Date: Wed, 27 Nov 2002 09:54:13 -0500
From: John Windham <vindskinke@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 2  That's with an 'e'

That's with An "E", by John Windham: email vindskinke@hotmail.com

Chapter Two

I could not abide using a "fake" name (Jon Jensen) as the one
responsible for this first attempt at writing.  This will allow all the
writers that I have harassed thru the years about their stories a chance
to reciprocate.  No more obfuscation here is John Windham ready for the
sticks and stones or whatever you might have to throw.

I apologize for being repetitious but plaudits go to Peter for editing
and his unstinting support.  His friendship is my treasure.  The correct
sections are his less than correct are all mine.

This story is about the love that two men find rather tried to find. That
by virtue of its nature means it is a homosexual story.  If you find this
offensive then please do not read any further.

November 27, 2002

"Well by all rights I think the answer to that question should be
Brandon's," demurred Lars with a mischievous smile.

With a bogus wail of despair Brandon stuttered, "I just don't think it
is fair for the two of you to gang up on me like this.  John, I had
coffee ready and juice out before you left to go birding.  Lars would
still be asleep if I had not served him `morgenmad' in bed.  And now
the only appreciation I get is to be made light of by the two of you."

"Oh bumpkins maybe one of John's exceptional brunches will assuage your
hurt.  While I am cooking why don't you two enjoy this beautiful autumn
morning with a stroll down to the pond."

Lars trying to hide a smile reaches out his hand for Brandon's, "come
with me you poor abused baby; we will get out of John's way."

Brandon's whole face blooms as it is transformed by an all-encompassing
smile as their hands join in mutual accord.  After they turn going
outside John's features soften as he watches the two walking away.
It's obvious to him by their intermittent blunders as shoulders and feet
collide that the search has begun. The two are striving for the harmony
that sometimes inaugurates the dynamics between young lovers.  A beatific
smile illuminates his features as the two disappear down the path framed
by sumacs scarlet and sassafras's glistening gold fall coloration.

"I wonder if I might be just a bit too forward and pushy with the two of
them.  It would break my heart to see either of them hurt.  Hope, I will
hope and trust my instincts that my actions are justified bringing them
together."

"Does John's `mothering' bother you?"

Lars gives Brandon a contemplatively tentative smile, "bother is not the
word I would use but rather meddlesome might be more accurate."

"No, Lars you are absolutely wrong.  He is the most caring and giving
man I know.  He would never do anything to intrude or hurt one of his
`family'. I consider my self indeed fortunate to have him as my
friend.  I am hoping that I can say our friend soon."

"Why are you so defensive about John?"

"I am not defensive.  Let's just drop the subject."

Brandon looks away as they walk down the path, "look there is the first
camellia I have seen this fall.  Do you know that they bloom all thru the
winter?  It is one of the joys of living here; we have these glorious
plants producing flowers in colors ranging from white to luscious dark
red.  John's place here has plants that go back generations.  The plants
are extremely long lived when cared for properly.  There is a seedling
that was created by and named for his dead lover's father but it does
not bloom until the first of December."

"The flower immortalized by Alexander Dumas.  Even Verdi capitalized on
its ephemeral, fragility and beauty.  Do you know the name of his opera,
The Lady Gone Astray?"

"La Traviata"

"So you do know opera, Brandon Whiteside."

"I have had the best of teachers."

"Brandon, I did not mean to hurt your feelings about John.  I am too
blunt.  In Danmark one does not obfuscate things as you do here.  You say
it like it is and do not mince words. We have a culture that prides
itself on privacy and not being intrusive. For instance in America
pictures are taken of everything and everyone unlike at home where we
would never presume to take `candid shots' but rather only family and
friends that are comfortable with your camera.  I think that it is a
mistake for us to rush into things when we have so many cultural
differences to bridge.  Don't you think that perhaps we should step back
and be more sensible in our actions?"

"Look at this bloom, it seems almost perfect.  The shimmering
translucence of the pink pedals and the gold centers just begging us to
notice and appreciate them will serve as an example and symbol.  I feel
that way about you.  Something special that should be appreciated.  Why
retreat when I do not think much progress has been achieved.  I am so
confused.  I thought you felt some of what I feel; our kisses seemed so
uniquely ours.  That we had a common ground that we could comfortably
share our experiences not deny our feelings.  Now you dissemble and
hesitate as if nothing special has happened.  Is all of this in my
imagination?  The transforming magic I feel when we were, are, together,
is it all a travesty and a mistake?  What is happening here?  Am I
loosing touch with reality?"

"Brandon it is just that I think we are being precipitous in our actions
and not properly considering the consequences."

"Let's go back in and see what John is doing.  I do not have much
appetite and I should let him know."

John, looking out the window over the sink sees the two boys returning.
No longer are their hands together but a calculated distance is kept
between the two.  "What on earth has happened?  It has only been minutes
since they left and now they return with a barrier between them.  I
should not have been so smug about my success with those two.  What am I
to do now?  They look as unremittingly grim as they try to talk to each
other.  I guess they want to spare my feelings.  How can I help, oh, Lord
what is to be done?"

"John, I hope you have not started brunch because I think I have a
`bug' of some kind.  It is going around the University and I thought I
had missed it but no such luck.  I really must go back and just rest to
see if I can get over this before the exams next week.  Lars I will be
glad to drop you off if you want to head back."

"Brandon should I call Doctor B. he will come over and check you over
without giving it another thought.  He is only one house over from us
here."

"No, oh, no, that is not necessary I think just some rest will be enough
and if not I will go to the infirmary.  I would not think of disturbing
that sweet man.  I will be fine.  I really am sorry to be such a party
pooper, will you please forgive me?"

"Dear boy you must know that you could never do anything that would
offend me.  You are one of my dearest boys.  Brandon do you feel like
driving because I will be more than happy to drive you."

"Please, I am just going to go now.  Lars I am glad that I met you. Let
me know if I can ever help you around the University or if you need
transportation.  Here is my phone number and email address. John as
always it has been a treat to spend time here in your sanctuary away from
the craziness of the routine that binds us so tightly."

"Good bye Brandon, I had not expected anything like meeting you.  I
appreciate your contact numbers.  Maybe we will spend some time together
again."

Goddamn, mother fuck^Å^Å^Å.how on earth did all of this go so wrong.
That man just turned his back on me as if I did not exist.  The delicate,
so tender loveliness we had achieved in our kisses seemed such a good
foundation.  I know that I may have rushed things but since he is so
special I did not want him to disappear. Now the whole thing is in
shambles without any hope of an understanding or progress.  John must
think that I am crazy the way I fled the house but he has no idea of what
happened. I feel like I am going to throw up.  What have I done wrong?
Shit, this whole thing stinks. I have lost him without even getting a
chance.

"Lars would you please be so kind as to tell an old man what in the hell
is going on."

How in the fuck would I know what is going on?  That brash man just ran
without any thought to the circumstances or relevant factors. I just
wanted a deliberate and considered evaluation of the situation.  Is that
too much to ask?  I think not!

"John with all due respect I think that you are too close to Brandon to
understand the situation."

"Lars you are a pompous as^Å"

"I apologize you are my guest, it is unforgivable to be so rude.  Would
you like some brunch I have all the makings here at hand."

"Doesn't this `Southern good manners' thing get old sometimes?"

"I have welcomed you into my family and have treasured your
contributions but this is about as much as I can abide.  You seem to
relish your disdain for our manners and decorum.  It is your unmitigated
hubris that will be your undoing and lead to your failure here.  You
pride yourself on your command of Southern idioms but you have no idea
what is going on, instead you have a construct that is deadly inaccurate
and woefully off the target.  Perhaps your teachers at home will be as
poorly informed as you and it will not matter. If you should ever decide
that you might reconsider your ideas and pronouncements I will be more
than happy to welcome you back.  But in all truth until you change I
think it best that you spare yourself from the ignominy of more
association with us.  I will be ready to give you a ride back in about 5
minutes.  I have to run some errands in that part of town anyway."

Lars looks at his reflection in the window after he has gathered up his
few things.  He sees a man, shocked to the core, one who is bereft of all
that he thought he was achieving. He is numb from the reaction to his
actions that he had considered mundane.  Where had he gone astray?  If
this had been Danmark none of it would have happened, why had he come to
this blighted country where democracy is a matter of 5 Supreme Court
judges awarding the looser the presidency of the nation. He should have
stayed in his safe and secure room in the dormitory.  Layers of
administration and rigid conformity would have protected him.

"Lars, do you want me to drop you off at the dorm or someplace else?"

"The dorm will be fine thank you."

There was a distinctly different affect between the two of them even
though they both were striving for a semblance of normality.  John was
sitting stiffly behind the wheel of his car with the CD player filling
the car with the strains of Tristan and Isolde.  Lars was obviously
uncomfortable staring out the window at the passing scenery, anything
rather than a conversation with John.  He was sitting with his lips
grimly set in a truculent line his ramrod posture said it all.  Both John
and Lars were so inflexibly rigid that a sudden stop would have caused
both to shatter, like an icicle on concrete.

"Here is your dorm, Lars; I really don't know what to say.  I deeply
regret anything that I might have done which could have precipitated this
calamity.  Call me if you have any problems or there is anything that I
can help with here at school."

"Thank you for the offer but I seriously doubt that I will need any
further assistance.  You have been a gracious host and I appreciate all
that you have done."

God He was happy to be out of that car and that howling deafening music.
What a nightmare this whole thing had become.  He had seldom been as
uncomfortable actually miserable would be a better moniker for this past
24 hours.  He knew that this situation would be a disastrous mistake.
Inge would find this entire minuet comically ludicrous, but he had no
intention to ever tell her or anyone.   He needed to forget this
nightmare.  He was going to his room and would not under any circumstance
answer the phone all he wanted was his solitude.

John watched as Lars walked thru the doors to his dorm without turning.
He sat in his car for several minutes looking at the doors.  Not caring
who was looking he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and blew his
nose.  He had seldom been involved with anything in his life with such a
disastrous denouement.  He would call Brandon and check on him later when
he got back home.  Brandon, that sweet oh so vulnerable boy, how was he
going to be able to help him thru this.  He had experienced life's cruel
twists as well as its benevolent ones and had made it to 60.  He had so
hoped to spare his young "protégé" some of the heartache but alas it
was not to be

God his room looked so barren even sterile. No, he was not going to think
about that house!  He was going to expunge the whole experience from his
memory.  He turned to his CD player and put on Mozart's Piano Concerto
No.25 with de Larrocha's magisterially poised playing.  This was a
guaranteed balm for his worries. He was determined to relax.  He sat in
the most comfortable chair but could not seem to find the best position.
After squirming for several minutes and still uncomfortable he laid down
on his bed to continue reading.  He put more pillows under his head.  He
removed all but one pillow.  Turning on his side toward the window and
better light he was still restive.  God could he never be comfortable
what on earth would it take. OK, I will get on my bike and explore for 2
or 3 hours that should make it easier to relax.

"Hey there sweet boy, how are you feeling?  Are you still suffering from
the `bug' so many are experiencing?"

"I am not sick, at least physically.  What did I do wrong?  It was like
dealing with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  John he was so wonderful and his
kisses were the stuff poets' only dream about.  I thought that we were
meant to be friends, more than friends.  I am so miserably unhappy and
disappointed."

John could hear the muffled crying and it broke his heart, "Brandon I
will be over to pick you up in 20 minutes I need company.  Bring what
books you need to study because you are spending a few days with me."

Sighing in resignation Brandon realized it would be futile to argue,
"thank you John I will be out front waiting you will not need to find a
parking place."  He smiled to himself hanging up the phone realizing he
was not only relieved but also comforted by John's edict.  He packed
what he needed for school and some comfortable clothes.  He did not
overlook his `birding' boots knowing that he would be accompanying his
host on his forays.  After a desultory glance around his room he walked
out to meet John.  He did not realize he did not hear much less
acknowledge the greetings from others.   This caused several to notice
his uncharacteristic demeanor.  He sat on the bike stand by the street
oblivious to the worried glances from his friends.  His mind was miles
away embroiled in the topsy-turvy chaos of recent events.

John became more concerned when his second beep was unheard by Brandon.
He appeared to be in a trance unresponsive to external stimuli.  He put
his emergency blinkers on so that he could retrieve Brandon. When a
gentle tap failed he gave him a vigorous shake that made Brandon cry out
in dazed alarm.  Realizing who it was Brandon started quietly crying as
he was guided into the car.  John turned the car around heading for home
and decided he would not intrude into Brandon's dilemma just now.  He
obviously needed a refuge with some quiet and comfort both of which John
was more than happy to give.  At the next stoplight they were both
startled to see Lars on a bicycle riding in a haphazard way unaware of
the cars around him.  When the light changed they drove past as Brandon
turned watching the boy on the bike until he was lost in the distance.
He leaned his forehead against the window as the tears continued.  He
started to tremble as if he was cold even in the toasty warm car.  It
seemed to John that the trip home would never end until the familiar
white fence came into view as they rounded the last curve.  Turning into
the gate triggered racking sobs with such ferocious shaking that it so
unnerved John he forgot to brake as his car became one with a huge pine
tree.  This rather more than abrupt stop made both of them gasp as they
were thrown against the constraints of their seat belts. Unfortunately
the groceries, books and miscellaneous paraphernalia was not constrained
and crashed about them into the windshield.  As they sat stunned into
inaction cans started to explode as geysers of Pepsi sprayed in all
directions.  The drifts of cake flour and extra fine sugar now took on a
sinister quality as it coalesced into a coating that seemed to acquire
sentient animation as it moved about the cars interior.  The cracked
bottle of red food coloring usually so inconspicuous surreptitiously
joined forces with the battalions of Pepsi.  This serendipitous
confluence of events transformed their minor accident into an event of
seismic magnitude.  In the bewildered silence as they tried to clear
their eyes to better assess the extent of their accident they were
alarmed to hear a sinisterly sibilant sound.  They looked in the
direction of each other and both nodding in agreement said in unison,
"let's get out of here."  They both were trying frantically to
extricate themselves from the slimy slippery once shiny buckles and
straps that so efficiently held them. The harder they struggled the more
securely they were held. The once faint hiss metamorphosed into
cacophonous eructation's accompanied by ever increasingly desperate
struggles.  Providence finally smiled and both latches released.  Like
tadpoles on a mud flat they wiggled out of the car just as the air bags
exploded.  They looked at each other over the top of the crippled car in
stunned incredulity. Out of nowhere they both dissolved in a wildly
uncontrolled deluge of laughter giddily tittering on the edge of
hysteria. Trying to scrape the rapidly coagulating goop they noticed the
sprinkler John had left to water his winter garden.  It was definitely
not comfortably warm but not so cold that it was an impossible idea.
They gingerly nodded in agreement so John turned the sprinkler off at the
house while Brandon disconnected it from the hose.  John turned the water
on so Brandon scrunched up his face in determination and started the
cleansing operation.  It was fortuitous that they were in the driveway
because the rivulets of the gummy concoction flowed directly into the
drain.  The car was not so fortunate because the rapidly hardening
chitinous concoction coating virtually the entire interior was forming a
carapace worthy of "Mothra's" prodigious progeny vintage 1962.  When
the worst of the gluey mess was washed off and the giggles effectively
squelched by the cold water they both started taking off their impossibly
soaked clothes.  This was not the time for a schoolboy's blushing
modesty as layer after layer was piled in a gelatinous mass by the drain.

"Ok Brandon, we will leave all of this nasty mess here and forget the
car.  No one can see us so relax and follow me.  We will get some towels
in the utility room to dry off enough not to mess up the carpets.  You
use the shower in your room from last nite.  I will see you in a few
minutes in the library and we will have a roaring fire to restore our
humanity or at least make a valiant effort trying."

"John I am so sorry I caused all of this, how can I ever compensate you
for this disaster.  Your new car is a disaster and how will you explain
it to an insurance adjuster?"

"Sweet bumpkins I have paid for my insurance for the past 40 years with
no claim and if my nephew who happens to be my agent has a problem a call
to his father will rectify the situation immediately.  I have always
regretted not getting that hybrid civic so I now will make the correct
decision, that wagon was just too big and awkward for me.  You did not
cause the problem it was my inattention that was the culprit.  Now run
and get a shower or even better a restorative bubble bath and use the
clothes in the closet.  They are all your correct size.   They may be a
bit dated since they were Tom's but of the best quality.  I have never
allowed anyone else to use them."

"John you are going to make me start crying again.  I do appreciate the
honor.  Ok, I am off to an opulent bubble bath to relax and reclaim my
sanity."

"Brandon, are you decent?"

"That is a matter of definition I think, but I'm ensconced in a bath of
bubbles so wonderful it's hard to describe.  Please come in I am fine."

"Here sweet boy is a bit of slightly warmed cognac to help make your
relaxation complete.  Come down to the library at your leisure the fire
is started.  I want this to be a chance for you to relax so we can mull
over the recent events.  I have some pristinely fresh salmon fillets to
grill that were not in the car."

I know it is a bit of decadence to think the wreck fortuitous but seeing
Brandon relax and smile makes it all worthwhile.  I do not want to see
that car again.  It should be buried in a sarcophagus deep enough that it
will never return.  It was so unexpected to see him or anyone come apart
so completely over someone he has known for only a few hours.  More is
afoot than I realized.  God in retrospect I so regret my nasty evaluation
of Brandon and precipitous rejection it was unwarranted.  Now I must
concentrate on my sweet boy.  I have never seen someone's emotions come
to the fore and take charge of a person as happened with Brandon.  What
could have happened between those two that would annihilate Brandon's
ability to reason?  Who would have ever expected this most grounded of
young men to completely tailspin into such utter unconstrained abandon.
John could not stop his imagination from running amuck.  He thought some
music might help assuage his disquiet but just what should he play?  NO,
NOT the rose, what about something positive and uplifting.  He slowly
scanned his selections until he spied Mahler's second, the glorious
`Resurrection' symphony with Kiberg, Dolberg singing, conducted by
Segerstam and the Danish National RSO, although idiosyncratic it was his
favorite.  He had never been accused of being a populist.  Although it
would be massively engulfing with its monumental marriage of orchestra,
chorus and soloist it was his choice.  He smiled at he put it on the
player.  Brandon had come such a long way with his appreciation of
music.  He settled into his comforting old leather chair that Tom had
given him decades ago.  It was bordering on shabby but it was theirs and
could not be replaced.  This reassurance was the balm of Gilead.  How
would Tom have dealt with this dilemma?  He was such a master at the
understanding of other's problems.  He so missed this gentle wonderful
man, the person who had transformed his life from a culture bereft of
feelings and fearful of expression.  His Tom, the magic of his lifetime,
the person who made others unnecessary and the man that made life make
sense.  How he wished for the faith to believe a reunion possible but his
tight smile said otherwise.  He listened to the complicated but quiet
strains of music as the second started, it never failed to comfort.  He
looked out the picture window and saw the ghost images of Brandon and
Lars jostling down the path, delightfully happy, now lost but why.

"There you are sweet boy, I was about to call the rescue squad to check
on you.  You look so much better than when I picked you up.  We will not
bring up the later consequences of my inept driving, THANK YOU, are you
hungry or do you just want to relax with a drink."

Brandon looked at John realizing just how important he was and how much
he relied on this man.  His mind raced back and forth looking for a way
to express him-self.  What could he tell him that would not sound trite
and exaggerated?  The last thing he wanted was to come off as a sycophant
sucking up.

		   John Windham:  vindskinke@hotmail.com