Date: Fri, 30 Aug 2002 13:46:49 EDT From: Lherelenfeline@aol.com Subject: Of meetings 2 By Julian K. Pearlson _____________________________________________________________ The copyright to this story belongs to the author who can be reached at Lherelenfeline@aol.com, please don't use it without permission. Secondly, if you object to male/male relationships you shouldn't be reading this. neither should you be at this site. The content is purely fictional and all if any similarities to any actual events are curcumstantional. This all said, enjoy your reading. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Of Meetings He lay back on the dirty motel sheets and sighed for the thousandth time as his relentless channel surf tuned up nothing, yet again. What else was he to expect? This was a cheap motel after all and did he really deserve better? He was a coward. He knew it. Eileen was at home, or what used to be home for them for the last three months. He could also be there, but he was a coward. A fucking coward! He was nothing more than that. A better man would have stayed and faced John, but he bolted leaving him to explain to her exactly why he ran. Hopefully she'll forget him and find someone good enough for her. John deserved it too, after all, why should two good people suffer just because he's been a horny bastard? Frustrated , he turned off the TV and turned over in his nest of dingy polyester. E hadn't been out of bed in more than a week. The shoulder length hair would normally be strawberry blonde but at present it looked like week old pigeon droppings. The pungent smell of old sweat and whiskey permeated the air and the dust had long settled on unused furniture. He hadn't left the room at all. The "Do Not Disturb" sign outside was untouched. He had paid for the room through tomorrow night, he still had time to think about it all.. Honestly though, he really didn't want to. He rolled over and reached for the bottle on the night stand. The glass contained was an unlovable weight in his hand. Hopefully there'd be some more left. He shook the bottle and tipped it up-side-down. Nothing came out.. Not even a drop. Suddenly overwhelmed by the difficulty of his position, he curled into a ball and finally fell into oblivion. He was at the bar again, discordant wail of Bjork pounding on his abused ears. This would be the last time. Eileen was too good to let go. He loved her, really he did. So what if he thought of men when they were together? He leaned over the bar and got another beer. He was drinking too much , he knew, but it would be the last time. Might as well let himself go. This life wasn't for him. All the sweaty bodies writhing on the dance floor and dancing a different sort of a choreography in the many darkened alcoves along the walls. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted, needed and craved kids. A family and as dumb as it sounded, he wanted commitment. There was no way he'd get it here. Wants weren't the same as needs. This would be his farewell to indulging his wants. He picked up a screw driver and went back into the fray. "Mind if I borrow this?" a voice asked and the world stopped.. He jerked awake, sweat pooling around him. Fifth time in five nights. Why couldn't he dream of Eileen instead? He loved her, right? His thoughts turned to her and their relationship, or what used to be their relationship anyway. She was the sweetest person he knew, always there, always understanding. Over the months heed known her she'd become his best friend, his "go-to" person, and closest confidant. He trusted her as he'd never trusted anyone before. There was something incredibly warm in the huge blue eyes ,and pixie like figure hid enormous emotional strength. The long and the short of it, she was incredible, a dream come reality and yes, he loved her. But what sort of a love was it? There wasn't a crazy rush of happiness when he saw her, neither was there any profound sadness when she left. Instead , there was a sense of safety, and comfort and for the lack of a better word, home.. Isn't it the way love was supposed to be? Wasn't a man's wife supposed to be his best friend? If so , then why was he happier that night with John than all the nights he'd spent in her arms? Why was he too weak to refuse him? He still loved Eileen. He wanted her to be happy and Gods knew he'd do anything for her. He wanted to protect her, and love her, and be with her… and yet he wanted John. The two of them deserved so much better than him and his bullshit. Really, it would be so much better if he just left. He'd file for transfer tomorrow and hopefully it would be active by the end of the summer. With that resolution , his tired brain shut down and Chris fell into the dreamless abyss.. For the first time in more than a week, he didn't wake from memories. Fifteen days later he stood in front of the Rutgers university dorms and shook his head in dismay. The grounds were unkempt and dirty. People, at least the ones he's met so far , were vitriolic enough to him gag or were trying to get into his pants , quite openly so. It would be a while before he allowed himself to get close to anyone. In fact, if it was up to him, he'd do his best to make sure no-one was ever in Eileen's place ever again. This shit was his own to deal with and that was exactly what he'd do. He ran his fingers through his newly buzzed hair and made his way to the ancient building. Maybe he'd gone a bit overboard with the hair , but the need for punishment was too great. No use wondering about it now though; he'd go to class tomorrow. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Herein lies the second part of the tale, Enjoy yourselves and do write ...