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Meeting No. 5 July 22

"Hi, I'm Jakob. With a K. And I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Jakob," the group replied.

"Today is three months for me. Three months without a drink. Last winter I would not have thought such a thing was possible. I've been in the shelter for a little while now, so ... at least I have a bed still. Kind of. The folks there are nice. They got me looking professional enough that I got a job. I've only worked a week; it's just at a QT, but I'm actually earning money. We get paid every other Friday, so I should get my first check next Friday. It will only be a few days' worth on it, but it will be the first money I've earned — at a job — in months."

Jakob looked around the group. We were in a circle today. There were maybe 20 of us tonight. I vaguely remembered him at previous meetings, but he looked like he was doing better than I remembered.

"I just went into the shelter because I just couldn't live without a bed anymore. Yeah, it's by no means private, but the people are really nice. I can eat too. Gerard there helped me look more presentable for an interview. I didn't have any names to put down for references. He said I could put his name down. I did not want to disappoint him, so I plan to work hard. We sell beer there, but that's no problem. I ... I don't want to drink. I see it while I am at work, but ... I don't want it. Well, something in me wants it ... that's why we're here, right? ... but despite the addiction, I don't want it. I try to remember in my mind when I was at my lowest point — on a bench with nowhere to go."

Jakob momentarily paused. Despite his best efforts, his eyes welled. It was only a second, and he wiped it away with his hand.

"But I have a job. And ... I'm now officially three months sober. So that's something.

"That's it."

The group clapped.

When we were in a circle, most people didn't stand. The chairperson just acknowledged them, and they spoke from their seat. I noticed one person stood, but she was the only one. I don't know if that made it less scary or what. I wasn't nervous tonight. I held up my hand and the chairperson nodded to me.

"Hi, I'm Lance. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Lance," the group replied.

"I feel good. Well, as good as one does at an AA meeting, I suppose. It's only been a couple of weeks, not quite three since I had a drink, but my head feels clearer. I get this dumb cast off tomorrow. I still have to wear a ... wrist thing ... to protect it, but that should feel better. Despite my hand, I think I'm doing great at my job. I seem happier. I feel better about myself.

"I'm not really sure when I actually feel good about myself. When I scored well on tests, that was nice. When I played well in basketball, I loved it when my teammates cheered when I scored. But I'm not sure when else I feel good about myself. I guess I always wanted to feel accepted. I'm not sure if I felt like I ever was. I guess I did in high school. I had a friend spend the night once my junior year. Kids always liked to sleep over. It was fun. My brother called me gay the next day. I don't know why. He was kind of a jerk, I guess. Since then, I'm not sure if I have felt good about myself. I just enjoy certain things, but they don't make me feel good about myself. I just feel good about the things. I'm just happy I no longer grab a beer ... or a drink ... just because I don't feel good. And now, for the first time in years, that alone makes me feel good about myself.

"Thank you."

The group clapped.

I was helping put chairs away 20 minutes later. I saw Ophelia waiting for me.

"Hi," I smiled.

"Hi, Lance. I appreciated your share tonight."

"Thanks. I've become aware how powerful listening is. I ... enjoy isn't the word ... I shouldn't enjoy hearing people tell about their struggles ... but there is something therapeutic about listening to others who also hurt but also want hope."

"Good for you. I tend to agree."

"You didn't share tonight."

"No," she said. "I didn't really have anything to say."

"How was your week? When do you get to see your daughter next?"

"This weekend. I'm excited."

"What are your plans?" I asked.

"Well, she's at a strange age. Doing things with `Mommy' is so lame, but she also wants to do something of some sort. School is coming up. I thought we might shop for some new clothes."

"Do you all still get along?"

"Fairly well. I was bad for a year. It wasn't good between us. Then the divorce. She hasn't forgotten all that. I think she wants to be closer, but she keeps me at arm's length as a safety mechanism. Not to get hurt, I guess."

"Um, I'm not really a coffee drinker, but can I at least buy you a cup across the street? That is, if you feel like visiting."

"That's sweet of you. I'd like that, but no need for you to pay. I can do that."

"If you insist."

Minutes later, she was drinking a large decaf with sprinkles of cinnamon. I had a raspberry smoothie.

"It won't be long until pumpkin spice is out," she said.

"Oh, you're one of those people," I said with a touch of snark.

We both laughed.

"Ophelia, you seem fine. How did you come out of the whole ... PTA dethronement thing?"

"Well, my husband does pretty well. I do get alimony in the settlement. That helps. I feel guilty. Maybe someday when I'm totally secure — financially — I won't accept it anymore. Luckily for me, one of the board members also had a family member recover from alcoholism. She was very supportive. She helped me land my job, and I've worked hard. It is going well. I don't make enough to give up the support, but with that ... I'm fine."

"When I look at the chip on my fridge, I sometimes just mathematically estimate what I was spending on beer each week. It's staggering," I said.

"Tell me about it."

We sipped our drinks.

"Do you have good friends, Lance?"

"Not a lot, but a few good ones. You remember Trent."

"Oh yes. Is it too personal to ask how you are in regard to him?"

"Am I still in love with him?" I breathed in and held it. I pondered my answer. Then I exhaled slowly. "I'm not over him. I'll never be over Trent. He is exactly what I want ... I could spend the rest of my life with him. So, no. At the same time, every time I see him with Mike ... his boyfriend ... they are SO right together. They are so happy. And yet, Trent and I have an incredible friendship. I don't know how many friends can say they love each other. We do all the time. To say that cuts too deep for most people, that bares too much of your soul, I suppose. But the two of us let our guards down all the time. We can say anything ... ANYthing ... to each other. So, I do try to not think of Trent in an `in love' way, but just `I love him as a friend way.' I'm making tiny progress. Tiny."

"Well, I'm no psychologist, but you'll find someone new. Then a strong friendship — if you can keep it — will be a bigger blessing. You are a handsome man. You won't have any trouble finding someone to share your life with."

"I'm too young for you, Ophelia. You flirt."

We both laughed. She covered her face and waved her hand at me.

"Child, I'm 43. I should say so."

"But I thank you for the compliment," I said. "These meetings are doing me a world of good, but the hardest thing for me is to know I'm the youngest one there. And by the way, you don't look 43."

"I've seen a few not much older than you in the past few months. There are some that come that are in their 20s. Jakob is."

"I cannot believe he was homeless at one point. Well, I guess he still is. He's in a shelter."

"That's hard. He got kicked out by his family so early in his life."

"Because he was gay, right?"

She nodded.

"It's too bad Cooper is hung up on someone at work — well, and still married. You two would be very cute together."

"He's in his 30s. That would be a little weird. But then again ... Trent and Mike."

"His love life is a bit of a mess right now. Steer clear."

We smiled at that. We were about done with our beverages.

"Thank you for talking with me, Ophelia. You're very nice."

"You are sweet. I enjoy your company. Will you be coming next Wednesday?"

"I like it when you are there, so ... I plan to be."

We got up to say goodbye.

"Is it okay if I hug you, Lance?"

"Absolutely. Any time."

We gave a simple embrace, and I told her I would see her next week.

Evan was home when I returned, but it looked like he oddly turned in early, or perhaps was working on his laptop in bed. Either way, his door was closed, and the light was out.

I brushed my teeth and prepared for bed. It just seemed too early.

I opened my laptop. I didn't like to watch porn when Evan was home, not that I did it a lot. It's not fun with the volume down. I had a folder of shirtless men in my documents. Some of them were a little more than shirtless. I decided to search for a few more images to add.

As I clicked through pictures of men in certain levels of undress, I wondered if I had a type. I hated anything remotely effeminate. Piercings were a huge turnoff. So many men online had tattoos. Understated was fine. Too pumped up was too much. I liked facial hair — heaven knows Mike is a hunk — but it wasn't vital. I wished I had chest hair; I found it so sexy. I still liked looking at guys my age.

Then I saw it. A picture that reminded me of Elijah. It reminded me of the friend I had just talked about in my share tonight. It wasn't him, but I had to look twice. I wondered what Elijah was doing.

 

 

"I hope you two will be fine in the tent," Mom said. "Don't try to make s'mores or anything. No fires. The patio door is open if you need a snack or to go to the bathroom, obviously."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wheeling," Elijah said.

"Are you sure you boys won't be too cold in just the tent?"

"We'll be fine, Mom. We have the sleeping bags and extra blankets. If it gets too uncomfortable, we can simply go inside."

"I suppose. Have fun. Don't stay up too late," Mom said, turning back to go inside. "No fires," she reminded before shutting the door.

"She's so lame," I said.

"Your mom is great," Elijah said.

We carried simple items into the tent: a lantern and flashlight, chips and a cooler of bottled water and Sprite, an extra blanket for each of us, playing cards, our iPods and toothbrush toiletries. The temperature was in the 70s as the sun set. We were in sweatshirts as the air had a hint of chill, but still in basketball shorts. The two of us had shot hoops a couple hours earlier.

I was a couple inches taller than Elijah. I had no chest hair; he was starting to grow some. He had thick dark hair and just the beginning of a moustache. He had made no attempt to shave it. We had known each other for a few years. I had stayed over at his place a couple times. The most recent was in the spring. We only had a week left before school was out. Our studies were pretty much done, so both our parents agreed to a Friday night sleepover.

We played basketball several times over last summer. I saw a few movies with him as well, sometimes with other friends, sometimes with just him. This was the first time we spent the night together in my junior year.

With the lantern illuminating the tent, we sat on our sleeping bags and played cards for a while. Along the way, we talked about different teachers, gym, some fellow students we both had in our classes and occasionally pretty girls. We debated which movie we saw over the summer was best. We both had our driver's licenses, and we each confided stories of mistakes we had made that our parents didn't know about. As we talked about parents, I gathered I liked mine better than he did his. They were too strict in his opinion. Really religious. I asked if he had ever had a beer. He said no. I told him my brother had slipped one to me last year, but I didn't like it that much.

We scarfed down the chips and soda. He accidentally farted, and I gave him no shortage of grief. He was embarrassed, but we were laughing so hard it didn't matter.

At around midnight, he went inside to pee. I sat on the patio looking up at the moon. He came back out and sat in the chair next to mine.

"You guys have a much bigger backyard," Elijah said.

"I guess. We don't do a whole lot in it. Mom has her flower beds. I used to play catch with Dad, but we haven't done a lot in it as a family, to be honest. These `campouts' I do from time to time are about it."

We went back inside the tent. I squirted some toothpaste on my brush. Using a bottled water, I brushed and rinsed, leaning out of the tent to spit. Elijah did the same. We situated the sleeping bags and blankets to make things as comfortable and as warm as we could.

I went in to pee this time. When I came from the house back into the open air, I could feel that the temperature had dropped. I figured we should still be warm enough.

When I got back inside the tent, Elijah had taken all clothing off except his underwear. As cool as it had gotten, I was a bit surprised. I figured we would sleep in shorts and sweatshirts. I took my sweatshirt off, but still had a T-shirt on. I kind of felt pressured to take off my basketball shorts; I wasn't sure why.

We lowered the lantern to the lowest setting. There was just a glimmer to where we could make out each other. As my eyes adjusted, I could see his body a little better.

We made up a game to where we picked a topic and each of us went back and forth until one of us couldn't add something to the list: things that come in a can, Will Smith movies, brands of cigarettes, players on Orlando Magic, things that are red that you can eat, different names for penises ...

"Hey, Lance," Elijah asked softly. "Do you ever jack off?"

"Uh. Yeah." I was not prepared to be asked that question. "Do you?"

"All the time," he answered.

"Oh."

"Want to right now?"

"I don't know. That's kind of weird."

"What weird? All guys do it. Do you wanna?"

I didn't answer. I didn't know if I wanted to. It felt like that was something you do in private. No one should see me do that. But do grown up men do it together? Could we? I didn't know any of these answers.

Elijah didn't wait. He pulled his underwear down below his balls. He flopped his dick around his crotch.

Now I felt like I had to. I pulled my underwear down and my cock hung to the side.

"Shit!!" Eli said. "Your dick is huge!"

His was not. It wasn't even close to being called big. Not tiny, but nothing of any notable length. I didn't know if it was a compliment or if I was a freak show or what. As Eli looked at my anatomy, his started getting longer.

"It's not fair. You get a gigantic dick. Even when I'm hard it isn't as big as yours."

Within seconds, his dick had lengthened, and his erection curved back toward his navel. It probably wasn't five inches. Knowing he was looking at mine, I got hard. Mine was at least eight.

Elijah started pulling on his cock. I fondled mine, stroking it lightly but feeling a little weird. As new to me as this was, I found myself continuously looking at Elijah masturbate. I stared at his cock. I pulled on my rod a little harder. Neither of us made any sound at all. We just started breathing a little heavier. We pulled our erections for a few minutes. Eli finally broke the silence.

"Fuck yeah. I'm gonna come."

I watched him spurt streams of cum from his stiff tube of flesh. Each time cum squirted out, my cock jumped in my hand. I was mesmerized.

"Fuckin' cool," he said, sitting up to reach for a napkin.

He wiped all the thick semen off his chest. I noticed more things about him. He had a little chest hair. It went from his pecs in a stripe down to his bush, which was thick and jet-black dark. I hadn't really seen a lot of guys' crotches before. I wanted to look more, but he pulled his briefs back up. After he did that, I felt instantly awkward with only my dick sticking out.

"Your turn," he said.

"No. That's okay," I said, pulling my underwear up too. "I'm fine."

"Oh, c'mon man. Don't stop now."

"It's okay."

I wasn't sure what I was feeling. It was scary and weird and thrilling and complicated.

"I think I'll just try to fall asleep. Good night." I rolled on my side facing away from him.

"Good night."

My eyes were wide open. I didn't know what I was feeling. My blood felt like it was on fire running through me. I remembered the last time we had a sleepover. Elijah's bed was not a queen size bed, but a full size. It was a little tighter than my bed indoors. I remembered waking up in the middle of the night. It took me a second to remember where I was, but I felt Elijah's leg pressed up against mine. His warm skin was touching mine. At the time, I didn't think anything of it. Elijah was clearly far more comfortable with himself than I was. Or maybe none of this meant anything.

 

—

 

I had no idea what time it was. I might have been asleep 30 minutes or four hours. I felt something that was stirring me out of my sleep, but I didn't know what. I felt a hand rubbing my dick in my briefs, but it took me a few seconds in my drowsy state to realize it wasn't my hand. It felt familiar, except the touch wasn't mine.

I was paralyzed.

Eli's hand was just gently feeling my cock. I was hard. Rock hard. Steel girder hard. He worked his hand out of my briefs to pull the waistband below my balls. Next, he tugged my underwear to slip under my ass. I lifted my butt to make it happen. I wasn't sure why.

As the cobwebs cleared, I realized Eli was all but in my sleeping bag. The flap opened toward him. He had moved his closer to me. They were like one. My cock was easily in reach, and he gripped it again. A little harder this time. His strokes were more forceful. It was like a lightning bolt was shooting through my erection. This hand on my dick felt amazing but out of place. He kept yanking and rubbing me harder. I heard him whisper the word "lucky" as he groped my pole. The feelings were so pronounced that my breathing was now audible. I said nothing. I made no sounds. I just breathed.

Elijah didn't stop. He had to know I was awake by now. He pulled on my shaft with a strong grip. I could feel all sorts of sensations building in my groin. It felt incredibly pleasurable. I was still in my T-shirt. I moved my arms to pull it off my chest. I felt exposed, but my cock felt amazing. Really amazing. Fucking amazing. My crotch felt like an oil well about to burst. I did.

I was coming all over my chest. I shot lines of thick cum across my navel and to my nipples. Eli heard it land. He yanked me harder knowing I was feeling my orgasm. My hips bucked. I was panting. When my waist stopped squirming, he loosened his grip on my stiff cock. I let out a breath. My body shuddered a moment in the cool air.

I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything.

It was so dark, I could barely see anything at all, but I slightly made out the shadow of his head move over my chest. Then I felt his tongue lick the lines of cum off my chest. He would follow one up until he was sure it ended. He explored for about two minutes, making sure he got it all.

I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything.

He lied back down. He was only a foot away. I wasn't sure why, but I reached over to his body. I felt his cock. It was hard again. He took my hand and squeezed it around his dick. I moved it away. I realized he was completely naked. He had taken his underwear off.

I rolled back over on my side. He moved up behind me and put his arm around me. I could feel the head on his stiff penis touch me in my ass. I pulled up my briefs.

I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything.

 

—

 

The morning sun slowly caused me to open my eyes. I had no idea how long I had slept. I had been in some sort of freaked-out shock for a while after ... what exactly happened?

I didn't know what to say when he woke up.

He rolled over. I saw him stand up. There was enough light I could see him fully nude. I didn't take my eyes off him. He found his underwear and slipped them on. Then he put on all his clothes.

"Cold," he softly said.

Elijah got back into his sleeping bag, moving a little further away from me.

We both tried to fall back asleep.

 

—

 

"Boys! Come in for breakfast."

The two of us stirred. I still was only in my underwear. He was fully dressed.

We looked at each other. I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything. He turned away.

"I gotta pee, dude," he said and walked toward the house.

I heard my mother greet him. My mind was a cyclone of uncertainty. What the hell happened? Why did it happen? Did I hate it? Did I like it? What was it? I scrambled around to get dressed.

I walked in. Elijah was returning from the bathroom.

"My turn. Morning, Mom."

Oliver had been in town for the weekend. He was already out of college but still visited at least one weekend a month. The five of us gathered around the dining room table. Mom had fresh fruit, muffins and scrambled eggs.

"Were you guys sleeping outside last night. It was too cold for that," Oliver said.

"It wasn't that bad," I said.

"Fags!" he replied.

"Oliver!" Mom and Dad scolded.

"I'm just ribbing `em."

"We're not fags," I said sternly.

Later after Elijah had left, I went to take a shower. As I stepped into the warm spray, I remembered Eli's tongue all over my chest. As I rubbed soap on my body, I did it tracing the movements he had made as best I could remember them.

I didn't feel good about myself.

 

Elijah and I did very little after that night. We saw each other, said hello, waved now and then, but didn't play much. Never just the two of us, but occasionally with friends.

I couldn't even remember what college he went to.

 

—

 

Evan and I had dinner together the next night. I thought back to the years where he and I spent a lot of time together at family gatherings.

"Evan," I started, but then immediately stopped.

"Yeahhh??"

"Nothing."

"What? Lance. We're roommates; we're cousins. What?" he insisted.

"Are you okay with me being open?"

"Well, sure. We've known each other since forever."

"Yeah." I hesitated. "Since I have been going through the program, I find myself opening up a little more to people."

"I guess that's ... good? Right?" he said, unsure.

"Yes, it is. I have a hunch I've held things in for too long. I'm sure it wasn't healthy. I couldn't even say `I'm gay' until a few weeks ago. Remember when we were in high school? Did you think I was gay?"

"Boom. I was NOT expecting that question," Evan said, looking blindsided. "But no. Not until I found out when I moved in here. I didn't have any idea."

"We used to be pretty close when we were younger, but as we got into high school, we didn't seem to do as much at gatherings. I just wondered if you suspected and was uncomfortable with it."

"Lance, are you worried I have a problem with you being gay? If so, I'm totally okay with it. It doesn't bother me in the slightest. I had two or three friends in college who were out."

"Why didn't you spend as much time with me in high school then?"

He looked perplexed. I'm not sure if he was prepared to answer.

"I don't think I consciously made any type of decision to do less. We probably had just developed different interests. But if I had to psychoanalyze myself, part of me probably didn't want to be compared to you."

"What do you mean?"

"You were taller, you were better built, you were better at sports. I hate to sound crass, but I even saw your dick when you took a leak somewhere at some point. You're big, I'm not. We were with family. I am sure I didn't want to have everybody compare us side by side."

"That's silly." I reflected on what he said. "And truth be told, I doubt many of our relatives have seen my dick."

We both laughed.

"You were just ... turning out great in high school," Evan said. "I was nothing. Just average. Maybe that was it."

It's funny how teen insecurities work. I didn't feel good about myself back then either.

 

* * * *

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