Date: Fri, 24 May 2013 21:51:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: ritchchristopher@att.net
Subject: Echoes-From-a-Wishing-Well-chapter-five

All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or
are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language,
please exit now.

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		       "Echoes from a Wishing Well"

			 Copyright Ritchris, 2007
			(Copyright Revised, 2013)


				  A Story

				    by

			     Ritch Christopher

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			       chapter five

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	'Tempus fugit'.  It's often said that time flies when you're having
fun. How much faster it melts away, though, when you've fallen in love for
the first time, but all good things, temporary or permanent, come to an
end, . Three days had passed since Cyrus, Dean, and Trent had seen Ronnie
off at the Greyhound Bus Terminal, where he'd boarded a bus to take him to
the Knoxville airport, there to make the connection with his flight on
Delta Airlines back to his home in New York City. School had already
started for Trent, but Ronnie had one more week of vacation before the High
School For The Performing Arts began its fall term.

	Ronnie's two weeks in Weston with his Uncle Cyrus, Uncle Dean, but
especially with his new found friend, Trent Matthews, had passed by all too
quickly. Their time together had been memorable, fun, and loving. It had
been Trent's awakening to a new life...sex...gay sex, at that, the
thrilling idea of, one day, going to New York and experiencing his distant
dream of becoming a Broadway star. The two boys had spent countless hours
at Dean's piano, Ronnie playing Broadway scores while Trent tried to
memorize all the show tunes. Trent discovered why Dean and Cyrus were such
big Sondheim fans with Steve's innovative lyrics and musical
lifts. Sondheim strung words together in intricate patterns that delighted
the ear while prodding the mind with truths.
 	During their time together, Ronnie had told Trent many stories
about Broadway auditions, the grueling hours of rehearsal, the pain
suffered while taking dance classes, and the competition seemingly required
of all Broadway star hopefuls.

	Needless to say, the 'goodbye' at the bus terminal had been
tearfully heartbreaking. The two boys had said their 'special' farewell in
Ronnie's bedroom the night before. Their sex never went beyond masturbation
and oral sex, as Trent was still not convinced that he was totally gay and
Ronnie respected his decision and didn't press their physical relationship
to go any further. There was no doubt in the minds of Cyrus, Dean, and even
Granny Dee that the two youngsters were deeply in love.

	Ronnie, Cyrus, and Dean didn't push Trent with the idea of going
back to New York with Ronnie as they knew it would be next to impossible
for Trent to leave his grandmother alone on the farm.  They knew that time
would allow Trent to make his own decision.

	Trent's schoolmates at Weston High, although never overly
attractive to him, now seemed almost proletarian to him; not that Trent
thought he was better than any of them, he simply wanted more from life
than being just a country bumpkin, born in a small town, who found a job,
got married, had a mess of kids, and lived his entire life there, his
marriage and the ensuing fatherhood followed by grandkids...then dying and
being buried in the same place without ever having traveled as much as
twenty miles from home in his entire life. No, Ronnie had planted in his
mind the idea of Trent's going to New York...and now it seemed toTrent that
he could never settle for anything less.

	The one thing that Ronnie, Cyrus, Dean, and Granny Dee had warned
Trent about was to stay away from Farley Adams at all cost. With Ronnie
gone, Farley would more than likely seek revenge on the weaker Trent. Trent
was a singer, an actor, a dancer, certainly NOT a fighter. Trent thought it
would be wise to spend a lot of his time with the music teacher, Jesse
Simmons...the one who had had sex with Farley. Trent felt that Farley would
surely not attack him in front of or around the music teacher.

	For three consecutive days, Trent had gone by Dean's house, hoping
to find that Ronnie was on the computer Instant Messenger, but so far they
had missed each other, though Ronnie HAD written a letter each day and sent
it via Word Document for Trent and Trent, ONLY, to read on Dean's Compaq
computer. After reading each letter, Dean printed the letters out for Trent
to take home for safekeeping.

	This afternoon, Dean was sitting on the couch, apparently looking
through Variety, but in actuality, he kept glancing at Trent's face across
the room, watching the smile on Trent's face as he read an email from
Ronnie.

	"Good news?" Dean asked.

	Looking up from his letter, Trent glowed with happiness. "Uncle
Dean, anything Ronnie writes to me is good news. He says he misses me and,
oh, yeah, he wants to know if you and Uncle Cyrus would welcome him if he
was able to come down to Tennessee for Thanksgiving and Christmas?"

	"Why, that little devil!" Dean responded by throwing his magazine
on the coffee table. "He knows better than to ask that! This is like a
second home to Ronnie! He's welcome here three-hundred-sixty-five days out
of the year if that's what he wants!"

	"Oh, he was just kidding! He knows he's welcome.  Heck, even if he
weren't, he could stay with me and Granny Dee."

	"His school still hasn't started?"

	"Nope, not till next week. He went by for a couple of hours to
register and give them a check for his tuition.  I...I wish I were rich..."

	"And if you WERE? Would you have gone back with Ronnie to New
York?"

	"I'd be scared, but, yes, I'd go..."

	"What about leaving your Granny Dee?"

	"She WANTED me to go! She broke down and cried buckets because she
didn't have the money to send me. She even said she'd sell the farm and go
live in the old folks home, but she knows I wouldn't ever let her do
that. That's HOME to her...and to me...and it always will be!"

	"You know, Trent, I wish that you had told me and Cyrus about this
last week."

	"Why?"

	"I know the administrator at Ronnie's school. He played the lead in
one of our shows, in fact. We know him REALLY well. We might have arranged
some kind of scholarship for you...Only neither Cyrus nor I believed you'd
leave your Granny Dee."

	"Still, Uncle Dean, it costs a lot to live in New York, doesn't
it?"

	"You could live with Ronnie and his dad. You have a whole wardrobe
of new clothes. You would need a heavy coat, though."

	"Yeah, but there's food to think about!"

	"Heck, you can eat what Ronnie eats. He eats like a young horse and
you nibble like a wren."

	"Well, who knows? Maybe next year."

	"By the way, that Sondheim song that Ronnie taught you..."

	"The one from 'Evening Primrose'?"

	"That very one!"

	"What about it?"

	"I downloaded the lyrics off the Internet and printed them out for
you."

	"GREAT! Thank you!  Can I see 'em?"

	"Why don't you sing them? You know I don't play piano as well as
Ronnie, but I can make a stab at it."

	Dean went to the piano and took the printed lyrics off the music
stand and handed them to Trent. After looking them over for a minute he
announced "OK, I'm ready."

	"You remember the melody?"

	"Just try me!"

	Dean vamped a four bar intro and Trent began to sing. just as Cyrus
came into the room and seating himself quietly on the couch.

                       "Let me see the world with clouds, ,
                        Take me to the world.
                        Out where I can push through crowds,
                        Take me to the world.

                        A world that smiles,
                        With streets instead of aisles,
                        Where I can walk for miles with you.

                        Take me to the world that's real.
                        Show me how it's done.
                        Teach me how to laugh, to feel.
                        Move me to the sun.

                        Just hold my hand
                        Whenever we arrive.
                        Take me to the world
                        Where I can be alive!

                        Let me see the world that smiles,
                        Take me to the world.
                        Somewhere I can walk for miles.
                        Take me to the world.

                        With all around
                        Things growing in the ground,
                        Where birds that make a sound are birds.

                        We shall see the world come true.
                        We shall have the world.
                        I won't be afraid with you.
                        We shall have the world.

                        I'll hold your hand
                        And know I'm not alone.
                        We shall have the world to keep,
                        Such a lovely world we'll weep.
                        We shall have the world forever for our own."


	Tears were streaming down Trent's face when he finished the
song. There were also four more weepy eyes in the room. It was plain to all
that Trent had been singing to Ronnie. Cyrus arose from the couch to walk
over and put his arms around Trent.

	"My boy, it's just too bad you weren't born half a century ago. If
Steve had heard you sing his song, Anthony Perkins would have never been
cast in that show. You seemed to've found the true meaning of what Steve
meant when he wrote those masterful lyrics. The words were special to you,
I think!  Am I right?"

	"They ARE special to me. You know, Granny Dee is always saying that
hers and Grandpa's 'song' was 'Tennessee Waltz'.  I think, 'Take Me To The
World', is Ronnie's and my song."

	"It couldn't be more perfect for the two of you!" Cyrus gushed,
giving Trent another hug.

	Dean wiped his eyes and looked up from the piano andadded, "Trent,
your Uncle Cyrus is right. I've never heard that song sung better. When you
audition for your first show in New York, if you really want to get the
job, sing THAT song!"

	The afternoon was drawing to a close, so, shortly thereafter, Trent
left Cyrus' and Dean's to mosey on back down the road to his granny's
house. In his right hand he clutched the fourth email from Ronnie plus the
lyrics to 'Take Me To The World'. He read the lyrics two lines at a time,
memorizing them as he walked. By the time he reached the turn-in for Granny
Dee's, he knew all of the words by heart, but, more importantly, he
understood exactly, it seemed, what the composer had meant. He stopped by
the well and, looking down into its depths, sang each verse, line by line,
listening to his voice as it echoed the strains of this wondrous masterwork
of music. He smiled, knowing he would always think of Ronnie when he saw
the well. Having never heard himself sing, even though the well only echoed
one phrase at a time, Trent was quite pleased by the sound of his own
voice. Granted, everyone who'd heard him had always given him a nice
compliment, but now, thanks to the echo, he could finally hear himself.

	Besides putting the 'g's' on the end of gerunds, Ronnie had taught
Trent to soften his 'r's'. Tennesseans spoke with hard 'r's', whereas
people from Georgia and Alabama, each just a state away from Tennessee, all
spoke with softened 'r's', just as Trent always heard the consonant spoken
in British movies. Had it not been for Ronnie, Trent would never have
thought about different southern accents and speech patterns. Another
speech flaw Ronnie had brought to Trent's attention was inflection. People
from Tennessee had a habit of ending their sentences with an upward
inflection...almost with a question mark as if to say 'did you understand
what I'm talking about?'. Most black male students at Weston High not only
used an upward inflection, they added, 'you know what I'm sayin'' and
seemed to say it at the end of each phrase.  "Gosh', Trent realized, 'it's
just like what passes for lyrics to rock songs.  Always repeating the same
phrase, but really saying nothing!"

	'Damn!  Being an actor takes lots of work!', Trent thought to
himself. Not only would he have to learn to speak differently, but special
attention had to be paid to simple everyday things like how to walk. No two
people walked the same. Walking was as important as speech patterns. A
person's walk was just as distinctive as his fingerprints!  A
happy-go-lucky person walks differently than someone who's depressed or
unhappy. Perhaps this is some of what Ronnie's dad meant by 'less is
more'. An actor can walk across the stage a thousand different ways without
saying a word and the audience already knows something about him, about his
mood or his thoughts, just by his gait and his stride, the way he holds his
shoulders, the way he moves his hands. Trent thought about a very difficult
song to sing from the Broadway score of 'Kismet'. Hajj, the beggar-poet,
sings a song called, 'Gesticulate', in which he describes how one can tell
an entire story simply by the way he uses his hands.  So much to learn,
such an immense amount to digest!

	In the past, when he was alone in his room, Trent would emulate
Robert DeNiro in 'Taxi Driver' with his famous line, "Are you talking to
me?' as Trent had begun to practice facial expressions in the
mirror...surprise, fear, happiness, sadness, and so on, but Ronnie had
taught him that just making expressions was no good, that it was phony and
that it would look phony to an audience unless he could FEEL the emotion
instead of just showing it. In other words, he could look frightened to his
reflection, BUT, if he took the time to remember how afraid he was of
Farley, that day at Vernon's Pond, the look of fear was real. Having Trent
remember different emotions and helping Trent try to relive the experience
in his mind, Ronnie had explained that this was the essence of 'method'
acting. Ronnie told him briefly about Stanislavky and the Actor's
Studio. Ronnie said that musical actors seldom used the 'method', but IF
Trent could accomplish both, 'method' and 'technique' acting, it would open
MANY doors for him. That way, if Trent ever wanted to audition for a
straight play WITHOUT music, he would be a step ahead in the auditioning
process. Even still, if a song's lyrics included a phrase such as, 'I love
you', Trent could think about Ronnie while singing the idiom and it, too
would be real.

	When teaching Trent, "Take Me To The World," Ronnie DID mention
that Anthony Perkins, for whom Sondheim had written the opus, Anthony WAS a
method actor from the Actors Studio, who seemed to defy the impossible with
musical comedy. Ronnie also gave a brief synopsis of "Evening
Primrose"...about a young man, perhaps agoraphoric, who didn't want to live
in the hubbub of New York, so he moved into a department store, hiding
among customers during the day and living a life of luxury by night in the
furnitiure department, the book nook, eating food from the store's
restaurant and was surprised to learn that he was among a group of people
who did the same. Most of them were older and lived an affluent lifestyle,
dressing up in the finest clothing the store had to offer and they lived by
a sworn credo that no one must ever leave or risk a mysterious
disappearance. Anthony's character meets a young girl who was 'trapped'
inside the store, longing to escape to the busy world outside in New York
City. She sings one of Sondheim's most sacred ballads, "I Remember" of what
she missed from before her entrapment. She begs Anthony, after the two had
fallen in love, to take her to see the world...thus, the beautiful song of
yearning was sung. Ronnie wouldn't tell what happened in the end, but the
song was reprised in the finale to give a hint.

	All this 'acting' business seemed to overwhelm Trent as he still
had three years of high school...biology, chemistry, algebra, English, on
and on. In many ways Trent was jealous of Ronnie because at the High School
of Performing Arts, it paid more than mere lip-service to the scholastic
studies, but it concentrated more on singing, acting, and dancing. Granted,
at Weston High, Trent would or could sing in the high school glee club, try
out for the sophomore play, maybe appear in the annual talent show, but
instead of dancing, Trent would have to settle for plain old gym classes of
basketball, dodge ball, wrestling, and all the other sports for which he
had no ability or aptitude. 'Such a waste of my time!', Trent
thought. "Dear Lord, take me to the world where I can be alive...".

	On top of all that, Trent knew he wouldn't experience any kind of
sex as he had shared with Ronnie. He didn't know any gay kids at Weston
High. Sure, he had seen Farley having sex with Mr. Simmons, but the idea of
having sex with either of THEM revolted Trent. Would he ever feel for a
girl in his class what he had felt with Ronnie? Sex with girls would
certainly be different and the thought of letting a girl...ANY girl...touch
him 'down there', somehow didn't appeal to him. WAS he really gay or was he
only gay with and for Ronnie? Every day since Ronnie had left, Trent found
himself masturbating three times a day and every time, he fantasized being
in bed with his one and only partner. Would he ever get the incentive to
touch another boy...ANY boy besides Ronnie? Or would he ever let another
boy--ANY boy--touch him besides Ronnie? Sexually, it seemed to Trent that
he was a one-trick pony and that pony's name was Ronnie Whitman. God, how
he missed him!

	Trent had been in school all day and, on leaving school, had
stopped by Cyrus' and Dean's. School had been boring as usual. 'Thank
heaven', he thought, 'I hadn't seen hide nor hair of Farley Adams since
school started'. The few boys with whom Trent had usually hung out no
longer interested him. Meeting Ronnie had ruined Trent's social life, so to
speak. He didn't want to hear about the bass jumping at Snyder's Creek. He
couldn't care less about Weston High playing Bradley High's football
team. He didn't WANT to see Susie Curtis' new hair cut or listen to Bobby
Brantley carry on about his trip to Disney World with his parents. The only
thing in Trent's daily schedule that excited him now was going by Cyrus'
and Dean's once the three-fifteen final bell had rung. True, Cyrus and Dean
WERE Trent's connection to New York, but mostly to Ronnie. It seemed
strange to him that his two best friends in Weston were a couple of gay men
in their mid-fifties. They and Granny Dee had become the only important
people in his life in Weston, Tennessee.

	When he returned from visiting his 'uncles', and was finished with
his daily speech and vocal exercises at the wishing well, Trent went inside
his house to see what chores Granny Dee had planned for him to do that
afternoon.

	"Hi, sweetie!" Dee said as Trent came into the kitchen and kissed
her on the cheek.

	"Hi, Granny Dee."

	"And how was school?"

	"Boring...as usual."

	"Wash your hands, I want you to top that mess of turnips over
there."

	"Yes, ma'am," Trent replied as he did as he was told. He picked up
a long sharp butcher knife and began tearing apart the greens from the
turnips, separating the bulbs from the leafy tops. Turnips were like any
leafy vegetable, you tore them instead of cutting them letting the rips
tear along the veins of the leaves instead of amputating them to lose the
juice held inside, the same with lettuce. Turnips were also like pigs...you
used every part of them when cooking.

	"You miss him, don't you? Ronnie, I mean." Dee said,
sympathetically.

	"Oh, a little bit..."

	"Only a little?"

	"No, Granny Dee" he sighed. "I miss him a lot!"

	"Trent, you know that all you had to do was say the word and I'd've
sold this old place and sent you off to New York to be with him."

	"Granny Dee, please don't start that again! I don't want you to
sell this place ever! I mean even IF I got to New York some day, there's no
guarantee that I'd be good enough to get a job in a show. I'd always like
to know that I have a home...right here in Weston, Tennessee to come back
to IF I make a flop out of myself."

	"Honey, there's not a job in ANY show in New York that wouldn't
hire you. I KNOW how talented you are."

	"Yeah, but there are thousands of kids just like me...with the same
dream...and with mothers or grandmothers telling them the same thing."

	"Maybe, but them other kids can't sing like you do!"

	"Probably MOST of 'em can sing better!"

	"Hogwash!"

	"Well, I bet they DO!"

	"Is there anything special going on at school this weekend?"

	"What do you mean?"

	"A talent show...a football game...a dance, maybe?"

	"I'll never understand how you can know what's going on in EVERY
part of Weston when you hardly ever leave the house. I'm sure you know that
there's a kickoff dance Friday night to celebrate the first football game
of the season."

	"Oh, really? I hadn't heard..."

	"Like heck you hadn't! You know EVERYTHING, Granny Dee!"

	"So are you goin'?"

	"I doubt it!"

	"Why not? Trent, you need to go out and be with some of your own
friends. I don't mean this to sound heartless, but Ronnie has gone back to
New York and I don't want to see you brood and pine yourself away in your
bedroom!"

	"I didn't tell you, but I got this email from Ronnie on Dean's
computer and he said he might come down here for Thanksgiving and
Christmas!"

	"Well, that's SOMETHIN' to look forward to now, isn't there?. But
in the mean time, I might just put going to the dance AND the football game
on your chore list."

	"Oh, you wouldn't...?"

	"I just might! So why don't you see if there's SOMEONE who you can
ask to the dance?"

	"Some girl---or some boy?"

	"For your own safety, I think you'd better ask a girl. Lord knows
what would happen if you invited a boy to a dance."

	"It might be fun just to see what would happen!"

	"And WHAT boy do you know, who'd go with you to a dance?"

	"Well, there's always Farley Adams. He seems to want me to have sex
with him!"

	"TRENT MATTHEWS! You say that again and I'll scrub your mouth out
with Lava soap and pour a dose of castor oil down your gullet!"

	"I'm kidding, Granny Dee, you know that! Even if Farley and I were
friends, I'd NEVER ask him out!"

	"You'd better not!"

	"You should have seen how red your face got when I said that!"
Trent chuckled.

	"Saying nonsense like that can sure rile up my blood pressure!"

	"I'm sorry."

	"How about Wanda Sells? She's a nice young girl...and I DON'T
believe she's the kind of girl who would expect you to kiss her or have you
way with her."

	"Wanda? The golden virgin?"

	"Watch your language!"

	"Virgin's not a bad word. 'I'm' a virgin."

	"Thank heaven for that! Why do you call her the
golden...'virgin'...that word you said?"

	"Because every boy in school has tried to put the make on her and
she refuses ALL of them...even the football team. She tells everyone that
she took a pledge at the Church of God of Prophecy to remain a
virgin...sorry, I used that word again...until she's married."

	"Well, at least she has some common sense and decency. She might be
JUST THE ONE for you to ask to the dance."

	"Then when we walk into the dance together, everyone would look at
us and say, 'Look! Here comes the two virgins!'."

	"Who cares what they say. If you're pure, what's wrong with that?"

	"Granny Dee! Every fifteen-year-old boy AND girl has had sex! Since
you know EVERYTHING about everyone in Weston, surely you know that!"

	"To be honest, that's one thing I never pry about...is who's chaste
and who isn't?"

	"What do you think happened between Ronnie and me when I spent two
weeks sleeping with him?"

	"Did I ever ask you?"

	"No, but I'm sure you wondered..."

	"Oh, Lord, let me sit down. This conversation is makin' an old
woman out of me."

	"So what do you think we did?"

	"I don't know...but I know what I HOPE you did."

	"You mean if I told you that Ronnie and I made love to one another,
it wouldn't rile up your blood pressure?"

	"Trent, I told you that your dad was having a physical relationship
when he was your age. I...I only expect that you and Ronnie were doing the
same thing."

	"...and it wouldn't bother you to know?"

	"No, it wouldn't! Trent, I don't see as well as I used to with
these tired old eyes, but I can still see when two people love each
other. YOU and Ronnie had that look of love toward each other...and IF you
were doing things to each other in the bedroom, I'm satisfied that you two
weren't 'having sex', but were 'making love'. THAT'S the big
difference. LOVE and SEX are NOT the same thing! I wish more young folks
knew that before they got married. That's why there's so many
divorces...over fifty percent in the first year of marriage!"

	"Oh, Granny Dee, I DID love him. I still DO!"

	"I know it, baby, and it breaks my heart to see the two of you
separated."

	"It's only about eleven weeks until Thanksgiving! I'll see him
then."

	"Eleven weeks can be a long time if you stay penned up in your
room."

	"Okay, if it'll please you, I'll call Wanda and see if she has a
date to the dance."

	"That WOULD please me, boy."

	"All right! I'll do it JUST for you."

	"Come here, my sweet boy, and give your old Granny a big hug."

	Trent put down the turnips and went to her. He put his arms around
Granny's neck and she embraced him, all but squeezing the breath out of
him.

	"I love you, Granny Dee."

	"And I love you MORE than life, Trent. I hope you gave Ronnie a
whole passal of hugs to make him want to come back to see you."

	"I gave him a fair share of hugs."

	"I'm sure you did and I hope he feels the same way about you."

	"I'm pretty sure he does."

	"Okay, now go look in my little phone directory on the phone table
and look up the Sells' number and give little Wanda a call."

	"Gosh, do you think she'll even consider going to a dance with me?
In her circle, I'm sure I'm a nerd!"

	"Ronnie didn't think so."

	Trent reflected a moment, realizing that, maybe he DID have
worth. "No, he didn't, did he?" He smiled inside.

	"Listen to me and think about it before you answer! Did you think
Ronnie was good lookin' or did he look like a nerd?"

	"I don't have to think about that...to me, Ronnie was the
hansdomest boy I'd ever seen!"

	"So, did you pay attention when Cyrus and Dean said that you, two
boys, looked enough alike to be twins?"

	"Yes, but I thought they were just sayin' that to keep me from
being self-conscious about my looks."

	"Let me tell you something...there's a big part of baloney in
Cyrus, but the one thing he won't do is lie. So if he says you're as
handsome as Ronnie, you'd better look again at yourself in the
mirror...because you DO look like twins!"

	Suddenly, Trent's chest filled up with pride and he to the phone,
looked up Wanda's telephone number and he leapt from the kitchen, doing
three of Gene Kelly's finest jeté's to hurry to the phone to call Wanda.

	"Hello, Wanda?...Uhm, it's me, Trent...Trent Matthews! Yes...THAT
Trent! How many Trent's are there at Weston High?...Yeah, I'm pretty sure
I'm the only one!...Listen, the reason I called...I know it's kinda late,
but are you going to the dance Friday night? Oh? Why?...Well, WOULD you go
if you had a date?...Me!...Yes, I'm asking you to the dance...IF you'll
go...What? You know I'm a nice person and I respect you!...No, I wouldn't!
I promise! Yes, I can drive my Granny's car or she can drive us and pick us
up after the dance. Yes, I guess she WOULD be a chaperone, at that. You'll
go if SHE drives?...Swell! I'll...I'll talk to you tomorrow at school and
we'll make plans about times and everything...Sure, I'm sure!...All right,
seeya!"

	"Well?"

	"She said she'd go with me IF you drive."

	"Of course I will."

	"I guess she'll think her virginity is safe with you driving."

	"There you go using that word again!"

	"I'm sorry, Granny Dee!". Trent laughed at his grandmother and went
back to topping the turnips, but now he had a little something to look
forward to, and after that, THANKSGIVING!


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	The telephone rang at the Whitman apartment on West 74th Street in
Manhattan. Ronnie was on his computer, writing an email document to
Trent. He ran to answer the phone in the living room on the third ring.

	"Hello?" Ronnie answered.

	"Hey, son!" Art said, excitedly.

	"DAD! How's the show coming?"

	"You know I can't lie to you. The first act is solid, but the
second act needs a complete rewrite! We added another scene with two new
numbers last night."

	"Did it help?"

	"One number is good, the second is mediocre! We're gonna replace
that one with another new number tonight."

	"Dad, do you think the show will shape up before you get back to
town or are we gonna have to move?"

	"Thanks for your encouraging support! You know we're never gonna
have to move. Thanks to Cyrus and Dean and their big hits, we stashed
enough away in First Manhattan Bank to never have to worry about money."

	"I knew that, Dad! I just wanted to hear you squirm over the
phone. That was just my way of asking if you think the show can be fixed
before you open on Broadway?"

	"It's funny, Ronnie, but I know I could fix the show...IF I can
convince George, the director, that my ideas are HIS ideas."

	"Shit, Dad! You know how I hate it when you play 'second fiddle',
giving your ideas to ANYONE! YOU should be directing the show."

	"I'll get my break some day...and soon...I hope!"

	"You know that I still dream of the day when you direct your first
Broadway musical and I'll be in the pit conducting my first Broadway
orchestra."

	"I dream of that day, too, son. Tell me about your trip! How are
your two favorite uncles?"

	"Let's see...sweet, loving, kind, generous...VERY generous...ornery
and cantankerous!"

	"It's great to hear that they haven't changed a bit!" Art joked,
"Tell me, did you find more to do this year that just sit around, mope, and
play video games and practice the piano. Did you make any new friends?"

	"All right, DAD! Which uncle did you talk with? When you say
something that way, I know you know that answer already."

	"Well, I heard his name is Trent..."

	"Dammit, Dad! When you, Uncle Dean, and Uncle Cyrus get to talking,
you're all three worse that a bunch of old gossipy hens under the dryers at
a beauty salon!"

	"I guess your two uncles were afraid you wouldn't tell me about
your romantic adventure!"

	"Oh, I would've got around to telling you, eventually...well, maybe
after you came back home."

	"What's Trent like, Ronnie."

	"Dad, you know how you're always kidding me when I comb my hair and
look at myself too long in a mirror. You say that I'm narcissistic?"

	"Yes?"

	"Well, Trent makes me even more so!"

	"Why?"

	"Because when I look at him, I feel as if I'm looking at my double
or the spitting image of me. We are the same height...same body build, same
hair color, same eyes, even the same patch of freckles across the nose."

	"Then I'm sure I'll love him."

	"If you love me, you'll love him!"

	"What do you mean, 'if' I love you?"

	"Aw, I was just kidding! Dad, you ought to hear Trent sing!"

	"I've heard he has a remarkable voice."

	"Oh, I'm more than certain that Trent will play the lead in one of
your musicals, someday."

	"Don't you mean one of 'OUR' musicals, yours and mine?"

	"Oh, God! What a cool dream! You, me, and Trent. ALL working
together on Broadway, doing what we ALL love the best."

	"Sounds as if this 'Trent' is going to play a big part in your
future!"

	"I hope so!"

	"Can I ask you something, son?"

	"Sure, Dad, you know you can ask me ANYTHING. We hold NO secrets
from one another."

	"Well, I know you're only sixteen with raging hormones, but do you
feel you're in love with Trent?"

	"I didn't know it when we were down there in Weston, Dad, but after
being away from Trent for four days, I know now that I AM in love with
him."

	"Don't you think that the seven hundred miles separating the two of
you will be a huge deterrent?"

	"Probably, but when we're together again, the waiting will be worth
the wait!"

	"Is there a chance he might come to New York and go to school with
you?"

	"Dad, do you read minds? That's what I want MOST in the world."

	"Cyrus told me that Trent lives with his grandmother and they
aren't too well off financially."

	"I think Uncle Cyrus and Uncle Dean would pay for his tuition and
give him a few bucks to live on IF he could come up here." Art could
plainly hear his son imploring him to help.

	"You really want that, don't you?"

	"Yes, Dad. I really do."

	"I'm sure you know that Trent could live with us. He wouldn't have
to ever worry about room and board. If Cyrus and Trent sent him some mad
money every week, there's no reason why he couldn't come here. Hey, I'd
LOVE having another son."

	"Dad, if Trent comes to live with us, you wouldn't have another
son, you'd have ONE son and ONE son-in-law!"

	"I guess you've thought it all through, then..."

	"If only I knew how to get Trent to leave his Granny Dee...that's
what we call her."

	"For now, we'll let Dean and Cyrus work their magic on old Granny
Dee. Say, what are you gonna do for dinner tonight?"

	"I thought I'd run down to the corner and get an all meat
pizza...maybe two!"

	"You and your insatiable appetite...yet you don't seem to gain an
ounce. How are you fixed for money?"

	"I got enough."

	"Well, just in case, you need extra, go into the music room and dig
out the score for 'Company' on the third shelf from the bottom. I put five
one-hundred dollar bills there before I left...just for you."

	"WOW!"

	"And don't go buying tickets for a show with it. Any show you want
to see, call Johnny at Ticketmaster and he'll arrange a house seat for
you. Who's staying with you tonight?"

	"Dad, you know that you arrange for Colette to stay here every
night until you get home."

	"I just wanted to see if she's doing as I told her."

	"She's your assistant, dad. She'll do ANYTHING you ask."

	"It's times like these I'm glad you're gay. Thank God I don't have
to worry about you sleeping with Colette!"

	"You don't believe I'd like a little pussy every now and then?"

	"You're too meticulous with your bed partners...and pussy is not on
your selective menu."

	"Why do you suppose YOU like pussy and I don't? I read that being
gay is inherited through parental genes."

	"Maybe your mother was a secret lesbian and we never knew!"

	"Heck, she slept with everyone! There were probably many lezzies in
her life!"

	"AND REMEMBER! You're in love now, so don't go chasing after chorus
boys! I HATE your having to get an HIV test every time I leave you."

	"WHAT CHORUS BOYS?"

	"Your list of chorus boys you've slept with would be longer than
the cast of 'West Side Story'!"

	"YOU KNEW? Why have you never said anything before?"

	"Why do you think Dr. Hauer gives you a blood test every month. Did
you really think you were anemic?"

	"DAMN! I've been had...by my dad!"

	"So far you've practiced safe sex. Even your last report was
negative. Should I have you tested for what you did with Trent in
Tennessee?"

	"Nope! We didn't do anything like that...and if we had, I WOULD'VE
used a condom!"

	"You didn't make out completely with Trent and you still fell in
love with him?"

	"Sounds like true love, huh, Dad?"

	"It certainly does. Well, I got to high-tail it back to rehearsal
and see if I can sneak in a few of my ideas to George!"

	"Take care, Dad! I love you!"

	"I love you, little man! Be careful. IF the new number works
tonight, there's a good chance we'll cancel Sunday's rehearsal and I can be
home LATE Saturday night or Sunday morning and we can spend all day Sunday
together!"

	"THAT'S GREAT!"

	"I'll call you Saturday and let you know."

	"DAMN! That NEW number HAS to work tonight!"

	Ronnie hung up the telephone and jumped for joy. He ran into the
music room, looked for the 'Company' score as Art had told him, and inside
were five crisp brand-new one-hundred dollar bills. He stuffed them inside
his right jeans pocket, went back to the computer and saved the document to
finish and send to Trent later. He wrote a note for Colette in case she
arrived while he went out for pizza. He put on his jacket, locked the door
and ran down West 74th Avenue to the Pizza Parlor on 72nd and Amsterdam.

	It was dusk already and all the neons lights and the city street
lights had just come on. All the cooks and chefs in the Pizza Parlor knew
Ronnie as he bought Italian food from them at least three times a
week. They all waved when Ronnie entered. Munio, the head chef, took
Ronnie's order for two pizzas...ALL the way with EVERYTHING on it...SHOOT
THE WORKS.

	Ronnie's bill came to thirty dollars and he pulled out the five
hundred dollars from his pocket and handed a single bill to Munio, who in
return, gave Ronnie back seventy-dollars change and Ronnie handed a five
dollar bill to Munio for a tip. He picked up the pizza boxes and went out
the door up Amsterdam and crossed West 73rd when he heard someone behind
him calling him.

	"HEY!" Ronnie stopped and turned around. He saw a lone boy, about
eighteen or nineteen years old...light tanned skinned as if he were
Hispanic or Arabic...with black hair strung down onto his forehead, bushy
black eyebrows, and piercing dark eyes. He was wearing dirty jeans, a dirty
t-shirt, and a dirty woolen jacket. "HEY, RICH BOY!"

	"What?" Ronnie replied.

	"Let me see how much money you have in your pocket!"

	"How much money I have is none of your concern."

	"It is, when I'm broke. I...I think I need that money more than
you, rich boy."

	"Do you think you're man enough to come and get it!"

	"Oh, I KNOW I'm man enough! Are YOU man enough to stop me?"

	Ronnie set the pizza boxes down on the sidewalk and waited before
he took a tae kwon doe stance. Part of the success of the martial art was
the element of surprise. Ronnie didn't want his assailant to know he was an
expert. The thug made a lunge toward Ronnie and was met by Ronnie's quick
kick to the thug's midsection, causing him to fall backward on the hard
pavement. Without a moment's hesitation, the young guy pulled out a
switch-blade knife. The blade shimmered from the street light. Ronnie stood
his ground awaiting the second attack. Ronnie had no idea from out of
nowhere, a second assaulter had run in back of him and held his arms from
behind. The attacker on the ground pulled himself up and thrust the knife
blade into Ronnie's abdomen. Ronnie put his hand down and it, too, was
sliced on the backside as he felt hot blood gushing from his waist. Ronnie
tried to lean forward, but the first guy pushed him back to get to Ronnie's
pocket containing the four-hundred-plus dollars. Next he patted Ronnie's
left pocket, which was empty, finally going to the rear pocket and
retrieving Ronnie's billfold. Satisfied with his booty, the two goons ran
up Amsterdam, leaving Ronnie piled in a heap, bleeding on the concrete.


<><><><><><><><><><><><>


	Friday night, the night of the dance, finally came and Trent looked
like a nervous breakdown that was looking for a mental hospital. He was
going on his first date...EVER...and with a girl!...WANDA SELLS, to be
exact. To Trent's dismay, Granny Dee insisted that Trent wear his Sunday
suit, the one he always wore for church. Granny had gone outside to her
flower garden and snipped some pansies, violets, and baby breath. She tied
them together with a red and green ribbon, left over from Christmas two
years ago...and had made a floral wristlet for Trent to tie on Wanda's
arm. This was extremely humiliating for Trent to consider, but his granny
said that nice boys always bring a corsage for their dates, going to a
dance. It WAS actually pretty, Trent thought...but giving flowers to a
girl...a girl he hardly knew? It was revolting to him.

	It was arranged that Granny Dee and Trent would pick Wanda up at
her house around seven-thirty. The dance was to begin at eight. It was just
after seven o'clock and Granny Dee took Trent into the living room for
final inspection.

	"You look so growed up and handsome, Trent!" Granny Dee said.

	"Yeah, sure..." Trent replied, rather glumly.

	"I've a surprise for you!"

	"What? You're gonna surprise me by telling me I don't have to go?"

	"Heavens no! Your Uncle Cyrus sent you a gift."

	Trent became a little more excited. "Where is it?"

	"He even had it gift-wrapped!" Dee replied, handing a small box to
Trent. It was wrapped in black satin paper with gold ribbon. "Wow! I can't
imagine..." Trent's voice held a world of excitement as such a gift, so
beautifully wrapped.

	"Open it! It's for tonight, not Christmas!", Granny Dee was as
excited as her grandson was!

	The box was too beautifully encased for Trent to tear either the
paper or ribbon. He carefully peeled the Scotch tape and carefully opened
the gift paper until he saw the Gucci insignia on the top of the box.

	"What on earth...?"

	"You'll see..."

	It was a bottle of Gucci cologne. "My Lord! Do I drink it?"

	"No, you nincompoop! It's Cyrus' favorite after-shave lotion. It
must be terribly expensive. I remember I gave your dad a bottle of 'British
Sterling' after-shave for Christmas one year."

	Ronnie unscrewed the lid and discovered there was a spray
attachment on the top. He pushed it and the room was suddenly filled with
the aroma of Uncle Cyrus. "Whew! Granny Dee, that stuff smells strong."

	"That's because it's expensive. You'll only need just a drop on
each side of your neck and you'll be the sweetest smellin' boy at the
dance."

	"I'll DEFINITELY attract attention!"

	"Here, let ME squirt you."

	"Just a little, OK?"

	"I KNOW what I'm doin', Trent. Just keep your eyes straight ahead!"

	Dee sprayed a small amount of the cologne on either side of Trent's
shirt collar, stood back, and admired him.

	"Does it make me look different?"

	"Of course not, silly, but you DO smell like a man! You'd better be
glad I'm drivin' as your chaperone, little Wanda Sells might just try to
attack you and lose her...well, you know what!"

	"Well, I guess we'd better go."

	"What time does the dance start, eight o'clock?"

	"Yeah."

	"And what time do you want me to pick you up?"

	"How about five minutes AFTER eight?"

	"Boy, you sure are somethin'...a big, fine, strappin' young man,
afraid of a little frail girl like Wanda..."

	"Granny, it's not WANDA, I'm afraid of. It's EVERYONE else...seeing
me with her. The kids at school will still be talking about this for months
to come."

	"Well, you KNOW why I'm making you do this! I don't want them
calling you names if any of them gets an inkling Ronnie is your boyfriend."

	"Some day, boys will be allowed to go to school dances with their
boyfriends."

	"Maybe in New York or California, but NEVER in Weston, Tennessee!"

	"Ha! I just thought of something funny! If Uncle Dean or Uncle
Cyrus had to go to a dance, they'd more than likely invite YOU to go with
'em."

	"And I'D GO!"

	"I guess you would. Now let me go start the car while you lock the
doors. I'm gonna go over and sit for a spell with Cyrus and Dean while
you're at the dance. Do you think ten o'clock is a good time to pick you
and Wanda up?"

	"That's MORE than enough time. Ten is fine!"


<><><><><><><><><>


	It took every ounce of his manhood and willpower for Trent to get
out of the car and go knock on Wanda's door. He was still embarrassed by
the homemade floral wristlet and he held it behind his back as Wanda opened
the door.

	Ronnie thought she DID look rather pretty...for a girl. She had her
blonde hair in ringlets which bounced all over her head. Her mother had
taken Wanda to her hair stylist at Weston's Vanity Beauty Shoppe and Louise
Nolan, the owner of the parlor had given her a heat permanent by rolling
her hair in curlers wrapped in tin foil and attaching metal clips to the
curlers while the other end of the clips were connected to wired
cords...looking more like a feminine electric chair. Wanda thought she
could smell her hair burning, but after Louise combed out the hair, it was
filled with bouncy curls from the back of her head down to her neck. Wanda
felt grown up and beautiful. She was wearing a white satin dress which was
overlaid with white lace. It looked like a short wedding dress...and it
might have been her mother's when she was married.

	"Hello, Wanda...you...you...look beautiful," Trent said.

	"You look nice, too..." Wanda said, quietly and shyly.

	"Uh...here, I...I brought you these flowers to wear." Trent watched
closely to get her reaction.

	"Why, they're beautiful! What a lovely thought...and PANSIES!
They're my absolute favorites!"

	"The little white flowers are tuberose. They smell like perfume. My
Granny Dee attached 'em with this ribbon. I think you're suppose to tie it
onto your wrist."

	"Of course, I will. Would you tie it on for me?"

	Trent's hands were shaking as he tied the flowers onto Wanda's
wrist. He also felt a strong urge to pee. He should have gone before he
left and now the nerves were putting pressure on him.

	"Wanda, could I ask you a favor?"

	"Sure, Trent."

	"I...I gotta...I gotta go to the men's room...real bad. Can I use
yours?"

	"Trent, we don't have a men's room, but if you need to use the
bathroom, it's straight down the hall."

	Trent thanked her and had to cross the living room where Mr. and
Mrs. Sells were sitting. "Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Sells, but I have an
emergency to attend to."

	"My word, Trent!" Mrs. Sells exclaimed. "Is there ANYTHING I can do
to help?"

	J.R. Sells looked at his wife, "NO, Lucille, there's nothing you
can do to help Trent. The boy has to go to the bathroom. No doubt, Wanda is
his first date and he's as nervous as I was the first time I dated you. GO
ON, Trent, and take care of your 'emergency'."

	Lucille sat back down. J.R. opened up the newspaper and chuckled to
himself. Trent finished peeing and came back through, not knowing whether
to thank the Sells or not.

	"Excuse me, once again," Trent uttered.

	"Is the emergency over?" J.R. asked. "I mean, we don't have to call
the sheriff or an ambulance, do we?"

	"No, sir."

	"I was kidding you, Trent. You and Wanda go have a good time."

	"Thank you, sir. I'm sure we will!" Trent rushed back to
Wanda. "Are you ready?"

	"All except my coat. It's on the hook there, by the door."

	Trent got her coat and held it as she put it on, being careful not
to smudge the flowers. Granny Dee made a fuss over Wanda's dress when she
got inside the car. Granny and Wanda talked all the way to the school
gymnasium while Trent never said a word.

	Just as he had expected, when Trent and Wanda entered the gym,
their schoolmates all turned to look at the couple and began to whisper and
gossip began to buzz around the decorated gym. The disc jockey put on the
first selection and everyone went to the dance floor, including Trent and
Wanda. The selected tunes fit all occasions...some for the students and
some for the faculty. About every fourth or fifth record, an 'old's folk'
song was played...foxtrot, waltz, cha-cha, even a jitterbug. Most of the
school kids just stood and watched while the faculty danced to 'their'
tunes. BUT each time, Trent took Wanda to the floor to dance with the
adults. The entire student body, but much more so, even Wanda was amazed at
Trent's ability to dance all these old-fashioned dance steps. Ronnie had
taught every dance to Trent and Trent was MORE than adept. During the last
half of the jitterbug, the faculty cleared the floor while Trent and Wanda
outshone EVERYONE. The entire crowd burst into frantic applause when the
song finished.  Wanda's face was beaming with pride. The best dancer in the
school had asked her out for a date and she was taking full advantage of
Trent's dancing expertise.

	School mates who had never spoken to Trent who'd never stop to give
him the time of day in the past, came over and raved over him and
Wanda. They were the 'toast' of the dance...but in a good way. Several
times, under his breath, Trent had thanked Ronnie for the lessons. It was
nine-o'clock and the first hour had whizzed by. Trent got Wanda a cup of
punch while he went to the men's room for his 'second' pee. He was amazed
that he was actually having a good time. He went to the urinal, threw his
head back and whistled as he peed.

	"Trent, my man, you think you're hot shit, don'tcha?" came from a
voice behind Trent. Without turning, Trent knew it to be Farley Adams.

	"Oh, hi, Farley," Trent said, calmly. "Having a good time?"

	"No, but I know what could make things better..."

	"Oh...?"

	"Yeah, I'm still waiting for that blowjob you owe me."

	"Farley, PLEASE don't start that! I DON'T owe you a blowjob."

	"Where's your little twin boyfriend? IS he here to come and save
you like Bruce Lee?"

	"My friend's name is Ronnie and he's gone back home to New York!"

	"So, in other words, there's NO ONE here to save you OR to keep me
from getting you to go down on me?"

	"Farley, there are hundreds of students outside that door and half
the school's faculty. I'm not NOW or EVER going to do what you want."

	"Then let me clue you in---I have a buddy on the other side of that
door who'll stop ANYONE from coming in here. So why don't you just get down
on your knees while I pull my dick out and get it good and hard for you?"

	"Pull it out, Farley, and I promise I'll kick your dick inside your
balls. Everyone will think you stuck your own dick in your ass."

	"Not if I kick you first!" Farley took one step toward Trent and
kicked Trent solidly in his lower abdomen...knocking the breath out of
Trent. Trent fell forward, but only to find Farley's knee waiting to hit
his face to bloody Trent's nose. Trent didn't want to cry, but he was
crying just the same. Tears and blood were dripping down to his chin. "Want
some more before you suck me off?"

	"Please, DON'T! I...I'll do it! Just don't kick me again!"

	"That's more like it."

	Farley stepped even closer to the kneeling Trent. Farley unzipped
his trousers and pulled out his penis and began to wiggle it in front of
Trent's face. Trent looked up at Farley in sheer desperation and pleaded,
"Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

	"It's the only way I can be sure that you don't tell on me and
Mr. Simmons!"

	"I swore I wouldn't tell!"

	"Maybe and maybe not, BUT if YOU suck my dick, you'll NEVER
tell. You'll be as big a queer as Simmons."

	"WHO'S A QUEER?" cried out someone at the door. It was
Mr. Simmons. "Farley, what in hell do you think you're doing?"

	"I...I was trying to keep yours and MY relationship a secret!"

	"LET HIM UP...AND I MEAN NOW!"

	Simmons pushed Farley away and went to Trent to help him back to
his feet.

	"How...how did you get in here?" Trent asked.

	"Your grandmother's here to pick you up. I asked Wanda Sells where
you were and she said the men's room. Then I had to all but fight Carl
Gillis to get inside."

	"What time is it?"

	"A little after nine."

	"She...she wasn't supposed to pick me up until ten."

	"It seems there's been some kind of trouble. She didn't say what
and she came to get you early."

	"Did she say what KIND of trouble?"

	"No, but she was crying. You'd better go see her!" Trent slowly
went out the door. Simmons turned to look at Farley and said, "I'll deal
with you, MONDAY MORNING, MISTER ADAMS!"

	"I wouldn't say TOO much if I were you. You can lose your job. Me,
I'm still a minor."

	"We'll SEE what I can do!" Simmons walked out of the bathroom,
slamming the door behind him.

	All eyes in the gym turned to look at Trent, his disheveled clothes
and his bloody nose. There was another round of whispering when they saw
Mr. Simmons coming out of the restroom, followed by Farley Adams. Wanda ran
to help Trent walk across the floor toward the door where Granny Dee was
standing. She had been crying but her face turned white when she saw her
grandson.

	"MY LORD A-LIVIN'! What happened, Trent?"

	"I...I guess I danced too hard and got dizzy. I must have passed
out in the men's room and hit my nose on one of the lavatories."

	"Wanda, honey, go get me some ice in a tissue and bring it back. I
need to stop Trent's nose from bleedin'."

	"Yes, ma'am!"

	Wanda ran toward the refreshment table to get the ice.

	"Granny? Why are you here an hour early?"

	"Sweetheart, let me get you taken care of first, then we'll go over
to Cyrus' and Dean's!"

	"Mr. Simmons said there was some kind of trouble..."

	"I'll explain it to you later, but right now, I want to fix you
up."

	Wanda returned in a flash with the ice, wadded in a Kleenex, and
Dee pressed the ice on Trent's septum under his nose. Five minutes later,
Trent's bleeding had stopped. He looked up at Wanda and said, "I'm sorry,
but we're gonna have to go home early."

	"That's OK, Trent, Sally and Lyle said they would drive me
home. Your granny didn't say what the trouble was, but you'd better go take
care of that. I...I'll see you on Monday at school. Trent?"

	"Yes?"

	"I had a wonderful time. You're a great dancer. I hope you'll ask
me to the next dance?"

	"You'd go?"

	"I really would. You're such a nice boy. I hope whatever the
trouble is...it's not too bad."

	"Thanks for being my first real date," Trent said. "I had a good
time, too."

	"We'll do it again."

	"Okay."

	"Ready to go, Granny Dee?"

	"Yes, Trent, I left the car runnin' just down the steps from the
gym."

	Granny Dee and Trent sped away to Cyrus' and Dean's, but Granny
still wouldn't talk about the trouble until they arrived. Trent's mind was
racing through many scenarios...had their house burned? Had something
happened to Cyrus or to Dean?

	Dean opened Granny's car door when they were in front of the
house. Dean took Dee's hand to help her up the stairs. Trent followed
closely behind.

	Once inside the living room, Trent saw Cyrus in his easy chair,
sitting with his head down, resting on his hand and elbow. Cyrus' shoulders
were heaving up and down as in a deep cry.

	Trent stopped. He looked at Cyrus, Granny Dee, and finally at
Dean. His stomach felt weak and it wasn't due to Farley's kick.

	"What is it?" Trent asked Dean. "TELL ME! PLEASE! SOMEONE TELL ME
WHAT IT IS?"

	"Come here, Trent." Dean said, kindly, as he put his arm around
Trent's shoulder and walked him to the piano. They stopped when they got to
the wall where the autographed sheet music from Stephen Sondheim hung. "You
know this song, don't you?"

	"S..sh..shu...sure...I know it by heart."

	"Read this one line, here..." Dean pointed to a designated verse of
the song, "No One Is Alone".

	With his voice trembling, Trent read allowed, "...Some times people
leave you...halfway through the wood..."

	"Do you know what Steve meant by that?"

	"It's like...walking through life together with someone you
love...but sometimes he leaves you halfway through your lives
together. Dean, I'm frightened! Who left us?"

	"I'm afraid Ronnie left us...halfway through the wood..."


<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

(To be continued in chapter six of "Echoes From A Wishing Well".)

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