Green Room II
G'day, G. I need to get through the weekend without taking anything. Just one day at a time. A mate at school threatened me. He was told to put pressure on me to return to selling. I was their best salesman, so they're gonna miss me. I could have sold a fortune's worth during the last three days of school and around the hood. Everybody wants their stuff for the weekend. Anyway, my mate Bob took up the slack by selling both his and mine. That's not bad income for a 17 year old.
We were good mates up until now, and I hope that won't change. We've been dealing now for about four years. The difference is he doesn't use the shit except to smoke weed.
Hey, G, I know you're gonna write back and tell me not to associate with this guy, that he's dealing in misery or whatever, and an asshole. You gotta understand his story. He was 11 when he sold grass to his friends. Then he got involved in a relationship with a guy in his thirties, who was involved with a syndicate. By age 12, Bob was raped by this guy, continually, and he sold hard shit even to adults. Can you imagine that? Adults buying their heavy shit from a kid who didn't even have pubes yet? He's not openly gay, either, so don't think he walks around in a pink frock. He's one tough mother.
At age 14, he went on a rush with a bunch of older guys. It ended in an orgy with a lot of S&M. Bob got badly damaged. They were all into his tight little white ass and hurt him bad. He decided then not to sell the hard stuff any longer if that's what it did to people.
He was stabbed three times one night after his decision to quit. He survived, but I don't think he was expected to make it through the stabbing. Despite that, he stuck by his resolve to stop selling.
Shortly after, a friend of his was beaten so badly he was hospitalized. Now Bob is terrified of quitting because his friends and family are in danger. So he's back selling, but keeps a low profile. Now you know why he doesn't use the stuff, either.
And me? I got hooked by experimenting with drugs and enjoyed the trip, so much so, I ignored the downers. The big sales are mainly E but crack is up there as well. It's mainly the younger kids who buy weed.
Things could be a lot better right now. I called Graham a few nights ago. Thank God he was the one who answered the phone. I told him I wanted to see him but he gave me serious uphill about being an acid head. "Graham, if you don't get your ass down to the beach I'll cut off your cock and balls and have them bronzed!" Hahahaha!
"That's only `cause you're jealous."
He's almost right. His hands are already bigger than mine, as are his feet. He's as tall as Kyle was, and outstandingly good looking. He was cocky when he arrived at the beach. "Yeah, so?" was his opening remark.
"I hear you walked in on me when I was a bit trashed."
"A bit? You looked like someone who died and rotted there in your own mess. I'm not sure I wanna hang with you anyway. I'm battling to stop using, and it won't help to be with you. I think Kyle would suss it that way as well."
"Fuck Kyle! You're not giving me a chance to explain anything!"
"You don't need to explain anything to me, I'm just a grommet anyway. So why all the hassle to speak to me? And go fuck yourself, leave Kyle out of this."
"I didn't mean it to sound like that, and I don't think of you as a grommet. You know that. You look 16, and I can talk to you as a friend. At least, I used to. I'm also trying to stop using. You don't understand what's going on right now."
"Hahahaha! Yeah, right. Every time I see you, Stuart, you're trashed. Even that night I slept over, you had the shakes. And look at you now! It's like you're diseased, man."
"You've been there, so I guess you know everything now, huh?"
I didn't want to make him totally mad at me, G. Even standing there in his fleecy top and jeans, he looked fantastic. His chest filled his top, then dropped away to a flat stomach. And there was a neat bulge in his jeans. I know that sounds crazy, G, but I wanted to sleep with him. I wanted us to be best mates. The problem with Graham is that he's a helluva lot like Brett with his temper. I think it started after Kyle died. Maybe he doesn't give a damn whether he has friends or not. I know you think it's cool, G, but I think Graham spends way too much time in Kyle's room alone. Anyway, back to the convo between Graham and me.
"I've been nowhere compared to you," he snapped. "So I know shit. Why did you want to see me? So you can ogle and then go home and jack off thinking about us having sex or something? I know what you want because you made it plain." He lifted his top to reveal his pecs and sixpack. "Here, check this out and then go fuck yourself. Wanna run your hands over that, huh? Wanna touch me all over?"
"Are you crazy? People are staring at us."
"They can go jack off as well." He pulled his top down, unaware that we had an audience. Then he blushed with embarrassment and turned crimson.
"Stop being a prick, Graham. I want to be your friend."
"You want me to be your toy boy, so go ahead and say it."
"You make it sound crude."
"You're a joke, Stuart. So why did you call me down here?"
"Why did you bother to come?"
His eyes welled with tears. "Because I can't believe that someone who was Kyle's and my friend, and so cool and good looking, now looks like a deadbeat."
His comment hurt like a knife in the gut. "Do I really look that bad?"
"You used to be my surf hero, and sometimes I jacked off thinking about you. Now you look gross."
"Do you need to be so honest?"
"If you can't handle it, too bad."
"Reckon we might be mates?"
"Tell you what. I'll sleep over at your house Friday, and you can give me a blowjob. I haven't had one in months. And then I'll consider being mates. Don't expect a BJ in return, though, because you're dirty."
"I'll give you a clout across the ear if you don't calm down."
"I'm calm. You're the one who's stressing."
Fucking hell, G, I shook with rage, ready to smack his head right off his shoulders. I sensed him slipping away from me. I was desperate. Anyway, he wasn't that calm because he bounced up and down on his toes, and moved his arms the whole time as if he wanted to escape.
"What about all the cool stuff you said the other night?" I asked. "Worrying about me and needing me?"
"I needed to talk to someone."
"I'm chuffed you chose me."
"I was desperate."
"You hugged me in bed."
"I gotta get home. Told my mom I wouldn't be long."
"So what now, Graham. Does that mean it's over between us? I don't think I can handle that. I love you too much, bro."
His eyes remained bright with tears, but that failed to soften his attitude. "Just now you said `fuck Kyle'. What do you think he'd say about that, huh? And that night you touched me all over when I was spaced out and couldn't resist. I'm not even sure what you did to me that night, and you'll never tell me. You're a molester and an acid head. I'm not sure why I came here. I thought maybe it would be okay but you're all drugged up. Anyway, I gotta go. See ya."
He split before I could say anything further. I wanted to shout that I wasn't drugged up. I should have known better than to see him while I still suffered withdrawals. No, G, I wasn't drugged up if that's what you're thinking. I haven't used anything voluntarily for weeks now.
When I look in the mirror, my eyes are a million miles away. My gut's gone soft as well--still got the sixpack but it's not as defined as it was. I don't blame Graham for thinking what he did. My skin is pale and my eyes are buried deep in their sockets. I feel depressed because I want Graham so badly, and the idea of him hanging with his friends instead of me rips me to pieces.
Do you have any idea how hard this is? I get the most incredible stomach cramps. I can't sleep at all. Yeah, so I got myself into all this shit. But why does it need to be so impossibly difficult?
When Graham spoke to me, I could almost hear you agreeing with him. The only reason I refrained from beating the shit out of him is because I want him to be my mate. Graham can see that I've had fuck all sleep. How am I supposed to look? He knows what I want, so he teases my brain. At least Bob loves me when I'm fucked, G. Even when I'm fucked. Could you love me when I'm like this?
I want Graham. I've also done like you said, and tried. I need to get through this weekend. Bob invited me to stay over at his place, so I might accept the offer just to stay clean. I'm shitting myself in case I need to lay my hands on any of that crap right now. Instead, I'll rave on to you by writing this email until I get myself sorted out. What the hell if you don't read any of this? It's good just to write it down, and it keeps me busy during sleepless nights.
Yesterday afternoon, I walked to the beach. Graham was there with his mates. I waved, but he ignored me. Then, last night, I got a call from some kid. When I answered the phone, he screamed ACID HEAD. I heard laughter in the background. I'm sure it was Graham's doing. He's planning to make my life a misery, and play stupid games.
It's cool if he chooses to ignore me, G. But if he wants to play games, I'll beat his head in. He's forgotten how Kyle helped him when he was in big trouble. Kyle thought he was gonna die.
One of Graham's mates also phoned to buy some stuff, so maybe Graham's not as clean as he wants me to believe. On the other hand, it may have been a ploy to see if I was still dealing.
School is a nightmare. I can't concentrate on anything. If Kyle were alive, he would stand by me right now--although he never saw me as fucked as I've been the last few weeks. BUT THAT'S NOT MY FUCKING FAULT! Right now I need to sleep, then make a plan for what I'll do tonight.
G emailed a bunch of questions for an interview on his web site. Here it is:
You were a grommet when you met Kyle some years ago. Do you remember your first impressions?
I met Kyle in the surf. The first thing I noticed was him taking off on a grauncher and making the cut. Back on the beach, I told him the ride looked pretty rad. His smile hooked me right away, and how friendly and good looking he was. You need to understand me in a way; I was into pics of guys in magazines and checked out guys surfing. I didn't understand that at all because I was supposed to be str8. So here was this guy chatting at the beach and we became friends right away. That night, I entertained erotic thoughts about Kyle for the first time.
If you could bottle one of Kyle's qualities, which would it be?
The way he made each person feel like they were the only friend he had, and the way he expressed love like it was the most natural thing in the world. If you had a problem it became his problem too. His friendship had no boundaries and he never judged people.
If Kyle bottled one of your qualities, which would it be?
I don't know. Kyle told me how good looking I was and what a great bod I had. He made me feel worthwhile in almost every way. I did nothing in return but disappoint him so many times. The way I feel now, there's nothing about me worth bottling.
To have the awesome looks you have would seem to us mere mortals to be a ticket to happiness.
Well, G, I don't need to answer that one, you know it already. I guess it's like looking at Kyle's Wollumbin every day and not noticing because it's always there. Kyle looked at that mountain every day and admired it every single time, and never took it for granted. To be honest with myself, the only happiness I knew in my entire life were times spent with Kyle. And now that's gone.
Kyle once told me he never saw himself as a hunk. He had a complex about his lips. How did you see him?
When I tell you that every time Kyle walked into a room he filled it with light, it's no exaggeration. Kyle had a comp about his lips but you didn't notice them because they belonged to him. He also went on and on and on about how we had sixpacks and he didn't despite 100 situps a day. His bod was beautiful with a flat stomach. His sixpack showed when he moved. His meaty pecs were awesome, with broad strong shoulders and prominent biceps. He had thick black hair and eyes that laughed. You felt the solid muscle beneath his smooth skin when you caressed him. Kyle could wear a sack and still be the most beautiful guy you ever saw. I could go on and on about Kyle, but, yeah well...
Why do you think Kyle fell in love with you?
Again, I'm not sure. Maybe his friendliness on the beach. I immediately took to him. He wore a pair of briefs with an Aboriginal print when I first visited his house. He arrived at the door and didn't bother to dress. We both got erections and I knew then we would become more than just surf mates. I hurt Kyle a lot, and regret every moment of it--like the time I slept with Melanie. It wasn't so much that that screwed Kyle's brain, it was my betrayal of a friend's trust. Our friendship was never the same after that, although Kyle never showed it. When he continued to see me as a friend, only he knew how he truly felt.
Graham is a cutie and lived next door. He was a damn pest (like Kyle could be if he considered you a friend). But you got to know him and like him. His personality is a lot like Kyle's, but he lost that tolerance after Kyle was killed. He won't tolerate crap, and is easily aggravated. He loved Kyle probably more than anyone, and saw him as his older bro and teacher. Kyle loved Graham because he was so funny and full of fun. None of us will ever understand what he's suffering right now.
It's difficult to understand the Brett relationship. Brett carried a lot of baggage and was often moody. But Kyle broke down the barriers and helped Brett a lot more than Brett cares to admit. The fact they were lovers floored me because Brett is the quintessential heterosexual hunk, with the looks and body that turn even male heads. In a good mood, he has the most amazing personality. I think Kyle helped Brett reach the conclusion that friendship is cool, and Brett saw in Kyle a friend he could trust with his life. I'm sure Kyle saw Brett as a challenge, and wanted him badly enough to fight for his affection.
Brett was the matchmaker because he worried about Kyle not having a girlfriend, and perhaps becoming weird. Hahahaha! The relationship began slowly, but Kyle fell in love with Melanie. I think he saw her as a partner he could spend the rest of his life with. Melanie also understood Kyle's love for his friends, and probably suspected how far that love extended. The two together were magic. They had a beautiful open relationship and spoke about anything...almost. Why Melanie agreed to sleep with me, I don't know. Maybe to try a different partner and test her love for Kyle? I don't know.
This may sound crazy, but I got the impression, of all Kyle's friends, you were the one to make the biggest impression on his life. Because of his sexuality, Kyle had no one to speak to. At least, not adult, until you came along. You became the ears to listen to anything he needed to say. He relied on your advice when he was in trouble or upset. He told you about the rape, which I only discovered after he died. I wish he'd trusted the rest of us with his secret. Actually, it wasn't a trust issue; he was embarrassed that it could happen to him. Kyle's anti drug campaign became obsessive after that. You actually stopped him committing suicide one time. My brain fries when I imagine him and Rick lying lifeless together, and robbing me of the opportunity to get to know him.
Like Kyle, you're not stereotypically gay. You have many masculine qualities. What is it that attracts you to the same sex on occasion? Is it purely physical, or are there other considerations?
Before Kyle, I knew there was something different about me. I screwed one girl after another, but fantasized about guys, even when I was with those girls. Kyle made me realize how natural it was to be the way I am. He taught me how to love. I don't think my attraction to Kyle was physical at first. His personality overwhelmed me. But I often saw him naked, exiting the shower and not bothering to cover up. Then the physical side emerged. Even so, the love between two guys who are mates is never just physical. Kyle's voice was full of fun and laughter. When he laughed, you laughed as well, even if you didn't think it was funny. Brett's voice is very mature. He could easily be an announcer. Mine? Dunno. Hahahaha!
You obviously have many fond memories of Kyle. Which stands out the most?
To choose one of thousands is difficult. I get teary when I think of the times we sat in his room. If I was upset about something he put his arm around me, and we talked and talked. Then he'd convince me to lighten up and we laughed together. If ever there was a time I needed Kyle, it's right now. You're right, I will never ever forget Kyle. Not as long as I live. And dying will never be a problem. I know that the best friend I ever had will be on the other side.