Dannys First Love

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Danny's First Love, part nine

By Anthony Scordato

I woke before Ryan. Again his head was on my chest. I stroked his hair. I fucked him three times the night before and all I could think about was he and I kissing. My cock got hard. I didn't know that kissing could be such a turn on. Or maybe it was kissing Ryan that was the turn on. I kissed his hair. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about him going to college and falling in love with some girl. I knew that once he was at college, he'd meet people and start dating and that would take up his weekends. His life would be classes, working and dating, not driving up to sneak me out of the house.

I thought about his secret, his wanting to commit suicide. I kissed his hair again. You're not thinking about it now, I thought. You're with me.

He moved in my arms and stretched. He glanced up at me. "Hey, hottie."

I smiled.

He jumped up. "I have to pee."

I followed him. He noticed and said, "Shower."

We both stepped in. I had my back to him as I turned on the water. I felt a warm stream of pee running over my butt and down my legs. I heard him laughing. I turned. He laughed. Without touching my cock, I let go and peed on him. He nodded and smiled. As I kept peeing, he pulled me into a hug. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning."

We kissed and while I was peeing, I got hard.

We played in the shower and then headed for the bed. I lay down. He knelt on the bed with his junk in my face. I loved sucking his dick and this was probably my favorite way. But then when I'd have my head in his lap and bobbing up and down while he moaned and groaned in pleasure, that would be my favorite way to suck his cock.

It's crazy that straight guys miss out on sucking dick, I thought.

We stopped for breakfast. We were both starving. Then we were on the road again. "It's four hours to Grand Teton National Park," he said as we got on the highway. "I've seen pictures. It's beautiful there."

"We're there for two nights?"

"Yeah."

Before we pulled into the park, we stopped at a grocery store in Jackson Hole and stocked up.

We pulled into Moose, Wyoming. "Wow," I said. "I mean the Sierras are beautiful with snow on them but wow."

"Yeah, I know."

We found the campsite and set up our tent. Sitting in the tent, we made sandwiches. "What do you want to do first?" I said.

"Choices: eat lunch, hike and take lunch with us, blowjobs, fucking."

"Ah, so if we're going to hike, maybe save the fucking for tonight."

"Good call. So, what are you up for?"

"How long will we be gone if we go for a hike?"

"We'll," he said looking at a map. "We'll have to drive here," he said pointing. "There are great trails here. So, if we head out now," he looked at his phone. "It's 1:20."

"Let's do that. It's getting late," I said. "Let's eat lunch now. Drive there. That will give us time to digest. We can hike for a few hours, head back, suck cock," I said and laughed.

"You're so bad."

"Why? We can suck cock, then get dinner someplace and then come back and fuck each other."

He smiled and handed me a sandwich. "Great plan."

We had a wonderful day on the trail and fun in the tent. The next day we did much the same. The day after that we were off to Yellowstone. Our trip was now half over. I didn't know if he was keeping track of days as they past, but I was. We set up our tent in Yellowstone on our fifth day. It wasn't terribly crowded, but not as empty as the campsite in Oregon. We were supposed to stay in Yellowstone for three nights, but we decided we might leave after two, just to have another night in Oregon before we headed home.

I was also keeping count of our sex play. Not for any reason other than to tease him on our last day. With whom would he have this much good sex? Four days and we each had had fifteen orgasms. We decided a five shot day would be tough in Yellowstone and that weighed on our decision to maybe leave a day early and head back to Twin Falls.

We had a wonderful time at Yellowstone. I was surprised to hear that we were camping on a volcano, an active volcano that was asleep longer than usual.

When we decided to leave a day early, I called my mother. "Hey, we're heading back to Twin Falls."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, fine. We're having a great time, but it's kind of crowded and we've seen a lot. We want to go back to Oregon and spend time there. It was quiet and beautiful, water and trees."

"Okay. I'll call the motel and move your reservation and I'll call the campsite in Oregon and see if I can get you in there for an extra night."

"Thank you, Mom. You're great."

I hung up and thought, I always say she is great and she is, but she's more than great because she cares so much not only about me but Ryan. I thought about Ryan and how his mother treats him, or actually doesn't treat him and it made me appreciate my mother even more. I called her back.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I always say that you're great and I mean that, but I wanted to add that I love you a lot and Ryan thinks you're great too and he doesn't say it but I know he loves you too."

"You're the joy in my life," I heard her say. Her voice cracked. "And I love him too."

On our drive from Yellowstone to Twin Falls we stopped, bought lunch, parked at a rest stop and blew each other. I decided that that was my favorite way to get him off. Giving him head in a car in a parking lot.

We ate lunch and headed west. While he drove, I played with his erection. We were going for another five day.

Lying in bed in Twin Falls, after we fucked for the first time that day, it was our third orgasm, he said, "I was wondering if you'd get tired out," he said.

"Tired out, how?"

"Sucking fucking."

I laughed.

He stared at me and then started laughing. "Yeah, right."

"You know what I was wondering?"

"What?"

"If when you fuck me next time, you'd do it with me on my stomach and fuck me really hard."

He smiled. "You like my dick in you."

"Well, yeah, however you do it, but I want to feel you going crazy on my ass."

"Okay, but then you'll do me that way."

"Count on it," I said and chuckled.

"Roll over."

My ass was wet with his cum, so he slid right in. He lay on top of me, put his arms undermine and grabbed my shoulders and started pounding my ass. The room was filled with the smell of our cum, the sound of the bed and his and my moaning and groaning.

He bit and licked, he grabbed my hair and turned my face so we could kiss. He fucked me hard and I loved it. When he got close, he pulled out, rolled me over, straddled my chest and came all over my face. I licked up what I could. He kissed me, licking and biting my wet face.

We both were breathing hard and moaning. Then he collapsed on top of me and began to laugh. He whispered in my ear, "Fuck, Danny. Fuck. I love you."

"I know and I feel the same way."

I fucked him much the way he fucked me. I certainly enjoyed it; a lot. But I enjoyed being his bottom even more.

We did make it to five times that day and we had another five times a day day in Oregon. Friday night, as we got ready for sleep, I said, "Well, by my count we came thirty-three times."

"Yeah, that's my count, too."

"You've been keeping count?"

"Yeah" he said. "So have you."

"I don't think we'll make it to forty. We have to be home tomorrow."

"Yeah, I think we slacked off when we were at Yellowstone."

"Tetons too."

"Maybe we can plan another trip next summer and try again," he said and chuckled. "I mean they say this is our prime time for getting off. We shouldn't waste it."

My face tingled when he suggested another trip next year. "We can do it differently next year. We can go to campsites where no one else goes."

He laughed. "Fuck the sightseeing. We'll just have sex."

I laughed.

The next morning we made out and fucked, or I should say he fucked me while I jerked off. We fucked facing each other, my legs spread wide for him, while we kissed and held each other. Usually, we'd only fuck at night, but this was the day we were heading home. I tried not to think about it being our last day. His dick inside of me was good distraction.

On the drive home, we talked about the fact that Mark would probably already be in town. His entire demeanor changed. I could see that he was angry. I was my mother's only child so I had no personal experience of what it would be like to have a brother who my mother doted on and then ignored me, and a father who abused me. But I could imagine it would be tough. I felt sorry for him.

"You know, while I'm at camp, you can stay at my house. My mother loves you and she'd love the company."

"Maybe. But I hate giving my room over to him. He has money. Why doesn't he stay at the motel like my sister?" He glanced at me. "I hate him."

I had never heard him say that before in the way he said it. It was clearly coming from some place deep inside of him.

"Do you know how long he's staying?"

"No. Could be the whole month. One night is too long."

I felt sick, scared, angry and protective. "I wish there was something I could do."

"There is. Let's not talk about it anymore and let's talk about what a great time we had and will have."

So we changed the subject, but I didn't believe either of us stopped thinking about what lie ahead for him.

Lying in my own bed Saturday night, I tried to focus on how things had changed between us and for the better. We kissed. We fucked. He suggested another trip. We slept in each other's arms. He said he loved me and he wasn't drunk. We had more sex in ten days than I'd ever had in ten days. My hole started aching in Twin Falls on our way back. But it was a good aching. And it only ached for moments after being fucked.

Lying in bed, my hole felt like it had been fucked and I enjoyed the feeling.

Lying in bed I thought about Ryan lying in his bed across from his brother. I knew he was miserable. Then that sick feeling came over me. I'm lying in bed thinking about him but maybe this is the time he thinks about suicide. No, I assured myself, he's thinking about the great time we had.

Lying in bed I wished I were not going to camp. I wished I would be in town to help Ryan through the next month.

Finally, I feel asleep.

My mother decided she wanted to drive me to camp. My uncle and aunt would meet us in Berkeley.

As we drove past Ryan's house, I said to her, "Mark's here."

"I know. He got here a couple of days ago."

"Ryan really doesn't like him." She glanced at me. "He resents that Mark shows up and moves into his room."

She sighed. "Families all have their problems."

"If you see him, maybe you can suggest that he stay in my room while I'm gone."

"We shouldn't insert ourselves into other family dynamics. If he asks me if he can use your room, I'll tell him he can if his parents are okay with it. But I won't make the suggestion."

I sighed.

"You had a good time on the trip."

"I did. So did he." I glanced at her and smiled. "We talked a lot about nothing, teased each other a lot. It's weird. We can say things to each other and we just laugh."

"Like what?"

I thought, this is why I don't talk about stuff with her. I couldn't really tell her. "Ah, so, like he calls me a doofus. Then we laugh. I mean if anyone else called me that I'd be hurt or angry. If anyone called me a doofus in front of Ryan he'd get angry. But he calls me that and it's funny."

"That's because you trust each other and you know that he'd never say anything to hurt you and you'd never hurt him."

While at track camp, I tried to call Ryan but all I got was a quick busy signal. What could be going on, I wondered. I counted the hours until camp would be over and I'd be back at home. Saturday finally arrived.

"Hey," I said to my mother.

"How was your camp this year?"

"Great. Kind of sad saying goodbye to the coaches."

"You're applying to UC Berkeley. You'll get in without any trouble. You'll see them."

"Most of them aren't Berkeley coaches. It's a camp."

"Oh."

"I tried to call Ryan a couple of times and all I got was a weird busy signal."

"I was going to wait to tell you until you got home. Spare you anxiety."

"What? What happened?"

She glanced toward me and sighed. "So, this is what I know. Something happened between Mark and him."

"What?"

She looked at me. "Something was said, I guess. Mark said something. I don't know what. Anyway, Ryan punched him in the mouth, then the gut and then again and knocked him out. His father came running into the room and hit Ryan. Ryan then hit his father. He had his father on the floor. His mother had to plead with Ryan to stop hitting him."

"Fuck," I said. My stomach was aching. Tears filled my eyes. Not because Mark or Dr. Murray took a beating but because of what it probably meant for Ryan. "Did they call the police?"

"No." She glanced at me again as if I should understand something.

"Because if they did," I said, "Then all kinds of shit would come out?"

She nodded. "But what they did do, was throw Ryan out of the house and he's never allowed back. He came to our house. All he had was the clothing on his back."

"No phone."

"Nothing. I told him he could stay with us. He said that he didn't want to pull us in the middle of this. He asked me to take him to Greg's house. I gave him two hundred dollars so he could buy some underwear and clothes and a toothbrush. I haven't heard from him since." She glanced at me. "I never knew Ryan to be so angry and violent. It's kind of hard to make sense of."

"No it's not." I told her about all the beatings and ball crushing that went on.

"Damn. Well I guess that explains a lot."

My heart was pounding in my chest. "I'll call Greg," I said.

I didn't have his number, but I knew someone who would. Finally, I got a hold of him. "Hey Greg. It's Danny Spatola. I just heard what happened at the Murray house."

He said, "Where have you been?"

"Track camp. Is Ryan there? Can I speak to him?"

"Ah. Well, so your mom brought him here on Tuesday."

"Yeah, I know."

"He left here on Thursday. I think he was afraid the police might come after him."

"Left? Where did he go?" I said, feeling my throat tightening.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"Seriously, Danny I don't know. He was sleeping on the floor in my room. We went to sleep, or I went to sleep and when I got up in the morning he was gone. I don't think he wanted anyone to know where he was."

My insides began to shake.

"He was a mess."

"Mess?" I said barely able to speak.

"He couldn't sleep. He said he was feeling panicked or anxious or something.

I wish I knew more, Danny. Everyone knew you were his best friend."

Were, I thought.

"Okay. Thanks. I'm on my way home. Maybe I can stop by and we can try to figure this out."

"Sure. But I promise. No one has heard from him. I called everyone and everyone has called everyone. You should talk to Jeff when you get back. He knew Ryan better than me."

I hung up. My mother said, "He's gone?"

I kept thinking about the secret I was keeping. Could he have killed himself? He said he thought about killing himself except when he was with me. All this shit happened and I was away playing athlete.

I looked at her and said, "He's gone. Greg said he just up and left during the night on Thursday," and started sobbing. I don't ever remember crying so hard. My body was shaking and tears poured from my eyes. "He's gone."

My mother pulled the car over and pulled me toward her. "Mom he's gone," I sobbed. She held me and stroked my head. I looked up at her. "Mom, no one knows where he is."

"I know you love him."

I sobbed and shook my head. "But Mom,"

"I know. And he loved you."

I kept shaking my head. "I loved him different."

"I know."

I kept crying.

"I've known for some time."

I looked at her.

"I'm your mother. You don't think I know my own son."

I knew she didn't know. I kept shaking my head. "Mom. I loved him the way you loved Dad. I mean when you got married."

"I know. I knew how hard it was going to be for you to see him go off to college and that's why this trip was so important."

I was sure she still wasn't getting it. "Mom, I'm gay."

"Danny, I don't live in a hole in the ground. I could see the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you. That smile that only he could bring to your face. The only time I ever saw Ryan relax, smile or laugh was when he was with you. A mother knows."

"But he loves girls not just guys."

"Yeah, he hasn't figured out yet what he wants. Maybe he never will."

"Why do you say that?" I said, wiping tears from my face.

She exhaled loudly. "That boy has been emotionally beaten into the ground and now your saying he was physically abused also. He doesn't know who he is."

"But Mom, I love him. I want to be with him." More tears.

"I know. I'm sorry. Just know that you'll get through this."

"I don't want to get through it."

"I know."

We started for home. I stared outside the passenger window and cried most of the way. I never knew a time when Ryan wasn't part of my life. I assured myself that he'd call me, or show up and, and, and what?" Was he dead?

As soon as I got home I told my mother that I had to go to Jeff's house and talk to him. She let me take the car. I drove up the road to the firebreak and headed to our favorite place, our secret place when we were kids. My heart was pounding in my chest. Would I find him there dead? As I approached our hide out I slowed my pace. My eyes and ears strained for sight or sound of him. If I found him dead I thought I'd die. My legs felt weak as I walked around.

He was nowhere in sight. I called out to him. No answer. I looked around for any thing that might show that he had been there. Nothing.

I thought about driving to where we had been going; upriver. But then I reasoned that was too far for him to walk. If he was heading into the woods or on the river, this is where he'd be.

I drove to Jeff's house. He told me that he had been looking for Ryan, but that he then remembered that Ryan had been talking about joining the Marines.

"Marines. I knew he considered that, but then he decided on college. When did you talk to him about the Marines."

"Just before graduation. He said that he didn't think college was for him. I think it was mostly about money, but he said that he never thought of himself as a college guy. So, I'm thinking he just took off and enlisted."

"Marines."

"I know he talked to a recruiter just before graduation. He wanted to know his options."

"He never told me."

We talked for hours. Jeff knew Ryan since they were in first grade. He told me that he knew that Ryan's father was very critical of Ryan and that on a couple of occasions he caught sight of Ryan's butt after a recent beating. "One time I asked him how he got the bruises. He said he fell on his skateboard. I looked at him like I didn't believe him. He said that I should just mind my own business. He kind of got angry at me for noticing."

"He never wanted people to know."

"He told you."

I nodded.

"I once asked him why he hung around with you so much. I mean I really didn't know you. He told me that you needed a big brother and that he needed to be the big brother that he wished he had, not the one he actually had."

Tears filled my eyes.

"Danny, I loved Ryan. He was a great friend. I don't know if he loved me, but I know he loved you."

I nodded. "He was my big brother. I'm kind of going crazy thinking about him being alone out there with nothing."

"I'm almost sure he joined the Marines. He asked them if he joined if he could study to be a medic in the Marines and they said yes. So, he must have been pretty serious about it if he did that."

I left and drove home. My mother asked what I found out. I told her and cried.

I lay in bed and cried each time I thought about us kissing. All the blowjobs, the jerking off, the fucking didn't plague me as much as remembering us kissing. Tears filled my eyes as I remember the surprise and pleasure I experienced when we kiss. I knew no one would ever give me that kind of pleasure again. Then my stomach sank. The kissing. He must have figured out that I was in love with him. I thought about us sleeping in each other's arms; more evidence that I was in love with him. He must have figured it out before the camping trip that's why he wanted to leave and go to the Marines. Was this all because of me? Did I drive him away? No, it was his brother and father. I cried.

A few days later I ran into Dr. Murray while shopping for groceries for my mom. Actually, he ran into me. "Danny," he called out.

I turned and looked at him. I never felt that level of anger come across me and so quickly. My face burned hot. I walked up to him and said, "Fuck you." He first looked surprised and then glared at me. I growled, "You better walk away old man before I grab your balls and do to you what you did to Ryan. You fucking perv."

He looked shocked and started to walk away. But I wasn't done. I followed him and yelled, "And tell Mark that if I see him he'd better take off running and hope I don't catch him."

People in the market stared at both of us. The small town hotline had filled everyone in on the fact that something happened at the Murray house and that Ryan was gone. But no one was sure of what happened or why he left.

I continued shopping, but my heart pounded the entire time. I should have hit him, I told myself. If someone were beating on me, the way he was beating on Ryan, Ryan would have beaten the shit out of him. I literally had to hold onto the shopping cart and tell myself not to run after him and beat on him.

I cried and raged most of the summer. Each day I went to the mailbox I was sure there would be letter from him. There wasn't. Every time my phone rang my heart stopped. It was never he. My senior year went by and I still had an ache in the pit of my stomach. Every time someone called out my name, I turned hoping to see him.

By the time I started classes at UC Berkeley, I was angry with Ryan. I decided that the only reason he could have for not getting in touch with me for over a year was that he was a complete asshole or he was dead. So I was either pissed at him or I was on the verge of tears.

I didn't date my freshman year, but I did have sex with two guys in the dorms that year. Two guys that I really didn't care much about, other than they were attractive and were into me. I fucked them both and wouldn't let them fuck me. And, no kissing. And I decided that no one was ever going to hurt me the way Ryan hurt me. No one. Ever.

My senior year at Berkeley I received a call from my mother. Dr. Murray had had a heart attack and died. "So, why are you telling me," I asked.

"Well, I just thought you might be interested."

"I'm sure no one there is going to appreciate me celebrating at his funeral."

"Just thought you might be curious about who will show up."

"Ryan. First, there is no way he'd show up. Second, if he did, I couldn't care."

"Okay. I just thought I'd tell you."

"Thank you, but no thanks."

The next day I was in my car driving home. I had no intention of going to the funeral, but I was curious about whether or not Ryan would show up. If he did, I had no idea what I'd do. Would I see him or not? I didn't know, but I didn't want to be sitting in Berkeley and find out he had been there.

My mother went to the funeral. Ryan wasn't there, but Kristen and Mark were. My mother asked around and found out that Ryan was still in the Marines, and that he had been informed of his father's death, but was not attending.

Driving back to Berkeley I realized that of all the possibilities, his not showing up was the best for me. I didn't have to decided to see him or not and if I had decided to see him, what would that be about.

Seven years later:

It had been a good day. I had finished some preliminary research on a government grant that I had received. The results were good. I met with the head of the team of doctors working on the grant and he said I should, along with my research assistants, move on to the next stage. I was excited.

I had just finished teaching a class to a group of med students and was heading to my office. I took the elevator up to the fourth floor. I walked down the hall and took my keys from my pocket. As I inserted the key into the lock, a man said, "Dr. Spatola." He then added, "Danny."

My stomach churned, my face tingled, I felt momentarily lightheaded. Tears filled my eyes. I turned. We made eye contact. "Ryan." I felt weak in the knees. He put out his hand to shake. I glanced at it and then gave him mine.

My heart was pounding.

"I suppose I should have called you rather than just showing up, but I was afraid you'd just ignore my messages."

"Ah," I stammered.

"Can we talk?"

"Ah, well, ah, yeah. Come in." When I turned to unlock my door, I nonchalantly tried to wipe the tears from my eyes. We walked into my office. My mind was racing. "Sit down," I said, pointing to a chair.

He sat. I put my backpack down and sat behind my desk. "Ah, I," I took a breath. "I'm surprised to see you."

"I'm sure you are. Again, I'm sorry for just showing up. I have so much I want to tell you, but." He took a breath. His chest quivered. "I'm really nervous." He chuckled. "Me nervous. Hard to believe, right?"

Waves of various feelings were flooding my body: sadness, anxiety, anger.

"How'd you find me?"

"I called your mother." I must have looked surprised. "I asked her not to tell you. Don't be angry at her. She said I really hurt you; when I just picked up and left and then never got in contact with you."

All that pain that I was so sure was long gone, filled my chest and gut again as if this had all just happened the day before. I nodded. "Confused and hurt. Maybe mostly confused." I shook my heat. "Actually, mostly hurt. Where have you been? I mean I heard that you got in touch with mom and told her that you'd joined the Marines but didn't tell her wear you were stationed. But then. Well," I was stammering. "You didn't come home for your father's funeral."

"Did you go?"

"My mother went to the funeral. And no, I didn't go. I hated your father. And besides, your brother was there and I had promised to kick his ass if I ever came across him. But I did go home. I thought I might get to see you. But you didn't go, which was probably for the best."

I was rambling.

"Get to," he said and sighed.

Memories flooded my thoughts.

"There's so much to say. So much. And I'm hoping you'll give me the time to tell you everything. Please. I know you must hate me and I wouldn't blame you if you did. I deserve to be hated."

"Ryan, I don't hate you." Feelings were like a rapidly flowing river. Each moment they changed. I felt my jaw clench. "I am angry though."

"Okay. Good. If you are only angry at me, then please let me explain and I want to apologize. Just give me the time."

Silence. My eyes went from him to my desktop. I fiddled with a pencil on my desk. I sighed, thinking I should tell him to go. I sighed. "Okay," I said, glancing up at him. I was sure there was no good reason for him just picking up and leaving. I had decided that he could have waited three more days to tell me what he was planning on doing. Add to that the fact that he never contacting me. "But first just answer me one question."

"Sure."

"Why did you leave and not tell me and then never call or write."

He sighed. He nodded staring down at his hands. "That's why I'm here now. To explain."

I sat staring at him, remembering how much I had loved him, but I pushed those thoughts from my mind.

"Regarding my family, my brother and father. Can I just say that at the time." He stopped. "Looking back and after years of therapy. I ran. I was afraid, afraid of what I might do, angry, hurt, confused, feeling betrayed; I guess overwhelmed. But let me not talk about that yet."

I nodded.

"And then there were my feelings for you. I was panicking. Literally panicking and I could tell no one."

My confusion or disbelief must have shown on my face.

He said, "With regard to you, my feelings for you." He sighed. "Yes, I know. Mr. confident. Mr. I-always-have-everything-under-control, Mr. bi-sexual-man-who-would-never-fall-in-love-with-another-man, was in love all that time and didn't know it until it hit him like a ton a bricks. All of a sudden I knew I was in love, in love with my best friend and I couldn't deal with it. Danny, I wanted to be with you in the worst way. I wanted to crawl into your arms, but instead I ran in full panic. It was like everything I knew was wrong and." He shook his head. "There is so much I want to tell you. Please let me."

"The kissing changed everything for you," I said.

"No. It didn't change a thing. It just put a crack in the door. But it was when you were at camp and I couldn't be with you when I so desperately wanted to be with you. I ran to your house that day, after the shit happened. I wanted so much to tell your mother that I needed to be with you. I needed to be with the person I was in love with, but." He sighed and shook his head. "It was then that what I was feeling became obvious to me." Again he breathed in deeply and again his chest quiver. "Kissing you was unlike kissing anyone I had kissed before Ð warm, passionate, loving, sensual, sexual. I felt it through my interior body. It's hard to explain, but when I kissed you, just us kissing turned me on, my entire body was turned on. Kisses in the past were experienced in my head. Kissing didn't turn me on, but thinking about what might come, turned me on. Kisses were a step to turning on a girl to get in her pants Ð maybe a blowjob, maybe I'd get to fuck her or if I got lucky, fuck her in the ass without a condom. That's what kissing was about. A prelude to getting off Ð foreplay. Kissing was like shaking her hand."

I was shocked to hear him speak in this way. Everything had always been about experiencing, a journey, an exploration. "I thought that was what sex between us was Ð fun and about getting off."

"Was it that for you?"

"No. From the start." I stopped. "At first it was an answer to my prayers. It was a dream come true. I had been attracted to you for as long as I could remember and then when I finally accepted the fact that I was gay, well, I knew nothing would ever materialize between us. You were straight and at fourteen you were getting laid. Then," I sighed. "Well, you know. But I think I didn't truly accepted the fact that I had fallen in love with you until your senior year, when you talked about what would happen when you left. I think before that I was terrified to even consider that I was in love with you or you'd figure it out and run." I looked down and then up at him. "And that's what you did. You figured out that I was in love with you and you ran.""

"No. I didn't run because I thought you were in love with me. I ran because of family stuff and the feelings between us. I knew you were in love with me and I knew I loved you. Maybe, it wasn't until we came back from our trip that I knew I was in love with you. Well, as much as a seventeen and eighteen year old can be in love."

All of a sudden I became aware that we were talking about this in my office. I sat up in my chair. "Okay. I said I'd hear you out. I want to understand. I really do. But let's not talk here. It's almost five and it's Friday. Time for me to get out of here."

"Okay," he said, looking downcast. "When can we talk?"

"I'm free until Monday. You said you had a lot to say. Can you hang around long enough to say what you want?"

"Yes. I have plenty of time," he said perking up.

"Dinner. I had to skip lunch."

"You pick the place. I'll pay."

"Friday night in San Francisco. Not easy. Besides, I had dinner planned at my apartment and there's plenty for both of us. If you don't mind going to my apartment."

"Not at all."

"Okay," I said standing. "I have to make one call and then lock up."

I was feeling less emotional and more in control and my curiosity got the best of me. What could he possibly say? He waited outside my office while I made my call. As I gathered my stuff I wondered why I was doing this. Why should I give him the opportunity to rid himself of whatever feelings he had about doing what he did? I should tell him to go fuck himself. I should tell him I changed my mind. I should, I should. I sighed.

I called my mother. "Hi. Ryan showed up."

"He called and asked how he could get in touch with you. I had mixed feelings, but I've found it to be best to understand the truth of the matter even if it is just from the other person's perspective. And Danny, I think you are strong enough to hear him out."

I sighed. "I guess. But it's like all that pain has come back."

"Exactly. And here is an opportunity to get some closure, whatever that means."

"I love you, Mom."

"And I love you more than life itself."