Author's note:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. This is also a story that does, eventually, include graphic sexual scenes of mainly of a homosexual nature but, where appropriate to the story, also heterosexual and bisexual encounters. If you are underage or it is illegal for you to read such writing, stop now. For those of you who are continuing, be further warned that this is a novel with plot, character development and a very, very slow introduction to the sexual elements of the story. If you're looking for a stroke piece you need to look elsewhere.
The author reserves all rights to this story but will allow others to repost this work to any free Internet sites that wish to use it as long as full credit to the writer is given. This story, while submitted in chapters per Nifty's guidelines, is completed and with any luck and encouragement, I'll post a new chapter every week or so until it's all sent. Any comments you are kind enough to send, except flames of course, will be read though probably not responded to individually, due to recent work commitments. That being said, I really do hope you enjoy the story.
jfinn
Dedication and Explanation of Sequencing
At the time that I write this, the Twentieth Century has been over for some time. That is a good thing, I think. Two World Wars, genocide, famine, revolution, social upheaval and two great plagues; one in the first 20 years and one in the last, mark that century as an epic era of struggle in mankind's history. I hope that we have learned at least some of the lessons necessary to avoid repeating ourselves but, I am an incurable optimist and recent events have shown us that we should not take our security for granted.
However, this is not a narrative of the great events that have taken place in my lifetime. Those have been chronicled by others far better able than me to do so. Rather, this is the small story of lives lived in the last years of the sometimes dark and sometimes wonderful recent past.
Some of you may find it boring and others will shake their heads in disgust but I hope that the rest of you who read this will understand and take pleasure in my tale. At any rate it doesn't matter. I don't write this for strangers. This is for my family, not only those who came by the name by blood, but for all of those who have been there for me, even when I chose to ignore that fact. They are the bedrock of my life and I will love them forever. I hope they realize how much I mean that; I know there were times when my actions did not make it appear to be so.
It was a suggestion by one of them that led me to this seat in front of my computer. That was several years ago and the idea, which I dismissed cavalierly at the time, has stayed with me and grown to where I now believe that I have to do this. Not for my ego or my need to write, God knows I am not a writer, but for the chance to make some sense out of it all. But even that is is not the only reason I write. It is not even the most important one.
The universe is a vast and cosmic place and it is filled with important questions that men and women, great and small, will always ponder, but in the end it is the intimacy of life that intrigues us most. The kiss on a cheek from a baby's soft, wet mouth, the glance of a friend as you share an inside joke, the sound of laughter floating through a dark window on a summer's night. These are the realities that make our days worth living. I believe this with all my heart.
I would like to tell you that I was smart enough to have figured this out by myself, but I'd be lying. It takes courage to really live your life as if it's important. I am not a brave man. Thank God, I met someone who is fearless and not only insisted that his life be filled with the love he believed was there for him, but forced me to accept it too. So, after meandering off in a thousand different directions, I have finally gotten to the real reason I have begun this story. It is for Joe, as always, as everything has been for so long now I can't remember a time when it was different. It is for Joe.
Half my life has past since the first time I met him. God, can it really be so long ago? I look back and wonder how things might have differed if that event hadn't occurred. What pain might have been avoided; what joy unexperienced? It is unimaginable.
But where to begin? I tried a straight forward narrative but eventually came to the conclusion that the long, slow progression of our story, while necessary for enlightenment, makes for a long, boring read that might put the reader to sleep. On the other hand, there is much to tell that would be unexplained, if not unbelievable, if not told in some sort of chronological order.
I have compromised, therefore, and have picked a date in the not so distant past to use as a starting point at each chapter. From there I'll travel back and relate the events that led to that day. I hope that this will not be too confusing but if I am wrong I apologize and remind you that I make no claim to being a writer.
I have chosen to tell this in the first person as my perspective is the only one I can really lay any claim to having any expertise about. The times when I do describe anyone else's reaction's have, to the best of my knowledge, been verified by the party in question.
So, on with my story...
The Human Condition by jfinn
Chapter One
Joe pulled out with a sigh and rolled away from me. His legs splayed and his cock lay limply on his right hip. He lazily moved one arm up over his head and grasped the brass rail of the bed post stroking it in much the same way he had done to me only minutes before.
I stayed put, my left leg tucked up to my chest, my right stretched out in the same position I'd fallen into as my orgasm hit. My cock was trapped between the damp sheets and my wet belly, but I was too content to move.
I felt his hand move to my ass, gently stroking the same object he had just taken. I murmured something but I was too exhausted to actually form any words.
"You okay?" Joe asked quietly. He knew the answer, but he always asked the question. It was tradition now, the expected end to our love making.
"Well fucked." I said the words slowly. He couldn't see my face, but I was smiling.
He laughed softly then pulled me into his arms. I stretched out on his chest and yawned. He reached across me and down his fingers gathering up a glob of cum on my ass. He raised his hand to my face and offered to me. I accepted his bounty along with his fingers which I suckled like a new born babe. I felt his cock twitch against my leg and he murmered in contentment.
We stayed that way for some time. I felt my hole closing up after it's invasion and I squeezed my ass muscles in an attempt to help it in it's quest to keep Joe's essence inside me forever. Eventually, reluctantly, I gave him back his fingers and spoke.
"What time are they going to be here?"
I played with his chest hair, hoping his answer would give me the space to fully recover. I always need quiet time after one of our early morning sessions. They always seemed more intense, the transition from sleep to passion to daily life was difficult for me. Not that I was complaining.
"About 10." He answered half asleep.
We were going to a double header at Wrigley. Baseball has never really been my thing, but I have to admit that I love the atmosphere at a ball park. The sun, the hot dogs, the corny organ music. Joe had been raised in a family whose love of the game seemed genetic. I had accepted that as part of the price of loving him. At least, that's how it was in the beginning. I'd never tell him, but I think that now I almost enjoy the boys of summer as much as he does.
It hadn't always been this easy with us. I had accepted that I was gay from puberty. Growing up had been difficult, but at least I'd never been conflicted about what I'd wanted.
Not so Joe. He had been the quintessential jock in high school, Homecoming King, captain of the football team, boyfriend of the head cheerleader. It had been his twin, Josh, who'd been the quiet, studious one who'd never dated much and was still a virgin when they'd walked down the aisle to Pomp and Circumstance at graduation. Joe had been sexually active, with girls, since he was 14.
I met him at college our freshman year. We were living in the same dorm but we didn't know each other. He was rushing the jocks fraternity; I was the fag down the hall. It might have stayed that way if I hadn't been flunking chemistry...
October 29, 1985
Ironically, it was the labs, not the book work that were killing me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the experiments to come out right. My professor knew I was trying, so he took pity on me and let me come to the lab late at night when I could make my mistakes in private. It was on one of those nights that I met Joe.
I'd been attempting, again, to get some reaction right when my hand slipped and a beaker of acid flew across the counter. To this day I swear it was a poltergeist that made it do that, or maybe it was my guardian angel. At any rate, it spilled into a hissing pool in front of me. I swore loudly and tried to stop the flow with paper towels only managing to spread the slop onto my shirt and pants and right hand.
It burned. The pain was immediate and searing and all the safety regulations I had ever been taught were forgotten as I stared at the red angry bubbles that were forming on my palm.
"For God's sake, move!" A deep male voice yelled at my paralyzed back.
I hadn't noticed anyone come into the lab, but now I felt a hand on the back of my neck pushing me up and propelling me to the emergency shower in the corner. The next thing I knew, cool water was rushing over me, taking away the fire and leaving me so weak with relief that my knees sagged. I would have fallen if strong hands hadn't caught me at my pits and kept me upright.
"It's okay, you're going to be fine." The voice murmured over and over hypnotically as thumbs circled and stroked my shoulder blades while the rest of his fingers kept a grip on my armpits, keeping me upright, letting the cold water do it's job on the burning acid.
Gradually, I came back to myself. I stood a little more steadily and the hands removed themselves. I missed them immediately and was grateful when they returned to rub my shoulders and the back of my neck in the same steady comforting way as they had held me before.
Finally curious, I turned to look to see who my savior was, expecting my professor or a stray TA who'd been slaving away grading papers. I was shocked to find Joe Lassiter instead.
"You?" I asked stupidly.
I knew who he was of course. The University of Michigan was, and is, a football school, Joe was a high school All American and the youngest starting quarterback the school had ever had. The fact that we were winning, had a lot to do with it too. Three months into the school year and it looked like we were not only Rose Bowl bound but even had a chance of winning the damn thing. The football team were Gods and everybody knew their names even those who professed to hate the sport. I loved the game, so of course I was up on the team. Hey, I might be gay, but I'm still a guy. And as I mentioned I lived down the hall from Joe. I'd have had to have been an invertebrate to not have known who he was.
"Hey dude," Joe chose to ignore my comment, "I think we can get you out of here now." He reached up and pulled the chain on the shower but he still kept one hand on my shoulder, still worried I might collapse on him. "Turn around so I can see how bad the damage is."
I obeyed him, in too much shock to put on a macho front and insist I was okay. He stared critically at the front of me and I followed his eyes half dreading to find out just how stupid I had been.
My shirt was shredded and ended in tatters halfway up my chest. Where the acid had touched me were big red angry streaks and a huge blister had already formed. It looked like the top of a question mark and stretched from the waistband of my jeans to just around my naval. The liquid had also sloshed down my left hip, burning a hole through my pocket and down my thigh. Fiery skin could be seen through the gaps.
Joe looked up at me quizzically.
"Those are going to have to come off." He said matter of factly. When I didn't respond he went on to explain like he was talking to child. "We need to see how bad the burn is."
I nodded mutely in agreement. He stared at me and I realized that some sort of action on my part was called for. I tried to undo the button at my waist but the movement of my right hand made me wince. Joe took my arm gently and turned my palm up.
"Oh fuck!" He whistled softly at what he saw.
There had been no material there to protect me and the paper towels I had foolishly tried to use had worked as a wick soaking my hand with the acid. The blisters I had watched forming just a few minutes ago had grown and ruptured and my hand, which looked normal topside, was bloody meat underneath.
I looked at the mess dispassionately. Funny, it didn't hurt as much as the rest of me. Joe snapped his fingers in front of my face to get my attention.
"Do you have a car?" He asked.
I shook my head. Freshman weren't allowed such luxuries in the traffic glutted city of Ann Arbor.
"Me neither." He said unnecessarily. He thought a moment. "Well, let's see the rest of this first before we worry about how to get out of here."
He was thinking out loud, not really expecting a response. It was a good thing because I seemed to have lost the ability to speak. He reached for my waistband and dispassionately undid my jeans and slid them surprisingly gently down my burning legs. I winced in spite of his care and he noticed.
"Sorry." He muttered then squatted to take a good look at marks on my legs.
I suppose in a story like this I'm supposed to tell you that, in spite of my pain, my lust took over and I forgot everything else but the stud who was kneeling in front of me. Get over yourselves, it didn't happen.
Oh, I was thinking about my sex life, but in a more abstract way. My body had settled into a one huge throb of pain. I could not distinguish exactly where the source of that pain was and I was half afraid it was coming from a place I valued above all others, if you get my drift.
I forced myself to glance down once my pants were around my ankles. It wasn't a reassuring sight. The acid had not only eaten through my jeans but had also taken a very large hole out of my bvd's. A very, large, hole. The entire left side of my bush seemed to be missing and loose hair had seared off and stuck to the raggedy ends of my shorts. I gulped.
Joe looked up at me seriously.
"This is nothing personal, but I'm going to have to strip you." He said, trying to put me at my ease with his lame joke. I smiled feebly and he carefully went to work peeling the wet sticking mass from my sore skin.
This time I couldn't look. I felt the cool air on my naked skin. It caused a momentary relief from the fire but that ended and the pain came back worse than ever. Joe expelled a woosh of hot hair from his lungs as he looked and it hit me like a flame thrower. I moaned involuntarily and stepped back into the wall. Instantly he was on his feet and he grabbed my shoulders to keep me from banging my head.
"Oh Jesus buddy!" he said, real regret in his voice. "I'm sorry, that must hurt like hell!"
My heart sank. It must be worse than I'd imagined and believe me, I have a vivid imagination.
Suck it up, I told myself. You did this to yourself asshole, now deal with it. I took a deep breath and spoke my first full sentence to my savior.
"How bad is it?" It came out as a croak, but a legible one. I even managed a smile.
Joe smiled back. Okay, I admit I did notice how gorgeous he was. I was damaged, not dead. A big tall, All American boy was young Mr. Lassiter and some of my wildest fantasies since coming to college had starred a character that looked just like him.
"You want the good news or the bad news?"
"There's good news?" Hope sprang up in my chest.
"Yup." He nodded, then perversely gave me the bad news first. "You've got second degree burns on your left thigh and hip and it extends into your, ah, pelvic region. A lot of your, ah... hair," his face reddened as he said this, "is gone but..." It was too much for him. "Oh hell," he turned away, "see for yourself."
I looked down. He was right, a lot of hair was missing and, where it had been, were scarlet streaks though no blisters. My shaft was a little red but my knob and my balls seemed undamaged. I thanked every deity I could think of and finally looked up to find Joe staring at me trying to hold in his laughter at the look of abject relief on my face.
"Really dodged a bullet that time." He finally managed and with that we both burst out laughing.
I couldn't believe it. Here I was burned, in incredible pain, naked, soaking wet, with my pants around my ankles and standing in front of the best looking guy on campus and all I could do was laugh. What can I say, men really are their cocks.
But it went on too long and what had started as laughter turned into hysteria. The tears that I'd sworn to myself I wouldn't cry dripped down my cheeks and off my chin.
Once again Joe was at my side. He grabbed me and shook me firmly but without malice.
"Knock it off." He ordered.
With a hiccup, I did. He nodded abruptly, then his face gentled.
"We have to get you to the hospital."
My male posturing suddenly kicked in. The way my moods were swinging made me slightly less stable than Robin Williams on coke.
"No, I'll be fine." I protested.
"Oh bullshit."
Joe pushed me away and walked over to the phone on the far wall. He dug in his pocket and came out with, I swear to God, a little black book. He flipped through it until he found the number he wanted. I couldn't hear the conversation, but it didn't take very long and he hung up and came back to me.
"I called my girlfriend. She lives off campus." As if that explained everything.
Which of course, I suddenly realized, it did. Off campus students usually had some form of transportation. I was back to nodding, it had become my normal form of communication with this guy.
"She's going to meet us out front," he continued, "do you thing you can walk that far or do you need me to carry you?"
Now I think I need to stop right here and explain a few things. First, I'm half Italian and half German, an Axis alliance you might say but with me the Italian came out on top with my dark hair and eyes and olive complexion. But I did inherit something from my Aryan uncles; I'm a big guy, 6'4" and then some, and I weigh 210 on my best days though usually, due to my love of junk food, it's closer to 220.
Joe may have been the football hero, but I top him by two inches and 30 pounds. He was only a quarterback for Christ's sake. I was a linebacker in high school and pretty successful though no where good enough to play big time college ball. The thought of Joe carrying me was almost enough to start me laughing again. I settled for a small smile instead and shook my head.
He knew what I was thinking.
"Don't think I could do it?" He grinned back at me.
"No, that's not it." I said lying. "I just meant I could walk." What the hell, to my way of thinking the guy had just saved my live, he could keep his illusions if he wanted to.
"Good." He wisely decided to let the matter drop. "But we gotta another problem."
"What's that?" The pain was making me stupid. At least that's the excuse I always give myself for not realizing what he was about to say.
"Well," he grinned, "you're nude and I think Ann Arbor has laws about that sort of thing in public."
His words hit me like a blow. I felt the blood rushing to my face. I realized that I had been standing there for at least 15 minutes stark naked in front of this guy without even realizing it.
"'Course," he went on ignoring my embarrassment, "I could be wrong, this is a pretty wide open town."
"Oh God." I groaned and closed my eyes. I wondered if this night could possibly get any worse? And how was I ever going to face this guy when I saw him in the dorm halls? Maybe I'd move, I decided.
"Here." In my distress I hadn't noticed that he'd left the room, but he must have because now he was holding a backpack and giving me a pair of sweat pants out of the bag.
"Hold these for a minute while I get the rest of your stuff off you."
I protested but he wouldn't take no for an answer. The funny thing was he completely misread my motivation.
"Look," he said patiently, "you don't have to worry, I'm not gay or anything," like that would be a problem, I thought, "... and you obviously are in no condition to do this on your own." He started to untie the laces on my sneakers. "I have a twin brother and I guess I've always thought it was no big deal to see another guy naked."
Sorry to hear that, I thought to myself. But I wasn't so far gone as to let it slip out of my mouth. I let him finish undressing me then he took the sweats from my hand and held them open. I balanced myself with my good hand on his shoulder and carefully stepped into the pants. Joe slowly pulled them up.
"Let me know if this hurts too much." He said.
I held my breath but the material was soft and although there was some added discomfort it wasn't too bad. I sighed though when he was finished, and realized that sweat had mixed with the water on my wet head. Joe noticed too and looked hard at me.
"Okay?"
I nodded shakily.
"You don't talk much do you buddy? Hey, what is your name?"
"Mike, Mike Ross." I managed.
"I'm Joe Lassiter. Nice to meet you, Mike."
"You too." I said lamely.
The next 45 minutes are ones I'd like to forget. I managed, just, to make it out the door to the car but the act of sitting defeated me and I finally had to slide in with the help of Joe and lay on my back in the rear of the vehicle. Luckily it was a big station wagon and there was enough room for my long frame.
Jenny was the name of Joe's girl and she was all sympathy and wide eyes but she didn't fool me. She didn't give a damn about me, not really. She was doing this all for Joe's benefit. I couldn't blame her, I'd probably do a lot of stupid things myself just to see the grin that lit up that handsome face when she leaned over and cooed at me. But I still didn't like her. Her smile was big and wide, but her eyes were cold.
She drove us to the hospital and made a production out of dropping us off and parking the car all by her lonesome so Joe could help me in. While she was gone, an attendant came out to meet us and realizing my predicament, he fetched a gurney so I could lie down.
Jenny reappeared and she ran to Joe and grabbed his arm and asked, with concern dripping from her voice, how I was doing. Nice sentiment, but I noticed she never bothered to look at me.
I didn't hear his answer because they came and wisked me away through big double doors. Joe yelled something at me and I raised my hand weakly but I don't know if he saw before the doors closed.
The rest of that night is a kaleidoscope of hot lights and pain and faces hovering over mine asking me how I felt. I felt like shit and I'm pretty sure I told them so, over and over, at least until they started an IV and shot some pain meds into me. From then on I floated, complaining only occasionally when the exam got so painful that even my narcotic induced numbness was no defense. Eventually they admitted me and I settled back into one of the water beds they used in the burn unit. I was hoping for a stretch of uninterrupted unconsciousness. It wasn't to be.
"Hey Mike. Dude. Wake up."
I opened one eye warily. Then the other as it registered who was standing in front of me, Joe Lassiter. My groggy mind wasn't working very well and I couldn't figure out why the quarterback of the Wolverines was standing in front of me, wearing a paper gown and a face mask and calling me dude.
Joe noticed I was awake and leaned over me grinning.
"So how's it hanging?" He laughed out loud. "Oops, maybe that was a poor choice of words."
I groaned. Now, I remembered. All of it. But oddly enough, with all the things that had happened that night, the one thing that concerned me the most was that I had never thanked him. I tried to make up for it but he waved my gratitude aside.
"I'm just glad I was there." He said simply.
"Why were you?" I asked suddenly curious.
It was his turn to get embarrassed. I could see the color stain his fair cheeks. It made him look about six years old.
"I'm a freak of nature." He admitted. "I'm a jock with a 4 Point and I love of chemistry, well, anything to do with science actually." He shrugged. "I'm pre-med."
"So you were studying?" I prodded.
"Nah," he shook his head, "more like fooling around. There's a project the department is doing on Auto Immune Deficiency research and I was doing a little reading up." He looked at me assessingly.
"I haven't told anybody else about this, except my brother," he said the last as if that were to be expected, "but there's an assistant's job opening up on the project and I think I have a shot."
"That's great." I said, though honestly the thought of actually wanting to spend time in a lab was as foreign to me as wanting to look at Pamela Lee's fake boobs.
"It's really nothing more than being a gopher." He protested modestly. "But it would look good on a med school application."
His tone was nonchalant. He didn't fool me. Med school be damned, he wanted the job for itself. I could see it in his eyes. The boy was right, he loved science.
We talked for a few minutes more and then Nurse Ratchet stuck her head in the door and told him his time was up. He stood up and we were both suddenly awkward about how we should say goodbye. We weren't exactly friends and yet we had just experienced an event that would bind us together forever. I would never forget it certainly and I was just as sure he wouldn't either.
"Well," I finally began but Joe stopped me when he put a hand to my shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.
"Look," he said as if he had come to some kind of decision, "I'll stop by later to see how your doing. Maybe you can get somebody to write down a list of any stuff you'll need while you're in here and I can fetch them for you."
"You don't have to do that." I protested.
He waived me off.
"I want to. It's no big deal anyway, don't you live down the hall from me?"
I nodded surprised that he'd noticed. Once again it was like he read my thoughts or maybe it was that I didn't have as much of as a poker face as I thought. He raised his arms in a what can you say gesture.
"Like I told you, a freak of nature, a jock who pays attention."
"Nobody believes those stereotypes anymore." I said.
"Sure they do." He responded cheerfully. "And a lot of the times they'd be right. Lots of people are stereotypes."
I shook my head.
"I don't agree."
"Whatever." He shrugged. "Be back." He turned and started to walk towards the door.
"Joe, wait." I called and he stopped and turned a question in his eyes.
"Thanks again, for everything."
With a wave he was gone.
A few minutes later, Nurse Ratchett, who was really a very nice girl named Betsy O"Brien, came back into the room. She sighed and leaned against the wall.
"God he's cute! He looks just like a young Harrison Ford." She said with a smile.
"Who?" I asked, though I knew very well because I'd just been thinking the same thing myself.
She raised an eyebrow and looked at me hard.
"Yeah right." She finally said. She was being sarcastic but the twinkle in her eye softened the blow.
I took a better look at her. She was a student nurse, I realized now, probably only a year or two older than I was. And, she had very good gaydar. One look at her big gray eyes told me she knew exactly where my interests lay and it wasn't with a female nurse no matter how cute and curvy she happened to be.
"He doesn't know." I blurted.
Though, come to think of it, I wasn't sure about that. I was out, sort of, and I knew that some of the other guys on my floor knew as did my roommate, Carl. Fortunately for me, he didn't give a damn as long as I kept my dirty socks on my side of the room. And it wasn't like I was planning on keeping it a secret from Joe either. I'd played that game before and had come to the conclusion that it was always the wrong way to go.
"Then tell him." Betsy bluntly intruded into my reverie. "If he's a good guy, he'll be cool with it, if not," she shrugged again, "then fuck him."
She saw the look of shock on my face and started to laugh.
"Down boy, I didn't mean that literally." Her face got serious.
"My little brother is gay." She slowed her speech, picking her words carefully. "It hasn't always been easy for him. I feel bad about that." She gave a shake of her head as if to say, enough, then pulled a pad of paper out of her pocket.
"Okay." She said brightly. "The Football God said that you wanted to make a list?"
We made the list and she suggested I add my class schedule so Joe, or whatever girl he could con into doing it, could contact my professors and tell them where I'd be spending the next few weeks. Since the time included the Thanksgiving holidays it probably wouldn't be impossible for me to keep up if they'd agree to give me my assignments. Of course it would mean I wouldn't be going home for turkey but that was no great loss.
Joe did come back that night and most nights after that. He hauled my stuff to me including my textbooks and he made sure the University knew I hadn't fallen off the face of the earth. He even called my parents, which amazed me, and made my little brother's day when he answered the phone and got to talk to the hero himself.
The downside of all this was that I still hadn't told him I was gay and the longer I waited the more trouble I had trying to think of a way to broach the subject. It got to be such a big thing with me that I could barely stand the thought of seeing him again. So, where for a while there, I'd been pretty talkative, I reverted back to my initial form of silent communication of mostly nods and the occasional monosyllabic grunt when an oral answer was imperative.
To make the whole situation even more Machiavelian, he had finally noticed Betsy and started dating her, Jenny now being history, thank God. Even I could understand why he liked Betsy. Not only was she smart, funny and genuinely nice, she was a babe. Medium tall, with a figure like a proverbial brick shithouse and legs that wouldn't quit, she had an elegant grace about her that was perfectly in cinque with her dark gypsy looks and wild black hair that I saw hung down to her ass when I finally got a look at her without her paper cap. Hell, even I was attracted to her looks, though, of course, with an aesthetics' appreciation not a sexual one. Of course, Joe wasn't going to pass that up and I sympathized even though I didn't like it.
It wasn't that I was jealous; well not much anyway. I knew that my fantasies about Joe were just that. What really kept me in a constant state of fear was that Betsy would inadvertently let the cat out of the bag and let him know about my being gay, though she swore and I believed her, that she would never tell him intentionally.
She still thought I should let him in on my little secret, mind you. Oh yes, she was adamant about it. Not, as she stated passionately, because it was such a bad thing, but because friends couldn't really be friends when they kept such life defining details from each other.
I couldn't deny she was right. Look at how I was acting. I wasn't sure why the guy kept coming back day after day except for the thought, and this really depressed me, that he was using me as an excuse to see Betsy. It didn't matter, I told myself. The idea of me staying friends with a guy like Joe was ludicrous, wasn't it?
But it did matter to me. See, I had this problem. Somewhere down the line I'd fallen for the guy. Hook, line and sinker. The thought of losing all contact with him if he couldn't handle my being gay kept me up at nights. Of course, I kept trying to convince myself that he wasn't going to react that way. Don't get me wrong, I had no illusions that he'd fall into my arms and say, I want you. Okay, so maybe the thought did cross my mind, but a guy can dream can't he? Nor was I worried he'd turn out to be some asshole homophobe. I wasn't that much of a rube, I knew how to spot that type right off the bat.
The thing I couldn't bear was the possibility that he'd turn out to be one of those guys who pretended they were cool with it but would immediately start acting like you'd become some kind of pod person. I'd had some experience with that kind and the thought of the man I loved turning into one of those cretins was not something I thought I could take.
And the sad truth was, I really was in love with him. What had started in the dorms as a nice little crush like you'd get on a rock star or a matinee idol had turned into a full blown love affair for one. I was the one; he didn't have a clue.
I was so good at hiding my feelings that the poor guy was even starting to think he bugged me too much and that I didn't like him. Betsy told me that. She'd known it was going to hurt me. See, I wasn't the only one who was a little jealous.
Betsy, who had started out being as nice as pie, now seemed to consider me some kind of a threat. I had no idea why she felt this way; if there was one thing I was sure of, it was Joe's preference for women. That didn't seem to matter to her though. Betsy wasn't as willing to share Joe as she had been in the beginning of the relationship. Ironically, at the time, I was almost relieved because I was so uncomfortable with the secret I was keeping from him.
So, we were all unhappy. Now it was the day before the Thanksgiving break and Joe had come to say goodbye to both of us. Betsy had worked the afternoon shift and was just getting ready to catch a ride with some friends to her family's house in Grand Rapids. Joe was leaving the next day for his folks place on the outskirts of Chicago. His brother was going to be there too, down from Syracuse where he was in the Seminary. Joe was looking forward to seeing him, he'd been talking about it for days, but now he seemed reluctant to go.
He and Betsy had an awkward goodbye kiss in front of me and then as she disappeared out the door Joe excused himself and ran after her. When he came back he was smiling a little but the look faded when he glanced at me.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay here?" He asked with a frown as he sat in his usual chair by my bed.
I was from a small town outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania almost eleven hours by car. There was no way my parents and three younger sibs could make that trip. We'd talked on the phone and I'd assured them that I'd be okay. My mom had cried, but I think the reality was we were all a little bit relieved that we'd be able to avoid a holiday reunion.
My family knew about my sexuality and they tried to except it, they really did, but my father looked at me every time he saw me as if he was glad I wasn't wearing a dress and my mother was sure I was going to die of the dreaded disease that was just starting to be recognized by people in polite society. My brothers and sister were too young to be told, but too old to not realize something was weird, so all in all our little family get togethers were pretty depressing.
"I'm fine with it." I assured him.
He wasn't buying it. He loved his family and he didn't seem to be able to grasp the concept that all families weren't as much fun to be around as his own.
"If you want, I'll stay." He offered for the 59th time. The sweetest thing about it was I knew he meant it and would never have held it against me for a minute if I'd taken him up on it.
"Are you kidding," I tried to lighten up the moment, "it'll be a relief not to have to stare at your ugly face for a few days."
At that, his gorgeous face stiffened and the hurt in his eyes broke my heart. Leave it to you jackass, I mentally berated myself, to say exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time.
"Joe, wait." He hadn't moved but I could see he'd been poised for flight. With my words he warily settled back into his chair. "We need to talk, or rather, I need to."
"Well that'll be a change." He muttered.
"Yeah." I shrugged. "I know, I've been a real asshole lately..."
Joe grinned, he thought he knew where this conversation was leading. "Hey dude, it's okay." He talked so fast I couldn't find an opening to interrupt. "It must be the pits to be tied down like this. I'd go nuts..."
"Would you shut the fuck up for a minute and let me say something!" I was almost shouting and his jaw dropped in shock. "Jesus Christ, Joe, it's no wonder I never talk around you, you never let me get three words in. I do occasionally have something to say you know."
I stopped, I couldn't believe I'd let that out. For his part Joe was smiling again. He must have realized that I wasn't really pissed. I waited for more of a response but he just sat there grinning.
"Now what?" I said, have exasperated, half laughing.
"You want me to speak?" He said with a raise of his eyebrows. "I thought you just told me to shut up? Now you want me to say something?"
"What I said, was shut the fuck up and yes, now, I want you to say something." I tried to look stern but I could see I was failing by his reaction.
"And that would be?" Oh God, he had the best smile.
"Shit, I don't remember anymore." I groaned. It was now or never, I had to tell him.
"Listen, have you told your friends about our little adventure together?" I started. The change of subject surprised him. He looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"Sure, why not?"
"No reason, I just wondered if anybody had said anything when you told them."
"Not really, except a few did mention how unbelievably stupid you acted. Oh and it was mentioned that I was incredibly brave etc., etc."
"Cute." I grimaced.
"Why?" Joe asked.
Here goes, I thought and took a deep breath.
"Because I thought maybe somebody might have called me a faggot or something."
Joe laughed. So, I thought, he already knew. I was weak for a relief for about two seconds until he spoke.
"Hell no, Jesus, dude why would you think that? Why would you care even if they did? It's just a word, something guys say all the time. It doesn't mean anything."
Oh shit. He didn't know. Didn't even have a clue. I was beginning to think for such a smart boy, Joe could really be a social retard sometimes.
"No," I replied carefully, "it isn't just a word. It means something. Especially when it's true."
Joe's big face went blank. Just like that the light went out in his eyes. Now, I thought grimly, now he knows.
"I'm gay, Joe. I am a faggot." I wanted to make it perfectly clear.
"Yeah man, I got it." He stood abruptly and started to pace.
"I should have told you sooner." I felt like my heart was breaking.
"Yeah, you should have." Joe's voice was tight with some emotion I wasn't mature enough to recognize as pain.
"When we met, well, it just didn't enter into it and then I just assumed you knew or somebody would tell you..."
He groaned.
"You mean everybody knew but me?" He turned and faced me. "Betsy, does Betsy know?"
"It was never a secret." I answered gently.
"Jesus Mike!" He ran his hand through his thick, dark gold hair. "You must have realized after a while..." He paced again then stopped and stared unseeingly out of the window. When he spoke again it was in a whisper and I had to strain to hear him. "You must have realized I didn't know!"
He was right of course. No amount of self delusion had ever really convinced me that Joe was aware that I was gay. Even if he had been perfectly fine with it, he'd have mentioned it if he'd known. I couldn't think of anything to say to console him so I kept my mouth shut.
"Were you laughing at me?" He was still facing the window but his voice came out hard and strong. "Did you think it was funny that I was so stupid?"
"Oh my God no!" I struggled to get out of the bed. I'd been mobile for some time but I was still stiff and sore and the effort made me groan. Joe turned and looked at me. For the first time since I'd known him he made no effort to help me. I made it to my feet and wrapped the sheet around me. With the burns located where they were, it was easier to not wear anything but now, I thought, was not a good time to go naked. I shuffled over to where he was standing but the look he gave me made me stop a good three feet from him.
"I would never laugh at you." I said. "I think you're a great guy and I can never begin to repay you for your quick thinking at the accident and all the friendship you've given me since." He just continued to stare. For once he was the silent one and I was the one who couldn't shut up.
"I guess my only excuse is I was afraid you'd hate me if you knew the truth." I waited for a moment for a response. When I didn't get one I continued in a burst of self pity.
"I guess I was right to worry." Now I got a response.
"Well isn't that just fucking great!" Joe turned from the window, his eyes blazing with anger. "Now let me get this straight Mike." His face took on a mocking look.
"Yeah, guess that's a poor choice of phrasing. But let's let that pass. What I'm hearing here is you're telling me all of this is my fault because you thought I'm just some redneck who could never understand? Jesus, if I'd known I was so transparent I would have gone ahead and gotten that swastika tattooed on my arm like I wanted to last Christmas."
"That is not what I meant." I tried to reach out and touch his arm in the way he had so often done to me but he wasn't having any of it and shrugged me off.
"Bullshit." He stared at me for a long moment and I had to force myself not to lower my eyes.
"I don't care that you're gay, Mike." He continued in a soft deadly tone that told me that regardless of his words, he did care. "What bugs me is that you didn't trust me enough to tell me about it. And don't try and con me that there was never a right time, there were plenty and you know it. Shit, we talked about women we thought were hot!"
"You talked, I listened." I couldn't help myself.
Joe waived his hand dismissively.
"You don't think maybe you could have said something then, you know like, 'Speaking of hot, what do you think of Mel Gibson?' Even a dumb jock like me might have gotten the reference."
"Never happen, I think he's overrated." I smiled, simply to keep myself from crying.
"Whatever." He turned back to stare out of the window.
We stayed where we were for a long time. I finally turned and hobbled back to the bed. As I sat down I heard Joe clear his throat and I turned to look at him. His back was still turned to me and his hands clenched the window sill as if he needed it to keep him upright.
"You know, I really liked you." His voice was low and hoarse and I had to strain to hear him. "I've felt so alone since I've gotten here and I was hoping you and I could be friends. Before, there's always been my brother but since he decided to become a priest... well it's different now."
"You're a lot like him. I mean, not physically, Josh and I are identical you know. But your personality is like his, quiet, strong, honest." He sighed. "Well, maybe not so honest. I thought I could trust you. And I thought you knew you could trust me."
"I am so sorry." I stopped, if I said anymore I was going to cry.
Joe turned, his blue eyes were rimmed in red.
"Yeah buddy," he spoke softly, "so am I."
He walked quickly to the door and opened it, then turned and looked at me for what I was sure would be the last time.
"See ya around." And he was gone.
Author's note: I know that some of you will realize that I have taken liberties with some of the facts. For instance there would be no way that a substance as caustic as the acid that burned Mike would be left out in a lab nor would a freshman be allowed to conduct experiments while alone. Also, I have no idea what U of M's football record was in 1985-86 or any other season for that matter. These and other inaccuracies you may find in later chapters have deliberately been made to enhance the story line. Hey, that's why they call it fiction folks. ...jfinn