STANDARD WARNING: This is a work of fiction. Any
coincidence to individuals, living or dead, is pure coincidence.
Do not read this story if you are offended by man-to-man romance
or sex. Do not read if you are underage according to the laws in
the country, state/province, county, city/town/village or
township where you live. There is sex between males. You have
been warned!
Matt
Chapter 7
Tim spent the night, but they didn’t have sex, even
though they both slept in Matt’s bed. Matt had a tough time
getting to sleep. they held each other all night, but Matt
couldn’t turn off his mind. He had to admit it to himself: I
could easily fall in love with Tim. My resistance is falling.
The next morning, Tim woke up early. He was putting in some
overtime at a job site. How woke without the aid of an alarm
clock or Matt and showered. By the time Matt as conscience enough
to notice that the thing he was hugging was a pillow, Tim was
dressed and ready to leave.
Tim kissed Matt’s forehead and left. Matt rolled over and
went back to sleep.
That afternoon, Matt fought the traffic to St.
Luke’s. He was surprised at how heavy it was on a Saturday
afternoon. It was less than ten miles from Park Forest to St.
Luke’s but because of the traffic, it would take half an
hour. He turned on the radio, opened the sunroof and chain
smoked.
But why was he nervous? It was only lunch with Bill.
Matt parked in front of the Administration Building, and walked
to the lower level. One of the older boys was doing duty as the
receptionist since most of the staff was gone for the long
weekend. Matt knew that most of the boys would be gone, too. They
would go home to dysfunctional families, only to have the
progress that they had made be undone.
“I’m here to see Bill,” he told the boy without
stopping and strode down the hall to Bill’s office. The door
was open and he could see Bill on the phone. He smiled, and waved
Matt into the office.
It was only when he stepped into the office that he saw Brian
sitting the comfortable wing chair.
“Hi,” Matt smiled at Brian.
“Hi.”
“Damn,” Bill mumbled to himself. “Answering
machine again,” he said to Brain.
“Bitch,” Brian muttered under his breath.
Bill shot Brian a look that said: that’s enough of that.
Bill signed, and leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry,
Matt. I know we had plans for lunch. But I’m having trouble
getting someone to take Brian for the weekend. And I can’t
leave until I do. Bill pulled his Rolodex across the desk toward
him. “Should I call one of your brothers?” he asked
Brian.
Brian only looked down at his feet and nodded. Bill dialed a
number, and almost immediately set the handset down again.
“Answering machine again. Brian, are you sure your sister
know you’re supposed to be picked up?”
Brian nodded.
“What time was she supposed to be here?”
“Two hours ago.”
“Traffic is pretty bad. Maybe she’s on her way, but
stuck in traffic,” Matt suggested.
“This long?” Bill asked.
“You’re right,” Matt conceded. He was hungry and
anxious to go to lunch. Suddenly he had an inspiration, “Why
don’t we take Brian to lunch with us? You could leave a
message on her machine. If she forgot, she’ll get the
message, and we’ll be back before she gets here. If
she’s already on her way, we can leave word with the kid at
the desk that we’ll be back.”
Bill smiles widely. He liked the idea. Bill dialed Noreen’s
number, left a message and said to Matt and Brian,
“Let’s go.”
They all rode in Bill’s Honda wagon. Brian could hardly
stoop smiling. It was the most uninterrupted attention he had
gotten from an adult since he came to St. Luke’s. And he was
thrilled about spending the time with Bill, whom he liked, and
Matt, whom he though was very handsome.
Bill and Matt chatted, while Bill drove them to Glenn’s, a
casual family style restaurant in Chicago Heights. Brian sat the
the back seat and absorbed the conversation in silence. He
gathered that Matt had been a counselor at the camp several years
ago.
Matt turned every so often to look at the boy. Instead of looking
out the window, he was watching and listening to the adults in
the front seats.
They were seated in the dark restaurant where they ordered their
food and resumed their conversation.
“So, tell me Brian, how long have you been at St.
Lukes?”
“About six months.”
“What do you like best in school?”
“Probably English.”
“He was also in the Spring Play,” Bill volunteered.
“We did Ten Little Indians.”
They chatted easily, tried to include Brian in the conversation
but they steered away from certain topics, like the foster
program. The glow in Brian’s eyes told the whole story. Not
since he arrived at St. Luke’s had be been to a restaurant
other than McDonald’s.
They paid the bill, and drove back to St. Luke’s. The
traffic was lighter, now, and it took little time to return to
campus. Back in the Administration building, Bill addressed the
receptionist, who was now watching TV.
“Any messages?” The boy shook his head no. There no
messages on Bill’s machine, either.
“Brian, I’m afraid it looks like you’re here for
the weekend.” The kid looked hurt and crestfallen. “I
guess you’d better go get your things and go to Sears.”
The boy left the office almost dragging.
“What will he do?” Matt asked Bill once he was out of
earshot.
“There’s always some kids who don’t have anywhere
to go. We consolidate them into one cottage for the weekend,
because most of the houseparents have the weekend off.”
“Bill - how unusual would it be - I mean, could he spend the
weekend with me?”
Bill leveled a steady gaze at Matt. “Not that unusual at
all. Do you have to work at all this weekend?”
“Monday.”
“So, you’ll have to bring him back Sunday night.
Let’s see if we can catch up to Brian before he gets to
Sears.”
They started across campus. Matt had never been in the cottages.
“Is it OK for me to go in?”
Bill waved the question away. “Of course, you’re with
me.”
They encountered the boy just as he was leaving the back door of
the cottage.
“Brian,. how would you like to go to Matt’s house for
the weekend?”
It was clear by the way his face lit up he didn’t need any
convincing.
“I’m off tomorrow, but I have to work
on Monday. I’ll bring you back on Sunday night.” With
the boy’s gym bag in the trunk of his Saturn, Matt turned
right at the entrance to campus.
Brian just smiled. He was elated about getting out of St.
Luke’s and going back a day early didn’t matter to him
in the least. He almost felt as if he were getting even with his
family. And Matt was a nice guy. Brian felt he had something in
common with him.
“What do you want to do?”
“Anything’s fine with me.” Brians voice was just
beginning to break. Only the voices of adolescent boys could
cover so many octaves.
Matt snapped on the radio and tuned in the Saturday Morning
Flashback. The program was one of Matt’s favorites; every
Saturday morning they selected another year to feature, and
played the hits as well as some headlines, and celebrity deaths.
This morning, they were featuring the year 1980. It was almost
over by this time in the day.
The station played Money(That’s What I Want) by the
Flying Lizards. Matt laughed out loud. A vivid memory of himself
and a friend laughing at this song while they were drunk appeared
in his mind. He used to have this song on a twelve-inch-single.
Vinyl. Where was it? He didn’t even have a turntable any
more. What happened to the friend, Beth, who was one of the first
people he told he was gay?
Suddenly, Matt remembered that he was not alone.
“Funny song,” he explained to the kid.
Brian looked at him as if his hair had turned green.
“Guess you had to be there.”
Panic built in his mind, until it made his heart start to pound
and his palms sweaty. What the hell was he doing? Had he taken
leave of his senses? What would his parents say? Marty? Mrs.
Levin? His sister?
“So,” Matt said.
“So, what?”
“Just so. It’s a conversation starter. As in -- so what
do you want to do this weekend?”
Brian shrugged. “Just getting out of St. Puke’s is
enough.” Matt chuckled at the use of the boy’s nickname
for the place.
“How about we grill out tonight? What do you like?”
He shrugged again. “Anything. As long as the cooks in Larson
hall don’t get a hold of it.”
“We’ll stop by a grocery store and pick something
up.”
“Do you have video games?”
“No, sorry.”
“That’s OK. Mr. Rosato...”
“Please, call me Matt.”
“Do you think we could go to a mall?”
Matt wrinkled his forehead at the unusual request. “Sure. I
guess so.” Usually, Matt stayed as far away form malls as he
could on his day off for two reasons. First, it reminded him too
much of work. Also, he hated shopping. In this respect he was a
typical male. Matt’s shopping motto was: Get in, get what
you need, get out. Marty was just the opposite. He could spend hours
comparing, trying on, pricing, and on and on.
They stopped at the Jewel/Osco on Western Avenue. Matt picked up
some chicken, barbecue sauce and more potato salad.
“Here we are,” Matt announced when they parked in back
of the town home. Brian carried his gym bag.
“So I have to take off my shoes?”
“Not unless you want to.”
“We always have to take off our shoes in the cottages at St.
Luke’s.” Matt wondered if this was a school rule or a
houseparent’s rule. Brian set his bag by the door, and
slipped off his oversized athletic shoes. God, those shoes
would fit me, Matt thought.
“Let me show you around.” Matt took him to the basement
first. Matt still hadn’t purchased much furniture for the
family room. However, he had bought bookshelves, and they lined
almost an entire wall. They boy’s eyes widened at the sight
of all the books.
“Occupational hazard,” Matt chuckled.
“What do you do?”
“I’m the manager of a bookstore in Oak Ridge
Mall.”
“I know where that is. I lived in Evergreen Park.” He
picked up a book. “I love to read. Most of the books at the
school are older than I am.”
Matt grinned. “Then you can borrow whatever you want.”
Brian picked up a copy of Clan of The Cave Bear. It had
the front cover torn off.
“Why do these paperbacks have the front cover torn
off?”
“We call them strip covers. We tear the covers off the books
and just send the covers back. It saves on postage and labor.
Have you read this series? They’re really good.”
“No, can I borrow it?”
“Sure.” A fleeting look of disbelief crossed
Brian’s face, but the took the book with him. Matt showed
the boy the rest of the basement.
“This is really nice,” Brian commented as they ascended
the stairs.
“Thanks. It was just a burned-out shell when I bought it.
Let’s light the grill, and it will be ready.”
Outdoors, Matt doused the charcoal with lighter fluid. He took a
match, and the charcoal burst into flames. They stood over the
grill in silence, watching the fire, as if conducting a religious
ceremony. He decided to marinate the chicken, and do some other
preparations.
“Why don’t you watch a little TV while I get the
chicken ready?” he suggested to the boy.
Brian did, then discovered Matt had cable. He surfed through the
channels, finally landing on MTV.
“Do you want some pop?” Matt asked from the kitchen.
“Yes, please.”
Impressed with the boy’s manners, he brought him a Diet
Pepsi.
“Do you have any regular Pepsi?”
“No, sorry. I only have diet.” He made a mental note to
buy regular Pepsi next time. If there is a next time.
Matt finished his preparations in the kitchen, and wiped his
hands on a towel. “Let me show you the upstairs. Grab your
gym bag.”
The front bedroom had no furniture but Matt showed it to
Brian anyway. The center bedroom was where he intended on putting
Brian. He used it as the guest bedroom and Marty slept there when
he stayed overnight. The bed was covered in gray pinstripe sheets
with matching curtains that his mom had sewed for him. It was
accented by bright yellow pillowcases. There was a dresser that
Matt bought at Target and assembled himself, and a nightstand.
There were no pictures on the walls nor anything on the dresser
or nightstand to indicate it was being used.
“This is your room tonight.” Brian smiled widely.
He was showing Brian the master bedroom when he heard a car door
slam. One of the windows in the master bedroom looked out over
the parking area. Matt peered out the window and spotted Marty
walking toward the kitchen door. Shit. I forgot all about
Marty coming tonight.
Matt raced downstairs, with Brian closely behind. Just as
Marty rang the doorbell, he opened the door. What was he going to
do now? He couldn’t uninvite Marty. And he was going to have
to explain Brian sooner or later. Marty stepped in, and kissed
Matt on the cheek.
“Hello, sweetie.”
“Hi, Marty. I’d like you to meet Brian Kowalski. He
is...” Matt struggled for a term. Friend? Nephew? No, Marty
knew Matt didn’t have any nephews yet. Cousin? Marty would
see right through that. He decided to tell Marty the truth.
“....going to be my foster son.”
Marty, ever gallant exactly at the time when Matt needed him to
be, shook the boy’s hand and smiled. “Hi, Brian, nice
to meet you.”
“Hi,” Brian returned the smile. His smile was for the
flamboyant Marty but also for Matt’s comment: He’s
going to be my foster son.
Marty waved a videotape. “I just got Crying Game on
video! Have you seen it?”
Matt was enthused. “No, but, I’ve wanted to. I never
did get to see it in the theater.” Then, it struck him. The
movie was probably rated ‘R’. Should he be showing that
kind of video to Brian? I’ve never had to worry about
this before. I guess this is one of the things you think about
when you are a parent. Oh, well, he’s probably seen more
skin on MTV.
Matt put the chicken on the grill, while Marty and Brian
helped. So far, Marty hadn’t asked for an explanation of
Brian’s presence, although Matt knew he was dying to find
out. They ate their meal with the stereo on. When they finished,
Brian helpfully loaded the dishwasher, while Matt and Marty put
the food away.
Finished with their meal, they positioned themselves in the
living room. Matt and Marty sat on the couch at a respectable
distance from each other. Brian laid on his stomach on the floor.
Matt playfully tossed him a pillow.
“Here, you might be more comfortable with this.”
Crying Game had been out in the theaters the year before,
and had been nominated for several awards. Soon, all three were
absorbed in the movie, captivated by it’s dreamlike mood and
numerous plot twists. And, of course, there was the
‘surprise’ about one of the characters, Dil. It raised
several questions in Brian’s mind, although he didn’t
think this was a good time to raise them.
During the movie, Marty looked at Matt and raised one eyebrow.
Matt only grinned and mouthed to Marty: I’ll explain
later. Matt watched the boy on the floor. His jeans were too
short for him. His socks had once been white, but now where
dingy. His shirt had a small rip under one arm. A trip to the
mall was definitely in order tomorrow.
When the movie finished, it was nearly ten o’clock.
“Can I take a shower?” Brian asked Matt.
“Of course.” Matt led him upstairs, gave him a towel
and washcloth and showed him the location of the soap and
shampoo.
“So what’s with prettyboy?” Marty asked when Matt
had seated himself on the couch again.
Matt chuckled. “Possible foster son. He’s just here
overnight. My friend Bill from St. Luke’s had nowhere else
to send him for the weekend.”
“I meant Tim, darling, but we’ll get back to him. So
when does he come to live with you?”
“I don’t know. I’m supposed to have him over for
ten weekends before he moves in on a permanent basis. “
“Then what?”
“He lives with me six months. After that I could adopt him.
I have to take parenting classes at St. Luke’s. This is
going to be over the summer.”
“Is it just me, or is he a minor event on the gaydar
horizon?”
Matt laughed. “It’s not just you. I picked it up, too.
Plus, he told Bill he thought he was gay. Bill was the one who
talked me into the foster program.”
Marty raised an eyebrow. “How convenient for you.”
Matt swatted him with a pillow. “Get your mind out of the
gutter, you pervert,”
“I’m just kidding, Mary. Get over yourself.” Marty
looked directly in Matt’s eyes. “Seriously, you’re
going to be a great dad. He’s very lucky. And if
there’s anything I can do to help....” They both
shifted in their seats. Marty never complimented anyone unless it
was in the form of sarcasm or teasing. Matt knew he was sincere.
“Now, what about Mr. Construction Worker?”
“There’s nothing really to tell.”
Then, Brian appeared on the stairs. He was wearing only a pair of
green cotton St. Luke’s gym shorts. The elastic waistband of
his underwear was visible.
“Good night,” he announced from the bottom of the
stairs. I would have never appeared in front of two virtual
strangers dressed like that when I was his age. I guess he’s
more comfortable with his body. Or maybe it comes from living in
an all-male institution.
Not sure whether he should hug him, shake his hand, wave, or
offer him a Tiparillo, Matt simply responded, “Good
night.”
“Nice to meet you,” Marty called after him.
Marty left soon afterwards. Matt and Marty both decided that it
would unwise for Marty to stay.
The next morning, Matt woke early and couldn’t get back to
sleep. He showered, started the coffee, and picked up the Sunday
Chicago Tribune and the Park Forest Star off the front
porch. It was thinner than usual today, probably because of
Memorial Day. David Letterman had just announced he was moving to
CBS in the fall. President Clinton and the military were going in
circles about gay servicemen. Matt was absorbed in an article
about how newly-independant Lithuania was struggling to rebuild
it’s economy after decades of Soviet domination. He heard
the boy coming downstairs. His blond hair was still tangled from
sleep.
“Hi,” Matt said cheerfully. “How did you
sleep?”
“OK.”
“I’m not real big about breakfast. I’m Italian.
Our idea of a hot breakfast is a cup of coffee. A big hot
breakfast is two cups of coffee.” Brian chuckled. “But
there’s some cereal in the cabinet next to the stove, if you
want. We'll go to brunch before we hit the mall. I thought we
might take a ride to Orland Square or River Oaks.”
Brian looked through the Sunday paper, found a few sections that
he was interested in, and began to read.
The two of them sat at the dining room table reading. It was a
cozy, comfortable scene. About 10:30, Matt took a shower. He
dressed and they were off. They ate an early lunch at Rising Sun,
Matt’s favorite Chinese restaurant, then went to Orland
Square.
They wandered in and out of stores, without much direction. Then,
they passed by The Gap. On an impulse, Matt suggested,
“Let’s go in.”
Matt saw the boy running his hands over a pair of jeans. He’d
look so good in them, Matt thought.
“It’s been so long since I had a new pair of
jeans,” Brian said quietly. If Brian was using him, Matt
didn’t care. The kid could have at least one nice set of
clothes.
A perky young salesgirl approached them, “How are you doing
today?”
“Good, thanks,” Matt answered for them both.
“He’d like to try these on. And maybe a polo shirt,
too.”
The salesgirl picked out a solid medium-blue polo shirt.
“This would look nice with your eyes.” She handed the
neatly folded garments to Brian. He blushed at her comment, and
took them into the fitting room.
“These are both perfect on you,” Matt said, gently
tugging on the waistband of the jeans. Should he buy a larger
size? Brian was sure to grow out of them in no time. No, Matt
decided, just once he should have some clothes that he
doesn’t have to grow into.
“That was nice of your dad,” the salesgirl said as she
rang up the sale.
Matt and Brian looked at each other and grinned.
Back in the car, they started the trip back to Park Forest.
“Thanks so much, Matt.”
“You are welcome.”
“Matt, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course you can.”
“Are you gay?”
Hope you are having as much fun reading this as I am writing it! Your feedback is very helpful. Some of the best ideas come from the readers! So, drop me a line if you have any suggestions, comments or anything you care to say! mailto: archer@gtemail.net or mailto: archerland@mailcity.com or ICQ 61283246