Date: Sat, 13 Jan 2001 12:25:19 -0000 From: Jamie Subject: Chris-and-Jamie Chapter 19 Same stuff - don't read this is u r underage or u don't like reading stories of love between two boys. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Jamie's Story Yeah, that was one wild makeout -- I can't believe I did it in Parliament, and while it was in session! Anyway, let's get on with the story shall we. It was the third week of June, and unfortunately for me, I was dreading it! It was at this time that I was due to take my degree of fellowship (FRCO) for the Royal College of Organists. Trying to remember the pieces I had to play was difficult, but then I had to pass a sight-reading test and a viva voce, the part that I almost always fail on. Since we had to journey all the way into London to get to the college, Chris and Ciaran accompanied me. We boarded a fast train at St. Matthews and again travelled to Kings Cross Thameslink. The walls of the train station were a muddy grey and not at all appealing to the eye. As we passed through the array of halls and corridors, with their many posters scatted about the walls, there was a woman lying by the side of the tunnel, propped up in a light blue sleeping bag. I immediately saddened as I saw the tiny baby clutched in its mother's arms. Upon leaving the trains I reached into my pocket and gave her the few coins I had. I take a huge stance on the homeless; unfortunately it is hard to tell which will use the money for a good purpose and which won't. I had to be content. We left the station and travelled to the murky depths of the underground -- Kings Cross St Pancras. Sitting aboard the train, Ciaran pointed out the route that we needed to take. It was very simple, we took the Piccadilly Line from here to Holborn, get out at Holborn and take my exam, and then return to the Piccadilly Line and come out in Leicester Square for Lunch. In the afternoon I could return and find out if I had passed -- or worse. Emerging from the roaring mass of metal and dankness, Ciaran was the first to poke his head into the beautiful sunlight that had suddenly enveloped the city of Westminster. I loved to bask in the sun for hours -- just turning over to keep the tan even every so often. Living in the UK it wasn't normal for the sun to be burning hot, but the ball of fire really had it in for us today. After crossing the Holborn Circus, it was just a short walk down the street before we arrived at the golden gates of the College. I turned and looked at Chris and Ciaran. `We're coming in with you, not gonna leave you alone for this.' Ciaran put his hand to his forehead in mock dramatic pose. `Such a fearful thing.' He joked. I smiled, and then burst into laughter. Pressing in my code to the small keypad by the entrance, the gate clicked open and we pushed the gold to one side before entering and shutting it behind us. The office door was open and the receptionist was on the telephone. As I walked in she recognised me and pointed to a small wooden door, upon which was written the words "dressing room". She must have known I was having an exam, I nodded my thanks and all three of us went through the door. It was a large room, with various cubicles for changing. Since all I needed to do was to put on my gown, and didn't need to take off anything vital, I opted for changing at a row of wooden benches in the centre of the room. I laid down my clothes and took up my college tie. All these stupid rules state that, just like at Oxford, all fellowship examinations must be taken with full gown and hood. Slipping the tie into place I pulled the gown over my shoulders. The jet-black of the cloth clashed with the white shirt I had on underneath, so I pulled the front together and clasped it with the golden chain that hung just below the neckline. The whole garment hung 9" off the ground and had two slits down the arms, each of 3". The reason for the slits I will never know. (If you really wanted to know -- which most of you don't -- the gown is very similar to that of the London University Master's Gown or the Oxford University PhD and DPhil). After the gown came the hood of associateship. (I have no idea why I'm boring you with these details). The associate exam (ARCO) is the one taken before the fellowship. This consisted of a shawl, which draped across and around my shoulders and down to my chest and ran in full circle. The jet-black gave way to a pink edging and white fur ran in a strip around the middle. Leaving Chris and Ciaran to their own devices I built up the courage, took a deep breath and stepped through the door, which was marked "St. Andrew's Organ -- FRCO Examinations". ------------------------------------------------------------------- `How'd you think you did?' The obvious question came as we were sitting down to burger and fries in Leicester Square's, Capital Café. Surprisingly it came from Ciaran and not Chris, who was too busy with his meal. `Completely muffed the sight reading, as usual' I said, glumly. `But I think I did okay on the viva voce, which was unexpected.' `You pass?' Chris returned to the conversation. `I have no idea. Possibly.' I replied. He reached across the table and took up my hand, placing it in his own. `I know you did, you always do.' He said, and his face broke into a smile. I could see that his lower lip was beginning to crack slightly, probably to do with the heat. Making a faint reminder in the back of my mind to put some Vaseline on them when we eventually returned home, I thought up a distant memory. `I failed my grade 3 flute once, and my grade 6 cello twice.' I grinned back. `Only cuz you were ill on the day of the flute exam, and you hate the cello!' Game, set and match to Chris. He was the only person that I couldn't beat in an argument. It had become annoying over the years. Now the days were turning into years, and it seemed like it was only a few weeks before that I had met him at school, told him that I was gay in London, and finally made love to him in France. The deep eyes still held love for me, and I knew that it would not be dying soon. Catching a glimpse of Ciaran, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that he was looking away, a film of saline covering his eyes. He quickly wiped the tear away and turned back to face us. I withdrew my hand from Chris's immediately; mumbling some excuse about the food was beginning to get cold. I had never told Chris the full story of what had happened that cold Monday morning in the music office. He never knew that we had kissed, and for a short moment I had been tempted to respond. `Maybe I should be honest with him.' I thought. `It can wait until later.' Came the response from my mind. Ciaran had seemed to brighten up as we paid the bill and returned to the sun of Leicester Square. `Right,' I began. `We've got an hour before my exam results are published, what do you guys wanna do?' Chris, who had lain down on the soft grass of the square, shaded his eyes from the sun and murmured something about going to sleep. Since it was two in the afternoon, the idea of throwing myself off balance was not something that I cherished. `Well, I'm not going to Soho on a day like this.' Ciaran interjected. `With the sun, everyone will be in Soho Square doing just what his highness down there...' he indicated Chris, who giggled at the gesture. `...is doing now.' I resigned myself to fate. `Well, we could always just walk to the college now. It would take about an hour anyway, and you...' I kicked Chris in mock sternness, who giggled again. `...could do with the exercise.' We all agreed and set off out of the square to the right. Turning at the Hippodrome, we walked up Charing Cross until it became Tottenham Court Road. By this time we were already getting tired. The ambitious walk lasted until we got to the intersection with Oxford Street. `Right, I don't care what anyone says, I've had enough and I'm going shopping!' Chris said, knowing that I would agree with him. Ciaran is okay at walking long distances, but both Chris and I always have to cheat on the school cross-country by cutting through across the lake. Neither of us can stand sports. Fortunately the cheating in cross-country is actually taken as one of the school's (supposed) "ancient traditions". If you actually do run the whole course you are considered brave -- since it is six miles across the school grounds. He turned and entered the first shop he saw, on the corner of Oxford Street. It happened to be the Virgin Megastore, and he quickly came out again, since he had long ago, for I reason that I will never fathom, given up ever trying to get something he wanted from there. After a long walk, we had accumulated many bags. Only Chris was actually buying anything, but he had gotten so much that we had to help carry it. As if a sign from heaven, a light suddenly burst through the clouds and happened to shine directly on the underground station, Tottenham Court Road. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was way passed the time when the results of the FRCO were published. `Shit!' Pulling Chris after me we bolted for the underground, I couldn't wait to get there. It would have been an interestingly comical spectacle to anyone watching. First I yanked Chris backwards, so that he was now being dragged backwards down Oxford Street, with a surprised Ciaran in tow. Dashing through the gates I turned into the office. The familiar notice board in the far corner had a small sheet of paper pinned to it. I read down the list of names and finally came to my own and rested on the name "Windsor". Edwards, Mr Johnathan (Passed with Distinction) Fitzgibbon, Dame Elizabeth (Failed) Heatly, The Hon. Mark (Passed) James, Mr Wesley (Failed) Maxwell, Sir Brian (Passed with Honours) Newall, Mr William (Passed) Reading, Mr Edward (Failed) Watson, Miss Lisa (Passed with Distinction) Windsor, Lord James (Passed with Honours) I was overjoyed. The feeling welled up inside me like so many tears and so much anger previously had. Not knowing what I was doing I picked Chris up fully off the ground. You could tell his surprise by the look he wore on his face. After swinging him around three times, I lost control completely and pulled him into a warm hug, planting a wet kiss on his waiting lips. Leaning over to Ciaran, whom I didn't want to be feeling left out; I gave him a small kiss on the cheek -- one of friendship, not of love. He smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. He knew that I hadn't told Chris and he was extremely pleased by it. After all the dancing around had finished, we turned and saw the receptionist staring at us with a look of passivity on her face. A small light shining from above the main desk had mellowed her usually sharp features and she began to grin. `You passed then.' She stated, with a laugh. `Yup.' Was the only reply she got before I took up both my lover's and my Best Friend's hands and strode back into the summer sunlight. --------------------------------------- If u like what u read, mail me - virus@dial.pipex.com AOL IM: jam0015 C Ya round