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Fellowship of the Schoolboy Ring.
By John Teller.
Part six.
Alfred Parnell – father of Alan, speaks.
A Loved Boy in Rome. Because Alan will be home from school in about an hour, you only have time to skim through the contents of the book he's left on the floor just under his bed. You don't usually intrude in Alan's business, and especially you don't go through his things, but because your truck broke down and you came home early on the day shift, and because you're doing some washing and noticed that Alan had not put his school shirts in the wash-basket and you know he'll need a fresh one in the morning, you came to his room to find the ones he usually leaves lying around until you yell at him to put his stuff in the wash-basket, and one of the shirts (along with a couple of pairs of socks and underpants) were right by the place when he left the book. And even if you do go into his room, because you value your son's privacy, you never go through his things. But, A Loved Boy in Rome! No matter how much you love your son, and no matter how much you value his privacy, there can't be a father on earth who would not look at what he's reading with a title like that. And when you read To my Polydeukes-Alan, with special love from your Herodes Atticus-Brice. 29th October 2012 inside the front cover, you feel sick inside, especially when you see that the author's name is Brice Washington-Thompson.
Your son, Alan. You've known he was gay from when he was about ten years old. Well, you and his mother Allison did. When he began to put pictures of men on his bedroom wall, at first you both giggled about it and when you discussed it, you thought he was going through a phase in his life like many kids do. But then you began to notice other things... like him watching WWE wrestling for hours on end on the TV, and The World's Strongest Man. Then he began to buy books with pictures of bodybuilding, but he never made any efforts to be a bodybuilder. He isn't big enough to be a bodybuilder. He's slight of frame, so he could never do that. And many other small things began to slot into place. At first it was disconcerting to you both, but as Allison said, "If he's going to be gay, then there's nothing we can do about it." Just before Allison died, she made you promise that you'd support him if he eventually did turn out to be gay. And you will, but this is something else. You thought Alan would find a partner amongst his peers, but it seems that not only does he like looking at older men, he actually likes older men! Much older men! And judging by this book you've found, he's already found one! My God! He's only twelve years old and he's forming an association with a writer who's about thirty years old! You've looked him up on your phone. You're actually aware of him. Allison used to read his books! She said he was a local writer. She actually met him once when he was doing a book signing in the city. She's actually met a man who's infatuated with your son by the looks of it, and judging from the comments in the book, this isn't a one-way thing. To my Polydeukes-Alan, with special love from your Herodes Atticus-Brice. YOUR Herodes Atticus-Brice! Bloody hell!
But what to do? You can't let this go on. What go on? Even if they're infatuated with each other, it doesn't mean they've actually done anything. It might be just a crush they have on each other. But where have they met? Alan doesn't go to book signings. Well, as far as you know he doesn't. But he might have gone to one while you were working. That's the problem with working these bloody daft shifts. Looking after a twelve year old boy means you should be working an eight `till five or six shift. You need to be home with him in the evenings, and at weekends. But there's no work about nowadays, and you have to have what you can get. Bloody government! Bastards! They don't give a damn that you have a kid to look after. You asked the agency if they could give you all day shifts, but they refused. They said it would mean somebody doing all noon shifts, and nobody wants all noon shifts. After Allison died, you really should have packed the job in. It was illegal for Alan not to be supervised at eleven years of age. Now he's twelve, it's legal for him to be at home himself. But you took the chance when he was eleven. You both talked about it after Allison died, and you worked it out that he'd say he was at his aunty Vicki's if anybody queried it. It was only going to be for a few months anyway, and at twelve he was legal. But being legal and him doing what he has, has made a mockery of everything you agreed on. Twelve! Bloody hell! If it's anything more than a crush, then the bloke can go to jail for a long time if they get caught. Stupid boy! Idiot fucking bloke! Bastard!
*****************
"You don't seem very happy tonight dad?"
You wipe your brow. You want to scream and yell at your son, but you don't. Instead, you give him a half-smile, and say, "It's been a funny day. The truck broke down so they sent me home early. I hope you don't mind, but I had to go in your room to get your clothes because they needed washing before the morning. I've ironed your school shirts. I wish you'd learn to put them in the wash-basket. How many times do I have to tell you about leaving stuff all over your bedroom floor!"
"Sorry dad. I was going to do it tonight. Sorry."
You look at Alan. He's beautiful. You love him with a passion. He's all you've got left now. You were all so happy before Allison became ill. It always happens to somebody else, but this time it happened to you. Not just to you, losing his mum has broken your son's heart. Every hug he demands from you is his way of seeking protection from the hurt he's feeling. Sometimes he won't let go of you. Sometimes he'll come to you and hug you and burst into tears. You thought he was beginning to get over it around October time, and he was getting better until Christmas arrived. Christmas was awful. You both tried to enjoy it, but it was awful. No Allison... no Mum. Terrible Christmas, and New Year, but by the end of January things were beginning to pick up again. It's almost the end of February now. Another six weeks until April 9th, the date Allison died. That's going to be awful. Alan and you have already gone through lots of the firsts of everything, but the worst is to come: the first anniversary of Allison's death... the first anniversary of Alan's mum's death. He'll be utterly devastated. That's why you've got to be strong. That's why you don't need this shit you're dealing with now. That's why you've got to handle it very carefully, and that's why you can't bring the matter up now. But what were you thinking? October time when Alan was beginning to come out of it? Yes, he was. And what date was that book signed? 29th October 2012. Yes, that's when he began to get a bit better, and after you'd got New Year over, again he perked up. Can this writer bloke have anything to do with Alan not feeling so bad all the time? But you've got mixed feelings. You're his rock, not some bloody thirty year old bloke who's got a crush on your kid. You can't have this! You've got to sort it!
"Are you alright dad?"
Alan's question breaks all your thoughts. You can't let him see that something is bothering you. You have to be strong for Alan. You can deal with other things another time. Right now you have a son to look after, and that's why you pretend you're tired, and shake your head. Then you grin at him. "I was nearly dropping off."
Alan laughs. "Then turn the fire down! I'm sweating myself!"
******************
You open your laptop and type Brice Washington-Thompson into Yahoo. Lots of things come up, including stuff about him as a writer. You go to `Images' and look at him there. He's a good looking bloke. A very good looking bloke. So, this is Herodes Atticus. Search for that name too. Wikipedia. Lucius Vibullius Hipparchus Tiberius Claudius Atticus Herodes, otherwise known as Herodes Atticus. A Roman nobleman. Friends with Hadrian who built the wall. Bloody hell! He married a fourteen year old girl when he was forty! More stuff. He was a clever bloke. Ahhh... Polydeukes. There's a picture of him. He doesn't look like your Alan. The aged Herodes Atticus in a public paroxysm of despair at the death of his maybe eromenos, Polydeukes, commissioned games, inscriptions and sculptures on a lavish scale and then died, inconsolable, shortly afterwards. There's a link to that word, `eromenos'. Let's go there. Bloody hell! Pederasty... the love of boys... to be a lover of boys. This is mind boggling stuff. But it's serious stuff as well. It doesn't say that this Atticus bloke and the kid had sex. It seems as if he just loved him. But that isn't what this Washington-Thompson bloke wrote in the book he gave to Alan. Although he doesn't actually describe the scenes, it's obvious they were having it off that way.
What to do? You just don't know. You wouldn't be doing this stuff now if the agency hadn't rung you this morning and told you to have another day off because the truck isn't fixed yet. What to do? You need to find out more about this Washington-Thompson bloke. Try Yahoo... type in his name again. 192.com. A people directory. Three entries for Washington-Thompson. But you have to join to find out stuff about him.
Got him! Everything, including his address, and he lives just ten minutes away in the car.
*****************
It's a nice house. Not all that posh, but it's nicer than the semi-detached you live in, and it's right by the bus stop where Alan catches the school bus. Ahhhh... so that's how they got to know each other! Bloody hell! Alan catches the bus here with half a dozen kids. You wonder if the other kids know what's going on. You hope not. They'd make his life a bloody misery if they knew he was gay... and ten times worse if they knew he was seeing a bloke aged thirty. You're baffled, but you're going to have to sort it. You can't just let this thing go on. Alan will be in deep trouble if all this lot gets out.
*****************
"Hello. What can I do for you?"
"Are you Brice Washington-Thompson?"
"Yes. Who're you?"
"I'm Alan Parnell's dad."
You thought he might faint, or even slam the door in your face, but he doesn't. He just looks seriously at you, and then says, "Would you like to come in?" You go in; he closes the door behind you, and then points to another door. "I was just having a coffee. Go in and I'll make you one."
The cheeky bastard! This is the bloke who's probably shagging your son, and he's offering you coffee! The cheeky bastard! But what can you do? You can either beat him to death, or have a coffee. Right now you want to kill him, but this isn't about you... this is about Alan, so you go through the door he was pointing at, and into his kitchen. There's a small, formica topped dining table and four chairs. You don't want to sit by him, so you sit on the opposite side of the table from the mug of coffee that's already on the table. Then he switches on the kettle, and asks you, "Sugar? Cream?"
That's when you lose it a bit. "You're a cool bastard! You're having it off with my son, and you're acting like you're running a mother's meeting!"
He looks directly at you. "I'm thinking about Alan, not me. He's the one who's going to be hurt now. I don't matter. Your son does. I haven't got a clue what you're going to do, but I just hope that whatever you do, you do it for him and not because you probably feel like ripping my head off. I wouldn't blame you if you felt like that, and I'd probably feel the same if I was in your shoes. I just don't want Alan to get hurt more than he's going to be."
"Don't you think you should have thought about that before you started this affair?"
He pours the hot water into a mug, stirs it, puts it in front of you, gets the sugar and cream and a spoon and places them on the table, and sits down. Then he stares at you, and says, "It was mutual. If Alan didn't want it, then it would never have happened."
"What happened?"
"Haven't you spoken to Alan?"
"No. I found that bloody book you gave him. A Loved Boy in Rome. What the bloody hell do you think you're up to? He's twelve years old for Christ's sake!"
He nods. "I know that. But I didn't just drag him in off the street. It isn't like that."
You almost snarl at him, "Then what is it like?"
He looks right into your eyes. "It's like Alan is the most wonderful person in the world and he's come into my life. You probably know he catches the school bus right outside, so you've probably worked out that's how we met. As far as I'm aware, nobody else except you knows about us. We see each other personally about once or twice a week, and I don't pressurise him to come here if he doesn't want to. Most of the time he's just happy that we speak to each other on our phones, and I'm happy that he does entirely his own thing. I'm here for him if he needs me, and I'm happy if he wants to spend time with his dad. That's what it's like. Now can I ask you a question?"
"What?"
"Are you aware that your son is gay?"
It takes every bit of your willpower not to throw the mug of coffee all over him, but you manage to control yourself. "I know everything about my son!"
He nods. "I was hoping you did, and it's got nothing to do with what's happening now. Alan will need your support long after he's got over me." He lets out a long, deep sigh. "So, you know about us, but the most important thing as far as Alan is concerned is what you're going to do about it." He holds out his hands as a gesture of helplessness. "There's little I can do now. You know what's going on; you know how I feel about Alan, and you know how he feels about me. And just so you know how much I love your son, if you want to call the police, then I'll admit to everything and I'll make sure Alan is not called to give evidence. He'll probably have to make a statement, but that's it. I can do no more for him than that."
You stare at him, trying to work out if he's sincere or not, and you're pretty sure he is. This bloke is prepared to do a long stretch in jail even though, if he employed a top barrister, he might be able to lie his way out of the situation. That sets you back, and puts an entirely different perspective on things, mainly because you hadn't got a clue what was going to happen when you decided to have it out with him. At least now you know that one avenue is closed. All you have to do is ring the police and it will all be over. Alan will be hurt, but it will put a stop to what's going on. But it won't put a stop to it. You know your son well enough to know that if he loves this bloke, he'll be devastated by what's happening. This is complicated, mostly because you can't get your head round your son having it off with a thirty year old bloke. If he was maybe seventeen or eighteen you'd treat it entirely differently. It's the age gap that's the problem. But Alan's behavior isn't something new to you. You've known for a long time that his age of attraction was blokes around thirty at least. For Christ's sake... he's got older blokes than this bloke on his bedroom wall! David Beckham is older than this bloke and Alan has fancied him for years. This bloke isn't the problem... it's your son! If you stop him seeing this bloke, that won't stop him wanting blokes. And what if you do stop him? What will Alan do then? It seems as though Alan will find a way to do what he wants. You're pretty sure this bloke is telling the truth when he said it was mutual. Knowing Alan as you do, very probably, it was Alan who pushed the agenda. You take a drink of your coffee and stare at the man cross the table before you say, "I just don't know what to do. You're not the only bloke he fancies. He's got them plastered all over his bedroom walls."
He gives out a half smile. "I know all about them. I told him that I didn't mind him fancying Beckham and Dr Who, but I drew the line when he said he fancied Wayne Rooney."
Despite the gravity of the situation, his comment makes you grin. "I didn't know about him."
He nods. "I think he was teasing me. He's got a wonderful sense of humour once you get to know him. I don't just love him for what you think I love him for. He comes as a package. Without his sense of humour and his affection, I wouldn't want to know him. I know you probably can't work it out, especially because he's so young, but the age gap doesn't mean anything to us. Well, that's not quite true. I like people younger than myself, and Alan likes people older than himself. It works. I try never to interfere with his home life, and he lets me get on with my work. If you hadn't found out, and if we managed to keep it a secret as well as we have been doing, it would have been perfect. All I am really is a real life picture on his bedroom wall. I don't want to sound facetious, but if you put a stop to it all, once Alan has got over it, it won't stop him wanting more, and that does worry me. You might think I'm crazy saying this to you given the situation we're in, but he could do a lot worse than me. Being gay isn't easy in this day and age, and Alan is going to have to be very careful who he goes with."
"You mean AIDS?"
He nods. "Yes, amongst other things. Your son is young and very attractive. Another couple of years, if he's a free spirit, he'll be trawling the gay scene. That's when you're really going to have to worry about him. It's not going to be easy for you."
"And if he stays with you?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "He's young. We get on great together, but nothing is certain. I know I won't be the one who would voluntarily end our association, and if I'm honest, I don't think Alan would for quite a while, but there are no guarantees that he wouldn't go off me as quickly as he got to like me. But I don't need to tell you about life. You're older than me, and you've been through a hell of a lot more than me, so you know the score. I'm sorry about your wife by the way. It must have been awful for you and Alan. I'm just so pleased he has a dad he loves. He thinks the world of you."
Strangely, your anger has melted away. Brice Washington-Thompson is actually a nice bloke. If he wasn't having it off with your son, he'd be good company. And he really seems genuine with everything he's said. His comments aren't the only thing that's made you think about homosexuality and the dangers that go with being one. You and Alan share many things, but talking about sex isn't one of them. It just doesn't happen. You have tried on a couple of occasions to try and talk about it, but Alan has always steered the conversation to other things. He just doesn't want to talk about sexual matters with you. Despite the differences in ages, this affair seems to be working. Yes, you're having difficulty coming to terms with it, but that's you. What about Alan? This is about Alan. It's what's best for him, not you. That's what you promised Allison... that you would support him whatever he would become, and right now Alan wants to be part of Brice's life. He's happy seeing Brice. You've noticed how happy he's been at times. Now you know why he's been particularly happy at weekends. He's been seeing Brice. This is complicated, and right now you need help, and that's why you ask Brice, "And what now?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm entirely in your hands. You can turn me into the police and have done with it, or you can tell me never to see Alan again and I promise faithfully I won't. You're his father and he's only twelve years old. You have every right to determine how you want your son to grow up. Of course I want to continue seeing Alan, and I actually think stopping him seeing me will do more harm than good, but that sounds as if I'm saying it because it's what I want. Well it is what I want, but that's not the reason I'm saying it. Perhaps if I was a normal guy with a boy Alan's age, even knowing his disposition, I'd find it very difficult coming to terms with him having an association with someone seventeen years older than him. But then again I might just sit down and run every single thing through my mind and come to the conclusion that I was banging my head against a brick wall trying to stop one thing, knowing full well that my son is gay and in four years he's going to do what he wants anyway. For all we know, if I get shunted aside, he might end up with a seventy year old when he's sixteen, and there won't be damned thing you can do about it. Yes, it will be legal, but legal isn't the be all and end all of everything. You've no doubt read A Loved Boy in Rome. Before I wrote that book, I did a lot of research into intergenerational relationships. Herodes Atticus really did love Polydeukes. Not only was he his lover, he was also his mentor. He was utterly devoted to Polydeukes, and educating him was as important to Herodes Atticus as anything else they did. That's exactly how I feel about Alan. You're his rock. I can't be what you are to him, but I can be his mentor and help him to grow up into a lovely human being. One thing you can be sure of... I'll never hurt him. So it's up to you Alfred." He grins. "Maybe I shouldn't use your christian name under these circumstances, but Alan often refers to you as Alfred the Great. He got mixed up once and said he'd better be getting off home or Alfred the Great would pull the sword out of the stone and chops his... you know... off. I had to remind him that the sword in the stone belonged to the legend of King Arthur and not Alfred the Great. He couldn't stop laughing."
His comment makes you chuckle. "So that's what that was about! It was a Sunday night. He said he'd been at a mate's house. I asked him what he'd been doing. He said he'd been watching a film. Sword in the Stone. And then he couldn't stop laughing."
Brice grins, and then he becomes sort of sober. "Yes, it's lovely to hear him laugh. He cries sometimes when he's thinking about his mum, and he's cried a couple of times when he was thinking about you. He worries about you. It's not just one way you know. He loves you to bits." He points to your mug. "More coffee?"
*****************
"Hi dad. You had an idle day then?"
You grin at Alan. "Something like that. How was your day?"
"Fine. In fact I'm dead chuffed."
"Why's that, son?"
"Who's a clever boy then?"
You chuckle. "Go on then! Tell me!"
Alan grins. "Guess who came top of the class in English today? Guess whose essay got first prize?"
It's now or never. It's what you and Brice agreed: you would not keep it from Alan that you knew. So you grin back at him, and say, "So Brice is teaching you well."
You want to go to Alan and hold him tight. He's gone as white as a sheet, but this has to be done. Initially, it will be painful, but as Brice said: Once he's got over the shame of being found out, and if he knows you're okay with it, and if you can use a bit of humour, it will all come right. And now is the time to add some humour, so you grin at him, and say, "I'll give you Alfred the Great, you young bugger. And before you ask, I know everything and I'm not going to stop you seeing that bloody Herodes Atticus fella if only because now you've got him, you can take those bloody pictures off your bedroom wall and I can decorate your bloody room. Your mum would go mad if she could see it!"
Alan is still stunned, and then his beautiful face wrinkles up with multiple frowns when he begins to cry, and wails, "Dad?"
You open your arms. He comes to you, and you crush him in the warmest embrace you can give him. The tears come flooding out as you knew they would, and he sobs and sobs. Better out than in.
******************
"How did you find out, dad?"
Cuddle a little closer on the sofa. "When I needed the shirts and stuff you left lying about in your room. One of your shirts was by the book he gave you. When I saw the title, I just couldn't resist looking at it. I know I shouldn't, and as you know, your room is always your own private place, but if you saw A Loved Boy in Rome in my room, wouldn't you have a peek at it?"
Alan giggles. "If I saw that in your room, I wouldn't be able to stop laughing."
You chuckle. "You're the gay one, not me. Anyway, are you angry at me for visiting your boyfriend?"
"What do you think of him?"
You shrug your shoulders. "I was going to knock his block off when I set out from here, and I would have done had he not offered me a bloody coffee as soon as he opened the door. The cheeky sod! But I actually like him."
"Why?"
"Because he said I could go to the police if I wanted, and he'd admit it straight away so you hardly came into it except for making a statement. He actually meant it. He could have denied it and got a good barrister and probably got himself off. It would be his word against yours if he was accused of anything untoward. That's when I realised he was a proper Herodes Atticus fella. He'd have sacrificed his whole life just so you didn't get hurt. That takes some doing. Then we talked. Everything he said made sense in the end, that's if you were going to be alright. It was all about you really. Then we talked about what would happen from now on."
Alan lifts his head and looks into your eyes. "And what is going to happen from now on?"
You kiss his forehead. "Nothing is going to change. We'll have to put a few safeguards in place to protect you two, but apart from that, things stay the same."
"Can he come here?"
"No. I've got my limits, and having a twenty nine year old bloke who's having it off with my twelve year old son is a step too far as far as inviting him to be part of us. You didn't expect me to let him come here, did you?"
Alan shakes his head. "I didn't expect you to let me see him again."
"And what would you have done if I told you that you couldn't see him again?"
"I wouldn't have seen him again. I'd have been angry at you, probably for years, but I would have understood. I'm not daft. I know the differences in our ages and me being under age makes it wrong in most people's eyes, so I would have done as I was told and hated the world for stopping me doing something I wanted to do. As long as Brice wasn't really hurt as in going to jail or something like that, then I would have had to live with it. So what are these safeguards you're going to put in place?"
"Not a lot really. The biggest one is to make sure that nobody can come telling me that you and him are an item. For the most part, you're just going to have to carry on doing what you've been doing, and try and keep it a secret. You've managed for six months. Goodness knows how you did, but you have, and if you keep your noses clean as in not advertising it, then you can probably manage. And if push comes to shove and anybody tries to make out something is going on between you, three of us will be singing from the same hymn sheet. That's the important part. These things usually blow up when somebody makes a complaint, like I could have done. I very nearly did ring the police. Well, let's say I thought about it before I decided to go and knock his block off. So you two will just have to box clever. Not be stupid like being stupid in public. Brice did say that he was teaching you English and that you were coming on leaps and bounds. He says you've got a natural talent for it, so he says that if anybody ever queries anything about you and him, he's going to say I'm a mate of his, he's teaching you English, and I know all about it, so sort it with me."
Alan chuckles. "We're back to square one. I couldn't wait to get home and tell you I'd got top in English and won first prize with my essay."
You chuckle, too. "What was the essay about? A Loved Boy in Grumblethorpe?"
Alan bursts out laughing, and when he's controlled himself, he says, "Where's Grumblethorpe?"
You grab him around the neck and crush him against you. "Here! This is bloody Grumblethorpe, and I'm The Old Man of Grumblethorpe, so don't mess with me!"
Alan puts his arm around you as soon as you release your hold on him, and he sinks into you. Then he says, "I love The Old Man of Grumblethorpe. He's the best dad in the world."
You kiss his hair. "You've got your mum to thank for that. She told me before she died that if I didn't take care of you properly and put you before I put myself, then she'd bloody haunt me for evermore. And as you know, mum was always boss in this house.
Tears then. Lots of them. From both of you.
*******************
Alan's been in bed for an hour and a half. It's almost midnight. You've got to be up in the morning. The truck's mended. Back to normal. Well, not quite. You feel sick inside. Yes, you've probably done the right thing, but that doesn't change the way you really feel inside. You're not dealing very well with a situation where your twelve year old son is having it off with a bloke who's only six years younger than yourself. Maybe it will be better when Alan is grown up, but even that is going to be difficult.
*******************
From the bench you and Alan are sitting on, the large bouquet of flowers you've just put on the grave look fresh compared with those on the graves around yours. You've both cleaned the marble headstone, and it looks bright and new. Well, it did take the funeral director three months before they erected the headstone, so it's only been subjected to the weather for nine months. April 9th; one year since you lost your wife; one year since Alan lost his mum... and it still doesn't get any easier. You miss her every day of every week; every week of every month, and this is the first year of many that will follow from that awful moment when she passed away in the hospice. But at least she's at peace now, and the awful pain is no more for her. Alan didn't handle that very well... the awful pain and the way she wasted away to almost nothing. You did your best to protect him from the worst, but there was no way you could protect him from it all. The poor lad was completely distressed at times. He was distressed this morning.
You hardly slept last night, and when you got up, because you knew how difficult it was going to be for him, while you were both having cereal for breakfast, you asked him if he wanted Brice to be with us. You didn't expect the response you got.
He gave you a dirty look, and said, "No! He isn't a part of this! This is you and me, Dad. Just you and me and nobody else."
You tried to smile at him, but you think he was too tearful to take it in. But his words had deep meaning to you. Ever since the day of the revelations about Alan and Brice, he's drawn a line between us and what he has with Brice. You know why that is. He has two parts to his life now. One is with Brice, and the other with you. When it all blew up, you thought it might split you and Alan up, but it's had the opposite effect. Alan is wiser than his years would suggest. He knows that everything you did that day was entirely for him, and he knows that your acceptance of the situation lies very heavily on you. You accepted a completely unnatural situation because you knew at the time it was best for your son. It still is. He sees Brice at least once every weekend, and usually twice, especially when you're working weekends, and you've sort of managed to make the occasions seem as if he's going to school. As a matter of fact, except for when you throw the odd comment out that his boyfriend is teaching him well because his grades in English (and other subjects) are improving very well, Brice's name is hardly ever mentioned in the house. And that's all Alan's doing. He's the one who's set the agenda. Most probably, Brice has had a hand in that too. He's no fool. Despite how you finished up that day agreeing that you would both do what was best for Alan, he knows that it will never sit well with you. Best of a bad job.
Alan snuggles closer to you, wraps his arm in yours, and leans his head against your shoulder. Then he says, "Thanks dad."
"What are the thanks for?"
Alan snuggles even closer. "Just for being my dad. I reckon I'm the luckiest son in the world. I had the best mum, and I've got the best dad. Do you want me to finish with Brice?"
You're shocked. Where did that come from in your boy's thinking? Out of the blue that is, and you're not quite sure how to respond to it, so you ask him, "Have you gone off him?"
Alan shakes his head. "No. The opposite actually. He's even more special now, but he's not you. You're the person I care for most. I know you still don't like me and the Brice situation, but I can't do anything about it unless I finish with him."
Alan's words make your eyes misty, so you put your arm over his shoulder and hold him close so he can't see you're upset. For a while, you both say nothing, and after you've kissed his hair, you whisper to him. "No, I don't want you to finish with him. He's good for you. So, in a way that means he's good for me as well. You're happy... I'm happy. You carry on. How's he doing with that new house he's after?"
"He's bought it and he's had an offer on his house. He says it will be about six weeks before we can move probably."
"We?"
Alan chuckles. "I meant he."
You chuckle. "No you didn't, you little bugger. I understand. Are we having a house warming party when you move?"
Alan chuckles even louder. "Don't be daft. The reason we're moving is so we can make sure nobody finds out about us, so it would be daft to advertise it." Alan turns his head up and grins into your face. "Unless you want to invite all your mates and we have a coming out party?"
You laugh, grab his arm, get up, and lift him up. "No bloody chance! Come on... let's go home. Mum says we're having lasagne for tea."
Alan giggles. "Not Tesco ones I hope."
You laugh. "Definitely not! I got them from Sainsbury's."
You both laugh, Alan links your arm, and after you've both blown kisses at the marble headstone, you walk back to the car giggling like a pair of schoolgirls. But while you're walking and giggling, the thought crosses your mind that Alan and Brice really are like Herodes Atticus and Polydeukes. Since you found out, you've done a lot of research on the ancient love affair between the two of them, and if you can get your mind away from the sexual side of what they probably were, it was quite a beautiful association. You're never too old to learn.
To be continued...
You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to john.thestoryteller@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.