Date: Thu, 1 Nov 2001 17:03:10 -0800 From: Tim Stillman Subject: "The Boy He Loved" "The Boy He Loved" by Timothy Stillman Father Ignatius caut Van and me cuz we wuz hugging together in my bed one night late. That priest wuz really mean. He slammed on the lights in the room. Woke all the boys in the other beds up. And as they wuz wipin their eyes of sleep, they drilled them in on me and Van naked as jaybirds with the sheet Father Ignatius whipped off of us. There we wuz. Cradling each other in our arms. And there was this great big roar of flame of laughter that just half went through our skulls. I thought hell would rise up through that miserable cold cement floor and elevator us down to the Ninth Circle. Which Dante says is the worst. Which I know about because the teachers here make us read Dante. It's the St. Vincent School for Troubled Boys is where we are at. Damn orphnge is what it is. It's a terrible thing when youre pulled naked out of your bed. And your only friend in the whole world is pulled out with you. By our arms. By Father Ignatius who is big and tall and has a face like a block of wood. The guy never laughs or nuthin. He's a real joy to be around. Van is cryin. Van is 10. His name is Van Hoy. I'm 13. My name is Jerry Chadwick. This is takin place in England where this is. Just outside London. Its a poor boys school. A wastrals school. Real rent boys are here that they done picked up off the London streets at night and put in here cause this is kind of a warehouse for unwanted boys. The place smells like rat droppings all over the place. Its drafty and cold even in hot summers and we do have some hot summers here in this place. And now Father has me by one arm. On the other side is Van hes gripping hard as hes gripping me, blood rushing from our arms as those big mans big hands take charge of us, fingers long and hurtin us and curled grinding into our elbows, and then a little move that takes them to our funny bones. Which aint funny one bit. Feels like lectric charges goin through me. Thought I was gonna die. Whats worse is Vans cryin real hard. And hes brushing his nose and his eyes and the boys we pass by on those dumb little hard as rock cots are pointin at him and mimking him and callin both of us nancy boys and rent boys, when some of them is too, and I want to kill this man between the two of us. This man in the priest clothes. This man of robes and crosses and eyes that are like death on a shingle. This man with the broad shoulders and the hurt eyes that look mean hurt. You never want to see eyes that look mean hurt. Theyre the worst of all. Thats why Ive taken, these days, not lookin in mirrors. My hard on won't go down. Van had just put his hand to me when we got nabbed. Had just wiggled down the foreskin. Which I try to pull up with my free hand, but Father pushes it away. He looks hard and evil at me in the face as I pull away, turn my head, as the moon milks itself thro the long tall narrow windows as we walk through the dorm and then out in the hall where the boys laughter still splits our ears. And Van and I have to protect one another. Not that Ignatius would hit us. He dont belive in no hittin or corp-o-real punishment. He don't believe in nuthin but a good talkin to. And embarrassin the living jesus out of us. After he got dun, we had to stand naked in the lavatory for 3 hours. As each boy was marched in line one at a time into the lavatory to look at us. And laugh at us. They blew kissin sounds at us. They wadnt lowed to touch us. They wadnt lowed to speak to us. The good father was bein kind to us that way. They, some of them, Van and me knew they buggered each other. Fur fun. We never saw them. But we heard the sounds of it in their beds late at night. Kind of a rattling sigh. Van and me wuz buddies. I dont say mates or chums or that other Brit rot. Cause thats what it is. Brit boys are mean. I mean the ones here. And I only go by my experiences. Im gonna be a merican some day so im tryin to report on this land that is not my land. Like I wuz a reporter. They just git their noses out of joint at all things. Especially takin it. If youre givin it is one thing. I dun herd their speriences in London at nite. But takin it is another thing altogether. So Van and me couldnt touch in that smelly lav. And Van and me had to hold our hands by our sides and not close our eyes and look at every boy who passed us by. Who stood and studied with their eyes eyes us. And they have some real ice eyes I mean you to know. Our cocks went limp then and we looked at ech other and wuz a millon miles part. Couldnt protect each other at all. Just cold feet and cold bodies takin our medcine. Shakin like we had the flue. Bare is awful. Van looked at me so lost and little and precius and lonely. God it was awful. So I'm writin' this down now. This happened three nights ago. Father Ignatius layed down the rules. They could make us turn around and round in circles in the lav. They laughed and they were like Piggy in Lord of the Flies. A mean Piggy. A Piggy who made us bend over and open our butt cheeks. And they just made us feel like dead. They just made Van and me both cry. I never cry. But I cryed that night. It wadnt sexy or funny or anything. It was just all shades of horrible. Or as my old man usta say orrible. Cause we is all we have. Van and me. And we had never held each other before that night we wuz catched. And of course they catched us. Cause I never got away with nothin in my life. And I wanted to go to Van who was forced to stand on the other side of the lav, while I was on the opposite side. And the boys lookin at us wuz echos. And they studied us like we wuz statues or somethin most of them bustin a gut about it all. And the soap smells and the urene and the other smells just made us want to stop breathin and lay down and give up the ghost. It wad't till the next day about 5 in the afternoon we got off by ourselves behind a barn at the far side of the school where there are some milch cows and we hugged each other and we cried on each other and I said I wuz so sorry that I screwed up that way and Van must hate me a whole lot. But Van brushin back the runs in the nose and the eyes of his real pretty face that cried too often and held such lonlines inside, he said it wuz nothin. That he got it all the time. That it was just a cross to bear. It was fall by the way. Late fall. The air wuz cold. The grass wuz brown. The trees had dropped all their leaves and looked as freezin and shiverin and naked and embarrassin as we did that night in the lav. And that night later or early mornin as we lay in our beds listenn to the words the boys call us. In those damned accents. Those so veddy proper accents sayin those cruel ugly words. Those words I d never use on another livin soul no matter how mean they wuz to me just seemed to me so crazy. So they use the right english grammer and they are smart because they think they no more than me. Well, they don't have to be so nasty about it. They dont have to treat me and Van like we are in a borstal or nothin like that. Even tho thats kinda what this is. We ain't crooks. We aint convicts. We're just orphans just like them. And the poor is spread around. And you cant disguise it with these black uniforms we wear, by trying to speak proper english uptown posh London and all that. The poverty wells on a person. On them as much as on us. Im gonna leave this damn country one fine day, I tell Van. I told him that behind the old run down red barn where we hugged and knelt with each other. Both of us keepin watch in case someone saw us. Both scared. Still shivering. Our dicks had shrunk into our bodies when the boys kept comin by in the lav. But they wuz stuck our like May poles in total piss fear when Ignatius had us in his office. And sat behind his huge mahogony desk and he read us the riot act and quoted scriptur. And he looked at Van most of the time. We had to stand at attentun. Like in the lav. And we couldn't look away from the scary tall big man. Like I say he looked at Van much often then. I wanted to kill that man. Would have to if I couda. And other times before I membered I had seen him look at Van real secret like. I had noticed it but had not thought much of it before. When the boys wuz at the chapel and confessional and saying their prayers and all of that all the Fathers wuz around but Ignatius looked at Van not the other boys. Looked at him like Van wuz a pet. As he told us that night in his office that was so by damn warm with heat from the pot belly stove it liked to melt the ice off us though we shivered anyway, an he told us homosexuality was a abominaton and if we wuz goin to stay at the school for boys we had better stop muckin up and start lissenin hard cause it wuz our souls on the line. Mostly though the mean words in that real culture voice the big words the words that seemed like a country that he walked around in in his head, during his saying them barkin them he kept looking at Van. Mostly he kept lookin at Vans penis. Which I gotta say is a lovely little penis. A little flower. But so pale. Like it growed underground somewhere in some deep dark windy mine which this school really is with the sun seemin never to shine and us havin to polish our shoes and the bedframes and the classrooms and the prefects offices and the lavs and the door handles all over the place and the long windin wooden stairs in all these buildins and us havin to take turns giving what for with the milch cows and all of that, and mix in that with our studies that go on from before dawn to almost after sunset, so we got our heads down all the time almost and never see the sun when it might peak out of the sky ever now and then. But Vans penis was a little tiger it was. It had this sweet little bell of a stripe of brown right in the middle of the stick. And its head had this little slit I had longed to taste. Bet Ignatius did too. The balls was so tiny you could almost forget they wuz there even when you wuz holdin on to them as I was that night in bed when we wuz caught. The first time for me and Van I repeat in case you forgot, thats a reportrs job, to tell it like it is, and he was warm and I had layed against him feelin him bein warm and hearing his heart beating rapid like a little humminbird wings. I had been zammin it real close with my eyes and fingers. Just simply chanted by it. It had a sweet warm milk smell to it. And I was just gonna nuzzle it with my face. All thrilled and everything I wuz when that damned priest was over us seein us squirmin round beneath the sheet. Cold white sheet. Our little home in other words. Vans penis stood out so straight and hard and proud. And I had put my lips to his belly button, blowin on it reel soft, makin Van giggle quiet, and had my hands round his little curvy butt and rubbin his back and all and shouldrs and comfortin him. And his body was willow like thin you know and he had hisself pressed against me and he was goin for my little longer dick when--it happened and it was the best and worst night of my life and I will never forgive myself what I caused Van cause I wuz in love with him. Anyway he was in my arms and we wuz lyin on the cold ground behind the barn that afternoon real scared and kinda sick inside and I said as he kissed my left cheek and made my peach fuz dance that I was gonna leave this damned country and he pulled away from me like he had been shocked again. Like somethin could still shock him. Still scare him. After what we had been thru. After what we wuz goin to go just a little later. And his eyes started leakin tears and I put my hands on the sides of his head feelin the cold autumn of them against the cold autumn of his dishwater dirty blonde hair which to me was so beautful just like all of him was so beautful. And I said real sudden like, no, no, I'll take you with me, I'll never leave you. And he was so grateful and he nestles in the crook of my arm. Like a little baby with his da. All sleepy like inside. In the center of the scare. And I hold him. Lookin up at the sky which is gray and real full of clouds that look like rain soon. Maybe it might snow. The cold goes through our little cheap uniforms. And we try not to talk the high soundin English cause we hate it all so. Its all a act tho. These gits with their big dicks between ther legs. They fall into east end and cockney all the time, butcherin it all up, little bit from this tony parts then they thro in somethin that only a rent boy would understand and it places em dead bang. All that little fake polite crap in their voices. Its just stuff they learned from the priests and everythin, you grow up with it, you speak like it, but it can sure fool ya sometimes, that and other kinds o stuff while they're half killin you with their words like knives that lay you open and their little fishooks and their little cruel things that they do without a seconds memory of it all bull polite soundin and all. Those so veddy friendly words they use like old sport and old bean and toffs and all of that that just makes me kind of sick in the gullet and you think maybe early on they might be your friend. You think they like you. But then you see they wuz just havin you on. Or they dont know what you are talkin about. Aint aware of how nance they sound their own selves. And all the yards and yards of that kind of thing and git away from me Chadwick or git away from me Hoy you little buggers think you have the right to pal round with us what goddam cheek you little beggars fuck you. I'd like to tie those churpy little voice boxes into nooses and hang each last one of them with their own la de da. Well Van and me we got those voices too. And Van has this little pipin high voice which he hates. We luv western movies and have been tryin to sound like cowboys tho. Those brit voices though which Ignatius loves. Ignatius loved it a whole lot when we wuz standin bare and shamed in his office. Made Van sound off on catechisms and all the while the hypo-crit mans big fat brown eyes were lookin at Vans stiffie so hard and so unblinkin it was like his eyes were hanging round it like a bonnet strings. Thout the old poof was gonna start lickin his chops. Yeah. Go on with him. Go on with everythin and do your little proper crap way. But we see whats underneth. But thing is Im goin away. Which is why Im writin this down. Which is why Im writin this quick as I can. Which is why here on a Saturday when the others are out playin ball, Im in here in my bed and Im writin a goodbye note and Van don't know it cause he aint comin with me cause I done got him in trubble afore and I aint gonna do it again. Cause Im cryin now and I don't give a hang who sees it or who pops me off the butt with a towel or laughs in my face bout it. Cryin aint wrong. They dont got emotons like Van and me do. Theyre born without them I think. And I dont give a hang whether jesus sees me cryin, he was here he'd cry too, cause hes like all the others, they are here but they aint here at all if you know what I mean. I'm runnin away cause everybody runns away. Christ died on the cross and runs away. And everybody heres lookin fur him to return and they make these scuses why he dont come back. How silly ass they sound bout that. Like the boys make scuses why their das n mams dun run away or kicked their kids out cause they wuz too much bother and too much expense. Or da or mam liked their sons a littl too much if you git me. And the priests run away because they cant stand this planet and the people and the sins and all and they pretend they dont have no sins themselves and thats a runin away. And Ignatius and some of the others run away and pretend they are what they aint and Ignatius would love to put his face to Vans little button hole in his abdomn and he would love to kiss the little boy and feel that warm in the cold damp weather and make hands clap happy and make smiles where there is a real lack of smilles all over the place here I can tell you. And Im runnin away cause they done it that night in the lav. They done it to both of us. Made Van real clingy. Made him try to git in my bed last night. After what we been through. After the boys was waitin fur him and me to make a move. I mean the little guy just gets out of his bed cross the long room and comes over to me. Real fearless like he was and gets in bed. I tryed to get him to go back to his cot. Too late tho. I even got angry at him. Cry, whyd I do that? And somebody turned on the lights. And I aint gonna say what happen next becase I caint and it was just the most awfulest thing alive on this planet. So what Im gonna do is go to merica. Cause I seen movies and on tv, westerns where there are cowboys and lots of wide open space and you can live on your own terms and not have nobody round you less you want it and the skies seem so big in Californea even on a small tv set, they seem so big and the sun is reel bright and you can just lean back and lie on the praree and you can watch clouds and you can watch the sky and no body can make you clean everything in site with that polish that has this monia in it and this lemmen smell that makes it all the worse. And you don't have to do nuthin but live in a house out by yourself and ride horses and shoot bad guys and chase indians and the horses are reel pretty and big and strong. I wonder if Van would like to ride one sometime. With me. And we could ride naked. Him right behind me and my butt against his little cock. And we would have time to just be together in all that wide openness. Im gonna miss him. Im gonna miss how he held me that afternoon behind the barn. Im gonna try not to think of how Ignatius messed it all up that night. Cause he represents god and what does that say bout god? Cause the father is just this superior git who thinks he knows everythin there is to know and Im here to tell you he dont. Van aint here no more. Not after the boys found us in bed. Not after what the boys did. Didn't kick them out by damn. Just Van. I didnt even git to say bye to him. Me, they got to stick around, cause the priests have somethin real "smashin" in store fur me. Whatever it is it aint somethin to make me happy. I guess Vans on the streets of London by now. And I guess I dont want to think bout anythin but how we had each other a little. Star crossed and all of that. Lovers from a far. And only got to touch each other some. And see each other bare, a little, but all that lav stuff and the Ignatius office cruels, all that kills it dead. Makes it all filthy and sick. Like it wuz sposed to a course. I managed to thro up three times this mornin wadnt too hard to do wanted to thro up on him didnt have the guts so Ignatius told me to lie in bed today and rest. So Im goin. And I aint comin back here. I aint comin back to this cold country. And its ice people. And the snotty things that go on. I aint goin to look fur Van where he is. Where he was when the cops picked him up in the first place and he wound up here to begin with. Him and me never talked bout that. Cept his mentionin it to me 1nce. Im leavin this here note fur anyon who reads it. Like a note in a bottle. Cast on the wide see. Cause though I aint good with spellin or spressin myself still and all I aint as dum as people think or this letter might make me out to be. You can have reel presive deep thoughts. Don't mean you dont just cause you aint good sayin them. Im goin to the docks of Liverpool and Im gonna get on the first boat I see to anywhere and eventually wind up in Calif. where its gonna be just a little 1 room school house like in the movies and some nice lady techer done up in a heavy dress and button to the muttonchops shirt is gonna be real warm and kind to me and the other kids and teach us spellin and math and everythin and theres gonna be a sun to go down and theres gonna be kids there wholl be nice to me and wont embrss me and make me stand around bare and laugh at me and stuff and fake bein some holy as hell sort of whatsit cause the sun done set on the empire and this is a little dillwad island in the lantic that aint portant no more and was mean to other countres like India and Isral and lots of places in that colonzaton stuff cause I read books--Im smart that way too-- and I know the truth about how hurt-ful the brits are and how they dont give a dam bout or feel sorry 1 bit bout two kids who wuz just tryin to be nice to each other. Cause they wuz just so lonly they wuz bout to die from it. Cuz the streets of London are real scary for kids and caz Van told me that night fur we got caut that my hands wuz the first that touched him in luve. Now aint that the saddest thing. Hes this sweet boy who would wanna hurt him or rejec him and he is so sad and he needs someone and all his little life me hands r the first ones that touch him in luve. Makes a fella cry. Makes a fella killin mad. So this is the end of the thing. Stayed too long as it is writin this. Cause Im scared to leaf. Scared to go out there on my own. Been on my own before. Thats why Im scared. Even this cold drafty headache of a school might seem good in memries down the road. God what a life. God what a world. God what a country. I got scars. And Van got scars. Go so deep nether of us can tell you bout them even if you want to listen which you dont whoever is readin this. I hope someone like another priest reds it and nails Ignatius to the wall with it. I couldnt rat on him. Or on the boys and what they did to Van and me that final night of ours when he only came to my bed so brave and so noble like a shinin night. Cause no oned beleve me. But maybe they beleve me words on paper then. They make such a show of them and bein so literte and all that rubbish. Maybe the Times will print it or somthin. In their agonys colum. And somehow or other Van will read it somehow and hell know I love him and will never forgit him. So long Van. Probly this is hearts n flowers nuff for these robuts here. But I wrote it from my heart. Least Van and me have hearts. Don't recall too many other people Ive met here can say the same thing bout themselves. Start the violin music if you gon to. And if you do, there's a lake you can jump in the middle of. Take evrybody here in the whole country down into the lantic with you if youve a mind I aint gonna stop you. So. A finl kick to the magic kingdom and im on my way out. Don't forgit Jerry Chadwick, Van Hoy. And if you can furgive him hed sure preciate it. I just keep thinkin bout that night in the that lav. And that last nite. Find someone Van. I hope you do. Youre the best, man. Your friend, Jerry