Date: Sun, 2 May 2004 10:07:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: reid <fear1980@yahoo.com>
Subject: Blue Sky I-II [gay/interracial]

BLUE SKY
by reid

        -prologue-

	Something was wrong.

	Of course, something was wrong. I guess in a weird way I'd known it but
hadn't really acknowledged it for some reason. My mind had a tendency to work
that way. Always aware when something was wrong, but never eager to address
it and look for a solution. Not like there was much of a solution here.

	A solution usually meant that you had options. It meant you had choices. A
solution was meant to be taken as a clear and defined method with which to
reach a satisfying and mutually accepted conclusion. This sure as hell wasn't
a solution. This was more like a damn rock and a hard place: do things my way
and take a giant piss on what could be an amazing cultural and financial
experience, do things his way, I'd have to relocate and acclimate myself to a
foreign land.

	That was something I swore to myself I'd never do. What a laugh.

	"How long?" I asked, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

	"May 20th to October 1st."

	"Six months," I grimaced, "Christ!"

	Teddy drummed his fingers on the table top. He didn't say anything, but then
again, he didn't really need to. Our relationship wasn't built on a
foundation of superfluous dramatic dialogue in which concepts were discussed
endlessly. Normally, I appreciated that sort of honesty but now - it was kind
of irritating.

	"You're not going otherwise?"

	Teddy ran the tip of his thumb over the tablecloth, "Not if you're not."

	"Why?" I struggled for words, "I mean - why?"

	"I can't move to a new country and not be with you, Shawn. Not at the same
time."

	I began to rub the bridge of my nose again. Ever since the conversation had
begun, my sinuses felt like they were swelling. My good, old stress response.
I snorted air through my nose in a quick hit, trying to flush out the ache.
It didn't work, never did. My face always still felt like it was being blown
up like a balloon.

	"You'd give it up? For me?"

	He nodded.

	"Teddy, it's a $240 a day job. You can't give that up."

	"Then come with me."

	How the hell was I supposed to say it? I really didn't have a clue as to
what I was supposed to say. There wasn't any way I could tell him that moving
to a new country was about as appealing as using a porta-crapper. I couldn't
tell him that. Not with the sad look he'd get in his eyes. I also didn't want
to have to feel the sense of lost opportunity that would follow him for the
rest of time.

	But was it worth it? Was it worth it to use his genuine feelings to protect
my distaste at having to leave my comfortable family farm, so to speak? That
was the one question that really fried my ass. As much as I didn't want to
uproot myself, I knew that Teddy had to take this job, if not for the money
but for the sense of accomplishment. I couldn't deny him that. Even if it
meant - moving.

	"You don't have to decide now," He sighed, "I have until Friday to let them
know."

	Teddy got up and left to pay the check, leaving me alone at the table. It
took me a few seconds before I realized what he'd said: I didn't have to
decide now, he had until Friday to let them know. It was my decision. I would
decide wether or not the person I loved more than anything on God's green
earth would accept a high paying, personally rewarding job.

	Coaching deaf children at soccer. At the tender young age of 21, no less.

	My decision. Lucky me.

	Teddy came back. He tossed me the keys.

	"You're driving."

	That's nice. More responsibility.

	We didn't say anything on the ride home. Not one word was exchanged and with
Teddy, that was a genuinely odd occurrence. Maybe he was letting me think it
over. Maybe he was stewing with resentment. Maybe he really didn't want to go
and just wanted me to make the decision that would get him out of it.

	As soon as I thought it, I felt bad. I felt bad because I knew he wanted to
go because of how he talked about it. Excitement wasn't a rare feeling for
him, that much I knew. Real, deep seeded excitement was pretty rare, however.
For someone who had matured as early as he had and lead such an accelerated
life, when Teddy got excited for real, it was important.

	"I'm not going to hold it against you if that's what you're worried about."

	I opened my mouth to say something, but thought better of it. In my current
mind set, I'd probably say something sarcastic or glib which would make light
of the whole situation. Then it would mushroom cloud into an argument and
neither of us needed that. This was a serious situation and if nothing else,
I could treat it like one by keeping my mouth shut.

	I pulled the car into our garage and shut the engine off. For a few seconds,
we sat there in the darkness, not moving. Teddy knew that I knew the decision
was mine to make. There wasn't any way to pretend otherwise so we didn't even
try it. I rubbed the bridge of my nose again, the swelling in my sinuses
still present and accounted for.

	Not saying anything, Teddy got out of the car and went into the house. When
the interior door shut, it sounded like a coffin lid slamming down. I groaned
and pulled the key out of the ignition before trudging into the house. I
tossed the car keys onto the kitchen counter and snapped on the lights. I
blinked at the sudden harsh brilliance of the overheads.

	From the living room, I could hear the television. I couldn't identify
offhand the TV show Teddy was watching but it sounded like must-see-TV. Every
time I wanted to rag on his choices of entertainment, I reminded myself that
he'd bought the TV. The DVD player. The surround sound system with the state
of the art stereo. The house itself. I really didn't have a lot of firm
footing from which to cast judgment.

	Or make decisions, for that matter.

	But there I was. The decision maker.

	I shook my head and opened the cabinet over the sink, pulling out the
blessedly full bottle of Orange Bacardi. Bacardi Rum! Now it comes in five
delicious home wrecking flavors! I exhaled and took a clean glass from the
dish rack. As I dumped a few ice cubes into the glass, I tried my best not to
think about - everything. All I wanted at this point was a good, numbing shot
of liquor (dulled with cola, of course) and a long night's sleep before I had
to deal with any of this decision making again.

	When I opened the fridge - the fancy steel plated monstrosity - my stomach
sank. Sitting on the top shelf, plain as day between the milk and the Costco
size hummus, was the six pack of Sunny Delight that Teddy had bought just the
other day. A perfect substitute for whenever I felt the need to numb myself
with alky-hall. He'd said that even if there wasn't any and it was the middle
of the night, he'd go get more.

	Just as long as I drank Sunny Delight rather than a big shot of Jack Daniels
- the brownest of the brown liquors.

	I closed my eyes and leaned against the fridge door. How in the blue hell
could I drink myself stupid now? At times like that, I missed my carefree
days of boozing and whoring like the world was coming to an end. This newer,
softer way of life still had it's downsides.

	Disgustedly, I slammed the door shut and looked down at the glass with it's
four lonely ice cubes melting into nothingness. I looked at the bottle of
Bacardi, imagining it's tart, citrus flavor washing over my taste buds with a
tiny hint of Pepsi to go along with it. I felt my taste buds moistening
merely at the thought.

	I'd promised that bitch that I was going to wean myself off the hooch, no
matter what. Never before in my life did I so detest the custom of making
promises to a loved one. How dare he take away my courage and inner strength!
How dare he expect me to satisfy him without the assistance of liquor!

	I sighed and grabbed the class. In one angry thrust, I sent the ice cubes
clattering into the basin. Three of them broke into shards and fourth
withstood the impact of my sobriety. I shoved the empty glass back into the
cupboard and went to slam the door shut with a satisfying thud. Instead, I
closed it carefully. I didn't want to give Teddy the satisfaction of knowing
that his plan to get me away from alcohol had worked. That would be simply
unthinkable.

	Grumbling to myself, I pulled off my coat and threw it on one of the chairs
surrounding the kitchen island. I took a second and looked back at the closed
door hiding the bottle of Bacardi. Just then, I wanted nothing more than to
go over and take a good, healthy swig of the stuff. Everything inside me
drove me to do it. At that moment, I probably would have leapt off the roof
of a building if someone had told me I couldn't drink any.

	But I didn't.

	In frustration, I jumped up and down, grabbing handfuls of my hair.
Peppering the empty air with a few hard jabs, I sobbed pitifully. I curled my
arms on the counter and dropped my head onto them, a little too hard. My
forehead whacked painfully against my forearms and briefly I saw stars.

	With a mopey shuffle, I raised my head and stood up straight. Rubbing the
sore spot on my forehead, I ambled down the hallway towards the living room.
As I got closer, I could hear the TV. He was watching The West Wing. Full of
Westly Wing goodness.

	He spoke timidly, "Did you--"

	"Shut up."

	I sat down on the other end of the couch, not looking at Teddy. Out of the
corner of my eye, I could see that he'd changed into his 'normal' clothes.
Not the starched dress shirts and slacks he wore to work. Not the halfway
decent clothing he begrudgingly wore the few times we went somewhere more
formal than Quiznos. No. His normal clothes. His semen stained T-shirts and
frayed athletic shorts.

	I didn't look at him because I knew the sight of his bare skin would have an
undesired effect on me. Well, undesired right then. Normally I didn't mind
getting an erection like a hard Italian salami. At that point, it would have
taken my mind off the battle of wills that was starting to brew between us.

	But I couldn't help it.

	While he was focused on the show, I looked over at him.

	There was something - intangibly sexy about Teddy.

	I looked at his hair - so thick and black. The way he spiked it even
non-intentionally was so cute to me. Whenever we were close to each other,
which was often, I couldn't resist running my fingers through it so slowly.
Then when he would shiver, I'd feel so good. Sitting there, I could
practically feel it's softness against the webbing between my fingers.

	I looked at his skin. His skin was so soft and warm - the color of baked
honey. I loved the way his skin felt under my fingertips. I loved how it
tasted under my tongue. It felt like warm, firm silk. Especially when his
muscles flexed underneath me.

	My fingers balled together into a fist.

	Just as my eyes were about to wander to his legs, I stopped myself. Once I
found his legs, we'd both be naked and doing it in about a nanosecond. As
subtly as possible, I shifted on the couch and tried to hide the front of my
pants. I did everything I could to take my mind off of it - baseball stats,
calorie counting, my painfully near complete screenplay. Yet, none of it
worked.

	A few minutes of silence later, I'd had enough. I leaned forward and picked
up the universal remote off the coffee table and pushed the blue button in
the corner. Instantly, Martin Sheen's weird goblin face disappeared and the
room was quite. Teddy and I just sat there, the only light provided by the
soft glow of the floor-length lamp in the corner.

	Teddy leaned his head back against the couch and sighed. We both knew what
was going on. It would take someone thicker than shit run over twice to not
know. Against my better, judgment, I watched as he pressed the ball of his
bare foot against the table. The thick muscles in his calf flexed and I felt
a tingle in my most private of privates.

	Right before I forced myself to speak, Teddy spoke first.

	"I know I put it on you."

	I leaned forward and rubbed my eyes, "Yeah. Thanks."

	Blessed by the silence, I rested my face against the heels of my hands.
Suddenly I just felt so very tired. Either he takes the job and I move to
Japan, or he doesn't take the job and the seeds of deep resentment are
planted. Both options were almost equally distasteful to me, but there really
was only one choice I could make.

	"I want the job."

	His words were like a punch in the stomach. For the first time, I knew that
not only did he have to take the job, he wanted to take the job. Why wouldn't
he? He'd get to work for an important federal employer and get paid really
well. It was what every good American wanted out of life: a career and a lot
of money connected to it. Not like I could begrudge him.

	Even though I knew that wasn't the real reason.

	I knew exactly what the real reason was.

	Teddy was American. He was more American than me. His parents were fifth
generation Americans; my dad was second generation Hispanic and my mom was
third generation white trash by way of Italy and Germany. Teddy and his
family were more of a testament to the American way of life than anything my
family could hope to get in a fraudulent lawsuit.

	Yet my family were and always would be more American than his.

	In America, if your Dad is Filipino and your mom is Japanese, you're not of
the country. You're 'foreign.' You're 'Asian.' No matter how many generations
of your family have been working hard on American soil, you're not American.
Even when you walk down the street wearing the clothes that everyone else
wears, you're still a foreigner.

	That hurt Teddy.

	He tried to cover it up but I knew that it bothered him.

	All the times that people made "Hong Kong Driving School" jokes. Asking him
where his rickshaw was. Looking for his help with math problems. The whole
mildly racist menagerie had a way of adding up. Teddy dealt with it quite
well but it still bothered him.

	I knew it was why he wanted to go to Japan - if only for six months.

	For once, he wanted to be able to walk down the street and look like
everyone else. As American as he was, I knew it wasn't a constant feeling of
pride to walk around and have people make assumptions. Teddy wanted to fit in
for once.

	How the hell was I supposed to begrudge him that?

	I swallowed slowly, "Six months?"

	"Six months," He said softly, "Probably won't drop below 75 degrees while
we're there."

	I fell back onto the couch, the stuffed cushions catching me. I stared up at
the shadowy ceiling, the lack of light making me yawn on instinct. Exhaling,
my cheeks puffed out and my lips flapped slightly.

	"Does Nagoya have Sunny Delight?"

	"They probably have something pretty similar."

	"Are you going to give me enough money to live on?"

	"I'll probably spend obscene amounts just to keep from getting homesick."

	From the tone of his voice, I could tell he was smiling.

	I let my head fall to the side and I looked at him. In that brief second, I
probably fell in love with him all over again. Everytime I looked at him, it
felt like my heart had started beating for the first time. As disgusted as I
was with myself, there had never been any feeling before that could compare
to it.

	I was right. Teddy was smiling.

	It wasn't a smug, victorious smile.

	It was a happy smile. A smile that made me smile too.

	I groaned and buried my face in one of the cushions, "I swear to God, if I
get my little finger hacked off by the Yakuza, the shit is gonna hit the
fan!"

	The couch cushions shifted as Teddy crawled over to me. I felt his warm
weight press down ontop of me. His scent filled my senses and I suddenly felt
dizzy. As much as I loved his hair and the feeling of his skin, it was his
smell that captivated me the most. Teddy just plain smelled sexy.
Indulgently, I let my face lean into his neck and I inhaled, nearly drunk
from the scent.

	He rested his forehead against mine and his lips touched mine gently. They
felt soft and warm, their fullness like heaven to me. I kissed him softly,
feeling the blood rushing in his lips. Slowly, he kissed me back and let his
tongue dart out over my teeth and across gums. Teddy moved to my cheek and he
kissed me again, firmly.

	"Thank you." He said softly in my ear.

	I reached up and ran my hand through his hair. Teddy shivered against me and
my heart warmed. It gave me such a deep sense of pleasure to make him feel
good. I nibbled tenderly on the soft brown skin of his earlobe, making him
whimper softly against my neck.

	I wrapped my arms around his back and hugged him close, feeling the
compression of his stomach and chest against mine. His back was so strong and
muscular. Like his spine was made out of iron. I ran my hand over his back
muscles, feeling them through the thin white fabric of his T-shirt.

	Against my chest, I could feel his heart beating. I sighed happily, somehow
not feeling anymore tension or anxiety. My muscles relaxed and the only
sensation I could detect was Teddy's warm weight ontop of me as he nuzzled my
neck.

	Suddenly, moving to Japan didn't sound so bad.

        -1-

	I don't remember what it was in my dream that woke me up.

	The last thing I could recall was a huge tidal wave crashing down on top of
me. A tsunami, if you will. My first concern when I woke up was that I had
wet the bed. In my drunkest nights, pre-Teddy, any water or large quantity of
liquid in a dream meant that I was going to have a little accident.

	But when I woke, everything was dry.

	I rolled over slowly, rubbing my eyes and looking at the alarm clock on the
dresser.

	4:40am. Truly the beginning of the day for anyone with amibition.

	I yawned, rubbing my eyes more briskly. I sat up heavily, feeling my back
stretch with the effort. As much as I tried to to fool myself, there wasn't
any way that I was going to fall back asleep any time soon. Not without the
help of tranquilizers, all of mine which had been flushed down the toilet
long ago.

	I looked over at Teddy and smiled.

	He was hugging his pillow like he always had, cuddling it when I'd decided I
didn't want to be held in my sleep anymore. I reached over and ran the backs
of my fingers over the soft, bare skin of his shoulder. Watching him sleep
always held a weird fascination for me.

	Leaning forward, I pulled up the blankets and exposed his leg. I smiled when
I saw his ankle and the large chunk of bone that was missing. Teddy had
caught his foot in a soccer net and twisted it so badly that the ankle had
cracked and compressed a piece of bone clean out of itself. When he was eight
years old. Yeah, I always got a good laugh out of the story.

	I rubbed my fingers over the gap in his ankle and onto his leg. His warm
skin and the softness of the thick, black hairs tickled me. Carefully, I
moved the sheet up further and more of his leg was bared. It was the side of
his left calf. The side with the tattoos.

	Teddy and his damn tattoos. They had an effect on me like catnip to a cat.
Not exactly healthy or hollistic but mind-bending and extacy-inducing,
nonetheless. The sight of his tattoos had to have some deterimental effect on
my brain. Probably mowing down brain cells like an 80 year old driver taking
their Studebaker onto a crowded sidewalk.

	Four kanji symbols in a vertical line. Carefully designed in black type,
they stood out from his brown skin quite noticeably.

	Of course, I wouldn't trash talk the tattoos too much. It was me asking
about them that broke the ice between us. Even though I'd have to have been
giving off such stinking vibes of fear and nervousness, Teddy hadn't seemed
to mind. The funny thing was that he later admitted that he was probably more
nervous than I was.

	We were just two nervous guys that didn't want to seem "too gay" and mess
things up. It was a serious gift to find another guy that didn't want to do
too much other than watch TV, play video games, work out, and occasionally go
somewhere that wasn't too fruity. In Teddy, I'd found that guy and so much
more.

	What was even funnier was how I didn't even know that Teddy was what I
wanted.

	All my life, regardless of being gay, I was taught, like everyone else, that
I should want to be with another pasty, white caucasian. I had the books read
to me in school about Dick and Jane and Spot and their little house with a
white picket fence. Although I somehow knew it just wasn't me, I assumed that
someday I'd meet a nice white girl and have lots of nice, toeheaded babies.

	Why would I assume any different? It's what I was taught.

	Then I met Teddy. Shirtless and soaking wet. He'd been supervising a group
of kids from his recreation center and had decided to go swimming with them.
It was a spur of the moment decision, which had explained why he was still
wearing long pants.

	As soon as I saw him, I knew that he was "the one." Even though I spent a
long time trying to tell myself that he wasn't. I told myself that he was
"gross." I told myself that he "smelled bad." I told myself that he "probably
didn't know how to shower even though he always smelled like ivory soap and
alpine fresh shampoo."

	Whatever I needed to tell myself to keep up the facade that I wasn't falling
in love with an Asian dude. As horrible and racist as that sounds, it really
didn't seem to surprise too many people I later admitted it to. A few of them
even seemed to express a sort of perverted "sympathy" for my "unfortunate
situation." Imagine that, being forced to get a hard-on in the presence of
*gasp* ... an Oriental.

	But be that as it was, Teddy had engendered feelings in me that I'd never
felt before. Feelings that I'd hoped would make themselves known but never in
the way that they actually had. Teddy was everything I wanted in a guy:
smart, sensitive, gentle, kind, witty, and a million other things I didn't
even know I wanted or needed until he began providing them.

	I had fallen in love with an Asian dude.

	Or as "Asian" as Teddy was. He watched MTV and listened to Godsmack, ate
Doritos, and could paralell park better than 99 out of any 100 people you'd
pass on the street. He didn't pronounce his L's as R's and he didn't have any
great affinity for doing laundry or cooking food with cat as one of the main
ingredients.

	He was a guy. He was a "straight" guy. A "straight" guy that worked and came
home and wanted to sit around in semen-stained shorts and ratty T-shirts.
Anything else was just skin and pigment. That was what made me fall in love
with him.

	That and the tattoos.

        In Kanji, they spelled out "an outcast warrior's pride is deadly." Or
at least that's what he told me they meant. They could have been his name or
something, I'd never really pressed the issue.

	I looked down at the tattoos and noticed how the darkness of his skin stood
out in contrast against the white sheets. I ran the tip of my index finger
over the lettering, feeling his warm skin underneath. I let his leg hairs run
under my fingernails. Then I pressed my palm against his calf, feeling how
hot his skin was. I massaged the muscle and squeezed it, smiling as Teddy
squirmed in his sleep. He always said his legs were "sensitive" that way.

	With much effort, I pulled my hand from his leg and laid down next to him in
the bed. I slid over and pressed myself against his back. Hugging Teddy was
like hugging a huge, warm, squeezeable pillow. Like a junkie needing a hit, I
pressed my face into his neck and inhaled, my head going light and dizzy. How
one person could smell "sexy" didn't make much sense to me but there it was.
In the flesh.

	Teddy squirmed again in his sleep and pushed himself back against me. I
gently kissed the back of his neck and the very edge of his hairline. My
hands roamed around and I wrapped my arms around his waist, squeezing him
firmly and holding his body on mine.

	Even as I hugged him, I couldn't help but feel a very baseline sense of
trepidation about what I'd agreed to. Even though I was willing to follow him
just about anywhere, it was very different to actually do so. For me to move
to a different place, I had to be somewhat familiar with the culture and be
able to immerse myself on charm and bullshitting ability. Somehow, I knew
Japan wouldn't be an easy safe to crack in that regard.

	At least I had Teddy with me. At that moment, I was comforted by his
decision to learn Kanji as a senior project in high school. His blend of
patience, kindness, and easy-going nature would surely make up for my
high-strung personality. If he could work with children, he could easily help
me navigate a strange land.

	Being dependant on Teddy was a new feeling. In our relationship, I was the
uber-competent alpha male provider. He was the gentler, more-intellectual
half. My better half, in simpler terms. I was the one who supervised the
retailing of sporting goods and better quality athletic wear. He supervised
little children. This time, I'd have to be taken care of by him.

	Maybe that was what I was really scared of.