Date: Tue, 5 Jun 2001 23:48:01 EDT
From: WhtWindWIf@aol.com
Subject: Relationships and Memories (part 3)

RELATIONSHIPS AND MEMORIES (Part 3)

	As I write this part of the story I haven't gotten much of
a response, but hey, I'm a starving artist- that's what I'm used
to.  But thank you to those people who did respond and those who
thought of responding but didn't get around to it.

	This story is a work of fiction.  The names haven't been
changed because I made these people up.  Any resemblance to
actual persons is just your imagination.  If you are under 21 or
these kinds of stories aren't legal in your area (or just your
house), then I'm afraid you're going to have to leave now...
besides you might get caught!  If you don't like to read stories
about sex between 2 consenting males then don't read.  If you
can't understand why 2 males can love each other then you may
need therapy.  And like last time: read the first 2 stories if
you haven't, because you won't understand some of the story.


Dear Justin,
		Hi, my gods, I haven't written to you in ages.  It's
moi, Jason!  I know it's been a long time, but I miss talking to
you.  OK, I'm not going to pretend that nothing happened when
you left.  Let me first apologize for what I did.  How I
reacted.  I know I should've understood your position.


	I stopped writing the e-mail.  I wasn't sure if this was
sufficient as an apology and/or an opening.  Here I am, sending
a letter out of the blue years later.  I had no idea what
happened to him or even if this was still his e-mail address.
If nothing more, it would instill a sense of closure.
I sat there debating my next sentence when I heard the door
shut.  Steven was already home and I wasn't expecting anybody.
	"Hey, anyone live here," A familiar voice rang out.
	Steven tiredly responded, "Nobody here but us chickens."
	"Big ol' fat chickens," Beverly's voice became clearer.
	"Hey, what's up Bev-girl," I began to get out of my seat
promising myself I'd finish the letter today.
	"Well you sound a lot better than yesterday, Jas.  You got
mail."
As I walked in the hallway I saw Beverly by the table next
to the couch.  "How did you get my mail?"
	"You gave me a key, Einstein.  Remember," she jingled her
keys.  "I can only stay for a while."  Beverly plopped down on
the couch.
	I stepped into the room and spoke quietly, "Yeah, sure,
make yourself at home."
	"Got anything to drink," she asked as she watched TV.
I looked back at her.  Her head was facing the other way
but I continued to look.  Here Beverly was, walking in with MY
mail, sitting on MY couch, watching MY TV, and now she wants MY
food.
	Steven walked past me," Sure Bev, I think we got a some
cola or something."
	"Thanks, you're a darling," Beverly said while flicking
through the channels.
	I decided to give up my internal secret argument with
Beverly.  Beverly is a nice girl, we've never had any real
fights, and she does pay a friend back in her own way.  I don't
have any idea why I suddenly stricken with anger.  I sounded a
lot more cheerful a couple minutes ago.  The only thing I was
doing at the time was... writing a letter to Justin.  Could that
have been the source of my anger?  I ponder if my feelings for
Justin have somehow affected my emotions.  The letter had
started of sad, but was I secretly angry?
	"Jason?  You all right," Steven spoke to me.
	I realized I was standing the kitchen as a frozen statue,
"Uh, no, I mean, yeah, I'm ok."
	"All right, just making sure."  Steven left my eyes for a
minute.  "You have a letter it's on the table."
	"Thanks, I'll get later."  I went in the living room and a
sat in the large seat adjacent to Beverly.  She was glued to the
TV set and didn't notice me watching her.  I was more confused
by my situation than angry now.
	"Well, I gots to go, peoples," Beverly said while she stood
up.  She knew I didn't like it when she used bad grammar
although that has become slang anyway.  At this point I didn't
care, I was too wrapped up in my thoughts.
	Jason walked out of the kitchen, "You going Bev?  All
right, gimme a kiss."  Beverly gave Justin a peck on the cheek.
"You got a date?"
	"No," Beverly stopped walking," Yeah." She giggled.
"See ya later."  Justin walked back to his room.
Beverly was about ready to walk out the door when she
stopped and leaned over the couch to talk to Justin.  "Don't
stare at me when I'm watching TV."  I quickly glanced over to
Beverly.  She looked at me.  "Thanks, kiddo."  She tossed my
letter over to me.  She closed the door.  Now I was even more
confused.  Was there a specific reason I had been mad only
towards her a few moments ago?  I couldn't think of a reason and
I thought I was just becoming paranoid.  At this point I decided
I should stop thinking about it and watch TV.  I began to open
the letter but stopped as soon as I saw where it was from.
Tacoma, WA.  That's exactly where Justin had moved.  Was this
more than a coincidence.  Before I tore it open I noticed that
the letter was typed.  Justin never types any letters, yet I
knew this is from Justin.  I tear the side of the envelope off
and pull out the letter.  The first thing I notice is that it's
a very short letter; it only takes up half the page.  Usually
that's not a good sign.  Secondly, this is also typed.  I get up
and began to read.
It's not from Justin.  It's about Justin.  The first words
grab hold of my heart and squeeze.

	Dear Jason,
We regret to inform you that your former lover has died.


	There is more of the letter but tears stream from my face.
I drop the letter and fall to my knees.  I cannot stand up even
if I try.  Everything around me disappears and I am alone, I
hardly realize where I am, what I'm doing.  All I know is that
I'm curled up on the floor and crying uncontrollably.  I have no
idea how long I am only the floor until I feel arms around me.
Steven is holding me.  I'm not sure if he picked up the letter
and knows, or if he just wondering what's wrong.  AT this point
I don't care.  My chest hurts, my legs, my back, and every fiber
in my body aches.  I can barely feel my body move as Steven
carries my down the hallway.  He doesn't speak; there is no need
to speak.  He knows that I won't and can not respond.  He lays
me down on the bed and pulls the covers over me.  Although I am
crying and can't stop I drift away.
	It must be hours later when I wake up.  I am facing the
wall and wondering how I am in my bed.  I don't remember moving
here.  As I turn over Steven is sitting in a chair by my bed.  I
sit up and he looks over.
	"You're awake."  I don't answer, I'm still confused.
"You've slept for a long time."  He knows about the letter, but
afraid to say anything.  Everything comes flooding back to me.
I start to get up.  "No, no, you should stay in bed.  You-"
	"Steven, let me go."  I throw the covers off and put my
feet on the floor.
	"Jason-"
	"Shut up, Steven, don't say a word.  I need time by myself.
I-" I am speaking with anger and I can't even formulate the
words.  I quickly leave the room and the apartment and slam the
door.


	Somehow I find myself in a dimly lit bar.  In front me lies
a half-empty bottle of vodka.  My head is almost resting on the
counter and I start to see the bottle move.  I grab it.
	"Leave it."
	The bartender speaks, "I think you've had enough."
	"Leeeeave it," I try to speak with more force but it comes
out slurred.  The bottle is ripped from my hand and my head hits
the counter.  I slip off the stool to the floor.  I can't feel
the pain.
	"Do you need a cab to drive home," the bartender knows the
answer.
	"No," I yell in a drunken stupor.  Before he has a chance
to say anything else I stumble out of the bar and I realize it
is already night.
	I'm not sure of my direction, but I know my destination:
Central Park.


	Great people.  Another chapter of Relationships and Memories
completed.  Did you see that little twist coming?  One more thing, I'm
truly sorry there wasn't sex in this one.  There will be in the next
one, trust me.  Ok, I know you all hate this part: Write to me, tell
me what you think.  Am I getting off track?  Do you like what you see?
Do you want to see something else in the story?  Want to tell me about
your pets?  Want to ask me what I'm wearing?  Come on, write... you do
know how that keyboard works right?
	And though no one has written to say they don't like the story,
I'm pretty sure somebody doesn't like it.  Well, Mr. 1% write in and
tell me why!  Stay tuned for WhiteWolf's R&M Part 4.
	E-mail me at WhtWindWif@aol.com