Flip Part 6
"Where's Flip?" Nick asked as he stretched to his full length on top of his bed. Trent and John looked up quietly from their seats when Mike entered their room.
"He's down on the beach, thinking." Mike scowled inwardly. His reaction to what his friend had done to himself hadn't been too pleasant. "I fucked up big time. He doesn't want me around right now."
"Fuck. I don't know if I'd want you around right now either," Nick scowled right back at Mike, "if you'd chewed me a new asshole like you did to him."
"Actually, I think you chewed around it. It fell out on its own." Trent wanly smiled, his attempt at lightening things failing miserably. "Look, I made sure the place was clean and safe when he told me he wanted one." He glanced down at the scrollwork on his forearms. "I should know.... Besides, I think it looks good, if you'd take the time to notice."
"I just wish I knew why he did it." Mike was at a loss, thinking about Philip spending the entire day in that shop with Trent, while everybody else saw the sights. Not to mention it had to have hurt! "You're sure it's just because he wanted it?"
"Well..." Trent shifted nervously. He'd gotten his first tattoo to deflect his parents' disapproval of him in another direction, but Flip had incorporated a Maltese Cross into his. He'd explained it away, saying it was a firefighting symbol. So it was more likely a way for him to show his pride in himself, but in the end Trent really couldn't be sure, "...yes. I think, anyway."
"Hell, Mike! You're acting like he did it to hurt...." Nick stopped and remained in thought for a minute. Everybody in that room was there because they'd been in counseling together. Each had, at least once in their short lives, attempted suicide. Mike had tried to get a cop to shoot him the last time he'd gotten drunk! Nick shook himself. He'd found himself on a freeway overpass.
Philip was a paradox, though. On one hand, he had pushed everybody away more than once that week; on the other, he'd directed all his available energy into helping complete strangers as part of a volunteer fire department.
"No." Trent felt himself rising to Philip's defense again. "He did it to identify himself, set himself apart. He's proud of what he can do. So why shouldn't he tell the world?"
"Yeah, but I wish he'd accept all of himself." Mike wasn't totally convinced. He'd been through a lot with Philip that week. He knew they'd made progress pulling his old friend out of his self-imposed prison. He smiled a little at his thoughts. 'Even if it was by the ankles, kicking and screaming all the way!' "Not just the parts he thinks the world will like, that he likes."
"Tell you what..." Nick glanced at the others in the room. Maybe it was time for a little shock treatment. "Let's go find him together."
"What are we going to do?" Mike asked cautiously. Nick could be way too forward and he was certain to be as uncomfortable as Philip. He could lose his friend to whatever Nick had planned.
"If what you've told us is true..." Nick smiled around the room before proceeding, "then it's about time we introduced him to himself."
"You'll be lucky if he doesn't introduce you to his fist!" Mike shook his head. "He has a quick temper."
"That's the other reason for all of us to go." Nick's smile broke into a grin, "Besides, I'm pretty sure I can run faster scared than he can mad!"
"Hey, fag boy!" Nick spoke up when they found Philip lying on the dark beach, staring out into the black sky over the Gulf of Mexico. He ignored the sudden intake of breath from Mike and the others as the reclining boy stiffened his whole body, like he was ready to spring. Whether it would be away or toward him, he was unsure of.
"Wha...what did you say?" Philip felt his adrenaline pumping throuhout his body at the intrusion and the rude accusation he felt accompanied it. He found himself absently rubbing his upper left arm, feeling a renewed ache from that region as his anger found itself redirected inward, targeting his own feelings that had betrayed him to the others and to his own failed self image.
"I said, `Hey, fag boy!'" Nick forced a grin through his fear of the sudden pounding he expected. He extended his shaking hand, "I'm Nick and I'm a fag as well!" He saw indecision and confusion cross Flip's face and breathed again; he'd had no idea he'd been holding it. "You know, queerer than a three dicked mule?"
"I...I...I...I'm J...J...John, and I...I...I'm g...ga...gay as well." John finally breathed out the rest as he blushed. He hated it when he was feeling stress and his stuttering came back with a vengeance. He glanced at Nick with aggravation. This was all his fault, but he was willing to go along with it. His shoulders slumped. Even if he spent the next month back in speech therapy because of it!
"I'm Trent, and I'm gay." Trent just smiled at Philip, trying to reassure him that they were sane. "Bet that arm still stings. I know mine did after...." He let the thought trail off as Mike hesitantly stepped up.
"I'm Mike and I'm gay." Mike said cautiously. He knew what Nick was trying to do now but it still made him nervous. It was like they were back in `group' but without the professional counselor. He could only hope they knew what they were doing, now that they'd started. "And you're my best friend."
"OK, so now you know who we are." Nick withdrew his untended hand and cautiously knelt next to the silent redheaded boy. His eyes reminded Nick of a trapped animal. There was no hatred directed outward that he could see, but the warmth he'd seen creep into them earlier was gone as well. "Who are you?" He waited patiently, his last question hanging suspended in the air like a tremendous sharp blade. "It's OK. You can tell us."
"I...I'm...." Philip started; his terror and the loathing it generated kept him rooted in place. He glanced from face to face barely visible in the dim light from the hotel. Each set of eyes that returned his gaze seemed to stab completely through to his soul, but not with malice. He ever so slowly found himself drawn to them as they waited for him. The concern and even love within those dimly lit faces inexorably drew his need and rekindled hope to the fore, battering down the demons he'd set to guard against his own nature.
"I'm...I'm...." Philip's voice wavered again as the battle raged anew and he found himself unable to continue. He started to collapse back into the still warm sand as his breathing became ragged with the effort, only to find himself supported from behind by Michael's arms.
"You can do it, Philip." Mike held his old friend tightly as he saw the struggle continue. The same struggle he'd buried under so many gallons of alcohol over the years, only to have it rear its head with almost tragic consequences. He wished he could lend Philip all his strength in the struggle, but this wasn't a magical fantasy novel or D&D game like John played. "Who are you?"
"I'm...I'm Philip...." He managed to breathe out quietly. He clawed desperately at the hope within him and from the others, finally feeling himself break through his guards,
"...and I...I'm G...g...ga...y!" The last came out in a wail as he felt half his mind triumphant and the rest angrily protesting its grief in defeat! He reached back to Michael as the others also held him now. The iron grip his terror had over him fell away as he found himself sobbing into his friends' arms, all eight of them. He strangely found he couldn't tell whether his were tears of grief or tears of relief, and he felt the joy that forced the wan, crooked smile that dimly cracked through his features. "Th...Thank you."
The five youths remained close to each other as the night slowly passed overhead. The silence was sporadically interrupted by quiet chuckles and barely audible conversation between them as a damp, slight fog started rolling gently around them in the cool sea air. The moon, which had provided them with her warm light, was now hidden by a bank of clouds. The smell of a promised rain wafted around them as well.
"Did that hurt?" Mike slowly traced his fingers along the two dark intertwined, stylized snakes that circled Philip's upper left arm, their heads separated by a shield emblazoned with a Maltese cross.
"Like hell." Philip smiled at the memory. "I had trouble holding still at first. It felt like he was sawing through it."
"Anything else?" Mike grinned back and lifted the waist of Philip's jeans away from his flat belly, as if he could actually see something. "No piercings?"
"God, no," Philip grinned back and shook his hips in an attempt to shake Mike's grip. "I can see an earring,...but down there? Get real."
"Wimp," Trent stage-whispered, the mirth evident in his voice as he laughed internally. "I'll have to show you mine someday."
"I'll pass." Philip felt his legs instinctively tighten against his groin as one of his hands provided extra cover. "Thanks anyway." He felt like he was having sympathetic pains down there as he tried to clear his mind of the idea of actually shoving a needle through his....
"Oh, God." Philip shivered for a second, his eyes growing wide. He thought that the ring in Trent's ear and eyebrow were all that was there. Well, there was the tongue as well. He couldn't help but giggle a little as he thought of Trent going through a metal detector at an airport.
"So, Flip?" Mike renewed his grin, looking like a cat after the canary. "What are your teachers going to think about a Jesus with a tattoo?"
"Oh, shit!" Philip felt his smile fade; "I didn't think of that."
"They'll just cover it with makeup." Trent came back nonchalantly. "It's no big deal. Stop teasing him about it!"
"Yes, mother," Mike retorted, ducking his head from the evil eye Trent threw his way. "I promise I'll be good."
"They're probably going to have to cover me in that shit anyway," Philip sighed. "My choir director said I'm too white." He shrugged his shoulders for effect. "Anyway, I don't tan...I burn."
"Well, you've got two days left to burn then." Mike turned away for a second, in thought. "John? You have a spare suit Flip can wear? You're about the same waist."
"I...I d...don't know if it wo...would fit." John grimaced again as everyone made a point of not noticing his degenerated speech. At least he hoped it was getting better. "M...Mine are d...double ex...ex...extra la...large, b...but only in fr...front." He grinned, whether from his statement or relief, he couldn't tell.
"That's what I'd call delusions of grandeur'..." Mike continued to grin, evilly, as he turned back to Philip. "...Pencil dick over there will loan you one of his suits so you can burn' more than your nipples and knees."
He ignored the squawk of protest, blocking out John's good natured comeback. He reached for the back of Philip's head as he leaned forward and his lips found their target. He soon pulled back and looked at Philip's uncertain face. "It helps if you open your mouth."
"Open my...?" Philip glanced nervously around the group before settling back on Mike. "Then what do I do?"
"Jeeze, Philip!" Mike couldn't help but chuckle. Talk about a babe in the woods! "Just relax and follow my lead. I think you'll learn soon enough." He leaned back into Philip and this time got past his teeth. He was soon rewarded when he felt his old friend's muscles slacken as he tried to copy what Mike was doing. Mike did his best to suppress his laugh of joy as their tongues began to duel; he didn't want to spoil the moment by blowing Philip's cheeks out.
Philip felt his embarrassment and nervousness fade away as he held onto Mike's arm and the rest of his body began to respond as well. He let his free hand drift over his jeans to rearrange himself and provide more room to grow before it got too uncomfortable. His muscles jerked back to attention briefly when he heard the others giggle at his obvious state, but he found he couldn't stay that way as the burning in his ears also quickly faded into the kiss he shared with Michael.
"What the fuck...?" Philip pulled away quickly as the unfamiliar, hostile voice slurred at them. He looked up, instantly on edge, to see six older guys looking unsteadily down at them. "Hey, come look at the fags we've got here!" the one who'd spoken first yelled back over his shoulder. Philip saw a huge group of people silently moving along the beach in the dim fog- shrouded light. It must have been someone's party relocating to another location.
"Come on, Brett!" a voice called out from the group behind them. "Leave 'em alone! We've got more party to go to!"
"Yeah! See if they want to join us!" Another voice, female this time, called out from the group of partyers as they stumbled along.
"Sorry, guys." Mike glanced nervously from the group to the six towering over them. They'd obviously been at the alcohol for a while already. He was all too familiar with its effects, how it made some people mean. His heart was pounding as he studied the stragglers that confronted them. He could only hope these guys weren't looking for a fight, but now that was a dim hope when faced with irrational mean drunks. He smiled, hoping to diffuse the situation. "We don't drink."
"Hey! This fuckin' pansy won't drink with us! Who the fuck you smiling at?" Mike looked at the ringleader. His heart fell. No matter what he said or did, it would be wrong!
"It's OK, Philip. Let it go." He steeled himself for the assault as he slowly rose to his feet and defensively began herding Philip and his other friends back away from the drunken group. He glanced at his redheaded friend and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. Flip's eyes seemed to glow with a deep internal fire at this sudden intrusion.
Mike never saw the first blow land as his head snapped to one side and he crumpled to the sand, the sharp pain from the blow fogging his brain. He barely saw the glimpse of red flash over him and into the group of attackers as he tried to clear his head. His fogged brain brought his thought of his favorite books to the fore as he continued to watch the ensuing battle take place. Philip was at once Beowulf facing Grendel, and then his hair and shirt seemed to flow into a red cloak of a Spartan warrior at Thermopylae. He could only hope the outcome would be different this time as his thoughts of Robert Pressman's 'Gates Of Fire' gave way to unconsciousness.
Philip felt his rage give way to a strange elation as he gladly accepted the staggering blows he received. He'd been in many fights before, but this was different. Now he fought, not for himself, but for his friends. He kept himself interposed, teeth bared, between Mike's fallen form and his much larger attackers. Thankfully, John and Trent did their best to keep his back clear as Nick struggled to move Mike to safety. All that mattered to him was Mike and his other friends alongside of him!
He quickly ducked a badly aimed blow at his head and swung as hard as he could, connecting with his opponent's nose and spraying them with blood. The others backed off as their ringleader collapsed at Philip's feet. Philip watched silently, his breathing ragged and panting, as he stood his ground. His eyes continued to flash his challenge. If they wanted to hurt his friends, they would have to go through him first! They would have to kill him first!
"Hey! we're sorry." Philip quickly glanced at the voice he recognized from the group that had passed them by. Philip slowly became aware of the audience that had returned to the commotion and was able to single out the figure that cautiously approached him, arms outspread. "I didn't think he'd actually attack you. Are you all OK?"
Philip glanced back to see Mike sitting up, shaking his head and rubbing the side of his face gingerly. He let out a huge sigh and stepped back to his friends while the others tended to their own wounded.
"Yeah, we're OK." Philip gasped out. His rush of adrenaline was being replaced by pain. "What about him?" He indicated his primary opponent.
"Him?" The leader of the partygoers waved his hand, dismissive at the other would-be combatant, who was also now shaking off his own cobwebs. "He'll be OK. It's not the first time somebody broke his nose for him, although in the past it was usually on the ball field." He let out his own sigh and turned back to Philip, holding out his hand. "My name's Edward, Eddy. Can we make it up to you? Maybe you can meet us for breakfast?"
Philip cautiously took the proffered hand gingerly and winced. It felt like he might have broken something. He started to open his mouth to decline.
"We'd be happy to," Mike spoke up from behind him. "Just tell us when and where."
"Ahhh, Fuck!" Philip jerked his hand back, scattering the remains of Mike's first aid kit all over the bathroom counter as the iodine solution splattered into the sink. "Fuck...fuck...that hurts!"
"I can't believe you two." Jenny grabbed Philip's forearm to direct it back over the sink and retrieved the bottle. Steve was out filling up their ice bucket to dump into more towels. She smiled evilly as she examined the numerous scrapes and small lacerations that covered the knuckles. That was the word for it, all right! "You two knuckleheads get in some stupid fight, then you tell me you had breakfast with those guys?" She just shook her head and evilly poured more of the bottle over the wounds, satisfied to hear the sharp intake of breath. "Next time just skip the fight part."
"We tried," Mike mumbled through his ice pack they'd only now applied. He couldn't help but smirk at the looks they'd all attracted when they entered the IHOP. Their group consisted of fifteen unblemished and eight walking wounded. At least he didn't think he'd have to go to his dentist. He managed his food well, without it being followed by any of his teeth, anyway. "They swung first."
Well, whatever." She quickly proceeded to wrap Philip's hand like she had so many other team members, as a trainer. Satisfied with the hand, she grabbed one of their impromptu cold packs and shoved it against the worst looking of Philip's bruised ribs. He flinched hard. "I'm glad you're having fun. Go lie down! You probably broke it!" She silently watched Philip collapse onto his bed, pretending his body wasn't screaming at him, and smirked inwardly. Boys!' She was glad Steven at least seemed different, but then she did have him by the short hairs, not counting his `other leash'!
"So, who won?" Steve shut the door and crossed to the dresser with his load of fresh ice. "I ought to dump this down both your shorts! Maybe that will cool you off."
"Flip did!" Mike glanced at his old friend lying in the next bed. Philip looked like he was blushing again, although it was hard to tell. "In fact, I think that Brett guy is already telling everybody that Philip was six, six and three hundred pounds!" He let his smile fade a little. "I was out of it quick. Philip had to take up my end."
"I'm not surprised." Steve couldn't help but grin at the two of them. "Old glass jaw strikes again!"
"Hey, Steve?" Mike broke into a decidedly lopsided grin. "About what you said about the ice,...I haven't tried that yet. Could be fun!"
"Here! You pervert!" Steve regarded them with his own grin as he threw another ice filled cloth at Mike's groin. "I don't want to hear any more!"
Philip sat uncomfortably back behind the seat of Mike's truck. He looked at his red arms and squirmed to try to relieve the pressure on his back. The guys had insisted he get out for some sun and of course he burned, no matter how much lotion Mike had applied. All he probably did was make his freckles stand out even more than they already did.
It was also bad that he'd burned places that had never seen the sun. His upper thighs itched terribly, he'd probably peel like a snake! Everybody had gotten a good laugh when John had loaned him a suit. His first question had been where the rest of it was. About the only relief he and Mike had was one last mutual jerk-off last night. He smirked at himself. They were both too sore for anything else. He felt like he was a complete mess. His head hurt, his chest hurt, his back hurt....But It had been fun. He couldn't deny that...well, some of it, anyway.
The only thing he didn't want to face, but was forced to, was that it was over. Michael had to go home and he had to face a return, to what? It was like after the feast, all he had was a famine to look forward to. He could only hope that Jeff and the others would forgive him and let him back into their circle, but deep down still felt that it was too late.
Then there was Marty. Philip guiltily hung his head to hide from Mike's eyes. He'd been so caught up in himself, that he'd forgotten to even call him until Mike had told him to that morning. Marty was back at PT, so he'd left a message with his younger brother and left it at that. His stomach gnawed at him when he thought about it. Would Marty even still want to be friends any more? They really didn't know each other. Why did he want to pin his hopes on the kid like that?
"Earth to Flip! Earth to Fl... Hey, you zoned out again." Mike smiled as he glanced back in the mirror. "You gon'a be OK?" Philip still reminded him of a rabbit emerging into the light of a new day, ready to bolt back into its hole.
"Yeah, I'm OK." Philip smiled back. "I just wish...." He let the thought trail away. All his wishing would get him nowhere.
"I know how you feel." Mike's smile faded a little. "You sure you don't want to do anything else when you get home? I'll be happy to help you with it."
"No." Philip let their eyes meet briefly. He knew he'd have to face it sooner or later. "I can't tell her. Not now. Maybe later, when I'm forty or something."
"OK," Mike sighed as he guided his truck effortlessly through the streets toward Philip's house, "although she might figure it out on her own by then." He let a slight grin cross his features. "I really don't think you'll have any problem with it. She accepted me OK. Hell, she let you come with me and didn't once think I'd rape you...Not that I wouldn't mind...."
"You're not her son!" Philip closed his eyes. They were almost there. "Why should she care if you're gay? Fuck!"
"All right." Mike felt his shoulders slump in defeat. He'd really wanted to be there to support his old friend, but wouldn't say anything. It wasn't his place. He decided to change the subject. "Just remember the tickets for your opening night."
"Are you sure you want ten?" Philip breathed out the air he'd been holding in. This was a safer subject. "It's just a stupid high school, after all! Who are you bringing?"
"Me, Nick, Steve and Jenny..." Mike counted each finger to punctuate the names. "Trent wants to come, plus I've talked to a couple of other friends back home who said they'd like to come and meet you as well. You can't get rid of me that easy!"
"That's crazy." Philip shook his head. "Why would your friends want to drive half a day just for that?"
"Who said anything about driving?" Mike cast a sidelong glance at Steve, who he suspected of feigning sleep. "We're gon'a fly. One of my friends is a pilot. In fact, he's already agreed."
"You can count me out," Steve replied through his half-lidded eyes. "I'm not getting near anything that crazy sonofabitch has control of ever again!"
"Hey! Kelvin gave you a barf bag, didn't he?" Mike enjoyed sharing the private joke. He only wished he'd been there to see Steve's `birthday flight'. "Besides, his dad will probably be in charge."
"He'd better be." Steve swallowed as if remembering his nausea. "All I remember is I'd have thrown up, if I knew which way was up!"
"OK, I'll make sure to send you the tickets." Philip looked at the interplay in confusion. He was still trying to place Mike's friends in some context and failed miserably. He'd need a scorecard to keep them straight in his mind if Mike insisted he meet them someday. He really didn't think it would happen, but if Michael wanted the damn tickets, he'd send them.
He felt his throat tighten as he recognized the familiar streets pass by all too rapidly and soon they pulled up at his house. He waited silently as Steve and Mike exited to make room for him to get out. This was it. His tightness gave way to a lump that wouldn't quit as he slowly climbed out of his cocoon for the last seven hours.
"Can you come in for a while?" He couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the fourteen hours Mike and Steve had left before they finally got home.
"What? And have your mom blame me for the bruises?" Mike smiled through his own emotions. He felt like he'd just rediscovered his old friend only to have to leave behind the fierce loyalty they'd shown. He knew now that they didn't love each other the way they had, but it was still impossibly difficult to say goodbye to such a `new' old friend. "Sure, we'll stop for a while. Just...keep your shirt on. I don't want to get blamed for that!"
"So what else did you bring back from Mexico?" Philip's mom had quietly listened to the boys' tales with a mixture of disbelief and amusement as they went on and on; at least her horror at Mike and Philip's appearance was fading. The first thing she'd done upon answering the door was glance at Mike's truck for damage. She was in a quandary about her son being involved in another fight, though. She shrugged her shoulders at that news; he was defending Mike, after all.
"Just a few other things." Mike shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a middle ground. He didn't want to lie to her, and Philip's silence wasn't helping him one bit. "Nothing major." He glanced at his watch and slumped in his seat. At this rate they'd arrive just in time to leave for school. "We need to be going."
"You're certain?" She glanced at Mike with concern. "You're both welcome to stay the night. It's a long drive...."
"We'll be OK." Mike glanced at Philip, his emotions bubbling up again. "Steve's gon'a do most of the driving. He slept on the way up."
"Well I don't like it,..." she rose with the others to see them to the door. She hugged them both tightly, "...just promise you'll be careful and stop if you get too tired."
"We will." Mike turned and walked with Philip out to the truck, stopping at the passenger side while Steve climbed behind the wheel. "You'd better call me this time, otherwise I'll break your fingers myself!" He reached out to his friend and grabbed him around his chest, pulling him close.
"I will," Philip managed to croak through his tight chest. He threw caution to the wind and kissed Michael's cheek, tasting the salty wetness flowing from his eyes. "I promise."
"You'd better..." Mike's voice broke in the quiet of the moment as he forced a smile. "I'd hate to have to come back and beat the shit out of you."
Philip could only smile himself at the statement of enduring friendship they shared. He leaned back into Mike and briefly kissed him again before he turned and stepped back to watch them leave. He felt his heart settle heavily into his stomach as the taillights drifted from his sight. The last week was at once the worst and best of his brief life. He vowed to make the best of Michael's efforts. He owed him that and much more!
"What the fuck?" Jeff quickly pulled his car into a U-turn and pulled up to the intersection to confirm what he thought he saw in the dim light of the sunset, when he passed Flip's street. "I don't fuckin' believe it!" Maybe Peter was right!
End of Part 6
My thanks to Ed for his patient assistance with this story. My thanks to all the readers for their responses, both positive and negative. Philip has certainly generated some strong reactions!
As usual, I look forward to your responses. Let me know what you think.
Thanks. Willy B. (haztech@msn.com)