Is that he is trying to keep you and me apart, trying to take away your happiness!"

"He says I'll thank him for it some day. He said a little work never hurt anybody. And I guess I have to agree with him there. I can't go to college, so what's so important about finishing high school anyway? I've been offered that full time job at the phone company and I'm gonna take it."

"I wish you wouldn't, Charlie," he said, trying to use his big brown eyes again. "Would you at least come and talk to Dad? Maybe there's something he can do."

"Sure," I agreed doubtfully, "I'll talk to him, but I doubt that anything's going to change."

Well, I never did have that talk with Dad Collins. I'm pretty sure that he would have insisted that I come to live with them, there would be another big fight at home, and I would indeed be moving. But all of that never happened. At around 11:00 AM the principal's secretary came and got Kenny out of school. I had no chance to find out what was going on until noon. I found a phone and called, but there was no answer. I started back to class but thought better of it. After all, what did it matter if I wasn't going to finish anyway? So I walked, or rather ran, to the Collins house.

The family car was in the garage when I got there. The garage doors were open, an indication that the car had been out recently. I went around to the back as was my custom and knocked on the door. It was answered by Kenny, but certainly not the Kenny I knew. He was haggard and drawn, looked more like 50 years old than 15. Looking into his eyes, his face, I knew. He didn't have to tell me a thing, I already knew! And his words confirmed it.

"Dad's dead!" he said, his voice shaking.

"How can he be?" I demanded. Could this be some sort of a cruel joke? Kenny was a prankster, but not capable of something like this.

"He had a heart attack," Kenny said, and then he lost it. It was obvious that I would get no more information from Kenny as he went hysterical, hugging me, clawing at my back, begging God to make it not true! When Mom C. came to see who was at the door she said tearfully, "I'm so glad you're here, Charlie. Kenny needs you, and I suspect you need him too."

I knew that I'd grown to love Dad Collins, but I'd had no idea the depth of that love. I was every bit as devastated as anyone else in the family. And Mom C., bless her heart, didn't help. "He thought of you as his son," she said, "Not his son's friend or lover. We want you to take your rightful place in this family starting right now. I know he'd want it that way, and I do too."

I was with them and helped pick out a casket, arrange the funeral service; Kenny and I went through his closet and picked out his burial suit. I wanted to play the organ for the funeral, but was flatly refused. "Your place," Mom said, "Is with the rest of the family. We need you, Charlie. Bob had no ear for music anyway, he'd rather you be with us to support Kenny."

It's certainly no secret that life is a learning experience. I knew that and have often wondered if I'd be any better at it if I got the chance to start all over again. But the thing that has always astonished me is where we learn what we learn! When we least expect it, we find ourselves having some experience that has such a profound effect on our lives it changes us forever. Bob Collin's funeral was like that for me. We didn't dwell on the loss of a loved man, didn't get all droopy and mournful. Instead we celebrated! We celebrated that he had gone so quickly there was no suffering; we celebrated his life, the family he'd left behind, the "job on earth well done," as the preacher expressed it. That's not to say there was no sense of loss because there was; deep and profound! But the familiar expression "He's in a better place" had meaning! It wasn't just words! But be that as it may Kenny needed a lot of comforting during the next few days, and I like to think that I provided at least some support.

"What do you mean, you're moving out again?" my father bellowed as I packed the few things I had. I'd borrowed the Collins car, which I was filling with everything that I called mine.

"Dad Collins is gone," I answered, "Now Mom needs me. I'm moving back over there to help keep things going."

"Damn it, Charlie, she's got two boys of her own! What am I supposed to do?"

"I might have asked you that same question when I was fourteen," I replied bitterly, "But don't worry, I'll come by every day and check the furnace, put out the garbage, all that stuff. Robbie's away at college, and if I don't move in he'll probably come home, and I'm not gonna let that happen."

"I need you here!" he declared, "And you're not going anywhere."

"I'm going tonight," I said just as firmly, "And you don't have to worry about me this time because I won't be back. So go ahead and rent the den too."

"If you leave tonight," he said quietly, "You bet your ass you won't be back. So give me your keys to the house now."

"I'll give them to you when you're back on your feet. I'm gonna need them till then to do my chores around here. On my schedule it'll be better if I can just come and go when I get the chance, otherwise I won't use the keys."

"So that's the thanks I get!" my father reflected, "You'd rather live with strangers than your own family!"

"Dad Collins was proud of me," I said, "and I have to finish high school -- for him. I can't do that here. I have bills to pay, and board to pay too. I can't do it all and go to school too. He cared, Father! He cared about me and I'm not gonna let him down!"

My packing finished, I tearfully gave my father a hug, which he did not return; I said goodbye, and I left. I knew that I was leaving for the last time, that I would never again call this house my home. And despite the wonderful home I was going to, I felt a deep regret deep in my gut that would pain me for years to come. And I knew that too! I was my father's son; I carried his genes, his family name. But I felt like an exile. Unlike most exiles, I had a home, a country if you like, that welcomed me, wanted me, needed me!

"I'm sorry Charlie," Mom Collins said sternly, "But if that's not to your liking it's simply too bad. If you're going to live in my home, be my son, you're going to obey the rules. And the rules in this house are that we all do our very best, that we perform to our maximum. And your maximum, Charlie, is not spending a lifetime as a technician at a small-time telephone company in the middle of nowhere! You will finish high school, and you will go on from there!"

I had never seen Mom Collins like this before! She had been the meek one: loving and caring and affectionate, but mostly in the background. Dad Collins had been the moving force, the decision maker, the one to deal with. But now he was gone, over two weeks now. And it seemed that Mom C. had simply taken on his responsibilities, added them to her own, and never missed a beat! This was obviously not going to be as easy as I'd planned. I'd told my father that I would finish school come hell or high water, but when reality set in I knew that just wasn't in the cards.

We had been discussing our future, now that Dad C. was gone. I'd been included because Mom C. insisted that I was part of the family now. When I had stated, not asked mind you, stated, that I was quitting school and getting a job for a year, Mom had gone off! She had basically reminded me that I was still only 16, and that any decision I made was subject to her approval. She also pointed out that she was not my legal guardian and so had no legal right to legislate anything where I was concerned, and that if I had a problem with her decisions I was free to leave and take it up with my father, if that's what I so chose. But as long as I was under her roof, I was subject to her rules, her decisions, and although I had the right to appeal, she reserved the right to not only final decision, but to reject my appeal if she so chose. I had wanted to of finish school, but all those bills had to be paid first; so I was simply taking a year off. Mom pointed out that lots of teens do exactly that, but most never did return to school and she would simply not allow me to fall into that trap.

"I told you not to mess with her," Robbie said, trying hard and failing to stifle a grin, "If you think for one minute that Mom is a pushover just because Dad isn't here, you are in for a severe shock!"

"But--" I protested, "Dad's savings... There's enough to send Kenny to UNB. There's not enough for two, and I can't take Kenny's college fund! That's his! You and Dad C. have saved your whole lives for that!"

"We'll deal with it!" was Mom C's reply. "We still have a while to work it all out. In the meantime you WILL stay in school! You WILL continue as organist at St. Lukes! And you WILL NOT continue at the phone company. You WILL get your grades up and keep them there! You will NOT concern yourself with college for the time being. The who and what and where you will leave to me! Oh yes, one more thing. You will stop drinking as of this moment, and you will not start again until you're 21, which, last time I heard, is the legal drinking age in Canada. Is that clearly understood, Charlie?"

"Uhhhh, yes, ma'am." I answered. I wasn't at all sure it was clearly understood, but there was no doubt in my mind that the lady I was dealing with at this moment was certainly not impaired in any way just because she'd lost her husband two weeks ago. So I agreed. I tried to equate what I had just experienced to what I'd lived with for the past sixteen years. I was well accustomed to being told what I was going to do, what I had no choice in doing, and what would work and what would not. So why was this different? How did this woman come off, telling me in no uncertain terms what I would and would not do? Of course the difference was obvious. Her every word dripped with love, of concern. She wanted the best for me just like she did her other sons, and if she had to put her foot down to get it, then that's the way it was going to be.

"Well," Robbie said with a grin, "You seem to have everything under control here. Mom, Tanya and I are going back to school in the morning, before you start in on me."

"That's a very good idea," Mom said sternly. And then she grinned, and then cried. "I want you boys to be the best you can be," she said, "For Bob, and for you too. I want to be proud of you, and I want you to be proud of yourselves. All three of you!"

"Your mom is something else," I said to Kenny as we lay in bed that night, "I had no idea she could get so wound up!"

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Kenny advised, "Don't cross her or you'll see her get really wound up! I guess I never knew how strong she could be until... until..."

Kenny didn't finish, but then he didn't have to. I knew what he meant; I knew he couldn't say the words yet, but I also knew from personal experience that it would get better. I knew how much I'd needed Kenny when my mom had died, so I set about to be there for my love. Even in our grief it felt so good to be together, to be facing whatever came along as one, not two. So we did what we did best: we held each other tightly with one arm and caressed each other with the other. And I marveled at how incredibly much I loved this wonderful creature!

"I'm not going!" Kenny stated flatly. It was April, and his final acceptance to UNB had just arrived in the mail, subject of course to his final grades.

"I don't think I heard you correctly," Mom said in a tone that told me her blood pressure was rising, "I thought I heard you say that you're not going to UNB."

"That's right, Mom, I'm not going. I can't, Mom! You said yourself that we've got to get Charlie into college. There isn't enough money for two. Damn, when I look at those fees I don't think there's enough for one! But if we go to a less expensive college we can split the money and do ok. We might have to work some, but that's not the end of the world."

"But you've talked about UNB as long as I've known you!" I protested, "That's always been the plan!"

"Plans change," he answered, "And I simply can't go off to the most expensive university around while you struggle to get an education somewhere, if you go at all. And besides, I won't leave you! We'll go somewhere together, or not at all."

"Just a sec," I said as I had a sudden thought, "My father and I have been getting along pretty well lately, so maybe he can help."

"You know that's not gonna happen," Kenny said, "He used your college fund to pay off his mortgage."

"Exactly! So the house is free and clear. All he has to do is take a new mortgage, and I'll pay it back. We can even set up a legal agreement requiring me to make the payments."

"It might work," Mom agreed, "And as much as I hate to admit it, Kenny's right. There's no way in the world you can both go to UNB with what we have saved.

"Ok, then," I said excitedly, "I'll go see him tomorrow."

I didn't see him the next day, nor the day after that or the day after that. I swore Kenny to secrecy, then told him that I had no intention of screwing up his college fund, that I had done a lot of soul searching and concluded that I was simply not college material. I told him that when he went to UNB I'd move so we could be together, provide a place for him to live, and subsidize him when he needed it. I also told him that I knew they'd spent some of that money to pay my medical bills, so it was only right. Miraculously I managed to convince him that I had a workable plan. Or so I thought.

It was almost a full month later, and there'd been no more talk of college. Mom had asked me a few times if I'd talked to my father, but I dismissed it, saying the time just hadn't been right. It was already too late for me to get into UNB in the fall, but I think we all knew that wasn't going to happen anyway.

Kenny and I were sitting in the living room, watching TV. There was a news program on, showing some military helicopters on some sort of training exercise. "Man, those things are fascinating," Kenny observed, "I wish I could figure out how they work."

"It's simple," I said, "That big rotor is just a big propeller. When it turns it causes downward thrust and lifts the helicopter. The little one on the rear keeps the whole thing from spinning out of control."

"I know that!" Kenny said, "You think I'm stupid? But I mean, how does it move? How can you make it go forwards, backwards, sideways the way they do?"

"I dunno, Kenny," I said honestly, and then I started watching them closely.

"Oh I see how they do it!" I exclaimed ten minutes later.

"Do what?" Kenny asked blankly.

"The helicopters!" I said with frustration, "You wanted to know how they move!"

"Okay, smart-ass. You didn't know a few minutes ago, and now you do?"

"I think so. I could be all wet but I think I got it figured out. You see that lump of cams and wheels and things just below the blades, on that vertical shaft?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"Well, I think they control the pitch of the blades. As the blades rotate their pitch changes so that when each blade is moving toward the rear, the pitch increases, causing a pushing action of the whole thing. When they're moving forward the pitch decreases again so there's more thrust in one direction, and that's the direction it moves."

Kenny looked at me incredulously. "Where the heck did you learn that?" he demanded.

"I told you, I didn't! But if you look at them closely it's easy enough to figure out."

"Not for me, Charlie! I never could've worked that all out! Don't you see? You just sat there and analyzed that machine and out fell the answer! And you explained it so simply even I could understand it. Damn, if I had your analytical brain..."

I did see! As Kenny ranted and raved, called his mom in to tell her about it, the lights came on in my head. All the efforts of Robbie, Dad and Mom Collins, Kenny, George Devlin, John Whittaker, my high school teachers, had failed miserably to give me the self confidence I needed to go after, I mean really go after my dream. To me it was just that: a dream that was so unreachable it was laughable. But one ten minute conversation about a stupid helicopter made me see that I did have a brain! I could analyze things! In that moment I knew I would go to college. I didn't know how, didn't know where I'd ever get the money, but I knew it would happen.

"Are you crazy?" My father said when I'd made my proposal, "You want me to take my home, the home you rejected, the home that's all mine, and mortgage it again? Have you lost your mind? Or maybe you just think I'm stupid."

"No, Dad, I don't think you're stupid. I just thought that..."

"You just thought you could come over here and blink your blue faggot eyes and I'd fold, isn't that right? You thought I haven't done enough for you already, and this would be my big chance to make it up to you!"

"Dad, it won't cost you a dime! I'll pay the whole thing back. When I graduate..."

"IF you graduate! IF, not WHEN! But we both know you don't have a snowballs's chance in hell of that happening, don't we? You've been changing your mind every few weeks, moving here, moving there; You're quitting high school, but you want to go to college! You're spending hours and hours sitting at that stupid organ when you could've been out earning money and saving it. You tear around on that motorcycle, running up bills you can't pay, hanging out with all sorts of deadbeats. You romp around every bed you can find with that Collins kid and act just as if it was normal! And now you expect me to believe that some day you're going to be a rich, world famous engineer and redesign the Empire State Building? You really have lost it, haven't you?

"Not one penny, Charlie! You don't get a penny from me till you prove you're serious. Go ahead and go to college. Stick to it for a year or two and show me you're not failing and we'll talk."

"Yeah, right! And how do you expect me to do that with no money? I need the money NOW, not after the second or third term."

"You heard me, not a penny till you prove yourself."

"Ok, thanks Dad," I said bitterly, "Thanks for telling me what I've got to do." And I left.

I reported back to Mom Collins that night. I have to give her credit, she managed to hide her feelings pretty well. I think she was pretty disgusted, or maybe I just like to think so, but outwardly she tried to make me see the whole thing from my father's perspective. "He's been hurt," she explained, "He can't do the job he loves any more, but his house is paid for. That's his security! To give that up would be really hard, Charlie. We'll just have to think of something else."

I did understand, and although I was in somewhat of a temper, I was secretly relieved that I didn't have to worry about a mortgage on a house where I didn't feel welcome.

"Here's a start," Kenny offered as he laid a sheet of typewritten paper on the table, "I mailed this today."

Mom and I looked at the paper. It was a letter to UNB saying thanks but no thanks, he had made other arrangements and would not be able to attend in the fall.

"But Kenny," I said, "That's all you ever wanted! You can't do this! Ron's going to UNB, and so is Timmy..."

"But you're not!" he said. I could see his deep brown eyes getting pretty misty, but he managed to hold himself together. "I'd go crazy and wouldn't do very well anyway if you weren't there."

"We're almost at the end of the school year," Mom pointed out, "You're never going to get admitted anywhere else now."

"I know that. But there are college level prep courses in high school. We can go back and take them next year, and we can work for the year and make a little more money. And besides, I'm not even sure I want to go to UNB any more. It's just so... so preppy! Even stuffy in a way. We'll do fine, Mom. And besides, I wouldn't feel right leaving you here all alone so soon after Dad..."

He didn't finish. He had finally lost it, and then Mom followed, then me. At that moment I had serious doubts about the justice in the world. Now Kenny and I had one more thing in common: we had both lost someone who never should have died! But they did and we had to deal with it.

If you like this story or have any comments or criticisms, please e-mail them to charlieje@mindspring.com