Date: Sat, 22 Feb 2003 04:33:54 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: In Memory of Steve - Chapter 6, A/Y, interracial, incest Copyright 2000, 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ In Memory of Steve Chapter 6 Who's Guilty I began to notice Angie's eyes watching me. Though I tried not to appear to notice, it bothered me that whenever I said anything to Steve, Angie seemed to be there in an instance. I also notice that Steve and I were left alone less and less. It wasn't anything overt -- where Angie once had preferred to shop alone, or with mom, she now insisted that Steve and the baby went along -- I was left alone more often than not. I began to feel both stressed by the situation and depressed. I had trouble eating and sleeping. Masturbation was often started but not finished and when I did reach completion I wound up weeping; my heart hurt from the lack of intimacy I was allowed to have with Steve. Those `only child' days had come to visit again. Though Angie was my half sister, in my eyes I was an only child. She lived with her mom and step-dad for most of the month but spent every other weekend with us. Angie and I passed as strangers during her two weekends a month visits. She seemed ridiculous to me during those four days a month, pretending that somehow she was the center of attention in my parents' life. She was a phantom that appeared, produced minor disruptions of schedules, and then was gone without a trace, nothing more. Mom, Dad and me would resume our roles as singular child and parents -- Mom and Dad continuing on their upward mobile crusade and I entertaining myself the best I could with television, the computer and video games -- I hated the emptiness and loneliness of it all. I was resigned to live a life void of passion, and then I met Steve. I cried knowing that I would rather die than return to the isolation of my parent's protective custody. Six weeks after the ski trip, I was sitting in the den watching a movie: Chuck and Amazing Grace. The movie is about a kid around my age and a black basketball player that accidentally start a movement to ban nuclear weapons. In the movie, the kid and basketball player become best friends. Then, some high-pressure money people kill the basketball player. I couldn't take it. I started crying. Dad came in and wanted to know what was wrong. I told him it was just the stupid movie but he insisted that there was more to it. I got mad and just went to my room. Anyway, Mom came up not to long afterwards and started beating around the bush about what was bothering me. "You know you can tell me anything?" she said. "I know." "Well, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?" "Nothing it was just that stupid movie." "Mike, if there's something going on that your Dad and I need to know about, you need to tell us." "Like what?" "Well, we know how close you and Steve have become but there are certain lines..." "What are you talking about," I blurted, knowing full well what she meant. "Well, sometimes men can become too close to boys. I mean..." "I know what you mean," I answered angrily, "You think Steve is doing something bad with me. How could you? Why do you think I would let him do bad things to me?" "No, it's just that some times kids don't know when bad things are happening. That's all." "Mom I'm not stupid. They give us sex talks all the time in school." "OK, honey. But if you ever need to talk, you let us know." And that was it. She left and I knew that they suspected. My only thought was how to tell Steve. I feared that they might know but pushed it out of my mind. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to be with him. I cried myself to sleep that night realizing that I might never be with Steve again. Within two weeks of that conversation, Angie announced that she and Steve had found a townhouse that they wanted to buy. They had the down payment saved and could afford the mortgage but needed a co-signer on the loan. My parents agreed. I was crushed. I didn't come out of my room much, what was the point? Angie had won. Steve and I passed eyes at each other as the days went by, and occasionally we had time to speak in private to one another, but there was no intimate time spent together. As summer came, they began moving out. ************* With summer came bar-be-ques, summer parties, neighborhood gatherings and the like. I had friends that I hung out with at school and I tried to forget my longing for Steve. He and Angie came around less and less. They never came over for Sundays anymore. I just wanted to see him. I had come to a point were, if I couldn't be his boyfriend, I wanted to at least be his friend, the brothers that we talked about. I understood the trouble we could get in, he could get in, if we continued to have sex together. I didn't want him in trouble. But I did want to see him; I wanted to at least be near him. When I asked Dad and Mom in the kitchen one Sunday after church, why Angie and Steve never came over anymore, Dad tired to sound dispassionate but I could tell he was hiding anger and suspicion. "We think you need to spend time with kids your own age. Besides, Steve has a family of his own to care for." "So does everybody else and we spent time with other families." "That's not the point." "I don't understand why they just stopped coming over." "Mike, let's just leave well enough alone." They weren't going to talk to me. They had made their decision and I was supposed to accept it. I went to my room, lay across my bed, and cried. Mom came up and began petting me on the back. I didn't want her touching me but reframed from jerking away. She said they discovered that Steve had spent far too much money on me. The ski trip was a big deal. I told her that Steve just wanted to have a good meal, that he knew the meal was a bit out of his price range but since it would be only a once a year, maybe life time event, he wanted us to enjoy ourselves. Mom looked at me suspiciously. "You don't just spend that kind of money and expect nothing in return." "What do you mean?" "Come on Mike! Dad takes me to restaurants like that when we want to get away." "That's all we were doing." "Honey, a get a away of that nature often involves sex." "I told you!" "I know, I know.... But..." "But what? Tell me!" "You were spending an awfully lot of time together, alone." "I told you nothing happened! Why don't you believe me? He's my friend! My best friend! He's my brother! The only brother I've ever had and you're taking him away. You won't let me see him. I hate you. I hate you! I was in such a daze for the rest of the evening I didn't want to talk to Mom or Dad. I decided to be like Chuck in the movie that I watched. I decided not to talk. It was probably a stupid thing to do; no, it was a stupid thing to do. The next thing I knew I was in therapy. It really sucked. ************ "Do you know why you're here, Michael?" I raised an eyebrow. I would bet anything that Mom or Dad told him to call me that, I hated being called Michael. "Is something wrong?" I signaled for something to write with. "Why don't you just tell me what's wrong? You're not mad at me are you?" I shook my head, no. "Well, then we can talk. So what's bothering you?" I signaled for something to write with. "Michael that's not how it works here. We talk to each other and try to find solutions together. You do want to find a solution to the problem that you're having with your parents, don't you? I nodded and signaled for something to write with. The psychologist sat back and stared at me. I stared back. From that one session without me speaking one word, he decided that I had been through some traumatic event. He didn't say what this event was, he just was sure that I needed to meet with him once a week so he could help me discover the root of my problem. I hated him, I hated my parents, and I hated life. I went to visit him for seven weeks. I would weep from the moment we left the house until we got to his office door. He kept asking questions. I kept asking for something to write with. He refused and we would spend most of the fifty-minute hour avoiding each other's gaze. After each session I would write a summary of what had happened for Mom, mostly nothing, and complain that he wouldn't give me anything to write with. That night I heard Mom and Dad arguing down stairs. It went on for over an hour before they quieted down. Mom came up stairs after it was over. She sighed deeply. "What's it going to take Mikey? I wrote on a piece of paper, `Why should I talk to you when you don't believe a word I say?' Mom sighed again. "OK, What do you want?" I wrote, `to see my big brother.' "OK," Mom said, "Will you say something now?" `No,' I wrote, `You didn't believe me. I don't believe you.' Mom crumpled the paper angrily. I thought she was going to hit me. But she didn't; she left my room, slamming the door behind her. ************ The day after my seventh session Steve came over. I was happy to see him until I looked into his eyes; they were blood shot and angry. My breathing was heavy. My heart was pounding. Mom and Dad watched out the front door as I went to the car. "What are you doing Mike? Mom and Dad are beside themselves. What are you doing?" "I... I... I just wanted to see you." "Mike you know I've been busy. I have the new house, Angie, Christopher and a new baby on the way. I love you but we just can't spend as much time together as we used to." "No, that's not the reason you don't come around anymore. I know the real reason." "It is the real reason Mike. The only reason. Give us some time to get settled in and then maybe we can come by." "No! You said we were brothers. I'm so alone Steve, please!" I watched Steve's eyes go to the door. I could see him relax. Mom and Dad had heard enough and had moved away. Steve placed a hand on my shoulder and we moved farther from the house but spoke in low tones. "God Mikey, you're going to make the shit hit the fan. You got to stop this not talking thing." "It worked. I got to see you." "Yeah, but now they're even more suspicious. Even Angie. You have to calm down." "I miss you so much Steve. You don't know what it's like." "Yes, I do. I love you, little man. We'll figure out something but no more silent treatment. OK?" "OK," I agreed. He ruffled my hair. I looked up and smile at him. I wanted to kiss him but his eyes looked again at the house. They were watching again. "Can I at least hug you?" Steve sighed. "Well," he whispered and grinned, "as long as we don't grab each other's butt I guess it's OK. We did hug, not for as long as I wanted but long enough for me to remember what his body felt like and smelled like. We sat on the stoop and talked for almost two hours. I told him everything that I could think of, everything that made so little difference to anyone but he and I, everything that had happened since the last time we talked. He said, that if it was all right with Mom and Dad, I could call and we would talk when I felt like talking. He told me that he was sorry that I felt like he had abandoned me. We both knew that was more for Mom and Dad's benefit than mine. Steve took the blame. Mom and Dad held the guilt. I began calling Steve each night before I went to bed. ************************************************************************ To support this and other writings by Tom Cup, visit http://www.tomcup.com Send comments to: comments@tomcup.com ************************************************************************