Disclaimer: I have an overactive imagination, the result of which is this story. I do not know Clay Aiken or any other celebrities mentioned in this story, and I do not intend to imply anything about their true sexualities. Simply file this in the "Wouldn't it be nice...?" portion of your mind. Also, if you are under legal age to be reading this sort of stuff (18 in most areas), then leave now. All the rest of you who ARE of age, please enjoy my little mind trip away from the land of reality.
CHAPTER 9
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We thank you for flying with us today on flight 485, nonstop to Raleigh. The weather is clear all the way to our destination, and we should be arriving in just about two hours."
I reached over and quickly squeezed Clay's hand. "You ready for this?" I asked him.
"Yeah, I love flying!" he answered.
"I wasn't just talking about the flight," I told him seriously.
When Clay had invited me to go home with him and meet his mother, we both knew that it was an important step in our relationship. It had been a couple of weeks since the incident at Paula Abdul's house. We had both been busy with our respective jobs - he with publicity appearances, myself with meetings regarding the next school year. For those of you who thought a teacher's job was just September through May, think again! Ostensibly, this was just another trip home for Clay to surprise his mother, and I was just a friend he was bringing home. Clay assured me that he brought friends home all the time, and his mother delighted in the extra company. We both knew, however, that there was a lot more to this trip. Clay didn't say as much, but I was pretty sure he was planning to tell his mother about him - about us.
"I think so," he sighed. "It's been so long since I've seen my mother, so I'm excited. But so much has changed since the last time I saw her. I just hope things will be the same."
"Clay, you are extremely close with your mother. I'm pretty sure nothing can change that." I tried reassuring him.
"Maybe not..." he said, looking away. I wasn't quite sure what else to say, so I just let the subject drop. Eventually I ended up falling asleep. I woke up with Clay gently shaking my shoulder.
"Wake up," he said. "We're here!" Whatever nervousness he may have had earlier in the flight had vanished. Clay practically dragged me off the plane. Since this was only a weekend trip, we didn't need to stop at baggage claim, so we quickly made our way to the exit. As we walked (well, I walked - Clay was practically running), I could see heads turning and staring at us. I figured this was probably not so much because of my radiant beauty (ha! riiiiiight), but rather because of Clay's celebrity status, especially in his hometown.
Since this visit was a surprise, we took a cab from the airport to Clay's mother's house. When the cab pulled up, I paid the driver (with a little argument from Clay, who was insistent that I not pay for anything this trip - "You're my guest," he said.) and we walked up to the door. Instead of walking right in, Clay thought it might be more fun to ring the doorbell, so he pressed the button, and we waited.
And waited.
And pressed the button again.
And waited some more.
"Well, of all the times for her to not be home!" Clay laughed, unlocked the front door, and we walked inside. The house was decorated very similarly to how I had pictured it. Very simple, yet nice furniture; afghans on the couches; knick-knacks on the tabletops and various shelves. I think it must be a rule that all mothers decorate their houses the same way.
"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked. I told him that a glass of water would be nice, and Clay went off in search of refreshment. When he came back, he sat down on the couch with me.
"Your mom has a beautiful house," I told him.
"Yeah, she does," he said, smiling. "It was a nice house to grow up in. Lots of good memories."
Clay and I sat on his couch and talked while we waited for his mother to come back home. I learned a lot about his childhood, his friends, and why he got involved with special needs children. We became so involved in the conversation that we didn't hear the garage door open, or Clay's mother walk into the house.
"CLAYTON?!" She almost dropped the sack of groceries she was carrying.
"Hi, Mom!" Clay said while getting up to give his mother a hug. "I had some free time, so I thought I would come spend the weekend with you, if that's alright."
"Well, it's certainly OK with me!" she said, and turned to me. "Forgive my son, he forgets his manners sometimes. I'm Faye Parker."
"I'm Randy. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker," I told her, reaching out to shake her hand.
"Put that away," she said, pulling me into a hug. "And please, call me Faye."
"OK, sounds good," I said, laughing. I already liked this woman!
The three of us sat down and talked for a while - well, more accurately, Faye and I got to know each other a bit better while Clay occasionally interjected. Soon, my stomach growled, and we realized it was dinnertime.
"Well," Faye said, getting up, "I would love to offer a big, home cooked meal..."
"Oh, that sounds great! I've been looking forward to your cooking!" Clay said excitedly.
"Well, as I was saying, I would love to offer a home cooked meal, but since SOMEONE..." she looked pointedly at Clay, "...forgot to tell me he was coming home, I only bought the bare essentials at the store just now."
"Oh, well that's fine," I told her. "We can all just go out for a nice dinner tonight..."
"...And then Randy and I will go to the store tomorrow, pick up all the fixings, and we can have our feast tomorrow night!" Clay finished for me.
"Sounds good to me!" said Faye.
We climbed into the car. Clay insisted on driving - "It's been way too long!" he had said. He then put on his puppy-dog face, and Faye and I knew we had been beaten.
When we got to the restaurant, the hostess seated us right away. Not that there wasn't a line - it seems Clay's celeb status had its perks! No sooner had the waitress taken our drink orders than fans started showing up and asking for autographs. Clay handled it was ease - chatting with them nicely while signing whatever they had brought to the table. The waitress soon returned with our drinks and took our food orders. She was extremely polite - something I had noticed about most of the people I had encountered in Raleigh so far.
Wouldn't you know it? Soon after the waitress left, more fans came up asking for autographs. I exchanged an amused look with Faye.
"Did you ever think you'd have to deal with this sort of stuff when Clay was younger?" I asked.
"Well, I have always supported his singing," she said. "I tried not to be one of those stage mothers, but I wanted Clay to know that I was his number one fan. I am surprised that it's happening so fast, but I always had a feeling he would end up in the spotlight."
"Oh?" I had a feeling there was a story behind that statement. I was right.
"Oh, absolutely," she said. Faye leaned in a little bit, almost as if she didn't want her son knowing that she was telling this story. "When his stepfather and I worked at Sears, he would sing for the customers and the other workers ALL THE TIME. Sometimes, he would pretend to be shy, and kind of back up to me, saying `Wind me up, Mom!' So I would pretend to turn a crank in his back, and off he'd go, singin' his little heart out again!"
I think I fell in love with Clay all over again from that story. "That is ADORABLE!" I squealed.
"What's adorable?" Clay asked. Of all the times for there NOT to be a fan at the table...
"Oh, I was just telling him about the neighbor's puppy," Faye covered. She and I exchanged another look, trying not to laugh. We barely succeeded.
"Oh...OK..." said Clay. I don't think he bought it, but he let it go. We had a pleasant dinner with relatively few interruptions after that. When the bill was paid, we headed home.
The three of us all talked in the living room for a while. Soon, Faye yawned and told us she was going to bed. She gave Clay a hug goodnight, and then made her way over to where I was sitting, and gave me a hug, too.
"You boys don't stay up too late, you hear?" She spoke to both of us, but looked at me. "I'm sure Clay has a big day planned for tomorrow - he loves showing people the sights. You're going to need your rest!" She winked at me. It must run in the family.
"Sure thing, Faye. In fact, I'm getting kind of tired myself," I said. Faking a yawn, I walked backwards over to Clay. "Can you wind me up, please?"
Faye and I cracked up, while Clay turned beet red and grabbed the nearest throw pillow and hit me with it. "I can't believe you told him that!" he said to his mother, laughing.
"Well, you were otherwise occupied!" Faye defended herself. "What else were we supposed to talk about?"
"Goodnight, Mom," Clay said, rolling his eyes. Faye went off to her bedroom, still laughing.
"So you've ganged up on me already, huh?" said Clay. "That usually doesn't happen until the second day here!"
"Yeah, well, I'm a quick learner, what can I say?" I nudged him with my elbow. "Your mom is great, Clay. I can see why you love her so much."
"Yeah, she's pretty special," he said, smiling. "I'm glad you like her, because you're pretty special yourself."
"Aww, thanks," I said, blushing.
"No, thank YOU for coming with me this weekend. I really wanted you here," he said seriously.
"Clay?" I asked. He looked at me. "You're going to tell her this weekend, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question.
"I want to," he said. "That's why I'm so glad you're here. If I have you to back me up, I might not chicken out."
"Well, that's your call to make," I told him. "If you want to tell her, I am definitely here to support you. If you don`t feel this is the right time, then that's fine, too."
Clay smiled. "I knew I could count on you," he said. He leaned in and kissed me on the lips. "I love you," he said when we separated.
"I love you, too."
We kissed a little bit more, and then decided we really should get to bed. Clay showed me to the guest room, where we said goodnight, and I crawled in bed and fell asleep right away.
I woke up the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking. I stretched, and then looked over at the clock. "Are you kidding me?" I thought. It was only 6:30! Still, I heard both Clay and his mother talking in the kitchen, so I got up and made my way to the kitchen. Faye was at the stove, frying eggs and bacon, while Clay was at the counter, stirring some kind of batter.
"Morning," I mumbled. They looked up, seemingly surprised to see me up already.
"Hey there!" said Clay. "We didn't expect you up for another couple of hours."
"Everything smelled so great, I thought I'd be ready to eat it as soon as it was ready!" I told them.
"Well, I'm making bacon and eggs, and Clay is whipping up a batch of my world-famous cinnamon rolls. We can eat the other things while those are baking," Faye said.
She was right - her cinnamon rolls were WONDERFUL! And if they weren't really world-famous, then they should have been! After a fantastic breakfast, Clay and I took our turns in the shower, got dressed, and left for our "day of adventure," as Clay called it.
I was led on a grand tour of Raleigh. We saw Clay's high school, the YMCA where he was a camp counselor, his church, and all the hangouts he and his friends frequented when he was in school. I met some of his friends and coworkers. Most importantly, I met Michael, the autistic boy that Clay worked with.
Let me tell you, in the brief visit Clay and I had with Michael and his mother, it was easy to see how this young man had changed Clay's life. As a music teacher, I've dealt with many autistic children, and they never fail to delight me. But there was something special about Michael. Maybe it was seeing the special bond he had with Clay. The two of them bantered back and forth, and it became obvious to me that Michael was letting Clay into parts of his mind that he shared with very few, if any, other people. It was quite possibly the most touching thing I had ever witnessed.
After we left Michael's house, we got into the car and headed for the grocery store. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "What was that for?" he asked.
"For being you," I told him. "It was wonderful seeing you with Michael. He's a very special young man."
"He amazes me more and more every time I see him. I miss him a lot," he said wistfully.
"And he misses you, too, I can tell. But he loves you, and knows you're happy," I told him.
At this point, we arrived at the grocery store. Before we got out of the car, I glanced around quickly. Seeing no one, I gave Clay a quick kiss. "I love you."
"I love you, too," he said.
The goal of our grocery store mission was to buy "all the fixings" for an authentic Faye Parker feast. Apparently, this meant feeding a small army, because our cart was filled to the brim - and then some - by the time we checked out. We paid, loaded the car, and drove back to Clay's mother's house.
"Is there anything left at the store?" Faye asked, amused, when she saw how much food we had bought.
"I think we left a loaf of bread or two on the shelves," I told her.
We unloaded the car, and set about making dinner. A couple of hours later, we were sitting down to a veritable smorgasbord of wonderful food. There was salad, with any kind of dressing you could want, meatloaf (a favorite of mine), pork chops, applesauce, beets, green beans, corn, peas, and cornbread. We each ate until we were stuffed. After a pleasant dinner, we cleared the table, which was no small task. As we sat the last two bowls in the dishwasher, Clay looked at me.
"It's time," he said quietly.
"Are you sure?" I said, concerned.
"Yes," he said, though his face betrayed his fear.
"Remember, I'm here for you," I told him. We walked out into the living room, where Faye was sitting and waiting for us.
"Mom, I need to talk to you about something..." said Clay, tentatively.
"What is it, sweetie?" Faye asked.
"Well, the thing is..." Clay looked up at me like he might lose his nerve. I smiled at him reassuringly. "Mom, we've never kept secrets from each other."
"No, we haven't," Faye agreed, concerned.
"And I want it to stay that way. So there's something you should know."
"Yes?" Faye was sitting on the edge of the couch cushion, and Clay took her hand.
"I, uh...I'm...well, I'm gay." If it was possible, Clay both relaxed and tensed up at the same time. I could tell he was relieved at having actually spoken those words to his mother, yet he was afraid of what her reaction might be.
Faye studied her son's face for a second, and then smiled. "I know, Clayton."
Clay and I were both shocked. "What?!" he said. "How?!"
"Well, there were little clues all along, dear. You haven't had a girlfriend in a very long time. You haven't even seemed to be interested in any girls in a long time. But I finally knew it was true last night."
Clay got a puzzled look on his face. "What happened last night?" he asked.
"Well, I have to confess, I kind of eavesdropped on the two of you after I left the room," she said, ashamed. "It wasn't intentional, at first. I was simply making sure there were enough towels in the bathroom for Randy. Then, on my way back to my bedroom, I heard the two of you talking, so I crept closer until I could see you. I feel bad, but I was hiding just beyond the doorway."
"So you...saw?" Clay asked, embarrassed.
"Yes, honey, I did," she said, smiling.
"And you're...OK with it?" he cautiously asked.
"Honestly, at first it was a HUGE shock, and I was quite upset," Faye said honestly. "All I could think was, `No grandchildren.' But then I saw the two of you kissing, and...well...you just looked so happy together." She reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. "I still don't know if I like it, but how can I deny something that obviously makes you so happy?"
Clay was crying by now, too. "He does make me happy, Mama. I love him."
I hesitantly walked over and sat next to Clay, putting my left hand on his back and grabbing his left hand with my right. "Faye, your son is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me," I told her honestly. "I never thought I'd be lucky enough to find someone like him. I love him so much."
Faye reached over and put her hands on top of our interlocked hands. "I have one thing to say to both of you." She smiled. "You done good! Both of you!"
OK, now it was my turn to cry. "Thank you, Faye. That makes me feel so good. Clay is very lucky to have such a lovely mother."
"Bless you, child, "she said, smiling at me. "Now, if you'll excuse me, this evening has been quite exhausting! I need to get some sleep."
We all stood up. "I'm going to get changed and then go to bed myself. Goodnight, Mom. I love you," Clay said, giving his mother a huge hug. He then left and went to his room.
"Goodnight, Faye," I said, leaning in to hug her. She stopped me.
"Now, I feel it is my duty as a mother to say this. Clayton loves you - that much is obvious. I can see that you love him, too. But I beg of you - please don't hurt my baby."
"Cross my heart," I told her seriously.
"Good." I leaned in to hug her again. This time she let me. "Now go be with Clay tonight. He needs you," she said, pointing to Clay's room.
I walked to Clay's room, knocked, and turned the doorknob without waiting for a response. Imagine my surprise when I found Clay stark naked, in the middle of changing into his pajamas!
Stay tuned for Chapter 10! I'm so evil!! Will this encounter lead to something more? As I said, stay tuned...
Thanks once again to Lee for his editing help, and for being a great friend.
By the way, Lee is the author of a great story called "Spinning Nick" in the boy-bands section of Nifty. Check it out when you get the chance, if you haven't already.
Comments/suggestions? Email musicteacher2002@hotmail.com I love hearing from you all!