Thank you for enjoying the story. Consider donating to Nifty to keep the platform going.

Feedback: timothylane414@gmail.com

 

27

 

Calling the Jackson Bend Dispatch was tough. They were nice people. I always hated the feeling of letting someone down. They said my references spoke highly of me, so they weren't surprised that I received more than one offer. I was pleased they were understanding, and they wished they could offer me more, but I still felt sad it didn't work out.

But it couldn't. I had to make a choice. I called the station, and they were pleased. I started Monday morning — early! Because of that, they asked me to come in Friday afternoon and get paperwork all squared away.

I told Mike I wouldn't see him today. With Mom at her job today, I knew I could enter the house, get more things and not have to talk to anyone. Lance had several boxes still from his move. I drove to the house — for the last time, or at least for a while — and packed up seven boxes of things to bring here. It was mostly clothes, but a few workout items, a couple of books and some random kitchen items were thrown in. I needed a few things in the bathroom and several toiletries.

I looked around the house. My room was in somewhat of a disheveled state. I wondered what they would do with it.

When I left two days ago, I was a mess. An angry mess. Now, I'm okay. I certainly didn't feel happy, but I was okay this wasn't my home anymore. I felt on my own. I did regret how things ended with Dad, but my anger was slowly leaving me. It was transitioning more toward pity. I felt sorry for him. But I wondered if things could ever be the same again. Anger was replaced by sadness.

I took one last glance, took in a deep breath and then closed the door.

When I got back to the apartment, I texted Mom.

"I chose the radio station. I start Monday. For the next couple of weeks, I'll be staying with Lance. I'll look for my own place in the days ahead."

I knew her phone would be in her purse, so she wouldn't see it for a while.

The next step seemed to be to get groceries. I couldn't be wild with money, not until I got my first check at least. And now, especially since I'm distanced from Mom and Dad, rent will gobble up a lot. The "real world" kind of sucks in that respect.

I still had a few packaged items from the weekend, but I chose to start off with healthy foods. Perhaps if I cooked some more nutritious meals, I could help Lance shed a few pounds. I did buy ice cream though.

The afternoon was pretty warm, but not necessarily hot, but it was getting there. I still decided to go for a run. I'm sure I probably had enough tension and stress to work off.

It was a long run. If I didn't end it soon, I wouldn't be able to prepare dinner at a reasonable time. I got home just before I expected Lance to get off work. If I cleaned up quickly enough, I could start on something before he dove into some junk food.

Ten minutes in the shower, the hot water had rinsed off all the sweat and much of the anxiety and stress of the last two days. I stood there just letting it pour over me.

Through the frosted glass, I could see a shadowy figure move.

"I'm home," Lance said.

"Good. I will fix us dinner in a little bit."

"Nice!"

Lance stayed there but didn't say anything.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to get out."

"Why?"

"I haven't seen you naked in a while. I want to look."

"Lance ..."

I slid the glass door open. He stood there with my towel in one hand and a beer in the other.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

"I like looking at your body. It's beautiful."

He handed me the towel. I saw him put his hand down his pants before I rubbed the towel through my hair.

"You have a gorgeous cock, Trent."

"Stop."

"It's not like I haven't seen it before. I've seen it a LOT."

"Stop ... you'll get me hard," I said in a very light but scolding voice.

"And that would be bad because ...??"

"Because you know we can't do anything. Why do this to yourself?"

His hand was stroking his dick down his pants.

"Okay, go away. Let me finish here so I can start dinner." I heard him giggle on the way out.

When I emerged from my room dressed, I saw him staring at the boxes.

"It's obviously not everything, but it is more to live on ... or with ... or whatever," I said.

"I see you went grocery shopping. That was nice."

"Buddy, you are letting me stay here. I definitely need to contribute. I can't wait to get a paycheck."

"And I get my first one Monday. Yea!!"

"Oh yeah. Mike is excited to come this weekend. I asked him to spend the night."

"Fantastic."

My dinner was outstanding if I could humbly say so. While nutritious, Lance really liked it. We cleared the dishes and made sure the kitchen was in a clean state. I at least wanted to start off like that. I was trying to evolve from the "college life" that kind of grossed Mike out. Lance hugged me from behind as I dried the plates.

"Thanks for cooking," he said, kissing me on the neck. "It was great."

A minute later I joined him in the living room. He was looking at his phone, and I pulled mine out.

"Uh oh."

"What is it?" Lance said.

"A voice message from Mom. She must have called while I was running."

I touched play.

"Hi dear. It's Mom. I hope you are doing okay. I'm glad you checked in. I'm still worried about you. Call me."

"Notice how there is no mention of my dad anywhere in there?" I said.

"Give him time." Lance watched me stare at the phone. "Are you going to call?"

"Think I should?"

"Do you love your mom?"

"Of course."

"I'd let her know that. She says she is worried."

"I suppose."

"Want me to leave the room?"

"No. No. Of course not. You'll probably be my life raft if I start to go adrift."

I dialed.

"H-hey, Mom. It's me."

"I'm glad you called."

"Yeah. I was out on a run, and then I cooked dinner for Lance and me. You would have liked it."

"I'm sure I would have."

"I start the radio station on Monday," I said, not really knowing what to say.

"I'm proud of you."

I waited a moment.

"Is Dad?"

"I'm sure he is. Trent, just give him some time."

"I guess. He has the rest of his life to accept me. I can't give him any more time than that."

Lance's expression showed concern as his head lifted to look at me.

"Has he said anything, Mom? Anything at all?"

My eyes started to tear, but I wiped it away. Lance grabbed a tissue and came over and sat next to me. He put the tissue on my lap. I didn't reach for it, so he held my hand.

"He'll just ... just need some time, dear."

"Swell. Well, I'm glad I'm not living on the street on a park bench while he needs his time. I'm sorry I can't be the son he wants me to be."

My voice quivered on those last words. I let go of Lance's hand and dabbed my eyes with the tissue.

"But ... you aren't on the street. You are at Lance's apartment, right?"

"Yes, Mother. I'm fine. Lance is great."

I didn't have to look to know that Lance smiled at that.

"I thought you might go be with Mike."

"I did the first night. Lance offered me a temporary place. It's not fair for me to bring a whole bunch of family shit and just dump it on Mike. I mean, he's there for me ... but that's not how I ... I'm okay to be on my own soon."

"Can we have lunch tomorrow? Before you start your job?"

I hesitated. I took a deep breath.

"I suppose. Can Mike come? If he wants?"

Mom didn't say anything. "Yes," she eventually said.

"Do you know where Downward Dog is?"

"The place with the onion rings?"

"Yes. How about 11:30."

"Okay. I'll drive over. I love you, Trent."

I didn't say it back. "Goodbye, Mom."

After I hung up, Lance let out a huge breath. We looked at each other and just inhaled and exhaled for a minute. He grabbed a pillow, placed it on his lap and pulled me down to lie on him.

"So? How did that go?" he asked.

"I don't know. I ... really just don't care to see either of them right now," I said, looking up at his face. "That's not fair to Mom really. Fuck. I hate this."

Lance reached for my hand again. "Remember. It's just this week. It's just right now. It will be better. Soon."

I rolled over and pressed my face into his stomach. My arm awkwardly went around his back.

"I hope so," I mumbled into his belly.

We remained that way, silent, for a few minutes. He would occasionally scratch my back and run his fingers through my hair. It was oddly comforting. I felt five years old with Mom doing the same thing. Thank heavens for Lance. Our weird friendship is helping me through this. I'm blessed to have him.

"I'm going to go call Mike, okay?" I said sitting up.

I went to the bedroom and shut the door. As I did so, I could hear another beer pop in the kitchen. I sighed at the sound of that.

I got Mike up to speed with my trip to the house and the phone call with my mother. He was very sympathetic. Add good listener to the thousand and one reasons why I loved him.

"Do you want to come?" I asked.

"Do you want me to be there?" he returned.

"Yes. You are my rock. I definitely need you there."

"Then I'll be there for you. Your place is on the way. Want me to pick you up?"

"Please."

June 10

Felt like I started the move out of the house. Well, I'm OUT, but I began the process of physically moving some things out. I thought I would miss it. But I've only been there for the summers and a year and a half, so it wasn't like the house I grew up in. And to be honest, I didn't really miss that one when we moved. It's just a house. But now I feel this chasm between me and my parents. I hope a bridge materializes. I suppose I can make the effort to start with Mom. I just think Dad may never come around.

But on the bright side, I accepted the job I want to pursue. Life is leaving the station. I better get on board.

 

—

 

Mom had already arrived by the time we got to the restaurant. She was sitting alone awaiting our arrival. When she saw the two of us walk in, she stood to give me ... us ... a hug. I'm not sure if I would have initiated it, but since she did, I accepted. Strangely, Mike did first. I wasn't completely in a forgiving mood, but I had to inwardly laugh at how ironic it was that the two of them hugged when she was so recently unsure of Mike. I suppose that was progress.

"How are you both doing?" Mom asked.

I could tell by her voice she had no idea how to approach any subject with me. Within a few minutes I realized Mom was desperate to keep her family connected. She was the link between two people who had no intentions of seeing each other. I felt for her. At the same time, I didn't flinch. I explained my role at the station and how I was looking forward to it. Mike discussed how the summer free was a total reset for every teacher, that without them, there would probably be no teachers.

Onion rings arrived and we made a sloppy mess of them. It was a light-hearted moment that eased tension a bit. Since we succumbed to the temptation of onion rings, we all had ordered salads to counteract any needless calories of the appetizer. Mike and Mom dipped their onion rings in ranch dressing. I stuck with ketchup.

Conversation was okay and thank heavens Mike was there. He mastered the discussion to avoid any controversial or tense potholes. Lord, how I loved that man.

When the topic returned to my job, I made a disappointing observation.

"Sadly, it would have been nice for the two of us to take a trip while Mike is free for the summer, but with me starting a new job, I'll have no vacation time for a while."

"My birthday is in a few weeks. Perhaps I can take you to my parents for the weekend. I want them to meet you."

I went silent.

"What's wrong?" Mike asked.

"I can't believe I didn't know when your birthday was. I'm a horrible boyfriend."

Mike laughed. "No, you're not. I didn't expect you to be a mind-reader. How would you know?"

"I don't know. You knew mine. You surprised me on campus. I should have looked at your license or something."

"Babe, it's four weeks away. Don't get down on yourself."

Mike leaned in to kiss me. After a simple peck, we turned to look at Mom. I expected her to look repulsed. She actually had a slight smile on her face. We didn't know what to say. We just looked at her.

"I must be getting used to the idea of you two being a couple. I'm finding you cute together. Am I growing as a person then?"

I smiled. A big smile. It is the first big smile Mom has seen on my face in a while.

"I'll say. That's one down." I turned to Mike. "I can't wait to meet your parents. At least they want to meet me," I said with no pretense of there not being a dig at my father in there.

"Everything in its own time, Trent," Mike said turning to give my mother a smile.

"Have you told Dad that Mike is my boyfriend?" I asked Mom.

"No. You asked me not to. I'll let you handle that."

"Does he talk about me? At all?"

Mom paused, not knowing what to say. "Not much. I think he is ... avoiding speaking about it. He was happy that you accepted a job."

"We're all excited," said Mike trying to ease the tension.

"Will you be coming home to visit anytime soon?" Mom asked.

"Nope. I don't feel welcome."

"Trent! It's your home. Of course, you are welcome."

"When Dad apologizes. Or lets me know he accepts who is son is, then maybe."

We finished lunch. Mom hugged us both at the car. Thank heavens I've made steps with at least her. She and Mike are in a good place, or at least a kind-of-a-good place. She wished me luck on the job, and I told her I would keep her updated.

 

June 11

Mike is amazing. The lunch with Mom went so much easier because of him. I at least feel there is a small patch on the situation.

Mom saw me kiss a man for the first time. It went okay. Hopefully, it is easier for her each time.

It's clear Dad is going to be an issue, but I have faith Mom will be a bit of a liaison.

 

—

 

June 12

I filled out my paperwork. The people at the station seem nice. I'm eager to learn. They gave me a quick tour. I expected it to be bigger.

Monday morning will be early. They showed me a few things that I'd be doing right away. I got to meet a few of the on-air personalities, but not all of them. That would come Monday.

I'm really looking forward to this job.

 

—

 

Lance was like a kid on Christmas morning on Saturday. He was so excited to prepare dinner for the three of us. Mike came over mid-afternoon. We watched television for a while. We caught a little baseball, and then some of a Pride concert happening in another city.

"Next year, I want to go down to the parade here. I think the three of us should go. I feel a need to be a part of the LGBTQ community."

"Well," Lance stammered. "I ... I don't know if ... you know, I'm really ..."

"Lance, if I unzipped my fly, would you give me a hand job?" Mike threw out there.

Lance bolted upright in the chair. He looked shocked.

"Huh? What are you saying?"

"Would you?" Mike asked again.

Lance was a deer in headlights. Was Mike serious? Was this a real offer? He looked at me. I smiled.

"Uhhh, yeah ... sure," Lance said, still feeling lost.

"See? You are one of the letters. We're all going next year," Mike said, waving his hand.

My phone buzzed. I looked down at the text.

"Holy crap!" I said.

"What is it?" they both asked.

"It's from Robert ... Dr. Owens. He said my father talked to him today about me. He wants to know if he can call."

"Holy crap!" they both said. "Call!"

I hit the call button to his text.

"H-h-hi, Robert," I struggled to get out.

Lance and Mike leaned in to hear what they could. Robert had thanked me for the card that Mike and I had sent.

"Oh, you're welcome. We really had a stupendous time. Simple, relaxing, just a nice getaway."

I put it on speaker.

"Trent, your father came to me today. I always keep all conversations private. He's not a client obviously, but since you had come to me concerned about him, I wanted you to know that he spoke to me."

"What did he say??!"

"Well, I can't tell you that. Just as you would want me to keep your conversations in confidence, I'll do the same."

"But ...?"

"I want you to give him some time."

"That sounds like it didn't go well."

"Trent, I want you to put yourself in his shoes."

"Seriously!!?? His shoes!? Why would I ..."

"I told him the same thing. I asked him to put himself in your shoes."

"And?"

"And that will take some time. Right now, your father is grappling with all the hopes and images of how he thought your life would be are now being taken away. I'm not saying he is right. It is just where he is. He will soon face the fact that what he wanted is not what is actually happening. And that's hard. Not necessarily right, just hard — for any parent dealing with a big change. So, acceptance is going to take time. I think it will happen more slowly with your father."

"Hmm. We'll see. It was nice of you to at least share that much with me, Robert. That does help. A tiny bit. At least he wanted to talk about it. With you, I guess. I'll let you know if anything big happens."

Lance brought Mike a beer. He was on his second. He offered me one. I asked for a Diet Coke. Lance returned with a can along with a glass of ice. Bless him, Lance knew I would have wanted that.

"I'm not sure what to think," I said.

"Well, process what the doctor said," Mike encouraged.

 

—

 

Dinner was amazing. Lance blew us away. He looked so proud. He beamed like a contestant making it to the next round on a baking show. He's not much of a fancy cook, but apparently, he had been searching online for a dish that looked "special occasion" but that he could also prepare. It was a walnut-crusted parmesan chicken with a pesto/cream cheese sauce. He wouldn't let us in the kitchen while he prepared it. He kept shushing us out. We smiled as he was pouring his heart out in making us a special dinner. He had steamed fresh green beans and a long-grain rice as the side dishes. He sprinkled some slivered almonds to make the green beans look visually impressive. We showered him with praise. We had enjoyed everything.

We cleaned up the dishes and put things away.

"I put dessert in the fridge. Do we want it now or save it for later?" Mike asked.

"You do??" I said looking at him surprised.

"Well, yeah. I texted Lance to see if I could bring anything. I grabbed a cake and he said you guys already had ice cream to go along the side. It's not like I spent all morning cooking. I picked it up."

"How about we wait an hour or so," Lance said, popping open his third beer. Mike indicated he was fine.

We left the television off so we could just talk. We let Lance tell us all about his job. He said he was mildly enjoying it. Parts were great and parts were incredibly mundane, according to him.

Mike shared stories from his first year of teaching. He was fortunate to get a job right out of college. Some teachers have to sub for a year or two. He felt lucky. Some of his blunders his first few months made me feel better about going in on Monday. It made me feel like new hires weren't expected to be perfect.

Mike had bought a carrot cake, which he apparently knew we had butter pecan ice cream via Lance. It was just what we needed.

Lance went in to get another beer. Mike said he would take one. I turned him down.

"Oh, come on, it's been a long time since the incident. You can have one drink. It's Saturday," Lance said.

"What incident?" Mike asked.

"The one with Detrell," Lance said.

"What incident with Detrell!?" Mike said, sitting completely upright.

I looked like I had been shot in the chest. My eyes were out of their sockets.

"Oh." Lance panicked. "I ... I ... thought you would have told him. I ... I'm sorry buddy."

I buried my head in my hands. Why did Lance say that?! Fuck. What could I say? I have kept it buried for so long. Now it just seemed like I was keeping secrets from Mike. I was frozen.

"What happened? When was this?" Mike said, getting more insistent.

"I'm sorry, Trent," Lance softly said, shrinking into oblivion.

I couldn't look at Mike. If our eyes met, my emotions would have imploded into a black hole. Everything would be thrown off its axis. I tormented myself on what to say. The silence was too demanding for Lance.

"Um ... Detrell ... kind of ... forced himself ... uh," Lance stammered.

"Did Detrell RAPE you!??" Mike exclaimed.

I squeezed my face into my hands as hard as I could.

"I think he drugged Trent," Lance added.

"What!?"

"It was months ago," I muttered into my hands.

Mike sat next to me and put his arms around me and held me immediately. I slumped into his body and held him.

"WHY. Didn't. You. TELL me!" Mike said exasperated.

I didn't know where to start. I got choked up. I felt like I couldn't even breathe.

"I'm sorry, Trent," Lance softly said apologetically from the side.

"You know when you and I were `on hold' until I graduated?"

"Yeah."

"I was caught up with schoolwork one night and just went to the club where you and I had danced. I just planned to be there for a little bit. Detrell came in and started buying me drinks. We danced ... he put stupid thoughts in my head ..."

"What kind of thoughts?"

"He ... he said ... he said he was sure you were getting sex on the side while waiting for me."

"The asshole!" Mike said.

"I know," Lance said.

"I just had a lot to drink too fast. I wasn't even thinking clearly. Detrell kind of led me by the hand to the parking lot. We got in his car. I didn't want to ... I couldn't think straight."

"I swear he drugged you," said Lance.

"We don't know that!" I shot back. "He started kissing me in his car. I tried to tell him to ... wait ... that I didn't want this, but after the drinks — that he paid for — I didn't put up a fight. I ... I ..."

The tears burst like from a dam rupturing.

"I hated it! I didn't want to do it. I just wanted to go home!! He kept me there and ... he ... he fucked me. Mike, I'm so sorry that it happened."

I was bawling. Mike held me.

"Baby. Baby. Oh, J.T. Why didn't you tell me?" he said, rocking me in his arms.

"I was humiliated. I felt like it was my fault. Like I should have shoved him. I was afraid if you knew ... you would think I was weak. Like I was ... damaged goods ... and you wouldn't take me back. I felt so stupid for getting myself into that situation. I didn't want you to see me that way."

I sobbed into Mike's chest. None of us said anything for a while. Mike and I reclined on the couch. Lance looked like he had accidentally shot me with a rifle. I could see him silently crying across the room.

"C'mere," I told him.

Lance sat at the foot of the couch. I grabbed his hand.

"I am ... sooooo sorry ... Trent. I would never mean to hurt you."

"I know."

The three of us sat quietly. In a chain-of-monkeys kind of way, we were connected. It was starting to get dark. We eventually got up to turn on a few lights. We sat around the kitchen table and talked through the incident. I told Mike I had seen Robert for some counseling and that I had dealt with it for the most part. Him finding out made it all fresh again.

The mood was by no means cheery, but we got past it. Lance had another beer. Mike did too. I had more cake.

We eventually prepared to go to bed. Lance hugged me. He whispered "I'm so sorry" into my ear for the 90th time. "I love you."

"I love you too, Lance."

Even in this different bed, Mike and I found "our places" in the sheets. I knew neither of us would be in the mood for sex tonight and with Lance so close by, that probably wouldn't have been an option anyway. Regardless, we were naked, and Mike held open his arms to me. I slid into them.

I was worried what he might say. How was he processing everything? Did he take offense? Did he think worse of me — the fact that I let myself get into that situation or that I didn't tell him? This was sort of a first hurdle for us now that we were officially a couple.

"Are you okay?" he asked me.

"Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing."

"I'm ... fine. I don't want to say `okay' because you went through something painful, and I wasn't able to help. I'm ... hurt is not the word ... but feeling left out. I want to be there for you. I want to be your strength when you go through something like that."

"I know. We were on that break. I thought it could easily end things between us. I was afraid to tell you."

Mike's embrace held me tighter.

"Tell me anything baby. You are the most important person in my world. Always, always, always come to me, okay?"

"Okay," I said, kissing his chest.

"Just so you know, I was freaked out. I had a test done a few weeks ago to make sure I was ... you know ... to make sure. The test came back fine."

"Okay. How about I go get one too, just for your sake."

"But you know you are totally fine."

"I do. But I want to do it for you. We'll put our papers together. We will have both: trust and proof. It's just one more step for us to move forward." Mike paused. "Oh baby, I am sooo sorry you had to deal with that. I love you so much."

"Me too. Tonight's not right, but we haven't had sex since the lake. How about I pop by tomorrow?"

We kissed and turned out the lights.

 

—

 

I wasn't sure what time it was, but I could hear Mike coughing a bit.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I think I just need some water. I have a tickle in my throat."

The apartment was dark, but Mike made his way to the kitchen, naked, without turning any lights on.

I laid there a couple minutes but then started hearing voices. What the ...? I got up and walked to the kitchen. It took me a moment, but I squinted my eyes to see Lance holding Mike's dick and both of them holding Lance's.

"What is going on?" I boldly asked.

"Go back to bed, babe," Mike said. "I'll be right there."

Mike broke free from Lance and grabbed a glass and got some water.

Back in the room I waited the — million — seconds until Mike came back.

"What was that?"

"He's drunk."

"Why was he holding your dick?"

"I didn't expect him in there. I figured he was in bed. The stove light was on, and he was sitting at the kitchen table. Naked. Had I known he was there I would have put something on."

"Keep going."

Mike hesitated. "He ... said I was sexy. Then he said you wouldn't give him any sex, but he knew I would give him a blowjob. And he grabbed my hand and placed it on his dick and then he grabbed mine. That's when you walked in. He's drunk, honey."

"Jesus."

Mike took a drink of water. His cough sounded a little better. He blew his nose. Then he climbed back in the bed.

"You are dealing with a lot on your plate right now," Mike said to me. "Are you sure you are weathering this all okay?"

"I guess we'll see."

 

* * * *

Post comments on the blog: timothylane414stories.blogspot.com

Email: timothylane414@gmail.com