This is a work of pure fiction, but based on the author's feelings, beliefs, and in some cases, experience. Come to think of it -- it might not be all that pure! There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY!
Cast of characters:
Brian Weber -- That's me!
Deena -- my wife
Ronny -- my son.
Chris Willows -- kid in bathroom.
Mike Riggs -- new friend.
Chanelle LeBelle -- Ronny's girlfriend.
Gary Foosdorf -- Mike's friend
Dmitri Polchek-- Neighbor
Ericka -- Dmitri's wife
Alexandra -- Dmitri's daughter
Muhammad Zarindast -- Friend
Stan -- Muhammad's Afghan hound.
Kohfi -- 30 year old Persian Freedom Contender
Mick Azerov -- 26 year old American Freedom Contender
Ammad -- 45 year old Iraqi Freedom Contender
Keyvan & Sohrab -- Iranian brothers.
From Chapter 10:
"So -- you DIDN'T get off?" He said.
"Apparently there's more than one way to get off, my sweet Gary. Maybe later on -- or in the morning -- you can find a way to feel what I just felt. It was better than any physical orgasm I've ever had." I kissed him. We were both still too hot and sticky to want to do anything more than kiss -- and at that just a peck. I then added, "And -- um -- maybe when you figure out how you will accomplish that -- it will somehow involve me!"
"I do love you, Brian Weber! I am so happy that we are together -- and that we even found each other at all. You're one on a million!"
"Believe me, I feel the same, Gary. You couldn't have more perfectly put my feelings into words. I love you so much. But now I'm tired -- can we just go to sleep?"
"M -- zzzzzzz"
I don't know if he heard me or not.
Chapter 11
I dreamed of being back in Persia, reliving the events of the last days there. I was carefully holding my boy while he slept fitfully, the first night after his surgery. He turned and tried to hug me. I was afraid of him hurting his wounds. "Careful, sweetheart." I said, worried that his still active anesthetic could make him oblivious to hurting himself. "You don't want to rip your stitches."
"Stitches? What stitches?" I heard, as if out of a fog. "You're dreaming, Bri?"
I opened my eyes and Gary was stroking my face. His hand felt wet. "You were dreaming and crying. Is everything okay?"
So the wetness was from my own face.
"Yeah. Sorry, I still dream of Iran and Ronny's ordeal sometimes -- well -- almost every night. I can't get the image if seeing his teeth through the slash in his face -- and seeing Mick face down on the ground -- dead as far as we knew. Except in the dream, I know he's not dead. Thanks for waking me. I hope these go away before too long."
"Um -- well, never mind."
"No -- what?"
"I thought I might get a chance to -- get some of that good stuff you were talking about." He said, "But obviously this isn't a good time -- with your dream and all."
"What dream?" I said, as I gained composure and kept a perfectly straight face -- though he could not see it in the dark.
Hey! You can hear a smile!
"I -- um -- I mean -- you -- what?" He stammered. I kissed him deeply. His breath didn't seem TOO bad. "Um -- yeah -- well, um - " He uttered.
"Cat got your tongue?" I quipped.
"Okay, I got that you -- um -- are ready. But -- could you -- um -- maybe -- um -- rinse your mouth out?" I could also hear his grimace.
And I was worried about his breath. Well, I did eat more of that roasted garlic than he did.
He joined me in the bathroom and we both rinsed out and brushed our teeth. We both slept naked and so we were also naked in the bathroom. I saw him eyeing me in the mirror. Well, I was doing a little of that myself.
"Damn you look good for an old man!"
"You noticed? Yeah, I think I look better than the other guy standing there next to me. He's gotta work a little on that paunch!"
Gary pouted, as he sucked in his gut. It was a very small gut, caused by a lack of tummy exercises. "Gary, I'm just kidding!"
"Even kidding has its basis in truth!" He said.
"Well, when you move in, you can work out with us. And -- if you look closer, I don't exactly have six-pack abs."
"Yeah, but it's at least flat!" He said. You got flat and I got fat!"
"Well, maybe you have something to learn from the old man!"
"You can teach me, Daddy." He said, playfully laying his forehead on my shoulder, and looking up at me.
"Yeah, as if I have anything I can teach you! Right now -- I think you're gonna teach ME something."
"Well -- I thought you'd like to ride me -- again. It's not exactly new, but sometimes it's good to fall back on old tricks."
"I'm all over that!" I pulled him back into the bedroom, turning off the light as we ran. He hopped on the bed and I pounced on top of him and we rolled over and over, back and forth, kissing and rubbing as much of our bodies together as possible - - and laughing like a couple of teenagers.
On second thought -- teenagers are usually too shy and unsure of themselves -- to have this much fun!
Of course it was very obvious, very soon -- in the dark -- that we both were sporting rather wild and wet boners, as they flew back and forth with us, casting their pre-sex jizzum in all directions. Finally, he pinned me and kissed me deeply -- I was suddenly immobilized and he was still thrusting wildly, as we kissed and fondled each other's bodies.
Then he got on his back and lubed us both up very well. I lowered myself onto his perfectly formed pole. We both gasped as I sat down all the way. I pulled him up to another deep kiss, and he pushed me away slightly and restarted his thrusting. I tried to do some of the work. "Not this time, Bri. Just hold on for the ride!"
Gary arched his back high, so he made sure that he was stroking my prostate with each thrust, and also was pumping my boner with his other hand. He started to breath ragged and take deep gulps of air, obviously closer than I was to cumming. He slowed down to a gentle thrusting, and concentrated on only hitting my prostate and also working my boner like a jack hammer. Before long, I felt my own excitement welling up, and he sensed it as well, and continued his wild thrusting as before.
I felt somewhat out of control, as I struggled to maintain my balance. I then felt my spunk rise as if it came from my very toes and my whole abdomen and chest at once. I felt almost panicky, but in a good way -- like a thrill ride feels. Then we erupted together -- him up inside me and me all over his tummy, chest and face. His face -- even in the dark -- seemed to glow, as I watched him slowly close and open his eyes and lick my spunk that fell on his lips.
The orgasm seemed to be in slow motion. His thrusting became more and more of an effort for him, as well as holding me up with his free hand. Finally, I collapsed on top of him, well after we both stopped cumming, slipping around on his cummy body. I tried to get off, but with an extra effort -- that I didn't think he even had, he held me atop him, and pulled me into the most wonderful kiss I ever experienced.
After the long, delicious, and cummy tasting kiss, I lay my head next to his on the pillow, my face in his neck.
"Omigosh, Gary!" I said. "Sweetheart, that was the most incredible thing I ever experienced." I said, still slightly out of breath.
"I know. Me too." He said.
"What? You've never done that?"
"Never like that!" He said, and it was his turn to start weeping spontaneously. "Thanks, Bri -- Daddy -- for teaching me to share. I have never done that -- or any sex act -- with only my partner's pleasure as my goal -- and found that my pleasure was tripled as a result."
I wiped his eyes and kissed his face and lips. "I guess we're learning together, Sweetheart."
"God, I love it when you call me that!" He said.
"And I never would have guessed how much I'd love you calling me `Daddy'. I love you so much, Foosdorf!"
He finally let me slip beside him and we both dropped into a dreamless sleep.
The next afternoon, just before dinner, when Keyvan and Sohrab were out tending to the horses, I heard -- or more -- overheard -- Ronny: "So, Foosdorf, did you and my pop party hardy last night."
"Haha! You like getting directly to the point, don't you, little brother! Only -- your not really my little brother, and -- I don't REALLY think you want the answer to that question!"
"You're probably right about that. But I do kind of like thinking of you as an older brother."
"There are plenty of brothers who have as many years between them as you and I do. And most of the time they don't really know each other until the younger one becomes an adult. And I definitely would rather be your brother than your mother!"
"Gary -- I never thought of you that way. I was only teasing."
"What were you teasing about?" I asked, walking in on them from the kitchen - - as if I had not heard the rest of the conversation.
"Ronny would rather I be a brother than a mother to him!" said Gary, then he got an evil look and added, "That doesn't mean I still can't get even with you both!"
"Bring it on!" said Ronny.
"You're a glutton for punishment, little boy!" Said Gary.
Ronny rushed Gary and in seconds -- as before, found himself pinned underneath Gary. Gary laughed and kissed him. He was aiming for the cheek, but Ronny, not anticipating it, turned his head at the wrong moment and their lips met. Both of them looked up at me sheepishly.
"Oops! Really, Bri, that was an accident. I promise -- we won't the kind of brothers Keyvan and Sohrab are." He said it very repentantly.
"Ew!" Said Ronny. "Er -- sorry but -- yeah -- what he said!" Gary let Ronny up and Ronny added, "And I don't think they are as -- um -- close as -- um -- we thought."
"Huh?" both Gary and I said in unison.
"They slept in my room last night -- again -- and they didn't sleep -- together."
"What? Did one sleep on the floor?" I asked.
"No -- it wasn't -- I mean -- they didn't sleep -- you know -- TOGETHER -- like they used to."
"It has been getting warmer." Said Gary.
"Yeah -- but I don't think it's that." Said Ronny. And dad -- I think maybe they need a talk -- I mean -- I don't feel right talking about that kind of thing."
"What kind of thing. Have they been bothering you?"
"No -- NO! Nothing like that. But last time Mick was here, they saw him naked. I try not to let them see me that way -- so -- like you said, they won't be more -- um -- stimulated -- than necessary. But anyway, they walked in -- both of them -- and Mick was headed for the bathroom to take a shower. "Dad -- they made fun of his -- dick!"
"Made fun of it? Why? Is there something -- um -- unusual -- about it?"
"Dad -- Mick's 26. They treat him as if he's their age. And -- no -- his dick is -- nothing out of the ordinary -- except maybe -- it's clean cut and the boys -- I don't think -- have ever seen a cut guy. They pointed and laughed. They said he looks like a Jew."
"Wo. Well, that was unfortunate. We'll have to teach them that Jews aren't as evil as they have been led to believe."
"Dad -- Mick IS a Jew. His name is Mikhail Azeroff. He's a Russian Jew. His grandfather came here in 1917 to escape the revolution. I don't think they should be saying that kind of thing in the first place -- and definitely not to Mick -- especially since he was almost killed saving them. Mick's a pretty tough guy, but I saw his face. I could tell he was hurt by it."
"I'll have a talk with them both. Mo might want to know about that too -- in case it is a problem with the other boys. What are you doing tonight after dinner?"
"Nothing in particular."
"Why don't you two `new' brothers go for a ride on Hero and Trigger. I'll talk to them while you're gone. We'll have a special dessert after you get back -- to comfort them. I know this will not be easy on them."
"Special dessert, Huh?" Chuckled Gary.
"These guys aren't used to dessert very often. They told me maybe once a week -- and even then it was not much more than rahadlakum.
"Raw hot -- what?" Asked Gary.
"Haha! Rahadlakum is a candy that they have -- very much like what we call applets and cotlets. It is considered a delicacy all over that area. Others call it Turkish delight." I said.
"You guys know about this?" Marveled Gary. You're just weird!"
"Go get some, Ronny!" I said. "We usually keep it around just because we like it -- Turkish delight, that is."
"The boys are coming in, dad. Maybe we should - " Ronny started, seeing Keyvan and Sohrab approaching the door.
"Get it anyway." I said. "We can sweeten things up a little even before we talk!"
Ronny ran to the pantry and brought a new box of Applets and Cotlets. When the boys came in, they avoided looking at any of us and went immediately to Ronny's room, where they were staying until the downstairs was finished.
When they reappeared, they were still in their levis and dirty tees, but they had washed their faces and hands. Their faces looked polished next to their still almost muddy necks. To them, this was clean. They still were not used to bathing more than was "necessary".
"Sit down, boys." I commanded. I had learned not to say anything in the form of an invitation - that gave them a choice. They sat.
It was hard for them to make eye contact. I waited until each of them did so. "We have something nice on the table -- to share." We had not brought out any rahadlakum since they came to stay with us, and the familiar box -- to us -- meant nothing to these boys. They just stared at the box, still not knowing enough English to even read what might be inside.
"Open the box." This time I said it more like an invitation. Keyvan looked suspicious, and touched the box carefully. Then he picked it up and shook it -- almost like you would a present before you opened it.
"What -- is -- it?" Asked Sohrab.
"Open it, Keyvan." Said Ronny excitedly.
He very carefully peeled off the cellophane outer wrap and lifted the top. His face immediately broke into a huge grin, as he turned it toward his brother. He too looked into the box and grinned.
"These are for after dinner -- correct?" Said Sohrab. He was getting better at English faster than his older brother. They both spoke it when they got here, but haltingly.
"No -- these are for now -- before dinner." I said.
Both boys eyes got very big, and they broke out into yet another grin.
"Pop -- Gary and I are gonna go out riding for a bit." Said Ronny after dinner.
"Don't leave a mess for Keyvan and Sohrab to clean up after when you get back!" I said.
After Ronny and Gary were gone, the boys tried to escape to Ronny's room to play video games. "Keyvan -- Sohrab -- I want to talk to you for a moment or two."
"Okay." Said Sohrab.
"Have we done something bad, Dad?" Asked Keyvan.
I had hoped that my tone of voice would not raise that concern in them. But on the other hand it gave me a good, positive starting place.
"No. Not at all. But we need to talk just a little -- call it part of your education." They both looked at me wide eyed. Guys, there are a few things you must understand -- and that many -- if not most -- Americans take for granted. But I know this is not so in other parts of the world.
"Boys -- in the United States of America we consider everyone as equal. No one is supposed to get special treatment just because he is rich or happened to belong to one group or the other. And certainly no religious or ethnic group should be treated differently because of their belief or color of skin."
I had to wait again for each of them to raise their eyes to my own as I talked to them. I am confident that in their former family, it was not even allowed to look the father in the eyes. "That means that whether someone is gay, straight, black, white, Christian, Muslim OR Jewish -- we accept them as equals."
I could see in their eyes as I mentioned Jewish, that they held this term as less than positive.
"The other day, Ronny's friend, Mick, was here. It has reached my attention that you two were -- erm -- making fun of him and comparing him to a Jew."
Both boys turned deep scarlet. I didn't have to remind them what was discussed. "Boys -- Mick Azerov-- who almost died saving you -- is a Jew."
Keyvan immediately said, "But that's different! He is not a bad - "
"Boys! I overran his statement, "You have been lied to. There is nothing in the Quran that condemns Jews. Your government -- your father even -- wants you to hate them, because they exist -- and no more. It has been the same since Abraham sent one of his sons into the desert with his mother. The Jews have claimed that their father Abraham saved them for his blessing. The Muslims claim they were the ones saved.
The Jews have traditionally only wanted to co-exist with their distant cousins, but the Muslims -- traditionally -- and historically -- have only wanted to kill all the Jews -- or at least some of the Muslims feel this way. Unfortunately those who would kill not only the Jews, but anyone who would be their friends -- like the United states of America -- are in control of several of the countries where you are from.
"Boys -- there is evil everywhere, but seldom does one come across anything as evil as those who would kill their own people, and then claim it was for God -- or Allah - that they did it.
"I know that you did not mean to hurt anyone, Boys, but you have hurt Mr. Azerov -- very much. And this is what you are to call him until he tells you differently. He is not one of the boys. He is 26 years old, and is a man in every way. You are still boys, and need to show him the respect that you show a man. Is that much clear?"
Both of them nodded gravely. I beckoned to Sohrab. He came and hugged me, but wiggled free in a short time, and excused himself to "go piss."
Then Keyvan came to me -- a bit shyer -- and hugged me. I patted his back and he hugged me closer and tighter, and started to sob.
"It's hard to learn another completely different culture, isn't it?" I asked.
He nodded his head into my chest. "I want to be American!" He said haltingly. "Only -- only -- it's hard."
"I know -- I can see it is."
"and -- and -- and -- my brother no longer loves me."
"Wha -- at?" I said.
"He says he is no longer gay. He doesn't love me any more."
I extricated myself a little and brought his eyes to mine. "Keyvan -- I am gay -- as you know. And you also know that Ronny is not gay. Do you think he loves me any less -- because I am gay?"
"That's different." He said. "You're his Father."
"It really isn't. Do you know that Ronny loves you?"
"He -- he -- does?" He looked astounded.
"He loves you as a brother. I love you like a son. He is straight and I am gay. But neither of us will ever have sex with you. But we still love you. If your little brother says he is not gay -- then you know what you should do?"
"What?"
"Rejoice with him that he doesn't have to go through what you, I and Gary have to every day -- and Mo too."
"Mo? He's not gay!"
"Yes he is -- I mean -- has he not told you this?"
Now I was worried!
"His wife is still waiting for him to bring her here."
"What? You know his wife?"
"It is not exactly his wife -- but they are betrothed. He will bring her after his horses. She is still with her father and mother. She will be visa -- (is that the word?) -- when she is 18 -- in two months."
I didn't want to confuse the boy any further, so I accepted what he was telling me. I know -- that Mo would only be doing this to get her into this country.
I pulled Keyvan back closer to me. "I am honored to call you my son -- Keyvan -- and also your brother. Be happy for him that he may not be gay. It is much easier for him, if it is true."
"May I sleep with you tonight?"
"That would not be appropriate, Keyvan."
"But -- but -- you said you love me. Then you can show me in the bed -- how it is that you love me."
I wanted to cry. This is how his father showed his love to him. "No Keyvan -- this is not appropriate. Even if you were emancipated -- which you are not yet -- it would be a crime -- in this country. And that is because it is immoral for a father -- or a dad -- to do sexual things with his son -- or any boy as young as you are."
He hugged me closer, as if to never let me go.
"Do you like strawberries?" I asked.
"Yes."
"We are going to have strawberry shortcake when Ron and Gary get back. Do you know what that is?"
"I traveled once to England and had it there."
"Do you remember what it was?"
"What is to remember? It was a piece of cake with strawberry juice on it."
"You are going to find out that Americans do things a little different than many others." I said. Would you like to help me make it?"
His eyes brightened. "Yes! I would like to do this with my dad!"
He reluctantly let me go and followed me to the kitchen.
I showed him how to cut up the strawberries. He wondered who else was coming, because of the number of berries that we prepared.
Then I got down the Bisquick. I narrated to him what to do to make the shortcakes. He liked that we were making little cakes.
About the time that we put the shortcakes in the oven, my other two boys came back from riding. They were dusty and sweaty. They both headed for my bedroom to shower. I know why -- they didn't want to excite any teen boys by their nudity. I decided I just could not worry about Gary and Ronny. I believe that Gary respects the boundaries and - - Ronny is straight! And - - Gary is attracted to OLDER men! I smiled to myself.
When the two riders came out from cleaning up, I sent Ronny to get Sohrab. He found him sleeping on the bed.
"Dad," Ronny said in my ear, "I'm going to have my own talk with the boys -- about bathing before they lie on or in my bed!"
"Good idea." I whispered back.
"Everyone - sit!" Said Keyvan. "we are going to serve the dessert feast!"
Keyvan was absolutely salivating as he grinned ear to ear, helping me pile many crushed strawberries on to each shortcake and piling the freshly whipped cream high on top of them. Each one he delivered in person. He served Gary first, then Ronny, then his brother -- and he whispered something to him that made Sohrab scowl momentarily -- until he feasted his eyes on the mountain of dessert that he could hardly believe was all just for himself. When he returned to get his own shortcake, he announced to me, "Don't worry -- Sohrab has agreed to give me sex this night because of the dessert!" He said it so innocently as if this was what was to be expected.
I stopped him. "No -- Keyvan -- this is what your father would do. Is that what you want -- to have your brother give you sex for favors?"
He stared back at me, blinked his eyes and said, "Of course."
"Not while you are in my house -- son." I said. I decided that Keyvan was sleeping with Gary and me this night.
"Do you think that you can handle the situation -- or will I have to remove the boy to another family?" Asked Mo.
"I hate to separate them -- at this point. I hope I can control the situation."
"Don't be too surprised if the boy asks if you want to -- do as his father used to do -- to him."
"He already has, Mo. I made it clear it would not happen." I replied.
"In Persia we had a way of discouraging such behavior. We would work the youth so hard that he had no energy left for anything except sleep."
"I'll remember that. Both boys are good workers."
"Of course they are. It is a matter of pride with them. They are Persian! When my other horses arrive, there will be plenty of work -- even just mucking out the fields -- to make them sleep well. Do not feel sorry for them, as Americans tend to do -- and give them help -- either from yourself or from your son. They are being well paid by staying with you. Also, I put money into an account for them -- which they know about. I expect them to do their work."
"Gotcha!" I said.
"Thank you for doing this thing for us. It surely can never be repaid."
"You have done so much!" I said.
"These are only things."
"But they are things that will make living here much more enjoyable."
"How are things coming?"
"The downstairs will be complete next week. They are preparing to dig the pool soon. The landscaping is more than I can fathom. But I am sure it will be beautiful when it is finished. Can you come for dinner on Sunday -- to see the progress?"
"Maybe another time. I have business in Persia next week. But I am pleased if you are satisfied with the work."
"I'm more than satisfied."
"Good. Do you think that a psychologist may be needed for Keyvan?"
"I will get back to you on that. I don't much trust them."
"There are some good ones. I have gone to school with many. Those who went into the university with that as their major -- I am afraid -- were only there to fix themselves. When they cannot do that, they must justify their schooling by messing up others' heads. But there are a few that are good. And they are usually the ones who changed they majors AFTER they started college."
"Ohh -- you must have gone to university in America?"
"Actually in the UK. Why?"
"Well, we know that in Persia those good shrinks could not have opted to change their majors -- right?"
"Ah -- you are still pushing to let the boys choose their own professions. Right now that's not an option -- but I am glad that you are their advocate. And you don't give up easily -- that is good."
"Okay, you saw through me. I just think that a man is more passionate about his own choice."
"I can see this is not a closed subject. Whatever they do, I want them to fight for it. It will make them stronger. Thank you for keeping me informed of their progress. Let me know when I can help -- with the boys -- or anything else. I must go to a meeting now. We will talk again. Good bye, my friend."
The incident last night left me with a problem. There were only two bedrooms upstairs, and Gary and I were going to take the downstairs as ours. There was another bedroom possible in the downstairs remodel, but that would mess with our privacy.
As I was mulling this over, there was a thud on the front door, then it opened. Keyvan stumbled in. He looked disoriented. He and Sohrab had been doing their chores out in the stable -- the last I knew. Keyvan's lip was bloody and swollen.
"What happened?" I asked.
Without meeting my eyes, he answered, "We -- had a fight."
Keyvan is taller and heavier than his younger brother. I said, "Is anything broken?"
He felt his nose then answered, "I don't think so."
"And your brother?"
"I don't know why he attacked me. He never did that before. I -- I -- don't -- understand." He stammered. He usually stammers a little anyway, because American language is hard for him, but this was worse than usual. I worried that he was hiding something.
"Where's your brother?"
"I -- I -- dunno."
This alarmed me. I raised my voice for the first time to this youth. "What do you mean, you don't know! Where IS he??!!"
"He went away."
"Went away? What's that supposed to mean? Where? How?"
"He rode away on the -- the -- um -- blond horse."
"Trigger? He left on Trigger?
"Yes."
I decided that I was not going to get much from Keyvan, in this situation, though I pretty much had decided what I assumed to have happened. I was disgusted and perplexed. What was I to do? Send him to his room?
"Go get cleaned up and then stay in the bedroom -- and NO video games! When I find Sohrab, we are going to talk about this!"
Good God! I DID send him to his room! I have never done that with Ronny!
I went out and looked in the stable. There was a pitch fork on the ground, and the floor was half swept, and I could see where they probably had their altercation by the patterns of the dirt on the floor of the stable. Trigger's stall door was open, and the gate was ajar. Without thinking, I opened the door to Hero's stall. He eyed me warily, as if to say, "Who the hell are you looking at? You ain't getting' on me!"
"That's what you think!" I said aloud. I grabbed a halter from the wall and approached him. He stamped his feet. I didn't back off, but put the bit in his mouth. He tried to rear back, but it was too late. In the stall there was nowhere for him to go. When he came back down, one of his front hooves got me just above the temple.
I hazily heard a muffled sound of foot steps -- no it was hoofs on the soft dirt. "Dad!"
"The accent told me it wasn't Ronny. I tried to focus and saw a form hop easily down off Trigger's back. Then I saw Sohrab's face next to mine.
"Dad! What happened?" He said, looking scared."
"I -- got kicked. I guess -- pretty hard. How long have you been gone?" I asked.
"I'm sorry Dad! I'm sorry! I had to get away! I could take -- I mean -- I just -- I had to go for a ride. Please forgive me! Why -- I mean -- what - - ?" He said looking at the gash in my forehead.
I closed my eyes for a moment -- to try to clear my head.
"Dad -- DAD! Please don't die!"
I opened my eyes and forced a weak smile. "I'm not hurt that bad. I've been kicked before. How are you?" (He didn't look like he had a scratch on him.)
"I'm sorry -- I should have asked before riding. I'm so sorry!"
Apparently Sohrab was making some assumptions based on what he found. I was not sure what they may be, but wondered if my own assumptions could be as flawed.
"You may ride any time, but yes, I'd like to know if you do, so I won't worry where you are." I said, sitting up and rubbing my head.
"Is it bad, Dad?"
I was pleased that he seemed to like calling me by that name. I smiled. "I've had worse!"
"What? Worse than being kicked in the head?" he marveled.
"Ever been kicked by a horse in the -- `you-know-whats'?"
He said something in Farsi. At my obvious look of confusion, he explained. "Oh! Sorry. You have been kicked in the testicles?"
I nodded. He grimaced and unconsciously rubbed his own. I laughed.
"What happened between you and your brother? I saw what happened to him!"
"We had a fight."
"That's what he said. What was it about?"
He stared like a deer in the headlights for a second, then said, "It was nothing. We are okay."
"Your brother is not so okay. You did some damage to him! It's not okay for brothers -- in my home -- to fight like that. If he gave you reason for it, then I will need to speak to him as well, but I think that you will need some punishment for what you did to him. You didn't attack him with the pitch fork, did you?"
"No!" Said Sohrab, angrily. "He -- he -- never mind! It was just a fight."
It was obvious that Sohrab was covering for his brother. "It is sad that here you and Keyvan have been given so much -- because of the goodness of Mr. Zarindast -- and you still must fight like this. I think that I will have to consider for awhile, what might get you to think and understand how important it is that you get along with your brother. Go get Hero and put both horses away, then finish cleaning up in here."
It was difficult for me to act harshly, but both boys have to know that in America, it is not okay to kill someone because they hurt your feelings. I also suspected it was more than that, but if they weren't willing to tell me - -
"That's not fair! He he - " Started Sohrab.
"He is in the house with a very swollen and sore mouth!" I said. "I will see you at dinner -- after you clean this up and also yourself -- for dinner."
I walked away, and as I reached the opening of the stable, I turned around. He was headed in the opposite direction to get bring Hero in. "Sohrab?"
He turned around, his face toward the floor. "Sohrab," I tried to be as gentle as possible, because it was obvious he had tears in his eyes. "I want you to know that I am not angry with you. But I cannot have my two new sons getting so physical with each other -- in any way."
I hoped he knew what I was saying. I also hope that I can get to the bottom of what really happened.
Notes: I'm not sure where this is going, but it may get bumpy! Comments are welcome -- to Steve at stevethomas535@hotmail.com. Thanks and --- love, Steve