Disclaimer: This story contains depictions of sex between teenage males. If such material offends you, or if it is illegal to read in your area, or if you are underage (16, 18, 21, or whatever it is in your jurisdiction), please stop reading now and navigate away from this webpage. Also, this story is a work of fiction - the characters, the setting, the events are totally of my imagination's creation. No resemblance to any person, living or dead, is intended.

This is a fantasy, where anything can happen. In real life, PLEASE boys, play safe and use protection! We've lost too many of our brethren to HIV/AIDS, we need to stay strong and stay alive. Remember, nothing pisses off the homophobes more than you putting on a condom. They want us dead. Let's fight back by being sane!

Please send praise, comments, etc. to ephraim.johnson@gmail.com - If you got off on my story, I'd really like to know!

Enjoy, fellas!

----------------------------------------- AUTHOR'S NOTE: While it does contain sex, this is not a straight-up sex story. This is more of a romance story, and has a bit of a sad tinge to it, as well as some politics and religion, and slurs (both racial and sexual) that some may find offensive. It is my intent to give the uninitiated a very small, but realistic, window into what it means to be gay in the rural South. If you don't want that, please don't read any further.

While the actual characters and events are fictional, the plot is one which plays itself out somewhere in a Southern state every day. If you're not interested in the sad parts and the politics, etc., and just want an exciting sex-&-romance story, please see my previous work: "Kyle and Skylar", in Nifty's /gay/highschool/kyle-and-skylar/ section.

For those who desire such, a glossary of the Southern terms used in this story appears at the end (perhaps particularly helpful for the non-American readers).

Our story today in five acts:

# # PROLOGUE

The corn tassels swayed as 17-year-old Justin Gupton's faded red 1948 Corbitt pickup truck barreled down the light-grey tarmac road. The rural two-lane country highway wound through the tobacco fields of Henryville, past the hay pastures, and through the loblolly-pine stands.

As he sped along with the windows down, the scent of air perfumed by honeysuckle and magnolias filled the truck's cab. Justin inhaled deeply and sighed.

The Southern sun usually shone down brightly on the antique wooden farmhouses scattered amongst the green tar-paper tobacco barns which dotted the landscape. Today, however, ominous black thunderheads obscured the sky, and mist had descended on the wisteria which wound its way around the telephone poles. Horses roamed nervously through wide-open pastures behind creosote fences.

The appearance of the crossbuck fences echoed the Confederate flags which swung gently in the breeze from the broad front porches of many of the far-flung houses.

"Beyond the golden sunset sky, beyond the old rolling wave..." cooed the voice on the truck's AM radio.

"Beyond each earthly tear and sigh, we'll meet just beyond the grave."

As Justin's shoulder-length straight blonde hair swayed in the breeze, he tapped his hand absentmindedly on the steering wheel in time to the music.

"We'll meet, yes, we'll meet on that shining shore, we'll meet in that home of love,"

Justin was deep in thought, having just come from the funeral of his lover. 16-year-old Clecy Breedlove had been killed in a four-wheeler accident the week before, and had just been laid to rest.

"We'll meet, yes, meet to part no more, we shall meet in Heaven above."

As if on cue, the Heavens opened up and fat raindrops like saucers cascaded down all around, renewing life in the forests and the fields.

Justin put his blinker on, and turned into his driveway. The red dirt of the path - which was common in Zebulon County - was so intense in color it looked as though it might glow in the dark. He pulled up beside the pleached crape myrtles, which were showered in pink blooms, and closed his eyes. He hung his head, and a tear escaped the corner of his eye. He could still hear the preacher's voice bouncing around inside his head.

"Y'all might haved loved Clecy Breedlove," the man had told the assembled crowd. "But y'all need to be mindful of the fact that he was a queer. He split hell wide open when he died, and he's burning in the lake of fire for all eternity."

Justin's tears were flooding back now, as he thought about all the terrible things which had been said about his lover. The scent of the gardenia bushes which he and Clecy had planted several summers before, wafted in the window, and the scent-memory caused Justin to sob even harder.

He'd held back the tears at the funeral. He didn't want to cry in front of his friends. As he had sat there, surrounded on either side by his classmates Ricky Burnette and Junior Currin, he'd fought back the emotions and kept a stiff upper lip. But now, as he sat alone, he couldn't contain it any more. Clecy was the boy he had lost his virginity to...the boy he'd intended to spend the rest of his life with, waiting patiently until hearts in East Carolina changed and they'd be able to get married.

As he sat there weeping, he took a stroll down memory lane...

# # ACT 1

THUNK! THUNK! The metal blade of the shovel parted the red dirt.

"How deep do you reckon we ought to dig these holes?" asked 14-year-old Clecy Breedlove.

THUNK!

"Foot and a half," answered Justin.

Clecy stopped digging and rested his left hand on the top of the shovel. With the back of his right, he wiped the sweat off his forehead, and brushed his bangs to the sides. He looked Justin in the eyes and smiled.

"Well are you just gonna stand there and watch me do it, you big pussy?" he asked teasingly.

"Screw you!" replied Justin, laughing.

Both boys resumed shoveling, talking as they did so.

"So what do you want for your fifteenth birthday?" inquired Clecy.

Justin bowed his head and stared at the ground in silence. He knew what he wanted, but he was ashamed of it, and didn't dare ask.

Clecy noticed his silence and cast a worried glance at his buddy. "What's wrong, Jus?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just get through with this, all right?" Justin replied.

"Okay," Clecy said quietly.

The red clay soil, being dry, was more akin to red cement than anything else. Even though both boys were clad only in faded blue-jeans and white wifebeaters, they were dripping sweat from the effort. Finally, the four holes were dug, and Justin set his shovel down, walking towards the burlap-wrapped gardenia bushes that were sitting up in the bed of his truck.

"Where'd you get those?" asked Clecy.

"Baird County. Momma sent me over there yesterday."

"They look nice."

"Thanks. I hope they turn out all-right."

Clecy walked over and helped Justin lift the shrub into the hole. The two then knelt down and, using their hands, started pushing the dirt back into the hole to cover the roots.

Accidentally, Justin's left hand brushed against Clecy's right. It sent a shiver down his spine, and caused him to take a sharp inhalation of breath. Lately, he'd been having dreams about Clecy. Dreams where they touched a lot more than hands. Dreams he'd dare share with no one, because - as he constantly reminded himself - they were sinful.

"You all-right, man?" asked Clecy.

"Yeah. Come on, let's just get this done."

The shortness of Justin's response stung the other boy. They'd known each other all their lives, having grown up on adjoining farms. They'd been inseparable during their childhood, climbing trees together, and going down to the swimming hole in the woods on the hot summer days. It wasn't like Justin to be sore at Clecy, and the boy intended to get to the bottom of it.

"What've you got a hair across your butt about?" he asked.

"Nunya," he replied, trying to shrug it off.

The two finished planting the bushes in silence. As they were loading their shovels in the back of the old pickup, Justin spoke first.

"Come on, Clee, come have a shower and stay for supper."

Clecy smiled.

"Thanks, man."

# # ACT 2

The two boys walked side-by-side up the steps that lead onto the front porch of the Gupton family's 1880 farmhouse. Justin pulled the rickety old wooden screened door open, and they walked inside. The house was empty, since Justin's parents were both in town for the next few hours.

The lath-&-plaster walls helped keep the house relatively cool, compared to the sweltering July heat outside.

"Gosh, it feels good in here. It's like Judgment Day out there," Clecy remarked.

The two boys walked through to the back of the house, where Justin's bedroom was. It was a small room, and had a low ceiling, a relic from an earlier time when so many people lived in the house, that the children had to sleep in the attic and thus needed headroom up there. The room was typical of the houses in the area: peeling paint on the walls, a bare pine floor with a linoleum rug, and antique shellacked furniture sparsely adorning the space.

Justin rummaged through the chest of drawers for a clean towel for his friend, as well as a change of clothes. Both being 5'8" and 140 lbs., with slim athletic builds, the two never had a problem sharing clothing.

Like all the rural families in Zebulon County, the Guptons and the Breedloves were poor. "So poor, we have to spell it with three o's," Justin's father had once remarked. As was part of the culture they grew up in, they "did for each other". When one family had something that their neighbor didn't and needed, they shared with smiles and warm hearts. A cup of sugar, a pair of overalls, a tractor part - whatever was needed. Folks stuck together and took care of each other.

Justin pulled a change of clothes - a white T-shirt and a pair of blue denim overalls - out of the back of one of the drawers, and handed them to his friend.

"Thanks, buddy," said Clecy.

"You go first. I need to do something for a minute," replied Justin.

With that, Clecy walked out the bedroom's other door onto the house's wrap-around side porch, which lead to the bathroom that had been added to the house in the late 1950s, about a decade and a half after electricity first came to the area and made such luxuries possible.

Justin sat down on the edge of his bed and hung his head in his hands.

"Why this trial, Lord? Why me?" he prayed. He didn't expect a vocal response to come out of the sky and through the beadboard ceiling, so he continued without pausing. "I love Clee, as a friend. I wish that's all it was. I wish I could just make the last few months to not have happened. These feelings - these sick, sinful feelings I've been having - I wish they'd just go away. Father, please, help me."

Justin sat up, then lay back flat on his bed, his hands behind his head, his sizable farm-worked biceps bulging out on either side.

He ran through it again in his mind. He would ask Clecy to sit down, then explain that he thought he was gay. He saw Clecy's face fall. He told Clecy "I love you", and a look of fury swept across the boy's features. "You're fucking sick, man! Don't ever fucking come near me again, or I'll kill you!" he'd shout, before spitting on Justin and storming out the door.

Sure they were friends, but Clecy was normal. Straight. He'd had girlfriends before. He wouldn't stand for this. The thought of losing him had driven Justin to silence, and also to some very dark places over the past few months. He'd thought more than once about hanging himself from the same old oak tree in the backyard that his great-grandfather had once hung a black man from. But suicide, too, was a sin.

He stood up, and walked over to the window, which was open due to the summer heat and the house's lack of air-conditioning. He looked out over the grass, and the fields of tobacco beyond it. The bright sun beat down like a blowtorch from a beautiful blue sky dotted with a few puffy white clouds. His eyes wandered over all the things which seemed to be pointing upward starkly toward the Heavens - the tops of the loblolly pine trees, the steeply-pitched wood-shingle roofs of the neighboring farmhouses, the lightning rods on those roofs. There was a symbolic quality about it, and Justin was reminded of the pitchfork wielded by the stern-faced man in the classic painting "American Gothic". He knew - knew because he'd been taught so - that there was a God above that sky, who flamed with righteousness. He feared that God. He feared the damnation that he'd been taught homosexuals receive. He couldn't be gay, he just couldn't. His family, his friends, his neighbors, the whole community, and even the Lord God Almighty would shun him and turn their backs on him. Sure, he'd be allowed to buy things at the local country-store, but he knew that the room would fall silent when he walked in, and angry eyes would bore into him like termites. As soon as he'd leave, whispered voices would gossip about him and condemn him, as they did the northerners and the interracial couples who passed through on their way to and from the big cities. He'd be hated by everyone he knew. Henryville had a population of ninety-nine people, and it was the only town for miles around in any direction. If word got out that he was gay, everyone would know within a matter of hours. No, he couldn't tell Clecy about this. He resolved to push it as far as he could from his mind, and to play like everything was all-right.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening as Clecy walked in.

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate it," Clecy said as he set the damp towel down on the edge of Justin's bed, and brushed his long brown hair behind his ears.

"No problem," replied Justin. "I'll be back in a minute," he said, grabbing his own towel and clothes and rushing out the door. He'd held the articles in front of him, hoping that Clecy wouldn't notice the hard-on he was getting from watching the boy's muscles flex as he'd brushed the hair out of his eyes.

He shut the bathroom door behind him, feeling guilty and angry. He stripped off his clothes and threw them down in the corner. He jumped into the clawfoot bathtub, which his grandfather had gotten second-hand when the bathroom was constructed, and turned the cold water on full-force. As it rained down on him from the sunflower-shaped showerhead, he started crying. He was being battered with so many emotions, and he just couldn't process it all. All he wanted was to go back to the carefree life he'd had as a little boy. He thought back to how he'd run around and play with Clecy and the other neighbors' children, then come home at the end of the day and listen as his kinfolk - parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins - sat out on the front porch and talked and laughed and sang songs. He wished he could just be a kid again. "If only these sickening feelings would simply go away," he thought to himself.

He washed himself, then rinsed off and stepped out onto the painted pine floor. As he toweled dry and got dressed, he once again resolved to put a smile on his face and act as though nothing was wrong.

Walking back along the porch, he stepped into his bedroom. Clecy was sitting there on the end of his bed, looking intently at the photograph he was holding in his hands.

"Remember this?" he asked, smiling and turning the picture around for Justin to see. It was a picture of the two boys sitting side-by-side, asleep under a big mimosa tree as their wooden fishing rods - which were nothing more than a stick of cane with some twine on the end - stood planted in the soil of the riverbank.

"Yeah," replied Justin quietly.

"Okay, man, what's wrong? You've been acting strange for weeks," said Clecy, with worry furrowing his brow.

"It's nothing, dude."

"Goddamnit, I'm sick of this bullshit! You brush me off every time I ask about it. You're going to tell me, boy, elseways I'm gonna give you a whooping!"

"FUCK YOU, MAN!" screamed Justin. "MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS, FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!" He stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Justin! Justin!!" he heard Clecy calling. He ignored his friend, and ran through the house and out the front door. He had no clue where he was going, but he knew he had to go somewhere.

# # ACT 3

In the front yard, he turned around and ran alongside the house, through the cotton field behind it, and into the woods. He decided to head for the one place that he felt he could clear his mind - the place he felt most secure of anywhere on earth...the old swimming hole.

He raced amongst the trees and vines, dodging branches and fallen logs. At long last, he emerged through the canebrake into a small clearing, surrounded by towering pine trees, which again reminded him of the God he knew was frowning down angrily upon him.

He flopped down on the sandy bank of the Tar River, and leaned back against the trunk of a large tree. His chest heaved as he sobbed, head in hands.

Five minutes passed, then he heard a rustling in the cane. He turned his red face to see a very worried-looking Clecy step out of the brush.

Justin turned back to stare at the slow-moving water of the river. Without a word, Clecy sat down beside him and waited for his friend to speak first.

A few more minutes passed before that happened.

"Clee, I'm sorry," Justin said resolutely, not taking his eyes off the rolling waters.

"Justin, buddy, we've known each other all our lives. Since when do you keep secrets from me?" Clecy asked.

"I can't tell you about this, I'm sorry," replied Justin.

"You can tell me anything, Jus. You know that."

"Not this, I can't."

Silence fell again, as the boys stared out over the water. Justin felt like he was on a precipice. He was on the end of the diving board. To one side was the safe, easy life he'd always known. On the other, was truth. Should he acknowledge his feelings, and admit that he was what the Lord God in Heaven had made him to be? Or should he keep his mouth shut and preserve his friendship with Clee? Clecy broke the silence.

"Come on, buddy, I want to know what's bother-"

Justin cut him off.

"I love you!" he blurted out, staring even more intently at the river.

The pine needles above rustled in the warm breeze as Justin waited for the hammer to fall. He knew that any second, Clecy would stand up, holler at him, and stalk off, never to speak to him again, just as it had played out in his mind.

Instead, Clecy did something very different. He slid across the dirt so that he was side-by-side with Justin, their shoulders and knees touching, and put his arm around his friend's shoulders.

"Is that all?" he asked softly, looking at the side of Justin's very red face and smiling.

"Uh...yeah...huh?" replied the boy, turning his head to meet Clecy's gaze, with a look of utter confusion on his face.

"Oh come ON, there's got to be something better than that!" said Clecy, laughing warmly.

"Hey, screw you, asshole!" replied Justin, trying to feign indignation, but secretly overjoyed that his friend was reacting so positively. In response to Clecy's touch, his dick started to harden in his pants.

Then, without warning, Clecy leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips, before pulling back and staring deep into his eyes, a smile on his face.

"I love you too."

"Wait...what?"

"I said, I love you too."

"You do? Wait...you mean, you're not sore at me?"

"No! Why I earth would I be?"

"Because I'm..."

"Gay? Yeah, so what? So am I."

"Wait...you are? But you had girlfriends!"

Clecy leaned in and kissed Justin again.

"I said it, didn't I?" he replied, smiling.

"Well, I reckon you did," said Justin, smiling sheepishly.

Both boys turned to look out over the water again, and they sat in silence for a few moments before Clecy continued.

"Jus, I don't really know how to say this. But I love you. Yes, I love you as a friend, just as I have my whole life. But for the past year or so, I've loved you as more than that. I've loved you as Justin Gupton, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Being only fifteen years old, Justin hadn't been called a "man" before, so it threw him for a loop, as did the rest of what Clecy had said.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked.

"I'll bet you've loved me for more than the last ten minutes, but you didn't tell me either, did you?"

"I see your point."

"I had no clue how you'd react, but my imagination came up with the worst-case scenario."

"Same here."

Justin broke down in tears again. He spoke through them, saying,

"I-I'm sorry I misjudged you. And I'm sorry I went off on you earlier. A-and I'm sorry I waited so long to yell you. And I'm so g-g-glad you feel the same way. And-"

"Hush," replied Clecy reassuringly, putting his index finger gently on Justin's lips to quiet him, before wiping the tears off his friend's face. "It's okay."

Clecy pulled Justin towards him, laying the boy's head on his chest and wrapping his arm around his lover's head and holding him tight. Justin's tears slowly abated as he relaxed into the warmth of Clecy's body, listening to his heartbeat and feeling at peace for the first time in months.

After a few minutes passed, Justin murmered into his friend's chest,

"Hey Clee?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Let's go back to the house and set in my room a while."

"I'd like that."

The two stood up, and Justin took Clecy by the hand.

"I love you so much, you'll never know," he said.

"I love you more."

"No, I do!"

"No, I do!"

The two laughed and smiled, and Clecy pulled his lover into a tight embrace. Their eyes were closed. Feeling as though he were almost in suspended animation, Justin tilted his head and leaned in. His lips met Clecy's, which opened, and his tongue started tenderly exploring the foreign mouth. The birds chirped merrily above, and time in the Southern forest stood still as the two young lovers made out.

Eventually, Justin pulled back, and they both opened their eyes, smiling sweetly at each other.

"Let's just agree we both love each other very, very much," said Clecy.

"Okay," replied Justin.

# # ACT 4

The two walked slowly, hand-in-hand until they reached the edge of the field where the trees stopped. Simultaneously, the let go of each other's hand, both knowing without a word said that it was the only thing to do. The worst possible thing would be for someone to catch them doing together what boys are only supposed to do with girls.

"Race you to the house!" Justin yelled, slapping Clecy on the ass before taking off.

"I'll get you for that, you son-of-a-bitch!" hollered Clee, grinning and running behind his boyfriend across the fields toward the building.

Justin burst through the door of his bedroom and flopped down on his bed, followed a second later by Clecy.

The two were laying side-by-side, like sleeping couples do, and they turned inward to face each other, both supporting their head on their arm.

"So," said Justin, a devilish grin on his face, "you asked me what I wanted for my fifteen birthday?"

"Yeah," replied Clecy, smiling just as wide.

"I want to give you my virginity."

"Not half as bad as I want to give you mine. Well...my gay virginity. I lost the other one two years ago."

Justin was all too aware of Clecy's stud exploits with his series of girlfriends...Elvira Adcock, Alma Pulley, Vestal Roberson, Ellarine Champion, Fannie Strickland, and Effie Hicks, among others.

"I...uh...well, this is going to sound silly, but I've been having some dreams about you lately," said Justin.

"Oh yeah? What happens in these dreams?"

"Well," replied Justin, blushing and staring down at the bedsheets, "we're lying here naked on my bed, and I...uh...I feel your muscles, and suck you off, and then we get to frigging. Can we do that?"

"Well, I reckon I might could arrange that for the Birthday Boy" replied Clecy with a cheeky grin, before sitting up and slipping the straps of his overalls off.

"Hot damn!" exclaimed Justin, his breath catching in his throat, as Clecy pulled his shirt off and dropped the overalls to his ankles, before kicking them aside. He was standing there in nothing more than a pair of black briefs, which looked like they had a summer sausage stuffed in the front.

The boy's skin clung to his well-developed muscles like white on rice - he didn't have an ounce of fat on him anywhere. All the years of working in the fields of the Breedlove family farm had done wonders...everything bulged out in just the right places.

Clecy was the picture of a beautiful young man. His straight brown hair, which hung halfway down his biceps, was swept back in a ponytail, revealing his smooth face, gentle features, and high cheekbones. His olive skin, which looked naturally tan year-round, was clear as the night sky.

Justin slid off the end of the bed and stood up, stripping off his clothes, then standing directly in front of his lover. He gently placed his hands on Clecy's ripped shoulders, and drew him into a kiss smoldering with long-oppressed passion, running his hands up and down the boy's back, feeling the powerful muscles. His seven-and-a-half-inch cock ballooned in his pants, and he longed for release.

As their two tongues fought for supremacy, Justin dropped his hands down, feeling up Clee's hard pecs and then his ripped eight-pack abs. He ran the tips of his fingers along the boy's adonis belt, coming to rest them in the front hem of the underpants.

"Happy birthday," murmured Clecy, as Justin pulled his briefs out and down. His eight-inch cock sprang up, red and angry, waiting to ravage his boyfriend.

Justin dropped to his knees, and Clecy flexed his cock muscles, causing his engorged meat to slap Jus on the cheek. Clecy was mesmerized by the intoxicating scent of teenage manhood emanating from his boyfriend's crotch, and he leaned in, mouth open, and took his prize.

Clecy's eyes shut and he threw his head back.

"Oh fuck, yes!" he moaned softly.

Though Clecy had never given head before, he knew what he thought would feel good on his own dick, and did exactly that to the package he was servicing. He swirled his tongue over the bulging head, and then ran it up and down the shaft, before pausing to suck each nut. He wanted to suck both nuts together, but the lemon-sized eggs were too big.

For the next few minutes, he continued sucking Clecy's dick. When he heard his lover's breathing speed up and muscles tense, he knew the boy was close, and backed off, letting the dick slide out of his mouth with an audible "pop!". It hung there, veins bulging, throbbing up and down in time to Clecy's heartbeat.

"Dude, why'd you stop?!" moaned the boy.

"Because I want you to fuck me. Fuck me raw," Justin replied. He turned around and leaned over front-first onto the end of the bed, offering his virgin ass up to his boyfriend.

"Okay. I'll go right slow, 'cuz this is gonna hurt a little, but I promise it'll feel great after a while," Clecy said.

"I don't care how much it hurts. I want you in me!" replied Justin resolutely.

Clecy lubed up his cock by running the pre-cum dripping from his slit, on it. He stepped forward, and positioned his crown at the entrance to Justin's pleasure-chute, before gently pushing forward. The head popped in, and Justin cried out in pain.

"Jesus H. Christ!"

"You okay, honey?"

"Yeah. Just give me a minute to adjust. You're huge!"

A few moments passed, before Justin spoke again.

"Okay, killer. Get-'er-done!"

Clecy slowly slid the whole length of his cock into his boyfriend, relishing in the tightness of the virgin hole.

"Hot DAMN!" exclaimed Justin, as Clecy hit his prostate. "Lord a'mighty!"

Clecy started a steady rhythm of pumping in and out of his lover's ass, like a steam-driven piston. With every inward thrust, his balls slapped against Justin's ass, driving him wild.

After a few minutes, Clecy's lust took over, and he jammed his cock deep up his lover's ass like a battering ram, holding it there as he sprayed his load like a firehose deep up inside Justin's body. Justin's dick simultaneously exploded, unleashing blast after fiery blast of cum onto his bed and his chest.

After the waves of his orgasm subsided, Clecy slid his cock out of his lover's ass, and the two met in a warm embrace. They kissed deeply.

"I love you so much. That was the best thing I've ever felt," said Justin, beaming from ear to ear.

"Happy birthday, lover," replied Clecy.

# # ACT 5

The gentle winter rains of East Carolina were falling softly on the tin roof of the Gupton family homeplace. It was early December, 57 degrees outside, and Justin was standing in his bedroom, folding laundry that he'd just taken down off the line strung up in front of the living room fireplace. The grey skies outside made the green grass of the lawn look more iridescent than emeralds, and it shone in through the window as though emitting its own enchanted light.

The front door opened, and in walked his grandmother, Dessie Gupton, and her best friend Ila Morgan. From where he was standing, Justin could hear their conversation clearly without being seen.

"I don't know what we're gonna do about them niggers," said his grandmother. "They're like to worry me to death."

"I surely can't say. There's just no accounting for folks any more. You know that Beulah Tharrington married herself a nigger boy last week? I do declare! He was right light-skinned, though. Cleon Johnston, I think his name was," replied Mrs. Morgan.

"Those nigger-lovers drive me to distraction. It's not right for their youngn's."

"Well, there ain't none kin to us, thank the Lord."

"Everwho looks would see we built all this. White people. Them jigaboos get uppity, and the yankees and the courts make it so that our men can't do nothing no more. I just don't know what this world's coming to. It's changed so much since we were little girls."

As Justin continued folding his shirts, he started boiling inside at hearing such intolerance spewed. Sure, he'd heard it his whole life, and it had never bothered him before, but now that he had come to realize what similar intolerance had done to him - forcing him into a dark and lonely closet, and thoughts of suicide - he felt differently. He just wanted everyone to love each other and get along.

Just then, he heard a quiet knock at the door, and looked up to see Clecy standing on the side porch outside his bedroom. Justin walked over and stepped outside, shutting the door silently behind him.

"I was just fixing to go to that church over yonder in Shiloh and drop off something for the pot-lock supper. Wanna come with me?" asked Clecy.

"How can you do that?!" hissed Justin through clenched teeth.

"What do you mean?" asked Clecy inquisitively.

"Those people are such bigots! They hate us! How can you participate in that?" demanded Justin.

"Wanna go for a walk and talk about it?" asked Clecy, extending his hand.

"I guess," Justin replied, taking his boyfriend's hand, knowing that the fog and mist would obscure them from prying eyes as they walked through the hayfields surrounding his house.

"Jus," began Clecy, "they're not all bad. I've known these folks since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, and they're good people who were taught bad things. You can't fault them for believing racism or homophobia over tolerance and acceptance, any more than you can fault them for knowing English over Chinese. All they can know is what they were taught growing up, by their parents, their teachers, their neighbors, and the society around them. You know just as well as I do that these people are basically decent folks, who would give you the shirt off their back if they thought you needed it, who would come over and cook for your family if your momma got sick, who mean well but are simply a product of different times. And while they might be very narrow-minded in some ways, in other ways they've got a lot more wholesomeness and kindness in their little finger that all the gay-accepting folks in the big cities up north have got in their whole bodies."

"I just think it's scary," replied Justin, "that they can be all laughing and smiling one second, and then have faces of pure rage the next, if you mention 'gay marriage' or something like that."

"Sure. It is. But there's no changing it - it's part of them, and it's part of our culture here. If you don't like it, you're free to move to the city, or out to California or something, and be with like-minded people. That's part of the beauty of America - everyone has the right to live in a community of like-minded people...but you've got to remember that 'everyone' means everyone. Homophobes and racists have no less of a right to that than do you or I. What a man believes has got sweet-fuck-all to do with his allotment of rights. This isn't some left-wing state like Nazi Germany."

"You really do try to accept ALL people, don't you?" asked Justin, stopping and turning to look his lover in the eyes.

"Christ bled on Calvary for all our sins," replied Clecy. He paused for a moment before continuing. "Loving everyone is the only thing to do. We're all human, so if I'm gonna say that flawed and imperfect people can't be my friends, I'm gonna end up pretty damn lonely. Oh...hold still right quick."

Clecy leaned in and kissed away a raindrop that had fallen on Justin's nose.

"You've got the biggest heart of anyone I know," said Justin.

"So, you wanna come with me?" asked Clecy.

"Where's it at?"

"Down the old mill road a fair piece, past Johnson's Bridge."

"Okay. Oh, and one more thing, Clee."

"What's that?"

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now come on, I want to get this sweet potato pie over there directly before it gets cold."

"Mmm, that sounds right good! I could eat that breakfast, dinner, and supper."

# # EPILOGUE

The waves of Justin's tears slowly began to subside. With a heavy heart, he looked up through the glass windshield of the truck, and noticed that the rain had cleared right over the front yard of his house. The sun was shining, despite the fact that it was still raining off to the east.

Just then, something caught his eye. The sun had struck the rain at just the right angle, and a beautiful rainbow was being projected against the clouds hovering over his back-yard.

A small smile crept across his face, as he realized what the sign meant: the love of his life, Clecy Breedlove, was in Heaven. Clee was smiling down from the streets of gold, letting Justin know that he was okay, and that they'd be together again one day, safe inside the jasper walls of Heaven's city, forever in the presence of a loving and merciful God.

Almost under his breath, Justin sung the second verse of the song which had played earlier on the radio - which had perhaps been another sign:

"Beyond these pangs that parting brings, beyond all this earthly vale, we'll meet where joys eternal spring, and love there shall never fail.

We'll meet, yes, we'll meet on that shining shore; We'll meet in that home of love; We'll meet, yes, meet to part no more; We'll shall meet in Heaven above."

• • • • • • • • • GLOSSARY OF SOUTHERN TERMS (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE): *

PINE STAND - a small forest composed entirely of pine trees clustered together

Y'ALL - contraction for "you all"; used only when speaking to two or more people; thus making the conjugation positions: Singular: I, You, He/She/It - Plural: We, Y'all, They (or 'They-All')

RECKON - to believe, as in to hold an opinion; i.e. "I reckon we'd better turn this lost wallet in" means "I think we'd better turn this lost wallet in"; similar Americanisms from outside the South include "I think", "I guess", "I suppose", "I believe", etc.

GONNA - going to

GET THROUGH WITH - to finish (i.e. "Are you through with the soap?" means "Are you finished using the soap?")

SORE AT - angry with

HAIR ACROSS ONE'S BUTT - to be angry/upset, either in general (i.e. "I've got a hair across my butt today" means "I'm in a bad mood today") or in particular (i.e. "to have a hair across one's butt about XYZ" means "to be angry because of XYZ")

NUNYA - none of your business

KINFOLK - blood relatives

CANE - a type of bamboo native to the lowlands of the American South

ELSEWAYS - otherwise

WHOOPING - a physical beating, such as a spanking, whipping, switching, or just general ass-kicking

CANEBRAKE - a thicket of the aforementioned cane

HOLLER - yell or scream

SET - sit (i.e. "let's set a while" means "let's sit down for a while")

FRIGGING - having sex

MIGHT COULD - might be able to (i.e. "The doctor might could do something for you" means "The doctor might be able to do something for you")

HOT DAMN! - general exclamation used for excited approval

LIKE WHITE ON RICE - used to describe something that sticks or clings to another thing extremely tightly or closely, meaning that the two are inseparable

RIGHT - very (i.e. "This pie is right good" means "This pie is very good")

HOMEPLACE - depending on context, either (A) a house in which several generations of a family have resided over the years, typically the earliest several generations of that family to inhabit the area, or (B) the house in which one grew up

LIKE TO - almost, or nearly (i.e. "I saw a snake and like to had a heart attack" means "I saw a snake and nearly had a heart attack")

WORRY ME - pester me, nag me, etc. (i.e. "Here comes my wife to worry me about patching the roof" means "Here comes my wife to nag me about patching the roof")

NO ACCOUNTING FOR - unreliable, untrustworthy, or unpredictable (i.e. "There's no accounting for him" means "He can't be relied upon to act in a normal, responsible manner"), with undertones of deviance from expected social norms

I DO DECLARE! - general exclamation used for certainty, surprise, or general emphasis; used almost exclusively by females; very dated

DRIVE ME TO DISTRACTION - to annoy me rather greatly; similar Americanisms from outside the South include "drive me up a wall", "make me want to tear my hair out", etc.

YOUNG'N - child (contraction of 'young one')

AIN'T NONE - aren't any, or isn't any

KIN TO - related to (in a familial way) (i.e. "Are you kin to him?" means "Are you related to him?")

EVERWHO - whoever

JIGABOO - a black person with stereotypically black facial features (big lips, broad flat nose, etc.)

YANKEE - an American not from the South, particularly one from a state which existed during the Civil War, but did not secede (i.e. a person from New Hampshire is more of a yankee than a person from Utah)

FIXING TO - getting ready to (i.e. "I'm fixing to go into town" means "I'm getting ready to go into town" or "I'm just about to go into town")

OVER YONDER - "over there", with 'there' very loosely defined as being a place farther away than the ground on which the speaker is standing...could be as close as ten feet, or as far as several miles or more

KNEE-HIGH TO A GRASSHOPPER - the state of being a young child; very dated

SWEET-FUCK-ALL - absolutely nothing

RIGHT QUICK - depending on context, either: (A) to do something less significant quickly before doing something more significant (i.e. "Let me wash these dishes right quick before we go to the movies"), or (B) very quickly (i.e. "When Sarah's father got the call that she'd been in a car crash, he got down to the hospital right quick.")

WHERE'S IT AT? - "where is it located?"

FAIR PIECE - a somewhat-long distance; "just a piece" = a relatively short distance, "a fair piece" = a somewhat-long distance, "a long ways" = a long distance

DIRECTLY - right away without stopping (i.e. "I'll be there directly" means "I'm coming over right now, without making any stops on the way")

BREAKFAST, DINNER, & SUPPER - the three meals of the day, as contrasted with the north's terminology of "breakfast, lunch, and dinner"

Again, please send comments to ephraim.johnson@gmail.com - Thanks!