Come Christmas Steve

Come Christmas Steve

Chapter 19

A Boy's Will

The jailhouse babel woke me. There was constant commotion: groans, arguments, strings of filthy curses, cold steel latches and doors, guards barking orders and the squeaky springs on the cots. The steel bars, concrete floors, drab colors and low lighting all combined to give the place a depressed, cold-hearted feeling, sucking hope from your soul. I lifted my head from the grey wool blanket. Sometime in the night, I'd balled the thin blanket up and placed it under my head for a pillow. I had no recollection of doing so, but my memory of the disturbing dream was still quite vivid. My neck was stiff and it hurt to twist it to the left. I had to have been extremely tired because I'd slept through the endless commotion of prisoners coming and going. We had gained a considerable number of new neighbors during the night. I was really grateful we'd gotten our own cell. I looked across the hall into other cells and the inhabitants were definitely not the kind of guys I'd want for roommates.

Inwardly, I yearned for Whittaker to be there with us. He is such a comforting presence and always so steady in stressful situations. I didn't, of course, really wish he was in jail instead of safely recuperating in a hospital, but selfishly, I needed his reassuring manner. He was always optimistic, whereas Steve was so tainted from his past that he was merely resigned to our fate and was of little comfort. The wise, understanding man, who had awakened me to the realization of my true human potential, had fallen from the edge of the cliff he'd been clinging to. His hopes of a better life had been dashed once again and the fall left him very bruised and possibly broken. I understood and sympathized with his despair. It was incredibly sad to see his old emotional wounds reopened and gushing. It's hard to see internal bleeding, both of the physical and the psychological sort. I supposed I would never fully appreciate the turmoil embedded within his soul from the hell he'd lived through.

I needed to pee and walked to the exposed john in the corner. I fished my dick from the jumpsuit and stood there self-conscious of how visible I was. Although no one in a neighboring cell paid any attention to me, they could easily see me. It took a focused effort to get the flow going from my naturally shy bladder. Finally, I pushed enough to prime the well and the relief was welcome. I shook off and sensed eyes on me. I turned to see Steve staring longingly at me. I gave him the slightest, knowing grin and he grinned back. He rolled onto his back and pulled the blanket over his head. As I sat back on my bunk, I let out a long sigh.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I'm just afraid of what our future holds."

"Hmmph. No sense fearing what doesn't exist," Steve said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"We don't have a future. We're going to jail for a long, long time and then, even when we do get out, we'll carry the stench of being sex offenders. Modern day lepers. Our chances of getting a decent job are close to zero and we'll have to move to some remote desert community where there are no schools or parks or any places where children congregate within 20 miles of us or some ridiculously impossible thing. We'll be restricted from the internet and who knows what else. Our chance for a happy or remotely normal life is over. The sooner you accept that, the less tormented you'll be."

"But I don't deserve that. It's not fair. I didn't do anything wrong."

Steve bent over the edge of the bunk and asked flatly, "But I do?" He was glaring.

"Do what?" I asked.

"Deserve it?" He clipped the words.

"No. I didn't mean that," I responded. I really wasn't in the mood for more of his negative, depressing diatribe. I sighed again.

"What did you mean? Because I didn't DESERVE to be left at a fire house. I didn't DESERVE to grow up without parents to love me. I certainly didn't DESERVE to have a father who pretended he wasn't so he could use me for his sexual gratification and financial exploitation. I tried to warn you that you were playing with fire by being alone with all those kids. Taking strangers to the bathroom at the bus stop and then being naked in the room with that kid in Yellowstone. My God, you should have just put a sign around your neck: "CHILD MOLESTER PLEASE ARREST ME!" And then working as an after school tutor or monitor or whatever you were at the grade school was just asking for trouble. But you didn't pay any attention. In some ways, you kind of do DESERVE this, but not me. I never had a shot."

"Whoa. Where did all that come from?" I asked, looking over at him. "Are you saying our society has really come to the point where an adult can't do anything for a child without risk of being accused of being a pedophile?"

"Yes. Yes it has. Because of assholes like my father, it's not safe to be around children. Why anyone continues to put themselves at risk by teaching school or coaching kids or doing anything like that is amazing to me. A year ago, just before Christmas, a fifth grade teacher named Hadley Christensen in Utah somewhere was accused of inappropriately touching a student who was a friend of his own daughter while on a sleepover at his house. The girl claimed he'd given her a strange pill for a headache and then she was awakened by him touching her. She said she pretended to stay asleep while he did it. There was no physical evidence to support her claims but he was arrested on Christmas Eve and tried for felony molestation. Eighteen months later, after only two hours of deliberation, he was acquitted. It could have easily gone the other way. Still, his career as a teacher was over, his family went eighteen months without any income and large legal bills to cope with, and his wife and children endured relentless verbal abuse over it.

The little girl, who had previously falsely accused a family member of the same thing, went on with life with no reprisal. Others haven't been as lucky as Hadley to be acquitted. More than one innocent man and even some women are in jail because some child made up shit and overly eager prosecutors wanted a sex offender conviction before election time. So yeah, society has come to that. So you might as well face the fact that you're screwed. And as for me, I'm really screwed. I always have been and I always will be. Just bend over, shut the fuck up and take it. The best we can hope for is that they use a little lube so it doesn't hurt quite as bad."

"Where did you hear about that case? I thought you couldn't use the internet?" I asked.

"We talked about it in my psychology class. I had to research it and I used the library computers. You probably don't remember, but I was depressed from it for several days."

"I remember you were acting kind of depressed a lot the last month." I said. "You should have told me what was going on. I could've helped. Instead, you shut me out. You gotta stop trying to be some kind of island of stone. You gotta let people love you and trust them. We can't just pull away and hide. And besides, someone's got to teach and coach and mentor the children. We can't let the evil destroy the good in our society. The good people have to step up and try to make a difference. Otherwise, there is no hope. That Utah case can't be a single exception. C'mon, Steve, there must be some other cases where common sense has prevailed," I said.

"Probably. But because of sick, evil perverts like my old man and all the people like him, there's an understandable hysteria over protecting the kids. That's all good, but it sucks for us. I read statistics that claim one in four girls and one in six boys are sexually abused before their eighteenth birthday. Think about that! How fucked up are we? Nobody's ever protected me and now I'm not just a child victim, I'm an adult victim. I was just born to live a sucky life and what sucks the most is, I've sucked you into the sewer with me. That's killing me, Shane. I've ruined the life of the ONE person I've ever REALLY loved and who ever REALLY loved me. I'm so sorry, Shane. I'm just so sorry. I never should have ...."

"STOP!" I said sternly. "Don't you dare say you never should have gotten involved with me! I love you and I'd do it all again for the love I feel for you. You changed me, Steve, in miraculous ways. You woke me up and helped me understand that I could be happy in my own skin. By learning to love you, I learned to love myself. And listen, God doesn't hate you. That's not possible. God and hate can't ever go together. Sometimes, we just can't see the end like God does. When a fruit tree gets pruned back on the ranch, it looks like it's been abused and even destroyed, but afterwards, it grows back stronger and produces better fruit."

"Well, I guess I'm gonna turn out to be one hella big fruit, then," Steve mused.

I chuckled and he chuckled back. Our conversation was interrupted by a guard. He took us to a room where we were able to make our phone calls and look into obtaining an attorney. I called my brother, of course. I had no problem dialing because I'd rehearsed the number over and over in my head about a thousand times. "Hello?" he answered. I was massively relieved that he picked up.

"It's me, Shane."

"Shane? What's up?"

"I need your help. I'm kinda in some big trouble and I need your help. It all started when you sent me that laptop for my roommate, Steve," I blurted.

"What kind of trouble?"

"I'm in jail. I need your help. This is my one phone call. I need a lawyer. A good one. I've been accused of something horrible that I didn't do."

"What are you accused of?"

"They say I molested a kid, but I didn't. It's a big mess. I can't explain everything right now, I just need help. Can you help me get a good lawyer? One who isn't too expensive though." He snickered, "Yeah, plenty of those around. What about Mom and Dad? Do they know?"

"No. I don't think so. Unless Billy called them. He's in juvenile hall somewhere too. It's a big mess."

"What? Billy's involved too? What the hell is going on?" he asked, sounding more upset now that Billy was mentioned. I fought the old feelings that I'd harbored for so long that Billy mattered more than I did. The guard gave me the hurry up motion with his fingers and I wanted to scream at him. Instead, I nodded agreement.

"Please just try and get me a good lawyer. I'm in the county jail in Billings. Please, please help me."

"Okay, sure. I'll figure it out. First, I'm calling Mom and Dad, though."

"Yes. Fine. I'll explain it all later. I have to go now. Please help me." The guard took the phone from me and hung it up. I was lead out and taken back to my cell. Steve was already there since he hadn't made a call. Who would he call? He had no one. I tried to wrap my head around that concept. No one. I couldn't fathom the absolute despair I would be feeling if I had no one to call for help. He was simply choosing to accept a public defender. To my unpleasant surprise, we had a new cell mate, Todd. He'd been arrested and charged as an accessory in the sex ring as well. He was sitting on the bunk I'd slept on and looked like he needed to vomit. His eyes were red and puffy.

"He's got some bad news," Steve said with a nod toward Todd.

"Great! Just what we need - more bad news. So what is it?" I asked.

Todd looked up and said, "Things on campus are crazy. There's all kinds of wild stories being reported about the arrests. That Calvin kid you got involved in all this was murdered in his apartment. He was found naked, tied to his bed with his throat slit and a dildo shoved up his ass." I rushed to the john in the corner and wretched. Over and over, I dry heaved into the smelly, porcelain commode. Nothing but a little yellow bile came up. The pain associated with each gagging heave was somehow necessary and even therapeutic.

I knew instantly that Calvin's death would haunt me forever. I should have listened to him about going to the police. I was stubborn and because I was stubborn, Calvin was dead. Dead. It was so final in real life. No redo or new life status like in the video games. Steve knelt beside me as I pitched at the toilet bowl and held me in his arms. He held me, and he cried with me.

Calvin's death was on both of us, but I felt the true blame was mine alone.

A couple of grease-balls in the neighboring cell started deriding us, and though I couldn't really understand exactly what they were saying, I screamed at them to shut the fuck up. Once I gained control of myself, Steve helped me to the bunk. I laid down and wrapped up into a ball and quivered. Steve sat next to me with a hand awkwardly stroking my shoulder and arm. Life is so fragile. Truth is so evasive. History is so unchangeable. I sunk into despair, feeling that my life was probably ruined like Steve had suggested. God wouldn't have it. Suddenly, a Robert Frost poem I'd read over and over while I was looking for Steve, echoed loudly in my mind:

A Boy's Will Starswind and Window Flower

Storm Fear

He is afraid of his own Isolation. When the wind works against us in the dark, And pelts with snow The lowest chamber window on the east, And whispers with a sort of stifled bark, The beast, "Come out! Come out!" It costs no inward struggle not to go,

Ah, no!

I count our strength, Two and a child, Those of us not asleep subdued to mark How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length, How drifts are piled, Dooryard and road ungraded, Till even the comforting barn grows far away And my heart owns a doubt Whether 'tis in us to arise with day And save ourselves unaided.

I uncurled and sat up. "Ah No! I will not let the wintry beast defeat me. I mourn the loss of Calvin, but I will not surrender to the icy wind because of it. His death is a tragedy but I will not lie down and die a hopeless victim as a cypher in a drift of snow. I will make a stand no matter the odds. Calvin's death will stand as a martyrdom toward the injustices and crimes of those who belong in the bitter cold of hell. Those who perpetuated their evil on you, Steve and Todd, and on all the other helpless young victims like them will be delivered to the icy cold winds of justice, but I shall not surrender myself, for I am not guilty. I do not DESERVE this. I will NEVER give in. Not ever. And neither should you, dammit! Don't give up!"

Todd and Steve stared at me as I stood with a fire in my eyes and recited the poem. Steve stared at me wide-eyed. Neighboring cells fell quiet. My voice ricocheted off the steel and mortar of the jailhouse. "I will not surrender to hopelessness. I will NOT! As long as I breathe I will breathe hope." I declared.

"You, Shane, are stronger than you even know. I always saw this side of you, but you failed to see it yourself. If, as you say, I helped awaken this in you, then my life has had some small amount of value," Steve said in awe. "All I can say is that I hope you get the opportunity to fight. If you do, I don't doubt you'll win. I wish I had the courage to believe the same for me, but I really don't."

I was truly amazed at myself, but it was if I'd been awakened by some unseen power speaking to me. The words of that poem simply flowed from my lips and my body was electrified with a surge of hope flowing through me. I would get over this and I would prevail and I would do something meaningful with my life. I knew it.

As the day wore on, Simba and a half dozen of the goons involved in Uncle Arty's sex ring had been rounded up, arrested, and were occupying neighboring cells.

"You Son of a Bitch!" Simba yelled at Steve as he was led past our cell. "You stupid, miserable Son of a Bitch! After all I did for you, this is how you repay me? If I ever get my fucking hands on you, I'll rip your fucking dick off and feed it to the dogs." Simba's rant was cut short by a good, solid, forearm shiver that was delivered by a large guard followed with a command to shut up.

Simba ruefully complied but he continued his glare at Steve with venomous eyes.

After a long day, a tasteless meal that I forced down at Steve's urging, and more verbal abuse from Simba down the hall, I was finally hailed by a guard to follow him. To my relief, I was led to a room where I was able to shower and was given a change of regular clothes that actually fit me. Then I was taken to a room where I met with my new attorney, Adam Christopherson, a former prosecuting attorney from Montana and now a professor at Dartmouth. Two hours later, I had finished my story and Mr. Christopherson closed his notebook.

I was then taken by a Sheriff in a van, along with my attorney, with my hands cuffed behind my back. My attorney had arranged an expedited bail hearing for me. Bail was set at thirty thousand dollars based on my lack of arrest record and other mitigating factors, which included my parents' willingness to assume custody of me pending trial. Once payment arrangements were settled, I was un-cuffed and allowed to leave with my parents. Stepping outside into the cool night air, unshackled, in company of people who cared about me and dressed in normal clothing was a feeling I'll never forget. I drew in a long slow breath and savored the fresh, clean smell of it.

I thanked the attorney profusely and he assured me it was his pleasure. He had attempted to go after Uncle Arty while he'd been serving as a Montana prosecutor years earlier and was delighted for the opportunity to participate in some way in Arty's ultimate demise while trying to protect me from falling victim in the process. I then turned to face my parents and Billy, who stood with them. Billy had, of course, filled them in on as much as he knew but, true to his word, he withheld that I was gay and had been having sex with Steve.

My mother rushed me and pulled me into a tearful squeeze. "Thank god, your safe," she sobbed. I began to cry again, though I can't fathom where the tears were hiding. I thought certain, I had none left. We were joined by my father who spread his strong arms over us both and then by Billy. We stood there hugging and joyfully crying for some time. Finally, it was time to go. Initially, we headed to a motel where we would stay for a couple of weeks while the attorney sorted through the preliminary legal details. After that, I'd be free to travel home but had to be with either my mom or my dad or my attorney at all times as part of the bail agreement. Dinner that evening was at a local diner and I had fried chicken with mashed potatoes. It was delicious.

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry for all this. I had no idea how out of control things would spiral. You have to know I'm innocent of the horrible thing I'm accused of. I could never, ever do anything like that."

"We know that, son," my mother responded. "There was never any doubt."

"I want to tell you everything that has happened and how this whole mess all went down, but first things first. I have to confess to you that I am gay." I just put it out there. Boom! I paused to gauge their reactions, but they just continued staring at me so I went on with the little speech I'd rehearsed a hundred times. "I've known pretty much for a long time that I was gay, but I tried to convince myself I wasn't. Honestly, I beat myself up over it a lot in high school and I'm pretty sick of doing that. I'm not going to do that anymore. When I met Steve, and when he came home for Christmas, I finally admitted to myself that I'm for sure, without a doubt, gay. Steve helped me deal with it and with so much more I didn't recognize about myself. I should have told you at Christmas but the way things went down with my stupid little meltdown, I just figured it would be better to wait. I hope you can accept me for who I am and still love me." I took a bite of my chicken leg to indicate I was done talking.

"Shane," my father spoke before my mother could. "I don't understand much about what being gay means. I can't understand it any more than I can understand what it must be like to be a woman. It's just not something I have any frame of reference for. I'll be honest that I'm not completely shocked by this revelation of yours. I've considered if you might be gay a few times before now, but dismissed it. But I do not love you any less or any more because of it. You are my son. I can understand that and you will always be my son and I will always love you for who you are, no matter what." A wave of relief overwhelmed me and I pressed my hand over my mouth as tears of relief and joy spilled once more from my tired eyes. My Mom reached over and grasped my other hand with hers and gave it a tender squeeze. Words were unnecessary from her.

"Thank you, Dad. I love you so much. I love both of you so, so much. Thank you."

"Hey, what about me? Do you love me?" Billy chirped.

"Hehe, yeah. I love you too, Billy. Tons. I owe you my life, man." He smiled. Actually, he beamed, and then he took a huge bite of his chicken thigh.

"We all love you, Son," my dad said, placing his hand over my mother's. "Now dry your eyes and eat your chicken. It'll get cold." I smiled appreciatively and wiped my tears away with my napkin. I was glad how Dad simply, but clearly, made it a non-issue by telling me to eat my chicken. No more discussion needed.

Throughout the rest of the meal, I filled them in on as many of the details as I could about all the misadventures I'd been through over the past couple of months. I started with the bus ride back to school and then the Yellowstone trip and the Valentines disaster. I spared my mother any and all graphic sexual parts. They all listened in rapt astonishment. My dad grilled me with a ton of questions about the episode in Yellowstone with little Daniel since that is what the charges against me centered around. In the end, my father believed my explanation and assured me they would do whatever they could to help not only me, but Steve also.

That night in the motel, it felt so good to sleep in a soft bed, in a safe place, surrounded by family. I even enjoyed sharing a bed with my brother, Billy again. It was like old times on the ranch when we were kids. I didn't even mind his snoring.

The next day was spent mostly with Billy meeting with the attorney. The attorney questioned me as well, but he limited his questions to the parts that involved Billy. His primary focus was on Billy to start with so that he could go back to the ranch with Mom and get back to school.

The attorney asked the same question over and over in just a slightly different way and if there was any apparent inconsistency, he would explore it further until he was satisfied that the story wasn't changing on him. He recorded everything. Even though he was all business, he had an easy way about him that made me feel completely at ease in talking to him. He met with Billy and me separately at first and then brought us together and asked us everything all over again and let us confirm or contradict each other's memories of the events.

Late in the afternoon, we headed over to the county jail. The attorney met with Steve to get his side of the story. Steve still hadn't heard from a public defender and he and Todd were just cooling their heels in the jail cell. Because Steve was a co-defendant on the manslaughter portion of the charges alongside Billy, the attorney asked Steve to let him defend him instead of having a public defender. The attorney wanted to control the defense and keep it consistent.

Steve readily agreed when he found out there wouldn't be an additional charge for it. After speaking with the attorney for about two hours, Billy went in with them and they spoke for another two hours. Finally, I was invited in for a final half hour meeting to coordinate my view of the events in the mountain meadow.

"Steve, how are you doing?" I asked at the end. "Will you be okay?"

"Sure. I'm glad to have Todd with me. I'd hate being alone in here," he answered.

I felt a tinge of jealousy over that. I know it's stupid that I did, but the reaction was involuntary. I was definitely glad to be free and with my family and yet I was jealous of Todd being with Steve after all I'd done to find him while Todd had mostly been a stumbling block in that process. It bothered me that they had sexual history together as well. Not that they could or would do anything in the jail cell but just the fact they'd fucked together made me uneasy. I took the high road, though, when I responded, "I'm glad you've got him there too. I do wish you could be out free with me, though."

"Yeah, but that's not happening for a long time, I'm afraid."

"Maybe, we can come up with bail for you," I suggested.

"I can't expect that. It's not fair to your parents to do that. I'll be fine in here. I just hope I don't get sentenced to too many years when this is all over."

"Adam won't let that happen, will you?" I asked, turning to our attorney.

Mr. Christopherson looked up from his notes and smiled. "I'll certainly do my best."

I wanted to hug Steve, but wasn't sure if I should with the attorney there. As the attorney stood and started filling his briefcase with papers, I stepped closer to Steve and we stood face to face, awkwardly looking at each other and glancing at the attorney. "Fuck it," I whispered and closed the gap. I pulled Steve into an embrace and we hugged each other tightly. As we pulled away, I put a hand across the back of his head and pulled him into a brief but tender kiss. "I love you," I whispered.

"I love you, too," he responded sincerely.

We stepped away and Adam walked over to us. "That's nice. And I have no problem with that here in private amongst us. But let me warn you to not ever do that in public or in the presence of any guards or anyone else for that matter. Don't even look longingly at each other in public.

It is really in your best interest that you not do that. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," I answered. Steve simply nodded his understanding. I knew that Steve understood that much better than I did. Adam shook Steve's hand. I waved good-bye as we left. My heart was breaking. Leaving him behind, staring at my back as I left, was gut wrenching.

"Adam, what do you think will happen to Steve?" I asked once outside.

"I learned a long time ago not to make predictions in criminal proceedings. I will say that there is almost no chance that he will escape some prison time. I do think I can maneuver a deal to minimize it. I just don't want to predict right now what minimize means."

"Okay. Thanks." It wasn't the answer I'd hoped for. But it was the one I had to accept. He was the expert. Steve seemed to know he was in for prison time as well and seemed resigned to it. I just didn't want it to be true.

"What about me?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Mostly on what that little boy, Daniel, has to say. There is irrefutable evidence that you were alone and naked in his presence. You followed him into an empty motel room and were alone with him in there. That's problematic. If his story matches yours, then I think I can get you reduced to a misdemeanor exposure charge and minimal prison time or possibly just probation. If his story does not match yours, I can't predict."

"Does that mean I'll have to register as a sex offender?"

"Possible, but I'll fight hard to prevent it. That's a very tough thing to live with. No promises on that either way."

"Oh, wow. You're scaring me."

"You should be scared. This is very serious and the consequences are potentially very dire. Don't take this lightly and please do everything I tell you. Everything. Understood?"

"Yes sir, understood."

We met my parents and Billy in the waiting room and headed to dinner at the diner again. That night, back at the motel, Billy and I walked down to the pool. We didn't have any board shorts so we couldn't swim or sit in the hot tub, which was disappointing. We sat poolside in the deck chairs and sipped on cans of Mountain Dew.

"So what was Juvenile Hall like?" I asked.

"Awful. I definitely don't want to ever go back there. It sucks hog dicks, dude."

"How?"

"It's full of shitheads and assholes. Luckily, I was kept in a separate area from the main group, but even that crowd was sketchy. Everyone seems to have a chip on their shoulder. I saw three fights in the short time I was there and the guards are mean as hell. Food sucks, too," Billy explained.

"That's awful. Good thing is, Adam seems pretty sure he can get you off. Did he say anything like that to you?" I asked.

"Yeah, kind of. He said he was hopeful. Whatever that means."

"Yeah." There was silence for a while.

Then Billy asked, "So you were thinking you were gay for a long time?"

"Yeah. I fought it. I tried to pretend I wasn't. I didn't want to be gay. I mean at first, I didn't even know what it was I was feeling. It's not like I had any idea as a kid what gay was. When I got older and started finding out about it, I was like, 'NOOOOO, I can't be that'."

"Wow. That must have been freakin' stressful." Billy took a long sip on his Mountain Dew and stared at me.

"Yeah. Pretty much. It sucked hog dicks." I stared back. He laughed and then so did I.

"Sooooo." He hesitated.

"What?" I asked with a little grin.

"Umm, so, when we shared a room, were you like, umm..."

"Checking you out?" I finished the uncomfortable sentence for him.

"Yeah. Were you?" He took another long sip and stared at me.

"No. You're my brother. That's sick. I had some crushes in high school, though, but you definitely weren't on my radar. There was that one friend of yours you always called Newt. He was pretty hot. I jacked off a few times thinking about him, but never you."

"Good. Newt, huh? Wow. I guess I could see that. Umm, soooo, if I wasn't your brother, would you have found me, umm, hot?"

I laughed. "You're so weird." I reached over and gave him a shot to the arm. We laughed. Then I gave him a seductive wink and a little nod and he really laughed.

"Okay, I'm done with that. New topic."

"Did you say, new topic or "NEWT" topic? Or maybe it was nude topic. Better yet, maybe we could talk about a nude Newt topic. How about that?" I asked.

"Shut up, you dork. You're messing with me. I said NEW!" Billy then asked, "So how's Montana State's basketball team this year?"

"I really don't know. I'm not really into it. I haven't even been to a single game. Sorry. I saw all the basketball I ever really need to from the bench as a kid. I'm sure MSU's in need of your talent though. I'll definitely go to the games to watch you play. If they let me back in, that is. I'm not sure they'll be interested in having me."

"Really? Why?"

"WHY? I think they might just have a problem with the whole child sex scandal and then a student getting murdered to top it all off. Not exactly the kind of thing you want to put in the recruiting brochures."

"Mmm. Yeah, I guess I see your point. This whole thing sucks."

"To put it lightly," I agreed. "It sucks hog dicks, as you say. Do you and your friends really say that?"

"Yeah. Unless something really, really sucks, then we say it sucks camel cocks." I laughed out loud. We headed up to the room and watched a movie, Identity Thief, before going to bed. My mom was appalled by some of the crude humor, but we boys got a laugh out of it and she tolerated it. The other alternatives were little kid movies or violent ones and Mom really hates violence. Honestly, I don't like it much either. Especially after the last month I'd lived through.

I'm worried that we've created a culture of unbridled sex and vicious violence in our country with all the movies and video games. It sucks camel cocks.

After the movie, Billy got up and went to pee. I slid down into the covers of the bed we were sharing. I had to admire his lithe, athletic body as he walked away from me in nothing but his boxers. When he returned, I got a wicked idea. When he settled back in and once I heard sounds of sleeping going on in my parents' bed, I reached over and copped a feel of Billy's ass cheek giving it a little squeeze. He jerked away and spun around, tangling in the covers. "What the fuck?" he whispered. I started to snicker, trying not to be too loud about it.

"Just messing with you, Bro. You should see your face."

"Shithead," he whispered and shook his head from side to side.

"Goodnight, Billy," I said between snickers.

"Goodnight, Shithead," he responded. Then we rolled away, back to back and he slid as far as possible to the edge of his side. I snickered a while before falling asleep.

The next morning, Billy and Mom headed back to the ranch. Dad and I met with Adam and he grilled me. We spent hours going over every detail. I couldn't leave anything out, so I told him every little detail about practically every day since Christmas break. I kept going back and adding details. He was constantly circling back and would quiz me on anything that seemed to not match or fit logically. My Dad excused himself after the first rather detailed description of lovemaking with Steve. I was relieved that he did.

We were done around two o'clock and then Adam announced that we were going to the hospital to meet with Whittaker. I was thrilled and excited to go see him. The attorney said that he was feeling much better and was well on the way to recovery. I was all smiles. That afternoon, Dad wanted to know what I wanted to do. I didn't have anything in mind, so we drove to the countryside and found a nature park. We walked slowly together and talked - mostly about old times and memories.

"Shane, are you doing okay?" Dad asked.

"Sure, I mean as well as I can be doing under the circumstances. I'm hopeful about beating this thing. I get a sick feeling and kind of depressed whenever I think of Calvin, though."

"The boy who was killed?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm responsible, Dad. If I'd listened to him about going to the police early on like he wanted me to, none of this would have happened and he'd still be alive. But I was stubborn and I wanted to try and find Steve. I was worried Steve was in trouble and that he'd be in worse trouble if we involved the police. It was stupid." I fought off fresh tears when the image I'd conjured up of Calvin stripped naked, tied up and murdered on his bed, flashed in my mind.

"That's quite a burden. Can you get over it? Would you like to get some counseling?" Dad asked.

"Maybe. I don't know yet. We'll see."

"Okay. Don't be afraid to ask if you need it."

"Thanks, Dad. I won't. I'm so sorry for all of this, and especially for Billy getting involved. He better beat this bullshit manslaughter charge. I still can't believe it."

"We have to pray for that and for you." I agreed with him and took the opportunity to relate my spiritual epiphany at the jail and the electrifying rush I'd felt when it happened. He put his arm around me and pulled me into him tight. "Shane, don't forget that experience ever. God has a purpose for you. Find it and fulfill it."

"I will. I promise. Dad, I can't tell you enough how much I love you for doing all this. I couldn't blame you and Mom if you'd just wanted to abandon me. I don't know what I'd do without you guys. I can't imagine how it must be for Steve all alone in jail and no one to lean on or help him."

"Shane, I could never abandon you. I love you more than life itself. I love all my boys and I'm proud of each of you. I don't get how some fathers are so quick to write off their kids. I see it way too much. I honestly don't get how they can. I could never." He stopped and pulled me into a strong man hug. I felt so secure in that moment being held in my father's strong arms. I felt so truly blessed. I wanted to make him proud of me. I wanted to do something good with my life.

We walked on and came to a petting zoo. My dad bought some feed from the vending machine and we went in. We fed the goats and sheep and they even had a small deer and a young bull elk that was recuperating from an injury. I told Dad about the elk we saw in Yellowstone and how much like a bull elk Steve seemed to be. He was strong and independent, but his strength came from years of living in a hostile environment. Because of it, he was wary and always on the defensive. To him, life is full of potential dangers and no one was to be trusted. "It's like he lives in fear and expectation of being hunted and taking a bullet at any moment," I explained. It seemed a little sad to me. Yet, like the bull elk, he was majestic and proud and hopefully resilient. My dad listened thoughtfully.

"Do you feel the need to rescue him?" Dad asked me.

I didn't answer right away. It was a good question. "I don't think so. No."

Then, I started telling him about Whittaker. I told him how, when Whittaker thought he was dying, that he wanted me to get word to his parents that he loved them and that he was sorry he hadn't let them know. I shared how bitter he was about them treating him like a novelty or an art piece as he put it. He never felt loved like me. I've known only love and yet I harbored ill feelings because I felt like I never measured up. Whittaker became resentful because he never felt like he mattered much to his parents. They gave him lots of things but not the two things he wanted most, love and attention. I told my Dad how unsure he was of himself and the stupid ways he acted out sometimes as compensation. Yet when he was his true self, he was the most wonderful guy ever. He could be kind and generous, caring and loyal, strong and brave.

"Is he gay also?" my dad asked.

I paused and pondered the question. "I don't honestly know how to answer that. He claims to not be, but I think he might be. I think it's something he's still not willing to admit to himself, like I was in high school. Maybe he's bi. He says he's interested in girls, but he's more into guys it seems to me."

"Bi?" my dad asked.

"Yeah, you know, bisexual. Into both guys and girls," I responded.

"That's a real thing?"

"Yeah. You need to get out more," I said with a smile.

"Guess so," he answered. Then he said, "Like he bounces back and forth?"

"Hehe, yeah. I mean eventually he needs to pick one and stick with it if he wants to have a committed relationship, but until then, yeah."

"Life's gotten complicated," dad sighed.

That evening, we had another incredible meal at the little diner. I teased my dad about eating liver and onions and threatened to tell him what I'd learned about the function of the liver in my biology class. I had a massive, chili cheese burger and thick cut fries.

Back at the motel, my dad read up on some of the new things going on in farming that he'd gotten from the Ag show he'd just attended with Mom. I sent Whittaker a text that I'd be seeing him in the morning. To my delight, he responded. We sent texts back and forth for about fifteen minutes before he said he was tired. He told me he had a hot male nurse I needed to meet, named Desmond. What thrilled me most was that at the end of our convo, he texted, 'love ya bro' and added a smiley icon. I slipped into my covers and fell asleep with Whittaker on the brain.

The next morning, all I could think about during breakfast and the drive to the hospital was seeing Whittaker. It took all my willpower not to keep asking if we were there yet, like an impatient little kid. Adam sensed my excitement and asked me about it.

"We went through a lot together during all this. He was totally there for me all the way. Well, almost."

"Why almost?" Adam asked.

"When we got arrested by the bad guys pretending to be the FBI, Whittaker thought I must be guilty of what they claimed I did. It was pretty intense. He even figured I was somehow involved in the sex ring with Steve. Later, he figured out that they weren't really FBI and he apologized for accusing me."

"I see." Adam pursued some more questions about that time from when we got falsely arrested at Calvin's apartment. He pulled out his notebook and took notes while my Dad drove the rental car. I didn't mind it because it took my mind off the drive.

We were hardly parked in the lot when I hurried my dad and Adam inside the hospital and into the elevator. As I walked down the sterile hallway full of activity by the medical personnel, I scarcely noticed anything else besides the bronze number plates with the room numbers on them. D-207. That was it. The door was closed. "Excuse me, is it okay to go in. I'm a good friend of his," I asked at the nurse's station directly across from Whittaker's room.

"It should be, but let me check and make sure," the young nurse answered. She got up and cracked the door open, peering in. "Are you okay with a visitor?" she asked. "Okay then," she said, turning to me and holding the door. My dad and Adam had caught up to me by then and we all walked in together. Whittaker was sitting up in bed and had a large bandage on the side of his neck. His hair was messy and a little greasy, but his color was good and he smiled wide when he saw me. I smiled back. There was a nice looking, middle aged woman in the chair next to his bed holding a laptop and beside her lay a stack of file folders. She looked up from her work and it dawned on her quickly who we were.

"Hello," she said, standing and setting her laptop on the table. "I'm Jennifer Whittaker, David's mother. You must be Shane."

"Yes, ma'am, I am. It's nice to meet you," I said shaking her hand. She shook it firmly, more like a man than a petite woman. She was tall and had strawberry blond hair with a well cut figure.

She was striking and brimming with confidence. Turning to my father and Adam, she extended a hand and asked, "Which of you two gentlemen is Mr. Steele?"

"I am," my father answered.

"Yes, I see it," she said, "You and Shane have the same strong jawline and kind eyes. My son, David, speaks very highly of your son."

"Even after he almost got him killed?" my father asked.

"Even after that. I would suggest that is a strong testament to the truth of it." Turning to Adam, she said, "I understand you want to ask David some questions in preparation of Shane's defense."

"Yes, I would," Adam verified. "Providing that is still acceptable to him."

"Of course," Mrs. Whittaker said. "I'd like to be present though. While my son is not accused of anything, I am concerned with the nature of the matter and his level of involvement. In particular, the murder of the young man at Montana State."

"I don't disagree. As long as David is okay with it, I'm okay with it," Adam said.

I went and fetched additional chairs so we could all sit down. The grilling began. Adam was as thorough as usual. He asked about when we first became acquainted and lots of questions about his observations of me and Steve before we started hanging out together. We progressed to the point of the trip to Yellowstone and Adam paused, wrote a note and gave it to Whittaker to read alone. Whittaker nodded and asked, "Mom, I'd like you and Shane's father to leave the room for a little bit. There's some private stuff I need to talk about."

"I'm not really comfortable with that," she objected in her lawyerly way.

"Trust me," my dad piped up. "You'll be less comfortable if we don't step out. How about we go get a cup of coffee." Turning to Adam, he asked, "Will that allow you the time you need?"

"More than adequate," Adam replied and then looked squarely at Mrs. Whittaker, "I promise you I will not put your son at risk with anything I ask. If he is ever brought into culpability, our conversation will be privileged and subject to being withheld. If that should happen, as unlikely as I deem it, I will, with David's permission, allow you to review my full notes."

"Mom, go!" Whittaker insisted. Then in a less demanding tone, he added, "Please?" Reluctantly, she agreed. On the way out the door, I heard her ask if my dad knew what it was about. Being the wise old man he is, he said, "Well, there was this college choir group staying at the Yellowstone motel when our boys were there, so I'm guessing it's somehow related to that." That seemed to appease her.

The questions were much more revealing and far more explosively embarrassing than having a choir group at the motel. Adam grilled us on all the sexual aspects of my story. We skipped around some in order to get to them all. The attorney didn't pry into lots of details from Whittaker like he had with me. He did confirm that Whittaker and I had engaged in sex and he also confirmed Whittaker and Calvin's level of sexual activity, including the all-nighter they'd pulled. "Were you and Calvin lovers? By that I mean, were you emotionally in love with each other?"

"No." Whittaker wasted no time answering that. "We were just sex buddies."

"Did Calvin feel the same?" Adam asked.

"I think so. I'd tell you to ask him but obviously you can't," Whittaker said a bit sadly.

"No. So asking you, do you think he had an emotional attachment to you? Did he feel any jealousy over your friendship with Shane?"

"No. Hell, if he was in love with anyone, it was Shane. He was sort of infatuated with him and kept asking him to join us whenever we had sex."

"Did he? Explain that." Whittaker told, with some degree of delight, how Calvin had coerced me into joining them on the bed. I felt a flush of hot embarrassment as he detailed the experience. I also experienced an uncontrollable swelling in my groin as I relived the event in my mind's eye.

We'd thankfully moved on from all the sex related issues and were in the middle of the events leading up to the mountain meadow nightmare, when Dad and Mrs. Whittaker peeked their heads back in. Adam explored those events in great detail. Finally, Adam was finished and thanked Whittaker for his courage and his help with my defense. We stood to leave and I moved to Whittaker's bedside. I reached out and he gripped my hand.

"Dude, I'm so glad to see you doing well. I owe you my life, man. I've been so worried about you." I wanted to say more and I wanted to hug him, but we weren't alone. He sensed it.

"Hey, can you guys give me and Shane a little private time, please?" Whittaker asked.

"Sure." They all agreed simultaneously, almost in perfect unison. When they pulled the door shut, Whittaker pulled the covers off of him and sat up on the edge of the bed. He started to stand up and I objected.

"Is it safe for you to get out of bed?" I asked.

"It's not only safe, it's necessary. If I don't get up and move around and keep using that thing," he pointed to a plastic contraption on his bed table, "I could get pneumonia and then I'd be really screwed."

I picked up the odd contraption. "What is this thing?" I asked, turning it in my hand.

"A spirometer," he answered.

"How's it work?" I asked.

"Simple. I suck on this long, flexible tube and make these little balls float up. It helps keep my lungs clear and expanding," he explained and then demonstrated. "All my nurses say, I do a good job with it."

"No doubt," I said. "You've had lots of experience."

"What?" he asked.

"You've had lots of experience sucking on long, flexible tubes and making balls float up. I think that's called a spermometer, though." He shoved my shoulder and laughed.

"God I miss you," he said.

"I miss you too, dude. Tons. I was wishing you were with me at the jail. I needed your optimism and cheerful attitude. Steve was such a downer. He's gone into this hopeless despair and self- pity thing. It's hard to see. I get it, I guess since the hell he's lived through, but it's still hard to watch."

"Sorry to hear that," Whittaker said sincerely.

"So you and your mom seem good," I commented.

He smiled big. "Yeah, I know. She hasn't left me except to go get some sleep at night. She's limited her calls and if I want to talk, she puts her puter away and gives me her full attention. We had a long talk. I told her how I honestly felt and it made her cry. She apologized over and over. Then she helped me understand where she is coming from. She grew up in a household with no love and alcoholic parents. She never got any love and she never really knew how to give it. To her, love meant giving things and providing financial security. I think we both grew from it. Honesty and open communication is the key to everything, you know?"

"Yeah, I do know." I took his hand and said, "I told my parents and Billy that I'm gay."

"Wow. How did that go?" he asked.

"Well. Really well, actually. Billy asked if I'd ever perved on him while we shared a room."

Whittaker laughed. "I would have," he said.

"You'd perv on anything, you horny dog," I replied. We laughed some more.

"So did you?"

"NO! Jeez, he's my brother. That's sick. I did mess with him that night in bed though. I grabbed his ass and gave it a squeeze. He freaked. It was funny. He called me a shithead and then hugged the edge of the bed the rest of the night." We laughed some more.

"Speaking of being a horny dog, I'm so horny, I could freakin' explode, dude. There is no privacy in here. But with you in here, no one will bug us. Will you do me a huge favor? Suck my spermometer for me? Please."

"Are you serious?"

"As serious as a fucking bullet wound," he said, staring into my eyes. "Pull the curtain and if someone comes in, it will give us time to hide what we're doing. Please," he begged.

"Just like a 'helping a buddy out' thing, right? Not like, you know ..." I trailed off.

"Oh no, not like a gay romantic thing. No! Just a little head to help me out. Tide me over until I can get out of here and get back to my normal routine. There's no place to hide it if I cum in here. If I wasn't connected to this IV thing, I could go in the bathroom and do it myself but all I can do is sit up and stand next to my bed with it stuck in my arm."

"Is it safe for you to do it?"

"Hell yeah. I'm not sick, dude. I'm just wounded. Unless you got herpes or something."

"Shut up you dork. I don't have herpes. All right, let's do it." I pulled the curtain around and he pulled his hospital gown up. His massive boner waved at me. I took his large hot tool in my hands and stroked him slowly. It felt so good to have a guy's boner in my hand again. I watched as the soft, silky skin slid up and over his large head and then back down again.

"Dude, suck me," he pleaded. I lowered his dick and slipped the large, pulsating head into my mouth. I took as much as I could before it was pushing into the back of my throat and about to initiate my gag reflex. I wished I could deep throat him like Calvin had done because I know he loved that. Knowing I couldn't, I started rapidly sliding my mouth up and back over his engorged staff. It took no time at all because of how long he'd gone without any release before he was gripping the bed sheets and tensing up. Within minutes, his breathing became ragged and intensified. "OHHH," he moaned as the first warm shot of cum filled my mouth. I swallowed as fast as I could as volley after volley of hot cum exploded into my mouth. Excess cum leaked out and dribbled down my chin onto the tile floor. When the explosions were done and he relaxed, I finished milking his long dick with my hands while I kept my mouth tightly sealed around his large glans. Once the oozing ceased, I pulled off and wiped my chin.

"Fuckin' A," he whispered. "That was epic."

I helped him back into bed and pulled his covers up. Then I grabbed some tissues and wiped up the floor. I wrapped them in a couple more and stuffed them into my pocket. I pulled the curtain back open and went back to his bedside. He was exhausted. I took his hand and held it in mine. "So, King Dong, how was that?" I asked.

He pulled his hand free and pinched my lips. "Don't ever call me that. That was between me and Calvin. I know you dreamed it up and all, but it was our thing, okay?"

I pulled back so I could speak. "Sorry, I didn't realize. Sure. That's all yours and his. I'm sorry. Really."

He started to tear up. "God, Shane, he's dead. Dead. I can't make myself believe it. I'd like to find the fuckers who did it to him and shove a stick of dynamite up their worthless asses and light 'em up."

"I know. And it's all my fault. If I'd just listened to you guys we would have gone to the real cops and none of this would have happened and he'd still be alive." We were both shedding tears as we took each other's hand again.

"No man. It's not your fault. We were all in it together. It's the fault of those assholes who abused those kids and who murdered him. You didn't do anything with bad intent, dude. You only wanted to do what you thought was best. Don't beat yourself up over it. Don't."

"Dude, I love you, man. You're were so loyal and so kind. You risked your life to save mine. How can I ever ..." He pinched my lips again.

"Don't say that either. You don't have to repay me. I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done for me. Talk about loyal. Dude you totally laid it all on the line for Steve and I so respected that. I still do. I love you too, dude. I always will."

I leaned down and we embraced, though it was awkward. The door interrupted us. A nurse stepped in and asked if we were all right. I apparently pulled one of Whittaker's monitor wires loose. We wiped our eyes and Whittaker said he was fine. She reconnected the wire, checked the IV monitor and the other monitor he was hooked to and then excused herself. "I guess I have to go," I said.

"I wish you didn't."

"Me too. I'll come back as soon as I can," I promised.

"Oh yeah, who you gonna come visit?"

"You, you dork."

"I'm not planning on being here much longer. I'm gonna blow this circus ASAP."

"Good. Then I'll come visit you wherever you go to. Where will you go?"

"Home."

"With your mom?"

"Yeah. Nice huh?"

"Yeah. See ya." I pulled away reluctantly and gave one last wave.

"Hey," he called. I turned. "Thanks again for, uhh." He pointed to his crotch.

"My pleasure." We smiled and I left.

The drive back to the motel was mostly silent. No one asked what Whittaker and I had talked about. I was glad. My mind was full of memories of everything that had happened since Christmas Steve came into my life. I thought of Calvin and Whittaker and even Jensen. I thought of Steve and worried about him in his current state of mind. I said a silent prayer for him and even found the generosity to pray for Todd as well.

###*

This is not the end. I meant for it to be, but it was just impossible. My editor, Paul Stevens, warned me this would happen and he was right as usual. Most of you know that this chapter was delayed because of my heart attack two weeks before Christmas. Thank you to all my well- wishers. I'm doing fine and recuperating on schedule. God bless you all and Happy New Year.