Andrew's Story

Chapter 7


Written By: Justin Case

Edited By:   Ed


May 19, 2001


Disclaimer: This story contains sexually explicit material, you must be of legal age to read it. The tale is about  gay life, in the real world, but it is fiction. If there are any similarities to real people, places, or things, it must be a strange coincidence. The writer, his editor, and his publisher accept no responsibility for the reader of this material. This work is protected by copyright laws of the United States of America.



SoapBox: Hello, my faithful. How go your lives? I trust all is well with you all. Hehe, I have a confession to make. Can you stand it? Yep, he's going on the box. I got a letter this week, from a very delightful gentleman. He wrote to tell me he had read most of my stories, he named them too. He told me how he enjoyed them all, he only wondered one thing, if there was a message to this story. He noticed how all my work seems to have an underlying theme, or moral to the story, if you will.

I couldn't believe it. Nope, I thought it was clear as day. Hehe. So, I queried a couple of my site editors. Hell, they're supposed to read my stuff. I have to laugh. You see, I told my editors that I didn't have one for this story, and asked for their input. Neither of them had any creative input to offer.

I have come to two conclusions: One, either no one is paying attention to the story line here. Or, two, I have hidden the message so well no one can find it. Of course, there could be a third alternative; no one is really caring. I'd like to rely on one or two. Well, without getting too ahead of myself, let's see what this chapter brings us. I do believe you will now find out what this story is trying to tell you.

Don't be bashful, send me your thoughts, the address is I love getting mail. I hope you like the new stories on my web site, send me your sentiments on those as well. By the way, I answer all my mail. As always, Just, Justin. :>)


As we began to go back into the house, he asked me if he could talk to me later. I told him 'of course', but worried about what he wanted to tell me. I became more uncomfortable as the night wore on. I began to wish that I had not even come. If it wasn't for the fact it was Parker's party, I would have stayed home after what Brian had done. The booze seemed to help me relax, so I drank a few more shots with Parker. I don't even remember leaving.

The next thing I remembered was.....

Waking up in a strange place, movements all about me, buzzers and beepers sounding. I couldn't seem to move. I felt awake, but couldn't talk, or see. Everything was confusion; my head seemed to be spinning.

"Andrew?  Andrew?  Can you hear me, Son?"  I heard my father's voice, but couldn't see him.

'What was going on?' I wondered, 'where was I'? I reasoned it must be a dream. I began to float, and then I pictured myself in a raft, nothing but water and sky. The waves started swelling, the sky turned dark, the raft I was in started rocking back and forth.

"Andrew! Wake up." I felt him shaking me as he called my name; it was my father again.

Slowly I opened my eyes, they were blurry, and the light was too bright. I squinted my eyelids and tried to focus on my dad. Slowly I was able to see him; he wasn't dressed as neatly as he usually is. His hair wasn't combed; it looked like he had just gotten out of bed. I looked at his unshaven face; his black stubble was extremely noticeable

"Dad, what's going on? Where are we?" I tried to ask, my voice didn't come, my throat hurt like hell. My eyes must have revealed my confusion.

"Andrew, there's been a terrible accident. You have a tube in your throat; you can't talk right now. We're here at Yale New Haven Hospital. Everything is going to be all right," my father told me, as he held and stroked my hand.

I could feel something, a pain in the back of my other hand. I looked down and saw tubes and a needle taped to the back of my right hand. My body was covered in a white sheet, but I was freezing. I noticed a machine next to the head of the bed; it had a green screen, it was beeping and flashing. I knew from watching television it was a heart monitor. My head was throbbing. I closed my eyes and surrendered to my exhaustion.

I awoke again, this time everything was dark, but I could hear voices in the distance, faint and unfamiliar. I was in a daze of sorts; my head still had a pounding ache. I tried to sit up to look around, but couldn't move. It felt like I had some sort of weights holding me down. I tired to call out but couldn't, a piercing pain shot down my throat. I felt the restrictive tube in my mouth; the tape that had been used to secure it to my face pulled at my skin. Thoughts started to cloud my mind; I remembered where I was and what my father had said to me.

I remembered now, the party. Yes, I had been to Parker's house with Brian and Jon. I had been drinking. I could see Parker as he offered me a shot. I played the tapes back in my mind, I visualized Parker and me at the keg, him helping me draw my beer into that plastic cup. The thoughts started to flow back into my mind, as I lay motionless in the darkened room.

I could hear this sound, a mechanical one. I could hear the sound of air being pumped, followed by a large klunking sound. It had a rhythm to it; first the dull klunk sound, then a rushing noise of air blowing. With the sounds of the machine I felt my lungs fill and deflate. I was so cold, my entire body ached, but my head and arm seemed to hurt the most.

'There's been a terrible accident,' I remembered my father telling me. 'What accident?' I wondered. I remembered drinking at the bar in Parker's house; it was the last thing I could remember. I knew I must have left, because I was here now. I could picture Jon and Brian talking in Parker's family room, as I was doing shots. How did I get here? I tried hard to concentrate, but drifted back to sleep.

I began to float again; I could see the raft. I heard the waves as they crashed against the side of the rubber; the sky was a strange color, it was a dark greenish-black. I could feel the small craft as it rocked my body back and forth. Suddenly, out of the darkened sky came flashing lights. The lights were coming at me; I felt terror as it racked my mind. I began to sink, sink deep into the water.

I fought, I tried to swim, but my body couldn't move. The weight of the water was unbearable, as it pulled me to the depths of the sea. I could feel and taste the salty water as it poured down my throat. Frantically I tried to scream out. I felt my stomach as it filled with the distasteful water. I felt my chest as the pressure of the ocean against me crushed it. I was so tired; I just wanted to sleep, but that noise, that loud high-pitched screeching kept me from it.

"We're going to lose him."


I heard people's voices; they echoed and bounced off my eardrums. My chest burst with pain suddenly. The burning jolt grasped at every fiber of my young body. My arms and legs twinged in pain. I was in the raft again, rocking back and forth with the waves.

"We got him!" I heard a man's voice call out.

"Blood pressure is 180 over 100 and dropping," I heard a woman say, her voice sounded reassuring.

A warmth enveloped my body. I felt a comfort come over me. The perils of the ocean had been removed, and I began floating again. I began hearing the gulls and other birds chirping in the winds around me. The incessant racket the birds were making, and the intense heat from the bright sun tore me from my slumber.

"Andrew? Oh, Andrew. Please, Son, wake up," my father's voice called to me.

"Andrew, you wake now. You come home," my grandmother was shouting.

My eyes opened slowly, I could see my dad as he stood near me. I saw some rails, brushed metal rails, which separated him from me. He held tightly onto my left hand as he looked down on me. I saw my grandmother at his side; she looked tired and restless. All I could do was look at them; the tube still fastened securely into my mouth. I blinked my eyes a few times to let them know I heard them. I was so scared.

"Andrew, you can't talk, but we are here for you. Andrew, I love you so much;" my father's voice trailed off, and trembled.

"Andrew, you no make floor wet. You come home and make floor wet again," Grandmother expressed, in her broken English.

I felt the sheer pain in my skull as I tried to nod. I began to float again; I was back in the raft, drifting amongst the waves. The sounds of the birds had stopped; my Father and Grandmother had disappeared from my sights. The waters were calm and I felt relaxed.

I saw Mikey, as he called to me. He was in another boat that came alongside of my raft. His jet-black hair, his dark charcoal eyes were pleasant and familiar to me. He reached his hands to me as he called out my name. I felt my arm as it reached for him. Suddenly, I realized my eyes were shut, I gradually opened them. He was next to me; his hands clenched my left hand.

"Andrew? Are you awake? It's me, Mike." His tender voice filled my head.

I felt my eyeballs as they moved in their sockets. I looked around the room. 'How long have I been here?' I began to wonder. I fixed my eyes on him; I felt my lips as they tried to smile up at his beauty. I felt him as he tightened his grip on my hand. I clenched my fingers.

"Oh, my God, Andrew, you're awake. Can you hear me?" Mikey sputtered, his voice filled with compassion.

I squeezed my fingers around his hand, his soft warm flesh felt so good. I remembered that night with him. That wonderful night, filled with love, we spent in Tad's bedroom. I watched him as he slowly bent over the bed rails and planted a kiss on my cheek. My body became filled with desire, I wanted him to hold me, and I wanted to feel his soft and gentle touch.

"Andrew, I love you so much. You've been here for two weeks. You need to come home. I need you," I heard him whisper, as I tensed my fingers around his hand.

My stomach rumbled with pains of hunger. I heard Mikey laugh as my belly growled. I began to sit up; the weights that I had felt seemed to lessen. I felt my head as it lifted from the bed; the dull pain was still there but not as bad. I tried to raise my right arm so I could hug his body, but the skin on the back of my hand pulled against the intravenous needle that pumped fluids into me. The tugging of the apparatus was discomforting, but not as restrictive as it had been. I managed to get my right arm around his neck. I was weak, but pulled him toward me. I rubbed my cheek against his.

That all happened a month ago. I had been in a terrible car wreck. Brian was killed instantly. Jon was hurt, but not badly, he had sat in the back seat and wore his safety belt. I had been in the front next to Brian. Brian had lost control of his car as we sped around a sharp curve; he struck another car head on. The other car was filled with a young family. Another child had died that night; an eighteen-month old baby was crushed to death as the mother held it in her arms. I have no recollection of the accident; my last memory of the night was doing shots at Parker's. I only know what has been told to me.

It's funny how a near-death episode can change your life, and the lives of those around you. It seems like a rejuvenation of family has been inspired in my 'house from hell'; Helen has lightened up on me, and been more responsive. My grandmother no longer talks about the water on the bathroom floor; she just smiles at me when I go to the bathroom. Jon hasn't called me 'Fagboy' since I came home.

I found out that I had almost died, several times. My heart had stopped and a defibrillator had been used to get it going again, on more than one occasion, while I lay in the hospital bed. I had received a cracked skull and a fractured rib in the wreck. One of my lungs had been punctured, as well. My lungs had filled with fluids, and then pneumonia set in. Apparently my life had been in the balance; it hung somewhere between here and death for several days. My right ankle had been crushed too, and I had to go to physical therapy three times a week to get back the full use of it. I walk with a cane now, but am told that because I am so young, full recovery is expected. I only hope so.

I wasn't able to perform in the State Championship, but the Coach awarded me a trophy for 'Best School Athlete'.. A large ceremony was held in Brian McCarthy's honor, and I was the only one given an award. Brian was eulogized and given praise, but was not with us any longer. His memory will remain intact in my brain forever.

I spend a lot of time thinking now, thinking about how senseless we had been that fateful night. Three young teens out to have a good time, seeking what we all do, popularity. Instead of happiness, we were met with reality of our ignorant actions. 'Alcohol related' were the words the police report stated for the cause of the tragedy that took two lives. I often picture the poor baby held closely to its mother's breast in my mind; I also picture Brian's fleeting smile, they are only photographs in my mind now.

Mikey and I have become an item of sorts. I have confessed my feelings about him to my family. In the confusions and ordeals I have had to face, my love for him seemed like a mere consequence, but ever so important to my existence. Instead of contempt and hate, that I thought I would be met with, I was instead challenged with acceptance. Helen and my dad both seem to really like him. My grandmother even beams with excitement whenever Mikey comes to the house.

Jim and Sarah have been extremely helpful and supportive of my needs. Sarah has gone to great lengths to make sure I am caught up on all my school work. I have not yet been able to return to school. Sarah stops by every day with homework, and stays for hours at a time to assist me, especially in Geometry. Jim has stopped by on more than one occasion to tell me how much the horses miss me, I really know it is him that misses me though. He frequently tells me, "Andrew, you can do anything you want, as long as you put your mind to it," when he visits me. I know he is talking about my ankle and being able to walk again, although he never comes right out and says that.

Crystal even called me one day; she asked if she could come by and visit. I was feeling all sentimental, so I told her it would be fine. She came over, with Tad; it seems the two of them are an item now. I don't mind; I have love in my life now. The two of them even asked when Mikey and I could go out with them on a double date of sorts. I often think about how funny things are.

My mother came up to visit; she stayed a week. She even wanted me to move back down to Florida, but I told her no. I have a new life now, one with Mikey. Matty is a distant but fond memory, and I don't feel like I left anything behind that I need to return for. I tried as best I could to explain how I felt to my mom. She seemed to understand.

It's like Jim always asks, "What do you think?"; to which I reply; "Life is short, live it to its fullest, 'cause you never know when it will be taken away."

I guess what I have learned most of all is that no matter how insurmountable my problems seem, they can be overcome. It just takes perseverance and effort. Life is a gift, a gift from God above. It is up to each of us to use our intelligence to live it to its fullest, as we give thanks everyday for the benefits we receive. We are all creations of His, and gifts he has pleasured the universe with. Who are we to question the 'Great Architect?'.

Mikey and I have gone on a rampage of sorts, we have formed a 'Students Against Drunk Drivers' (SADD) organization in Maplewood High. Jim made a large donation, as did the family that lost the child in the accident. Sarah is treasurer; we have raised almost five thousand dollars. Our goal is to host a large party for the graduating class, one where alcohol is prohibited. We have a month to put it all together; it keeps me as busy as my school work.

I decided to name the dance after the baby that was killed in the auto accident. I felt it was the right thing to do. The strange thing about all the events that had taken place after that horrible night; was the baby seemed to be forgotten. I mean, Brian was memorialized, and I had been given a fitting trophy. No one wanted to talk about the poor infant, whose life had been snuffed out. I only guessed it was too painful, but I sympathized with the parents. I ached to change what had happened, but it was too late.

I would live with regrets about that night the rest of my life.

The End, for now.


Well, my good friends, there you have it. I hope you have read and taken the message with you. I only pray you have. Life is a gift, one we should be thankful for every second of our day. We are all gifts from God above; we are all His creation. For that reason alone we must revel in glory and be ever thoughtful of our existence.

Thanks, Ed, for the great editing.

As always, but not forever.