Date: Tue, 29 Sep 2015 14:41:14 +0000
From: tim tim <noway16@hotmail.com>
Subject: chapter 7 of Nick's talent

Chapter 7 of Nick's talent

Here is a new chapter of Nick's Talent. Enjoy. If you want to read more of
my stories visit www.timsfunplace.com .  Let me know what you think at
noway16@hotmail.com .

Don't forget to support the nifty archive as maintaining the website and
the resources doesn't come for nothing. Thanks already.

Now here is chapter 7 ....

When we got in I looked at my Dad.

"Dad, why didn't you let David tell me what you thought when he called
yesterday".

"I don't know Nick. I guess I was afraid we were just alarming you for
nothing. I know you had been worrying a lot and didn't want to make that
worse".

"Stop trying to protect me Dad. I know you did it for my own best, but it
is time for me to live my own life".

He looked at me. "You know Nick; you have grown up hard over these last 2
years. I know I sometimes still see you as the teenager that starts to work
out with us at the gym. Not sure knowing what you wanted but for sure. you
wanted to do something that you were sure that I would approve. But I am
very proud of you and the things you do. I just knew you would be running
down here straight off and maybe all for nothing".

"I don't know Dad. But then it would have been my choice, yea".

"Ok, I know. But not easy to let go Nick. I have been there for you for the
last 20 years and feeling very responsible for it too".

I gave him a smile and knew that it would not easy for him but I would keep
on saying it I thought.

"Well you done a great job and I love you for that even more, but".

He interrupted me "Yea I know Nick. I will try ok".

"Ok". I said.

It was strange, the way the rest of the evening passed.  We had something
to drink and then ended up in Francis's room.  His Mom sat on one side of
the room and I laid on the lounger we had borrowed from David.  I don't
know if I'd rather have stayed at David's place or been in these familiar
surroundings ... but it wasn't the way it used to be, that was for sure.
Dad had left half way through it. And now just sitting there was strange.

Every time I looked around, I saw something that reminded me of Francis or
the things we'd done together since he'd moved here.  Oh, there were some
less positive things, for sure ... such as the picture frame I'd thrown on
the floor during our last visit when he'd told me he wasn't sure that he
was coming up for the opening of the exhibition.

Most of the time, we sat there in silence.  I guess we were both lost in
our own thoughts.  The next morning we would go to the police and see what
kind of progress they'd made but, for now, we were leaving it in official
hands.

The coach was going along with us.

When I saw his computer in the corner beside his bed, I looked up.  "Did
anyone check his computer?"

"No ... they just had a quick look through the room and left."

"OK ... I think I'd better take a look then."

"Isn't that kind of private?" she asked.

"I've used it a ton of times before."

"OK ...I guess it's OK."

I put it onto the desk and started to connect the cables.

"You know ... I never really could understand what to do with all those
cables and different programs.  They never seem to do what they were
supposed to ... even after someone showed it all to me!" she said with a
smile.

"You just need a good teacher."

"Perhaps ... but still.  I'm getting too old for that kind of stuff."

"No, you're not," I said with a smile.

"Did he say anything about leaving, Nick?"

I looked at her in surprise.  That subject has been avoided and, although
she'd said that it wasn't my fault ... her denial hadn't sounded too
convincing.

"No, never ... did he say anything to you?"  I asked, wondering if he'd
ever shared some of the things that were in his mind with his Mom.

"No ... just that things were a little rough between you two.  He said that
that was caused by the distance.  He thought that you were both struggling
with the problem and neither of you had found a way to deal with it."  "Yea
... that's more or less right," I said with a deep sigh.

"He's never done anything like this before ... and leaving his mobile phone
is simply very strange, I must say."

"He'll turn up ... he might just need some time to work things out," I
said, more to reassure her than to express my own point of view.

I had hooked up the computer and it started to upload.

"Do you know if he'd been in contact with his Father lately?" I asked her
... as that was one of the options going through my mind.

"No ... as far as I know, they haven't been in contact at all.  He didn't
even ask where his Dad had been incarcerated."

"Do you talk with him?" I said careful.

"I did once ... but he didn't want any further contact."

"Oh!" I said in surprise, unsure of what answer I'd get to that question.

"He said he was sorry ... but he didn't sound very convincing, to be
honest."

I turned back to look at the computer.  I opened his e-mail.  I saw several
of my recent messages popping up.  It seemed that, since last Saturday, he
hadn't read his e-mail at all ... so he must have been out of touch at
least since then.  But why would he leave like that?

"Anything in there?" his Mom asked hopefully.

"No, nothing.  It seems he didn't check his e-mail after last Saturday.
That doesn't mean that he hasn't used the computer since then, of course."

I opened my computer as I wanted to do a search for the last document he'd
worked on.  I knew he sometimes did his homework on my machine.

A list of last month's documents came up and, again, there was no new entry
after the Friday evening before ... the evening my exhibition had opened.
Then he'd worked on some homework for history, it appeared.  One document
from about a week ago looked a bit odd.

I opened it and started to read it as it was written for me to read:

Hi there, Nick,

Not sure if you're ever going to read this, but I thought I'd try to get
things clear in my mind and onto paper.  I think you told me several times
before that drawing helps you to blow off steam and relieve pressure.
Well, you know my lack of skills when it comes to drawing ... but I thought
I'd give a try to at least writing down my feelings, with the hope that I
never, never have to send this as I can't see myself doing that.

I decided not to go to your exhibition.  I know you'll be very disappointed
with that decision and I'm not sure you'll ever be able to forgive me for
being so selfish.  I know I haven't been talking much about stuff going on
in my head but there is more than just missing you.  Oh, yea ... you can't
imagine how much I'm missing time with you ... time talking ... time just
cuddling beside each other in bed, holding and feeling safe ... knowing I'm
there to protect you.

The last few weeks I have been struggling ... struggling with
school... struggling with my routines.  Until this past year with you,
everything seemed to go automatically ... training over the summer has been
hard and, although I can feel that I have a lot more strength, I just can't
put it into my routines ... or so it seems.  The coach hasn't said a lot,
but my performance three weeks ago was way off my level.

It worries me, not only because I want to do my best and try out for the
Olympics, but also because I want you to be proud of me.  But, so far, I
feel only that I've been a disappointment ... in school, in my performances
and in being my best for you.  So I decided that, with all the success
you're certainly going to have, you don't need a struggling, depressed
Francis there.  I decided to commit to some extra training, especially on
technique.  I have no idea how it'll go but, if I fail at this, then I'm
not sure how to go on as I want you to be proud of me.

Oh, damn!  I just stopped and looked at what I'm writing.  I'm sorry Nick
but this is just how I'm feeling lately.  It's got nothing to do with you;
it's just me, trying to sort things out.  If I'm not improving the way I
should, then I'll need to rethink my life course ... as my failures are
upsetting something that has got a real value for me and that is us.

So ... after all is said and done, if you read this, then you know I'm
sorting myself out.  I need time to do that but, for now, writing this down
has shown me that I need to give this process a bit longer as I don't want
to let you or myself down.  I won't do anything, at least until the trials
and after that ... well, I'll see, I guess.

If I don't get anywhere, then I might just need to go away for a time to
sort myself out ... but I'm not sure that that will help, either.  And
maybe I'll keep on writing this as a diary as it helps to get things out of
my system ... just as drawing helps you, Nick.

04-11-2006

By the time I was halfway through reading this, the tears were streaming
down my face and I could sense Francis's Mom standing behind me, reading it
too.

I turned around and looked up.  "So now we know he's gone to make up his
mind," I said.

She finished reading, looked at me and said, "Are you sure?  I think he
decided to go on until the trials.  He was staying the weekend to make the
most out of his training regiment.  You know the trials are just eight
weeks away now."

"Yea, I know ... just after the New Year."

"So ... I don't know what to think.  He'd have sent you this if he had gone
off ... and he definitely wouldn't have included that last paragraph if he
intended to go away ... so I don't think he's gone off to think.  No
... this was his start of his own diary."

"You think so?" I said while my tears started to dry.  "But what about that
last sentence?"

"Yea, I know, it's ambiguous ... but read it in context with the rest.  I
think he'd keep on working until the trials and then decide what to do if
he hadn't done as well as he'd hoped.  If he'd have disappeared then, that
would be a lot more logical than him going away now."

"Do you think I need to show this to the police?"

"You might have to, but not yet.  Let's see what they've found so far.
You'll go and see them with your Dad tomorrow, right?"

"Yea, that's the plan."

The next morning when I woke up, I gradually realized where I was.  I drew
in the smell of Francis which permeated our pillow.  The soft toy bear I
had given him was sitting beside me on the night stand.  I smiled at it and
let out a sigh, too.  I heard some noises from the other room.  I knew that
Francis's Mother was awake ... probably putting away the mattress we'd put
down for her to sleep on.  I'd insisted that I sleep there, but she thought
I needed the bed.

I'd been awake a long time before I finally got to sleep but, as I became
more and more conscious, the worries came back.  Where are you, Francis?
What's happened to you?  I just hoped the police had some answers to my
questions.  Dad had talked with Francis's gymnastics coach the evening
before but, beside the information that the locker room in the building
where Francis's apartment was located had been closed for a thorough
search, there was no news from the police.  He said it had looked quite
messy in there.

I got up and stepped out of bed, then realized that I had a hard on.
Before going further, I listened to the sounds in the apartment, trying to
make out what Francis's Mom was doing.  I think I heard her at the kitchen
sink, so I got up and walked over to the chair to get my clothes.  I could
smell that I really needed a shower, but the communal showers down here
were the last place I wanted to go now.  There just would be too many
questions as I knew most of the guys down here.

I opened the door to the living area and saw that she was making some kind
of breakfast.

"Ahhh ... you're up, Nick!  Good."

"Yea, sorry ... but it took a long time for me to get to sleep.

"I thought it might.  Well, your Dad called and we need to be at police
headquarters for a briefing in an hour ... so, if you hadn't awakened on
your own soon, I'd have had to wake you up myself.

"Did he have anything else to say?"

"No ... not really.  I guess he'd just made the appointment."

"OK ... let's have breakfast then.

In silence, we ate some bits of bread and egg.  It wasn't the kind of real
breakfast that she would normally fix.  I looked at her and, for the first
time, I realized just how worried she was ... far more than I'd noticed the
evening before.  When she got up, I walked over to her and, when I reached
her, I just opened my arms and we held each other for a long time, saying
nothing.  I thought I heard some sobs but, when she backed away from my
embrace, there was no sign of tears on her face.

"You think it could have been his Father?" she asked me.

"No ... Dad checked ... he's still locked up."

"Where is he, then?"

"I don't know ... but he'll show up, Mom."

There then was a knock on the door.  My Dad had arrived.

When I opened the door, Dad looked at me.  "Are you ready to go?"

"Almost," I said.

I finished my cup of coffee and Francis's mother went to the wash room to
freshen her makeup.

"You OK, son?"

"Yea ... as far as can be, Dad.  Where is he?  What's happened?"

"I know.  We'll find him, Nick.  Trust me."

"I hope so.  I've been so angry with him for the past few days but, if
something happened to him, I'll never forgive myself for not coming back
here earlier after the opening of the exhibition"

"Don't blame yourself, Nick."

"I can't help it.  I'll get my coat," I said.  I didn't want to go into any
of this.  I felt like I felt and nothing would change that ... well, at
least, not for now ... or not until I knew what had happened to him.

We left and Dad drove to the police station.  We were brought to a waiting
area and were told that they would be with us very soon.

I still don't know what they meant as "very soon" as we waited 10 ... 15
... 20 ... 30 minutes and still no one had come.  At that point my Dad
walked up to the reception desk, asking how much longer we'd have to wait.
The police officer standing there said he didn't know.  They would be with
us as soon as they were ready to speak to us.

I looked at Dad.  I was getting more and more upset and I think it showed.
Thirty minutes turned into 45 ... then an hour ... then an hour and a half.
By the time lunch was over and a new shift of officers appeared at the
desk, I lost it.  I think even my Dad ... who'd been up to the reception
desk about every 10 minutes ... was startled by my outburst.

 Before I even knew it, I'd been manhandled by three policemen and put into
what looked like an interrogation room.

Well, at least I'd gotten their attention!  I guess these were the only
rooms available down here.  I looked at the mirror, knowing full well that
there was someone behind it, watching me.  I smiled at it and just waited.
I knew there was no way to win this as I just had to be patient.

It took another 20 minutes before the door was unlocked and a couple of men
in civilian clothing walked in.  One ... the younger of the two ... sat
down opposite of me.  The other stayed standing more or less behind me.  It
was very irritating, to be honest.  As I started to turn around and tell
him to come and sit down, the guy opposite me began to talk.

"You're Nick?"

"Yea."

"You're Francis's boyfriend?"

"Yes, I am.  Do you know where he is?" I asked.

"You had a row with him lately?" he asked, completely ignoring my question.

"Where is he?" I said again, this time more aggressively.

"You had a violent disagreement with him?"

I looked him in the eyes and then suddenly shouted at him.  "Where is he?"
While I was shouting that at him, I slowly began to rise, but hands on my
shoulders pushed me back.

"No need to shout, Nick," the guy behind me said.

Again, just before I began to turn around to look at the guy who'd answered
the phone, I recognized his voice.  The guy opposite me said, "You were
still together or did you fight and then you two broke up?"

I looked at him again.  "What's going on here?"

Now we were just staring at each other.  He didn't repeat his question
... he just kept looking at me, waiting for my reply.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice now dropped a bit softer.

"Did he leave because you had a row?" the guy behind me said quietly,
almost whispering.

I wanted to look back but this time my hands were grasped by the young guy.

"Answer me, Nick!  Did you have a fight?"

I didn't want to tell them.  I was here to find out what was going on
... not to be interrogated ... as that is definitely how this was starting
to feel.  So far, they hadn't given me any information ... all they'd done
is aggressively asked questions.

"Yea.  You want to know what happened?" I asked, trying to be more
conciliatory in an attempt to get some information out of them.  t;br />

"Wasn't he supposed to have been with you last weekend?"

Ahhh ... they knew he'd stayed behind.

"He had to train to get ready.  He was very committed," I said.

"We know that!" the guy behind me said.

"So ... do you think he wanted a break from you?  To get away from your
relationship?" the young guy asked me.

I looked at him, stunned, as that hadn't even crossed my mind since I'd
heard he was missing.

"No ... he would never do that," I said.

"Are you sure, Nick?  You had a fight ... training was not going as he
wanted ... he might just have wanted to run away from it all.  Isn't that
possible?"

"No," I said, quite firmly.

"Why did he leave everything behind then?  He changed ... got his watch and
his wallet ... but he left his car, his mobile ... as if he wanted to make
a clean break with his past," the guy behind me whispered.

I hadn't moved in all the time we'd talked.  My eyes were still locked with
those of the young guy opposite me.

"Did he just run away?" the guy said, continuing to stare into my eyes.

"NO!  NO, HE'D NEVER DO THAT!" I screamed and then started to cry.

It was an option that had not occurred to me before.  It hurt so much
... just the thought that he'd left me ... that I might never see him
again.  I searched my soul, my memories of him ... would he be capable of
doing that?  I remembered the stories he'd told me about what had happened
with Brian.  He'd told me how he felt and there was no way that he'd be
able to do that to me.  He knew how it felt ... he'd been there himself.
He would never do that to me.  The longer I thought about it, the clearer
became the conclusion that this was the last thing he'd do to me.  He might
leave me ... but never without telling me why.  As my mind became surer and
surer, I felt myself get stronger and stronger.  I stopped crying and
looked up.  With all the conviction I could muster in my voice, I said to
the younger guy, "He would never do that to me ... never."

The guy kept looking in my eyes and remained silent.

The guy behind me moved around to sit opposite me.  From the corner of my
eye I saw him give his partner a nod and his partner got up.

I shifted my gaze towards him.  What I saw didn't make me feel much better
... there was an older, quite serious looking guy with nothing but coldness
and contempt on his face.

"You're sure he wouldn't leave you?"

"NO ... never.  He'd never do that to me," I said.

"Never?" he said coldly.

"Never!  Not without telling me first and explaining why," I answered.

"Not even if he was straight?"

"What????"

"Not even if he was straight and had found a girl who'd rescued him from
the life of unhappiness and perversion he was drowning in with you?"

I looked up into the eyes of the younger guy.  I saw sympathy on the guy's
face.  I felt a sense of compassion from him.  I'm not sure why, but
somehow I sensed that he didn't agree with his colleague's conclusions.

"Never!" I said again.

"Oh ... you fucking queers think you can turn anyone around.  Well ... I
guess you found out this time that not everyone can be turned," he said
contemptuously.

I looked at him, quiet now.  This was a contest that I couldn't allow him
to win.  I had to stand up to this bigot.  "So when was the last time you
spoke with him, then?"

I told him that it had been about a week or so.

"So you don't know precisely when you talked to your lover?"

"A week ago," I said with more assurance.

"And he didn't get to your gallery opening?"

"No ... he said he needed to train."

"And you believed him?  He was slipping ... failing ... you knew that.  Did
you ever wonder why?"

I wasn't going to reply to that.  He was trying to goad me to say something
I might regret ... and there was no way I'd let him get to me like that.  I
guess that is what they'd been trying to do from the time we arrived
... the waiting probably was part of their ploy, too.

I stared back at him ... I'm not sure how long ... but neither of us budged
for one Moment.

I stared into his eyes ... those cold eyes ... but, suddenly, I was drawn
into them.  It didn't feel like what I was feeling had anything to do with
this case ... but I moved past his eyes ... and I saw the ocean ... water
travelling up the sand.  I turned around and saw a lighthouse on the top of
the dunes.  I looked around ... more to try to see where I was than to see
better.  I looked up at the lighthouse and saw shadows moving in the light
whenever it turned on its relentless rotation.  Where was I?  What had
happened?  Then there was a voice saying, "You'll never see him again
... never!" .....................

If you want to read more of my stories visit www.timsfunplace.com .  Let me
know what you think at noway16@hotmail.com .