April 5, 2001
Michael's Secret Love Chapter 13
Written By: Justin Case
Disclaimer: This material is to be viewed by mature audiences only. It does not contain violence, you won't see any heads being blown off. You won't find any blood and gore in this material; that would be offensive and possibly lead to mental trauma. No, instead you will be taken on a journey. A journey about love is what you will find here. Yes, love between young men. It is not an attempt to convert you. It is merely an attempt to get a message of hope out to the reader. If someone should stumble upon it, that isn't gay, perhaps it will show that person what it's like to be gay in our society. This story is fiction and should be read by people of legal age, as it does contain graphic sexual content. It is a creation of fiction and any similarity to real people, places, or things is coincidental.
SoapBox: Hey, my peeps, my dawgs, my faithful, WASSUP? It's me again and I'm still on a roll. Yep, I didn't finish my venting on that virus yet. Hehe. If you want you can fast forward, it won't bother me. LOL. OK, if you follow my stories you know I recently was sent a virus and lost all my work and mail. Along with that came the reloading of all my programs, Internet connections (AOL), and a new virus scan, of course. What a bitch it all was. I don't know about any of you people, but I'm not exactly a computer wizard. Quite the opposite, I relate my computer knowledge to my driving a car. I get in my car, turn the key; if it starts, great, if it doesn't, I call a mechanic. Oh, I know how to jump-start it, put oil and gas in it, things like that. I couldn't tell you about the transmission and the things that make it work.
Anyways, I had lots of fun reloading my computer. Once I was all done, I began to 'drive' it. It didn't do that before. How come I can't do that now? What the fuck is wrong with this damn thing? All were common themes in my home immediately after 'fixing' the beast. I played with this and played with that, I read help manuals, I went online for help. Did you ever notice that what your problem is, is never listed anywhere in those help guides? I mean it, how come my situation seems to be unique? I certainly can't be the only one that experienced this problem before.
I finally decided to get on the phone and consult with the 'EXPERTS'. First I called Hewlett Packard, the manufacturer of this fine beast. I consulted my help window located on my desktop, clicked on HP. Guess what? They had every other manufacturer's 800 number listed so you could call, they didn't have their own. BASTARDS.
OK, I'll call Microsoft, they're the ones that wrote these programs that came with my HP. Surely they'll help, I thought. Wrong! I was rebuffed at my feeble attempt. I was told unless I bought my software from a retail outlet I couldn't talk to a technician. My software came with the computer. Of course, that came after the 'Thank you for calling Microsoft. If you want to have this call in English, press 1.' I press 1. Then you get, 'If you want customer assistance, please press 2.' I press 2. 'Currently all our operators are experiencing a high call volume, please remain on the line, as you are a valued customer and your call will be answered in the next available sequence.' If I was so valued how come I have to listen to a machine?
I'll continue this saga in my next SoapBox, I assure you.
In the meantime, I want to thank you all for your constant support. I love getting your letters, and IMs, it keeps it all real for me. I want to thank you all for checking out my web site. What's that, you don't know my addys? Justin69SK@aol gets you to my mail and IM, while WWW http://Justinscorner.homestead.com gets you to my web site.
Thanks for letting me share. As always,
Just, Justin ------------
"Michael? Michael." I heard my mother's call, as she came in the back door.
James and I were in my bedroom, all washed up and refreshed from our frisky encounter in the shower. It was time to get back to the other world, the one where we had to keep our love secret. I wanted to tell my folks, I just didn't know how. Perhaps it was fear. I thought about it so many times. As we got up to see what my mother wanted, another of those fucking leaves fell off the tree. I have to get that monstrosity out of my bedroom.
"You called me, Mom?" I shouted up the hall, as I walked to the kitchen with James in tow.
"No, I called you Michael. I'm Mom." Always the jokester, just like my dad, my mother couldn't resist the simple joke.
"Could you boys help carry in the groceries? I'll fix us something to eat, I'm famished."
"I thought you just said you were Mom." I couldn't help myself.
"Oh, you," Mom said as she pulled my forehead to her lips and kissed it.
James and I bounced down the three steps on the cement porch to our house. Our spirits were high, we were so much in love. I couldn't help think how beautiful my dirty blonde lover was, especially in the sunlight. I wondered what it was that he saw in me. I mean, not only was James handsome, he was smart and trusting. When I'm with James I feel like I'm complete. He rounds off my rough spots and polishes my blemishes. I know it sounds cliché, but it is the way I feel.
After we had the groceries all put up and Mom had fixed up something to eat, we decided to drive down to the hospital. The three of us decided to check on Eugene. Actually, Mom had to drive us. She did say she had wanted to visit with him too. We left a note for Dad, in the usual place.
About a mile before our exit off I-95 we got stuck in traffic. Apparently there had been an accident. How come the accident happened in the southbound lanes and the people in the northbound lanes were backed up too? Oh the things I wonder. I hoped no one was seriously injured.
"Looks like we're stuck here," Mom said, breaking the silence.
"Mmm," James simply groaned.
I looked out the window and watched the other people on the highway with us. I love to check out other people. I try to imagine what they are thinking. I was noticing this rather robust gentleman in the vehicle next to ours. He was staring off into space. While I was watching him, he picked his nose. Gross, I thought. How could someone do something so personal as pick his or her nose in front of other people? Then I wondered, what made it gross? I mean, it was a normal bodily function that mucus is formed, it does dry up in the nasal passages and it is irritating. How else do you get rid of it? It still grossed me out. I wondered what it must have been like before we were civilized. Before the invention of tissue, what did man do with hard snot stuck in his nose? Oh the things I think.
"Michael, James, do either of you have any idea why Eugene tried to kill himself?" my mom asked, breaking my train of thought.
I thought. I wondered what James was thinking. How were we going to answer her? I've never really lied to my parents. I always changed the subject, or answered in vague terms if asked something I didn't want to discuss. I couldn't think of a way to answer her. I didn't feel it was my place to tell anyone what was so personal to Eugene.
"Not really." That's how I left it. A non-answer that certainly wasn't a lie.
"Well, I was just wondering. I read an article last week. It said that the number one reason teens commit suicide is because they're homosexual. I hope Eugene isn't homosexual," Mom said. Her words just hung in the air.
"I'm just glad he's all right," James finally responded.
"I would just hope if he was homosexual he would know where to get help," she continued.
I looked into the back seat to see James' face; I had to see his reaction. I couldn't seem to figure out what he was thinking. I really didn't know what my mother was trying to ask or say. We never really discussed sex in our house, much less gay sex. Was she trying to open a dialog with us on the subject? Neither James nor I said a word.
"I read in that same article that many are homosexual. I feel sorry for them. It must be difficult in today's world. We didn't have so much hate and violence when I was younger. I mean, children today are bringing guns to school and shooting other people. Where does all this anger come from?" She was on a roll.
"Gee, Mom, I don't really know. We don't have any kids like that in Bonnie Eagle," I said with confidence.
"You just never know, now do you, Michael? Look at Eugene. Would you have thought he was capable of wanting to kill himself? Did you know he was so distraught?"
"Not really," I replied, again with a non-answer.
"Michael, you know, if anything was bothering you, you can come to your father and me. That goes for you too, James," she said in a comforting voice.
Finally the car started moving again. We arrived at the hospital without saying another word to each other. As we walked in to the doors, James smacked the back of my head.
"Hey, watch it, buster," I chided.
"Watch it yourself," James sputtered. I got the joke. He meant with Eugene.
"Do you guys want to stay here for a while? I only wanted to stay about a half hour, I have to cook dinner, we're having tacos and burritos," Mom was saying as we rode the elevator.
"Tacos, burritos? Are you inviting me?" James quipped.
"Of course, James, you are always welcome in our home," she said with a smile.
"Well, I kind of wanted to have a few minutes privately with Eugene. Can we stay forty- five minutes?" I asked them both.
"Forty-five and no more, you know how your dad hates to eat late."
It was true; the rule in our house was dinner promptly at six. My father was very anal about dinner.
I was the first one to walk into Eugene's room; right behind me were my mother and James. I looked over to my frail friend as he lay in his hospital bed. I noticed his hair was messy, just like mine when I've been in bed. I really hate wavy or curly hair, especially on me. His brown eyes lit up when he saw us.
"Hey, guys," he beamed.
"How you feeling, Eugene?" I asked.
"Better now that you are here. My mom is supposed to come down after dinner. I was bored," Eugene explained with a tone of sadness in his voice.
"You're looking good. Your color is good, I mean," Mom nervously told him. I could only surmise she was nervous because she didn't know what to say or how to act.
"Really? Thank you, Mrs. Martin. I feel better. I have to see a psychologist before I can be released, the doctor told me this morning," Eugene said; he sounded nervous too.
"I just hope if you ever have something so terrible that you feel you can't talk to someone else you'll talk to Michael or James, Eugene," Mom stated gently.
"I think I will. I'm sorry to put you through all this, Mrs. Martin."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, son."
I looked at James, and he was looking at me; we had a brief silent conversation. I asked him what it all meant, he answered he didn't know. The entire communication was done with our eyes, the way we do sometimes. I really wondered if my mother was probing in an attempt to let us know we would be accepted the way we were. It's tough to live with a secret so defining, as James and I had.
"Well, I'll leave you boys to talk about whatever it is you boys talk about. Eugene, I hope you know you can always come to me if you need someone to talk to. I mean it," Mom said, as she turned to walk out of the room. Did I see a tear in her eye, I wondered?
"Oh, Michael, James, I'm really sorry for all this. I just didn't know where to turn to. I felt so guilty about being queer. I thought you'd tell everyone. I was so afraid of what some of the guys at school would do to me," Eugene babbled nervously.
"Well, now you know we all have the same secret. We don't know how to tell others either," James said.
"Do we have to? Tell others, I mean?" I asked.
"I don't know if we have to. I sure would feel better if I could talk to others like me. I feel like I can't identify with people. I just don't seem to fit in. I feel so out of place all the time," Eugene chattered away, making so much damn sense too.
"I don't think we need to put a sign on our backs. Don't you just think for now we should keep all this between ourselves? We have Mrs. Bellevue and Father Jones if we need to get advice," James said; he always had the answers.
"Yeah, you're right, James," Eugene agreed.
"I just feel so guilty sometimes, keeping this all bottled up and from my parents," I told them both.
"I know, I feel the same way. I have to admit I'm terrified about my Baptist minister father's reaction. Could you imagine?" James asked, trying to get us to visualize his dad's reaction.
"My mom took it all in stride," Eugene said rather proudly.
"Well, everyone is different, Eugene," James snapped. Why was he angry, I wondered?
"The other thing is, you two have each other. I don't have anyone. I love Michael, but he's taken. Don't I deserve someone?" Eugene asked, with tears in his eyes.
I looked around room 501 of the Portland General Hospital. I tried to focus my mind on something else. I notice the plaques again, the one under the window read 'In loving memory of our daughter Nicole'. I couldn't help but speculate on Nicole and her parents; they must have been devastated to lose their daughter. I couldn't begin to fathom how Nicole died. I hoped it was painless, I hate suffering. I hate to see others suffer.
"Yes, Eugene, you do. You do deserve someone to love; you deserve what everyone else does. It's your right as a human being." Wow, did that really come out of me?
"Michael, it's dangerous. You are opening Pandora's Box if you start to tell people how we are. So many won't understand, so many don't want to," James pointedly retorted.
"I think it's dangerous not to tell people. I agree we have to be careful who we tell, but I can't get over the fact why," I said with some contempt.
"Hey, you guys, please don't get upset." Eugene brought us back to why we were there in the first place.
"I'm sorry, Eugene," James said as he reached for our friend's hand.
"Me too. I really don't have any answers, just a bunch of questions," I confessed.
"Hey, Mikey, are you ready for the spring concert?" Eugene snapped.
I chuckled, he did have a way to change the subject and lighten up the conversation. James smiled too.
"No," I admitted.
"Well, you better practice. I love the song, 'Where is Love?' Do you think it may fall from skies above? Eugene laughed. It was good to see him smile.
"Nah, it's just a song," I chuckled again as I answered him. Then I contemplated the origin of the play 'Oliver'.
"Well, you both better be going. I'm going to come to the concert. You better be good," Eugene said with a huge grin on his face.
"Yeah. Eugene, I wanted to talk to you privately first though." I looked at James as I said it. He seemed to understand; he left us in the room alone.
"What is it, Michael?" Eugene asked, his brown eyes full of question marks.
"Well, it's just... well, you see..." I stammered. Where were the words?
"What, what is it, Michael? You can tell me."
"Well, I told James about what we did in the car," I blurted it out.
"I am sorry about that, Michael. I really am. I shouldn't have done that. I just couldn't seem to control myself." Eugene began to sob.
"No, Eugene. Please, it's not that I'm mad. I'm just as confused as you. I let you do it. I liked it, in fact. I just felt bad because I love James and don't know why I let it happen."
"Oh, Michael, what makes us do things?"
"I really don't know. I really don't." I bent down and kissed him on the forehead, just like my mother had done to me earlier. I know how good it felt when she did it to me.
"I don't either. Is James upset?"
"No, he understands."
"Michael, I really do love you. I hope I can find another person to love."
I could hear the loneliness in his voice. I detected his confusion and related with it. I wished I had the answers. I hoped that someday soon I would find them. I just stood there for a few silent moments, brushing Eugene's hair with my hand.
"Hey, you better go," he finally spoke up.
"Yeah, I better. I'll come tomorrow. I promise. I'll bring James."
"OK, I'd like that, Michael. Thank you."
"No problem. Eugene?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"Thanks, man, that means a lot."
I turned to leave; I paused for a moment and looked back at Eugene in the bed. I wanted to savor the moment. It was the beginning of what I hoped to be a true and lasting friendship. We were all naked 'spiritually' with each other now, the three of us. He smiled again; he smiled at me as I walked out of the room. I nodded and smiled back.
Mom and James were standing in the hall just outside the door. I looked at them both; I could tell they hadn't been comfortable being alone with each other. Neither knew really what to say to the other. I kind of smiled about it on the inside, hell, I didn't know what to say now about the whole thing myself.
"You guys ready to go?" I bubbled.
"I'm famished," Mom said.
"There you go again, I thought you were Mom."
We all laughed as we walked down the hospital hall to the elevator.
Well, there you have it. Are you happy with it? I hope so. Don't forget, if you want to e-mail me or IM me the address is Justin69Sk@aol.com and if you get the hankering to take a gander at my web site the addy is www.http://justinscorner.homestead.com I love getting mail.
What's that? NO, this is not the end of the story. Until we meet again on this journey of life, my friend, I leave you steadfast in your endeavors.
I'd like to thank you all. I'd especially like to thank my editors Sarah and Ed. Especially Ed, he's the final editor. He also is often the voice of reason. Thanks, Ed, for all you do.
As Always, Just, Justin
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