Kurt
Life in The
Village, and the `coming of age' of a student at its remote school,
through his own eyes.
This is an
original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)
Copyright 2013-2022. Robert
Armstrong. This complete work of literary art is protected by US,
Australian and International copyright law. It is the sole property of the
author and may not be reproduced in any form whether in whole or in part
without the prior express written consent of the author.
License is granted to Nifty Archive Alliance, Inc. for electronic publication
on the Nifty.org website. All rights reserved.
The resemblance
of the characters by action, name, location or description to any real person
is purely coincidental.
If it is illegal,
or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature
between adults and youths, then what are you doing here?
From
Chapter 91:
We have a few
minutes of pleasantries with Mum and Ma and Pa on the phone and I finish with,
"We'd better go now. See you soon! Love you all!"
"Love you too!"
Mum tells us, then we hang up before she disconnects.
I can imagine her
still holding her phone, listening for any final word from us.
"Thank you so
much, Mr Grant," I tell him. "For everything."
We retrieve our
bags and hats from the back seat and Mr Grant gives us both a hug.
After watching him
slowly drive away, we walk very quietly to Ma and Pa's front door.
"Why don't you
ring the bell?" I suggest to my brother.
Then we wait.
It's Mum who opens
the door, looks at us, then, extending her arms, lets out a joyous scream.
"Didn't I just tell
you that we'd see you soon?" I say. "Merry Christmas!"
Chapter
92 – Christmas in Brisbane
I'm surprised that no neighbours have come out to see
if there is someone in distress who needs help!
"My boys!" Ma cries out, nudging past Mum to get to
us, to hug us as well.
Pa is standing back, either patiently, or lost for
words. I should tell him about keeping his mouth closed or he'll catch flies.
But, maybe they're not as bad here as they are at home!
It's hard to tell whether Mum and Ma are laughing or
crying.
It looks like both!
While they are busy wiping their overflowing eyes,
it's Pa who steps forward, separates us from Mum's and Ma's grips, shakes our
hands, and invites us in.
"Boys," he tells us. "This is a wonderful surprise.
Your mother was only telling us last night how much she missed you, especially
at Christmas, and wondered when she was going to see you again. Then, a little
while ago, your phone call really cheered her up. But this! Being here! You
have no idea what a wonderful surprise this is for her. And for us. Let me give
you both a hug of my own. Merry Christmas."
The hug from Pa is a very friend-to-friend, man-to-man
one.
I think that Mum and Ma could try out for a wrestling
team, with their bear-hug-like grips!
"Have you had breakfast?" Ma asks.
Isn't that just like a grandmother?
I'm expecting all kinds of questions from them about
us being here, starting with `How...?' and `When...?' However, I'm totally
surprised, instead, when Mum says, "Did you both forget to wash your faces this
morning?" Mothers!
Pa grins and rubs his chin and, making a little comb
with his fingers, strokes his top lip.
Karl and I stare at each other.
I look at him more closely. OMG. I hadn't noticed the
fuzz before! A bit of a light brown moustache! I rub my own chin. I feel
it! Just little hairs, but definitely the beginning of a beard!
That sets Mum off again, handkerchief in hand. "First,
how tall you grew, then the Adam's apples and the voices and now you're both growing
a moustache and beard. I'm missing my little boys turning into handsome men!"
"No you're not!" I tell her. "We're here, aren't we?"
And, I did notice her eyes glancingly `check out' the
front of my trousers and Karl's. We both have a bit of a bump there. Not quite
a bulge; just a noticeable outward curve of the material where our dicks are. I'm
glad that Junior is asleep at the moment! Mum didn't mention that bit of us
turning into men!
I consider that we are definitely not little boys
anymore. Growing up, about to turn fourteen, and doing stuff with other guys that
I would be embarrassed for her to know about. Especially what Andy and I
do!
"The spare bedroom is ready for you!" Mum tells us
excitedly, hugging us again.
"What? Were you expecting us, then?" Karl asks.
"It's always
ready," Pa answers. Then he grins, "In case her prayers are answered."
Hey, it's Christmas morning! Remember? Christmas
presents take priority over everything else. Just like when we were little kids
My individually-coloured coffee mugs are a great hit.
However, I am as surprised as they are when Karl gives
Pa a dozen golf balls. For Ma he has a large gift box of needlework threads,
and he presents Mum with a DVD of `André Rieu: Christmas in Maastricht'.
He gets massive hugs and kisses from all of them. With
tears. Including Pa.
Karl looks at me and grins, then pokes out just the
tip of his tongue.
How on earth...?
I'm almost tempted to be jealous, but, seeing the
thrill on all of their faces, especially Karl's, I'm really pleased for him. He
has outdone me! I love my brother.
When we are alone, there are questions that I need to
ask him! `How on earth did you...?!!!' I wonder whether Dad had anything to
do with his choices!
Mum, Ma and Pa apologise for not having presents for
us, because they didn't know that they were going to see us. However, they do top
up each of our wallets by $100.
Breakfast.
Pancakes. And Maple Syrup! Yum. And coffee. And the love
of Mum and our grandparents. Merry Christmas!
There's something special about the way that Ma makes
coffee! Beautiful aroma and taste! I'm not sure whether it's the brand of
coffee, or the type of milk? Or maybe a bit of extra... something? If my taste
buds can't work it out, I'll have to ask her, and add a note to my Red Book, my
forever reminder of Mrs Cameron and her love and generosity.
Most `how?', `when?' and `what?' questions are
answered when our mouths aren't full, which really stretches out the conversation.
LOL.
Finally, Mum asks the obvious question. "How long can
you stay?"
"For just a week this time," I reply. "Well, almost a
week. Mr Grant gave us return plane tickets as Christmas presents. So, we fly
back next Wednesday, about midday, so that we can spend New Year's Eve with Dad.
Karl or I have to let Mr Grant know whether you would like to drive us down to
the airport at the Gold Coast or, if not, he has offered to come and pick us up
and take us."
Ma makes the instant decision. "Well, I, for one," she
says, "would certainly like to meet this saint that we've been hearing so much
about! Why don't you invite him to breakfast?"
"Can our good friend, William come as well?" Karl asks
her. "He's Mr Grant's brother."
I'm really tempted to say, `MAY he come?'
Maybe I should become an English teacher!
"William? That wouldn't be `Little Willie', would it?"
Mum asks.
I had forgotten that she knows him from back at The
Village. And, as `Little Willie'.
She adds, "I'd love to see him again. I expect that he
has grown a lot too!"
"We call him `William' or `Will' now," I tell Mum
politely.
I wouldn't normally say this in from of my mother or my
grandparents, but I have to...
I'm not sure what reaction to expect from them. "He's `William' because Mr
Grant said that no boy should be called a `little willie'!"
Pa starts laughing first. Mum and Ma look at each
other, then join in; the laughter almost bursting from them.
"He's just finished school," Karl tells them. "He'll
be eighteen soon."
"Eighteen? No! What is he going to do?" Mum asks. "Is
he going to look for a job?"
"His father says that he's going to be a famous
artist," Karl replies. "You should see his paintings and drawings! Apparently,
there are already art galleries that want to show off his work."
"Wait! Did you just say `his father'?" Mum asks,
looking stunned. "I thought that nobody knew who his father was!"
She looks sideways at Ma and Pa.
Ma coughs into her handkerchief and Pa raises an
eyebrow.
Mum continues, "And did you say that he is your
teacher's brother? This is all getting very complicated!"
"It was for us too," I answer her. "Until Mr Grant
explained it. I'll fill you in during the week."
That expression reminds me of Andy! I miss him, filling
him in and having him fill me in. And, it's only been just over 24 hours! I
love the expression on his face when we're doing it!
"We're going to church soon to celebrate Christmas,"
Pa tells us. "Would you like to come with us?"
"I've never been to a church before." I say. Then I ask,
"Have I, Mum? What happens?"
"You'll be fine!" Ma tells me. "You are both already
dressed for it anyway. Just some talking and singing."
"Do you remember the Christmas carols that I used to
play for you?" Mum asks.
Karl and I answer `yes'.
"Well, there'll be some of those and a talk about the
real reason for the season of Christmas."
It sounds like something that we experienced at Mr
Grant's parents' place.
"OK." I say.
Karl nods.
"We'll be about 15 minutes," Mum announces, with her
and Ma leaving the table together.
Pa looks to the ceiling, then at Karl and me giving us
a `and pigs might fly' expression.
Thirty minutes later we are all ready.
"I must have one of my friends take our photo," Ma
tells us. "We make a handsome group!"
I love singing the familiar Christmas songs and I listen
really carefully to the message.
We shake hands with the minister as we leave. He asks
Pa, who is standing with us, "Were these the two delightful male voices that I
heard singing the carols?"
"Probably," he replies. "I've not heard them sing
since their voices changed. I was pleasantly surprised myself."
"Beautiful tone and enunciation," the minister
replies. "And one of them was improvising a harmony part, I could tell. We
could do with voices like these in our choir."
Choir? Interesting thought!
"They're not locals," Pa replies. "These are my
grandsons, Karl and Kurt. They live way out in the west of the state, on the
Warrego River. They're just here visiting us for Christmas."
The minister returns his attention to us. "Well, thank
you gentlemen, he says, "For sharing this morning's service with us. It was a
blessing for us to have you here, and to hear your voices. You have both been
blessed with wonderful gifts. I encourage you both to keep singing."
Ma and Pa are very chirpy over a special Christmas lunch
and share stories of Mum when she was little. So, maybe that's who we got our
mischievous streaks from. (OK. I know...! `From whom we got our mischievous
streaks.' English!)
Mum, dabs her eyes with her handkerchief.
"Is everything OK, Mum?" I ask her.
"I've just missed so much of you two growing up!" she
tells us. "Your voices are beautiful, as the minister said. You sang well as
little boys, but now, your voices sound amazing."
"Well, we're all yours for the next six days," I tell
her. "Tallness, Adam's apples, chin hairs, moustaches and `amazing voices'. The
lot!"
My comment brings a smile to her face.
"And with grown-up appetites, I expect," Ma adds.
"About that, Ma," Karl says. "I should tell you that
William will probably have a `healthy' appetite at breakfast next Wednesday.
Mum smiles, "He always did, didn't he? Is he fat now?"
"Not at all," Karl replies, being the expert on
everything about William. "He has a great body!"
I suddenly fear that this conversation could go
horribly wrong for Karl, so I throw in, "With so much to do around their place,
Mum, I expect that he and Mr Grant will never be fat. They both work really
hard together. Jintabudjaree is a huge property."
Karl looks at me and his face pulls back the corners
of his mouth, which say, `Oops!'
He realises what he has just said, and appears thankful for my comment.
My thoughts turn to Andy. I send him a message and
wish him, Mrs Thompson and Brian a Merry Christmas.
We spend the next few days giving our attention completely
to Mum and Ma and Pa, and we answer every question that they think up.
And, lots of photographs!
Saturday night, they take us on a tour of the city and
some suburbs to see all of the Christmas lights. I could never have imagined
anything like it! Strings of flashing colours. And reindeer and stars and balls
and elves and Santas. And people!
Monday.
"We're going into the city today," Mum tells Karl and
me. "Ma and Pa want to check out the extended Boxing Day sales."
"What's that?" Karl asks.
Mum replies, "After Christmas, many shops have
specially-reduced prices, and shoppers can sometimes pick up a real bargain.
Often, though, people end up buying things that they don't really need, just
because they're cheap. The extra sales are also good for the businesses."
I've seen shops in Cunnamulla and Big Town display
`Special!' signs, but Dad says that he would only buy something if he needed it.
And Helen has said that food which is `on special' would have to be used pretty
much straight away before it `goes off'.
We park underground, like last time.
After an hour of walking and looking and walking and more
walking, Mum notices that Karl and I just aren't into this as much as Ma and Pa
are.
"Would you boys like to find a nice café and have a
coffee and something to eat?" she says.
I wonder whether they have custard tarts, and whether
they are as nice as those that Mrs Grant gave us, or the ones in Cunnamulla and
in Big Town.
We find a nice place. All of us. Ma and Pa have tea.
Mum has a juice. Karl and I have coffee. I learn what a vanilla slice is. Similar
custard! Different pastry. Wonderful lemon and passionfruit icing! I add it to
my mental list of things to learn, with the custard tarts and the recipes from
Mrs Grant.
"Would you boys like to roam around a bit by
yourselves?" Pa asks. "We can all meet back here for lunch in, say, one hour."
Mum shows us on my phone how to use the app to find
our way back, so that we won't get lost. I hadn't figured on her being so smart
with modern stuff! She's missed out on a lot with us and it seems that we've
missed out on a lot with her! What else could she have taught us?
On the map of our location, Mum shows me how to `drop
a pin'. Neat! Then Karl and I head off in a different direction to them.
While we are strolling along, I become aware of a
major difference between the people here and everyone back home.
At home, people smile at everyone else in town and we
often stop to say `hello'.
Nearly everyone here is looking at his phone or her
phone. And they keep walking. I have no idea how they don't bump into each
other!
However, I do notice that the occasional person here
doesn't have his face in his phone. And, I say `his' because I notice that some
guys, heading towards us, seem to focus on my face and maintain eye contact as
they go past. Mostly young guys around the age of William and Ron and Mr Grant.
Very friendly! Some grin. One winks.
Of course, I smile back at them! Just being polite!
I turn around to look at one particular guy to see if
his glutes are as nice as his front, only to find him looking back at me too.
He waves with two fingers, sort of like a salute, then continues on his way.
I see another one walking towards us. I like his
haircut; short on the sides above his ears and then lots of brown curls on top.
He has a slim body, like Andy. And he has broad shoulders, like Ron. And a very
neat beard, darker, with way more hair than Karl's and my few fluffy whiskers.
His eyes seem to focus on my eyes, even though he is
still about 20m away. He is smiling. I smile back as the distance between
us closes.
Did he just check out the front of my trousers?
I check his. Hey, fair is fair! Nice bulge! What do
you reckon, Junior?
We're just a few steps apart, now. I think that we are
about to pass, when he slows to a stop, then speaks to me.
"Excuse me," he says in a very pleasant,
deeper-than-mine voice. "Could you please tell me the way to George Street? I
don't usually come into the city, and the battery on my phone is flat, so I
can't check the maps."
Karl keeps walking, apparently not aware that I have
stopped.
"Sorry," I say to him. "I'm only a visitor here
myself, so, I have no idea of the streets. But I can use my phone to check for
you. My name's Kurt, by the way."
"I'm Keith," he replies "That would be very kind of
you. Thanks."
We bump fists, then I open my phone to the maps, type
in `George St, Brisbane'. It shows me where we are standing, and where George
Street is.
"According to this," I tell him, "If it's correct,
apparently this is George Street. We're in it."
"Oh," he replies. "Thank you, Kurt. I feel so stupid!"
"No problem, Keith," I say to him. It was nice to actually
talk to someone. Most people don't even notice me, because they are staring at
their phones!"
"How long are you visiting for?" he asks.
"I'm flying back home on Wednesday," I tell him. "My
twin brother and I are just walking around while our Mum and grandparents are shopping
for `Specials'. We are going to meet them for lunch in..." and I check my watch,
"...45 minutes."
"Are you going to the gardens, then?" Keith asks.
"What gardens?" I answer.
"The City Botanical Gardens," he tells me. "You are heading
towards them. Only two more blocks. I've just come from there. It's very
pleasant by the river."
That sounds nice," I tell him. "Maybe I'll get a
chance to sit down. It seems like I've been walking with my mother and
grandparents for hours."
"Do you mind if I walk with you?" he asks. "I'm just
filling in time myself. My aunts are here for the specials. Like yours. I have
the day off work, so I'm their chauffer for the day."
"Chauffer?" I ask. "I haven't heard that word before."
"Yeah. The driver," he says. "If I was still with
them, I'd be carrying all their stuff too. Maybe they won't buy so much if they
have to carry their own! I've got about 20 minutes," he tells me, looking at
his watch.
He turns and we keep walking together.
I spot Karl not far ahead, standing still and looking
around. He has realised that I'm not with him! The crowd walk around him, even
those looking at their phones!
I introduce Karl and Keith and we all keep walking.
The gardens are beautiful, and we see a vacant bench facing
the river.
"Want to rest a while?" I ask my brother.
Now what do you reckon that he's going to answer?
"Fuck, yeah!"
I knew it!
We quickly explain to Keith the reason for our trip to
Brisbane, and he tells us that he works as a shop assistant in a store at a
suburban shopping complex. They didn't need him today.
I need to pee.
"I don't suppose you know if there's a toilet around here
somewhere?" I ask Keith.
"Sure," he replies and points. "Just over there. I can
show you if you like. I need to go too."
"What about you?" I ask my brother.
"Nah," he replies. "I'll sit here and just watch the
people and the boats." He looks at me and, in a strange tone, as if he means
something else, says, "Don't be long."
We are about to enter the toilets, when I hear a phone
ring. Not mine!
Keith reaches into his pocket. "Yeah, yeah. OK. I
know! I'll meet you in 15 then. Bye!"
"I thought that your battery was flat," I say to him.
"Well," he starts, with an embarrassed grin. "I had to
think of some reason to get to talk to you! You were too handsome an
opportunity to pass up."
"I wouldn't have been game to do that!" I tell him.
"But thanks! I'm glad that you did!"
I release Junior and let fly. What a relief! And,
Keith does the same.
"Hey, Kurt," he says. "You wanna swap phone numbers?"
"Why?" I ask him.
Looking down, and from his dick to Junior, he says,
"Oh, I can think of two reasons, if you're ever in town again! Without your
brother."
I smile, "So the expression, `You never know your luck
in a big city' is true, is it?"
"Maybe," he answers. "Good luck for me!" Then, I hear,
"Can I ask, how old you are?"
"Nearly 14," I answer.
"What?" he answers. "You look at least 16 or 17. Maybe
not good luck for me then!"
"Oh, you never know your luck in a big city!" I tell
him, grinning, waggling Junior at him then zipping up.
He grins back and shows me his. Nice! Like Jacko's. And
maybe getting a bit chunky too!
Outside, we swap numbers and head back towards where
we left Karl.
"That was quick!" Karl announces, looking up.
"I only needed to pee," I tell him. "Nothing else!"
My brother looks from me to Keith, nods, then points out
a large yacht on the river.
"I'd better be off," Keith says to us. "I'm about to
turn into a pack animal for my aunts. Apparently, they found a lot of bargains.
Maybe I'll see you again sometime."
The last comment is specifically for me.
We bump fists. He gives me a thumbs up then heads back
up George Street.
In response to a question from Karl, I tell him, "He just
stopped me to ask for directions. Then, we got to talking and I discovered that
he was only filling in time, like us."
"Did anything happen while you were in the toilet?"
"Yes!" I tell Karl, then I pause before telling him
what he isn't expecting: "I peed a lot."
"Is that all?" he asks.
"Yes. Why?"
"Well, he's really good looking," he says. "Nice backside
too, I noticed as you walked away. So, you didn't feel each other's dick while
you were in there?"
I answer his question with a question! Two actually. "Why?
Would you have?"
"I probably would have asked him if he wanted to!" he
laughs.
We sit together and watch the people. Men and women
jogging, people walking their dogs, people on boats on the river.
Then we head back to join up with Mum, Ma and Pa for
lunch.
They haven't bought much. The main item is a new
4-slice toaster, because one half of their existing one has stopped working. It
won't stay down, and therefore can't cook any toast.
"At the discounted price, it was even cheaper than
having the old one repaired!" Pa tells us.
Of course, Mum asks what we did and where we went!
Karl is very diplomatic, and doesn't mention `handsome
Keith with the nice backside'.
"Oh, nothing much," he tells her. "We walked around for a while and then sat on
a bench in the Botanical Gardens and watched the people on the paths and the
boats on the river. Very pleasant! Is anyone else hungry? Or is it just me?"
Lunch. The food court variety hasn't changed at all.
Amazing.
Dinner. Ma's delicious cooking hasn't changed either!
Bed. Karl is snuggled up behind me, with one arm over
my chest.
"Do you love me, Kurt?" he asks quietly behind my ear.
"What?" I reply, instantly rolling over to face him.
"Where did that come from?"
"Well, do you?" he asks again. "I need to know."
"Of course I do!" I tell him. "Why would you even ask me
that?"
"Because I've been watching you," he replies.
"Watching the way that you look at other guys. I think that you love them more
than me!"
"What? Who?" I blurt out.
"I realised it today when I saw how you kept looking
at that Keith guy," he tells me. "Your eyes were like you were looking in a
shop window full of free custard tarts. Dreaming. Wishing. Hoping. And, it's
not just him. There are the others; Mr Grant, and Archie Taylor, and especially
Andy."
"No, I don't!" I say, but suddenly think that he's
more observant than I had reckoned.
"Yes, you do!" he says straight out. "You don't look
at me the way that you look at them."
I answer his question with one of my own; it's a game
that we sometimes play. "So, do you think that you look at me the same way that
you look at Jacko?"
I can tell by the pause, that it has him thinking!
"Umm, No." he answers, slowly.
"Does that mean that you love Jacko more than me? Or
don't you don't love your twin brother anymore?" I try to sound as though my
heart is broken.
"Of course not!" he tells me. "I mean, of course I do,
love you more than him."
"So, what's different then?" I put to him.
There is another pause.
"OK. I get it!" he says. In the dark, I can tell by
his voice that he is grinning. "Sorry!"
"I want to know," I persist. "What is different
between Jacko and me, that makes you look at us so differently?"
"You're my brother!" he answers. "I will always love
you. Even though you are the one who is always right and always saying the
right things and is always being helpful to everyone!"
"Haven't we had this discussion once before?" I ask
him. "And, when you started making an effort to be helpful to everyone, they
liked you as much as they did me. Maybe more, sometimes."
"It's different!" he tells me, at the same time
answering his own original question. "I get to play with William a couple of
times a week, and with Jacko whenever we have the opportunity. I love what I do
together, but I don't love them."
"Same for me and Mr Grant and Archie," I reply.
There is a pause. I think I know what's coming. "You
didn't mention Andy!" he whispers.
I knew it! How do I answer?
"So, you're saying that William and Jacko are just like
free custard tarts in a shop window for you, like Mr Grant and Archie are for
me." I tell him.
"I suppose so," he replies. There is another pause.
"But, what about Andy?"
I try to make the best of it. "I will always love
you!" I tell him. "And so that you know, Andy is more than just a custard tart
to me."
"Are you saying that you love him?" Karl asks.
"I suppose so," I answer. "But, that doesn't mean that
I don't love you! It's different!"
"So, have I become just another custard tart?" he puts
to me.
"Hmm. Let me see!" I tell him, and begin to kiss under
his neck. He loves this! And groans. Then I kiss down his body. Slowly. By the
time that I get to his dick, it is stiff. "Hmm. This doesn't taste like a
custard tart!" I tell him. "It's much nicer."
I suck him. And I keep sucking, even when I can tell
from the tell-tale signs from his body, contracting muscles and twitching, what
is about to happen.
"Aargh!" he groans as he spurts into my mouth. Four
times. And I love the feeling of his body trembling and freezing and pumping.
And feeling his glutes tighten with each spurt.
"Yep!" I say. "You're much nicer than a custard tart!"
"Fuck!" he says, relaxing. "I love it when you do that!"
Then, after a pause, he adds,
"Is Andy nicer than a custard tart, too?"
I know what he's asking. I feel like saying, `You have
no idea!' but settle for, "You know, that if it wasn't for Andy, then I would
never have known how to do that to you."
It may not be the whole truth, but practising with
Andy has definitely made me better at it.
"And Jacko loves it too," Karl says. "Forget that I
even asked you about loving me. Sorry!"
He's not getting away with things as easily as that!
"So, who's the custard tart then?" I put to him. "Me
or Jacko?"
"Let me see!" he says, and begins to do to me what I
did to him, starting at my neck.
Wednesday morning. We're going home today. I hope that
Mum doesn't cry. That would probably start me off too.
Karl's eyes are still closed. I'm not surprised after everything
that we did last night!
"Our custard tarts will be here soon!" I say, shaking
his nice body by the shoulders.
"Huh?" he mumbles.
"William and Mr Grant," I tell him. "One of your
custard tarts and one of mine!"
"I love you!" he tells me, stirring. Then he adds,
"But, I love custard tarts, too!"
I open the window and spray our deodorant around the
room.
"I'm going to have my shower!" I say. "Beware of cold
water if you are still in bed when I get back!"
He rolls onto his side, away from me, and pulls the
covers up to his ears.
"I mean it!" I say, as I head for the door.
He knows that I don't mean it! Of course! I wouldn't
want Mum to think that one of us has wet the bed, and he knows it!
I wash myself from top to toe, and especially
everything in the middle. Well, while I'm doing everything in the middle Karl
comes into the bathroom and closes the door.
"Hey!" he says, looking at me. "That bit is my job!
Remember?"
Right on time, I hear Mr Grant's car pull into the
driveway.
Then the doorbell rings.
I'm about to go to the door when Pa motions to me to
stay put, and tells me, "My house.
I'll get it!"
He introduces himself to Mr Grant and William and
invites them in.
Ma heads straight for Mr Grant and Mum takes William.
"Welcome!" Ma says. "I've heard so much about you.
Thank you for driving all this way to collect these two scallywags! Do come in."
"My, how you've grown!" Mum tells William, and gives
him a hug.
"Hello Mrs Andersen," he replies. "Thank you, and it's
good to see you again."
William can be polite when he needs to be!
He and Karl bump fists.
"Hello Sunshine," Mr Grant says to me, shaking my hand.
"How's your week been?
"Howdy, Sheriff!" I tell him back. "Terrific, thanks!"
Everyone looks at me. Mr Grant asks the question,
"Sheriff?"
"Yeah, well, seeing that we're on holidays, I thought
that I might call you something else other than `Mr Grant', which is your
father, isn't it. And, seeing that Jake reckons that his sister is the `Deputy
Sheriff' at school, that makes you the Sheriff, doesn't it?"
He ruffles my hair, not worrying about Mum and Ma and
Pa being here. "OK, Sunshine. But just for the holidays! OK?"
"Sunshine?" Ma asks him.
"Yes," he answers her. When he came downstairs the
first morning at my parents' place, his enthusiasm just lit up the room. My
mother said so. So, `Sunshine' seemed appropriate. Still does, wouldn't you
say?" he asks, looking directly at my mother while indicating me with his thumb.
"Definitely," she responds. "Both of them have lit up my Christmas tree.
Thank you, by the way for making their trip possible. That was very generous of
you."
"It was my pleasure!" Mr Grant replies. "They were
both really excited when their dad suggested that they might like to come. I
just made it a bit easier. That's all."
"Well!" Ma tells him. "If your name was `Nicholas'
instead of `Tom', you would definitely be a real-life `Saint Nicholas'. We all
thank you."
Mum sits between Karl and me on one side of the table,
with Mr Grant and William opposite. Ma and Pa are at either end.
Ma somehow gets onto discussing Mr Grant's parents,
especially his mother and her restored health.
Pa is interested in Jintabudjaree, and its history. I
could add more that Uncle shared with me, but I don't. There are things which I
haven't told Mr Grant yet, that he should know.
Mum turns breakfast into a Parent / Teacher interview.
Mothers!
William is interested in the food.
Karl keeps staring at William. I think that there is a
wordless conversation going on!
I take in the whole show, like a person in the
audience of a play.
Everyone waits for an opportunity, asks Mr Grant a
question and then puts some food into their mouth. The Sheriff doesn't get a
chance to eat very much.
Rather boldly, I ask, "Do you like Ma's cooking, Mr
Grant? Or haven't you had a chance to taste it all?"
Ma, Pa and Mum, suddenly realising what they have been
doing, apologise.
"Thank you, Sunshine!" he grins at me across the
table. Then, to Ma, he says, "Thank you for going to so much trouble. It LOOKS
delicious. Then he adds, "Anything that I don't usually eat, Will makes up
for."
It's a joke. William doesn't comment. He can't with
his mouth full. But he grins and gives everyone a thumbs-up.
The questions ease up and Mr Grant does manage to have
some breakfast.
There are thanks all `round. To Ma for breakfast. To
Mr Grant, again, for his generosity. From Mr Grant to Pa for his interest in
Jintabudjaree, and to Mum for raising `two such wonderful and well-mannered
young men'.
There are hugs, smiles and minimal tears as we
separate.
"Did you know," Mr Grant has a final word to Mum,
"that, with their phones, Karl and Kurt can give you a video call? Just send
them a message and ask them to ring you. Then you can see each other any time."
He gets a final hug and a `thank you' from Mum.
William and Karl head for the back row of The Beast. I
know why!
I'm up front, riding shotgun, with the Sheriff. LOL.
Mr Grant uses his credit card to access the parking
area, then places the ticket from the machine on the dashboard.
Karl and I are wearing our `travelling clothes' with
our hats. It's easier to wear them than carry them. Lots of people are wearing
hats like ours, probably to protect them from the sun.
As we walk, I catch sight of two attractive guys
reflected in the glass of the terminal walls.
I automatically turn to locate them, then realise that they are actually Karl
and me. Oops!
After having our tickets, bags and bodies scanned, we
head to the waiting lounge.
We are greeted by two stewards. "Welcome back," one
says. "You are the final passengers to arrive this morning. Until the flight is
called, please avail yourself of the available food and drinks. Complimentary."
And she indicates the variety.
I say, "Thank you." And I ask, "How many other people
are flying to Cunnamulla today?"
"Yourselves and one other gentleman," she replies.
I look around and I see another person, sitting with
his back to us, looking out of the windows at the activity outside. He is
wearing a hat similar to Karl's black one and my grey one. His is light brown.
While Karl and I look at the different small
sandwiches, cheeses, biscuits and other savoury options, Mr Grant goes over to
the man, appears to introduce himself and begins a conversation. William shows
more interest in the food.
I wonder who else would be travelling so far out
west and why? I may as well say `hello' and chat for a while.
Taking a can of lemonade plus a plate with two tomato
sandwiches plus some small cheese slices to go with the 5 round biscuits,
I head towards Mr Grant and our fellow passenger.
Mr Grant sees me coming and steps back.
"Hello Kurt," the traveller greets me, pushing his hat
back from his forehead.
"Andy!"
(to be continued)
-----
If you like the story, and haven't contacted me yet,
or haven't said 'hello' for a while,
please take a couple of minutes to email me.
rob.zz@hotmail.com
I try to reply to everyone, but possibly not
immediately. Please be patient with me.
-----
The partly-parallel
version to this story, `Schoolie', told through the eyes of Tom Grant, gives
the backstory specifically for Tom, William, Andy and Jintabudjaree.
Find `Schoolie' at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie
-----
If you're interested, I have 26 (A-Z) short stories
at
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/massage-tales
-----
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