Hello! First of all, THANKYOU!!! for the barrage of wonderful letters! I now have no doubt whatsoever that a lot of people are reading and enjoying this story!!! And a special thanks to g, Jim, Guy and my 'brother' Buddy, as well as several others who helped me remember what I knew before I started this story on nifty: I write for my own satisfaction, the pleasure it brings me to craft a story, regardless of the amount of feedback. And besides that, pt5 may have gotten fewer letters, but they were really great ones! Oh, and thanks to Max for your beautiful, poetic letters and the precious memories that I will write as a story. And Neil, your memories are wonderful and sexy too- squeeze it when you think of that Marine! MarCar-- HOT PICS! Love ya guys! Everybody please donate to Nifty! What a wonderful thing they provide for you and me!!!!!!!
I certainly enjoy every letter I get! I enjoy talking with all of you guys and girls out there (there are ladies reading and writing these stories too guys!-- You gotta check out JFinn's "Human Condition" in college sect, wonderful story!!!) and hope to hear from you all again. But please don't write out of guilt-- only write if you are moved to. It was childish of me to add that into that note, in a weak moment, and I hope the writer gods strike me with a bolt of lightning!-- cuz I'll probably get hard.8<) I wasn't full of shit when I said I have a lot going on right now, though. So please be patient, and I'll write when I can.
And a very special THANK YOU to Jayne for editing this chapter for me!!! And I really hope she'll do it again, cause she was such a huge help! Here's pt7:
Standard disclaimers apply. Usage/distribution, see pts 1-4.
TUTORING JERRY PT7: INTO THE ARMS OF ANGELS
"Well?! What's going on here, Jerry?" Mrs. Loring demanded again, a little less shrill.
"Mom I... mom I..." Jerry stammered, fell silent and slumped, hanging his head.
I couldn't see his face then. I hadn't, and still couldn't, move a muscle. I know Mrs. Loring could see the look of sheer terror on my face-- mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Every time she would look at me, my blood ran cold and my gut wrenched painfully. If looks could kill, I would have been cremated.
She was a striking woman. She was movie star beautiful. Bleached blonde hair and big tits--just like Brenda, I thought, but taller, and with a very confident, imposing, professional demeanor. Even stunned, she looked composed. I could see where Jerry got his cheeks and lips, but not his eyes.
Mrs. Loring's eyes were icy blue. She waited silently for a few moments for Jerry to continue. When she saw he wouldn't, or couldn't, she took her hand off the light switch and turned away.
"Get dressed and come downstairs... Both of you," she said flatly, as she pulled the door shut.
Neither of us moved an inch. It was probably only thirty seconds, but seemed like an hour. I couldn't even speak, let alone think. Jerry's head still hung down. I heard a faint sound and realized what he was saying as he became audible, getting louder each time he said it, and slowly raising his head till he was looking at the ceiling,
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Fuck, FUck, FUCk, FUCK, FUCK!!!!" I was afraid she heard the last couple of those. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling and took several deep breaths.
I still couldn't even twitch a muscle, except for the knots my stomach was continually tying itself into. He leveled his gaze and turned it slowly to me. When he saw my face he started laughing! I couldn't believe it! He fucking started laughing!
I was still paralyzed and speechless, so I couldn't react to him. He kept laughing as he turned his body and came down on his elbow behind me. I was still lying on my side, up on my right elbow with my neck and shoulder aching from holding my head up toward the door all this time. My first movement was turning my head even more to look at him behind me. I don't think my expression changed, but he could see the big question mark of-- what's so fucking funny?-- in my eyes.
"I'm sorry, Danny," he laughed some more and wound it down to a chuckle. "I'm sorry, but dude, if you could see your face! I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, well I am, but--" He saw my expression soften and grinned, "-- If you could a seen your face!"
He looked at me for a moment; then his smile withered. "Oh man, oh shit. Goddamn, Danny, what do I do?" His eyes were wide as saucers, "I'm not ready for this. I can't face her! I don't know what to say!"
He was pleading with his eyes, for something I couldn't come up with at that moment.
I was totally at a loss, still trying to process this. I was so terrified of his mother, I had almost peed the bed when her glare stayed on me for a few seconds-- there was no way I could go down there-- no way. I'd jump out the window before I'd go down there! I couldn't go down there.
I turned my body around to face him, and looked into his eyes. My heart just melted. I had no fucking clue what to do. Seeing the panic in his eyes took my mind off my panic and shock, at least for the moment. I was left only with the need to comfort him. I leaned in and kissed him softly. My eyes were closed as I felt our lips meet. When I opened them, I saw Jerry looking sidelong at the door. He pulled back.
"Danny, what do I do? What do I say? I can't fuckin' believe this is happening!" he sat up, pushed the covers off and stood, dazed and confused.
I watched him look around for clothes. He went to the loveseat and picked up the robe I had worn from the floor beside it. He noticed it had dried cum all over it and tried to decide what to do with it. He started walking around from place to place and back again, speeding up as he got more frantic, finally throwing the robe into a wooden box under the model airplane table. He pulled a pair of shorts out of the dresser and started to step into them; but changed his mind. He threw them down and went back to dig in the drawer. He stopped in mid motion and turned my way.
"Oh shit! Your clothes are in the gym! Fuck!" He threw his arms up in surrender. "What are we gonna do?" His arms fell heavily to his side and he sat back against the dresser, shaking his head.
I looked at his amazingly beautiful body and worried if I had missed kissing or licking any little area, any centimeter. My tongue tingled with the knowledge of his skin, feeling the blood pulsing in the veins beneath it, the muscles flexing, his heartbeat reverberating through his pores, his scent inebriating me, and I thought of the little symphony of sounds his stomach made when I laid my head on it, basking in the glow...
I took in the view of him and cursed myself for feeling my cock twitch even in a crisis like this. I looked away from my Adonis and made myself stay in the present.
"You have anything too small for you in here?" I asked hesitantly.
I scooted to the edge of the bed, squishing my right nut under me on the way. I grimaced in pain and adjusted myself on the side of the bed. I felt my asshole and blushed crimson as I realized I'd had cum leaking out of my ass too, when she discovered us. Hell, there were at least three loads in there, and a couple more in my stomach.
He went into the bathroom and came back out with the robe he'd worn, tossing it to me. He went to the dresser and pulled out some briefs, sweatpants and a tee shirt. He looked like he was getting control of himself. He got dressed at the loveseat, then stood up and looked at me.
"You gotta wear the robe out there, Danny. I know that makes it even worse, but everything I've got is way too big for you, it'd just fall off, or at least be real obvious they ain't your clothes."
"Jerry-- I can't go down there." My heart raced, and I couldn't breathe. It didn't matter to me if I was clothed or naked-- I just couldn't face Her, after what she'd seen and the looks she gave me.
He tried to sound comforting, "Ya got no choice, Danny..."
"Did you see how she looked at me!? There's no way I can face her! I can't go out there, Jerry! She hates me!"
"She don't even know you. It's me she'll be after."
He came to me and picked the robe up and held it in front of me as he spoke. I stared at the full, probably obscene, bulge in his sweatpants.
"You can't stay in here forever, she'll fucking come 'n get you-- I know my mom." I took the robe and held it. He put his hand on my shoulder. "We don't have any options, Danny. We gotta go down there. Oh! Hey! Wait, I could go get your clothes from the gym!" he was like, duh! "Yeah, I'll be right back!"
He sprinted out the door, leaving it open. I heard him respond to his mother when he reached the first floor. I couldn't hear her voice, and could only make out 'gym' and 'be right back' from him.
He came back with my shoes, clothes and backpack. I got dressed and sat there, shaking my head no. "Jerry... man I just can't go out there."
He took me by the arm and gently pulled me up and hugged me tightly into him. "I'm just as scared as you are, Danny, believe me. Like I said, I know my mom. I don't know what the hell I'm gonna say, but we gotta go."
I clung to him, burying my face in his chest, refusing to let go. He moved to go. I tried to absorb myself into his body. I could feel and hear his heart beating rapidly.
"We gotta go, Danny."
He reached down and pried my arms from around his back and held them out from our sides. We looked into each other's eyes. He released my arms and brought his hands up to cradle my head, pulling me in to kiss me on the lips.
He pressed his nose into mine and said softly, "No matter what happens, just remember I love you, no matter what."
I tingled. Then I freaked.
He led me out by the arm. It's embarrassing to admit, at seventeen, almost eighteen, but I really was afraid I was gonna pee my pants. I had never been so scared in my life-- very different than the fear I had when Jerry found out. This was like: might as well have still been fucking when she caught us-- and to be caught by a MOM-- HIS MOM.
She was waiting in the airplane hanger of a family room, staring at the enormous black marble fireplace, with a large glass of Chivas, neat, in her hand and the bottle on the coffee table in front of her. I didn't think that was a good sign. Seeing Jerry dragging me in there like a child on his way to a whuppin' would have been comical to an outside observer. It wasn't funny to me at the time.
As we sat down on the other side of the huge, round, overstuffed white sofa, I nearly sat on his lap. He wiggled sideways and I leaned into him. I didn't even realize I was doing it. He propped me back up and held his hand there for a moment to make sure I stayed upright.
I was absolutely petrified. I was looking in her general direction, but I didn't even see her. Every ounce of my blood was in my head, and it was throbbing.
"I would like an explanation," she said calmly.
She was calm, but her voice jolted me like a kick in the head-- it also focused me back on the here and now, from wherever I had spaced out to. As I focused, I fixed my eyes on the edge of the graceful S curve of the beveled glass coffee table.
"Uhhh..." Jerry tried to start. He couldn't get anything else to come out.
After a minute, she spoke,
"You're eighteen, Jerry. You're what, fourteen or fifteen? Do you know what would happen to you if if anyone found out what you were DOING? With a MINOR?! WITH A LITTLE BOY?! Do you have any idea what that would do to your father's career?" she softened her voice, "To Mine?"
"No mom, he's--" he realized he didn't really know how old I was. He looked at me, "Well you're a senior, so you gotta be at least seventeen or eighteen. How old are you?"
I simply wasn't capable of responding in any way. I just sat frozen, staring at the table edge, clutching my thighs, white knuckled.
"How old ARE you?" she demanded in a professional way.
Oh god no! Please! No tears in front of her! No! Not in front of HER-- nothing could make this MORE embarrassing than tears! Naturally they just flooded out. I crossed my arms up and bent my head down into them, trying to disappear. I began shaking and sobbing as my extreme embarrassment over crying made me cry harder.
"Oh Danny," Jerry put his arm around me, "don't cry, please..." He sounded like he was on the verge of crying too. I leaned into him. "Leave him alone, Mom! He's really really shy and he's scared to death of You! So just talk to me." He lowered his voice to a reassuring tone, leaning down, "Are you eighteen?" I shook my head no. "Seventeen?" I shook my head yes. "You'll be eighteen soon, though, right?" I shook my head yes.
"He IS still a minor. How long have you been doing this? How Could you do this?" I could feel the emotion rising in her voice. "You are NOT a homosexual Jerry!"
"I... I..." he began hyperventilating and I could feel his heart pounding, "I... think I might be-- am. Am." he squeezed my shoulder so tightly it made me wince and lower my arms.
I looked up at him and he looked down into my eyes. He was blood red in the face and breathing so hard his nostrils were flaring with every rapid, sharp breath. I saw so many different emotions on his face and in his eyes in the five or six seconds of deafening silence; I was in awe of the visuals.
He was amazed he had said that, and to his Mom. In shock now, he realized, at least on some level, what he'd just set in motion, now wondering if he was completely sure, and wondering what she was gonna say next.
Then, don't ask me how I know this, but he was picturing, rapid fire, all the people in his little galaxy, tagging each one--accept--reject--not sure--maybe--if they love me enough--has said something positive about queers--is my dad, he wouldn't reject, would he--?--how they said something negative--hates queers--always nice to misfits--said she has a gay brother--gave me that look--told me I could talk to him about anything--grabbed my dick one time--told me she'd like to have a three-way with a gay guy once when she was on Quaaludes--said as long as they don't try anything with me I'm ok with them--said queers should be burned alive--said homosexuals go to hell automatically, it's God's Law--said his best friend in St. Louis was gay--always talking about dick--always talking about queers--looks at me in the shower after basketball--
"How long has this been going on?" she fired, shattering the moment.
Ripping his eyes away from mine.
He tried to compose his thoughts to reply. After a moment, he said, "Uh, two days."
I looked at her as he answered and saw something like relief come into her eyes. I knew she was thinking: `This isn't long term. He's just experimenting. My son is not a homosexual. He's gorgeous, and he always has the most gorgeous girlfriends, and seems to love Brenda, even though I think he could do better. I know he's been having sex since he was with Elana. He's endowed much bigger than Larry, must have got it from my side of the family. This boy seduced him with those puppy dog eyes, he doesn't--'
"We're in love." he cringed like he thought she could slap him from eight feet across the table.
And she could-- with her eyes. His grip on my shoulder tightened again to painful. Her expression changed little, except her eyes, which she could have cut her own diamonds with.
There was omni-silence. Her eyes stayed fixed on his. Nobody breathed.
I was the first one to move, as I looked at Jerry's face, just in time to see him crumble from the staring duel. He looked down into my eyes.
And with mine, I tried to tell him how much I loved him and I could be strong. `I know I can!' I told him silently. `I know I act like a baby, I know I seem weak and I cry a lot, but I will get strong because of you. I will be there for you, don't be scared of her Jerry! I know you can do this...'
She threw the rest of her drink down her throat and dropped the Waterford crystal glass from about two inches above the coffee table. It made an ear shattering sound in the silence and, amazingly, didn't break, just wobbling down to a dramatic shudder. Then silence. She sat upright, folding her hands in her lap. She looked at me, not unkindly,
"Danny, would you mind waiting in the library while I talk to my son alone for a few minutes?" She sounded so pleasant, it sent a shiver down my spine.
I pulled away from Jerry in confusion, sitting upright, gauging the path that would let me stay farthest away from her on my way to the library. If, I could figure out where the library was. I stood up and looked around, wiping my tears on my long sleeves. I tripped over Jerry's feet and barely caught myself on the arm of the sofa. I regained my footing and headed toward the bar. I stood just outside the double doors, wondering where the library was. I could see a desk through a door, just to the right of the bar. I went and stood just inside the door to the library.
I looked back toward Jerry and his mom, some forty or more feet away. Mrs. Loring's back was to me, and I could see Jerry fidgeting and looking down at the floor.
I could see she was talking, but couldn't make anything out. The sound just got lost in the room. I was too busy mentally kicking my own ass for acting so childish and crying in front of her, to wonder what she was saying at that point.
I sat down on a couch, in a daze. I had little sense of time. I stared at the books, row after row, shelf upon shelf. I heard a shout, Jerry's shout, and cocked my head toward the door.
All I could make out was "... my life," But he was saying more, so I snuck over to the door and peeked my head out. Jerry was standing up, arguing with her. I could understand more from here, at least, when they raised their voices enough.
"... you don't care about me or what I want! ...about you!"
".......think about... ...doing, Jerry! ...your future!"
He glanced over and saw me looking. I ducked back into the room just as I saw her turning her head to see what he was looking at. I didn't dare go back to the door.
Suddenly, all the images from the last few weeks came flooding into my mind. From the first handshake to the sight of his nostrils, flaring like a thoroughbred stallion after a race. I watched the slideshow with a mixture of joy and trepidation.
The moment that kept playing over and over, was after we'd just climaxed the first time he fucked me, Friday night. He was still hard and all the way in me. We were panting for breath and he was kissing my neck and the first thing he was able to say was: "God I love you Danny, you make me feel so complete." the very word I had used in my head so many times during our lovemaking-- but never said out loud.
My reverie was interrupted by an alarm going off in my head. Something told me to pay attention. I got up and snuck back over to the door. I slowly peeked around the edge.
He was sitting in the middle of the huge sectional now, barely three feet from her, and I couldn't hear a thing. They were talking quietly, and I could see the grim look on his face. He was nodding his head in agreement to something she was saying, looking down at the floor, hands clasped.
My body sagged as a relentless, crushing, wave of depression flooded over me....... I think this is that moment. This is that heartbeat when they take it all away from me.
I still don't know what told me that we were falling apart. Something about his body posture, or the look on his face, I don't know.
My legs grew weak and I had to sit down. I made it back over to the couch and sank down into the thick cushion. It felt like I just kept sinking, and all of a sudden the walls closed in on me and I couldn't breathe. I just kept sinking like in free fall, where your body is falling faster than your stomach.
They must have talked for another forty-five minutes to an hour. I just sat there, staring vacantly. An eerie numbness had enveloped me. There were no tears.
I heard a voice in the haze. Slowly, I returned to real time and realized it was Jerry, with my backpack in hand, saying something to me,
"...are you there? Hello? Earth to Danny," There was no humor in his voice. He watched reality creep back into my eyes and started again,
"Come on, I'm taking you home," he said evenly.
I stood and obediently walked behind him. I glanced into the living room as we passed. His mom was pouring herself a fresh glass of Chivas-- breakfast of champions, and cold hearted bitches. We got in the car and sat for a minute in silence. It looked like he was trying to think of how to say something and just couldn't come up with it. I had nothing to say.
He started the engine; the cassette was where we'd left it, blasting Aerosmith's Dream On. "...sing for the years, sing for the laughter, sing for the tears, dream on, just for today, maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away--" He turned it off and backed out.
As we drove past the stately homes in the crisp morning air, the joggers were jogging, the gardeners were gardening and everybody else was carrying on their early Sunday morning as if everything were right in the world. He was driving very slowly.
"Uh, where do you live?"
"7342 Bluejay Circle." I somehow managed to say.
"I know where that street is," he sped up a little. The silence was palpable. As we approached a deserted pocket park, about ten blocks from my house, he pulled over to the curb, put it in neutral and left the engine running. We sat there in silence for two or three minutes, while he figured out what he wanted to say. I tried to prepare myself for the blade.
"Um, Danny..." he made faces I could see in my peripheral vision, as I stared at the dash. "Um, look, you are so sweet, and I like-" Stab "-you so much. We, had a great weekend." His eyes were fixed on the steering wheel. "I really enjoyed it a lot." His knuckles were white, gripping the wheel.
I turned to face him. Sweat was forming on his brow and his breathing was irregular. I tried to brace myself for what I knew was coming...
"Look, Danny, I, I told you before, I ain't gay." Stab "I don't wanna, lead you on." he turned and saw the silent tears running well-worn paths down my cheeks. "OH GOD, Danny! PLEASE don't do that!" he said in exasperation, anger building rapidly in his voice. "Is that ALL you fucking DO is CRY?!" he exploded, "That shit gets REAL old REAL fast, Danny!"
Every word was like a sledgehammer slamming into my face and body in crushing blows as he raged at me. I winced and pressed myself into the door.
"Every fucking time I turn around, you're fuckin' CRYIN'! And you make ME cry too! STOP THAT SHIT!!" His deep booming voice in the tight space of the car rang in my ears. He put the car in gear and peeled out.
"We ain't playin' this game no more! I'M STRAIGHT!" Stab "I--AM--STRAIGHT!!! I tried that with you and that was enough!" Slice "Don't be in love with me! DO YOU HEAR ME DANNY? DON'T BE IN LOVE WITH ME!" Stab; Bludgeon "I DON'T LOVE YOU!" Oblivion "I CAN'T LOVE YOU!"
He drove on for a moment, gathered himself and lowered his voice, "We won't see each other again." I glanced over and saw grim determination on his face. We came to a stop sign. Calmly, he said, "Don't worry neither-- I'll never tell anybody anything. It never happened." He looked at me with steely eyes.
For some reason, that statement sliced into my heart deeper than telling me he didn't love me. I guess because I was preparing myself for him to say it's over-- I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it well, but I knew it was coming. But to say the most wonderful, magical days of my life NEVER HAPPENED?? I couldn't handle that. I threw open the door and bolted from the car. I couldn't see where I was going clearly, but knew the neighborhood well enough to know I was only a couple or three blocks from my house and was headed in that general direction.
"DANNY! DON'T YOU DO IT!" he jumped out of the car and sprinted around it after me, leaving the car running in neutral, at the stop sign with both doors wide open. It was level cement, so it stayed where it was.
"Don't you go and do something STUPID! DANNY!!"
I had a good head start on him, but he had basketball, track, and swimming on me, not to mention size. I was running blindly across the manicured lawns of the average tract houses as fast as I could go. Trying to run away from the gaping wounds in my heart fueled my legs faster than I ever knew I could run.
Still, he caught up with me about eight houses from the stop sign. He grasped at my shoulder, spinning me around and out of control. I caught my toe on my heel as I spun and it sent me airborne. He grasped my shirt, and as I flew through the air, several buttons popped off and the shoulder ripped just as he let go. I landed on my back in a flowerbed, mowing down a riot of bright perky flowers. My head hit with a thump in the soft tilled soil-- about two inches from a short stonewall that ringed the front porch.
Jerry leaned way back, jumping into a stop like a broad jumper between my legs, to keep from running over me. But his inertia kept him going and he gingerly stepped over my midsection and came down on me, straddling my hips, leaning over me and pinning my arms with his hands. I was dizzy from the impact, and out of breath. I struggled to get away, which was a laughable endeavor.
God, how my fucked up mind works: Even in THAT situation, after what he'd just said, with all that pain, and anger, and sadness, I hot flashed at his awesome power and magnificent beauty heaving over me, nostrils flaring again, anger sculpting his face. I could have, and would have spread my legs for him and begged him to take me right then and there. I hated myself and struggled violently under him.
"DANNY! STOP IT!"
"Get the FUCK off me!" I thrashed around like a rabid animal.
"Not until you calm down!"
A man came out of the garage next door, "What's going on here? What are you doing to him? You're twice his size!"
He came toward us ready to take Jerry on. The guy was probably thirty and in good shape, but I think when he got a good look at Jerry's body, he slowed down, cautiously sizing him up.
"STAY out of this!" Jerry yelled, aiming his mouth at the guy, while not taking his eyes off mine. "I'm NOT hurting him!" He looked so angry.
"GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" I yelled again, at the top of my lungs. I was angry too, now.
"NO! Not until I know you ain't gonna do anything stupid!"
"Why the fuck do YOU care!? You don't LOVE me anymore!"
Jerry cringed and glanced at the guy's feet. The guy slowly backed away. He backed up all the way to his driveway and stood there like a rubbernecker at a car wreck, too curious to just leave us to our drama. This type of thing doesn't happen in Friendswood. I'm sure he justified in his mind that he was going to make sure the big boy didn't hurt the little boy-- but he was just intrigued by the whole thing.
"I do care," he lowered his voice, "just because I don't..." I saw him consider the stranger in the driveway, knowing he could hear everything we said in the Sunday morning stillness. Obviously, the people who lived behind the flowerbed were gone to church or somewhere. "... love you, doesn't mean I don't care if you go and hurt yourself."
The man's wife had joined him in the driveway now. Someone came out of the house across the street, but stayed where they were, watching. I didn't care.
Anger was fast catching up to hurt, in intensity within me. I locked onto the eyes that made me weak and was stronger than I'd ever been. In a vitriolic, trembling voice, I spit out,
"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me. Then you can just get the fuck off me and go back home."
He jerked his head back and stared at me in amazement, slack jawed. After a moment he sat back, releasing my arms, and looked down at my chest. I could see him struggling with himself and, at that moment, I was glad he was feeling at least a minute fraction of the hurt and discomfort that I was feeling.
"Danny, I... don't love you." he said to my chest or neck.
"IN MY EYES GODDAMNIT!"
The force of my voice made him jerk back again. He looked into my eyes and I saw sadness overtaking anger. One tear leaked out of his left eye. He slowly raised himself to his feet, still straddling my hips, looking down into my eyes.
"I don't love you," he said in defeat.
His shoulders sagged, and he slowly turned and walked away. I sat up and watched him go. That sadness began enveloping me again. Who did I think I was fooling? I wasn't strong. I wasn't strong for shit. I tried in vain to clear my vision, as I watched the only beautiful thing that ever happened to me shimmer and disappear like a mirage, into a blur of sunshine and green lawns.
I pulled my knees up, crossed my arms and laid my forehead into my elbow and cried, silently. I don't know how long it was, not very, before I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder, and was aware of someone squatting next to me with a reassuring voice,
"Oh baby, I know it hurts," I looked up at the beautiful wife of the man next door and she sat herself in close to me, pulling me into her arms, whispering comforting words in my ear. "Poor baby, how could he do that to you? I know it hurts like hell. You can cry to me."
So I did. The floodgates opened. I flung my arms around her and wailed into her bosom. She rocked me gently, urging me to let it all out.
"Oh God it hurts so bad! I didn't think it could hurt this bad!" I sobbed, shaking and gulping, "I didn't think anything could hurt this bad!"
"I know it does, Danny." she had heard Jerry say my name, "It hurts really bad."
"I didn't have him long enough! It's just not right! If I could just have him a little longer, if he had time to see how much I love him, I know he'd keep loving me." I wasn't talking to her; I was bargaining with the universe.
"You poor baby, it's not your fault. It's his fault if he can't see how much you love him, or let himself love you," She spoke softly in my ear. "But, even though it's hard to imagine right now, it will get easier, it will go away. Someday, you'll look back and remember the first, and hopefully last time, somebody broke your heart."
"How can it hurt SO BAD?" I pleaded.
She pulled me back into her and sighed.
"It just does, Danny. It just does."
I cried into her for several more minutes. Then I heard footsteps and looked up to see her husband, as he squatted down in front of us. He was a very handsome man, with curly black hair, square jaw, and sparkling green eyes.
In the kindest voice, he said, "Why don't you two come inside and have something to drink? We're drawing a crowd." he glanced with annoyance across the street.
I looked up to see four or five people across the street on the sidewalk, talking amongst themselves, looking at us. No doubt the one who came out of the house earlier, a guy in his twenties, was telling them it was a queer lovers quarrel. I was relieved that people rarely know their neighbors in this kind of soulless, instant city.
They helped me up and led me inside their comfortable house. They introduced themselves as Ron and Rachel Green. Ron offered me a coke, which I gladly accepted.
He speculated, "Well, the idiot across the street definitely has something different to talk about now."
My coke hand stopped halfway to my mouth. I was finally beginning to realize that something was odd, that something was not quite fitting into my mind here....
"Uh, y'all, uh, you two aren't freaked out by this? That I, we, me an' Jerry...?"
Rachel put her hand on mine, "My brother Robert is gay, Danny. Ron and I love him with all our hearts. And I've held him when he cried, just like you, more than once." She squeezed my hand, "I held him through his first broken heart, and I held him when our parents rejected him, and cried with him."
Tears came to her eyes as she remembered the pain she had felt, and still does. I found out later that she no longer talks to her parents, because they still can't accept Robert, and are even viciously hateful toward him.
Ron was cautious, trying to weigh whether now was the right time to ask,
"Do your parents, know about you? About Jerry?"
I hung my head and nodded no. I hadn't even thought about telling my parents yet. But I did tell Ron and Rachel. I told them the whole story, with many crying jags interrupting the progress. I even included the sex; it couldn't really be told without including it.
Of course, I wasn't graphic or anything; I just tried to express the joy I had felt until SHE came home and caught us. I blushed as I described how we were caught, and the subsequent confrontation with Mrs. Loring, and how I knew it was HER that made him say he didn't love me. But, I figured, if he was able to look me in the eye and say it, he must really mean it. I wrapped up the story in their neighbor's garden. Rachel held my hand the whole time. They made me feel like I could say anything to them.
Ron shook his head when I finished. "Wow. What a story." He cocked his head to one side and a lightbulb came on, "Oh shit! I KNOW her! Well I don't know her; I've seen her. She's some kind of super psychologist at NASA! Janet Loring! Oh wow!"
He looked at Rachel, "One VERY formidable lady!" he chuckled, "I saw her in action once. I mean, I thought the military had created her as a secret weapon or something! I was at the administration building for something. It was during a political crisis, which happens a lot at NASA." He gave me a wink,
"I watched that woman, oh so casually, verbally obliterate some seedy politician-- who deserved it-- in front of a group of military brass. I mean, with a smile on her face, she turned him into a sniveling basket case, almost made him cry. I knew then, I never wanted to get on her bad side! I've only seen her once or twice since then." He looked at me and smiled, "I'm low level engineering. She runs with the big boys, but I don't even know What she does. I think her husband works there too. Wow! Janet Loring!" He chuckled again, "You guys didn't stand a chance!"
"Ron, it's not funny." Rachel chided him.
"Oh, no! I didn't mean it was funny, Danny. I just meant that I know what you guys were up against."
We all fell silent, then the front door opened, and a little version of Rachel came bounding into the kitchen, where we sat around the breakfast bar. She had the same beautiful, expressive gray eyes, the same long auburn hair and the same beaming smile. She came to a halt when she saw me. She had a quizzical look on her face, wondering who I was, and why I was crying.
"Carly, this is Danny. Danny, this is our daughter Carly." Rachel watched Carly for her reaction as we said "Hi." to each other.
"Why are you crying?" she asked innocently, a concerned look in her sweet eyes.
I tried to look away, but couldn't.
Rachel came to my rescue. I mean, how do you tell a six or seven year old your boyfriend just sliced your heart into little pieces and stomped on them?
"Somebody said some really mean things to him and hurt his feelings really bad, baby."
She looked at her parents and back to me. She walked over to me and took the hand Rachel wasn't holding. "You can play with me. I'm seven," she said with total confidence that that would assure me. I smiled.
"Come in here." Her eyes sparkled as she pulled me by the hand.
"Carly..." Ron attempted to stop her, but I motioned to him that it was ok.<
I followed her to her mother's art room. She took me over to an amazing, framed painting of her, playing on a gently sloping hill, flooded with bright yellow daisies.
"My mommy painted me." she said proudly.
It was the most beautiful painting I'd ever seen. Rachel had stunningly captured the unbridled joy on her face that only a child experiences so purely. It was moving. It made me forget my heartache while I was in its presence. The title, engraved on a thin brass plate on the bottom of the frame said: "Angels Play In Yellow Stars" I just stared at it, mesmerized, for a long time, holding her tiny hand.
At some point, I felt a presence, and broke my trance to see Ron standing next to me.
"This is amazing. I've never seen anything so beautiful in all my life except for Jer--" I stopped myself. Ron put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me into his side.
"Danny, try not to think about him for a bit. You need a break. You'll be thinking a lot about him for a long time to come. But when you get the chance, try to think of something else for awhile, or you'll lose your perspective." he looked down at me with such a warm, caring look in his eyes, and actually made me forget again, for a moment. "You want some breakfast?"
"I don't think I could eat anything right now, but thanks."
We went back into the kitchen, and I went over to Rachel as she prepared a tantalizing TexMex breakfast, and tried to express how moving her painting was for me. She kissed me on the cheek and made me glow.
"I'm really tired," I said. "I better get home. Thanks, Rachel, thanks Ron. Uh, thanks for understanding..."
Ron spread his arms to indicate the house, "You're always welcome here. You can talk to us anytime, Danny."
"And Danny," Rachel spoke up, "if you would like us to talk to your parents, we could maybe help. Like, there are things you, at your age, probably don't think of, that parents are afraid of, for you."
"Yeah, you gotta remember, the only information most parents have about being gay, is mostly wrong and very scary." Ron added, indicating the TV off to the right.
That made sense. I nodded my head in agreement.
"Thanks guys. I don't think I wanna say anything to 'em yet, though. I got too much to deal with already."
Rachel looked at me and smiled. "That's totally understandable, Danny. Just remember we're here for you to talk to any time. Any time at all."
"Thank you so much, really." I was feeling very tired and sleepy. I was so grateful to them for being so kind and understanding, but exhaustion was setting in. I had to get home to my bed.
They walked me to the door and both gave me a hug. Ron offered to loan me a shirt, which I declined. It would be way too big, as he was almost as big as Jerry. We said goodbye again, and I trudged the block and a half to my house in a stupor.
I knew my Dad would be in the den watching football, or whatever sport, and my mom would be cleaning, or on the phone. I prayed they wouldn't notice me as I slipped in the door.
I was almost to my room. Suddenly, Mom's face was inches from mine, as she came out of the bathroom in a rush, brush and Comet in gloved hands.
"Danny! What are you doing home so... My God! What happened to you?!"