Goldfinch Chapter 12
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"GOLDFINCH" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
GOLDFINCH
by Andrej Koymasky © 2018
written on April 3, 1986
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by
Tom (chap. 1 to 4) and by Gilles (chap. 5 to 17)
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THIRD PART
CHAPTER TWELVE
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The journey was long and tiresome, as he had foreseen, but less for the miles they ground out, and more for his eagerness to arrive quickly. The closer he came to his destination, the more Patrick felt a kind of urgency, an unutterable longing growing inside himself. And trepidation. Almost insensible to the alternation of unknown and often fascinating landscapes, for most of the time the young man was lost in a sea of thoughts, of fantasies, of projects. At times he was sure of it -- his love returned, and would finally bloom from that encounter. His memories, and above all Kutkhay's letter confirmed it. At times though, he felt uncertain, he had the fear of having deceived himself. Possibly the boy just felt better in his service than now, and just for that he wrote him... Or possibly he was just affectionate to him, grateful because he had saved his life. "But," he told himself, "even if it is so, I am in love with him, I need him, therefore I have to take him away, with me, all the same. And anyway, he asks it of me." One moment he felt convinced, and another hesitant, in an alternation of hopes and fears, of sweetness and worry. He read the letter again, he analyzed each of its words, he turned its content over his mind for a long while. He tried to read between the lines, to interpret it in all possible ways...
Ulysses and Long Jack sensed that their master was different than usual but they didn't know, didn't understand the reason. So, when they were in his presence, they kept silent, slightly worried because of that unusual, different, strange behavior.
At last, on the evening of the sixth day they reached their destination, They stopped in a hotel downtown and Patrick, after taking a room, refreshing himself and changing his clothes, asked the hotel owner where he could find the residence of lawyer Hogwood and if he had already moved. Hearing that he was still in town, he felt relieved. He felt like running at once to look for his Goldfinch, but it was late and it would not have been correct to appear at that hour, especially without being announced. He wandered for a while around the house he had searched out, in the naive hope of seeing, or being seen, by the boy. But all the lights had been put out. He resigned himself to go back to the hotel and wait for the next day.
On the following morning, at an appropriate hour, he sent Long Jack to the Hogwood house with his card, asking to be urgently received -- without explaining the reason of his visit, just that it was on important business. He waited with impatience for his servant to come back and each minute that passed seemed to him an eternity. He continually looked at his turnip watch, opening its cover and nervously checking the time, then closing it with a sharp click. In front of his hotel there was a bank associated with his wife's. He crossed the street, went in and asked to see the manager. He introduced himself, showing the man his credentials, and enquired about Mr. Hogwood Junior. The manager willingly supplied the information -- he was a good client, correct, and it was said he was starting upon good political career. He was not really wealthy but had no financial problems. He had a somewhat austere character, but was a real gentleman... Patrick returned to the hotel, afraid that his servant had already returned with the answer, but he saw him coming from the end of the street. He went to meet him and Long Jack gave him an note in answer to his request. He opened it feverishly. It was brief: "I will be pleased to meet you this afternoon at four o' clock, at my home, for tea."
About six more hours... He went back to the bank and again talked with the manager. He explained briefly the reason for his visit to that town, naturally without going into details but asking for his advice. The manager said that, if the slave had been sold without his authorization, he could demand to have him back, and advised him to see the federal marshal with a copy of the missing person report he had made at that time, and ask the marshal to accompany him to Mr. Hogwood's house. But Patrick refused -- Mr. Hogwood had certainly bought the slave in good faith, so he simply preferred to buy the boy back. The director pointed out that Mr. Hogwood could refuse to sell the slave. They discussed the matter for some time but at the end Patrick decided that, before attempting the legal ways, he would try to get his slave back with a gentleman's agreement. He returned to the hotel for lunch, then walked around downtown a while, waiting for four o' clock, trying to calm the agitation that pervaded him.
Kutkhay was out on his errands, and even passed in front of the hotel, but their paths did not cross. So, when Patrick, punctual, showed up at Mr. Hogwood's house, the boy was absent. Patrick rang the doorbell, thought that it could be his Goldfinch who would open it, and waited, his heart in his mouth. But it was another servant who appeared. He was shown in and the lawyer welcomed him. They introduced themselves with the usual formal greetings, he was led to a drawing room where Mrs. Hogwood was introduced to him, and tea was offered. Patrick had a great desire to come at once to the point, but etiquette forbade him to do so.
At last the lawyer asked him: "In your note you asked to meet me urgently for important business..."
Suddenly Patrick felt calm. While he was talking, he had an idea that he put at once in practice.
"Yes, Mr. Hogwood. You are a lawyer and I need your legal advice on a really delicate problem."
"Tell me..."
"Well, please understand that I had a slave who was really important to me. Without my knowledge, during my absence, my father sold him to a slave merchant. This man sold him to a gentleman who is completely unaware of the problem, therefore having bought the slave in full good faith. But I want my slave back. What do you advise me to do in order to have him back?"
The lawyer, who was bending slightly toward him to listen, leaned back against the back of his armchair and smiled.
"The case is rather simple, Mr. De Bruine. The sale is not legal, as it is a good that was taken away from you without your being aware of it, and it has been alienated against your will. If the actual owner of the slave is, as you told me, a gentleman, he will understand the situation and will be ready to find a remedy to this illegal deed. But at the same time, your father would have done better to have repaid the gentleman in question himself."
Patrick nodded, then asked: "But if that gentleman, for whatever reason, didn't want to deprive himself of this slave?"
"Well, in that case it would be necessary to start a civil suit, and if you have proof to substantiate your claims, you would certainly win it. And the gentleman could not even ask for a refund."
Then Patrick, looking the lawyer straight in the eye, with a slight smile, almost if he wanted to apologize for the small trick, said: "Yes, I have legal proof. But, you see, Mr. Hogwood, the gentleman in question, who was until now unaware of this problem... is you. And the slave is my slave, of a fair skin, called Goldie..."
The lawyer, for an instant, lost his professional smile and looked Patrick straight in the eye, making sure he was serious, then relaxed and with a barely hinted at smile, said: "You are really astute, Mr. De Bruine... anyway, all I said remains absolutely true."
"Please, forgive me my subterfuge, but it is really very important for me to have that slave back. I am of course ready to refund you any sum you paid for him."
The lawyer thought a moment: "Certainly. To me it is a big loss, as the young man was more of a secretary than a simple slave. He is a precious element and I am really sorry to lose him. But I understand that for the reasons why I would like to keep him, you want to have him back."
"I am ready to repay you abundantly, Mr. Hogwood."
"It is not so much a question of money. Goldie was a present from my father in law... Anyway, it is settled. Goldie is out now on some errands. When he is back, I will tell him what has happened and see to it he is ready. You can send for him this very evening, let's say at seven o'clock, if it is a convenient time for you."
Patrick felt deeply relieved at the easy solution of the problem: "Thank you very much, you really are a gentleman. About the repayment: if you agree, I suggest this possibility -- I know you are moving to the capital; buy the best slave you can find, fit for the tasks you have to give him, and whatever price you have to pay, you have just to go to a branch or an associate of my bank and you will receive the needed sum. I will give you a payment order and will at once send instructions to that purpose, if you agree. Or, if you prefer, we can establish a price now and go to the bank in front of my hotel..."
The lawyer nodded: "You too are a real gentleman, Mr. De Bruine. I prefer to accept the first solution you proposed, if it will not be a burden to you." he answered standing up.
Patrick stood up, asked for paper and pen, and wrote a trust payment order. Then, just before taking his leave, he asked with a smile: "And... may I know what is your fee for the legal advice you have so kindly given me?"
This time Mr. Hogwood laughed with gusto and made a gesture to forget it. They bade farewell and Patrick returned to his hotel feeling light and happy. One last wait and then... It had been much more easy then he had foreseen.
Kutkhay returned home and his master was notified to that effect. He summoned the boy.
"Goldie, you have to go immediately to prepare your luggage. Put in it all your clothes and your belongings. This evening at seven you have to be ready to leave."
"We are moving now, sir?" the boy asked, taken aback.
"No, not we, only you."
"I am sorry, sir, but I don't understand..." the boy said, then, suddenly stiffening, he asked with a low, hesitant voice: "Do you mean that... that you sold me, master?"
"Yes, I sold you to a gentleman who is really eager to take you away with him." the man said, studying the boy's expression.
"You are not happy with me, master?" the boy asked with a mortified expression.
"No, no, I like you very much, boy. But this gentleman convinced me to give you up to him. Because... he is your former master, who lost you against his will, and who seems eager to have you back in his home..."
For a moment Kutkhay felt confused and a vise grasped his stomach, as he thought it was the brothel master who had succeeded in tracing him; but then a timid hope rekindled itself in him, and with trembling voice he asked: "Master De Bruine?"
"Yes, in person. Go prepare yourself, he will send for you in a while." the lawyer said looking at his turnip watch.
"At once, master!" Kutkhay exclaimed, and hurriedly ran upstairs to his room.
His legs were shaking, he felt completely upset, he was so happy he felt like crying and laughing at once, for the joy and the emotion -- his young, dear master at last had sent to take him back, he didn't forget him, he still wanted him... He made a parcel with his clothes and his drawings -- it was all he possessed. He tied it with a string and went downstairs. The big pendulum clock on the entrance hall showed eleven minutes before seven. A short while later a coach stopped in front of the house door. Long Jack got out and rang at the door. Kutkhay was about to open it, but Sem preceded him.
Long Jack said: "In behalf of massa De Bruine, I came to fetch Goldie."
"Wait a moment, I'll call the master."
Kutkhay was shuddering with impatience, but didn't move. Mr. Hogwood came and gave his assent. Kutkhay bade good bye and went out following the mulatto slave. As soon as Kutkhay left the door, Patrick leaned out of the open door of the coach -- the young man looked with an emotional smile at the boy.
He simply said: "Come..." and waved him inside the coach with him.
The boy looked quietly at him for a moment, then went down the stairs as if in a trance and climbed inside the coach, unaware of the look on Sem's face, watching the scene, astounded that a slave went inside the coach with his master. Long Jack took the luggage from Kutkhay's hand, shut the door, climbed up with Ulysses and the coach started at once. The boy was not yet seated -- he was standing in front of Patrick looking at him with eyes glossy with emotion, unable to utter a single word as his throat was as if tied in a very tight knot... When the coach started, Kutkhay lost his balance and fell on Patrick who, at once, instinctively, welcomed him into his arms and held him tight.
Then, his face brushing the boy's hair, his voice broken with emotion, Patrick whispered: "At last, Goldfinch" and gave him a light kiss on his forehead.
Then the boy girdled his master's waist with his arms; sliding on his knees between his legs, he leaned his head on Patrick's stomach and two tears rolled down his cheeks. Patrick sweetly caressed his hair, and his back, then pulled him up against himself, and on impulse he kissed the boy straight on his mouth. At first their lips barely brushed, then they pressed, opened in an intimate kiss, warm, deep, very sweet. Patrick's caresses became more daring, more insistent and even if he were repeating to himself that he should not surrender to the desire he felt for the boy, even if he tried to hold back, a terrible excitement seized him. Kutkhay felt the young man's awakening desire, felt his erection growing and pushing against him through their clothes, and at once responded in the same way, overjoyed that his master held him in that way. Little by little they came even closer, adhered one to the other, to feel and make known to each other what they were feeling.
The coach left the town and rapidly took the way home. After two hours of travel there was a post station where they would stop to spend the night. Patrick and Kutkhay were now half stretched out on the coach seat, forgetful of everything, conscious only of the other's presence and of the reciprocal desire gradually manifesting itself, at first almost shyly, then in a more and more strong, explicit, clear way. Now their hands flew all over the other's body, searching, feeling, continuously caressing and their senses were all intent on telling the joy of that encounter and all the desire that was flooding them.
"Goldfinch, I... I am in love with you!" Patrick murmured, at this point incapable of any prudence, sinking his face between the boy's shoulder and the neck.
Kutkhay let out a sob, then answered, his voice broken with emotion: "Oh, Patrick, sir, me too, me too, I am mad for you, I love you... I love you since ever. You came to take me back, at last -- don't leave me ever again, please!"
"No, I swear it... I needed so much time to understand I was in love with you, but now I know it, I am certain and I don't want to lose you ever again, ever again. Especially now that you told me you too are in love with me!"
The mutual desire was at last manifesting itself, without any more hesitation. Patrick started to unbutton the boy's jacket, then his shirt, and was now directly caressing the bare skin of Kutkhay's chest and back, and the boy was all aquiver with pleasure. Then the boy dared to do what he had desired forever -- with his hand he reached to test the consistency of his master erection and anxiously awaited his reaction. The man pushed tighter against the boy and kissed him in the mouth. Then Kutkhay hesitated no longer, and started to unbutton Patrick's trousers. They gradually opened each other's clothes until they were half naked, and their bodies could touch each other without hindrance. They were both deeply moved, happy, lost in a sea of really sweet emotions.
Despite the truly strong mutual desire, despite their close embrace -- their clothes no longer an obstacle --, despite their now uncontrolled, more and more intimate, caresses, they did not reach complete union. When emotion is too strong it can become difficult to reach a climax, perhaps because one confusedly feels that bringing the passion too rapidly to fruition leads to the cessation of those so sweet effusions. And both, unconsciously, perhaps did not want that magic moment of reciprocal discovery to end, that moment so longed for, dreamed of, desired, and now, finally, real, tangible, wonderful. Even if, three years before, their bodies had touched, now it was different -- now they were discovering each other, they were learning to know each other, they were exploring in an unceasing frenzy of pleasure. At times physical excitement unavoidably leads to the point of no return where it becomes impossible to control one's self. But when it is a different excitement that takes control, when the reciprocal desire, although physical, is overcome by the spiritual and emotional desire for the other, then it is not a problem of self control, but rather natural and spontaneous to do all possible to prolong those contact moments where everything occurs in unison, all is harmony and sweetness.
They gradually recovered their composure, at the same time noticing that the coach was slowing down and the first stop was nearing. Kutkhay sat near Patrick, who put his hand on the boy's cheek and whispered: "How happy I am to have you again with me!"
"Me too, sir... I never stopped believing you would come to take me back."
Patrick wanted the boy to tell him in full detail all that happened to him during those three years. Kutkhay had just started when the coach stopped in front of the post house.
"You will tell me later. Now let's get out, eat and have a rest. The journey is still long. But we are no longer in hurry."
Getting something to eat and briefly washing up, Patrick asked for a room for them, while Ulysses got the horses ready for the night. The two fresh lovers went upstairs to their room. Still half dressed, they lay down side by side on one of the two beds, Patrick clasped the boy, holding him against his body, and asked him to resume his story. While listening, he gently caressed him, as if to compensate him for all the misadventures that had occurred to him, for all the bad experiences through which he passed, and as the narration continued, and Patrick interrupted him with questions, exclamations, thoughts, their caresses became more and more intimate. At last Kutkhay could freely caress that body he so much desired. Night had fallen, and only the kerosene lamp still lit them.
The narration ended, and Patrick started to kiss his beloved. They gradually undressed each other, feasting their eyes, their hands, and their excitement bloomed again vigorously. Now they could no longer postpone it, each needed the other. Kutkhay omitted nothing in his narration, not even his numerous sexual misadventures, or adventures.
So Patrick whispered to him: "I... it is my first time making love with a man -- you have to lead, my Goldfinch. Won't you?"
"With the utmost pleasure, sir."
Patrick put his finger on the boy's lips in a tender gesture of silence, gently smiled at him and said: "No, you never again have to call me sir, and you should never again call anybody master, from now on. I love you and I want you always at my side and I want you to call me just Patrick, as it has to be between lovers. Do you promise me?"
Kutkhay looked at him with luminous eyes full of love and murmured: "I will try... Patrick. But I always thought of you as my only, true master..."
"All right, then I too will call you master." the man said with a smile, caressing the boy between his legs.
"No way, that is not possible. It would not even be right... It was me that gave myself to you, there on the ship, when you took me with you."
"When two are in love, each one belongs completely to the other, soul and body. I am now giving myself to you. Therefore, if it is true I am your master, now it is also true that you are my master. Therefore, just call me Patrick -- between you and I from now on there will be no more differences, if it is true that we love each other."
They kissed, and their bodies intertwined tightly, giving and receiving mutual pleasure, until Kutkhay pulled his lover to him, offering himself to him, guiding him, and begged, his voice hoarse from the excitement: "Take me... please?"
Patrick let the boy guide him, and when Kutkhay saw the expression of intense pleasure bloom on the beautiful face of the man he loved while he was sinking inside the boy, the boy felt he was in paradise.
After a while Patrick stopped moving back and forth inside his boy, pulled away from him, and at his turn offered himself to Kutkhay, whispering: "Now it will be you to make me yours, Love."
So Kutkhay plucked the young man's virginity, spying the expression of his lover and beloved. When he saw the man give in a joyful smile while Kutkhay was slowly opening his way inside him, when he felt the young man grinding his butt against his groin and moaning with pleasure, Kutkhay abandoned any hesitation and started to take him with sheer enthusiasm. Even if it were the first time for Patrick, he was so eager to have his beloved boy inside himself, that he completely relaxed, and the boy could conquer the untouched love channel without difficulty. While Kutkhay was steadily pushing his tool back and forth inside the man, their mouths united and their tongues passionately started to play. The boy stroked the man's hard nipples. Patrick moaned in ecstasy and reciprocated. They changed position several times, untiringly giving and taking from each other the maximum pleasure.
When at last they lay down, panting, sated, Patrick, caressing his beloved said: "Do you know? It is wonderful making love with you. It is the first time I feel such wonderful emotions, so strong, so complete. It has nothing to do with the intercourse I had with my wife. This is really making love, as now there really is love binding us."
Kutkhay became stiff and tense for a moment.
Patrick felt it and worriedly asked: "What's up, my love?"
"Are you... are you married?"
"Yes, but nothing changes. I love you and want to live with you."
"But... and your wife?"
"She doesn't like the physical intercourse. I presume she is frigid. You will always be my only, true, real lover and you will always live at my side, don't worry."
"But, will she accept that?"
"I will tell her and if she wishes, I'll divorce her."
"But I don't want to be a hindrance to you. I..."
"Shush, love, shush. You are not, you will never, ever be a hindrance for me."
They talked for a long while. They had a thousand things to tell, to narrate, to ask each other and each of them wanted to know everything about the other, because when one is in love, he desires to know everything, even the most trivial details, the smallest thoughts, everything about the other.
In the morning, the first to wake up was Patrick, who admired for a long while his lover's body, by daylight -- it had ripened in those three years, he was more beautiful than ever. He thought that only a few hours before, he intimately knew that body, he had taken, enjoyed it. He thought with pleasure that he welcomed inside himself that beautiful member that was now lying languidly between the well shaped thighs, that he gave himself to that boy... He caressed the wonderful body of his Kutkhay and covered it with small kisses filled with tenderness, until he woke him up.
"It is time to get up, my beloved." he whispered.
Kutkhay looked at him with eyes filled with joy: "But then... I didn't just have a dream!" he exclaimed merrily.
"No, certainly not. It is all true, real -- we are at last together, we are finally united."
They got up and dressed. Patrick observed him: "You look good, dressed like that. We will make you a nice wardrobe. You should not cut a poor figure. I want you always elegant, everybody should admire your beauty." he said caressing him.
They resumed their journey. Patrick told Ulysses that there was no hurry now. He wanted to enjoy the return trip. Inside the coach they continued to talk and to caress each other, to kiss, and both were in ecstasy with the nearness of the other. They stopped at the crossing of a stream of fresh and pure water and went out to bathe. They entered the water completely naked and went upstream playing, splashing each other, laughing merrily like two carefree urchins. At a certain point Patrick became aware that they were far enough from the place where the coach had stopped and the two slaves were waiting. Where they were now, nobody could see them.
So, he shyly said to Kutkhay: "Listen... I want to make love again with you..."
"Yes, come..."
"Here in the water?"
"Why not? We will not have many chances to do it like this. Come..." the boy insisted with a warm inviting smile.
To Patrick, making love was like entering a completely new world, unexplored, where he was venturing for the first time, but without any hesitation, rather with enthusiasm, trusting the lead of his beloved. The chill of the water made the length of their union last longer, but the current lapping their bodies burning with desire, increased the sensuality of their caresses. And here Kutkhay made his lover discover the intense pleasure of oral intercourse, which they consumed with enthusiasm. Sated, even if only for the moment, they went back, happy. Near the coach they dried themselves, dressed, and then resumed their journey.
At last, after several days and many stops, after days and nights of intense unions, they reached villa De Bruine. Henrietta was not at home. Patrick ordered his old bachelor's room, it was in front of his present bed room, prepared for the boy. Then he gathered all the servants and introduced them Kutkhay. Some of the slaves already knew him, but not all of them.
"From now on Goldie is a member of my family -- you will obey him, all his orders, as if they were from me, is it understood? Until Goldie chooses a personal servant, Long Jack will serve him as he serves me."
Later Henrietta came back home with little Mike. Then, entrusting his son to the governess, Patrick asked his wife to follow him into his study.
"I need to talk to you, Henrietta. Have a seat, please."
Slightly surprised, the woman looked at her husband and studied his unusually serious expression, but said nothing and sat in front of him with composed grace.
Patrick gathered his thoughts, assumed all his strength and started: "What I am about to tell you is very delicate and important; therefore, I pray you to listen without interrupting. At the end, if you like, you may ask me all the questions you wish, and tell me your opinion.
"Henrietta, you have in front of you a man at last fallen in love. But, unhappily, not with you. I have always felt for you, and feel now, a liking, affection, respect but, as you know, never love. Our marriage was decided upon by our families, and although I never opposed it, I did not desire it. I want it to be very clear that in everything I telling you there is not the slightest intent to accuse or complain about you. You have always been kind, gentle and correct towards me, and I am grateful to you for that. But I am now in love with another person and... it is difficult to tell you what I have to tell. You cannot possibly understand me, nor I can simply ask you to accept this new situation. Therefore, if you want it, if you think it fair, I will grant you divorce or separation, as you decide..."
His wife, presuming that Patrick had said everything, intervened: "My dear husband, you have always been frank with me and I thank you for that. You too always behaved correctly with me and, what is even more important, with our son. You have always been a caring husband and an affectionate father, and there is no reproach that can be made of you. It is true, our marriage was born and consolidated without our loving each other. It is neither your fault nor mine. As to the fact that you are now in love with another woman, this does not amaze me; rather, after all, I was expecting that sooner or later this would happen. I certainly cannot blame you for that, as I have never been able to give you love. As you said of me, I, too, admire, respect, have high esteem of you, and am affectionate toward you, but I do not love you. Rather, I am sincerely happy that you had the luck to have found real love. Not only I was not able to give you love, but I gradually alienated you from me, because I never participated... I never showed enthusiasm or... pleasure..." The woman lightly blushed and lowered for a moment her eyes, then resumed, "... well you understood me. As for this, it is not your fault; I never could take pleasure in physical intercourse... I tried to carry out my wife's duty as is proper, but I could never pretend to feel what I absolutely did not feel. I always felt very good near you, always, beside those moments. I think you became aware of that, and I thank you for never having insisted and claimed what you have the right to claim, being my husband, and also for having never thrown it in my face. Therefore, if you want a divorce in order to marry the other woman, I understand, and I will do nothing to make it difficult for you..."
"No, Henrietta, I don't intend to marry again, I could not, even if I desired it, wanted it. This is not the problem. And I, too, feel good near you..."
"I do not understand, then. If the problem is not about continuing to live under the same roof..."
"Forgive me, Henrietta, but I asked you not to interrupt me, because it is difficult telling you... It is possible that you can accept the thought that I have a lover; even continuing to live together, if for no other reason, than for our son's sake. Society shows us many such examples. But what would you say if you knew that the person I love is living under your very roof?"
Henrietta looked at him, puzzled for a moment, then hesitantly asked: "Is she one of our slaves? No, sorry, who she is should not concern me. The only thing I would fear, will be a scandal. But if you really love her... if nobody else knew it, if you were truly discreet..."
"No, the problem is... the problem is different. The fact is that... I do not know how to tell you..."
"Come on, Patrick, it seems to me that you already said most of it." Henrietta gently said.
"No, the most of it, as you say, is yet to come. The fact is that I am in love with... with a boy, with a male. And he, from now on, will live here and to me it is important that he be considered my peer by everybody. There, I said it. Now I have really told you everything. You can tell me what you decide to do now."
Henrietta looked at him seriously, with a slight frown. After a long silence, in a low voice, she said: "Well, now it is for you to listen to me without interrupting. I had a cousin, George, the son of my father's brother. We were both only children and we were deeply affectionate, we grew up together, we were more than brothers. We always confided to each other all our secrets.
"When I was seventeen, one day George confided to me that he was in love. He was in love, yes, with a boy, a school-mate and he was really troubled about it. He told me that he did all he could not to surrender to this impulse that our society condemns, but the other boy was also in love with him and insisted. What happened between them just once, in a moment of weakness, continued. He was confused, sad, and asked my advice. I loved my cousin, as I said, like a brother and seeing how much he was suffering in that situation, since he could not follow his inclination, I also suffered. I told him that if theirs were true love, they ought not give weight to what our society of respectable people says, I told him that true love is always a wonderful thing, and that therefore he had to love and to accept being loved. George was hesitant at first, torn, but at last he followed my advice. I saw him again merry, I saw him bloom again, and I was sincerely happy for him. Several months of that happiness passed. I met his lover -- he was a really sweet boy, very good and deeply in love. It was a pleasure just seeing them together.
"But one unfortunate day, his lover's father caught them in an intimate attitude, unmistakable, and it was the end of the world. He went to talk with George's father, revealing everything to him. The two boys were separated, and my uncle was really severe with George. But my cousin rebelled, told his father he would never ever renounce his life because of the hypocrisy of people. A terrible period began. Not even I could see George any more, but with the complicity of a slave we exchanged notes, and he told me about his determination.
"George's lover, unable to suffer being separated from George, and not able to bear his father's contempt, committed suicide. My cousin, anguished, threw his lover's death in his father's face and there was a furious quarrel. My uncle chased away from home George and disinherited him. My cousin came secretly to bid me farewell -- he decided to emigrate to Europe and to change his name. I begged him to remain, but he was determined -- he could no longer stand the thought of remaining here. After that day, I had no more news about him, not even after my uncle died.
"Thus, you see, don't be amazed if I tell you that I can understand you. Just allow me to say one thing -- our society is wicked, cruel, or rather evil. Be careful, do it in such a way that no one is aware of your choice, protect your love... If you wish me to leave, I shall. But, possibly, if it is not too much of a burden for you, it would be better if I remain at your side, in this house with you, to shelter you just with my simple presence.
"Moreover, also for our little Mike it would be better to continue having both his parents near him, don't you think? Mike loves you very much, he needs you, your love, your cares. Therefore, if your lover lives under this same roof, it does not create a problem for me. The only problem that might arise between him and me, could be a question of character, personality. But I hope we both are adult and civilized people, and so would be able to adapt to each other's presence. I can only promise you that I will do my best to ensure that no problem will arise.
"If not love, I have affection towards you -- I would wish that you, at least, were happy, that you would not have to undergo all that destroyed my cousin George's life..."
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 13
Please, donate to keep alive Nidty site, that allows you to read these pages, Thank you - Andrej
In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is
http://andrejkoymasky.com
If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help me revising my translation into English of another of my stories, send me an e-mail at
[andrej@andrejkoymasky.com](mailto:andrej@andrejkoymasky.com?subject=Your Stories)
(I can read only English, French, Italian... Andrej)