> a Man loves a Boy - book 1 < * - Last time, my ongoing 'Gypsy Series' story ended with: Smiling broadly, Trudy sat herself down on her own couch like a queen, while she told me: "From now on, Harry is all yours; and you can do with him as you wish. I can see in both your and his eyes that you and he belong to each other. That boy needs you, and I am sure you need that boy too! Tomorrow, I will ask John to help you with setting up Harry's old room, and I will ask Mark and Marrie to help move his belongings to your house. Now, go get Harry and take him with you. He sleeps in John's room, upstairs, second door to the left, and his clothes are on one of their chairs. Do you need any help dressing him?" Smiling at me, Trudy pointed through the open door to the stairs in the hallway and beckoned me to go upstairs and get Harry... Suddenly feeling numb and a bit shaky, I first shook my head to indicate I didn't need any help dressing my boy. Then, I slowly turned around, entered the dimly lit hallway, and hesitatingly climbed the stairs to the second floor and John's room. Feeling like an intruder, I opened the door to John's bedroom. First, I saw John, peacefully sleeping in the nearest bed, with his head just above the blankets. Where was little Harry? Why didn't my boy sleep next to John? John had told me that his little brother used to crawl in his bed, because he used to sleep next to his Big Friend and hated sleeping alone. Then, I saw my little soul mate, peacefully lying on his back in another bed. His small head rested on a pillow, while his distorted little mouth showed a faint smile. Feeling all mushy and full of love, I stepped inside, clicked the lights on, and stared at the softly snoring little boy who from now on would be 'my boy'.
- CHAPTER 9. The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to these. In his sleep, little Harry had thrown his blankets halfway back; so that, for the first time, I could see some more of his burnt little body. At that same moment, I felt severely shocked! My own little brother had been burnt mainly on his face, his throat, and his hands, but this poor little orphan seemed to be burnt everywhere! Several raw stripes showed on his badly marred chest in at least three different colors, together with many reddish scars of past operations and lots of still growing wild flesh. A couple of small ribs showed through his tainted and colored skin, which looked way too strained and certainly way too tight to be comfortable. I could hardly imagine how many more operations this poor boy would need in his future, to remove all the excessive wild flesh and loosen his too taut skin. After several seconds of looking at my boy's terribly marred chest, I decided to try to see some more of his burns before I woke him up, so that he wouldn't see my again shocked face. Therefore, I carefully lifted his blankets up and away... Immediately, I covered his naked little body again, when I found out that he didn't have any clothes on! Obviously, my boy slept in the nude; and looking at such a naked little body while its owner was asleep felt extremely inappropriate, almost as if I was violating my boy's personal privacy. Only, what should I do now? Should I go downstairs and ask Trudy to help me dress him? Or, should I wake John first, and ask my young friend to help me with his little brother? At that moment, my boy moved in his sleep and again threw his blankets halfway back. Again, I stared at his unclad little chest, knowing that the rest of him was even more naked... After some more pondering, I hesitantly decided that it didn't really matter. Obviously, Trudy had already trusted me with this little boy, while she probably knew he slept naked but anticipated that I would be able to dress him properly. Only my strict and puritanical upbringing forbade me to look at any naked or unclad bodies, unless those bodies belonged to 'your own flesh and blood'. Again, I lifted my boy's blankets away from his naked little body. Again, I felt severely shocked when I saw the rest of his burns. His small belly looked purple and reddish, while his right hip was an ugly mixture of wild flesh and several nasty scars in all different colors. His left leg seemed to be less affected by the fire, but his right one was a total mess of still growing wild flesh and all sorts of ugly scars. Even his little pecker looked reddish and wrinkled, obviously also damaged by the fire. Would this poor boy ever be able to grow into a normal man and have children of his own? While staring at the terrible sight of such a devastated little body, I nearly started to cry. This was not what I had expected to see, while remembering my own burnt little brother... Then, I pulled myself together, killed my disturbing emotions, and wiped my tears away, because I wanted to be strong for my boy. Gently, I caressed his sleeping little face, until he started to fidget and yawn. Bending over towards him, I whispered into his ear: "Harry? Do you remember me? I promised to take you home..." Much to my delight, my boy woke up immediately. For a second, he rubbed his squinting eyes with the backs of his hands. Then, he opened them wide and looked at me. A smile from ear to ear told me he recognized me and felt very happy to see me! Immediately, he sat upright and threw his blankets aside, without any shame about his nudity. Longingly, he stretched his small arms out towards me, as if asking me to take him into my arms and give him a cuddle. Of course, I did what my boy obviously wanted me to do. Gently, I took him into my arms, sat down on a corner of his bed, and lifted him onto my lap, this time facing me. Feeling all mushy and full of tender loving care for my boy, I kissed his scarred little forehead. Immediately, he tilted his head and kissed me back, full on my lips. Fortunately, and very much to my relief, my too puritanical inside seemed to have learnt its lesson and didn't react any more. Without any remorse, I just kissed my boy's wrinkled little lips back. For a few seconds, we exchanged each other's kisses, and that felt wonderful. Then, with his surprisingly deep baritone voice and only a slight outlandish accent, my smiling boy asked me: "Am I going to live with you now, in Jack's former house?" Inwardly hoping my boy would say 'yes', I secretly crossed my fingers behind my back while I asked him: "Do you really want to live with me from now on?" "Of course, silly!" my boy responded immediately. Showing me a beaming face and sparkling bright blue eyes, he slid off my lap, dived towards his chair, and started to put on his clothes. In the meantime, he talked, with a deep baritone voice and a strange but pleasant sounding outlandish accent. Only now and then, he mispronounced a too difficult word, or he didn't know where to put the accent, adding it to his being a really special kid. While dressing, he told me he always slept in his 'birthday suit', because his burns started to itch under pressure or in a too warm bed. Jack used to massage his scars with some soothing oil, but John didn't know where the bottle was. He always wore underwear that was at least two sizes too big, to lessen the pressure on his itching burns. But, whenever possible, he preferred to walk around without any clothes on, to feel freer and unrestrained. Normally, he hated sleeping alone. Therefore, he always crawled next to John in John's bed. Only, tonight, he knew I was going to take him home, and he didn't want to wake his big brother. Therefore, he had decided to sleep in his own bed until I woke him up and took him home. All his belongings were stowed away since two months ago, when Jack suddenly died and he had to share John's bedroom. But, of course, from now on, he could have his own room back in Jack's house. Oops, sorry. He now could have his own room back in OUR house! Much to my delight, my boy turned out to be extremely bright, very talkative, and an entertaining conversationalist. When he had to stop his waterfall of words to take a breath, I quickly jumped in and asked him a few questions. One by one, he thought my questions over carefully, before coming back with an intelligent and direct answer. Then, as if taking revenge, my boy started to ask me his own questions! Was I married, where was my wife, did I have any children, did I have plans to remarry, what did I do for a living? Did I have enough money to maintain my new house, what did I need such a big house for, and did I have any plans for our future? And, most important, did I have a computer with a lot of games, because John didn't have any and they loved to play them? My little soul mate seemed to be a thoughtful, funny, bright, and extremely intelligent little soldier; and I already started to like him more and more! When he was dressed up sufficiently for the cold evening, I took him into the hallway and lifted him onto my shoulders. Happily, he clamped his small hands around my forehead, with his little legs dangling free. Together, we went downstairs, on our way tickling each other and having lots of fun. Just before we entered the living room, I put him back onto his feet, to avoid him bumping his head against the doorpost. Walking together, we opened the door and entered the room. Eric seemed to have left, and the living room was silent except for some soft and nice sounding background music. Trudy sat again on her couch; but, this time, she had a sad face and puffy eyes full of tears, now and then wiping them with an already wet handkerchief. My little soul mate went to her, stopped for a second to look at her teary face, and then consolingly put his small arms around her neck. While he started to yawn, he whispered into her ear: "Let it go, Mom, and don't bottle it up. In a few minutes, you will feel a lot better." While trying to hide her puffy eyes, Trudy smiled at my boy, hugged him tenderly, and told him he was a lucky boy. "Yes, I certainly am!" my boy responded while returning her hug, "But I am too sleepy to talk now, and I want to go home." Involuntarily, I got tears in my own eyes and secretly wiped them away, at hearing my boy call our house 'home'. To me, there was an enormous difference between a 'house' and a 'home'. Until now, I never had a 'home', but always just lived in my house... Trying to hide my emotions, I first swallowed a couple of times to clear my voice. Then, I thanked Trudy for trusting me with my boy and with her children, and invited her for a talk and a drink the next day. I also promised her to take very good care of my boy, who would live in my house from now on and have his 'own' room back. Impatiently, my again yawning boy took my hand and dragged me towards the door, as if urging me to leave Trudy's house and go home, because he was sleepy and we would have more than enough time to continue talking tomorrow... After we left Trudy's house, I lifted my yawning boy onto my shoulders. With his little legs dan-gling free and his small hands clamped around the top of my head, I took him to my house. Oops, sorry... I took him to OUR house. Our street was already dark, except for some faintly illuminated circles below the glowing lampposts. While carrying my boy home, involuntarily, my meddlesome mind started to doubt again. For heaven's sake, what was I doing? Here I was, an 'ancient grandpa', carrying a little boy towards my house like some trophy, snatched away from Eric. Would I really be competent enough to raise such a vulnerable little orphan all alone? Probably, I didn't even have enough food in my house to feed him tomorrow morning! I still had to refill my nearly empty refrigerator; and I had to find my disappeared packet of tissues, a second toothbrush, more soap, and a lot more towels. Would I really be the right person to educate this eight-year-old little Gypsy boy? Would I really be able to teach such a young child all the 'important things of life'? So far, I didn't have any real experience with raising young children, because I had only been working and working. During our marriage, my wife had made all the important decisions regarding our two daughters' upbringing, and I had always relied on her wise judgment and good sense. My only task in our household had been earning enough money; and, now and then, a cuddle and a quick kiss on a forehead. Now that I thought about it some more, I had probably made a way too hasty decision by taking my little friend home. Children's Protection Services would never allow me to keep him. Jack, his former Big Friend, had been very lucky avoiding CPS during the two years little Harry had lived in his house. Besides, raising a growing boy was not the same thing as keeping a domestic pet. I would have to ask Trudy for advice and buy a couple of learning books about raising children, first thing in the morning! In the meantime, little Harry still clamped his hands around my head, while he slowly swung his dangling legs. As we approached our house, his swinging became less and less until, at last, he stopped. Apparently, he nearly fell asleep on my shoulders, although his small hands continued to grip my hair. Still worrying about my way too spontaneous decision, I entered my front garden and climbed the few steps to my porch. After sinking onto one knee to lower myself, I gently plucked a sleepy little Harry off my shoulders. Carefully, I put him onto his wobbly feet, to be able to get my keys and open the front door. My boy woke up some, opened his eyes, and first produced a series of heartfelt yawns. This time, he was just a little boy, shivering from the nightly cold and swaying from sleepiness. Then, with a very sleepy bari-tone voice, he asked me: "Are we home now? It's cold here, and I am very sleepy..." "Just a moment please. Yes, we are home now, but I have to get my keys first to open the front door." "Okay." Only, where could I have left my keys? For the second time, I searched my pockets. Could I have lost my keys somewhere on the sidewalk, or perhaps while I was in John's house? Should I now turn around and try to follow my own trail backwards? Suddenly, I remembered I had forgotten to take my keys with me, when John and I left my house and I closed the front door. Of course, they were in my living room, lying on my desk, next to my telephone! What should I do now? And, what should I do with little Harry who clearly needed his sleep? Would the police be able to help me, or perhaps the village's fire brigade? Or, should I call a locksmith, to help me open my front door? Unfortunately, my phone was lying on my desk in my living room, while I had locked myself out. By now, I started to realize that I could have a serious problem! Should I try to smash a small window, perhaps at the backside of my house? Then, I could ask little Harry to climb inside, to get my keys from my desk and open our front door. Or, should I return to John's house and ask Trudy or Eric for help? Perhaps, I could try to smash a small window with one of my boy's white cobblestones. Secretly, I hoped I had forgotten to lock the backdoor, because I was only a forgetful 'ancient grandpa'. Of course, I was relatively sure I had locked the backdoor from the inside, but one can never know. This time, I really hoped that rascal Thomas would be right! Well, there was only one way to find out. Determinedly, I took my boy's hand and started to descend the few porch steps, planning to walk around my house and reach the backdoor in the pitch dark... Only, immediately after taking the first step downwards, little Harry stopped abruptly and refused to go on! With a surprised face, he looked up at me with his piercing bright blue eyes. For a second, I thought that my little Shaman would again read my mind, this time to find out why we didn't enter our house and go to bed. Then, his sleepy baritone voice objected: "What are you doing? I thought we would go inside?" "Yes, I know; but I forgot to put my keys in my pocket when John and I left the house. Now, I hope I also forgot to lock the backdoor, otherwise we will have to smash a window and you will have to climb inside, to get my keys from my desk in the living room." Much to my surprise, my little imp just woke up com-pletely and immediately started to bellow with laughter! First, he slapped his small knees and almost hiccupped from sudden fun. Then, he determinedly took my hand and started to drag me around the house and into the pitch-dark backyard. While I tried not to stumble in the darkness, my boy chuckled: "You and Jack could be brothers, because Jack always forgot his keys or his wallet! Now and then, we had to smash a window at the back of our house, and I had to crawl inside to get our keys and open the front door. At last, we hid a spare key in a bush at the backside, in case Jack forgot his keys again. Nobody else knows about it, except for John, so I am sure that our key will still be there." Feeling ashamed of my very obvious forgetfulness, I let myself be dragged towards the back of my house. In the pitch dark, my still chuckling little imp left my hand and immediately disappeared into a thick bush that grew against the wall. Within two seconds, he returned, proudly carrying a rusty spare key. With a smug face, he unlocked the backdoor, and told me in his best French: "Voila, monsieur; and after you." After putting Jack's spare key back onto its hidden nail inside the thick bush, my boy followed me into my house. First, he rushed to my living room, and quickly returned with my keys from my desk. Then, he relocked the backdoor from the inside. Without saying a word, but with a huge smile from ear to ear on his proudly beaming little face, he demonstratively worked my keys into a pocket of my trousers. Wow, what an extremely special boy was he. Inwardly, I found out that I already started to love his joyful spirit and playful antics very much! Feeling full of love for my again yawning boy, I hugged him and ruffled his unruly blond hair. Immediately, he threw his small arms around my waist and hugged me back fiercely. Then, while climb-ing onto one of the folding chairs, he yawned: "Could I please have a cup of hot chocolate, before we go to bed?" "Do you want one or two helpings of chocolate pow-der?" "Two helpings, of course! I am still a bit too small for my age, so I need a lot extra of everything, to grow faster." "Well, your cleverness certainly is not too small for your age. Could you please get the milk from the refrigerator?" My boy nodded, hopped off his chair, went to the refrigerator, and returned with the bottle of milk. In the meantime, I found my chocolate powder in one of my cupboards and put it onto the table. Next, I took an empty pan from the sink and held it up in front of my little imp. Of course, I assumed he would only smile, and leave the cooking to me. However, my little imp just took the bottle of milk from the table and deftly opened it. Next, he poured exactly the right amount of milk into the pan, without spilling a drop. While I put the pan onto my electric cook top, I praised him: "You seem to have a good eye for the right amount of milk!" With a proud face and sparkling blue eyes, my boy responded: "I know, and that is because Jack and I always cooked together." Trying to tease the obviously bragging little boy with his so-called 'cooking skills', I asked him: "Well, I have to admit am not very good at cooking. Perhaps, you could teach me a couple of things?" With a proudly beaming face, my imp immediately re-sponded: "Okay. Starting tomorrow, I will teach you how to cook properly." While looking at my little imp's very convincing face, I happily ruffled his unruly blond hair. Of course, I supposed he was bragging about teaching me how to cook properly. As he was only eight years old, he certainly couldn't be much of a real chef... After finishing our hot chocolate, I washed our used cups and the pan, and my boy dried them with the only kitchen towel I had been able to find. Using a folding chair to climb onto the sideboard, he put everything away into the appropriate cupboards, before he jumped back onto the kitchen floor without any help. Chuckling, I thought he seemed to be at least as tidy as John had been. Looking up at me with sleepy eyes, my boy yawned: "Can we please go to bed now? Where are we sleeping?" "Well, I will sleep in my own bedroom; and, now that you start living here again, you will sleep in your own room." "But, the movers have taken away all of Jack's possessions, so that my own room is still empty! I want to sleep next to you in your bed, as I always did with Jack and still do with John." Suddenly feeling uneasy, I quickly responded: "Well, I think that is not such a good idea. Of course, you ought to sleep in your own room, in your own bed! Let's have a look at your old room now, upstairs, the second door to the left." "How do you know where my old room is? Did John tell you?" "As a matter of fact, yes, he did." "I thought so, because John knows everything about me." Without waiting for me, my little imp left our kitchen and raced up the steps to the second floor, while I followed him upstairs at a more leisurely pace. Of course, my boy had already disappeared around the corner, while I was still dragging myself up to the second floor. From the second hallway, I saw him stare through the open door into his old room, with a smug face. When I reached his room, he turned towards me and wheedled: "See? My room is still empty because my bed is still in John's room. Therefore, I cannot sleep here tonight! But, I am only a tiny kid, and I don't use up much space in YOUR bed." Chuckling at hearing my boy's clever antics, I responded: "Nice try! Have you ever slept in a folding bed?" "Of course, silly! After I fled from the orphanage, I've even slept on a wooden bench in a park, until the police found me and Margaret from 'See Pee Es' took me to her madhouse hospital. Do you really have a folding bed?" "Yes. To be prepared for everything, I've even purchased two folding beds. Let's get one from the attic..." Without waiting for me, my boy trotted to the hallway, where he tried to reach the pulling cord by jumping up and down as high as he could. Of course, he was too short to get hold of it, so I took over and pulled the sliding stairs down. Immediately, he clambered upstairs and switched the attic lights on. Curiously, he looked around at all the spare things I had been stowing away for later use. Together, we took one of my folding beds and carried it towards the hatch. From there, I dragged it down the stairs, while my little helper assisted me from the attic. Working closely together, we carried the folding bed into his old room and set it up. Of course, he had to try it out first, by jumping up and down on it. Then, I got a couple of fresh sheets and blankets from my hallway closet, and he helped me put them onto his makeshift bed. # # # - A few excerpts from your wonderful 'fanmail' emails: > Hi thanks for the story, i have never
read anything like that before and I was really crying after reading all
chapters, that's magnificent and really can absorb you into it, i felt like i was in the story
myself, man, i can relate to harry to tell the truth,
in every possible way, but i really tell you just
keep up the good work, congrats, and god bless u.
> Thank you so much for writing this. So many boys grow up in our
world unloved in the way that ALL boys need to be loved - just for themselves
alone - because they ARE. Your wonderful descriptions of the love shared by
your characters in the story will surely strike a chord in the hearts of your
readers. You have my admiration, and my love.
> I love your story. I have been on the edge of my seat and read all
chapters in one sitting. You have put me through the emotional rollercoaster
and I love it! I look forward to your next chapter. Keep up the good work my friend. Your story is excellent
and your are showing all of the emotions that a person
has, how they can be dealt with through love, kindness and
caring. Thanks.
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