Date: Sat, 15 Mar 2003 20:06:04 -0800 (PST)
From: quasito_cat@hotmail.com
Subject: Nicholas' Story

Warning: This story contains death, although I hope I
have written it so that it is more about life.  While
there is nothing more than a passing mention of sex,
it is a story that includes gay and lesbian couples,
and the deep and abiding friendship between two young
men.  Comments welcome to quasito_cat@hotmail.com.

Nicholas' Story

By M.C. Gordon

It's cold.  And it's raining.  I've lived in Chicago
my whole life, but I'll never get used to the cold.

I don't like it here, in the cemetery.  I'm only here
to say goodbye to my best friend.  My fathers are here
also, as are my grandmother and Art's mom, most of my
classmates and neighbors, and Art's brothers Tom and
Andy.  Sigh, the dreary day suits my mood.  One of my
dads, Ben, told me that dying is a natural part of
life.  I know he's right, but it's wrong anyway.  Not
necessarily dying, just dying like Art did ... and
only sixteen, like me.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror
of Ray's car on the way here.  My sandy hair won't
stay in place with the rain, it's too curly.  Art
always teased me about my hair.  Grandma says I'm
sturdy.  Truth is, I've got big bones.  My blue eyes
are red and swollen from crying.  They have been for
days.

As I look around the cemetery, I see that there are no
dry eyes.  I didn't expect there would be.  Everyone
loved Art.  That's the kind of guy he was ...
loveable, likable.

Lenore, Art's mom, isn't doing very well.  It's been
twenty years since her last child died before she lost
Art.  Only two of her six sons, Tom and Andy, are
still alive, and Art was her youngest.  Mrs. Wilson
said it hurts to live longer than your children.  She
lost a son, too, a long time ago.  That's all I know
because no one ever talks about him.

How long was I friends with Art?  It seems like
forever.  I don't remember life before Art.  We met in
first grade.  He was a funny looking kid, skinny with
wild red hair and freckles

We sat next to each other in Mrs. Joseph's class and
in the cafeteria.  I can still see the look in his
bright brown eyes the first day of school as he asked,
"Gonna eat that pickle?"

Art loved pickles.  He loved a lot of things.

When I got home that day, my fathers and grandparents
asked me what I thought of school.  All I could talk
about was Art.  Ben fussed at me a little because he
thought I should have paid more attention to Mrs.
Joseph.  But Ray said it was okay because the first
day was always exciting and no one paid attention to
the teacher.

That's also about the time I realized my family wasn't
like the ones on television, or like most of my
classmates had.  I lived with my two fathers and my
grandparents.  Still do.  Ben says I have to until I
finish college before I can get an apartment of my
own.  He also says I have to be precise, so I'll
explain a little more.  My fathers are gay.  They've
been together for years.  They love each other a lot.
They love me, and I love them too.

Ben used to be a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted
Police.  Sixteen years ago he left the force, and
since then he's been the administrator of the Animal
Rescue League here in Chicago.  He's a strong,
no-nonsense kind of person.  He's my guide, my
strength.  When I have a really serious problem, I go
to Ben.  He has this way of thinking things through
and finding a solution to almost everything.  Growing
up, I just knew that if I turned to him, everything
would be okay.

Ray, my other dad, is a little different.  He used to
be a cop, too.  When he left the Chicago PD, he
started a construction business with his old
supervisor, Howard Smith.  Ray's spontaneous, does
things on impulse.  He doesn't get angry very often,
but watch out when he does.  His language gets really
colorful.  I used to tell Ray the jokes and riddles I
heard at school when I was just a kid.  He laughs
easily and likes to be a little playful.  But he's
also very sensitive.  When our dog died a few years
back, Ray was the one who held and comforted me.  Then
he comforted Ben.

My fathers are very supportive of each other, and of
me.  Grandma Beswick says that they're a perfect
balance, just what a family should be.

But I digress.

Art and I only saw each other at school to start with.
 Then Sofia Rose, she's a neighbor and another
classmate had a birthday party.  Art's mom drove him
to the party and visited with my family while Art and
I played party games and made ourselves sick on cake
and ice cream.  After that, we spent a lot of time
together after school and on weekends.  We did
sleep-overs, and my fathers took us lots of places
like ball games and the zoo.

Second and third grade were pretty much the same.  Art
and I were still in the same class.  Sofia Rose went
into a different class in the third grade, but we saw
her a lot around the neighborhood.  She was okay, but
neither of us wanted much to do with girls at that
age.

When we were in the third grade, my grandpa, Darryl,
leased a cabin on a lake outside of Chicago, and we
spent most of our weekends there.  Ben taught us how
to fish that year.  When the lake froze over during
the winter, Ben chopped a hole in the ice and we
hunkered around it with our fishing poles.

That was the same year that I realized Art took a lot
of medication.  When I asked him about it, he told me
that his mom said it was because he was a "sickly
child."  I thought nothing more of it.

Lenore ... Art's mom.  I wish you could know her.  My
grandma was the strongest woman I knew until I met
Lenore.  She's a tiny, little lady.  Sofia Rose
described her once as a skinny little sort, with more
heart than body.  She's not very tall, only about five
feet.  Her hair used to be brown, but now it's totally
white.  She was a secretary with the Foreign Service
for a while and married an ambassador to someplace,
I'm not sure where.  He died a long time ago.  Lenore
played the stock market for years and made some shrewd
investments, like buying Xerox before the name was
Xerox, at fifty cents a share.  She's pretty wealthy,
but you'd never know it because she's so down to
earth.  She's seen a lot of tragedy in her life, but
it always made her stronger ... that is until now.
Tom and Andy remember their last three brothers dying.
 They say Lenore thought Art might make it once he
turned six.

Life got busier when we were in the fourth grade.  I
started playing Little League Hockey.  Art wanted to,
but Lenore wouldn't let him.  She said it was because
of the sickly thing.  Ray and Ben took her side.  Ray
said that if Art got run into on the ice he'd get
squashed because he was so slender.  Art did get to
watch all my practices and games with my fathers.

We both joined Scouts that year, which we liked.  We
competed against each other to see who would earn the
most badges.  Art did, but he pushed himself hard the
last four years and made Eagle Scout last month.

Lenore did let Art play Little League baseball with
me.  Ben and Ray practiced with us a lot in our
neighborhood park and we both got to be pretty good.
Art was always the pitcher and I was catcher.  We made
a good team, Art and me.

Things weren't so good the year we turned ten.  We
were in the fifth grade then.  Ray's business partner,
Howard, died of a heart attack that year.  It upset
his partner, Rob Thomason, pretty bad.  Even now
there's sadness about Rob.  He still has his catering
business with Sofia Rose's mom, Fran, but I don't
think he's interested in it anymore.  I see him
sometimes sitting with Grandma in her herb garden.
Most of the times they just talk, but sometimes he
cries.

Of course, Ray and Ben took it pretty hard, too.  For
a long time they talked about the old days when they
were both police officers and how much they liked
Howard.  Ray said how he screwed up a lot and Howard
always cut him some slack, but kept pushing him to do
better.  It seems that Howard always stuck up for his
men, even Ben who wasn't with the Chicago PD.  I think
Ben sort of looked at Howard like a substitute dad.

Most of our neighbors had worked with Howard at the
Police Department in one way or another.  I remember
times when everyone would come over and they'd talk
all night long.  And I know my fathers cried, because
there were mornings when they were both puffy-eyed.

That was also the year the dog died.  Ben said it was
old age and that he was finally at peace because he'd
developed arthritis which kept him in a lot of pain.
Still, I cried over losing him.  So did Ben.

Even losing Howard and the dog, my life was mostly
good.  I was surrounded by friends and family.  Oh,
there were ups and downs.  I got into scrapes like all
little kids do.  Then, the year I was twelve, things
started to get worse.

  * * *

Ray Beswick pulled into his usual parking spot at the
school and waited for his twelve-year-old son,
Nicholas. The years had been kind to Ray.  Just past
fifty, his hair was still free of any white, his body
still lean and agile, and his eyes still bright,
although he now needed to wear glasses all the time.

Ray seldom had to do much hard, physical work anymore
in the construction company that he had formed with
Howard Smith.  They had expanded the firm a great deal
through the years.  As they could afford to take on
more carpenters Howard had taken over managing the
firm while Ray had stayed actively involved with the
construction crews.  When Howard died, Ben helped Ray
gradually learn the management part of the firm and
now he handled contracts, contractors, and bookkeeping
himself.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.  While he
waited for Nicholas, he thought about his lover, Ben
Freeman. Ben had white streaks at his temples, which
just added to the distinction of his appearance.  The
grey-blue eyes were still as clear as ever, the
muscled body almost as strong.  In the past year, Ben
had begun to develop some back problems that were the
result of old gunshot wounds, but the walk was the
same.  Ben still had that steady gait, knees thrown
apart.  Ray laughed to himself at Ben's walk.  Through
the years he had often teased his lover about the way
he walked, as if his balls were too large for him to
just put one foot forward after another.

His mind drifted to the night before, a night of sweet
loving.  The intense need to have sex constantly had
passed with the years.  What they had now were nights
of gentle and all encompassing love.

Ray was pulled out of his reverie as Nicholas entered
the car and slammed the door shut.  Ray looked at his
son and asked, "Is something wrong, Nick?"

The prepubescent boy glanced at him from the corner of
his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like "No".

"Ya sure, Champ?  'Cause if there is, you can tell me.
 You know that, don'cha?"

"Yes."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

Ray didn't push the issue.  He eased the car out of
the parking lot and headed for the cabin where he had
lived with his family for the past twelve years.  Ray
worked his way in and out of traffic, always a careful
driver when Nicholas was with him.  He could tell that
the boy had something serious on his mind, but he knew
that Ben was the one Nicholas went to with a serious
problem.  Ray wondered what it could be this time.  He
glanced quickly at his silent son and saw him brush an
unshed tear from one eye.

Nicholas was a bright child who could read, write and
do basic math even before he started kindergarten,
thanks to his grandmother and Ben.  The school
officials kept wanting to skip Nicholas a grade, but
Ben had always highly objected, insisting that
Nicholas stay with his own age group and form a
lasting circle of friends.

Ray understood why his lover felt that way.  Raised by
grandparents in isolated areas of Canada, Ben hadn't
been able to make and keep friends very long.  He had
grown up mostly alone, and had craved love and
stability in his life.  And Ben was now determined
that his son have the things he had never had.

Reaching their cabin, located in what had become one
of the more predominately gay suburbs of Chicago, Ray
eased his frequently re-built Mustang into the
driveway.

Nicholas was out of the car before Ray could even
bring it to a complete stop.  The boy tore through the
front door and ran up the stairs to his bedroom,
oblivious of his grandmother and second father staring
at him in amazement.

"What's wrong with him?" Barbara asked as Ray entered
the house.

"Dunno.  He wouldn't say a word all the way home."
Ray crossed the small entryway to give Ben a quick hug
and kiss.  "He didn't want to talk to me.  He always
talks to you.  He was holding back tears.  I think
it's somethin' serious."

Ben paused at the foot of the stairs and wondered how
to approach the child this time.  Nicholas had come
home in the past in need of answers to some very
difficult questions.  Questions like: "How come I have
two fathers and no mother?  How come you and Ray don't
go out with girls?  How come you sleep in the same
room like Grandma and Grandpa?"

Ben had done his best to answer each question as
patiently and honestly as he could, explaining that he
and Ray loved each other.  They wanted to spend their
lives loving each other.  They had adopted Nicholas
because they wanted to raise a family together.
Barbara had said that she and Grandpa loved Nicholas
and both of his fathers very much and didn't have a
problem with them being a family.

. . . . . . . . . .

Nicholas understood that his neighborhood was a little
different from that of some of his classmates.  Howard
had lived next door with Rob.  Hugh and Matt lived
across the street, and they were really nice.  He
could swim in their pool whenever one of them was at
home because he wasn't allowed to swim without an
adult to watch him.  Sylvia and Fran also lived across
the street with their daughter, Sofia Rose.  One of
his favorite neighbors was Ian Wrightsman, the man who
lived with Fran's cousin, Ray Wilson.  Ian told the
most marvelous stories.  And Nicholas liked the way
that Ray would tousle his hair and whisper, "Don't
believe a word he says, kid."

Nicholas lived in a world filled with love and
laughter.  Nothing frightened him until this day in
Health Ed. when they were given their first lesson in
sex education.  In a classroom of boys who could only
guess what sex truly meant, the teacher had shown them
slides about safe sex and pictures of people suffering
from sexually transmitted diseases.  Nicholas had been
extremely embarrassed as the teacher had placed a
model of a penis on his desk and then proceeded to put
some sort of glove on it.  The entire class had burst
into giggles and jokes.  But it bothered Nicholas for
a reason he couldn't explain.  Most predominant among
the STD's that Mr. Nichols mentioned were HIV and
AIDS.  The longer the class lasted, the more upset
Nicholas had become.  He didn't understand quite what
those diseases meant, but the teacher kept saying that
it happened all the time to gays and that people died.
 Then Mr. Nichols had gone to explain about pregnancy.

Nicholas knew that his fathers were gay.  He knew the
terms gay and lesbian meant people of the same sex who
fell in love and lived together.  He had never thought
about it in terms of physically engaging in sex.  Mr.
Nichols had been very graphic in his description of
that.  Now Nicolas was terrified.

Ben allowed Nicholas a few moments of privacy before
heading up the stairs to his room.  He could hear the
muffled sounds of crying through the closed door.  He
knocked and waited for Nicholas to say, "Come in."

The boy had flung himself down on the bed, face buried
in his pillow.  Ben crossed the room and sat on the
edge of the bed.  Gone from the walls were the magic
dragons of Nicholas' childhood.  They had been
replaced with stars, planets, and galaxies as Nicholas
had taken an interest in astronomy.

Placing a hand on one shoulder and Ben asked, "Do you
want to talk?"

Nicholas nodded his head in silent affirmation, but
the face stayed hidden in the pillow.  Ben gave him
time.  He knew that Nicholas was composing his
thoughts carefully.  Ben retrieved the box of Kleenex
from the bedside table and handed one to Nicholas when
the boy finally sat up.

Nicolas started to explain what had happened at
school.  He had only managed a few words before Ben
stopped him.  Going to the door, he called, "Ray?  Can
you come up here, please?"

Ray headed up the stairs immediately.  Ben usually
just told him about his and Nicholas' conversations.
He only called Ray in for a family conference when
things were extreme.

"This requires both of us," Ben said when Ray entered
Nicholas' room.  Ray looked at the child's tear
streaked face and sat down, taking one of the small
hands in his own.

"Start again please, Nicholas," Ben prompted.
"Precisely what about the class upset you so?"

Nicholas told his fathers about the Health Ed. class
in detail, leaving out nothing.  "Class today was
about sex and stuff.  Mr. Nichols showed us slides
with naked people.  Well, almost naked anyway.  And he
told us about how girls have babies.  There was even a
picture of a baby being born.  That part was kinda
gross.  Then he showed us pictures of people who got
sick from having sex.  He told us about how gays have
sex.  And he talked about gays getting sick."  The
tears in Nicholas' eyes welled over as he looked at
Ray and Ben.  A frightened voice asked, "Are you going
to die?"

"Everyone eventually dies, Nicholas," Ben said softly.
 You know that.  We explained it to when Howard and
Ruff died."

"But are you going to die of AIDS?  My teacher said
all gays do."  The voice grew alarmingly quiet as he
asked, "Is that how Howard died?"

Ray's reaction was instant.  Although he had mellowed
with time, his temper could still flare quickly.  He
jumped off the bed and began pacing the floor, slender
fingers stabbing the air as he voiced his opinion of
Nicholas' teacher.  One stern, "Ray!" from Ben ended
the tirade, and he sat back down next to the boy.

Ben patiently explained to Nicholas that there were,
unfortunately, people in the world who objected to
same sex relationships.  This Nicholas understood
because it was an old conversation.

"First, Nicholas.  Howard died of a heart attack, not
AIDS.  Years ago," he explained, "people believed that
all homosexual men contracted the virus.  And many
were infected before there was very much research
done.  But, Nicholas, the rate of HIV and AIDS in the
homosexual community has been on the decrease of late.
 Once the nature of the virus was known, we started
being more careful about sex.  We are probably the
largest community of individuals in the world that
practices safe sex."

Ben saw the look on Nicholas' face and knew that his
next question would be to ask about sex itself, and he
didn't feel like this was the time to explain sex
between himself and Ray.  To Ben, the most important
thing right now was to quell Nicholas' fear that he
and Ray would die of anything other than accident or
old age.

"Through the years medical science has, slowly but
surely, developed some very encouraging medications
which are used in treating the virus.  Research
continues on a vaccine to prevent it, much like the
vaccines for polio and smallpox.  Actually, Son, more
people contract HIV now through intravenous drug use
than through sex.  Ray and I were very careful when we
first became involved with each other.  Neither of us
has been intimate with anyone else in more years than
you've been alive.  No, Nicholas, the answer is no.
Neither of us should die of AIDS."

. . . . . . . . . .

Nicholas continued to worry for the next few months.
But, as neither of his fathers showed signs of even a
cold, the source of his concern faded ever further
into the back of his mind.  Nicholas spent the passing
months hanging out with his best friend.  They studied
and played video games together.  Already active in
sports and Scouts, they also pondered the great
mysteries of the universe, like who would win the next
World Series.

Ray and Ben knew that Arthur was being raised in a
single parent home with his brother Andy.  They took
it upon themselves to provide some male influence in
the boys' young lives.  When Ray and Darryl took
Nicholas to a Cubs game, Art and his brother were
invited.  The boys liked to go to the games because
they could eat hot dogs and drink colas, a rare treat
for all of them. With Ben it was always a visit to a
museum, an art gallery, or the planetarium.  The
latter was their favorite place since Nicholas and
Arthur both planned to become astronauts and discover
long-lost civilizations on distant worlds.

The first sign Nicholas had that his world was
changing came when Arthur said he wouldn't be able to
play Little League baseball in the spring. Nicholas
had
expected Coach Walker to be upset because Art was the
best Little League pitcher in Chicago.  So he was
surprised when Coach had said, "That's okay, Art.  I
understand."  Mike Walker had coached both of Arthur's
older brothers and was well aware of the health
problems in the Allen family.

Ray and Ben watched their son grow more and more
concerned as Arthur, always slender, became painfully
thin.  When Nicholas started having trouble sleeping,
they decided that it was time he knew the truth about
his friend.

. . . . . . . . . .

Ben and the Beswicks had first met Lenore Allen one
Saturday when the boys were in the first grade.  She
had driven Arthur to a birthday party for Sofia Rose.
Over tea at the Beswick home, Lenore told them about
her son.

"I adopted him when he was a week old.  His birth
mother was a prostitute and IV drug user."  Lenore
stopped and took a deep breath.  "Arthur was born with
HIV."

Ray was silent, but Ben asked, "How is the boy?  I
assume he's on medication?"


"Yes," Lenore replied.  "He's been on medication since
birth.  So far the virus is under control."

"I think you're very brave, adopting a child like
Arthur," said Barbara.

Lenore looked at her and said, "Arthur is the sixth
HIV baby I've adopted.  Three of them didn't live to
see their sixth birthday.  Tom, the oldest, is in
college now.  Andy is a senior in high school.  The
doctors are very optimistic about their futures."

Silent tears ran down Barbara's face as she thought
about the three lost babies.  "Do you have a support
group?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," was Lenore's reply.  "Several of us have
adopted HIV babies, and we help each other through the
more difficult times.  Most of my friends are in my
support group."

Ray asked, "Does Art know?"

"Not yet," Lenore answered.  "He knows he's sick, but
I don't think he's quite old enough to understand his
illness."

  * * *

I still get this sick feeling in my stomach when I
remember the day my family told me about Art's
illness.  That was the worst day of my life.  I knew
that he was really sick, but I never ... ever ...
thought it was HIV.  Neither did he.

Our parents decided to tell us at the same time.  So,
one rainy afternoon, Ben and Ray sat me down and told
me.  Only by that time, Art had AIDS.  I couldn't
believe what they were telling me!  It was the only
time I ever called my fathers liars.

"NO!  It's not true!  It can't be!  You're lying to
me!  It's not that!  Why are you saying this about
Art?  Liars!"

I was angry ... and confused.  Art wasn't gay, he
wasn't having sex with anyone, and he didn't use
drugs.  Ben explained to me about Art's birth mother,
but I didn't understand it at the time.  I know that I
was angry and hurt because of what was happening to my
friend, but I took it out on my fathers.  Instead of
letting one of them comfort me, I buried my head in
Grandma Beswick's lap and cried.

I was still crying when Art came bursting through the
front door.  He had run the whole six blocks from his
house and was soaked from the rain.  I could tell from
the look on his face that Lenore had just told him.
He was crying, too.  It was true.

Ray rushed Art upstairs for a warm shower while Ben
called his mom to let her know that he was okay.  I
guess she figured he'd come to our house, because Ben
said that it was all right for him to stay over.

Lenore came to the house a little later with pajamas
and a change of clothes for Art.  And she brought his
pills.  Later, dressed in his pajamas, like some sort
of bizarre dream, Art counted the pills out of their
different bottles.  I had watched Art do this a
hundred times, but this time was different.  This time
it wasn't something Art did to feel better.  This time
it was something he did to stay alive.

Ben looked at the prescriptions and read them aloud:

"One efavirentz, DMP-225, this would be the
transcriptase inhibitor, and two ZDV/3TC, the protease
inhibitors.  The cocktail.  How many pills do you take
a day?"

"Twenty."

"You're a brave little man, Arthur."

I remember Art telling Ben he didn't feel very brave
at all.  Ben took him in his arms and held him while
he cried until he gave himself the hiccoughs.

None of us slept well that night.  Grandma and Lenore
cried.  Grandpa didn't know what to do.  He kept
patting their hands and whispering, "Now, now,
ladies."

Art and I cried until Ben and Ray got out their
sleeping bags and said we'd all sleep together on
their bedroom floor.  Art slept with Ben.  I guess he
sensed Ben's strength.  A couple of times I heard him
start to cry again, and Ben's voice whispering, "Shh,
Son.  Don't cry."

I slept with Ray.  Whenever Art started to cry, so did
I.  Ray just kept holding me close.  I think he was
trying to take it all away.

Art spent a lot of that summer going to his doctors.
And resting.  He rested a lot then.

He was able to go to all the Little League games, and
he cheered as enthusiastically as he could.  Ben and
Ray kept a close eye on him and wouldn't let him get
overly excited.  That was the summer that he started
working really hard on his Scout badges.  He told me
to stop competing with him because I wouldn't be able
to keep up.  He was right.  Art was trying to prove
something to himself in the time he had left.

We went into the eighth grade the year we were
thirteen.  Everyone knew about Art then.  Lenore
didn't want to keep that information quiet since it
was AIDS.  She thought they had the right to know.  We
all kind of held our breath to see what would happen,
but nothing did.  People respected Lenore and they
liked Art.  Oh, there were a couple of bullies who
tried to make trouble for him.  But the rest of his
friends and all the teachers stood by him.  Pretty
soon the bullies backed off and even began to show a
little admiration for the way that Art handled things.

He looked better because he'd put on a little weight.
Fran and Rob kept coming up with all kinds of new
recipes to tempt him to eat.  He laughed and joked
easily.  It was like he had accepted things and had
wrapped himself in an unreal serenity.  Sometimes he
felt kind of lousy, but he kept going to school.  I
worried about him a lot, and he knew it.  One day he
even said to me, "Poor Nicky.  This harder on you than
it is on me, isn't it?"

And sometimes he felt really bad.  Those were the
times that we'd both break down and cry.  My fathers,
my grandparents, and Lenore did everything they could
to make things easier for us.  When Art felt too bad
to get out of bed, Ben would sit and tell him Inuit
stories and legends.  Ben could go on for hours, until
Art would finally fall asleep.  On those days, our
classmates and teachers would drop by Art's house,
singly and in groups, to visit him.

Somehow Art and I made it through that school year and
both passed to the next grade.

Tom graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology at the top of his class.  Tom's hero was a
noted graduate of the University of Chicago and a
professor at Cornell University.  The man had inspired
Tom to enter the field of planetary science.  Tom was
going to be a part of the JPL team at Cal Tech in
Pasadena that would analyze information sent back by
the first manned space flight to Mars.  Andy graduated
from high school with a scholarship to Emory
University in Atlanta.  He wanted to work at the
Center for Disease Control and figured the best place
to study for that was actually in Atlanta.  He even
hoped to work part time at the CDC, even if it was
just in the mailroom.

Tom and Andy stayed in Chicago that summer.  They went
to my Little League games, even when Art couldn't.  We
all sat around and watched a lot of old reruns on
television.  Tom told us stories about college.  It
was one of the best summers I can remember, even with
Art so sick.

When we were in the ninth grade, I discovered Sofia
Rose.  Well, not really discovered her, because we'd
lived across the street from each other our whole
lives.  I just started to see her a little
differently.  She's a pretty girl with long, black
hair and violet eyes.  She'd always been a friend, but
not in a girl-type way.  I think we were all a little
surprised that she and I actually liked each other in
a boy/girl way.  I wasn't sure how my fathers would
take that whole idea, but they said it was okay.  We
just couldn't go on dates or anything until we were
older.  So, Sofia Rose just hung around with Art and
me that year.

The doctors changed Art's medication because the
cocktail he'd been taking wasn't working anymore.  His
T-cell count had dropped and he was anemic.  So they
switched him to a combination of Fotovase and
Combivir.  He was still taking twenty pills a day.  He
started feeling better and we all got optimistic about
the new regimen.

My family went through a lot of pain that year.
Grandpa Beswick, in his eighties, passed away one
night.  The doctor said it was a stroke.  It was
really hard for Grandma and Ray.  They took comfort in
each other and sort of shut Ben and me out for a few
days.  That hurt Ben, because he'd loved Grandpa, too.
 But he said he understood how Ray and Grandma felt.
Ben took Art, Sofia Rose, and me out to some art
galleries and the zoo so that Ray and Grandma could
have time alone together.

After the funeral, Grandma went to stay with Lenore,
and Art came to stay with us.  Lenore said it had
something to do with women helping each other.  Since
she'd lost her husband too, I guess she and Grandma
had something in common.  With Grandma at Lenore's,
Ray finally turned to Ben for comfort, and they spent
long days talking quietly in the living room and
holding each other.  Art and I pretty much kept to
ourselves.  He was strong for me, and kept me going.
Ray apologized later for not paying more attention to
me.  But I said it was okay.  I don't know how I'd
react if I lost Ray or Ben.

Sofia Rose and I were allowed to date when we turned
fifteen.  We still couldn't go on dates alone though,
so for a while Art tagged along with us by himself.
Lots of the girls in school wanted to go out with Art,
so he finally started bringing one girl or another
along.  He never got serious about any of them,
though.  He said it wouldn't be fair to the girls
because he was still busy working on his Scout badges.
 That made sense to me at the time.

Then we turned sixteen, and Art got really sick.

  * * *

Ben and Ray watched their sixteen year-old son as he
sat on a chair next to the hospital bed.  Nicholas had
kept up a cheerful line of chatter for over an hour.
He even managed to bring a smile to Arthur's worn and
haggard face with tales of the misadventures of
several of their classmates.  When Arthur finally
drifted off to sleep, Nicholas put his head down on
the mattress and cried.  At the insistence of the
doctors, Ben and Ray led Nicholas out of the room.

The beep of the monitors maintained a steady pace in
the silence of the room.  Nicholas looked at his
friend from the doorway.  The once-bright brown eyes
had dulled.  The pale, white skin of his fragile arms
was bruised from the needles connected to the IVs that
slowly dripped medication and life-sustaining fluids
into his veins.

Nicholas' body started to shake with wracking sobs,
and Ben took his son and held him close.  "Try to
control yourself, son.  Don't let Lenore see you like
this.  She needs our strength just now, not our
tears."  Nicholas pulled himself together, sniffling
slightly.

The scene in the waiting room was quiet, broken only
by an occasional soft whispering of conversation or a
sob from one of the women.  Fran, Sylvia, Mrs. Wilson,
and Barbara sat with Lenore.  Tom and Andy were
talking quietly with Sofia Rose.

Dr. Pierce Long entered the waiting room and said,
"The boy's going to survive the night. You should all
go home and try to get some rest.  He'll still be with
us in the morning."

Lenore, Tom, and Andy went into Arthur's room to kiss
him goodnight.

Ben drove them home in Lenore's car, while Ray drove
Barbara and Nicholas to their cabin.  Then Ben walked
the six blocks from Lenore's house to the one he had
shared with his lover and his family for so long.

Several times during the night, Ben and Ray could hear
Nicholas crying in his room.  Ray started to go to the
boy each time, but Ben stopped him.  "He'll come to us
when he's ready.  He needs time by himself."

They were all back at the hospital the next morning.
The hours seemed to drag by endlessly.  Arthur was
allowed visitors in short shifts while the doctors
monitored his breathing.  Finally, Dr. Long summoned
Arthur's family into the room for a final farewell.
Lenore insisted that Nicholas be allowed to join them.

  * * *

Tom and Andy are in shock.  They loved Art, and they
both know that the same thing could eventually happen
to them.  I take Lenore by the arm and lead her to
Art's grave.  She's weak from sorrow, so I reach down
and take a handful of cold, damp earth and press it
into her hand.  Her hand shakes as she lets the dirt
fall down onto the closed casket of her son, my
friend.  Then I take a handful for myself and do the
same thing.  My hand is shaking also.  From sorrow?
Perhaps. Or from anger?  I don't know.  How is one
supposed to feel when someone so young, so vibrant is
gone?

When everyone has performed the ritual, and the final
prayers are said, we turn to leave.  Grandma has
convinced Lenore to stay with us for a few days.  Tom
lives in Los Angeles now, and Andy's in Atlanta.  They
have to leave this evening, and I don't think Lenore
wants to be by herself for a while.  I'll just be
relieved to leave the cemetery.

I really don't like this place.