Date: Thu, 6 Jun 2013 22:50:05 -0700 (PDT) From: ritchchristopher@att.net Subject: Echoes-from-a-wishing-well-chapter-7-revised 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. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> "Echoes from a Wishing Well" Copyright Ritchris, 2008 (Revised Copyright, 2013) A Story by Ritch Christopher <><><><><><> chapter seven <><><><><> <><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Trent had to admit to himself that he felt rather grand, sitting in a New York apartment, talking on the telephone to Granny Dee in Tennessee. It was nine o'clock Saturday evening after Ronnie's memorial service and the night before he was to fly back home with Dean and Cyrus. "Trent, baby, did Ronnie have a nice funeral? Did his friends send lots of flowers?" "Ronnie didn't have a regular funeral, Granny Dee...and no one sent flowers." "Lands sake! You can't tell me that a sweet boy like Ronnie didn't have no friends up there in New York...?" "Ronnie had tons of friends, Granny Dee, only his daddy, Uncle Dean, and Uncle Cyrus thought it was best to have a memorial service for Ronnie instead of a funeral." "Well, wasn't his casket there at the memorial service? I mean, how does that differ from a funeral?" "Ronnie didn't have a casket, Granny Dee.". Trent bit his tongue, not knowing if his grandmother would approve of cremation. "Granny, they do things differently up here than we do in Tennessee." "Well, I know that they have funerals in New York. I've seen them on TV when somebody important died up there. I remember everyone dressed in yellow at Judy Garland's funeral as Liza requested." "I...I didn't...well, I DON'T want to upset you, but Ronnie was cremated." "Oh, my word! They burned up his poor little body...after he'd been murdered and all?" "Granny, I don't mean this to sound harsh, but Ronnie is in heaven with God and was no longer in his body. I know we don't do things like that back home, but LOTS of people are cremated." "Well, I guess it's one way to keep the bugs and worms from crawling all over you when you're in the ground." "Remember what the preacher said at mother and daddy's funerals... 'earth to earth, ashes to ashes'. That's what they did to Ronnie when he became ashes?" "That's just like New Yorkers, always rushing to take a shortcut!" Trent silently smirked rather than laughing out loud at his grandmother, but covered his moment of mirth by coughing. "Sorry, I swallowed the wrong way." "You haven't caught a cold up there, have you, son?" "No, the weather has been really nice." "I don't want you coming back here sick!" "Granny, I...I need to talk to you about something VERY important?" "Oh...?" "Well, it...it's about me coming home right away..." "You want to stay up there and go to that school, don'tcha?" Granny Dee had a way of getting instinctively right to the heart of a problem. "Well, I do, Granny...and I don't..." "Trent, baby, if the 'don't' concerns me, get that out of your head. You know, as long as Ronnie was there and wanted you to come live with him and go to his school, I told you about a dozen times, I was all for it. I mean, if you need money, I can still sell this old place and send you what I get for it." "No, Granny. I don't need money. I...I had a private conversation...well, two private conversations with Ronnie's dad. His name is Art. He told me that Ronnie's tuition for the year was already paid for...and if I wanted to use it...he wants me to..." "Would you be living with this Art?" "Yes, ma'am, in Art's apartment...in Ronnie's room. I...I've been sleepin' in there every night since I got here." "The first thing, Trent...I worry about the neighborhood. Isn't that where Ronnie was killed, God rest him?" "Yes, Granny, but anybody can be killed any place if it's God's will." "I guess you're right. There's no one who can change the will of God. If He wants to call you home, He can do it right here in Weston as soon as He can in New York." "I...I worry about leaving you alone." "Good heavens, child. I don't have to be alone. The Hopkins Orphanage is always looking for a place for young people to stay. I could move in a young girl or better still, a young boy to do your chores. He'd be my protector as well as being my companion." "Would you really consider doing that?" "Of course I would." "Promise?" "What if I give you my word?" "That would be enough." "All right, then, I give it to you!" "The sooner you find someone at the orphanage, the happier I'll be." "You know, Trent, if you're deciding NOT to come back to Weston, there's some news I can tell you which might help influence you to stay there in the city, some bad news..." "What bad news, Granny? Did somebody die?" "Well, yes..." "WHO, GRANNY? Don't keep me in suspense." "Well, you remember the other night when Jesse Simmons broke up that fight between you and Farley Adams at the school dance?" "Yes..." "Well, the very next night, Farley went over to Jesse's house. It was about midnight." "What happened?" "The way I heard it...Farley knocked on Jesse's door and Jesse came out on the porch in just his underwear and the two of them began arguing about something. That's a big mystery. No one knows what they were arguing about. But, gitting back to the point of my story, the argument must've gotten heated and Farley ran off the porch toward his daddy's truck and Jesse came a-runnin' after him. Farley reached through the window and got his daddy's shot gun and fired both barrels at Jesse's head...killed him dead instantly!" "MY LORD!" "That ain't all, Trent. Farley reloaded the shotgun and placed it on the ground so that the barrels were touching his chin and he fired the shotgun again and blew his brains out!" "OH, GOSH, NO!" "I'm SO glad you were out of town. I've thought for two days that if you'd been home, Farley might have come over here to shoot you, as well." "I...I don't know what to say, Granny Dee, but it does strengthen my point that I could as easily been killed on my front porch as Ronnie was killed in a New York pizza restaurant" "The whole town of Weston is shook up, to say the least. No one can understand why Farley hated Jesse enough to kill him. Do you have any idea, Trent?" "None that I can think of, Granny," Trent lied. He knew exactly what had happened and why...and yes, Granny Dee was probably more than right about her speculation. Farley would surely have tried to kill Trent as well. Trent felt his body shaking at the whole idea. "So, Trent, I guess what you said is right. You're just as safe in New York as you'd be in Weston." "So whaddya think about my stayin' up here, Granny Dee?" "Oh, honey, I just don't know. What do YOU think, Trent?" "You remember how you told me never to sit on old Mr. Tyler's wooden fence?" "I sure do. I told you that if you fell off the wrong way, his one-horned, one-ball bull would come a-runnin' after you like flies to doggie do-do." "That's what I'm feelin' like, now, Granny Dee. I'm sittin' on a fence. If I fall off one way, I'll be alone in a great big field and if I fall the other way, only the Lord knows what dangers will come a-runnin' after me." "If you're lookin' for my approval, you have it, Trent, whatever you decide!" "Granny, you know that Ronnie was planning on coming to Weston to see me at Thanksgiving and Christmas?" "Yes." "Well, I could do that same thing. It's September, only about ten weeks until Thanksgiving and I could come home to have turkey and lots of your home-made dressing. We could invite Uncle Cyrus and Uncle Dean and have a BIG Thanksgiving dinner!" "Trent, what are you going to do about school clothes? Do you want me to pack up your things and send them to you on the Greyhound bus?" "Granny, you know that Ronnie and I were the same size. He's got more clothes in his closet than Mrs. Miller has in her whole dry-goods store." "Well, is there ANYTHING down here I can send you?" "Just your love, Granny Dee. Nothin's as important to me as that." "Honey, I send you ALL my love and I don't need no Greyhound bus to send it. I'll make you some cookies and some Hershey fudge and white divinity candy every week so that you won't forget me or my cookin'. I don't want you goin' without food in New York! You eat like a bird anyway!" "I promise to eat more." "Trent, tell me more about Ronnie's daddy." "Granny Dee, he's really nice. But he thought I was Ronnie when he first saw me. I thought he was gonna collapse!" "I can see why. If you weren't mine, I could hardly have told you two apart, myself" "I don't think Art's actually rich, but he does have lots of money and knows a lot of famous people. Granny Dee, when I sang for him the first time, he cried." "Humph! That shows he knows real talent when he sees it. All these famous people he knows, he...he doesn't like to party, throw big drinking shindigs, does he?" "I don't think so." "What about when he's out of town. Will you be staying in that apartment by yourself?" "No. Art has a female assistant...about forty years old. Her name is Colette. I want you to meet her over the phone and let you get to know her. She was like a mother to Ronnie. She always stayed with Ronnie while Art is gone. I'll never have to spend a night alone." "Well, what does Cyrus and Dean have to say about your staying up there?" "I...I haven't told them yet. Heck, I haven't even told Art." "Well, I guess it'll have to be up to me to look after your two 'uncles' here in Weston while you're up there. Shoot! We can eat dinner three or four times a week together. They look as if they could use some home-cooked meals. Don't say anything to either of them, but they WON'T have to go to church on Sunday to eat with me every Sunday dinner. I still blush with shame every time I think how they were shamed by the preacher!" "That'd be great, Granny." "I won't. I think I'm gonna change churches anyway..I'd still like to tie a knot in Brother Jonathan's drawers...that mean old hypocrit! I still feel in my heart that God's gonna punish him for what he did! Why, I might go all the way backwards and become an 'Epistolpalian'! That'd show Brother Jonathan he can't insult from the pulpit!" "Just be careful and don't start a war in Weston!" "Trent, there's one more thing...and it's very important!" "What Granny?" "Listen good, Trent. It's no secret that you had manly feelin's toward Ronnie. I don't know how you feel now that Ronnie's gone, but if you decide that you ARE gay and find a boy you're attracted to...DON'T do anything unless you're sure and wear...well, wear one of those things if you have to. I don't want you catching no diseases...and you know what I'm talkin' about!" "Granny, Ronnie taught me all about being safe. Anyway, I...I don't know if I'll ever feel that way about any other boy. I think maybe I was gay because Ronnie was gay. However, I'm not as leery as I was about dating a girl...since I had such a good time with Wanda Sells." "Well, if it's a girlfriend you want, that'd be fine too...but be JUST as safe with her. Women can give you just as many diseases...even MORE...than men...including a baby, Trent!" "I'll see if Art will let me call you every weekend to keep you abreast of what I'm doing and what's going on up here...IF you'll keep me up to speed on what's happening in Weston?" "Lordy, I can afford a long-distance phone call. Don't you be running up Art's telephone bill. Any time you want to talk with me, you call collect, you hear? And, Trent, do you need any spending money?" "I don't think so. I have food, a nice place to stay...new clothes." "I'll mail you some money from my check every week." "Only if I need it, Granny Dee, but Uncle Dean has already offered to send me spending money...that is, when he was trying to get me to come to New York and go to school with Ronnie." "Well, then, I guess I can pull out my red crayon and start marking the days off the calendar until Thanksgiving." "I'll do the same." "STUDY HARD, Trent. Learn everything you can at that school and you'll be that big Broadway star you've always wanted to be. Lord-a-livin'! You'll be rich and can get me tickets to come see you in your first show!" "I promise I'll remember that in my prayers every night, Granny Dee." "I'll do the same." "So I guess that's all my news...except to say how much I love you and how much I'm gonna miss you." "Now don't you start getting homesick! STAY THERE!...Be brave, be courteous, and always be God-fearin'. I love you, too, Trent! I always have and always will." "Thanks, Granny Dee. Remember, IF you need me, it takes an airplane around an hour and a half to fly from New York to Knoxville and you know it's not that far from Knoxville to Weston by Greyhound, So I can be home in about four and a half hours...and that's not far at all! Well, I don't want to run up a big phone bill so I'll just say 'I love you and good night." "Good night, Trent, my little love..." Both hung up their phones. Neither's eyes were dry. After talking with his granny, Trent headed for the kitchen to get a Coke, but as he passed through the living room, he found Cyrus, Dean, and Art sitting there, quietly talking, mostly about where and when to scatter Ronnie's ashes. Feeling that he was unable to face this question, as well as asking himself whether or not he had the right to an opinion", Trent murmured an "Excuse me, I was thirsty and wanted to get something out of the Frigidaire." "Please go ahead, Trent, but then come back and chat with us," Art replied. With a flash of doubt, Trent went to the kitchen to get his soda. He had to steel himself but then came back into the living room and took a seat on the sofa with Art. his eyes held a multitude of questions. "Are you having trouble going to sleep?" Dean asked. "Yes...and no." "Are you packed for your flight home tomorrow?" Dean queried. "Well, yes, Uncle Dean...and no." "Boy, you're the master with definite, unequivocal answers!" Cyrus joked, though his face said that he felt unsure of himself. "Well, it's just that..." Trent's voice stopped in mid-sentence. "What is it, Trent?" Dean asked, gently. "Has Art said anything to the two of you?" Dean and Cyrus looked at each other, then at Art, and finally, back at Trent. "About what?" Dean asked. "Oh...nothing..." "Art, I'm puzzled. Is there something you're supposed to say to Cyrus and me? Do you and Trent have some great secret you're keeping between the two of you?" "I don't know, Dean! Really! Ask Trent," Art replied. "Well, we're back to square one. What's going on? Will one of you please clarify?" "I...I just talked to my Granny Dee in Tennessee." "Oh, and how is she?" "Same as always. Granny Dee is Granny Dee all the time." "What did she say, Trent?" Art asked, pointedly. Looking directly at Ronnie's father, Trent uttered the words, "She said, 'O.K.', Art!" "That's wonderful!" Art exclaimed, giving Trent a squeeze on his arm. "Uh, oh..." Cyrus murmured in a deep voice. "Uh oh, what?" Dean asked. "It looks to me as if there are only two of us taking that plane ride tomorrow." "What? Trent? You mean you're staying up here?" Before Trent could open his mouth, Art filled the void. "Yes!" he replied. "...and he starts the School For the Performing Arts...nine o'clock tomorrow morning!" "My God, Trent, that's wonderful news!" Dean said, excitedly. "But when did the two of you arrange all this?" "As soon as I heard him sing, Dean, I knew it had to be. Ronnie had told me, but I put it off to a youthful crush. Ronnie said it, but I didn't really believe him till I heard for myself. Trent has talent...REAL talent, and both of you old codgers know it. While the two of you were making the arrangements for Ronnie...oh, hell! I know I promised you I wouldn't talk to him, to try to seduce him into staying here...but Dean, Dammit! I had already paid Ronnie's tuition and I couldn't see a reason not to offer it to Trent, not to do what I KNOW Ronnie wanted. The only holdback was that I knew Trent had to audition to get into the school." "Usually, they do..." Cyrus interrupted..."unless the director of admissions and head selector on the audition committee is an old friend of ours." "Cyrus, did you call him? When?" "The first week Ronnie was down in Tennessee. I called the school, asking what I could do to get Trent accepted IF he decided to come back with Ronnie. I can't explain it, but I felt so sure that Ronnie would convince Trent to come with him, I called to see if they had room for the best singer they could have. On my word, Trent was accepted. So if Trent is using Ronnie's tuition..." Dean sighed deeply, but it didn't indicate a sadness. Instead it seemed to welcome a new day. "Why do I suddenly feel I'm in the Twilight Zone? The three of you, plotting in different ways behind my back and I had no idea..." "Well, I've heard that some people can get Alzheimer's in their late thirties. You know you passed that two decades ago...YOU'VE GOT TO KEEP YOUR MIND ALERT, DEAN! KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON AROUND YOU!" Cyrus laughed. "Of course he's gonna be living here in Ronnie's room...and while I'm out of town, Colette will take care of Trent as she always took care of my Ronnie." "CHRIST!" Dean said, sinking deeper into his chair. "I'm flabbergasted...but PLEASANTLY flabbergasted." "Are you excited, Trent?" Art asked. "Honestly? I scared half to death!" "Well, you'd better get used to being envied. When your classmates hear you sing, they're going to be envious as all get out!" "Do...do you really think I'm good?" "That good and better, boy!" "He's not kidding, Trent," Dean added. "Now, the way I see it," Art continued. "Trent will graduate when he's almost eighteen. I think he's going to need some kind of musical vehicle to properly exhibit his talents." "Meaning...?" Dean asked, suspiciously, but smiling a bit. "Meaning, that since you both seem to love Trent just as you did Ronnie, this would be just about the right time for you two to write a show...a new Barnes/Barger musical to star Trent." "Good God!" Cyrus bellowed. "Do you feel what I feel, Dean? That we're being blackmailed into getting back to work?." "Yep, I get that feeling, too. Art, I'll agree on one condition," Dean said. "That you, Art, will direct it!" "You know, I was hoping you might think of me..." "GOSH!" Trent exclaimed. "It should be something along the lines of 'Greenwillow'...about a boy in a small town, only a Southern town. A boy who loves to practice singing down a wishing well..." Dean said. "Oh, hogwash! Who'd ever believe ANYONE could do that?" Cyrus asked, with a twinkle in his eye. "I DID THAT!" Trent said." "We know, Trent, Your Uncle Cyrus was kidding you." "What are you all talking about?" Art asked. "Ronnie taught me how to practice my speech and singing by speaking and singing into the wishing well on Granny Dee's farm. My echo would come back up and I could hear what I sounded like. You know, like a tape recorder." "Ronnie taught you to do that?" Art said, choking up. "Yeah, he taught me that and...and lots more. We practiced dancing. We got two tomato stakes and he taught me how to fence." "It seems that Ronnie did in advance what the school is supposed to teach you." "Echoes from a wishing well...? How does that sound? Cyrus? Art?" Dean asked. "It sounds wonderful, Dean," Art responded. "Does that title give you some any ideas for songs?" Dean asked Cyrus. "Sure does...and it has a natural vibe for your kind of lyrics." Cyrus replied. "Two years, huh?" Dean said, thinking out loud. "That should just about do it!" "Oh, Art," Trent said quietly. "If it's okay, I told Granny Dee that I would come home to Tennessee for Thanksgiving and Christmas." "Sure, it's O.K...that is, if you don't mind me coming with you. Christmas might be just a little bit lonely this year...but if I'm free and if I have you, Dean, and Cyrus to help me through the holidays..." "AND GRANNY DEE!" Trent added. "Of course Granny Dee! I can't wait to meet her." "Hell's bells, Art! Do you have any champagne? I think we should have a toast...a toast to the memory of Ronnie...and to Trent's new beginning!" "ME, TOO?" Trent asked. "Just half a glass, but we won't let Granny Dee know about it!" Dean replied. Art went to the portable bar, opened the fridge, and found a good champagne, one which Colette had bought. He took it into the kitchen to ice it in a bucket. Dean got four fluted glasses from the back of the bar and as it was carried back into the room, Art popped the top...filling three glasses and a partial glass. "Art, would you like to make the toast?" "Thanks, Dean." Everyone held their glasses high as Art said, "Here's to my first son, Ronnie, wherever he is, I hope he'll always know that he's still loved and always will be. Here's to my second son, Ronnie's love, and now, my love, Trent, on the beginning of his new life...and here's to 'Echoes From A Wishing Well', the new hit musical by Barnes and Barger. May it run for twenty years...and break you-know-who's Broadway record!" The four clinked their glasses and sipped their champagne. It was the first alcoholic drink Trent had ever tried. It made his nose burn for a moment and, before it made him sneeze, he spit his sip back into the glass. "Is that some Tennessee custom?" Cyrus joked, seeing Trent's reaction. "It MUST be!" Dean replied. "Then let's ALL do it!" Dean, Cyrus, and Art spit what was left in their mouths of the champagne back into the flutes. Everyone broke into solid laughter. But, through the merriment, Trent thought of Ronnie. <><><><><><><><><><><> Around 2:00 am, Trent was in bed, but still wide awake, thinking about going to school and wondering what to expect. 'Would the other kids accept him, or make fun of him?' Cyrus and Dean were in the guest bedroom, each trying to go to sleep, but Cyrus was kept awake by new tunes running through his mind and Dean was finding a plot line for the book haunting him, and trying to think of words to rhyme with 'echoes'. Art was alone in the living room, thinking, remembering his son, his love.. Making a decision, he picked up the tiny urn containing Ronnie's ashes, and, holding the last earthly remains of his flesh and blood, hugging it tightly to his chest, he went out the door and down West Seventy-fourth to hail a cab on Amsterdam Avenue. His destination, he told the driver, was 44th and Broadway. Reaching that spot, he got out and walked one block west to the famous Shubert Alley. The theatre crowd had long since disappeared and the 'alley' was virtually empty. Art walked down the thoroughfare looking at all the Broadway placards and the billboards advertising the best that Broadway had to offer currently. Art stopped in the middle which was almost adjacent to the Shubert Theatre. After a moment which would forever be his own private thought, he opened the urn and slowly sprinkled the ashes from one end of the alley to the other. When he finished, Art turned and said, "Son, this might not be the Broadway debut that we had planned together, but I know there's no place you'd rather be. So rest well, Ronnie. Rest well, my little love." With the diepensation of Ronnie's ashes taken care of, pleased with this memoriam, Art, Dean, Cyrus, and Trent returned to Art's apartment. As the four were settling down in the living room, Art went inside his studio and brought back a huge box, all wrapped in gift paper and ribbon. He took the package to Trent. "This is for you, Trent..." Art said, with a choke in his throat, "For ME? Why?" "It's a gift which Ronnie bought for you just a few days ago. Since you had decided at that point that you were going to remain in Tennessee, we were going to U.P.S. it to you. It's a present that comes in two parts. Would you like to open it now?" "SURE! I just hope it's nothing too embarrassing and private!" "It IS definitely private but NOT embarrassing." Trent took cautious pain to unwrap the big box, trying not to tear the paper. Cyrua was impatient as ever. "Damn it, Trent! Rip the paper! We can always buy new paper and rewrap it if it's that important to you!" "Leave Trent alone!" Dean scolded. FINALLY! The gift was unwrapped, Art handed a knife to Trent to cut the tape holding the cardboard box together, Unfolding the top four panels of the box, Trent took a look and gasped. "Oh my gosh! Did...did Ronnie buy this for me?" "Especially for you." "Well, dammit! Let's see what it is!" croaked Cyrus. The contents of the box were heavy, but Trent raised up the large item. It was a beautiful tape recorder and beneath it was a smaller, hand-held tape recorder.Trent's face lit up like Rockefeller Center. Art said, "Trent, remove the lid and look where the recording heads are housed." That's when he noticed a gold placque about two inches square. It had been engraved, "Trent: This is your portable electronic wishing well". Love Ronnie. Trent felt he had just won a gold medal at the Olympics as he lowered his head to kiss the placque. <><><><><><><><><><><> AUTHOR'S NOTE: The first non-revised version of this chapter was posted on September 27, 2007...the same date that the Matthew Shepard/James Byrd, Jr. anti-hate bill was voted on by the U.S. Senate. It did not have the support of President Bush and the bill was defeated twice by the Republican Controlled House with a few concervative Democrats. Tons of my readers wrote me hate mail on killing Ronnie. I answered each one with the reason that they could help Ronnie and many more real 'Ronnies' as he by writing or contacting their congressman or senator. In 2008 when the 'then' Senator Barack Obama was running for President, One of the planks in his platform was to push the bill through both the House AND the Senate and sign it into law ASAP. After Obama's Presidential election in November 2008 and was sworn in as President on January 2009, now being President, he could no longer introduce a bill in either the House OR the Senate. So in April 2009, Democrat Representative John Conyers from Michigan and openly gay Congressman Barney Frank from New York introduced the bill into the House for the fifth time and THIS TIME, the House passed the bill. Now it was time to go to the Senate. SO, who else, but Senator Ted Kennedy attached the bill as a rider to the National Defense Authorization Act where five Repulican Senators 'crossed the aisle' to the Democrats side and thus the bill was FINALLY approved. True to his campaign promise, President Obama signed the bill into law on the afternoon of October 28, 2009...and that was only one reason that Les and I worked day and night, raising funds, and contacting gay organizations to get behind Obama and give us e pluribus unum...one from many...actually, over 1,100 rights which are denied to gays, but rightfully belong to us, including one that Obama recently signed giving the partner the right to make 'final decisions' at any hospital which accepted Medicare or Medicaid as payment. It's a start but still a long way to go. "Don't ask, don't tell" was passed and Minnesota Congress makes 12 states okaying gay marriages...almost 25% of the entire U.S. I'm so glad the gays supported Obama in 2012, considering we had Presidents who wouldn't acknowledge the word 'aids' and another who fought tooth and nail against gay rights. Ritch and Les <><><><><><><><><><> (To be continued in chapter eight of "Echoes From A Wishing Well".