Then and Now
Christopher
Macintosh
This story is
the
fictional blog of a contemporary American teenage boy and the fictional
journal
of a teenager from the nineteen-seventies. This is not real and the
characters,
with the exception of any historical or public figures mentioned, are
not real
and any similarity to real individuals is purely coincidental. This
story is a
gay romance and mystery and though sex will be mentioned, there will be
no
explicit or gratuitous descriptions of sexual activity. This is not a
pornographic story. However, if you still feel you will be offended by
the
content, please read no further. I am not a lawyer and I do not play
one on TV,
(nor have I ever stayed at a Holiday Inn Select- apologies to
non-Americans,
LOL), but I seriously doubt that reading this story will violate any
American
laws. I cannot comment on anything legal outside the
You
may assume that any spelling, grammatical, or factual errors are
deliberate, as
these are supposed to be the works of two adolescent males. Yeah,
that's it.
That's the ticket. They're deliberate! Yeah. And, Heather Locklear told
me so. Yeah!
Chapter Eight
Toby's
Excellent Blog- Saturday,
July 30, 2005
Listening
to- Foreigner/ I've Been
Waiting
Mood-
Thrilled
I
am writing this on David's computer, so you can assume things have
improved.
Yeah, they've improved. Way improved. So majorly improved. Even if
David likes
eighties hair bands.
My eyes
have been opened by both David and my father. I don't know where to
begin, so I
guess I'll start with Thursday night.
At
dinner, I told Mom and Fuehrer that I wasn't going to church anymore. I
told
them Brother Seth was a pervert and a fraud and that the church was
trying to
protect him. I said the Faithbuilders was just a money-making scheme
and I
didn't want any part of it. Fuehrer said I was going to Hell anyway and
he no
longer gave a damn about the state of my soul. He said it was just as
well
because all I do, he says, is sulk when I'm at church with them. Funny.
The
kitchen TV was on and the news announced while we were talking that
Brother
Seth had been arrested on charges of molesting minors and that Brother
Willy
was calling it a conspiracy by enemies of Faithbuilders to destroy his
ministry. But, they said that, so far, eight families were filing
complaints
against Brother Seth and that more were expected. I kept the smirk off
my face
while I watched the look of frustration grow on Fuehrer's face. Mother
just
frowned and gave me a “don't say anything” look.
So, I
went outside after dinner and David was playing football with a couple
of
gorillas out in the street. He looked at me, but didn't say anything. I
just
turned the other way and walked over to the shopping center across from
the
hospital. They always have “Jazz on Thursdays” during the summer there
and it
was kewl. I listened for awhile and then went home when it started
getting
dark.
I pulled
out my father's journal. I couldn't find Volume 2, so I started Volume
3 and I
think I understand Dad a lot more now. He had such dreams. He was
trying so
hard. And, I realize that he and I were going through basically the
same shit.
Letitia is right. I really am like my Dad, though I have to admit that
it's
really weird to read your Dad writing at the age of 15 about boning up.
I
can't imagine going through what he went through, though. He had it
even
rougher than me. But, he seemed like such a romantic and as I read what
he
wrote, I could see him, even though he was 15. I could see that was
Dad, the
sarcasm and humor, the depression, the idealism. And, it freaked me out
so much
that we both loved the Peace Garden and that one bench! Of course, when
I was a
kid, he used to take me there and maybe that's why I love it so much.
It
reminds me of the wonderful times when he and I would play Frisbee in
the
garden or sit by the conservatory and he would read to me.
It is so
weird to think of my father, who I knew in his thirties and forties,
and read
the words of pain and love he wrote at 15, the frustration he felt at
not being
recognized for his abilities, and to read of his love for the asshole
Robin
Pendleton, (who, BTW, is now the District Attorney), and his true love
for
Timothy Lawrence. It's totally weird to read him talk about the boys on
that TV
show and how beautiful Timothy was. It sounds like me talking about
David
except he was so much more eloquent. I wish I could write the way he
did at my
age.
So,
anyway, I looked out the door and David's window was open and I saw him
walk
past without his shirt. He is so beautiful and I wondered maybe if he
didn't
hate me anymore or if it was just that he didn't give a damn. And,
then, his
light went out. So I went out the door and sat in a lawn chair in the
dark,
looking at the stars listening to the crickets and the other sounds of
the
night, the ambulance helicopter landing at the hospital, the traffic on
Twenty-fourth, the dogs in the neighborhood barking. Then I went to
bed.
Friday,
I went to the library to write in my blog, but my computer access has
been
restricted. It's because the filter they use on their computers
reported
“inappropriate use.” It's my blog!!!!!! It's because of what I've been
talking
about on my blog!!!!!!! Can you fucking believe it???? The library is
blocking
my use of their computers because of what I write in my blog!!!!! The
librarian
told me she understood my feelings and agreed it was stupid, but there
have
been too many complaints about “freedom” by conservatives and they are
clamping
down on the libraries. So, I was pretty bummed out and trying to figure
out how
in the hell I was going to write my blog. I figured that Letitia would
let me
get on the computer Saturday nights when Mom and Fuehrer were at work.
So,
Friday night, I was back in my room copying Volume Three of my Dad's
journal
onto my laptop. It was late and I had just finished the part where Dad
was
talking about how boned he was, (God, it's my Dad I'm talking about
here, this
is too weird), thinking about the next night when he would stay over at
Timothy's. Suddenly, I hear some footsteps in the grass outside my door
and
David's standing there, scaring the shit out of me. He asks if it's
safe to
come in. So I check and everyone's gone to bed in the front of the
house, so I
unlatched the screen and let him in. One nice thing about Fuehrer not
letting
me have air conditioning is that the door to the rest of the house
stays closed
and gives me even more privacy at night.
So,
David comes in wearing his usual shorts and tee and sandals, but he's
like
majorly boned and it's spearing out bad in front and he's like not
embarrassed
about it all. I look at him and he gives me this smile and takes my
hands and
says, “Dude, don't hate me, but I read your blog tonight.”
I start
to freak out in embarrassment, but he grabs me face and gives me a
heart
attack. He kissed me. David Rosen kissed me. And, then, he said, “Yeah,
when I
was parading around in front of the window, it was deliberate. Dude,
you need
to be more careful when you're spanking it in the door. Even though
you're
behind the screen, I can still see you.”
Then he
kissed me again, only this time it was long and we just stood there,
arms
around each other and even getting tongue action going. Dude, I was as
chubbed
as he was and spearing out just as bad.
Then, he
says, “Toby, I'm not in love with you, but I like you so much and I
understand
what you're going through and I want to be there for you.” And, then,
he kicked
off his sandals, pulled off his tee and dropped his shorts. He was
standing
there totally naked and he was even more beautiful than I dreamed. And,
then,
he said, “I want to give you this. I want this to be a special night
for you.
You're my friend.”
So he
takes me to the bed and undresses me and turns off the light and we
laid there
all night and made love to each other.
It was
the most beautiful night of my life. He held me and hugged me and
kissed me. We
made each other cum four times and every time, it was better than
anything I
had ever done by myself. David is the most sensitive and caring lover
anyone
could ever hope for.
And, as
he stands behind me, looking over my shoulder reading what I am
writing, I am
not embarrassed to write that even though I know I'm probably not the
one he
wants to spend his life with and maybe he'll get married someday, I
love him
and I am grateful for the gift he gave me last night, of loving me all
night,
and I am grateful for the gift his of friendship. I know this sounds
corny,
(though after my Dad's flowery style, maybe not). And, he's going to
sneak over
again tonight, (even though we've already messed around twice today-
this dude
is hornier than I am).
Thank
you, David, for being my friend.
Toby's
Excellent Blog- Sunday July 31, 2005
Listening
to-
Mood-
I know
the truth. OMG. I know the truth. Its horrible. My poor father. My poor
dear
father. I love him so much and I hate my mother. How she could do what
she did.
I can understand Fuehrer doing what he did. He's the biggest asshole on
earth.
But, my mother.
I must
find my father. David did a search on the internet and found a Jeffrey
C.
Tenbrook in a small town in Vermont. I am almost certain it's him. In
fact, I
am sure that that's who JCTinVT is, the guy who wrote the really nice
PM to me
on Blogiomail. I am sure that was my father. How he found my blog I
can't even
begin to guess.