Date: Fri, 25 Apr 2014 12:35:01 -0400 (EDT)
From: DJAkeeba@aol.com
Subject: Tragedy in the Blood, Chapters 38 & 39

This story is about male/male relationships and contains graphic
descriptions of sex.  You should not read this story if it is in any way
illegal due to your age or residence.

This is a work of pure fiction. This story is the sole property of its
author and may not be copied in whole or in part or posted on any website
without the permission of the author.

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-------------------------

TRAGEDY IN THE BLOOD
by Steven H. Davis
Chapter 38

Blaine didn't go into too much detail about what had happened to him at
Elden Croyle's house of horrors, but he didn't have to.  It was written all
over his face.

"It went on for a long time," was all he said.  "A really, really long
time."

He glossed over much of his remaining time in that little North Carolina
town, and then told us how he had finally found his way to Asheville, where
he had found work at a convenience store which had sustained him -- barely
-- through a brief marriage to a young woman named Susan Ross.

"Susie was the love of my life," Blaine said.  "But I wasn't the love of
hers.  She had fallen for a guy named Jerry when she was in high school,
and he had left Asheville to go to New York right afterwards.  It didn't
work out for him there, so about six months into our marriage he came back.
And that's when our marriage ended."

"What happened?" I asked.

Blaine looked up at me, his eyes raw and red.

"It was almost funny because it was so cliched," he said slowly.  "It was
just like one of those TV soap operas.  I got a stomach ache at work,
probably from eating one of those damn microwave hot dogs.  So I got a
co-worker to cover for me and decided to go home early.  When I got there,
I saw Jerry's Pacer in the driveway.  I should have turned around and left
right then and there, but some stupid thing inside me always needs to know
everything for sure.  So I go inside the house, and there's clothes on the
living room floor, and noises in the bedroom.  So I followed the noises,
opened the bedroom door, and... well, there they were."

Pain and bitterness were etched on Blaine's face as he recalled the moment
that he had found the girl who had meant love, redemption, and everything
else to him in the arms of another man.

Blaine had left Asheville then and came to Texas in search of his father
and brother.  He had seen Sly on television a few times speaking about
Maggie Maxwell's death, and knew that he had moved to San Antonio with
Taine in an attempt to start over.

"I wanted to start over, too," Blaine said.  "But it's never as easy as
just saying that.  I was really worried how both Dad and Taine would react.
I kind of figured that since Dad had bailed like I did, that he would maybe
understand more why I had to do what I did.  So I found that little motel
by the school and I contacted him.  I guess Dad told you the rest."

With that, Blaine sat back in his deck-chair, emotionally spent.  He was
looking straight ahead, and I was glad that he wasn't requiring me to have
an immediate reaction.

I looked from Blaine to Sly to Taine.

I had no idea what I was supposed to say.

Blaine had laid out a story so thick with pain, anguish, bad decisions and
guilt that I had no point of reference for handling it all.

I decided that I needed to talk to Taine, alone.  I needed to know how he
felt about Blaine's abandoning him, his reappearance, and his desire to be
part of the Maxwell family again, to be Taine's brother again.

Sly seemed to sense my confusion and indecision.  He stood from his
deck-chair and gestured for Blaine to follow him into the house.

Blaine seemed to want to say something more, but obeyed his father and left
Taine and me outside by ourselves.

I stood up and went to a spot in front of Taine's chair.

Squatting between his Jegs sneakers and taking both of his hands in mine, I
looked up into his face.  His expression was blank, but his eyes held
multitudes of swirling emotions.

I wanted so badly to just comfort him, but I needed some direction.  I
needed him to tell me how to react to Blaine's story.

"What do you want to do, Babes?" I asked him, my eyes pleading for
guidance.  "What do you want me to do?"

His eyes focused on mine, but his blank expression didn't change.

"I don't want to talk anymore," he said flatly.  "I want you to hold me in
your arms and make love to me and make all of this go away."

"Okay."

So I took him by the hand, led him past Sly and Blaine without a word, and
began to climb the stairs to his room, the blind leading the blind to a
place of the only comfort I could give him, a comfort beyond mere words.

We made sweet, tender love, both of us crying intermittently, holding and
stroking each other as gently and solicitously as two lost souls ever have.

When our climaxes came, they were slow, vulnerable, and deeply felt,
joining us together in a soft bed of love, pain, and our mingled tears.

----------------------------------

We showered for what seemed like hours, although it was probably only
fifteen or twenty minutes.

We stood facing each other, holding each other's slippery, nude and fragile
bodies under the warm, gentle water.  We kissed gently as the water poured
over us, tenderly licking each other's lips and tongues, our eyes open the
entire time.

We gazed deeply into each other's souls, perhaps looking for some answers
to our own roiling emotions, while each of us reassured the other that we
were in this together, no matter what.

The hat issue seemed long forgotten, and all that mattered was getting each
other through the next second, the next minute, and prolonging our shower
for as long as possible before we finally had to get dressed and go
downstairs.

Neither of us was anxious to do that, because then we would have to answer
the unspoken question raised by Sly's well-orchestrated presentation of
Blaine and his story.

Finally, Taine nodded and stepped away from me.

I turned off the water and we got out of the shower, gently toweling each
other dry as we had a few days before.

It had only been a few days, I thought, and in those few days, it seemed
that almost everything in our lives had suddenly changed, except for our
commitment to each other.  That seemed to have only grown stronger.

We came together for one last nude embrace before dressing, and held each
other tightly as if we were drowning and needed that embrace to avoid being
swept away forever.

Reluctantly, we separated and put on our clothes.

When we were dressed, Taine looked at me once again and sighed, a look of
determination coming over his face.  He headed toward the steps, and I
followed him.

As we walked, I realized two things.

The first was that we had not spoken a single word to each other since we
had been upstairs.

The second was that Taine was not wearing his hat.

------------------------------

We found Sly and Blaine standing in the kitchen, facing each other with
worried expressions.  Sly moved back away from Blaine as Taine entered,
with me keeping a respectful distance behind.

Sly gave me a questioning glance, to which I returned a shrug.  I really
had no idea what was about to happen.

Taine stopped about three feet in front of his brother, and they just
looked at each other for a while.

Both of them seemed to be doing what Taine and I had done just a few
days... a few days!... before, sending each other silent messages with
their eyes, their minds, their hearts.

But for them, those messages went back for years.

I didn't know what they were saying to each other with their silent stares,
but apparently they each got the message.

First, Blaine opened his arms.  It wasn't a wide gesture, or a big one. He
just shifted his arms ever so slightly -- almost imperceptibly -- so that
if you didn't have an idea what he was doing, you might not have noticed.

Sly noticed, and had an expectant look on his face.  I knew what outcome he
was hoping for, and I think that in that split second, I had decided that I
was hoping for the same result.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Taine moved forward until he was about a foot away
from his brother.  Then he threw himself into Blaine's arms, and all four
of us were crying again.

After a minute or two, my Babes and his brother drew apart slightly.

Blaine looked at me, and it was a question.

Then Taine looked at me, and it was an invitation.

I threw myself into both of their arms, and then Sly came over and did the
same.

The four of us were hugging and crying together in one big lump of joy and
need and pain and acceptance, and I felt as if it wasn't just my lover who
had found a brother that day, but that I had suddenly gained a brother as
well.

----------------------------------

Chapter 39

	*I was a little too tall/
	Could've used a few pounds/
	Tight pants points hardly reknown*

I stood in my back yard, looking at the moon.

So much had happened.  So many strange and wondrous events.  I had found
the love of my life, after so much pain.  I had been brought close to
wonder, had brushed it, and had felt its gifts.

I had, I thought, found my soulmate in Taine.  We had both tasted pain.
Had suckled at its roots.  Had become familiar with its name.

	*She was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes/
	And points all her own sitting way up high/
	Way up firm and high*

I stood in my backyard and considered my options.  Taine had what he needed
now.  He had a brother, a father, a family.  What did I have?  I lost my
father, my mother, all my old friends.  That bastard jock and his friends
killed my dog.  And it was only a matter of time before I lost Taine.

I looked across the flat Texas land, stretching from my back yard all the
way across the plains.  To Lubbock, to Katy, to Abilene.

	*Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy/
	Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy/
	Workin' on mysteries without any clues/
	Workin' on our night moves*

What future did I see for myself?  Would I find some love out there greater
than my love for Taine?  Never.  Would I ever be happy in any career, any
job that didn't include Taine?  Never.

I stood in my back yard, contemplating what could be.  What could be now.
After Taine.  A.T.  Shit.

	*Tryin' to make some front page drive-in news/
	Workin' on our night moves/
	In the summertime/
	In the sweet summertime*

I felt that what I couldn't possibly know in that mysterious, amorphous
"future" everyone kept talking about was what I carried inside myself.
That I was stupid.  I was smart, I was an honor roll student and would be a
debate champion and would be... well, shit.  I was smart, but I was stupid.

	*We weren't in love oh no far from it/
	We weren't searching for some pie in the sky summit/
	We were just young and restless and bored/
	Living by the sword*

Did I really love Taine?... I wondered.  Was I just swept away by his pain?
If Taine was ever happy, would I still love him?  I kicked Texas mud from
my boots, drifted across the yard.  Where was Foxy?  Where was anybody?

I wandered over to the old shed, far in back of the yard.  Aluminum siding,
rusty, barely standing.  Like me.

	*And we'd steal away every chance we could/
	To the backroom, the alley, the trusty woods/
	I used her she used me/
	But neither one cared/
	We were getting our share*

I looked around, stealthily, like anyone would even be awake to notice,
then pulled the door of the shed open on its rusty tracks.  It screamed
like I was hurting it.

	*Workin' on our night moves/
	Trying to lose the awkward teenage blues/
	Workin' on out night moves/
	In the summertime*

I slid the door open, ever so slowly, and stepped inside.  It was warm in
there.  Humid.  Almost comforting, like a womb. The daddy-longlegs almost
fit into the picture that played in my mind.

	*And oh the wonder/
	Felt the lightning/
	And we waited on the thunder/
	Waited on the thunder*

I smiled then, and I don't know why.  I picked up a campfire lantern,
clicked the button to turn it on, and shone it around the inside of the
shed.  There were file boxes.  There were some of my childhood toys.  There
were pictures in a box.  Pictures of Rex and Tynah when they were happy.
Pictures of them with my mom and dad.  Everything looked so... so possible
then.  And then I came along.

The condom broke.  That was the mystery.  That was the secret.  That was
all there was.  That was the meaning of life.  At least for me.  It became
very hot in the shed.  Very humid.  I knew that Taine would be better off
without me confusing him.  I knew that what I was about to do was right.

I didn't know about things like chemical imbalances and clinical
depression.  I didn't recognize that something really good had just
happened over at Sly's house, and that the emotional high had sent me into
a reactive tailspin, and that it could get better in an hour.  All I knew
was that, at that moment, feeling the lowest I had ever felt in my life,
and the future only looked like a black tunnel with no end.

I loved Taine.  But he needed more.  He needed to be normal.  He needed
tits.  Big, fat, lactating tits.  He didn't like pussy at all, that was
always my rope.  My rope to cling to.  He didn't like pussy.  He liked
tits, like gay guys did.  Pussy grossed him out.  He couldn't possibly be
lost to me as long as pussy grossed him out.

Hell, I was bisexual, wasn't I?  I loved him more than life and I liked
pussy more than he did.  Sure I did... I liked the smell, the taste, and he
didn't, and he only loved tits like a ... like a... oh, fuck, like I wanted
him to be.

I would never have him.  And he was all I wanted.  The only thing I ever
wanted.

But... he had his Dad now.  Sly.  And Sly was the best dad anyone could
want.

And he had companionship now.  He had Blaine back.  His brother.  All the
holes that Taine had been missing were filled now.  There was no room for
me.  I was the problem.  I was the faggot that would compromise who he
wanted to be.

	*I woke last night to the sound of thunder/
	How far off I sat and wondered/
	Started humming a song from 1962/
	Ain't it funny how the night moves*

I looked to the top shelf of the shed.  There was Rex's shotgun, wrapped in
a nice, red velvet casing.  I stood up on tiptoes, beckoning it forward
with my fingertips until it slid slowly off the top shelf and into my arms.

It felt good in my arms.  It felt right.

I slid the soft felt covering off of the gun and ran my fingers over its
smooth, well-oiled wooden surface.

	*When you just don't seem to have as much to lose/
	Strange how the night moves/
	With autumn closing in*

I sat down on the floor of the shed.  I felt so tired.  So tired, and I was
only fifteen years old.  I knew that I could keep going. I could go to
college, graduate, take any number of ridiculous jobs.  Live on past 30,
past 40, past a marriage or two or three, and all I would ever want was
Taine.

And I would never have him.

Not really.

I would have him for a moment, or a day, or a week.  I might have him
clutching me on a dirty couch in a shitty apartment when he felt lonely.  I
might be able to rub his feet after work if he didn't ever get up the nerve
to talk to a young Mexican slut with tits big enough to make him able to
ignore his real feelings.

But he was so far inside himself that not only me, but no one would ever be
able to bring him out.  It was time for me to realize that I wasn't
fighting some amorphous, big-titted phantom hoax.  I was fighting time.
And time always wins.

I caressed the barrel of the shotgun, and I stretched it across my legs as
I laid against the wall of that rusty aluminum shed.

"Third place, and qualifying for State... from James K. Polk High
School... Richard Spivey!"

I put the barrel of the gun in my mouth, sucked it like I had Jeff
Salzburg's fat, insistent penis.  I closed my eyes, and all I could see was
Taine.  Taine's hurt, sad eyes.  Taine, who I loved more than life itself,
but knew even from the beginning that he couldn't love me.  He wanted what
wasn't possible, like I did.  He wanted a woman who didn't exist.  I wanted
a man who did exist, but not for me.  Not for me.  Never for me.

I looked at the ceiling of the shed, and I hoped that this one book I read
in 5th grade was true.  This book said that when you died, you got the one
thing you always wanted in life, but didn't get.

I said one word.

I said "Taine."

And then I pulled the trigger.

	*Night moves!/
	Oh, ain't it funny how the night moves/
	Night moves!/
	Lord I remember, oh I remember, how I remember/
	The night moves/
	Night moves*

-----------------------------------

Thank you for reading Chapters 38 & 39.  To be continued...

"Night Moves" written by Bob Seger. Performed by Bob Seger & The Silver
Bullet Band.  c 1976 by Capitol Records.

Chemical imbalances and clinical depression are real and dangerous
conditions.  If you or someone you know struggles with self-harm or
suicidal ideation, I urge you to get some help, and if you are in a
critical place, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at
1-800-273-8255.

Once again, I'm always happy to hear from readers at DJAkeeba@aol.com.  You
have all been so supportive and encouraging, and I thank you all for your
e-mails.

If you're enjoying this story and others on Nifty, please consider making a
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