Brad

The next week was Spring Break. We were going to go to the mountains or to the beach, instead, I was helping Matt job hunt. I was lucky in that my father had informed me that school was my job. I'd have the rest of my life to earn a living. So, my grades at the end of the term decided my pay scale. But, Matt needed help. The boy had no idea how to interview or to fill out an application. To be fair, neither did I, but with him by my side, I was willing to try anything to help him. We went to dozens of places looking for part time work. Eventually, he got a few things lined up. He was to start waiting tables on Thursday.

"I'm glad we got that settled;" I said, "Now we've got three days to be together before you have to go to work."

"What do you want to do?"

"Matt, I've given up the Spring Break of my senior year to help you get a job...I expect some, remuneration."

"How could I pay you back for that?"

"Oh, there are ways." I gave him a rather coy smile as we drove out of the bistro parking lot.

"So, what do you want?" He had taken the hint.

"Let's see, what's today? Tuesday?"

"Yeah."

"Hmmmmm. You know, this reminds me of something?"

"What's that."

"Do you remember the day you caught me over a barrel with Brad- him and me in the truck and you talking about buying your silence real cheap."

"Oh."

"My silence may be a bit more expensive."

He furrowed his brow. "What are we talking about?"

"It's a dare."

"Uh-oh. What is it?"

"Something I've always wanted to try, but never had a willing victim to try it on."

"Should I be afraid?"

"Probably."

"What is it?"

"I'm just shitting you- I'd do anything for you- you know that."

He was visibly relieved. As we were driving home, my cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is your grandma. Can I talk to you?"

As much as I love her, I was still pissy about the beach incident.

"I guess so." I sounded rather gruff.

"Well, when can you stop by the house?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Who was that?" Matt asked.

"Grandma."

"Oh." He was not impressed.

"I'll drop you off at the house, then I'll go over there."

"Godspeed mi amigo."

We did that. I drove up in her front yard a while later, she lived in one of the few `rural areas' left around there. She was sitting on the porch waiting- fly swatter in hand.

I walked up on the steps. I sat down in a rocking chair that was angled toward the plastic stackable chair she was sitting in. Neither of us had said anything. She looked around, angled the fly swatter and brought it down swiftly on the porch railing- squishing that poor fly to a pulp. She turned back to face me and put the fly swatter on the floor.

"What happened between us at the beach has been bothering me ever since, but I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything."

"I guess I came by that trait honestly, then."

"I'm sorry." she said, "I just over reacted I guess."

I had no visible response.

After a few minutes, I asked, "What made you change your mind?" I was curious; I hadn't expected to hear that response from her.

"When Matthew left the beach house, he didn't just run out. He explained that he loved you very much and that he was leaving because he didn't want to hurt you or us anymore. Your father said that might be best, so he left and we sort of misled you a bit." She paused momentarily. "You see, Drew, we come from two very different worlds. I grew up in the 1920's and 30's and you grew up in the 1980's and 90's. When I was growing up, gays were seen as evil, dirty, irreligious, irresponsible, and immoral. Basically, gays represented everything that was wrong or bad about the world and opposed everything that was good or right about the world. We had religious people telling us they were god forsaken people who had a one way ticket to hell; we had political people telling us they were hedonistic and would cause the downfall of America."

"It's not true."

"I know that. In my heart at least, but when you've heard something over and over again for 8 decades, you tend to start believing it. I guess, I just want to do the right thing. But, everyone believes that they're doing the right thing. Hell, even the Nazi's believed they were doing the right thing. Drew, you see, the world was never simple, but we used to have answers. They're used to be someone who told us what was right and what was wrong. We may not have always agreed with it, but they were in charge and so we went along with it because that was the way it was supposed to be. If we didn't, society would disintegrate into chaos."

"Why?" I suddenly felt like a 2 year old.

"We didn't know what else to do. There wasn't a precedent for anything else. I was the first in my family to go to college. I was the first to have a career outside of the home. As a woman who graduated college in Georgia in 1938, I know what it feels like to be treated like a foreigner in your own family- o have people snub you because you're different. They did that to me because I 'made something of myself' and they didn't so they were a tinge jealous. The terms and feelings are different in your case, but the force of 'you're not like us anymore' is every bit as powerful. And it's worse for us because this came up suddenly. You've probably known for years that you were gay- we didn't. For you, this was brewing for ages and you'd had time to adjust to it; for the rest of us, it broadsided us out of the blue. When we drove up at Matt's that morning, I knew we were picking up a friend of yours from school and we were going to the beach to play putt-putt and that was about the extent of it. "

I didn't say anything.

"And...growing up, we were warned against those who would try to change our minds- those who would try to 'subvert our truthful understanding.' I can't tell you how many preachers on the radio would talk about not letting anyone lead you off the right path and so forth. That evildoers would come and try to lead us away from godly living. So, when people talk to me about things like this, I hear those old ghosts from my past rattling around in this dusty old brain of mine and think- uh-oh, the evil subverters are here just like reverend so and so said they would."

I was listening.

"So, when Scott filled me in about Matt and you while we were riding in the car, all those old feelings came back to the surface. Homosexuality and such has always been someone else's problem. It didn't affect me, so it was fine. It didn't bother me because I didn't know anyone who was, so my opinion was mostly in my head, but you changed that. You've made it harder for me."

"How?"

"A couple of my sisters are very opposed to gays. Now, I have to have a definite opinion- either I reject you or they reject me. It's not an easy choice."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be. Besides, it's like your Aunt Mable always says, 'you can't tell your heart who to love.'"

I smiled, "I remember she said that when Charity (her granddaughter, my cousin) came home with Zima or Zyband or whatever his name was."

"It surely was. Spiked hair, chains, and that stupid necklace that I'll swear to the day I die was a dog collar."

I just smiled. I was so mad at her I could spit nails, but I knew I couldn't stay mad for very long.

"Drew, you know I will always love you. I trust your taste and judgment with people. So, I guess if Matthew is who you love, then I'll just have to live with it. He seemed like a genuine person- at least he's no Zima."

"No, he's not."

"He's not bad looking, either. If I was younger and he was straight, I'd sure as shit put in a bid on that."

I just laughed. "I'm serious," she continued, "He's a fine specimen."

We talked for a while longer; I told her about what happened between Matt and his parents, then him staying with us.

I walked off the porch and drove home. Melissa and Matt were sitting at the kitchen table.

"How did it go?"

"It was good. She's trying to be okay with it...but it'll take her a while."

"At least she's trying."

After dinner, Matt and I decided to go see a movie. There is this little theatre, the Westhampton, that shows odd movies that are good but not mainstream. It was built as an opera house back in the 1920's but was abandoned during the Great Depression, reopened during WWII, closed again in the 1960's and then reopened as a theater in the early 1990's. It still retains much of its gilded glamour- though a bit tarnished. The entrance has these Europeanesque paintings and tapestries, the red carpet with gold trim- quite a sight to see. I was a regular at this establishment, Matt was a novice- used to going to the big Hollywood 20 or something like that. The Westhampton was cheap and had good movies. Many of its premiers are movies that won awards at Cannes, Sundance and other awards that actually award them to good movies that have a point. This particular evening, they were showing "The Adventures of Felix," a French film in subtitles. Neither Matt nor I knew anything about what the movie was about, just that it was playing and we wanted to go. We queued outside the theater waiting to buy tickets.

"I just realized something." Matt said.

"What's that?"

"This is our first actual date."

"I guess it is our first `traditional date.'"

"This feels so good." He said.

"What?"

"Being around you."

I couldn't help but smile. Matt could be viciously romantic when he wanted to be. He smiled back...oh that made my heart soar and do little cartwheels in my chest. He saw the effect he was having on me, so he smiled bigger and broader. I thought momentarily that I would pass out. A few others in line noticed, but in this part of town, it didn't matter. We could be in love all we wanted and no one would care. We could declare our love and admiration before all these people and that would be perfectly okay. Too bad our acceptance would come from total strangers and not from those we already knew. I realized that I was one lucky bastard to have parents who reacted the way they did. Matt wasn't so lucky and my heart went out to him. Even though I'd never actually met his father, I always pictured him to be more enlightened, more liberal and less restrictive than my own. Oh brother had I been way off that mark.

I had to greatly resist the urge to wrap my arms around Matt and put my tongue so deep in his mouth he'd nearly choke, but I decided that PDA would be too much too soon and that I'd move a little slower than that. After all, it was possible that someone from school would spot us. As I stood in line, I felt something warm against my hand. I felt a strange pressure that I'd never felt before. I was startled and instinctively flinched. I looked down. Matt had grasped my hand in his own. He had intertwined his fingers with mine. Oh my God, Matt was holding my hand. I'd never held anyone's hand before, not since my mother helped me cross the street when I was six. I don't know what came over me, but I started giggling and squirming. I felt completely stupid and idiotic but I couldn't stop. I got to laughing and grinning. I had never embarrassed myself like that before, but I couldn't help it- Matt was holding my hand. The most beautiful person both inside and out that I have ever seen in my life was in love with grungy old me and was holding my hand while we waited outside the theater in the brisk early April evening. Even when we got inside the theater, you couldn't have wiped that grin off my face with a pitch fork. I wanted to jumped up and down and scream, "I'm with him! I'm with him!!" But I managed to resist.

He didn't look embarrassed. Slightly amused maybe, but not embarrassed.

"You must think I'm a complete dumb ass."

"No. I think it's cute."

"Why do you do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Why do you make me feel like this?"

He just shrugged and started grinning too.

"George just lucky I guess." -imitating George of the Jungle

We stood in line a few more minutes until we got the tickets. The whole time we were both grinning like Cheshire cats. As the movie progressed, I could sense that Matt was getting more and more distant. I could tell that his mind was far from the movie. The movie itself was very good. It was about a French HIV+ man who traveled across France to see his father. It deals with the `family' that he meets along the way. Once we were back in the car, I wanted to know what was going on in his head.

"Matt? Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Liar."

He just sighed as I started my truck and backed out of the parking space.

"Drew, I." He stopped.

"What is it?"

He just sat there.

"Is it your dad?"

"God it pisses me off, but I can't help but think that I deserved it."

I slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop. I pulled quickly into an available space.

"Matthew, look at me." He just averted his eyes and stared at the dashboard.

"Matthew, your father is an asshole, plain and simple. He didn't want you because he doesn't deserve you."

"It's not that." He said curtly.

"Then what?"

He didn't say anything.

"I figured my dad didn't give a shit about me, but mom."

Oh, I was slowly figuring it out.

"My dad's never liked me, but mom was always there for me, she was always the one I looked up to...now she hates me."

"I'm sure she doesn't hate you. She contacted Rev. Morgan for us."

Tears were streaming down his face once again. I was at a loss because that wasn't my experience and I'm eternally grateful that I don't have to know what it feels like for your parents to reject you. From seeing Matt's face that night, I'm glad that I'll never know.

"She said she didn't love me."

"I know."

"She said she didn't want me in her life...she wished I was never born."

I didn't have any words. I slid over next to him and put my arm around him. He leaned into my body and rested, my arm draped across his shoulders. We sat there for a long time waiting for his crisis to abate. He kept going.

"Let's go talk to someone."

"Who?" He said, the phlegm choking out any more coherent speech.

"I know just the person."

He didn't say anything else but sat up on his own as I scooted back into the driver's seat. I had a plan. I took off down the road and kept going. It was getting late, but I hoped he would still be awake. We drove along and talked a little more. Matt would talk coherently for a while, then dissolve again for a while. He still hadn't asked again about where we were going or who we were going to see. After a while, we pulled up in the driveway. The main building was dark but there was a cottage off to the side whose lights were still on. I said to myself, "I really hate to bother him at night." It was only 8:30, but what time do priests go to bed?

"This looks like a church." Matt said.

"That's because it is."

"Why are we at a church?"

"To see a man about a dog."

He was confused.

"We're going to talk to someone."

"Who?"

"Father Moriarty."

"Who?"

"He's a priest."

"Why?"

"I guess God called him, why else would he be a priest?"

He shot me a `you know that's not what I meant' look.

We drove up next to the cottage. There was a shadowy figure walking around the side of the structure.

"Mr. Gerrish!" a friendly voice called out of the misty darkness.

"Father Moriarty? You remembered me?"

"Of course I remember...oh my...what's happened?"

"Matt's in trouble."

Matt whispered in my ear, "I'm not talking to him."

"He's cool, we can talk to him."

"No."

"Then I'll talk to him and you can go back to the truck and wallow in self pity." Okay, maybe this wasn't the most appropriate time for tough love. But, he didn't go back to the truck.

"Let's go in my office." He lead us toward the church building, turned on the lights and we sat down in his office. Even though I'd been in here only once before, I suddenly felt at ease. It was as if I knew it was going to be all right now. Matt wasn't so easily convinced.

"Okay, boys, what's going on?"

I started rambling.

"That's nice." He said absently. Then he turned to Matt. "I don't believe I know your name."

"Matthew."

"Okay. My name is Father Moriarty."

"I'm not calling anyone father."

"Fair enough...then call me John."

"Can I call you Mister?"

"That's fine... you can call me whatever you want to as long as you call me something nice."

We all smiled weakly. We spent a while chronicling all that had happened between us, ending with the fiasco with Matt's parents and him moving in.

Fr. Moriarty just sat back in his chair for a few minutes. I glanced around the room, resisting the urge to peruse his bookshelves. Matt was content to stare at the rug. He had the most utterly defeated look I think I've ever seen on a human being's face before. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Fr. Moriarty had yet to speak.

He looked back and forth between Matt and I.

"Well," he began, "I don't know what to say. It sounds to me like you two are in love. That's a wonderful thing and a precious gift. I know plenty of people who go through their entire lives and never have someone who loves them as much as the two of you have. You've been through a lot together and that seems to have strengthened you. I think that I may have misjudged the situation when Mr. Gerrish came to me some weeks ago. I've never met this Brad person, but I'm sure he's an upstanding young man as well. I do have one question though, what will you do when you graduate and must separate?"

"I've applied to FSU." I piped up.

Matt looked startled.

"Have you been accepted?"

"No, but then I just submitted my application a couple of weeks ago."

"Why?" Matt asked.

"Because I didn't want to be separated from you."

"But you've wanted to go to UNC since you were a little kid, that's what you said the other day."

"So? I've never met anyone like you and I don't want to pass that up."

Neither Fr. Moriarty or Matt responded. They just sat there staring at me. I didn't think I'd made a mistake.

"What about Matt's parents?" I asked. It seemed to me that he'd missed the point of our visit.

"Parents do some of the stupidest things sometimes. Your parents, Matt, are humans- they aren't perfect and sometimes they over react. They are also subject to unjust prejudice just like anyone else. I don't know how your relationship will play out in the long run, but for now, you're going to have some rough times. I know you already know that, but hopefully they'll come around. The most important thing you can do right now is give them a few weeks and then try to open communication again. I doubt they'd hear you right now, but after they've had some time to adjust- they'll realize what a fine person you are and that they'll at least want to associate with you again."

"Doubtful." Matt said.

"Then again, unfortunately, some parents remain that way and never speak to their child again. What you need to do is let that decision be theirs. Let them be the ones to give up on you but don't you ever give up on them. It may take a few days or it might take a few decades, but hopefully they'll learn to accept you the way you are."

Matt just shrugged.

"Also, don't ever forget to be your own person. No one else can dictate to you who you are or who you will become. My father was extremely conservative Christian even by Baptist standards but had become disillusioned with the church and turned against God and I believe against humanity in general. He wasn't a particularly kind man. Anyway, I will never forget the firestorm around our dining room table when I informed my parents that I was converting to Catholicism and had ideas to become a priest. Good God in heaven, I thought the man would have a stroke right then and there. Even though I was nearly forty at the time, I still know a bit of what you're going through."

"What did your father do?" Matt asked.

"He kicked me out of the house. It wasn't as bad for me as for you because I had a house already, so when he `kicked me out of the house' I just went home and sat down in my chair and turned on the TV. You don't have that luxury, obviously. But, you've got something even better. You've got someone who cares enough about you to talk his father into putting his own financial and professional future and that of his wife at risk so that you can have a safe place to stay and you've got someone who loves you do death to talk it out with."

"I guess that's true."

"I know it's true."

"Why did you not get married?" I asked. It was a pointed question, but oh well.

"Lots of reasons. Mostly, I never found someone to love like the two of you have. I just never fell in love, so I never married. Then I fell in love with the church, so I've been here ever since. Now, I'm old- too old to start over again with someone else."

We talked for a while longer, then left so that we all could get a little sleep before starting over again in the morning. While I drove, Matt didn't say a word. I looked over at him. His head was down against his chest and his breath had evened out. He had fallen asleep. Poor thing was exhausted. When we got home, Dad commented that it must have been a long movie. I said it was and he didn't pursue the issue any further.

The next morning, everything was quiet. I walked out to the landing outside me bedroom door. I could hear the TV downstairs. I tiptoed down. Melissa was watching something. I went over to Matt's door and knocked softly.

"Yeah?"

I opened the door. He was sitting on the bed reading.

"What's that?"

"`The Sun Also Rises.' It's for AP English. Our exam is next week."

"Oh. What do you want to do today?"

"Close the door." He said. I did.

"Come closer." He smiled in a mock seductive way. He put the book down. There was a knock on the door. I opened it.

Melissa said, "I'm going over to Mabry's house."

"Okay."

"Bye."

"Bye." She walked out leaving us entirely alone in the house. I turned back to Matt; he was still sitting there reading, pretending not to notice me. We were alone and I wasn't about to let the opportunity slip by. I came over and sat on the edge of the bed. He peered coyly over the top of his book. I lightly grabbed his sock covered big toe. He flinched. I ran my index finger along the bottom of his foot. He jerked his foot back. Ooooh! Matt was ticklish. This was going to be fun. I grinned. He just sat there, arching his eyebrows and refusing to look, trying to appear studious, but it could see the hint of a smile curling the edges of his otherwise serious face. I reached out toward his other foot and he drew it back. His knees were bent and facing away from me, leaving me easy access to his ass. I crawled up onto the bed and slithered over to him. He still was looking intently at his book, but his smile was growing, overtaking more of his otherwise serious face. I moved over and kissed his ear. His face cracked into a huge grin, but he still wouldn't look at me. I took a long dragging sniff of his freshly washed hair, his freshly washed T-shirt, the faint smell of deodorant mixed with laundry detergent and fabric softener. God I love that smell. I always thought that I was supposed to love big sweaty, beefy men, but Matt was far more alluring for me. His narrow but defined frame, clean washed and shaven, held a more forbidden air. This wasn't some model from a magazine with more muscles that sense, this was your typical all American high school student. He could have been the guy who scans your groceries at the store. He could have been the guy who walked by you in front of Burger King. He could have been any cute boy you see, but he wasn't. He was Matthew. He was reading a book while laying on a bed in my house. He was waiting for me to make my next move. He didn't have a supermodel air, but an air of quiet elegance, a gentle but commanding presence that could be both unnerving and exhilarating at the same time.

He put the book down and stretched and yawned. I had no idea his arms could be extended that far. He looked over at me with a satisfied expression. That faint smile returned. He opened his arms and a I crawled aboard. I bent down and kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his cheek, then his chin, then I moved in for the gold. I felt his warm breath against the sides of my face. I felt his lips rising to meet mine, then open up and grant me passage. We kissed for the longest time, the heat and fire reduced to a gentle love that never wanted to end. I could feel his arms wrap around my body and pull me in closer. My knees were getting tired, so I slowly lowered myself down on top of him, I could feel his chest and stomach lifting me up ever so slightly. I felt his burgeoning cock beneath me, and mine pressing back against his. I was wearing a pair of running shorts and he was wearing a pair of cotton shorts. I could feel the outline of his cock. I took my hands and felt his nipples hardening through the white cotton fabric, I slid my hands down and unbuttoned his shorts. His cock rose to the surface. He hooked his thumbs in the band of my running shorts and whisked them down as far as he could reach. I still hadn't taken my lips from his.

He reached over to the drawer of the table. He pulled out a condom and some lube and pressed them into my hand. He wanted me. I could see the passion and fire in his eyes now. He was ready for me to come in and play. I put some on my finger and slipped it in. He gasped slightly, pulling the air from my mouth. He raised up his knees and spread his legs. I slid my cock toward him. I guided it toward his hole. I could feel the head of my cock pushing up against it. I pushed a little harder. I felt it slip in. I could feel the heat and pressure of his slick shaft accept and surround my gift. I pushed in and pulled out, my tongue never leaving his mouth. I could feel his breath accelerate as I picked up speed. In and out, in and out, the tempo rising as I felt his cock throbbing against my stomach through my shirt. Oh that felt so so so so good. Fantastic. Unbelievable. In and out, in and out. He started taking quick shallow breaths as I pounded his ass harder and harder. I pulled head off his and listened to him whispering, "Fuck me fuck me, oh oh, ah,ah. Tsseess." I did. I fucked him as hard as I could. This baseball playing, running, hot twinkie wasn't getting away from me. I was giving him all I could. I saw his eyes roll back in his head, and I felt a sticky warmth on my stomach. He'd blown his load all over us and his semen was soaking into my shirt and his. I held on as long as I could before I blasted him. I could feel it firing out of the end of me. He started writhing and straining. His tender cock head was being smashed between the harshness of two shirts as I pushed and pulled with all my might. When I finished, I kept going until I could feel the condom getting loose. I pulled out and just stared at him, a look of exhausted satisfaction on both our faces.

We just laid there for a few minutes, as the sheer intensity subsided. Oh that had been just what I needed on a Wednesday morning. Just think, we had the rest of the day alone together to do whatever we wanted to do. I stood up.

"I'm going to go change." I said.

"Don't." He laid on the bed, admiring the wet spots on my T-shirt, thinking about the hot moment that had created them. I leapt back onto the bed, and straddled his body. He slid down and took my limp cock in his mouth and started to suck. Despite its recent exertion, my cock didn't take long nor did it take much encouragement before it was back up to full form. I felt his fingers prodding my asshole. He had put a little lube on his fingers and was moving them around inside me. I couldn't help but move a little to his fingering. I turned myself around so that we were 69'ing. I bent down and took his erect cock in my mouth, all the while feeling the wet warmth of his mouth wrapped around mine...oh yeah...