This story contains explicit sexual activity between men. Please read no further if you are offended by such or if you are a minor. Any resemblance to actual persons or activities depicted is purely coincidental, but actual places and events are mentioned to add a sense of reality to the story.
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SAM CALDWELL'S FURTHER ADVENTURES
by Macout Mann
Chapter 10
Sorrow
Early on the following Wednesday Sam gets a telephone call from his mother. A very rare happening. Mrs. Caldwell still lives back in the days when using long distance was a big thing. Whenever Sam calls her, he can count on being chided for spending so much money on the phone.
"Sam," she began, "they put your father in the hospital last night."
"They?" Sam asks.
"He was sitting on the porch," she answers. "He just keeled over. I called Mr. Kirchner from next door. He said we oughta call an ambulance. They put him in the hospital."
Where?" he asks.
"Columbus Regional," she answers.
Sam knows any further conversation would be futile. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he says.
He packs what he thinks he'll need, and charges off. He arrives in Columbus before ten o'clock, calls his mom on his cell phone and tells her he's going directly to the hospital.
Once there, he identifies himself and at the nurses' station asks who his father's attending is.
"Dr. Witherspoon was on call when he was brought in," the nurse advises.
"Is he here now?" Sam asks.
"I believe so. I'll have him paged."
Sam goes to his father's room and finds him heavily sedated. In a lucid moment Sam tells him, "I'm here Dad. Your son, Sammie."
"I aint got no son," the old man mumbles.
The nurse advises Sam that Dr. Witherspoon is in the hospital and will be up as soon as he can. He arrives a half hour later.
"Your father has very serious colon cancer, virtually inoperable," the doctor tells Sam. "When he was checked in, his blood pressure was so low, he could have died at any moment. He must have been in acute pain for months. Hasn't he complained?"
"All that I've been told is that he's had colds," Sam responds. "I live in Atlanta and what I know I learn through my mother and a mutual friend. Dad wrote me off years ago, when he found out I'm gay."
"I see....
"Well, your mother was not very responsive last night. The radiographic studies that we have done show that almost all of your father's colon would have to be removed, if we were able to operate. If we do operate and are successful, that means that he will have to use a colostomy bag for the rest of his life. Of course, in his weakened state he may very well not have the strength to survive an operation. And even so, we may not be able to remove all the cancerous tissue."
"I'll have to talk to Mom.
"Before you arrived, doctor, I did get to tell him that I was here. He just said he had no son. So I assume he is no condition to make any decision for himself. I can't believe, though, that he would opt for a permanent colostomy."
"He has been given very strong pain relievers," the doctor says. "If he stabilizes, we may be able to reduce the dosage, but I wouldn't count on it. I'm afraid what we do must be left up to you and your mother."
Sam didn't immediately respond to Dr. Witherspoon's revelation, but he did ask to be kept informed of the prognosis.
"You might check with admissions before you go," the doctor said. "You'll want to leave your number, and they may need some information they weren't able to get when your father was brought in."
"I'll do that," Sam said.
"By the way," the doctor continued, "you aren't the artist, Sam Caldwell, are you?"
"You're the second person in a week that's even known there is an artist named Sam Caldwell," Sam grinned. "But yes I am."
"My wife is a children's librarian and has shown me your Caldecott Award books. They're quite something."
"Thanks for the complement," Sam says.
Sam does check with the office, assures them that his father is insured and establishes himself as the responsible party, then heads to the house where he grew up.
He tells his mother that his father is near death, and asks the same question the doctor had asked. Hadn't he complained of pain in his gut? Didn't he know he had insurance, could go to the doctor?
"Your papa never believed he could be sick," she answers. "It's always been Just hang in there.' That was his thing. And yes, I told him you had given us medical insurance. But he said he wasn't taking anything from his faggot son.' He's worked and made money, but I think if he knew you were paying for a lot of our food and stuff, he'd have starved first.
"Oh, Sammy, I'm so sorry. He just hasn't understood. I've tried to make him understand."
They tearfully embrace.
Sam tries to make her understand what Dr. Witherspoon has explained. When she realizes what a colostomy involves, she says that she doesn't think he'd ever be able to deal with that.
After lunch they both go to the hospital. No improvement. The patient doesn't recognize either of them.
Sam does love his mother dearly. But they are like living in two different galaxies. Other than his father's illness, there is nothing in common they can talk about. He offers to take her out to dinner. She prefers to cook something at home.
After dinner Sam tells her he wants to take a walk. He needs to get away. He has no destination in mind, but he finds himself at the bar at Dunbar's. It's still full of off-duty enlisted men. A few hardhats. He tries to strike up a conversation with a guy on a nearby stool without success. After a couple of beers, he leaves.
He automatically strolls around the block. Old habits die hard. He encounters a kid leaning against a lamp post. Could have been him fifteen years ago. This boy's not a fairy type, though. More like a street tough, lean and hard. About five-ten, rumpled hair, open shirt with ripped out sleeves. Hard to make out anything else.
"Lonesome?" the boy asks. "Whatcha into?"
"Goddam!" Sam laughs. "You remind me of me, when I was your age. Right here on this same fucking block."
"You used to hustle?"
"Still do....sometimes. Up in Atlanta. But I got started right here with horny army guys.
"How old are you, anyway?"
"Just eighteen. For real.
"You wanna get sucked? Been a slow night. I give good head. Half off. Ten bucks?"
"Man, I aint never paid in my whole life. But, shit, why the fuck not?" Sam couldn't stop laughing.
They step into an alcove that Sam is all too familiar with. Some things don't change. He drops his jeans. The kid gets on his knees, massages Sam to a full hard-on--that isn't hard to do--and gives one the best blow jobs Sam has ever had.
"Man, you're good," Sam says.
"I told ya," the kid answers.
"You like to get fucked?"
"Not my thing, but if the price is right...."
"I was pretty much the same way," Sam responds.
They talk. Sam learns that David Williams hustles to help buy groceries for his mom and kid brother. On a good night he might make fifty, maybe seventy-five dollars. His dad had walked away when he was twelve. His mother suspects what he's doing, but isn't rocking the boat.
"I'm going to be in town a few more days," Sam says. "Any way I can get in touch with you?"
David gives him a phone number and says to ask for him and say "it's Roger calling."
"I don't pay for giving head," Sam jokes. "But I'll blow you, if you want."
He wants.
Sam walks slowly back home. The house needs repair, but it's still home. His mother is already in bed. He's stripped and is brushing his teeth, when his cell phone rings.
"Mr. Caldwell," the voice says, "This is the hospital. I'm sorry to tell you that your father just passed."
Sam doesn't rejoice, but he is glad his mother won't be faced with all the problems she would have had to deal with had his dad lived. Sam goes to bed with a clear conscience.
When he tells his mother the next morning, he realizes how much she had loved the man who hated him so passionately. "He was a good man at heart," she cries.
The funeral is attended by scarcely twenty-five mourners. "He wasn't well liked, you know," Sam's mother says.
Sam urges his mother to move to Atlanta.
"You know I wouldn't be welcome living with you," she says. "I know you'd like to put me up in some fancy place where I wouldn't be comfortable. I don't have a lot of friends, but the friends I have are here. Let me be."
Before Sam leaves Columbus, he does call David. He says "Roger's calling." David comes on the line.
"So shouldn't you be in school?" Sam asks.
"I told you I was eighteen," David responds. "I finished last Spring."
"Pick a place to meet," Sam says. "I'd like to talk to you. No business."
David chooses a mall, but once they've met, Sam guides him to place where they can have a leisurely lunch and where David will not feel out of place.
In the daylight David isn't an Adonis, but could become one. He has a nice build and a handsome face. What he needs is a graceful persona.
"Like I told you the other night, I started off just like you are. I'll admit I was a fucking limp-wristed fairy, which you're not, thank god. But you won't be eighteen forever. I was fortunate to have some good buddies that helped me become what I am now.
"If I hadn't had the luck I had, I'd be dead now or homeless or in jail. And I don't want to see you fucked up like I coulda been."
"Shit, man, what else can I do? My grades in school were piss poor. My mom can't support us. My kid brother's only thirteen. I can't get a decent job. I guess I could start selling drugs, but I think that's worse than selling my dick."
"My old man just died," Sam tells him. "My mom's all broken up. I've offered to move her to Atlanta, but I can understand why she wants to stay here in Columbus.
"Here's my proposition. You can keep hustling, but I also want you to look after my mom. That means checking on her every day, going shopping with her, keeping me informed about her condition and about any repairs that need to be made to her house. You'll also take care of mowing the lawn, taking out the garbage. That sort of thing.
"I'll pay you minimum wage, like you're working forty hours a week. Do a good job for six months and you can start applying for real jobs and I'll give you good recommendations. You ought to be able get a good paying position doing something you'd really like to do."
"You'd do that for me?" David asks.
Over the next hour they work out the details of their arrangement, they go by a Walmart and get David some decent shirts and new jeans, then go to meet Sam's mother.
Mrs. Caldwell protests that she doesn't need the help, but Sam insists. He tells her that David will keep him informed about her well-being, and he tells David that his mom will keep him informed about how well he's doing his job.
"How well do you know this boy?" his mother asks. "He could steal me blind."
"I know him well enough to trust him. And if he does steal your tv, I'll buy you a new one."
He also wants to meet David's mom, but on the way to their apartment, David reaches for Sam's crotch and says he'd like to thank Sam in the way he can do it best. Sam finds a secluded spot, and they repeat their activities of their earlier meeting. This time with more passion.