Date: Fri, 21 Apr 2017 13:53:20 -0500 From: Eric Trager Subject: It Is What It Is: Chapter 41 Please don't forget to donate to Nifty if you enjoy reading the stories! Email feedback can be sent to trager2275@gmail.com. © 2015 by Eric Trager. Yahoo group: https://groups.yahoo.com/IIWII CHAPTER FORTY-ONE The two young men separated. They paused, gazing into each other's eyes, then began speaking animatedly although not in a hostile fashion. One extended his hand to the other and they were seen walking off to the area of the parking lot. "What do you think we should say?" asked the taller of the two. "I don't think we need to say anything. We really didn't do anything that's like cheating, or anything. I guess I wanted it as much as you did, though..." "Yeah. Yeah, I wanted it. But more than that I want to make sure you're OK... Are you?" "I will be. I promise. You're the best friend I could have, Brett... Thanks..." Andy said, tilting his head down eyeing the ground. "You're the best friend I could have, too. I never had many friends, ya know... Nobody ever gave me a second look..." "Until Tim ya mean." "Yeah, until Tim. He really is the best, or the best for me anyway. I'll never not love him." "And I'll never not love Sean-o." "Then I think we've said all we need to say, don't you?" "I do, I mean at least for now anyway. What do you think they'd say?" "Probably nuthin'. I mean, you never know for sure, but probably nothing. Tim would think it was funny and Sean would just process it like Mr. Spock. But still, there's just too much going on right now. Sometimes best to just let sleeping dogs lie." "I wasn't planning on saying anything..." "OK, then what do we tell `em when we get back?" "I'll just say I got a little freaked out and needed some fresh air, whatever... Dunno what else to say..." "Alright, well, let's go then..." Arriving back at the Alamo, they walked in. Sean took one look at Andy and went to him. He took his hand. "You alright, Brown Eyes?" "Yeah, I just freaked out. I'm sorry. Everything just all happened at once..." Sean thought for a fleeting instant that he detected the scent of cum. Then he wondered if it came from himself. Best just to skip it, he thought. "Well, everyone's alright now?" Tim asked. "Yeah, yeah I am, Dix. Like I told Sean-o, I'm really sorry. I just freaked out I guess... Everything's gonna be OK..." Andy said, managing half a smile. "Anyone hungry?" Sean asked. "Wanna go to the Chinese restaurant downtown?" Everyone agreed and the four boys rustled up John who invited Kathleen and the six of them enjoyed a nice lunch although one could see if one wished to observe the knowing glances and pregnant pauses exchanged between Brett and Tim. On the way home afterwards, Tim looked over at Brett and with an evil grin said, "OK, so spill it, hun..." "Whadya mean?" Brett asked. "Whadya mean what do I mean... What happened with Andy?" "Well, we went to Palmer Park and we, um, well we..." "Cat gotcher tongue, hey?" Tim laughed. "OK, here's the deal. When you guys were gone I got really fucking horny and Wymo and me jacked off. What did you guys do?" "What... WHAT? You JACKED OFF? OK, well... Well, um, we went down to the park and we talked. Andy was really like he's got too much on him right now. He needed a friend. So we talked, and..." "And..." "And we jacked off, too. And we kissed... Happy now?" "We're both guilty of jacking off with another guy? So what... All you did was be a friend. That's all anyone would have done. Andy loves you like a brother, you know, and sometimes a guy just needs a brother's shoulder to cry on. He needed a friend. You did the right thing..." "Well, I guess you did, too... I guess I don't care if you jacked off with Wymo. Is he hot?" "Dude, yeah he's hot. You've seen him in the showers... He might be hot, but he'll never be my husband. Only you will be..." "That's right, you're stuck with me, ya dork. So, I don't think we need to bring any of this up with Sean and Andy. They got enough on their plates, don'tcha think?" "I wasn't planning on it. I do wanna go up north to the cabin over Christmas, though so we can all fuck. Would you fuck Wymo?" "Would I top him? Yeah, I would. Would you have a problem with that?" "No, because we're all gonna top each other. And we're gonna video it, too. It'll be so fucking hot! We'll all be naked all the time." "Video it?" "Yeah, let's do it and see if we can sell it..." "Tim, you and I are the only ones over eighteen ya know..." "So what? We'll sell it overseas. Nobody checks that shit..." "I'll think about it..." "You ever gonna do Andy again?" "Would you be mad if I did?" "Well, let me put it this way: people who can't manage their affairs don't deserve to have them. You do what you want. As long as you love me. You saved me, Brett." "Nonsense. I saw a guy with a big heart. He needed a friend, too. And he swept me off my feet. He still sweeps me off my feet. And he always will sweep me off my feet." "Good. You're not allowed to break my heart. That's the only thing I demand." Back at the Alamo, Sean and Andy decided to take a nap. Before they went upstairs, John snagged Sean telling him he needed to show him something. Sean followed John to the garage where John wheeled on Sean. "OK, I fucking know what you and Dix did when Andy was gone. You're a fucking pig! How could you!" John hissed. Then he hauled off and slapped Sean across the face. "Whoa, there little bro!" Sean said, eyes wide. "You don't really know what's going on here." "Oh, I don't, don't I...? Andy's mom just died like a week after he finds out he's got Leukemia and you're downstairs fooling around with someone else and I'm the one that doesn't know what the fuck is going on? Really? You're a piece of work, you are..." "Hey!" Sean barked. "Cool your fucking jets. First of all, it's none of your fucking business and second just what the hell do you think Andy And Brett were doing for an hour while they were gone? Smelling fucking roses?" Sean and John's argument was loud enough to get Andy's attention. He went in the direction of the garage and heard the last part of the exchange. He opened the door to the garage, nonchalantly asking if everything was alright.. "Yeah, yeah..." Sean and John replied. "Well, that's good. So, Sean-o, you and Dix were fooling around? Well, so were me and Brett. And no, John, it isn't any of your business even though I appreciate your concern, and I'm sure Sean does, too. It's nothing we wouldn't feel for you, either. You're our little bro. But ya gotta realize both me and Sean have been totally stressed lately by a lot of things neither one of us had any control over. If we did what we did, then so be it. It doesn't change anything between us. Me, or Sean, or you. So, are we OK with all of this now?" Neither John, nor Sean said a word. "I asked a fucking question, guys... Are we all OK?" "I am, Brown Eyes," Sean whispered, looking at the ground. "Look me in the eye, Sean-o. I'm OK. Are you?" "Yeah," Sean said looking Andy in the eye. "And you, Bambino?" "Yeah, I guess so. It's just that I..." "Shut up!" Andy and Sean said in unison then dissolving into a fit of laughter. "What's so Goddamn funny!" John demanded only resulting in Andy and Sean laughing to the point of doubling over. "OK, well fuck you guys, then!" John said, storming off. "He'll get over it..." Andy said. "So, is Brett hot?" Sean asked. "Sean-o, all we did was jack off... It's not like we fucked..." "That's all we did, too... You mad at me?" "No, no I'm not. What about you?" "Me either... I love you, ya know..." "And I love you more. Now, let's just see if we can kinda find whatever normal is? Will we ever?" "Only one way to find out... Just keep buggering on..." Andy and Sean returned to the house, stopping in the kitchen to grab a snack. They decided to make a couple of sandwiches which Sean put in the panini press. While waiting, John came walking into the kitchen with his head down. "Um, are you guys like pissed off at me?" John asked. "C'mere, li'l bro," Sean said. John shuffled over and Sean enveloped him in his arms. "We could never be mad at you. I think you fly off the handle sometimes, and I think you need to work on that just like you work on everything else, but we're not mad. We love you..." Andy stepped over for a group hug. "Yeah, we love you, Bambino. But we were still thinking about giving you back. I mean, even though we love you lots, you're a royal pain in the ass sometimes, ya know. We haven't really decided yet," Andy said deadpan winking at Sean. John ripped himself away from his brothers. "You guys would really give me back?" he gasped, tears coming to his eyes. "Am I that bad? I don't wanna go..." "Well, I dunno there..." Sean played along. "You did slap me, ya know... I can't forgive that real quick..." By this time Andy was having trouble stifling a laugh. John was panicking. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I thought... I mean, well... It looked like... Did I hurt you? Please don't give me back..." "OK, we won't. We were teasing you. You deserved it. Besides, I don't think we'd get much for you anyway... There's not much of a market for used Mexican kids these days, ya know..." John stamped his foot. "You guys suck! You know how insecure I am about that! God! But you really, really, really won't give me back? You're gonna keep me?" Now a tear came each to Sean and Andy. "We're keepin' ya, Frito Bandito," Andy said. "Alright then. I guess I'll mind my own business. But I know what you guys are going through. I just want everyone to be happy and everything to be like, just, no drama, ya know?" "Trust me, so do we...' Sean smirked. "Want a sandwich?" Monday morning found Sean at Doctor Schroeder's office. "Well, OK, Doc. Ya made me go through that MRI machine so what are we lookin' at here..." "Before we do that, Sean, I'd like you to tell me how you're feeling. Any dizziness? Headaches? Nausea? Problems with short-term memory?" "Nope, except for maybe some really minor balance stuff, like if I stand up suddenly, or something like that. No headaches. Haven't puked..." "Alright then. Well, the MRI shows as you know a concussion. And when you were at Madison General, they detected some swelling of your brain. It appears that's gone away. The problem is, Sean, it wasn't your first concussion. From what we see, it's apparent you had at least two concussions and possibly three in fairly rapid succession. If you were to sustain another one, permanent brain damage could result that would be both noticeable and debilitating. You already have very, very minor brain damage, but it's such that you won't notice it as the brain has ways to compensate." "What does that mean for me playing football next year?" "Sean, it means I recommend that you don't. Now, every student athlete has to have a full physical every year as a requirement of participation. You're physically fit, Lord knows, and you're certifiable to play based on that, but we are required by law to disclose other things that could pose a risk and at that point it's up to the school. So, while I sure can't stop you from playing – it's your decision, and your Coach's – as your Physician, I am advising you to hang up your cleats. I'm sorry, Sean. I know this isn't what you want to hear, and I know for people your age how hard it is to hear, but I'm givin' it to ya straight. I want to see you live a long and healthy life. And don't forget, you're already the State Champion. Only very few can ever make that claim." "Um, OK... Well, no that's not what I wanted to hear, but I guess in the end you're not telling me anything that's coming as a surprise. I guess I'll hafta talk to Coach about it when I get to school..." "That's the wise thing to do, Sean. Now, on your way out, I want you to make an appointment to come back next month. In the meantime, you call me if you don't think you are improving, OK?" "Will, do, Doc. I wish I could say thanks..." Sean gave Coach Slater's office door the by-now-familiar Shake-and-a-Haircut-Two-Bits knock he was known for. He heard Coach growl that he should enter. "Good morning, Coach!" Sean said, smiling as much as he could. "Mister Wyman. How nice to see you this morning." "Got a couple, Coach?" "Now that the season's over, I got more time than money." "Alright, because there's something we need to talk about..." "Before we do, son, please allow me to say a few words. I wasn't happy to see you injured in the Championship Game. I never like to see my men hurt. But as your Coach I need to let you know that I wasn't a hundred percent pleased at what I can only call insubordination on your part. I damn near benched you. If it had been anyone else and if it hadn't been the Championship game I probably would have. However, against that I must weigh your value to the team this year, and the fact that when the chips were down you didn't fold." "Thanks, Coach, I guess..." "Yes, well, be that as it may, in the future, Mister Wyman, I don't expect any more shenanigans like with that last time out. Do we have an understanding?" "Yes, Coach, and I'm sorry about that. It was a little immature on my part." "Very well, then. We see eye-to-eye on that, now what is it that I can do for you this morning?" "I was just at the Doctor's," Sean said, proceeding to give Coach Slater a full accounting of what the Doctor told him. "So, that's what the Doctor had to say, and you know by the time the season comes around next year I'm gonna have two kids. I'm sorry, Coach, but as it stands now I don't see how I'm going to be able to play next year... I know that makes me a disappointment to you, and I'll be sorry for that maybe for the rest of my life, but I just don't see..." At that, Coach Slater waved Sean to be quiet. "Mister Wyman, I appreciate your honesty. And truth be told, I'm not surprised. Winning is what we've always been about in this program, and over the years we've come out on the W side far more often than not. But my real job isn't winning. That's only how I keep my job. My real job is to play my part in fashioning the teen age boys that I am lucky enough to coach into men. For you to come here and have this conversation with me today tells me you're a man, and it tells me that whatever part I may have played in that is done now. Your health is far more important to me than what next season might look like. I've never won a State Championship before, and I probably never will again. You were my winning Quarterback, so whether you play next season, or not, I shall never forget you, and I shall never forget the men on this year's team." "Neither will I, Coach. I did have an idea for how I can at least make a contribution next year..." "And what would that be?" "I'd like to volunteer to help with the Quarterback coaching. Right now, it looks like Kriegs is gonna be your man. He'll only be a Junior, and I'd be happy to help him any way I can. He showed guts in that game, and he wasn't half bad. I figure by doing that, I'm also helping the team. I'd also be helping you, Coach. And I want you to know that I will never forget this year, either. You, or the guys, or any of it..." "None of us will ever forget it," Coach smiled. "I'd be delighted to have you assist with the coaching, although I've never had a student act as a Coach before. I'll need to run that by the higher-ups, but I think it should be OK. Do me a favor, will you, and seek out Mister Krieger and let him know of these developments. Suggest to him without making it seem like a demand on my part that he may wish to come see me. And I'd like it if you would accompany him." "I'll do that, Coach. We don't have any classes together, but I can probably have John let him know to call me and then I'll talk to him." "Appreciate it. Will there be anything else today, Mister Wyman?" "I think that just about does it, Coach..." "Very well. I'll see you at the parade this Sunday, then." "Oh, yeah, Sunday. That's good because Andy's mom's funeral is Saturday." "What?" "Yeah, I guess you didn't know... His mom had cancer and she died on Saturday. The funeral's in Kenosha..." "Please give Mr. Churchill my best. And let me know when and where the funeral is if you would..." "You got it, Coach." Sean then took his leave and made his way to class, which was in progress. He figured he'd just have to arrive late and if the teacher wanted a pass he'd get it to them later. Normally, his route to class would have taken him toward the front of the building down the 100 hallway, but this time he went toward the back down the 300 hallway. It didn't really matter. Nearing the end of the long hallway, there was a jog of about thirty feet and another long hallway that passed by the Shop classes. Hearing a commotion in that direction Sean detoured toward the Shop hallway. Turning the corner, he saw three guys harassing another student. Sean hadn't recalled seeing any of them before, but he put it down to the fact that he'd been busy with football and everything else that had become part of his life so didn't have time to meet everyone in a large, new school that he'd only been in for three months. "Fuckin' retard! Whadya got to say, huh? Piece of shit! We're gonna see you outside after school, dude, and you're gonna be sorry you didn't come through today, got me?" the biggest one said, jabbing a finger into the hapless kid's chest while slamming him into a locker. Sean thought it odd that the kid being picked on was at least two inches taller than his assailants, but then noted that he appeared to be awfully thin. "Hey!" Sean barked. Having their attention, he continued his pace arriving in front of the little group. "What's going on here?" "Who the fuck are you, preppy boy?" the main assailant demanded. "Name's Sean Wyman. Who the fuck are you?" "Nonna yer business, Mister Sean Preppy Dickhead, that's fucking who..." The tall, skinny kid looked at Sean with pleading eyes. "OK, then Mister Nonna yer business, what are you picking on this guy for?" "He's a fucking retard, and a fucking faggot and he owes us money, that's what... He owes us fifty bucks today and he says he doesn't have it. It's none o' yer fuckin' business anyway..." "That true?" Sean asked the victim. "Y'y'yeah...I um, I mean I guess so..." "You fucking guess so?" Sean asked. "Look, do you owe these fuckers the money, or not..." "Yes..." "Fifty bucks?" "Um, yeah..." The kid said with his head downcast. "Whadya owe them the money for?" "IN-shernts..." He whispered. "What? What the fuck is IN-shernts?" Sean asked becoming impatient with the whole thing. "It's IN-shernts so they don't beat me up and stuff..." "You mean INSURANCE?" Sean asked, rolling his eyes. "Yeah." "Jesus Christ! Stand behind me," Sean commanded, making a motion with his thumb. "That true?" Sean demanded, scanning the three other kids. "I ASKED IF IT WAS FUCKING TRUE!" Sean bellowed when they didn't answer. He waited. Still no answer. "OK, then. I figure what this guy's telling me is true. Here's the deal, dudes: you're not getting fifty bucks from this kid. Not today, and not ever. I dunno if you know this or not, but I'm the fucking Quarterback of the fucking Football team that just fucking won the State fucking Championship and if you fucking assholes so much as look at this guy cross-eyed again, or mess with him, or get within sight of him I'm gonna have the whole fucking Football team so far up all of your asses they'll be checking out your fucking tonsils. Ya got me? Ya better, `cause I don't play games and I don't make promises I can't keep. And that was a fucking promise. Now get your sorry asses the fuck out of here... MOVE IT!" The other boys moved off, muttering to themselves as they walked away. "You! Come with me," Sean said. "What's your name, kid..." "Um, Bradley..." Still with head downcast. "OK, `Um, Bradley,' when you talk to me I'd appreciate it if you'd look me in the eye. I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm never like this. I just have a lot of shit going on and I saw them picking on you and I just snapped, OK? So, how come you were paying these guys anyway?" "I pay `em so they leave me alone. I ain't never done nuthin' to `em... They been doin' this for like a year..." Sean noticed again how painfully thin Bradley was. He also noticed his somewhat tattered-looking, old clothing that appeared while not dirty to have been poorly laundered and somewhat ill-fitting. He also noticed his muddy brown hair and muddy hazel eyes. The hair was almost as long as Sean's, hung in loose curls and glinted with golden highlights when the light caught it just right. Sean thought, too, that he saw the faintest glimmer of a sparkle somewhere way back in Bradley's eyes. He noted that Brad's face was not unattractive with well-formed cheekbones, a prominent yet straight nose and a nice jawline. "Look, Brad... I'm gonna call you Brad if that's OK, I want you to meet me at my car after school. We'll talk. You got a phone?" "Nope." "OK, then, here's my locker number. You meet me at my locker after last hour, OK? Like I said, we'll talk. And I got someone else I wantcha to meet. Like I said, I won't hurt you." "OK. Thanks. What yer name?" Sean was beginning to be appalled at Brad's grammar and speech, nevertheless there was something about him that made Sean's heart go out. "Like I told those assholes back there, my name's Sean Wyman. I make a good friend, Brad." "OK, then Sean. I go this way. My class down this hall." Brad indicated the hallway where the Special Education classes were located. It didn't surprise him. "Meet me at my locker!" Sean smirked, waving good-bye. "Jesus Christ, that was surreal," Sean thought... END CHAPTER FORTY-ONE