This story is a work of FICTION. The events described are my own invention. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental. The author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story. You may not publish it or any part of it without my explicit authorization.
This story contains depictions of consensual sexual acts between teenage males. It is intended for mature audiences only. If you find this type of material offensive or if you are under the legal age to read said material; please proceed no further.
Comments are always welcome at: hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com
The Peace Within
Chapter 8
I called Peter immediately and he talked me through my latest panic attack. Once I calmed down, he asked me to meet him for coffee the next day, I suggested Starbucks but he said the Coffee Bean in downtown Wallingford would be better.
"It's quiet there," said Peter, "we need to talk."
"But I'm ok now," I explained.
"We just put a band-aide on things, if you really want to get better and you want me to help you, meet me at the Coffee Bean at noon," said Peter.
"Alright, I'll be there."
"Good, see you tomorrow, Parker, I love you," said Peter.
"Uh, yeah, ok, see you then."
I thought that was a little weird, I'd only met him once and that was our first phone conversation. I was grateful for his help but I couldn't figure out why he would say he loved me, he didn't really know anything about me. Still, I agreed meet him and so the next day, I got dressed, told my parents I was meeting a friend and drove over to the Coffee Bean. Mom and dad didn't ask any questions, I think they were just happy to see me going out and doing something other than mope in my room.
Downtown Wallingford is kind of dead on Saturdays and when I got to the Bean, I was the only one there. It was only 11:45, I wanted to be there first, so I could pick a quiet table, but that wasn't really necessary. At noon, a dark blue Ford Explorer pulled up in front of the Bean, a man in a suit got out, came into the restaurant, looked around the room, looked in the bathroom, then whispered something to his wrist. A split second later, a woman hopped out of the passenger seat and opened the back door for Peter.
When Peter came in, his two bodyguards took a table on the far side of the room, they'd be able to watch us but they wouldn't be able to hear our conversation. The contrast between the bodyguards and the young man they protected struck me as funny, they looked very severe in their dark suits and sunglass, Peter on the other hand, looked like any other college student, in his Yale sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers. He smiled when he saw me, then walked over to the table, I stood to greet him and he surprised me with a warm hug. It caught me off guard, his bodyguards made me a little nervous, I'd only seen Secret Service Agents on TV and I didn't want to make any kind of sudden movement that gave them the wrong idea. Peter seemed to know what I was thinking.
"Relax, they're harmless," said Peter, then we took our seats, "so how are you feeling today?"
"Better then when I talked to you yesterday," I admitted.
"Good, that's a start, are you ready to talk about it?" asked Peter.
"Well, if it's ok, I have a couple of questions first," I stated.
"Sure, what's on your mind," Peter smiled.
He had a really nice smile, it was so genuine, I never once felt like he was putting on a happy face for me.
"When you hung up last night, you said you loved me, but you hardly know me," I started.
"You're in a place right now where you need to know people love you, I'm sure your parents say it a lot," said Peter.
"So you just said it to make me feel better?" I don't know why I was being so weird about this.
"In part, but of course I meant it," said Peter, then he frowned for the first time, "does it bother you because I'm gay?"
I knew he was gay, I googled his name last night and found out all kinds of things. Peter went to a prep school up in New Hampshire when he as my age, he bad a boyfriend who drowned while they were at the beach, celebrating Peter's birthday. Peter tried to kill himself and ended up spending some time in an institution for depressed teens. It was then that his father was selected to fill a vacancy in the vice presidency. During his dad's confirmation hearing, some congressman brought up all of Peter's problems and his dad gave him the verbal equivalent of an ass kicking.
"It doesn't bother me," I stated.
"Parker, do you think you might be gay?" asked Peter.
"I...I don't know," I blushed.
"Let's examine that for a minute," said Peter.
"I thought you were going to help me get over what happened to my brother," I said, trying to change the subject.
"Absolutely, but if you're worried about other things, that can compound your problems," said Peter.
"I've never thought about boys, you know, "that way," I began.
"What about girls?" asked Peter.
"I've dated some."
"Yeah? How did you meet them?" asked Peter.
"Well, usually Patton's girlfriends had friends that needed dates, so they fixed us up," I explained.
"So you never asked one out on your own?"
"Well, uh, no I guess not," I blushed.
"That's ok, lots of guys get fixed up by their friends," Peter smiled, "did you ever kiss any of them?"
"Yeah, some."
"How did that make you feel?" asked Peter.
"I didn't really feel anything at all," I admitted.
"And when Kelsey kissed you yesterday?"
"It was wrong, it scared me," I replied.
"Because she was Patton's girlfriend or because it didn't make you feel anything?" asked Peter.
"I don't know, maybe both," I said, looking down at the table, "do you think I'm gay?"
"I can't answer that for you Parker, only you know what's in your heart, what I will say is that if you are gay, I don't think you have to worry about it. Your mom's really nice and I'm sure your dad's a great guy too. When I came out to my parents, I was so scared, but I shouldn't have been, they've always loved and accepted me, so I guess what I'm getting at is don't build up this wall in your mind, if that's what's holding you back, you have to be true to yourself," said Peter.
"Thanks, that's something to think about," I nodded.
Peter smiled again and patted me on the shoulder. I think he sensed the gay issue was bothering me when we talked on the phone, the fact of the matter is that it upset me when I wasn't able to get an erection with Kelsey. I always thought I was a late bloomer, I mean, I don't even jack off, but I'm 16 now and that can't be normal. I shook off that thought for now.
"When I was your age, I had the greatest boyfriend, his name was Conner, he was sweet, handsome, kind, everything I could ask for," Peter started, "he surprised me with a trip to the coast on my birthday, we had so much fun."
"He was killed there?" I asked.
"Read about that huh?" Peter grinned.
"Sorry, I was just curious about you," I blushed.
"It's ok, I googled you too," said Peter.
"Oh," I blushed. I doubt he found much about me but with all the press covering the Shelton Shooting, Patton's name probably came up a lot.
"We camped out on the beach that night, Connor wanted to go swimming but it was too cold, I told him I'd go with him in the morning. When I woke up, he wasn't there, I found him on the beach, he was gone," Peter sighed.
"That's terrible," I sniffled, I didn't realize I'd been tearing up.
"It's the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I was so depressed, I felt so guilty, I tried to drown myself, when that didn't work, I thought about shooting myself, that's when my parents got me some help," said Peter.
"What made you feel guilty?" I asked.
"God, what didn't!" Peter exclaimed, "if it hadn't been my birthday, we wouldn't have gone to the beach, if I'd gone swimming with him that night, he wouldn't have gone in the morning."
"But you couldn't control any of that!" I stated.
"Exactly," said Peter, "it was all beyond my control but I couldn't see that, I bet you feel a lot of guilt to."
"I was sick that day, Patton went to pick up my homework and my English teacher told him I needed a book from the library. If I'd just gone to school that day..." I sniffled.
"See, there it is, you couldn't control getting sick, so why are you blaming yourself?" said Peter.
It took a lot for me to tell him I felt guilty about being sick, I haven't said it to anyone else. Peter was right, I couldn't control getting sick, but I wasn't ready to tell him everything, about Derek Carter at the drug store, about that final phone call...
"Did you have nightmares," I asked, changing topics.
"Almost every night," Peter stated, "the same nightmare every time, Connor trying to drag me down under the surf with him."
"How did you make it stop?" I asked.
"It took me a while to figure out, I needed to figure out what Connor wanted, or at least what my subconscious was telling me he wanted," said Peter.
"And, what was it?"
"I made arrangements to see his parents, I told them how much he loved them, how much I loved him and how happy we'd been together. You see, his parents were struggling too, they'd lost their only son and found out he was gay at the same time, but you know, they just wanted to know that he'd been happy in his life. That meeting was cathartic for all of us, I haven't had that nightmare since, and I'm still close to his parents," Peter explained.
"That makes sense," I nodded.
"So when you have these nightmares, you should think about what they're trying to tell you," said Peter.
He really was making a lot of sense. I didn't have to think hard about what Patton would want, I had an advantage that Peter didn't, that phone call. Patton laid out his plans for me, tell mom and dad he loved them, read to grandpa, teach Patrick how to catch a pop fly. It was all so simple, I felt so guilty about what happened to Patton that I hadn't carried out his last wishes, if I did, maybe this all would end.
"You're smiling," said Peter.
"Yeah, what you're saying about my nightmares, I think I know what to do," I replied.
"Good, but keep in mind, that's only part of it, you need to see your shrink and be honest with him about things, trust me, he wants to help you and it goes a lot easier when you start opening up," Peter advised.
"Yeah, I'll try," I agreed.
"Can I ask you something personal?" I blushed.
"Sure, what's on your mind?" Peter smiled.
"You were in an institution, what was that like?" I asked.
"Worried you might end up somewhere like that?" Peter smiled.
"The thought has crossed my mind," I stated.
"It wasn't as bad as it sounds. First off, it wasn't an institution, it was a clinic and the people there weren't crazy, they were sick. Depression is a sickness and they were all there to get help. Secondly, some of the closest relationships in my life blossomed from my time there," said Peter.
"Really?"
"I met my best friend and my boyfriend at Stonybrook," Peter smiled.
"That's cool," I smiled.
"Yeah, I'll introduce you to them sometime," Peter smiled, "Tyler's goes to Brown but he visits all the time and Wendy's at Yale with me, in fact, she might be an ideal person for you to talk to, she lost her brother in a fire."
"You'd introduce me to your friends?" I asked, I was a little surprised.
"Sure, we're buddies now, aren't we?" Peter smiled.
"Yeah," I smiled back.
We talked a little longer and when it was time to go, Peter and his entourage walked me to the Volvo.
"Wanna meet for coffee again next week?" asked Peter.
"Yeah, I'd like that," I agreed.
"Cool, and remember, if you need anything, you can call me anytime, day or night," said Peter.
"Thank you, Peter, for everything."
"My pleasure, Parker, you're a good guy," said Peter, then he hugged me again.
I felt better after talking to Peter, a lot better. He made things seem so simple, I knew what Patton wanted and if I started delivering on that, it seemed logical that my problems would start to fade. I knew it wouldn't be that simple, Peter said that I needed to be upfront and honest with my shrink, that would be a little harder because I'm naturally shy and private, but I wanted to get better so I would have to try. Peter made it clear that this wouldn't be an overnight process, but I was ready to get started.
"So who did you have coffee with today?" asked mom, at dinner, she'd noticed I was in a much better mood when I got home.
"Peter," I replied.
"Peter Clinton, from swimming?" asked dad.
"Uh, no, mom's student, Peter Whitmore."
"Peter Whitmore, what were you doing with him?" asked mom.
"He gave me his email address," I started.
"Yes, I remember," said mom.
"Well, I was feeling uh, bad last night so I sent him an email, we got to talking and he's a really nice guy," I explained.
"That's nice, what did you boy's talk about?" asked mom.
"Oh you know, just stuff."
"Stuff?" said dad.
"Stuff," I repeated.
"Well whatever you talked about, you seem to be in a better mood," mom observed.
"Yeah, I guess so, Peter's been through a similar experience and it was kind of nice to talk to someone who knows what its like," I explained.
"Oh," said dad, I think he was a little sad that I hadn't opened up to him.
"He's close to my age, he's easy to talk to," I replied.
"That's good son, I'm glad you have a friend you can trust," dad smiled, then reached over and patted me on the hand.
When dinner was finished, Patrick ran off to watch TV, I sat around while mom cleared the table.
"Something on your mind champ?" asked dad
"Yeah, well, ok, you guys know Patton loved you, right?" I asked, awkwardly. I knew what Patton wanted and I knew this would help me get better, that doesn't mean it was easy.
"Of course we do," said mom.
"Well, it was really important that you know that, he loved you a lot and he wanted to make sure you knew," I stated.
"Patton told you this?" asked dad.
"Yeah, it was important to him."
"When did he say that?" asked dad.
That made things a little awkward, I wasn't ready to talk about the phone call.
"Anyway, I have to go upstairs and look for a book, um, goodnight," I replied, deflecting the question, I did kiss mom and dad though, each on the cheek.
I didn't have many Scottish authors on my bookshelves but I wanted to find one that grandpa would like. I remembered him giving me a copy of The Cone Gatherers when I was 13, I never got around to reading it though, I had 20 other books on my reading list that summer. I found the book on a bottom shelf, dusted it off and put it in my back pack. When I was done, I went over to Patrick's room, he was watching a baseball game.
"Watcha doin?" I asked.
"Red Sox are playing Baltimore, you wanna watch with me?"
"Sure, move over," I said, then sat next to Patrick on his bed.
It was a tight fit with the two of us so we had to sit close, I put my arm around Patrick and we both got comfortable. I've never been a baseball fan, it had always been Patton and Patrick's thing, I should have known how much Patrick was hurting but I was surprised when he started sniffling.
"Hey, what's the matter?" I asked.
"I miss Patton," Patrick cried.
"I know buddy, I miss him too," I admitted.
"We watched a game together the night before he died and he was helping me with baseball and now he's just gone and I miss him so much," Patrick cried.
I rubbed my hand up and down his back and let him cry it out, there were tears on my cheeks too. When Patrick calmed down, I set about carrying out more of Patton's requests.
"Patton said you were having trouble with pop flies," I stated.
"Yeah," Patrick acknowledged.
"What would you think if maybe I helped you out a little?" I asked.
"But you hate baseball," Patrick reminded me.
"I don't hate it, I'm just not the world's biggest fan like you guys," I joked, "but I used to play catch with Patton, remember?" I asked.
"Yeah, I was too little but you guys let me watch," said Patrick.
"Well then you should remember, I'm great at catching pop ups."
"Ok, that would be really cool, thanks Parker," Patrick smiled.
I hugged my baby brother and said goodnight, it was getting late and I wanted to get to the rest home bright and early. I'd like to say I slept good that night but I had another nightmare. I lie in my bed and took deep breaths until I calmed down, I was determined that the nightmare wouldn't prevent me from carrying out my plan, I was just getting started, I knew the nightmares wouldn't go away overnight.
I set my alarm clock for 7:00am but I didn't need it, I was wide awake. I took a quick shower, threw on some jeans and a sweatshirt, then bounded out of the house. Despite my lack of sleep, despite that damn nightmare, I had a spring in my step, I was trying to be positive about my plan. It wasn't even part of my fake it till you make it strategy, having a course to follow, a plan to put in place, made me happy. I've always been like that, the one who makes checklists and likes things neat and orderly, a clear plan made the old Parker feel very comfortable.
When I got to Cedar Creek, I parked the Volvo in the visitor's lot and headed into the lobby. I checked in at the front desk and found a nurse bent over, looking through a bottom drawer.
"Uh, hi, I'm here to see my grandpa," I stated.
"Sign the clipboard and...Jesus Christ," said the nurse, she jumped back when she looked up and saw me.
I dropped the clipboard and stepped back.
"I-I'm sorry I was just signing in..." I spluttered.
"No, no it's my fault, I thought you were dead Patton, I saw your picture in the paper, Charlie went to your funeral," said the nurse.
"Oh, uh, I'm not Patton, I'm his twin brother, Parker."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know he had a twin," blushed the nurse.
"Yeah, I don't visit as often as I should," I admitted.
"That's ok, Alzheimer's is hard to deal with, not everyone can handle seeing their loved ones like that," said the nurse.
"Did Patton visit a lot?" I asked.
"At least once a week, the resident's loved him, he came to read to Charlie but didn't care who else listened."
"Can I see my grandpa now?" I asked.
"Sure you can, Charlie's in the fireside room, down that hall, third door on the left," she instructed, "and, I really am sorry."
I told her it was ok and set off down the hall. I know it sounds bad, that I've visited so rarely that the staff didn't even know Patton had a twin, but the nurse was right, it was hard for me to deal with Grandpa Charlie's condition. Grandpa Charlie was the giant of my childhood, I remember him scooping me up in his powerful arms and throwing me up in the air, he always caught me and I giggled like a maniac, begging for more. My dad is the son and grandson of doctors, his family has always been wealthy, but Grandpa Charlie was a poor Scottish fisherman who came to this country and ended up building ships during World War II. Grandpa became a skilled ship builder and worked at Electric Boatyard, building submarine's until he retired.
I admired grandpa's strength, he busted his ass for his family and gave my mom everything. Mom was the first McClintock born in this country, the first to go to college and I knew grandpa was proud of her. It hurt to see a man like him taken down by this illness that not only robbed him of his memories but was also slowly killing him. I put those thoughts aside, when I walked into the fireside room and found him sitting at a table, playing cards with some other residents.
"Hi grandpa," I said, when I walked over to him.
"Hey there Sunny Jim," grandpa exclaimed, when he stood up to hug me, "where's my pally boy?"
"He's not coming grandpa, remember, you went to his funeral?" it broke my heart to say those words.
"Oh, yes, I remember," he sighed, "what are you doing here?"
"You remember this?" I asked, pulling the book out of my bag and handing it over.
"The Cone Gatherers?" said Grandpa.
"You gave this to me on my 13th birthday," I smiled.
"What's it about?" he asked.
"I'm not sure, I never got around to reading it, I thought we could read it together?"
"Sounds good to me, Sunny Jim, sounds good," grandpa smiled.
We sat down by the fireplace and I noticed some of the other residents were getting closer as well, they must have been part of Patton and Grandpa's book club. The book I'd brought was only 200 pages and I thought it would be easy to finish it during my visit.
"The Cone Gather's by Robin Jenkins..." I began.
The Cone Gatherers is about two brothers, Neil and Calum, a simple minded hunchback. The story is set 1943, during the height of World War II. While the rest of the world is at war, Neil and Calum work on the estate of Lady Runcie-Campbell, collecting pinecones that will be used to replenish the forest that is being cut down for the war effort. The harmony of their life together is shadowed by the obsessive hatred of Duror, the gamekeeper, who since childhood has disliked anything he finds "mis-shapen". Duror's wife is ill, she stays in bed growing larger and larger, and he begins to relate Calum, in terms of her deformity, to the illness.
Duror shot a deer but failed to kill it, Calum saw it happen and tried to help the distressed animal, sending Duror into a frenzy. Duror stabbed the deer again and again, and when he was done he turned his gun on Calum and...
That's where I stopped. Three years ago, my grandfather gave me a story about two boys working on an estate in Scotland, and one of them got shot. Now, here we sat, reading by the fire and just a few short weeks ago, Patton would have been here instead of me. It was too much to take.
"Well, what happens next Sunny Jim?" asked grandpa.
"I-I don't know yet, we'll have to find out next time," I covered, then stuffed the book in my bag.
"So you're going to come again?" asked grandpa.
"I will, I promise."
"There's a good lad," said grandpa, as he walked me to the door, "when are you going to come and take me to one of your baseball games?"
"I don't play baseball, grandpa, I play soccer, remember, proper football?" I asked.
"Yes, yes, well, you drive careful now Sunny Jim," said grandpa.
I stood in the hall for a minute and watched him walk away, as soon as he turned his back, he started muttering a song to himself.
"In the gloaming oh my darling, think not bitterly of me..." he sang.
When I go out to the car, I sat in the driver's seat and cried. I knew this would be a tough visit but I hadn't imagined it would be like this. Talking to mom and dad was simple, talking to Patrick was a little harder and today's visit was the Super Bowl of rough emotions. I was still determined to pursue this course of action, I knew visiting grandpa was going to be rough, Patton's death is still a fresh, raw wound, I'm still grieving, I will be for a long time. It's healthy to grieve, it's the panic attacks and the PTSD that's the problem.
I'm determined to come and read to grandpa again but when I do, I'll be taking advantage of his condition, The Cone Gatherer's will not be coming with me.