All the Ways I Love You
This story is about male/male relationships and contains graphic descriptions of sex.
You should not read this story if it is in any way illegal due to your age or residence.
This is a work of pure fiction. It mixes fictional characters and events with real people. However any real person mentioned in this work is purely an actor playing a part. This story in no way is meant to imply anything about the sexuality, personality, or behavior of the actual person.
Copyright 2003 Jason Calme. This story is the sole property of its author and may not be copied in whole or in part or posted on any website without the permission of the author.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "JasonCalme@yahoo.com".
Chapter 21
I felt a hand grab my arm and yank me backwards. Back toward the curb. I nearly fell, spinning around as the yellow cab zipped past me, missing me by inches.
I stumbled, trying to regain my footing. I was frightened, confused, adrenalin surging through my system, and I was staring into the face of a large, middle-aged black man.
He was talking to me.
I pulled off the headphones.
"You okay, man?"
"Yeah...I...uh," I stuttered.
"You want to watch it. You'll get run over if you do that again," he said, and he smiled.
"Uh, yeah. Thanks. Thanks very much," I said.
"No problem," he said, and he was off on his way across the street. Leaving me standing there, trying to figure out what had happened to me.
I could have been killed! Shit!
And maybe it was the shock, but I started crying. I couldn't help myself. Standing there by the stop light. Crying.
But it was just the shock. The tears stopped coming after a couple of minutes. I pulled myself together, and I started walking again. I had to get home. I had to walk.
Walk away from him.
Walk towards my future. My future without him.
The apartment was cold. I thought about turning on the heat but it was too early in the season to do that. I could just put on a sweater...no it's after 12. Time to go to bed. I changed into sweat pants and t-shirt and then lay down on the bed.
I grabbed the remote for the stereo and turned it on. It started playing a depression disc I'd made for myself, and I skipped a couple of tracks to 'Love Lies Bleeding' by Elton John.
I lay there in the dark, listening to the song. I was kind of lost in crashing sound the piano made when I realized some of the sounds I was hearing weren't coming from the stereo. The phone was ringing.
"Hello?"
"Ethan? You awake man? It's Joey."
"Oh," I said coolly.
"Hey sorry about this evening. We got held up...really sorry about it."
"Yeah, whatever." I was going to just hang up on him.
"Hey, don't be mad. We weren't blowing you off, honest," and he laughed nervously.
I didn't say anything.
"So how about breakfast?" he asked.
"Look Joey, I appreciate your help, but no."
"Come on, have breakfast with us. Will you?"
"No Joey."
"I'll beg."
"Good bye Joey," I said, and hung up.
I went back to listening to the CD. Twenty minutes later the phone rang again.
"What!" I demanded.
"How about lunch?" came Joey's voice.
"Good bye Joey!" I said, and hung up again.
The phone rang a third time. I let it ring a few times, then I picked it up and very calmly said "Hello Joey,"
"Hey Ethan. How'd you know it was me?"
"Just lucky I guess."
"Alright, so breakfast and lunch are out..."
"Dinner too..."
"Well then, how about...can you and I just talk?"
"We're talking now," I pointed out.
"Face-to-face. I feel like I've just made this worse. Let me make it up to you."
"This is not your fault Joey. It's not yours to fix. Why doesn't Justin call me? Huh? Why are you calling me instead of Justin?"
"Well, I want to help. You going to let me in?" he asked, and my door buzzer rang.
"That's you?" I asked.
"Yep, and I'm going to stay here until you open up" and he rang the doorbell a couple more times.
"Shit, asshole!" I said.
"Yeah, I am, so open up, I'm cold out here."
"It's just you?" I asked.
"Just me," he said, pausing. "Justin's back at the hotel. So open up."
"Shit."
I got up and pushed the door button. Then I went and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked rather bad. I quickly wet a washcloth and rubbed it over my face, and then brushed my hair. I looked reasonably presentable I thought.
No, I looked like shit.
But there was nothing to do about it. I heard a knock at the door.
"Hey there!" Joey said loud and friendly as I opened the door, and he reached in and grabbed me in a hug.
"Okay, okay" I said trying to push him away. I hardly knew him and wasn't looking to become friends. Once this was done I'd never see him again. It occurred to me I should ask for his autograph before he went.
I don't know why it did.
"Listen," Joey began, getting straight down to business before I could even invite him. "I'm sorry about this evening. It got messed up. We weren't blowing you off. We were at this record event and they wouldn't let us go. Justin was trying to get out of there, he really wanted to get back, so please don't hold that against him."
"Okay," I said noncommittally.
"Honest!"
"Okay!" I said.
Joey stood there looking nervous.
"So the thing of it is..." Joey began, "this is kind of all my fault."
"All your fault?" I said in surprise.
"Yeah, I did something and it just kind of snowballed..."
My mind was working flat out. What had Joey done? Had he got Julie into Justin's pants?
"Look Joey, I don't know what you did. I don't care. Whatever Justin and I had, it wasn't strong enough to withstand something that...well I'm sure whatever you did wasn't that bad. It's not your fault if our relationship ended. We just weren't right for each other. In a way, maybe you helped us by showing us that before we wasted any more time together."
"Oh come on...you don't believe that. I know Justin's crazy about you."
"Yeah, sure!" I snorted.
"Hey, I know crazy, and Justin's been totally crazy the last week because of you...because of this. I just want to fix it."
"It's not fixable Joey. Go home. Thank Lance for trying. I don't want to...it's over."
Joey stood there for a moment trying to think of something. "Would you at least give him a chance to explain?"
"If he wanted to explain how come it's you that's here?" I demanded. "There's nothing to explain. I don't want to hear excuses or shit." I was getting pissed. If I couldn't take out my anger on Justin, well I could do it with his surrogates. "I don't give a fuck anymore okay? That's it! It's over! Finished! Is that clear enough for you?" I was almost shouting and I wondered if the neighbors would be waking up soon.
Joey stood there staring, a little shocked, and then he glanced to the side nervously, and then back at me. I glared at him and he looked guilty. My anger evaporated like a popped balloon.
"He's here?" I said quietly.
Joey looked to the side again and then I heard some movement and Justin came out of the darkness, tears running from his eyes. God, this was...why did this keep happening? Why did we keep fighting and he kept coming back to me crying? And why was he crying? He broke up with me!
I let out a breath and turned around and walked back into my apartment, leaving the door open. I didn't know what would happen. Either they'd come in or go. I didn't know. I was so confused I didn't care.
I heard the door close and I stopped and turned around. Justin was standing in the hallway. There was no sign of Joey. We stood staring at each other. Not saying a word.
"Why Justin?" I said quietly.
He stood there for a moment. Then he walked towards me, came up to the desk I was standing beside, and reached out and picked up a copy of my first book. He picked it up and paged through it, stopping at a page and putting his finger to a passage and then turning the book towards me. I looked at the passage, and reached out and took the book from him, reading it to myself.
I placed the CD in the bag. I'd wrap it later and give it to
Sharon. I hoped she'd like it. I knew she liked NSYNC. She was
hot for Justin, but I didn't get it. What was the attraction? He's
a bleached blond airhead with a high whiny voice who can't
sing for shit! Death to boy bands I say!
Oops. I'd forgotten to tell him about that. Forgotten that it was so...bad. I looked up at Justin in shock.
"Joey read that at a meeting," Justin began quietly. "We were having a meeting and...I was telling them about the great script you had written and...and Joey pulled out the book and said he'd been reading some of your stuff and liked it and how he particularly liked this passage...and he read it and I had...I didn't even know..."
"I'm sorry Justin."
"They all thought it was really funny. They thought it was even funnier that I didn't know. It...Johnny had known when he hired you...and he told me that I should read your book...and even to read that part...but I never did. I just read stuff on your website, and then I read your other book and I had started to read this one...but I..."
"Justin, I'm sorry...this...it's not about you. I didn't even know you then...it was just...someone else said it and I used it."
"I was so embarrassed. I felt so stupid...I thought you'd...I thought you'd been laughing at me all this time."
"No Justin...Justin...no...I...I don't think that about you...you're...that's...how could you even think that?" and I looked at him. He looked miserable. I never imagined that he could be so insecure that he'd have thought for a moment I thought that. Or if I had, that I still did.
And yet how could I have been so dumb not to have even mentioned it to him?
I hadn't mentioned it because it meant nothing to me. It was a throw away line I wrote a couple of years ago and didn't think about once after I wrote it.
"I'm so sorry I embarrassed you," I began. "I'm sorry I forgot I'd even written that. This doesn't mean much but...well I remembered once early on that I'd mentioned you in there and that I should show it to you...but then I just forgot about it...I'm sorry."
We both stood there. I was so miserable I felt sick. He didn't say anything or do anything.
I couldn't believe it. He broke up with me over something I'd written. I guess the pen is mightier than the sword. Admittedly it was hardly some great character assassination; it was just a nasty little comment. It was really a joke. In the right circumstances it might have been funny.
In the right circumstances.
But then I could easily understand his reaction on being blind- sided by it. And I could see how it might have been enough, on top of his doubts about his sexuality and the whole relationship, to make him act this way.
"So..." I said finally, "what do you...what do you want to do?"
"I don't know," he said faintly.
"Justin...I...if I could take it back I would...and I'm truly sorry I didn't even remember to tell you about...it just wasn't something I thought of as important. I love you...I've been through hell this week...I just...I know I'm a jerk but I want you back...if I can do anything to make it up to you."
I looked at him and he stood there, his lips pursed together.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you what happened..." he began, "why I was upset...I should have given you a chance to explain...I...I guess I'm a jerk too."
He took a step towards me and I stepped towards him and we hugged each other. Held each other really, but then I felt Justin stiffen and pull back a little.
"Ethan...I...I...need some time to think things through."
"Okay," I said a little hoarsely.
"I...I'm sorry," he said quietly, his arms falling down to his sides.
"I'm so sorry Justin," I said, "I'm sorry you didn't know, I'm sorry I didn't think to tell you...I'm just so sorry."
"Okay," He pulled away and turned to go.
I felt terrible; I'd screwed up so bad. And yet he'd been damn stupid too. I'd always assumed that big stars were invulnerable. Justin seemed to have a facade of a hard outer shell, but he was incredibly fragile underneath it.
Justin stood there, his shoulders heaving as he breathed.
"Okay, I've thought about it," he said quietly and he turned around and grabbed me tightly, "I don't want to lose you," he said, squeezing me hard. "But if you ever write anything about me again I'll..."
"Only good things about you...I promise," I said half laughing, half crying.
I wrapped my arms around him and drew him into a kiss. We kissed as passionately as we ever had, both crying, tears running down our faces. Partly laughing out of happiness.
I pulled away from him and picked up the book from the table, then I went and grabbed a pen and started scribbling in the book, Justin watching me curiously. I finished and handed the book to him. Through some chicken scratchings, and carefully lettered text, it now read:
I placed the CD in the bag. I'd wrap it later and give it to
Sharon. I hoped she'd like it. I knew she liked the Backstreet
Boys. She was hot for Nick, but I didn't get it. What was the
attraction? He's a blond airhead with a high whiny voice who
can't sing for shit! Death to boy bands I say!
Justin grinned. "So are you going to change every copy?" he asked.
"I'll get on it tomorrow," I smiled. "We can start with the book stores down town."
Justin snickered. "Just don't get arrested for defacing property," he said.
"Maybe I'll pull a Winona and steal all the copies," I suggested.
"Huh," he rolled his eyes.
"So...ah...how long are you in town?"
"Couple of days."
"You want to stay?" I asked shyly.
He smiled. "Yeah. But I've got to make a couple of calls first. Let them know what's up."
"Okay."
He went into the kitchen and made a call while I pottered around in the living room. I was anxious and excited. I don't think I'd fully digested the fact that he was back.
And then I was in bed cuddling up close to him. As quick as that. Just kissing and hugging. We were both too tired and emotional to do anything else.
But I was happy. Happy he was mine, again.
And so we settled in together. Justin bought a keyboard and other musical gear and started stacking it up on one side of the bedroom. It became his mini studio. He'd do his thing there and I'd write in the dining room. Or he'd go off to a studio where he rented time, and I'd write in the dining room.
The dresser got moved to the hall. It was mostly full of Justin's clothes at that point so I didn't really mind.
We did have a few arguments about how things were packed, stored and cleaned. Justin was way more anal about keeping things neat and tidy (and clean!) than I was; as I had suspected. If we'd had a larger place we probably could have divided it up; he could have his neat rooms, and I'd have a messy office, and we'd fight it out over the bedroom. But with such a small place it was a little hard to do that. We did the best we could to put up with each other's habits, and every now and again bickered at each other about it.
He'd complain I left mail all over the counter. I'd complain he tidied stuff up so that I couldn't find anything.
Then he started dropping hints about finding a bigger place. At first I thought he meant an apartment and I was kind of thinking that would be okay, but then he said he was thinking of buying a house and I changed the subject.
I didn't think I was ready for that kind of commitment.
In between all this there was a lot of just everyday kind of stuff. Just the living. Justin would be in town for a few days, then he'd go away for a while and turn up a few days later. It was very sporadic and disjointed. We did our best to pick up where we were each time he came back, and try and have a 'normal' relationship, but I'd be lying if I said it were easy.
But I wasn't going to give him up either.
Because there was love. There was love, and cuddling, and holding, and sex. Great sex. And being together. Just being with him. Watching TV, shopping together at the local market, or sitting beside him on the couch.
And there were moments...just everyday moments. Moments that I will always remember.
One evening I was making dinner. Justin never seemed to have any interest in cooking, though he'd help if I directed him. If I couldn't be bothered cooking he'd pay for take out.
Which is not to say I'm a great, or even a good cook. I'm okay. I can follow a recipe and end up with a close approximation of the desired solution. But I have to be inspired to really make something, so the rest of the time I kind of do unimaginative things.
But when Justin was there, I felt like I had to put in a little extra effort. Had to keep him well feed. Keep his energy up. And I actually liked cooking for him.
I was in the kitchen, with the music on, playing the Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds 'Live at Luther College' CD and kind of bouncing around as I liked to do sometimes. You wouldn't call it dancing. At least I wouldn't.
The song 'Warehouse' came on, which is one of my favorites, and I cranked the volume a bit and started viciously assembling a salad.
Washing vegetables and cutting them up. Maybe getting a little too much into the music.
I think Warehouse is more of a coleslaw song; I imagine lots of knives rapidly chopping up bits of cabbage.
I heard him come in. Heard the door open and close, but I didn't turn to acknowledge it.
And even though I knew he was there, almost felt him approaching, I jumped a little when his hands landed on my hips.
"Did I surprise you?" he whispered in my ear.
"No," I said, swinging my hips and gently pushing back into him. I dropped the lettuce onto the counter and just kept pushing against him. He put his arms around me and we started to move about the room. His hands moving quickly over my chest and he moved back and forth, pushing against my left and right side. After a few minutes I had to turn and face him and we danced together, our bodies swaying against each other. Moving to the rhythm. Dancing faster and faster. Starting to sweat. I pushed him up against the wall and he started to slow, smiling, laughing a little. I put my arms up around him. Moved my legs closer. Surrounding him. He couldn't really move any more. I leaned in and kissed him. We kissed. Rubbing out hands up and down each other's bodies.
"Dinner's never going to be ready at this rate," I said breathlessly, pulling away from him.
"I'm not hungry," he smiled.
"Yeah you are," I said poking him. He laughed.
The 'Christmas Song' had started and its slower rhythm calmed us.
"You gonna help?" I asked him.
"Sure," he said.
"A big help, huh?"
"Of course!" he said, the way he did when he was certain of something. I loved it when he said that. Said it the way he did. I hugged him.
"You finish the salad then," I said, and pulled him over to the counter. He stood there for a moment, obviously a little lost as to what he was supposed to do. I stood behind him, my arms rubbing up and down his sides. Kissing his head and his ear.
"So rinse the lettuce, then cut up the pepper. Okay?" I suggested.
"Yeah," he nodded.
We set to work. Him working on the salad, while I worked on the rest of the dinner. Whenever we passed one another we'd stop to dance a little bit to the music. Do a little work, do a little dance. It seemed to take forever to make that dinner, but neither of us was in any hurry.
And before I knew it, we were in the car and going up to my parents again. It didn't seem like that long since Justin and I had first gone up. Actually it wasn't. But it had an odd feel to be doing it again so soon. Almost like we were a long time couple.
A long time couple who'd already seen a God awful amount of water under the bridge.
We arrived at my parents place on Friday afternoon. We'd rented a Mini again, and Justin made noises about buying a car, though I kept telling him it was much better to rent one. We'd have to pay for parking if we bought a car, and we don't really need it except for long trips.
"But we should have our own car," Justin half whined. "Anyway, the house will have a garage. We'll do something then."
The house. We were back on that subject again.
"So you still want to get him that guitar, huh?" he said changing the subject for me.
"Yeah," I said. "It's what he really wants."
"You keep telling me he's a spoiled little brat, but you spoil him more than anyone else," Justin observed.
"No I don't!"
"Do!"
"Don't!"
"Do!"
"Whatever," I said.
"See. You agree with me," he said triumphantly.
"Just because I don't want to continue a pointless argument does not in any way mean that I ascribe to your point of view," I said in my most lawyerly-like voice.
Justin looked at me and rolled his eyes.
"You have a great relationship with your brother," Justin suddenly said.
"Do I?" I said. "I feel like I'm a real shit most of the time. I hardly see him."
"I hardly see my brothers," said Justin quietly.
"When they're that much younger, it's hard," I agreed.
"And they live with my Dad, and I'm away a lot," Justin said a little sadly.
"Well, you just keep working at it. That's all you can do. You don't want to lose touch with them. The thing is it changes so much as they get older."
"Yeah."
"You know, I remember once when I was about 16 and Simon was six, and he just always seemed to be in the way. My friends would come over and he'd want to be with us and I just...I just didn't want a six year old around all the time."
"Yeah," Justin nodded.
"So we were going to play a video game and Simon comes in and goes 'I wanna play, I wanna play' and he comes over and trips over one of the wires and jerks the game onto the floor and there's this huge crash." I laughed, remembering it. Remembering Simon's look of horror.
"What happened?"
"I screamed at him. Told him he was a stupid little shit and he was to get out of my room and never come back and never touch anything of mine!"
"Harsh!" said Justin. "Then what happened?"
"Simon runs out crying, then I kind of catch my breath and my friend says 'that was kind of harsh,' and I had already started to feel like a shit after seeing Simon's reaction. So I had to go find him. He was hiding behind the couch in the living room crying."
"What'd you do?"
I groaned inwardly remembering that moment. After the initial anger I felt so guilty. I was kicking myself about that for months later. "Told him I was sorry," I began, "that I hadn't meant to say that to him. That I still loved him. And I hugged him until he stopped crying. I think after that I felt like I had to find ways to let him play with me. It was still hard, I kind of felt like I was a part time father some of the time, you know."
"When they're that much younger it's kind of different," Justin agreed.
"I mean my sister is older, so our relationship is much different. So's Annie's relationship with Simon."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, well at least Simon and I have common interests. Like we went to the Star Wars movies. My sister wants to take him to some you-know 'girl movie' and he's just not into that."
"So that's why you spoil him so much?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"You're still feeling guilty about bawling him out over that video game. You're over compensating!"
"No I'm not! I just think it'd be nice..."
"But your Mom and Dad are against it, your sister is against it, tell me again why this is a good idea? Are we just going to buy it for him?"
"No, but I have a plan," I said smiling devilishly. I thought it was a great plan.
"I don't like it!" said my Mother.
"Why not?" I asked.
"We're not going to buy him that guitar. He's too spoiled already."
My Dad sat quietly. I knew that my Dad would probably go along with it, but he deferred to Mom on these kinds of issues, and if Mom was against it then that was it.
"But look," I protested, "we take the money he's already saved, you and Dad throw in a bit, Annie too and then Justin and I will pay for the rest. We don't mind."
"It's too much," my Mom said, adamant.
"What do you mean? Some kids get cars for their 16 birthday," I pointed out.
"This is his 15th birthday, and we aren't talking about a car."
"Well, but what's the problem?" I asked. I just didn't see the problem.
"I want him to earn some money to pay for this...I don't want him to keep seeing things and you or your sister or his Dad buying them for him."
"Well he's already saved $400," I pointed out.
"That was a gift from Grandma," my sister piped up.
"What?" I said.
"It's for birthday and Christmas and then he had a little money already, he didn't earn any of that," she said, smirking. Annie often seemed to get information from Mom that I wasn't privy too, and then took great satisfaction in surprising me with it.
"Little bastard," I muttered, I thought he had a job or something.
I felt defeated. Now I had to think of something else to get him.
"I've been trying to get him to do some jobs around the house," my Mother went on. "Or help your Father, but you know Simon. He's not into that and he just manages to slide along. I thought this guitar would get him going, but he's pinned his hopes on getting it for his birthday and I just don't think he deserves it."
We sat there.
"He's going to be crushed," I said quietly.
My Mother nodded, "Well maybe that's what it takes."
The birthday came and Simon got what he wanted. We all gave him money.
Justin and I gave him $200, which Mom thought was too much, and Mom and Dad gave him $150 plus some presents. Annie gave him a couple of presents and $50. So all together he had $800, which was a little under half what he needed to get the guitar. Simon acted really happy, and he was grateful, but at the same time I could see that he was really disappointed that the guitar hadn't turned up somehow.
It was a family birthday party on Friday night, and his friends were coming over Saturday for a party. After we finished cake we sat around chatting and then went out to the living room to talk and catch up. Simon sat with us for a little while, saying little, and then he excused himself and went up to his room.
Everyone looked at me. Somehow I was supposed to go talk to him. Great.
He was sitting on his bed counting the money when I got there. Fifteen year olds are so predictable. They think they're grown up, but they're still kids.
"Hey," I said.
He jumped a little, hastily gathering together the money and putting it back in an envelope.
"Hi Ethan."
"So you closer to getting that guitar?" I asked him, walking over and sitting on the bed next to him.
"Yeah!" he said smiling back at me. "Thanks!"
"So how're you going to get the rest of the money?"
He shrugged. "There's always Christmas," he said and smiled.
"Still not going to have enough though."
He shrugged again.
"What about a job?" I asked casually.
He shrugged.
"Mom said you could work for Dad. Why don't you want to do that?"
He shrugged.
"Will you stop doing that and talk?"
"I don't know...it's not very cool," he said quietly.
"Hey, you think everything I do is cool?" I joked. "Half the writing jobs I take I take just to pay the rent."
He rolled his eyes.
"I'm serious!" I said.
"Like you have to worry about money."
"What do you mean?" I asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," he said, looking away.
I sat there for a moment. "Justin doesn't give me money if that's what you're thinking. He doesn't even pay the rent on the apartment."
Simon looked at me, "but he's buying you a house."
"What?"
"I heard him and Mom talking," Simon said.
"He's not buying me a house. He wants to buy a house. I want to stay in my apartment. I'm not living off him, Okay?"
"Okay."
"I actually work you know. To make money. That's the idea of those little books and things I've done."
"I know...I'm sorry," he said sadly, looking back at the money in the envelope.
"Okay. So enough about me. What about you? Why don't you get a job and buy the guitar?"
"But it's going to take so long!" he whined.
"No it's not. I bet you could earn enough in a few months to pay for it."
"A few months," he groaned.
"Or you could do nothing, and a few months from now you'd still have nothing."
He sat there looking miserable.
"If you don't want to work for Dad, you could get a job down at the Mall," I suggested. "Or Mom said she had friends that needed a baby sitter. It seems like you have lots of opportunities."
"Yeah," he said quietly, his heart not in it.
"Just think about it, okay?"
"Okay," he said.
I looked around. His guitar case was in the corner.
"So how's the band?" I asked him.
He looked up and smiled. "Awesome. We're getting really good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"I'd love to hear you guys sometime."
"We're gonna play at the party tomorrow night," he said.
"Yeah? That'll be cool. I'll have to see that."
Simon looked thoughtful. "Is Justin going to come?" he asked.
"Uh...I don't know Simon. It's...you know."
"Yeah, I know. Man I've so much wanted to tell some of my friends he was going to be here...but I didn't."
"Thanks Simon. I really appreciate it. I know it must be hard."
"Yeah."
"How's Cam?" I asked.
"He's okay."
"He still in the band?"
"Yeah."
"And you two are okay?" I asked.
"Sure."
"That's good."
We sat there in silence for a moment.
"He's seeing Mom," Simon said quietly.
"What?"
"For therapy."
"Yeah...I thought..."
"He was originally seeing someone else," Simon went on, "but that didn't work out and he wanted to go back to Mom and so..."
"Is that okay with you?" I asked him. I wondered how it would feel having a friend going to your Mom for therapy. As far as I knew Mom had never done something like that before.
"Yeah. It's not very often and Mom asked me about it before she agreed to it," he said, though I couldn't tell if he was really happy about it.
"And it was okay with you?"
"Yeah. It's fine," he said a little most positively.
"That's good. So you coming back down? There's talk of a game of Trivial Pursuit or something."
"Maybe. I'll be down in a bit."
I frowned at him and he just stared back at me blankly. So I jumped on him and tickled him until he said he'd come down. I waited while he put his money away, and then dragged him down stairs, my arm firmly around his shoulder.
We played for a while, Simon's mood brightening towards the end as he and Justin were paired together and actually won. Then Mom sent him off to bed as it was late and he had a big day tomorrow.
He scampered off and we sat around.
"So I talked to him," I said finally. "Don't know if it did any good."
"Thanks dear," Mom said. "Maybe it will."
Annie idly toyed with the cushion, "I hate having to teach life lessons at birthdays. I feel like I sent the puppy back to the pound."
"Oh you weren't seriously thinking of buying him that guitar were you?" my Mom argued.
Annie looked up and frowned.
"You said money was impersonal," I accused her.
"Well I wasn't going to give the little runt a whole lot of money," Annie began, "but if we'd bought the guitar I would have been okay with it. It's what he wanted."
"It was far too expensive," my Mother protested. Then she looked up at us, "alright, so who thought we should have bought him the guitar?"
My Dad, Annie, Justin and I looked at each other guiltily.
"You four," my Mom said, shaking her head, "too much money and not enough sense."
"He's only 15 once," Dad said.
"And 16 and 17 and 18," Mom pointed out.
We sat there in silence. No one particularly happy with what had happened. I looked over at Justin and noticed him fidgeting and looking as though he wanted to say something. He caught my eye and looked a little unsure of himself but I nodded to him in encouragement. I didn't know what he wanted to say but he was part of the family now and should feel comfortable offering his own opinions.
Just don't be surprised if we ignored them!
"Uh..." he began. We all looked at him and he almost stopped. He reddened, obviously nervous to be suggesting something, "what if you...what if you advanced him the money? You could give him the guitar but to keep it he has to pay off part of it by working somewhere. If he doesn't keep the job he looses it until he..." and Justin trailed off unsure how it was going down, "well it was just a thought," he apologized.
"I like it," said Annie.
We all looked at each other, and then at Mom.
She sat there frowning at us. "Alright, I give up!" she protested, "we take the money he already has and get the guitar, but he has to pay off the rest. It's not a gift. If he doesn't work to pay it off it goes back. I'm firm about this."
"Yes!" I said, almost bubbling with excitement. Now we just had to figure out how to do it. "I have a great idea," I said.
"Oh great!" Justin rolled his eyes skyward and I playfully punched him.
The next morning everyone else was busily involved in party preparations. Justin and I slipped out of the house early and drove down to the guitar store down town. Justin had on his standard disguise of hooded sweatshirt, baseball cap and sunglasses.
It was not a large store, but they still had quite a few instruments, and it wasn't immediately obvious to me which one it was that Simon had been pining for.
A guy in his twenties came over to us.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Yeah...uh...my brother, he's about fifteen, blond hair, he's been interested in a guitar, a Gibson Les Paul electric, and I know he's been down here a bit, I wondered if someone here might remember him and know which one he was looking at."
The guy looked at me, and then his eyes brightened a bit. "Simon, right?"
"Uh yeah."
"Yeah, we know Simon alright. He's in here a lot. I think he comes in to make sure no one buys it," and he turned around and went away and came back with a guitar that certainly fit Simon's description. And the price was right, so it probably was the one. I looked at Justin.
"You want to check it out?" I asked Justin, figuring he might know a bit more about guitars than I did.
He shrugged. "If that's the one he wants, what's the point?"
I nodded.
"We'll take it," I said.
"Great!"
"Just, if he comes in today, don't tell him, okay?" I asked.
"Sure. We won't say a thing."
When we got back to the house Simon was out with Dad getting some stuff. Justin brought in the guitar, and Mom and Annie quickly wrapped it in plane blue wrapping, and put it in the living room next to the couch.
Then Justin and I went up to Simon's room and there, on his desk, was sitting the envelope with the money.
"This is too easy" I said, picking it up and pocketing it.
We then went down.
"Now to bait the trap!" I said.
Taking a birthday card from our other Grandma - that had come that morning with a present - we carefully steamed it open and slipped in $40. We'd just finished putting it back together when Simon and Dad arrived back. We exchanged glances with Dad, but Simon was oblivious. He opened the cards that had arrived for him, and pocketed the $40, and we were all waiting for him to go put it with his other money. But he offered to help Dad unload the car.
"I'll do that," Justin offered.
"Simon, is your room tidy?" Mom asked him.
"Yes Mom."
"Well just go and give it a check over, alright?"
"Okay."
He ran up stairs and the rest of us gathered in the kitchen...waiting. It took a little longer than I thought. I don't know if he immediately thought to put the money away or not. Obviously he didn't or he spent a really long time searching. Eventually we heard running feet and he came running down the stairs.
"Mom? Have you...did you see the envelope with my money in?"
"What envelope honey?" my Mom asked innocently.
"The envelope with the money...it was on my desk" he said sounding very worried.
"Oh, didn't you leave that in the living room?" Annie asked helpfully. He'd been counting his money in there that morning.
"Ah..." he paused, and then he rushed into the living room. We all looked at each other with big grins on our faces. About a minute later he came running back.
"It's not in there!" he said breathlessly. Now he looked panicked.
"You sure? I'm certain I saw it on the couch." my Mother asked.
"I looked! It's not there."
"Well, go have another look," Mom said.
"It's not there!" he snapped testily.
"Simon, calm down and go back and search carefully. You probably just missed it in your hurry," Mom insisted.
"Maybe it's in your room," Annie suggested impishly, but Mom gave her a look, Simon was already at the edge and didn't need to be pushed over.
He turned and went back into the living room. We followed behind him, and when we got there he was pulling out the cushions, completely missing the box next to the couch. It was the wrong shape and size and he couldn't see it for looking.
He was pulling up the cushions and looking under them, frantic, and he stopped and turned to face us with a pleading look on his face.
"Simon," I said waving him to come towards me. He stepped up, breathing heavily. I put my arms on his shoulders and spun him around so he was facing the couch. I pointed my arm over his shoulder towards the couch, and slowly moved it until it was pointing at the box beside the couch.
Now that he actually saw it he hesitated for just a second and then yelled "No!" and jumped in the air and made it to the box in one bound. He ripped the paper off in a fraction of a second and had the case open and was pulling out the guitar, the hugest grin on his face. He held it in his hands, staring at it, squeezing it, and then he kissed it and turned to us, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" and he held it to his chest like it was a lover.
"Happy Birthday Simon," we all said.
"So are you going to play it?" I asked.
"Yeah!"
"I'll get your amp," Justin offered, and he trotted off to Simon's room.
Simon sat down and started strumming the guitar, and Mom went over and sat down next to him.
Annie and I knew this was where the voice of reason would come in.
"Simon, this isn't all present. We took the money you already had and put it towards it, but Ethan and Justin are just loaning you the rest of the money for the guitar. You have to agree to get some kind of job and pay off the rest. If you don't want to do that then it goes back."
Simon looked up, the smile still firmly on his face, "No, I'll get a job, I promise" he said more to me than to Mom.
"You better sport," I said, "or Justin will come looking for you. He doesn't love you like I do you know."
"What?" said Justin as he came in holding the guitar amp.
"I was just telling Simon that if he didn't pay us back you'd come over and break his knees."
"Yeah," agreed Justin, trying to look menacing. "Damn straight. I'll send Joey over."
------------------------------- To be continued...
My other stories:
High School: Do What You Can
Celebrity: Boy Bands: Birthday Blues