This is a work of fiction. Names of characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously; any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Dennis Milholland – All rights reserved. Other than for private, not-for-profit use, no part of this work may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in any form or by any means, other than that intended by the author, without written permission from the copyright holder.

 

Careful! This is a work of fiction containing graphic descriptions of sex between males and critiques of religion and governments.

 

Love It or Leave It

by Dennis Milholland

questions and comments are welcome. www.milholland.eu / dennis@milholland.eu

 

Nine

(Tuesday, October 4th)

Raphie comes out onto the front porch with two mugs of Mongrain’s delicious coffee. Cajuns spike their dark-roast coffee with chicory and a whiff of cocoa for flavor and prepare it with a French espresso coffee maker. They then dilute it with hot water, mixing a spoonful of ground coffee into the mug, letting it steep and the grounds settle.

My mother also started adding chicory and cocoa, after she’d once asked Raphie about it. But putting it into Folger’s in a percolator just doesn’t meet the grade.

He hands me the large mug and sits on the glider close to me. I feel guilty because I’m smoking, and I think he might want to cuddle. The poor guy doesn’t smoke, and his eyes are watering. So, I set the mug onto the porch and go out to the curb to stamp out the cigarette in the gutter with my penny loafer and return to him. “Sorry, Raph, I really should stop.”

What the Hell, Danny Boy. You’ve been on that weed since the sixth grade, so I’ve gotten used to it. But speaking of which, I sure could use some of the other weed right about now.”

Yeah, me too. I’ve still got some at the house that Mack…” I have to take a very deep breath and exhale slowly. “that Mack gave me, the day before he shot himself.

Raphie draws my head close and kisses my forehead. “What was the name of that play you were in where you and Mack met?”

The Skin of Our Teeth. I played Henry, and he was one of the stage hands. We didn’t just meet; we got together for the first time at the cast party. Crap, Raphie, you and I were in the eighth grade and he was a suave sophomore. Practically a man of the world, or so I thought.

Remember, after the second performance on Saturday night, we had the cast party at Vicky’s house? I’d invited you, but you didn’t think it would be any fun, ‘cause you didn’t know anyone. It was at Vicky’s because her older sister was dating one of the East-High football hotshots. Don’t remember much about that guy, Ron something-or-another, but I do remember that there was booze and weed and Mack.

His parents hadn’t allowed him to come to the cast party; they thought that he was still helping break down the set. I’d been talking to Chris, when Mack appeared out of nowhere.

I offered him a sip of my gin and tonic; he said that he couldn’t because his parents were Southern Baptists and did breath checks. What a vote of confidence...” I sip coffee and finally decide to tell him all that happened.

I was talking about the audience’s reactions to certain lines, when he gave me a kiss on the cheek. I returned it with one to the lips. Then he gave me one on the lips and introduced his tongue. So, I thought that I couldn’t be outdone by some slick-shit sophomore, so I tongued him back and upped his ante with a grope.”

 I look at Raphie to check his reaction. He’s nodding, so I continue. “Neither of us had any idea what we were doing. Nor did we have any idea of how complicated all this was going to get.

Anyway, we found a dark corner in Vicky’s basement and I opened his jeans and got his dick out. I was surprised to find that he wasn’t circumcised, but this discovery did heighten the lust a notch or two. And allowing my hormones to take charge, I was on my knees, putting his cock into my mouth before he could say premature ejaculation.

From all the shit we’d heard on the playground back at Ashland, I knew enough to watch the teeth. So, I let my lips slide back his foreskin, tasting the salt under it, and I tickled his glans with the tip of my tongue. The deluge, that he provided me, was, as I was to learn later, the result of Baptists’ not masturbating. Thought I was going to drown or puke.

He said that he didn’t have time to suck me off; he had to get home. When I offered to walk him to his house, I didn’t know where he lived, but thought it couldn’t have been all that far. I was sort of hurt when he insisted that it’d be better if we waited to see each other again at school on Monday. The next day was out, as well, since he would spend all of Sunday at church with his parents.

Since my own parents had had a moratorium on religion for virtually all of my life, my dad was nominally Roman Catholic and my mom a Pentecostal backslider, and couldn’t agree on one religion for us kids, so, we’d done without. Consequently, at that moment in time, I knew much more about oral sex than I did about what the Baptists were up to.

Mack and I started meeting in the cafeteria, spending lunchtime together. That was the year you had early lunch and we were in the late period. Then we stayed at the library, where we did our homework after school, while I waited for you to finish swimming practice.

Then the day of our big Homecoming game against Westport was upon us. That afternoon at the Library, Mack and I had decided that that would be our night to go all the way.

On our way to the house, we’d swung by Parkview Drugstore over on Hardesty and had acquired the appropriate petroleum jelly. I knew Mom would be out at my sister’s house looking after her kids, so Mack and I had enough time to clean ourselves out really well with my mom’s enema bag. Then we’d applied a good portion of Preparation H to make sure of, I don’t know what. Probably, just to have an excuse to explore each other’s butt holes. Then came the hard part; we had to wait.

I took my thermal sleeping bag and our blanket, ostensibly to keep warm at the football game. But before half-time celebrations started, we’d left for Bales Lake. We went to our spot, spread out the blanket and got into the sleeping bag.” I have to stop here and decide how much detail I’m going to put into this. I sigh heavily. Raphie squeezes my hand to continue.

He wanted me to go first. So, I got in behind him and was kissing the back of his neck and the back of his right ear. I gently undid his belt buckle and unbuttoned his jeans and then mine. I was getting the Vaseline ready, when he took hold of my cock and slipped it into his hole. The Preparation H from that afternoon and his natural juices had, I thought, lubed him up enough.

His warmth and the narrowness of his anus were sensations I can’t easily describe. When you enter someone else’s body you meld to become a part of that fellow human. You start breathing in sync. Of a sudden, you’re one and at the core of the universe. Everything else ceases to exist. When I came inside him, it was explosive and as exhausting as winning a wrestling event.

Of course, I wanted him inside me. I couldn’t wait for him to experience what I’d just felt. I chucked off my jeans and jockstrap from around my knees and straddled him. Unlike Mack, though, I had to use the lube as not to experience any discomfort. But the sensation of being the receiver was every bit as rewarding as being the giver. His cock massaged my prostate, and I blew another wad shortly before he came inside me. I was facing him and could see the ecstasy in his facial expression, illuminated in the dim light from that ancient streetlamp on Topping.”

Raphaël’s naturally beautiful, large brown eyes, into which I love to gaze, are glazed over, as if he’s off in a trance. “A penny for your thoughts, Raph.”

I was just thinking. You know? For someone, who’s never, until today, really considered what it would be like to have sex with another guy, much less the possibility of falling in love with him, listening to you like this… Um… it’s sort of what I imagine it would be like for an established, middle-class, Negro professional from New England to watch Gone With the Wind for the first time.”

What an image. Trying to get my head around what he’s saying, takes my breath away. I’ve never thought that who I really am could be so totally foreign to someone I’ve known practically all my life.

As we sit and ponder this concept, we hear the racket of a car door slamming at the back of the house. His mother is home. It only takes a few moments for Maman’s tall, slender figure with her high cheek bones, a somewhat darker version of Lena Horn and every bit as graceful, to find us on the front porch.

« Bonsoir, Maman, ça va ? » Raphie smiles up at his mother from the glider.

« O, la, la, mes deux grands fils. Bonjour Daniel. » she greets us, glowing as usual. She always gives me the impression that she’s been waiting her entire day just to see us.

« Bonjour, Maman Mongrain, vous êtes déjà là ? » She insists on my calling her Mother Mongrain ever since Miss Waldon appointed me Raphie’s protector in second grade. And she has always insisted that we speak French, when she’s present. Her motto: Savoir, c'est pouvoir which rightly means, knowledge is power.

« Oui, Raphaël, ça va comme d’habitude. Dis, Daniel, would you like to stay for dinner ? » I never say no to dinner chez Mongrain. It means the not really difficult choice between spiced shrimp and chicken in drawn butter on Cajun rice or Mildred’s meatloaf on spuds.

« S'il ne pose pas de problème, Maman Mongrain. You know it’s always a treat. »

« Bon alors, we’ll make a deal. I’ll cook if I can count on you and Raphaël to wash up. » Now, if that’s not a fair trade, I don’t know what is.

After she goes back in, Raphie leans in close. “You know, sometimes I think she likes you more than Jordan and me.” He whispers in English without showing any signs of jealousy.

I can’t imagine that.” I chuckle, thinking for a moment, weighing the consequences of my deepest secret’s ever getting out. But since I've been in a reveal-all mode lately, I'll entrust Raphie with it. “Can I tell you something, Raph? But you have to promise that you will NEVER tell a living soul.” I hold up the Boy Scout salute, which technically doesn’t apply, since neither of us has ever been a scout. But it always seems appropriate in such occasions.

Promise.” He whispers conspiratorially, holding up the salute.

Since your dad died, I’ve always wished that Joey would ditch Mildred and marry your mom.”

What?” His giggles go wild.

Yeah, and that would make you and me officially brothers.”

Holy fuck, Dan, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

Psst, here she comes.” Giggles are hard to suppress when two are involved.

She looks at us questioningly. We snicker, sort of giggle and then I snort. « O, je m’excuse, Maman Mongrain. »

« J’ai toujours l’impression, that you two are, in fact, evil twins, planning to blow something up. »

« Qui ? Nous ? » We can no longer contain laughter.

« Daniel, vas téléphoner to see if it’s all right, then, both of you, wash your hands. »

« Oui, Maman. » We say in unison and hurry up the stairs taking two at a time.

I call home and Joey picks up. My mother’s in bed, wallowing in depression, and poor Dad actually does have to eat leftover meatloaf. Of course, it’s okay with him if I stay, and he tells me that he’ll see us later.

We’re washing our hands and I relate to Raphie about Dad’s eating leftovers.

He looks at me glowing in a whisper: “Yeah, we would be brothers, you know?”

Of course, there is one disadvantage of our actually being brothers.” Raphie gives me a ‘good grief, what, now?’ look. And I whisper. “We could never have sex, because it would be incest.”

He looks as if I had just farted in church and whispers: “You are one sick fucker, you know that?” He grins shaking his head. “But I love you, anyway.”

We go down to the dining room and the familiar scents actually make my stomach growl. We’re having my favorite, paella nouvelle orléanaise with a Californian Riesling.

« Je l’ai fait hier. But since you didn’t come over yesterday evening, we’ll have it tonight. It’s always better if it stands in the fridge for a day or two. Salut, mes enfants. » She toasts.

« Salut, Maman Mongrain, à votre santé. » And we drink. Smooth, very smooth, both the wine and the atmosphere.

She sets her glass down and smiles vaguely, tilts her head to one side and gives me a look, which I can’t quite interpret. Her voice goes soft, like Raphie’s does when he’s unsure of himself. « Merci, Daniel, et merci that you’re here for Raphaël, at such a time. And I am so sorry for your loss, for both of you. »

My first thought is: ‘She knows.’ Then I decide that that would be very unlikely. She is an extraordinarily civilized woman, and, more than likely, she couldn’t care less about my sexual preferences. But then again, when everything is said and done, no one can ever be sure.

Her paella defies description. The wine lets us grow mellow, if not somewhat maudlin. Then it’s time to clean up. She helps us clear everything and take it to the kitchen.

« Avant que vous leave, be sure to take your father the rest of the paella. Jordan won’t be back till tomorrow. And although I’m certain your mother’s meatloaf is delicious, I also think he’d appreciate the thought all the same. » She says coyly as she goes to the living room to grade papers.

She heard us talking upstairs.” I whisper to Raphie and he nudges me, frowns and shakes his head.

Then from the living room: « Jamais oublier, ears of a mother precede radar by millennia. » She laughs to herself, and we do the dishes in silence.

We pack the paella and the half bottle of wine and set off for 23rd and Quincy. We wait until we get as far as Ashland before either of us speaks. “Do you think your mom heard everything we said?”

Don’t know, Dan. Jordan thinks that she’s got the whole house bugged. But I seriously doubt if she could have overheard us. You didn’t whisper what you said about your dad and the meatloaf. You said it in a normal tone. So, it is possible she heard it. Mostly, I think she hears snippets and reacts accordingly. Or she hears us whispering and says something like: ‘a mother’s ears outdate radar…’. But whatever it is, Dan, she’s a school teacher, for Christ’s sake. They pull shit like that.”

She sure had me scared, there.” I have seriously had enough nervous strain for a good while.

Wait till she whips out the voodoo dolls and needles.” I startle, although his grin gives him away. And anyway, I’ve been in and out of that house for a decade and have never seen as much as knitting needles, much less any wax dolls to stab. But I still feel as if I have to put that on record. Maybe prejudgment really does go deeper than any of us want to believe.

We finally get to the house and find Joey sitting alone at the dining-room table half-heartedly reading The Kansas City Star. His smile is a little strained when he sees us, but when he sees the pot, wrapped in newspaper to keep it warm, he genuinely brightens.

Get a plate, Dad. You’re in for a treat.” I report and he scurries out. We hear crockery and cutlery being shifted.

Have you lot eaten?” comes the muffled question from the pantry.

Yes, but bring a wine glass, Joey. She’s sent you some Riesling to go with it.” Raphie tells him.

He appears in the doorway with one plate but three wine glasses. “Ah, bless her heart. Your mother is one fine woman, Son.”

Raphie and I look at each other and smile, nothing more. Dad, of course, sees the glances and grins. He gives us his stern Irish look and says in a quiet tone, “I’m much too old for her.” He pours us all some wine. “So, Lads, how did you get on today?”

Dad has this way of dropping a bomb then changing the subject. And when he does, there is no further discussion. He’s had his say and you can think what you fucking well please.

We’re still having surges of grief.” I approach the topic cautiously.

That can go on for years. Maybe for a lifetime, even. When I heard about yer man, Mack, I got a wave of sadness for George. And he’s been gone for a few years short of half a century.”

Is that why you came to America, because you couldn’t stay in Ireland without him?” Raphaël is astute, very astute.

Joey looks at him, smiles sadly, shakes his head and asks me, “He knows, does he?”

Know what, Joey?” Raphie is protecting me, still seeming assertive but there is compassion in his voice.

You know, that Mack Junior and young Daniel here were an item.”

Um, he told me after Mack’s old man wouldn’t let us attend the funeral. How long have you known?”

Probably forever. He’s a lot like I was when I was with George. Not that George and I had been carrying on sexually, other than having arsed about as lads. Yeah, well, maybe even a bit after that.” He titters somewhat timidly, then sobers. “But that wasn’t the problem; our forbidden relationship was that he was protestant and I was catholic. Not that either one of us were religious, mind you. Just that he had a protestant name and I have a catholic one.

And when a stray band of Republican yobs killed him for the fun of it, claimin’ that they’d done it for Ireland, and weren’t ever put on trial, I never really got over it. So much so, that I made sure they paid. Over the period of a year, each of them, one by one knew that they would end up dead. I slashed every last one of their filthy throats for me man, George.

To answer your question, Son, I did come to this country because I couldn’t stand to stay there without George. And, also, because I had a price on me head.”