Date: Thu, 16 Jun 2005 20:00:43 -0500 From: kenlou16 Subject: Nudist Camp Vacation - Chapter 9 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The "Fine Print:" If you've read the previous chapters, you know the drill. If it's illegal for you to be reading this, I can't stop you, but I wish you wouldn't. Innocence is precious. Keep it as long as you can! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The emails I've been getting are wonderful! Please keep writing! Be sure to donate to Nifty! Keep this service free! Just go to the "Nifty" homepage and scroll down to "Please support the Nifty Archive," and click on "support." You'll be transferred to the donations page where you'll learn how to donate to Nifty. Nifty is a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Live simply, love generously, care deeply and speak kindly. Leave the rest to God. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FROM THE END OF CHAPTER 8: Stevey looked as if he was giving it some deep thought. "No, I don't understand. Those things don't sound important. Tim loves you! He told me! Why don't you just love him back? Tim's really cool! I know he'll be nice to you! Just give him a chance!" My vision of Robert told me that, too. I sighed. "Stevey, I can't. Tim has so much to learn and so many things to experience. He's just starting his life, and I'm past the middle of mine." "So, if he needs to learn something, you can teach him! Can't you just do stuff together?" Every time I think I have an answer, there seems to be a counter for it. If it isn't Tim then it's Stevey. I think they're comparing notes and ganging up on me. Tim walked in the door carrying my coffee, and I was relieved that my conversation with Stevey was finished. However, Tim's eyes were as big as saucers; bigger than usual, I should say. "Tim? What's wrong?" "Down the hall. Everyone was running around like they were crazy. That sound we heard. It was gun shots." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Nudist Camp Vacation CHAPTER 9 "Gun shots? In a hospital? What happened?" "All I could find out was a cop shot someone. It was on this floor at the end of another wing. There are cops all over the place!" "Oh, my God!" I wanted to quiz him more, but he just said that's all he could find out. The look on his face was perplexed. Somehow, I knew he found out all that he could, even though it wasn't much. I thought of turning on the television to listen to the news, but I knew the news couldn't have made it to television that fast. My cell phone rang. Stevey handed it to me. It was Frank. "Frank! What's up?" "Things are happening, fast! Are you sitting?" It just occurred to me that he doesn't know where I am. "Yeah. Actually, I'm in bed." "In bed? This late?" "Yeah. I'm in the hospital. I had a heart attack." "Good God! Are you all right? Should I call back later?" "No! I'm fine! The cardiologist gave me a couple of stents and I'm fine, now. I'm just waiting for them to decide I'm good to go then they'll spring me. So, what's your news?" "Wait a minute! What hospital are you in?" "Brackenridge. Why?" "What room?" I told him. "Hang up." "What?" "Just hang up." The line went dead. Weird call. I shared a puzzled look with Tim and Stevey. Tim asked, "What is it?" "I have no idea. He just said to hang up." Just then, Frank burst through the door. I jumped. When a dark "Hulk" comes blasting into your room, it doesn't matter that he's a friend of yours, it still scares the crap out of you. "Alan! Oh, hi Stevey. . . Tim. It seems the three of you are inseparable these days!" He was paying special attention to Stevey. He walked closer to Stevey and put his hand on Stevey's shoulder. "I think you'd better sit down." He looked at Tim, too. One does not refuse Frank anything. Tim and Stevey sat on the bed: Stevey at my side and Tim at my feet. I knew he had something to say, but I had to ask, "Frank, what in the Hell is going on?" "I've been keeping my eye out for new developments. I stopped by to check on our perp. Didn't you know this is where they brought that low-life?" Frank quickly turned to Stevey to see his reaction. He didn't react. Outwardly, he seemed perfectly nonplussed. Stevey was either not surprised or his reactions were guarded. "There's been a shooting in the hospital." "Yeah, Tim just found that out. What do you know about it?" Frank looked at Tim appraisingly, then at me. "How much does Tim know?" "He knows everything." I was getting the idea this had everything to do with Stevey's molester. Sometimes I'm slow to jump to conclusions, but I thought that might be the connection. Swift, huh? "The guy is in this hospital, under guard. Well, it seems one of the cops guarding him had a young son that was kidnapped. He's been missing for over three years. His son's photograph was found in the guy's van. It was one of the photographs that looked like it could've been taken by the perp. The cop must have decided to get his own information out of the guy. The cop showed him a picture of his son and apparently, the guy admitted to molesting him. Then he taunted the cop. Not the sharpest tack in the box! He fired his gun into the floor several times, I guess to scare the guy then he shot him once." He looked at Stevey. Frank's eyes clouded up and his voice became soft. "The guy said the cop's son is dead. . . . Stevey, I'm just glad it wasn't you." While that was sinking in, he said in a soft voice, "Stevey, it may not be over, yet. They'll probably charge him with murder and he may still have to go to trial for what he did to you and the others. But if they convict him of murder, they might never get to the pedophilia and molestation charges." Stevey stood and stepped up to Frank. Then he did something completely unexpected. He reached his arms around Frank as far as he could get them and they hugged. There was silence until Stevey whispered, "Thank you, Frank. He'll never bother me again. I know it." When he released his embrace, Stevey and Frank both wiped tears from their faces. He came to me and draped himself over me, one arm around my neck and the other around my side. He lay on me for what seemed several minutes as I hugged him back. We were all silent. It was as if we were paying homage to Stevey. Stevey finally got up and looked at me while wiping his face dry. "What now?" he asked. I swallowed hard and wiped the tears from my own face. "Now, I guess it's time for you to catch up on being a kid." I knew that a part of him had become far too mature for a kid his age, but he seems to have his head screwed on pretty well in spite of it all. I heard both Frank and Tim sniffling. Frank pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose. Tim found the tissues and used one. We were all a wet mess. As Stevey and Tim hugged, Frank left to see if he could find out anything else about the molester. He returned a short time later. The molester (Frank still wouldn't tell us his real name.) had been taken into emergency surgery to remove the bullet. He had been paralyzed from the waist down. The bullet shattered his spine. The cop was under immediate suspension, but because of the circumstances and his emotional state, he might only be given a severe reprimand, submit to additional training and counseling and eventually be returned to the police force. Since the internal investigation had just started, none of this was certain; however, speculation was upbeat. We all said silent prayers for the cop. Tim stayed with me in my room the rest of the day. Stevey watched us talk between his short exploratory trips around the floor, to the gift shop and to the cafeteria. It seemed incredible that a 13 year old would be able to tolerate a hospital that long and not be bored to tears, but he seemed to be content. Tim and I talked about books, movies, music, politics and religion. We solved the problems of the world. I was beginning to enjoy our conversations. He was even there when the doctor stopped by. The doc announced that I was doing well, but he wanted me to stay at least two more days. The boys stayed until the nurse demanded they leave. Tim snuck in the next morning before visiting hours to say, "Hi," before his first day of work. He was excited about his job, but he was being entirely too attentive and it didn't help lessen my desire to see him. I was glad that neither Tim nor Stevey had been around when "The Bandage" had to be removed. Likewise, they weren't present when the younger version of the female Spanish Inquisition returned to remove their expert placement of the subsequent, "Bandage from Hell." It was the Titanic of Band-Aids. They had neglected to tell me that the adhesive on the tape was permanent. Permanent means "cannot be removed." Therefore, it would be necessary to peel away the flesh to which it was stuck, or at least it would feel like it. During the removal of the non-removable tape, it occurred to me that the particular flesh to which it was affixed has a high density of nerve endings. I remember telling them that if they pulled it quickly it wouldn't hurt so much. I'm glad they knew better. Pulling it slowly was much less likely to tear the underlying skin, and so much more likely to cause excruciating pain. Since the tape was also stuck to virgin hair that had missed the nurse's razor, I received an unwanted "waxing." Slowly. Follicle by follicle. The entire time I was on the brink of screaming. I think they were just wreaking vengeance against all men for years of oppression of the female of our species. They gave new meaning to the terms "sadism" and "torture." Thinking back, I'm sure they fully intended to apply this tape to my scrotum. At least the removal of the Bandage from Hell allowed for the prominent display of The Bruise from the Chamber of Horrors. I've heard of people having worse bruises, but they weren't on me and they weren't vacationing in a nudist camp. On top of that, spots were shaved on and around my chest to apply heart monitor patches in an apparently random pattern. The round patches had an adhesive. That, in and of itself, wasn't a problem. What was a problem was that apparently I'm allergic to that particular type of adhesive. Now I have this flying saucer pattern of red discs all over my torso. I look like I've been branded. In many places. With a huge plum colored bruising from my pecker half way around my leg, right next to my demented Hitler moustache. In the nude, I look like a diseased alien. At least I feel better than I've felt in years. Except when I'm naked! The evening after his first day of work Tim came to the hospital and stayed until they kicked him out again. I'm glad it was Friday before a three-day weekend. He can rest tomorrow. During my stay, I did have other visitors. Lucy, Bill, Mary (Bill's wife) and of course, Nell, made several visits. I guess I'm not completely without friends. They all met Tim and Stevey the first day, and they were all quite curious. Why not? Tim and Stevey are exquisitely attractive boys and they were paying me entirely too much attention to be seemly. It was as if they were displaying ownership of me and I was too dumb to know how to stop it. I'm sure I'm already being labeled a pedophile by all my friends! And the flowers! If I'd died, they would have hidden the casket! It'll take forever to send all the "thank you" notes! In spite of needing rest, Tim brought Stevey (Stevey wouldn't let Tim leave the house for the hospital without him) for another visit Saturday morning just as visiting hours began. In spite of myself, I was glad to see them both. The doctor made his rounds about ten a.m. and released me into the hands of my "sons." (Grrrrr!) I corrected Dr. "Prissypants," as I decided to call him behind his back, but I didn't call Tim my boyfriend this time. I introduced the boys as "my very good friends." The doc gave me a strict, low fat, low-cholesterol diet to follow and admonished me to take several prescriptions, religiously. No excuses! I got the impression he'd send the Prescription Police around to check. He also told me to make a follow-up appointment for one week later, but to call if I had any questions or changes in the meantime. Just before we left, I called in a volunteer and asked her to distribute my flowers to any patients she thought might like them. She was ecstatic! I made sure I collected all the cards before we left. Tim gave me a ride home. Or rather to my motor home. Tim had bought his Mustang new four years before. It looked as new as it must have when he bought it. Apparently, he always keeps it perfectly clean and waxed. I'll bet you can eat off the engine! Tim drives quite well for a teenager. His Mustang is one of those "SVO" models with the too-big V-8 engine. My kind of car! The exhaust has the most awe-inspiring growl! For some reason, watching Tim drive turned me on to the point of oxygen depravation. My tool was solid steel, trying to become a pressure blaster. I'm having serious issues, here. To calm myself I had to close my eyes and picture myself in a monastery. Tim kept asking me if I was okay. Of course, not! I needed to get away from him, but I couldn't tell him that! Just being near him, smelling the lingering odor of his cologne mixing with his maleness, I'm gonna die! He must be exuding that particular pheromone to which I'm most sensitive. Tim's scent is driving me to a sexual frenzy! I feel like I'm a shark circling him in the water and he's bleeding! Any more of this and I'll be having a spontaneous orgasm. I can't stand it! I rolled down the window. I wanted to hang my head out like a dog, but I thought that might be a bit much. I did wonder what it would feel like to have my tongue flap in the wind. . . . "Alan! What's wrong? And don't tell me, `nothing'! I know something's wrong! I can see it in your face!" I was always bad at hiding my feelings. I smiled and looked at his rosy cheeks. His eyebrows are thin and straight. His skin is so smooth. I'm dying, here! "Tim, nothing's wrong!" I lied. "I just love the smell of the air out here." That's true, but it's not why I rolled down the window. He threw a glare at me. He had to have known I was lying, but at least he didn't know the truth! (Or did he?) The rest of the ride was silent. Even Stevey must have sensed my sexual tension from the back seat. He cleared his throat and giggled. Apparently, he's much more perceptive than Tim is. At least, I hope that's the case. I don't want Tim to know what's going on in my head. Along the way, we dropped my prescriptions off at the supermarket and told them we'd be back to pick them up. We arrived at the camp and Tim drove slowly to my motor home. My instructions from Dr. Prissypants were that I couldn't lift a finger for another week, so that put a damper on a good many activities. (Does that mean "no sex"?) It was also going to be difficult to get back to my exercise routine when I was free from my doctor-imposed purgatory. Stevey jumped out of the back seat and was at my side as soon as I cleared the car door. He had his arm tightly around my waist, apparently to help this old man walk. It would have been easier to walk without his help, but I couldn't tell him that. Besides, I'm enjoying the closeness. Tim was quickly at my other side, once he retrieved my bag from his trunk. I enjoy that closeness, too, but perhaps too much. I felt like such an invalid. They led me to the middle of the couch and sat me on it, handing me the remote for the entertainment equipment. Then Tim took my bag to the back and unpacked it and Stevey went to the `frig and brought me a bottled water. They must have plotted their actions somehow. They seemed too choreographed. When they had me settled, they came and sat on either side of me on the couch. They both sat very close to me. It occurred to me that their "personal space" was almost nonexistent. While I didn't mind having Stevey that close (he's become like a son), I was a bit bothered by Tim's proximity. It was a relief that we were all clothed. "Thank you, boys, but now I need to go back and pick up my prescriptions." It should have occurred to me that the camp was far enough from the supermarket that the prescriptions would be ready by the time we made a round trip. Tim jumped to his feet and said, "I'll do it!" It occurred to me that my full name was on the prescriptions. I still wasn't ready to reveal my identity to Tim. "No, it's something I have to do." Tim protested. "But I can do it! You need rest!" I was tired and felt like vegging, but I knew I had to go. "No, I need to go. You can drive, though, if you would." He must have seen in my eyes how determined I was, because he backed off. "Okay, let's go," he said softly. He was moody on the way to the supermarket. I got the feeling that either Tim wanted to be alone with me, or he was put out because I wouldn't let him do this for me. He may even have still felt guilty about keeping Stevey from me the first day I was in the hospital. He didn't protest when Stevey climbed into the back seat. The ride to the store was silent. It was so silent that it felt tense. When we got to the store, Tim started to pull around to the drive through window. "Tim, could you park, please? I need to go inside." "Okay, but you can wait in the car. I'll go inside for you." "No, Tim. I need to go inside," I said, sternly. "You wait here. I'll be back in a minute." "But someone should go with you, in case . . . in case you need help." His voice was tense. I sighed. "Stevey can come with me." He had a pained look on his face. He was hurt. "Okay, I'll wait," he said quietly. Stevey followed me out of the car and into the store. "Alan, Tim's really pissed off at you! Why are you being so mean to him?" I looked at Stevey carefully. I sighed. "Stevey, I didn't intend to be mean, but I had to get him to stay in the car. The prescriptions will have `Geoffrey' on them. I can't let him know who I am. At least not yet." "But Alan, you're being a fucking asshole! You're hurting Tim's feelings!" I was a bit shocked at his language, but he was right. "I'll make it up to him, later. And Stevey, please don't use that kind of language. I know you've been through a lot, but it doesn't look good to hear foul words like that coming from such a beautiful face." I stroked his hair and put my arm around his shoulder. He hesitated then smiled. "Okay. I'll try to fix my language. But you still have to be nicer to Tim!" "I will." I wasn't sure if I could follow through on that, but I would have to try. When we got to the counter, sure enough, the prescriptions were under "Geoffrey" Stewart. I patiently listened to the pharmacist's "counseling" and we prepared to leave. As we walked toward the door, I was struck by an inspiration. While passing the flower display, I saw a container of particularly beautiful roses. They had outer edges of orange fading to yellow at the center. I bought a single rose, a small spray of baby's breath and a single fern frond. I had the attendant wrap it together around the stem with green tissue paper. Then I bought a nice thank you card. Stevey was ecstatic! He was jumping and dancing all around me. "Alan, that's perfect! He'll love it!" I have to admit it brought a smile to my face to think how Tim might react. At the check out stand, I borrowed the checker's pen and wrote a quick note in the card. It said, "Tim, you'll never know how much I appreciate the time you spent with me in the hospital. You rescued my sanity. Hugs, Alan." I thought that would be generic enough not to make him think anything more than I wanted to convey. When we got to the car, Tim was fuming. He must have spent the entire time while he was alone in the car thinking about how unfair I had been to him. I hate myself for that, but I couldn't think of an alternative! Stevey climbed in the back seat, his face beaming, and I climbed carefully into the front, hiding my precious purchase. Tim's face was red. He refused to look at me. He was looking straight ahead, as he started the car and put it in gear. When he turned to look over his shoulder to see if it was clear to back out of the parking space, he was forced to look in my direction. I was silently holding the rose between us with a small smile on my face. Tim's jaw dropped and his forehead wrinkled when he saw the rose. He glanced up at me as if to say, "For me?" My smile got bigger and I nodded, still in silence. I got a reaction I wasn't expecting. Tim's eyes clouded as he reached for the flower. He held it to his nose and sniffed fitfully. I don't know whether he was weeping or smelling the rose. He swallowed hard and wiped his eyes. "No one ever gave me a rose before," he whispered. I handed him the card. Tim looked at it in disbelief. He finally shifted the car to neutral and pulled the brake. His hands were shaking as he took the card carefully from my hand. I really didn't expect such an emotional response! Tim opened the card and carefully read every word. When he finished, he wiped his nose with his hand and sniffed. Slowly, he put the card back in the envelope and looked at me. He reached over to me and put his arms around my neck. He pulled me closer to him and buried his face in my neck. I hadn't wanted to, but watching Tim's reaction made me weep, too. I felt a damned tear roll down my cheek! I'm not supposed to do this! This isn't supposed to be such a sentimental moment! When Tim started slobbering on my neck, I gasped and pushed him away. This could NOT turn into a heavy petting session! I whispered, "Tim, please! We have children in the car!" "WHAT?" Stevey blurted from the back seat. "I'm not children! If you don't kiss him, I'm gonna get pissed off!" I looked at Tim directly in the eyes and chuckled. He was smiling back. Good! The rose and card had done their work, well. He was back to normal. I quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Then Tim leaned toward me. He was about to kiss me! In public! I backed up a few inches and looked around, self-consciously. "No, Tim. Not here!" He backed away, but seemed to accept my protest. Tim whispered, "Okay. Thank you, Alan." I chuckled. "You're welcome. I meant what I said. You'll never know how important it was to me for you to visit me in the hospital." I grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. Tim put his hand on mine, trapping it. He turned his head and kissed my hand, then looked into my eyes with that hungry-puppy look of his. Oh, God, I want him! I just wish he were twenty or thirty years older! Actually, I don't. If he were suddenly my age, he'd have missed too much of his life! He relaxed his grip on my hand and I quickly retrieved it. He placed the rose and card carefully on his lap. We vacated the parking space for the grateful driver of a waiting car and drove back to the camp. Several times along the way, he lifted the rose to his nose and sniffed. I could suddenly see it pressed in a book as his first rose! Just when I think I've pulled myself out of hot water, I get in deeper! It would have been much better for his first love to give him his first rose! What was I thinking? When we returned to my bus, before I got out Tim asked, "Alan, will you be alright? I want to put this rose in some water. It's beginning to wilt." It was obvious that he cherished it. Part of me was enraptured with this tender, emotional youth and part of me was self-loathing for taking this moment from his first experience with love. "I'll be fine. I need to lie down and rest a bit, anyway. You and Stevey run along. Thanks for bringing me home and then taking me to the store. I'll see you later." I slowly climbed out of the car. My muscles had moved so little over the last three days, I was stiff and I was moving like a crippled old man. Stevey jumped out of the back seat and grabbed me around my middle in a stifling embrace. His face was plastered to my chest. Of course, I hugged him back. After a long moment, he looked up at me and whispered, "Alan, I love you." Another quick hug and he jumped in the front seat and slammed the door. I stood beside the car, partly stunned. Stevey was still full of mystery and surprise. I watched as Tim drove slowly back toward their residence at the visitor's center. I was finally on my own again and I was exhausted. I climbed into the bus and headed to the bathroom. I opened and organized my new prescriptions and took the first doses. All I could think about was lying down on my own bed and crashing. At the foot of the bed, I kicked off my shoes, untucked my shirt, loosened my belt and top button of my pants and crawled onto the bed. A scant second after I pulled the spread over me, I was asleep. Some time later, I woke with a start. Did I hear a noise? Where am I? Oh, yeah: bus, nudist camp, heart attack, empty bed, solitude. Physically, I felt rejuvenated. Emotionally, I was bankrupt. So, this is the source of my malaise! I finally reduced it all to the lowest common denominator! I need someone! It should have been such an obvious thing, but I've been trying for so long to recover from Robert's loss and missing him, that I just couldn't bring myself to accepting that I need someone in my life. Not a replacement for Robert; no one could do that. Rather, I need someone with whom to share. Someone who needs me just as much as I need him. I was jolted back to the real world by a loud frantic banging on the door. There was a muffled shouting. "Alan! Alan! Let me in!" More banging. The receding sun cast little light into the dark bus. I jumped from the bed and ran toward the front, nearly tripping over my own feet. I had to fumble to find my way. "Coming! I'm coming!" I got up too fast. My vision started to grow dim. I had to stop and fall to my knees. Okay, head between knees! Don't pass out! More banging and shouting. "Alan! Are you all right? ALAN!" "Just a minute! I'm coming!" Slowly everything fell back into place and I climbed to my feet. I walked, this time deliberately, to the door, turning on a couple of lights, and opened it. Tim jumped to the top of the stairs and grabbed me in a desperate embrace. "Alan! You're all right! Alan! I thought . . ." he cried and kissed my neck. "Tim! I'm fine! I was asleep!" I said in a strained whisper. His despair was gut wrenching. Oh, my God! He's naked and I've got my hands all over him! I'm not ready for this! He pressed the full length of his smoothly sculpted muscular form against me as he brought his mouth to my lips. I felt his damp cheek against mine as he gulped and parted my lips with his tongue. Naturally, part of me went instantly rigid. Clothes can be so confining and at the same time shielding. At least my cramped erection was hidden! For someone new to this, he kisses entirely too well! I gently stopped him. I didn't want to anger him as I had done earlier, but I was into "input overload." I guess being suddenly awakened had my defenses down. "Tim! I'm fine! Really, I'm fine! Come sit down." I tried to take his hand and lead him to the couch. As I looked down (It was instinct, I swear!), I saw he was erect, too. He's so perfect! I'm dying inside! Lightning will strike me at any moment and I'll be damned to the fiery pit! He finally let me lead him to the couch by the hand. I sat him down and sat a short distance away, turning toward him with my leg on the couch. It was a defensive position: one that kept him at a distance. "Tim, we need to talk." "Alan, can we talk later? Mom sent me to get you. She wants you to come to dinner." I should have expected this, but I'm not up to socializing. "I can't. I'm still very tired and I need some rest. I didn't get any rest in the hospital." Tim looked very disappointed. "Tell you what. Let me call your mom and talk to her. If she's half as nice as her son, she'll understand." Tim grinned at the compliment. Still half asleep, I looked around for where I might have left my cell phone. I finally remembered it was in the bag Tim had unpacked in the bedroom. "Tim, when you unpacked that bag, where'd you put my cell?" "It's on your nightstand! I'll get it." Tim jumped up and hurried to the back. Tim's bubble butt does this voluptuous undulation thing when he walks. On top of that, there's no crease between his cheeks and thighs. His rear visage is superbly alluring. If desire were money, I could buy and sell Bill Gates by the thousands! This just isn't right! He quickly returned with my cell, punching his mother's number into it while he walked. He held it up to his ear. "Hi, Mom? Alan wants to talk to you." He handed it to me. That little kindness was so nice. He introduced me to his mother, making it effortless to glide into a conversation with her. I smiled my thanks to him. "Hello, Mrs. Smith?" "Alan, please call me Rita!" "Rita, thank you! I want to thank you for the invitation to dinner, but I'm absolutely exhausted. I don't know how anyone can go to a hospital for rest when it's so impossible to rest there." "Oh, please don't worry about it, Alan! I'm sure you do need some rest after what you've been through! Don't give it another thought! We'll just have to get together some other time." "Thank you, Rita! Somehow, I knew Tim's mother would be so gracious. He could only have learned his good manners and caring attitude from his parents!" I looked at Tim. He was cringing. I guess he found that comment to be patronizing. I'll have to be more sensitive to his ego in the future. "I'd like to meet you. Maybe tomorrow before I leave." Tim recoiled then dropped his head. Sadness enveloped him. Even sad he's breathtaking. "You're leaving tomorrow? I'm sorry, but I understand. I should be around after church. I hope to see you then." "Thank you, Rita. Me, too." She was quite gracious, indeed. I looked at Tim. His expression was adorable. He was pouting. "Alan, I know you have to go, but do you have to go so soon?" "Yes, I'm afraid so. Here, let me write down my phone numbers and address so you can reach me." That perked him up. I retrieved some paper and a pen from a hidden drawer in the couch and wrote two copies of my contact information, neglecting only my business number. That would have been a give-away! Folding each and handing them to Tim I said, "One of these is for Stevey. Be sure to give it to him." "I will. I promise." He looked at me sadly. "Stevey loves you, you know." He hesitated, and then said in a low voice. "But not half as much as I do." "Tim, we can't go on doing this! I've been giving this a great deal of thought. You've been wonderful to me since we met just a week ago. You were wonderful to me when I was in the hospital. I don't know what I would have done without you. But, you and I can only be friends. I know you want more, but that's all I have to give. I'm sorry, Tim. You'll find someone closer to your own age that will make you happy. I'm just too old for you. If you still don't understand, some day you will." He scrunched up his face when he looked at me. I could see him swallowing to hold back his emotions. Finally, he dropped his head and nodded. Without looking at me or saying a word, he rose from the couch and walked straight out the door, closing it quietly behind him. I watched him leave in disbelief. I actually wanted him to protest, but he gave up without an argument. He was pursuing me and I had never encouraged him. In fact, I was doing everything I could to discourage him from loving me. So, why did it feel like I was losing my love all over again? My throat closed so tight I thought I would choke. Then a flood of tears burst from my eyes, the likes of which I hadn't experienced since Officer Bauers told me about Robert. I want to die! I just can't do this anymore. Why didn't I just die when I had the heart attack? It was fully dark when my emotions at last subsided. I was all cried out and I felt completely drained. I drank a glass of milk and got ready for bed. This time I undressed. While brushing my teeth, I checked out my spotty loss of body hair and my horrific bruise. The purple hue of the insult to my groin had yet to begin to heal. My guess is that the blood thinner I'm now taking will slow that process. I finished and dragged myself slowly to bed, turning out the lights behind me. Crawling into the bed, I pulled the covers around me. My eyes were wet when I closed them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To be continued . . . .