Come Christmas Steve

Come Christmas Steve Chapter 24 Sometimes I Wish

"Colt?!?" I exclaimed. "Wha..., what are you doing here?"

"He came to get his brother's things. I would have gotten them for him, but I don't know where you put all your boxes when you went off to school," Mom announced.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" I asked. "What things?"

"You know. My brother talked to you about it. Like some video games and other stuff you borrowed back in high school." Colt craned his neck sideways as he spoke in an odd contorted fashion. "He wants them back, and he sent me to talk to you about getting them," Colt explained, holding his hands out like he expected me to fill them.

I was clueless until Billy spoke up. "Yeah, Mike. Remember Mike, from high school? He sent his little brother over here to get his stuff back, remember? That's the reason why Colt is here. To TALK to you about getting his brother's things back." Billy was bobbing his head like I was supposed to understand and finally I did.

"Oh, I'd completely forgotten you were coming. How did you get here?" I asked.

"I rode my bike. I don't live too far. I came over right after school let out," Colt said.

"Does anyone else know you're here? Like your parents?" I asked.

"No. Only my brother, Nick," Colt answered.

"I thought your brother's name was Mike," Mom said looking confused.

"Oh, umm, yeah. Well that's my other brother. I have two brothers. Nick and Mike," Colt lied.

"Well then, who's things are you coming to get?" Mom asked.

"Mike's," I blurted while at the exact moment, Colt blurted out "Nick's."

Mom's suspicions started rising and Colt saw it as well as I did. "Actually, Mrs. Steele, it's both Nick and Mike's stuff. Mike loaned some of his stuff and some of Nick's stuff to Shane and Nick was pretty mad about not getting it back. So anyway, that's why they sent me over here to get it."

"I see. Hmmm. Shane, do you know where these things are? Did you put them in the attic by chance with the other boxes from your room when you left for college?" Mom asked.

"Yeah. The attic. I'm pretty sure that's the place to look. C'mon Colt, you can come help me move boxes around up there."

"Okay," Colt said and jumped up.

"Follow me upstairs," I instructed him.

"This is a good example of what I've always told you boys," Mom called after us as we started up the stairs. "Neither borrower nor lender be." We climbed the stairs and at the end of the hallway, I pulled the rope to lower the attic ladder. We climbed up and I pulled the cord to the light dangling from the rafters. Billy followed us and I didn't object. "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked.

"Who's he?" Colt asked pointing at Billy.

"He's my brother. Now answer my question."

"Bigger or littler?" Colt asked.

"Younger. It's cool for him to be here. He knows about you. Now answer my question. Why are you here?"

"I needed to talk to you. I tried to call you back on the phone earlier this morning, but you never answered. So I came to see you. Pretty smart what I told your mom about why I'm here, huh?"

"Yes, that was clever. All that means is that you're a skillful liar. Not really that great of a trait to be bragging about. So what's so important that you had to come see me? It better be life or death," I said.

"Well maybe not life and death, but really important," Colt said.

"What is it?" I was stern and cross with him. My arms were folded and I was scowling.

"Umm, remember that guy I told you about from gym class, Scott? The one who held the rope and then came and sat by me at lunch?"

"Yes, I remember. He's the one who told you he saw you boned up and asked if you got boned a lot," I replied.

"Yeah. And he like told me that he did too. Well, we've been getting to be good friends and we sit together at lunch and pair up in gym, sit together in science and meet up after school," Colt explained.

"That's great. I'm glad you found a friend. So get to the point of why you risked your safety and mine by coming over here. And how did you even find where I live?" I asked.

"Dude, you were on the freaking news. Everybody knows where you live. I ride by here on my way to school every day," he answered like it was the dumbest question ever.

"Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, why are you here?" I asked impatiently.

"It's my dad," Colt said. "I'm scared." That worried me. I expected Colt to warn me that his dad was sharpening up his knife to come over and slice off my ungrateful, gay dick because we had insulted his ego. "Is it because of what happened this morning?" I asked.

"This morning? Huh, umm, no. I haven't seen my dad today yet. He was gone before I left for school. What happened this morning?" Colt asked.

"Oh, never mind. So if it's not that, what the hell is it?" I asked.

"Scott invited me over to his house for a sleepover this coming weekend, but when I asked my dad if I could go, he got all angry with me. He told me there would be no sleepovers ever. He said bad things always happen at sleepovers and he'd seen it too many times," Colt said.

"You came over here to tell me that your dad won't let you go on a sleepover at Scott's house? What did you think I could do about it? Oh I know, I'll just call him up and say, hey, Sheriff Withers, this is your faggot neighbor down the road whose father kicked your ass off our property this morning and threatened to call your boss. You know, the one you keep saying needs his dick cut off. Well, your son, Colt, says you won't let him go on a sleepover at his friend's house. I just wanted to let you know that I think that is very mean of you and I say you should let him go," I said as sarcastic as possible.

"Geez," Colt said, hanging his head.

"God, Shane. Lighten up," Billy said.

It was wrong of me to be so sarcastic but the kid was frustrating me. I was exasperated.

"What do you mean you kicked my dad off your property?" Colt asked.

"None of your business. It's better if you don't know. I shouldn't have said anything about that."

"Maybe he should know," Billy corrected me.

"You said you tried calling that number that Shane contacted you on, correct?" Billy asked the kid.

"Yes. So?"

"Remember Jaime's phone ringing this morning while Colt's dad was here? That could have been Colt," Billy said to me.

"Wait, my dad was here today? Why?" Colt asked.

"It's complicated. My girlfriend is the one whose phone Shane borrowed to call you on and tell you to be chill for a while until this legal stuff all blows over. Anyway, she had a problem with her old man and so she was staying with us, but the family services freaks won't let her stay here because of all the legal shit. Anyway, your dad came to get her and take her to another place to stay this morning and we got into a kind of argument with him over it. That's probably when you called her phone and if she had answered it, your dad could have heard your voice. That's why you have to stop this shit, dude. You could get us all in big trouble, especially yourself. You gotta lay low a while and deal on your own. Okay?" Billy explained.

"Geez. My dad was here when I called? OH GEEZ!"

"OH GEEZ, is right, Colt. I still don't see why you thought it was so important to risk coming here over a sleepover," I said.

"You didn't let me finish. Geez," he whined. "See, I begged my dad to let me go and he just got madder and said he wanted to meet this new friend of mine and started asking me all about him. He wanted to know if he played sports or was popular with the girls and things like that. He wanted to know if he liked rodeo and would ride a calf in the rodeo this July when I do it. I told him I didn't know. I haven't known Scott all that long so I don't know all that much.

"But then my dad decides I can have the sleepover after all but at our house, and he asks how many other guys are coming. I said it was just Scott and me and then he really freaked and started lecturing me about how wrong it is for two boys to sleep together and we might be tempted to do gay things together and how I was never ever to sleep alone with another boy my age or especially never with one older than me. He said that playing with another boy's privates was what turned a guy into a homo. He said it was a really big sin and a bad evil thing and just like not even natural and stuff. He said once you started with that gay stuff you'd get psycho, psychololy, psycho ..."

"Psychologically?" I suggested.

"Yeah that. Psycholly hooked on doing it just like weed or crack. He was like all crazy mad and really red in the face and stuff. He wanted to know why I'd even want to spend the night alone with just one other boy and what exactly we were planning to do together. I got really upset from how angry he was and I said we weren't going to do anything like what he was saying and asked why he thought that about me. I started crying and he got even more mad over that, saying he wasn't gonna raise no crybaby gay boy and I better knock it off before he gave me a good reason for crying like his boot up my ass."

"Shit dude," I said. "I see why you felt like you had to talk to me. Just don't have the sleepover, okay. It's not worth it. Just lay low with your old man and don't push his buttons. I don't think you can ever let him know if you do turn out to be gay, and I'm not saying you are, but just keep any feelings you might have a secret for a while. I hate having to tell you that. You should never have to hide who you really are, but sometimes - well, it's just best'" I advised.

"I know that. Geez, I'm not stupid. But he totally scared me, Shane. I don't even want to have a sleepover anymore. Not ever. I already knew Dad was right about what he said about sleeping over with just one other guy. I know Scott wanted to do something sexy like that together because when he invited me over, he said maybe we could play some fun games like pocket pool and then he grinned and winked at me. He's so cute when he grins. He has dimples. I didn't know what pocket pool was, so I told my mom that I had to check something out on the computer for school when I got home. My mom logged me on and when she wasn't looking, I googled it and holy geez, I couldn't believe it. I quickly shut it down and went to my room and tried it out. So I knew Scott did want to do some kind of sexy stuff so then I knew FOR SURE we couldn't sleep over at my house where my dad might spy on us and catch us doing something."

"Problem solved then," I said. "Just chill like Billy said," I told him.

"Do you know what pocket pool is?" he asked.

"Yeah, I know what it is," I answered. "You better go now and don't come back. And don't try and call me either. Got it?"

"You put your hands in your pockets and play with your balls until you make your cue stick up," Colt giggled. He was determined to tell us what he'd discovered. Then he said, "Umm, I'm pretty sure Scott wants to put his hands in my pockets." He blushed.

"Dude, listen to me," I said impatiently, "Just chill with Scott for now and go back home and lay low with your old man. Let's get out of here."

"But you haven't heard the main reason why I came here yet," Colt said desperately.

"There's more?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah. I told my dad to just forget it. I didn't want to do a dumb sleepover. But then he still wouldn't leave me alone about meeting Scott. He just kept bugging me and bugging me, so I had to invite him over for dinner yesterday. So he comes over after school and we're just messing around outside a while, shooting baskets and stuff and then we go up to my room and we're playing Halo together and sitting side by side and his leg's touching my leg and our arms are touching and stuff. He keeps looking over at me and grinning, and like I said, he's really cute when he does that. It's like he was purposely rubbing against me. After we both lost our last life in Halo, he reaches over and softly rubs this scab I got on my knee from falling off my skateboard a while back .Wanna see it?" Colt started pulling up his pant leg.

"No, I don't need to see your scab. Just finish your story," I told him.

"Okay. So, Scott asked me if it hurt still, and I said no. Then he rubbed his finger up my thigh and it tickled and made me laugh. So he thought it was funny and kept doing it until he got his hand all up under my shorts and I just kind of froze. I wanted to stop him but I also didn't want to. Then he felt me and I had a boner. He rubbed his fingertips along the side of it. He asked if he could just see what it looked like. I said no at first and pulled his hand away. He said he had a bone too and he'd show me his if I'd show him mine. Just to compare, you know?"

"I've got a bad feeling about where this is going," I said.

"Me too," Billy agreed.

"I know, huh? It's bad. Really bad," Colt said. His lip was quivering now. "So, Scott asked me if mine was cut. I didn't know what he meant. I said no. I thought he meant like my dad had cut it partly off because he'd caught me playing with it or something. Then he said he really wanted to see one that wasn't cut cuz he never had before. I asked him if his was cut and he said it was. I asked if his dad did it to him. He laughed like I'd made a joke or something. But I was serious. Then I really wanted to see what it looked like if it was cut in case my dad ever decided to cut mine off like he sometimes says he will. I said I guessed we could just take a quick look. So on the count of three, we both pulled down our shorts and underwear and looked at each other. He said I'd lied to him because mine was too cut just like his was. I said no it wasn't, but it did look the same as his. Then he started explaining what being cut meant. It's gross, and I'm glad I was just a baby when they did it to me." Colt shuddered.

"Did your dad catch you two checking each other out?" I asked.

"No," Colt said. I was relieved. I'd thought that was where his story was going. Then he added, "My mom did."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah. Geez, it was so embarrassing. She made Scott go home and now she says she has to tell my dad about it tonight when he gets home. He's gonna kill me, or worse, cut my dick off."

I couldn't help but snicker. "How is that worse than being killed?"

"You know what I mean. Geez. I can't go back home. Can I just stay here? I'll sleep in the barn or something."

I looked at Billy and Billy looked at me. We both shrugged. "I got nothing, bro," Billy said with a shrug.

"Me either," I admitted.

"Call Dad," we said together.

"I don't know how much more Dad can take before he just tosses me out on my ear and tells me to get lost," I said.

"No shit. Both of us," Billy said.

"What about me?" Colt asked.

"Follow us. Go stick your bike in the barn for now. Just in case your dad comes looking for you. When do you think your dad will be home?" I asked.

"Not for a while. An hour or two, maybe," Colt answered.

"Is there any way you could talk your mom out of telling your dad what happened?" I asked.

"No. I don't think so. I tried begging and stuff already. I think she's scared of him finding out about it somehow and then he'd be angry at her and me. She says it's just best for me to take my punishment and get it over with so I learn my lesson. But ..." Colt trailed off.

"But what?" Billy asked.

"But maybe you could talk to her, Shane. Maybe you could convince her to keep it a secret. You're good at talking like that. You make hard things easy to understand. It's not like we were doing anything, we were just looking at each other. Geez."

"Wait a minute. If we take Colt home and try talking to his mother at his house and his dad shows up, all hell could break loose. We might as well just slap some handcuffs on and drive ourselves to the county jail," Billy said.

"That's for sure. We should call Dad and have him come home and take Colt back. Maybe he could convince Colt's mom better than we could anyway," I suggested.

"But Dad's on the opposite side of the valley. By the time he gets loaded up, drives back, and we explain the complicated mess to him, it'll probably be too late," Billy countered. I knew he was right.

"All right, then I'll just go. There's no sense in both of us getting in trouble. Let's hurry. Colt, you go put your bike in the back of our green truck. We have to get you back home and do our best to talk sense to your mom before your dad gets there."

"Thank you, Shane." Colt threw his arms around me and started crying in relief.

"Okay, okay. Thank me if it works. Right now we have to hurry. Pull it together and let's go," I said.

"I hate to keep being Debby Downer here, but there's one more problem," Billy said. Colt and I stared at him like to say, what now? Billy explained, "You're on bail and part of your bail requirement is that you have to be accompanied by a parent at all times. Talk about handing yourself over on a silver platter. If Colt's dad comes home and catches you there or even if he doesn't and his mom decides to tell him you were there with Colt, in your truck, all alone, and without any parental supervision, you're headed back to jail in Billings and Adam will be really pissed. He could maybe even drop your ass as a client. You could end up sealing your fate, bro."

I started to argue but there was no good argument. Colt didn't completely understand the problem, but he understood enough to know I wasn't able to help him after all and he broke into tears again. I tried to think of a way to console him, but I came up empty. I started to just tell him I was sorry, but I knew that was hollow. It was him or me. One of us had to be thrown into the lion's den.

Then, an idea struck me. "Mom," I said.

"What about Mom?" Billy asked.

"I'll explain it all to her and she can go with us. If Colt's dad shows up, he's less likely to go ape on me if Mom's there. He seems to respect her. We could at least escape easier if we needed to," I reasoned.

"Yeah. I like it. I wish I'd thought of it, but I still like it," Billy said.

"Let's go tell Mom the whole truth and get Colt back home," I said. We hustled out of the attic and down the stairs.

I found Mom at her sewing machine mending Dad's work shirts. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. "Mom, I need your help. Can you come in the family room for a minute, please?" I asked sweetly.

"Oh dear," she simply said. I'm sure she was thinking, what now?

She followed me into the family room to find Billy and Colt seated and looking on in anticipation.

"Here's the deal. Colt here did not come by to get his older brother's things. He doesn't have any older brothers. He's the oldest in his family." Mom scowled at him and he looked down at his folded hands full of guilt. Then she scowled at us.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I acted like I had no idea what he was talking about at first, because I really had no idea what he was talking about. The real reason he came here was just to talk to me. He'd seen me on TV and thought I might be able to help him with a little problem he has at home. He's worried he might be gay. He's not sure, but he's worried about it. The other day, he had a friend over to his house and while playing in his room, the friend talked Colt into pulling down their pants and inspecting each other's private parts out of curiosity."

Colt blushed redder than a ripe tomato and covered his face in his hands.

"Oh my," Mom uttered.

"Yeah, so his mom caught them in the middle of looking at each other and got upset and made his friend go home before his father got home because his father is kind of a tough guy and Colt knows he can't tolerate homosexuals and has made some very scary comments about what he thinks should happen to gay people. Colt's mom is planning on telling her husband about the incident tonight and Colt is afraid for his safety if she does. That's why he came here."

"Oh my," Mom repeated.

"So he wants you and me to take him back home and try to talk to his mom and suggest that she keep their youthful indiscretion a secret for Colt's sake," I finished.

"We weren't really doing anything, ma'am. Really we were just looking, not touching or anything. Please help me. I promise I won't do anything like that again and I won't even talk to Scott if Mom doesn't want me to. Dad just can't find out. He just can't!" Colt blurted. His fear was real and he was fighting of tears again.

"There's one more complicating factor in all of this that you're not going to like," I added. "Colt's father is Sheriff Withers."

Mom covered her mouth as she gasped "Oh dear God."

"Yeah. Anyway, his dad could come home at any time so we really need to get over there, talk to his mom and get out of there as soon as possible," Billy added impatiently.

"Let me call your father first," Mom said. Billy started to object but she shot him her look - the don't even think about it look.

Colt's phone rang while Mom was trying to call Dad. "It's my mom," he said. "Should I answer it?"

"Yes. Just don't tell her that you're here," I suggested.

"Hi Mom," he said. "Yeah, I know. I am. Yes, right now. Okay. I'm sorry. Bye."

"She wants me home before Dad gets home. I need to get going," he explained.

"Mom, can you call Dad while we're driving over there?" I asked. She nodded agreement and we all headed out, Billy included. As long as Mom was going, he decided he should go too. He was always in protector mode.

Mom reached Dad and explained what we were doing. His natural first reaction was to tell us not to do it. He said to pull over, unload the kid and his bike and send him on his way back home. Then Mom spoke his full name in that slow, deliberate tone that meant she wanted his full attention. She then used the old, what if it were one of our boys? line and I guess Dad knew it was pointless to argue with her. He said to be careful and if anything bad happened to have Billy video it on his phone for evidence. He said he was hurrying home.

We reached Colt's house and his Mom and little brother were out front. She was sweeping the porch and I think more than anything, watching for Colt. She rushed over when she saw Colt climb out of our truck. Billy hoisted Colt's bike out of the bed and set it down for him to put away.

"Colt? What's going on? Why did you come back with these people in their truck? Did you have an accident?" she asked.

"No. My bike just broke down and they gave me a ride," Colt lied.

"Colt Withers, that is a lie," my mother said sternly. "You come back here and tell her the truth."

Colt drooped his head down into his narrow shoulders and apologized. "I rode over to their house to see if I could get them to help me," he said.

"Help you do what, Colt? What is this all about?" his mom asked.

I spoke up. "Here's the deal, Colt saw me on television. His dad, your husband, Sheriff Withers, insisted that he watch all the news coverage of my legal case. I'm Shane Steele."

"Oh dear Lord, JEEZES! You are him," she exclaimed. "But why would Colt need any help from you?"

"Well, Mrs. Withers, I guess that in his twelve year old brain, he figured he was being accused of doing something considered to be gay and since his dad had repeatedly told him that I was gay and was in trouble for it, he thought maybe I would know how to help him."

"Oh dear Lord, JEEZES!" she exclaimed again.

"Well, he didn't realize that I wasn't really in a position to do anything really useful, especially since your husband has no respect for me. But I can tell you that if he is gay and you tell your husband about his and Scott's innocent little, I'll show you if you show me, episode, it will not be helpful. It will probably just confirm your husband's phobia about having a gay son even if he's not gay and it will definitely drive a permanent wedge into their relationship that may not be fixable. I really think it's best if you reconsider mentioning what happened yesterday between Colt and his friend, Scott, to your husband."

"Yeah, Mama, please! Please, please, please. It wasn't anything at all, Mama. We didn't touch or nothing, honest. Just like I told you, we were just looking because he said his was cut and I thought he meant his Daddy had cut it like Daddy says he'll do to me if he ever catches me doing anything gay.

Please Mama, I don't want Daddy to cut it. Please!" Colt was worked up into near hysteria.

"Ah, baby, come here," Colt's mother said with outstretched arms. He ran to her and they embraced.

"He don't really mean that. He'd never do that to his boy. He's just trying to impress on you not to do that kind of thing, that's all. We have to tell him the truth about what happened or if he finds out on his own, you know that will be much worse."

"No Mama, no. Please!"

I didn't feel we could do any more than we'd done. I felt like shit. I was about to suggest we leave before Colt's dad showed up and made things worse, but Mom spoke before I could. "Mrs. Withers, could I speak to you alone for a minute?"

"Sure. If you'd like to," Colt's mother agreed.

They walked through the front door while we all stood out front. Billy kept glancing up and down the lane to see if he could spot the white Expedition coming. Colt's five or six year old brother was busy chasing their hunting dog around the yard in an attempt to ride it. Suddenly, his little brother stopped to frighten a flock of birds out of their tree and then examine an old beehive. I watched him with a tinge of jealousy. Life was so simple for him. He was oblivious to the fear and pain his brother, Colt, was going through. Life hadn't gotten complicated for him yet. But, it eventually would, just like it does for all of us. Growing up complicates life, especially when it comes to sex.

Colt sniffled and paced. "She's gonna tell him and he's gonna cut it. He's gonna cut it clean off with his big ole hunting knife. I know he is. I'm runnin' away. I am. Soon as you leave, I'm outta here," he said with resoluteness.

"Colt, no. Running away isn't going to fix anything. You have nowhere to go. Your mom's right. He may say stuff like that just to try and scare you out of doing things, but he wouldn't really cut your dick off. Trust me, he isn't going to do that. He's a cop, he can't be hurting his own kid. He'd go to jail if he did something like that. Trust your mom, dude," I encouraged.

"No. You don't know. I know. I know," Colt said. Shivers ran down my spine from the tone of voice he used. He left no doubt that his fear was real and was probably founded."

Mom came out of the house about ten minutes later and said, "Let's go boys."

"What happened? Did you get her to change her mind?" Colt asked.

"You go talk to your Mama right now," Mom told Colt, placing a reassuring hand on his back. "It'll be all right. Go on. Right now," Mom insisted. She gave him a small smile that hinted of good news. He ran off as fast as he could into the house, running right past his little brother, who was now hanging upside down by his knees from a branch.

We all piled into the truck at Mom's urging and she said, "Put this thing in gear, Billy, and let's get out of here." Billy did just that.

"No!" Mom exclaimed, "The other way! Turn left."

"But our place is that way," Billy protested.

"I know that," Mom chided, "Colt's father just called and said he was headed home and he had just turned off the highway onto our lane. Go the other way and Billy ..."

"Yeah Mom?" he asked.

"Step on it, would you please?" That made us all laugh and Billy did just that. We took the long way home and never saw a glint of the white Expedition in our rear view. Mission accomplished.

"So Mom, what happened in there? Did you convince her not to tell her husband about what Colt did?" I asked. Billy begged to know as well.

"Boys, I can't tell you that. What's said woman to woman is not meant for a man's ears. You wouldn't begin to comprehend it anyway. All you need to know is that things will be just fine at the Withers home tonight."

"Mom, c'mon. Give us some details," Billy begged.

"That would be like asking a magician to tell you how he pulled the rabbit out of his hat. Just never mind the details," she smugly smiled as Billy and I shrugged our shoulders.

"Well I hope that's really the end of the Colt business," Billy said. "But when Colt answered the call from his mom over at our house before we left, I saw an app on it that worries me a little."

I was afraid Billy saw something that Sheriff Withers might consider gay, but it was worse. Billy explained, "It's called the PhoneSheriff and it's a parental snooping app. Some friends of mine at school have it and they just never bother using their phones because of it. They hate it. A parent can see everything on their phones, like whatever they text or tweet and emails and basically everything. And they can even track the location of the phone. That means good ol' Sheriff Withers could track his son's whereabouts, if he was suspicious, and find out he was at our house."

"Seriously?" I asked. "I never knew that was possible."

"That sounds like a good idea to me," Mom said. "Maybe we should add it to you two's phones."

"MOM!" we both protested. She chuckled. "Well, it is a good idea."

Dad pulled into the yard not long after we did. He wanted the full explanation and once he got it, he gave me a healthy, stern lecture. I just hung my head and apologized over and over. He was right. There he was, risking everything he'd worked so hard for to help me out, and I was putting myself and even Billy at risk.

We all hoped what Mom had done would be enough to resolve the Colt problem. I was still a little afraid that it wasn't the last I would see of the Withers. I wanted to believe it was, but I just had this nagging feeling in the bottom of my stomach whenever I thought about it.

After dinner and evening chores, I went to my bedroom. I moved back into the empty bedroom now that Jaime was gone. I leaned up against the headboard with a pillow tucked behind my back and opened my book of Robert Frost poetry. I browsed through it, looking for one that might speak to me. None did. I kept drifting back to Colt and worried about him. I wondered what he was going through, living in fear of being gay and subject to whatever hell that could mean if his father found out. That was such a burden for a twelve year old kid to carry.

I rubbed my fingers across the cover of the book of poetry and thought of Steve. I remembered opening it and thinking it was such an unusual gift. As I got to know him better, I realized how perfect the gift was from him. I recognized that he found solace and direction in the depth of Frost's poetry and wanted to share that with me. He found a philosophy of living within it that he couldn't glean from anywhere else. I thought of his struggles and how determined he'd been to shield me from knowing about them. Maybe, he just didn't want to relive them by telling me, but more than that, I think he wanted keep me untainted from it. Like a soldier who refuses to share the horrors of war with loved ones at home. It doesn't just protect their loved ones, it keeps that box full of horrors locked, sealed and safely stowed away.

My mind drifted to Colt's little brother chasing birds and marveling at an abandoned beehive. He was so carefree as he chased his poor dog around to make him into his bucking bronco. The loyal dog was patient with the persistent efforts of the small boy, allowing him to occasionally catch him and then shrugging him off onto the grass, still yellow from a long winter. I spied one of Karl's childhood books on the shelf. He was a fan of Dr. Seuss. I pulled the Cat in the Hat down and started to read it. I was instantly entertained by the clever, simple genius of it.

And this mess is so big

And so deep and so tall,

We cannot pick it up.

There is no way at all!

I smiled. "Boy did that ever seem true for me. I'm sure that's how Colt felt too. I know that's what Steve felt as a boy and again sitting in a Billing's jail. It's certainly how I'd felt through much of what had happened to me. All over sex. Sex, sex, sex. Who you can have it with and who you can't. Who might steal your innocence from you and who you can choose to give it away to.

I closed the Dr. Seuss book and got on the computer to dabble at crafting a poem of my own, wondering if I could to it.

I Wish I Could Still be Six

by Shane Steele

Don't you sometimes wish, you could still be six?

When your favorite things were rocks and sticks?

But alas, we grow. And innocence forgo.

The hor within begins to mone. Testes dangle and wee-wees have grown.

Life gets hairy and starts to stink. You worry and fret what others may think.

But don't you kinda wish, you could still be six?

With ne'er a concern over balls or dicks.

Not yet a victim of puberty! No sidelong glances from that certain he.

No constant urges or nighttime purges.

Not yet subject or easily prone, to suddenly erect an embarrassing bone.

Don't you really wish, you could still be six?

When anything broken your dad could fix?

Not yet a victim of puberty! Merely chasing the birds and marveling at bees?

Then we choose our roles. And we closet our souls.

We pretend by day to mask our fears. But we soak our pillows with hidden tears.

Still, don't you just wish, you could still be six?

When butterflies were like magic tricks?

Flitting freely about without a thought, will they like me back, or will they not?

No constant fear of embarrassment, that what you said you never meant.

You feel your heart turn to mush, as another one kisses your secret crush.

It's then I wish, I could still be six.

Slurping frozen grape Popsicles on wooden sticks.

But alas we grow. And innocence forgo.

Birds do it, they say, and so do the bees. I suppose they do it in hives and in trees.

But when will I, I wonder and fret. For my opportunity hasn't knocked just yet.

Now aren't you glad you're twenty-six. And you get to play with balls and dicks?

You persevered and discovered the joy, of living true and loving a boy.

You found your role, and you freed your soul.

But every now and then, you still sort of wish,

That you were a bird or a bee, but never a fish.

It made me chuckle. I wanted to share it with Steve. I opened a new document and wrote him a lengthy letter. I had no idea if I could even send him a letter, but I needed to talk to him, even if he couldn't talk back. I told him all about what had been happening since I last saw him. I told all about the Colt situation. I expressed my love for him and my consuming desire to hold him again. I poured my heart out to him and stopped several times to wipe tears away that blurred my view of the screen. I shared how much I wanted to walk with him through the woods, hand in hand, and create a life full of happy memories together. I told him we could stuff all the past in a box, seal it up and hide it away. I told him he'd never have to tell me anything about it, ever, and I'd never pry. I printed the letter, folded it, along with a copy of my poem, and sealed it in an envelope. Then I brushed my teeth, drained my bladder and went to bed. I went to bed, but not to sleep. At least not until I had soaked my pillows with hidden tears.

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I want to thank my editors, Flip McHooter and Paul Stevens for their wonderful assistance. Please remember to contribute to Nifty.org/donate to keep the platform available for stories such as this.

Life is a journey, keep moving and enjoy the view. Sincerely, Hans h.schreiber@hushmail.com