April 13, 2001
Michael's Secret Love Chapter 14
Written By: Justin Case
Edited By: Sarah
Disclaimer: This story contains sexual content and you should be of legal age to view it. It is a love story involving teen- age boys and their coming of age. The story is fiction based on fact, if it sounds real that is because it is. This tale is the sole property of the author's and is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. The writer, his editors, and the web site publisher accept no responsibility for your actions.
SoapBox: Heeello, my peeps, and here we go again! It is so good to hear from so many of you, I really mean it. I hope you don't mind me sharing a couple of my latest IM's and letters with you all. If you do, fast forward; I won't be upset. I got an IM yesterday, from a name I have heard from only a few times before. He was happy to tell me he had just finished chapter 4 of Justin's Story. "Hey Justin," his first message flashes, "Hello," I send back. "Just finished with chap 4 of your story," his reply came.
"Really, which one?" I asked. "Justin's, so tell me, did you ever have sex with your step-brothers?" He bluntly insults me. I found his tactics rather repulsive and prayed for him. I prayed he would learn compassion and understanding so he could get along better in the world. Just so you all know, my half-brothers are much younger than I, and I have never had any sexual interest in them what so ever. Incest is not for me! It is just something I have no interest in.
Early this morning, just after midnight, I got a long letter from a young reader. It seemed he was in love with another boy. His best friend, who happened to be a girl, loved the same boy the writer did. He went on to tell me that his best friend asked him to fix her up with his secret love. He willingly did, but found himself in a confusing situation. It seemed his secret love liked to flirt and get touchy-feely with him.
My good friends unless you are on even playing ground with another; NEVER force yourself on someone else. Don't assume because someone flirts with you it is more than that. If you are thinking of making a sexual advance with someone you need to be up- front and say what is really on your mind. All people are not gay, even if they do act it. You can't wish someone to be gay. Either they're gay or they're not.
The letter writer went on to say he was jealous of the two he had fixed up, and really wanted to be with the boy. He also said the three of them enjoyed a wonderful relationship. I advised him to leave well enough alone. I couldn't understand why in today's world anyone would want to do something to jeopardize the rare commodity of friendship. I told the young lad, if his secret love truly had feelings for him, eventually he would come around, or he may never. Either way, I feel all the letter writer could do was remain a friend with the two, and wait until whatever happens is mutual.
I also wanted to take a quick minute to tell you all of a great discovery I have just made. Hehe, you'll all laugh at me I know. I just found a great section in the Nifty Archives, yes there are more than just High School, I ran across the Historical section. I know, you all knew it was there. Wow, is all I can say. There were these two really great stories I read, "Sharpshooter" by Willie B and "No Greater Love" by a guy named Steve. Both these stories take place during the civil war era, but are so real. If you liked "Tom Sawyer" or "Gone With the Wind" I guarantee you will fall in love with these truly fascinating masterpieces. I was so jealous of the talent these two writers displayed; I can't begin to express it in words. I hope you all read these two long love stories and become as enchanted as I did.
Well my good friends enough of my ramblings, until next time. Just, Justin.
I could feel my stomach as it did flips, I was weak in the knees; the beginnings of a headache, slight but there, were the symptoms I was experiencing. It was just hours away from my solo in the spring concert. I had practiced so much that day and the one before my voice box felt strained. I was scared; I couldn't shake the fear of hitting a bad note in front of half the town of Covington. I was experiencing the jitters to say the least.
"Michael, do you have to wear that tie?" Came my mother's complaint.
"Huh, what?" I wondered why my tie was so important, if this was her way of making me feel good, forget it.
"I bought you a new one, didn't you see it? I put it on your seat at the dinner table." My mother went on.
"No, I'll put it on now though." I figured it would be easier to comply with her wishes, which tie I wore was the least of my concerns.
I had been standing in the kitchen looking out the window that was over the sink, alone in my nervous thoughts, so I kind of welcomed the distraction. I walked into the dining room and noticed a boutonniere placed on the table, alongside of it was a new tie. I became a little emotional; tears welled up in my eyes. I was so thankful to have such a loving and caring set of parents. The fragrance from the carnation with babies breath and fern was slight, but favorable. My mother came to my rescue and pinned it to my navy blue sports coat lapel. I was glad she did; I would have been all thumbs trying to do it myself.
My mother gave me a quick peck on the cheek after she had placed the flower; she could never resist giving me a kiss, no matter how much I felt like I was too old. She took a step back and gave me an admiring look.
"When did you get to be so handsome?"
"I'm not, you need glasses, Mom."
"Michael, of course you are. You look just like you father did when he was your age, and I fell in love with him."
I blushed and decided to try my luck at changing my tie. I went into the bathroom; I didn't want to get too far away from the back door, as I felt I'd make myself late. We had almost two hours, but I had this nagging feeling that I needed to get a move on.
I looked at myself in the mirror while I put on the new tie. Let me tell you never to do that, everything is backwards, and it surely confused me trying to do it with reverse imagery. I finally had to turn around and face the shower in order to get the tie appropriately knotted. I turned back around and took a look at myself. The tie my mother had bought was silk and had a dark blue background that matched my jacket, it also had a light green print that actually looked good with my eyes. My frigging hair was the only thing that disturbed me; it was flipping in all the wrong directions. God, I hate my wavy hair, I thought.
Michael, are you all right?" My father called through the bathroom door.
"Yep, I am. I'll be right out."
"I thought we'd take a ride over to the boat launch on the Saco. We can watch the water go by, and hell who knows, maybe we'll see some Masshole up our way trying to set sail." Dad hated people from Massachusetts, he always poked fun at them.
I actually began to picture someone trying to sail down the Saco River. The thought alone brought a smile to my face, I noticed how good my smile looked now that I didn't wear braces. I continued to check myself out in the mirror and wondered if and when I should tell my parents my secret. I began to think about the reasons to tell them. Did I just feel compelled to do it, or was it a necessity? I pondered the importance of my sexuality; what it was to me and if it was something of significance to my parents. It wasn't like I really knew anything about their sexual behavior, nor did I want to know. I finally came to the conclusion that, unless James and I were going to make a life-time commitment, our current relationship could remain with the few that knew about it. I mean after all, we are just in high school, certainly not ready for the huge responsibility of marriage.
I began to think about other kids, straight ones. Did they tell their parents about their sex lives? Is my sexual preference who I am, or just a part of me? The questions flooded my mind. I didn't have any of the answers, just more questions. I said a small prayer, and then I wondered if God hated me? I wondered if I was a sinner. I reasoned that God had created me, and he loved me no matter what. I prayed that I was right, in my heart I felt I was.
I finally emerged from the bathroom; my eyes had long since dried from the emotional moment of seeing the corsage on the table. I was still nervous, but not all about my performance. I walked into the dining room and was immediately blinded by the flash of the camera bulb my father had taken my picture with. All I could see were bright spots in my eyes. I felt a little flustered, but I still smiled.
"You really think some Masshole might try to set sail in the Saco?" I asked my dad with a grin.
"You never know, Mike, you can't be too sure about those people from mASSortwoSHITS."
Oh, you got to love my dad. His love for our southern neighbors is really inspiring. I think it went back to the Kennedy days. Something about those liberals,' he always said. I guess those kinds of things caused some of my confusion about discussing my sexuality, just like some things my mother would say. I was always looking for a definitive and exact statement to let me know I was all right with whom I was. Instead it seemed like my parents contradicted themselves, or maybe just sent mixed messages my way. I mean, on one hand they seemed to accept Eugene, but my parents said It's too bad for him,' almost making it sound like he had contracted some disease. In the next breath they would say `It's such a shame so many young people commit suicide because they're gay." How was I to know what they felt?
The three of us drove to the boat launch in silence, my parents sat in the front seats while I sat in the back behind my mother. The sun was still out, because we had just turned the clocks ahead. I really love this time of the year; all the grass starts to come back and the birds return from their vacation down south. The whole world seems to come alive with vibrancy, and I seem to come alive with it. In my mind, there is nothing as beautiful as the Saco River winding through its banks, traveling south to the Atlantic. In the summer months the river is a mere stream, however in the spring it becomes a fast moving tributary. The mixture of the thawed winter snow and then the heavy spring time rain causes the mighty Saco to rise high above its normal crest line. We watched the water rush over the rocks and boulders; the caps of the waves were white. I watched, in amazement, the fury that nature unleashed, and hoped I'd see a boat go by.
"We better get going, don't want our star to be late," dad said.
"No we certainly don't," Mom agreed.
As we started on our way to the school, I felt the car rock back and forth over the gravel road that led out of the park of sorts where the boat launch was. `Ole Man Winter' had delivered his blows to it and caused ruts and wash outs. I didn't know if the motion of the vehicle or my nerves caused the feeling in my stomach. I decided it was probably a combination of the two. I was glad when we finally reached the pavement and the car rode smoother.
Mr. Stomley greeted me as I walked into the chorus room; he looked more nervous than I did. He had asked me to come earlier than the rest of the group; he wanted me to do a run through. I was as ready as I would ever be, I finally surmised.
"Michael Joseph, are you ready?" Stomley's baritone voice boomed off the walls of the chorus room.
"As ready as ever," my simple reply.
"OK, let me give you a note and let her rip." He took a seat at his piano and stuck the middle C.
"Where ere ere ere ere ere is love? Does it fall from skies above? Is it underneath the willow tree that I've been dreaming of? Where ere ere ere ere ere is she? Who I close my eyes to see? Will she ever know the sweet hello that's meant for only she? Where ere ere ere ere ere is love?" I sang with all my heart, my voice rose from the depths of my stomach. I didn't know where my strength came from, but, for the first time in my life, I felt the song. I couldn't believe my own ears as I sang with all my soul.
Mr. Stomley rose to his feet when I had finished. His face was a picture of pure amazement; he strode across the room toward me, his long arms opened wide. When he reached me, he embraced me, I felt a little uncomfortable, yet at the same time, I appreciated his warmth.
"Michael, that was breathtaking. You have come a long way. I am so very, very proud of you. You will knock `em dead. Do you find it difficult to sing with such emotion?"
I thought, what an odd question. I wondered what he had meant. So what better way to find out, than to just ask.
"Why would I find it so difficult?" I asked.
"Well, it's just that I thought… well I don't know… I guess I thought you and James were like an item. I never said anything because it's really none of my business, but I am your teacher and very little escapes me, my fine lad." Mr. Stomley watched my face for a reaction. He then winked at me.
"Mr. Stomley are you asking me if I'm gay?"
"No, Michael, I'm telling you I suspect you are and it's OK. I've often observed you and James in the hallway and in chorus, then with Eugene trying to kill himself, I just put two and two together. I'm gay too, as is Mr. Murray, the art teacher. Actually, we just got married in Vermont. We don't broadcast it, and I hope our secret is safe with you. We talked, and just wanted you guys to know if you ever need any help, please come talk to us. OK?"
I was shocked. I couldn't believe my ears. I thought that we had been so careful. I wondered how many others suspected. I began to feel some terror, it must have shown.
"Michael, don't worry. I've been gay a long time, I know the signs. Most people don't; as much as they think they do, they don't. Take a look at little Marky McQuarters, he acts effeminate, but I assure you, he is not gay. Most think so, but he isn't. I could really surprise you with someone that is, but I won't. As you get older you'll see what I'm saying is true. I'm not always right, so I always ask first," came my chorus teacher's voice of experience.
"Well, then I guess first of all, no, it isn't hard to sing with the emotion. Second, I am gay, and the reason I can sing with so much feeling is because I sing to James," I whispered.
"Michael, you're a beautiful person. I will keep your secret," he said as he hugged me again.
A few other choral members began filtering into the room. I was over my shock within a few moments, but I couldn't wait to tell James. I began to feel good about Mr. Stomley knowing about us. After all, he was experienced with what we were going through, not like Eugene's mother, who wasn't. We now had someone to talk to about our lives.
I could hear the band begin to warm up because the band room and chorus room are next door to each other. I wasn't worried about performing, I was as prepared as I ever would be, and Mr. Stomley had paid me the biggest compliment I had ever received from him. I walked around the room chatting with some of the other members of the chorus. I was going to be the last performer of the evening. Even though the concert would start shortly, I still had another hour and a half before I went on. Alone, all alone, in front of my friends and neighbors.
Some of the mothers had made platters of fresh fruit from the Shaws in Portland; others had made cheese and cracker platters for us to snack on. I picked at the grapes as I floated through the room. Friggin' Sally Pedneault wouldn't even bother me tonight, I thought. I began to feel totally relaxed as I munched on the green seedless grapes, and heard the band begin to play. I could pick out the various instruments as their resonance drifted through the air.
I knew the band was going to do the first four songs as an orchestra. Then they had a small ten piece jazz section doing two numbers. After which, would be a dance routine put on by the drama club; I thought that was the best part of the show. The drama club had choreographed Food Glorious Food' another of the songs from their production of Oliver'. A brief intermission would follow the drama guild. The chorus then would begin the second half of the show. We would open with Greatest Love of All' followed by Amazing Grace'. Then our Glee Club (a smaller group from the chorus) would do Bye, Bye, Bye' in harmony; they did it better than *NSYNC. The last thing would be me singing Where Is Love'. I was the finale. I was going to bring them all home, so to speak.
The time passed quickly, I was left alone in the room, while the chorus filed into the auditorium to begin the second half of the show. I was still relaxed as I waited for my cue. I thought about what Mr. Stomley had told me, it had really made me feel better about James and myself. I knew we could trust him to help us with Eugene too. I was especially excited because Eugene had gotten out of the hospital and would be in the audience. I realized, if it hadn't been for him hitting that flat it could have been him doing the solo. I guess we'll just never know I thought as I got my cue.
"Michael, one minute, take your place." The younger, freshman stage hand, shouted into the chorus room from the hall.
I sauntered to the back stage door; I took a deep breath before I opened it. I heard the glee club finishing `Bye, Bye, Bye'. I took my place behind one of the center stage curtains; I waited for my introduction.
"Ladies and gentleman, it gives me great pleasure to announce our next performer. This young man has given me one hundred and ten percent, in his practices and in his ability to work with the other members of our chorus. I have worked with this gentleman for three years now; I have watched him grow both in his musical talent and in personality. It is truly an honor to work with him. I know you will enjoy his performance of `Where Is Love' as much as I do. So without further hesitation, I give you Michael Joseph Martin." Mr. Stomley walked away from the microphone and pointed his arm to stage right.
I made my entrance, I was ready. The spot shown down on me, the stage lights dimmed. I casually took my place center apron as the band ran through the choral part. I hit my mark just on time and began my solo. It was like I had done this so many times, even though this was only my first, I felt total comfort as I sang. I sang to James, I kept his vision in my mind while I sang my heart out. When I had finished I was drenched in sweat. I took my bow and exited to stage left.
The applause was thunderous; I felt the floor as it shook beneath my feet. I briefly turned back to the audience and saw them on their feet. I had been given a standing ovation. It brought tears to my eyes, I was so honored. I heard loud shouts, `Encore, encore!' the people whom I had grown up around and near were yelling. I couldn't help but think what they would all do if they knew I was gay. I know it sounds silly but it was what I wondered at that precise moment. I saw how shallow people could really be.
Afterwards, my parents had invited the entire chorus to my home for a party. I was the center of attention the rest of the night. My mother had also invited the Shannucks from up on the hill, and even the `Hawkeye' and Mrs. Massey had come to share in the festivities. I tried to talk briefly with everyone that came, but really just wanted to be alone with James. Eugene had come as well. His mom didn't stay, she had to watch his siblings. I was glad to see him making an attempt to get back into the folds. I asked him and James to spend the night, knowing it would be the only way I could talk to them privately. They both agreed, I think they wanted to have some quiet time with me as much as I wanted to have with it them. I couldn't wait to tell them what I had been told by Stomley.
"Michael, I just wanted to tell you how wonderfully you did. I was so impressed, I never knew you were so talented," said Sally Pedneault in a half-apologetic way. Who invited her I wondered?
"Thanks, Sally, I really appreciate it."
"You brought tears to my eyes; I could feel the song. Does that make sense?" She babbled on, much like a brook in the spring running over the obstacles placed in its way.
"Really?"
"Yes, Michael."
I suddenly realized, or at least began to fear, that Miss Pedneault was having feelings for me; feelings that I could not return. I noticed she was looking deep into my eyes in search of returned affection. I tried to be courteous, as I often am. I showed no emotion.
"Thank you, Sally, that is kind of you. Did you get something to eat?" I changed the subject as I pointed to the food on the dining room table and made a quick get away.
I went into the living room and walked around greeting my guests and spending a few moments with each of them. I noticed the crowd started to dwindle down as the time was getting near one o'clock in the morning. I wondered how long people would last, or stay. I was exhausted, and just wanted to crawl into my bed and my own inner sanctum. Right below that fucking tree, I had come to love so dearly.
I felt a pinch on my ass; I turned and saw my lover standing so close that no one could see what he had done. I remembered what Mr. Stomley had said; he had `observed' us. I wondered if anyone in the room was also observing us. I couldn't wait to talk with James, before someone else saw things that we thought were private and all hell could break loose. Hell, in Maine, I think incest is better than being a fag, if you ask some backwoodsman.
I smiled at him and nodded. I told him with our special way that I needed to talk. He motioned his head towards the front door; we slowly made our exit. I stood in my front yard and looked into his eyes.
"James, we really have to be more careful. Mr. Stomley told me tonight that he knew you and I were gay. Shit, he even told me about him and Murray. Did you know they're married?"
"What?" He yelped.
"You heard me. Did I stutter?"
"Oh my God."
"Yeah, I know. It's all good though. Don't worry, be happy," I chuckled as I said it.
"Michael, I just don't know. My father would kill me, he'd frigging disown me. I don't know what to do." The tears started flowing down his cheeks. I hadn't seen James cry in a long time.
"Babe, it's who we are, but we don't have to say anything yet. At least I don't think so."
"I hope he doesn't find out. What would I do? Where could I go? My mother, God my poor mother," he trailed off as he sobbed.
I stood motionless; I had no idea what to say. Finally I just hugged him. Right there in my front yard under the cover of darkness I hugged my lover. I knew where love was. It was with him, and it was with me. James and I were in love.
Well there you have it, the latest in the journey of Michael and James. I hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to more. I want to thank you all for visiting my website at http://Justinscorner.homestead.com and I really appreciate all the e-mail and IM's I get at Justin69SK@aol.com keep in touch and keep the faith. Peace out.
I would like to express my heartfelt prayers for Ed, and ask all of my readers to do the same, in his brief absence. I would also like to thank Sarah for editing this chapter.
As Always- Just, Justin <>