Date: Wed, 30 Jan 2019 21:17:27 +0000 (UTC)
From: jagfantsw <jagfantsw@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Kid Named Ryan Chapter 10

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A Kid Named Ryan - Chapter 10

As I lay there, to be honest, I didn't know what to do. Staring at the
ceiling, I eventually closed my eyes. Ryan didn't move from my side. After
several minutes he broke the silence and said, "Are you okay?'

Now I didn't know what to do OR say! He placed one of his hands on my
stomach. Finally, I said, "Let me get cleaned up."

As I sat up, he did as well. I so wanted to lean over and kiss him, but
didn't. I brought my knees up close to my chest, placing my forearms on
them. I buried my head onto my arms.

Ryan said, "You're not okay."

Pausing a moment, I first sighed, then replied, "I'm okay. But we...," and
I stopped for a moment, looked over at him and continued, "You know we've
crossed a line and we can't go back."

"Is that bad?"

"Probably," I said with more than a hint of uncertainty in my voice.

As he looked at me, his eyes were fixated onto mine. It felt as if those
eyes were also piercing me through. "Mark, I really love you. You're all I
have now. I want you in my life forever."

"Yeh, I know that. But I would've been here for you without this. So,..."
And I really had no idea how to complete that thought. After a few moments,
I said, "Let me get cleaned up and then we can figure out what to do for
dinner."

I stood up and was now fully conscious that I was standing naked in front
of Ryan. Shame and guilt began take hold of my thoughts as I gathered up my
clothes. Heading to my room, I closed the door, tossed the clothes off to
the side and fell onto my bed. I remained there for a few minutes, my mind
whirling as fast as the spin cycle of a washing machine. Ryan knocked on
the door and after a moment or so said, "Mark? Can I come in?"

Thinking about whether to answer him, I finally said, "Yeh, c'mon in."

As he opened the door, I sat up, looked up at him and our eyes immediately
connected. He repeated the question from before: "Are you okay?"

Looking back on it, I believe that this was how much he cared for me. He
may not have realized the repercussions of what had occurred, but Ryan was
trying to show his concern. So, I finally said, "Yeh. I'll be okay."

He walked over and sat at the end of the bed. He looked at me, but didn't
say anything. I moved next to him and said, "We've been through a helluva
lot in the last few days. Can we kinda hit the pause button and, together,
figure out what to do?"

Somewhat nervously he responded with a very quiet, "Yeh."

"Let me get cleaned up and I'll be out in a few minutes."

As he stood up and began to walk toward the door of my bedroom, he turned
around and said, "Mark, I love you."

I smiled and said, "I know. Love you, too."

And he walked out closing the door behind him.

After getting a quick shower and a change of clothes, I found him lying on
the bed in the guest room. It looked like he may have been crying and, when
I first came and stood in the doorway, he didn't notice me. When he did
look up and saw me, he wiped his eyes, sat up and said, "You clean up
nice." And he smiled as if he were flirting with me.

"C'mon let's figure what's what for dinner."

We did burgers on the grill, once again, along with a fresh bag of potato
chips from the previous night's grocery store stop. I had a bourbon while I
was cooking the burgers and another as we ate. Ryan drank water, although I
offered him a drink from the bar if he wanted one. During dinner, I did
bring up the need to call the funeral home first thing Monday morning so we
could make plans. For the most part, he would just nod his head in
agreement at whatever I said.

Once we had finished eating, I told him I would get the dishes cleaned up
and maybe he could go and get his video gaming system hooked up to the TV
in the living room, which he did. As I came into the living room, I said,
"Need any help?"

He turned, looked at me and said, "I got this." And that smile that always
made me melt came across his face.

Ryan played a couple of games just to make sure things were hooked up
correctly. I moved the coffee table back in front of the sofa and sat there
watching him. When he finished, he came over and sat next to me.

I said, "What're we going to do now?"

"Can we just sit here and do nothing?"

Now I wanted to respond, "Is that possible?" But I didn't. Instead I said,
"Sure, is there anything on TV you want to watch?"

"No. I just want to sit here and be quiet with you."

For the next hour or so, as the sun went down and the living room grew
increasingly dark, nothing was said. Nothing. I had my feet on the coffee
table and, after several minutes -maybe sensing things might have settled
down between us - Ryan put his legs on top of mine. A few minutes later, he
moved close enough to be able to lay his head on my shoulder and he began
to lightly trace his index finger over my shirt. Reaching down I took his
hand into mine, just as he had done earlier, interlocking our
fingers. Looking at them I said, "That's how close we've become since
Thursday."

"It's how close I've hoped we would have been for a lot longer than that,"
he said in almost a whisper.

"But it's also how close we are to getting ourselves into trouble."

He shook his head. All I could think in that moment was, "Does he
understand the consequences of what's happening?" Eventually we released
our hands, and, once more, all fell quiet.

He broke the silence by asking, "What about me turns you on so much?"

I responded, after a moment or so, "Your looks. Your athleticism. Both of
which I envy. How genuinely nice you are. Your quick wit and the one-liners
that, I know, drive some of the teachers at school nuts, but, to me,
they're just who you are and how you see the world in your way."

"Oh." And he sounded somewhat surprised by what I had said.

"Does any of that bother you?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Does any of that sound weird to you?"

"No. It might if it was someone else was saying it, but not you." He then
asked, kind of innocently, "Why do you envy how I look?"

I did not respond right away. After several seconds I said, "Okay. This is
going to be hard for me to say." I took another moment, swallowed all my
pride and said, "I would've loved to have your looks, your athleticism when
I was your age."

"I don't understand."

"All of this," and I motioned with my hands in a circle around Ryan, "works
for you, it allows you to fit in at school so well. You're liked, you've
got friends and teammates who like having you around. I never had that in
school. I may have played soccer, but I was on the bench for the most
part. I was what coaches call 'practice fodder.'"

"Oh," he responded. "So, you think you're ugly? 'Cause you're not."

I smiled. "Thanks. But that's not what I mean. You," and I pointed at him,
"have so much more going for you, in general, than I ever did. And I'm just
jealous of you, wishing I could've had some of what you got."

Giving Ryan time to comprehend what I said, I wasn't sure if he did, so I
continued, "Throughout life, all anyone wants is to be liked and
wanted. That may even be more true when we're in high school. Everyone
wants a place to fit in. I tried to do that playing soccer. Probably
because my skill level wasn't what the coach and others wanted, I felt like
I was on the second- or third-tier, or lower, in high school. I went
through school with almost no friends. You, on the other hand,...." And I
didn't finish the sentence.

I finished the thought saying, "Despite everything that's gone on these
days - before any of this happened - you have a lot of good stuff happening
in your life."

We sat for a few minutes without saying anything. I then looked at him and
said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeh, anything," almost as if he was searching for some way - any way - to
cut the tension that was hanging over us.

"What happened this afternoon - where did you get the idea to do that?"

Ryan didn't answer immediately. Finally he said, "Promise you won't get
mad?'

"Yeh. I'm not going to get mad. Promise."

He waited quite a few seconds before he said, "The internet. I saw a video
of a guy jerking off another guy."

"Porn site?" I inquired.

Very, very quietly, as if he was embarrassed, he responded, "Yeh."

"Was it since you've been here with me?"

"No. A while ago."

"So, I guess you've been looking for a time to do that with me?"

"Yeh."

I purposely didn't want to react to him at that moment knowing that the
whole thing of taking in a teenage boy at his age was a major challenge
anyway. I had no idea how his mom and dad had raised him, particularly in
his regards to sex. I presumed from our conversation back in the Fall that
he had never told his parents that he thought he was gay. I remember how my
dad found out about my surfing sites like that. It didn't seem the time to
cross that bridge with him.

"I really need you to hear this, Ryan," I said. "I love you, but I also
respect you a lot. And because, to me, both - love and respect - go
together, I never want to do anything, or get into a predicament with you,
that's going to hurt you in any way."

"I know."

"So, can the two of us make a promise to each other now?"

With resignation in his voice, he said, "I know what you're going to say."

"We can't let this happen again."

"But...."

And I cut him off, "There can't be any 'buts,' Ryan. We - you and me - have
to promise this won't happen and we've got to honestly face those feelings
when we're having them."

There was the slightest nod of his head. I could tell there were tears
forming in his eyes. So I whispered, "You're not going to lose me."

Then the following words I punctuated in a kind of staccato voice,
"I..will..always..be..here..for..you."