Date: Mon, 02 Aug 1999 21:26:52 PDT
From: Evan Dane <kencyr@hotmail.com>
Subject: chasing-tyler-5

Warning: Please do not repost this story without the author's permission.
Thank you--Evan

Chasing Tyler 5:
Needs Must Err
--Evan Dane

	Tyler jiggled his mouse to deactivate the screensaver and turned
his ICQ indicator to Available from its N/A position.  As he scrolled
through his e-mail, he deleted the spam and manually sent the newslist
items to their respective folders; the filtering software was reliable, but
he preferred to scan the titles to see if anything demanded immediate
attention.  He had a few e-mails from friends which he began to look
through.
	The routine settled his mind and allowed him to process his date
with Philip.  Processing is perhaps not the most romantic way to describe
remembering details of an incredible evening, but Tyler was more
comfortable with the analytical than the more chaotic province of emotions.
Numbers and science were concrete and had right and wrong answers.
Feelings were always gray and nebulous.  Always.
	He caught himself re-reading the same e-mail for the third or
fourth time and realized he was simply going through the motions.  The
words held no meaning.
	He threw himself face down onto his bed and screamed into his
pillow in frustration.  His feet maneuvered to slip off his shoes, and he
turned his head to the right just enough to breathe.  He was staring
sightlessly at Xena's crotch, his mind intent upon his troubled and
whirling thoughts.
	"Is this love?"  he thought to himself.
	He recalled fondly the light in Philip's eyes when he described
canoeing with his sister, the way his feathery-light blonde hair had
ruffled in the wind as they watched the birds in the sky, and the
self-assuredness and confidence which seemed to infuse his very words.  But
for all that, were his feelings really that much different from the time he
had escorted Diana Spencer to the 8th grade class ball?  Hadn't he been as
wide-eyed and goofy after being at a dance with one of the cutest girls in
the class and having his peers jostle for a chance to dance with her?
	He clicked his tongue in frustration.  Almost without thinking, he
was knocking on his suitemate's door.
	"Come in!"
	"Hey, Ron, do you have a sec to talk?"  As he saw Ron's harassed
look, he wished he could take back the words.  "I could come back another
time..."
	"No, no.  Sorry if I look upset," Ron grinned a trifle tightly.  "I
was chewed out by my supervisor for some noisy residents on my floor.  I
returned the favor by reaming out the frosh that got me in trouble in the
first place.  I feel kind of bad about it in hindsight, but it felt really
good.  So what's up, bud?"
	"Well, I have a few questions, but I need your analytic mode.  I'd
kind of like you to help me figure something out without making too many
jokes, okay?"
	"Hey, RA mode.  Shoot.  I somehow think I can do that," Ron smiled
briefly before giving Tyler a more serious encouraging look.
	"What is love?"  Tyler sighed, flopping onto Ron's couch.
	"Dude, my major is psychology not phi-lo-so-phy," he exaggerated.
"Hear the difference?  What's up?"
	"Well, I'm all confused about this guy, Philip.  I think I really
like him, but I don't know if it's love or friendship or admiration..."
	"Well, I think I can relate to these feelings so far.  So what're
your symptoms, future MD?  What makes you think you're on the track to
love?"
	"Well, we kissed, only not really romantically.  It was more a peck
than a kiss, really.  I can't tell if I'm more interested in him than he is
in me.  He makes me confused at times... like now.  I was trying to do some
e-mail, but I couldn't even process what I was reading.  He makes me happy
and makes me feel warm inside."
	"Hm, well so far, I'd say there's something there.  You haven't
convinced me of more than a crush or perhaps the beginnings of love.  If
I'm going to be your love-o-meter here, you have to tell me how you're
defining and using the word love.  When you asked in your roundabout
manner, 'Am I in love with this guy?' I thought you were speaking of that
high school-ish type of fairytale love-at-first sight deal.  That's a love
that doesn't last, or, rather it may turn into something deeper, but it's a
weak love.  When I speak about love, I use it to mean a deep commitment, an
abiding partnership.  What you termed love would be what I term a 'crush'
or possibly 'immature love.'  No offense, by the way; just remarking on how
you used the word...not your emotional age or anything."
	Tyler was indeed primed to take umbrage at the remark, but he
squashed down the feelings.  He had asked Ron to be objective and
analytical and that's exactly what he seemed to be doing.  It wouldn't be
fair to blow up at him for honesty.  Instead, he turned his energies to
thinking over what Ron had said.
	"Okay, so what differentiates this immature love from your mature
love?  Not that you're that mature..."  He grinned, satisfied with the
comeback.
	Ron seemed to ignore the amateurish repartee.  "Well, I guess it's
a matter of knowing the guy and how he ticks, how he feels.  Ask yourself
if you can see yourself growing old with this guy--not in a romantic,
happily-ever-after way, but in a day-to-day way.  Can you share
decision-making responsibilities?  Can you speak of subjects comfortably
that do not involve dinner date plans or hazy romantic dreams of the
future?  Are you two compatible and communicative or will you give up and
storm out on each other after one fight?
	"I guess when I consider if I love someone, I would look at our
history: how the two of us have acted in the past and how we may interact
in the future.  It doesn't sound romantic, but I like my romance mixed with
a bit of realism.  If all you have is physical attraction, what if one of
you is attracted later to someone else?  What will keep you coming back to
each other again and again for a long time?  That's my love: long-term and
lasting, built on a good foundation of respect and some level of
understanding.
	"Like Mary J. I'm searching for a real love.  Magic and romance is
great window-dressing, but I want that solid guy who'll be there when I get
home, who'll cook and shop with me, who'll sit down to talk about our
budget or our goals."  Ron fell silent and noted Tyler's thoughtful and
somewhat puzzled face.  He continued, "Lest you think I'm a cold-hearted,
supra-practical SOB, I also want that guy who'll never fail to give me a
hug and a kiss before he leaves in the morning, who tells me he loves me
with his eyes, who cuddles up with me when I read late at night, and yes,
someone who'll make me see stars when we make love.  Yup, I want it all!"
He smiled.
	"I guess I should think about this some more, then," Tyler grunted,
sitting up.  "Philip and I don't have enough history for me to know if
we're in love or not.  Hopefully he'll take the time to find out!"
	Tyler grinned at the thought of more dates and more chances to
learn more about this beautiful boy he wanted to say he truly loved one
day.  "Thanks for the shoulder, Ron."  His step had a new spring as he
fairly skipped through the door to his room.
 	"Anytime," sighed Ron tiredly as he turned back to the stack of
report forms on his desk.  *****
	Sweating a little from rushing to and from his room after class,
Tyler was about to head down the hall to the cafeteria when he heard a
voice from behind.
	"So, dude.  My sources tell me *someone* was on a hot date last
night," Gena licked the fronts of her upper teeth wonderingly.
	Taken a bit aback at the apparent speed of the grapevine, Tyler
decided to play it cool rather than fling out paranoid accusations.  "So
would this mysterious source be Carla with her window overlooking the
entrance to the Hall?  Or Mary at the front desk?  Ooh, or could it have
been Tiff from my floor?"
	Frowning, perhaps miffed, Gena decided to try a different tack.
Tyler, she felt, was usually so easily riled up about personal issues, so
she was more than a little mystified by his calm.  "So are you going to
tell me who this mystery girl is, or do I have to beat down on you guys in
basketball on Saturday?"
	Tyler breathed a large internal sigh of relief.  His gamble had
paid off and Gena still didn't know that he was gay or that it had been
Philip that had drove him in last night.  "Well, Bluejeans, I am hardly
going to plead the fifth or take any sort of position until you tell me
what you know.  I've finally wised up a little and won't be as easy to
trick into giving you ammo for future blackmailing, okay?"
	"Ah, Ty, you know I love you," Gena grinned.
	"Oh, is that what it's called when my shins are sore from trying to
guard you down low when we play b-ball, huh?  Is that what they call tough
love?"
	She stuck out her tongue at him.  "So, dude, check your mail, and
we can go chat over lunch."
	"Nah, the mail doesn't come in until after noon.  We'll check when
we get back; I'm starved."  They walked past the front desk and had their
debit cards scanned at the door to the cafeteria.
	The two joked through lunch, exchanging gossip on the foibles and
dating habit of various floormates.  Or rather Gena gossiped and Tyler
interjected grunts at appropriate intervals along with an occasional wry
observation if Gena made a particularly commentable remark.
	He was dying to know what she knew but he'd be darned if he was
going to be first to broach the subject.  He was a little surprised at her
willingness to prattle on about dating and naughty stories of roommates
walking in on each other having sex in Bishop Hall.  She was usually going
on about classes or her volunteer tutoring with area youth.  He wondered if
this was a stratagem to disarm him or a new side of her he hadn't noticed
before.  Nah, it must be a stratagem; with volleyball season over, she
didn't have enough to occupy her active mind.  He grinned.
	Lunch was a bit of a long affair, but he didn't mind a chance to
catch up.  They left the cafeteria still giggling over the tale of the
signal Sarah Yount used to warn her roommate when she had male company over
for more than just talk.
	"Looks like you've got mail," Gena interrupted, pointing to his
mailslot.
	"No, hon, you're supposed to pantomime out the movie title, not
tell me straight out.  Note to self: never take Gena as my charades
partner," Seeing Gena's cool and thoroughly unamused frown, Tyler's smile
faded and he decided a tactful retreat was in order.  "Cool!  I hope it's
my books from Amazon!"
	Not yet mollified, Gena said a little sarcastically, "Who is it
that tells anyone who'll listen that he's on a tight budget despite his
scholarships?"
	"Well, there's a series I read when I was in middle school, but its
been out of print for years.  Amazon actually found them for me and didn't
charge me too much.  Occasional fun is not the same as blowing my savings
on booze every weekend partying."  Tyler bit back the phrase "like
someone's boyfriend does," recognizing almost too late that the object was
to soothe Gena and not rile her further.
	He unlocked the box and pulled out some letters: one from the
parents, a bill from the credit card company, a card with no return
address, some generic "To resident of room X" crud, and a pick-up slip as
well.  Holding the slip, Ty said, "Yes!  Please be my books, please!"
	He handed the slip over to Mary behind the mail desk, and she
smiled mysteriously before rummaging around in the mail room for his
delivery.  He eyed her retreating form suspiciously, wondering if she was
the one who had tipped Gena off about last night.  He looked at Gena to see
the same knowing grin Mary had worn.  His eyes narrowed.  That slip was not
for his books he knew.
	"Ahem," Mary interrupted.
	Tyler turned and found himself the proud owner of a bouquet of
yellow lilies.
	Openmouthed, he watched Mary and Gena exchange gleeful glances.
"So, it's Angie, isn't it?"  Mary crowed in triumph.  "This is how I knew
you'd been out.  Carla told me in chem this morning that she'd seen someone
drop you off--ordinarily not a big thing--but she said you stood there on
the curb and waved until she was out of sight.  Then, I saw Philip Torrence
come in with these flowers he brought to the desk.  Mary told me he left
for you."
	His mouth drying as Gena tread perilously near dangerous territory,
Tyler managed, "So, how does Philip connect to Angie?"
	"Well, why else would Philip be delivering flowers?  Angie, Phil
and this guy, Josh, are always hanging out together.  Process of
elimination, my dear Watson."
	"So, remind me again, why Philip can't be a florist deliveryboy?
Can only a best friend deliver flowers?"  Tyler's mind was in overdrive,
but he was not yet going to break into a sweat.  He didn't captain the
academic decathlon team in high school just to break under pressure now.
	Mary and Gena traded more amused glances, but Mary was interrupted
by a freshman wanting some toilet paper.  Realizing how exposed they were,
Tyler motioned Gena over to a corner.
	"So spill it, loose lips.  Why was what I said so funny?"  Tyler
asked curiously.
	"Well, doesn't the name Torrence ring a bell?"  Gena offered,
refusing to be direct.
	"Um, let me think.  Yes, why it's Philip's last name!"  Tyler
responded sarcastically.
	Gena rolled her eyes, laid a hand on his shoulder, and said in a
superior tone, "My dear, dear friend, Tyler.  Philip is the son of one of
the richest men in the state.  His father's the investment broker, James
Torrence!"
	Angry at her tone and her officiousness, Tyler thought long and
hard before responding.  "Well, so a rich boy can't have a job, eh?  What
elitist rubbish is that?  I'd thought you'd be tired of those stereotypes
by now, Jeans."  Gena was, indeed, from "old money" and had herself not
really needed to worry about working during high school.
	Gena looked a little abashed at that, and Tyler continued, pressing
his point, "And furthermore, Philip's name is actually Philip
Torrence-Price!  His mother remarried.  So maybe Philip isn't even seeing a
penny of his father's money."
	"Ah, so the flowers are from Josh, then, huh?"  Gena said sagely,
seemingly oblivious to the very good points Tyler had just made.
	"What?!"  Tyler was seriously stunned.  "What are you talking
about?  Have you heard a word I've said?"
	Gena, however, may NOT have heard.  She was chewing her bottom lip
furiously in reflection.  "I guess it should have been obvious.  I mean in
the years I've known you, you haven't really had long relationships with
girls.  Are you gay?"
	Tyler knew he was on thin ice now.  He abhorred lying, but Gena had
asked him a direct question.  He did the only thing he could...he evaded
the question.  He placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her a little.
"Gena, listen to me."  He held her gaze with his own and spoke slowly.
"You are not thinking rationally or logically.  Why can't Philip be a
delivery boy even if he is filthy rich?  Why must his biological father be
showering him with money?  Why should the deliverer of flowers--any bouquet
of flowers--be any indication of who sent them?  Why should any suspicion
you have about me translate into a suspicion as to Josh's sexual
orientation?  Effect does NOT prove cause, you goose!  You're spreading
rumors not just about me but about Josh and Philip and Angie.  You know how
you hated it when all those rumors went around about you and Jimmy
Grossman."
	While she had a mouth and was a jock, Gena was definitely not
stupid.  She seemed to consider his words carefully, and Tyler waited in
agonized silence, wondering what was churning in her brain.
	She sighed finally and gave him an apologetic smile with gritted
teeth.  "Yeah, maybe you're right.  I'm sorry, Josh.  I just get all gushy
now when it comes to figuring out romances and stuff.  Maybe it's because I
never really had the girlfriends to gossip with in high school since I was
concentrating on sports and school and hanging out with the boys.  Look,
why don't you open the card, and I'll just keep the speculations to a
minimum, okay?"
	Tyler was taken a bit aback by Angie's fairly honest
self-appraisal--at least it seemed right from what he knew of her.  He
absently opened the card tucked among the lilies and began reading: "Roses
are red, / And they are trite. / These lilies are for you / as my heart was
last night.  Signed..."
	Anxious at his pause, Gena groaned and peeked over his shoulder.
"Signed, Your adoring angel," she read, paused, and then giggled. "Well,
the poem was sort of clever, but it's a little too sentimental for my
taste."
	Tyler was silent.  What was he thinking opening that card in front
of Gena?  He knew Philip must have brought him the flowers.  What if Philip
HAD signed his own name?  He let out the breath he did not even realize he
had been holding and stilled the hands he noticed had been shaking.
	"Well, maybe if you're a good little girl, I'll let you know...one
day," he forced a smile at her.  "Just no more spying and no more
inquisitions, okay?  If you want to know something, ask."  ***
	For the second time in as many days, Tyler found himself screaming
into his pillow.  "Maybe I should just tell Gena and get this fencing over
with," Tyler reasoned.  While she was suddenly very much into gossip and
detective work, she had been a dependable friend for many years.  Picking
and choosing who he might want to tell was wearing on his nerves.
	After Ron, it had been a relief to give in and share himself with
Philip.  Instead of getting easier, though, he felt that odd reluctance
again with Gena.  Shouldn't it get easier with practice?
	Flipping himself over onto his back, he pulled out the letters from
beneath him and opened one at random.
	"Son," he read the opening.  His mother's familiar looping cursive
filled three sheets of paper--just enough to convey the point that
grandmother was okay and that she would be returning home soon.  Grandma
Bing was suffering the effects of yet another stroke.  She had a
monstrously expensive resident caregiver, but the family could only barely
support the bills.  All the family pitched in with money and a month's
worth of live-in housework duty a year.
	Tyler smiled sadly and put the letter on his nightstand to remind
him to answer the letter soon.  The next letter he picked up was the
envelope with no return address.  He opened it to find a heavy stock paper
card with a poem written with a neat hand.  A yellow post-it note on the
card read: "To hear this in all its glory, use the object under the round
table in your study lounge.  Love, Your secret admirer."
	Tyler cracked a huge smile.  Philip was certainly laying on the
charm and romance.  He ran out the door and burst into the study lounge,
much to the surprise and irritation of the studious frosh within.
	He peeked under the round table in the corner and saw a piece of
paper taped near the edge.  "Um, excuse me, Deborah, but could I just get
under this table?"
	She gave him a weird look, but moved so he could pull the object
out.  It was a cassette tape.  The paper was ordinary folder paper with no
other sweet messages on it.  He tossed the paper in the trash can, and
stopped.
	"Damn!" he swore.  Philip probably hadn't known he did not have a
cassette player.
	"What's up, dude?"
	Tyler looked up and saw that Joshua was getting up from his seat in
the far corner and coming over to him.  "Ah, someone sent me on a treasure
hunt to find this tape, but I don't have a player, so I'm kind of screwed."
	"Oh, no problem, Tyler.  You can use mine.  C'mon."  Joshua
gestured and led Tyler out the door.
	"Really?  Thanks!  You are a real lifesaver," Ty gushed.
	"No problem.  So what's on the tape if I may ask?"  he rooted in
his pocket for his keys.
	"Oh, a 'secret admirer' sent it to me.  I guess it has these song
lyrics on it," Tyler indicated the card from the mail.  He didn't want to
hurry Joshua since he was being so nice, but it was so hard not to grab the
keys from his hands and rush over to his room.
	"Really?  Dude, that's so cool.  It's just the sort of thing Philip
used to do for me."
	"Philip?"  Tyler stood stock still.
	"My boyfriend Philip."

*&%$*&%$*&%$
   Cliffhanger :-P  I am so sorry, but the next part will not come out
until after Aug 16 (I'll be away from home for a bit).   I wanted to keep
you guys coming back <grin>  Check my website to see if it'll be done
sooner.

   Thank you to everyone that's written in about this story!  I so
appreciate your enthusiasm and encouragement.

   As always, zap comments to kencyr@hotmail.com  

   Peace
--Evan Dane
http://members.tripod.com/~poolstick/