Date: Tue, 18 Nov 2003 10:25:46 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: Of Our Teenaged Years - Chapter 13 - Gay Y/F Copyright 2000-2003 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ What's New at TomCup.com? 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Check it out at http://www.tomcup.com! ************************************************************************ Of Our Teenage Years By Tom Cup Chapter 13 Two Sides to Every Story Echoed voices became silent as Sam, Brian and I appeared at the gym's opened double doors. Brian nodded to Sam and then me, and walked towards the locker room. Sam's hands found mine as we stared into each other's eyes. Our foreheads touched as we bowed our heads together. "You gonna be all right?" Sam asked. I nodded against his forehead. "You sure?" "Yeah," I whispered. Sam lifted his head and kissed the spot where our heads had touched. His right hand lifted my chin and we stared into each other's eyes once more. "I love you, OK?" Sam said. "OK." "See you later." "See you later." As I watched Sam walking away, the clanging alarm of second bell began to ring. Sam would be late for class. He didn't seem to care. He turned and waved before he disappeared from sight. I waved, then took a deep breath and entered the gymnasium. ************ Mr. Scott didn't comment on my not participating in class. Nor did he comment when Brian took himself out of the game of indoor volleyball and sat with me in the bleachers. He didn't even comment when Rick told Travis to "shut the fuck up" after Travis made a snickering remark that I never heard. Mr. Scott's eyes visited Brian and me ever so often. A couple of times he smiled, not broadly, but he smiled. The class stood lined at the door after showers, waiting for the dismissal bell to ring. Brian stood in front of me, and Rick behind me, at the end of the line. "Gerald," Mr. Scott said, and the bell rang, "Can I have a word with you?" I sighed, shrugged, and wagged my head as I turned toward the coach. Rick patted me on the back as I headed in the opposite direction of the moving line. ************ "Whew," Mr. Scott blew as he sat next to me, patted my knee, and joined my staring at his desk, "I don't know what to say Gerald. I really don't know what to say." "It's OK, really, you don't have to say anything." "Yeah, but I know it's got to be tough on you." "Sometimes. But I try not to think about it too much." Mr. Scott nodded and turned slightly to face me. "I saw you together with Sam just before class started." I nodded. So what? Everybody saw us. If people hadn't figured it out by now that I was gay and Sam was my boyfriend, I didn't care. "You two seem pretty close," Mr. Scott said. "Humph," I giggled, "Yeah, we are. He's my best friend." Mr. Scott nodded. "And maybe a little more," he added. My eyes burned as I turned them on Mr. Scott. The florescent light from above reflected from his eyes. He smiled. "There are always two sides to every story, Gerald. I'm glad you have someone close to you to support you through this time in your life. I know how lonely growing up can be. You're pretty lucky." "I don't feel so lucky." "I know, but you are. May I speak frankly?" I nodded. "OK, let's lay the cards on the table. Your father just died. That's hard. Real hard. But before that happened you weren't exactly having things easy. I know how and why you got that black eye. So can we talk about it?" "I'm queer, that's all." Mr. Scott laughed. "That's all, is it? Gerald do you have any idea what you've just said to me?" My eyes became weary, my head leaded as I nodded. "I can't help it," I said, "It's just the way I am." "Let me rephrase the question. Do you understand how society views queers?" I brushed the tear from my cheek. "Yes," I whispered. "And yet you and Sam are openly displaying your affection for one another? That little display in the hall won't be forgotten quickly. You do understand that, don't you?" "What do you want me to do?" I sniffled, "not be with Sam anymore." "What do you want to do Gerald?" "I don't know. I can't.... I don't know." "I assume that your father knew about you and Sam?" "Yeah." "What did he say about it?" "He said he loved me. He said that it didn't matter if I was queer or not: that I would always be his son and he would always love me." For minutes the only sound that passed between us were Mr. Scott's shushes and my sobs. I tired to stifle the tears. I gritted my teeth and held my breath trying to stem the tide of tears. Mr. Scott put his arm around me. My head fell onto his chest and my arms encircled his waist. I clung to him. "You miss him," Mr. Scott said. I nodded into his chest and attempted to straighten myself. He held onto me. "Sometimes, when we are growing up, we need our dads around," Mr. Scott said, "We need them to hold us once in a while. You know?" I nodded and relaxed in his arms. "It's hard enough going through adolescence without having to go through it without the support of your father. So... I guess, I'm offering to be kind of a surrogate father to you. If you want." He released me. I straightened and wiped the remaining tears from my eyes. "Why?" I asked, "Why would you want to help the queer kid?" "The queer kid needs my help," Mr. Scott said, shrugging. "I'll be all right." I stood to leave. "Thanks though." "Your welcome." I headed for the office door. "Oh, Gerald," Mr. Scott said, "I have something for you." I turned. Mr. Scott reached over his deck and slid open the drawer. He pulled out a magazine, and looked briefly at the cover before handing it to me. "I want you to have this," he said, "Remember we talked about courage once before? Some people look at others and label them, you know what they say, `you can tell a book by its cover' and so on. The trouble is, you can't. Whether someone is queer or not doesn't tell you the whole story. Anyway, I thought you might like to read this article." I had never heard of Leonard Matlovich. I stared at the cover of the Time magazine. A man dressed in an Air Force uniform stared back at me. In quotation were the words, "I Am a Homosexual." Beneath those words was printed, "The Gay Drive for Acceptance." The man in the picture didn't look gay. He didn't look like a homosexual. If it weren't for the words I would have never guessed that he was a queer. I looked back at the coach. His forehead was lined in thought as he nodded to himself. "There are always two sides to every story," he whispered. Mr. Scott scribbled me a pass for being late to second period and handed it to me. I folded the Time and opened the door to the office. I turned back. "Coach..." I said. "We'll talk again later. Get to class." I nodded. ************ "You ever think," I asked Sam, "about what you want to be when we grow up?" I was lying on my on stomach. Sam lay on top of me, his cheeks caressing my back and shoulders, his thigh resting on my buttocks and his hand massaging my bicep and forearm. "Sometimes," he said, "Why?" "I was just thinking. You know, people might not like it if we're queer." "Yeah, well they don't like it now." "I know," I turned onto my back, "What if we can't get a job because we're queer... I mean... that would be bad." "Who'd do that?' "I don't know but it could happen, you know, if people found out." Sam bit his lip. His brow furrowed. He sat up on the side of my bed, shaking his head and staring at the floor. "Man, every time we've gotten past this it comes up again." "I know. I'm sorry. I just want to be sure." "Sure of what Gerald," Sam said looking back at me. "That we know what we're doing." "Oh, I know what I'm doing. I lost my dad because of this." "I lost my dad too," I whispered. "Come on Gerald. It's not the same thing and you know it. Your dad loved you. You know that, come on." "You're dad loves you too Sam. He just knows that it's going to be hard if we keep this up." "If? Now it's if?" "I didn't mean it like that." "How'd you mean it?" "Don't get mad." "I'm not mad." "Yeah you are." Sam threw his head toward the ceiling. "God you make me crazy sometimes!" he said. My laughter erupted from my frustration of Sam. I felt committed to Sam. I wasn't questioning our commitment to one another; I wasn't even looking for answers. I was questioning the reality that was before us and wanted Sam to join in on the questioning. The Leonard Matlovich article had stirred me. Gay people didn't all dress like women or wear white shoes before Memorial Day or talk with a lisp or look like sissies. They weren't all interior decorators or hair stylists. Matlovich was an Air Force Sergeant. A Sergeant! And he was gay! I began to wonder if some policemen were gay? Doctors? Lawyer? Dentist? Astronauts? Why not? My father's words began to make sense to me. It didn't matter if I was gay or not, I would still be his son. But it meant something else to me also. I could be more than gay. I wasn't limited to being the gay son of my father. Dad always believed that I could be anything I wanted to be and I believed him. When I discovered that I was queer, I started believing that the only thing I would ever be was queer. I couldn't imagine myself as a hysterical, verbose, interdependent, Lost in Space Dr. Smith type, and yet that was my idea of being queer. I didn't want to sashay, and yet I thought that I would eventually have to learn to do so. I was queer, wasn't I? Matlovich taught me that all queer people aren't alike. Of course I knew that Sam and I were different, from others as well as from each other, but I thought that at some point we would turn into the stereotypical queers. That thought scared the shit out of me. "So what's this all about?" Sam asked lying down beside me. "I don't know. I just have a lot of crazy thoughts lately." "You got that right." "Can I ask you something though?" "You're going to ask anyway so go ahead," Sam said. "No, this is serious." "OK." "It's about the baseball summer." "Oh Gerald," Sam moaned, "Can't we just forget that?" "No, please Sam?" "OK, what?" "The other boy... what did you two do?" "God Gerald! That's embarrassing!" "Why?" "Just is..." "Did you do more with him than with me?" "Gerald..." "Come on... just tell me." "Yeah, OK?" Sam sighed, "You pissed, huh?" "No," I said, "I just want to hear the other side of the story." "What other side?" "Well, you told me that you did things with him, and you told me that your dad caught you but you never told me how you felt about him." "Yeah, I did." "Nah unh." "I did too." "No you didn't. Did you love him?" "Gerald what's this all about?" "Damnit Sam, I hate when you do that. Just answer the question." Sam's scowl lasted only a few seconds. His face was tranquil as he said, "The truth is, everything I did with him I wish I did with you." "God Sam, don't you know I've been wishing that too?" "But," Sam said blushing, "you don't know what we did." "I don't care. I want to do it with you." "Oh god," Sam breathed, "You really do drive me crazy." "I hope so," I said as Sam's lips met mine. ************************************************************************ Send comments to: comments@tomcup.com To support this and other stories by the author, join at http://www.tomcup.com. If you like this story, check out Tom Cup's "Calvin: A Coming of Age Story." Available at Barnes and Nobles Bookstores, Amazon.com, your local independent bookseller, or get a signed copy from Tom Cup.com.