Date: Sat, 14 Nov 2009 09:44:58 -0500
From: Sequoyah Pendor <sequoyahs.place@gmail.com>
Subject: Saga of the Elizabethton Tarheels--57

Saga of the Elizabethton Tarheels
Chapter Fifty-seven
Warnings:

As previously posted with this story.

Thanks to Scott and Jess who make me appear a great deal better than I am.


Chapter Fifty-seven

John called rather late Saturday night to say all was clear with the trust
fund, so he'd be coming. Sunday morning, early, Michael called. "I still
haven't been told whether or not I can go. I'm still hoping, so don't count
me out." We told him there would be room and he should meet us at our place
if he was ready before 10:30, or at St. Paul's if later. "No problem," he
said. "Sandy will be keeping my truck if I get to go, so he can pick it up
either place. I'm all packed and ready to go as soon as I get permission
and I think I will."

Sissy showed up at St. Paul's with luggage, ready to go, just before the
service. "Would have called, but the old man held out and only gave
permission a few minutes ago. Auntie brought me. I guess the old man
thought if he waited long enough you'd decide to go without me, then he
could talk about how untrustworthy honkies are. Says he's afraid I'll pick
up `the man's ways' and about the fact that I'm going with `two honky
queers.' He's afraid you'll turn me queer," Sissy started laughing so hard
he got tears in his eyes. Leaving his luggage in the narthex, he joined us
in the pew behind Mom and Clarisa.

During the Eucharist, St. Paul's graduating seniors -- which now included
all the old Clan -- were recognized and each of us given a beautiful silver
cross. Fr. DeBruhl congratulated us on having achieved a milestone and
admonished us to continue on the path to becoming great human beings, "the
path you are already on." I began to get a bit antsy thinking his remarks
could make the service longer than usual and we had a plane to
catch. Fortunately, his sermon was short and to the point so we were out on
time.

As we walked out of the church, Michael came rushing up the walk, pulling a
rolling suitcase. As soon as he saw him, Sandy rushed toward him, I suspect
getting ready to give him a kiss. I saw Michael raise an eyebrow and Sandy
smiled and just reached for his hand. Michael held his hand and
smiled. "Wow! Glad I made it. Why do parents just keep us hanging? I'm sure
they decided I could go before the last minute. Anyway, I'm here."

"Yeah," Sandy said, with a huge grin covering his face, "And all I'll have
to do is ace my exams and I'll be on a plane headed for Key West at 8:00
Tuesday evening. Mom made arrangements with Mrs. Crandall and, Michael, she
said you'd meet me when I arrive. I'll wake up at La Casa Wednesday morning
instead of in Elizabethton."

"Well, Babe, I sure hope the possibility of waking up in La Casa in my bed
is incentive enough to have you ace all your exams," Michael said in a low
voice as there were parishioners nearby.

"Hell yes!" Sandy said and immediately covered his mouth with his hand as
Miss Amy Louise gave him a sharp look as she walked past.

Sandy got in the truck with Michael and the two headed for the airport. The
rest of us piled in the van which Lacy was driving. At the airport, the
plane was waiting. Our luggage was stowed and John hugged Lacy, and Michael
seemed quite at ease as he and Sandy exchanged a goodbye kiss -- nothing
was held back by Michael in that kiss! -- and we all boarded the jet and
headed for La Casa and a week of fun and relaxation.

One good thing about the trip down was getting to know Mr. Nixson and
Mr. Everest. Both were as excited as teenagers in love and it definitely
showed. Mr. Nixson talked about his painting and how he had decided to be
an artist rather than go into something which paid a lot more. "I loved
what I was doing and generally was very happy," he said. "I also knew I'd
never be happy in business which would have been my father's goal for
me. Aside from being alone, I was very pleased with the path I had
taken. Now that Dakota Everest is a part of my life again, I couldn't ask
for more."

"Well, you made better choices than I," Mr. Everest said. "The worse choice
I ever made was the decision to out you to draw attention away from me. I
knew I was gay from the time I was thirteen or fourteen, but denied it with
my total being. Part of that was because I knew my parents would put me
out, part of it was fear of rejection by my peers -- not an unreasonable
fear given the times and especially the hell my outing put Jess through --
and part of it was my desire to go places in the world I knew an openly gay
man would not likely see. All very selfish and hurtful to Jess and myself,
not to mention the women I left behind. Fortunately, there were never any
children from my four short marriages."

"So you were in oil?" Sissy asked.

"Yeah, for twenty years. Graduated with a degree in geology and got hooked
up with a wildcat oil man, Dusty Rhodes -- I never could imagine parents
allowing that, but apparently his father started calling him Dusty when he
was a baby and it definitely stuck. Anyway, 'wildcat' was right as he was a
one-man company when I joined him. We struck oil in our first wildcat well
and had repeat performances time and again. Of course, we drilled a lot of
dry holes as well but, overall, it made us very wealthy before we had been
together ten years. By the time we had been together fifteen years, we both
had more money than we could ever spend, and I could never see a rough,
tough wildcatter like Dusty settling down, but he came in one morning a
couple years ago and said, `Fuck it, Dakota, we've got more money that we
can spend. I'm retiring. You know I have a son?' I did.

"While he had talked very little about his private life, I did know he had
married young and they had a son a few years later. His wife died in
childbirth and Dusty left the son with his parents. He saw the kid a few
times a year and, while he had given the kid everything he wanted
materially, they were almost strangers to each other. When Dusty's dad
died, I expected him to send the kid to boarding school, but he continued
living with his grandmother.

"`Dakota, I guess I should have expected it, but I didn't. Kyle called last
night to tell me his granny -- my mom -- dropped dead yesterday. I'm flying
out in a couple hours and I won't be back.' He handed me a check, for well
more than half what the company was worth, and said, `I'm retiring and
think you should do the same.' I took his advice and sold the company, but
after a couple months I was bored to death and started a consulting
business.

"After doing consulting all over the world, I was in Yemen advising a
company on the necessity of changing its focus since the oil there is near
an end. I was thinking about that and suddenly realized that not only oil,
but also people reached an end, so to speak. In my heart of hearts I knew I
was gay and knew I had never stopped loving Jess. A few weeks later, I was
back in the States and I saw an announcement of his coming exhibition at La
Casa. Made arrangements to fly down and, I guess, you know the rest. What a
waste of years when we could have been together, but the good part is now
we are."

"And I thought Justin and I had wasted a lot of years," I said.

"But you have a lot of years before you," Mr. Nixson said.

"So do we, Jess," Mr. Everest said. "Maybe not as many as these two guys,
but they will be good ones."

"But they are just out of high school," Sissy said. "How many high school
romances last?"

"True, not many do, but I never stopped loving Jess nor he me, even when I
tried," Mr. Everest said. "Well, I think we are well on our way and it's
well past my lunchtime. Anyone else hungry?"

"We're teens. We're always hungry," Justin said.

"Bet it's not the only thing you're always," Mr. Nixson said, then --
realizing, I guess, there were women present -- added quickly, "sorry
ladies."

Bobbie, with an evil look in her eye, said, "Not gender exclusive," as she
grabbed Adam's thigh.

Mr. Everest said he had arranged to be host rather than have one on the
plane so there was just a crew of two, the pilot and first
officer. "Thought you might welcome the privacy," he said as he explained
the short crew. With the help of Adam and me, we managed to put on a great
spread: cheeses and crackers, veggies and dips -- some very strange to me,
but delicious -- sandwiches and wraps and an assortment of drinks. For
dessert we had fruits of all kinds and some great cookies.

While we were eating, Justin asked, "What happened to Dusty and Kyle?"

"Good question," Mr. Everest said. "Well, Kyle was in high school when
Dusty retired, and the two had a pretty rough time for a while. Dusty, of
course, had no experience with kids, much less a teenager, and Kyle wasn't
about to let a stranger tell him what to do. Fortunately, Dusty had done
enough consulting to know that an outsider is often needed to set things
right. With Kyle's willingness, the help of a good counselor and the fact
that the grandparents had done a good job, by the end of the school year,
the two had at least started to tolerate each other.

"They made a trip to Florida and one day were watching a sailing ship come
in and Kyle said he'd always dreamed of going on one. Dusty immediately
chartered a boat and they cruised around for a couple weeks. Both fell in
love with it and Kyle suggested they sail around the world. Took a year to
get ready, but the last time I heard from them, they had a ship and crew,
and were already somewhere in the Pacific."

"What about school?" ever-practical Susan asked.

"Tutor on board. Kyle's already accepted at Trinity College for spring
semester."

"Nice story," I said, as we cleaned up from lunch.

As soon as we had cleaned up, Mr. Nixson said, "You guys know our story,
what about yours?" That led to the whole story of our first trip to La Casa
and my and Justin's getting together and Adam and Bobbie's breakup and,
later, their reconciliation and all that had gone on between, including the
latest -- the attempt to frame us.

When we mentioned the jacked-up truck trying to force us off the road,
Mr. Nixson said, "I've seen that truck around a few times when I have been
out. You know, there's something going on in the swamp. A couple times when
I have been out in my boat, I was sure I was being watched, but never saw
anything."

Our story finished, Sissy told of his coming to grips with what he had
known about himself as long as he could remember. "I had no role model and
given the homophobia in my community, I knew I was in for a rough time. I
took two routes. I became such a flaming gay that no-one took me seriously
and I really got into martial arts." He laughed. "Most were afraid I was
`catching' and those who got too close and tried to harm my body `caught'
it -- a flying foot or whatever. They soon learned to leave me
alone. Funny, being on center stage all the time, people overlook the real
you."

We talked about that and Sissy, always center stage, told a dozen very
funny stories of both his flaming gay and his ninja sides.

Finally, the only story left was Dr. Macon's. I guess he realized that as
well because he said, "Gee, anything I have to say will seem pretty
dull. My dad was -- is -- a doctor. Mom was a nurse he met when he was
interning and they married after a brief courtship. I was born three years
later and we lived a pretty ideal life in small Midwestern town until I was
in sixth grade. I don't know all the details, but a young man in our town
hung himself. He and his family were friends and the suicide devastated
Dad. I, of course, was very upset, but he was several years older than I
and I wasn't told why the suicide had happened. I learned later it was
because he was gay.

"After six months of his moping, Mom suggested Dad actually do something
and he decided he'd work on becoming a psychiatrist. He did and for many
years had an active practice in Chicago working with gay men and boys. He
focused especially on those rejected by their families and those who were
victims of abuse and rape. When Mon died about seven years ago, he decided
there was no reason to endure another Chicago winter, so he retired, moved
to a small town near La Casa. Actually, to say he retired is a laugh. He
does a lot of consulting and working with doctors who are concerned with
their gay patients and, lately, doctors who have gay patients but have
difficulty dealing with their own attitudes toward gays. He still takes on
a few patients -- mostly very difficult cases or ones he encounters among
friends or a few I have referred to him. He also takes me in hand for
training once or twice a year. He'd like for me to become a psychiatrist
but, so far, I enjoy my general practice too much to give it up."

"Guess that explains why you were so sensitive to Sandy and his plight,"
Bobbie said.

"That," Dr. Macon laughed, "and the fact that I am gay. As a matter of
fact, not only am I going to visit Dad on this trip, but also meeting
Daniel, my soon-to-be husband. We are being married in Vermont in June."

"Hope you're not leaving Elizabethton," I said.

"Well, I guess that depends," he responded. "Daniel says he will be
perfectly happy to go where I want -- need -- to go so long as it doesn't
have rotten winters. Since he can work anywhere, whether we stay in
Elizabethton will depend on how we are accepted after we are out -- as we
will be as soon as we start living together."

"You can always join us in the swamp," Mr. Nixson laughed.

"Afraid I don't know much about doctoring 'gaters," the doctor chuckled.

"Doctor, you seem to be missing something," Sissy said. "We've heard your
father's story, but not yours."

Dr. Macon laughed and said, "You're right. Part of it is that I find my
father's story much more interesting and a part of it is that I really
don't think there's much story. Growing up with dad and especially after he
began a psychiatric practice, it seemed some people were straight and some
people were gay and that was just the way it was. I mean, I did know there
were some who were homophobic -- after all, a number of dad's patients had
been victims and there was no way I couldn't know that -- but it never
touched me until I was in high school and a classmate was beaten senseless
and had `fag' branded on his chest. I couldn't ignore that.

"I had known I was gay, as most gay men do, I think, by the time I was
thirteen or before. Knowing it with the head is not knowing it, as I'm sure
you gay guys would agree. When Calvin was beaten, it made me accept the
fact that I was gay and that there were people who did not know me who
hated me. Having lived in a caring, loving, accepting world all my life, I
had a real crisis. I mean, I really crashed and burned. Dad recommended a
therapist who had just started working with groups of teens -- gay,
straight, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, whatever. I expected him to
send me to an old, established therapist who would prescribe the right
pills to make me comfortable again. Turned out he was a young man. Still, I
must admit, I was a reluctant participant in the group sessions he
recommended -- to be honest, I was a real ass.

"One young man in particular really got under my skin. I wasn't sure why,
but more and more I was nasty to him, making fun of his contributions and
his situation. One afternoon, after a session, Dad was unable to pick me up
and said I should wait until he could send someone or, if I wanted, I could
walk home. It was probably a couple miles, but I was used to walking. I
told him I'd walk. You might guess, Dan, the guy who I gave a hard time,
walked out behind me and started walking in the same direction. I pretended
to ignore him, but he called to me, `Asshole, you could at least be civil
since we're headed in the same direction.'

"`How do you know, Asshole?'

"`Because I live six or eight blocks from where the famous Dr. Macon lives
and I assume you're headed home, Asshole.' We were now walking alongside
each other. `Anyway, I think your problem is you've never been laid and you
have the hots for me. Yeah, that's your problem. You're a fucking
virgin. Bet you've never even been properly kissed.'

"I could feel my face turning red because, in fact, I had never been
kissed, well, at least by a man who wasn't `kissing kin,'" Dr. Macon
laughed.

"`Take off the frigging backpack,' Dan said as he slid his from his
shoulders.

"I had been taught, of course, that fighting and violence were
animal-like. While I had a black belt in martial arts for a couple years, I
was not to use it except in self-defense, but I guess this was testosterone
time and my backpack was soon on the ground and I prepared to defend
myself, except Dan wasn't cooperating. He just stood there, a big smile on
his face as my temper started to rise and all that discipline and training
I had been taught at home and the dojo was going out the window. Finally,
like an ordinary street thug, I was so pissed -- sorry ladies -- I just
rushed toward him. He opened his arms, pulled me into an embrace and
planted his lips on mine.

"I was shocked, surprised at first, but before long had opened my mouth and
welcomed his tongue and the kiss went on and on and on. Before it was over,
I think I was close to giving as well as I was receiving," Dr. Macon
laughed.

"When we finally broke it, Dan said, `Well, I think that solves one of your
problems. I think you have now been properly kissed.' To which I replied,
`I'm not sure,' smiled, and started a new round of kissing. That time when
we broke the kiss, I grinned and said, `Yeah, I think I have been properly
kissed.' A week later, I brought Dan home and introduced him to my mom and
dad as my boyfriend. They were happy for me. His parents? Strange, they had
been so accepting of his sexuality until it started manifesting itself in a
relationship. We had all sorts of rules and restrictions at their place and
I was never made to feel welcome.

"It was the spring of our junior year when we exchanged our first kiss and,
showing some discretion, we were boyfriends. We never faced any open
hostility the way you guys have, but a more subtle kind in abundance. We
made love at my place, on some camping trips and all, but open shows of
affection were rare.

"The fall before, Dad and several of his friends were dove hunting -- his
yearly excursion into violence -- in rural Indiana and as they were headed
back to their vehicles, in came a downpour. They took shelter in a barn and
while the downpour continued, Dad noticed a tarp-covered car. It was a 1957
T'bird convertible. It was in reasonable good shape and he noted the
farmhouse's address and, to make along story short, he managed to buy it
and he and I spent a lot of Saturdays restoring it. When we finished it was
a beauty. I expected him to give it to me, but I had gotten a
seven-year-old Ford Ranger the year before when I got my license.

"I was seventeen the week before school was out and was surprised and
delighted when I opened my birthday present at breakfast and found a key to
the T'bird. Friday, the day school was out, there was a party at a friend's
house and Dan and I were invited, as a couple. We had a wonderful evening
and I drove him home in my pride and joy. We were so busy talking about the
summer that I guess we just forgot and walked to his front door, holding
hands. It was getting late, so when we reached the front door, I gave him a
peck on the lips and turned to go. He was having none of that and soon he
were making sure I was properly kissed again. While my tongue was in his
mouth, our legs entwined and the obvious result of our passion hard between
us, the porch light came on, the door burst open and his father was
shouting at me, calling me pervert and faggot and ordering me off his
property.

"Dan didn't call and when I called him, his parents wouldn't call him to
phone. He simply disappeared. It was a week later that I learned he had
been banished to a summer camp in Canada and would be in a California
college in the fall. I got a letter from him while he was in camp and wrote
every day, but got few replies. Once he was in college I never heard from
him. Crushed, I threw myself into my school work, and did well, very, very
well. He came home Christmas and I saw him at a party and really didn't
know him he had changed so much. He was a real stuffed-shirt jerk.

"I went to a small college near home and, again, did well. I was lonely,
but never had a desire to move on. As little as Dan was who he once was, I
still dreamed of him that way. My internship found me in California and one
night at a party during a break, I saw him across the room. `Dan?' I called
to him. He turned and with a very superior air said, `Daniel.'

"`Dan or Daniel,' I replied, `when was the last time you were properly
kissed?' He laughed and said, `Maybe when I was not yet sixteen.' I saw the
boy I had loved and knew he was now the man I loved. He came across the
room, and was standing before me when I embraced him and showed him he had
taught me well. I did go along with the name change! His dad had made it
clear he'd be on his own if he contacted me while in college and he said
he'd tried to forget me, but never had.

"He was a budding architect in Chicago and had returned for the party -- I
later learned he had known I would be there. We maintained a long-distance
relationship until I managed to get a residency in Chicago. We had several
happy years, but I ended up in Elizabethton and he studied in Europe, then
spent a couple years in Asia, becoming well-known in his field. He's now in
a position to work from anywhere and fell in love with the area when he
first came to Elizabethton and has found a deeper attachment each time he
has returned. End of the story to this moment."

"Wow, someone should write a short story called `Journey to La Casa,'"
Bobbie laughed.

I guess we all soon became lost in our own thoughts about the stories we
had heard -- and our own stories -- and slowly drifted asleep.

We were awakened to the sound of the captain announcing, "We are
approaching our final destination. Seat backs and tray tables up and
locked, seat belts fastened. We'll be on the ground in fifteen minutes."

"Or sooner if this thing falls out of the air," Adam groaned, still half
asleep.

The plane landed and we all thanked the crew and were headed for our
luggage when a van arrived, driven by Antwon. Sitting beside him was
Sharky. The two hopped out and there were hugs all around for old
friends. That completed, Antwon said, "I'm Antwon and this is my husband,
Sharky."

"Damn, a good-looking gay brother and he's snatched up by a honky," Sissy
said, very dramatically.

"Lay yo' hands on that brother and this honky will put you out of yo'
jealous misery," Sharkey looked menacing, then laughed.

"Sharky, Antwon, may I present his blackness -- well, his semi-blackness --
Walter Stepphenwolf Lancaster, known to his fans as Sissy and, I guess, his
whiteness -- actually his brownish pinkish whiteness -- Michael Duncan," I
said. The two, of course, knew Mr. Nixson, Mr. Everest and
Dr. Macon. "Sandy Thurmond, John's new adopted brother and Michael's lover
will be flying in Tuesday night, if he does well on his finals."

"Given his handsome boyfriend, he'll ace them all," Sharkey laughed as he
shook hands with Michael.

"I didn't notice, but is the plane plastered with triangles for insignia?"
Antwon grinned.

"Well, the ratio does favor our team this time," Justin said with a smile.

We all piled into the van and headed for La Casa.

When we arrived, the front doors burst open and Mrs. Crandall and
Mrs. Metzer rushed to the top steps. They stopped and Mrs. Crandall spread
her arms wide and said in a loud voice, "Mi casa es su casa! Welcome,
welcome all!" There was a hugfest on the steps. That completed,
Mrs. Crandall said, "Clan, your old rooms are as before. If individuals
need to swap roommates, that's up to you. Mr. Duncan...."

"Michael, please."

"Michael, you and Mr. Lancaster...."

"Sissy, please."

"Sissy?"

"Sissy," he replied.

"I think not," Mrs. Crandall said, eyebrow raised signaling `my word is
law.' "Stepphenwolf, Stepphen, or Wolf, as you prefer."

Clearly Sissy had met his match. "Then Wolf it is," he said with a courtly
bow which Mrs. Crandall acknowledged with a slight bow of the head.

"Wolf and Michael, one of you can have the second bedroom in Marc's suite
and the other the suite next to John. Sandy will join you, Michael, when he
arrives. Mr. Nixson, Mr. Everest and Dr. Macon, you are welcome to stay
over if you change your mind about driving into Key West after dinner.
Well, freshen up, get settled and we'll meet in the sunroom for drinks in
forty-five minutes." We all nodded.

Post-secondary School Visitation was underway!


Note: Chapters will likely come slowly for awhile. Sorry, but my life is
pretty hectic right now and there seems to be little hope for change in the
near future. Sequoyah