Date: Sat, 27 Mar 2004 09:49:19 -0500 (EST) From: "Publishing@TomCup.com" Subject: Of Our Teenage Years by Tom Cup - Chapter 16 - Gay Y/F Copyright 2000-2004 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! ********************************************************************** The Paratwa Partnership, Inc. is a publication and marketing agency and is not responsible for the content of the Tom Cup Library, TomCup.com or its affiliate sites, or stories written by Mr. Cup or his associates. ********************************************************************** Of Our Teenage Years By Tom Cup Chapter 16 Of Our Teenage Years Doug was leaving the house when I arrived home. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, his head bowed as he stopped wagging it long enough to say, "See ya Gerald." I watched as Doug pushed through a world of alien waters that resisted his movements even as he closed the door to his 1968 LTD, glanced once more at the house, forced a smile, waved to me and drove away. The world focused as the cars taillights blinked into darkness. I turned toward the house, glanced once more in the direction of the vanished lights, and dashed inside. Sharon was in the kitchen. She was wearing mom's apron, drying and putting away dishes. I watched her, looking for the signs of depression that I thought she was feeling. Seeing something else confused me: contentment. When our eyes met, Sharon smiled. "I saw Doug outside," I said. "Yeah," Sharon said, "We broke up." I sat and stared at Sharon with my arms crossed and elbows on the kitchen table. She shook her head, balled the drying towel and set it aside. She sat with me, mimicking my crossed armed, elbows on the table posture while staring into my eyes. I laughed. The tension was broken and Sharon reached across the table and took my hand. "Sometimes," Sharon said, "we tell other people what we need to hear most. We say, `don't be so selfish' because we are selfish or `you need to learn to share' because we need to learn to share. Doug thought that if we moved the wedding up, if he and I got married by the justice of the peace, that mom wouldn't have to worry so much. But the truth is I wouldn't have to worry. I wouldn't have to worry but I would. I'd have a husband to take care of me but that wouldn't change things for mom, or for you." "We want you to be happy," I whispered. "Of course you do and that desire is keeping us from making the tough decision, the one that is best for all of us." "What decision?" "Dad set money aside for my wedding and both of us have college funds. I'm giving my wedding and college fund to mom, for the house. I'll get a job, maybe go to community college in a year or so. In the meantime, I can help mom and make sure you keep your grades up so you get into a good college." "You could use my college fund and that way you could still go to college." "No Gerald. If I leave now you never will. I won't have you becoming the old maid living with his mother. Don't look at me like I just slapped you. One of us has to stay. Losing the house would kill mom, living here alone would do the same. If I left, you would figure that out and never leave. You might even give up Sam and shut yourself in your room like some monastic monk. I could never be happy knowing that." "So you're going to sacrifice your happiness for mom and me?" "Not sacrifice it," Sharon said shaking her head and rising to finish the dishes. I rose with her, took the dried dishes from her hand and put them away. "No, I'm giving my happiness to you because that makes me happy. It's selfish really. I can't be happy unless you and mom are happy." "But how can I be happy if you have to give up everything to make me happy?" "Because what I'm doing makes me happy. Can't you be happy for me Gerald?" I didn't know. I felt like I was caught in an undertow. The shore was within my reach: Mom, Sharon, Sam, Mr. Scott, Brian, Emily, Missy, Kelly and Rick were all stepping stones that led to solid ground but the clawing tug of life's realities were pulling me toward waters with unknown currents -- would I sink or swim? Part of me wished that I had never discovered my feelings for Sam. I was ashamed of the thought -- the smell of Sam and my lovemaking was still fresh in my nostrils, my skin still electrified by his touch -- but I was also frightened into realizing how my being gay complicated life for me, and for my family. "You and Sam having sex?" Sharon asked. I nodded without meaning to, turned red and looked toward the door of the kitchen. Sharon chucked and mussed my hair. "At least I don't have to worry about you getting pregnant." "Sharon..." She took my hand and led me back to the kitchen table. I couldn't look at her. "The first time I was with a guy," Sharon said, "I couldn't believe the feel of his body, how his muscles moved beneath his skin, the strength of his hands on my body, the way he smelled. I know it's not the same but it is similar. I mean, I can understand how Sam's touch could drive you crazy." "I don't want to talk about this," I said. "Why because I'm your sister or because I'm a girl?" "Because it's embarrassing." "I'm not asking for details Gerald. I just want to know if he makes you happy." "Yes, he does." "Do you love him?" "Do you love Doug?" "Hey," Sharon said, "We're talking about you here." "I think he really loves you. And I don't think this is fair." Sharon nodded. "OK. I'll miss him. I admit it. But this is more important." "Why? Why can't there be another way?" "Because Gerald. Just Because." ************ I don't know how easy it was for my sister to make the transition from teenaged sweetheart to future matriarch. It seems to me she did it with grace and dignity. Once she had made up her mind that mothering me, and our mother, was what she was destined to do she went about it happily, graciously, and poised. Mr. Scott stayed in our lives. Gradually his visits were less about chumming with me and mussing my hair and more about long sips of coffee with mom. One of the happiest days of my life was when mom, fidgeting with her hand to hide the new ring it bore, said, "It's not that I've forgotten your father. I could never forget him. I love him as much today as ever, but..." "It's OK, mom," I said hugging her, "It's OK." It was. If I were to have a step-dad, Mr. Scott was the step-dad of choice. Sam and I separated only once during our teenage years. It was over Brian. Brian never really decided what he wanted. I think that his affection for me was because I was the first person to ever stand up for him. He always denied it. Setting on my bed one weekend while Sam was on a visit with his father, Brian talked endlessly about his awkwardness with girls, and how he was only at ease when he was with me. We fell silent and when he kissed me, I kissed him back. We lay on my bed, me holding his trembling body and telling him not to be afraid, and him telling me with his kiss that he wasn't. I have to admit I am not sure what I felt for him -- it was not quite the love I felt for Sam -- but the kiss that we shared crossed the line of mere friendship. I was the best man when Brian and Emily married, shortly after high school; they divorced three years later. Divorce wasn't as strange to us by then. It was a fact of life. Sam moped around the house for days when I told him that Brian would be coming to stay with us while he and Emily were going through the divorce proceedings. "I know what you're thinking," I said. "What?" "About what happened with Brian and me, and you're wondering if it could happen again and if that is the reason that Brian and Emily got a divorce." "You're right," Sam said, "That's what I'm thinking. Brian has always been attracted to you...." "He's just confused," I defended. "No," Sam said shaking his head, "When it comes to you he's in love." I laughed. "That's insane." "Is it? Gerald, maybe Brian isn't gay. Maybe he's a--a ...bisexual. It's cool with me, except he's a bisexual that has the hots for my lover. It bothers me... OK?" "Nothing will happen Sam. I promise." "You don't know that." "Let's not fight." "Gerald, I'm not trying to pick a fight. I'm just saying that you have the hots for him too." "I do not!" Sam raised an eyebrow: something he had learned from Sharon. I sat with my head in my hands. "What do you want me to do," I asked, "tell him he can't come? I can't Sam." "I know sweety," Sam said putting his arm around me, and nibbling on my ear, "I just wanted you to know that I understood." I don't see Missy much anymore though Rick and Kelly keep me updated on her life. Missy moved to Taos, New Mexico the day after graduation. She owns an art gallery there, has never been married, but is reported to be happy. Rick and Kelly have two sons, David and Christopher. They're great kids and call me uncle Jerry (which I am not too crazy about because I've always had a phobia concerning Jerry Lewis) and they call Sam, uncle Sam (which I am a little jealous of because the name carries some dignity.) I haven't seen Doug in quiet some time. The last time I saw him he was seated in a wheelchair outside of the Five and Dime which had become a Woolworth's Department Store in a last gasp of hope to beat back the growing appeal of the mall -- It didn't work; the store is closed now -- Doug was one of the last few to be drafted for the Viet Nam war. The war was over two month's after Doug arrived home. If it was over two month's earlier, Doug wouldn't have had to leave his legs in Southeast Asia. I don't know what happened to Chad, Spenser, Robert or Trevor. When I think of our teenaged years it's not the hardship or the struggle that leaps to my mind: it's the love. Chad and his gang taunted Sam and me but the taunts became fewer and without realizing it they stopped altogether. But Sharon's love remained constant, as did my mother's and Sam's mother's love. We were accepted and so we accepted ourselves. "Can I come in?" Mr. Swanson asked. I looked over my shoulder at Sam whose mouth wore a crocked smile. Mr. Swanson held a bottle of wine in his hand. I accepted the wine and invited him inside. I had learned to stay out of sight while Sam and his dad had their visitations. Sam didn't volunteer information about the nature of his visits with his dad and I didn't ask. I assumed that my relationship with Sam was off limits. "OK," Mr. Swanson said, looking around our apartment, "I guess I was wrong. I guess the world has moved on... the town has moved on. Maybe I've moved on...." Mr. Swanson snickered as Sam jerked his hand from mine, staring at me while shaking the blood back into his fingers. "Relax Gerald," Mr. Swanson said, "I'm here for your benefit, not Sam's." "I don't understand." "I've been telling Sam that I've learned to accept him for who he is. I've said the same thing to his mother. But they both keep saying the same thing. If I can't accept you, I don't accept Sam. I guess they're right. I don't know... I guess I'm saying I'm sorry... you know... for being an asshole." That was the day that I learned the Sam's mother and father were getting back together. Divorce isn't final. And Sharon? She's the reason that I have written this story. Without her I would never have had the strength to live this tale. At every crossroad in my life my sister has been there for me. I don't know if I'm gay because of nature or nurture. What I do know is that I have run the race. I have finished the course. And I know who I am and who it is that loves me. If I was the sister that Sharon always longed for, she is the sister that I am most blessed to have. Yes, I can see things that way now. I no longer believe in the Six Million Dollar Man or the Bionic Woman. I think that both the Brady Bunch and the Partridge Family were corny, and the best part of Tarzan was how his leather covering revealed his extraordinary ass cheeks. But I still believe in my family. I still believe that human beings have the potential to look passed gender and see the love that two individuals hold for one another. And I still believe that the best part of life is when I am alone, wrapped in Sam's arms, trembling in rapture, bounded by the affirmation of our teenage years. ********************************************************************** This story is dedicated to Justin Case. Thanks for your encouragement. ********************************************************************** 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 from Tom Cup.com. Tom Cup's "Of Our Teenage Years" is scheduled for publication and release in paperback in the Spring of 2004. Check it out at http://www.tomcup.com! ********************************************************************** Look for David's Destiny by R.O.N.D.A. Coming soon to Nifty!