Date: Mon, 10 Jan 2005 02:56:50 +0000 (GMT) From: roy p...... Subject: Peter Johnson part 10 Christmas should be a happy time, a time for giving, a time for sharing, a time for putting right the many wrongs in everyone's life. This Christmas would be one that the four boys in our story would remember forever, one that formed a turning point in all their lives. This chapter contains the first part of the story that I wrote, some years ago now. Having finished it, I realised it needed a 'lead-in', to explain how and why the event occurred: that has been the previous nine episodes. A 'follow up' appears equally necessary, and hopefully that will come in the remaining chapters. Please tell me if you have liked the story so far, or not. I have intended this tale to be romantic in nature: more love than lust. That's just the way I like stories to go. I'm uncertain yet as to the boys' futures, and how much of the future needs to be told, and although I favour a happy ending, I may yet change my mind. Part 10 The Christmas Dinner The weekend was extremely an busy one for Peter, he helped his Mother prepare the house for Christmas and the visit from his Grandparents, who would use Alan's room during their stay. That meant Alan would share his (Peter's) room, which he wasn't exactly looking forward to, but he cleared space in the room for a portable bed that Alan would use, hid away some magazines and made sure that his computer's history files were deleted. Nathan, too, helped his mother with last minute shopping for food and presents, and although he was constantly thinking and worrying about Peter, he forced himself not to phone him up and hoped that things really would get back to normal after the Christmas break. Ian did go home with Derek on Friday, and they did play that computer game, at first anyway. After a couple of hours playing, they had dinner with Derek's mother, and then when they went back to Derek's bedroom, just as Ian sat on the bed and picked up the game handset, Derek remained standing and said "Can I ask you something?" then paused for a second or two, "Please don't be cross with me if I'm wrong but - well, I know you're new at school and all that, but - well - you seem to know Peter and Nathan quite well." Derek allowed a silence to make a question of the statement. "I met Peter last year when I stayed at my Aunt's place in the summer holidays," Ian explained. "And Nathan was at my old school until his folks moved here in the spring. We all met up again a few weeks ago, and they've been great to me, I've had some problems 'cause my folks are divorcing and - well, lets just say they've been better friends than I deserve." "Oh!" said Derek. "Its just that - with all that business with Mr. Hunt, you knowing him as someone else, and that scene at the gym, and Nathan and Pete - er, sort of er, - coming out as well, gay, like, I wondered if they - er, that is, if you, er, were -." Ian looked straight into Derek's eyes. "Yes I am." He said. "And through my own stupidity, I lost out on the chances I had with each of them. I actually hurt both of them a lot because of it, both physically and mentally, because I couldn't say 'yes I am' to myself at the time, never mind others, and tried to hide myself behind being a tough guy who beat queers up. I feel so fucked up at times, I do so much damage to peoples' lives, just because I can't sort my own out." Ian felt somehow pleased he could be that honest with his new friend. Their eyes remained fixed on each other as Derek spoke. "Well I'm glad you lost your chances with them." He said, seriously, "Because it gives me a chance with you." And he leant forward and kissed Ian's lips. Ian's heart skipped half a dozen beats, then he gently placed a hand behind Derek's neck and kissed him back. When the kiss eventually broke, Derek went to his bedroom door and locked it, then returned to Ian, took his hand and helped him stand, then unbuttoned his shirt from the neck down and whispered "And it won't be school gravy I let run from my lips now!" Christmas morning was a calm, happy occasion in all of the boys' households. Derek phoned Ian and they talked for a couple of hours, even though they had spent much of Sunday and Monday on the phone to each other. Mrs Warner hadn't been too happy that Ian hadn't come home until early Saturday evening, she had wanted him to help her with the last minute shopping but with only a brief phone call on Friday night to say he was staying at Derek's, she'd had to struggle on her own with almost too much to carry on the bus home from town, but he was here now and she wouldn't have a Christmas on her own as she'd had for many years now. Nathan sat with his Father who told him that his Mother and he had talked about Peter, and that if he was really certain of what he was doing, he still loved his only son and hoped he would find the happiness he wanted. Peter and Alan, who had struck up a truce bordering on friendship from their having to share a room at night, opened their presents and watched their young sister open hers, remembering their younger days when Christmas held a magic known only to the very young. At varying times between twelve and half-one, the four families had sat down to their traditional Christmas Dinner. The Johnson family sat silently, motionless, at their places around the dinner table, as if frozen in time. They were a close family - they thought that they knew all there was to know about each other - but like most folks, each had a terrible secret that nobody else knew - they hoped. Today, though, at the worst time - Christmas Day family dinner and in the worst place - in each other's company they were hearing words that were so shocking that they drained all life from their faces. The surprising thing was, however, that the words weren't the ones they had dreaded hearing. Henry Johnson, production manager at the Iceberg Refrigerator factory, had just pulled a small new potato from his fork with his teeth and the fork was hovering an inch from his lips. "You are dismissed for stealing that new freezer last month" Marjorie Johnson, former deputy head teacher at the local junior school, was squeezing a floret of broccoli against the roof of her mouth with her tongue, savouring the flavour of her favourite vegetable. "They've found out after all these years about your school's petty cash account." Alan Johnson, sixth form Prefect at the town's Grammar School, six straight 'A's in the end of year exams and scorer of the goals which took the school football team to the top of the county junior league for the first time, was biting through a roast potato - his mum always overcooked them - and half of it was pushing his lips forward in a grotesque pout. "Sally's pregnant, then?" Keith and Mary Hoskins, Marjorie's parents, visiting the homeland from their retirement villa on Minorca for the first time in three years, had finished picking at their meals - they preferred salads now, even in the winter - and were sharing the gossip they had picked up from their former neighbours and friends. "Jane was telling me about how messy the divorce was -" "The Town Council Treasurer has traced the other bank account that the builders of the Old Folks Home used." Albert Johnson, Henry's younger brother and proprietor of a small removals and transport business was cutting a slice from his turkey leg. It managed something it had never done when it was alive - it flew gracefully through the air - but then landed with a gravy-cushioned floph on the white tablecloth. "The Insurance investigator is asking why the old burnt-out diesel lorry should have a spare petrol can in its cab". Anne-Marie Johnson, ten year old youngest of the Johnson family, and by far her parents favourite, was pushing a brussels sprout around her plate, wishing that Troy, their Golden Retriever, were at her side to surreptitiously pass the unwanted soggy greens to, watched as the disliked green orb twitched off her plate and rolled down her new pale yellow dress to her lap, leaving a trail any self-respecting snail would have envied. "Mum's worked out how you could afford to buy that new doll last month - well she did when she went to her Christmas Presents savings tin". None of them heard those words, those weren't the words that were said. Peter Johnson, fifteen-year-old middle child, the quiet one of the family, the mistake, under average in looks, abilities, achievements and ambitions, until recently a moody, quietly insolent difficult teenager, had finished his meal. He had eaten like a starving man faced with a banquet - hard and fast, an inner determination preventing the intrusion of distractions around him. He couldn't bear the thought of his secret any longer. This was the time, it had to be now. He had placed his knife and fork together on the plate, pointing at five o'clock to indicate his completion of the meal, sat back in his chair and made his announcement. "I think this is the time to tell you all something - I'm gay." He stood, slid his chair neatly into place under the table and looked around the family, frozen as if in a photograph. "And I've learnt to live with it." Life returned to the room as he left. He heard the sounds - the choking cough from his grandfather, a soft sob from his grandmother, a giggle from his sister, a 'wheew!' from his brother, 'Peter' softly from his mother, 'Come back here!' shouted by his father - and ignored them all. He walked into the front room and stood by the window looking out on the world. It was beautiful, a cloudless blue sky, a bright sun, an empty street. Peter was aware that they had all followed him into the room, and some of them were speaking to him, some softly, some sternly, but heard none of it. Today was his day, and he savoured its flavour, the satisfaction of a task at last done. Alan came behind him, placed his hands on Peter's shoulders and said "Good for you, bro" then as their Father, angry and non understanding as ever, stormed in saying "You'd better explain yourself" and "No son of mine..." Alan spun round and shouted "If he's no son of yours, then neither am I. You're always spouting on about us growing up, being honest and doing our best, and when Pete here does that you jump down his throat. You're just a hypocrite. He's my brother and I don't care if he's gay, I still love him. At least he isn't a thief..." He stopped, he'd gone too far. Anne-Marie burst into tears and ran off to her room, thinking Alan's "Thief" was her. Keith Hoskins harrumphed and returned to the dining table, thinking it was him. Mary Hoskins thought so as well, and followed her husband. Marjorie Johnson coloured up red, thinking it was her. She stood at the back of the room, by the doorway. Henry Johnson knew it was him, and drew back a clenched fist to swing at his eldest child. "Go on then, hit me. It'll be the last time you ever do!" Alan snarled. Henry dropped his arm, turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, pushing Marjorie out of his way as he went. Peter continued staring out of the window, at nothing. His fate was sealed, he'd done the deed. For the moment, he didn't care what that fate would be - he wallowed in his own satisfaction. Alan stayed behind his Brother, beginning to understand him better. He'd seen them together a lot recently, his brother and that new friend from school, and thought it unusual because Peter didn't usually have any 'close' friends. It all started to fit into place. Marjorie went to her son's side and wanted to hold him, protect him, comfort him, but she couldn't. She didn't know how, not with Peter, he'd always been different, from the day he'd been born. Somehow right from the start he'd distanced himself from her, something was missing from the relationship that exists between a mother and her offspring. It was there with Alan and Anne-Marie, but not with Peter. She'd always thought it was him, his fault but now - now that she knew - perhaps it was her that was missing the last piece in the puzzle. Because of - all those years ago. "Is it Nathan?" she asked, gently. Peter turned his head to face hers. "Yes, Mum." He said, quietly, matter-of-fact. "It's Nathan. I love him more than I thought love was possible." She took the one step to his side, held him round the waist with one arm and held his head to her shoulder with the other and whispered, "I know, Peter, I know." That last piece fell into place and the picture of life was complete, at last.