Date: Sun, 8 Sep 2013 02:30:02 +0000
From: chuck haugan <chuckles97@live.com>
Subject: Gay / Young Friends / Boys by the Bay / Part 7 / Journeys

This is a short story of the life of a kid growing up in the late 70`s.
This whole thing is nothing more than one big lie! This is why we call it
fiction. So, none to the names or places should be considered real.

Having said that, if you are prohibited from reading sexual content due to
age, banned by local law, or have issue with reading stories of people
engaging in sex within the following pages, stop reading now and go find
the Disney page. This bit of fiction is not for you! You are warned!

All the copy rights and legal crap that normally apply and sited for
stories posted here also apply to this story. This story cannot be
reproduced without the consent of the author.

Please support Nifty.org with donations and contribute some scribbles...
It's kind of fun.


Chapter 7: Journeys


At the cabin next door to David's place, there was a white water kayak
alongside its boat launch.  These people were obviously here for the Fourth
and still here or coming back soon, otherwise, the kayak wouldn't be here.
I searched for the paddle by exposing myself to the beach for a few
minutes.  When I heard a car coming toward the bridge, I snuck around to
the back yard.  That was the biggest risk I took as I pushed through the
hedge separating the two properties.

As I predicted, David's family wasn't there.  The Chevy truck and Toyota
Corona were both gone.  Sneaking around to David's window, I heard no TV or
movement inside, and David's room was uncharacteristically a mess: clothes
strewn all over.  By this, I could tell they were out looking for me:
probably in Seattle or Bremerton.  Mr. Aflotti actually did me a favor
since the only guy looking for me close to home was Will and the search was
far in front of me by five days.  By the time I reach Tacoma, I figured the
heat would be off and only my family would be on the hunt.  Somebody would
probably stake out the Hospital but I had to try to talk to Chris in
private, without parents interfering.  Once caught, there's no way our
parents would ever allow us to be together again.

Breaking in homes is easy in my neighborhood.  Nobody locks their doors
other than the vacation cabins.  I stole only bits and pieces of food from
David's: Just enough bread, cheese, meat, and fruit as not to be noticed by
his Mom.  Then I went to David's room and dug into the bottom of his
dresser for some old shorts and a couple tee shirts.  I found a new tooth
brush and then thought twice and grabbed one of his hand towels.  If he
missed this stuff, he'd know it was me and I knew he wouldn't say anything.
He'd probably look at is as "helping a brother out."  At least I hoped he
understood.

I snuck into their garage and stole one of their sea kayak paddles.  I'd be
long gone before they'd notice it missing since David's family rarely went
out after they bought a sail boat.

I dragged all my loot to the thick underbrush that separated the cabin lots
from the road to hide for the rest of the day.  Even though I was close to
the road, there was no way a guy could see or hear me before I could pick
up on him.  This is the spot I decided to give alcohol a try.  Warm beer
was like drinking barley vomit to my immature taste buds.  I gave it a
second chance by taking two gigantic gulps.  It seemed the harder and
faster a guy drank the stuff, the less he could taste its foulness.  The
stuff tasted ten times worse at the bottom of the bottle that I almost
retched. This was another score against adults and advertising.  Who'd be
stupid enough to pay to drink that swill? I tossed the two unopened bottles
deep in a blackberry thicket and then went back to the hose to fill a
pitcher with water to sustain me for the rest of the day.  As I filled, I
got my first little buzz and kicked myself in the ass for tossing the other
two.

As I sat motionless in the underbrush of the overgrown lot, I felt some
guilt about running.  I knew that my friends had no idea what really
happened and why.  If they did, they'd join in a public lynching.  David
might be cool with me but the idea of facing him with the truth was
unimaginable.  If he turned on me, then no kid would ever be a friend.
He'd probably fear me more than hate me.  I had no idea.  All I was certain
of was his eventual rejection of me.  I was fooling myself, when I thought
he'd help me.  We'd had conversations over the past months about how sick
guys are who sucked cock.  I fell asleep thinking of David.

I waited a few hours after David's parent's bedroom light went out before
making my move.  They always watched Carson's opening monolog so I knew it
was midnight after their light clicked off.  All my stuff was organized in
two garbage sacks and I was dressed in David's clothes for my voyage.  The
hardest part was lifting the kayak and carrying it over twenty yards of
rock to the slick mud of the bay.  My neck and back ached with every step
and I feared one slip would cause a spasm of pain that would send me and
the ground with a scream and crash.  From there, it was a matter of stowing
my gear and paddle in the kayak and dragging it over the mud with the
moorage line, like a sled on snow, a few hundred yards, to the water's
edge.

I was blessed with low tide.  This worked to my advantage since as the tide
rose, the current would push me South, the direction I was traveling, as
the Pacific filled the Puget Sound.

Once underway, every stroke of the paddle brought me relief as I gained
distance from my problem. Although I hated this kayak: It was made for
river rapids and lacked a rudder so trying to maintain a straight line was
impossible. There's a slight chop to the water in the open Sound and the
short length of this boat rocked with every ripple and wave.  It became
annoying after a couple of hours of travel.  On top of all that, I couldn't
put my full power behind my left stroke so I baby paddled not wanting to
push my good luck.

I couldn't come up with a life jacket at David's for fear of his parents
might notice it missing so I stayed about fifty yards off shore and
continued to paddle like a little girl.  I broke my water safety ethic:
somehow it didn't seem important.  Now, I began thinking of the possibility
of rolling over to drown and an old phantom of shark attack.

A few years ago, David and I had found fun in late night fishing and skinny
dipping.  One of our games was to paddle to the middle of the bay and jump
in to see how long we could stand our imaginations after we'd seen the
movie Jaws.  The truth was we both knew there was no way any shark of human
munching size could make it into the Sound and stay for any amount of time.
After that movie, the possibility gnawed away at the back of our little kid
minds as we tread water in our birthday suits.  Being alone, paddling in
the dark, my mind played into the fantasy once more as I imagined a great
white with jaws as big as a Volkswagen spearing to the surface and slicing
through my torso.  I'd bleed out as I'd watch it chew up my legs and ass
before coming into finish me.

Once I came around Bainbridge Island and toward Poulsbo Bay, the toll of
paddling was too much for my battered body.  I leaned over the front of the
kayak and surrendered to the will and speed of the current as the sun began
to rise over the Cascade mountain range.  I was pushed ashore after
paddling/ drifting into midmorning.  I couldn't pull the kayak under cover
so I tied off to a limb of driftwood and accepted the risk of discovery.  A
tan, clay, cliff lined with Madonna and Alder trees is where I found
shelter behind mounds of drift wood and rocks.  I grabbed a pitcher of
water, food and blanket and set up camp where a clear patch of sand, below
a leaning Madonna tree was surrounded by weeds and rocks giving me cover.
This was my new home for a few hours of sleep.

Evening came and decided to fight the dropping tide and set out with a few
hours of daylight ahead. Early that morning, I made it to East Bremerton
where I decided to scuttle the kayak.  I couldn't cross the inlet to the
lagoon that is the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, just south of where I
beached.  The Coast Guard and Navy patrol this body of water and ferry
service to Seattle crosses here.  There were many physical risks and the
possibility of being picked up, if someone noticed a kid paddling across
the bay.  Scuttling was the lowest risk and best way of covering my tracks.

I tossed several large rocks in the hull.  Then, I pulled the drain plugs,
walked it further into the Sound, until I was tit deep to wait until she
went down.  I hid the paddle in some brush as a marker of where she was
sunk.  I had to hope nobody finds her before I completed my mission.

I hadn't completely thought through where I'd sleep or how to keep a low
profile in a City like Bremerton.  Television and books do not prepare a
kid for street life.  It frightened me as I thought of the street people
I'd seen in Seattle pacing and ranting of their divine presence on Earth.
Will told me most street folk were mental.  All I knew was frantic pacing,
babbling, darting eyes, and filth were freaky and I didn't want to be
around all of that.  Bremerton isn't Seattle.  It's filled with Military
folks, Federal workers, and all that support that industry.  The worst
thing I'd probably encounter is drunks and perverts.

Staying awake and hiking through town was the only safe option.  If I were
lucky, I'd cross through town during rush hour.  I could hide in the wide
open as busy commuters sped by worried only of being late and not of a
banged up kid on the side of the road.  I'd stick to residential streets
and avoid the routes to the ferry landing, grocery stores, or any place a
cop or my family would hang out.

My problem of cover grew as I realized I couldn't tote a couple of trash
bags with me.  I ate the rest of the food, and kept whatever would fit in
my jacket pockets which amounted to a couple of pairs of underwear, socks,
tooth brush and tooth paste.  David's tee shirt and shorts I managed to
wear below my button down oxford and Levis.  I began my urban hike hoping
that the day wouldn't heat up because I was dressed for fall weather.

After hours of zigzagging and getting lost on the streets, I found myself
across from World War II era, aircraft carriers and destroyers at the
shipyard.  It was after eight because traffic had died down.  Most of the
blue collar shipyard workers start their day at seven and the office
workers were on base at eight.  I hung back behind some garbage cans at a
Mini Mart, outside of main gate, looking for the right dude to proposition
for a ride South.  I didn't care if he only took me to Port Orchard, Purdy,
or Gig Harbor, if it meant not walking around the lagoon that formed the
shipyard.  It was lined by cliffs and a muddy beach on the other side of
the road and offered no cover.  Ten miles on foot is an eternity.  I'd be a
walking billboard of a runaway kid for a State Patrol officer to
pounce. Every local knew the speed limit dropped here to add to the State
of Washington's general fund due to its idiot lack of income tax so there
were always a couple of them in the area writing speeding tickets.  I had
no choice other than begging for a ride or face my parents.  I wasn't ready
for that.

The perfect guy rolled in after a half hour wait: leathery sunburned skin,
crew cut, mid-thirties, ladder rack on a 72 Ford pickup, and a shit load of
Lucky Lager, pint size, beer cans in the bed.

"Hey, Mister," He looked me straight in the eyes, "Where you headed?"

"What's it to you?  Writing a damn book, Kid?"

"No sir-"

"Drop the polite shit...  What do you want?"

"I need to get to Tacoma...  Around Point Defiance Park," His eyes never
left mine as he sized me up.

"Who beat the shit out of you?"

"My Dad."

He grunted and shook his head, "I had the same shit.  You back talk him?
You deserved it?  I can fucking see that...  You running away, ain't you?"

"Not really, my Mom lives there with my little brother and her new
husband."

"Fuck off.  Liar."

"Look, I'll ride in the back, I don't care if you only get me to Gorst.  I
need out of this damn place.  Please?  I'll even pay for gas."

"Well...  I'm headed for Puyallup...  It's on the way...  We'll stop on 6th
Ave for gas and that's as far as you go.  I'm not driving any further into
that shithole town.  You're on your own from there.  I don't have time for
none of your runaway bullshit.  Understand?"

"Thank you, thank you!"

"Shut the fuck up.  Give me a couple of bucks for smokes."

"Yeah, could you get me a couple of fruit pies or something...  And a
Coke?"

"Get it yourself."

"I can't!  My Dad comes in here sometimes," I said with a mix of fear and
embarrassment of my lies, "I don't want you in any trouble or anything... I
can't go back there...  I can't. " I said with a whimper.

He stood, looking me over to judge risk or considering if I had enough cash
to mug.  I couldn't tell.  He was twice my size and obviously an unemployed
logger.  I didn't size him up as being dangerous just a typical guy who
spent most of his time in the outback of the Olympic Peninsula, listening
to baseball on the radio and drinking beer.  There was no way he'd pay
attention to news of a runaway, spoiled, brat, kid from the Island- at
least I hoped.

He gently placed his hands on my shoulders, "I was like you.  I'll get you
some food just put a few bucks in the tank in Tacoma.  It ain't nothing.
Okay?"  I nodded.

"Trucks open- climb in," He went in the store.

I was expecting cigarette stench and ashes everywhere but the cab was clean
with a bit of grey sand on the floor mats.  Most work trucks are full of
garbage like Billy's farm trucks.  On this, for a second, I thought I chose
the wrong guy.  I had visions of him borrowing the store phone and calling
the cops.  But, a few minutes later he emerged and hopped in.

"I got you some milk and a couple of donuts."  He said as he handed me a
paper bag.

"Thanks!"

He fired up the tired six cylinder and we were off as he ground through his
three on the tree gears.  The clutch was almost gone so he had to coax
every shift.  I hoped we'd make it as I chowed down the two maple bars and
he smoked a Camel.

"Look, here's the thing, I'm only doing this because you're running from
somebody that fucked you up bad.  I did some foster homes years back...
When I was a kid...  On and off, mostly.  My old man went to Alaska to work
the pipeline.  Mom's boyfriend beat me senseless, when he felt like it.
Can't say I didn't deserve a fare portion of a beating but he wasn't
family.  So that wasn't right...  I ran... They put me in a home for two
fucking months.  Happened again and they stuck me in the hall for a year
because I broke into some people's cars and shit for money.  They seen some
bruises and scares so the judge put me into foster care again until my Dad
came back to get me.  Foster care wasn't nothing but a couple of wife
beaters and some damn Christian whack-a-do's trying to push my ass into
fuck'n slavery.  And when Dad got me the fuck out, I took off for good.
The way I see it, if you ain't a liar, and from your fucked up raggedy
assed face, you ain't, you better off with your mom or somebody who gives a
shit."

"I don't want to talk about it," I wanted an apathetic dude who'd give a
hitch hiker a ride: not his life story.

He glanced at me and pointed his burning cigarette at my face, "You really
have someone in Tacoma?"

"Yes: for real," I did: he's in a hospital bed.

He drove along for a few minutes and tossed the butt out the window.  He
started again and it took every ounce of energy I had to keep from rolling
my eyes with a groan.  "Okay...  Now look.  Don't go do'in any crimes and
such.  They don't play games with that shit."

"Why do you even care?"

"No lip!  Just listen.  You be better off on the road than in one of them
State Houses or Foster Care.  If you running, don't even shop lift!  The
State will take you away from everybody and everything, without a thought.
They don't give a shit.  If both your parents are assholes, you find people
who will help your ass.  Don't fucking believe some fucker will do anything
for you.  You have only YOU!  Use other people to get what you need...
Including me!  I've been on my own, mostly, since I was 16.  I figure
fuck'em.  You hear?  Choose your friends and be ready to fuck them over
before they do you...  They all do...  Whether they plan it or not,
everyone's out for themselves.  The game is to beat them to it."

"Yeah...  I'll be okay.  I just need to get away," I said this sincerely.
He was really trying to help me.  I had no idea a kid could live his life
and now I felt like crap for my lie.

He lit up another Camel, "The names Bob."

"Chris."

"Didn't mean to be all preachy and shit...  Good to know you Chris"

"The same."

We chatted about the 351 engine he was picking up in Puyallup to drop in
his truck and all of the complication of changing out transmission, front
springs, rear end gears, cooling system and other components.  My brothers
car magazines never made it seem as complicated as he explained.  I thought
he should just buy a better truck but knew not to pop his dream.

We rounded the bend to the Narrows Bridge.  The tides flowed through here
rapidly since the horizontal change in tide was a few feet to a steep
vertical drop of the Sound below.  The bridge is a mini Golden Gate built
after "Galloping Girty's" concrete technology failed all the way to the
bottom of the Narrows in the 1930's.  The thing I loved most of any journey
South was seeing Mount Rainier's snowy top on a clear day.  Today there
wasn't a cloud and the white top was punctuated affront the blue sky.

We stopped at Shaffer's garage on 6th Ave and I filled his tank.  Bob got a
little miffed that I spent all of twelve dollars to top him off as he took
a leak inside but, I figured he was worth this and more.  He offered to
take me further but my destination was fake and I declined telling him it
wasn't part of our deal.  He wrote his address on paper he tore from a pack
of Camel and explained he wanted me to crash there if I ended up with my
Dad and he "ever got in one of his ways again." I crammed it in my back
pocket.

I couldn't wait for him to hit the road.  I'm embarrassed about bodily
function number two.  I mean, taking a piss (whipping it out) is no big
deal.  Most of us kids grew up with open urinals at school so peeing became
a competition of sorts.  But, a kid taking a shit could lead to pranks,
ridicule or some form of public humiliation if sound is involved.  I'd wait
to go home or the short recess and hang out in the stall until it was clear
to let one rip and that was a speed shit: Push, wipe, flush and run- no
time for reading material!

You had to go into the cashier for Shaffer's bathroom key.  It was chained
to a dented up hub cap so people wouldn't walk off with it.  Walking
outside with it was like having a neon sign flashing "This Kid Will Be
Taking A Shit In A Few Seconds: fifty cents at the door."

Gas station bathrooms are the worst: the stench make a guy want to find
some bushes rather than go inside.  I squatted over the top of the rim, not
allowing my ass to touch the surface of the seat which I assumed hadn't
been cleaned for as long as I've been living.  As things began to move, a
girl wearing cowboy boots with a red miniskirt and halter top peered down
at me, with her blue eyes and bobbed cut brown hair, form the front of a
vending machine the size of a mailbox.  "For Her Satisfaction" was the
caption and in smaller letters: "Mardi-gras Condoms the Leader in
Pleasure."

I wiped up and examined every detail of advertisement.  She was top heavy:
I mean her tits were bigger than Dolly Parton's.  The price was only twenty
five cents.  I didn't need a Hustler magazine to solve this mystery.  After
sticking a quarter in the coin slot, I pushed the slider into the machine
with a click and clang as the machines mechanics reverberated through the
bathroom.  Out popped a little cardboard box which seemed to be weightless.
It wasn't what I expected.  I bought two more in case I couldn't figure it
out and stuffed them in my front pocket.  I hoped this wasn't some kind of
a joke like a Snipe hunt.

I returned the key to the greasy, zitted up, stoner, at the counter.

"Hey," He chuckled, "You really think you've got enough down there to keep
one of those on...  Let alone, three times in one night?"

"What?"

"I heard the machine pop three times...  The damn walls are metal Einstein!
Why don't you giv'em over....  At least I'll put them to use."  He broke
into a laugh as I turned red and frustrated with his loser ridicule I
hardly understood.  "Hey Mike," He screamed into the garage as I ran out
the door.

"Hey! You!  We can't sell you those... Get back here!"  Mike screamed as I
ran across the street with the luck of the crosswalk being on my side.
When I looked over my shoulder, Mike was doubled up laughing at me.  I
slowed to a walk and flipped him off which made him laugh harder.

6th Avenue was the arterial for all commerce headed to the Olympic
Peninsula before the highway was cut through: all deliveries had to pass
from the ports of Seattle or Tacoma over the Narrows Bridge and onto the
Peninsula or continue south tripling the delivery distance.  6th Avenue was
nothing but traffic from seven in the morning till seven in the evening.
Now, it's a gang tagged, depressing, shit hole, just like the rest of
Tacoma.  As I walked along, I took every opportunity to divert through a
store or parking lot rather than stay on the sidewalk in plain sight.

Highland Hill shopping center was the busiest in Tacoma, at the time I
walked away from the gas station.  It was lined with small businesses,
restaurants, and offices.  Now, nothing but big box stores and empty strip
malls.  It's the story of the downfall of America into a corporate state...
So sad.  Most locals hated this place because it was a bitch to access due
to all the traffic.

Pay-n- Save Drug was only a ten minute walk from Shaffer's and it was my
prime destination.  My Mom hated Pay-n-Save since it had a little bit of
everything in its grocery store sized isles but a whole lot of nothing.  To
her, a drug store was a couple of isles and a two thousand year old
pharmacist strapped to an elevated desk at the end of the shop.  I needed
camouflage and this store had everything.  I bought some droopy avatar sun
glasses to cover my black eye, a couple of really cheap tee shirts, and a
Mariners baseball cap.  Even if David saw me walking down the middle of 6th
Ave with this get up on, there's no way he'd recognize me wearing a
baseball cap.  And, even in the Seattle area, who the hell roots for the
Mariners?  They play ball inside a concrete bomb shelter in the middle of a
beautiful summer evening: the King Dome!  That's not baseball!

As I thought about this, my plan "Low Profile Jon" was launched.  I walked
back through the small collection of sporting goods to find a cheap gym
bag, figuring that's less conspicuous than a back pack.  After I checked
out, I was down to a little over 30 dollars.  I walked further down the
shopping center to find a barber.

"What can I do you for Mister?" the ancient barber asked excitedly to have
a customer.

"My Dad's coming back from overseas.  I need one of them Army dog cuts so
he doesn't get all mad.  He'll be docking for Seafare in a few weeks."

"Navy man?"

I nodded.

"Officer?"

"No sir," I answered, looking at my feet.

"Looks to me that you don't need another enemy, what happened?" he asked
with concern.

"I got in a fight with my brother last week...  Won't do that again."

"I should think not!  How do you want it again?"  He asked as he swung the
chair around for me and grabbed an apron.

I hadn't thought of my physical state since I left the Island: I hadn't
bathed in two and a half days.  I had to stink.  I fucked up.  I should
have cleaned up before coming here.  To me it seemed obvious I was a
runaway.  Floyd, on the Andy Griffith Show, always read the paper and over
in the waiting chairs there were stacks!  I hoped a missing kid wouldn't
make the paper this far South or, that my parents would keep their personal
life out of the paper.

"Just cut it like a buzz cut or whatever...  Not as short and messed up
like an Army Dog but something like that."

"Okay...  I think I can fix it up.  Do you want your hair washed after? To
get the loose hair from itching?"

"No thanks.  I think I'm going up to the High School after... For a swim, "
I answered timidly.  He paused after he folded the collar of my shirt
under.  His eyes shot up to the mirror and I cut him off.  "It got really
rough.  Mom had to pull him off.  He didn't mean it...  He was really..."

"Kid, you better not bother him.  That's for sure.  I don't want to read
about you in the obituaries!  Are you...  Is he...  Is he living with you
all, after he did this?"

"Ummm...  I don't hang very close to him anymore.  He didn't mean it...
Really."

"You know who to call if this happens again?"

I nodded as I watched his expression change as he took stock of my wounds.
His buzz saw laid waste of my scalp in less than ten minutes.  I closed my
eyes to feel the chattering vibration as my long hair left my body.  I once
pulled a strand that measured ten inches that went from the top of my head
to the back of my neck.  In seconds it became less than half of an inch
long.  All my buddies sport long shaggy mops.  I heard the Clash, Sex
Pistols, and the Ramones once or twice as punk/ wave music began to
infiltrate the hippie/ top 40 hold of the radio dial.  I had no idea I was
early on a fashion trend of the coming 80's.  I mean, I saw Patti Smith, on
a rerun of Saturday Night Live a year ago.  My taste in music was swayed to
a raw or experimental sound.  She had this genuine strength and energy I
admired more than the raw sound of her music.  Later in life music became
my escape.

It was summer and I hadn't considered what I'd look like with a fresh hair
cut: whiter than a Swede in January where the hair once was.  It seemed the
harder I tried to hide, the more visible I became.  The barber smiled as he
held the mirror behind me to show off his perfect square cut on the back of
my neck as I looked in the mirror in front of me. "Fuck it," I thought.

"Your Dad will like this, Son.  I only hope you heal up before he hits dry
land.  If he's like my Pop, you'll have a new set of wounds to mend, after
he sees that black and blue face."

"It's great!  Thanks Mister!" I ignored his snarky comment.

"Kid, you better square everything away and make your house ship shape.
You're practically a man.  If your Pop sees that, you'll have something
there.  And, that might help mend things with your brother.  Take it from
an old sea dog."

"Really? No kidding?"  He nodded, "Will do Sir."

We walked to the cash register.  "It will be a dollar."

"But...  But... the sign says five?"

"It's a dollar for Navy.  See?"

I shook my head.

"Navy boys have it harder than most.  No fathers for nine months of the
year.  Don't argue: A dollar and no more."

I paid him, tightened up the plastic strap of my Mariners cap and placed it
over my dorky hair.  Lying was becoming a chore: I'd lie and they'd tell me
the truth.  It was fucked up.

I walked back up the strip to Safeway.  There was a McDonald's across the
way but my parents never let us eat there.  We knew the owner of "Crazy
Eric's."  He feared McDonald's would sink his three little burger joints.
All I knew was Erik's had foot long hot dogs and peanut butter milk shakes.
That was enough for me to hate McDonald's reconstituted minced onions that
smothered their fake meat burgers.  Erik had more food for a better price
and Erik's Norsk.  So, I bought some peperoni sticks, Kaiser Rolls, cheese,
Oreos, bananas and three Cokes at Safeway.

My gym bag was so packed I had to tie my crappy race jacket around my
waist.  I hiked down 6th Ave until I could see a bus coming along behind me
a few stop lights away.  I was about to fall asleep on my feet: the bus was
a welcome site and I got a ride for a quarter.

My Mom had a thing for parks.  I knew them all.  She'd go bat shit crazy,
when I was a little kid, and we'd run off for a day trip while my siblings
were at school.  I knew about trees, streams, rivers, and local history
before I entered grade school.  There's a park just south of the Narrows
Bridge that had a public pool and nature trails.  I figured I could get a
shower at the pool and find a hiding place deep in the brush of the park
for a nap.

The bus dropped me off and I grabbed a transfer slip.  I couldn't have the
driver thinking I wasn't local.  Free swim wasn't for a while because the
local swim teams were still working out.  I plopped down on the lawn and
thought about how we once were before Mom found a job.

We'd walked the paths of this park when the nature trails opened up three
years ago.  Mom liked the park because it was all indigenous trees and
plants.  I thought she was nuts.  All she had to do was walk across the
bridge and into the woods for the same flora.  For Christ sake, she was all
excited about Madronna's scaling, prehistoric, red, bark; Douglas Firs, and
shitty Alder trees which were nothing but enormous weeds...  Adults are
nuts.  We'd find ourselves here mostly because the parks where we lived
were smaller and we'd worn out the novelty.  This park was huge and mostly
deserted due to its remote location in the City.  We rarely found other
people walking paths with us.

We'd talk about everything but the off limit things: sex and bitching about
my siblings.  Even with all of this interaction, she was distant in many
respects.  I had not a clue of her family or what she loved of life.
Granted, kids are egocentric little assholes yet I wanted to know her and
her answers were always generic and sparse.  We'd walk the paths and at
times I'd babble about anything that occurred to me to continue
conversation.  I'd verbally debate a theory of the magic of a coil sending
a charge to a spark plug. Electricity is the ultimate magic to a kid.  She
never tried to explain, correct, or interject.  I think she liked my
nervous babbling: the simplicity of a kid's logic and wished everything
were that simple.

At a quarter to eleven, the neighborhood kids were showing up for free
swim.  They only called it "free swim" in that anything went that didn't
involve running across the pool deck, diving in the shallow end, throwing
shit or killing a kid.  This included two lanes that were roped off for lap
swimmers.  I was stag: I'd pay my seventy five cents admission, swim some
laps and get a needed shower.

Swim team kids were trickling through the door as a crowd lined up for open
swim.  There were a couple of twenty some things, some women, and a couple
of fat assed sixty year old dudes waiting as a pack of kids cut in front of
the adults and gathered at the window like it was the opening of Star Wars
or something.  A teenaged kid with a buzz cut caught my eye.  His hair was
shorter than mine and his tan was just like the kids around the bay.  I
figured he must swim every day.  He carried his long muscled swimmers build
with regal elegance.  His movements were careless yet confident as he spoke
and joked with a couple of younger kids.  He wasn't interacting with the
other teens at all.

The high school aged, admission, girl gave a sigh of submission as the kids
pushed and shoved to get through the doors after paying.  There were a
couple of kids who acted like they paid and I saw her hand their money
back.  By looks, they were the poor kids.  She knew the crowd.  It was also
obvious that this crew of lifeguards had fought some wars with the
neighborhood kids and relented to let them in the minute the swim club kids
were out of the pool to avoid a riot. There was some pushing and shoving
among the ten and eleven year olds and that was something my body couldn't
handle.  I waited.  I was too tired to put up with any crap from anyone.

There was a pot, bellied, grey haired, freak who put himself in the middle
of the kids.  He was the guy I'd stay ten rows of lockers away from.  Mom
always talked about dirty old men and strangers.  She never told me why I
should avoid them.  Sometimes, I wondered what would happen if I followed
them or just made friends with them because they always seemed to hover
around these type of places.

The line dwindled to half a dozen adults as the bulk of the swim team kids
filtered out.  I decided it was time and joined the last couple of women in
line.  "Do you have a lock I could borrow?" I asked the teenaged girl
behind the glass.

"Umm..."  She looked in a box under the counter, "Well, not really...  I'm
supposed to sell you one," she whispered even though there wasn't a soul
around to snitch on us.

"God, I don't know what to do...  Mom was screaming at me this morning
because I over slept so I had to pack really fast. I forgot my school
locks...  This is my first swim.  Now I'm sorry I let her drop me off-"

"Hey!  Just stop.  Look, we can fix this...  Go on and get changed.  Bring
me your stuff and I'll put it in here.  Anyone can forget something.
There's kids and adults who forget their suites all the time!"

"God, thank you," I giggled at her last comment, "I was meeting a couple of
guys here.  Man, that would have sucked to go all the way home."  "I'm
Tammy.  You're new here?"

"Chris," I lied, "We moved in a week back...  And, before you ask, I tried
to take the room my brother wanted...  So, after he went with my Dad to get
the rest of our stuff from Seattle I moved all his stuff out and mine in...
And when he got back we yelled and Dad said sort it out or he'd kick both
our asses for being pussies.  We got in a huge fight... He really won,
huh?"

"God yeah!  You better not push him."

"Wish you were around last week."

"Just bring me your stuff.  Knock on the staff door." She pointed behind
her, "I'm watching admissions until cut off, okay?"

"Thanks so much!"  She smiled down at me.  A second passed and I felt
something stir as I looked at her hazel eyes as I noticed I could see each
little bump of her nipples against her nylon Speedo.  I figured she had
every little boy wrapped around her finger and she thought I'd be another
ring on her finger.  If she only had a dick and firm pecs, those eyes would
bring me to my knees.

By the time I got in the locker room, most of the boys were already in the
pool.  That old dude was parked on a bench completely naked holding trunks
in front of him but not putting them on.  It was weird.  I went to the far
end where the short haired teen was fumbling with his locker.  He turned to
me, "Jesus Christ! Kid, you need to learn to keep your hands up," he said
with a smile as he brushed by me.  He stopped at the end of the bench and
turned back, "Hey, sorry.  What the fuck happened?"  I told him my make
believe fight and added some blow by blow dynamic.  He stared at my black
eye and scrapped up cheek.  I didn't think he bought it as his deep brown
eyes drilled their way through my lies.

"What made you think you could take him?  Looks to me like you did a header
off a skateboard...  And then somebody decided to smack you around."

I stared down at my feet as I pulled off my shirt.

"Holy fuck!"  He sat on the bench with his legs opposite mine.  "What the
fuck?  Dude, somebody beat your ass... And tried to choke you out!"

"Yeah," I whispered.

"Your Dad?"

"No," Something about this teenager compelled me to confess a tiny bit.  I
turned my head to him.  He was looking at green and black bruises on my
stomach and chest.  He wasn't shocked.  His eyes were of concern.

"You can't go out there.  You're trying to protect who did this: I can
tell.  It's okay.  But, what made you think you could go for a swim for
Christ's sake?  You're like a walking raw meat...  Pounded out and
tenderized."

"It wasn't the swim.  I need a shower is all."

"How the fuck are you even walking?"

"It looks worse than it really is...  It's been a few days.  I'm okay...
What do you care?"

"Just...  We're going," He demanded.

"Who are you?  I'm not going.  I don't know you..."

"If I read you right, you have no place to go.  Right?  I wouldn't stay
someplace where that kind of thing's happening...  Don't try Poker kid, you
suck."

I stared back down to my feet.

"Look, Ummm.  I'll tell you some stuff.  But, we need to get out of here.
If somebody sees you, I doubt they'll take your word for what happened.
Your motherfucking brother didn't do that.  Somebody tried to fuck you up
for life.  Look at your fucking neck...  Jesus Christ!  Put your damn shirt
back on!"

He stood and passed me to get back to his locker, "Just do it, you little
fucking runaway.  I won't turn you in...  that's not me.  I know a guy who
might help.  If anything, you can get a shower and lunch before my parents
get home.  I know who- You just need to come with me and not question it
until we're at my place.  The street rats down town will eat you alive.
I'm not fucking joking.  Come home with me.  We'll figure it out there.
I'm Bret.  Now you know me so get your shirt on."

"Okay...  Okay...  You have it all wrong-"

"Bullshit!"  He knelt down to my eye level and whispered, "I've had those
on my chest...  back...  stomach...  You are in a shitload of trouble.  If
you want to make it worse just walk out that door and let one of those dumb
assed life guards see those." He pointed at the bruises.  "They'll call the
cops.  You'll end up in juvy until they contact your parents and then
you're right back in the hands of the son of a bitch who did this to you...
Understand?"

I thought about what Bob said: If this kid wanted to think I was beaten by
my Dad, it was better than taking the risk of being caught so I decided to
roll with it: Use him.  "I'm Chris...  You're right: I ran away."

"Get your shirt on and get your shit together.  We're out of here."  As he
said this, he pealed his Speedos off his waist and down his legs.  He was
completely flaccid with huge balls and without a trace of hair.  His stuff
looked huge without hair.  How could this be?  He had to be fifteen or so.
I only had a quick glance, as any young boy will do, and I was sure my eyes
had it right: No hair.

He pulled on a faded green LaCoste polo, boxers, and jean shorts.  "You
ready?"

I nodded as he slipped on some flip flops.  I grabbed my gear and followed
him out.  As we left the locker room I waived to Tammy.

"Chris!  Where you going?  Do you want your money back?  Bret!"  She yelped
as we kept walking.  I felt kind of bad but this guy knew what he was
doing.  I trusted him.

He popped open the front of his Porsche 914.  My brother called these cars
squashed Bugs as he regarded them as nothing more than an aerodynamic VW
Bug.  I placed my stuff alongside his in the forward trunk.

"You're old enough to drive?"

"Yeah, Dude, I'm seventeen!"

"Sorry."

"I get that shit all the time...  Don't sweat it.  Hop in!"

He had the top off and when he started the engine, it didn't sound like
squirrels sprinting on rusty treadmills of a VW.  I knew Porsche altered
the cylinders and other stuff but, it was obvious he'd done some high end
work.

He didn't drive like a mad man.  He might have gone five or so over the
speed limit at the most.  He explained that he had two tickets and his Dad
wouldn't pay for 50% of his insurance if he got one more.  His Dad sounded
like mine: give a kid enough rope to learn some lessons: Reasonable.

His house was on the West side of Tacoma just north of the Narrows Bridge,
at the side of the 100 foot cliff that defines the Narrows passage.

By what he drove, I knew his family had money and the house and grounds
showed this with all the shrubs, flowers and manicured lawns.  The interior
was filled with newer contemporary furniture and a few antiques mixed in
which I assumed were stuff of inheritance.  He walked me through the foyer,
past a formal living room, and down a set of stairs to his room in the
basement.  He didn't have much: a desk with a type writer, bed, single
night stand, and a few books stacked on the window ledge.  I sat on the
edge of his bed as he pulled out his desk chair and sat staring at me.

He pulled his shirt off and raised his left arm exposing a mound of scar
tissue the size of a dime a few inches below his arm pit.  I couldn't take
my eyes off it.  "When I was seven, my real Dad flipped out because I got
in his tools and lost a screwdriver.  I used to like to tear shit apart.  I
was using it to pull a wheel off my wagon.  You know...  I'd put it back
together later.  I lost the cotter pin and the screw driver after I got
distracted by a couple of other kids who wanted to do something.  Anyway,
when I got back home, my wagon was gone.  Dad was waiting for me.  He kept
yelling `Where's my damn tools?  What did you take?  Did you put them back?
Fuck no!' He slapped me around, spanked me and I cried like I never had
before.  I was faking, you know?  I figured he'd stop and I'd go to my room
and it would blow over.  I crawled off his lap after he spanked me pretty
hard...  Maybe ten times or so...  He was like glaring at me sideways so I
kept crying like he just killed my dog or something.  Then he started
screaming `I'll give you something to cry about' and he picked me up by the
arm and bitch slapped me three or four times.  Then he put his cigarette
out right here," He pointed at that dime sized scar again.  "I heard it
sizzle before I felt pain.  I think I was in shock before he did it.  God
did I scream.  Then he was pissed because I couldn't stop crying...  He
threw me against the wall and I remember him kicking me... But that's about
it...  These people are really my Aunt and Uncle.  I haven't seen him
since.  I never want to or will.  That's how I know those bruises are from
a beating.  The scrapes on your face are from somebody throwing you...
That shit on your neck...  Somebody tried to choke you out.  All that shits
happened to me."

I thought Bob's story was bad.  His made me angry and guilty.  "I can't
tell you how sorry-"

"That shit is in the past.  I get mad sometimes but I have to push it away
and realize that fuck head doesn't define who or what I will be.  He's a
fucking loser who beat up seven year olds for fun.  He could have killed
me.  You weren't far from that.  It's clear.  I know what it's like to
believe you deserve it...  you caused it...  You're powerless."

"It wasn't my Dad.  I swear.  There's this kid-"

"So what?  Why are you running away?  It's somebody close enough."

"Bret...  Just listen.  Just let me finish."  He nodded and waived his
hand.  "If I'm not allowed to be sorry then what the hell should I be?  For
fuck sake!"  He began to open his mouth and I put my finger to my lips and
he drew a chest lifting breath preventing a word to pass his lips.  "This
is going to be hard.  Ummm...  The guy who did this wasn't my Dad.  My
Dad's never touched me...  He left it up to my Mom and she spanked me with
a ping pong paddle a couple of times.  Ummm...  There's this kid and we're
really good friends and his Dad was hitting him and I tried to stop him and
he did this."  I glanced up from my feet and could see him doing the math
and I could also see his bullshit detector firing up.  "The thing was
that...  I've never admitted this to anyone other than...  I lied to you...
My real name is Jon...  Chris is my best frie- Chris is...  Ummm..." My
heart was pounding as fear pulsed through me.  I whispered, "I'm a fag."

I heard the wooden chair creek as he leaned forward I couldn't look at him
since I already knew his reaction.  I had to continue: I owed honesty.  If
he tossed me out, I figured I deserve it.  I should have told him the truth
in the locker room.

"Chris and I were doing some stuff and his Dad caught us.  He beat both of
us.  He choked me...  I passed out and came to and he was whipping Chris
with his belt...  He was all bloody... I knocked the asshole over and he
hit me, stomped me and threw me around," I peered up from the floor.  He
sat there expressionless probably contemplating whether he should do the
same.

"So, you're gay?  Big deal...  That has nothing to do with this...  You
think you deserve that?"

 I had never heard the term gay used to describe a faggot but I knew it was
synonymous by osmosis.  "I don't fucking know," that was the truth.  "I
like guys...  I've done sex stuff with guys...  Only a few but I know I
like it...  I love Chris.  I know it's sick.  I know I'm not supposed to
and you probably hate me.  I don't know what my Dad would of done."  I
could feel pressure in my sinuses and eyes.  God, I didn't want to cry.  If
I did, it just proved I was some kind of girly boy.

"I don't care.  I mean...  Nobody has the right to beat another human
being...  Just...  Here's the thing: nobody has the right to do that to
you...  NOBODY!  And that's that.  End of fucking story."

My chest heaved as all my emotion of the last week poured out.  I heard his
chair creek again and before I could look up, I felt his arm wrap around by
shoulder and he pulled me into his side.  As I cried, he told me about his
weekly group and psychologists he visited to get over his anger and other
problems and that I was okay, nothing was worth all the energy I was
putting into it.  He told me I wasn't the only kid like this and if I'd
take a breath to think, it would be okay.

He explained how his Aunt and Uncle fought to keep him from his
grandparents, where his Dad was taught to abuse, and into their custody.
It took them almost a year of battles to get Bret to safety and they
legally adopted him a few years later with the consent of Bret's biological
father.

I never figured out where his Mother was and decided not to ask.  Bret was
an open book and if he didn't volunteer information, I wasn't going to ask.
He held me.  He felt like Will: safe.  I sobbed and apologized and he
didn't say a word other than a simple squeeze to draw me into him.  He is
comfort.

After I settled down, I told him why I need to see Chris and my game plan.
He was on board and augmented my plan by offering all kinds of help.  He
led me out to his backyard where a six person tent was set up.  This was my
new home.

"We set this up every summer.  When I was a kid, I'd have sleepovers all
the time.  Now it's my little brother's turn.  It's an agreed parent free
zone.  A place for kids like a tree house and it's the rules so you will
not be discovered."

"Cool...  Hey Bret, I haven't slept in a hell of a long time...  Can I just
crash?"

"Yeah, man.  Ummm...  My little brother will be home in a few hours.  He
might come down here...  In fact, when I let him in on this, he will come
down.  I'll tell him you're out here, to keep his mouth shut, and a bit of
the plan.  It might cost a buck or two," He clinched his jaw in thought,
"You won't like...  Do anything to him.  I mean, like touch him or
anything?"

"It doesn't work like that," I said flatly as I blushed, "You don't jump
every girl you see?  I don't feel that way about every guy.  I've lived
this way all my life.  I remember thinking about boys when I was maybe
seven or eight or so.  I never did anything until a few months ago... This
is fucking embarrassing to talk about...  I won't touch him...  You're all
safe.  I don't think I'm contagious...  I won't rub off."

"Sorry...  You understand?  If he were my sister, she'd hang with you no
problem.  But, if you liked girls, do you think I'd let her sneak down here
to hang out alone?  He's nine.  He's my brother.  See?"

"I wouldn't think of a little kid for that.  Are you crazy?  I'm not even
going after you and you're... like...  I wish I could."  Bret blushed.

"I won't go after him for that.  I like kids because they're kids...  Like
friends...  It's like...  I have an older brother and we're best friends.
I've always wanted a little brother to have around to, like, share stuff
with: sports, fun, and to help out, like my brother has for me.  I figured
out I love one guy."  My heart raced and I knew he could see my nervous
sincerity.  "It won't happen with you or anyone else.  Understand?  It
doesn't work like that.  I like guys my age and right now there's only one
guy on my mind.  Get it?"

He nodded, "I buy that. I think about my girl, Tina, all the time.  I look
at just about everything with a knock out body but know better.  Tina would
dump me.  Kids are kids.  It's like that?"

"Yeah...  Exactly.  The day all this shit happened was the day I wanted to
tell him everything and like... go steady...  I guess is the best way to
put it."

Bret smirked and I knew he was thinking I was one sick bastard, "Sorry
about that...  I don't know anyone like you...  I think...  Your parents
don't know?  I mean I'm really the first one you told?"

"Chris, this other guy, Jon, and two other guys know because I was stupid
and did stuff with them.  But they're like me: If anyone finds out, they're
screwed for life.  You have a way of prying shit out of people.  You're so
honest... I trust you.  I had to tell somebody, why not you?"  I thought
for a second, "It felt good."

"My shrink calls it `learning to walk around in your own skin.'  Get some
sleep, just don't come out after five or until I come for you...  You have
to stay in here. Like from five till the sun is all the way down so piss
now or hold it.  If you get caught, I need to tell them everything.  You
get why?"

"Yeah.  I'll stay put."

"When we're done, I'll tell Dad.  He'll figure out a way to help...  He's
the guy who will help.  We have two days before I need to tell him.  He's
taking time off...  A whole month.  There's no way I could hide you then.
And anyway, if we wait any longer, Chris might get out of the Hospital and
you'll probably never see him again.  I'm with you all the way."

"Thanks," I said as I pulled up to a Rhododendron bush and let go of a
stream.

Bret laughed, "You're just like my little brother: even on the same bush!
You may use the bathroom, you know?"

"You said now." I looked over and he was staring at my dick.  I guess he
figured it would be different because of where I like to put it.

I lay on top of a camping mattress for a while and then ate most of the
food I bought before I passed out.

The first blast hit me in the eye and the second went in my mouth.  I
gagged and jumped up from the mat coughing.  A little boy was laughing,
rolling and squirming on the floor of the tent.

"Who are you?  What did you do?  This isn't piss?  DID YOU PEE ON ME?!" I
asked, in horror, as I wiped the moisture from my face on the sleeve of my
Oxford.  My questions only increased his delight and volume of laughter.
"Who are you?  Bret's little brother? Timmy?"

"Yup," He giggled as he slid a lime green squirt gun into the waistband of
his little blue briefs with a snap of elastic.

"Oh, thank God."

He was dressed in a faded blue Superman tee shirt that bunched up under his
arm pits from his tossing about on the floor exposing his flat tummy.  It
was bed time and I was sure he was catching some extra awake time by
escaping to the back yard.  I did the same thing when I was a kid.  "Aren't
you supposed to leave me alone? "

"It's my house...  My tent," he said as he turned on his side to face me
with a devilish smile and piercing brown eyes.  His hair was dark as coal:
he was an absolute spawn of Satan.  "And my gun."  He pulled the squirt gun
from the front of his briefs and pointed it at my face, "And, I might just
take you prisoner...  Tie you up and feed you Almond Rocha from the kitty
box as your last meal."

"Oh yeah.  Never thought about that.  You're right: completely trespassing
and you caught me!  That means I'm your slave or I die," I relented with a
dramatic sigh and sank my face into my hands in shame.

I could see his smile through my fingers as he squinted through the sites
for his next shot.  He took aim at my crotch.

I yelled, "But that doesn't mean I can't start a rebellion, Butt Munch!"
and jumped over to his side of the tent to tickle him under his arms, chest
and neck.  It shocked him that this stranger would be as bold as he and he
got off one good shot of water that pelted the side of my ear.  In the
process of defending himself with slapping hands his squirt gun went
flying.  I had him giggling and laughing for a couple of minutes before he
begged for peace or he'd pee his pants.  I was sitting on his legs: the
surf had the Lord of the manor by his throat.  I had to show him who the
new boss is and grabbed his wrists to pull his arms over his head: complete
control.

"You haven't told anyone I'm in here?"

"No...  Bret said I have to keep clam till he tells me.  If I do, he's
gonna give me ten dollars!"

"WOW!"  I thought for a second, "That's a ton of money.  Is that a standard
bribe?"

"It depends."  I slid off to let him up.  "Sometimes Tina's out here.  They
do stuff...  Kissing and junk.  It's sick...  Slobbering all over the
place.  He gives me five bucks for that."

"I never spied on my brother and sisters.  Sounds like I missed out."

"Why you all beat up?"

"I did something really stupid.  Let's just leave that alone and say I can
take a punch."

"Come on...  tell me."

"Maybe tomorrow."

His eyes bound around the tent as his mind geared up more interrogation.
He flipped up on his butt and crossed his legs Indian style.  I faced him,
in kind, so our legs touched: face to face.  It's standard kid procedure
for twenty questions.

"Bret said I have to go with you...  What are we doing?" He bent to his
side, retrieved the squirt gun, shoved the barrel end into his mouth, and
shot some water down his throat.  The thought of that plastic chemical,
acidity, water going down his throat turned my stomach.

"I'm a wanted and you're my cover...  The guys who did this to me are still
after me...  They're looking for a kid my age running solo: not two kids or
brothers.  You're going to help me find a guy who will save-"

"You're full of it," he claimed with a dismissive waive of his hand.

"No.  Really.  You need to act like we're brothers all day.  It's really
important that I find my friend in the morning.  I may never see him again.
I lied about the guys being after me... I'm sorry for treating you like a
dumb kid.  I hate when people do that to me.  I ran away to find my friend.
He's at the hospital.  That's the truth."

"Cool...  Ummmm..  You running away forever or just a little while?"

"Haven't figured that our yet."

"Why'd you run away?"

"My friend got beat up like me and I need to see him... My parents won't
let me."  "Why?"  "They don't like him?"

"Why?"

"They just don't.  Okay?"

"Oh...  If you ran away, shouldn't you never go back?"

I shrugged.

"I sometimes wish I could run away...  If you go away forever, will you
take me?"

I shrugged knowing this was every little boy's fantasy at one time or
other.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"Forever or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow first."

"Down town, Tacoma General, maybe up to Johnson's Candy, when we're done."

"Frisco Freeze...  We're going to Frisco Freeze."

"What's that?"

"You're buying me a burger, fries and strawberry shake.  But NO white
sauce, pickles, relish, mustard, onion, tomato, or lettuce...  And an ice
cream cone to."  "At least put some cheese on that!"

"Yeah...  Those are okay.  Catsup is okay too," he replied as he happily
bounced a bit with each word.

"Deal."

"Really?!"

I nodded and he smiled.  Even though it was a bribe, it made me feel good
to see him so happy.

"SOOOO!  COOOL!!!!  Okay, Okay...  Okay...  Ummmm...  Where will you...
we...  go after?"

"I don't know...  Where do you think?"

"Way back in the Amazon jungle...  They have tribes like the Yanomami...
They eat monkeys and have sticks shoved through their lips and tattoos...
They run around naked!  Girls even!  We saw them on National Geographic!
Boys get bows and arrows when they're four...  And-"

"Timmy!" his Mom screamed for him.

"See yah."  He bound to his feet and sprinted though the flap of the tent.
I went back to sleep.

The sun rose around five but by dick woke me first.  It was so hard it
ached.  I pulled off my clothes and lay on the mattress thinking of Chris
in the field over and over.  I hadn't thought about sex or jacking since
the cabin.  Those thoughts were of guilt and how avoid the complications of
sex: just don't do it was my conclusion.  I mean, Catholic priest don't
have sex so I thought it possible to turn desire off.  My body craved
release.  So, I lay there thinking and as much as I tried to change the
subject, the field worked its way in there.  I thought of open ice, sharp
blades and blasting a goalie with a snow shower as I'd skid to the goal.
Yet, somehow, in the back of my mind the taste of Chris washed my mouth.
Soon, my energy focused on the smooth feel of him, his scent, his touch,
and his taste.  I neared sleep and was zapped awake with a quick orgasmic
flash that tweaked my stomach muscles and pulled me up right.  I looked at
my rigid cock and there was a smear of pre-cum coating the head with a dab
on my stomach.  My heart was racing as every nerve in my body was screaming
"Chris!"

I couldn't sleep.  No matter how long I waited or how much I tried to think
of outhouses, road kill, and kids puking at the back of the bus, all I felt
were tingles in my gut, heart racing, my balls drawn up, spasms running up
my penis and every urge in my body was screaming to "Just rub it out and be
done with it...  Please!"  But I couldn't.  My mind was stuck in a place of
fear and loathing.  In a way, I wished I could just cut it off and be done
with it: no sex or love required.  Why in the fuck did this function have
to be a necessity of life?  I mean, I don't like girls so I'm not having
kids.  Why can't I just turn it off?  Where's the mother fucking switch?!

I remembered a distraction and grabbed my pants.  Pulling the packs out,
unwrapping each from the cardboard container.  I found a red, green and
blue little doughnut, sealed in a poly package.  My penis lost some
stiffness as I investigated this hoax.  This had to be a joke.

In the tiniest print known to man, there were six specific directions but,
I'm a guy so I tore the green pack open with my contempt for directions.
From my tare, I jabbed a finger in and it felt moist, and kind of slippery.
I spread the pack open and took a whiff.  A scent similar to the pages of
those Hustler Magazines with a stronger odor of surgical gloves wafted
through my nostrils.  I pulled the green thing out and felt the slime that
I instantly recognized as the stuff Jan used on his butt and my dick.  It's
no joke, this thing is for sex.

Pulling the slimy tip, the rest was self-explanatory.  Sue wasn't making it
up.  I stretched it down my rigid cock and it unrolled as I stretched
leaving slimy lube on my fingers.  I was just thick enough that it fit snug
but now I know if I attempted intercourse, it'd end up lodged in some poor
girl's cervix.  I crossed my legs, sitting Indian style, and looked down at
my minty green cock.  I thought about fucking Jan: this would be cleaner
but I'd need about fifty of these things around me to attempt that
again... Maybe if there were a full body version, I'd try that butt stuff
again.

I picked the wrapper up and stuck my tongue inside.  There wasn't much
taste. It was much the same as biting an army man's head off in the middle
of a game to piss David off when we were kids.  I tried to roll the thing
back up into a doughnut, as I pulled it off, but it wouldn't rewind as
tight and an inch or more was left flapping.  I thought the company must
have people like the Cuban cigar rollers to accomplish such a feat.  I
imagined a sweat shop, somewhere in the Bronx, where women rolled these up
for a loaf of bread and a dollar a day.

I stuck the tit end in my mouth.  Again, not much taste.  Thinking about it
more, I shoved three fingers in, rolled it down and sucked.  The taste and
slickness gave away that it was there yet I could feel the contours of my
fingers.  I thought about not having tongue on skin contact and how that's
the fun part of doing it: taste, texture, and payoff.

My mind wandered to the little tit at the end.  The tit didn't seem big
enough to contain what shot out of my cock so I knew it would create a mess
spilling out the end and on my balls.  Then I unrolled the doughnut all the
way to its end.  There was no way a guy could have a dick over twelve
inches long.  Could there be a guy out there like that?  Not at my school!
Now there's the joke!

Greenie was spent.  I couldn't get him to roll up so I could get him back
on my dick.  So, I tore open blue.  This time, I tried to get as much lube
on my penis as possible and then slid on the condom.  As I rubbed, I
concluded there was no way I'd wear one of these.  The barrier was obvious.
I was so glad I was into boys.  There's no need for a glove and I'd
continue to stroke, suck, and maybe fuck without one of these stupid rubber
mitts.

"What are you doing," Timmy giggled with his head poked through the flap of
the tent.

"Timmy!  Shit! Get out of here!" I yelled covering up my junk.

Timmy sang, "I know what you're doing!"  He stepped inside, still in his
blue briefs and Superman tee.

"Knock it off... Please...  Some privacy...  Please?"

"What's on your thingy?  I watched you put it on."

The little pervert spied on me.

"Timmy, it's nothing.  Just please go back to the house."

He looked at the green one, the two open packs, and the red doughnut.

"Do those make it feel good?  I rub mine sometimes...  When I'm in the
tub."

"Timmy."

"Let me see...  What is that thing?"

"GO BACK TO THE HOUSE!"

He dropped his undies around his ankles and peeled his Superman tee off in
a split second, "See...  Here's mine!  See?"

I stared at his little, flaccid inch and a half penis resting on a sack
with a growing set of balls that dwarfed his little unit.

"What?  We're both boys.  I see my brothers all the time," he chimed as he
stepped out of his undies kicked them up and caught them in midair.  "Can
I... Can I see it?  I just want to see it.  My brother's is big."

He had me.  I mean, his next move is blackmail and then he'd end up telling
somebody so I figured I'd make him an accomplice rather than an extortion
artist.  There was no way I'd use violence to shut him up, it would make
things three times worse.

"You won't tell Bret or anybody right?"

He nodded, "Just let me see it.  I won't tell."

I moved my hands and he knelt down a few feet away to look between my legs.

"It's not as big as Bret's" He observed as I had lost my erection.  "Why is
that blue thing on there anyway?  Is it for peeing?"

I thought about how stupid I must have looked to my family, when Will made
the joke about condoms.

"You know about how boys and girls work and stuff?"

He quickly sat on his heels and his wheels were burning rubber in his head
as his little penis went rigid in about four massive throbs, "I know about
mating...  Is that it?"

"What do you know about mating?"

His tan turned a bit sunburned.  "Wellllllll...  the man gets on top and
puts his dick between the woman's legs and his penis goes inside of her and
he moves around," Timmy demonstrated by raising to his knees bucking his
hips which bounced his little stiffy around, "and his seed goes inside her
and it fertilizes the egg and a year later a baby comes out."

"Yup.  That's about right.  This keeps the seed from getting inside," as I
explained, as I boned up based on the subject matter.

"Ohhhh...  But, what is it?" He looked down at me and giggled, "It's way
big!"

I had to ignore him.  I would never enter into a Jan situation again, "A
condom.  I was practicing putting it on cuz someday, I might do that to a
girl."

"Really?"

"This has to be a secret because it's more personal than even pooping..."
He busted up laughing and I had to wait for him to regain composure "... or
any kind of bathroom stuff.  I mean, I'd never tell anyone if I walked in
on you doing anything like this.  Seriously, not even a joke: no teasing-
nothing."

He looked up at me and I wasn't sure it sank in as he reached over and
grabbed the unrolled green condom off the floor.  It easily slid on his
little stiffy and the excess looked like a deflated windsock.  He giggled
and twirled the loose end while making elephant sounds.

"It's like, if you crapped your pants on the bus and we were the only two
that knew you did it.  I'd have something on you, sure.  But, what comes
around goes around.  We're friends and someday the tables may be turned.
We don't tell the girls what goes on in the locker room and we don't talk
about our dicks with anybody but our friends...  Right?"

"No.  I get it.  I won't say anything...  But, I double promise if you give
me the red one."

I handed it over and he reached down and grabbed his undies as he bolted
out of the tent figuring I'd change my mind.  I wondered what his parents
would think, if they saw him sprinting across the lawn in the buff with a
hard on.  I peered out the tent and he was slipping his stuff back on
outside of the basement door.  I had to laugh.  Timmy's a con artist and a
little capitalist. He'd probably trade for something better from an older
kid.  I bet he gets a skate board out of it.  To him, that was a business
deal and nothing to do with sex.  I really like Timmy: he's what I imagine
my Dad was like as a little kid.

Jan and Denis popped into my head as I ripped the rubber off my cock.  I
found a new cold shower replacement.  God if I touched Timmy he'd hate me
as much as Jan hate me and as much as I hate Denis.  Unlike Jan, Timmy
wasn't asking.  That was one difference and the other was there was no real
urge to pounce.  Timmy is my friend.  I finally got my shower after Bret
came down at seven thirty.  He fed me instant oatmeal and an orange for
breakfast.  I felt amazing this morning: like Aflotti had never touched me.
The only real discomfort was the drying itch of the scabs on my face and
back.  They'd soon molt for relief but that process is the worst.  You
never know when a scaly scab will hang from your face in the middle of a
conversation.

Timmy sat across from me eating Life cereal.  He stared at me: taking in
the scrapes and three colored bruise below my eye.  Bret had given me a
short sleeve, button down collar, shirt that did a better job covering my
neck.  Thank God for the big collared shirts of the mid-seventies.  And, an
old pair of wide leg jeans he wore three years ago.  Everything fit a
little loose but it was better than what I had in the tent.

Bret had a job at a gas station on the South side.  He started at one and
was off at seven.  He was supposed to watch his brother while his parents
were working but with my adventure, he was taking his new found free time
to bone Tina.  Straight guys could come right out and say that stuff even
in front of their little brothers.  We pulled onto Yakima Street because
Timmy insisted.  I knew the route thanks to my Mom's park adventures.  She
loved to drive through this part of town because of the variety of
architecture and trees of this old Victorian neighborhood.  The leafy trees
that lined the road and were so huge and thick it was like driving through
a foliage tunnel.  Timmy sat on my lap, in the little two seater and I
could smell the lavender soap he'd washed with this morning.  I liked this
closeness.  It was comforting to hold this little guy as I was so nervous
about what lay ahead.

The reason they took this route was one of the brothers' shared secrets.
Bret smiled at his brother, down shifted and we were flying as the engine
began to scream.  Timmy loved the feel of G forces as the Porsche rounded
the S curves, the rush of the flight over the little bridge that spanned a
ravine, the rocket lift off of flying up a very short, steep, hill, then
the stomach tossing drop as we hopped the peak for an unexpected drop of a
steep decent like a ski slope and at the bottom was a quick, sharp, right
turn.  After we rounded the corner, Bret brought us back to the speed
limit.  Years later, the City closed the bridge to auto traffic which
prevented the fun of this little stretch of road.  The City claimed it was
due to the age of the bridge.  I believe it was due to Bret and Timmy.

I had to admit after Bret's demonstration, a 914 is nothing like a Bug.  My
brother was completely wrong.  This is a fun little car.

"Remember, you have to get him home before one or Lisa will call Mom and
I'm toast then.  The bus runs every 30 minutes.  Get on the 60 and it will
take you down Jackson.  Get off at 21st and Jackson.  Timmy, you know where
to get off...  You guys got that?"

"I know how to ride the bus!" Timmy protested.

"If I catch shit, you get no money, rug rat!"

"I have it.  There will be no fuck ups...  Thanks for doing this Bret." I
answered to save a sibling argument.

Bret nodded and we got out in front of this Church that looked like it
should be a Senatorial building in Washington, DC.  Mom claimed only
Republicans worship there.  Our Lutheran denomination didn't believe the
"Word" required such extravagance only the appearance of poverty with heaps
of guilt to keep everyone in their place.  We didn't even have a paved
parking lot!

Wright's Park was across the street.  It was one of my favorite parks
because of the lawn bowling area on the South side.  Mom and I used to
watch.  This was when I was really little.  It was as if the crazy old
people who played this sport were transported there from 1900.  Their white
clothes and extreme manors were alien in the late 70's.  Mom stopped
bringing me here after the cops dragged a body out from a drug buy gone
bad.  I wanted to see if it changed and we had some time so off we went.

We walked across the street and onto the green lawn.  Although this park is
considered Tacoma's "Central Park" due to its down town location, its size
is not up to that standard: only five western blocks by three blocks wide.
It only takes a few steps into the place to see that the quality of the
gardening is far superior to most parks as the City: the gardeners take
pride in this place.  Timmy loved that we were doing something forbidden by
walking without adults and I had to admit, as we passed the duck pond,
there were some freaky looking hippie/rocker types and street people
wandering about this morning, but there were also some seniors and joggers
out here too.  When we got to the lawn bowling area, there were no old
people and the greens were as tall as the surrounding grass.  I guessed
even the bowlers were afraid of freaks or maybe it was the end of the
season.

We found a sugar maple at the edge of the street where I sat down with my
back against the trunk to watch some cars pass as the commuters sped by.
This was the part of town where some exotic foreign cars could be seen.
The was an Alfa Romeo, Saab, Volvo, a few consignment dealers and specialty
repair shops were blocks away from here.  When the cars ceased to pass, we
could hear the breeze blow through the leaves above.  That rustling is as
comforting as waves breaking over our beach.  I closed my eyes to take it
in as Timmy plopped down in the grass beside me.

"When are we going in?"

"A minute or two buddy...  As soon as we see an orange, Saab 900."

"That could take all day!"  With that, he spread himself out on his back
and used my thigh as a pillow.

"Comfy?"

He shrugged.

Across the street there was a Methodist church, an old brick apartment
building and a pale, red brick, medical, office building of five stories.
People were filing out of the apartment building to hop a ride to work and
others filed into the office building for work or catch an appointment.  A
few homeless guys were pushed out of the Church by staff who arriving to
find them sleeping in their sanctuary.  I liked that about the Methodists:
the unlocked door policy even in a place like Tacoma.

Timmy kept babbling about his school and his friend Rolland who almost blew
his hand off with one of his brothers M80's he'd stole after his brother
got back from the Puyallup Indian's fireworks stand this Fourth of July.
Rolland's ears are still ringing.

"You went swimming with my brother?

"We met at the pool is all..."

"You swim like compete swim or goof off swim?"

"Goof off."

"Bret's on the high school team...  He was with the swim club but he wants
to make money.  My Mom works so he sits for me and then goes to the gas
station.  I like being with him than the girl down the street...  She sits
around and watches soaps all day...  Bret likes to play...  That's why he's
at free swim.  He goes every other day.
  It's a deal he has with Dad. "

"Oh, I didn't know that...  He any good?"

He shrugged.  "Did you see his thingy?"

"His what?" I asked not knowing if what he asked was a gag.

"You know!"  He pointed and tapped on his crotch.

I looked around and didn't think anyone saw him patting his junk.  "Yeah,
we were in the locker room together... "

He raised his head and smiled.  "He made it to the big meet...
State... This year.  And, he shaved all his hair off.  I got to shave his
back!  He likes it!"  "You shave your brother's back?  How?  When? Why?"

"Yeah!  He said there's less drag...  Make you go faster.  He does it cuz
he said it feels good to be like me!  He had all this hair... You know," He
patted his crotch.  " And, there's none there now!  Every couple of weeks,
he'll call me into the bathroom, we get naked and in the shower and I do
his back.  One time he let me stay in with him and he shaved everything...
Even his nuts!"  Timmy giggled.

I figured Timmy knew his brother was doing something really strange for a
kid growing up in the 70's where the more hair you had, the more macho you
were.

"I was wondering about that.  I couldn't ask him."

"Which would you have?"

I put my hand on his chest and gave him a jiggle, "All my friends started
growing hair and stuff a few years back and I wanted as much as they had or
more.  Truth is I'd rather stay like you.  Less stinky stuff to fool with,"
I smiled down at him.

"Really?"

"Yup.  I think your brother does it cuz of swimming.  I bet he could care
less one way or the other."

"Do you think all swimmers do that?"

"Don't know...  Hockey players don't"

He looked up at me and changed the subject to his Dad having season tickets
to the Sonics but how employees got most of them.  I thought about Bret's
body and wondered if he got any shit for shaving like that.  As I pondered
this, I boned up and had to reach down to pull my cock free of binding up
on the right leg of my undies.

Timmy noticed and began a sing song, "Jonny has a boner. Jonny has a
boner."

I put my finger to my lips and he whispered his little tune.  Not having
jerked it for at least a week was like stepping back a few years when I'd
bone up just thinking about nothing.  A week was a record for me since my
discovery a few years back.  I even managed to jack a few times at six
grade camp and even when the family went on vacation last year.  It had
nothing to do with Timmy head in my lap and everything to do with picturing
Bret's smooth, muscular, body.

A mid 60's Olds 98 pulled up to park in front of us.  A twenty something
woman got out, walked around to the park side, where we sat, and opened the
back door to pry her four year old son from his Dr. Seuss book and out of
the car.  He tried to make a dash into the park but was held by his shirt
collar before he made his move.  She led him across the street and into the
medical building.  I felt sick.  My cock deflated as the building snapped
back into memory.

"Let's go Timmy," I shoved him and we untangled.  We crossed the street and
followed the house wife into the lobby.  I knew this building: black and
white checkered tile floor, art deco tin ceiling, and big assed brass
reader board.  We walked up the sweeping circular stair to the third floor,
down the hall three doors to the right and into a reception room all by my
muscle memory.

"I thought we were going to the hospital, Chris isn't here is he?" Timmy
asked.

I glared down at him and his mouth snapped shut as his eyes shot forward.
There once were clowns and monkeys painted on the reception room walls but
now were painted over with baby shit brown.  There once was a play area
with a wall just high enough so little kids couldn't see over the top in
the corner.  Now it appeared to be somebodies office with a full height
wall and door.  Everything was army green, baby shit brown with deep
mahogany furniture surrounding the room.  I thought this was in the right
place.  Maybe it was just a dream after all...  Was this part of the dream?
I wasn't sure.

"Can I help you boys?"  She was a young receptionist with feathered back
disco hair behind a window.  I hadn't noticed her as my eyes were scanning
the room.

I stepped over, "Is... Is...  Dr. Schmidt in?"

"Dr. Schmidt?  There's no Dr. Schmidt in this building."

"Oh well, this was his office, right?"

"I started this job a few months ago.  Wait a minute.  I'll find somebody
who knows," she got up and went down a hall and a few seconds later, an old
nurse followed her back to the window.  She wore the traditional white
dress, goofy nurse's hat, and a tamed B-52, puffed up hair.  After looking
at me and Timmy and hustled around and through the door.  I had never seen
an old lady move that quick.

"What can we do for you boys?"

"I thought this was Dr. Schmidt's office.  It isn't is it?"

"No.  Dr. Schmidt moved out of here about five maybe six years ago."

"Oh.  Where did he move to?"

"Well, he doesn't practice anymore."

"Practice?"

"He retired...  He's not a doctor anymore.  Why were you trying to find
him?"

"I just remembered the building and the park is all...  I thought I'd say
hi is all."

She paused as she examined my beat up face.

"I have any appointment around the corner for all of this stuff." I lied,
pointing to my face.

"Okay.  So, where's your Mom?"

"She has some stuff to do and dropped us off.  We've done this before.  I'm
14.  I keep my appointments."

"Oh.  I see.  So, you wanted to say hello.  Very nice of you to think of
him...  She got down on one knee and looked up into my eyes.  "You know, we
get some kids in here, from time to time, over the years, looking for him."

I stared down at her trying to assess her motive as she took my hands in
hers which confused the shit out of me.

"Let me get you something."  She pulled a business card from a rack that
sat on the reception counter.  "This is Dr. Cameron's number.  He's not
here right now but call him.  Maybe he can help."

"With what?"

She paused, "Could I get your name and number...  Maybe he should call
you?"

"Ummm...  We gotta go...  Come on Timmy," I pulled my hands from her to
spin Timmy around and scoot him toward the door.

"Wait please?"

I tuned back to her, "Really, thanks, might come back after my
appointment," We burst through the door and we ran down the stairs and out
the building.

"What was that?  Why'd we run?"

"That woman was nuts!  All I wanted to do was say `hi'"

Timmy asked about my old doctor and I told him to stuff it.  Then his
interrogation ventured to questions about why a doctor grabs your balls
during physicals.  I couldn't answer most of his questions.  Kids generally
accept anything their doctor does to their bodies.  His questions were
landing like a personal inquisition.  I wanted sock him in the gut for a
moment of silence.

"Hey Timmy!  I don't know why they shove shit in your ear, look at your
butt or squeeze your nuts...  They just do."

"Sorry, you're older I thought you'd know.  Mom said it's to make sure I'm
growing okay."

"Then, that's why.  Shit!"

"What's wrong with you?  What did I do?"

"Nothing...nothing.  Let's just walk for a while.  Ummm...  Let's go to the
marble church and up the way like we should of in the first place...  We
never should of gone to the damn park.  I'm sorry Timmy."

"For what?  Bret yells at me for stuff I didn't do... all the time. He's
always telling me to shut up...  I don't...  Dad says I'm entitled to my
opinions."  He gave me a punch on the arm.  I thought of Chris doing the
same thing and we walked in silence for a while.

Division Ave bordered the park on the north side.  One side of Division is
the beginning of the affluent side of town and the opposite side is rough.
Dad said Tacoma was run by a bunch of white guys who wore sheets at night
and Division Ave was named by them: Minorities and low class on one side
and rich white guys on the other.  Later in life, I found that my Dad
wasn't far off.  Tacoma had all of the economic elements to become a larger
and more vibrant city than Seattle.  But, the founders were bigots who ran
anyone darker than an Irishman to Seattle.  This was Tacoma's unwritten
policy for at least 60 years.  I hate Tacoma because I believe this policy
is still around, just below the surface: sick fucking place.

We walked up Division where Timmy pointed across the street to Frisco
Freeze.  It was a drive in burger joint I never noticed before.  Timmy
claimed it was a zillion times better than McDonald's.  That didn't take
much but I didn't tell him that.

We entered threw the emergency room.  I figured there'd be more traffic and
less people would notice me.  I was extremely paranoid.

"Timmy, all you have to do is go up to that old bag at the information desk
and ask for Christopher Aflotti's room number and when visiting hours are.
If she gives you a weird look or asks for your parents, tell her your Dad's
in the bathroom.  If she needs a parent, act like you're going to find him
and come to me.  I'll be right here."

Timmy put on his best angel face.  The kid had balls three times the size
of his body: no fear.

"She said he's not here.  No name like that...  That's what she said," he
reacted to my pissed off face as the words spilled from his lips.
"Visiting hours start at ten and end at seven for Mary Bridge."

"That can't be right, Timmy.  He's here."  I knew this hospital from when
Collin had broken both his arms and banged his head when he tried to jump
his bike over one to many milk crates.  They put him on the fourth floor of
the Mary Bridge Children's wing.  We'd start our search there.

We walked across the street to Marry Bridge and into the lobby.  Luckily,
when we got into the elevator, we were surrounded by adults and a couple
got out with us on the fourth floor.  We followed them past the nurse's
station.

"Hold my hand," I whispered in Timmy's ear.

"I'm not holding your stupid hand!" he hissed back.

I looked down at him and he looked up with his smart assed grin that
quickly faded when he caught my eyes.  "Please, remember what we talked
about?  This is the most important thing, ever."

He reluctantly grabbed my hand and we walked the corridor.  The floors are
set up like a NASCAR track.  The exterior side of the corridor is all
patient rooms while the interior side is all patient support, storage,
stair wells, exam rooms and nurse's stations.  I read every name below the
room numbers but his wasn't there.  Greta said Chris would be here for at
least another week and, being the nosey person she was there was, there was
no doubt in my mind that Chris had to be here.  I worked the puzzle.

"We need to go around one more time...  The opposite direction.  Look for
rooms with no names below the numbers or closed doors."  We found two rooms
but they were completely clean and waiting for new meat.  We went through
two more floors with the same search procedure with nothing.

"This is stupid.  He's not here," Timmy said flatly as we neared the top of
the stairs at floor 7.

"Timmy, if we were looking for your best friend in the whole world, I'd do
anything to help.  If he's not here, please help me with floors 2 and 3...
That's where the babies are but I think he's stashed somewhere.  My sister
never makes shit up.  He's here.  I know he's here."

"I'm not holding your stinking hand anymore."

"Fine.  Shut up and stay by my side.  It's worked so far.  Nobody is gonna
hassle a patient and his kid brother walking around the hospital...  At
least I think that's what people think."

"This is stupid."

I opened the door as a nurse came down the hall.  "Boys!"

"Yes Mam?"

She looked me up and down and then Timmy.  "Do you belong on this floor?
Are you a patient?"

"Ummm.  No.  We'll go back to the fourth floor...  Timmy wanted to explore.
Sorry.  We'll go back to Mom."

"Come with me."  She walked us to the elevator.  Timmy was bright red with
fright.  He reached up and grabbed my hand and I gave it a reassuring
squeeze.  When the elevator doors opened the nurse gave us a shove inside
and she pressed four and stepped off.  "Don't even try coming back up here.
It's hard enough dealing with teenagers all day."

We waited for the doors to open and close on four and I pressed three.
Floor three was full of toddlers, screaming babies and a few younger kids.
There was a closed door at the end of the hall with no name below the room
number.  We waited there for a few minutes until a nurse emerged from the
stair doo.  I knelt to untie and retie my shoe.  She stopped in front of
the closed door and glanced down at me for a second.  She opened the door
wide, glanced over her shoulder at me and released it as she watched my
face.  I could see a bed but caught a glimpse of a bigger kid.  My heart
rate accelerated faster than Bret's Porsche as the automatic closer slowly
began to collapse the door.

"Hey there boyfriend!  Time for your pills."  She squealed, as she
approached the bed.

I grabbed Timmy and moved us so my line of sight could view as far into the
room as possible when she'd return.  I drew Timmy into me so that the back
of his head was pressed into my chest.  He didn't object: he knew exactly
what was happening as he stood rigid with anticipation.  We stood still.
As the door opened, I held my breath.  She passed through and as the door
shut, I could see his arm.  It was Chris.  I had no doubt.

She waited for the door to click shut before she spoke.  As she eyeballed
us, her eyes darted to Timmy: she seemed puzzled.

"Can I help you boys?"

I couldn't speak.  My brain was screaming "hold it together!"  But, my eyes
were watering up.  I felt Timmy break away and reached for my hand with a
squeeze trying to snap me awake.

"We were exploring is all," Timmy replied, "Our parents are in the
cafeteria...  We'll go find them.  Sorry."

"You know, there were a couple of boys on seven not even fifteen minutes
ago.  They claimed their parents were on four.  Guess what?  They never got
off the elevator.  I got the call from seven.  You match the description
perfectly."

Timmy pulled on my hand as he began dragging me down the hall past a
screaming baby's door.  "We're not coming back...  Sorry.  Please we don't
want any trouble." Timmy continued.

She grabbed my shoulder and I stopped which whiplashed Timmy back to me
from what was his attempt to run.  She turned me around to face her brown
eyes and face.  A tear streamed down my right cheek.  She clinically
scanned my scrape, eye, and then took a moment at the collar of Bret's
shirt where a little of the bruise was exposed.  Her stare came back to my
eyes as her other hand ran over the left side of my face and she caressed
my ear a little.

"Boy, you need to get home," She whispered.

I couldn't pull my eyes from her stare and I pushed my head lightly into
her hand.  I guess I was asking for help.

"That boy in there is my favorite patient ever.  Now is not the time.  Do
you hear me?"

I nodded.

"He's told me about you...  He knows you're missing.  Do you know what
that's done to him since he found out?"

I shook my head as more tears spilled down my cheeks.  She stared at me for
a few more seconds and pulled me in for a long hug.

"I'm not supposed to do this...  I'm supposed to turn you in...  call the
fuzz.  Here's what we're going to do: my shift ends at 4:30, you're going
to sit with him until 2:30, at 2:30 we're going up to four where you'll
wait for me and we'll figure out what to do with you.  Now I can see it in
your eyes- I know what you're thinking.  Put it out of your head.  What?
You thought you'd sneak in and see him and it would be all about you: some
childish bullshit.  We check everyone every fifteen minutes if not sooner.
That's all you'd get. The more I think about it we need you to see him...
I need you to spend time with him.  Understand?  Now he's not critical or
anything... It's that... His whole damn world is flipped on its head.  You
get that?  Now baby, do we have a deal?  Can I trust you to keep it?"

I nodded.

"Say it."

"You can trust me.  I will do everything you said."

"Now before you go thinking I'm doing you some kind of favor...  It's about
that broken boy in that room.  Think about it."

"It's the only reason I'm here."

She shook her head dismissively.  "Who is this?" she asked as she went to
one knee and grabbed Timmy's hand.

"He's my friend Timmy.  Oh, shit...  I can't stay he has to get home and I
owe him Frisco Freeze and his brother will get in trouble if he's not back
by one."

"Is that true Timmy?"

"Yes, mam," Timmy answered as he looked at his feet like he'd been busted
at recess or something.

"Where you live, Honey?"

"Off of Jackson over by the bridge, kinda, 18th where it ends."

"He goes home when I take lunch.  That will be before one.  There's no need
to involve him or anyone else in your B.S."  She grabbed him by the hips
and rocked him back and forth.  "And on the way out, we'll get you some
Frisco, okay?"

"Timmy, would you give her my backpack to bring back?  My savings pass book
is in there."

"Your savings pass book...  Honey, I wish you'd have tried using that
before you got here... Would of saved everyone some trouble."  She gave
Timmy a nudge and he followed her toward the stairwell door.

"So long, Jon."

"Yeah...  Sorry, Timmy."

He turned and shrugged.  I walked up to his door and drew a huge breath as
I opened it.  He was watching the Joker's Wild.  At least he wasn't
watching a damn soap.  When I cleared the curtain I was expecting something
from prime time TV: tubes, needles, probes, heart monitors and bags of
clear fluids hanging form stainless steel racks.  But, it was just Chris
watching TV, under a pale blue cotton blanket.

His smile was strong but his lip was swollen, his eyes were as bruised as
mine and his left eye was completely blood shot on one side.

He tried not to laugh, "What happened to your hair!" and then his
expression changed as he watched tears stream down my face as I completely
lost it: the journey, all those lies, the beating, and now looking at the
only person who mattered all these days later, busted up and bed ridden.

"I'm so sorry...  Sorry ... Sorry."  It was all I could say.  Chris's hand
found the top of my head and I reached up and grabbed it while rising up to
sit on the edge of his bed.

"I did it.  I couldn't wait.  I wish I could take it all back.  The whole
day," Chris replied.

"You didn't!  I knew better!  He was a minute away from us...  I didn't
think!"

"We both didn't."

I nodded, "Your Dad's an asshole."

"Everyone knows that...  What took you so long?"

"What... What happened to you...  What did he do?"

"They had to take out my spleen."  I didn't know what that was and decided
to listen, "Everything else is bruises and cuts.  There's a lump on my
chest where the doctor said he cracked my sternum.  My back really got
messed up.  There's pads and stuff on it for cuts his belt left.  I have to
flip on my stomach in a couple of hours so they can put this stuff on there
that Mandy says won't really work for scars but they have to try."

"Your eye!"

"He kicked me in the face.  Doc said it would heal up and look normal in a
few more weeks.  I don't remember much.  I remember when he had you by the
neck.  I stood there thinking he'd let go...  Like he's scaring you... He's
done that to me and then just slapped me a few times like he- "I lost his
conversation for a split second when it registered what he just said- "But,
but, then, I heard you gagging.  I ran over and kicked him as hard as I
could and I punched him on his side where David said your kidney supposed
to be.  He dropped you and picked me up under my arms and shook me hard and
threw me in the barn.  That's when his belt came off."

"I saw that...  I mean I heard it, when I came to.  I knocked him over and
he kicked the crap out of me and the next thing I remember was being tossed
in the road."

"Yeah?!  That's why!  I saw you up on the road and then his blue tee shirt
was all I could see.  I remember my Mom screaming and stuff but that's
it...  He beat her to.  She lost her front teeth.  One of them came all the
way out the other cracked.  That's where she is right now.  The dentist is
doing something to put fake ones in.  They said the sooner the better.
She's here just about every minute."

"Holy fuck."

"He went crazy...  He's hit me and kicked me before...  I mean, everyone
gets spanked and stuff-"

"Chris," I whispered unsure of what to say.

"I know you called the cops.  That's what they said.  Our neighbors did
too.  Your call got them to hustle.  That's what Mom said."

"He was going to kill you."

Chris shook his head unwilling to accept that.  "My sister hid under her
bed.  She told me Dad was swearing up a storm about you.  She said I was
knocked out, Mom locked herself in her bedroom after he beat her up and Dad
was yelling about ripping your head off.  She said he even called your
house trying to track you down.  I had mine.  He was after you."

"That's when I left.  Sue was being a bitch and didn't know I was home.  I
took off while she was on the phone.  He never would have found me."

"She said he was in the Lincoln, pulling out of the drive, as the cops
pulled in."

I looked into his eyes in horror.

"If you hadn't made the call, he would have got you.  Or, maybe Sue," He
said with a painful chuckle because he figured I wouldn't mind that.  I
ignored his attempt at humor.  Sue would have got it bad.  She's my sister.

"Shit," I whispered, "I heard the siren as I went through the neighbor's
yard.  I...I...I thought you might be...  dead."

Chris stared at me with huge eyes.

"I didn't know what to do.  I hid for days.  I lost count.  I slept
mostly...  My body healing up I guess but now I know it was... Cuz...  I
thought you were gone.  My brother and sister found my spot but couldn't
find me even though I was a few feet away.  I heard them talk right under
my nose.  That's how I knew you were here.  So I came on my own."

He spoke softer now as what I said sunk in, "You mean, nobody knows you're
here?"

"Just the nurse and two guys that gave me a ride here."

"That's Mandy.  She knows everything.  Everything."

I sat for a second and stared at him.

"I had to tell the cops too.  They had to know because Dad told them what
we were doing.  And, they told this social worker lady who comes in here
every couple of days."

"So that's how my parents know everything.  Will talked about that.  Dad
knew it was sex stuff that set your Dad off."

"And, the social lady told our parents.  And my Dad told Pastor Kevin too."

"Oh fuck no!  How many people know about it?  Shit!"

"That's it...  I think.  David doesn't know.  He was here yesterday.  I
begged Mom and she brought him for an hour.  He told me you were missing...
Nobody said anything until yesterday.  Why?  I mean-"

"You need to heal up.  Not worry about me...  If I didn't run they'd keep
us apart.  I might be wrong.  It's a feeling I had."

Chris stared at me like he'd never considered the consequences of what we'd
done.  I guessed everyone was extra nice to him so he'd mend.

Bob's story flashed through my head.  "So, the social lady, did she say
where you're going after this?"

"Home," He looked at me like I was from Mars.

"You sure?"

"Yeah...  Ummm...  Dad's never coming back.  Mom said we're going home.
She got a restraining order.  The cops will arrest Dad if he comes close to
any of us.  Mom said your Dad did the same thing.  I'm going home."

"Where is your Dad?"

"Don't know.  Mom said he was in jail for a few days and then Grandpa got
him out by putting up his house," Chris said this like he was asking a
question.  "And, that's when Mom got the order thing so he can't be around
any of us."

We were silent as we both processed what Chris said.  I know we came to the
same conclusion: we're not safe.

"Your name isn't on the door."

"And, they moved me down here after Dad got out.  I remember being moved."

"Yeah, you're down here with the screaming rug rats and you're not on the
patient list in the lobby."

"Mom lied.  She said he won't be back because he can't because of the
order.  The social lady said I had to stay here another week and I heard
Mandy talking to one of the other nurses that I should go home in a couple
of days but can't.  I know why."

"Yeah?  Shit!"

"What do we do?"

"Nothing.  I mean, what can we do?"

"Grandpa Aflotti didn't even come to see me and look!"  Chis flipped his
blanket off and pulled his gown up to reveal the pink slash and black
stitches the surgeon had cut into his belly to remove his spleen.

"Oh my fucking God... Chris." I whined as new tears filled my eyes.

"My back will have Kunta Kinte scars!" he attempted a joke.

"How could I have been so fucking stupid????  Chris, nobody deserves this!
And-"

"You know what the social lady said?  She said, if it wasn't this, Dad
would have found something else to beat me over... Because he...  You know
when I was grounded?  They kept me from going out cuz I had bruises and
marks from stuff he did.  Mom got hers too.  See?  She said it escalates.
And, I was lucky you were there because you called the cops.  She said that
Dad is sick...  It's what she said."

I sat there and silently cried as the Wheel of Fortune had started.  Chuck
Woolery asked some fat house wife to take the first spin.  I always thought
Chuck looked like a mafia goon.  I had to think about Chuck and his
sculpted hair for a while.

"I thought you were grounded all those times you couldn't play," I
whispered to avoid sobbing.  "You told us he hit you...  I told Dad and he
told me to stop interfering with another man's family.  I...  Chris, I'm a
fucking moron.  I never put it together... Sorry."

We sat in silence as the answer to the puzzle was "Roman Holiday."  Where
do they find idiots who buy every vowel in the alphabet and still can't
solve a puzzle?  "What we did is his excuse.  That's all I'm saying.
That's what the social lady said.  It's what Mom said."

"That's what they say now."

We both watched as one of the house wives won and tried to spend her five
hundred on a treasure trove of worthless, overpriced, game show, shit.
What a joke.  This show is so stupid I couldn't see it continuing past this
year.  The only game show worth watching is the $ 20,000 Pyramid.

"What do you think's going to happen?"  Chris asked.

"I go home, Dad and Mom yell at me, I might have a social worker cuz I ran
away, I have to repay a bunch of people for stuff I took to get here- maybe
do some work in their yards as payment for the rest of my life and at
school, everyone will beat the shit out of us cuz we're fags."

We watched Chuck asked this twig of a brunet model to turn some B's.
"We're gonna move.  I heard her talking to your Mom when they thought I was
sleeping a few days back.  I thought it had to do with money because she's
divorcing Dad.  Forgot to tell you...  Didn't want to...  Mom's divorcing
Dad."

My heart sank.  I was cried out and was beginning to get angry.  How could
anything this bad have happened?  How in the hell had I missed that Chris
was being beaten his entire life?  None of us knew.  But then maybe David
knew.  If he did, I was going to kick his ass for not telling.  Chris
moving hadn't registered yet.

"This is funny...  So I came out of surgery and they give me a bunch of
drugs to keep me knocked out for a few days...  So I don't feel anything
and heal up...  And when you're like that, they have to contain all your
fluids" He giggled, "So they stick this rubber tube up your dick so all
your piss drains in a bag!"

"Chris that's not funny."

"It's the weirdest feeling when they yank it out," He looked at me as
though he'd been dying to get somebodies reaction for a week.

"There's nothing funny about any of this.  When I was in that cabin, I
wanted to die.  It was all I thought about.  I was trying to horse trade
God: my life for yours."

Chris stared at me trying to process what I was saying.

"It's why when I told you...  When I told you that I loved you..."  And I
decided to shut up as I thought about what Mandy said in the hall.  Chris
didn't touch it, thank God.

We watched TV in silence until the lunch trays came.  Mandy arranged for
two.  It took me a minute into the meal when it dawned upon me that she
hadn't come back.  We ate grilled cheese, carrot sticks and apple sauce in
silence.

 "Pastor Kevin?  How long do you think that prick will keep a lid on it?"

"He came in here the day before yesterday.  He told me I had to forgive Dad
and accept him as Jesus would with forgiveness for the sake of my soul and
my family's strength."

"Are you serious?"

"I told him I would.  What's funny is it doesn't matter.  The social lady
said the cops have no choice but to send him to jail and there's nothing
anybody can do about it.  He's gone!"

"No shit?"

"Yup.  If he did this to anyone in the family, he has to go to jail and
stuff no matter what."

"How long?"

"I don't know but they're getting a divorce and the social lady said I
don't have to see him ever again, if I don't want to."

"Do you?"

Chris went silent for a second, "Not now."

I wanted to hold him, hug him, squeeze him, but I knew it would kill with
that gash in his gut.  I mean, sometimes I hate my Dad and even if his Dad
beats him, there's a part of you that must love your Dad: somehow.  "Do you
know where she's gonna move you?"

"In with Uncle Mario until we can find a place.  He's coming to the house
until we move."

"Chris, that's fucking Silverdale!"  "Oh...  Yeah...  But Mario's is closer
than LA!  That's where my Aunt lives!"

"We won't even go to the same school!  I can't ride that far and either can
you!  There's no way in winter!  FUCK!"

Chris watched as General Hospital started and he flipped the channel over
to the second half of the afternoon movie on a local station.

"We'll figure something out.  Mom said I could visit.  She knows what we
did.  Maybe she's just saying...  She better not lie."

"She's fucking full of it.  I know what my parents will say."

We stopped talking.  `The Trouble with Harry' was playing.  I wouldn't
appreciate Hitchcock's dry sense of humor for another six years.  Chris
gingerly scooted over so I could lay beside him.  I told him of all the
characters I'd met on my journey: Bob who I now wanted to visit once I got
home, hairless Bret, overly nice, pool maid, Tammy, and my favorite little
brother Timmy.  Chris was amazed I pulled it off along with being totally
disgusted about my coffee can bathroom.  I never touched on my thoughts of
the event only my worry for him.  When he tried to go down my alley, I
backed out and changed the subject.  I kept my word to Mandy other than my
slip up about his move.

"Okay boys.  Jon you need to go home.  Say goodbye.  Chris, you'll see him
back home.  Okay, Boyfriend?  Come on out in a minute or two...  Okay?"

We both nodded and Mandy shut the door.

"I know I said it before.  This isn't mushy stuff.  I love you.  I always
have.  Ever since we met and that's the truth.  And it has nothing to do
with the field and all the sex stuff.  Understand?"

"I think so.  It's just funny to talk like that.  But, isn't it like the
only thing that's changed is what we do?"

"Sure.  I guess. Umm...  Will will drive me to Silverdale, if you move
right away.  I will find you!  I promise."  I said this out of kindness
since once he moved, it'd be over.  Anyone who's had a close friend move as
a kid knows this.  He didn't get it.  I leaned in and lightly kissed his
forehead.  He smiled up at me as I rose from the bed.  "When you get home,
you may not be able to call but I will try to be around the house between
three and five.  I will wait in the field, a few feet in, directly in front
of your driveway, every damn day at 1:30.  Ummm...  That is if I'm not
grounded.  I kind of think I will be for a while."

Chris nodded and whispered goodbye.  As I walked out, I glanced back at him
and tears were rolling down his cheeks.  Mandy gave me a look of relief as
I walked out the door.

"I really didn't expect you to be there.  I was sure you'd take off
again...  I'm a little early.  We have much to do."

"I gave you my word."  I responded as I began to cry again.  She tugged my
sleeve and we started across the hall and through the stair door.  Once the
door shut behind us, she pulled me to her and hugged like I was her lost
brother or something.

"Sorry I was hard on you.  You're everything Chris said.  Just, please,
don't let him down.  You two will need each other more than ever now.  That
boy would die rather than see you hurt.  You know that?"

I nodded and we walked up the stairs.  When we reached the top, she rubbed
my shoulders until I gained some composure and we walked out on four.

"Okay we need to go into this exam room...  It's next to my station and
everyone knows you're going to be in there so no running because we have
our eyes on you."

"That's over.  I made it here.  That's all I wanted to do.  Honestly."

She opened the door and we entered.  The room was devoid of any human
touch: exam table and sink with a little counter.

"Here's what's going to happen: Dr. Abram and Nurse Kelly will examine you
in a few minutes, he'll take some pictures of all your injuries, a Kitsap
County Sheriff will be here a little afterward who will ask you every
question under the sun, and then you will be taken home.  That's right,
you're going straight home...  At least that's what the officer said when I
spoke with him this morning."

I stared at her blankly as she was trying to judge if anything she said
made it through my slowly building numb state that was trying to force its
way back into my life as my mind began to associate this exam room with my
wolf dream.

"Jon?" She grabbed my hands and I snapped out of it, "You need to tell the
officer everything.  Chris needs that from you.  You need to drop all of
your B.S.  If you don't, that son of a bitch might wiggle his way back...
Think about that.  He'll get Chris.  You need to make sure he's locked up.
I've seen where wives, brothers, and sisters are back here a few years or
even the next damn day.  And, some end up down the street, on a block of
ice, in the morgue.  You hear me?"

"Yeah...  I'm gonna tell them everything.  Chris said he did and I know he
told you too.  Everything."

She pulled me in for a hug.  "You know something?  I think you're gonna be
my boyfriend to.  I only wish you guys liked girls, Honey, I'd have you
fixed up with some chocolate that would rock your world.  I have a niece
who'd die for one of you boys."

She broke the hug and I stared at the floor.  She hurt me by defining me.
I knew she didn't do it intentionally but it still hurt.  The idea of
really being "Gay" wasn't ground into me.  It's something that is so
difficult to accept even as the words spill from my mouth a day back.

"You know, it's okay?  It's nobody's business but yours who you invite into
your life.  If you want everyone to know, great!  But, don't be surprised
if you don't and people find out anyway.  You can call me anytime you need
a friend."  She gave me a card with her address and phone number.  "You
don't need to up and run...  I'll be here for you.  You know, your Mom's
been here.  She's worried sick and all your friends are still looking for
you right now...  See?  You didn't need to high tail it!"  I nodded but I
knew the truth: my friends don't know and she has no clue.

"Now for the hard part: strip down to your underwear."  She walked over to
the counter and pulled a blue gown out of a drawer.  When she turned back,
I had my shirt off.  "Ohhh!  damn, Sugar, he got you with his boot to!
That had to hurt.  I wish I could do the same to him...  See how he likes
that shit.  Damn animal...  Doing this to children.  Hope he gets a cell
with a three hundred pound ape.  Rip his head off...  See What He Thinks Of
THAT!"

I kicked my shoes and socks off and then pulled off my pants.  Mandy
grabbed my clothes as she handed me the gown.  "You'll get these back,
along with your pack, after the Sheriff gets here.  Have a seat, Honey."

She was smart.  Even if I had a second thought of running, I was half
naked, wearing a fruity gown.  I had no options.  Not even two minutes
later, the Doctor and Nurse burst through the door.

Dr. Abram was only interested in my wounds, bruises and teeth.  There was
no chit chat: He was right out of Dragnet.  He made sure there were no big
bumps on my head and all my teeth were solidly attached to bone.  He spent
some time feeling about on my neck and back and made me bend in all kinds
of directions: each time running his fingers along my spine.  He dictated
to the nurse who wrote everything he said in a file.  Once in a while, he'd
stop after he checked a body part and he pulled the file from her and jot
down a bunch of notes himself.  He rubbed around my stomach and then pushed
on my gut.  It bugged me when he dropped my undies, pushed around my gut
some more and then felt up my balls.  He explained what a hernia is and how
internal injuries show themselves.  He also explained I shouldn't be
worried because those injuries would make me very sick and I'd probably be
dead by now if I suffered internal bleeding or unable to walk due to pain
and fever from anything else.  He went on to explain how important it is
for him to be extremely thorough because of how and who injured me: this
exam was going to court.  He then snapped two pictures of every bruise and
scab along with several shots of my body from every angle.  Even the finger
nail marks Jan left on my back.  I used the wrestling lie to explain them
and gambled nobody would check.

Officer McCabe and Trooper Johnson joined us as he took the majority of
photos.  It was weird.  They didn't ask anything they just introduced
themselves and explained they needed to be witness to the exam to observe
my physical wounds for their reports.  Mandy brought my stuff in after
Dr. Abram left.  I had changed in locker rooms most of my life, but having
these two cops eyeballing me made my skin crawl.

The officers escorted me to a conference room on the first floor where they
had a tape recorder set up.  McCabe went through an introduction and stated
my parents gave consent for my participation without their presence for the
tape.  It screamed to me that my parents were going to disown me.  In spite
of this new fear, I told them everything including what Chris was doing
when it all happened.  I didn't cry.

Trooper Johnson left, when we were done.  Both of them seemed friendly
enough but I knew what they were thinking.

"Now, we need to talk about something else.  The recorder's off," he said,
as he started picking stuff up.  "I asked the trooper to leave at the end
of the interview.  Those boys have no sense of humor, know what I mean?
Ummm...  You need to be as honest with me now as you were for that
statement...  By the way, your stories are so close most of the gaps are
filled...  If I have anything to do with it, that S.O.B. will be seeing
nothing but gray bars for the next 10-15 years...  And, no damn parole.
So, here's the thing I can't figure out: How a thirteen year old made it
over sixty miles without anyone seeing him until he shows up at his buddy's
bedside?  Where the hell were you boy?"

I shrugged.

"See, there's this kayak that disappeared ten or so houses from your place
and next door to your best friend in the whole, wide, wide, world of
sport's house."

I know a full heartbeat of blood went directly to my cheeks as he stood
silent gauging my reaction.

"Now, there's another cabin about dead center between the two of you that
smelled like an outhouse a pack of chili eating cub scouts fouled.  That
said, because the owner had some chili and now has a bunch of empty chili
cans and was repaid with some full coffee cans of piss and shit that baked
in the summer sun for a week or so.  Can you imagine that?  In a locked up
cabin with this hear? And-"

"I stole a kayak from a cabin.  I sunk it.  I know where it is.  I was
going to get Will, my brother, to help me get it back on the next super low
tide.  If it wasn't there, I was going to buy them a new one...  I have two
thousand I'm saving for a car but then this happened.  My savings book is
in my bag... You can check: I'm not a liar."  I stared into the simulated
wood grain of the conference table.  "That was me.  In the cabin...
There's no excuse.  I hid up in the unfinished loft for days.  My back was
really messed up...  Even now...  Well, a little bit, now.  I climbed down
and couldn't get back up...  I didn't want to leave all that there," I
broke into tears, "I knew I'd have to face them...  Repay them...  I was
going to work in their yards, forever, if they made me.  I didn't want any
of this to happen...  It's all my fault...  Even if-"

"Son you have some pissed of OregonIans on your hands."

"I don't know how to make that right," I couldn't stop sobbing as I thought
of Bob's warning and his life.

"Fare enough, now...  What else are you responsible for?"

"I lied to a barber.  He only charged me a dollar because I told him Dad
was Navy."

He stared at me.  "That's it?  Are you sure?"

"I made up some stories about how my face got like this, but that's it...
Oh! I borrowed a paddle, clothes, and some food from David's.  He's like my
brother.  I didn't think he'd mind.  The clothes are in my bag and the
paddle's in the brush where I sunk the kayak.  I know where it is."

"I know about the clothes but not the paddle...  We questioned David...
That was a battle of wits.  And, now I believe him a little more.  He said
he had no idea where you were.  We pressed the shit out of him and only
after we pounded him that you could die is when he gave up that some of his
clothes were missing...  He's scared shitless about you so I don't believe
those people noticed that paddle missing." He smiled down at me as he must
of recognized that I had no idea how my running affected everyone else.
"Now, is that it?"

"Yeah.  That's it I swear.  I walked from East Bremerton to the Shipyard
and gotta ride from Bremerton to Tacoma.  I stayed with Bret and Timmy
after that.  I told Bret everything...  You can ask him.  He loaned me
these clothes...  He's here, in Tacoma!  I was going home after I saw Chris
and then I was going to try and make everything right even with the guy who
gave me the ride.  I totally lied to him.  I swear!  That's it!"

"Now, Bret, Timmy and who ever gave you a ride, I don't care about, if no
harm or laws were broken.  See, here's the thing, we have a couple counts
of theft, breaking and entering, vandalism, trespassing, not to mention the
little problem of you running away.  What do you think's going to happen
here?"

"Beside my parents, I guess one of those state homes or detention or
something."

"Umm...  Maybe...  Maybe not."

He sat down and finished filling out three citations.  I sat silently as he
filled my name and addresses on the prewritten charging documents.  Bob was
right but so was Mandy.  If I lied, my lack of credibility could give
Chris's Dad ammunition.  I knew the only way to protect Chris was to spill
my whole load.

"Here's the complaints. The charges are three for theft and two for
breaking and entering, three trespassing and one for vandalism. Notice
there's no date at the top?  Yet?  You have two options...  Now see, here's
my deal: you can contact the owners of said properties...  And make
restitution on your terms.  Or in two weeks, I serve your parents with
these citations, we book you, pull your finger prints and you're done.
With the evidence we have, you will be convicted of the cabin break in.
Just on that, you're looking at a minimum year of probation with a few
weeks in detention and at maximum two years detention.  Which will it be?"

"I'll find those people tomorrow...  Really!  All I could think about was
getting here and-" I paused.

"And what?"

I shrugged and he stared at me.  The longer he stared the worse I felt.  I
wanted to tell somebody what I was thinking in the cabin but I knew he
already thought I am a disgusting cock sucking piece of shit.  So, I just
shrugged at him again.

"You better keep your word.  I do not want to arrest you.  For two weeks,
I'm going to continue my "investigation" with you as my primary suspect.
What I expect is phone calls from these victims dropping charges.  I get
those calls, and you're off the hook.  You know why I'm doing this?"  He
handed me a few of his cards.

"Chris?"

"No."

I shrugged.

"You!  That's right, don't be a dumby."  He had packed the tape recorder
and files up and sat back down as I was trying to figure this out.  It
smelled like Dad.  "You didn't get the snot knocked out of you for that
asshole's pleasure.  You deserve every bit of justice as Chris.  You did
what kids do: you ran...  You got scared out of your wits and ran.  I went
to your school, interviewed your coach, talked with all of your friends and
family...  You told me what you two were doing.  You admitted what you did
and before I could lay out consequences, you said you intended to make it
right, therefore, you didn't need to plea for my mercy like a dirt bag
after the facts and punishments are on the table.  That shows maturity and
conscience.  YOU are not a criminal.  When you approach those people, they
don't need every detail.  Know what I mean?  One look at your chuck steak
face will bring some sympathy," and he paused, "The truth is...  I know
exactly who you are.  Having said all of that, if you don't follow through,
I'll be happy to toss your ass behind bars.  Understand?  You were a dumb
assed kid.  It's up to you to be a man and I think because of this very bad
experience, you became one."

I nodded wondering how he could be so nice as he just threatened to toss me
behind bars.

"The thing is, when I was your age, I can't say I'd do anything differently
from what you did.  I can tell you, I'd of gotten myself picked up about a
block from my house is the difference," He smiled at me.  "It will take new
found courage and strength of character to look those people in the eye.
And, you better look them in the eye.  No crying and bullshit: you're
thirteen you're a man.  I'm not just talking about these crime victims.
Understand?"

I nodded as he called me a man again even though I suck cock.  He said it
like coach.  He wasn't putting me down or joking.

"My parents are going to kill me...  I mean-"

"Yeah, they're worried more than mad...  That will change once you're back.
They're good people but parents go through some serious emotions when a
child is missing and after that child comes home, even more.  I think
you're grounded till you're 35 maybe 40."

"Can I ask you something?

"Sure," he answered.

"Does that restraining order thing Chris was talking about work?"

He sighed and sat back down, "What I don't want is that guy back in Chris's
life or yours, for that matter.  Once a person initiates this kind of
violence, it's a huge leap of faith to believe he'll stop.  He'll come
after Chris and his Mom again.  There's no doubt in my mind.  And, maybe
even you.  Violence seems to be a part of some people: like having blond
hair.  It's their nature."

I thought about what I had created as he spoke.

"You both need to be careful.  No more running as part of your workout...
Yeah, we knew you were on a run prior to the attack and found out more
about you than even you know...  The front bumper of his Lincoln will
squash you as flat as a bumble be at 60 miles an hour.  Limit your workout
to the house.  Don't go out alone, stay at your house alone, or go anywhere
alone until he's locked up again.  He WILL be locked up.  If he's close
enough for you to identify, he's too close.  Call us.  If you see him, get
to a public place.  You're young enough where other people will protect you
so get in a public place.  If he gets close enough to nab you scream like a
little girl.  Draw attention to the situation.  And most of all, if he nabs
you, fight back.  Get a tiny can of dog repellant...  You know that bike
riders carry for dogs?  Spray him in the eyes and kick him where it
counts."

"Really?"

"Not to scare you but, it's your life so you need to protect yourself,
family and friends.  I wish he weren't on bail but that's the way the
system works.  Protect yourself.  You're a man."

He did it again.

"Let's get going...  You hungry?"

I shrugged.

"I heard you missed out on Frisco Freeze."  After telling me I was a man,
here he was treating me like Timmy.  Adults are fucked up.

Frisco Freeze is the bomb, I have to admit.  Tons of fries with a decently
greasy burger that could spill lettuce and sauce down the front of your
shirt, if you weren't careful.  During our meal, McCabe told me his son
skated on a team out of Bremerton.  He'd seen us skate when we trounced his
son's team 7-1.  I remembered the game because coach had us defense and
offence guys switch places halfway through the second period.  That's how
they got their goal.  His son's team sucked.  It's weird because there
aren't many people who watch youth hockey and a cop would stick out.  I
never noticed him.

McCabe suggested a trial run of repentance so we stopped at the barber shop
a little before 5:30 and the old guy was still there sweeping up.  He was
right, looking that World War II veteran in the eye was humiliating and
shame filled as I told him the truth, less the sex stuff.

He put a hand on my shoulder as he peered out the window at the Sheriff's
blue cruiser.  "Son, after you explained yourself, I can't be upset.  You
were acting a bit shifty when you lied to me but, I'd of run too and
probably lied even more.  Apology accepted," and we shook hands.

I handed him five dollars.

"There's no need-"

"I have to...  It wasn't right," I told him as I ran out the door leaving
him holding Abe.

McCabe had pulled his shotgun off the front rack and into the trunk of the
Chevy Impala.  He let me ride up front where I could see the radio, night
light, and file management system between the seats.  It was cool.  After
we crossed the Narrows, every mile jabbed another pin in my gut as I
thought about going home and this would be a long ride.