Blue Sky

BLUE SKY by reid

-prologue-

Something was wrong.

Of course, something was wrong. I guess in a weird way I'd known it but hadn't really acknowledged it for some reason. My mind had a tendency to work that way. Always aware when something was wrong, but never eager to address it and look for a solution. Not like there was much of a solution here.

A solution usually meant that you had options. It meant you had choices. A solution was meant to be taken as a clear and defined method with which to reach a satisfying and mutually accepted conclusion. This sure as hell wasn't a solution. This was more like a damn rock and a hard place: do things my way and take a giant piss on what could be an amazing cultural and financial experience, do things his way, I'd have to relocate and acclimate myself to a foreign land.

That was something I swore to myself I'd never do. What a laugh.

"How long?" I asked, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"May 20th to October 1st."

"Six months," I grimaced, "Christ!"

Teddy drummed his fingers on the table top. He didn't say anything, but then again, he didn't really need to. Our relationship wasn't built on a foundation of superfluous dramatic dialogue in which concepts were discussed endlessly. Normally, I appreciated that sort of honesty but now - it was kind of irritating.

"You're not going otherwise?"

Teddy ran the tip of his thumb over the tablecloth, "Not if you're not."

"Why?" I struggled for words, "I mean - why?"

"I can't move to a new country and not be with you, Shawn. Not at the same time."

I began to rub the bridge of my nose again. Ever since the conversation had begun, my sinuses felt like they were swelling. My good, old stress response. I snorted air through my nose in a quick hit, trying to flush out the ache. It didn't work, never did. My face always still felt like it was being blown up like a balloon.

"You'd give it up? For me?"

He nodded.

"Teddy, it's a $240 a day job. You can't give that up."

"Then come with me."

How the hell was I supposed to say it? I really didn't have a clue as to what I was supposed to say. There wasn't any way I could tell him that moving to a new country was about as appealing as using a porta-crapper. I couldn't tell him that. Not with the sad look he'd get in his eyes. I also didn't want to have to feel the sense of lost opportunity that would follow him for the rest of time.

But was it worth it? Was it worth it to use his genuine feelings to protect my distaste at having to leave my comfortable family farm, so to speak? That was the one question that really fried my ass. As much as I didn't want to uproot myself, I knew that Teddy had to take this job, if not for the money but for the sense of accomplishment. I couldn't deny him that. Even if it meant - moving.

"You don't have to decide now," He sighed, "I have until Friday to let them know."

Teddy got up and left to pay the check, leaving me alone at the table. It took me a few seconds before I realized what he'd said: I didn't have to decide now, he had until Friday to let them know. It was my decision. I would decide wether or not the person I loved more than anything on God's green earth would accept a high paying, personally rewarding job.

Coaching deaf children at soccer. At the tender young age of 21, no less.

My decision. Lucky me.

Teddy came back. He tossed me the keys.

"You're driving."

That's nice. More responsibility.

We didn't say anything on the ride home. Not one word was exchanged and with Teddy, that was a genuinely odd occurrence. Maybe he was letting me think it over. Maybe he was stewing with resentment. Maybe he really didn't want to go and just wanted me to make the decision that would get him out of it.

As soon as I thought it, I felt bad. I felt bad because I knew he wanted to go because of how he talked about it. Excitement wasn't a rare feeling for him, that much I knew. Real, deep seeded excitement was pretty rare, however. For someone who had matured as early as he had and lead such an accelerated life, when Teddy got excited for real, it was important.

"I'm not going to hold it against you if that's what you're worried about."

I opened my mouth to say something, but thought better of it. In my current mind set, I'd probably say something sarcastic or glib which would make light of the whole situation. Then it would mushroom cloud into an argument and neither of us needed that. This was a serious situation and if nothing else, I could treat it like one by keeping my mouth shut.

I pulled the car into our garage and shut the engine off. For a few seconds, we sat there in the darkness, not moving. Teddy knew that I knew the decision was mine to make. There wasn't any way to pretend otherwise so we didn't even try it. I rubbed the bridge of my nose again, the swelling in my sinuses still present and accounted for.

Not saying anything, Teddy got out of the car and went into the house. When the interior door shut, it sounded like a coffin lid slamming down. I groaned and pulled the key out of the ignition before trudging into the house. I tossed the car keys onto the kitchen counter and snapped on the lights. I blinked at the sudden harsh brilliance of the overheads.

From the living room, I could hear the television. I couldn't identify offhand the TV show Teddy was watching but it sounded like must-see-TV. Every time I wanted to rag on his choices of entertainment, I reminded myself that he'd bought the TV. The DVD player. The surround sound system with the state of the art stereo. The house itself. I really didn't have a lot of firm footing from which to cast judgment.

Or make decisions, for that matter.

But there I was. The decision maker.

I shook my head and opened the cabinet over the sink, pulling out the blessedly full bottle of Orange Bacardi. Bacardi Rum! Now it comes in five delicious home wrecking flavors! I exhaled and took a clean glass from the dish rack. As I dumped a few ice cubes into the glass, I tried my best not to think about - everything. All I wanted at this point was a good, numbing shot of liquor (dulled with cola, of course) and a long night's sleep before I had to deal with any of this decision making again.

When I opened the fridge - the fancy steel plated monstrosity - my stomach sank. Sitting on the top shelf, plain as day between the milk and the Costco size hummus, was the six pack of Sunny Delight that Teddy had bought just the other day. A perfect substitute for whenever I felt the need to numb myself with alky-hall. He'd said that even if there wasn't any and it was the middle of the night, he'd go get more.

Just as long as I drank Sunny Delight rather than a big shot of Jack Daniels - the brownest of the brown liquors.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the fridge door. How in the blue hell could I drink myself stupid now? At times like that, I missed my carefree days of boozing and whoring like the world was coming to an end. This newer, softer way of life still had it's downsides.

Disgustedly, I slammed the door shut and looked down at the glass with it's four lonely ice cubes melting into nothingness. I looked at the bottle of Bacardi, imagining it's tart, citrus flavor washing over my taste buds with a tiny hint of Pepsi to go along with it. I felt my taste buds moistening merely at the thought.

I'd promised that bitch that I was going to wean myself off the hooch, no matter what. Never before in my life did I so detest the custom of making promises to a loved one. How dare he take away my courage and inner strength! How dare he expect me to satisfy him without the assistance of liquor!

I sighed and grabbed the class. In one angry thrust, I sent the ice cubes clattering into the basin. Three of them broke into shards and fourth withstood the impact of my sobriety. I shoved the empty glass back into the cupboard and went to slam the door shut with a satisfying thud. Instead, I closed it carefully. I didn't want to give Teddy the satisfaction of knowing that his plan to get me away from alcohol had worked. That would be simply unthinkable.

Grumbling to myself, I pulled off my coat and threw it on one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen island. I took a second and looked back at the closed door hiding the bottle of Bacardi. Just then, I wanted nothing more than to go over and take a good, healthy swig of the stuff. Everything inside me drove me to do it. At that moment, I probably would have leapt off the roof of a building if someone had told me I couldn't drink any.

But I didn't.

In frustration, I jumped up and down, grabbing handfuls of my hair. Peppering the empty air with a few hard jabs, I sobbed pitifully. I curled my arms on the counter and dropped my head onto them, a little too hard. My forehead whacked painfully against my forearms and briefly I saw stars.

With a mopey shuffle, I raised my head and stood up straight. Rubbing the sore spot on my forehead, I ambled down the hallway towards the living room. As I got closer, I could hear the TV. He was watching The West Wing. Full of Westly Wing goodness.

He spoke timidly, "Did you--"

"Shut up."

I sat down on the other end of the couch, not looking at Teddy. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he'd changed into his 'normal' clothes. Not the starched dress shirts and slacks he wore to work. Not the halfway decent clothing he begrudgingly wore the few times we went somewhere more formal than Quiznos. No. His normal clothes. His semen stained T-shirts and frayed athletic shorts.

I didn't look at him because I knew the sight of his bare skin would have an undesired effect on me. Well, undesired right then. Normally I didn't mind getting an erection like a hard Italian salami. At that point, it would have taken my mind off the battle of wills that was starting to brew between us.

But I couldn't help it.

While he was focused on the show, I looked over at him.

There was something - intangibly sexy about Teddy.

I looked at his hair - so thick and black. The way he spiked it even non-intentionally was so cute to me. Whenever we were close to each other, which was often, I couldn't resist running my fingers through it so slowly. Then when he would shiver, I'd feel so good. Sitting there, I could practically feel it's softness against the webbing between my fingers.

I looked at his skin. His skin was so soft and warm - the color of baked honey. I loved the way his skin felt under my fingertips. I loved how it tasted under my tongue. It felt like warm, firm silk. Especially when his muscles flexed underneath me.

My fingers balled together into a fist.

Just as my eyes were about to wander to his legs, I stopped myself. Once I found his legs, we'd both be naked and doing it in about a nanosecond. As subtly as possible, I shifted on the couch and tried to hide the front of my pants. I did everything I could to take my mind off of it - baseball stats, calorie counting, my painfully near complete screenplay. Yet, none of it worked.

A few minutes of silence later, I'd had enough. I leaned forward and picked up the universal remote off the coffee table and pushed the blue button in the corner. Instantly, Martin Sheen's weird goblin face disappeared and the room was quite. Teddy and I just sat there, the only light provided by the soft glow of the floor-length lamp in the corner.

Teddy leaned his head back against the couch and sighed. We both knew what was going on. It would take someone thicker than shit run over twice to not know. Against my better, judgment, I watched as he pressed the ball of his bare foot against the table. The thick muscles in his calf flexed and I felt a tingle in my most private of privates.

Right before I forced myself to speak, Teddy spoke first.

"I know I put it on you."

I leaned forward and rubbed my eyes, "Yeah. Thanks."

Blessed by the silence, I rested my face against the heels of my hands. Suddenly I just felt so very tired. Either he takes the job and I move to Japan, or he doesn't take the job and the seeds of deep resentment are planted. Both options were almost equally distasteful to me, but there really was only one choice I could make.

"I want the job."

His words were like a punch in the stomach. For the first time, I knew that not only did he have to take the job, he wanted to take the job. Why wouldn't he? He'd get to work for an important federal employer and get paid really well. It was what every good American wanted out of life: a career and a lot of money connected to it. Not like I could begrudge him.

Even though I knew that wasn't the real reason.

I knew exactly what the real reason was.

Teddy was American. He was more American than me. His parents were fifth generation Americans; my dad was second generation Hispanic and my mom was third generation white trash by way of Italy and Germany. Teddy and his family were more of a testament to the American way of life than anything my family could hope to get in a fraudulent lawsuit.

Yet my family were and always would be more American than his.

In America, if your Dad is Filipino and your mom is Japanese, you're not of the country. You're 'foreign.' You're 'Asian.' No matter how many generations of your family have been working hard on American soil, you're not American. Even when you walk down the street wearing the clothes that everyone else wears, you're still a foreigner.

That hurt Teddy.

He tried to cover it up but I knew that it bothered him.

All the times that people made "Hong Kong Driving School" jokes. Asking him where his rickshaw was. Looking for his help with math problems. The whole mildly racist menagerie had a way of adding up. Teddy dealt with it quite well but it still bothered him.

I knew it was why he wanted to go to Japan - if only for six months.

For once, he wanted to be able to walk down the street and look like everyone else. As American as he was, I knew it wasn't a constant feeling of pride to walk around and have people make assumptions. Teddy wanted to fit in for once.

How the hell was I supposed to begrudge him that?

I swallowed slowly, "Six months?"

"Six months," He said softly, "Probably won't drop below 75 degrees while we're there."

I fell back onto the couch, the stuffed cushions catching me. I stared up at the shadowy ceiling, the lack of light making me yawn on instinct. Exhaling, my cheeks puffed out and my lips flapped slightly.

"Does Nagoya have Sunny Delight?"

"They probably have something pretty similar."

"Are you going to give me enough money to live on?"

"I'll probably spend obscene amounts just to keep from getting homesick."

From the tone of his voice, I could tell he was smiling.

I let my head fall to the side and I looked at him. In that brief second, I probably fell in love with him all over again. Everytime I looked at him, it felt like my heart had started beating for the first time. As disgusted as I was with myself, there had never been any feeling before that could compare to it.

I was right. Teddy was smiling.

It wasn't a smug, victorious smile.

It was a happy smile. A smile that made me smile too.

I groaned and buried my face in one of the cushions, "I swear to God, if I get my little finger hacked off by the Yakuza, the shit is gonna hit the fan!"

The couch cushions shifted as Teddy crawled over to me. I felt his warm weight press down ontop of me. His scent filled my senses and I suddenly felt dizzy. As much as I loved his hair and the feeling of his skin, it was his smell that captivated me the most. Teddy just plain smelled sexy. Indulgently, I let my face lean into his neck and I inhaled, nearly drunk from the scent.

He rested his forehead against mine and his lips touched mine gently. They felt soft and warm, their fullness like heaven to me. I kissed him softly, feeling the blood rushing in his lips. Slowly, he kissed me back and let his tongue dart out over my teeth and across gums. Teddy moved to my cheek and he kissed me again, firmly.

"Thank you." He said softly in my ear.

I reached up and ran my hand through his hair. Teddy shivered against me and my heart warmed. It gave me such a deep sense of pleasure to make him feel good. I nibbled tenderly on the soft brown skin of his earlobe, making him whimper softly against my neck.

I wrapped my arms around his back and hugged him close, feeling the compression of his stomach and chest against mine. His back was so strong and muscular. Like his spine was made out of iron. I ran my hand over his back muscles, feeling them through the thin white fabric of his T-shirt.

Against my chest, I could feel his heart beating. I sighed happily, somehow not feeling anymore tension or anxiety. My muscles relaxed and the only sensation I could detect was Teddy's warm weight ontop of me as he nuzzled my neck.

Suddenly, moving to Japan didn't sound so bad.

-1-

I don't remember what it was in my dream that woke me up.

The last thing I could recall was a huge tidal wave crashing down on top of me. A tsunami, if you will. My first concern when I woke up was that I had wet the bed. In my drunkest nights, pre-Teddy, any water or large quantity of liquid in a dream meant that I was going to have a little accident.

But when I woke, everything was dry.

I rolled over slowly, rubbing my eyes and looking at the alarm clock on the dresser.

4:40am. Truly the beginning of the day for anyone with amibition.

I yawned, rubbing my eyes more briskly. I sat up heavily, feeling my back stretch with the effort. As much as I tried to to fool myself, there wasn't any way that I was going to fall back asleep any time soon. Not without the help of tranquilizers, all of mine which had been flushed down the toilet long ago.

I looked over at Teddy and smiled.

He was hugging his pillow like he always had, cuddling it when I'd decided I didn't want to be held in my sleep anymore. I reached over and ran the backs of my fingers over the soft, bare skin of his shoulder. Watching him sleep always held a weird fascination for me.

Leaning forward, I pulled up the blankets and exposed his leg. I smiled when I saw his ankle and the large chunk of bone that was missing. Teddy had caught his foot in a soccer net and twisted it so badly that the ankle had cracked and compressed a piece of bone clean out of itself. When he was eight years old. Yeah, I always got a good laugh out of the story.

I rubbed my fingers over the gap in his ankle and onto his leg. His warm skin and the softness of the thick, black hairs tickled me. Carefully, I moved the sheet up further and more of his leg was bared. It was the side of his left calf. The side with the tattoos.

Teddy and his damn tattoos. They had an effect on me like catnip to a cat. Not exactly healthy or hollistic but mind-bending and extacy-inducing, nonetheless. The sight of his tattoos had to have some deterimental effect on my brain. Probably mowing down brain cells like an 80 year old driver taking their Studebaker onto a crowded sidewalk.

Four kanji symbols in a vertical line. Carefully designed in black type, they stood out from his brown skin quite noticeably.

Of course, I wouldn't trash talk the tattoos too much. It was me asking about them that broke the ice between us. Even though I'd have to have been giving off such stinking vibes of fear and nervousness, Teddy hadn't seemed to mind. The funny thing was that he later admitted that he was probably more nervous than I was.

We were just two nervous guys that didn't want to seem "too gay" and mess things up. It was a serious gift to find another guy that didn't want to do too much other than watch TV, play video games, work out, and occasionally go somewhere that wasn't too fruity. In Teddy, I'd found that guy and so much more.

What was even funnier was how I didn't even know that Teddy was what I wanted.

All my life, regardless of being gay, I was taught, like everyone else, that I should want to be with another pasty, white caucasian. I had the books read to me in school about Dick and Jane and Spot and their little house with a white picket fence. Although I somehow knew it just wasn't me, I assumed that someday I'd meet a nice white girl and have lots of nice, toeheaded babies.

Why would I assume any different? It's what I was taught.

Then I met Teddy. Shirtless and soaking wet. He'd been supervising a group of kids from his recreation center and had decided to go swimming with them. It was a spur of the moment decision, which had explained why he was still wearing long pants.

As soon as I saw him, I knew that he was "the one." Even though I spent a long time trying to tell myself that he wasn't. I told myself that he was "gross." I told myself that he "smelled bad." I told myself that he "probably didn't know how to shower even though he always smelled like ivory soap and alpine fresh shampoo."

Whatever I needed to tell myself to keep up the facade that I wasn't falling in love with an Asian dude. As horrible and racist as that sounds, it really didn't seem to surprise too many people I later admitted it to. A few of them even seemed to express a sort of perverted "sympathy" for my "unfortunate situation." Imagine that, being forced to get a hard-on in the presence of gasp ... an Oriental.

But be that as it was, Teddy had engendered feelings in me that I'd never felt before. Feelings that I'd hoped would make themselves known but never in the way that they actually had. Teddy was everything I wanted in a guy: smart, sensitive, gentle, kind, witty, and a million other things I didn't even know I wanted or needed until he began providing them.

I had fallen in love with an Asian dude.

Or as "Asian" as Teddy was. He watched MTV and listened to Godsmack, ate Doritos, and could paralell park better than 99 out of any 100 people you'd pass on the street. He didn't pronounce his L's as R's and he didn't have any great affinity for doing laundry or cooking food with cat as one of the main ingredients.

He was a guy. He was a "straight" guy. A "straight" guy that worked and came home and wanted to sit around in semen-stained shorts and ratty T-shirts. Anything else was just skin and pigment. That was what made me fall in love with him.

That and the tattoos.

In Kanji, they spelled out "an outcast warrior's pride is deadly." Or at least that's what he told me they meant. They could have been his name or something, I'd never really pressed the issue.

I looked down at the tattoos and noticed how the darkness of his skin stood out in contrast against the white sheets. I ran the tip of my index finger over the lettering, feeling his warm skin underneath. I let his leg hairs run under my fingernails. Then I pressed my palm against his calf, feeling how hot his skin was. I massaged the muscle and squeezed it, smiling as Teddy squirmed in his sleep. He always said his legs were "sensitive" that way.

With much effort, I pulled my hand from his leg and laid down next to him in the bed. I slid over and pressed myself against his back. Hugging Teddy was like hugging a huge, warm, squeezeable pillow. Like a junkie needing a hit, I pressed my face into his neck and inhaled, my head going light and dizzy. How one person could smell "sexy" didn't make much sense to me but there it was. In the flesh.

Teddy squirmed again in his sleep and pushed himself back against me. I gently kissed the back of his neck and the very edge of his hairline. My hands roamed around and I wrapped my arms around his waist, squeezing him firmly and holding his body on mine.

Even as I hugged him, I couldn't help but feel a very baseline sense of trepidation about what I'd agreed to. Even though I was willing to follow him just about anywhere, it was very different to actually do so. For me to move to a different place, I had to be somewhat familiar with the culture and be able to immerse myself on charm and bullshitting ability. Somehow, I knew Japan wouldn't be an easy safe to crack in that regard.

At least I had Teddy with me. At that moment, I was comforted by his decision to learn Kanji as a senior project in high school. His blend of patience, kindness, and easy-going nature would surely make up for my high-strung personality. If he could work with children, he could easily help me navigate a strange land.

Being dependant on Teddy was a new feeling. In our relationship, I was the uber-competent alpha male provider. He was the gentler, more-intellectual half. My better half, in simpler terms. I was the one who supervised the retailing of sporting goods and better quality athletic wear. He supervised little children. This time, I'd have to be taken care of by him.

Maybe that was what I was really scared of.