Date: Sun, 05 Sep 2021 08:35:16 +0000 From: Isuccum Subject: What came next 3 What Came Next A sequel to `The Valley Cottage' Chapter 3 I sat with my pack pulled into my lap and stared down the road, looking for Dad's car. But I couldn't stop thinking, and I began worrying about how my parents would take what they'd been told. Would Dad even bother to come and pick me up? What would his dad do or say to Martin? The more the thoughts raced around in my head, the more upset I became, until I buried my head in my pack and began to cry. I was still crying when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright, Son. We still love you, and we'll talk about this calmly when I get you home. Is there anything you need to collect from Martin?" My dad calmed me down just in the way he spoke. I knew I was loved and that somehow, no matter how hard it was, he was going to help me to sort things out. He put his hand out to help me up and then took my pack. He used his other hand to gently hold my arm and guide me to the car. All his years of farming had made Dad look like a rough, hard man, but he was so gentle with me now. He kept his voice soft and kind as he spoke and passed me his handkerchief to dry my eyes and blow my nose. I felt a total dweeb for crying like that. I hadn't even heard the car drive up or noticed Dad getting out and closing his door. I hadn't heard his footsteps as he walked over to me. Just nothing until that touch of his hand on my shoulder. "Just sit there quietly while we drive home. Try to collect your thoughts, so when we get home you can tell your mother and me what's happened. If you don't talk now, you won't have to tell the story twice," Dad told me. It didn't take long to get home. Martin's house was close enough for us to ride our bicycles to each other. I was still churning inside; the thought of telling what happened to both Mum and Dad was embarrassing enough without actually saying it. "I don't know if I can say these things to Mum," I said after a while. "It may be hard, but it would be best coming from you, rather than repeated by me or someone else. Mum already knows what Frank said. He was shouting so loud she could just about hear it coming out the handset all the way down the hall. I think you'll find that Mum is more understanding than you think, and you know that she loves you with all she has." "Yeah, but I still don't know if I can." "Your mother is not so sweet and innocent as you may picture her. Remember, she was your age once, and she heard and read about things just as much as you probably have done yourself. I think you'll be surprised at how well your mother will take it, and you know she is going to support you no matter what." We fell into silent contemplation. I knew that what Dad had said about Mum was true, but still? As the car pulled up in front of the house, the door opened and Mum came out. She wasn't quite running, but she wasn't taking an afternoon stroll either. She came to my door and opened it before I could even get my seat belt undone. "Are you okay, Rick honey? Did they hurt you?" she asked as she put her hand on my arm to help me out of the car. "What have you got all over you? What did they do to you?" she demanded as she pulled her hand away again. "Baby oil," I said. In different circumstances I might have laughed at the expression on Mum's face, but I didn't think there was much to laugh about at the time. "Why don't you just go straight up and have a good hot shower with plenty of shower gel. When you're clean, come down and we can talk," Mum said. "And put your dirty clothes in the hamper in the laundry. I don't want them in with anything else." Well, that was typical of Mum, and in a strange way I found that comforting. She was still the same mum I had before I got dropped off at Martin's house. I grabbed my overnight pack off the back seat and headed in and upstairs. Stripping off in the bathroom brought back some of the memories of what we had been doing and I boned up. The trauma I had just gone through was temporarily forgotten as I got under the shower and used my right hand to take care of what had been stopped far too early. I don't know what it is about a nice hot shower, but they do help to calm me down. By the time I had shot my load, shampooed my hair, and scrubbed my almost smooth body to clean off all that oil, my nerves had just about settled down. Was it foolishness to do it? I'll never know, but after towelling myself dry, I walked naked back to my room and dressed in a t shirt and some trackie pants, going commando. After our weekend at the cottage, I preferred to free-ball when I could. I thought it would be okay this time too. When I got downstairs, Mum had some coffee on the go and had put out some biscuits on a plate. She made the coffee and the three of us sat down in the lounge with our mugs and the biscuits. "Rick, son, we know this is going to be hard for you, but be assured, we both love you very much and no matter what you have to tell us today, this is not going to change. So just take your time and tell us what we need to know. If you want to tell us anything over that, it will be your choice. Okay?" Dad said. Before I could begin, Mum said, "Please just be honest with us. We do love you, probably more than you understand. We will always love you. You are a part of both of us, and we can never change that." Did that make it any easier? I'm not sure. But what I do know is that I started at the beginning with the girl next door when I was 12. I told them the whole story, even the bits we did at the cottage and our clay legacy left in the cave. I finished up with what had happened at Martin's and what he was doing to me when his dad had interrupted us. At least I was able to hold back the tears. But when I was describing some of what we did at the cottage I got another boner, and not having any underwear on, there was no way I could hide it. Finally I admitted that I was really worried about what Martin's dad might do to him. "That concerns me too, Rick. But I think we would do well to keep out of their way for a bit. Maybe you can try to phone him tomorrow and see if he can tell you anything. How do you feel about what you boys did at the cottage?" Dad asked. "I'm not sure. I enjoyed doing it, and we were going to do a lot more this weekend. But I also think I'd enjoy doing something like that with a girl. Like what goes on next door," I answered. "That's the answer I was expecting. I think you're still a bit too young to put a label on yourself. This might just be a bit of experimenting, or it might be the start of you turning out to be gay. It might also be that you're bi-sexual. But it doesn't rule out the possibility that you're straight either. So please don't worry about it," Dad said. "I would, or rather we would, prefer for you not to be getting involved so intimately with either boys or girls yet, but we know what we were like as teenagers with all that was going on in our bodies. So we're not going to tell you to stop; we know you'll just carry on anyway. But we do want you to be very careful. There are some awful diseases that get transmitted through sexual activity. Please make sure you keep yourself safe. But I'm going to let Dad talk to you about that while I start getting our meal ready. I think it will be less embarrassing for you if I'm not in here for that. And thank you. I believe you have been very honest and more open with us than I had expected. I'm proud of you for that. And, yes, we do still love you just as much as we did before you told us your story," Mum said. "Thanks, Mum. Thanks, Dad. I guess I'm very fortunate to have you guys as my parents. I don't think Martin is as lucky," I said. "No. From the tone of voice and the language Martin's father used today, I agree with you. But we'll have to wait and see what happens," Dad said. Mum got up and left the room. Dad started straight in giving me advice about my sexual activities and sharing his concerns for my well-being. It seemed longer, but I guess it only took about a quarter of an hour. Then he got up and walked over to where I was sitting on the couch. He sat down beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. "Son, an extra thing you can take away from this today. On top of the assurance of our love for you and that we care deeply about what happens to you, please remember, you can always come and talk to us about anything that might be troubling you, or even that is exciting you. I think you've seen today that both your mother and I are willing and able to sit and listen. And neither of us has condemned you. We might be a little upset, but that is because our little boy is rapidly growing into a man, and it won't be long before you leave us to make your way on your own. The selfish side of us wants to keep you for ourselves. We know we can't; that wouldn't be fair on you, and it's not the way of life. But knowing that doesn't make it any easier. Now, why don't you go and see if your Mum needs any help?" I did as Dad suggested. Looking back, I can see how wise he was. Making me face Mum so soon after describing my private life to her helped me to be able to face her every day after that too. Mum was also glad that I had come through to help her. She also needed the reassurance that we would still be mother and son – not mother and stranger. She didn't say anything about what I had told them that evening while I was helping her. Instead she talked about what we were doing and why we were doing it. "Mum, one thing the weekend showed me was that while I know a little bit about cooking, I don't know enough. None of us really did. Do you think you could teach me a bit?" "I'd love to. Maybe I can also teach you some of the other parts of cooking, like baking a cake and making snacks for a party. Would you like that?" "Yes, please. I know someday I'll be going off to university and I'll have to do some cooking for myself. It might help if I could make a batch of cookies at times too," I admitted. "I rather think it might. I know what I would have thought of a boy who could cook, let alone bake, when I was at college," Mum said. "At college? Didn't you go to university?" "No, I've always been interested in farming, so I chose to go to an agricultural college instead. I got a diploma and a wonderful husband. I don't think I've done too badly out of that." "So, Dad went to college too, not university?" I asked. "Oh yes. No university taught the courses we needed to be able to farm. Even now, there isn't much available at most universities, although there are a couple of universities now that concentrate on things like veterinary and food sciences," Mum told me. I have to admit to things seeming a bit surreal, having this sort of conversation with Mum after what had just happened, but it helped me a lot. I didn't realise it then, but looking back on that day, I can see just how much it helped to bring things back into a normal perspective. When we sat down to eat the meal we had just prepared, our conversation was on everything and anything but Martin and me. We stayed at the table for quite a while after the food was all eaten just talking. I started to yawn, and Mum said I should probably get an early night, that the events of the day had probably taken more out of me than I realised. I was feeling quite tired and took myself off to bed. Before I went to sleep though, I did try calling Martin on his mobile, but it went straight to answerphone. I guessed it was switched off. I sent him a text telling him to call me when he could, and then I called Tom. We spoke for a short while, and he was still excited over the weekend at the cottage. I didn't tell him about what had happened at Martin's; I wanted to find out from Martin how things had gone with him first. We finished our call and I turned my light out just after nine o'clock. That had to be the earliest I'd ever turned the light out of my own accord since I was about eleven. I know people say farmers go to bed early and get up early, but I'm not a farmer. At least not yet. I haven't really decided what I want to do when I leave school. Despite a desperate need to pee, I took the time to check my phone for messages before taking it with me to the bathroom the next morning. There was no message from Martin, and I began to worry even more. I couldn't put off the message from my bladder, so I took care of that before I tried to phone Martin. It went straight to voicemail, which told me that his phone was off. I left a message begging him to get back to me, and then I texted him as well. Once I had finished my ablutions and got back to my room to dress, I checked my phone again and then headed down to breakfast. I had to do my own; Dad was already out on the farm, and Mum was getting ready to head out somewhere. So, a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice totalled my breakfast. I went through to the lounge and sat there for a bit just holding my phone in my hand and hoping. It didn't take long for the boredom to set in, and I headed outside to grab my bike and ride off to look for Dad. I needed to ask him to help me with contacting Martin. He wasn't much help. He just told me that I needed to have patience and wait. He also vetoed my suggestion that I ride over to his house to see him. "Rick, Martin's dad clearly does not think about homosexuality the same way we do. He saw you two in a situation that he cannot accept, at least, not yet. He was very adamant that he would not allow you to visit at his house. It's not yet been twenty-four hours since he saw you two. You have to give him some time to think things through and calm down. It's likely that he's grounded Martin and taken his phone away as part of it," Dad said. I knew there was no point in arguing with him. I told Dad I would wait until the next day, and if I hadn't heard anything from Martin by then, I would ride my bike over to their house once his parents had gone out to work and see if Martin was okay. That way his parents need never know someone came to see Martin. Dad conceded I had a point there, but he still didn't think it was a good idea, as I wouldn't know if one of his parents had stayed home to keep an eye on Martin. I tried assuring dad that I would be careful, but he still insisted that it was not a good idea. I decided not to argue and just left it hanging there. Throughout the day I kept checking my phone, and I must have tried calling Martin about a hundred times. Every time it went straight to answerphone. I was really worried about Martin, so I did not get a good night's sleep. I did sleep, but I must have tossed and turned a lot, because my bed was a total mess when I woke up, and I was tangled up in the bottom sheet. I didn't wake up in a good mood, and that didn't improve through the day. I went down to breakfast when I heard Dad come in from the farm. Mum had cooked bacon and eggs and had some slices of toast ready by the time Dad and I were seated at the table. I told both of them that there still was no reply from Martin and I was really worried. Dad tried to calm me down, but with the mood I was in, he didn't have much of a chance. Just as we were finishing our breakfast Dad gave me a chore to do which he needed done straight away. I think he was trying to get my thoughts away from Martin, at least for a bit. Dad did expect me to help on the farm, but he also respected that I was a teenage boy who needed some fun, and he didn't give me a lot to do. I still knew more about fixing and driving tractors than most teens. When I had cleaned up after completing the chore I checked my phone. When I saw that there was no response from Martin, I got on my bike and took off to his house.