Date: Tue, 27 Sep 2022 16:50:08 -0400
From: Richard McQueen <mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com>
Subject: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is Chapter 32 Standing Up To Bullies

Story: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is
Chapter: 32 Standing Up To Bullies
Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com)
Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex

Freedom of expression is precious. To do that Nifty needs help. Your
donation is greatly desired. Give to http://donate.nifty.org/ or this story
ends and all the others! That would be a crime!

Okay, yes you've been patient. Now, it's here. Read the previous chapter to
get your place, I did.

This chapter is some background, so you know what shaped Eric in High
School. He was taught how to behave with bullies and how to deal with
them...not with fists, with brains. It may hurt, but if you let them walk
over you, they always will.

Freedom of expression is precious. To do that, Nifty needs help. Your

donation is greatly desired. Give to http://donate.nifty.org/ or this story

ends and all the others! That would be a crime!

Standing Up To Bullies

On our way back to our room, I slowed down a moment. That near stop caused
Peter to look at me quizzically.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked me.

"I didn't take over," I said as I pondered a moment. I looked into Peter's
eyes, "Did I?"

"Take over!?" Peter repeated questioning, "When? Why are you asking that?"

"Because it seems like I did," I said. I waved back in the direction of
Olek's office. "I got started and couldn't stop myself."

Peter's head shook once and that one eye narrowed, "What are you talking
about!?"

"Everything we are about to do; I came up with!" I said, "Who do I think I
am?" I waved again in Olek's office direction, "Who am I to tell a KING
what to do?"

Peter was getting better at giving false expressions to fool me, "I'm
sorry, I need to introduce King Olek to you." He took my hand and turned to
return to the office to do this.

I pulled back from Peter. "I know Olek."

"You can't know him if you think anybody could take anything from Olek,"
Peter stated.

There was silence a few seconds between us and I felt the eye
narrow. "Where is this coming from?" I asked having a difficult time
believing what I heard. "Smartass, wiseass, and wisecracks are me. Not
you."

Peter folded arms across his chest now as he challenged, "Yeah? Says who?
I've not seen any rule telling me it's your exclusive domain and
territory!"

I had to give it to him, so I nodded, "I have to watch you more closely
now." I grinned and kissed him lightly. "That was damned good."

Peter smiled back, "I studied for two years at the feet of the Smartass
Master. I was bound to pick up something." He explained simply. "Who you
are..." Peter said with the sound telling me he thought the question was
too easy to miss the obvious answer. His index finger hit my chest with
every syllable of the next statement. "You ARE Prince Eric Ivanov, Prince
of Makarovia! Olek's brother. That's who YOU are!"

"Who TOLD a king this is what needs to be done and even how to do it!" I
said back as loud. No fingers hammered the syllables for me. "And we're
doing it! Why?"

Peter shook his head, "Perhaps because it's a good plan?" He suggested and
got a smirking look, "You are still new to this family, so I'll give you a
little lesson about the Ivanovs." He inched closer to me. We were close
just walking down the corridor, but now he was so close I could feel the
heat from his body. "We're stubborn."

I laughed, "Nooo!" I said as if I couldn't NOT know that.

Peter nodded and said, "Yes! You remember how hard it was to get him to
take a week off last year!" He pointed at me, "You had to practically
emotionally blackmail him to go to relax! No one will take anything from
Olek or Makarovia ever again!"

I knew what Peter was saying, "But no one offered their opinion..."

"Why would we?" Peter asked. "It is a well thought out plan!" He was now
gesturing with his hands, "We have a goal." He used both hands to show
where that goal was, "You presented plans of events to get to that goal."
His right hand left the goal as he moved the hand close to the goal again,
"There's nothing to question about that." Then he was back to what I asked
him about. "No one can tell Olek what to do. With his mind made up, he's
hard to get to change his mind, which you know. He would have stopped you
if it was a bad idea."

I smiled at Peter, "Do you think it's a good idea?"

"I sure do," Peter kissed me. "I think it's a brilliant idea." He smiled as
we stood in the middle of the corridor and ignored the people moving around
us. We weren't in the way due to the width of the corridor. Nor did anyone
give a negative glance to us. There were even a few smiles at what they
saw. The Makarovian stamp of approval?

Peter sighed, "A king's job is to make decisions that will cause the people
to prosper. Try as he will, he can't be everywhere. He has advisors to help
with that. One of the reasons for the decline of kings and queens is the
size of the country. The smartest men and women have to rely on what others
tell them. You have to have the trust of people to do that." He
chuckled. "In a way, we're a lot like Romania. Olek deals in foreign
matters, Mom does domestic issues mostly. I think they did, and do, a great
job with that." He bounced, "I will help with city planning." He
practically whispered, "Building a neighborhood so everyone has access to
that gallon of milk and loaf of bread is critical." He grinned, "You will
be overseeing the extraction of the Uranium and processing the yellowcake
safely."

I nodded, "Uranium Oxide, U308 is radioactive, but yellowcake is not U308
yet," I said. "The leaching..." I began to explain, and Peter was doing the
slowdown motion.

"I will listen, but I'll only follow you so far," He smiled at me. "That
day you told Olek about the different grades of enrichment and did so with
knowledge of a something he had just given you...you had us both almost
speechless!" He held me out a little, "And you're doing it again with me."

"Olek didn't want any of our ore to be used to make plutonium." I began
again. "Plutonium is made from uranium ore. His not wanting to ship the
yellowcake is a smart move. U308 is bad enough and can be dangerous..."

Peter was now smiling even bigger, "And you ask why he listens to you?
You're as smart as that Dr. Wonderful of yours and Gottfried Keller! And
you're fun to be around!"

My reaction to that was uncertain, "I hope so." I never used up-talking
before. It was big where people ended on an up-note making all statements
sound like a question even if they weren't asking a question. I wasn't sure
if what I said wasn't a question. "If I showed you a picture of John
Donkervoet, you'd be asking me to introduce you to him. He was gorgeous but
didn't know that or care." I waved back down the hall. "He was a male
version of Helga, only it was just natural. Dr. Keller I believe had a mild
case of autism." I shrugged, "This is a guess as I've never met the
man. The antisocial behaviors and super genius level thinking, has me
thinking he was a kind of savant..."

"That's why we listen to you!" Peter declared loud and happily. "You're
smart!" His antics even got a few smiles and a giggle from a young woman on
her way to do something for someone. At least we were entertaining some
people. He threw his arm around my shoulder in a blossom buddy sort of
way...and we were.

"I could be completely wrong," I said.

"I'm telling you again," Peter said kissing me on the temple as we started
to walk. "The only one expecting perfection is you."

There were lives at stake, so I was worried and cautious. That worry made
sense to me.



In our rooms, I pulled up the Makarovian Website. It was a thing of
beauty. When I first pulled any site about Makarovia, it was short and not
very attractive. The pictures of the Ivanov family were ten years old. The
few pictures of the towns around Makarovia were...well, it looked like the
towns and villages abandoned by the Superpower of the USSR. Because it was!
Moscow, St. Petersburg, and the many towns and cities in the lower, far
Western Russia survived better. Now, the pictures were brighter and more
vibrant. Many of these were taken last summer by those three student
photographers we brought to Makarovia. The beautiful scenery that
surrounded those mountains was inviting. The pictures of the Royal Family
told everyone that some very attractive people lived here. Images of the
many happy faces to how living here were rewarding. There were even some
video clips of Makarovian nightlife. It showed bars and taverns, but many
of the Grotto. It showed the dance club was always packed. Scenes of the
many people here having a grand time, made you think you had to visit. Even
that storybook quality was captured and came across the page. I wasn't a
tourist, and neither were others that came to these pictures. There were
ways a person could access for editing. Peter and I were two of those
people. Seeing Makarovian in a sort of Gothic font added a touch of the Old
World to the pages. I have told you before, this part of Europe was Gothic
and spooky. Vampires were here according to many writers. Dracula was just
next door! I had said the fortress/palace wasn't pretty on the outside. I
was so very wrong. In the pictures where the fortress was in the background
was impressive because of its size and purpose. The photos made at night
would have you swear a vampire, ghost, werewolf, a witch was right around a
stone wall corner. There were even three hundred and sixty-degree virtual
tours you could take and see almost the entire palace. Even the bedrooms!
Although, I would be guessing whose room belonged to anyone in
particular. Elegantly furnished and only if you study the photos could you
judge it was a room belonging to a man or woman. I will say there were no
doilies or anything paisley. I LOATHE both. They are hideous! It's not that
I just didn't care for any of that. Bring all the descriptive negative
opinions together like abhor, despise, detest, and countless other words
did you begin to scratch the surface of the emotional reaction I had. Why?
I don't know! If you really wanted to see a reaction from me, you take me
to a friend of Grandma's. She had those lacy doily things on the backs of
chairs and sofa that were covered with paisley patterns. The only trauma I
had with Grandma's friend was enduring her bad, bad taste. I quite
literally got nauseated in that house and couldn't go in for long! Let's
move on, or I'll have to locate some Pepto-Bismol or take some Nexium. If I
knew we were coming, I'd take Nexium before we went.

Most of the rooms in the palace for the family were pretty much the same. A
large sitting area in front of a fireplace, desk for writing
correspondences with the computer monitor on the desk, shelf after shelf of
books. Did I live here? I never wanted to leave too much for someone to
have to do for me. I don't care what Peter said about giving them a reason
to work here. That wasn't me. The look made it hard to believe anyone lived
in the room.

Why were we here? Oh, yeah. I pulled up my email and brought the clip up
and listened. I was with Helga on this. The low volume and lack of any loud
or angry words were bothersome. The words spoken were not profane, but very
disrespectful human to human. Klaus was speaking to his king! There were
many priests and other clergies who would disagree with the immoral life we
showed the world that Makarovia presented. For almost an hour I listened to
the who was claiming superior morals and shame he felt that Olek should be
feeling. It wasn't just me listening, but Peter, too.

Peter was quietly raging as he listened. You couldn't really tell just to
look at him, but it was confirmed by the plastic pen he had cracked. I had
to smile at that. At least it was a modern pen and not one of those elegant
Mont Blanc fountain pens or any of the others. You paid a thousand bucks to
write something!? It wouldn't dare to clog or struggle to get started to
write or someone would lose their job; possibly their life! This was a Bic
or something. I put the garbage can below his hand without saying a word
where he dropped the pen.

I downloaded the file and gave the time of the meeting. It would be proofed
by whoever would put a finishing touch before posting it so everyone could
read it. I mean everyone. Citizen or not. It would remain in the Makarovian
Language, but everyone could hear it. No one is so above everything...I
admit it. I wanted other Makarovians to have a hard time with
this. Attacking a beloved figure like Olek would have reactions! I hoped
those knew there was a meeting with Olek and Klaus Orban would spread what
they knew and make the Orbans life more difficult. I would not condone
violence. The threat could be enough, but he needed to be a little scared,
damn it! That's why I didn't write the introduction. I was biased.

Checking with Peter first I opened the email page. I was keeping in touch
with the friends we'd made. Henri, Luke, Earl, Gretchin...everyone on the
Duchess. Pano, Barry, and Edger, too. I hated it when we would receive brag
letters. Those annual letters people would create once and send it to
everyone. How do I explain this? Parents were normally proud of their
children. The Millers. Uncle Fred and Aunt Frankie were the worst. I liked
them both very much. The titles of uncle and aunt were given because a
child is not familiar enough to simply use their first name. They had two
children. Chad was older by five years than Debbie. If you just went with
what you read, Chad was a top athlete and well on his way to being a Rhodes
Scholar and bound for the professional level sports. Debbie was a musical
prodigy and a beauty queen. They walked on the water! Grandma and Grandpa
were proud parents and grandparents but didn't overdo it. Chad and Debbie
were people, cursed in life to being blond. When I was four, Chad was
sixteen. My opinion of the blondes out there wasn't improved because of
them. I wondered what they thought about my marrying an Ivanov. Or anyone
from the past such as those guys in high school. You know who I'm talking
about. We all had them. Bullies. Ronnie was ours. Grandpa instructed being
smart with him my freshman year. He told me if I ever let one do what they
said, I'd be bothered over and over. One thing I knew for certain, they
hated attention called for what they were doing. Lunch money? In high
school!? Answers demanded during tests? I don't think so.

The demand for lunch money I wrote out detailed accounts of was to happen
and posted the copies all over the school! Slipped them into lockers of
other students and left on the desks of students and teachers. No name was
used. As far as the cheating was concerned...I was commanded to let him see
my answer! Of course, we were ordered to not look or speak to anyone. I got
up and moved desks stating I had to move, or those rules would be
violated. After class, I explained, a little. I didn't say who was trying
to cheat. My grades were good enough knowing many of the answers. I also
told the teacher BEFORE the others if there was any retaliation. I asked
they observe my condition and knew there was an angry strike back if
anything happened to me.

Naturally, I had someone waiting for me after class. He was going to speak
to me privately. Like that was going to happen. He was a big guy and yes,
strongarming people was how he got what he wanted.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Ronnie, or your friends," I said loud and
yanked my arm away. It attracted the attention in the hall. "I refuse you
cheating off my test. I refuse to give you any money I use for getting
anything at school! That won't stop you from hurting me." I threw my arms
out. "So, do it now so everybody knows how tough you are!" I waved at him,
"Everyone can see I can't win. I wouldn't stand a chance." He backed up a
little, "Teachers know already because I told them about it. You could do
it without breaking a sweat, but I say NO!" I never touched him. "No,
Ronnie!"

A locker near us closed and Lisa, a very popular girl at school in her
junior year, chuckled. Blonde. I was cursed with them. She smiled at me,
and if I were straight, it would have meant more to me. "We need more like
you here. The more that say no, means he will have to find something else
to do." She smiled at me and then looked at Ronnie. "I will remember
everything said today." She looked at her watch. "The date and time. I'm a
witness."

Don't misunderstand anything. Being brave has little to do with being
scared or not. While standing up to Ronnie I was terrified! He had a
reputation he earned and deserved. He could easily strike back or do it
later. I let enough people know what could happen so if it did, the first
person anyone would think of was Ronnie! There were also Ronnie's three
friends that were always with him.

It was good fortune that Lisa was there. Like many things in the
universe. Great forces attract many other things. Giant planets and stars
attracted many others to circle them in orbit. It couldn't have been better
if I did plan it! An arm came and rested on Lisa's shoulder. She was
neither worried or surprised by this as it was planned. The arm was in an
athletic letterman's jacket. The dark royal blue school color with the
white leather sleeves? He was a senior. He also was NOT a blond giving him
more points on my score pad. Paul Hamilton. The only thing he missed was
being the star quarterback. He was on the team and played varsity football,
kept his grades up, and would have an easy life after high school and then
college. His dark brown hair was kept neat and yes, to me, he was gorgeous!

But back to Lisa!

Behind Paul others gathered. Three other jocks and their
girlfriends. Everybody knows the proper etiquette and social rules for high
school, but they've been obeyed for a century, if not longer! Popular, good
looking, he was older by a year or the same age.

"What's going on?" Paul asked, but as everyone knew Ronnie was usually the
cause of negative things at the school, so the question was primarily asked
while looking at Ronnie.

"Not much," Lisa sighed. "It seems Mr. Richards used a word seldom used by
anyone on Ronnie." She looked at Paul. "Eric said no. Ronnie just needs
reminding what the word no means."

Don't be confusing the results here either. Getting the momentary approval
of the "it" crowd changed things enough, but I wasn't looking for a place
at their lunch table or even a place in their cars. What would we have to
talk about? Did I want to even try? I was the grandson of a world-famous
ballet dancer from Russia. I wasn't ashamed of what Grandma did, but it was
hardly anything a teenage boy in the United States would brag about. How
many of their grandparents danced the famous stages of the world for
Presidents, Kings and famous people? Grandma even forgot many names of the
famous people she knew and knew well. Anderson Cooper's mother for example.

Oh, yeah. Ronnie. Lisa's or Paul's entourage sort of crowded in behind Paul
and Lisa giving support. Not to me, but to Lisa who voiced support to me.

"I hope Ronnie doesn't need...further explanation," Paul said. The way he
said it wasn't even a veiled threat. Politely stated, but a threat.

It was a good thing! Ronnie didn't bother me again. It was a decade and a
half since then and I thought about those people now and then. Did they
remember me when the news broke about Peter and me? It didn't really
matter, because I remembered them. I earned having my name called in the
hall by this group of people. With one question about what I was after
that. It wasn't a threat when I was asked. I am sorry, but the female could
usually tell when someone was in pursuit of them and knew how to use
that. I wasn't interested in any of them! They wouldn't worry about me if
they knew why. I was gay. No one flirted with me. This was now a more one
on one friendship. Lisa and I spoke in English Literature and Biology. Paul
and I spoke as he waited for Lisa. There were other girlfriends that spoke
to me. What saved me was going out for track and field. I made the varsity
team my freshman year! Every fag had to know they could run away. I could
do it pretty well. (That's a joke. Kind of.) I liked to run. There weren't
enough hours in the day now, but I loved the cadence and the almost
hypnotic trance I would go into. I did the runs, throwing, jumping, shot
put, javelin...all of it. For me, the appeal was no competition against
anyone directly. Except for racing. That made me sort of a jock to them, I
guess. The one that asked me some questions about my relationship with
Lisa, Lisa's best friend Samantha, "Sam" and Jackie over and over. He
couldn't understand why they liked me so much if I wasn't cooking up
something with them. It was Chuck. Yep, THE Chuck. My Chuck. Big and blond
and Mr. Tackleman.

I will admit to feeling he was struggling with something. He was dating
Jackie (Jacqulyn) off and on. Jackie was pretty! Red hair! I remembered
more orange in her past, but I'm sure a bottle of something gave her that
deep auburn color. This was before I had even gotten any more than any
inspiration in the direction for medicine, but they were just...wrong. They
didn't belong together. She wanted to be in the group and he was the way
in. He wasn't an ugly guy at all. I got the feeling about a smart
Viking. His family came from Scotland. But really the Vikings were a
hundred kilometers away by water from Scotland. Vikings were in Norway and
Denmark, and they never rested and were always invading someone. Scotland
was invaded many times. I was confident I was right.

"Chuck," I finally said stacking my books for my next class after
lunch. "Lisa, Sam, nor Jackie have anything to worry about from me." It was
risky, but I said. "You, Paul, and Walt do need to worry." I leaned closer
to him. "They are the wrong gender for me. You aren't." I said watching him
absorb what I said, I nodded and headed off to class. I just came out to
Chuck!

(Was I insane?? The jury is still out debating about that. I might be.) He
had the last name that said it all. Slaughter! It could have been me that
got slaughtered! He was a wrecking ball on two feet! He cast shadows when
he passed by and temperatures dropped. (Okay, that's a little exaggerated,
but just a little.) I also saw on his face a very sensitive man. I saw he
was moved when reading poetry for class. The excuse about it being assigned
only helped him do it more. No, I wasn't sure of anything really. It was a
good week later when we spoke again. We met on a Thursday evening when he
asked for help with an upcoming literature assignment. HE asked ME. He
stayed for the night. He apologized to my mother for falling asleep. I
dismissed that with his parents knew where he was and my having a
queen-sized bed. (I heard that! I said no jokes about a queen-sized bed! A
single queen-sized bed had two queens that night. Ha, ha. Are ya happy
now?) It made sense. We were doing the Canterbury Tales and there was a lot
to that. He was far better at poetry than I was, and I knew how to
reprogram my mind for Old English. I remind you of Mel Gibson in
Hamlet. He's a good, GOOD actor. It only took a few minutes to forget how
he said things and hear what he said. If you don't understand what I'm
saying, you probably don't like Shakespeare.

That first night, it was an unspoken request. Could we touch each other?
Did I want to? Hell, yes! We made a rule then and there. Was there anything
we thought we might like, tell the other and with the other's permission,
do it. If one didn't know what it was, time was given as it was explained.

He did it a few more times that year. I even showed up for a game on Friday
night. Yeah, me at a football game. I liked contrasts and he was a big
walking contrast. I didn't see him as a big dumb jock anymore. He had
depth! That was the contrast I loved. My analogy of the wrecking ball was
absolutely true. With that helmet on when Paul, Walt, Chuck, and the others
on the team stormed onto the field, I wouldn't have easily recognized
him. The sneer on his face and that growl said they weren't human
anymore. I knew at the very beginning it wouldn't last for Chuck and
me. There were rules at play here. Chuck almost never spoke to me on
weekends. He was with Jackie and the others. Jackie may have known, because
after a game on Friday night. He and the guys were doing their after-game
beer and pizza party. I was going to Asheville a few days as my mother was
another opinion on her "condition." Why call it a condition? They found
cancer and she went with a close friend to Vancouver, British Colombia
where there was some advanced treatments happening there. We had done
papers on two classics. I handed him the floppy disk. "I added some notes
about what you wrote about The Scarlet Letter and the not so pure
Puritans. I also made some corrections on some of the works of DH Lawrence
including The Rainbow." I nervously leaned closer. "You KNOW how much I
love poetry." I chuckled, but I didn't feel much like joking. What my
mother had was serious, but...Grandpa had his cancer and died a couple of
years prior. I missed him. I knew without asking Grandma missed him the
most.

Jackie came up behind Chuck as he spoke to me. I saw her, Chuck did not.

"Just print them out and hand them in Wednesday," I pointed to the
disk. "If you see anything I missed..."

He knew what was happening, but I hadn't shared it with all of them. He
touched me on the shoulders and said with compassion, "She could respond
well. You don't know."

Did I? I thought.

"We're heading out to Lisa's," Jackie said touching Chuck's arm. "I'm sure
Eric will be welcome."

Chuck didn't exactly jerk his arm away, "I'd like to speak with my friend
privately, please."

I saw the surprise on her face and she tried to figure it out.

I shook my head, "Sorry, not tonight. I'll be out of town next week." I
just handed the disk to Chuck. "Just hand it in?"

Chuck nodded, "Of course."

He wanted to do more, but he simply hugged me, "Be careful."

Jackie frowned as you could almost see she suspected went through her mind,
which she dismissed as impossible.

Yes, I was in love with Chuck, and I was pretty damned sure he was in love
with me. That was when I knew we'd never work out as a couple. He was
trapped! Like I thought Peter was, Chuck felt obligated to live the life he
was expected to. Wait a minute! How'd we get here? From Olek's office back
to High School and Chuck!? How did... This train of thought left the track
to go where and why? Give me a minute or two to gather my thoughts. This
was a huge rabbit!

We left Olek's office where Peter told me again who I was, listened to
Klaus Ordan's words, bullies came up to bully and I refused. Okay, I follow
that. Chuck, a junior, was...a first...many things for me. I'm also
confident in saying I was his first anything man to man. I knew he'd been
with Jackie and he'd kissed her a lot. Bitch. He was supposed to. Damn
it. I doubt he ever kissed another guy other than me and he never kissed me
as he did her. He had feelings with me. I did really love him and still did
and I always will. I refused to accept that. When he told me he was going
to the Citadel, a high-level military college formed in the mid-nineteenth
century, 1840...something. Before the War of Northern Aggression. (The
Civil War?) Those in the North said we couldn't do things anymore and we
asked how come? You know many died as a result. But every Southern
Gentleman prayed they could get a diploma from there. It was almost two
centuries old! After that was done, Chuck's life would be
smooth-sailing. If he endured Hell Night. Yes, that's what it was
unofficially called. If you ask anyone from the Citadel you knew well
enough to ask, it was a night all new recruits, (called Knobs because of
the shaved head) and everyone) had to go through it. Technically, it was
part of the Knob Knowledge period which lasted a week. Any upperclassmen
could stop any Knob at any time that week and demand an answer to any
question about the Citadel. And you better know the answer. Never
guess. They know when you do. Yeah, I know this has nothing really to do
with anything in Makarovia, but knowledge is good! But in a way, it did
have a lot to do with me, and therefore Peter, and Makarovia.

So? You ask. What's wrong with that?

Nothing, really, but Hell Night is different because of the extreme nature
of it. It was and still is the worst case of hazing you ever even heard
of. This was more than just hard physically. In the recent past, women were
not allowed to go to the Citadel. They humiliated you and did questionable
things to members of the male gender. It wasn't loving and though it may be
sexual, it was barely sex!

I'm not done! Did they have to? I didn't like what they did, but I can say
every man that goes through the Citadel learned to act like a Citadel
graduate.

They often had guys "wash out" during that week and many right after that
night. Learning to make beds and polish brass and medals were easy. Yet,
Chuck willingly went through this week and night rather than coming out?
There were almost no homeless people who wore a Citadel Ring they earned
unless there was a mental illness involved or drugs. Even if there was one
of those reasons, they were usually a higher...class of Alcoholic or
Junkie? It's on the Internet. Look it up! Just watch out for the
ex-Knobs. You know, those that didn't make the cut.

I simply know I'd never make it. I was not going to the Citadel. I am proud
to boast that I have too much of Katrina and Theodor Sams in me.

Chuck was doing this at the end of the next year, I knew it was ending and
even when. This sounds odd, but I wished him all the happiness. Really! I
also prayed that our paths just would not cross again. Understand what I
mean. He was...my Sergi. Grandma had hers and didn't want to see him or
have her memories ruined because of it. Remember? The pregnancy scare she
had with him in the past that she admitted to last year?

The past is important. It shaped how we would react in the future. As bad
as they were, the bully played a part in our lives. It taught us how to
deal with conflict. My way was to confront right away. I'm pretty sure that
came from Grandpa. He would always look at the list of jobs and did the
hardest and more difficult job he did first; to get it done!

"Then everything after that will be a piece of cake!" He not only told me
why he did it that way. He modeled life for me. I loved my father. Never
doubt that, but I was young so when I started to become an adult, Grandpa
was my Dad.

His cancer hit hard and fast. Pancreatic Cancer was just so fast. With
Grandpa, it happened in two months. He finds out, he starts treatment and
just dies. Quick and as painless as they could make it. Grandma was a bear!
Those people at the hospital didn't want to overdose him with the strong
narcotics.

Grandma took her cellphone out. She was the one I got a lot of things
from. She started recording.

"Tell me again," she demanded, pointing at the young doctor, "You want to
cap the amount of medicine because he could overdose!? He'll die anyway!"
She began approaching the man. "Tell me there is even the slightest chance
he can recover." He didn't want to answer. "TELL ME!!" Grandma could be
terrifying.

"There's...," the doctor stammered, "you can't give up." He said
weakly. "We can't euthanize."

Grandma nodded, "That's why you instructed me to call Hospice."

We all know the word "Hospice" and its meaning. They were who you called
when there was no hope left. The person they cared for was going to
die. Period.

I had trouble with them, too. No, they weren't the cause of anyone's
death. They provided care for people to live a better life with whatever
time they had left. I struggled with that distinction.

"You hear me, young man," Grandma loomed. "Maybe after the ink finally
dries on your diploma, you'll stop seeing these people as more than the
illnesses and see the person you are treating." She pointed to
Grandpa. "There is the kindest, loving man I have ever known. He deserves
better. He will not suffer one single minute if he doesn't have to." She
threw her hands out. "In Ukraine when a patient reaches this level, they
talk about medications used to stop the pain." Tears were coming unchecked
by Grandma. "I don't want him to die. Not ever, but he will. He will not
live with any pain but die with dignity. Am I clear?"

My mother and I were there and saw and heard it all.

I got a lot from those people. Confronting this bully in Makarovia was
one. Sending the recorded meeting was another.

Nothing is really unrelated to this here. Everything and everyone made us
who we are. Even Ronnie. Chuck did, but this was also when I met Daniel, my
first real love. We were the same age and shared some classes, but he was
not one of us. No, he was a damned Yankee! Complete with the accent. We
didn't have one. Yes, he was one of them! That just made me like him
more. You know me. That forbidden quality just made me like him more. My
friendship with those in that inner circle caused Daniel not to be as
friendly as he could be at first. He and I spoke in the classes we shared,
but when lunch came and the table I sat at had these large guys or their
pretty girlfriends with me, he passed me off. Often. That was because of
Chuck's presence.

Mom did survive longer than expected her to. I never broke up with
Chuck. He just faded into the background. What he and I felt wasn't
considered. Honestly, there wasn't much to break up. We rarely saw each
other on the weekends or holidays. It was my only experience with a double
life. I determined at that moment to be honest about anything and most
definitely, about my life. I wasn't at the swearing marches and protests,
but...my fear was the reaction of others if I did. Would Jackie have her
initial suspicions confirmed? Her boyfriend was gay. Gasp! Or at least
bisexual? What did that say about her? She wasn't woman enough for him? No,
she wasn't male enough for him or honest or sincere.

During the summer break, I worked. The Tomato Sheds. For those with little
Southern agricultural knowledge, the South boasted many farms. Many farms!
Tomatoes was one of the biggest cash crops. Limehouse Farms was one of the
biggest farms for tomatoes! A student who wanted to earn more money, way
more than you could flipping burgers, could really make good money at the
sheds. It was tiring, hot, and dirty work. You either took tomatoes from
the plants in the field, sorted what was brought in to get rid of the ones
birds or insects had gotten to, wash, and then packaged them for grocery
stores all over! From sunup until sundown, it was all about tomatoes. I
sorted and packaged. Apparently, you needed certain skills to
package. Sealing tomatoes with that clear plastic wrap, without bruising
the tomatoes required that. And you did it quickly. I don't know how many
thousands of tomatoes I went through in a day. There were about twelve
Limehouse Farms and covered thousands of acres.

Occasionally, you make friends doing it. That was my Yankee-Italian friend
who quickly set me straight about the whole Yankee versus Rebel thing. His
family was still in Italy during the Civil War. They arrived through Ellis
Island in the Twentieth Century! Whatever. Toe MATE toe, To ma toe...I
wasn't going to quibble. People found out I spoke Russian and Ukrainian I
was labeled a Red. He was a Yankee.

Tony and I even carpooled! What I got from Tony, I didn't get with
Chuck. The freedom to be friends.

Tony and I weren't holding hands in the corridors, or kissing on school
grounds...well, that's not exactly true. My high school became the only
high school on James Island and the school boasted every high school
student that lived on the island. Our student body was in the
thousands. Unless you were homeschooled or went to a private school, you
went here.

Keeping a reign on these rabbits is hard work! My point was, there were
places to go if you knew where to go. The band room or chorus room that had
private smaller rooms a section from the choir could work and were seldom
used. When the new year started, Chuck and I just slowed to a stop. The one
conversation we had at any length sort of finished us off.

It was right before my lunch period as I put my books in my locker. I felt
him before I saw or heard him.

"Can we talk?"

I felt this cold weight in the pit of my stomach, but I just closed my
locker. "Sure." I could feel what was coming but tried to school my face
from any emotion.

Chuck looked at the students in the hall and grimaced, "In private?"

Why was it at lunchtime? I was hungry! "Mrs. Cauthen doesn't have a class
now. She doesn't normally lock her class."

We still had to be careful. The school had video surveillance cameras, not
in the private areas like the locker room or bathroom (right), but in the
command high traffic areas. We suspected there were more eyes than we knew
about. We all saw security in that booth watching those little monitors
showed who came in and out of the many entrances. You also had to know us;
the students.

We knew the camera had a blind spot. The far back corner had a cabinet in
the way of the camera that showed the room but didn't see there. It was a
typical classroom for science with the waist-high desks covered with black
and little silver nozzles where you could light to heat whatever chemical
under beakers. No chemicals were out now.

He stopped in that blind spot. "We haven't really seen each other these
past few weeks."

I shrugged, "I haven't gone anywhere." I meant for it to be...less angry
than it sounded. I wasn't really angry. "Sorry."

Chuck shrugged, "What else can we do?"

I looked at him and asked, "It's becoming legal around the world and is in
all of the United States now and will be all over." I said, "The bottom
line is; will we ever become a couple?"

Chuck opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

I nodded after a moment or two and said slowly, "That's what I thought."

"What do you want?" Chuck asked.

"You!" I said instantly and simply with no need to guess. "I want you, damn
it!" I sighed, knowing to stay put or risk being seen by security.

"You have more of me than anyone!" Chuck argued loud. Now, I could see some
of that game aggression in his blue eyes. "You know that!"

"But not all of you!" I shot back just as loud and I held my hands up,
stopping him. "I realize this is risky behavior. Someone could find out we
slipped in here together and guess what we're doing and know why! We can't
be seen doing that," I said. "Why is it important?"

He was flustered because I was making him say what we were doing.

"The magic about a conversation is there are two inputs," I said. "I'm
begging you to interrupt me if I go anywhere other than the path we're on!"
I pleaded with him. "I'll tell you. I love you, Chuck."

He wanted to say something, but again, he couldn't.

"You think we shouldn't be doing what we're doing," I said, "Don't you? If
you don't say it, you aren't gay." I laughed at the pointless words I
spoke. "News flash. You are! Here's what else for you to chew on. Gays have
ALWAYS been!" I waved off in the air. "As far back as Alexander the Great
or Julius Caesar," I saw his eyebrows rise when I said Caesar. "He was,
too. He had an affair with King Nicomedes of Bithynia? It's documented!
Everybody knows about Alexander. Up to Baron Friedrich Steuben who knew
George Washington and served with him!" I shook my head. That wasn't fair,
this wasn't covered in most American History classes. "Fred was a Prussian
military man hired by President Washington...KNOWING Fred was a fag!" I
turned to Chuck more, "And where does that pride come into this? Huh?" Yes,
I got rabbits even then. "I sure as Hell didn't do anything to be proud of,
but I've done nothing to be ashamed of either." Chuck was frustrated! "Say
something! Anything!"

"I..." He began hesitantly, "don't know."

"Yes," I nodded my head. "You do. You believe it's wrong!"

"Isn't it?"

"No!" I said instantly. "We are a part of a complex world! We understand
almost nothing dealing with Human Beings. What we do know, fits in the
shortest time of life. Not even a fraction of the time of life on the
planet. There is more than just black and white, on and off, right and
wrong!" My head turned a little bit looking at him. "Can you even say it?
Out loud? What are we doing? What are we? You and I are what?" I
asked. "Tell me at the very least!"

The other part in play here was another set of unwritten rules but known by
everyone. (There are just so many!) My mother and father weren't part of
this group and wouldn't have even tried. Chuck grew up in Fort Johnson
Estates. Yeah, I know. You don't automatically get the significance. I will
also add the Country Club and not a single lot was less than a couple of
acres of perfectly landscaped yards were maintained. Seldom was it taken
care of by the people residing in those houses. The only person in the
neighborhood responsible for lawns owned a company that did that.

He had employees that did that as teams of people. He was one of the few
blue-collar workers that lived in that neighborhood. The rest were all
doctors, scientists, lawyers, judges, architects, and all those big ink
occupations that required a comprehension reading level over the third or
fourth grade. You might be surprised at which level most newspapers were
usually written.

Here's another rabbit, a teacher when I was in seventh grade announced
"open reading." Yes, I'll explain. She didn't care what we read, we had a
selection of topics and books. Magazines, if you submitted the article with
it. I loved Ms. Daniels! (You know what I mean.) Patrick, a future geek in
the community or mega-rich entrepreneur because of forward-thinking handed
in his paper based on a series of articles in PLAYBOY! Everybody gasp! Go
ahead. He earned an A! I read it and it was DAMNED good. Both the article
and the paper! Thank god, not a naked anything of any gender to be seen. Of
course, word spread, but like always that word was full of errors. Mothers
came to speak with Ms. Daniels who did nothing to defend what she did. She
handed over the copy of the article and asked them to read it. Charles
Adams was a famous writer, having won award after award for writing
excellence. He had been doing a series of articles that had nothing to do
with sex or nudity at all. He tried to explain global warming even if it
had unseasonable snows! The weather patterns changed and Gulf Stream and
Jet Stream changed slightly and...he dumbed the article down to reach more
readers in hopes that some ignorant bastard would understand at last. They
probably only looked at the nudes. Pity. At least the article read at a
high school level! Ms. Daniels handed Patrick's paper, admitting she was
challenged to understand some of it, but Patrick was smart! Very smart. He
did understand and explained it very well. I always suspected Patrick
was...never mind! I ain't going there.

Chuck was the son of Judge Charles A. Slaughter and he didn't mitigate
traffic tickets. He got crimes. Not the, she was cheating on me so I shot
the boyfriend crimes either. Complex crimes of did they, or didn't they as
motivations were explained and often hidden truths. Every lawyer, young or
seasoned sweated Judge Slaughter's no-nonsense approach to everything. All
of the sons wanted to go to the Citadel. (Some of the daughters, too.) They
still admittedly went to school to get a husband. Really!? Is it the 1950s
again? Marry a doctor or lawyer? Maybe SHE wants to be the doctor or
lawyer! They meet, marry and she's pregnant and she's done! If she did it
all before thirty, well THAT was an accomplishment!

Yes, this is a big, BIG rabbit, but not unrelated. This is why I had a hard
time accepting Peter and his no consequence family and country. All Chuck
needed to possibly give up was his Corvette when he graduated...from High
School! I wondered what he got graduating from The Citadel?

Anyway, I knew he couldn't do it. I nodded, "It's okay." I even smiled at
him. "We have something special." I touched my own chest. "I've said it. I
love you, Chuck. I always will." I got closer, "I'm not breaking up with
you, but you're breaking up with me."

"And letting him in?" Chuck asked a little bitterly.

I couldn't help it. The idea was so...ludicrous sounding. I burst out
laughing. "You're jealous because I like that Yankee!?" I shook my head,
"Too bad. I'm jealous all of the fucking time with Jackie! How many times
these few weeks have you slipped her your dick?" I held my fist over my
mouth as a felt my stomach wretch. It was real, too. The idea of what he
did with her made me nauseated! It's natural, I know, I know. I didn't have
to like it. A lion taking down an innocent deer is natural, as well. I
didn't want to see that either. "You give her this awesome gift, does she
appreciate it?"

There were these scales and numbers to represent the behaviors of people. I
don't believe I gave any signs to what my preference was. I never did a
sashay when I walk. Not even once. The scale had one number (0) meant you
were completely heterosexual. The opposite extreme number (6) meant you
were completely homosexual. The number in the middle (3) meant you were
both. Please! No limp wrists. I just liked socializing with the male
gender. Don't hate me! Remember? Again, gay. Me. I love and like many
women. No romances for me. I'm NOT straight.

Chuck was embarrassed and nodded. "She's never gotten all of me
unprotected." He looked almost...panicked. "I...just can't."

"I know. It doesn't really matter." I said, "I'm jealous she can." I smiled
at Chuck. "Modern science will figure a way we can, but I would love to
take your gift, mix it with me, and create a human being made from you and
me." I smiled softer again. "That would be an awesome gift." I touched his
face. "If you come by and if I'm home, you'll be welcome every time. What I
won't be is anyone's secret." I literally had to stand on tiptoes as I
kissed him. It was tender, soft, and lengthy. It was love that he gave
back. I felt it. He had no choice. "See ya," I said and went out the door,
leaving Chuck with a heart that was breaking. It was his choice. He chose
"the life" over me. What did I offer him? Love?



Another kernel of wisdom from Grandpa. Disappointments come. They're a part
of life. Just don't wallow too long, or you might miss something. I missed
him now, but things he and did just wrapped tighter around me. Now, I was a
prince of a country grandpa would have said, "Makarovia!? Where the Hell is
That?"

If Chuck had asked me, I would have stayed. He didn't. So, I didn't. I saw
him three times after that. Well, I saw him four times. He only saw me
three. My mother tried to fight, but cancer is an evil lifeform. They
cautioned me not to give this disease more than it is. I thought it was
damned evil! Grandpa was healthy until then, but his cancer was so quick!
Mom was giving it everything she had, and I knew to keep her spirits up was
very important. Chuck came by once before Christmas. I didn't ask because I
didn't want to know. He looked...haggard. I don't think I understood the
meaning of the word, but he showed me what it meant on his face then. It
was more than fatigue and he just looked drained. He came and saw me. I
know! His choice, not mine. He couldn't give up the Country Club, future
Mercedes and all the shit and stay with me. Now, I'm glad he didn't. Could
we have worked it out? Sure. He couldn't see that as even a possibility.

This situation was barely tolerable. That Yankee in my life I knew I was
was in love with. I told you what happened. If Chuck asked and I stayed, I
could be driving the Mercedes and living at the Country Club. We could have
been very happy. Then again, I was difficult to live with. I'm sure life
with him was a breeze. (That was sarcasm again.) Beautiful thing
sarcasm. You say exactly the opposite of what you mean and that's almost
always understood.

Don't feel sorry for either of us, though some probably will
inevitably. I'm still sad at times about it. Chuck was fine and I am
fine. Obviously not together or there would be no me telling you about the
common American college man marrying Prince Whatshisname. Pedro, Peter,
Pete, Petie was like a cat. I'm going on with the story! I swear. Like
cats, there were several names. Three in T. S. Eliot's poem. Yes, it's a
poem, and no I never cared for poems. This one stuck, okay? From the book
Old Possum's Practical Cats. It's a good poem. The poem spoke of a typical
name he uses in public used by all humans. Another one, in particular, was
more dignified but clearly not for common human use such as Munkustrap or
Jellylorum. The secret name is just that. A secret. "The cat himself knows
and will never confess."

It's a good poem! It made it to Broadway! Cats! Naturally. Movies! Peter
has a name only I can use. Husband. People can use it to identify him, but
I call him that because that's what he is to me.

Is it a rabbit if we speak about cats? Oh, never mind, it became what it is
because of the events in the past. Chuck helped shape me.

Right at the mid-year point and once before he graduated. He showed off his
corvette. Then I didn't see him a year.

He made it through Hell Week. The Knobs couldn't even walk on the sidewalk!
No! They had to walk in the gutter! The white paved portion between the
sidewalk and street. I would have been kicked out on day one! I still
couldn't imagine a small upperclassman, barely five feet and five inches
giving six-plus feet and two hundred- and forty-pounds Chuck a hard time.

Daniel Anthony was a private name. His grandmother and mother used it. I
did, too. Just calling his name told my Italian Yankee my mood. Friends
called him Tony or even Danny. He was not a Danny or a Tony to me. He was
very important. He was killed and I didn't know how I was going to make
it. I did, hearing my grandpa's words in my head and having Grandma there
most of the time.

Mom had good insurance so getting help with Mom was easy. I'd do whatever
Mom needed, but grandma said to me. "You would, but as your mother gets
sicker, she will lose control of a lot. Her bowels. No son should ever have
to change his mother's soiled underwear if you don't have to."

I could almost feel sorry for the nurses that cared for Mom. As strict as
with Grandpa, she was Mama bear with Mom. Sure. Mom was her baby. I knew
that. It was horribly unfair. She lost them both, the man she married was
dead and their child was dying. We knew Mom was confounding the doctors
about how long she fought, but we knew cancer would win.

Mom made sure I took the time to do what I wanted. When Daniel Anthony
died, I think the understanding was with both my mother and Grandma I was
in love with Daniel.

Oh, yeah. I did see Chuck one more time. He didn't see me. It was at the
Citadel. I went for the Graduation Parade. Every student at the Citadel was
in the parade. Say what you will, I had a hard time identifying one
Cadet. Except for the slightly different uniforms, Knobs wore all grey,
except today. He was moving up. All those bluish-grey jackets over the
bleached white, white pants made them all look very sharp. That was the
point of the uniform. No one person stood above anyone else. By size alone
I guessed. Not much hair there. After the parade, Judge Slaughter approach
one, and I knew it was Chuck. Then his mother, sister and...a young woman
I'd never seen before. No Jackie. He was finished with his first year of
college. Jackie was still in high school. Jackie had not known but
complained about not seeing Chuck hardly at all that year.

So was I, so I got the whole thing whether I wanted it or not. Her name was
Ashton and was finishing her first year...wait for it. Vassar. You know the
name, I'm sure. New York State? North of New York City not a hundred miles
away. Women from Vassar were supposed to be very smart. Ashton looked
smart! She was very pretty and she along with her alumnus married men from
Yale, Harvard, Princeton, and all those Ivy League Schools. I didn't know
commoners had pedigrees, but she had them. So confident. She attended
Vassar and when she graduated, it was with honors, I found out. She
belonged to THE Sorority. All the girls' initiations were though. I don't
know what the Greek letters were and I never found out what was tough. The
rumor was that any girl could pledge, but few were accepted. UNLESS (the
finger is up) you could prove a family line or connection with American
History. She had three!! Two direct Mayflower descendants and one was a
President!

Which one? I don't know. I don't even know if he was a good president, but
he married a grandmother's sister, making him an uncle.

Chuck had said he was looking at politics and maybe even president
himself. That would be more difficult with me, but maybe with her. He
probably couldn't go as far with Jackie at his side.

Is anyone surprised to know I didn't exactly like her? I tried not to hate
her. It really wasn't her fault...exactly. I have NEVER thought she loved
Chuck.

I just heard anger. It was a part of the breakup events, maybe that's where
she was. Straights are weird anyway. I got the opinion that she was
furious! Not really about losing Chuck but wasting these few years on
him. All that time and effort on HIM! She wanted the Country Club and
Mercedes! Now, it was gone!

I heard Jackie planned a few maneuvers and tried to break them up. I wished
her well. I heard about her confrontation with Ashton. Sam, or Samantha,
Walt's girl, was telling the story to her friends and I was there!

"She gets him away from the group," Sam explained in a near stage
whisper. "She got to kissing him as Ashton came over. She had asked him to
bring it. He said he had, but he would go get it." Sam hissed, "That's it!
And Ashton was walking away!

Jackie shouts, "It doesn't bother you I was kissing Chuck!?" "Not at all,"
Ashton says. "He's only been over with you here ten minutes. I don't own
Chuck. I know he has breaks from the barracks. I know you're still in the
city. If he were to cheat with you, how could I stop him? I know your past,
yours, and Chucks." "All of it?" Jackie asked. "ALL," Ashton said
pointedly, "of it." Ashton shakes her head and tells Jackie to "grow up."

This from a cheerleading teenager!? I didn't know how much was true. What
did Ashton mean saying ALL of it?

I heard of another about Easter where Jackie supposedly got into words with
Ashton, or rather Jackie got into loud words with Ashton. Here's another
contrast I liked. Ashton never raised her voice. I love that in people! She
was a lady. Damn! My head was almost turned. Of course, it wasn't but...my
kind of Human Being!

And I'm no better than anyone else. I knew you don't argue with her. You'll
lose. I wondered if Chuck and Ashton were still together. I hoped so. And
there's a part of me I hoped when the news broke about Peter and me, the
interview by Anderson, the talk show that Chuck saw it wasn't that bad with
me. He had to know if he and I didn't split up, I wouldn't be in Makarovia
And a prince. Yeah, but I hoped Jackie choked on whatever she was eating. I
didn't like her. You got that? Not at all! Bitch.



I turned to see Peter looking at me strangely. I don't know how long he had
been looking, but now I was aware of his stare. "What?" I asked.

Peter nodded, "You just seemed to be..." he thought carefully and said,
"somewhere else. How do I say this? You were physically here, but your eyes
said no one home."

I grinned, "Did they?" I shrugged a single nod, "That's right, but...it was
more than just a where, but a where and when."

Peter's face scrunched a little, "Okay. Are you telling or am I going to
have to ask?"

I walked us back to the couch and pulled him down with me. "I'll tell
you. Don't worry about that." I said maneuvering us so I was looking down
at him. "But, before you do," I grinned. "I'll tell you again." I leaned in
kissing him tenderly, "But first," I looked into the light gray-green
eyes. "I thought I did love others before." I chuckled. "What did I know?"
I grinned brighter. "I know what I didn't know then..." I kissed him again,
"was you. I didn't know love this intense even existed. I love you, Peter."