This story is fiction. The city of Clifton, and the University of Clifton, exist only in my imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. These stories have as their main character a sexually active gay college student. If this is offensive to you, or if it is illegal in your area, or if you are under age, please leave now.

This story involves a search for personal acceptance, worth, and meaning. There is a religious element in these stories. If you don't like that, maybe now is a good time to leave.

My stories develop slowly. If you're in a hurry, this is probably not for you.

Thanks to Colin for editing.

Constructive comments are welcome on my e-mail at pertinax.carrus@gmail.com.

____________________________________________________________________

Bryce, Chapter 42 - Thanksgiving, Part II

After being blindsided by his grandfather, Bryce was in something like a haze for the next hour or so, despite the coke Damon fetched for him. As his grandparents prepared to leave, his grandfather approached to say 'good-bye.' He chuckled as he asked, "I take it from your stunned reaction that your family do not know about you and Damon."

Bryce recovered sufficiently to respond, "Mom and Nan know."

"Well, then, what are you worried about? It's only a matter of time," Philip Bryce declared. He turned to Damon. "Nice meeting you, Damon. You take care of Bryce, now."

"Yes, sir," Damon grinned, shaking hands.

Bryce continued to be stunned by his grandfather's recognition. Even Nan noticed. She came over to where Bryce and Damon were seated and, flipping her head towards her brother, asked Damon, "What's wrong with him?"

Damon replied, "Your grandfather knows about us. Bryce hasn't been able to absorb that yet."

"What's the prob?" Nan asked. "Seems like that just makes it one more on our side." She went back to watching the tube. The University of Nebraska football team was playing that Thanksgiving day, and Nan knew a couple of the players, so she was watching carefully. Damon wondered whether one of those guys were the one she was "kind of interested in."

Returning his attention to Bryce, he noted that his boyfriend was still in a daze. Remembering what Mr. Bryce had said, he took Bryce by the arm. "Come on. Your granddad told me to take care of you, and you need something." He led a passive Bryce upstairs to his room. Damon wished they had not agreed to no sex, as he thought that might snap Bryce out of it. Leaving him spread out on his bed, Damon returned to the parlor and mixed a drink, then took it up to Bryce.

"Here. Maybe this will get through to you," he proclaimed, forcing Bryce to sit up.

Bryce took a swallow, then another, and gradually began to regain his composure. After a while, he and Damon were able to talk about what had happened.

"Why did your grandfather knowing make so much difference, when you seemed pretty cool back in October when Nan guessed right?" Damon asked.

"You didn't see me until I had a little time to absorb it back then," Bryce explained. "Besides, Nan is always surprising me. Grandpa is a totally different thing. I never had a clue he might suspect."

"Well, as Nan said, that's just one more person on our side," Damon consoled him.

"When did she say that? You mean Nan knows that Grandpa knows?"

"Yes, Asshole. Nan and I had a conversation, right in front of you, downstairs."

"Oh."

After a while, Bryce was sufficiently himself that the two men returned to the main floor. They snacked during the evening, watched television with the family, and spent more time with the computer games. The time out up in Bryce's room allowed him to recover from the shock of recognition, evidently without either his father or Chip noticing anything, although Nan teased him a few times.

On Friday, both men slept late, luxuriating in their complete lack of obligations. They wandered into the kitchen about 10:30 and sweet talked Rosita into fixing them some breakfast. She whipped up omelets, cottage fries, and a salad, so it was more of a brunch. After eating, they found Martha in a little sitting room reading the newspaper.

"Nan tells me my father gave you quite a surprise," she said to Bryce.

"You should have seen him," Damon interjected. "For a while there, he looked just like a zombie," he chuckled.

"Grandpa did surprise me," Bryce admitted.

"Good. I'll be talking to him about how to approach your father. And your grandmother will be on board, too, I'm sure, if she isn't already," Martha planned.

They talked for a while about this and other matters. Then Martha asked, "What are you boys going to do the rest of the day? Don't forget, you should take Damon by to see your Winslow grandparents, Bryce."

"I figured I'd do that tomorrow, and give him a tour of the state capital then too. You know it's not open today," Bryce replied.

"That's right. But what about today? You're not going to just lie about, are you?"

"It's tempting, but I thought I'd take him out to Springfield this afternoon."

"Oh, that's a good idea. The weather is nice for this time of year," Martha agreed.

Damon looked bewildered, but Bryce told him to dress warmly and get ready to ride. They borrowed Martha's car for the purpose, and Bryce headed northeast on I-80. He refused to tell his boyfriend where they were going, until they pulled into the grounds of a horse farm.

"What are we doing here?" Damon asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

"I told you to get ready to ride," Bryce replied. "Now we're going to ride. This place features saddlebred horses, the very best breed for leisure riding. We've been coming here for years. I think Dad makes some kind of contribution to the ASHA."

"What's ASHA?" Damon asked, wanting to talk about anything except riding horses.

"American Saddlebred Horse Association," Bryce replied. "Come on." He pulled Damon towards the office.

Damon dug in his heels. "No way! I've never even been around a horse before, much less ridden one. What are you doing, trying to get me killed?"

It took Bryce a good fifteen minutes of heavy persuasion to get Damon even to agree to try it. At last, though, they did advance on the office, with Damon mumbling about taking Bryce for a walk through the projects in Chicago. There, Bryce spoke with the person in charge, and hired two mounts for the afternoon. He explained that his friend had not ridden before, so they were sent to barn B, where they met with Matt. Bryce knew the stable hand from previous visits, and quickly explained what they required. Damon would need a "well behaved" mount. Two horses were saddled up, with Bryce taking care of his own mount, but Matt showing Damon what to do. The horses were about twice as big as Damon thought they should be. Matt gave Damon some basic instruction, then left him to the mercies of his boyfriend.

They set out at a slow amble, following a well-marked trail, even though there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. They rode side by side, so Bryce could give Damon any help he needed (short of letting him quit). They covered some beautiful countryside, and gradually Damon began to believe this huge beast was actually friendly, and would not toss him aside and run off, or bite him. After about a half hour of walking, though, the horses became restless.

"Why is the horse doing that?" Damon demanded with panic in his voice, as his horse sort of twitched.

"The horses are restless. They want to go a little faster. After all, they need some exercise," Bryce stated. "Don't you want to fly through the countryside?" he teased.

"No way," Damon protested.

"Come on. Let's up to a park trot," Bryce insisted, and gave his mount the proper signal.

In just a minute, it looked like Bryce was moving away, leaving Damon behind. Damon shouted for help, so Bryce turned his horse and came back, telling Damon and his mount to keep up. Before he knew what was happening, Damon found himself moving along at twice the pace as before, with the horse's legs rising high. They trotted along for quite some time, with the horses obviously (to Bryce) more satisfied with the pace, but with Damon bouncing up and down to the annoyance of both horse and rider. They reached a flat, open area. Bryce said to Damon, "You stay here. I want to give my horse a little fun."

Without waiting for a response, Bryce took off at a gallop. He raced his mount across the field and back again. He reined in, panting and flushed, with a big grin across his face.

"Show off," Damon called. So Bryce did it again.

"I won't ask you to do that," Bryce conceded, panting, "but your horse would love it."

"Thank God for small favors," Damon muttered.

They rode for another hour or so, eventually coming to a small log cabin tucked away in a picturesque grove beside a hillside. Bryce told Damon to dismount. They tethered their horses and went into the deserted cabin. No sooner had the door closed than Bryce was kissing Damon passionately. Although taken by surprise, Damon quickly adjusted, and began to return the kisses. Bryce pushed Damon back onto a wooden chair, then began to unzip his jeans. He pulled Damon's cock out into the cold air of the Great Plains, but immediately covered it in the warm protection of his mouth. Damon threw his head back and moaned in pleasure. It did not take long before Damon reached a surprisingly intense orgasm, spewing his seed into Bryce's eager mouth. Not to be outdone, Damon then returned the favor, even as he groused about letting a horse do it. Bryce grinned and chuckled until he was panting too heavily. After pleasuring each other, the two men kissed and held each other for some time.

"I love you," Bryce proclaimed.

"Then why are you trying to kill me?" Damon inquired.

"Come on, Tex. Time to mount up again," Bryce grinned.

Damon groaned. But mount up they did, and spent another hour in the saddle. By the time they returned to the stables, Damon was sure he would never walk upright again, and certainly not be able to sit on anything other than a pillow. Bryce was in high spirits, joking with Matt and directing Damon as he curried his mount, then headed back to the car. He was working in his head on a gay version of the old French cavalry toast: Á nôtres femmes, á nôtres chevaux, et a ceux qui les monter. Á nôtres bel-amis, perhaps? That didn't sound quite right.

They arrived back at the Winslow house about six o'clock, as it was already getting dark at that time of year. As they made their way inside, Damon grumbled, "I'll get you for this, if it's the last thing I do. I don't think I'll ever be able to stand up straight again."

Bryce simply laughed.

Dinner that evening, and the rest of the day, were a lot like Wednesday, with conversation, television, and computer games.

Saturday morning started out much the same as the previous day, except that the guys had cereal rather than a generous brunch. Bryce had arranged the previous evening that he and Damon would visit his Winslow grandparents and have lunch with them, so they did not want to be stuffed when they arrived. James Wentworth Winslow and Alice Morton Winslow lived in an older part of town than did Bryce's parents. When the guys arrived, they were greeted and invited in. The atmosphere was cordial, but not as warm as Bryce would have liked. James Winslow wanted to talk about people he knew in Chicago, or people he knew named Watson, neither of which would have any connection to Damon. Alice was a quiet, unassertive woman, who hovered, making sure everyone else had enough to eat, but contributing almost nothing to the conversation. It was kind of awkward. Bryce talked about his classes and professors, but as James was not familiar with the University of Clifton nor with Dr. Dickinson, that did not get them much forwarder. Although he did not say so, Bryce knew that from his grandfather's perspective it was either the University of Nebraska or Ivy League. Nothing else mattered. The only topic which interested both parties for at least a little while was DNA testing for genealogical purposes. James Winslow announced that he had been assured by the folks at Family Tree DNA that his descent in the direct male line from the original Winslow settler at Plymouth was now an established scientific fact. After about two hours, duty done, Bryce and Damon departed, to the relief of all parties.

Leaving his grandparents' house, Bryce drove, not back to his parents' place, but downtown to the Nebraska state capitol. This was something worth seeing, and might serve as a more positive experience for Damon during his visit to Bryce's home state. There remained a light covering of snow, but that did not detract from the impressive structure as they approached. It was visible from quite a distance away. As Bryce told his mother the previous day, the capitol was closed on Thanksgiving and the day after, but was open on Saturday from ten to five, with tours offered every hour except at noon until four o'clock. Even as they approached, the tall structure was impressive, dominating the landscape. They took in the golden dome, with the large statue representing 'The Sower' atop. It was only when they were signed up for their tour, however, that they were given all the statistics. The building rose 15 floors to a height of 400 feet from the ground. The statue on the dome was 19.5 feet in height. The structure had been erected between 1922 and 1932 at a cost of nearly ten million dollars, which was worth a great deal more then than now. More impressive by far than these numbers were the decorations pointed out by their guide. There was a strong influence of the plains Indians in the various motifs. Their attention was directed to the east chamber doors, which were directly based on Indian designs, and weighed in excess of 750 pounds each. In addition to these designs, there were others with strong historical meanings. There were decorations depicting the ten great lawgivers of history, including Moses, Solon, Justinian, and Napoleon. Along with these were symbolic depictions of eight great influences on the culture of Nebraska, including the American Indian, but also St. John the Evangelist (for the Christian religion) and St. Louis IX of France (for chivalry). Considering one of their recent conversations, Bryce and Damon lingered just a bit over the depiction of Abraham Lincoln, representing emancipation and human rights. They ascended the building to the observation deck 250 feet above the ground. From there they looked out over Lincoln and beyond to the Great Plains stretching to the horizon. As they descended, Damon told Bryce that it was no wonder he decided to become an historian, growing up with something like this in his back yard. They did some more sightseeing, including a drive through the campus of the University of Nebraska, but arrived back at the Winslow home well before dinner.

Dinner was great, with wonderful food prepared by Rosita, and good conversation. Damon entertained the others with a humorous description of his first attempt at horseback riding the previous day. He said he was so sore on Friday he could not talk about it. He had everyone (except Chip) laughing, even including Sterling. When he went on to praise the state capitol, he gained the approval of the entire family (except Chip). All the Winslows were proud of their state capitol building. Nan contributed to the conversation and the conviviality with a story about her experiences at the mall, and the absolute crush of shoppers on the weekend after Thanksgiving.

After helping clear the table, Bryce and Damon retreated to the lounge with the large screen television. Bryce could not help confronting Chip's distant attitude as he noted his older brother carefully take a seat as far from Damon as he could.

"What's with you?" Bryce asked in a low voice, not wanting to create a scene. "You've been acting like you've swallowed something rotten ever since Damon and I arrived on Wednesday."

"I should have known you would be irresponsible," Chip answered.

"Irresponsible? What do you mean?" Bryce demanded.

"Why do you have to make friends with inappropriate people? It's just like you. It's the same thing you were doing two years ago with all those druggies," Chip insisted.

"No, it's nothing like two years ago," Bryce fired back. "I never brought any of those people home. I admit the people I was hanging with then were losers, but Damon is not. He's going places. He's not a drug user. You're just biased."

"Huh! I'll bet you don't know a thing about his background. All those people are into drugs, selling them on street corners, and killing each other over drugs. What do you expect, when you bring someone with no background into the house? Don't you have any consideration at all for your family?" Chip asserted.

Bryce looked at his brother. It was obvious that he was getting nowhere. He shook his head. "Nan's right. You're getting to be more of a stuck-up stuffed shirt every day." He turned and walked to the other side of the room.

As Bryce sat, Damon asked, "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just Chip being an ass. Forget it," Bryce responded.

Later that evening, as Bryce lay in his bed, he was troubled by his exchange with his brother. Pondering that, as one does haphazardly before falling asleep, Bryce was struck by the arrogance of his brother's judgments on Damon. But he also recognized in Chip some of his own weaknesses. He had confessed to pride and to a lack of consideration for others in his confession to Father Miller only five days ago. What was the difference? Was he, perhaps, just as bad, but unaware of it? He had tried to make a good confession on Monday. What he had to confess did not seem to be in the same category as what he had experienced from Chip that evening. Again, what's the difference? Well, just maybe the two most important persons in his life: Jesus and Damon. Bryce knew that his frequent contacts with Jesus kept him from getting too full of himself. Acknowledging his dependency on Jesus, on God, kept him from believing he had done everything by his own power and virtue. Thanking God for the good things in his life kept him from thinking he deserved them, was entitled to them. And Damon. Damon was a totally unearned grace. Damon brought him back to earth when he got too satisfied with himself. Damon poking fun at some of his pretensions was healthy, even if it was also sometimes painful. Damon was certainly not someone he would have chosen or planned to be part of his life. Chip was right in one way. Damon was from a very different background than was he. He was black. He was poor. There were lots of things about the wider world Damon did not yet know about - like horses. But it worked both ways. Damon knew things about computers Bryce could only guess at. He was 'street wise' in a way Bryce would never be. He had a hard experience of reality which brought Bryce up sharp from time to time. He was more decisive, less conflicted. He was, in many ways, more altruistic than Bryce. He wanted to go out and be a hotshot lawyer - for his own advancement, sure - but also so he could improve things for others. Could Bryce say the same about his goals in life? Thinking about Damon made Bryce realize that he was not only his boyfriend, but also his friend, and something more. He wasn't quite sure what to call it, but a kind of balancing agent, keeping him from being like his brother. Come to think of it, Bryce decided, just before he wandered off to the Land of Nod, I was more like Chip yesterday, showing off to Damon with the horses. I need to apologize tomorrow.

As they had the past few days, the guys took advantage of it being break to sleep late on Sunday morning. But then, they were accustomed to sleep later than usual on Sundays. It was, after all, the day of rest. Arising, they did nothing except get ready for Mass in a leisurely fashion. Damon had agreed to attend with the family, as he had on Thursday. He groused to Bryce that he was getting more religion than his system could stand. Bryce merely laughed at him. As sincere as his resolution to apologize had been as he sloughed into sleep the night before, by breakfast time he had forgotten, at least temporarily, so that did not come up until much later.

The Winslows arrived at the Church of St. Therese of Lisieux shortly before 11:00. They headed for their usual pew, finding Bryce's maternal grandparents there before them. The Mass proceeded in a normal fashion for the First Sunday of Advent until it was time for the sermon. Father Flannigan approached the pulpit, and began with an admonition to prepare for the coming of the Lord on Christmas. Five minutes into his sermon, however, he got into unacceptable areas as far as Bryce was concerned. "There are many threats to the proper preparation for the coming of Our Lord," he said. "Among them, one of the most insidious is the gay agenda. These perverts seek to destroy the sanctity of marriage. They try to infiltrate our schools and lead astray our children."

There was more, but by that time Bryce had decided he had heard enough. He looked at Damon, who was clearly very uncomfortable. He whispered in his ear, "Let's go." Together, Bryce and Damon rose and walked back out the center aisle, back to that spacious lobby.

"Thanks," Damon said. "I was getting real uncomfortable listening to that shit."

"Me, too," Bryce agreed.

They found another man in the lobby or vestibule, looking out the windows and smoking. As they came closer, he looked up and grinned guiltily. He looked at the cigarette in his fingers. "I know. This is supposed to be smoke free, but it's too damn cold outside."

"You're missing the sermon," Bryce commented.

"Always do," the man responded. "Pat Flannigan is always up there bitching about something. I gave up listening to him a long time ago."

"Sounds about right," Bryce said.

At that point, the three men were joined by Nan Winslow. "Hello Mr. Murphy," Nan said to the man with the cigarette. "Hi guys," to Bryce and Damon.

"We're protesting the sermon," Bryce bluntly explained.

"Figured that," Nan replied. "Sorry you had to experience this side of things, Damon."

"I ran into it in Clifton," Damon said.

Shortly after, they were joined by Martha Winslow, who said, "That man!" referring to the pastor. "He is such a ... a ..."

Bryce and Nan were enthralled, waiting to see whether their mother could express herself without vulgarity.

"... such a total and complete rotten cabbage," she concluded.

That brought laughter from all four of her hearers. Seeing Father Flannigan as a rotten cabbage somehow made him insignificant and easier to ignore. As they were laughing, Phil and Anne Bryce came hobbling out to join them, and at the same time Bryce noticed Chad Thruston, the law student Martha had mentioned as gay, standing alone in one corner of the lobby.

"Kind of figured you folks were back here. Sterling thinks everyone suddenly had to potty," Phil chuckled. Anne simply kissed Bryce.

Bryce walked over to Chad. "Hey."

"Hi," Chad said, clearly choked up.

"Don't let it get to you. Mom just called Father a rotten cabbage," Bryce reported.

Chad stopped, stared at him, looked over at Martha, then he, too, broke out laughing. "Thanks. That helped."

Mr. Murphy finished his cigarette and looked through a window in one of the doors. "He's finished. They're saying the Creed, and the ushers are ready to take up the collection," he reported.

Martha suddenly turned and rushed back inside. The others looked at each other, wondering what that was about. A minute later, she came back, holding the envelope in which the family's weekly donation was housed. "I'm going to speak to your father soon, and until this verbal abuse stops, there will be no more checks from the Winslow family," she stated firmly.

"Thanks, Mom," Bryce said.

When the collection was completed, all those in the lobby re-entered the church and took their places.

After Mass, Sterling was clearly upset as they made their way to the car. He could contain himself no longer once they were on the road. "What was all that about during the sermon? You people created quite a disturbance."

"Well good," Martha said.

"Dad, I found Father Flannigan's sermon completely offensive," Bryce stated.

"Offensive? How offensive?" an angry Sterling demanded.

"All his ranting about a gay agenda and stuff. There's no such thing, as anybody who even reads the newspaper should know. And it's insulting to all gay people for him to go on like that about perversions. Even the Vatican says being gay is not a sin."

"Not a sin? When did that happen?" Sterling demanded.

"Oh, a bunch of wimpy do-gooders must have gotten to them," Chip said. "Next thing you know they'll be telling us it's okay for queers to screw each other," he spat out.

"Chip! Watch your language!" Martha ordered. "No matter what your opinion is, I will not have vulgarity and insults. If you must disagree, at least be civil."

"Disagree? I'm not disagreeing," Chip insisted. "It's you people who disgraced the family by walking out who are disagreeing. I might have expected that from Bryce, but really, Mother."

They reached the Winslow home, and emerged from the car as Martha responded. "Now Chip, I think you're being unreasonable. Insulting people is uncharitable, and doing it from the pulpit is downright unchristian. I intend to write to the bishop about that."

"You always did favor Bryce," Chip whined. "But I still say calling a spade a spade is not uncharitable, it's just telling the truth. Father's right. Queers are depraved, and they're trying to pervert the rest of us."

"Chip, you don't know what you're talking about. Why don't you just shut up until you can be civil?" Bryce angrily told his brother.

"Why are you suddenly all defensive about queers? I suppose you're one yourself! That would be the final disgrace to the family!" Chip shouted.

"Now Chip, ..." Sterling began. He was no longer angry as much as confused, and disturbed by the rancor in the voices of his sons. They were in the basement rec room at this point.

Bryce had been pushed as far as he would go. "Okay. If you really want to know, then yes, I am gay! I've always been gay! That's the way God made me! So fuck off, bastard!" he yelled at Chip.

"I knew it! I knew it! As soon as I heard you were bringing some nigger from the slums of Chicago to our house, I just knew you were totally depraved!" Chip shouted back.

Bryce swung around rapidly and delivered a powerful blow to Chip's stomach. When Chip doubled over, trying to catch his breath, he kicked him on the chin, and sent him sprawling on his back. Those karate lessons came in handy.

"Don't you ever talk about Damon like that again!" Bryce yelled.

"Boys! Stop that! Stop it!" Martha cried.

"I think you owe your brother an apology, Bryce," a startled Sterling said.

"An apology! Me! No way will I apologize to that homophobic piece of shit!" Bryce yelled at his father.

"Bryce!" Martha objected, as Sterling looked totally stunned by this reaction.

"Damon, let's get our things. I'm leaving here, and I don't know whether I'll be coming back," Bryce called out.

"Bryce, you can't mean that," Martha exclaimed.

"I do mean it. Ever since we arrived, Chip has been hostile to Damon, and no one said a word to him about it. Now he joins with that asshole pastor Dad thinks so much of, to insult me and my boyfriend. So why should I want to come back here?"

"Please, Bryce," Martha pled.

Chip got to his feet, blood on his face, and started towards Bryce with his hands in fists.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Damon said.

Chip stopped.

"Let's get our things," Bryce said to Damon, the muscles on his jaw flexing. "Will someone take us to the airport, or do I need to call a cab?"

"I'll take you," Nan volunteered.

Only a few minutes later, Nan was driving the two men to the airport. As she dropped them off in the departures area, she asked Bryce, "Are you really not coming back?"

"If Damon gets an apology, and if we're accepted as who we really are, then I'll be back. Those are two big if's," Bryce told his sister.

Nan hugged Bryce and kissed him, then did the same to Damon. They entered the terminal, not at all sure about the future.