This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental. Actual locations are mentioned, and are used for 'background' only.
'Phalen - Finding Happiness' Chapter sixteen
by Roy Reinikainen
Greg knocked on his supervisor's office door. Even though Larry told him a few days earlier that his employer, the University Athletics Clinic, had cleared him of any wrongdoing, he still had some trepidation facing his supervisor, the formidable Dr. Rollins, a woman who looked like she could chew nails for lunch, and ask for more. She had never been anything but friendly throughout the entire investigation into whether he might be, in some way, at fault for getting drugs into the hands of Dustin, the ex-clinic employee . . . but still . . . He lightly rapped on the door.
"Come in."
He gulped a swallow and entered the office, trying to school his expression away from one of anxiety to one of polite interest.
"Good news," she announced before he had even closed the door behind him, causing him to slowly exhale in relief. Dr. Rollins smiled brightly and gestured for him to have a seat.
She didn't wait for him to be seated before she began speaking. "I've just gotten off the phone with the police." She gave him a sheepish expression, totally out of character. "I've been hounding them actually, and I've finally wrung a small bit of information out of them. It seems Dustin, our young troublemaker, has been taken into custody."
Greg raised his eyebrows and relaxed back into his chair even further, feeling something in his chest begin to unwind. He swallowed around a lump in his throat and inhaled deeply through his mouth, wondering at his emotional response to the good news.
"Good news, yes?" Dr. Rollins continued, reflecting Greg's thoughts exactly, "It's comforting to know for sure he's no longer loose, trying to stir up trouble that could reflect badly on you or the clinic." She compressed her lips, a sign of her disapproval at something. "The police are unwilling to provide me with any other information, so this will have to do. I understand why they won't, but . . . I'm nosy. Personally, I'd like to know what motivated him to do what he did."
She gave Greg an amused look, after studying him for a moment. He wasn't sure whether she was amused at his discomfiture, or at her own disclosure about being nosy.
"This is the first time you've appeared relaxed in quite some time, doctor. It has been easy to see that this entire situation has been weighing heavily upon you."
Greg could only nod, not trusting his voice. He was surprised at the depth of relief he felt. It was as if a death sentence had been commuted. He licked his lips and managed to croak a "thank you . . . Doctor Rollins." He swallowed once more, cursing his shaky voice. "I appreciate all you've done on my behalf."
She gave him an airy wave, hinting that she considered her efforts had amounted to nothing. "I hate to see the career of a wonderful doctor tarnished by something like this. And," she continued, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her desk, "I mean it when I call you a wonderful doctor. I only wish you were going to be able to stay with us longer, and not be transferred back downtown." She sat back in her chair and gave a resigned sigh.
"Ah well. Perhaps we can discuss that at a later date." She grinned. "Right now, I think you'd better take the rest of the day off and go celebrate. I'm sure your loved ones will be anxious to hear the good news." She stood, signaling the end of the meeting. Greg was still in a daze as he shook her hand and left the office.
"I'm free," he thought, stifling a manic chuckle as one of the clinic's nurses passed. He grinned at her funny expression and rushed to his office, absently pushing the door closed. "Larry'll want to know."
He dialed the number and began pacing, wishing Larry were here so they could have a beer together to celebrate. 'I'd really like to be held right now. I'm not sure whether I want to laugh or cry.'
"Hello . . . Larry? Good news!"
Phalen eased the weights into their cradle and stood, arching his back and twisting from side to side. He started, looking to his left when someone rested a hand on his shoulder. The coach gave him a reassuring squeeze and spoke in a soft voice.
"Phalen, class is about over. Why don't you wrap it up and come to my office. I've got some news you'll be pleased to hear." He smiled and walked away, once again becoming the coach.
"Hey Logan," he shouted over the din of the weight room. "Your sister can lift more than that!" He glanced over his shoulder toward Phalen and grinned.
"Damn right coach. Don't I know it," Frank Logan shouted, maintaining his reputation as a person with a glib comeback. "You musta seen my sister. She can lift more than anyone I know. Hey, maybe you and her should have a contest. She's good. She's even taught me how to wrestle." The coach as well as everyone else laughed.
"No wonder you wrestle like a girl," the coach teased, disappearing into his office as the team erupted into laughter. The rest of the team headed toward the locker room, listening to Frank Logan as he animatedly described his sister, thriving on the good-natured ribbing of his teammates. Phalen rubbed the white towel over his face before absently folding it and hanging it over his shoulders, heading to the coach's office.
He raised his hand, prepared to knock. "Come in," the coach called before he had touched the door.
"Hey Phalen . . . sit." The coach nodded to the chair next to his desk.
Phalen eased into the seat, anxious to hear the coach's news, but also dreaming of getting into the whirlpool before his muscles began to tighten. 'Of course,' he thought, letting his mind wander for a moment, with a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth, 'Jeff could give me a massage to loosen 'em up.' He tried not to squirm in anticipation of some of the places Jeff might massage.
"I've just heard from Benford and Morrison's attorney." The coach smiled, having gotten Phalen's instant attention. "She tells me the guys are doing fine. Things have been a little rough on them, but they'll be okay." The coach studied Phalen's broad smile a moment before continuing.
"The attorney also told me the Dustin fellow is now in custody."
"Really?" Phalen almost jumped out of his seat. "That's outstanding. I mean . . . too bad for him, but . . . it's good to know he's not out there loose on the street." He paused a moment, wondering if Greg would be coming home, or if he too had been arrested. His suddenly sober mood surprised the coach.
"Something else on your mind?"
"Uh, no . . . I guess."
"Sure?"
Phalen nodded and tried to smile.
"Okay then. I wanted to let you know what was happening." Phalen stood, ready to leave.
"Thanks for keeping me informed, coach. I hope the Dustin guy'll be able to get the same sort of help Benford and Morrison have. He can't be altogether a bad guy." He grinned at the coach's skeptical look.
Phalen pushed the button causing the garage door to begin its noisy descent. Ignoring both his book and gym bag, he jumped out of his car and ran through the courtyard and into the house, calling for Jeff the moment the door opened.
There was no answer. He ran into the kitchen and grabbed the mobile phone, and saw Jeff gliding through the water in the pool. He shook his head in frustration at not being able to impart his news as he'd wanted, and punched in his father's office number, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the call was transferred.
"Dad! Have you heard from Greg? You did? Is he okay? Do you know where he is?" He paused a moment, as his father ignored his questions to ask some of his own. "No . . . nothing's wrong." The tone of his voice belied the words. "I'm looking for him."
He shook his head. "No, Jeff's okay. He's in the pool." He held the phone away from his ear, looking at it with a strange expression.
"Of course he's face down. He's swimming!" Phalen looked over his shoulder and saw Jeff turn and head away from him, kicking up a froth. "Have Greg call me the moment you hear from him. I need to talk to him. Okay?" Without waiting for a response, he hung up, dialed Curt's cell number, and began pacing in a circle, making hurry-up motions with one hand while holding the phone to his ear with the other, all the while muttering, "C'mon, c'mon."
"Curt, hi, it's Phalen. Have you seen or heard from Greg today? I need to talk to him." He shook his head. "No, we're all okay."
"A date? Tonight? Oh, okay. I guess I'll see you in a little while then. If you see him before your date, have him call me, okay?"
This was getting him nowhere. He watched Jeff climb out of the pool and began drying himself off. 'Time for one more call.' He dialed the clinic where Greg worked.
"Hi. Could you connect me with Doctor Layson, please? It's sorta an emergency." Once again, he stopped pacing.
"What! He's not there? Where is he?" In the background, Jeff cleared his throat, causing Phalen to flick a glance over his shoulder.
"Oh, I'm sorry for shouting. I'm sorta frantic, y'see." He gave Jeff an exasperated look, listening to something on the phone.
"No, calling the 911 emergency number wouldn't help. I'm sure they don't know where he is either." He shook his head in frustration and muttered. "Shit."
He grimaced, casting a guilty glance in Jeff's direction. "Sorry, again. I gotta go. If he comes back have him . . ." He swung around at the sound of the front door opening, forgetting the phone.
"Hey men, I'm home!" Phalen dropped the phone on the table and ran to Greg, wrapping him in an embrace before he had an opportunity to close the door.
Taken by surprise, Greg held his arms out to his sides as Phalen continued to hug him, before slowly returning Phalen's embrace. "Hey, Phalen. It's good to see you too, but why the welcome? I'm not complaining, but . . ." By now, Jeff was perched on the arm of a sofa, wearing a bemused look.
"You're okay! You're not in jail!" Phalen swiped a hand across his eyes, brushing away the moisture. "I'm so glad. I'm sorry I've been treating you badly. I've been a wreck 'cause I've been worried about you. I didn't know what to do," he almost wailed. He took Greg by the shoulders and held him as he stepped back and looked into his eyes.
"Why weren't you at work? They said you'd gone for the day. Is everything okay?" He took a breath and continued rambling.
"They caught Dustin. Did you know? I'm so glad it wasn't you. You're here, aren't you? So . . . it must not have been you." He looked over his shoulder.
"It wasn't him, Jeff!"
Greg slowly disengaged himself from Phalen's grasp, but continued to hold him close, laying an arm over Phalen's shoulders and leading him to the sofa, where Jeff had moved aside and continued watching in bemused and perplexed silence. He had experienced one of Phalen's 'hyper moods;' his brother never had. It was funny to watch the different expressions flash across Greg's face as Phalen continued to ramble. The most prominent, screamed, 'help me,' as he urged Phalen to sit.
Jeff chuckled and shook his head, answering the silent appeal. "I'm enjoying this. Watching you two is much more entertaining than any program I know of on television." He gestured, watching Phalen's attention shift from him to Greg and back again. "Please continue. Don't let my presence stop you."
Greg rolled his eyes and sat on the coffee table, knee to knee, facing Phalen, who appeared ready to once again begin talking. Greg quickly laid two fingers over Phalen's lips . . . a gesture of Jeff's which startled Phalen into silence.
"Shhh." At Phalen's nod, Greg removed the fingers, and waited while Phalen slowly exhaled and glanced at Jeff, who was now standing, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the back of an arm chair. Phalen was momentarily distracted by the reflection of Jeff's butt in the windows to the backyard patio.
"You know Dustin?" Phalen nodded, glancing first at Greg, then to Jeff.
"Tell me what's been going on."
An hour later Phalen's narrative was winding down. At first he had been content to sit on the sofa as he spoke, but soon he was up, pacing back and forth, waving his arms, describing his frustration at not knowing what to do, fearing Greg might have somehow been involved in providing drugs to Dustin, and apologizing for not coming to him earlier and speaking of his thoughts.
"I'm sorry, Greg. Really." He looked over Greg's shoulder. "You too, Jeff." He slumped back on the sofa where he had landed as the story concluded. "Once again, I feel like a kid." He rubbed both hands over his face, and sighed, both in exhaustion as well as relief.
The doorbell and knock on the sunroom window got their attention. Curt was outside, motioning for someone to let him in. Jeff stood and jogged toward the front door, the muscles of his buttocks and legs flexing with each step. Greg grinned as he watched Phalen's eyes follow Jeff across the room. He had to admit to himself that he enjoyed the view as much as Phalen. He tore his glance away, puzzled by his feelings as Jeff reached for the door knob.
Curt stepped into the house and examined the still naked Jeff with unabashed delight.
"Lookin' good, Jeff." He smiled brightly, at the same time he rested an arm across Jeff's shoulders. "Are we all going to get naked," he asked with a laugh, glancing from Jeff to Phalen and Greg. "I'm ready," he teased, releasing Jeff and crossing the room to give Greg a kiss. When they parted, he settled onto the sofa linking his fingers with Greg's.
"Now, would somebody." He gave Phalen a meaningful glance. "Tell me why I was called and made to worry if my boyfriend was okay?" All eyes turned to Phalen, who ducked his head as a hint of pink washed over his cheeks.
"I was afraid Greg was picked up at the same time the cops nabbed that Dustin guy. I made the mistake of thinking Greg might somehow be mixed up with Dustin's drug dealings." Phalen's voice trailed off as he saw Curt's expression shift from one of interest in what he was saying, to shock, and then to disbelief. "He . . . wasn't. Picked up . . . I . . . mean . . . Greg, wasn't. Only Dustin was involved . . . with the . . . drugs." Phalen's explanation wheezed to a halt as he glanced at Jeff to see if he had a clue as to what could possibly be wrong.
"Short guy," Curt asked into the silence, intently watching Phalen. "Blond? Angry at the whole world?" He looked up, a faint hope dying as he watched Phalen reluctantly nod.
"Oh, Geez." He bowed his head and heaved a deep sigh, seeming to collapse in on himself, his self-confidence dissipating with his expelled breath.
"What's wrong?" Jeff moved closer and sat down. "You look as if you've lost your best friend." Phalen frowned slightly when Jeff sat on the coffee table, knowing he'd have to clean another of Jeff's butt prints from the thick glass tabletop. It seemed as if he would never learn, though Phalen had to admit, it was damn sexy to see Jeff's penis hanging in a thick curve over his hefty testicles. He tore his eyes away and grinned slightly when Jeff gave him a curious glance.
"I know Dustin," Curt murmured. "He's not my best friend . . . far from it. He's my brother."
"Oh, shit," Phalen muttered, closing his eyes.
"Brother?" Greg seemed not able to believe what he'd heard.
"Oooooh," Jeff responded in a low voice, flicking a glance from Phalen to Greg over Curt's bowed head. "I'm sorry." Curt glanced toward Jeff, as if in a daze, and then huffed a strangled laugh.
"It's funny. I've never been able to stand the guy, and I know he felt the same way about me. I've hated how he treated our parents, the neighbors, the dog . . . me! Hell, I've always hated lots about him. But . . ." He shrugged, leaning into Greg's side. "I would never wish this on him." He paused as if the pieces of a puzzle finally fell into place.
"Phalen, you said you thought maybe Greg was involved in providing drugs to . . . Dustin." He paused while Phalen reluctantly nodded, and then turned to Greg, steeling himself before asking the next question. "Don't tell me. He was the one who tried to get you in trouble at work?" Greg nodded slowly.
"I'm afraid so. I guess I never mentioned his name, did I?"
Curt seemed to deflate even further. "It would still have been a shock." He took Greg's hand and tried to comfort him. "You didn't do anything wrong by not telling me, so don't get that 'I'm responsible for all the ills of the world' look. Dustin's always felt the world was against him. He's always believed he was free to do whatever he wished, and pin the blame on someone else."
Jeff stood and held out an arm for Phalen to join him so they could leave the two men alone. Greg gave him an appreciative nod and returned his attention to Curt, who was silently staring into the distance.
"Shit," Phalen murmured, the moment the bedroom door silently closed. He crossed the softly lit bedroom and fell backwards onto the bed with one arm outstretched, the other covering his eyes. "I thought Dustin getting caught was such a great thing, but look how it hurts Curt." Jeff nodded silent agreement as he climbed onto the foot of the bed and sat cross-legged, watching Phalen who seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.
A moment later, he uncovered his eyes and gave Jeff a mock scowl. "By the way. If you're gonna leave butt prints on something, don't leave 'em on the coffee table, leave 'em on my face." He tried to suppress a squeal of surprise at the same time he scrambled away from Jeff's silent lunge, rolling off the bed onto the floor with a muffled thud. Jeff followed a moment later, straddling Phalen with his naked body.
He leaned close and in a low voice, murmured in Phalen's ear. "Wanna get naked, handsome? You're exciting when you're dressed, but my dick is already drooling, thinking of you naked." He sat back, against the stiffening mound beneath the fabric of Phalen's shorts. In response, Phalen thrust his hips up against his lover's naked buttocks. Once . . . twice. The moves followed rapidly, one after the other.
Jeff's grip on Phalen's arms suddenly relaxed, his smile dissolving into the haunted look Phalen knew so well. It had been months since he had seen that look, and he knew if he didn't act fast, Jeff might end up in a tailspin of self-recrimination.
"Oh, lover," Phalen murmured as he rolled out from beneath Jeff who, by now, was stretched out on the thick rug next to the bed, flat on his back. A single tear escaped from the corner of his closed eyes, finding its way to the carpet as Phalen pulled Jeff close, resting his head on Jeff's bare chest. "Please, Jeff. It's not your fault."
"Shhhh. It's okay," he murmured, feeling a tremor beneath him as Jeff took a ragged breath as he fought to overcome the flashback. Many times, after such an episode, Jeff's lower lip would be bloody where he had bitten through the skin, his sweaty hair hanging in black streaks, stuck to his forehead. "It's okay, big man. I'm here." Phalen tried to keep his voice calm . . . reassuring.
"I . . . I know, lover." Jeff took another halting breath, resting a hand on Phalen's shoulder in an awkward caress. "You put up with so much from me."
"Shhhh." Phalen tried to scoot closer, wishing he could reach for a blanket to throw over them both. He wasn't sure whether the shivering Jeff was experiencing was due to the cool room, or . . . his memories. He didn't want to let go of Jeff, even long enough to pull a blanket from the nearby bed. He had learned from past experiences, that he had to maintain contact in order to keep Jeff calm.
'Damned bastards,' he viciously thought to himself, thinking of the men who had inflicted this pain on Jeff, the school child they saw as nothing more than a plaything. 'I've never hated anyone in my entire life . . . until you.'
He was briefly distracted when the doorbell rang, but immediately dismissed the sound. 'Greg'll get it,' he told himself. A moment later he heard the sound of voices as the door opened. Jeff seemed not to have heard the bell, or the voices. His trembling was lessening, and because he was talking, there would be no blood to clean up this time.
"I want to, lover. I really do." Jeff's fingers seemed to hesitate as he slowly ran them through Phalen's hair, speaking as if he were continuing a conversation already underway.
"I know, Jeff. It's not important . . . really. You've got to believe me. I don't need it."
Jeff huffed a brief breathy laugh. "I think I . . . do." He took a deep breath and then continued. "I've dreamt of you . . . fucking me, you know?" He heaved a ragged chuckle. "I guess that's some sort of improvement. I've dreamt it, but even then I woke up as if from a nightmare. I want you to, Phalen. I want us to be . . . together . . . like that. It's just . . ."
"If it never happens that's okay by me," Phalen interrupted as he propped himself up on his elbows at Jeff's side. "If it's meant to be, we'll both know when the time is right." The response was a soft incredulous snort.
Phalen finally broke the lengthening silence.
"Now, you may enjoy lying on the bedroom floor, carrying on a conversation, but I for one, am exhausted. I'm a growing boy, who needs to get his sleep, y'know." He paused a second, wearing an irritated frown. "I could also use some food . . . but the part of the house with the kitchen seems to be occupied at the moment. So . . . I guess we'll just have to make do." He winked, and then struggled to his knees. "Well, big man, what d'ya say? Lets get naked and climb into our nice big bed and kiss. He held out a hand and helped Jeff to his feet, welcoming the feeling of Jeff's arms loosely encircling his waist as they stood next to the bed in the soft light.
"Better?"
Jeff nodded once, and even grinned when Phalen tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead, and then playfully rubbed the tip of his nose against Jeff's. "Let's let the guys in the living room solve the world's problems. I'm thinking we both need to get under the blankets and get warm." He suggestively wiggled his eyebrows as he stripped off his clothes and uncharacteristically dropped them to the floor. "Maybe we can think of a couple other things to do. I mean, we'll both me naked, after all."
Greg glanced over his shoulder as the doorbell rang. He gave Curt an apologetic smile and hurried across the room, limping slightly as circulation returned to his legs.
'Damn, I hadn't realized we'd been sitting so long without moving.'
He left the house and rushed across the courtyard hoping to get to the door before the bell rang once again. No telling what Jeff and Phalen were up to, but he was hoping to keep the bell from interrupting.
Larry was poised to push the button as Greg swung the door wide.
"Hey guys." Both Larry and Brad gave him an anxious smile. "What's happening?" He stepped aside, allowing them to enter.
"That's what we want to know. I got a call from Phalen at my office frantically asking if I knew where you were. Are you all right?"
Greg nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. Phalen wanted to find out if I was swept up along with Dustin. He was afraid I was the person who might have been supplying Dustin with the drugs he'd been selling."
Brad reached out a hand and touched Greg's shoulder.
"Did you say Dustin? . . . Curt's brother?" Brad looked almost as shocked as Curt had when he had learned of his brother's arrest. Greg solemnly nodded.
"Does Curt know?" Again, Greg nodded and gestured into the house where they could see Curt, sitting on the sofa, head bowed.
Brad looked at Greg with a pleading expression. "Do . . . do you mind if I go talk to him. I know of the long history between him and his brother." He paused a moment, searching for the right words. "I . . . I want to help him, if I can."
"Of course. I don't feel as if I'm being much help. All I'm able to do is to hold him. He's not talking, or anything." He stepped aside as Brad hurried past.
Greg was correct. Curt seemed in a daze. Brad slowly walked up to the sofa, hesitant how to proceed. Larry and Greg remained in the courtyard, surely watching him as he approached the man on the sofa. He wasn't sure what to say. Nothing seemed quite appropriate.
"Can I help," he asked, trying to still the tremor in his voice. He tried to smile when Curt quickly turned and stood, reaching out for familiar comfort. Brad had never seen Curt look so beaten. One would think it was he who had been arrested.
"Brad!" His voice rasped the single word. "Have you heard about Dustin?" Brad nodded and welcomed Curt into a warm embrace, closing his eyes and trying to fight off the sudden rush of emotions which threatened to overwhelm him. He inhaled the familiar scent of the man he had called a lover for four years, feeling the body so different from Larry's. They 'fit' together, like two pieces of a puzzle. Larry, slightly taller than Curt, was warm and tender, but he never felt quite . . . right. The man in his arms was . . . perfect.
Curt pulled Brad close, and in turn, Brad slowly rubbed the open palm of his hand over Curt's back, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the dress shirt, surrendering himself to the feeling of security holding Curt brought him. He hadn't realized he was missing something until he touched Curt. In that moment, his life came into focus.
He needed Curt. He wanted Curt. He admitted to himself for the first time, how much he missed him. He took a ragged breath, afraid of the things he was thinking. He didn't want to hurt Larry, or be the man to come between Curt and Greg.
He felt Curt take a ragged breath at the same time a tremor coursed through his body. Curt tightened his embrace, comforting the man in his arms, as much as being comforted by him.
When they had been living together, Brad could never have imagined Curt allowing himself to show the vulnerability he was showing tonight. He would have done anything to maintain his macho image. The man Brad was holding was the man he had always dreamt of Curt becoming. Now that he had finally transformed himself into the man Brad had hoped for, it was too late. They wouldn't be going home together. They wouldn't be lying next to one another tonight, or any other night. They were destined to only be . . . friends. There was Larry to consider . . . and Greg.
It was all Brad could do not to sob.
"The good for nothing . . ." Curt's words were muffled as he leaned on Brad's shoulder, feeling the strong arms continuing to hold him close.
"Shhhh," Brad murmured, rubbing Curt's back. "I'm here." He paused a moment, and then added. "Greg and your friends are here for you." Curt sniffed and nodded. He turned his head slightly and gave Brad a gentle kiss on the cheek before quickly backing out of Brad's embrace with an embarrassed expression.
He turned his back and took a couple of quick steps across the room. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." He rubbed the palms of his hands over the side of his slacks, as if he didn't know what to do before turning to face Brad. "I guess old habits die hard." An uncomfortable grin flicked across his face. He began to say something more and paused, his mouth open, as his thoughts changed course before he spoke the first word. He gave Brad a rueful smile and shrugged, holding his arms away from his sides in a pose of helplessness.
He seemed to swallow with difficulty. "I . . . I don't know what to feel. About you, me . . . Dustin . . . anything!" He massaged his temples, trying to think. "Dustin's the easiest." He smiled dimly. "On one hand, I'm pleased he's away from the house, because he's been terrorizing the folks. Still, he is my brother. Shouldn't I feel some sort of familial loyalty . . . or something?" He pulled out a chair from beneath the dining table, turned it around, and plopped down with a woof, leaning against the chair's back.
"My mind's a mess. And then, for me to kiss you!" He knuckled both eyes and bowed his head. "It was wrong of me to do that." He sighed, leaning forward and rested his head on his forearms which crossed the chair's back. Brad studied him, his perfectly trimmed auburn hair, the crisp white shirt, stretched across his shoulders, his long fingers of one hand, clutched into a fist. "I haven't changed at all," Curt spoke with a muffled voice, filled with pain. "I thought I had become a better person, and now . . . that." He looked up and made a vague gesture toward Brad with an outstretched arm. "I . . . I just wanted to feel you in my arms once more."
Brad shook his head in exasperation as he perched on the arm of a sofa, his emotions mirroring Curt's. "Curt, you didn't kiss me. You gave me a peck on the cheek. There's a difference."
Curt huffed a resigned laugh. "Not much of a difference. Besides, what I did isn't all I wanted to do . . . what I still want to do." He shook his head. "Like I said, my mind's a mess. When the two of us were . . . together, there seemed to always be something else . . . someone else." He bowed his head, unable to go on.
"Now, I'm the other man," Brad ventured, speaking in a low voice, wondering how the conversation had moved from Dustin, to the two of them. It was an odd time to discuss such things since Larry and Greg were standing outside. Curt moved his head in a single nod.
He gave Brad an apologetic grin. "Something like that."
Curt glanced past Brad to the courtyard where Greg and Larry were talking. "I . . . I don't know. I don't have any sort of understanding with Greg, but I feel like there's some sort of commitment there. I feel as if I've betrayed him, just like I did . . . you." He massaged his temples. "Life is so damned complicated."
He looked up as Greg and Larry came into the house from the courtyard.
Brad stood and put an arm around Larry's waist. After laying an arm over Brad's shoulder and giving him a reassuring squeeze, Larry turned to Curt. "I'm sorry to learn it was your brother who was involved in all . . . this." He made a vague gesture with his free hand.
Curt nodded a response to Larry's greeting, and grinned a crooked smile of thanks when Greg pulled out a chair and sat next to him, reaching for his hand. Their fingers intertwined and he squeezed his thanks, before turning to Larry and then Brad.
"Well, guys, thanks for your support. It means a lot." He heaved a sigh and stood. "I guess I should head over to see what I can do to help my folks out. No telling what frame of mind they're in." He softly snorted. "I don't suppose Dustin's going to be coming home any time soon." He paused a moment. "If he was angry before, I'd hate to think of what he's going to be like now."
Curt accepted a hug from both Brad and Larry, and then reached for Greg's hand as the two men walked out of the house and through the dark courtyard, and out to his car.
Larry held Brad in a loose embrace and watched Greg and Curt through the sunroom window. As they stepped outside the courtyard walls, he tightened his embrace, lowered his eyes, and tenderly ran his fingers through the hair on the back of Brad's head.
"You helped."
Brad silently shook his head. "I'm not sure. I may have succeeded in only making everything worse." He tightened his arms around Larry's waist and rested his head on Larry's shoulder.
"I'm sorry." Larry gently patted Brad's back.
"Shhh. It's okay, Brad . . . really." He closed his eyes, refusing to admit to himself the ache that threatened to consume him. He could face the pain at another time. Now, it was Brad who needed reassurance. He swallowed around a lump in his throat. "I understand."
Greg and Curt crossed the courtyard hand-in-hand. "Are you going to be okay to drive?" Curt gave Greg a half-hearted smile.
"Yeah, I'm okay. You know, I think the thing that's really the most unsettling, is that I don't feel . . . something . . . more. I feel bad, precisely because I don't . . . feel bad . . . for him. I'm especially angry that he foisted his bigoted views off on you. Saying stuff like he said would be bad if he said it to anyone, but to say it to you makes it somehow . . . worse, at least to me." He paused a moment and shook his head in disbelief. "Drugs! I wonder how many people he's hurt." He gave Greg a diffident grin. "I'm not making much sense am I?"
"You're doing fine." The two men exchanged a long and lingering kiss before Curt got into his car and drove off, tooting his horn once in goodbye. It was the first time Greg remembered seeing him drive without having the car's convertible top down.
~ to be continued ~
Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send a pic of the character(s), please ask.
In addition to the first 'Phalen' story, I have three other stories you may want to read. 'Leith,' and 'Chris' are located in the Nifty College Section. The third story is called 'Wesley', and is located in the Adult Relationships section. I hope you enjoy them all.
Best wishes,
Roy Reinikainen roynm@mac.com suomalainen_abq@mac.com