Ring in Mine
Kim Terry
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My thanks go out to Zack for proofreading this chapter.
Kim ----------
Ring in Mine: John Chapter 11
It was Sunday and Mark announced they were going to visit his son. Ruth was surprised, but delighted about visiting John.
They arrived to semi-organized chaos. Things were being moved from John's room to a room three doors down. More things were coming back into John's room.
"What's going on?" Mark asked fearing the worst.
"Martin wanted a roommate that is more compatible." John explained. Visions of Marcus in the forest came to mind.
"Hi, my name is Francis." He shook Mark's and Ruth's hands. "They're both great guys, but it's going to be nice to have a straight roommate for the rest of the summer."
Mark's sigh of relief was heard by his wife. She elbowed him before he could talk himself into a pit.
"I hope you don't mind us dropping in. It was your father's idea." Ruth apologized.
They stopped to pick up Susan and together they gave the parent's the 50-cent tour. Rather than eat at the cafeteria, Mark took the four of them to a local buffet for lunch. An hour later two stuffed men with their hands on their bellies complained about eating too much. They were so similar yet so different Ruth had to stifle the giggles.
"What?" Father and son said in unison. They looked at each other and joined in the laughter.
"What would you like to do now, John?"
John wasn't used to his dad asking for his opinion.
"Could we, possibly, stop by the gallery?" John asked hopefully. He had brought his big portfolio with them. Mark had been expecting this request.
A closed sign hung in the shop window. With a little convincing Mark parked down the street by a non-descript door. John rang the bell, counted to three, pushed it twice quickly, counted to two and pushed it a final time. John waved to the security camera. The door buzzed. They followed John up a narrow stairway. At the top John opened one of two doors. The second floor of the remodeled warehouse was a big apartment and workshop/studio. Mr. Bertrolli's home was simply decorated yet elegant. Artwork hung on nearly every wall.
"John, Susan it is great to see you again." He greeted John's parents, but his eyes were on the brown folder in John's hand. He invited them to sit. He offered drinks but everyone declined.
"Feel free to look around. John and I have to talk business for a moment." The gallery owner led the way into the workshop area in the back. John closed the door behind them.
From the folder John pulled the images he had created of Martin. Mr. Bertrolli couldn't draw his eyes from the image in the moonlight.
"This one is going to be very expensive. It needs the right frame. It is hauntingly beautiful." They agreed on a price for having it photographed and framed. With a little haggling they agreed on the split for the limited run for the prints. The bills would be sent to Brent's office.
"Do you have it?" John asked. Mr. Bertrolli nodded.
John returned from the back room carrying the empty folder. The gallery owner had a wrapped canvas in his hands. He had been practicing this subterfuge since John had made his request.
"Mr. Litchfield, when you were here last one of my artists noticed you admiring one of his works. He said he enjoys hearing about your college days and has often watched your high school team play. He wanted you to have this." He passed the package to Mark. "He hopes to meet you in person some day and sign it for you."
Mark opened the brown paper wrapper. His eyes grew wide. The piece was professionally framed here in the gallery. John had not gone cheap on the frame even with his discount. John was holding his breath. He hoped his dad liked it.
Mark's eyes were filled with tears. He turned it around to show his family revealing the football center image. Then he saw the unsigned inscription on the back.
To my favorite coach, keep up the hard work.
"Would you tell the artist, I would love to meet him? I love it."
Mark left John and Susan at the dorm with a hug. John enjoyed this version of his dad. He hoped he stayed around.
Reassured of his son's safety Mark's nightmares rarely disturbed his sleep; Ruth was enjoying the peaceful nights.
There was a big conservative conference being held at the college. Mark was running late. He cut through the lobby of the arena to save time. He passed a display that caught his eye.
"SAVING THE HOMOSEXUAL"
No one would be at the booth until later. He grabbed a brochure to read when he got a chance and then promptly forgot about it.
The summer slowly wound its way toward autumn. Andrew, Susan and John reminded Mark of three young people from his past. They hung out at the community center. Susan joined the art class with John. In August John and his friends celebrated John's 13th birthday.
Mark pulled his son aside for a talk he had feared wouldn't be needed. John paid attention as Mark explained the importance of responsible sex.
John and Andrew were having difficulties adjusting to Junior High School for completely different reasons. Andrew had seven teachers. Each seemed to think theirs was the only important class of the day. Andrew had an hour or two of homework every night. Most of the homework didn't make a lot of sense until John sat down with him in the evening. Andrew did have one class he enjoyed, gym class. Most of the time gym involved playing sports, so Andrew excelled. Andrew loved the showers the most. All those fine young bodies with their delicious looking parts. He knew what he wanted. He also knew it wouldn't happen with John.
John on the other hand was bored. Math was awful. He had been working through Andrew's father's college Statistical Mathematics book and was getting ready to start the calculus book. He felt like he was in remedial math. Social Studies was fine some of the time. By the third week he had read the text. So much of the Utah history class was the teacher dragging on about what the rest of the class hadn't read.
John didn't mind English when they were studying literature, he could always read something for a second or third time and loved talking about it. He enjoyed writing. His biggest advantage in writing was being well read. Copying sentences out of the book correcting the grammar was probably the worst and biggest waste of time.
Gym was awful at first but got better. It was one of the only classes he shared with Andrew. Andrew and John still played catch a lot. With Andrew as quarterback they ruled the football field. John had no trouble running laps; he ran every day during the summer to stay in shape. He did pretty well at soccer. Then the weather turned cold and it was basketball every day and to put it in his words he was "pathetic."
The coach road his case until the week they did the physical fitness testing. He could run with the best of them. The class groaned the day they climbed the rope. Andrew and John managed to be last in line. Few students had made it to the top to ring the bell. Andrew was one of those successful students because he worked out with John. As John walked up to the rope Andrew was chuckling. Andrew had seen John climb the rope at the gym numerous times.
John climbed about three feet from the floor and paused.
"Come on Litchfield, you can do better than that!" The gym teacher called out.
John scurried up the rope like a rat from a burning ship using only his arms. He rang the bell and climbed back down about five feet. Andrew grabbed the bottom of the rope and pulled it tight. John took a firm grip and pulled his body perpendicular to the rope, much like a flag. He then swung around so he was pointing headfirst toward the floor his legs wrapped around the rope.
The class stood looking up awestruck. Hand over hand he climbed down the rope. When he neared the floor he turned himself upright and did a somersault to the mat. He did take a step on the landing.
"Damn. I wanted to stick it." John cursed.
The class broke into applause. The coach just stared.
"John competes on level four in gymnastics." Andrew explained to the teacher. "He may not be able to tell where the ball is but he has great upper body strength.
There was no more showing off until the last day of testing. The class lined up at the chin up bar. The coach had to help most students reach the bar. This time John was in the middle. His face glowed with excitement.
John stepped below the bar. It wasn't that high. Before the coach could offer to help John flexed at the knees and jumped to the bar.
The coach shouted, "Litchfield you go last."
John dropped to the floor and took his place at the end of the line. The class members who had been tested were playing basketball at the other end of the gym. When Andrew noticed that John was next in line, he grabbed the ball.
"You've got to see this." Andrew announced. Andrew had watched John practice the routine he was going to do during class at the recreation center the previous evening.
John knew he was going to strut his stuff. He was on the high bar at least twice a week. He quickly did twenty pull ups and then began to swing on the bar until he was into one of his simple routines. He could only do some of the tricks before the coach told him to quit showing off. This time he did a back flip off the bar and stuck the landing.
Andrew led the applause. The coach made the whole class do laps until it was time to shower. The coach knew Mark. He called and complained that John was a disruptive show off.
"John, your coach called today saying you caused a disturbance in class twice this week." Mark stated waiting to hear his son's side of the story. Mark felt the junior high coach was a pompous want-a-be. He silently hoped John knocked him down a peg or two.
John wasn't sure how his dad was going to handle his using gymnastic skills in class. Mark had tried being more supportive since getting the job at the college. He had even attended some of John's practice sessions.
John explained about holding back during a lot of the physical fitness testing so he wouldn't have to work so hard to show improvement in the spring. Mark playfully punched his son on the shoulder. For John this was as good as a hug. Then John told his dad about the day on the rope and the look on the coach's face. Mark started laughing. He couldn't help himself. It was funny. He could imagine how he would have looked if one of his students had pulled John's trick off.
Reassured, John told about doing the twenty pullups and then doing one of his simple high bar routines.
"After a backflip from the bar I stuck the landing. The class broke into applause. I don't think the coach was too happy. He made us do laps." John explained.
Mark wasn't worried about John doing laps. They had started running together on Saturday mornings during the summer. It was a time for the two of them to be together and it kept Mark in shape.
"You may not want to cross him too many times. I've had his students in High School. They say he holds a mean grudge." Mark warned.
John's success in Gym was offset by his failure in Art. John tried to cut the teacher some slack, but the teacher was old and his way was the only way. The class seemed to be more theory, book learning and testing than art. John wanted to draw. The teacher wanted the class to complete a simple color wheel. John failed the assignment. John succeeded into creating a continual blending between the primary and second colors. It really was quite pretty.
The teacher wanted them to draw the basic shapes found in a bowl of plastic fruit. Most student's work looked like beginners. The teacher praised their efforts. John's was an excellent study in shapes and shadows. The teacher accused him of not understanding the importance of the lesson. John couldn't argue with the teacher. The lesson was important to those just learning to draw.
The third time John went beyond the listed expectations he was sent to the office. He cooled his heels waiting for the vice principal to return from a district meeting. John did as he usually did when he was bored and didn't have anything to read. He pulled out his sketch pad and did a very complementary sketch of the secretary. She looked almost regal as she sat as queen of the office managing the affairs of the school.
When the vice principal arrived, he really wasn't in the mood to deal with discipline problems. He didn't even read the note from the teacher.
"Why are you here?" He asked.
"The teacher says I refuse to understand the importance of the simple exercises he assigns." John answered.
"Are you just causing problems in class?" He asked.
"I don't disturb the class, just the teacher." John answered. "His assignments are great for most students. They are a waste of time for me."
John must have pushed one of the administrator's buttons.
"And why is that?" He asked with an edge that could have cut steel. John handed the drawing of the secretary. He also handed him the business card of the ECLECTIC SYNERGY gallery.
"Would you please call this number?" John asked.
The administrator was soon hearing about how successful John Litchfield was for being so young. The assistant principal solved the problem by moving John into wood shop. John enjoyed creating things with wood. What John really enjoyed was drafting. These were new skills. John loved the challenge and had a new favorite class.
John concentrated on his gymnastic routines preparing for the Halloween Classic competition held in Salt Lake. This would be his first competition on level 4. He had the advantage of having practiced all summer on the same equipment.
As his group took the floor John scanned the audience. A warm feeling filled him when he found his dad, sitting next to his grandmother and his mom. Mark had really tried to be more supportive after seeing proof of John's heterosexuality. John waved. Mark held his hands like a megaphone to his mouth.
"Go get `em John!" Mark's coach voice cut through the din. John knew that Grandma Litchfield would keep his dad in line.
John was the first gymnast on the high bar. His coach gave him a boost. John completed a nearly perfect routine. He released the bar flipped end for end and landed what should have been a perfect end to his routine. The moment his foot hit the mat he knew something was wrong. Instead of providing grip he slipped. The foot that slipped was fine. The other ankle twisted at an impossible angle. John went down hard. The medic was there in moments. John's coach finally scooped the boy into his arms and carried him from the mat.
The assistant coach inspected the spot where John landed. The facility crew was soon on the mat with cleaners and towels. It had been hard to see but there was a slick spot on the mat.
The medic wrapped John's ankle tightly. John should have been done for the day. There was no way that he could do most of his events. It was with tears in his eyes that John took to the parallel bars. It wasn't perfect. When his foot brushed the bar he flinched. He ended without his dismount, gingerly returning to the world of walking. He did an excellent job on the rings but would never win without a dismount. At the end he just hung from the bars. His coach lifted John down and carried him from the mat.
During the awards ceremony John refused to cry as he watched one competitor after another take their place on the podium. John's father met his son just outside of the locker room. John remembered the last time he met his dad after a meet with medals around his neck. He looked for Grandma Litchfield but didn't find her. He was waiting to be hit or yelled at for being such a klutz.
"They are waiting for us in the car." Mark said as he gathered his son in his arms. "How bad is the ankle?"
"I'm sorry I didn't win a medal for you dad. Maybe you're right, I am a loser." The tears formed in John's eyes. "The medic said I need to go to the hospital and have it x-rayed. He thinks I may have broken it."
"They let you perform two more events. You should have gone to the hospital right away." Mark was more than a little upset.
"Dad, doing the events I could was my idea. I may be a loser, but I am not a quitter." John said with a little pride. Mark hugged his son tighter. "Dad, I need to breathe."
As they left the access tunnel into the parking lot there was a young reporter with a camera.
"You're John Litchfield?" He asked. John nodded. The reporter asked some questions about the meet."
"Most grownups would have sat out the rest of the meet. Why did you keep trying even though you knew you couldn't win?" The reporter asked.
"This is my dad. He is a coach at the college in Ogden. He taught me only losers give up. My dad is proud of me for not quitting. That is better than any medal." John answered. Mark was truly touched.
The reporter asked Mark a few questions. Mark did get in one parting comment.
"Not only is my son a hard working motivated gymnast, he is an accomplished artist. Some of his work is on display at the ECLECTIC SYNERGY gallery downtown."
The reporter was intrigued by this unexpected twist. He took a couple of pictures and made a point of visiting the gallery that very afternoon. This was a human-interest story that his editor might like.
John hadn't broken anything but he would spend the next few weeks wrapped and on crutches. He still practiced but without the dismounts.
John got a write up in the Sunday Color Supplement the following week. It had photos of him performing with his wrapped ankle. It spent more time on his art with photos of some of his pieces. Mr. Bertrolli was pleased with the free publicity.
November passed with John on crutches. Mark drove him and Andrew to school. Mark still had his meltdowns. Grandma Litchfield tried to explain it to her grandson. There are times when your father doesn't think things through. Those are the times he acts just like his father. Grandpa Litchfield was stingy on compliments and quick with the belt.
The day before Thanksgiving John was given the go ahead to ditch the crutches. It would still take some time working with the coach before he would let John try any kind of dismount, but it was an improvement. Mark continued dropping the boys off at school. He had learned he liked the time with his boys.
There was a family Christmas party held for the coaching staff. Susan and John had to be located a couple of times. They probably found every piece of mistletoe to stand under. Mark was feeling secure about the safety of his son.
If you would like to be notified when a new chapter is available drop me a line. ringinmine@yahoo.com