Green Room II
No social life, no visits during 8 weeks of final exams. It wasn't such a big deal because Melanie and I didn't normally connect on weekdays, so my scene was going to bed early to explore my toolkit in the interests of ensuring everything functioned correctly.
Melanie and I also hadn't attended counseling sessions lately, not since the scene with Craig at the nightclub. But all was well. Melanie promised to quit the ciggies, not that she smoked in my company.
Graham caught a smack from Craig one night during a visit to see Joe. He turned up at my place for a short while Monday afternoon to raid my fridge and my stash of potato crisps. He pointed to his cheek as we entered my room. "That's where Craig smacked me."
"There! Where I'm pointing!"
"I can't see it."
"Stop being blond."
"Oh, there!" I said as I poked the spot with my finger.
"So what's the story? You want me to beat him up again?"
"Again? I seem to remember you lying on your face on the canvas. But I know what you mean. I reckon you could have beaten him, and that's why I got this smack. I told Craig he was lucky."
"How the hell do you get into these scrapes?"
A mouthful of food and drink failed to prevent the grommet's reply. "It started with Joe. He and his bro were involved in a little barney when I rocked in. They argued about whose turn it was to do the dishes and shit. Joe made a joke about wishing Acid Head--that's you--was there to teach Craig a lesson. Craig wrapped his hand around Joe's throat and pushed him against the kitchen sink. That's when I chirped that Craig wouldn't do that because he'd get nailed. Hehehehe. He was mad as hell so he smacked me."
"Yeah, well you call me grommet and everyone calls you Acid Head because you're so hot. Hehehehe. I told Joe to stop calling you that name but he dared me to stop him. Maybe I will one day."
"Hey!" I complained as I rescued the few remaining crumbs from the plundered chip bag. "You're like a damn vacuum cleaner. You open the food cupboards and all I hear is `whoosh!'"
"Can't help it. I like chutney flavored chips."
"Would you like your back tickled?"
"Cool." He pulled his T over his head and flopped on the bed. The top of his bright blue satin boxers protruded above the waist of his shorts, rather like an invitation for me to get a little adventurous. "That feels cool," he mumbled. "You wanna hit the bag later?"
"Can do. I hoped you'd continue to call around regularly to keep me fit--just in case you ever need backup."
"It's not me who needs backup--it's you!"
The grommet's back and shoulder muscles are impressively prominent. When I place a flat hand over them, and they move, it feels overwhelmingly erotic. His eyes were closed, and he was totally relaxed, obviously enjoying the massage. Then it was his turn to massage me.
I removed my top and laid on my stomach. He took immediate advantage and jumped me, planting his knees squarely in the middle of my back. "Ouch!" That led to a free-for-all. We wrestled as if our very lives depended on the outcome. Arms and legs flew all over the place until I overpowered him. Hahahaha! I held him aloft and threw him onto the bed, but he wriggled sideways and robbed me of the opportunity to pounce. Soon, my room resembled the aftermath of a severe missile attack, with bedding strewn everywhere. We never did get to hit the bag because we were way too buggered after the wrestle.
As he prepared to leave, I asked him not to piss Craig off again.
"What makes you think I will?"
"You're fiery, and you don't back down. You're so much like Kyle it's scary."
"Being like Kyle is scary? How do you figure that?" He asked the question as he sat on the side of my bed, causing his abs to wrinkle; a bunch of thin horizontal lines that spread across his normally flat stomach.
"In many ways, you're a living reminder of Kyle."
Oops! I forgot to tell you, G. I ended up at the doc's on Saturday morning, right after I sent a bunch of emails. I doubled over from the pain of cramps that were so debilitating, I couldn't stand upright. My mom took me to the doc's surgery. It wasn't all bad because the doc employs a cute assistant nurse. She digs it when I visit and I suspect she's trying to drag me away from Melanie.
I sat on the table while the doc prodded and poked. I needed to explain the bruises so I told him about the fight, loudly enough to ensure the assistant overheard every word. "Oh, dear," she cried as she touched the bruises. Yeah, right, that touch was definitely not a `check-out' touch. It was one of those `let's get it on' touches.
Be careful, Stuart, she might be one of those nasty seductresses with no scruples who wants to get into your pants and lead you astray.
You're learning, G. The doc suggested the cramps might be the result of a diet deficiency, especially since I've been so buffed lately. He gave my mom a script for some tablets I must take for a while--a mix of mineral salts and vitamins.
When the nurse vacated the room, and left the doc and me alone, he asked if I was on any `substances'. What could I say? I answered no. He explained that he'd seen many teen patients who complained of similar cramps and who admitted to `spiking up'. "I'm not one of them," I said as I redressed. As to the nurse, well, Melanie is cuter, and I have no intention of jeopardizing our relationship. Maybe I can just invite the nurse to help me with my biology studies. Hahahaha!
Hey, G, about that email crap going on between you and some of your mates with regard to your opinions of Saddam and Iraq. I didn't realize adults could carry on like a bunch of old ladies with sore tits. Kyle used that expression to describe the girls when they were pissed off with us. They got their panties in a twist while Kyle had us hosing ourselves with laughter, which made the girls even madder.
Anyway, that's what this email bitch between you old blokes seems like to me. And they say teens are screwed? No wonder there's so much shit in the world. Kyle would have told you to stop your nappy rash and accept the other guy's point of view, like it or not. One point of view ain't gonna change someone else's.
I'm generalizing here, not pointing the finger at anyone in particular. But if the email flying around is a demonstration of adult logic, then fuck that. I'll stay a teen forever! Teens have two heads, one screwed on and the other screwed in. Hahahaha!
On Thursday, I surfed at a beach up the coast. Kyle and I visited the place often, at least whenever we could scrounge a ride. One time, Kyle and I were there during a thunderstorm with a monster whale nearby. I'm talking 40 tons or whatever, not too far away from where we surfed. Its tail was out of the water, and it created a massive silhouette against the huge strikes of lightning that forked their way through the dark gray sky. It was breathtaking, too fantastic for words, and a vision you could never forget.
However, back to my recent trip--a north wind arrived and caused the surf to stand high. Totally awesome! Only a few surfers were out because you need transport to get to this particular beach. It's miles from local transport. I was lucky because Bob dropped me there and promised to collect me later. I asked him to stay and watch but he had some shit or other that needed attention.
Before we left Byron, I tried to call Graham but his phone rang and rang. He was probably at the local because the surf was pumping there too. But where I was it was much bigger and faster!
Next day, Graham phoned and we rocked down to the local together. It was storm surf but it cooked. One of the amazing things about my grommet mate is the way he paddles through the surf with the best of them. He's incredibly strong for his age, with stamina to spare. He rarely sits still in the water, preferring to constantly paddle--out, in, across, back out and back in again. He's almost always on the move.
Joe was with us that day as well. He made a comment to me while we showered on the beach. "Graham's lucky to have the build he has," he mused but didn't elaborate about the specifics such as abs, pecs, muscle bulk or good looks. But he must have been aware of those attributes just as anyone with a pair of eyes that paid even the most scant attention has to be. Actually, chatting to Joe was cool. He didn't appear to be motivated by ego, despite not being too shy of Graham in the bod and looks departments. Judging by the way his wettie clung to his crotch, he hadn't been denied more than adequate privileges by the hardware department either.
The contrast between Joe and his brother amazes me. Craig has an ego bigger than mine (if that's possible), and Joe is very laid back. As far as he's concerned, you can take him or leave him. That's probably why Joe and Graham get along so well--they're both cocky little buggers, always chirping each other, but always laughing--very tight mates.
I actually respect Joe for not allowing anyone to criticize his brother. If anyone says anything nasty about Craig, Joe is willing to get hurt in order to defend his bro's honor. So there you go--they fight like typical brothers but, at the same time, also stand up for each other.
Graham and Joe? They fight like typical mates but also stand up for (and to) each other. The difference with Joe is that he puts his brother first and Graham second. In my case, I don't have a brother so I don't quite understand why anyone would defend a dickhead like Craig.
Last night, Melanie and I planned to go somewhere but, as it happened, my folks went out. I asked Melanie if she'd prefer to spend the evening at my house, "Just the two of us". And that's what she did. My dad drove me to her house to fetch her. He was not normally very talkative around my friends but he liked Melanie. On the return trip, we stopped at KFC to get take out.
Later, after my folks left for the night, Melanie and I talked about exams, school and surfing, and even chatted about the fight with Craig. And after that? Go figure.
Bloody hell, G, I was inside the most beautiful girl in the world without a condom! Then we showered together, and took the time to explore and savor each other's body. We were determined, even in silence under the warm cascading water, to know everything there was to know about each other. We could have made love again; but just caressing each other's slippery, shiny, sudsy skin was wild enough.
After the shower, Melanie phoned her folks to ask permission to sleep over at my house. They declined, rationalizing that she should have arranged it beforehand. Besides, her dad wanted to know what time he should fetch her.
I slept like a log, totally passed out. Plans for today? Not sure. I've only just surfaced as I write this. It's 7:30am.