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Meeting
No. 5 July 22
"Hi, I'm Jakob. With a K. And I'm an alcoholic."
"Hi, Jakob," the group replied.
"Today is three months for me. Three months without a drink.
Last winter I would not have thought such a thing was possible. I've been in
the shelter for a little while now, so ... at least I have a bed still. Kind of.
The folks there are nice. They got me looking professional enough that I got a
job. I've only worked a week; it's just at a QT, but I'm actually earning
money. We get paid every other Friday, so I should get my first check next
Friday. It will only be a few days' worth on it, but it will be the first money
I've earned — at a job — in months."
Jakob looked around the group. We were in a circle today.
There were maybe 20 of us tonight. I vaguely remembered him at previous meetings,
but he looked like he was doing better than I remembered.
"I just went into the shelter because I just couldn't live
without a bed anymore. Yeah, it's by no means private, but the people are
really nice. I can eat too. Gerard there helped me look
more presentable for an interview. I didn't have any names to put down for references.
He said I could put his name down. I did not want to disappoint him, so I plan
to work hard. We sell beer there, but that's no problem. I ... I don't want to
drink. I see it while I am at work, but ... I don't want it. Well, something
in me wants it ... that's why we're here, right? ... but despite the addiction, I
don't want it. I try to remember in my mind when I was at my lowest point — on
a bench with nowhere to go."
Jakob momentarily paused. Despite his best efforts, his eyes
welled. It was only a second, and he wiped it away with his hand.
"But I have a job. And ... I'm now officially three months
sober. So that's something.
"That's it."
The group clapped.
When we were in a circle, most people didn't stand. The
chairperson just acknowledged them, and they spoke from their seat. I noticed
one person stood, but she was the only one. I don't know if that made it less
scary or what. I wasn't nervous tonight. I held up my hand and the chairperson
nodded to me.
"Hi, I'm Lance. I'm an alcoholic."
"Hi, Lance," the group replied.
"I feel good. Well, as good as one does at an AA meeting, I
suppose. It's only been a couple of weeks, not quite three since I had a drink,
but my head feels clearer. I get this dumb cast off tomorrow. I still have to
wear a ... wrist thing ... to protect it, but that should feel better. Despite my
hand, I think I'm doing great at my job. I seem happier. I feel better about
myself.
"I'm not really sure when I actually feel good about myself.
When I scored well on tests, that was nice. When I played well in basketball, I
loved it when my teammates cheered when I scored. But I'm not sure when else I
feel good about myself. I guess I always wanted to feel accepted. I'm not sure
if I felt like I ever was. I guess I did in high school. I had a friend spend
the night once my junior year. Kids always liked to sleep over. It was fun. My
brother called me gay the next day. I don't know why. He was kind of a jerk, I
guess. Since then, I'm not sure if I have felt good about myself. I just enjoy
certain things, but they don't make me feel good about myself. I just
feel good about the things. I'm just happy I no longer grab a beer ... or
a drink ... just because I don't feel good. And now, for the first time in years,
that alone makes me feel good about myself.
"Thank you."
The group clapped.
I was helping put chairs away 20 minutes later. I saw
Ophelia waiting for me.
"Hi," I smiled.
"Hi, Lance. I appreciated your share tonight."
"Thanks. I've become aware how powerful listening is. I ... enjoy
isn't the word ... I shouldn't enjoy hearing people tell about their struggles ...
but there is something therapeutic about listening to others who also hurt but
also want hope."
"Good for you. I tend to agree."
"You didn't share tonight."
"No," she said. "I didn't really have anything to say."
"How was your week? When do you get to see your daughter
next?"
"This weekend. I'm excited."
"What are your plans?" I asked.
"Well, she's at a strange age. Doing things with `Mommy' is
so lame, but she also wants to do something of some sort. School is coming up.
I thought we might shop for some new clothes."
"Do you all still get along?"
"Fairly well. I was bad for a year. It wasn't good between
us. Then the divorce. She hasn't forgotten all that. I think she wants to be
closer, but she keeps me at arm's length as a safety mechanism. Not to get
hurt, I guess."
"Um, I'm not really a coffee drinker, but can I at least buy
you a cup across the street? That is, if you feel like visiting."
"That's sweet of you. I'd like that, but no need for you to
pay. I can do that."
"If you insist."
Minutes later, she was drinking a large decaf with sprinkles
of cinnamon. I had a raspberry smoothie.
"It won't be long until pumpkin spice is out," she said.
"Oh, you're one of those people," I said with a touch of
snark.
We both laughed.
"Ophelia, you seem fine. How did you come out of the whole ...
PTA dethronement thing?"
"Well, my husband does pretty well. I do get alimony in the
settlement. That helps. I feel guilty. Maybe someday when I'm totally secure —
financially — I won't accept it anymore. Luckily for me, one of the board
members also had a family member recover from alcoholism. She was very
supportive. She helped me land my job, and I've worked hard. It is going well.
I don't make enough to give up the support, but with that ... I'm fine."
"When I look at the chip on my fridge, I sometimes just
mathematically estimate what I was spending on beer each week. It's staggering,"
I said.
"Tell me about it."
We sipped our drinks.
"Do you have good friends, Lance?"
"Not a lot, but a few good ones. You remember Trent."
"Oh yes. Is it too personal to ask how you are in regard to
him?"
"Am I still in love with him?" I breathed in and held it. I
pondered my answer. Then I exhaled slowly. "I'm not over him. I'll never
be over Trent. He is exactly what I want ... I could spend the rest of my life
with him. So, no. At the same time, every time I see him with Mike ... his
boyfriend ... they are SO right together. They are so happy. And yet, Trent and I
have an incredible friendship. I don't know how many friends can say they love
each other. We do all the time. To say that cuts too deep for most people, that
bares too much of your soul, I suppose. But the two of us let our guards down
all the time. We can say anything ... ANYthing ... to each other. So, I do try to
not think of Trent in an `in love' way, but just `I love him as a friend way.'
I'm making tiny progress. Tiny."
"Well, I'm no psychologist, but you'll find someone new.
Then a strong friendship — if you can keep it — will be a bigger blessing. You
are a handsome man. You won't have any trouble finding someone to share your
life with."
"I'm too young for you, Ophelia. You flirt."
We both laughed. She covered her face and waved her hand at
me.
"Child, I'm 43. I should say so."
"But I thank you for the compliment," I said. "These
meetings are doing me a world of good, but the hardest thing for me is to know
I'm the youngest one there. And by the way, you don't look 43."
"I've seen a few not much older than you in the past few
months. There are some that come that are in their 20s. Jakob is."
"I cannot believe he was homeless at one point. Well, I
guess he still is. He's in a shelter."
"That's hard. He got kicked out by his family so early in
his life."
"Because he was gay, right?"
She nodded.
"It's too bad Cooper is hung up on someone at work — well,
and still married. You two would be very cute together."
"He's in his 30s. That would be a little weird. But then
again ... Trent and Mike."
"His love life is a bit of a mess right now. Steer clear."
We smiled at that. We were about done with our beverages.
"Thank you for talking with me, Ophelia. You're very nice."
"You are sweet. I enjoy your company. Will you be coming
next Wednesday?"
"I like it when you are there, so ... I plan to be."
We got up to say goodbye.
"Is it okay if I hug you, Lance?"
"Absolutely. Any time."
We gave a simple embrace, and I told her I would see her
next week.
Evan was home when I returned, but it looked like he oddly
turned in early, or perhaps was working on his laptop in bed. Either way, his
door was closed, and the light was out.
I brushed my teeth and prepared for bed. It just seemed too
early.
I opened my laptop. I didn't like to watch porn when Evan
was home, not that I did it a lot. It's not fun with the volume down. I had a
folder of shirtless men in my documents. Some of them were a little more than
shirtless. I decided to search for a few more images to add.
As I clicked through pictures of men in certain levels of
undress, I wondered if I had a type. I hated anything remotely effeminate.
Piercings were a huge turnoff. So many men online had tattoos. Understated was
fine. Too pumped up was too much. I liked facial hair — heaven knows Mike is a
hunk — but it wasn't vital. I wished I had chest hair; I found it so sexy. I
still liked looking at guys my age.
Then I saw it. A picture that reminded me of Elijah. It
reminded me of the friend I had just talked about in my share tonight. It
wasn't him, but I had to look twice. I wondered what Elijah was doing.
"I hope you two will be fine in the
tent," Mom said. "Don't try to make s'mores or anything. No fires. The patio
door is open if you need a snack or to go to the bathroom, obviously."
"Thank you, Mrs. Wheeling," Elijah
said.
"Are you sure you boys won't be too
cold in just the tent?"
"We'll be fine, Mom. We have the
sleeping bags and extra blankets. If it gets too uncomfortable, we can simply
go inside."
"I suppose. Have fun. Don't stay up
too late," Mom said, turning back to go inside. "No fires," she reminded before
shutting the door.
"She's so lame," I said.
"Your mom is great," Elijah said.
We carried simple items into the
tent: a lantern and flashlight, chips and a cooler of bottled water and Sprite,
an extra blanket for each of us, playing cards, our iPods and toothbrush
toiletries. The temperature was in the 70s as the sun set. We were in
sweatshirts as the air had a hint of chill, but still in basketball shorts. The
two of us had shot hoops a couple hours earlier.
I was a couple inches taller than
Elijah. I had no chest hair; he was starting to grow some. He had thick dark
hair and just the beginning of a moustache. He had made no attempt to shave it.
We had known each other for a few years. I had stayed over at his place a
couple times. The most recent was in the spring. We only had a week left before
school was out. Our studies were pretty much done, so both our parents agreed
to a Friday night sleepover.
We played basketball several times
over last summer. I saw a few movies with him as well, sometimes with other
friends, sometimes with just him. This was the first time we spent the night
together in my junior year.
With the lantern illuminating the tent,
we sat on our sleeping bags and played cards for a while. Along the way, we
talked about different teachers, gym, some fellow students we both had in our
classes and occasionally pretty girls. We debated which movie we saw over the
summer was best. We both had our driver's licenses, and we each confided
stories of mistakes we had made that our parents didn't know about. As we
talked about parents, I gathered I liked mine better than he did his. They were
too strict in his opinion. Really religious. I asked if he had ever had a beer.
He said no. I told him my brother had slipped one to me last year, but I didn't
like it that much.
We scarfed down the chips and soda.
He accidentally farted, and I gave him no shortage of grief. He was
embarrassed, but we were laughing so hard it didn't matter.
At around midnight, he went inside
to pee. I sat on the patio looking up at the moon. He came back out and sat in
the chair next to mine.
"You guys have a much bigger
backyard," Elijah said.
"I guess. We don't do a whole lot in
it. Mom has her flower beds. I used to play catch with Dad, but we haven't done
a lot in it as a family, to be honest. These `campouts' I do from time to time
are about it."
We went back inside the tent. I
squirted some toothpaste on my brush. Using a bottled water, I brushed and
rinsed, leaning out of the tent to spit. Elijah did the same. We situated the
sleeping bags and blankets to make things as comfortable and as warm as we
could.
I went in to pee this time. When I
came from the house back into the open air, I could feel that the temperature
had dropped. I figured we should still be warm enough.
When I got back inside the tent,
Elijah had taken all clothing off except his underwear. As cool as it had
gotten, I was a bit surprised. I figured we would sleep in shorts and
sweatshirts. I took my sweatshirt off, but still had a T-shirt on. I kind of
felt pressured to take off my basketball shorts; I wasn't sure why.
We lowered the lantern to the lowest
setting. There was just a glimmer to where we could make out each other. As my
eyes adjusted, I could see his body a little better.
We made up a game to where we picked
a topic and each of us went back and forth until one of us couldn't add
something to the list: things that come in a can, Will Smith movies, brands of
cigarettes, players on Orlando Magic, things that are red that you can eat,
different names for penises ...
"Hey, Lance," Elijah asked softly.
"Do you ever jack off?"
"Uh. Yeah." I was not prepared to be
asked that question. "Do you?"
"All the time," he answered.
"Oh."
"Want to right now?"
"I don't know. That's kind of
weird."
"What weird? All guys do it. Do you
wanna?"
I didn't answer. I didn't know if I
wanted to. It felt like that was something you do in private. No one should see
me do that. But do grown up men do it together? Could we? I didn't know any of these
answers.
Elijah didn't wait. He pulled his
underwear down below his balls. He flopped his dick around his crotch.
Now I felt like I had to. I pulled
my underwear down and my cock hung to the side.
"Shit!!" Eli said. "Your dick is
huge!"
His was not. It wasn't even close to
being called big. Not tiny, but nothing of any notable length. I didn't know if
it was a compliment or if I was a freak show or what. As Eli looked at my
anatomy, his started getting longer.
"It's not fair. You get a gigantic
dick. Even when I'm hard it isn't as big as yours."
Within seconds, his dick had
lengthened, and his erection curved back toward his navel. It probably wasn't
five inches. Knowing he was looking at mine, I got hard. Mine was at least
eight.
Elijah started pulling on his cock.
I fondled mine, stroking it lightly but feeling a little weird. As new to me as
this was, I found myself continuously looking at Elijah masturbate. I stared at
his cock. I pulled on my rod a little harder. Neither of us made any sound at
all. We just started breathing a little heavier. We pulled our erections for a
few minutes. Eli finally broke the silence.
"Fuck yeah. I'm gonna come."
I watched him spurt streams of cum
from his stiff tube of flesh. Each time cum squirted out, my cock jumped in my
hand. I was mesmerized.
"Fuckin' cool," he said, sitting up
to reach for a napkin.
He wiped all the thick semen off his
chest. I noticed more things about him. He had a little chest hair. It went
from his pecs in a stripe down to his bush, which was thick and jet-black dark.
I hadn't really seen a lot of guys' crotches before. I wanted to look more, but
he pulled his briefs back up. After he did that, I felt instantly awkward with
only my dick sticking out.
"Your turn," he said.
"No. That's okay," I said, pulling
my underwear up too. "I'm fine."
"Oh, c'mon man. Don't stop now."
"It's okay."
I wasn't sure what I was feeling. It
was scary and weird and thrilling and complicated.
"I think I'll just try to fall
asleep. Good night." I rolled on my side facing away from him.
"Good night."
My eyes were wide open. I didn't
know what I was feeling. My blood felt like it was on fire running through me.
I remembered the last time we had a sleepover. Elijah's bed was not a queen
size bed, but a full size. It was a little tighter than my bed indoors. I
remembered waking up in the middle of the night. It took me a second to
remember where I was, but I felt Elijah's leg pressed up against mine. His warm
skin was touching mine. At the time, I didn't think anything of it. Elijah was
clearly far more comfortable with himself than I was. Or maybe none of this
meant anything.
—
I had no idea what time it was. I
might have been asleep 30 minutes or four hours. I felt something that was
stirring me out of my sleep, but I didn't know what. I felt a hand rubbing my
dick in my briefs, but it took me a few seconds in my drowsy state to realize
it wasn't my hand. It felt familiar, except the touch wasn't mine.
I was paralyzed.
Eli's hand was just gently feeling
my cock. I was hard. Rock hard. Steel girder hard. He worked his hand out of my
briefs to pull the waistband below my balls. Next, he tugged my underwear to
slip under my ass. I lifted my butt to make it happen. I wasn't sure why.
As the cobwebs cleared, I realized
Eli was all but in my sleeping bag. The flap opened toward him. He had moved
his closer to me. They were like one. My cock was easily in reach, and he
gripped it again. A little harder this time. His strokes were more forceful. It
was like a lightning bolt was shooting through my erection. This hand on my
dick felt amazing but out of place. He kept yanking and rubbing me harder. I
heard him whisper the word "lucky" as he groped my pole. The feelings were so
pronounced that my breathing was now audible. I said nothing. I made no sounds.
I just breathed.
Elijah didn't stop. He had to know I
was awake by now. He pulled on my shaft with a strong grip. I could feel all
sorts of sensations building in my groin. It felt incredibly pleasurable. I was
still in my T-shirt. I moved my arms to pull it off my chest. I felt exposed,
but my cock felt amazing. Really amazing. Fucking amazing. My crotch felt like
an oil well about to burst. I did.
I was coming all over my chest. I
shot lines of thick cum across my navel and to my nipples. Eli heard it land.
He yanked me harder knowing I was feeling my orgasm. My hips bucked. I was
panting. When my waist stopped squirming, he loosened his grip on my stiff
cock. I let out a breath. My body shuddered a moment in the cool air.
I didn't say anything. He didn't say
anything.
It was so dark, I could barely see
anything at all, but I slightly made out the shadow of his head move over my
chest. Then I felt his tongue lick the lines of cum off my chest. He would
follow one up until he was sure it ended. He explored for about two minutes,
making sure he got it all.
I didn't say anything. He didn't say
anything.
He lied back down. He was only a
foot away. I wasn't sure why, but I reached over to his body. I felt his cock.
It was hard again. He took my hand and squeezed it around his dick. I moved it
away. I realized he was completely naked. He had taken his underwear off.
I rolled back over on my side. He
moved up behind me and put his arm around me. I could feel the head on his
stiff penis touch me in my ass. I pulled up my briefs.
I didn't say anything. He didn't say
anything.
—
The morning sun slowly caused me to
open my eyes. I had no idea how long I had slept. I had been in some sort of
freaked-out shock for a while after ... what exactly happened?
I didn't know what to say when he
woke up.
He rolled over. I saw him stand up.
There was enough light I could see him fully nude. I didn't take my eyes off
him. He found his underwear and slipped them on. Then he put on all his
clothes.
"Cold," he softly said.
Elijah got back into his sleeping
bag, moving a little further away from me.
We both tried to fall back asleep.
—
"Boys! Come in for breakfast."
The two of us stirred. I still was
only in my underwear. He was fully dressed.
We looked at each other. I didn't
say anything. He didn't say anything. He turned away.
"I gotta pee, dude," he said and
walked toward the house.
I heard my mother greet him. My mind
was a cyclone of uncertainty. What the hell happened? Why did it happen? Did I
hate it? Did I like it? What was it? I scrambled around to get dressed.
I walked in. Elijah was returning
from the bathroom.
"My turn. Morning, Mom."
Oliver had been in town for the
weekend. He was already out of college but still visited at least one weekend a
month. The five of us gathered around the dining room table. Mom had fresh
fruit, muffins and scrambled eggs.
"Were you guys sleeping outside last
night. It was too cold for that," Oliver said.
"It wasn't that bad," I said.
"Fags!" he replied.
"Oliver!" Mom and Dad scolded.
"I'm just ribbing `em."
"We're not fags," I said sternly.
Later after Elijah had left, I went
to take a shower. As I stepped into the warm spray, I remembered Eli's tongue
all over my chest. As I rubbed soap on my body, I did it tracing the movements
he had made as best I could remember them.
I didn't feel good about myself.
Elijah and I did very little after that night. We saw each
other, said hello, waved now and then, but didn't play much. Never just the two
of us, but occasionally with friends.
I couldn't even remember what college he went to.
—
Evan and I had dinner together the next night. I thought
back to the years where he and I spent a lot of time together at family
gatherings.
"Evan," I started, but then immediately stopped.
"Yeahhh??"
"Nothing."
"What? Lance. We're roommates; we're cousins. What?" he
insisted.
"Are you okay with me being open?"
"Well, sure. We've known each other since forever."
"Yeah." I hesitated. "Since I have been going through the
program, I find myself opening up a little more to people."
"I guess that's ... good? Right?" he
said, unsure.
"Yes, it is. I have a hunch I've held things in for too
long. I'm sure it wasn't healthy. I couldn't even say `I'm gay' until a few
weeks ago. Remember when we were in high school? Did you think I was gay?"
"Boom. I was NOT expecting that question," Evan said,
looking blindsided. "But no. Not until I found out when I moved in here. I
didn't have any idea."
"We used to be pretty close when we were younger, but as we
got into high school, we didn't seem to do as much at gatherings. I just
wondered if you suspected and was uncomfortable with it."
"Lance, are you worried I have a problem with you being gay?
If so, I'm totally okay with it. It doesn't bother me in the slightest. I had
two or three friends in college who were out."
"Why didn't you spend as much time with me in high school
then?"
He looked perplexed. I'm not sure if he was prepared to
answer.
"I don't think I consciously made any type of decision to do
less. We probably had just developed different interests. But if I had to
psychoanalyze myself, part of me probably didn't want to be compared to you."
"What do you mean?"
"You were taller, you were better built, you were better at
sports. I hate to sound crass, but I even saw your dick when you took a leak
somewhere at some point. You're big, I'm not. We were with family. I am sure I
didn't want to have everybody compare us side by side."
"That's silly." I reflected on what he said. "And truth be
told, I doubt many of our relatives have seen my dick."
We both laughed.
"You were just ... turning out great in high school," Evan
said. "I was nothing. Just average. Maybe that was it."
It's funny how teen insecurities work. I didn't feel good
about myself back then either.
* * * *
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