Date: Mon, 2 Jun 2008 17:53:09 -0500 From: Andy Smith Subject: Asleep on the Beach - Gay, Yong Friends - Chapter 9 (tt/tb) Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The people are fictional, and are not intended to resemble, nor relate to any real individual or individuals. The plot is fictional, not real. The inspiration and motivation for this story resides entirely within the confines of my mind. Certain incidences and happenings in my past brought me to the understandings that lead to the creation of these characters and story. If you aren't supposed to be reading about young lovers, don't. Please write if you have comments or questions. All responses are treated with respect and answered as promptly as I can. andyoutwest@live.com Chapter 9 -- can we live through this???... Jason was in no shape to give me advice on this...my question about if I had raped Lenny. I asked him that after he told me his horrible story of being raped by Mason's cousin, Corey. Corey forced himself on Jason left him to deal with the abuse all alone. Jason felt like he couldn't talk to anyone...he had to hid this all to himself. In a tiny way..I could sense now why Jason always seemed so in charge...so sure of himself...it was a mask. He was hiding the torn and tattered soul on the inside...he wouldn't allow himself to be so vulnerable ever again. I couldn't verbalize it all like that beck then...I just FELT it. As slowly pulled myself away from the fog that had drifted across my mind, I hugged Jason and whispered to him, "I love you, Jason. I'm sorry you got hurt like that. I'm sorry I brought this all back in your life." The tears in my eyes couldn't stay there, and dripped at will down my cheeks. I got up and walked out into the hall. Running away was my first instinct. The sickening reality of possibly forcing myself on the boy who trusted me was more than I wanted to face. But, I had to face it, didn't I. I couldn't run away. Passing by my room, I saw that Lenny was all curled up and sleeping. I wondered how he could be so peaceful looking, when in my mind the world was screaming to a screeching halt. I didn't know what to do about this. I was in over my head...I needed my Mom and Dad. But, how could they help me with this mess? I'd have to tell them...tell them about how I feel inside...about who I am inside. They would have to know I was a teenage monster. A monster who took advantage of trusting little kids. I was a gay pervert. OMG. I could feel my head swimming in despair, guilt, and fear. It was over. My life. Over. Slowly I made my way down the stairs. I was hungry, but couldn't eat. At the bottom of the stairs was a small closet, and Dad's study was on the opposite side of the hall, slightly down the hallway. But, in the hall closet I would often hide my shorts, dirty shirts, socks and stuff that I was too lazy to take up to my laundry basket in my room. This also served as a convenient place to get a pair of shorts on short notice, should I ever need them...sorta like now! I found a pair and decided the tee-shirts and socks stunk too bad, so I just went to the garage wearing my boxers and shorts. I got on my bike and started peddling down the street. No place in mind to go...I just had to go. I was acutely aware that I had left Jason sitting on Mom's bed, and little Lenny asleep on mine...but what could I do about them? I just don't know. On and on I rode my Mongoose. I loved my bike. It gave me freedom, I felt like King of the World sometimes on my bike...but today it was just an escape vehicle...taking me away. Before I knew it, I was out at the baseball diamonds where we always played ball. At this early hour, no one was around. I rode in circles around the complex for a bit, still seeing none of my friends...and frankly glad of it too. I just didn't want to talk to anyone right now. There was just too much to sort out in my head. After a bit, I spied the water fountain which was located near the public restrooms for the park. These were generally locked when no organized activities were going on, but the water was always on. I dumped my bike over and walked over to get a drink. It tasted nasty...just like every other damn time I tried to get a drink for the stupid thing. *Sigh* Frustrated, I plopped down at some picnic benches nearby and put my head on my folded arms and allowed myself to just veg out. I don't know how long I sat there, but I felt something bump into the heels of my feet from behind. It felt like a ball of some sort...probably belonged to some local little kids or something...I figured if it was, they'd come retrieve it soon...probably would be making all kinds of damned noise and I was getting annoyed already in anticipation of their disturbance. I didn't want to move, didn't want to see anyone...certainly didn't want to talk to anyone...or hear a bunch of annoying childish gibberish, so I was just mustering the gumption to get up, get on my trusty Mongoose and get the hell out of there...when I heard a gruff voice behind me. "Hey you little shit..." the voice barked rudely at me. I jerked my head up at the sound of this strange voice...my senses instantly alert to danger. I wheeled sideways on the bench to see to whom the voice belonged. WHAM My eyes went dark, my head slammed crossways and a searing pain shot through my the side of my face. Some dumb shit had just HIT ME! I was instantly angry, but also instantly frightened! Reeling sideways and with what I felt like were cat-like reflexes I jumped out of the bench, landing squared on my feet set for a brawl. I wasn't exactly a demon when it came to a fight...but I wasn't exactly a chicken-shit either! Shaking my head to clear the cobwebs that had just been pounded into me, I focused on my nemesis. Standing just off to the right of where I had been sitting was two rather large teenage boys...I guessed them to be about 16 or 8 years old. They weren't regular kids from around here, I had no clue where they had come from, or why they were here...much less why one of them had knocked the shit outta me. "You stupid Fuck," I screamed at them both, my fists raised for combat, and my feet subconsciously already beginning to dance the time honored dance of a fighter. "What the hell? What did you hit me for?" I challenged...again, my hatred spit at them both. ...I suppose I should add here that Jason and I had sparred and wrestled together nearly all our lives. We tried all the tricks, jabs, throws, and punches our Dads had taught us on each other. Often one of our Dads would join us, and it would be two boys against one adult. As we grew older, they fought us back harder. They both wanted us to be able to defend ourselves if necessary. "A boy has to know how, and when to fight," Dad often told us. So, what I'm trying to say is that being gay doesn't mean being a sissy...sometimes...anyway...just thought that might help you know why I decided to fight back... They looked at one another and both burst into fits of laughter at the same time. "Hey, numb-nuts," the older (and uglier) of the two said, "why didn't YOU kick my ball back to me?" nodding toward a dirty and obviously well worn soccer ball. No doubt, it was the same stupid ball that caused all this mess in the first place. "I was asleep you bastard," I said between clenched teeth. My fists still on-guard, and my feet ready to help me dodge any attack. "Look Jared," the leader said to the other, "this little fag thinks he can take us both!" He laughed out loud at his own wit, making it obvious he intended to have his buddy join in the foray. "Don't call me that," I challenged, "Or I'll kick your ass!" The nameless older boy just turned to face me straight on at that. He looked all around, as if to see if he would be interfered with should he decided to take me up on this ill-advised challenge to his bravado. "Oh, someone is going to get their little faggot ass kicked okay", he barked, stepping forward toward me a couple of steps, "but it sure as hell won't be mine!" He was jabbing his finger at me with emphasis upon each syllable. I could see the veins bulging on his temple, spit was foaming at the corners of his mouth, and his breath smelled like shit. My mind was quickly developing a strategy as we began circling one another. Of course, I couldn't leave well-enough alone and had to interject my own keen observations. "No, I suppose your faggot ass is the one about to get fucked then!" Shit. He reacted just as I thought he might. He lunged for me with his fist doubled up attempting another freebie up beside my head. I waited for the impending blow, and after he had committed beyond the point where he could call the blow back, I wheeled on my back foot, dodging slightly and following the direction of his fist, I grabbed his arm by the wrist and wrenched his arm back across my body putting him in a terrible lock with my shoulder. I heaved myself upward as hard as I could possibly do, causing him to fly off his feet over my shoulder sprawling fully on his back at my feet. Without thinking a nanosecond I kicked as hard as I could and caught him square in the ribs with the ball of my bare foot. I heard him gasp for breath as he rolled quickly away from me. As quickly as he was downed, he sprang back to his feet. I suppose he thought I would just cower and run away...perhaps THAT would have been the sensible thing to do. My Dad had always taught me though, to NEVER walk away from an inevitable fight. He said, "Sometimes, Son, a man can do nothing else but protect himself, or his family. If you ever have to do that, and there is no honorable way to avoid it...make the first blow count." I circled the brute in front of me while we both contemplated our next move. One of them seemed plenty big enough to kick my ass...but two? I was dead, and I knew it. My only hope was to either make enough of a fight of it that they may just decide to move on; or maybe I could get them off balance enough to make a getaway on my Mongoose. He closed again, swinging his big right hand with a menacing arch intended to end the fracas instantly...a mistake. I ducked the blow easily enough and countered with a hard right uppercut to his throat (Dad said if I was really afraid for my well-being to make the blow count...so I did). It landed perfectly and dropped him almost immediately to his knees. My advantage was short-lived though... The other boy, Jared...if my memory served me just then...funny what the mind thinks about when the shit is in the fan...hit me from behind and sprawled me out on the ground. I scrapped my knees as I fell and bent my left wrist backwards...if it wasn't broken I would be lucky. I rolled to the left and got to my feet. My eyes were as big as saucers... I was in big, big shit. If I had any chance to survive this, that was over with my wrist hurting and...they were between me and my bike. I was dead. "Leave me the fuck alone," I screamed at them, "I didn't do shit to you!" By then, the big ugly one was standing back up, his hands rubbing his redden throat. He nudged the other boy to spread out a bit, and they both began to close on me. I was backing up as rapidly as they approached, searching desperately for a stick, or something to use as a weapon. "Now!" The leader yelled, and they both sprang upon me from about 40 degree angles and I was toast. I swung my fist and kicked with my feet, screamed and yelled, cursed and bit...it wasn't enough. I could feel the blows raining down on me as I curled up in a ball. I remember thinking, "I should have stayed home and faced Jason...he probably wouldn't have killed me." I decided I WAS the dumb-shit afterall. I suppose the punishment for failing to return a red-neck's soccer ball wasn't the death penalty...because they stopped pounding me after a bit. It could be that I quit being a threat...I don't know...but I wasn't going to ask them to reconsider. Ugly leaned forward and grabbing me by the hair he said, "Don't...ever...do...that...again!" punctuating each word with a sharp jab to my forehead with his stubby finger. "That's quite enough young man!" a voice boomed behind the ugly teen. It was Coach Fowler! Thank God. The advent of a command-presence voice startled Ugly, and he quickly turned his head to see who was interfering with his "fun", he tightened his grasp of my hair and twisted my head in the process. But, at precisely the same moment I reached up and grabbed a fist full of his balls with my uninjured right hand, squeezing and twisting simultaneously. Suddenly, I had his attention back...but this time I was in control. "DON'T...EVER...FUCKING...DO...THAT...AGAIN!!!" I yelled between clenched teeth as I wrenched my hand for all it was worth, hoping to hurt HIM in the hospital...I had a feeling I was going there, but was determined that Dad wouldn't be mad at me for losing the fight without some resistance. The older boy finally twisted free of my grasp and fell on the ground wailing, doubled over with pain. Coach Fowler glared over at him as he approached me, pushing me gently over to take an assessment of the damage. I don't know how long he was there, but I was so relieved that someone was able to save me from even worse pummeling. I had feared there was more to come, as I knew I wouldn't be able to just shut up and take an ass-whooping. Coach reached out and turned my face towards him with his fingers gently on my chin. He eyes scrunched together in concern, I suppose I wasn't looking to pretty just then. He began feeling my chest and torso, searching for cuts and broken bones...I was certain there were plenty of bruises. "Do you feel like anything is broken, Son?" he asked in genuine tenderness. "My wrist," I offered, lifting it slightly for him to see (as if he didn't know what a wrist was!!!), "hurts like hell." He smiled, but commented while continuing his search, "Injured or not, let's be careful about that mouth of yours, Son. I want my boys more disciplined that that." I think he was just trying to get my mind off getting the crap kicked outta myself...it wasn't working. I grimaced as he touched my left side...broken ribs I guessed. "Coach, I didn't do shit...they just stared punching me for no reason." Coach Fowler let the curse word slide, and looked over at the boy writhing on the ground, then back up to the untouched kid who jumped me from behind...he was kneeling over the older boy as if trying to help him get back on his feet. "Well, I don't know what started this fight," he said in his command voice, "but looks like you held your own. These boys are three or four years older than you, thirty pounds heavier...and most likely will have some explaining to do the authorities." He reached in his pocket for his cell phone, flipped it open and called 911. In just a couple of moments he talked into the receiver and told the operator what had happened and that we needed a Sherriff's deputy and an ambulance. He said he wasn't sure if we needed one, or two. He told the operator that one teen had cuts, bruises, contusions, and possible broken bones (ribs), and that the other seemed to be having some difficulty with some bruised or ruptured testicles. The two assailants were told in clear terms to stay where they were until the authorities got there. I was told to just lie still and wait for an ambulance. Coach asked me if I had someone at home he could call to come see about me. "Damn," I said, forgetting it was Coach Fowler talking to me, "oh...s.sorry Coach. Umm...Mom and Dad are out for the morning...Umm...Jason is there at the house though. He'll answer the phone, we always do that at each other's house." Coach Fowler frowned at me and said, "Jason is fine, Son, but the EMS Team will want parental permission to get you into the hospital to get you checked out. I'm sure you'll be fine, but they need your folks there to treat you." "Oh," was all I could muster. After a few seconds I got the gumption to ask, "How...when...why are you here? There wasn't anyone here when I got here?" My face was afire, I could taste blood. "Oh, I came around early to see if there was enough lime to line the baselines for the next weeks games. We always run out and can't get it in time, so I wanted to make sure myself this time. I stopped at the field house, and heard a big racket, knew there shouldn't be...when I came around the concession stand there, this big brute was standing over you kicking the shi...ummm...kicking the fire out of you." I let his near slip pass. "What's your Mom's cell phone number?" I gave it to him and he dialed her up. As he told her who he was and what had happened, I could hear her screaming over the phone. Coach tried to assure her that everything was under control now and that they should just drive to the hospital and meet us there, as that would save time. I could tell she wasn't happy about being told what to do, but he hung up and said, "Well, that went well!" A grin creeping upon his face and he looked down at me. I tried to laugh, but quickly realized that my face and side hurt like hell and laughing wasn't exactly a great idea. Coach told me that the ambulance would be there shortly, and that Mom and Dad would meet me at the hospital...everything was going to be okay. "Tell me exactly what happened, Son, everything you can remember." So, I told him about riding my bike out here to be alone and think about some stuff...leaving out the details of WHAT stuff...and that I had stopped to rest and sat at the benches, was minding my own business when those two bastards just came up and hit me because I didn't return their soccer ball. I told him I tried to avoid the fight, but that they attacked me a second time and I had to defend myself. I started crying a bit...not bawling...but tears were coming down my face...I was angry at being hurt, angry at just BEING in a fight...afraid Dad would be mad that I got my ass kicked...and just...angry. I couldn't stop the tears...and THAT made me angry. *Good grief* The ambulance got there, and the EMT's got out, wandered to the back of the truck to get their stuff. They seemed to be in no hurry at all, nor were they giving any indication of alarm about what they were walking up to see. I suppose they have a lot of shit to deal with, and this wasn't too big a deal for them. Me, on the other hand...I was working hard at not yelling at them to get the lead out of their asses! Coach Fowler waved them over to me first, and they set out their stuff and checked me out. Coach filled them in on my name address and told them my parents had been notified. One of them looked into my eyes with a penlight, and asked my name and what day it was, who is the President?...shit like that. Dad told me later that they have to do all that to make sure the patient doesn't have brain injuries. He said no response, or stupid answers told them as much as anything about how serious things could be. I suppose it was good I kept my smart-ass comments to myself, then. Presently, they put me up on the gurney and took me to the hospital. Coach said he would stay with the two hoodlums that jumped me and wait for the next ambulance (they looked at him briefly and called for another EMT crew to assist) and the Sherriff. He assured me again that I was in good hands, and that Mom and Dad would meet me at the hospital. "Coach?" I asked quietly as they pushed me into the ambulance. He stopped them and waited for me to continue. "Can you call Jason for me anyway? He's at my house, and he will want to know what's happened." "Sure, Son, don't worry about a thing. I'm on top of it. I know you and Jason are special friends. I'll stop by there and tell him what's going on. If he needs a ride to the hospital, I'll see to it he gets there. You just relax and we'll all get out of this alive." I blushed at his comments about us being special friends...I wondered if he know how I felt about Jason...if it was that obvious. He didn't seem to linger on it though, so I suppose he just considered us to be best buds and left it at that. The next few hours were a blur. I remember Mom being there when the ambulance doors opened. They took me in and checked me out. I had cuts on my face, bruises all over...they said it looked like I had been kicked a lot...NO DUH! They decided to keep me overnight for observation, but said I was not in too bad of shape, all things considered. X-rays on my ribs shoed I was just badly bruised, but no broken ribs, but the left wrist didn't fare so well...I'd be in a cast for six weeks. I was sore as hell, and they gave me some pills for the pain. They worked pretty quickly, and I was soon asleep. I don't remember them casting my arm, nor do I recall being taken to a room, or anyone coming to see me. I woke the next morning with the sunlight warming the room. Slowly, my mind began processing where I was, and why. I shifted slightly in the bed, and groaned for the pain...I was sore all over my whole self. Damn. With my groaning, Jason awoke. He was sitting in a chair by my bed...and evidentially had fallen asleep there watching me. I was instantly overwhelmed with emotion. I couldn't tell you how happy I was that he was there...but also instantly aware of all that had transpired causing me to leave the house in the first place. When Jason realized I was awake he jumped up and came over and grabbed my hand. His look was so serious, and there were nearly tears in his eyes...I could see them forming. "Oh Liam!" he cried out. "God, that was so stupid! Why did you run off like that?" The formed tears drooped over the edge of his eyes. "Damn, Dufus!" I groused. "Glad to see you too!" I tried to smile at him, but by now my lips had nearly doubled in size and hurt like hell. I looked around the room without turning my head..I'd already discovered THAT wasn't exactly a great idea... "Where's Lenny," I whispered. Jason grinned a bit, and wiped at his eyes. "Shit, Liam!" he said while leaning in towards me, whispering in a conspiratorial tone and looking from side to side to see if anyone heard him using a bad word. "What happened? I was waiting for you to come back, when Coach Fowler started ringing the doorbell. I wasn't gonna answer it, but he stared knocking, calling my name through the door. He took Lenny home, and brought me here." "Yea," I managed to squeak out, "I asked him to call you. He said he'd go get you instead." "He told me you got jumped by a couple of high school kids from across town. He said they were in come serious trouble. The oldest one is seventeen and he is in big trouble. Your Dad is filing assault charges against him. I guess this isn't his first time to get into trouble with the law. Sounds like he'll have to spend a couple of days in the hospital too...he's got a serious problem with his balls!" Just then, I heard the door open and Dad walked in. Jason was still holding my hand...but in a "best friend" kind of way...not like a...well...whatever. Anyway, Dad didn't seem to notice...or care. He walked around to the other side of the bed and smiled at me. "Glad you re-joined us Son!" he said as he ruffled my hair...damn! Even my hair hurt! "Jason, you're awake too! Good, I need to talk to you both a few minutes." He nodded at Jason, who swallowed rather noticeably. I suppose we both had a sense of dread about what might be coming. "Don't sweat it," Dad said looking over at Jason's distressed expression. "I'm not angry at anyone...well...not at either of you. Or, at least I don't think I have any reason to be angry at you. That is what I need to talk to you both about." He let that sink in a moment. Jason and I looked at each other, and I know I could feel a cold sweat breaking out on me. By the way Jason had increased his grip on my hand, he was feeling the same as me. "Liam," Dad said as he laid his hand upon my chest, looking done at me. "Mom was here all night. I went home to get some rest after about 10:00 last night. We decided to take turns sitting with you until you woke up; your pal here insisted on staying all night. He sat right there all night." He smiled warmly at Jason, and I could see Jason beaming a bit with the praise. It feels good sometimes for folks to know when you've done something worth-while, and staying by a friend in need was a pretty groan up thing to do in my book. Jason and I looked at each other and both grinned a bit. "Damn," I said and reached with my right hand to touch my sore lips. Jason didn't take his hand from mine in time, and I touched my lips with both our fingers...I guess it looked like I was kissing his hand, because Jason jerked his hand away, blushed beet-red and looked quickly at my father. "Easy with that language, Son," Dad said. "I know you are hurting...but we don't talk like that." I took the scolding, just glad had hadn't said anything about what I just did to Jason. I can say now, that when you have a secret...it feels like EVERYONE in the world know it...and that they are all conspiratorially involved in a secret knowledge of your secret! That's what was going on just then. I was certain he KNEW something about me and Jason...only...there wasn't anything to know...about us I mean...there was plenty to know about me...but...did he know that? *Good grief* "Look, boys," he said, "I talked to Coach Fowler, and the Sherriff's deputy about what happened. I think I have a pretty good idea about things, and we have the confessions of the two who bush-whacked you. The Deputy will be here later this morning to take your statement. You had already gone to sleep when he was here yesterday afternoon. The nurse kept you sedated so you would sleep." That explained quite a bit. I wondered why I was so groggy...it sure wasn't like me to sleep all day and night. I'm a teenager, and can sleep pretty nearly on demand...but even I can't sleep THAT long. He continued, "Coach tells me you told him you were out riding your bike alone. That you said you were trying sort stuff out." He looked at me, then over to Jason. I looked from him, to Jason...then back to him again. This time I swallowed noticeably. Jason had grabbed my hand again, and he gave me a squeeze. "He was just worried about some stuff I told him Mr. Neilson," Jason interjected quickly. I let out an audible sigh. My Jason to the rescue again. God, I love this boy. "Oh?" Dad said, tilting his head in a classic questioning gesture. "Umm...well...See, Liam's new friend spent the night with him last night. And when I came up and woke them up this morning he...," I nearly fainted! I had to stop him! What was he thinking! I was pulling my hand free and about to have a fit. "Let him finish." Dad's voice brokered no argument. I stopped protesting, but still baffled at what Jason was about to do. I could feel my whole world about to crash. Jason let go of my hand, reached up and placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly. He looked me full in the face with a blank expression, but said gently, "It's all right Liam, I got this." To my father, he said, "I woke Liam and Lenny up this morning...you know they were both in the same bed...right?" I nearly choked! Dad just nodded as if this was common knowledge. I wanted to crawl under the bed. "Well...Liam thought I thought something strange was happening...and he got mad at me for thinking it...only I DIDN'T think it...and when I realized he wasn't coming back...well Coach Fowler was knocking on the door." He spit all that out in a nanosecond and looked at me for confirmation. I nodded slowly in affirmation, sheepishly. After exchanging glances, we both looked to my Dad, who was looking back and forth between us with his eyes...his head remaining perfectly still. "Well," he said after a bit of silence, "that was what I suspected." I'm certain my expression was of confusion because Dad said, "Jason, would you step outside for a couple of minutes and give us a chance to talk?" "Sure," Jason said in a subdued tone. "NO!" I exclaimed. I reached for his arm and held him from pulling away from the bed. "I want him to stay Dad." I looked at Dad with pleading eyes. "Please Dad, whatever it is, I want Jason here with me." Jason drifted back to his spot at the bed, we both looked at Dad for directions. With a deep sigh, Dad said, "Okay...I don't want you to get overly excited here... I just wanted to protect your privacy. You sure you want Jason here?" We both nodded in ascent. "Liam," Dad said, this time coming even closer, placing his right hand back on my other shoulder, the other reached up to touch my hair, brushing it absentmindedly out of my eyes. "I...we, your Mother and I came into the room this morning before you woke up. We were going to wake you boys up to tell you we were leaving to go shopping." My cheeks turned red involuntarily. "Well...he blushed just slightly...you were uncovered...both of you." I put my right arm over my eyes. I was mortified. Busted. Dead. Live over. The End. Over. Dad let that stand out there for an eternity. Jason said, "Umm...maybe I need to step outside afterall," he whispered. I couldn't respond. I just couldn't talk. Dad reached across the bed and patted Jason on the shoulder. We had been buds for YEARS, and Dad knew we were inseparable. He has been with us through little league, peewee teams, soccer, wrestling, movies, sleepovers...god...everything. He knew Jason was more like a brother than a friend, and he knew what ever was about to be said would affect both of us. Dad said to Jason, "I'm sorry Jason. I tried to keep this from you...but now I need you to hear the rest...I don't know what trouble this may bring, but it affects you...and now you need to hear a little more. "Liam," Dad said in a serious tone, "I don't know why the two of you were...unclothed...together...in the same bed." He was struggling to get this out, and was obviously uncomfortable whit the whole discussion. He cleared his throat and continued, "I'm no prude, Son...I know boys are curious, and that sometimes they do...stuff with each other...that usually doesn't mean anything...other than just curiosity. I don't know what this means...if you have something to tell me...we need to do it before your Mother get's here. I can help you avoid a lot of grief from her...if I know what's going on." He was sincere...but I was nowhere NEAR ready to deal with THIS. I could feel more tears dripping down the sides of my face. My face was hot. I was having difficulty breathing. My arm was back across my eyes, and I felt my chest begin to heave a little. Jason was crying too. I don't know how I knew it, but I did. It was Jason who spoke first. "Mr. Neilson?" he said with a quivering voice. Dad didn't say anything, but I perceived he looked up at Jason. Dad's hands were still on my shoulder and chest. "Yes, Jason," Dad said quietly. "Mr. Nelson, i..if you tell Mrs. Neilson what you are thinking right now...s.s.she'll tell my Mom. M.Mr. Neilson, my Dad will kill me if he finds out...he won't like it...w won't like it at all. He'll kick me out. I know he will. He's told me he would if he ever found out some shit...oh...s.sorry Mr. Neilson...he said he would if he ever found something out like this about m.m.me." Tears were flowing down Jason's face now. He wasn't bawling...that wasn't Jason's style. He was being as brave as he could...but realized that things would never ever be the same from here out. Whatever decision was made right here, right now, would impact us both the rest of our lives. Dad was silent for a second...a second that lasted ten years. He remained pretty stoic for all that though. I sure as hell wasn't...stoic. "J..Jason," Dad was stammering now a little...never thought I'd live to see the day MY Dad was tongue tied. "W.we're not talking about you, Son, we're t.talking about Liam here. Aren't we?" Jason reached for my arm then, pulling my hand to himself, and drawing it to his cheek. He held it a second against the wetness there, then brought my hand to a brief, but tender kiss from his lips. "Mr. Neilson, if Liam is g.gay...so am I." "Shit." That was the very first curse word I ever heard my Daddy say. "What did you just say?" that was Mom. Writer's Note: Many any dozens of you have written to encourage me and give me your best wishes in my quest to find or hear from Jake, in Perth. He wrote me! Thanks for all your concern, thoughts and prayers. For now, I am just thankful to have made contact after all these years. Your well wishes meant a lot to me, I'll let you know how things turn out. As always, I promise to answer any email as soon as possible. -- Andy andyoutwest@live.com