Craigslist 90
WARNING
This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage wherever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional; the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.
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Craigslist
Chapter 90
By: Tim Keppler
Edited by: Bob Leahy
One of the things that happens when you manage an organization like Youth Renewed, the non-profit I manage for the benefit of gay kids, is that you develop a huge network of contacts. It can become worldwide. Mine certainly is. I can't tell you the number of times that network has helped me. It's helped me with information; it's helped me with outreach; and sometimes, it's helped me to get a bearing on a specific kid. Nelson, a kid who was recently adopted by friends of mine, had a little brother being brought up by an alcoholic mother who's also a heroin addict. She lives in Georgia. Nelson loves this boy, and feels responsible for him. It took one phone call to Atlanta Pride, a group doing similar work to mine, to get his mother arrested and his brother sent to California to be with Nelson and adopted by Teddy and Ty. They hadn't planned for two kids, but didn't have a problem with it, especially when they learned of the conditions this kid was living in. He's a five-year old, and was living in squalor while his mother prowled the city for her next fix. True, they're going to be living with the Santa Clara County Child Protection people in their pants for a while, but both these kids are so much better off where they are today. One phone call. It took just one phone call to make this happen.
But, sometimes I'm on the receiving end of these calls, and I feel a moral obligation to respond to them just as my calls are responded to. Kids don't have any real advocacy. It's all done by word of mouth and personal responsibility. That's about all they have. And, sometimes the kids are a little older than kids...strictly speaking. Take the case of Bryce Faulkner, a 23-year-old pre-med student who was, for all intents and purposes, blackmailed into a fourteen-month incarceration at an Exodus International facility. His loving parents -- good christians -- took every possession he owned and threatened to disown him unless he went for "reparative therapy," therapy to fix his faggotry. No one knows where he is. His boyfriend has been trying to find him, to reassure him that his friends still love him. He was planning to come out to his parents soon, but his mother somehow got access to his email account and discovered his shameful secrets in the love notes he sent to his boyfriend. His friends are looking for him. His boyfriend is looking for him, and his parents are saying nothing. Good christians.
This is where the network comes into play. There's apparently been word received quietly from Bryce's brother that he's somewhere in California. That would be surprising, wouldn't it? California isn't exactly friendly to these christian idiots. Or, maybe it is. Maybe what Proposition 8 proved to us more than anything else is that California is full of christian bigots. They're your neighbors sitting on their porch chatting with you amiably, and then shafting you on election day. We live in the "gay zip code" of San Jose, and I well remember one house two streets over from us with a "No on Prop 8" sign on their lawn. Their neighbors had a "Yes on Prop 8" sign. I remember thinking, "Well, at least these guys know where they stand." I know the guys living in the "No on Prop 8" house, Derrick and Lance. They're friends of mine. Predictably, their neighbors are good christians. "What's with them," I asked Derrick one afternoon as I was walking through the neighborhood.
"You don't want to know. They're married with a son and two daughters. The son is a doper. He keeps getting into auto accidents. He likes to send text messages while he's driving, apparently. So, he hit our car, and Lance saw him do it. He walked outside and confronts the kid, and the kid denied it. Lance called the cops, and thankfully, our neighbor across the street saw the accident, if accident it can be called. Their insurance paid up, but since then we've been `The Queers'. I don't really care what they call us, but they go out of their way to make our lives miserable. Loud music, parking at the edge of our driveway so it's hard to back our car out. They're the worst kind of slime." But, good christian slime.
If Bryce Faulkner is in California, I want him found, and I know the guy who can find him. I used an investigator for a hate crime a year or so ago. Someone beat up one of the kids at the center, and I was serious about finding that guy. The investigator did find him, and we took care of him. The cops were dragging their feet, and the D.A. wasn't interested in the case, so we we took care of him ourselves. It was Kenny and me. I didn't want to get anyone at the center involved. That could destroy us. So, the investigator found the guy, and Kenny and I did what we've done before. That guy will think twice about his next gay bashing.
I was seriously impressed with the investigator, though. He's really good at what these guys call "social engineering". Mostly these guys get their information from the internet, but there's only so much you can do with digital information. He started with the police sketch of the guy who beat up our boy, and he went chatting with neighbors near the scene of the bashing. He got a name after two hours, and had an address in two more hours. It took four hours and we had our man. He's very good at what he does.
I call him and give him the details I have. I've got the boy's name, his parents' name, address and phone number, and a picture that I fax him. That's it. That's literally all I have. And, his parents live in Arkansas, so it's not like he's going to go visit the neighbors. This one is going to take some work. This one is going to tax his ingenuity. But, I seriously want this boy, because I hate this reparative therapy bullshit. Alan Chambers, president of Exodus International, says roughly 250 local ministries affiliated with the Orlando-based organization continue to counsel people who are "struggling with homosexuality". Chambers will tell you that he "believes that [homosexuality] wasn't God's design," but while he's married with two children, he says he continues to be "tempted" by homosexual urges. If you believe in god, which I do not, how can you assume that what he created is imperfect? Yes, you can say that we are creatures of free will, but when did Chambers exercise his free will to become gay? When did he make that choice? And, what about those children? Did he get his two kids like Dinh got his, through surrogacy to his wife and a fucking machine, or could he actually get it up? And, even if he could get it up, what does that prove? In my book it proves that he's bi. He's a Kinsey 3. How does that make him different from me, a perfect Kinsey 6?
I want to talk to this boy. If Bryce Faulkner is in California, I want to talk to him and better understand how a perfect creation of god can be a faggot and not be perfect. I need to know.
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Thim has started to stand up. Well, he's started to pull himself up. At first, he did it on our pant legs. He'd grab our jeans, and sort of climb up our leg, but now he's pulling himself up on the arms of the sofa. Once he's up, he tries to walk. It is just so fucking cute. He mostly falls down after about the third step, but then he giggles, and crawls back to something solid -- a chair, or a table -- and pulls himself up again. Thim is a very-determined little boy. He seems very intent on learning to do this. He also seems seriously intent on having fun.
The younger boys, Tan and Quan, are his playmates. He crawls all over them. He loves to ride on Tan's back as Tan crawls across the floor on his hands and knees. He's seen a horse, and that was his first word. Tan lays down flat on the carpet, and Thim crawls on top of him. Then Tan arches up so he's on his hands and knees and crawls across the floor with Thim across his back on his belly, giggling, and screaming "Horsey...horsey..." Sometimes Thim falls off, but he doesn't seem to care. He'll fall onto the floor, smoosh his face into the carpet, and giggle furiously. "Horsey," he'll shriek, and he and Tan will start all over again.
I wondered a while back how the christian family with sixteen kids or something had time to produce them. When did they have time to fuck? Well, I figured that out. Originally, my faith in good christians encouraged me to believe that incest was the answer. Dad was schtupping the older daughters while Mom was schlepping the kids to soccer camp, or changing diapers, or passing out juice, or breast-feeding, or something. Kevin and Kai have shown me the error of my ways. They are amazing little fathers. They are just so good with Thim. They feed him when he's hungry, they bathe him, they change his diapers (which is not a yummy task for a youngster), they rock him, play with him, and cuddle him. They both love this little boy. While Tan and Quan are his playmates, and Feng to some extent, Kevin and Kai have become surrogate daddies. They love him just like we do, and they do more than just play with him. They care for him, which...umm...gives us...time to play with each other.
But...umm...what do you say...when tenants...uhh...want to get involved in that play? That's not a fair question. When Gary was still alive, we'd sometimes have a five-way. This was before Dinh's time, so a five way consisted of Jason, Kenny, Gary, Nathan and me. A five way basically amounts to an orgy. What does a six-way amount to? I remember a scene in Fellini's Satyricon. It included more than six, but not many more. There was a lot of flesh. All this comes up because Nathan and Thao have asked to join us for sex. Well...Nathan has asked to join us, and he wants to bring Thao. (I think Thao is a little embarrassed by it.) What do we do?
The good news is that they're both negative. Ours is a "closed society." None of us plays around...well, except with each other. And it wouldn't be a hindrance even if one of us were positive, I suppose. It'd just mean that we'd need a lot of condoms. So, I guess the obvious thing to do is to take a vote, and the vote is unanimous. Everyone wants to...umm...moosh.
"Can you sit with the boys?" I ask Evan. "Kev will take care of this mostly, but I'm not comfortable yet letting him be totally responsible. He's not old enough. We'll have to bring the boys to you."
"Sure," Evan replies. "No problem. They can sleep in the spare room. We don't have a crib for Thim, but he can sleep with the rest of them, right?"
"Oh, yeah. That'll be better for Thim anyway, because it'll be foreign territory for him. He will wake up, and when he does, Kevin or someone can cuddle him."
"Yeah. That's fine. And what are you planning?" he asks with a leer.
"Something collective. But I'm not telling you. If I did, you might want to join...and then you wouldn't be available to babysit, and we'd have `moral issues' wouldn't we?"
"Mmmmmmm. I don't see why. It's not like we're biologically related," he says, laughing, "but you're right about the babysitting part. I guess I'll just have to find out after the fact."
"Yup. I'll bring the boys over in a few minutes."
"Cool. Schlafen Sie wohl," he says with a giggle. "Sleep well."
"Yeah, right... I'm hoping for something a little more interesting than sleep."
Once we have the boys ensconced at Evan's, we're home free. Kevin and Kai will take care of things there, and I'll take care of things here, or at least I'll try.
"Bunking" is a term that my childhood best-friend, Eric, made up when we were children. I was maybe seven, and he was maybe nine. It's a term he used to describe what cats do when they're feeling affectionate. What they're really doing is spreading their scent on you. They rub their cheek on your leg, or on the sofa, or on a table leg. They're marking their territory, but mostly their territory is you. They want every other cat to know that you are their property. The "bu" part of the word is obvious. They're "bumping" you. It's the "k" at the end that has always fascinated me. It's not "bumping". It's "bunking". I have my theory about that "k," but I'm just not sure a nine-year-old Eric would have known that word back then. We were pretty WASPY back then. We were pretty innocent. I think it's a contracted form of two words intended to express affection, albeit feline affection. And "bunking" is what I want to start with tonight. I want to get naked and bunk with all these guys. I don't know that I want to spread my scent. Maybe I do. If I think much about that, I think I'll conclude that that's gross. If I don't think much about it, I think I might conclude that it's just a part of touching, a part of rubbing, and I love to rub. I love to feel the touch of skin against mine.
I've never actually made love to Nathan. I'm not sure what I mean by that. We've certainly "bunked," but I've never actually...fucked him. We've kissed, and we've rubbed, but I've never penetrated him. I...umm...sort of want to do that today. Well, "sort of". I want to do that today. So, the six of us spend the first fifteen minutes or so of our love-making discussing what's okay and what's not okay, and our conclusion? Everything's okay. Polyamorous relationships are interesting things. When you're really and truly open to others, it becomes easy. But...I don't think Thao is going to be comfortable with this...long term. I think he'll be okay with today, but I have a real sense that he's going to want Nathan to himself. That's fine. I don't need more long-term lovers, and, in truth, I don't think I love Nathan like that. I don't feel the electricity that I feel with Kenny, Jason or Dinh. Them I adore. Nathan I merely love. I know that sounds a little...odd. It's an intensity thing. I would have a tough time living without Jason, Dinh or Kenny, but if Nathan moved away, I'd miss him, but I wouldn't die. I have the sense that he feels the same about me. He was despondent after Gary's death, and I think he'd be equally despondent without Thao, but if I disappeared tomorrow, I think he'd miss me, but not to the point of despondency. What do you call our relationship? If this wasn't a group thing, if it was just the two of us, I supposed you'd call us "fuck buddies," except that I've never fucked him. I love him -- in my way -- but I've never fucked him. But, he wants me to fuck him today, and I guess I want to fuck him, too. There's the novelty of it. He's someone new. I think I'd really prefer to fuck Jason, but I'm hoping I'll have the opportunity to do that, too.
We have quite a large bed, and once we're naked, we start to bunk, to moosh, to rub, to caress. Whatever you want to call it. This may be the part of making love that I love best, this and kissing. It's the affection part. I guess, as I think about it, making love consists of three separate parts. There's the getting naked and excited part, the affection part, and the getting off part. I like to get excited, and I like to get off, but I'm madly and deeply in love with almost all of these boys. I'll want to get off, but first I just want to...umm...experience them. I want to enjoy them. I want to bunk.
I start out with Jason. We kiss. He's lying on top of me, and he's grinding his pelvis against mine. He's warm and soft, and I'm seriously turned on. I have to stop the grinding. If I don't, I'll cum. So I flip him to the left. We continue to kiss, but lying on our sides. He doesn't have quite as much access to my dick as he did lying on top of me. Then he flips sideways, over the top of Kenny, and starts to kiss Thao while Kenny and I embrace, kissing, warmly at first, and then passionately. Dinh all this time has been kissing Nathan, kissing and rubbing. Dinh, you need to remember, was a part of Gary's family. He, Gary and Nathan were partners. Nathan and Dinh have made love often, but not recently. And both Dinh and Nathan are "receivers". They like to be fucked rather than to do the deed themselves, so there are some limitations to what they do together. After a while, Nathan propels himself over Thao, Jason, and Kenny and lands on top of me, and I find myself kissing him. Actually, I find myself being kissed by him. Nathan is passionate. Nathan is putting everything he has into this kiss. Nathan has very puffy lips. Have I mentioned that before? They're soft but assertive. They're moist. And his mouth is...delicious. What's he been eating, I wonder, and then I realize that he's been chewing mint. There's the residual flavor of mint, but that dissipates quickly, and what's left...is...Nathan. He's delicious. All by himself he's delicious. He slides his dick down between my legs, caressing my own dick with his belly. I have to push him away. "God, I want you Nathan. Maybe I've always wanted you."
We flip over so I'm now lying on top of him. We're still kissing. Our tongues are intertwined. I have my arms under him, holding him tight. Suddenly he raises his legs, resting them on my shoulders. God I want this. I want this more than you can know. I grab the bottle of lotion, lube up, and enter him slowly, sensually, while still kissing him. "Mmmmmmm," he says, his voice muffled by our kiss. He feels so good, so tight. I withdraw slowly, and then plunge back in. "Mmmmmmm," he says again, and then he starts to moan, and maybe to cry, I'm not sure. He just feels...amazing. I take this very slow. I want this to last. But...but...I don't know that this can last! I don't know that I can make this last. With each stroke, with each thrust of my pelvis, I'm so close. I manage to hold out for maybe five minutes, maybe a little more, and then I scream, a scream muffled by the kiss that we've never broken, a kiss that I want to last forever. I scream, and I cum, and so does he. I'm intensely aware that we may never do this again. This may be the only time I'll ever get to fuck Nathan. And...it just feels...so...good, to be buried in his ass. It feels so good with my lips sealed to his. At this moment I adore... No, that's not something I want to say. He belongs to Thao, and I belong to Jason, Dinh and Kenny. It's good to belong to someone, or even someones, but there are limits.
But, lying here with my dick inside Nathan, it just feels so amazing. It's warm and comfortable. It's luscious.
Jason and I are next, after maybe a half an hour for recovery. As I fuck him, Dinh sucks him while he is himself sucked by Nathan. Again, we all cum at once. I don't know how exactly you achieve that simultaneity of orgasms. It's not like you talk about these things. It's not like you draw up a plan about who's going to start the dominoes falling. Someone just does. Then the excitement of that is just too much and everyone else follows. In this case it's Jason. Dinh is a very good cock sucker, and when he pulls Jason over the edge, Jason starts to contract those sphincter muscles, which draws me to an explosion. "Oh...fuck," I mutter, and with that I fire, and so does Dinh -- down Nathan's throat. It's quite a wonderful...crescendo.
Finally, there's Thao, who has been reticent this whole time. We begin to kiss, and I can feel the reticence even now, the hesitancy. I pull back and look him in the eyes, cocking my head to the side, asking what he wants to do. Suddenly, his eyes sparkle. He smiles slightly, and then he seals his lips to mine, rubbing himself against me. He feels oh, so good. And, he too is delicious. He tastes a little like...what... Danish ham, but a little less salty, and the flavor makes me want to... I push him down flat on his back and move to his perineum and his ass, licking along the crease. Yes, it's Danish ham. As I inhale, I realize how much I want him. I realize just how much I long to fuck him. I move back to his mouth, kissing him again. Finally breaking the kiss, and rubbing my dick along his belly, I whisper, "I want you Thao." He nods, and smiles, flipping over onto his belly. I enter him quickly, probably too quickly. He gasps, but moves his ass up for maximum penetration, and sweet Jesus he is...just...amazing. He's smooth. He's so goddamned smooth. I am told that anyone who's smooth down there either shaves or has had some other form of hair removal performed. But he doesn't shave. I can tell that. And he doesn't shave his dick, or his genitals. But his ass crack is smooth, and this isn't something he'd do for Nathan, as I understand their relationship. Fucking him is like sliding into a warm bath. He's just so...luxurious. It's a Calgon moment. I slide over him. I slide all around him. I bite his earlobes and the back of his neck. I can almost not stand this. It's almost too much stimulation, and not enough, at the same time. Then, he turns his head. We kiss. The instant our lips touch, I cum. But, I can't let him go. I collapse on top of him as we continue to kiss and he cums in a gush.
We've talked about "chemistry" between couples for years, but what does that mean? Usually it means that they "click". They're compatible. Sometimes I think it really has to do with chemistry. I've always been attracted to Thao. Why? I've no idea. It's not like we have a lot in common. He's a former catholic priest, for god's sake. I wondered for a while if that was his allure. Was it that I wanted to fuck a priest, to steal away his "virtue"? I don't think that's it. Actually, the idea, the concept of fucking a priest is pretty revolting. With Jason and Kenny, the feel of them is what I long for, at least I think that's what it is. When my skin touches theirs, it's almost like there's an electric current that passes between us. My body lights up. With Thao, there's something about the smell of him, or the taste, that's just so...erotic. When I lick his ass, it's all I can do to contain myself. I've never put a lot of faith in pheromones, but now I think I do. I think I'm a believer. The minute I got to his ass and inhaled, I knew I was lost. This could be a problem.
I'd like to say that we continued to rut for hours, but after three orgasms in the course of about two hours, I'm...umm...out of spunk. We do continue to kiss, though. Kenny and Jason have gone at it, and Kenny and Dinh, but I haven't had enough of my little Dinh. We kiss for maybe fifteen minutes before we basically pass out, falling asleep with our lips still locked together. The trouble with group sex with Kenny, Jason and Dinh is that it's really hard to know who you want to...have. I'm usually good for maybe three orgasms in the course of a couple of hours, but tonight I spent two of those on...umm...foreigners. Don't get me wrong. I really enjoyed Nathan and Thao, but they caused me to miss out on Kenny and Dinh, something that causes me some...anguish. And then, at about 3:00 A.M., I awake because...uhh...there's something making its way slowly into my...ass. Kenny has snuggled up to me. He's wrapped his arm around me and has pulled us close. I turn my head, and he giggles softly. "Everyone's asleep but us," he whispers. "I'd really like to fuck you, but that'd wake everyone up. Can I...umm...just be inside you for a while?" I nod, and he slides inside. Jesus he feels good. Then he reaches around and starts to stroke my dick in a very slow and rhythmic hand job, increasing his speed as I get closer to the edge. After maybe ten minutes, I cum, groaning softly. I turn my head to kiss him, and notice that Jason, Dinh, Nathan and Thao are all propped up, watching us.
"Are you boys having fun?" Nathan asks with a squeal.
I giggle. "Might as well fuck me, Kenny. Everyone's up." And that's what he does. I can't cum again so soon, but he just feels really good as he slides in and out of me. I adjust my angle so he hits the prostate with every thrust, but that's not why he feels so good. This is a spiritual fuck. He feels good because I want him inside me. I want the connection between us. I want him to take me, and use me. I want to bring him pleasure, even though I won't get off. But, curiously, after several minutes, he stops. He hasn't cum. "What's wrong, baby?" I ask him.
He leans over and kisses me. "I'm not going to make it this time."
"Why?" I ask, kissing him again.
"Because you're not going to make it."
Kenny is much like me. I know exactly what he's saying. What's truly erotic is driving someone else over the edge. What's exciting is not your own orgasm, but the orgasm of your partner. If you can't get them off, it's just, well, masturbation. This was the problem Teddy and Ty had years ago. Teddy couldn't get off with Ty, and it drove Ty into a serious depression. They were very close to separating after nearly a dozen years as a couple. Making love is just not much fun if you can't both enjoy it, and much of that joy comes from the ego-boost of knowing that you are so exciting that you can get your partner off. Kenny isn't going to do that now. He's already gotten me off with his expert hand job. So the excitement is gone. I roll over, and pull him into another kiss, a kiss that goes on for several minutes. I love Kenny so much. I don't think I could live without him.
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As I predicted, we find Bryce Faulkner. The investigator I hired actually found him in three hours. Posing as a reparative therapy counselor at the boy's treatment center, he called his mother and got her to identify the treatment center by name. Then he Googled it, and got an address and phone number. This is social engineering at its best, and this guy is so good at it. It took us a couple of days to get a writ of Habeas Corpus. I honestly had no idea what this meant until I read The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens in grad school. Sam Weller, the servant of Mr. Pickwick, called "Habeas Corpus" "Have His Carcass" and suddenly I understood. They have to let us see him. The boy is in Los Angeles County, in Claremont, at a regional facility of the Exodus International crowd. That surprised me a little. Exodus is based in Orlando, Florida. That's where their main center is, down there with the jesus-people. I wondered for a while why they'd send him to California. But it did make sense. They didn't want anyone to be able to find him, and if it hadn't been for a tip from his brother, we probably never would have. But now we've located him, and Bob Titus, my attorney, and I will flying down to talk to him. I'm taking Thim along. Why? I need a touch of pathos. If Bryce is in this place voluntarily, I need to show him that fags can live ordinary lives. My infant son can help me do that. All Thim will need to do is look up at him with his warm, brown eyes, and he should be instantly won over. And, then there's the chance that Thim will succumb to the urge to vocalize, and that'll be even better. He has several words in his vocabulary by now. There's "Horsey," of course, but he can also say "Daddy," "Mango," "Milk," "Kitty," "Yukkie," and "Fuck". Kids learn the goddamnedest things, don't they? Who the fuck taught him the word "fuck"? But, he knows it, and uses it...mostly when he means "No". Jason, who makes his baby food, asked him, "Do you want some liver, sweetie?" He gave Thim a spoonful of ground liver in cream sauce, and Thim spit it out. "Yukkie!" Thim screamed, "Fuck!" Personally, I found this interaction hysterical, but Jason was a little...put off. I'm not sure whether it was the rejection of his...infant culinary skills, or the forcefulness of Thim's opinions. Thim clearly knows what he likes and what he doesn't, and isn't shy about telling you. He likes horsies, and bits of sliced mango, and Tan. He likes to chase that silly Thumper-cat, and he likes to be cuddled and tickled. He adores Jason, because Jason mostly feeds him, and he likes me, because I mostly cuddle and tickle him. He hates liver, and he does not like dogs. He sees a dog and he starts to cry. Who knows why? Maybe the ones he's seen are too big for him. Jan and Harry, our neighbors three doors down, have the friendliest bull dog you will ever meet, Toby. He's very sweet, and I don't like dogs either. Toby I like, but Thim doesn't like him. He sees him and starts to cry. There are dog people, and there are cat people, I think. I thought you formed these patterns later in life, but maybe not. I didn't ever not have at least one cat. Even as an infant we had cats, and I can remember, as early as three years old, curling up with our cat, Vanilla, for a nap. She was very comforting. She'd drape herself over my back as I lay on my belly, purring. I found her very...protective. I think she thought of me as her kitten, albeit a rather large kitten.
So, Bob, Thim and I board the plane at 6:27 A.M. We're going to LAX from San Jose. It's barely an hour's ride. And Bob and I chat. Bob has become quite a constitutional and civil-rights lawyer, and that was the furthest thing from his mind when he was going to law school. I think what he thought he'd be was a little country lawyer. But, two things happened. First, San Jose became a metropolis, the heart of the Silicon Valley. Second, he met me. He hadn't really thought much about fags before, but he found that he liked me. My legal problems were different from the stuff he'd studied in school. And Jesus Christ, the Silicon Valley is full of fags, isn't it? He saw it as a huge niche. He was right. "I think 2010 is too soon to launch the repeal of Prop. 8," Bob says as I bounce Thim on my knee, hoping he won't shriek while we're on the plane. "We have two choices. We either have to throw the christians to the lions, which is always tempting, or we have to let them die from natural causes in sufficient quantities to alter the vote. Whichever choice we make, a bunch of good, upstanding citizens have to die if we're going to successfully repeal the new law. We can't depend on gay leadership in California to get this done, because, as you know, there isn't any. So, one of the things we need to also accomplish is the demolition of our pro-gay advocacy group, Equality California (EQCA), and Geoff Kors, it's grand poobah. Along with ending the lives of four percent of the population, which was the margin of victory for Prop 8," he says, giggling, "we need to ensure that Geoff Kors isn't around to "help" us anymore. Otherwise, he's likely to fuck it up again. Those accomplishments will take more than two years."
I nod, and Thim yelps, but starts to giggle softly as I run my thumbs down his sides.
"Sorry, buddy. I know how much Prop. 8 galls you," he says, soberly, "but you're not going to fix it next year."
I nod again. "I had the cutest kid come to the door last night," I respond. "Dinh's car was on the street. He has a `No on 8' sticker on the bumper, but we have a `No Solicitors' sign on the screen door. This kid must've been at most 18. He had this wavy, shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair. `I saw the "No Solicitors" sign,' he says, `but I also saw the "No on 8" bumper sticker. I just couldn't resist.' He's from EQCA. He gives me his pitch. I blasted him pretty hard. `EQCA lost it for us last time. Why the fuck would I give you any money this time?' He nodded solemnly and went away. I feel bad about that. He was sweet, and I pissed on him, but honestly, with the total lack of any strategy again, why would I give them any money? It's sad that Mississippi has a better-organized gay-rights organization than California does."
When we get to Los Angeles, I rent us a car and we head out to Sepulveda Boulevard to get us to Highway 105 heading toward Claremont. Driving in L.A. is a horror. It's a bigger horror than driving in the Bay Area. It's absolute and utter gridlock. And I hate to drive at the best of times. But Bob agrees to drive instead. He likes to drive, even in these conditions. He's very calm. I'd be frantic by now. I'd be near dead by infarction. Oh, and I'd be teaching Thim new words that I don't really want him to know yet, additions to his vocabulary that would replace words of greater...utility, like "brother," or "dinner," or "water". But Bob is calm and precise, as ever. With the help of my GPS, we get to the facility in only two hours. It's basically a really big house, an estate sitting in the middle of a residential neighborhood. The only thing remarkable about it is that it's surrounded by a six-foot chain-link fence. The only entrance, a gate leading to the front door, is padlocked. There's a call box. I press the button, answer the questions of whoever is on the other side of the intercom, and eventually we're admitted. We're required to wait in a bare, sparsely-furnished conference room for nearly half an hour for Bryce. The only decoration on the wall is a large crucifix. I hand Thim to Bob, and take the crucifix down, stowing it in a closet. Crucifixes irritate me, and I have no idea why they're so popular among the jesus-people. They're a symbol of death, after all, mythological death. I don't want that influencing our discussion with Bryce, especially since I imagine this half-hour wait is being used to influence Bryce. I imagine he's being "built up" for this interaction. We have twenty minutes to talk to him, and if he's here voluntarily, it's going to be a tall order to talk him out of here in that time. Still, I plan to try.
Finally, he appears. The guy who brings him to the room points out a chair, and stands by the door. Bob passes Thim back to me, and goes to talk to the man, advising him that he needs to leave. We have a clear right to speak with Bryce unsupervised. The guy leaves reluctantly, and the moment the door is closed, Thim lets out a shriek. He's been on my lap for a couple of minutes, and suddenly climbs down, and does what he's never done before. He walks across the room, albeit unsteadily. He walks across the room to Bryce, and climbs onto his lap. Bryce smiles, and hugs him. "This is my youngest child, Thim," I tell him. "I have seven others, but Thim is the youngest." Bryce gives me a long, pondering look. "You have eight children?"
"Not bad for a gay guy, hunh?"
"Umm... In Arkansas you wouldn't be allowed..."
"Yeah, I know. But, Arkansas isn't the whole world."
He nods.
"Why are you here, Bryce?"
"Why are you here?" he responds.
"I'm here to find out why you're here, to find out whether this is voluntary. Do you actually think you can be `repaired'? Do you think they can make you straight?"
At this moment, Bryce looks really sad, and glassy-eyed. He's been cuddling Thim, and Thim seriously likes to be cuddled. Thim has been gurgling contentedly while he's been attached to Bryce.
Bryce looks up, finally. He looks me in the eye. "No. I'll never be cured. I'm 100% gay, but...I don't own anything. I have nothing. I only have my parents. I want to go to med school, but, without their support..."
"So, your plan is to go through this program, pretend to be straight, get through med school, and then...what?"
"I don't know..." He starts to cry. "I don't...umm...know." He hugs Thim, and kisses his head.
"There are other ways to do this, Bryce. There are other ways to get you through med school. We can find other ways to do this. I guarantee you, we can. There's the Point Foundation that sponsors a lot of gay kids through college every year, and there are any number of other scholarships available. We will work to get you though your medical program, but...please...please...don't...umm...stay here. This place will mess you up." I'm very close to tears, and Bryce is already there. He's hugging Thim, and crying.
"Your boyfriend is frantic," I say, and suddenly Bryce starts to sob. "He's in love with you. He can't understand why you'd leave him." I pause for a long, long moment. "Some of us have to create alternate families. Some of us don't have families that will support us when they find out who we really are. I'm married to a guy whose parents are so onerous, so judgmental, that when his sister was dying of cancer, she begged us to adopt her children so that they wouldn't wind up with her parents. Sometimes you have to make your own families. You have to create them from nothing. Please, please don't stay here, Bryce. Please let us take you away from here. Please don't let them fuck with you anymore."
And then...at that moment...Thim demonstrates a new word. I don't think he knows what it means, but he squeezes Bryce, looks up into his eyes and says "Peeze." Bryce sobs. He looks across at me. "I have nowhere else to go. My parents told me that if I'm going to live with them, I have to do this first."
"Then don't live with them. Come home with me for a while until we get you the scholarships you need to get through med school. Invite your boyfriend to join you if you want. Please don't stay here."
The door opens, and the guy who brought Bryce in comes back into the room. "Time's up, Bryce. Time to go." Bryce looks at me, and stands, still holding Thim, who's clinging to him. Bryce is rocking him gently, and Thim is gurgling happily. Bryce is still crying, finally he turns to the orderly, and says, "I'm leaving."
Then all hell breaks loose. We have administrators, we have instructors (if they can be called that), we have secretaries waving forms, and ministers, and lawyers. This is why I brought Bob. I just love to watch him when he gets into his lawyerly role. He walks differently. He assumes a brand-new character. He becomes a...prick, and when he does this, he's a force to be reckoned with. I just stay out of the way and let him deal with the legal shit, and with all the assholes. And he does it. Bryce and I sit in the conference room we were in originally. Thim has long since fallen asleep in Bryce's arms.
"Do you have siblings?" I ask.
"A brother. I have a nephew who's probably Thim's age. Well, I had a nephew. I probably don't have him anymore."
"You're going to be fine. But, sometimes you have to start over. Sometimes you have to realize that the support structures you've established don't work because you aren't who you thought you were, or your friends thought you were. You have to come up with alternatives."
"Eight kids?" he asks. "That's a lot of kids."
"I like kids," I say, giggling. "That's my alternative. I'm the daddy to eight kids. Imagine being essential to eight little souls. You are their bloodline. I love my babies, and I love providing for them. I have two older children who provide for themselves. Ian is twenty-four, and Evan is twenty-two. The rest are younger, ranging from twelve to this silly boy who is now eleven months old. You're going to find our family structure a little different from what you might expect, but it's based around...uhh...love."
When we get home, finally, Bryce meets the family, and I think he's a little overwhelmed. He has to work at the relationships. "Yeah, Jason and I are legally married. We were married during those five short months when marriage between same-sex couples was legal in California. And Kenny, Dinh and I are illegally married," I snort. "Dinh is Thim's biological father. These gentlemen are Kevin and Kai. They're Kenny's biological nephews and Jason's biological second cousins. Kenny and Jason are first cousins. Kev and Kai were Kenny's sister's children. She was the one who died of cancer. Very sad. But it brought us these little mischief-makers," I say, ruffling Kai's hair. "And these three," I say, motioning to Tan, Quan and Feng, "well, they're... Actually, I don't know who they are. Who are you?" I ask. Feng comes and butts his head into my leg, snuggling against me. "They're our love children. We rented them from a guy in Hong Kong, and liked them so much that we refused to give them back. We had to forfeit our deposit. And, then there's Evan."
"I was a foundling," Evan laughs.
"Yes. Evan appeared on my doorstep one day, a waif. I fed him Mexican food, and, like a stray cat, he never went away." I smile at him fondly. "The guy he's clinging to is Joaquin. We found him in a sleepy little Mexican village during a vacation. He can sort of play the guitar, so Jason was much taken with him, but Jason was also much taken -- by me. So Joaquin had to settle for Evan." Evan cuffs me affectionately. "Did you get all that. Is all that clear? Do you have any questions? There'll be a quiz after dinner."
"Umm...," Bryce begins, gazing at Nathan and Thao, who are cuddling.
"Yeah, good point. This is Thao, and this is Nathan. They're friends of ours. They're more than friends of each other. We love them. They live with us. Thao actually works for me at the foundation I run, and Nathan...umm...works for Jason as a sous-chef."
"You are such an asshole!" Jason screams, cuffing me, giggling furiously. "Nathan taught me how to cook. Nathan is a professional. Nathan is the chef for a number of the best B&Bs in town. If there's a sous-chef in this room, it's me."
"Well, it's sure as hell not me," I say, laughing. "I'm not anything you could classify as a chef, sous or otherwise. Mostly it's these guys who cook," I say, motioning to Jason, Dinh, Kenny and Nathan. "Evan and I are a little..."
"Inept," Evan says, completing my sentence. I nod.
"Do you like to cook?" Nathan asks Bryce.
"Umm...yeah...sometimes."
"Come cook with us," Jason invites, throwing him an apron.
"Okay. Cool." And that's his introduction to the family.
Published first at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Nemo-stories/