Sterling Ducat
Chapter 2
It is springtime in Texas, early April, when the days may be pleasantly warm and the nights chilly. Trees and plants are beginning to bud, grass is greening and the animals, birds and bugs are starting to multiply. Birdsong fills the air in the late afternoon with sunlight streaking through the trees. No one is on the road to hear nature's symphony except one solitary figure moving slowly and erratically, hunch shouldered. The birds do not notice.
Sterling does not notice the birds. He is trying to focus on just getting down the road. Trying to just keep his focus on that one thing is taking all the energy he has left after the scene he had just been through with his parents. The more steps he takes, the less energy he has to hold all the emotions at bay. Walking is slowing and becoming more erratic.
"And I knoow I love yooooou", Marshall sings and sounding great. Like anyone singing in the shower, he sounds great. That is until shampoo slides down his face and drips on his tongue. "I loooove yo---argh! Sspt! Sspt! Yuck!!" Cough, cough. Hack, spit, spit.
"Well, that will never get me a job." Chuckling, he rinses the shampoo out and turns off the water. Reaching through the shower curtain, he grabs the fluffy bathsheet and towels off. He wraps the towel about himself at chest high and steps out of the shower. Crossing to the mirror, he strikes a pose.
"Hello gorgeous" he intones in his best Barbra Striesand imitation to his wet haired reflection. I just cannot, just cannot, do drag he confesses to himself. Chuckling again, he whips the towel off and starts toweling his hair again.
He reaches for the hair dryer, points it at the mirror to clean off the developing fog. Mission accomplished, he turns the dryer to his hair. Ten minutes later, Marshall goes into the bedroom, coifed and smelling good. Punching play' on the remote control, the strains of "Smooth" by Santana floods the bedroom with that sultry Latin beat as he begins dressing. Moving to the beat, Marshall pulls up the purple briefs, making all the appropriate adjustments. Next come the black socks and a few samba steps. A quick spin over the clothes hook on the closet door to get the black crew T-shirt and after pulling that over his head, he pulls a purple Polo shirt over it. A sultry, hip pointing walk, a pseudo cha-cha, to the ironing board to get the black jeans. The thought does cross his mind about jumping into the jeans with both legs at the same so he can be different from the "one leg at a time" cliche. Ah, hell, might as well be normal', he thinks as he pulls the jeans on one leg at a time. After tucking the shirt in, he slips on his black loafers. He pops back into the bathroom to survey the wardrobe.
Nodding approval, he decides to forego a belt. Returning to the bedroom, he places the wallet, straps on his watch, puts on his signet ring, drops the loose change in the jar. Marshall snaps the light and goes through the living room and out the door locking it behind him.
"Hey, Marshall."
Marshall turns around, smiling, and shakes hands. "Hey yourself, Richie. What's going on?" he responds to Richie Marlon, one of his next door neighbors. "Where's Steph?" referring to Richie's lover of 5 years.
"Putting on the final touches of his evening ablutions. Com'on, you know how he is, just got to look pretty for me" guffaws Richie. "Don't say anything about his haircut when you see him. It'll drive him nuts."
"What did he do? Dye it black? Get it curled? Shave it off?"
"What? I'd dump him if he did any of that. It's kinda crew cut, but not actually that short, but like that style where the guys mousse the front up. Damn he looks great with it," laughs Richie.
"Hell, Richie, he always looks great...at least to you. I've seen that gleam in your eye every time you look at `im. You leech you."
"Not fair, not fair. You make me sound like I'm a slut. Ok, ok, maybe as far as Steph is concerned I am. To change subject from the object of my desire, whatcha doin' now, other than leaving?"
"I was going out to eat. What about y'all?"
"Same here. Ya wanna go with?
"Sure, we haven't had a chance to just sit and talk for a while. Where were y'all thinking of goin'?"
"We haven't decided yet. We are gonna flips coins as usual. Whatcha hungry for?"
"Don't know. I was gonna get in the car and decide when I saw it."
"Well, think of the place and get out a coin. Only one place, mind you, or we will be all night deciding."
"I don't have any change. I just put it in the jar."
"I got some," says Richie as he fishes in his pocket. "Here's a quarter. Don't forget where you got, though."
"Ok, tightwad."
"Marshall, hey dude," Stephan says as he comes out the door. "Where ya been? I haven't seen ya for a few days." He turns around and locks the door.
"Steph, hey. I been working on a new account and it has eaten up my spare time, as if I had any to begin with," answers Marshall and shaking hands. "Say, what is this? You two trying to be the fashion plates for the `hood?"
"Au contraire, mon frere. We are the fashion plates." Steph makes a modeling turn on the sidewalk. Both Richie and Stephan are wearing blue jeans and red sneakers. Richie has a red shirt on and Steph has a blue one. "You like?," queries Steph as he touches his new haircut with his hand.
"Yeah. You know I like patriotic colors," says Marshall, not daring to mention the haircut. Steph has a funny kind of look on his face when Marshall did not say anything about his haircut.
"Marshall's going to eat with us so we can catch up the last few days," tells Richie.
"So, where did you and Marshall make a pact to go?"
"We didn't yet. Richie did give me a quarter to use to decide. I say steak and you two?", says Marshall.
"I am for Chinese," Steph says.
"And I say Mexican. Get your money ready, boys. The odd man's choice is out."
All three guys flips their coin. Grabbing them in midair, they slap them onto the backs of their other hands.
"Heads", informs Richie.
"Heads", tells Marshall.
"Heads too."
They flip the coins again. Marshall has heads again; Richie, tails; Steph, tails.
"No steak!" exclaims Richie and Steph.
Marshall chuckles. "At least not the cow kind."
"Oh, Marshall? You think some other kinda of steak, hmm?", quips Richie.
"Pluh-lease, Richie, he can hope, n'est-ce pas?," says Steph jumping to Marshall's defense and grinning. "Now flip. Heads is Chinese and tails is Mexican."
Richie flips his coin and get tails. Mexican food it is. The three amigos decide to walk the three blocks to the local Tex-Mex restaurant instead of driving anywhere. They settle in a back booth and, naturally order margaritas. They peruse the menu even though they have been to the restaurant too many times to remember. After all the discussion of selections, they each settle for their own favorites. The waiter comes to take the orders and only has to ask if they want their usuals. They just nod as they have done countless time before and the waiter brings the food shortly.
The three longtime friends chat about what has been going on with each other for the last couple of weeks since Marshall last had a chance to visit with the couple. It is a good Friday evening of camaraderie. After lingering over one more round of drinks, they make their way back to their condos, laughing and joking with each other.
"Oh yeah? Well, I seem to remember a time you were all hot and bothered about a guy you saw across the dance floor," sneers Richie to Marshall. "I was about ready to burst into a rendition of "One Enchanted Evening." Ya know, `One enchanted evening, you will see a strangeeer. You will see a strangeeer across the crowded roooom...'," crones Richie.
"Com'on! I wasn't that bad off."
"Yeah. Right, Marshall," laughs Steph. "Then you found out he was straight. I was ready to sing, `Dites-moi, pourquoi la vie est gai.'.
"Oh, ok, alright. Y'all got me. But you got to admit, he was a hunk," says Marshall.
"Oooh, I don't know about that," Steph replies. "Richie is a hunk."
"Get a grip, Steph. You thought that guy was a hunk. Why else would you get a hairstyle like his? All short and stiff," teases Marshall. "Wait a minute! Richie, isn't that what you said about Steph in bed? He's short but stiff?"
"HEY! I might say stiff but I would never say short. That would be a lie!", Richie exclaims as he raises his hands up defensively. "He's anything but short."
"Sooo, you finally noticed my new haircut, did ya?," purrs Steph just before the jibe. "Reminds you of the un-ob-tain-able," drawling the word out, " me and that straight guy?"
"Alright, y'all. Let's get serious," interrupts Richie. "Marshall, we, meaning Steph and me, are going to have to find you a steady boyfriend. Won't we Stephan?"
"Whooaaa right there partner. That dawg won't hunt, as they say," Marshall says. "I don't need the complications."
"Uh, Richie, I think you're right. We will have to do just that for `im. After all, that's what friends are for," Steph agrees.
"No! Y'all two stop it right now."
"Aww, Marshall, it's just cause we love ya and want you to be happy like us." Richie continues, "So the last one was such a high drama' addict. If I can find my soulmate, there is one for you. Trust me on this. Your `Stephan' is out there."
"Richie, my heartbeat, I love you for that," loudly whispers Steph. Draping one arm around his lover's shoulder and the other around Marshall's, he continues, "Marshall, we do love ya and just want the best for ya. However, and I am sure Richie will agree with me, this guy will have to be approved by us first. We don't want you to go through the same `merde' as that last total dirtbag ass." He squeezes both of the guys to him and plants a kiss on Richie's temple.
"You guys are great and thank you. But I don't mind being alone, if that is my kismet," Marshall tells them.
"Well, let's cross that bridge when we come to it, ok?", says Richie. "Meanwhile, let's go dancing, y'all. And, Marshall, we won't do any matchmaking tonight. Well, probably not. Ok, if there is a `hunk', we might."
Laughingly, Steph and Richie, grab Marshall's arms and take off for the club down the street.
Sterling shuffles to a halt, sobbing and not being able to catch his breath as he bends over in emotional pain finally dropping to his knees on the side of the road. He tries to get those rending emotions in check before somebody he knows drives by. He composes himself enough to get off the road and into the wooded area on the side. Once he is hidden from the road, he collapses into the dead and decaying leaves crying his heart out. He is shaken with grief, devastated that his mom and dad would throw him out of the house just because he was gay.
"God why have you made me gay," Sterling cries to himself before shouting, "Why? Why? Why?"
If there has been an audible answer, Sterling would not have heard it as overwhelmed by his grief. He loses himself to sleep from emotional exhaustion. He is too exhausted and wrung out to dream.
It is the hoot of an owl that Sterling first hears when he wakes up. He couldn't tell if the owl woke him or not. One thing he does feel is fur below his chin and he flinches, not remembering where he is other than he is not in his room. The furry animal that was next to his chest runs under a nearby bush. Sterling springs to his feet and backs up facing the bush. The owl swoops down from a branch on one of the trees behind him toward the bush to grab the animal that had retreated there. It strikes the bush but cannot get the small animal and begin to fly back up into a tree. Before Sterling can move, the animal cries out, rushes from under the bush and leaps at Sterling.
Sterling is about to swing his gym bag at this creature when it meows as it leaps. The cat lands on the gym bag and grabs it with its claws, hanging on for dear life. This feline is not quite a kitten but doesn't look to be full grown yet. For the first time since the bedroom door was kicked in by his dad, Sterling laughs. He laughs to the point of coughing and falls back on his butt. The cat is still clinging to the gym back but manages to look down at Sterling's coughing face with the typical serious cat face. Sterling laughs at that.
"Ah, my little fur ball," he says when he had caught his breath, "you're by yourself too, eh? Just like me. No home to go to. No one looking for you." With that, Sterling begins to weep anew. He also reaches for the cat and when the cat doesn't move, he begins to stroke it's head. In no time at all, the cat is purring and pushing against the hand for more. Sterling takes the cat from the gym back and holds it to his chest where he can feel the little cat's body slightly vibrating from purring.
"Are we going to be friends, do you think? I think so. Yeah, little fur ball, I think so. Well, lets give you a name," he tells this gray and brown haired cat in his arms. "Let's call you, hmmm. Uh, let's call you... Woods? No, no, that sounds stupid. I got it! Let's call you Forest. Yep, Forest the cat, since that's where we first met." The cat yawns, continues its purring and settles down in Sterling's arms.
Freeing one hand from holding the cat, Sterling reaches down to pick up his gym bag. Shouldering it, he realizes he has nowhere to go. He had not been in a coherent enough state earlier to have made any plans on what to do. He now thinks of which of his friends he could call, but discard them one by one since he does not want a repeat of the scene at his house. A sob escapes when it dawns on him that it is no longer `his' home. Forest moves in alarm when he hears the sob. "Mew?" Sterling looks down through the forming tears and sees Forest's face. Its got that funny surprised cat look and Sterling gets caught on a cross between a chuckle and a sob, making a strangled, gargling sound. Forest is ready to bolt from his arms. Before he can bolt, Sterling starts to pet his head, scratching behind his ears. After a moment or so, Forest's eyes are making that cat squint and the purring resumes.
"Forest, we've got one another and nowhere to go. It's just you and me, kit. You don't mind a gay human, do ya? I hope not becau.... Hey, wait a minute. Forest, you are the first person, er, cat, er animal, whatever, that I ever came out to. I have never told anybody I'm gay. Wow. I said it out loud. I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay." Sterling looks up through the branches at see what little sky can be seen. "I don't see lightning coming down."
Looking back down at Forest purring away on his left arm holding him to his chest, a small smile creases Sterling's lips. "Thank you, Forest, for not running away because I'm gay. Now, let's make a plan `cause we can't stay in these woods forever. You might can hunt and eat field mice but I need more that a crispy critter. Hell, we don't even have a fire to crispy that critter, do we? Let's see what we've got and go from there."
Sterling takes the gym bag off his shoulder and sits cross legged on the leaves. He fishes his wallet out to check how much money he has available. Since he got paid yesterday, he has $327 in it. Before he can wonder what he can do with so little money, he vaguely remembers his mom giving him some bills but is not sure. It's kinda blurry. He pulls out the money from his pocket. Unwadding the bills, he discovers $305 that she gave him. At least, he says to himself, I won't be a street bum for a few days. Sterling gives serious thought about where to go.
After rejecting several plans, he reaches a decision. "Forest, whadda ya say? Wanna be a city cat? Ya wanna see skyscrapers? Wanna check out the big H? Wanna go to Houston?" Forest just purrs. "I take it you have no objections. Cool, cat, let's go. We will try to hitch on the highway but it that doesn't pan out, we'll walk the whole way. It's just short of 100 miles. We'll be ok, just wait and see. We'll be just fine, you and me. We'll be just fine."
With a decision made, Sterling and Forest, nestled on his arm and his gym bag back over his shoulder, make their way to the road and head to the highway. Sterling starts humming pieces of "Hard Candy Christmas"... `we'll be just fine and dandy...'. The sun is dipping very close to the western horizon; dusk will follow quickly. Night will fall soon thereafter.
Two hours and two rides later, Sterling climbs out of the back of the old man's pick up, thanks him and stands on the side of the road while the old man turns down the gravel road. With Forest back on his arm, he crosses the highway to the mom and pop country grocery store.
"Hungry, Forest?", Sterling asks, `me, too. Now stay outside in my gym bag and I'll be right back with some food and water." He plops the gym bag down on the loafer's bench and puts the cat on top of it. He scratches Forest's head until the cat settles down on the bag.
"We're about to close, son. Hope ya won't be long," says the man behind the counter.
"Naw, I'm just gonna get a few things. Do you have any cat food?"
"Yep, on the far aisle."
"Thanks." Sterling heads in the direction of the cat food. He picks up cans of cat food, some bottled water, a couple of prepackaged turkey sandwiches and a bag of potato chips.
"Will that be all, son? That'll be $8.27", the man says as he puts the items in a paper bag.
"Yeah, that should do it. Say, is there a motel around here somewhere?"
"Which way you're heading?"
"Houston."
"Well, the closest one in that direction is about 15 or so miles away. I don't see a car. Are you walking? It's dark already"
"Yes sir and that reminds me. Do you have any flashlights?"
"Nope, sold out last week and haven't got any new ones since. You be careful out there `cause there are some real redneck hooligans around here. They always stirring up trouble."
"Uh, thanks for the warning. I'll be on the lookout and I've got a guard cat with me," replies Sterling as a smirky grin creases his face.
The man laughs, "Oh that little gray and brown kitten will save yo' young ass. Just don't feed it too much of that cat food or it'll be napping off a full stomach and not be much protection."
"Uh-huh, I hear ya," Sterling laughs back.
"Alrighty. Best of luck to ya and be careful," the man tells him handing back the change.
"Thanks, mister. Have a good one."
"You, too."
Sterling goes out the door and when he turns to pick up the gym back Forest is not there. "Oh, shit," he mutters. "Here Forest, come here. Forest? Here kitty, here kitty, " calling the cat.
The sound of scratching in gravel catches his attention and he turns to see Forest using a patch of gravel as a litter box. "Oohh, so sorry to disturb you," chuckles Sterling with a sense of relief that the cat is still with him. He didn't need to lose another person even if it is a cat.
Forest scoots back to Sterling who puts the gym back on his shoulder, picks up the cat and grabs the bag of groceries. Shifting everything to a comfortable position, he starts walking down the dark highway that doesn't even have any street lights other than the one at the country store. After walking about 15 minutes and is out of sight of the store, Sterling has to decide what to do. By what little moonlight there is, he sees it is about 20 minutes till 10. Knowing he will not be able to make those "15 or so" miles tonight, he decides to turn into the woods and find a place to settle down for the night. After all, he thinks, it just can't get worse than it already has today.
After stumbling over roots and fallen branches that he can't really see, he finally decides to stop at the last oak tree whose roots had tripped him up. He takes off the gym bag, set the bag of food down and lets Forest get off him arm.
"Well, Forest, ready to feast?", he says reaching in the bag for a can of the cat food. "Here ya go, kit." Taking the other food out of the bag, he pops open the cat food and dumps it onto the paper bag. When he sets it down in front of the cat, Forest promptly attacks it hungrily. "Take your time, Forest, we've got all night." Of course, the cat doesn't care, he gorges.
Sterling unscrews the cap off a bottle of water and after taking a healthy swig from it, pours some into the empty cat food can to wash it out. After a couple of times, he figures it is as clean as it's going to get. He pours some fresh water in it and sets it near the cat food that Forest has almost finished. Moving over to another tree, he relieves his bladder.
Using some more water, he washes his hands, sits down next to the cat and starts to work on the turkey sandwiches. Granted prepackaged convience store sandwiches are not even a long shot close to gormet food, it tastes delicious. Not having eaten since lunch, any thing might taste good, he muses. Having thought about lunch, reality hits him again. That was the last meal I probably will ever have with my family, he tells himself as depression sets in. Tears start to well up, his chest get constricted and he gulps a few breaths of air trying to regain control of himself. Try as hard as he might, he barely eats half of the second sandwich before grief overwhelms him and he begins to cry.
Sterling begins to curl his body into a fetal position, his head coming to rest on his gym bag. As his body starts to tremble with racking sobs, he is brought out of his downward spiral momentarily by fur rubbing against his cheek. Reaching blindly through his tears, he pulls Forest to his chest.
"Oohhh, Forest, promise me you'll never leave me. I'll take care of you just don't leave me, please, please, please," he sobs into the cat head. He takes as an affirmative the purring the cat gives him.
After a prolonged case of dry heaves from cry, Sterling, wrung out like an old wash rag, falls asleep.
"SFSSssst!! Hiiiissssssss!! Reawwww!!! Hiiiissssssss!!!"
Sterling groggily stirs at the sound of the cat going berserk. As he lifts his head, trying to get his tear sealed eyes open to locate Forest, a cloth bag is thrown over his head and he is pushed back down to the ground and held there.
"HEY BOYS!! I'VE FOUND `IM.!! I GOT HIS FRESH ASS OVER HEAR"