Date: Tue, 5 Sep 2006 07:30:00 -0700 (PDT) From: Joseph Smith Subject: Love and Death in Venice adult/youth Chapter 10 Love and Death in Venice Chapter 10 (Author's notes: Copyright 2006.) Again, Brady's words echoed in my brain. By writing this story, I would be saving myself, but from what? I asked myself. I once asked him if what I felt for Chase was an obsession. He said 'yes'. Why didn't I see it that way? Why didn't I see all of it, the whole picture? Was I being in denial or just facing a gross misrepresentation of reality? If I ignored my feelings, then there was no point in writing the story in the first place. I could put all ten chapters in a folder or delete them into the recycle bin and forget or deny all I wanted. But, sadly, the truth remained a constant factor. Truths about whom and what I am have haunted me all my life. I never could run away from those truths; they've lingered around me like a hazy smoke. If I hated my 'truths', then I hated my very existence. I think what I really hated more than anything else was the 'facing of the truths'. Writing this story was 'facing the truths' about me, and Chase figured in as a factor, an annoying reality that surfaced in my mind on a daily basis. My mixed emotions about Chase ran the gamut of anger, sadness, rejection, fear and even, hope. Unfortunately, anger, sadness, rejection, and fear far outweighed 'hope' bringing into question hope's very ability to survive. It would have been so much easier, as the famous cliche says, to cut him from my heart. But, in reality, that too would have been painful. I didn't think Chase could imagine that I could have just turned off my feelings for him like a switch turns off a light bulb. Then I wondered how he could turn our relationship off like a major circuit breaker after he told me he loved me, cared about me and had feelings for me. Thoughts of Chase always resurface whenever I see a car with Texas license plates or a Chevy Suburban, the truck he used for his lawn care business. Being a writer was probably the reason that I thought of scenarios in which Chase would come to Florida to make amends. I pondered such fantasies of him doing so. How would I react? What would I say? What would he say? In the end, I realized that I was just fooling myself. It wasn't Chase that was torturing me, it was my memories and my love for him that kept me wondering and hoping that somehow, someway, he might change his mind. If there was such a thing as an epiphany for him, where was mine? Where would I find the peace and closure it would take to put my heart to rest over Chase? My heart poured out my feelings about my life in the stories I had already written. In those chapters, and in those words, I feared that I had poured out all that was left in my heart. That scared me into believing that I would have nothing left to write again. Self-doubt is such a curse and I really needed to talk to Stephan. I needed to know if I should continue writing, if it really was any good. Stephan finally sent me an email after reading only the first two chapters. "Your narrative is worlds beyond the last story," he wrote. He had always told me that my written dialogue was so much better than my narrative. "All of sudden, you seem to have found your voice." He called it a strong story and compared it to the other, equally strong autobiographical stories on Nifty by guys we both seemed to admire, like Mark and Adam, or even Nigel, whose stories have created strong followings in Yahoo Groups. I never wanted to write an autobiography. Damn it. Why wouldn't anyone tell me that the story was crap so I could throw it away and not write anymore of it? Simply forget about the whole idea of writing for my own closure, peace of mind and heart. This was turning into a story of an author's frustration with himself, reluctantly writing a story about something so painful and unyielding that he just wanted to walk away from it. "You pissed me off," Stephan said, on the phone. "How?" "At the beginning of Chapter Two, you didn't hug Chase." "Oh, there, when he was at my apartment the first time when we talked?" "Yes." "I was afraid to. I wasn't sure of how I would react with him if I did. Besides, I was still learning about the gay lifestyle and didn't even know that a hug is like a handshake." "I see." In my mind, I knew that if I had hugged him, the moment would've ended with the hug, or so I believed. "I was impressed with your sentence structure. You got your dependent and independent clauses in the correct order." "Really?" I knew he had told me before about those clauses, but wasn't sure I understood. He read a couple of paragraphs to emphasize his point. "I wasn't really conscious of what I was doing, I guess. I was just writing." I think I got it this time from his examples of my writing. We talked about the story and how I should continue writing. I made him promise to read the rest of the chapters as a reader, first, rather than as an editor. I wanted to make sure it kept his interest. That night, when I went to bed, I turned on the same CD that I had listened to for the last eight years. It was when I was in Orlando at the megaplex that two of my assistants, both straight, introduced me to the British group Erasure. I immediately fell in love with the voice of Andy Bell. I bought every album that Erasure had ever released. "Cowboy" was my favorite at the time. But it was their self-titled album that I found so soothing and mellow that I always played it when I went to bed. I wore out my first copy, never thinking you could that with a CD, but you can. I estimated that I played that CD over 2500 times. I bought a new one, ripped it and burned a copy. The copy played and the original stayed with the other Erasure albums. Lying in bed, listening to Andy's voice, my mind wondered about what I was going to do. By the time "Rock Me Gently" played, one of my favorite Erasure songs, I was asleep. I had always wanted to share my love of Erasure with Chase. Like so many things I wanted to share with him, that never happened. "So you think the story will never end?" I asked Brady the next night on the phone. "I didn't say that." "You implied it." "All I'm saying is that you have to let it end. By hanging on to Chase, it never will." "But Brady, I need to find an ending, I just can't end it with my sending the ring back." "Why not?" "That wasn't the ending, at least not for me." "Dan, it won't really end for you." "I won't let him out my heart." "Exactly. Just leave him there and go on with your life. Do you really need him?" "There's that freakin' word again," I said. Brady laughed and said, "Are you going to become self-conscious over that word?" "It's the damn word that started this business." "You are 'needy' and you need to let yourself off the hook for that. Everyone is needy in some form or another. Even Chase is needy, but his needs are different, or seem to be different than yours or anyone else's." "You know, it took five and half years to get the first closure after he walked out of my life. How long will it take for this one?" "Are you planning on waiting again?" "I don't know," I said, exasperated. "Yeah, you do." "I'm sure you're going to tell me, anyway." "No." "Why not?" "Because closure is up to you. It all depends on whether you wait on Chase to pop back up into your life to explain himself or you can just accept the closure when you sent the ring back." I thought about that one. "And if I wait on Chase?" "You may wait longer than you did the first time." I knew the answer already, but I let him say it anyway. Brady has always seemed to be right about most everything we chat about. He kept advising me all along when I began to loose Chase. I didn't listen. Even now, I don't think he could have changed my mind about anything. "Dan, it doesn't matter if you finish the story or not. It doesn't matter if you publish the story. It's your story, your love story about Chase. It's as personal as you wanted to make it with all the pain you experienced loving him." I didn't say anything, but I could hear Brady breathing into the phone. "Dan, let him go. Finish the story, stop fighting it, end it, and let him go." After I ended the conversation with Brady, I began to realize that I could actually end the story and move on. Chase had given me the inspiration to begin writing. That may well have been his greatest gift to me. I could run with that and never look back. I could close the final chapter and say 'goodbye'. 'Of all the things I have been blessed with in my life,' I thought, 'a wife, a son, a mother, a grandmother, close friends, the one thing that escaped me for most of my life was writing, and because of Chase, it had become another blessing.' In the last scene of "Death in Venice", Dirk Bogarde's character watched the elusive figure of the young teen boy as he waded out into the ocean. With the sun's rays glistening through the waves like an aureole, the figure of the boy appeared angelic. It was the final vision the man saw as his body died. The 'signals' between the two became forever lost and meaningless, as were the ones from Chase, I'd come to realize. I know now from putting this story out there, that in my life, wanting Chase's love so much, reaching for it, touching it, loving it, losing it, mourning it I began to really wonder if I had truly been in love with him. No one ever hurt me like he did. I know that by letting go, he can't hurt me anymore. Having known Chase I've been blessed in some ways. Was I truly "in love" with him? I will never know for sure, not having seen or been around him for confirmation. I will always wonder, though, what might have been...but was never meant to be. Chase had been an illumination in my life. ****************** I had believed I could have ended this story there, with the idea of the bright light that Chase created in my life. But having written it a month ago, I know now, the words did not provide the sense of balance I was looking for to end this story or even my craving for Chase. I may have been illuminated at one time in my life with Chase, but the reality is that that 'bright light' in my life known as 'Chase' had dimmed and the warmth had faded into an abyss in my heart. Words, I thought, are just words. They work in combination with each other to provide a thought, a revelation, and a moment in time for reflection. And as I reread the words of this story during the editing process, I found myself reconsidering the combination of words that laid out my sense of regret and loss. I kept remembering Tom Hanks in "Forrest Gump" telling Jenny that he knew "what love was". I believed with all my heart that I knew "what love was". I found within my own words that love places no limits on who or how much a person loves. Intense or casual or unrequited, love exists to bring light into our lives. That's the true illumination. With Chase, the love I had for him was very real, but like a lighted candle as it burns itself out, the illumination flickered, faded and finally extinguished itself into a cinder of memory. People come into your lives; some stay, some go, and some only provide a brief encounter. Impressions remain for those that touch your inner being. So many people have come into my life, loved me, and left me, yet linger in my mind. Karen was the brightest of all the lights in my life. My son is a constant reminder of her, but as an individual he shines for me on his own. Since engaging myself as a gay man, I have met many men along the way. Yes, even those I have regretted. Still though, not having found the one to spend my life with, I continue to search and enjoy the company of men on the way. I found in a man recently, a definitive serenity. He and I had chatted casually on line after having met on a website for older/younger guys, the very site that Chase had told me about. By coincidence, he sent me a message that he would be in Florida. I had always figured that Ethan was just another guy in another state that would chat with me for a little while, and then, when there was nothing left to say, he would just disappear. Believing that had occurred, it had only been a few weeks since I deleted him from my contact list. It was such a nice surprise when he wrote me. I invited him to my place for his last night in Florida. Without hesitation he accepted. I was both excited and nervous for he was a handsome young man or so I thought from his pictures on the website. My distraction for that night was the fact that I had given notice to Stanley that I was leaving the theatre to work for a New England company and would be moving to New Hampshire. With mixed emotions, I let my staff know I was leaving. They weren't happy with that fact. I assured them that I had found what I had been waiting for and that the money and benefits were ideal. Later that evening when Ethan arrived, I was totally taken by him. I fell into his eyes, something I had only done before with Karen. They were bright blue and inviting. His smile assured me that any apprehension I had was washed away for the evening. Putting down his suitcase, he turned and kissed me. I melted. I pulled him into me and held on, as our lips were tender and loving, nothing like you would expect with a stranger. Backing away, I told him that he looked like an actor from the movie "Latter Days". He had seen it. I thought Ethan looked just like Steve Sandvoss would look in about 13 or 14 years. Amazing. We felt each other's hardness and I knew that it was all going to be just fine. Upstairs, in the bedroom we got naked, though I left on my T-shirt. Ethan knew about my belly and assured me he was okay with it. I watched his beautiful eyes when I took the shirt off. I feared the look he would have. He brought his eyes up to mine and kissed me. His nudity took my breath away. Five eight, about 150 pounds and wonderfully hairy, I found I couldn't keep my hands off of him. During the next two hours we touched and talked. I told him of the stories I had written, even this one about Chase and me. As we enjoyed the closeness of the other, his openness was refreshing. When we got down to lovemaking, he swept me away with his mouth on mine, taking me, finding the areas to touch with his tongue that sent pleasure to my whole body. Being inside him was an epiphany all of its own. Sliding within this man was intense pleasure, not just from my cock being encased by his rectum, but his whole being riding me with incredible comfort. His eyes still drew me in as I felt myself lost inside him. As my hands stroked his very hard cock or my fingers ran through his hairy chest or even lightly grazed his legs, I felt such a peace of mind and body. I pushed myself into him, striking his prostate over and over again. We watched each other as he pushed back down me every time I pushed up into him. We had found a pace that provided the best stimulation for ourselves. I began to sense my orgasm was near; as the early sensation began to build, I moaned and grabbed his hands, squeezing them as I erupted inside him. The orgasm itself seemed to recede slowly, but my cock remained hard. Still sitting atop me, he leaned down and kissed me with passion and caring. He leaned back up and I flexed myself as I was oozing out the last of my orgasm. Each time I did, he responded, so I kept it up for a while. It felt good to be inside him. Reluctantly, I felt him slide off and scoot up to me. I took him in my mouth, enjoying the flavor, with a desire to make him feel as good as he made me feel. We changed positions so I could get at him better. With his legs hanging off the bed and me, on my knees between them, I made love to his cock. I found that he loved it when I would stroke the underside with my tongue while his entire cock was in my mouth. While I was sucking on him, I had a realization and stopped. Since we had already been comfortable talking to each other, I told him about it while my hand stroked his cock. "I just had a thought you might find interesting," I said. Ethan's eyes looked into mine and remained locked on me without a change of expression. "What was that?" he asked. "My editor, Stephen, gave me heck concerning the last story because at the end the sex between the main two characters seemed uninspired and lacking in any real excitement. I just figured out why?" Ethan looked me as I went down on him again, kissing and sucking his beautiful cock. "When I wrote the first part of the story," I said, coming off of him again, "the sex scenes were written at the end of November, right after my last sexual encounter. I wrote the last half two months later, apparently less inspired without the inspiration of sex." Ethan smiled at me and said, "Are you going to write about me?" I kissed the head of his cock and said, "Yeah, I could in the new story I'm writing." Then with complete desire, I took his cock and made love to it, smoothly, swiftly, as I smothered it with my wet lips and tongue. "I'm cumming," he said. I pulled off and stroked him fast to bring him off and he came with so much force he shot over his left shoulder onto my comforter. After several aerial shots, he fell into the afterglow of his body's submission to pleasure while I gently and slowly ran my fingers over his cock. Then I moved my hands over his chest and belly, rubbing cum throughout his chest hair. "Are you inspired now?" he asked, with a smile. I smiled back at him and said, "Oh yeah, I think so." After we showered together, we stood naked in the hallway just talking about life: his and mine. I asked about his boyfriend, someone I felt was incredibly lucky and wondered why they had an open relationship. I never thought they worked, but here listening to Ethan, theirs seemed to work just fine. His boyfriend was 72 years old. I could see the love Ethan had for him in his eyes as he spoke about him. He continued to amaze me as he told me that all of his close friends were men over fifty and many of them with health problems, which was why mine didn't bother him. Finally, we went to bed since he had to leave early. I cuddled up to him and just enjoyed the closeness, something I so missed in my life. After I turned off the light and heard his breathing become restful, I dreaded the morning knowing he was going to leave. When the alarm went off, we both woke up. I watched his beautiful nude body ascend from my bed. I sat up on the bed with my feet on the floor watching him get ready. Heading towards the bathroom, he reached out to me and I wrapped my arms around him. I figured he knew how I was feeling. We got dressed and then he asked if he could use my phone. He called a close friend who had been having small strokes lately. My heart went out to him as I could hear the man talk to Ethan. Here was a confirming moment of what Ethan was all about. At the front door, he turned to me, kissed me and put his arms around me. Feeling like I had a new friend, I didn't want to let go but I knew I had to and didn't make the hug linger very long. We said our 'goodbyes' and agreed to stay in contact and maybe get together on my way north when I moved. I watched as he walked to his car. I turned and went inside, went upstairs and watched his car leave through the second bedroom window. I went back to bed to get some more sleep, surprised that I didn't feel sad he was gone. I was glad that he had been here and that I had 'hope' after all, and that 'hope' might just be victorious in the long run. All day I thought of Ethan. I found myself attracted to a personality that I found refreshingly different from that of most men I have met. I never sensed any falseness to him, but rather a sincere compassion for those he met, knew and cared about. Can I compare Ethan to Chase? Yes, I can. I may have known Ethan for only a few hours but the things I saw and the things he told me about himself rang true in my mind. Chase, I believe now has never rung true in my heart. Chase was not the person I thought he was. After that night, I knew there were men out there like Ethan. I just had to look a little harder and direct my standards more towards his. Brady had encouraged me to watch the movie "Rent", which I had avoided for months. Now, on video, I listened to this suggestion and watched it. There were many messages about relationships and the loved ones you loose in life. The words that spoke loudest and clearest to me were "forget regrets". I realized with those words that my 'regrets' over Chase were few, that I could forget my regrets about him. And, despite his flaws, I don't need to forget him. My hope for Chase is that someday he can find peace within himself, some how, some way before his conflictions consume him. Writing this story has brought about the sense of closure for me that Brady said I so badly needed. With my own words, I opened my eyes and saw Chase for how he really was and now know for a certainty that my life is better now without him. I'm at peace, without regrets and I can move away from Venice, away from Florida, to a new place and a new life and find a man who truly wants to share my life. And just maybe, I will get the signals right this time. The end of Chapter 10 The end of "Love And Death In Venice"