Date: Mon, 9 Jul 2001 12:50:16 -0400 From: Michael Raburn Subject: Daniel's Love Chapter 6 THIS WORK IS FULLY PROTECTED BY U.S. COPYRIGHT LAWS. NO PORTION OF THIS WORK MAY BE COPIED OR REDISTRIBUTED BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT THE EXPRESS CONSENT OF ITS AUTHOR. THIS WORK DEALS WITH A FICTITIONAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TWO MEN. IF READING ABOUT HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS OR SEXUAL CONTACT BETWEEN TWO MEN IS EITHER ILLEGAL IN YOUR AREA OR OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READY ANY FURTHER. ANY SIMILARITIES TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS WORK IS ENTIRELY FICTITIONAL. Guys I really appreciate all the great responses you've sent me after that the original posting of Daniel's Love. Because of these letters and the multitude of requests I am writing the sequel. Since these characters have taken on a life of their own, they are writing this story, not me. We will continue as they direct. Again, thanks for the encouragement. DANIEL'S LOVE Michael A. Raburn Chapter 6 "Guys, have you guys finished your homework yet?" Daniel asked as he trooped through the den, laundry basket in hand. Jason and Kyle were lying on the floor working on their schoolwork, books and papers strewn everywhere. I had explained to their teachers that we would be in New York for a week and they had agreed to give the kids their assignments in advance. "Yep, just finished." answered Jason. "Almost." responded Kyle. "In a few more minutes, baby." I said. "I didn't mean you, Paul. What are you working on anyway?" he asked, bending to kiss my forehead. "Just a few things for Bruce. You know, the stuff we talked about last night." "Is it all going to work out the way we wanted it to?" He asked, taking the papers from my hand and sinking into my lap. "Yep, there's plenty for the trusts and the college funds, they can go anywhere they want when it's time. And the other things just needs our signatures." "Boys, if you're finished, it's getting close to bedtime. Remember we have to leave pretty early in the morning to get to the airport, so don't stay up too late staring at each other." Daniel joked. "Aww, maw." whined Kyle, giggling. "Hey squirt, don't call me that." Daniel tossed a damp kitchen towel at Kyle's head, then looked up at the portrait of his mother hanging over the fireplace. "Jason, drop off the dirty clothes in the laundry room on your way." "Okay." He replied, dropping his and Kyle's books into the basket. "Come on, Ky. Let's go to bed." The boys turned to us for their goodnight hugs and kisses then tromped off towards their bedroom. "She would be so proud of you, baby." I whispered, nuzzling into his neck. "I know, Paul. I wish she could have lived to see all this." "Hey Paul, when are M and M coming over?" Kyle yelled from the other bedroom. "Who?" I yelled back, wondering what he was cooking up now. "You know, dad, Monica and Marcie." He responded, giggling. "M and M." Daniel and I were unpacking, stowing our clothes and toiletries in our bedroom at Cornelia's New York apartment. "Leave it to Kyle..." he muttered, wandering to the bathroom with our toiletries bag. The flight, other than being at an indecent hour of the morning had been quiet. The few other passengers, mostly business types, appeared as close to asleep as we all felt. Daniel looked back once at the kids then indicated for me to look. There under a shared blanket, Kyle lay curled up in Jason's protective embrace. It would surprise me if some day Kyle did not end up calling Jason "daddy" like Daniel did me. Their relationship in so many other ways mirrored ours that that step was a given. "Kyle, Marcie will be over about one o'clock. She'll take you two to the zoo and maybe dinner. Monica will be at the Foundation board meeting with us." "But, isn't she coming to see us?" Jason piped in. "I don't want to go to the zoo, I wanta see the Village, SoHo..." Kyle whined, sticking his head into the room. "Wednesday, I think, Jace. Daniel's got to meet with Mr. Greenley about the publicity for the book that day." I answered. "You're not going anywhere Kyle where you might get a tattoo. We've talked about this already. Maybe when you're eighteen you can make that decision, not now." Daniel reprimanded, dredging up the eternal battle of wills that had been going on for the last month. Kyle had it in his head that he would die if he could not get "some ink" as he called it or get some various part of his body pierced. Not that we had anything against those two forms of body adornment, but not at fourteen, even if they thought they were going on thirty. "But, dad, I think he'd look hot with..." "No way! Discussion over!" I answered, raising my voice and realizing how much I sounded like my own father. This was never in my plan for my life. How ever had I ended up married and with children? Deep down, though, I knew I would not trade this for anything in the world. Where Daniel had completed my soul, the kids had reminded us both of how much the world had to offer and how important our contribution to it could be. Our initial reticence had been overcome so easily after that night the boys came into our lives. "Well, young man, how does it feel to be the youngest director of any major philanthropic organization in the country?" Mr. Avery asked Daniel as we were leaving the Board meeting. "I think the word 'overwhelmed' best describes it, sir." "You'll get used to it. You and Paul will fit in beautifully, but I don't want you being too busy. What with the book and now, your bouncing baby boys." He chuckled. "Yeah, right. Bouncing is the right word there. Those two are going to drive us to an early grave." I laughed. "I remember that phase so well. I love my daughters dearly, but there were times that I'd have liked to ship them off to a convent somewhere." The Board has voted to fully fund the Atlanta Gay Students League and had appointed Margaret Johnson to oversee the project. This move had been at our urging, both to reward her for the hard work and to free up our schedules some. There was enough funding to broaden our original idea for the group at our neighborhood school to include all the high schools in the area that were interested. After-school meetings, support groups and an occasional dance would highlight the calendar of the school year with one mid-summer outing planned to coincide with the city's Gay Pride festivities. "What's this? I don't remember this." I asked as we were exiting the elevators. Double glass doors had been installed in what had been a solid wall to the left of the lobby of the building. The new room was well stocked with books on the half-height shelving, overstuffed chairs and groupings of tables and chairs completing the space. Several children were browsing through the stacks, selecting books; an older lady had a group of six year olds gathered around her as she read aloud from a big picture book. Above the double doors, spelled out in bronze letters was: "The Barry Lewis Memorial Library." "Well, Paul. After everything you've been through, I wasn't sure how you and Daniel would feel about this so we've kept it kind of quiet. Barry's mother and Nina were here last week when we had a little ceremony." "Mr. Avery, I think it's great. Wish we could have been here for that." "It was the least we could do. The library is for the children we help, though it's really not a library. It's more of an outreach center for these kids. They have story time, snack time, reading lessons if they need them and they get to take home a book. Some of the kids have never had their own book before coming here." "I wonder where the kids and Marcie are." I asked as we entered the apartment. We had dinner with the Averys and Monica at a tiny, hole in the wall Italian restaurant down the street from the Foundation building. Daniel and I both seemed to have put all the mess and ill feelings that we had acquired about being in New York behind us. I had always loved visiting the city and it wonderful galleries, endless shops and restaurants and fun neighborhoods. My parents had introduced me to this mecca of culture as a little boy and now I was enthusiastic about showing Daniel around town. Dinner conversation was amazingly enough not about Foundation business; we were all truly friends now and not just business acquaintances. Daniel talked animatedly about his newest undertaking. Somehow in the turmoil of having the boys in our house he had managed to start another book, finding time between carpools and the endless list of household duties he had undertaken. His secret had been the miniature tape recorder he carried everywhere. It allowed him to dictate ideas and whole passages when they appeared to him. One day he had complained to me about having great ideas that would disappear before he got back to the computer to write them down. Jason had overheard the conversation and he and Kyle had gotten together to pool their allowances to get the tape recorder for Daniel. Their gift had totally surprised both of us at their caring and attention to what was going on around them. They were really special kids, kind, generous, caring and very affectionate. I had practically finished the Garland paintings since Daniel had insisted I maintain the schedule we had worked so hard to establish. Most of them had been shipped out in early February to the building in Houston, but I still had three canvases that only needed the last touches of color to be applied before they were done. Nina and Cornelia has been in the studio when we packed the pieces, both assuring me that it was the best, most matured work that I had ever done. Amazingly I also felt the strength of the paintings; I understood how the events of the past year had changed me and my outlook on life. Even back in art school I had struggled with the concept of series painting, where an artist would paint the same or similar images time and time again. I always wondered if it was to try to get it right, that somehow the painter was missing the mark and kept trying to get the image in his head to match the one on paper, or canvas. Due to the sheer volume of pieces for Garland I had finally realized that I had been all wrong. The basic structure of all the works centered around the same ideas, the same original drawings; but the treatment of each focused on different aspects, different nuances of meaning. I finally really understood why painters like Monet had painted so many versions of those stacks of hay or bridges crossing streams, it was, for me at least, to explore, to delve into the underlying concepts. After a lazy three-hour dinner we all headed off in our own directions, promising to get back together soon. Monica walked with us back to Cornelia's as she lived down the block and really wanted to see the boys. Daniel emerged from the kitchen, three snifters of brandy in his hands. "I'm sure they'll be back soon. Why don't you call over to Marcie's and ask her roommate if she's heard from them?" he asked, passing out the drinks. "Okay, thanks Sarah." I hung up the phone. "She said that Marcie and the boys had come by the apartment about six so she could change her shoes before they went to dinner. They had gone to the zoo and were going to catch an early meal and be back here by eleven. Kyle had convinced her to take them to the village for dinner. That little sneaker is probably trying to get her to take them to the tattoo parlor." I giggled. "Surely she wouldn't." Monica insisted. "Nah, she knows better and the kids don't have enough money on them to get anything done anyway." Daniel laughed. "But it's after midnight already." He looked up from his watch, concern in his eyes. "There they are now." I said, hearing someone fumbling with the keys. Marcie burst into the room, a frantic look in her eyes. "Are they here?" she screamed. "Marcie, what are you talking about, the boys are with you." "Oh, God, no!" she collapsed in a heap on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." she was muttering. Daniel moved to her side, cradling her in her arms. "Marcie, what happened, where are they?" His normally calm voice was beginning to crack, echoing the emotions I was beginning to feel, that terrible stabbing pain in the pit of my stomach. Two fourteen year olds, alone in the streets of a city they were not familiar with. What were they doing, where were they? "You lost the kids?" I yelled, the blood pounding in my ears. "How could you lose two kids?" That feeling of total irrationality was beginning to overcome me. Marcie's sobbing increased as I lashed out at her. "Paul, calm down. I'm sure they are okay, that they'll be back here in a few minutes." Monica said, trying to calm me, reassure us. "Calm down! How in the hell am I supposed to calm down! Kyle and Jason are out there all alone." I was angry and hurt, but most of all concerned about the boys and how to find them. "Somebody call ... We've got to get them back, now!" "Paul, if you don't calm down you'll be in no condition to help find them. I'm going to call 911." Monica pleaded. "Marcie, what happened? Where are the boys?" Daniel was doing a better job of controlling his emotions, but I could see the concern in his blue eyes. "I, I..." she started, sniffling. "We had dinner and took the subway back to the station down the street. When we came up the stairs someone bumped me and knocked me against the wall." She was slowly regaining her composure, trying to be in control, but the tears continued to stream down her face. "I thought he was trying to take my purse, but he moved on, walking away from us. I got up off the ground and turned back to see if the boys were all right. Th, they weren't th, there." She stammered. "What do you mean they weren't there?" he asked. "I ran up and down the block looking for them. I went back down the stairs to the station trying to find them. Nobody I asked had seen them, it's like they disappeared. So, I came back here hoping they'd gone on ahead of me." "Baby, come on we've got to find them." I grabbed his hand, pulling him away from Marcie and out the door. "Guys, the police will be in a minute." Monica returned to the room as the door slammed. "They just left. They're going out to look for the boys. Oh, Monica, what have I done?" Marcie wailed.