Makarovia? Where the Hell Is That!? Northeastern University

Story: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is Chapter: 32 Standing Up To Bullies Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com) Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex

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Okay, yes you've been patient. Now, it's here. Read the previous chapter to get your place, I did.

This chapter is some background, so you know what shaped Eric in High School. He was taught how to behave with bullies and how to deal with them...not with fists, with brains. It may hurt, but if you let them walk over you, they always will.

Freedom of expression is precious. To do that, Nifty needs help. Your

donation is greatly desired. Give to http://donate.nifty.org/ or this story

ends and all the others! That would be a crime!

Standing Up To Bullies

On our way back to our room, I slowed down a moment. That near stop caused Peter to look at me quizzically.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked me.

"I didn't take over," I said as I pondered a moment. I looked into Peter's eyes, "Did I?"

"Take over!?" Peter repeated questioning, "When? Why are you asking that?"

"Because it seems like I did," I said. I waved back in the direction of Olek's office. "I got started and couldn't stop myself."

Peter's head shook once and that one eye narrowed, "What are you talking about!?"

"Everything we are about to do; I came up with!" I said, "Who do I think I am?" I waved again in Olek's office direction, "Who am I to tell a KING what to do?"

Peter was getting better at giving false expressions to fool me, "I'm sorry, I need to introduce King Olek to you." He took my hand and turned to return to the office to do this.

I pulled back from Peter. "I know Olek."

"You can't know him if you think anybody could take anything from Olek," Peter stated.

There was silence a few seconds between us and I felt the eye narrow. "Where is this coming from?" I asked having a difficult time believing what I heard. "Smartass, wiseass, and wisecracks are me. Not you."

Peter folded arms across his chest now as he challenged, "Yeah? Says who? I've not seen any rule telling me it's your exclusive domain and territory!"

I had to give it to him, so I nodded, "I have to watch you more closely now." I grinned and kissed him lightly. "That was damned good."

Peter smiled back, "I studied for two years at the feet of the Smartass Master. I was bound to pick up something." He explained simply. "Who you are..." Peter said with the sound telling me he thought the question was too easy to miss the obvious answer. His index finger hit my chest with every syllable of the next statement. "You ARE Prince Eric Ivanov, Prince of Makarovia! Olek's brother. That's who YOU are!"

"Who TOLD a king this is what needs to be done and even how to do it!" I said back as loud. No fingers hammered the syllables for me. "And we're doing it! Why?"

Peter shook his head, "Perhaps because it's a good plan?" He suggested and got a smirking look, "You are still new to this family, so I'll give you a little lesson about the Ivanovs." He inched closer to me. We were close just walking down the corridor, but now he was so close I could feel the heat from his body. "We're stubborn."

I laughed, "Nooo!" I said as if I couldn't NOT know that.

Peter nodded and said, "Yes! You remember how hard it was to get him to take a week off last year!" He pointed at me, "You had to practically emotionally blackmail him to go to relax! No one will take anything from Olek or Makarovia ever again!"

I knew what Peter was saying, "But no one offered their opinion..."

"Why would we?" Peter asked. "It is a well thought out plan!" He was now gesturing with his hands, "We have a goal." He used both hands to show where that goal was, "You presented plans of events to get to that goal." His right hand left the goal as he moved the hand close to the goal again, "There's nothing to question about that." Then he was back to what I asked him about. "No one can tell Olek what to do. With his mind made up, he's hard to get to change his mind, which you know. He would have stopped you if it was a bad idea."

I smiled at Peter, "Do you think it's a good idea?"

"I sure do," Peter kissed me. "I think it's a brilliant idea." He smiled as we stood in the middle of the corridor and ignored the people moving around us. We weren't in the way due to the width of the corridor. Nor did anyone give a negative glance to us. There were even a few smiles at what they saw. The Makarovian stamp of approval?

Peter sighed, "A king's job is to make decisions that will cause the people to prosper. Try as he will, he can't be everywhere. He has advisors to help with that. One of the reasons for the decline of kings and queens is the size of the country. The smartest men and women have to rely on what others tell them. You have to have the trust of people to do that." He chuckled. "In a way, we're a lot like Romania. Olek deals in foreign matters, Mom does domestic issues mostly. I think they did, and do, a great job with that." He bounced, "I will help with city planning." He practically whispered, "Building a neighborhood so everyone has access to that gallon of milk and loaf of bread is critical." He grinned, "You will be overseeing the extraction of the Uranium and processing the yellowcake safely."

I nodded, "Uranium Oxide, U308 is radioactive, but yellowcake is not U308 yet," I said. "The leaching..." I began to explain, and Peter was doing the slowdown motion.

"I will listen, but I'll only follow you so far," He smiled at me. "That day you told Olek about the different grades of enrichment and did so with knowledge of a something he had just given you...you had us both almost speechless!" He held me out a little, "And you're doing it again with me."

"Olek didn't want any of our ore to be used to make plutonium." I began again. "Plutonium is made from uranium ore. His not wanting to ship the yellowcake is a smart move. U308 is bad enough and can be dangerous..."

Peter was now smiling even bigger, "And you ask why he listens to you? You're as smart as that Dr. Wonderful of yours and Gottfried Keller! And you're fun to be around!"

My reaction to that was uncertain, "I hope so." I never used up-talking before. It was big where people ended on an up-note making all statements sound like a question even if they weren't asking a question. I wasn't sure if what I said wasn't a question. "If I showed you a picture of John Donkervoet, you'd be asking me to introduce you to him. He was gorgeous but didn't know that or care." I waved back down the hall. "He was a male version of Helga, only it was just natural. Dr. Keller I believe had a mild case of autism." I shrugged, "This is a guess as I've never met the man. The antisocial behaviors and super genius level thinking, has me thinking he was a kind of savant..."

"That's why we listen to you!" Peter declared loud and happily. "You're smart!" His antics even got a few smiles and a giggle from a young woman on her way to do something for someone. At least we were entertaining some people. He threw his arm around my shoulder in a blossom buddy sort of way...and we were.

"I could be completely wrong," I said.

"I'm telling you again," Peter said kissing me on the temple as we started to walk. "The only one expecting perfection is you."

There were lives at stake, so I was worried and cautious. That worry made sense to me.

In our rooms, I pulled up the Makarovian Website. It was a thing of beauty. When I first pulled any site about Makarovia, it was short and not very attractive. The pictures of the Ivanov family were ten years old. The few pictures of the towns around Makarovia were...well, it looked like the towns and villages abandoned by the Superpower of the USSR. Because it was! Moscow, St. Petersburg, and the many towns and cities in the lower, far Western Russia survived better. Now, the pictures were brighter and more vibrant. Many of these were taken last summer by those three student photographers we brought to Makarovia. The beautiful scenery that surrounded those mountains was inviting. The pictures of the Royal Family told everyone that some very attractive people lived here. Images of the many happy faces to how living here were rewarding. There were even some video clips of Makarovian nightlife. It showed bars and taverns, but many of the Grotto. It showed the dance club was always packed. Scenes of the many people here having a grand time, made you think you had to visit. Even that storybook quality was captured and came across the page. I wasn't a tourist, and neither were others that came to these pictures. There were ways a person could access for editing. Peter and I were two of those people. Seeing Makarovian in a sort of Gothic font added a touch of the Old World to the pages. I have told you before, this part of Europe was Gothic and spooky. Vampires were here according to many writers. Dracula was just next door! I had said the fortress/palace wasn't pretty on the outside. I was so very wrong. In the pictures where the fortress was in the background was impressive because of its size and purpose. The photos made at night would have you swear a vampire, ghost, werewolf, a witch was right around a stone wall corner. There were even three hundred and sixty-degree virtual tours you could take and see almost the entire palace. Even the bedrooms! Although, I would be guessing whose room belonged to anyone in particular. Elegantly furnished and only if you study the photos could you judge it was a room belonging to a man or woman. I will say there were no doilies or anything paisley. I LOATHE both. They are hideous! It's not that I just didn't care for any of that. Bring all the descriptive negative opinions together like abhor, despise, detest, and countless other words did you begin to scratch the surface of the emotional reaction I had. Why? I don't know! If you really wanted to see a reaction from me, you take me to a friend of Grandma's. She had those lacy doily things on the backs of chairs and sofa that were covered with paisley patterns. The only trauma I had with Grandma's friend was enduring her bad, bad taste. I quite literally got nauseated in that house and couldn't go in for long! Let's move on, or I'll have to locate some Pepto-Bismol or take some Nexium. If I knew we were coming, I'd take Nexium before we went.

Most of the rooms in the palace for the family were pretty much the same. A large sitting area in front of a fireplace, desk for writing correspondences with the computer monitor on the desk, shelf after shelf of books. Did I live here? I never wanted to leave too much for someone to have to do for me. I don't care what Peter said about giving them a reason to work here. That wasn't me. The look made it hard to believe anyone lived in the room.

Why were we here? Oh, yeah. I pulled up my email and brought the clip up and listened. I was with Helga on this. The low volume and lack of any loud or angry words were bothersome. The words spoken were not profane, but very disrespectful human to human. Klaus was speaking to his king! There were many priests and other clergies who would disagree with the immoral life we showed the world that Makarovia presented. For almost an hour I listened to the who was claiming superior morals and shame he felt that Olek should be feeling. It wasn't just me listening, but Peter, too.

Peter was quietly raging as he listened. You couldn't really tell just to look at him, but it was confirmed by the plastic pen he had cracked. I had to smile at that. At least it was a modern pen and not one of those elegant Mont Blanc fountain pens or any of the others. You paid a thousand bucks to write something!? It wouldn't dare to clog or struggle to get started to write or someone would lose their job; possibly their life! This was a Bic or something. I put the garbage can below his hand without saying a word where he dropped the pen.

I downloaded the file and gave the time of the meeting. It would be proofed by whoever would put a finishing touch before posting it so everyone could read it. I mean everyone. Citizen or not. It would remain in the Makarovian Language, but everyone could hear it. No one is so above everything...I admit it. I wanted other Makarovians to have a hard time with this. Attacking a beloved figure like Olek would have reactions! I hoped those knew there was a meeting with Olek and Klaus Orban would spread what they knew and make the Orbans life more difficult. I would not condone violence. The threat could be enough, but he needed to be a little scared, damn it! That's why I didn't write the introduction. I was biased.

Checking with Peter first I opened the email page. I was keeping in touch with the friends we'd made. Henri, Luke, Earl, Gretchin...everyone on the Duchess. Pano, Barry, and Edger, too. I hated it when we would receive brag letters. Those annual letters people would create once and send it to everyone. How do I explain this? Parents were normally proud of their children. The Millers. Uncle Fred and Aunt Frankie were the worst. I liked them both very much. The titles of uncle and aunt were given because a child is not familiar enough to simply use their first name. They had two children. Chad was older by five years than Debbie. If you just went with what you read, Chad was a top athlete and well on his way to being a Rhodes Scholar and bound for the professional level sports. Debbie was a musical prodigy and a beauty queen. They walked on the water! Grandma and Grandpa were proud parents and grandparents but didn't overdo it. Chad and Debbie were people, cursed in life to being blond. When I was four, Chad was sixteen. My opinion of the blondes out there wasn't improved because of them. I wondered what they thought about my marrying an Ivanov. Or anyone from the past such as those guys in high school. You know who I'm talking about. We all had them. Bullies. Ronnie was ours. Grandpa instructed being smart with him my freshman year. He told me if I ever let one do what they said, I'd be bothered over and over. One thing I knew for certain, they hated attention called for what they were doing. Lunch money? In high school!? Answers demanded during tests? I don't think so.

The demand for lunch money I wrote out detailed accounts of was to happen and posted the copies all over the school! Slipped them into lockers of other students and left on the desks of students and teachers. No name was used. As far as the cheating was concerned...I was commanded to let him see my answer! Of course, we were ordered to not look or speak to anyone. I got up and moved desks stating I had to move, or those rules would be violated. After class, I explained, a little. I didn't say who was trying to cheat. My grades were good enough knowing many of the answers. I also told the teacher BEFORE the others if there was any retaliation. I asked they observe my condition and knew there was an angry strike back if anything happened to me.

Naturally, I had someone waiting for me after class. He was going to speak to me privately. Like that was going to happen. He was a big guy and yes, strongarming people was how he got what he wanted.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Ronnie, or your friends," I said loud and yanked my arm away. It attracted the attention in the hall. "I refuse you cheating off my test. I refuse to give you any money I use for getting anything at school! That won't stop you from hurting me." I threw my arms out. "So, do it now so everybody knows how tough you are!" I waved at him, "Everyone can see I can't win. I wouldn't stand a chance." He backed up a little, "Teachers know already because I told them about it. You could do it without breaking a sweat, but I say NO!" I never touched him. "No, Ronnie!"

A locker near us closed and Lisa, a very popular girl at school in her junior year, chuckled. Blonde. I was cursed with them. She smiled at me, and if I were straight, it would have meant more to me. "We need more like you here. The more that say no, means he will have to find something else to do." She smiled at me and then looked at Ronnie. "I will remember everything said today." She looked at her watch. "The date and time. I'm a witness."

Don't misunderstand anything. Being brave has little to do with being scared or not. While standing up to Ronnie I was terrified! He had a reputation he earned and deserved. He could easily strike back or do it later. I let enough people know what could happen so if it did, the first person anyone would think of was Ronnie! There were also Ronnie's three friends that were always with him.

It was good fortune that Lisa was there. Like many things in the universe. Great forces attract many other things. Giant planets and stars attracted many others to circle them in orbit. It couldn't have been better if I did plan it! An arm came and rested on Lisa's shoulder. She was neither worried or surprised by this as it was planned. The arm was in an athletic letterman's jacket. The dark royal blue school color with the white leather sleeves? He was a senior. He also was NOT a blond giving him more points on my score pad. Paul Hamilton. The only thing he missed was being the star quarterback. He was on the team and played varsity football, kept his grades up, and would have an easy life after high school and then college. His dark brown hair was kept neat and yes, to me, he was gorgeous!

But back to Lisa!

Behind Paul others gathered. Three other jocks and their girlfriends. Everybody knows the proper etiquette and social rules for high school, but they've been obeyed for a century, if not longer! Popular, good looking, he was older by a year or the same age.

"What's going on?" Paul asked, but as everyone knew Ronnie was usually the cause of negative things at the school, so the question was primarily asked while looking at Ronnie.

"Not much," Lisa sighed. "It seems Mr. Richards used a word seldom used by anyone on Ronnie." She looked at Paul. "Eric said no. Ronnie just needs reminding what the word no means."

Don't be confusing the results here either. Getting the momentary approval of the "it" crowd changed things enough, but I wasn't looking for a place at their lunch table or even a place in their cars. What would we have to talk about? Did I want to even try? I was the grandson of a world-famous ballet dancer from Russia. I wasn't ashamed of what Grandma did, but it was hardly anything a teenage boy in the United States would brag about. How many of their grandparents danced the famous stages of the world for Presidents, Kings and famous people? Grandma even forgot many names of the famous people she knew and knew well. Anderson Cooper's mother for example.

Oh, yeah. Ronnie. Lisa's or Paul's entourage sort of crowded in behind Paul and Lisa giving support. Not to me, but to Lisa who voiced support to me.

"I hope Ronnie doesn't need...further explanation," Paul said. The way he said it wasn't even a veiled threat. Politely stated, but a threat.

It was a good thing! Ronnie didn't bother me again. It was a decade and a half since then and I thought about those people now and then. Did they remember me when the news broke about Peter and me? It didn't really matter, because I remembered them. I earned having my name called in the hall by this group of people. With one question about what I was after that. It wasn't a threat when I was asked. I am sorry, but the female could usually tell when someone was in pursuit of them and knew how to use that. I wasn't interested in any of them! They wouldn't worry about me if they knew why. I was gay. No one flirted with me. This was now a more one on one friendship. Lisa and I spoke in English Literature and Biology. Paul and I spoke as he waited for Lisa. There were other girlfriends that spoke to me. What saved me was going out for track and field. I made the varsity team my freshman year! Every fag had to know they could run away. I could do it pretty well. (That's a joke. Kind of.) I liked to run. There weren't enough hours in the day now, but I loved the cadence and the almost hypnotic trance I would go into. I did the runs, throwing, jumping, shot put, javelin...all of it. For me, the appeal was no competition against anyone directly. Except for racing. That made me sort of a jock to them, I guess. The one that asked me some questions about my relationship with Lisa, Lisa's best friend Samantha, "Sam" and Jackie over and over. He couldn't understand why they liked me so much if I wasn't cooking up something with them. It was Chuck. Yep, THE Chuck. My Chuck. Big and blond and Mr. Tackleman.

I will admit to feeling he was struggling with something. He was dating Jackie (Jacqulyn) off and on. Jackie was pretty! Red hair! I remembered more orange in her past, but I'm sure a bottle of something gave her that deep auburn color. This was before I had even gotten any more than any inspiration in the direction for medicine, but they were just...wrong. They didn't belong together. She wanted to be in the group and he was the way in. He wasn't an ugly guy at all. I got the feeling about a smart Viking. His family came from Scotland. But really the Vikings were a hundred kilometers away by water from Scotland. Vikings were in Norway and Denmark, and they never rested and were always invading someone. Scotland was invaded many times. I was confident I was right.

"Chuck," I finally said stacking my books for my next class after lunch. "Lisa, Sam, nor Jackie have anything to worry about from me." It was risky, but I said. "You, Paul, and Walt do need to worry." I leaned closer to him. "They are the wrong gender for me. You aren't." I said watching him absorb what I said, I nodded and headed off to class. I just came out to Chuck!

(Was I insane?? The jury is still out debating about that. I might be.) He had the last name that said it all. Slaughter! It could have been me that got slaughtered! He was a wrecking ball on two feet! He cast shadows when he passed by and temperatures dropped. (Okay, that's a little exaggerated, but just a little.) I also saw on his face a very sensitive man. I saw he was moved when reading poetry for class. The excuse about it being assigned only helped him do it more. No, I wasn't sure of anything really. It was a good week later when we spoke again. We met on a Thursday evening when he asked for help with an upcoming literature assignment. HE asked ME. He stayed for the night. He apologized to my mother for falling asleep. I dismissed that with his parents knew where he was and my having a queen-sized bed. (I heard that! I said no jokes about a queen-sized bed! A single queen-sized bed had two queens that night. Ha, ha. Are ya happy now?) It made sense. We were doing the Canterbury Tales and there was a lot to that. He was far better at poetry than I was, and I knew how to reprogram my mind for Old English. I remind you of Mel Gibson in Hamlet. He's a good, GOOD actor. It only took a few minutes to forget how he said things and hear what he said. If you don't understand what I'm saying, you probably don't like Shakespeare.

That first night, it was an unspoken request. Could we touch each other? Did I want to? Hell, yes! We made a rule then and there. Was there anything we thought we might like, tell the other and with the other's permission, do it. If one didn't know what it was, time was given as it was explained.

He did it a few more times that year. I even showed up for a game on Friday night. Yeah, me at a football game. I liked contrasts and he was a big walking contrast. I didn't see him as a big dumb jock anymore. He had depth! That was the contrast I loved. My analogy of the wrecking ball was absolutely true. With that helmet on when Paul, Walt, Chuck, and the others on the team stormed onto the field, I wouldn't have easily recognized him. The sneer on his face and that growl said they weren't human anymore. I knew at the very beginning it wouldn't last for Chuck and me. There were rules at play here. Chuck almost never spoke to me on weekends. He was with Jackie and the others. Jackie may have known, because after a game on Friday night. He and the guys were doing their after-game beer and pizza party. I was going to Asheville a few days as my mother was another opinion on her "condition." Why call it a condition? They found cancer and she went with a close friend to Vancouver, British Colombia where there was some advanced treatments happening there. We had done papers on two classics. I handed him the floppy disk. "I added some notes about what you wrote about The Scarlet Letter and the not so pure Puritans. I also made some corrections on some of the works of DH Lawrence including The Rainbow." I nervously leaned closer. "You KNOW how much I love poetry." I chuckled, but I didn't feel much like joking. What my mother had was serious, but...Grandpa had his cancer and died a couple of years prior. I missed him. I knew without asking Grandma missed him the most.

Jackie came up behind Chuck as he spoke to me. I saw her, Chuck did not.

"Just print them out and hand them in Wednesday," I pointed to the disk. "If you see anything I missed..."

He knew what was happening, but I hadn't shared it with all of them. He touched me on the shoulders and said with compassion, "She could respond well. You don't know."

Did I? I thought.

"We're heading out to Lisa's," Jackie said touching Chuck's arm. "I'm sure Eric will be welcome."

Chuck didn't exactly jerk his arm away, "I'd like to speak with my friend privately, please."

I saw the surprise on her face and she tried to figure it out.

I shook my head, "Sorry, not tonight. I'll be out of town next week." I just handed the disk to Chuck. "Just hand it in?"

Chuck nodded, "Of course."

He wanted to do more, but he simply hugged me, "Be careful."

Jackie frowned as you could almost see she suspected went through her mind, which she dismissed as impossible.

Yes, I was in love with Chuck, and I was pretty damned sure he was in love with me. That was when I knew we'd never work out as a couple. He was trapped! Like I thought Peter was, Chuck felt obligated to live the life he was expected to. Wait a minute! How'd we get here? From Olek's office back to High School and Chuck!? How did... This train of thought left the track to go where and why? Give me a minute or two to gather my thoughts. This was a huge rabbit!

We left Olek's office where Peter told me again who I was, listened to Klaus Ordan's words, bullies came up to bully and I refused. Okay, I follow that. Chuck, a junior, was...a first...many things for me. I'm also confident in saying I was his first anything man to man. I knew he'd been with Jackie and he'd kissed her a lot. Bitch. He was supposed to. Damn it. I doubt he ever kissed another guy other than me and he never kissed me as he did her. He had feelings with me. I did really love him and still did and I always will. I refused to accept that. When he told me he was going to the Citadel, a high-level military college formed in the mid-nineteenth century, 1840...something. Before the War of Northern Aggression. (The Civil War?) Those in the North said we couldn't do things anymore and we asked how come? You know many died as a result. But every Southern Gentleman prayed they could get a diploma from there. It was almost two centuries old! After that was done, Chuck's life would be smooth-sailing. If he endured Hell Night. Yes, that's what it was unofficially called. If you ask anyone from the Citadel you knew well enough to ask, it was a night all new recruits, (called Knobs because of the shaved head) and everyone) had to go through it. Technically, it was part of the Knob Knowledge period which lasted a week. Any upperclassmen could stop any Knob at any time that week and demand an answer to any question about the Citadel. And you better know the answer. Never guess. They know when you do. Yeah, I know this has nothing really to do with anything in Makarovia, but knowledge is good! But in a way, it did have a lot to do with me, and therefore Peter, and Makarovia.

So? You ask. What's wrong with that?

Nothing, really, but Hell Night is different because of the extreme nature of it. It was and still is the worst case of hazing you ever even heard of. This was more than just hard physically. In the recent past, women were not allowed to go to the Citadel. They humiliated you and did questionable things to members of the male gender. It wasn't loving and though it may be sexual, it was barely sex!

I'm not done! Did they have to? I didn't like what they did, but I can say every man that goes through the Citadel learned to act like a Citadel graduate.

They often had guys "wash out" during that week and many right after that night. Learning to make beds and polish brass and medals were easy. Yet, Chuck willingly went through this week and night rather than coming out? There were almost no homeless people who wore a Citadel Ring they earned unless there was a mental illness involved or drugs. Even if there was one of those reasons, they were usually a higher...class of Alcoholic or Junkie? It's on the Internet. Look it up! Just watch out for the ex-Knobs. You know, those that didn't make the cut.

I simply know I'd never make it. I was not going to the Citadel. I am proud to boast that I have too much of Katrina and Theodor Sams in me.

Chuck was doing this at the end of the next year, I knew it was ending and even when. This sounds odd, but I wished him all the happiness. Really! I also prayed that our paths just would not cross again. Understand what I mean. He was...my Sergi. Grandma had hers and didn't want to see him or have her memories ruined because of it. Remember? The pregnancy scare she had with him in the past that she admitted to last year?

The past is important. It shaped how we would react in the future. As bad as they were, the bully played a part in our lives. It taught us how to deal with conflict. My way was to confront right away. I'm pretty sure that came from Grandpa. He would always look at the list of jobs and did the hardest and more difficult job he did first; to get it done!

"Then everything after that will be a piece of cake!" He not only told me why he did it that way. He modeled life for me. I loved my father. Never doubt that, but I was young so when I started to become an adult, Grandpa was my Dad.

His cancer hit hard and fast. Pancreatic Cancer was just so fast. With Grandpa, it happened in two months. He finds out, he starts treatment and just dies. Quick and as painless as they could make it. Grandma was a bear! Those people at the hospital didn't want to overdose him with the strong narcotics.

Grandma took her cellphone out. She was the one I got a lot of things from. She started recording.

"Tell me again," she demanded, pointing at the young doctor, "You want to cap the amount of medicine because he could overdose!? He'll die anyway!" She began approaching the man. "Tell me there is even the slightest chance he can recover." He didn't want to answer. "TELL ME!!" Grandma could be terrifying.

"There's...," the doctor stammered, "you can't give up." He said weakly. "We can't euthanize."

Grandma nodded, "That's why you instructed me to call Hospice."

We all know the word "Hospice" and its meaning. They were who you called when there was no hope left. The person they cared for was going to die. Period.

I had trouble with them, too. No, they weren't the cause of anyone's death. They provided care for people to live a better life with whatever time they had left. I struggled with that distinction.

"You hear me, young man," Grandma loomed. "Maybe after the ink finally dries on your diploma, you'll stop seeing these people as more than the illnesses and see the person you are treating." She pointed to Grandpa. "There is the kindest, loving man I have ever known. He deserves better. He will not suffer one single minute if he doesn't have to." She threw her hands out. "In Ukraine when a patient reaches this level, they talk about medications used to stop the pain." Tears were coming unchecked by Grandma. "I don't want him to die. Not ever, but he will. He will not live with any pain but die with dignity. Am I clear?"

My mother and I were there and saw and heard it all.

I got a lot from those people. Confronting this bully in Makarovia was one. Sending the recorded meeting was another.

Nothing is really unrelated to this here. Everything and everyone made us who we are. Even Ronnie. Chuck did, but this was also when I met Daniel, my first real love. We were the same age and shared some classes, but he was not one of us. No, he was a damned Yankee! Complete with the accent. We didn't have one. Yes, he was one of them! That just made me like him more. You know me. That forbidden quality just made me like him more. My friendship with those in that inner circle caused Daniel not to be as friendly as he could be at first. He and I spoke in the classes we shared, but when lunch came and the table I sat at had these large guys or their pretty girlfriends with me, he passed me off. Often. That was because of Chuck's presence.

Mom did survive longer than expected her to. I never broke up with Chuck. He just faded into the background. What he and I felt wasn't considered. Honestly, there wasn't much to break up. We rarely saw each other on the weekends or holidays. It was my only experience with a double life. I determined at that moment to be honest about anything and most definitely, about my life. I wasn't at the swearing marches and protests, but...my fear was the reaction of others if I did. Would Jackie have her initial suspicions confirmed? Her boyfriend was gay. Gasp! Or at least bisexual? What did that say about her? She wasn't woman enough for him? No, she wasn't male enough for him or honest or sincere.

During the summer break, I worked. The Tomato Sheds. For those with little Southern agricultural knowledge, the South boasted many farms. Many farms! Tomatoes was one of the biggest cash crops. Limehouse Farms was one of the biggest farms for tomatoes! A student who wanted to earn more money, way more than you could flipping burgers, could really make good money at the sheds. It was tiring, hot, and dirty work. You either took tomatoes from the plants in the field, sorted what was brought in to get rid of the ones birds or insects had gotten to, wash, and then packaged them for grocery stores all over! From sunup until sundown, it was all about tomatoes. I sorted and packaged. Apparently, you needed certain skills to package. Sealing tomatoes with that clear plastic wrap, without bruising the tomatoes required that. And you did it quickly. I don't know how many thousands of tomatoes I went through in a day. There were about twelve Limehouse Farms and covered thousands of acres.

Occasionally, you make friends doing it. That was my Yankee-Italian friend who quickly set me straight about the whole Yankee versus Rebel thing. His family was still in Italy during the Civil War. They arrived through Ellis Island in the Twentieth Century! Whatever. Toe MATE toe, To ma toe...I wasn't going to quibble. People found out I spoke Russian and Ukrainian I was labeled a Red. He was a Yankee.

Tony and I even carpooled! What I got from Tony, I didn't get with Chuck. The freedom to be friends.

Tony and I weren't holding hands in the corridors, or kissing on school grounds...well, that's not exactly true. My high school became the only high school on James Island and the school boasted every high school student that lived on the island. Our student body was in the thousands. Unless you were homeschooled or went to a private school, you went here.

Keeping a reign on these rabbits is hard work! My point was, there were places to go if you knew where to go. The band room or chorus room that had private smaller rooms a section from the choir could work and were seldom used. When the new year started, Chuck and I just slowed to a stop. The one conversation we had at any length sort of finished us off.

It was right before my lunch period as I put my books in my locker. I felt him before I saw or heard him.

"Can we talk?"

I felt this cold weight in the pit of my stomach, but I just closed my locker. "Sure." I could feel what was coming but tried to school my face from any emotion.

Chuck looked at the students in the hall and grimaced, "In private?"

Why was it at lunchtime? I was hungry! "Mrs. Cauthen doesn't have a class now. She doesn't normally lock her class."

We still had to be careful. The school had video surveillance cameras, not in the private areas like the locker room or bathroom (right), but in the command high traffic areas. We suspected there were more eyes than we knew about. We all saw security in that booth watching those little monitors showed who came in and out of the many entrances. You also had to know us; the students.

We knew the camera had a blind spot. The far back corner had a cabinet in the way of the camera that showed the room but didn't see there. It was a typical classroom for science with the waist-high desks covered with black and little silver nozzles where you could light to heat whatever chemical under beakers. No chemicals were out now.

He stopped in that blind spot. "We haven't really seen each other these past few weeks."

I shrugged, "I haven't gone anywhere." I meant for it to be...less angry than it sounded. I wasn't really angry. "Sorry."

Chuck shrugged, "What else can we do?"

I looked at him and asked, "It's becoming legal around the world and is in all of the United States now and will be all over." I said, "The bottom line is; will we ever become a couple?"

Chuck opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

I nodded after a moment or two and said slowly, "That's what I thought."

"What do you want?" Chuck asked.

"You!" I said instantly and simply with no need to guess. "I want you, damn it!" I sighed, knowing to stay put or risk being seen by security.

"You have more of me than anyone!" Chuck argued loud. Now, I could see some of that game aggression in his blue eyes. "You know that!"

"But not all of you!" I shot back just as loud and I held my hands up, stopping him. "I realize this is risky behavior. Someone could find out we slipped in here together and guess what we're doing and know why! We can't be seen doing that," I said. "Why is it important?"

He was flustered because I was making him say what we were doing.

"The magic about a conversation is there are two inputs," I said. "I'm begging you to interrupt me if I go anywhere other than the path we're on!" I pleaded with him. "I'll tell you. I love you, Chuck."

He wanted to say something, but again, he couldn't.

"You think we shouldn't be doing what we're doing," I said, "Don't you? If you don't say it, you aren't gay." I laughed at the pointless words I spoke. "News flash. You are! Here's what else for you to chew on. Gays have ALWAYS been!" I waved off in the air. "As far back as Alexander the Great or Julius Caesar," I saw his eyebrows rise when I said Caesar. "He was, too. He had an affair with King Nicomedes of Bithynia? It's documented! Everybody knows about Alexander. Up to Baron Friedrich Steuben who knew George Washington and served with him!" I shook my head. That wasn't fair, this wasn't covered in most American History classes. "Fred was a Prussian military man hired by President Washington...KNOWING Fred was a fag!" I turned to Chuck more, "And where does that pride come into this? Huh?" Yes, I got rabbits even then. "I sure as Hell didn't do anything to be proud of, but I've done nothing to be ashamed of either." Chuck was frustrated! "Say something! Anything!"

"I..." He began hesitantly, "don't know."

"Yes," I nodded my head. "You do. You believe it's wrong!"

"Isn't it?"

"No!" I said instantly. "We are a part of a complex world! We understand almost nothing dealing with Human Beings. What we do know, fits in the shortest time of life. Not even a fraction of the time of life on the planet. There is more than just black and white, on and off, right and wrong!" My head turned a little bit looking at him. "Can you even say it? Out loud? What are we doing? What are we? You and I are what?" I asked. "Tell me at the very least!"

The other part in play here was another set of unwritten rules but known by everyone. (There are just so many!) My mother and father weren't part of this group and wouldn't have even tried. Chuck grew up in Fort Johnson Estates. Yeah, I know. You don't automatically get the significance. I will also add the Country Club and not a single lot was less than a couple of acres of perfectly landscaped yards were maintained. Seldom was it taken care of by the people residing in those houses. The only person in the neighborhood responsible for lawns owned a company that did that.

He had employees that did that as teams of people. He was one of the few blue-collar workers that lived in that neighborhood. The rest were all doctors, scientists, lawyers, judges, architects, and all those big ink occupations that required a comprehension reading level over the third or fourth grade. You might be surprised at which level most newspapers were usually written.

Here's another rabbit, a teacher when I was in seventh grade announced "open reading." Yes, I'll explain. She didn't care what we read, we had a selection of topics and books. Magazines, if you submitted the article with it. I loved Ms. Daniels! (You know what I mean.) Patrick, a future geek in the community or mega-rich entrepreneur because of forward-thinking handed in his paper based on a series of articles in PLAYBOY! Everybody gasp! Go ahead. He earned an A! I read it and it was DAMNED good. Both the article and the paper! Thank god, not a naked anything of any gender to be seen. Of course, word spread, but like always that word was full of errors. Mothers came to speak with Ms. Daniels who did nothing to defend what she did. She handed over the copy of the article and asked them to read it. Charles Adams was a famous writer, having won award after award for writing excellence. He had been doing a series of articles that had nothing to do with sex or nudity at all. He tried to explain global warming even if it had unseasonable snows! The weather patterns changed and Gulf Stream and Jet Stream changed slightly and...he dumbed the article down to reach more readers in hopes that some ignorant bastard would understand at last. They probably only looked at the nudes. Pity. At least the article read at a high school level! Ms. Daniels handed Patrick's paper, admitting she was challenged to understand some of it, but Patrick was smart! Very smart. He did understand and explained it very well. I always suspected Patrick was...never mind! I ain't going there.

Chuck was the son of Judge Charles A. Slaughter and he didn't mitigate traffic tickets. He got crimes. Not the, she was cheating on me so I shot the boyfriend crimes either. Complex crimes of did they, or didn't they as motivations were explained and often hidden truths. Every lawyer, young or seasoned sweated Judge Slaughter's no-nonsense approach to everything. All of the sons wanted to go to the Citadel. (Some of the daughters, too.) They still admittedly went to school to get a husband. Really!? Is it the 1950s again? Marry a doctor or lawyer? Maybe SHE wants to be the doctor or lawyer! They meet, marry and she's pregnant and she's done! If she did it all before thirty, well THAT was an accomplishment!

Yes, this is a big, BIG rabbit, but not unrelated. This is why I had a hard time accepting Peter and his no consequence family and country. All Chuck needed to possibly give up was his Corvette when he graduated...from High School! I wondered what he got graduating from The Citadel?

Anyway, I knew he couldn't do it. I nodded, "It's okay." I even smiled at him. "We have something special." I touched my own chest. "I've said it. I love you, Chuck. I always will." I got closer, "I'm not breaking up with you, but you're breaking up with me."

"And letting him in?" Chuck asked a little bitterly.

I couldn't help it. The idea was so...ludicrous sounding. I burst out laughing. "You're jealous because I like that Yankee!?" I shook my head, "Too bad. I'm jealous all of the fucking time with Jackie! How many times these few weeks have you slipped her your dick?" I held my fist over my mouth as a felt my stomach wretch. It was real, too. The idea of what he did with her made me nauseated! It's natural, I know, I know. I didn't have to like it. A lion taking down an innocent deer is natural, as well. I didn't want to see that either. "You give her this awesome gift, does she appreciate it?"

There were these scales and numbers to represent the behaviors of people. I don't believe I gave any signs to what my preference was. I never did a sashay when I walk. Not even once. The scale had one number (0) meant you were completely heterosexual. The opposite extreme number (6) meant you were completely homosexual. The number in the middle (3) meant you were both. Please! No limp wrists. I just liked socializing with the male gender. Don't hate me! Remember? Again, gay. Me. I love and like many women. No romances for me. I'm NOT straight.

Chuck was embarrassed and nodded. "She's never gotten all of me unprotected." He looked almost...panicked. "I...just can't."

"I know. It doesn't really matter." I said, "I'm jealous she can." I smiled at Chuck. "Modern science will figure a way we can, but I would love to take your gift, mix it with me, and create a human being made from you and me." I smiled softer again. "That would be an awesome gift." I touched his face. "If you come by and if I'm home, you'll be welcome every time. What I won't be is anyone's secret." I literally had to stand on tiptoes as I kissed him. It was tender, soft, and lengthy. It was love that he gave back. I felt it. He had no choice. "See ya," I said and went out the door, leaving Chuck with a heart that was breaking. It was his choice. He chose "the life" over me. What did I offer him? Love?

Another kernel of wisdom from Grandpa. Disappointments come. They're a part of life. Just don't wallow too long, or you might miss something. I missed him now, but things he and did just wrapped tighter around me. Now, I was a prince of a country grandpa would have said, "Makarovia!? Where the Hell is That?"

If Chuck had asked me, I would have stayed. He didn't. So, I didn't. I saw him three times after that. Well, I saw him four times. He only saw me three. My mother tried to fight, but cancer is an evil lifeform. They cautioned me not to give this disease more than it is. I thought it was damned evil! Grandpa was healthy until then, but his cancer was so quick! Mom was giving it everything she had, and I knew to keep her spirits up was very important. Chuck came by once before Christmas. I didn't ask because I didn't want to know. He looked...haggard. I don't think I understood the meaning of the word, but he showed me what it meant on his face then. It was more than fatigue and he just looked drained. He came and saw me. I know! His choice, not mine. He couldn't give up the Country Club, future Mercedes and all the shit and stay with me. Now, I'm glad he didn't. Could we have worked it out? Sure. He couldn't see that as even a possibility.

This situation was barely tolerable. That Yankee in my life I knew I was was in love with. I told you what happened. If Chuck asked and I stayed, I could be driving the Mercedes and living at the Country Club. We could have been very happy. Then again, I was difficult to live with. I'm sure life with him was a breeze. (That was sarcasm again.) Beautiful thing sarcasm. You say exactly the opposite of what you mean and that's almost always understood.

Don't feel sorry for either of us, though some probably will inevitably. I'm still sad at times about it. Chuck was fine and I am fine. Obviously not together or there would be no me telling you about the common American college man marrying Prince Whatshisname. Pedro, Peter, Pete, Petie was like a cat. I'm going on with the story! I swear. Like cats, there were several names. Three in T. S. Eliot's poem. Yes, it's a poem, and no I never cared for poems. This one stuck, okay? From the book Old Possum's Practical Cats. It's a good poem. The poem spoke of a typical name he uses in public used by all humans. Another one, in particular, was more dignified but clearly not for common human use such as Munkustrap or Jellylorum. The secret name is just that. A secret. "The cat himself knows and will never confess."

It's a good poem! It made it to Broadway! Cats! Naturally. Movies! Peter has a name only I can use. Husband. People can use it to identify him, but I call him that because that's what he is to me.

Is it a rabbit if we speak about cats? Oh, never mind, it became what it is because of the events in the past. Chuck helped shape me.

Right at the mid-year point and once before he graduated. He showed off his corvette. Then I didn't see him a year.

He made it through Hell Week. The Knobs couldn't even walk on the sidewalk! No! They had to walk in the gutter! The white paved portion between the sidewalk and street. I would have been kicked out on day one! I still couldn't imagine a small upperclassman, barely five feet and five inches giving six-plus feet and two hundred- and forty-pounds Chuck a hard time.

Daniel Anthony was a private name. His grandmother and mother used it. I did, too. Just calling his name told my Italian Yankee my mood. Friends called him Tony or even Danny. He was not a Danny or a Tony to me. He was very important. He was killed and I didn't know how I was going to make it. I did, hearing my grandpa's words in my head and having Grandma there most of the time.

Mom had good insurance so getting help with Mom was easy. I'd do whatever Mom needed, but grandma said to me. "You would, but as your mother gets sicker, she will lose control of a lot. Her bowels. No son should ever have to change his mother's soiled underwear if you don't have to."

I could almost feel sorry for the nurses that cared for Mom. As strict as with Grandpa, she was Mama bear with Mom. Sure. Mom was her baby. I knew that. It was horribly unfair. She lost them both, the man she married was dead and their child was dying. We knew Mom was confounding the doctors about how long she fought, but we knew cancer would win.

Mom made sure I took the time to do what I wanted. When Daniel Anthony died, I think the understanding was with both my mother and Grandma I was in love with Daniel.

Oh, yeah. I did see Chuck one more time. He didn't see me. It was at the Citadel. I went for the Graduation Parade. Every student at the Citadel was in the parade. Say what you will, I had a hard time identifying one Cadet. Except for the slightly different uniforms, Knobs wore all grey, except today. He was moving up. All those bluish-grey jackets over the bleached white, white pants made them all look very sharp. That was the point of the uniform. No one person stood above anyone else. By size alone I guessed. Not much hair there. After the parade, Judge Slaughter approach one, and I knew it was Chuck. Then his mother, sister and...a young woman I'd never seen before. No Jackie. He was finished with his first year of college. Jackie was still in high school. Jackie had not known but complained about not seeing Chuck hardly at all that year.

So was I, so I got the whole thing whether I wanted it or not. Her name was Ashton and was finishing her first year...wait for it. Vassar. You know the name, I'm sure. New York State? North of New York City not a hundred miles away. Women from Vassar were supposed to be very smart. Ashton looked smart! She was very pretty and she along with her alumnus married men from Yale, Harvard, Princeton, and all those Ivy League Schools. I didn't know commoners had pedigrees, but she had them. So confident. She attended Vassar and when she graduated, it was with honors, I found out. She belonged to THE Sorority. All the girls' initiations were though. I don't know what the Greek letters were and I never found out what was tough. The rumor was that any girl could pledge, but few were accepted. UNLESS (the finger is up) you could prove a family line or connection with American History. She had three!! Two direct Mayflower descendants and one was a President!

Which one? I don't know. I don't even know if he was a good president, but he married a grandmother's sister, making him an uncle.

Chuck had said he was looking at politics and maybe even president himself. That would be more difficult with me, but maybe with her. He probably couldn't go as far with Jackie at his side.

Is anyone surprised to know I didn't exactly like her? I tried not to hate her. It really wasn't her fault...exactly. I have NEVER thought she loved Chuck.

I just heard anger. It was a part of the breakup events, maybe that's where she was. Straights are weird anyway. I got the opinion that she was furious! Not really about losing Chuck but wasting these few years on him. All that time and effort on HIM! She wanted the Country Club and Mercedes! Now, it was gone!

I heard Jackie planned a few maneuvers and tried to break them up. I wished her well. I heard about her confrontation with Ashton. Sam, or Samantha, Walt's girl, was telling the story to her friends and I was there!

"She gets him away from the group," Sam explained in a near stage whisper. "She got to kissing him as Ashton came over. She had asked him to bring it. He said he had, but he would go get it." Sam hissed, "That's it! And Ashton was walking away!

Jackie shouts, "It doesn't bother you I was kissing Chuck!?" "Not at all," Ashton says. "He's only been over with you here ten minutes. I don't own Chuck. I know he has breaks from the barracks. I know you're still in the city. If he were to cheat with you, how could I stop him? I know your past, yours, and Chucks." "All of it?" Jackie asked. "ALL," Ashton said pointedly, "of it." Ashton shakes her head and tells Jackie to "grow up."

This from a cheerleading teenager!? I didn't know how much was true. What did Ashton mean saying ALL of it?

I heard of another about Easter where Jackie supposedly got into words with Ashton, or rather Jackie got into loud words with Ashton. Here's another contrast I liked. Ashton never raised her voice. I love that in people! She was a lady. Damn! My head was almost turned. Of course, it wasn't but...my kind of Human Being!

And I'm no better than anyone else. I knew you don't argue with her. You'll lose. I wondered if Chuck and Ashton were still together. I hoped so. And there's a part of me I hoped when the news broke about Peter and me, the interview by Anderson, the talk show that Chuck saw it wasn't that bad with me. He had to know if he and I didn't split up, I wouldn't be in Makarovia And a prince. Yeah, but I hoped Jackie choked on whatever she was eating. I didn't like her. You got that? Not at all! Bitch.

I turned to see Peter looking at me strangely. I don't know how long he had been looking, but now I was aware of his stare. "What?" I asked.

Peter nodded, "You just seemed to be..." he thought carefully and said, "somewhere else. How do I say this? You were physically here, but your eyes said no one home."

I grinned, "Did they?" I shrugged a single nod, "That's right, but...it was more than just a where, but a where and when."

Peter's face scrunched a little, "Okay. Are you telling or am I going to have to ask?"

I walked us back to the couch and pulled him down with me. "I'll tell you. Don't worry about that." I said maneuvering us so I was looking down at him. "But, before you do," I grinned. "I'll tell you again." I leaned in kissing him tenderly, "But first," I looked into the light gray-green eyes. "I thought I did love others before." I chuckled. "What did I know?" I grinned brighter. "I know what I didn't know then..." I kissed him again, "was you. I didn't know love this intense even existed. I love you, Peter."