Date: Wed, 20 Dec 2006 07:44:31 -0500 (EST) From: Herb Cat Subject: Rip part 12 of 12 Installment 12 Epilogue: Twelve Years Later Copyright 2006 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission. Please note: this story depicts oral and anal sex between a male adult and male minors. If this offends you or is illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further. The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you. --- It was only December 3, but it was already "beginning to look a lot like Christmas." Malcolm sat at his dining room table and tried to work on the Christmas cards, yet again. He had so many people this year to send to. There were all his Mother's friends, to whom he sincerely wanted to wish a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, after all the kindness they showed to him last spring during Mom's final illness. Malcolm practically lived at the hospital, thinking his presence would give Mom the will to fight the brain tumor. But she seemed to be in such distress. Finally, the nurse took him aside and compassionately told him it was time to let her go, that she was struggling to hold on for his sake. Malcolm sat with her that night and told her it was OK to go and join Dad, that he would be OK. He promised to always be super careful. Mom slept peacefully for two more nights and then the morning of the third day quietly passed on. Sis, of course, came and helped with the funeral arrangements but it was up to Malcolm, the one who still lived close, to dispose of all their mother's things, the things one inevitably accumulates over the decades. Then came the difficult task of selling of the house itself. Malcolm had a house in town and another up on the lake, but his parents' house was the one he had called "home" for 42 years. He almost considered buying it himself, if only to keep his fantasy alive. Since high school, he had maintained the notion that Philip might one day look him up again, and not knowing where Malcolm lived, would begin by going back to his boyhood home. It never happened. There had never been so much as a Christmas card from the boy. The boy; Malcolm still thought of him as twelve years old. He'd be what, 38, now. Was he married? Was he happy? Was he even alive? No, it was time for Malcolm to let go of childish daydreams and face the present. He turned the keys over at the clos! ing and wished the new owners as much happiness as he had had there. Rippy, of course, had to get a card. Malcolm would probably see his sister's son at Christmas, but maybe not. At 22, Euripides Sloan was an up-and-coming photojournalist, who never knew where and when his next assignment would take him. Malcolm reached over to the shelf where he kept the National Geographic that had Rippy's photos of New Guinea. Thumbing through the pages, he remembered the boy's thrill that Christmas he got the digital camera. He addressed the next card to Jason and his family. Now a partner in his father's firm, Jason had a beautiful wife and two adorable boys, ages four and two. In a few years, would Jason be seeking a boy-lover for his sons as his father had done? Tony was always appearing on the nightly sports roundups. He had been to Wimbleton twice. With both a successful career and a handsome face, he was sought out for endorsements of everything from tennis rackets to breakfast cereal. He told Malcolm he had even been approached by Trojan for an endorsement. Chucky was still living with Ricky, and the two had recently settled in New York City, where Ricky worked as a fashion designer, and Chucky a personal trainer. Where were the boys now who once used the spastic wuss as their punching bag? Malcolm wondered if he had Harry's latest address. The 24-year-old was always moving from one city to another, quitting one job and starting another. He never completed college, having changed his major five times. He was no different in his love life, always moving from one intense relationship to the next. Billy Johnson had gone into the military directly from high school. He served two tours in the Middle East, but now had wisely decided to settle down. His new wife was pregnant with their first baby, and Billy had accepted a position with a large security company. His brother, Tony, just out of college, was temporarily back home with Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, while he looked for employment. Malcolm knew he'd find a good job in no time, but was sure his parents, now approaching retirement age, were happy to have him around for a little while, to help keep up the house. Tarong had just started premed at UNG. He had served as mentor to many Sambian boys, nourishing their tingus with his potent susu kental pria, but felt he could do much more to improve the health of his tribe. He had secretly decided to put off marriage until he could provide a decent home for his wife, a home he would share with her, a home without pigs, in other words, a home much like the one his "brother" had grown up in. Malcolm was still deep in thought about all his young protégés, when he heard, "Are you STILL writing those cards?" "Oh, hi, Juan. Si, it takes me a long time because I keep thinking about the people I write to." He put down his pen and looked at the adorable ten-year-old. "I didn't realize you were off the phone. How is your mother? And your brother?" "She's tired. She said Pepito still isn't stable. The doctors keep changing his medicine." "Epilepsy is a difficult disease, Juan. Especially for a five-year-old. Your mother is a real saint the way she tends to your little brother." "She wanted me to tell you she really 'preciates you letting me stay here with you." "It's the least I could do to help, Juan. And you know I love having you here. You have school tomorrow. Did you tell Mama you finished your homework?" "Si si. She said I was a good boy. And then I told Mama what you promised to show me tonight, and that made her laugh. I like to make Mama happy 'cause she worries about Pepito so much. She said she hoped I liked it." "Well, now, let's see, what exactly did I promise to teach you?" "Oh, Malcolm, you're just teasing me. You remember. I told Mama you was going to teach me the spreadeagle tonight. Come on, let's go to our bedroom now." Juan grabbed Malcolm's hand and started pulling him. "OK, Juan, you're the Boss." The End